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girl-next-door-writes · 6 months

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Something

Characters: George Weasley x reader

Summary: When George bumps into a familiar face he begins to realise what he truly wants for Christmas.

Word Count: 1167 words

Prompt: Best Friends To Lovers. Tugging You Closer By Your Waist. Coffee Shop. “You know you’re stuck with me right?”

A/N: This is the second of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the amazing @achromaticerebus who put these prompts together for my favourite Weasley.

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It was mid-December and George Weasley strolled through the enchanting scene of Diagon Alley, a swirling snowfall turning the bustling wizarding street into a winter wonderland. The shop windows were adorned with glistening decorations, casting a warm glow on the cobblestone streets. Everywhere he looked, green wreaths and twinkling lights illuminated the magical atmosphere, creating a festive charm that hung in the air. His breath visible in the crisp winter air, he couldn't shake the subtle ache in his chest. The laughter of couples echoed around him, their shared moments of joy accentuating his sense of loneliness. His eyes drifted toward a couple in front of him, heads close together, exchanging whispered secrets beneath the glow of a magical lamppost.

Trying to shake off the melancholy, George decided to visit his favourite coffee shop, "Brews and Brews." The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the warm glow of the fireplace greeted him as he stepped inside. The place was filled with laughter and chatter, providing a comforting backdrop to the holiday season.

As George waited for his order, his attention was momentarily diverted when he noticed someone familiar across the room, and a soft, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There you were, seated alone at a cozy corner table, bathed in the flickering glow of the firelight. You seemed completely engrossed in a book, a world of words and magic unfolding before you. George couldn't help but take a moment to watch you, the fondness evident in his eyes. The two of you had been firm friends since your school days, and this wasn't the first time he had found himself captivated by your presence.

Memories of shared laughter, late-night conversations in the common room, and countless adventures together flooded George's mind. But somewhere in amongst all the shenanigans, there had been a subtle shift that had taken place over the years; a shift that George had only recently begun to acknowledge. As he observed you, a warmth spread through his chest, and his heart skipped a beat. Picking up his coffee, he made his way over to you.

"Hey, stranger," George greeted with a playful grin, smoothly sliding into the seat opposite you. The rich timbre of his voice pulled your attention away from the book, and as your eyes met his, a genuine smile illuminated your face, recognizing the familiar presence.

"George! What brings you in here? I’d have thought you’d be working every hour you could up to Christmas," you remarked, curiosity lacing your words as you closed the book and set it aside.

George leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you see, even pranksters need a break now and then and I thought I'd take advantage of the festive charm. What about you? Any exciting plans for the holidays?"

As the conversation flowed, the warmth of the fireplace mirrored the growing warmth between you and George. The laughter and shared memories from your school days echoed in the air, creating a comforting backdrop to the catch-up session.

"He didn’t! I always thought it was Lee!" Your laughter resonated through the cozy café, and George couldn't help but feel his heart swell with joy.

"I swear it was Fred! Honest! And that’s why Samson had to wear a hat for a month," George insisted, a playful glint in his eyes as he recounted the mischief from their Hogwarts days.

Your sceptical look only fuelled the mirth in George's expression. "And you had absolutely nothing to do with that?" you questioned; your tone laced with a hint of disbelief. The mischievous twins' reputation for pranks was legendary, after all, where you would find one of them it was fairly certain the other would be.

George responded with a nonchalant shrug, his expression confessing more than his words. It was clear that he was just as involved with the prank as his twin had been. The memories of their shared antics seemed to weave a thread between you, a thread that connected past mischief to the present moment.

Time passed in a blur, and before you knew it, the two of you were bundled up against the cold, strolling through a snow-covered Diagon Alley, and every step seemed to conjure up memories of laughter and shared stories. Beneath the gentle glow of the streetlamps, the soft light intermingled with the delicate snowfall, casting a romantic ambiance over the cobbled path. The crunching sound of snow underfoot accompanied your laughter as you exchanged tales of past adventures. The air was filled with a sense of enchantment, the flickering lights and the serene snowfall conspiring to create a moment suspended in time.

"I've missed this, you know," George admitted softly as the conversation lulled, his breath creating little puffs of steam in the crisp winter air.

"Me too. It's been too long since we've just hung out."

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet. George felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and a nervous energy danced in his eyes as he searched for the right way to express what had been quietly brewing within him.

“I didn’t mean that I just missed hanging out. I missed you. I missed us.”

Your gaze met his, and the sincerity in his words lingered in the frosty air. George took a deep breath, hoping to summon the courage to delve into uncharted territory.

“You know you’re stuck with me, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

George chuckled, a mixture of relief and affection evident in his expression. "Well, perhaps I want to be stuck with you."

The moment hung in the air, suspended between the snowflakes and the twinkling lights of Diagon Alley. The realisation of unspoken feelings coloured the atmosphere, as the two of you stood looking into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, George reached out, gently tugging you closer by your waist. The gesture felt so natural, as if he had done it a million times before, and your hands came to rest against his chest. It was right then that George knew he couldn’t let this moment pass.

"You know," George began, his voice low and sincere, "if I’m stuck with you, that also means you're stuck with me, right?"

You met his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Good thing I wouldn't want it any other way."

And just like that, beneath the twinkling lights and the falling snow, George realised that the best Christmas gift he could have received was standing right in front of him. The transition from best friends to something more felt like the most natural progression, a love that had been quietly brewing for years, he just hadn’t realised it until now. Cupping your cheeks, he took a chance, leaning down and capturing your chilly lips in a soft but searing kiss. Perhaps this Christmas he wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.

#George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #gndw fic #build a festive fic

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purpurussy · 1 month

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what is all of this like for post-hiatus phannies?

I've been trying to figure out how to phrase this for a minute. The most obvious comparison would be that it's like starting a TV show 10 seasons in, but that doesn't come remotely close to the amount of required reading necessary to understand even 5% of the references. This has not been a problem for me, as I love nothing more than a good all-consuming hyperfixation rabbit hole, but something I'm realizing is that you really just had to be there to fully Understand.

I got into d&p properly in December of 2023, when gamingmas appealed to my emotionally curious nature and then gave me some kind of irreversible brain damage which I'm still trying to process. Since then I've been consuming their back catalogue as though it's laced with cocaine, and obsessively lurking on phannie tumblr until I finally made this blog a few weeks ago.

I actually watched Dan's videos for a little while back in roughly 2013/2014, but something about his content back then just wasn't working for me like it does now (I have such a clear memory of watching Reasons Why Dan’s A Fail and thinking "aw man why does this cute little twink hate himself so much 😔" and then going back to watching Jenna Marbles lmao. Funnily enough it did make me change my negative self-talk a little bit). I was very much a brief casual viewer who went off them pretty much after watching a few videos, and after that I was sort of vaguely aware of them as the cultural icons of the 2010s that they were, but I wasn't keeping up with them at all.

I don't even remember BIG coming out, which is insane because I've always been extremely chronically online and it definitely broke containment as a cultural moment (although I think I was trying to minimize my social media use at that point in my life, so maybe that's why it went over my head). I feel like I must have heard something about it at the time, though, because I knew they were gay when I started watching them last year. What's really strange is that a lot of this stuff is kinda timeless to me. I don't remember it happening 5, 10 or 15 years ago - I just witnessed it very recently. For a lot of you guys, BIG happened 5 years ago, but I just watched it for the first time a few months ago. At the same time, in my mind they've just always been gay, since I wasn't in the trenches of the unhinged online culture surrounding them in the early/mid 2010s. It's so confusing to balance my weird temporal perception of these events with the impressions that I get from you guys. Oftentimes I have to judge roughly when something would have happened based on their appearances - it's not actually a *memory* for me, like it is for you. I absolutely love the dynamic and branding they have now, and the deep dives into their past are more of a curious exploration of how they got here, rather than actually nostalgic (or, I suppose, mildly traumatic) for me. It’s still very interesting and compelling to me, but because I love the current iteration of Dan and Phil, not because I’m emotionally invested in who they used to be.

Sometimes I’ll be aware that an event happened, but I won’t realize how monumental it was until I see people talking about it (I hate to say it but I genuinely don't fully understand why the BONCAs thing was so earth-shattering, but like I said, I've always lived in a post-BIG universe, and I think you just had to be there). There are also plenty of references to stuff that's just been lost to time, which I have to piece together with context clues, as well as the more unhinged demonic stuff that I just don't have any interest in exploring whatsoever (I think I might have watched the v-day video if I'd been there when it leaked and I was a stupid teenager, but at this point, I don't even feel any kind of morbid curiosity for it. I just feel really bad for them that it got leaked. Plus, unfortunately, I think I've learned all I need to know about it through internet osmosis here). I feel like a lot of these events have a real emotional meaning for you guys, when to me, they're just interesting/funny/insane anecdotes which give some context to everything. Some of the shit that you guys lived through back then is absolutely wild, and I love and appreciate all of you for meticulously archiving and documenting everything and for being so willing to answer the same questions over and over again! Otherwise I feel like I wouldn't be able to really be part of this community, and posting my silly little memes on this blog is so fucking fun. So thank you all for that.

It seems like this is one of the most ride-or-die fanbases I've ever seen. The fact that they could invent the concept of YouTubers doing world tours, successfully execute that multiple times, branch out into several other ventures, come out as gay not fully knowing how that would affect their careers, disappear for several years and then come back knowing that there would be a solid audience waiting for them even after their virality had died down, drop merch every 3 seconds - I don't know who else can really get away with that, for almost 15 years, in the extremely "live fast die young" culture of internet fame. And I think it's in no small part because you all have chronic "unconditionally supporting dan and phil" disease. (While we’re on the topic, I feel very lucky to have missed the hiatus era. There's kind of a compression in the timeline for me between the gaming channel going dark and Dan starting his WAD tour, where it's like that time just doesn't exist in the Dan and Phil cinematic universe for me. It took me a while to realize how insane it must have been when they came back in full force, I can't even imagine how that must have felt.)

Of course, there's a caveat in that I'm saying this only really knowing about the tip of the demon iceberg. I’m aware of people engaging in behaviours such as doxxing them, outing them and stalking their families, which is horrifying in and of itself, but I don’t know how long it went on for or how many people were involved. I think people are generally pretty well-behaved at this point, and most of the drama seems to be between different schools of thought within the fanbase itself. I assume a big part of the reason for that is people's varying degrees of involvement in (and remaining notion of guilt for) the boundary-crossing behaviour from the old days. Living with the spectre of this insanity is kind of strange - it makes me feel nervous sometimes that I’m gonna accidentally say something that hits a nerve, or cross a line I didn’t know existed, because there’s all this history that I don’t fully understand, beyond just the normal unwritten rules for interacting with fan spaces online.

The topic that got me writing this in the first place was the orange heart incident, and everyone’s subsequent meltdown. For me, the excitement in them soft/hard/semi launching is more about me just getting excited about any open, proud expression of queer joy - it heals something inside me every time I hear a man referring to his husband or a woman referring to her wife (excuse the gendered terms, ykwim. gay shit). It's just that sentiment, combined with the fact that I'm parasocially invested in them: I'd love to see that energy from my fave little guys who live inside my computer. I am basically rooting for them to become more comfortable with just talking about gay stuff more openly and candidly, and I guess that would require a bit of a hard launch, although I can understand that they don't want to potentially open the door to excessive questioning regarding their relationship. I feel like it ✨hits different✨ for people who watched them for years before they came out. Like, you guys are rooting for people who you watched in real time struggling with their identities and internalized homophobia for years and years, while to me, they’re just some guys who I’m a fan of. Sometimes I get caught up in the emotional frenzy of their hard-launch breadcrumbs even though I don’t feel quite as insane about it as you guys (I said in some tags a few days ago that it’s like the base instinct to turn around and start running if you see a crowd of people running towards you and screaming in terror, even if you have no idea what’s going on). Anyway, I would love to see them being more gooey with each other, and I am gobbling up the breadcrumbs they're feeding us atm, because I love seeing gay people expressing gay love with no shame 🧡

I think my perception of them as a couple, or of their sexualities independently, is just kind of an extension of everything Dan said in BIG. I really have no doubt that they're a couple, and I don't feel any kind of weird Catholic guilt in saying that, since I neither witnessed nor participated in the insanity back then. I interpreted (I'm paraphrasing) "obviously we were more than friends, but it was more than just romantic, we're like, actual soulmates" followed by "as for the situation now? we're private people and we'd like to keep that part of our lives private" as him essentially saying that obviously they're a couple, but that their relationship is not part of the Dan And Phil™ Brand. The brand is 2 guys who have great chemistry doing comedy together (5 feet apart even though clearly they are gay and in love). And I think that's a completely healthy decision to make, even irrespective of their history. I think a hard launch would be subtle, and it wouldn’t realistically change the nature of their content that much.

With that being said, to me, it seems slightly wild for people to adamantly insist they're not a couple, or that it’s “invasive” to assume that they are one (not that that really applies to anyone here, but elsewhere on the internet). If they were a straight man and a straight woman, and there wasn't a huge chunk of people on the internet struggling with this oddly conditioned aversion to seeing them as a couple, then nobody on earth would be insisting that it's weird to assume they're together. Dan confirmed that they became romantically involved around the time they met, and building a forever home with your ex is crazy, that's all there is to it.

This is kind of a messy stream of thoughts (it ended up sort of becoming 2 essays for the price of 1) and I don't really know where I was going with it. In conclusion I think that day 1 phannies are braver than any US marine and you have all suffered more than Jesus on the cross, and I'm extremely thankful that I get to reap the rewards of your labour now without having lived through the dark ages myself. I also think some of you are holding onto a bit of unnecessary guilt for dumb shit you said on the internet when you were a kid. And Dan and Phil are gay and I love them and I reeeeaaaallllyyy want them to do a podcast so bad because this is all conjecture and I would parasocially love to hear their actual thoughts on it

#phan #dan and phil #mine #long post #i fucking love the sound of my own voice apparently. like why the fuck is this 2000 words #i originally included even more waffling about my thoughts on wedding hill and why dan didnt come out earlier #but this is already wayyy too long as it is so i'll save that for another time #also. watch them immediately say/do something which changes my mind on all of this dsfgjkll #ALSO also i need to stop overusing parentheses. the thing about having adhd is that every thought comes with several extra bonus thoughts #posted this by accident from my drafts but fuck it. self indulgent essay be upon ye

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be-my-ally · 6 months

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Snowballs and Kisses

Hello darlings!! Merry Christmas! I hope everyone celebrating has a wonderful day, and everyone for whom it is a usual monday has a better than usual start to the week!!

I have been MIA the last few weeks on here, but never fear I have been busy behind the scenes and hopefully more things and fics will be finished very soon!! I cannot wait for my little new year break, and *finally* catching up on all the stuff I've missed!! In the meantime as a ittle teeny tiny Christmas gift please enjoy this timeskip for my Splashing Around ‘verse to Christmas Eve 1960 and my shameless OC self insert of what I’d like to gift Elvis.

a/n not totally accurate weather references: it didn’t actually snow in memphis in the latter half of 1959 but, this is fanfiction after all and it *was* very cold november 18th 1959. (I also cut a whole 4k of angst that will come out at some point as a separate chapter, Anita getting a poodle, and the colonel dressed as santa because honestly i just wanted to write and read fluff, but here's a warning that there may end up being more festive fics posted…a little late).

warnings: 18+, smut lite; gentle fingering and references to cumming in pants. UNEDITED

Graceland - December 1960

The excitement of having Elvis back at home for the festive season was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that it was his first Christmas at home without his mother. He’d not really tried to celebrate properly in Germany; sure they’d done the best they could, and he raved about the gift of a fully dressed tree for weeks, but it hadn’t been the same as it would have been at home.

This year though, Elvis seemed determined to restore the festive spirit. Perhaps even further than just restoration - an attempt to make it as bright and jolly as possible in response to both his mother’s passing, and missing the last two. He’d bragged to anyone who would listen about how excited he was to give out presents, his plans for even more lights than ever before; signs and lawn decorations.

While Louise was excited, it had left her in an almost constant state of anxiety, Christmas wasn’t just about the gift-giving… but it was a large enough part of it that it’s where her mind immediately went. From the moment he suggested they hang at Graceland that first year, from the first time they’d all pored over the letter to Frances, and his promises to “have a ball next Christmas”, giggling and whispering about what fun they were going to have the following year. From all of those times Louise had been preoccupied with what to get him and whether her secret plan was good enough for Elvis of all people.

That first year he had reiterated to them all and was absolutely adamant no-one needed to gift him anything and wouldn’t hear of anything being sent over to him. But his frequent calls and mentions of the upcoming holiday belied his actual feelings and besides, Louise wanted him to feel special. Wanted him to know they’d been thinking of him as much as he must have missed being home. It wasn’t until the 27th of November and the slightest of snowfalls had occurred, tiny little snowflakes, delicately falling down when the temperature had dropped just enough for the rain to crystallise when a flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn’t send it, so instead she’d waited patiently, adding to her bundle throughout the months. Now that it was almost time to give it though she was second-guessing that two year decision. Was it too juvenile? It’s just so tricky to buy for the man who literally has anything he could ever wish for. As the festive period hurtles on she resigns herself to having to hunt for a back-up gift…maybe a nice sweater. Maybe that will do. Or maybe it’s best to have options.

Elvis’ melancholia about the holiday doesn’t seem to stretch into Christmas Eve, and he encourages them with all the enthusiasm he’s ever had. The party starts from mid-afternoon and stretches long into the evening and night with all the makings of an excellent time from the music to the food until eventually they all find themselves around the extravagant tree to exchange presents. It’s a little chaotic, so many people about and frequently someone’s having to dive from room to room to fetch people or hidden gifts. Louise finds it almost dizzying when she finally manages to take a seat on the long sofa, catching her breath from being sent to find someone. She was already finding herself struggling to think whenever she glanced over at Elvis - he looked outrageously good in a white shirt, black trousers - well, he looked outrageously good all the time at the moment - but there was something about the feeling in the air of the day that made it all the harder to act natural around him. Elvis had been quiet for a moment, but now he was sat on his armchair across the room, looking for all the world like a king on a throne ready to bestow his generosity on the peasants. Except, that’s not the feeling in the room at all; it’s jolly and wonderful, picture perfect - all of them slightly tipsy on champagne and vodka cocktails and finding the evening all the more entertaining for it. He announces he wants to give the presents that he’s bought everyone before he opens his own, and Louise dips her eyes when he hands her a little bow-tied box. No-one else’s comes with a ribbon and she strokes it, feeling a glow emanating from her stomach and chest as she imagines his nimble fingers tying it on, totally ignoring the fact that she knows someone else probably wrapped it for him. Still, she tugs it off to hide from the others - not wanting to be teased about how such a little gesture has made her blush so strongly - and tucks it into her palm, fully intending on slipping it into her shoe or around her wrist in a moment, knowing she’ll keep it forever - wear it in her hair like a declaration.

When she looks back up everyone has a similar box and she opens it quickly in case they’re all the same - she doesn’t want to ruin her surprise. There, nestled in a little velvet box is a ring, a huge, gaudy red stone in the centre, almost too big for her finger. Louise is transfixed, staring at it, barely a thought in her head as she tries to wrap her head around the way it sparkles in the light. Despite the size of the gem, the band was more than a little small when she tries to slip it on, and she quietly puts it back into the box, not wanting to draw attention to her apparently larger than expected fingers. She glances around, suddenly coming out of her shocked obliviousness. Her face falling when she realises that everyone around her is unboxing similarly precious jewellery. She’s resigning herself to having to sneak it off to get it resized and hating herself a little for it, wondering if there are exercises she could do or maybe a special diet to shrink her fingers to size, when she suddenly realises all the other girls are turning each-other around, kissing Elvis on the cheek in thanks, or asking him to clasp their new necklaces. Louise looks back down at her box and the others. What does a ring mean? It’s been gifted with such casualness that it can’t possibly mean anything can it? When she looks back up Elvis is staring right at her, and she makes eye contact with him - her wide eyes meeting his laughing ones. He winks, and turns back to Red. She tries her best to distract herself from it, ooh and aahing over everyone else’s and keeping quiet about the little box clutched tight in her hand.

Half hour later Elvis is admiring his own little haul, when he catches her eye again,

“You forget about me Lou?” Louise cringes at being called out so publicly,

“Of course not!” She looks around the room, at the large group gathered there, “No, uh, why don’t you, well I’ve gotten you something else….It’s a sweater. It’s not great really, but I… your real gift I’ve made you, but,” She swallows building her courage, unsure why she’s so nervous suddenly when she’d been so excited for so long; the whole idea just seemed juvenile and silly now. “… you’ve gotta follow me for it.” He stares into her eyes for a second, before nodding and standing up, gesturing at her as if to say ‘lead the way’.

He grins at the boys when they walk out, making a salacious movement as if to suggest her gift may not be all too family-friendly to accompanying guffaws of laughter. She ignores it, even as her tummy churns; should she be offering that? Is that what he wants these days?

“Don’t laugh.” She asks nervously as they walk into the little pantry. Elvis looks bemused to find himself there, leaning against the wall of the tiny space

“I won’t” Louise nods, shutting the door, only to hear Elvis giggle, “You tryin’ to get me alone, doll?”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“One hell of a christmas present! to be locked in a cupboard with a pretty little gal.”

She rolls her eyes, wiggling past him to get to the freezer,

“Close your eyes.” He obediently does so, and she reaches into an old box of ice-cream to pull out a Tupperware, “Hold your hands out.” And she puts it in his cupped fingers, “Ok…open.” He blinks down at the Tupperware.

“Um. Well, thanks, I’m uh, sure this will be useful.” Louise rolls her eyes, impatiently tugging off the lid herself, “Oh.” Elvis goes silent, staring at the three perfect, teeny snowballs balanced in the tub. Each resting upon a little piece of paper with Louise’s very best cursive handwriting spelling out the date; December 12th 1958, 18th November 1959, and 20th December 1960.

The silence stretches as Elvis stares at the box, and Louise starts to ramble nervously, “I was starting to panic this year, but at least I’d thought to pick some up back in January — it snowed so heavy on the 5th. I think it was, or maybe the 15th? I’ll have to check my diary… so I mean it isn’t entirely accurate that it’s all from the 20th - but I mean, I had to have something and well I know how much you loved it when, when your mother… and I wanted you to know I’ve been thinkin’ of you non-stop while you were away. So, here, the first snow from the garden from every year you missed.” Elvis is still staring at the box, one finger poking each little round ball.

“This really snow from two years ago?”

“Uh-huh… I mean I don’t know what you’re gonna do with it now, but it really is… been in that box in the freezer this whole time…I hid it from everyone. Every time someone said they wanted some ice cream I panicked.”

“Lou.”

“‘M sorry this is really stupid, god - what are you gonna do with some snowballs, I should’ve gone in with the other girls, got you something really good… I just - well, I thought you’d like it and I know you misse-”

“Baby, I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I… I didn’t think anyone would think of me like this, like mama did, ever again. I - well, thank you, Lou darling, this is, well, its the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.” He grabs her arm, tugging her to him - pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, the force of it surprising her. “I’m gonna show everyone - c’mon - quick before they melt.” He runs out of the kitchen, leaving Louise to follow meekly behind.

He shows them off like he’s a new father, proudly holding them up in the box, delicately picking one of them up and sighing at it, holding it up at the light for everyone to marvel at. It’s a little ridiculous in some ways - everyone in the room had been gifted something hugely lavish, and yet the thing everyone was talking and gossiping at was a snowball.

Hours later the party finally winds down enough that Louise realises she’s one of the last few stragglers of a night so late it’s turned into Christmas morning. How she’d ended up in this position she’ll never know, and she questions it herself as she stands quietly in the doorway, watching Elvis fumble on the piano. Just his fiddling is beautiful, little snippets of remembered carols, before he hammers onto the keys, singing along to Santa Claus is Back in Town. Louise can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes her and he looks up at her, smiling almost teasingly, perfect glint in his eye as he pauses for a second to run a hand through his hair before he continues for another verse and a half. He stops almost abruptly, standing up to stretch before turning to her. She’s trying to find the words to explain how beautiful it was, how perfect he sounds - how she can feel it throughout her whole being, but before she can express those sentiments he’s in front of her and grasping her hand.

“C’mon,” He tugs her over to the armchair he’d been sat in earlier in the evening, “Over here hon, that’s it - you’re the last.” Elvis throws himself onto the chair, holding onto her, pulling her stumbling body against his. “You’re the last of my girls left…” He sighs melodramatically and Louise giggles uncontrollably back at him. She’d had an illicit two glasses and a half of champagne earlier in the evening; Elvis had playfully wagged his finger at her as she’d accepted it from Red although she’d seen him have more than a few drinks himself. She can feel the bubbles still settling into her tummy and head, fuzzing her thoughts a little and making her giggly and affectionate. Still, she wasn’t so tipsy she couldn’t call out his overdramatic behaviour.

“They’ve just gone home for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure.” She shakes her head. He ignores her, crying out,

“I’m all alone!” He tugs her by her elbow, catching her as she stumbles into his lap, pulling her onto him, flattening her wide skirt. It wasn’t really the fashion anymore but while she’d been momentarily hesitant about her holiday dress she wasn’t self-conscious, and she liked how it made her shape look. Some might suggest the bow and petticoats were juvenile, but it made her feel more adult than the tighter styles that were starting to become popular with her peers, more herself than playing dress-up.

She snuggles under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, cheeks pressed against the little buttons of his shirt. He pretends to choke at her hair brushing his nose, using his free hand to flatten it under his chin and she grins, shivering against him as his breath tickles her skin. They stay cuddled for a few moments, sinking into the kind of happy exhaustion that seems to only occur on holidays. It feels different than before, although Elvis is more similarly carefree than she’d seen him in a long time. He’d grown up a lot over the years she hadn’t seen him, or so it felt, and his adultness didn’t match the image of him playing and fooling around that she had in her head. It’s an awful feeling, she thinks, that even with him right there, surrounding her, she still longs for a little more of the playfulness of the past.

Suddenly though Elvis shifts, interrupting her thoughts and murmuring against the top of her head,

“Y’hear that?” Louise stops breathing, and all she can hear is the solid thump-thump of his heart against her ear, he waits a second but she can’t work out what he’s referring to and doesn’t respond, he gasps “There it is again! Do you hear it?”

Louise shakes her head against him, frowning a little, “No?” She tries really hard to listen out, but other than the faintest hint of the music from the boys in the other room she can’t hear a thing. “The music?”

“No! No, listen.” He puts his finger to his lips, shushing her,

“I really don’t hear anything Elvis.” He wraps his arm around her waist a little tighter, tugging her up so she was sat more upright on his knee, her face close to his. He whispers into her ear,

“I think I hear hooves…” Louise frowns,

“Hooves!?” God, it would be just her luck that he’d gone and bought her a horse or something, and she’d have to act grateful even though she was terrified of them.

“Mmhmm, that’s right.” His hand rises up to brush across her back gently, fingertips dancing around her side, “Hooves. Hooves and bells.” He pauses for dramatic effect, jabbing his finger into her side in a tickling poke. His voice dips lower, as his arm squeezes around her, “Someone must have been a good girl this year.”

Louise grins when she realises what he’s implying and couldn’t bring herself not to play along.

“…You think it’s Santa Claus?!”

“Hmm, definitely…who else would it be, on the roof with hooves and bells on Christmas eve?” She giggles, both in response to his kind-natured teasing and his fingers poking her side with an exaggerated motion.

“Oh, I wonder what he’ll leave in my stocking…” Elvis hums against her hair,

“Mmm. Coal.”

“Nooo!” She giggles back to him, “You just said I’ve been a good girl!”

“You’ve been a very good little girl.” His voice has hit that low pitch that immediately sends a jolt down her spine, right into the pit of her stomach and she swallows, trying to keep up with the joke.

“Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is.”

“Mmhmm….” His hand brushes up her leg, “Bet ya I’ll like what’s in your stockings more…”

“Elvis!” She shrieks, playfully batting his hand away, he pulls it off of her, smoothing down her skirt, and resting it onto her lap for a moment. Louise feels her breath catching as he presses a kiss to the side of her head, brushing her hair out of the way and shifting her on his thigh so that she’s facing him. It’s almost a struggle for her to meet his eyes, she felt so desperate for his attention - but there was nowhere else to look that made her feel any less heated. His hair, god even his eyebrows were Elvis-enough to make her squirm. It’s only a second of him kissing her jaw, before she’s gasping for him, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s grabbing his hand and shoving it back on her thigh.

She’d kept herself for him, even as it felt that she’d been playing before, doing it for someone who would never notice or care - ostensibly in general, but really if she was truthful - for him. She’d touched herself, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation, especially after his deep voice came through the phone - but the other boys, the boys in school, the ones with blue collar jobs and careers, had all lost their appeal whenever she imagined kissing them, and her imagination interposed the image and feeling of him, his slippery body in the pool, the feel of him in front of her on the bike. He was thinner now, even still, than he was before, puppy fat replaced with lean muscles. His face shape changed just the tiniest bit, perhaps unnoticeable to some, but so very obvious to her, cheekbones and chin more angular than before. But his lips feel the same as they did before he left, and since his return home - she’d expected they’d have lost their eager nature, but still she can feel the hint of desperation as he presses them against her jaw.

She gasps, rocking against him as he roves down her neck - a place no one else has ever touched, tiny points of pressure feeling like a heat was expanding across her neck and chest, matching the clench of her thighs. His hand gently strokes up her stockings before he hitches her up, capturing his mouth with hers and shoving her underlayers up to her waist in the abrupt movement. Louise moves with him, desperate to stay in contact with his lips and she moans in upset when he starts to pull away.

“C’mon baby,” He whispers, “C’mon, Lou-Lou let me - let me say thank you,” He’s barely audible as he speaks against her lips between pressing bruising kisses onto them, “I just - wanna, wanna make you feel good, Lou doll.” She gasps out her agreement, eyes falling closed and her head falling into his shoulder as his fingers find their way to rub against the silk of her underwear. He shifts her again, balancing her so she can rock against his thigh and his hand, whilst also rubbing her leg against his covered crotch. Louise is almost surprised at the heat of him against her thigh, but her curiosity has no chance to be satisfied when he hooks a finger under the leg band of her panties, totally distracting her from anything but the feel of him under her and attempting to stay somewhat upright. His finger feels softer than she’d imagined, and yet, in comparison to her own the pads feel foreign, rougher and surer than hers ever were sliding into the wetness they find there.

“God, you’re so soft baby, so fucking soft in here, perfect for me, you been waiting on me, honey?”

“Uh-huh, waited, waited so long for you Elvis - didn’t, I didn’t want anyone but you.” He groans in response, his fingers moving faster. Until he’s forced to stop, tangled in the fabric and he growls in frustration. Louise feels it go straight down her body, and her thighs clench, trapping his hand even more. He pauses for barely a second to manhandle her up, just enough to roughly tug her panties down enough that it’s now entirely her bare skin rubbing against his hand and clothed thigh, the fibres of his trousers almost giving her a friction burn with her rapid movements. He continues as he was a second earlier, but now with far easier access he’s able to swipe his fingers across her clit, taking her to the edge almost immediately. She has no idea if this was something he’s always done well, or if this is a trick he’d picked up while he was away, but whatever the reason she was grateful. She doesn’t even consider how they were still, essentially, in public, too distracted by his slender fingers to be concerned about her now partial nudity. The only noise to break up their combined breathy moans is the layers of of taffeta rustling between them, as she continues to rock against his thigh, but this all changes when he delves his thumb into her wetness, bringing it back up to stroke circles on her clit, gently but repeatedly running it over her.

“Oh, Elvis?” She cries out,

“What baby? You’re so - I can feel you’re close,” His own breathing is getting heavier, and he holds her steady with his other hand grasping her thigh while his thumb continues to stroke her,

“I don’t - I don’t…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, and before she manages to turn it into a complete sentence she’s shaking on him as she rides out her orgasm. He sees her through it, continuing to stroke her with the same pressure before rapidly shoving his hand down his own pants, roughly rubbing himself off to quick completion. She watches him closely, unable to do anything but stare as his own eyes slide closed, head falling back against the couch and mouth opening as he gasps out a high-pitched moan. It was about enough to make her shudder again against his thigh, the look on his face, his mussed hair, open collar and the noises of sheer pleasure. Louise finds herself bouncing on his chest as he breathes rapidly from the effort, and he holds her tight for a few moments while they both regain use of their limbs. Louise feels almost a little shell-shocked and she only really comes to her senses when Elvis shifts, wiping his hand on his trousers with a grimace and patting her thigh,

“Gosh that was, I, um, thank you El,” He grins at her, clearly pleased with his success, and he pats her leg again,

“Thank you, honey, for just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me earlier baby, it was just - I’m gonna treasure them snowballs forever, you’ll see.” She grins back at him before an unstoppable yawn takes over her face, “C’mon lil girl, time for bed.” She gulps, thinking about all the people on the house - worrying what will happen next,

“D’you…where am I gonna sleep?” Elvis frowns, little furrowed line marring his previously relaxed face,

“With me?”

“Oh,” Louise swallows, “Um, I think my parents will be expecting me - you know, Christmas morning’s all about -“

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll drop you home at the crack of dawn,” He winks, “-gotta make sure the house is all in order in any case anyway.” Elvis pauses, “Or, or you could invite your mama and pops over. They’d be more than welcome…nothing my mama liked more than a full house - especially at Christmas.” He’s looking at her with that earnest little boy expression again and it takes everything in her not to just suggest she should stay forever, it was so absurd that he’d want her to stay, instead of the other way around.

“Well…maybe I could stay. And, well, I mean, I could come over in the evening? If you swear you’ll make sure I get home in time -“ He’s quick to interject,

“Cross my heart darling,” She hums at him, and he motions the crossing of his heart across his chest, solemnly holding eye contact, “I swear.”

“Ok then, I’d love to stay.”

Somehow, and (despite his promises) to Louise’s surprise, she’s dutifully shaken awake and dropped off home, albeit not by Elvis himself, only a few very short hours later. Coming up the driveway of her childhood home it feels almost inconceivable that she should have spent the day and night how she has, and she wonders for a brief moment if she hadn’t knocked her head or something and just hallucinated the whole affair. She’s so in her thoughts that she doesn’t yet notice, as she traipses past the lounge and kitchen where she can hear her mother singing to quickly change, a new set of boxes under the Christmas tree. Elvis’ script on the gift tags declaring “To Louise, a very good girl, from Santa.”

taglist: (it's been so long that I've lost the list for this verse - lmk if you want to be added, or taken off!)

@lialocklear @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @shakerattlescroll

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #be-my-ally #splashing around #elvis x louise

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mrghostrat · 4 months

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i appreciate all the kindness for my uni rejection, and anyone going through the same thing should def read through my replies if they need similar comfort. there’s a lot of “ATAR isn’t everything!” comments tho, which made me realise i haven’t actually talked much about my goals, so i wanted to share a little context.

i’m 30 (on the 17th). i took a gap year after high school and i went to uni at 19. i even dropped out a semester before graduating to pursue the one thing that was making me happy (my first original comic) during a really bad depression (undiagnosed adhd burnout). i got the last units and graduated a year later, a bachelor of game design.

haven’t used my degree once. i went into comics and freelance rather than games. but i also loved that degree and would do it all again, it was absolutely worth it.

i’ve been freelance and self sufficient for 6-7 years, and it’s fun and i’m proud of the things i’ve made, but i’m so tired. i’m specifically tired of having to work 7 different angles to make up one sufficient salary, and even if it ends up being temporary, i’d give anything for a 9-5. have someone else in charge for once.

got to the end of my rope last year and sat down to figure out what i like and what i’m good at. a Life Plan, yknow. i’ve always had an interest in teaching, helping, connecting like that. figured out degrees and became really invested in this new trajectory i pictured my life going on. i was also tired of waiting, because every time i wanted to move back to the city from this tiny town we’re in, somethings come up or delayed it. so zita helped me figure out how we could get the ball rolling and break our lease 3 months early, so we could move back to melbourne and i could start my degree this year. we looked for (and found) an apartment specifically on the side of the city that would be closest to my campus.

i hope that gives a lil context as to why i’m so devastated right now. the last 5 months have been me revving up to start this new chapter at the end of feb and one little email said nah.

the degree i wanted to do was a double degree, secondary education (hons) and a BA of fine arts. i was equally excited for both, because i never got to do a lot of actual art learning in my last degree, and the BA would give me all of that— life drawing, sculpting, painting, wood/metal/jewellery working, digital, fuckin everything. but it was the less important of the pair, when it comes to getting myself a job as an art teacher, because i already have the art experience. it was just a fun bonus, and the education degree was the one i NEEDED.

in nov i had to travel to melbourne to present a portfolio and interview for the BA. they showed me around the studio too, and i fell a little bit in love. i got the acceptance email in december, but i still didn’t have an offer for the education degree. another reason why i’m so discombobulated— i technically have an invitation, but it’s for the less important degree that would just be a money sink. do i go to uni anyway?? or just ignore this invitation and move on?

my state recently made education/teaching degrees free as a way of encouraging more teacher jobs. i learnt about this after i decided i wanted to pursue teaching, so it was just a fun lil bonus that i wouldn’t be adding to my student debt. apparently not, bc i didn’t think about how every teenager and their dog would apply for teaching degrees so they could get straight into uni without any debt. so, even tho i’m a graduate and i’m not relying on school scores, i was one in a million, likely just numbers on a page, and didn’t get in.

there could be other paths. i could start the BA and add the Edu degree later? i could reapply for mid year intake. i could… idk, most of what i could do requires emailing Monash and asking wtf, because i have no idea what’s actually possible and will need someone to lay it out for me.

still feels like i’ve run into a brick wall though. little bit shut down. more sad, not quite angry, but suddenly really spiteful for some reason— like “oh, you don’t want me? okay fuck you then, i won’t ever teach.” so stupid. just a bit fragile rn

#ghost scribbles

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yeonjunszn · 10 months

Text

ASAP! — TWENTY

PAIRING! mark lee x f!reader

SUMMARY! you’re not exactly the best barista at zhong coffee, but for some unknown reason (his massive crush on you), mark thinks you can do no wrong. sick and tired of his favoritism and your lack thereof due to absolute obliviousness, your coworkers are determined to fix this problem. asap.

MORE! 🙀🙀🙀 LEE JENO WTF IS WRONG WITH U (i’m sorry for making u a bad person my sugarplum i love u but ur a milf lover so it worked for plot’s sake)

◠‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠

As if your day couldn't get any worse, just earlier you were taunted by Jeno in front of multiple customers (Mommy of the Month and her little posse of soccer moms) for not knowing how to steam milk properly. Leave it to Mr. I Love Milfs to make you feel small in front of, well, said Milfs.

And now, as you huff in front of an older male customer, he yells at you for not knowing the difference between a Wet Cap and a Dry Cap. Was there even a difference? You don’t even drink cappuccinos.

"You know, that's what I hate about young ladies like you, taking job opportunities away from men like me. You're so stupid, you can't tell the difference between these two cappuccinos? They're different in weight and taste. Are you tasteless? Blind? Maybe both? How do you even work in a coffee shop?"

As the man goes on criticizing you, you can't help but feel the tears well up in your eyes and start dripping down your face. Yet another problem over the stupid milk. Drip, drip, drip. It takes only a few tears to fall down your face for the customer to start getting angrier.

"Oh, look. The idiot girl is crying. Get me your manager, I need to talk to him about lousy, useless girls like you."

Renjun, who just happened to hear the last part of the customer's sentence, whips out his phone under the bar to text Mark. He knows he can't deal with this customer alone, not when you're damn near shivering like you went for a swim in the middle of December.

It’s not long before Renjun steps into your way as Mark grabs your hand, pulling you away from the customer. He laces your fingers together as he guides you towards his office, making sure it's empty as he sits you down in a chair.

"Are you okay?" Mark asks, eyes filled with concern and heart aching for you.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to speak out of fear that your voice will quiver much like your body is right now.

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had you switch your usual shifts," Mark comments. He kneels down before you, thumb brushing across your puffy cheeks to stop your tears. "I would have never done it if I had known you were going to be treated like this. I know you’re used to the usual mid shift customers."

Mark’s other hand pats the top of your head comfortingly as you sniffle, finally speaking, "No, I... I promised you I would help. I just didn't know Jeno was so mean sometimes. And that old guys were capable of yelling at me like that."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'll talk to Jeno and I'll switch you back to your mids with Jaemin and Yangyang," Mark sighs. He looks for any hint of upset in your eyes, but instead he gets a faraway look. Like there's something not quite there. "Do you want a hug to make you feel better?"

You nod your head slowly and Mark stands up, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist as he begins to rock the two of you back and forth, swaying and humming to an imaginary tune.

After a while, you pull away and look up at Mark with a pout and hopeful eyes, "Mark?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm a bad barista?" you ask.

"Well, I think you weren't as good as the other baristas before, but you are getting better," he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. If his hand had lingered for any longer, he would have been able to feel the heat pooling in your cheeks.

"Okay... Um, do you think I'm stupid?"

"No. It's practically impossible to tell those two cappuccinos apart unless you’ve been a barista for a really long time. That guy was just an asshole. If he ever comes back here, I'll beat his ass to a pulp," Mark answers you truthfully. He speaks clearly; he wants you to think highly of yourself and not listen to the words of some arrogant customer. A part of you believes him, taking his words to heart.

"One more thing..." you mutter, pushing yourself back into his chest and hiding your face.

"Mm?"

"Can I... can I have your chocolate croissant?" you ask, hesitation in your voice.

Mark bursts out into laughter at your silly question, his entire body vibrating as he holds you tight. "Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Of course, Y/N. You can have whatever you want," Mark says. "Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"Yes. Thank you," you murmur, looking at his face — more specifically, his eyebrows. Something in you makes you a tiny bit shy, not able to look into his eyes as he smiles at you.

"Any time."

There's a racing in your chest, where your heart is, one that's never really been there before. Whatever it is, you hope that it will calm itself. Quickly.

TWENTY — chocolate croissant

PREV! nineteen — i will force his hand into a blender

NEXT! twenty one — #xiaojun_out

MASTERLIST!

◠‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠

TAGLIST! @stardusthyuck @erin-calling @tddyhyck @bigheadchen @choiwonder @neozon3nha @sunflowerbebe07 @kissesfrmwonwoo @miyawwn @sserafimez @haechansbbg @lilyidk03 @mowchiie @jaemsrina @jeongintwt @shwizhies

#nct #nct smau #nct social media au #nct socmed au #nct mark x reader #nct mark smau #mark lee x reader #mark lee smau #mark lee social media au #mark x reader #mark smau #mark social media au #yeonjunszn #asap.mark❕

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cha-melodius · 6 months

Text

TFW you start writing a new fic (when you shouldn't, because the fic that's due for an exchange is not done shhhhhh), but then you don't want to share anything from that too because you want it to be a surprise (if you can finish it before Christmas)...

Anyway, please instead have this bit of the YGM AU that I wrote quite a while ago now, but it's Christmassy so I'm sharing it now. Thanks for the tags @kiwiana-writes, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @orchidscript, @leaves-of-laurelin, @rmd-writes, and @adreamareads. Also @clottedcreamfudge asked to be tagged, so there.

One frigid mid-December evening, he calls a cab to take him to Brooklyn and loads the boxes into the trunk. There’s a new pin attached to the lapel of his coat: a tiny bi pride flag that Nora dropped nonchalantly on his desk the other day. On one hand, he feels kind of ridiculous to be broadcasting it to the world at large considering he hasn’t come out to his family—or anyone but Nora, actually—but there’s something to be said for the anonymity. The nameless New Yorkers he encounters don’t care. It’s kind of liberating. The Okonjo shelter is housed in a modern construction with an exterior of glass, concrete, steel, but the inside is homey and warm, decorated with an eclectic collection of furniture that somehow doesn’t look mismatched. The front room seems to be a lobby of sorts, which is decked out with a massive Christmas tree that’s absolutely covered in ornaments representing every kind of queer pride flag. Alex is too busy trying to carry too many boxes at once to really appreciate all of the handmade holiday decor, but he catches sight of Hanukkah and Kwanzaa decorations amongst plentiful signs proclaiming things like “Make the Yuletide Gay” (a standard), “Jingle All the Gay” (kind of a stretch), and “Ho Ho Homosexual” (inspired—Alex might steal that one for the shop).

It's getting late and I've been busy all day so idk who's been tagged, so please feel free to ignore me. @welcometololaland, @cricketnationrise, @indomitable-love, @iboatedhere, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @ships-to-sail, @sherryvalli, @statueinthestonetoo, @liminalmemories21, @myheartalivewrites, @nontoxic-writes, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @dumbpeachjuice, @three-drink-amy, @nicijones, @mirilyawrites, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, and an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in, tag me!

#wip wednesday #my wips #rwrb #rwrb fic #false dichotomy

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cleolinda · 7 months

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Dear diary

I saw a post around here somewhere, not sure where, about how you might feel low and disappointed after something you were really excited about, like a concert, and it's not because you didn't enjoy it as much as you hoped; it's because you actually had an "I used up all my happy chemicals" crash afterwards, and you basically need to take care of yourself. I think I basically did this to myself re: the entire month of October, and now I'm having a post-Favorite Holiday crash. Like, I wrote and posted thousands of words, and now I'm just sort of limp. Which is great, until you say, "Hey, I have a thing where you sign up to read my writing on a monthly basis." I've done Weekend Links regularly, at least.

I specifically feel really fatigued in my... hands and arms? Like, they feel difficult to lift, even? I associate this (and a particular kind of head-hanging exhaustion) with long covid, so it's possible my flu shot and my immune system didn't play as well together as I hoped. But, like, I've been dealing with long covid for years now; it is what it is. Do vitamins about it.

I'm drafting sort of a catch-up post for Dreamwidth, as a way of clawing myself back to productivity. Which, I don't mean "productivity" in a MUST PRODUCE TO JUSTIFY EXISTENCE way, just... I want to produce and write and create, I want to exchange the work of my brain for currency, I gotta figure my shit out.

But November is blah. I just... I don't care much for Thanksgiving (no candy, no gifts, no festive lights, absolutely terrible color scheme, casseroles that my autism can't handle, Pilgrims), and so for me, November is just this big lull between holidays. December is always a lot more fun to me, given that my sister and I both have our birthdays mid-month. Granted, for the last few years, my birthday has tended to be horrific (I will probably write about the one I spent in a surgeon's office. The birthday where we all tested positive for covid and had to go into a two-week quarantine isn't actually that interesting), so I should honestly be a little wary of December. But I love the glittery, liminal, holiday-by-night aesthetic. I definitely want to write about that, if I can think how to explain Liminal Christmas.

#me for some reason #odds and ends #health

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marzipanandminutiae · 6 months

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i think it’s less that ppl are legit expecting a white christmas in boston every year and more that the probability for one used to be 20 to 30% and it’s now been almost 15 years without one and probability has dropped to 10% and will continue to drop. for someplace like worcester in massachusetts it’s even worse — probability was 67% ish for the boomers and now it’s a little over 30%. only 27 white christmases in boston since 1892 sounds small but when u consider most bostonians had 3 white christmases by their mid-teens on top of all the christmases where there was snow even if it wasn’t one inch and now there are teenagers who haven’t seen even one white christmas… it makes sense why ppl freak out every year it still hasn’t happened.

And that absolutely makes sense, yeah! I have immense climate anxiety too, like I said!

What I was responding to was more the people saying "it's 60 and raining in Boston and it feels like the apocalypse" or "this isn't how it's supposed to be ever; this never used to happen."

I don't know if you saw my longer post, but I went and looked at Boston weather records going back to 1893. Most Decembers from 1893-1903 had multiple days in the upper 50s, with many years getting into the 60s at least once. I didn't track every single year from 1893 to the present, but it seems reasonable to assume that that 10-year period wasn't just a weird fluke. December 1895 actually had more days in the 60s (5) than December 2022 (1).

That's not the full story, of course- December 1895 also had a couple of days in the 20s before that upswing, some with small amounts of snow. You also have things like overnight lows going haywire, and other reminders that climate change is real and it is happening now. I would never, ever attempt to deny that. It's the single biggest problem facing humanity at the moment.

However. There are multiple things to hold in our minds at the same time when thinking about its day-to-day effect on our lives, and one of them is "the effects are seldom as simple as It's Warmer Every Day Now Than It Ever Has Been, And That Will Continue Unilaterally For The Rest Of Our Lives." I'm not trying to deny or negate anything. I'm just trying to make people feel a little less despondent.

(I also just discovered that the metric for a white Christmas here in Boson states that it has to fall before 7 AM, which seems arbitrary and weird. We actually had a white Christmas here in 2017- we got 2.9" of snow -it just fell later in the day. So...it doesn't count for some reason? That's really strange to me. Anyway, the article where I learned this estimates our average yearly "one inch of snow on the ground at 7 AM on Christmas morning" chances nowadays at 19% as of three days ago.)

(I also think this demonstrates what I'm calling Reverse Environmental Amnesia- where, rather than thinking that the effects of climate change have always been normal, you tend to remember past weather in a way that fits the absolute direst interpretation of circumstances. Anyone who was in Boston on Christmas 2017 SHOULD remember the snowstorm...but I've seen multiple locals who don't travel for the holidays agreeing that we've had no Christmas snow at all since 2009.)

#ask #anon #climate change #boston #history #the 7 AM rule is super-weird. like. everyone is saying our last white Christmas was 2009 all over the Internet #but we literally got almost 3 inches six years ago #it somehow just doesn't count because of the timing? I'm calling BS #in that case the first white Christmas of my life- 2010 in Nashville -wasn't real #neither was the second- last year; same place -because it was less than an inch #like this is so arbitrary #to my mind a white Christmas is if you see snow on the ground at some point on December 25th. end of.

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lovelyleclercs · 1 year

Text

My Biggest Gift is You- GR63

George Russell x Fem!Reader

-> George finally decides he's ready to spend the rest of his life with you.

word count: 1244

warnings: incredibly cheesy, mentions of sex, not proof read

A/N: this is by far the cheesiest thing I've ever written.

3 years. 1095 days. 26280 hours. 1576800 minutes. 94608000 seconds. That’s how long you have spent by George Russell’s side.

You had met George in November of 2019 when you visited the Williams garage with your father who happened to be good friends with George’s father.

From the moment you meant George, you had been completely starstruck. His eyes were the first part of him you fell in love with- afterall, who wouldn’t love his ocean blue eyes.

After spending the entire day with him, following him around the paddock and the hospitality sweet as he tried to explain the sport he lived and breathed to you, you very quickly realized that you had caught feelings for him. Some would call it love at first sight, and maybe it was.

It wasn’t until after George was done with all of the postseason testing that he had finally asked you out on a date.

You had expected the date to be a one time thing- surely the feelings you had for him weren’t reciprocated- so when he had asked you to be his girlfriend as he was dropping you off at home, it had caught you by surprise. Of course, you had agreed, and the rest has been history ever since.

George had planned a surprise date to celebrate your three year anniversary, which you hated because you desperately wanted to know where you were going and what you were doing, but George wouldn’t give in and spoil the surprise.

You had dressed up in jeans and a nice blouse- it was far too cold to wear a dress since it was mid-December in london. George had given you a set of diamond earrings earlier that morning and asked you to wear them out tonight, so you put them in as quickly as possible before making your way down the stairs of the house you shared. “George! I’m ready!! Where are y- mom?”

“Oh, hello darling! Pretend like I'm not here, I’m just dropping off some leftovers for you and George for tomorrow!”

You laughed a little and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks mom, I would stay and chat but I'm already 5 minutes late for our date so I have to find george. Have you seen him?”

Your mother laughed and nodded, pointing out the back door. “He went out that way, something about needing to check to see if the roof of the shed is still standing after the snow storm two days ago”

You laughed a little and put your shoes on before walking out the back door. You had expected to see George standing on the deck trying to see the top of the shed, instead, you saw a trail of lit candles, leading their way to the shed.

George was a hopeless romantic, always finding ways to make each date more romantic and memorable than the last. An intimate night at home just the two of you would be absolutely impossible to beat.

You followed the trail of candles and knocked gently on the shed door once you approached it. “George? Am i all good to come inside?”

“Yes, of course darling. Come in!”

You opened the door and smiled, looking around at how beautifully decorated the shed was. There was a small table for two sat in the middle of the small shed, lit candles placed on the middle of the table while the best plates and silverware the two of you owned were set out, waiting to be used.

White Christmas lights were draped from the top of the ceiling, hanging down slightly, but not low enough to hit your head on as you walked over to George. “I hate to break it to you, honey, but I think this date will be hard to beat,” you said with a smile before wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a slow, gentle kiss.

George smiled into the kiss, allowing his hands to rest on your waist. “Never underestimate the power of my date planning abilities, darling. I’m sure I could top it”

You laughed and rolled your eyes before giving him one last kiss. “You’ve got a big ego, mr. russell.”

“Mr. Russell? You usually only call me that when you want sex, Mrs. Russell” he said with a smirk.

You laughed and buried your face into his shoulder, trying to hide the fact that you were blushing. On the few rare occasions George called you Mrs. Russell, it always sent butterflies straight to your stomach and turned your cheeks the brightest shade of red. The idea of one day becoming George’s wife made you smile. “It is our anniversary, I’d be shocked if the night didn’t end in bed with our clothes on the floor, honey.’

George laughed and grabbed your hands in his, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs as he looked into your eyes. “You’re beautiful, darling. Not only in your looks, but your personality… I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a partner who matches me so perfectly…”

You smiled and squeezed his hands tightly. “That’s so sweet, honey. I could say the exact same thing about you, ya know.”

George smiled and kissed your forehead before looking into your eyes once more. “We’ve spent the past three years getting to know one another, loving each other, and growing together. These past three years have by far been the best of my life. I’ve never been happier, and I have you to thank for that. You are the root of my happiness, the reason why bad races are a lot easier now than they ever were before, the reason why I look forward to coming home, when I used to dread leaving whatever country I was in for whatever race I was driving in. I am the best version of myself because of you. You have taught me how to love stronger, work harder, and be happier, and for that I am so grateful. You complete me, y/n.”

You smiled up at him, tears in your eyes as you listened to him say such wonderful things about you and your relationship. “George….”

George had tears in his eyes at that point. He squeezed your hands tightly before letting go of one and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small, black, velvet box and getting down onto one knee. Your free hand covered your mouth, almost as if you couldn’t believe what was happening. You had practically dreamed of this moment for years.

“Y/n, you’re it for me. There is nobody else in this lifetime I would ever want to do life with. I want to get married to you, have children with you, grow old with you.. I want everything in life to happen with you. Will you marry me?” he asked, opening the box to show off the ring that had been hidden under the lid.

You covered your face with both of your hands and nodded as your tears ran down your face at a rapid pace. “Yes… of course I will, George…”

George smiled and took the ring out of the box before slipping it onto your left ring finger, pulling you into a tight hug after he did so. “I love you, y/n. So much.”

You hugged him back, your face buried into his shoulder. “I love you too, George. I can’t wait to spend forever with you…”

tag list- @hammick @Cl16msc47 @majkaftorek @polyjuiceslytherin @Lizziebitch33 @viktorie16 @Johannalindau @Southernprincess1997 @Myescapefromthislife @my-fangirling-outlet

#george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell fic #f1 pov #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lovelyleclercs christmas

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 5 months

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reading update: DECEMBER 2023

what's up gamers!!!! 2023 is over, and before I can make a post reflecting on every book I read I need to talk specifically about what I was reading in December. I was lucky enough to end the year coming out of a pretty dire depressive fug, and I celebrated by going buckwild reading as much as possible and placing so many holds at the local library that I will, probably, come to regret any day now. such is the price of being in love with life again, I guess!

let's talk about it!!!

what I read:

Buffalo is the New Buffalo (Chelsea Vowel, 2022) - a collection of Métis speculative fiction short stories. Vowel's stories didn't always quite land for me, feeling as if they would benefit from another round or two of revisions and a bit of elaboration, but even when they fell a little flat the concepts were promising. I especially adored the story "Michif Man," in which a mid-twentieth century Métis man is gored by a radioactive buffalo and develops strange powers that he uses to defend his community, told through the fascinating framing device of a 21st century scholar's speech making a case for Michif Man's existence. I also really liked the closing story, "Unsettled," which felt like really cool old school sci-fi: five clashing characters alone burdened with the responsibility of tending to the rest of humanity frozen in stasis, with each character serving as a mouthpiece for a vastly different perspective and set of values about their Indigenous identity. hit or miss collection for me, but the hits hit much harder than the misses missed.

The Bandit Queens (Parini Schroff, 2023) - this book was genuinely so so hard to put down!!! the story follows a group of women in a small Indian village as they decide to start solving problems by murdering their husbands, turning to Geeta - whose widely believed to have killed her own husband years ago - for advice. the only problem is that Geeta didn't kill him, he just walked out on her. and now she's caught in a RAPIDLY tangling web of murder, blackmail, and hidden motives among women she's never let herself get close to. it's a dark comedy, to be sure, but also surprisingly heartfelt, exploring the countless factors - gender, class, caste, religion, motherhood, beauty - that keep Geeta and the other women apart as well as the forces powerful enough to pull them together. it's a book about the power of friendship and also the power of going ape shit.

Small Game (Blair Braverman, 2022) - a VERY different book from Bandit Queens on every level, but equally hard to put down! Braverman is something of a professional wilderness survivor, and decided to write a story about a similarly experienced young woman, Mara, signing up for a survival-themed reality show where everything goes wrong. one day the camera crew simply fails to show up, and everything shifts when the contestants are forced to shift from surviving for show to actually fighting for their lives. a book that's gross and tender in equal amounts; Braverman is a very good storyteller and I'm strongly looking forward to anything else she puts out.

Are You My Mother? (Alison Bechdel, 2012) - a gorgeously drawn and terrifyingly vulnerable graphic memoir. a spectacularly brave endeavor; while I would never discount the tremendous artistry of Bechdel's more well-known Fun Home, I cannot imagine the terror of writing something like this about my mother when she's still alive to read it. absolutely ruinous if you yourself have any remotely complicated feelings about your mother, I will tell you that much!!!!

The Heart Principle (Helen Hoang, 2021) - Helen Hoang is so good that I didn't even count this as my romance novel of the month; this was just a book that I sincerely wanted to read. apparently quite a few reviewers on goodreads whined about how this shouldn't qualify as a romance novel because it's too sad, to which I say those people are fucking wieners. Heart Principle gets heavy, sure, with protagonist Anna navigating the sudden illness and death of her elderly father, but at the same time she's finding happiness and new ways to be herself and having the best sex of her life with resident hottie Quan, who's been a gem of a supporting character in this series since Kiss Quotient. it gets sad as hell, for sure, but it's also a mature, touching, and sexy story of two people developing a bond that encourages them both to embrace life and grow together. also, hi, Anna finding out she's autistic is SUCH a source of joy and eventual self confidence for her and it's SO nice to read.

Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror (ed. Jordan Peele, 2023) - listen. it's a very good short story collection, filled to the bursting with some of the best writers in the game. there are very few stinkers in the bunch, which is really impressive for a collection with so many stories. but. it very seldom felt properly... scary? spooky, creepy, mysterious, supernatural, sure. but I want to be scared!!!! fuck me up!!! Us got under my skin and scared me in a way that I still think about years later, and I was expecting something similar from an anthology edited by Jordan Peele. so on that note I would actually really strongly recommend this is you like being a little spooked but not terrified!

Kiss Her Once for Me (Alison Cochrun, 2022) - this one was the romance novel of the month, voted on by my patrons, and incidentally my patrons should go to prison. listen. this book sucks shit. god, this protagonist sucks. I know the point of this kind of story is for characters to start in a place where they're flawed and you want to see them improve as people, but Ellie is just so endlessly whiny that I don't want to see her improve, I want her to shut the fuck up and stop using her anxiety as an excuse to be wildly unpleasant to everyone else. the chemistry between the main characters was what I call the "because I said so" variety, by which I mean there was no chemistry despite the narrative insisting repeatedly that there definitely was. (incidentally, Ellie had way better chemistry with the man she was fake engaged to, meaning I was actually really rooting for the hetero option for once.) also Cochrun is apparently a huge swiftie and referenced Taylor Swift a truly unwell amount of times in this book. dismal all around.

Mammoths at the Gates (Nghi Vo, 2023) - Nghi Vo can do absolutely no wrong and is one of the authors whose new releases I will ALWAYS be showing up for. Mammoths at the Gates is the latest in the Singing Hills Cycle of novellas, and sees the cleric Chih leaving their quest for stories in order to return home to Singing Hills Abbey after years on the road. they're excited to be home, but nothing is as peaceful as they'd have hoped: an old friend has been promoted, straining their relationship, and a beloved mentor has died, creating a complication when their family come to lay claim to the body. it's a book about death in the best way, by which I mean it's very much a book about life, and I read it all in one delightful morning racing to the gentle shock of the ending.

what am I reading now?

God: A Biography (Jack Miles, 1995) - this is a book rec I scooped from Oh No Ross and Carrie and it is. such a weird reading experience, but I'm enjoying it! this God dude is nuts!

Masters of Death (Olivie Blake, 2018) - I'm not very far into this book yet, and I can't decide if the prose is fun or annoying. maybe both!

what's next: a list of books I have on hold

Patternmaster (Octavia Butler)

Laziness Does Not Exist (Devon Price)

Piñata (Leopoldo Gout)

#bookblr #reading updates

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andreafmn · 1 year

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I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 10

Word Count: 4.3K Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined. Chapter: 10/? A/N: cough cough sorry, dusting off this story after more than a year 😶 honestly, cannot believe it's taken me this long to update this story. So, if there are still any fans of it… Hey!!! I am so sorry for taking forever, but I will absolutely try to keep to my new writing schedule [if you wanna see it, it's on my Tumblr andreafmn]. Thank you to all the peeps that are reading. I hope you enjoy! My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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Chapter 10

(Y/N) could not help the feeling that took over her. It was a giddy excitement that filled her as she rode back home. She couldn’t quite place it, only knowing what it could be from books she had read and movies she had seen.

She liked him. She truly liked Derek Hale.

Derek Hale.

The name repeated inside her head like a grounding mantra.

Derek Hale, the werewolf.

Derek Hale, the alpha.

Derek Hale, the most wanted man in her family.

The girl wasn’t afraid of her feelings. Those she could guard, those she could shield from her world. Her emotions weren’t the ones she wanted to keep safe. She wanted to keep Derek safe — keep him safe. Her family had already caused him so much pain. Her own flesh had burned away his family like they were nothing more than insects. The same blood that rushed through her veins had been able to kill a group of innocent people leaving Derek on his own.

That was what she wanted to protect him from. (Y/N) wanted him shielded from all the horror her family would continue to enforce. When she turned eighteen, she would be able to escape and find a way out of the circle that had forgotten the code of a hunter and had decided that supernatural lives were worthless.

All they had to do was reach mid-December. Nine months, that’s all they needed. Nine months and they could dive head-first into whatever it was they were feeling. Whatever new adventure life wanted to throw their way.

“Well, someone seems chipper now,” Isaac teased as (Y/N) balanced her motorcycle on its stand. “I take it things between Derek and you have been fixed?”

“Something like that,” she chuckled. “We at least put some things on the table.”

“What does that even mean?”

Isaac followed her into the house, waiting for her answer. But she simply waltzed through the house, landing in the kitchen. She got a bottle of water and a slice of pizza out of the fridge, eating it without heating it up.

“(Y/N), just tell me what you meant,” Isaac chuckled as he followed her to the living room. “If this is you being happy, I don’t like it.”

“There’s not much to say, honestly,” she mumbled. “We just talked.”

“Give me something here, (Y/N),” Isaac exasperated as he plopped down on the couch next to her. “Judging by the way you’re acting you two did more than just talk.”

“Ew, Isaac,” (Y/N) gasped dramatically. “Need I remind you that I am a minor.”

“He’s not that much older than us and you’re only 17 for a couple more months.”

“9 months to be exact, but who’s counting?” The girl got up from the couch and headed back to the kitchen, dancing around all of her friend’s questions. “You know what this pizza needs? Ranch. It needs some ranch.”

“(Y/N), why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been skating around the topic since you got here. I just wanna know what’s going on between the two of you.”

“Truthfully, there’s nothing going on,” she shrugged. “There’s nothing that can go on just yet. Nothing for nine grueling months. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“What happened a couple of hours ago wasn’t nothing, (Y/N),” he added. “There’s only a few years of difference between you. Are you really telling me you wouldn’t risk it?”

“I could, Isaac, but not with him,” (Y/N) sighed. “I cannot give my family any ammunition against him. If they ever found out that we were together they would find a way to get the authorities involved and trap him afterward, even if he’s innocent. And that not only would put Derek in more danger, but it would set a target on you and everyone else. I simply cannot do that.”

“We can protect ourselves, (Y/N).” He rounded the kitchen island, stopping once he was right next to her, and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “You deserve to be happy. I mean, Allison and Scott are making it work. Why can’t you?”

“Are they making it work?” she questioned. “They sneak around all the time. They have to pretend they hate each other when they’re in school. They can’t admit they’re in love without putting the other in harm’s way. I don’t want that.”

“So, instead you’re gonna pretend that you feel nothing for him? How is that the better option? In the long run, you’re only hurting yourselves.”

“And what am I supposed to do, Isaac? What am I supposed to do if you guys get hurt because of a decision I made? How could I live with myself if my family got their hands on you because of me?” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “I can’t do it. I refuse.”

Isaac remained quiet for a beat, her words sinking into him as every second passed. He understood her need to protect them, the desperation to withhold her wants in order to keep everyone safe. “Is this about Josie?” he whispered, carefully choosing his next words. “Your job is not to protect everyone. At some point, you need to allow yourself to want things for yourself.”

“I can’t. There are too many lives at risk right now and I won’t let anything happen to any of you if I can help it,” she responded sternly. “I don’t care if it takes a lifetime. If it means that you will all be safe, then I will stay away from him.”

“You’re as stubborn as they come, (Y/N),” Isaac responded in defeat. He placed his hands on either side of her face, pressing his forehead to hers as he gifted her a smile. “But if you ever change your mind, just let me know. I’ve got your back, Argent.”

“Thank you, Isaac. I’ve got your back too.”

“You better,” he chuckled. “Now, let’s go to bed. We’ve got a couple of long days ahead of us.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

***

School had been uneventful the next day, the only thing that could be felt was the anxious excitement of the students as talk of the secret rave kept spreading. Tickets were already scarce as it was and as more people knew of its existence the harder it would become to get them.

Thankfully, talk of the rave was strong enough to quiet any whispers of what had transpired in the library. The fact that it had been completely destroyed by supernatural creatures the student body had no idea of had been hidden under the rumor that it had simply been a teenage fight. It was baffling and incomprehensible, yet everyone accepted the answer at face value. At the end of the day, it was simply school property and nothing more interesting.

“Here you go,” Isaac said after math class was over, slipping (Y/N) a yellow and pink piece of paper. “One ticket for tomorrow night’s secret rave. Courtesy of one Derek Hale.”

“Is that what you left so early this morning for? I thought they were already sold out!”

“If there’s one thing I know about Derek it’s that he has connections. And that he’d stop at nothing to stop Jackson.”

“You mean save,” (Y/N) corrected as she walked by his side to her locker. “We are going to save Jackson.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Seriously, Isaac. He’s being controlled by someone else and has no idea of what he’s doing,” she added. Her words were filled with compassion and worry, concerned for a boy that, though despicable, was innocent in the whole ordeal. “Jackson Whittemore might be a whole lot of things, but I know he’s not a killer.”

“You sound like Scott,” Isaac chuckled. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard more people rally behind that guy since he’s become a sort of murderer.”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” (Y/N) said. “If they didn’t, I would have cut you off the second you turned into a cocky ass.”

“Hey, I’ve always been nice to you. It’s other people I don’t like.”

“Who? Stiles and Scott?” she teased. “Is it because Derek doesn’t like them?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I can think for myself,” he scoffed lightly. “I don’t like them because they haven’t given me any reason to like them. That could change at any point, but it seems unlikely.”

“And have you ever even talked to them?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged into his seat. “But I don’t really care to talk about that. Tonight, we’re gonna go see Scott’s boss, the vet. Apparently, he can help us catch Jackson tomorrow night. Wanna come with?”

“I suppose I could. There’s not much happening back home,” she sighed happily. “I think it’s cause my dad’s away.”

“Well then, we’ll have fun,” he smiled. “Just you, me, Scott, and Derek. What a fun group of people.”

“I get along fine with everyone,” she returned the smile. “It’s Derek and you that need to learn how to be able to deal with other people.”

“A couple of weeks ago you couldn’t even say more than five words to them. Now, you’re the biggest team player?”

“What can I say? I really flourish in a stable environment.”

“Between kanimas, werewolves, and hunters,” he laughed. “What a stable environment.”

“At least I’m not moving at the end of the year,” she grinned, slamming the locked door closed. “Now, let’s go eat before we meet the vet. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

As the day transitioned into night, Isaac and (Y/N) left her house for Derek’s. It was in moments like those that the Argent girl forgot what her world had turned into. She wasn’t just going over to her crush’s house to admire him from afar as she spent time with her friend. No. She was on her way to pick up an alpha to figure out how to stop a reptilian-shapeshifting teenager.

(Y/N) had only ever wanted to have a normal life, and for most of it she thought her biggest obstacle was moving every year. In reality, it was the fact that her parents had been secretly training her to become a supernatural hunter. Everything she had been craving was farther from her reach than she could have ever thought.

Still, she could only deal with one problem at a time. Stopping Jackson was the most pressing matter and that’s what her mind had to focus on. Especially when half of the people she surrounded herself with wanted the boy dead. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stand for that.

She killed the engine of her motorcycle as Isaac hopped off the back. They were met with a scowling Derek, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. The sight alone had the girl biting back a laugh, finding the façade he wore when others were around to be the most hilarious acting he could do. She had already seen the side of him he so desperately hid from others, and she could not think of him otherwise.

“Oh, come on, Derek,” Isaac grinned. “There’s no need for jealousy. (Y/N) and I are just friends.”

“I’m not jealous. How could I be?” he devilishly smiled as he got into his car. “There’s no real competition.”

“Cool it, boys,” (Y/N) interjected, settling into the passenger seat. “It’s not like there’s much to choose from. We are terribly lacking in the casting department here in Beacon Hills.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Derek grumbled.

“It means that I have to pick from a really small pool of options,” she said mischievously, a playful grin on her face. “You’re definitely number one. But you’re a close second, Isaac.”

“Hear that, Derek?” Isaac laughed, peeking his head to the front. “You better play your cards right or I might have a chance.”

Instead of responding, Derek slammed on the brakes, making Isaac’s seatbelt lock as his body lurched forward, knocking the air out of his lungs. Quietly, he sat back onto his seat, his eyebrows furrowing and his arms crossing across his chest like a child after a tantrum. But all (Y/N) could stare at was the cocky grin that was plastered on Derek’s face.

“Alright, enough of this pissing competition,” (Y/N) laughed softly. “We have real business to tend to and I don’t wanna be late.”

“You heard the lady, Derek. Step on it.”

“Watch it, Isaac.”

“Guys,” she called their attention, scolding them with her gaze. “Let’s just go.”

The rest of the short car ride was quiet, filled with the soft hum of the radio and the air blowing out of the A/C. But there were stolen glances and smiles between the people in the front of the car. Their arms rested on the center console, their fingers itching to interlace as they stretched toward each other, neither really giving in.

One second, they were leaving Derek’s loft, and the next, they were parked in front of the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic. Before they could reach the door, Scott was already unlocking it, his face contorted in confusion as he stared at (Y/N) and Isaac.

“What’s he doing here?” Scott questioned.

“I need him.”

“I don’t trust him,” the boy added as he walked back inside.

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t trust you either,” Isaac said cockily, his mask quickly slipping on.

“You know what?” the older man said annoyed. “And Derek doesn’t really care.”

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, his tone softening. “Why are you here?”

“Just along for the ride. But at the end of the day, I’m a good mediator for whatever tension is roaming here.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Derek quickly said. “Now where’s the vet? Is he gonna help us or what?”

“That depends,” the doctor answered, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Your friend, Jackson. Are we planning to kill him or save him?”

Derek answered, “Kill him,” at the same time Scott and (Y/N) responded, “Save him.”

Both of the teens stared at the alpha, not shocked at his answer but a tad disappointed. Scott had been clear when he agreed to work together, things would be done his way and that meant doing everything possible to rescue Jackson. And if Derek had any doubts, there were none left once Scott reiterated twice that Jackson would be saved.

Then, and only then, did Dr. Deaton allow the group back into the treatment room. They all stood behind the exam table, following the vet’s every move. He took hold of a tray with neatly arranged vials with symbols on the lids.

With childlike curiosity, Isaac reached for the glass containers. Only to have Derek snatch his hand away. “Watch what you touch,” he said, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but agree. She had learned rather quickly that when it came to that secret world it was better to air of the side of caution.

“So, what are you?” the blonde questioned, keeping his hands to himself but ignoring Derek’s reprimand. “Some kind of witch?”

“No, I’m a veterinarian,” Deaton responded to him before he shifted the conversation to what they were there for. “Unfortunately, I don’t see anything here that’s going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin.”

(Y/N) was intrigued by the man. Even if he claimed to be a mere human, she could tell there was something more to him. There was a powerful energy that emanated from him, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was or what it could mean.

As the man questioned about the Kanima and the others answered, her mind was deadest of figuring out what the energy she was feeling meant. If he was truly just a human, she was afraid she was losing her mind.

“Essentially, you’re trying to capture two people,” she heard him say as her brain focused back on the situation at hand. The doctor turned for a second and pulled out a medallion. “A puppet… and a puppeteer,” he explained as he placed the disk on the table. “One killed the husband while the other killed the wife. Do we know why?”

“I don’t think Jackson could do it,” (Y/N) finally spoke. “His mother died pregnant too, and she was maybe murdered. I think he couldn’t let the same happen to someone else.”

“How do you know it’s not part of the rules?” Isaac questioned. “The Kanima kills murderers. If Jackson kills the wide, then the baby dies too.”

“Does that mean your father was a murderer?” Scott asked him.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was.”

Instinctively, (Y/N)’s hand flew to Isaac’s forearm and gave it a comforting squeeze. Even if the man was a horrible human being and had made the boy’s life a living hell, she knew how hard it still was for him to talk about the man.

“Hold on,” Deaton pondered. “The book says they’re bonded, right? What if the fear of water isn’t coming from Jackson, but from the person controlling him? What if…?” he continued as he grabbed a vial of something (Y/N) recognized as mountain ash and drew a circle around the silver medallion. “Something that controls the Kanima also affects its master?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning we can catch them,” she smiled at the blond. “Both of them. If this theory is right, that means we could get Jackson and whoever is controlling him in the same place.”

“In theory, it should work,” the doctor added. “But you should plan for all possibilities. Scott, you can come over tomorrow and pick up what supply I have of mountain ash. Hopefully, this plan works.”

“I hope so too,” the boy added. “So, we’ll meet up tomorrow before the rave to make sure we’re all on the same page. Right, Derek?”

“Right,” he grumbled. “We’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

Once everyone had agreed to the plan, Deaton and Scott walked the trio to the door, wishing them a good night and safe travels home. But keeping up their macho bravado and feeding their air of dominance, Isaac and Derek made a beeline for the car rather than return the sentiment. It was childish and petty, but it forced a smile out of (Y/N).

“I apologize for those two. It seems they have forgotten their manners,” (Y/N) said. “But thank you, Dr. Deaton, for all your help. And thank you, Scott, for everything you’re doing to make sure Jackson comes out of this alive. He may be a shitty guy, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Scott smiled, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “And although I cannot say I understand why you’re even in the same presence as Derek Hale, I’m glad you’re there to keep him in line.”

“Eh, he’s not that tough,” she chuckled. “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you again, Deaton.”

“Please, call me Alan.”

“Then, thank you, Alan.”

“Get home safe, (Y/N),” Scott called out as she walked to the car.

“You too, Scott,” she smiled. “We’ll get them tomorrow. Even if it takes everything out of us.”

As soon as the girl had closed the door of the black Camaro, the car sped out of the parking lot. After such an influx of information and the slightest sliver of hope, silence befell them. The ride was silent, once again filled only with the soft sound of the radio and the blast from the A/C.

There wasn’t anything more to be said. They either trapped both the kanima and his master, or they would die trying. And it was that sense of dread that kept them mute until they reached the loft where Isaac excused himself to grab a change of clothes.

(Y/N) walked to Derek’s side, leaning against the car right beside him, enjoying the smoothness of his leather jacket against her. It took every ounce of self-control for them to not deepen the touch, to reach out to one another in seek of comfort.

“What do you think will happen tomorrow?” (Y/N) asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” he sighed. “If it were up to me…”

“If it were up to you Jackson would be dead,” she finished sternly. “An innocent life would be taken.”

“Jackson is not innocent.”

“Someone is literally calling the shots for him, Derek. He doesn’t even remember what he’s done,” she retorted. “He shouldn’t be faulted for something he is not doing on his own.”

“I know,” he exasperated. “But he’s still done so many horrible things, even if he doesn’t know it. And he’ll continue to do them if he and whoever is controlling him isn’t stopped.”

“Just please, Derek.” (Y/N) turned to face him, her eyes desperately searching into the darkness of his. Her hands rested on his crossed arms, the only way she found she could convey the level of her worry. "Promise me you won’t kill him. Do whatever it takes to stop him but kill him.”

Derek could only sigh at her plea. He could see the desperation behind her eyes, the way they were looking for any sign of deception in his. But he knew he could not lie, at least not to her. “All I can promise is that he’ll remain alive as long as he stays away from you,” he said. “If he does anything to harm you, he is as good as dead.”

“Derek…”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I’d be so much as digs a single claw into you, I will make sure I’m the one to rip his throat out.”

“Even if we know his venom won’t do anything to me?” (Y/N) blurted. Derek’s eyes grew wide, thinking she would never find out about his transgression. But she had told him that Scott had revealed everything to her, that was just part of the story. “Yes, Scott told me you tested me and Lydia. And at some point, I was everyone’s favorite suspect. What would you do if it had been me? Would you not hesitate to kill me as well?”

“I never doubted you,” he told her, softly cradling the side of her face. “It was never my intention to test you. You just so happened to shade that piece of candy with Lydia. I knew it could have never been you.”

“How could you be so sure? You didn't know me, Derek. You still barely know me,” her voice croaked. “So, I'm asking you. If I had been the kanima, would you be advocating this hard to kill me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then, you shouldn't want to kill Jackson either.”

“It's not even comparable to how I care for you,” he smiled. “But I promise you, and only you, that I will not kill him.”

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, returning the warm smile. “And I'm glad to hear you wouldn't have killed me. I think death wishes would really tamper with our chances.”

“I'm glad it wasn't you then,” he chuckled. “Although, I think we could have made it work. We just would have to make sure your scales were always hydrated.”

“A kanima and a werewolf,” she laughed. “What a match it would have been.”

As they laughed in unison, their gazes met under the light of the moon. His green eyes shone brightly as they studied every inch of her face, every so often falling to her lips. He noted the pinkness of the skin and the plumpness. He saw how they trembled slightly whenever his eyes landed on them. He spotted how they parted to allow a deep breath to slip through.

Oh, how he wanted to taste them. To crash his lips onto hers and savor every second of connection. All it would take was a single move. In less than a second, he could answer every question he had about her mouth.

So, he slowly leaned in.

And she did too.

They were millimeters away from breaking their resolve and throwing caution to the wind. A gust of air and their nine-month pact would be broken. At least, they would have given in to the feeling they most craved for.

“Welp, ready to go!” Isaac's voice startled them apart. His head was focused on his bag, making sure he had everything he needed, and had no idea he had ruined a moment for the pair. “You think we could stop for some food on the way back? I'm starving again.”

The duo could only stare at the tall blond, their faces growing red in embarrassment. “What?” Isaac muttered. “Is it too late for food?”

"It's fine, Isaac,” (Y/N) chuckled at his obliviousness. “We'll get something on the way back. Go start the bike. Let it warm up.”

“Alright,” he said, easily catching the keys she threw him. “I'll let you two lovebirds say goodbye.”

Once he was out of sight, the pair laughed quietly. They had once again been interrupted by one of Derek's teenage strays. And once more they had been that close to giving in to their urges.

“It seems like the universe wants us to wait,” she grinned. “For the record, I really want to kiss you.”

“For the record,” he whispered into her ear. “I really want to kiss you too.”

“I mean, there’s nothing really stopping us right now,” she said, biting her lower lip. “We could just... do it.”

“Not with Isaac right there,” he reminded her. “He might not hear us well, but he can definitely see us. And, not gonna lie, I don’t really wanna kiss you with an audience.”

“Neither do I,” she chuckled. “A year, huh?”

“Nine months,” he smiled. “But who’s counting?”

Next ->

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enbycrip · 1 year

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ID: a black and white photo and caption from a newspaper showing a young white trans man with light hair wearing a tweed jacket and high collar smiling at a young white woman in a pale dress as he brushes her mid-length dark hair. She is smiling at him from the slightly complex angle as he brushes her hair. The photo is faded and not great quality but their faces are clear.

The headline over the photo is “Here’s How I Used To Do It!”

The caption below reads “An expert at women's coiffures although not a hairdresser, Zdenek Koubek proves himself as he combs the locks of Cinda Glenn, New York night club beauty. Koubek knows all about coiffures from experience, since they were of concern to him when he was the foremost girl athlete of Czechoslovakia, prior to a sex-change.”

Zdenek Koubek was born in Paskov, Czechoslovakia (at the time) in December 1913, one of eight siblings, and competed as an athlete. With minimal formal training, he began running at age 17, decided to pursue it formally aged 19, and broke two world records at the 1934 world olympics.

Because queer and gender-diverse history is complex, I’m genuinely unsure if Zdenek was intersex. He seems to have been pretty gender-nonconforming when read as a woman in his early life and seems to have retired from athletics because he was harassed by people wanting him to undergo invasive “gender checks” after his gold medals at the 1934 Olympics.

Apparently the current obsession with “defining gender in sport” has roots back to the 1930s. Athletes competing in female athletics have been forced to undergo a variety of examinations for the purpose of declaring them “female enough”. They seem to have never been pleasant, appropriate, or anything other than invasive and dehumanising, and they seem to have always focused on a) defining gender by physicality b) defined that physicality in fairly arbitrary ways that are actually incredibly difficult to relate to anything objective, despite a veneer of scientific objectivity.

I can entirely see why the threat of such harassment would have caused Zdenek to decide an athletic or adjacent career wasn’t worth undergoing it, whether he personally believed himself to be intersex or whether we would recognise him as such today. The term “intersex” has many definitions, and is often challenged by medical professionals if it could potentially cover too many people - e.g. medical professionals have repeatedly challenged the term when used by AFAB people with PCOS, which can cause fertility issues, hirstutism etc, purely on the grounds of “that would make around 10% of women intersex”. Zdenek simply publicly stated “I was wrongly assigned as female at birth” without giving any other details - as he had *every* right to. Some historians have characterised him as intersex based on this, and others simply as trans; he appears, very reasonably, to have preferred to preserve his privacy on the details.

Zdenek went on a lecture tour of the US talking about his life and transitioned in 1936. At the time of this photo, he was pursuing a career in cabaret in the US. He seems to have been reasonably successful but never settled there, returning home and marrying a cis woman with whom he lived happily for the rest of his life, dying in Prague aged 72 in 1986.

He joined a local rugby team along with his brother Jaroslov after WWII and seems to have been an enthusiastic amateur player. I hope he got a lot of joy out of it, which he does seem to have.

Like so many queer and trans histories, Zdenek’s is somewhat obscured because so much of what has been written about him is always skewed by the writer’s own perspectives about gender and transness. Including the drive to impose a false binary on trans experience - which I as a nonbinary person know is certainly not universally present.

There are, of course, *absolutely* trans people who always have a strong feeling of gender equating to “knowing they are a boy/girl from an early age”, and I in no way wish to erase them or their experiences, but it must also be noted and acknowledged there are plenty of us with different experiences. There are people like me who feel “wrong” in our assigned gender from pretty early in life, all the way down to having quite strong dysphoria in puberty and afterwards, but don’t strongly ID as the “opposite” binary gender either. There are people who rub along fine in their assigned gender, or who have many issues with it but don’t know what they equate to, until they have some experience presenting otherwise and suddenly experience strong gender euphoria for the first time in their lives. There are people who never feel anything much at all about gender and only ever do any identifying purely as a matter of convenience because a very binary society requires it.

Cis people seem to find the “always knew/born in the wrong body” narrative the easiest to relate to, and I can only assume that is because it is the narrative that allows them to challenge our society’s gender-essentialist, binarist worldview the *least*. It is considerably easier, and requires much less thought and critical attention, to say “I guess sometimes the occasional person is just mistakenly assigned to the wrong category” than to question those categories, why they exist, what they actually are, how they are imposed, and whether they actually mean anything at all in an objective sense.

I have no idea where Zdenek fell on any of this, or if his experience was very different in another way.

I posted this to, as ever, note that we are not a new phenomenon. Trans people are part of human history. We have always existed. We have always contributed. The way the society we lived in perceived us *and* how the societies our stories have passed through perceived us affect how our stories are told today, and those things can make it complex to uncover the lived experience of the trans person behind all of that. Queer and trans history must always be about acknowledging those facts and uncertainties while doing our best to find out as much as possible about the actual lived experiences of our siblings in the past.

#trans #trans history #queer history #czech history #sports history #historiography #nonbinary #trans historian #nonbinary historian #queer historian #trans man #historical trans man #historical trans person #20th century history #modern history

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ofliterarynature · 3 months

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FEBRUARY 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf (reread) book club*]

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years • The Memory Librarian • Pixels of You* • Arch-Enemies • Moby Dyke • Pip Bartlett’s Guide to Magical Creatures • A Sinister Revenge • Lud in the Mist • Crying in H Mart • Something Close to Magic • Hula • (Renegades) • The Divorce Colony • Foundryside • Earthlings • A Far Wilder Magic

total: 13 books (12 audiobook, 1 print)

Not as many books this month! And not just because February has fewer days, I was really in a funk this month and struggling to pay attention to my audiobooks (and enjoy them). You wouldn't think there's such a thing as too many books, but I think the overtime hours at work are hitting their peak mental health destruction. Here's to hoping things improve in March!

The Divorce Colony (4.5 stars) - genuinely can't believe this was my 3rd nonfic of the year already! I picked a print copy of this up at a library sale in December after hearing about divorce colonies in the early 20th century on a recent episode of the 99% Invisible podcast. Turns out this book was actually about the beginning of the moment that took place in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the 1800's. Western states had shorter residency periods and less strict divorce laws, so women (and the occasional man) would travel west and live there for several months in order to obtain a divorce. This book tracks the movement through the stories of 4 of the more infamous cases to make the papers, and does an incredible job of weaving in the surrounding political and religious discussions. Would recommend, and has a great cover to boot!

Renegades (3 stars) - a reread, and for some reason it was torture. I originally read this back in 2018 and loved it, and wanted to tackle it again and actually finish the rest of the series. But I kept getting worked up and frustrated this time around! It kept trying to take itself seriously while also being very YA and kind of superhero-camp, and I was absolutely overthinking it lol. I found the strength to press on into book two, Archenemies (3.5 stars). I liked it a bit more! Something about it being new, the story being a bit more settled and maybe getting a better grasp on its message/politics, the characters growing more, me figuring out that I shouldn't listen to the audiobook for more than an hour or so at a time, lmao. Not great, but fun, and possibly worth reading? I'll keep y'all updated when I finish book 3.

Hula (5 stars) - incredible. Part generational family story, part history, part discussion of what it means to be Hawaiian, culturally and legally. Not always the easiest of reads, but it was so so worth it. It was also doing something very interesting with parts of the narration voiced by a collective "we" (culture/community?) that I would love to get a look at in print. Highly recommend, I'll definitely be getting myself a copy.

Something Close to Magic (4.5 stars) - an absolute delight! The Gail Carson Levine comp on this one is not entirely unearned, anyone who's a fan of fairy tale type fantasies will enjoy this, I had a great time! Very interestingly, it has characters who are in their mid to late teens, but is written in a way where they're still allowed to be young, to the point I'm surprised it didn't get shoehorned into MG instead of YA. If the author writes any more of these I'd be happy to read them.

Crying in H Mart (3.5 stars) - nonfic number 4! I'm sure everyone's heard of this one by now, which is why I finally picked it up. It's fine (which is why it got an extra .5 star), but on the scale of take it or leave it, I'd leave it. It just wasn't for me and I kind of wish I'd dnf'd it. A great cover though.

Lud-in-the-Mist (3.5 stars) - this one seems to be considered a sort of early precursor to fantasy and fairy tale type stories from the early 20th century, and I was eager to try it! While I definitely don't think it would feel out of place amongst it's more recent fellows (think the Last Unicorn, Robin McKinley, DWJ, etc), I absolutely could not get into it. Probably the chief recipient of "my brain doesn't want to cooperate, sorry," so maybe I'll give it another shot someday.

A Sinister Revenge (4 stars) - enjoyable as always! Not to hide this deep in my reviews or anything, but have the Emily Wilde people tried Veronica Speedwell yet?

Pip Bartlett's Guide to Magical Creatures (3 stars) - This one's been sitting unread on my shelf for a while, and since I was on a bit of a Maggie Stiefvater run, I figured it was perfect! Well. Unless you are like 7, this was so bad. Not good. Having previously read and not liked a book by Maggie's co-author Jackson Pearce, I think it would not be unreasonable for me to assume she did most of the writing while Maggie did the illustrations - if the audiobook had been any longer than 4 hours I'd have absolutely DNF'd it, and I have no intention of continuing the series.

Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in the Country (4.5 stars) - part of me was wondering what I was doing trying this lol, not being someone who drinks or goes to bars, OR, as previously mentioned, is not the biggest fan of memoirs. It was not, as I hoped, also part research project, but it is a travelogue, and as a consequence has a strong narrative thread. It also has a lot of discussions about issues in the LGBTQ+ community, and overall I really liked it once I figured out what it was doing!

Pixels of You (3.5 stars) - a very short sapphic rivals-to friends-to lovers graphic novel about a human-form AI and a human with an android eye competing for a photography internship at an art gallery. The creators clearly put SO much thought into their characters and worldbuilding, but sadly there is nowhere near enough length here to do it all justice, and a number of elements felt very odd or under explored. The relationship parts are great! I just think this needed to be twice as long to really given everything its due, or maybe explored in prose instead.

The Memory Librarian (3.5 stars) - to start, I know nothing about the musical album this is related to, so I don't know how much that might have affected my reading. Overall I wasn't super impressed - when I discovered that the first story was cowritten by Alaya Dawn Johnson - no shade to her - I almost dropped it then, I just really didn't like her writing style in the one book I've read. But I stuck through it. Of the five stories, only one really stuck in my mind - Nevermind, cowritten by Danny Lore, which I could have read an entire novel about. I wish I could recommend it on its own, but overall I just don't quite understand the world Monae has created.

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years (3.5 stars) - I probably should say more about the book, it was fine, I was surprised to find that it's set in relatively current day, I found myself a lot more interested in the second narrative about the house's history, which did make me cry a bit. Mostly though, I really just want to let you know how MUCH of a non-entity the djinn was in this story, I have no idea why it was there and why it was included in the title of the book. All the author had to do was make the house a little more sentient and haunted and it would be fine, idk. Read it if you want, but it's not one I would rec.

DNF'S

Foundryside - I was so ready. I had the first two audiobooks checked out, I had the third one on hold. I started this but oh, the writing. bleh. I was looking thought reviews and someone referred to it as something like "21st century internet speak." In a high fantasy novel. I noped out at just 10%.

Earthlings - I've considered the author's other book before but haven't read it, but thought maybe a sci-fic book would work better for me? The beginning was odd but not uninteresting, and I might have continued if it had stayed that way. But then the main character was in school(?) and her teacher started getting handsy after class and I wasn't invested enough to stick it out.

A Far Wilder Magic - the success of Something Close to Magic made me a little too hopeful I think, bc while I'm still a little leery around YA, I know people have liked this. And it sounded interesting, truly, and I love the cover. But first it was the religion stuff. And I didn't really like the characters. Then it's like, oh, this is the same plot as The Scorpio Races, but nowhere near it's quality in any shape or form. I decided to stop while I was ahead, before I started to actually dislike it. (anyway here's your PSA to go read The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, I recommend doing it in October if you can).

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