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thecreelhouse · 3 months

Text

part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt fem!reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI!!

Summary: Your last day in North Dakota finally arrives. Both Gator and you find ways to make the best of the remaining time together, but not without emotional roadblocks and complications surrounding your future with him.

It’ll all work out, right?

Word count: 11.7k

CW/Tags: PTSD, daddy issues for both reader and Gator, hurt/comfort, soft n sweet smut, fluff, discussion of familial abuse

Series Masterlist // Read on AO3

A/N: hooooooo boy, here it is, the final chapter of this series!! There’s a fuck ton of hurt/comfort, diving into past traumatic childhood experiences, and lots of daddy issues from both gator and reader. I definitely got emotional writing this, but I hope y’all enjoy it regardless <3 I’m already working on a follow up, so keep your eye out for it in the near future!! Love y’all, tysm for all of the support on here and AO3!!

Day 10

“Where the hell are we goin’?” The already few, spaced out, empty properties began to fade away into the distance when you looked out the side mirror of Gator’s truck. “There’s nothin’ out here, Gator.”

“Calm your tits—“

You pointedly glare his way, “Don’t bring them into this.”

He disregards your remark, settling your question, “It’s worth the trip, I promise.”

Eyes still narrowed at him, you cross your arms before mentioning, “I watch true crime documentaries, I know what comes next.”

“Christ, I’m not— please say you’re joking.”

A laugh sneaks out, and Gator rolls his eyes while still focused on the road. Or, well, what should be a road. The snow’s packed tight onto the ground, and you’re pretty sure it’s a desolate, dirt road under all that frozen water.

The tall pine trees tower high above the car, thickening alongside the road as Gator drives on. He’s going at a safe pace, which you’re grateful for, considering how lumpy the road is.

“Can I see this?” You ask, reaching over to him before he can even answer, plucking his hat off his head.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could!”

“Ya’ snooze, ya’ lose.” You put it on backwards, the way he wears it sometimes. Gator can’t be mad, he thinks you look cute in anything of his, and this is no different. He can’t help taking quick side glances at you, lips quirking into a soft smile when he notices you adjusting it in the sun visor’s mirror.

“Where’s your hat?”

“Home,” You frown, catching onto the way you answer him. “I mean, your home, not like, mine. Just…. Y’know.”

“Uh-huh.” Gator’s been taking every chance to tease you tonight, like he has to make the best of the time you have left together. “I think you just wanna live here again.”

“In your dreams, Tillman.” You’re only joking back, but something about your response feels low. “Y’know, you’re the only thing keeping me from going home.”

“Weird, since I was the thing that made you want to leave.” His is a low blow, too, but it’s only fair. Gator pulls off the road, past the edge of the tree line before driving into a wide, open field. “What do I gotta do to make ya’ stay, darlin’?” He’s sad you’re leaving tomorrow, technically later today; it’s way past midnight of the day you’re set to fly back. But he refuses to be that guy who holds their partner back from their own goals and dreams for his own selfish reasons.

Is it so selfish of Gator to want to give you the love and care you’ve always deserved?

“Well, for starters, not drag me out into the middle of nowhere like you’re about to kill me-“

“Here I am, tryin’ to take you on a cute date—“

“A date? In the big empty field? No one else around for miles? Unless someone’s out hidin’ in the forest.”

“We can just go back home, if ya’ want.”

“Yours, or mine?” You waggle your eyebrows at him. Gator rolls his eyes with a huffed out laugh, leans over, grabbing the hat back and getting out of the truck before you can steal it again.

You start to step out from the passenger side, but Gator runs around the front of the truck, blocking you from exiting.

“Hey, what gives?”

“Gimme one minute, okay? And don’t peek. Just stay here for a sec’.” Gator doesn’t wait for your answer, just gently pushes the door closed while winking at you and heading to the back.

The sound of the truck’s gate coming down and rustling in the cab echoes through to the front of the truck. “That looked more like an eye twitch,” You loudly grumble.

“Hey!” Gator’s muffled voice is heard through the cab’s windows, earning your giggles. He opens the window connecting the truck to the cab, but only enough to see him. The windows were covered, anyway. He’s smiling like a dork at you. “You gonna survive the cold for two seconds?”

“I will, but you won’t if I lock you out.”

“Jesus, you’re in high gear tonight.” He teases, shutting the window before rounding back to open your door. “C’mon, old lady.” He holds your hand out for you, linking his arm into yours as you slide out. The two of you wander to the back of the truck, cold nipping at your skin.

“Oh my God, I made one comment about resting my eyes—“

“Which turned into a four hour nap—“

“Listen, I love a good depression nap—“ You stop, but not by interruption and banter this time. You’re staring into the bed of the truck in awe; string lights loosely dangle along the interior, with what looks like endless, comfy blankets and pillows. There’s a basket with snacks and two beer tallboys— well, that nasty liquid dirt he calls beer, for himself, but some kind of fruity cider for you. Somewhere buried beneath the blankets, a soft, futon-like mattress creates a barrier between the blankets and truck’s bed, so neither of you end up on the cold metal. It’s not the most glamorous set up, but you can tell he put a lot of effort into this.

Gator points to the little tea-light candles around the interior, too. “Sorry they’re not real, but I know we’re both way too fuckin’ clumsy for real candles.”

You laugh, “You’re not wrong.” You look at Gator, then back to the setup, and back to him, still in awe. “You did this?”

“I know it’s not fancy, or anythin’, but I figured maybe you’d wanna see some stars before goin’ back to all that light pollution.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic, Tillman?” You’re pulling him into the truck as you climb in, kicking your shoes off, careful not to track snow in.

You used to love stargazing when you lived here. The wide open spaces, the ones you hated most, were some of the greatest locations to stargaze. You and Willow came out to spots like these often, and eventually Gator would join sometimes. Willow never minded. She honestly loved when the three of you were together, for anything. Willow saw Gator as family, and vice versa.

———

Fixated on the sky, the three of you shared a blanket on top of a tarp, keeping the blanket dry from the snowy ground. Willow’s got her wide, curious eyes pointed upwards, one gasp after another as she watched meteors shoot across the horizon, sparkling in their own trails.

“Didya’ see that one?! Holy shit!”

“Willow, watch your mouth.”

Willow stuck her tongue out at you like a child before gazing back at the sky. “Like you weren’t just saying every damn cuss in the book when snow got in your boot a few minutes ago.”

Gator couldn’t help but laugh; any time Willow came at you with the sisterly banter, Gator always backed her up, the two of them outnumbering you.

“She’s got a point.”

“See? Thank ya’, Gator—” Willow lost her track of thought when something flashed above. “That was the biggest one yet!” You always loved how her childlike wonder came out during the purest moments in life.

She was still a child. She would always stay a child. Forever.

If only you made a wish on one of the meteors, for Willow to stay, for her to be able to grow up, grow old. The two of you always joked about getting Victorian farmhouses next to one another as old ladies, with lots of happy, fat cats in each home, and wrap-around porches to watch sunsets from in handmade rocking chairs.

Willow would never live long enough to see if that silly joke would come true.

“You haven’t wished on any of these yet, kiddo.” When you pointed this out, Gator stole the end of your blanket, trying to stay warm, too. You sighed playfully, giving up as much of the blanket as possible without surrendering your own warmth. Gator slid closer to keep from pulling the soft fabric from you, but it just gave you butterflies.

“You don’t know that. I could’ve kept a wish to myself. You’re supposed to do that, y’know, or it won’t come true.”

“That’s silly,” You retorted, “Saying it out loud won’t ruin a wish if ya’ keep workin’ towards it.”

Willow huffed, rolling her eyes at you before grabbing her thermos, “You’re a stick in the mud. Where’s the fun in tellin’ everyone your wishes? Those are like… deep secrets.” She shivered as she sipped from the container, filled with hot cocoa. “Man, this stuff rules.”

“Mama’s recipe, but I added some cinnamon sugar.” You murmured with a soft smile while your kid sister warmed herself up with the cocoa.

“A bajillion times better than her’s.” Willow admitted, staring back up at the sky, before she softly called your name. You give her your full attention as she asked, “You think we’re gonna make it out someday?”

Gator sat back, not wanting to invade the personal conversation between two siblings, but he did admire the way you looked out for Willow. He always did.

You didn’t miss a beat answering Willow, “F’course I do, Lo. I know we will. You’re gettin’ your license soon, I got approved for that new place, we got our lil’ launch pad, and when you’re done with school—“

“Can’t we just go when you’re done with your senior year?” She suggested; you knew she wanted out of here as soon as possible. “I can always do online schoolin’ to graduate!”

You hesitated. There was nothing more you wanted than to promise Willow safety and unconditional love. You already did your best, but it wouldn’t be official until you could finally convince your parents to let you take custody of her. There was so much you couldn’t help her with because you weren’t her legal guardian.

Shielded by the blanket you shared with Gator, he gave your arm a gentle squeeze, a little gesture of understanding and support.

“One day at a time, kiddo.” Was all you were able to tell her. She nodded, disappointed; it was always the same answer, but she knew there was only so much you could do. Willow didn’t have full freedom until you could hopefully adopt her, or wait two more years before turning eighteen.

“Maybe it’ll happen sooner if I wish on it.” She murmured, staring back at the sky.

That’s when Gator chimed in, “Y’think it’ll have a better chance of comin’ true if we all wished on it?” He was doing his best to keep the two of you optimistic.

“Gotta wait for a real big one— oh!” Willow sat up as the biggest shooting star of the night crossed over the three of you. It burned the brightest, it filled both you and Willow with the hope to keep on keeping on. She grinned back at the two of you. “That was good timin’, Gator.”

When Willow looked back to the sky, you mouthed a ‘Thank you’ to Gator. The response of his smile was warm and comforting.

“Alright, kid, we should probably get goin’.” You suggested. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’, and you forgot your damn gloves. Better not have frostbite.”

Willow giggled as she asked, “One more wish?” you nodded, and she looked up as she waited for the right meteor to appear. It wasn’t long before a meteor shot across the sky, nearly as bright as the previous, flashed before her eyes. She closed her eyes and crossed her fingers for a moment. “Okay, I’m ready. And no frostbite, promise.” She wiggled her hands in front of your face as proof.

While the three of you were packing your belongings up, heading back to Gator’s truck, Willow murmured, “I hope it comes true. Maybe it’s one that it’s okay to say out loud. Maybe it’d help make it come true.”

You turned to her, curious. “Y’gonna tell me what it is?”

Willow smirked, glancing at you and Gator, “Yeah,” she opened the truck’s door, throwing her stuff onto the car seat before climbing in. “I wished the two of you would just get together already.”

Gator exchanged a look with you, exasperated and embarrassed, while the both of you tried coming up with cover ups and excuses, “I- it’s not like that,” and, “we’re just friends”. His cheeks were red, and you held your hands up in defense, eyes wide at her audacious admission.

“Uh-huh,” Willow gave the two of you a perceptive look, bold smirk still present. “Tell me that in ten years.”

——

“Do you think there’s an afterlife?” You find yourself asking Gator, cuddled in blankets with him, while holding your cider can; your hands are shielded by the blanket, making it a little less frigid to hold the cold can.

The two of you are perched on the truck’s tailgate, eyes glued to the sky above while you point out some constellations, the few you could remember from Willow’s shared knowledge, at least.

“Where’s that comin’ from?” Gator’s a little puzzled by your question. “Course I do. We gotta go somewhere after this, right?”

Gaze still on the stars, you nod. “I only believe in heaven a lil’ bit. Only because I’d like to think ‘Lo got there. Or some place like it.” Your head rests on his shoulder while a small laugh slips out. “Remember when ‘Lo wished we’d date?”

Gator snorts at the memory, “She knew before either of us did.”

“I think whatever afterlife she ended up in, she’s watchin’ us from, laughing at how dumb we were right now.” You take a swig from your can, finishing off the alcohol inside while you follow up with, “I wish she was still here.”

Gator follows suit, drinking the last of his shitty beer before pulling you into him, throwing the cans aside somewhere in th cab. “I know, darlin’. I do too.” He kisses the top of your head softly, lingering for a moment, basking in the moment and your warmth, your presence; it’ll all be gone again later today, and he’s trying to cherish every second left the two of you have together.

“Sometimes I wonder if she hates me, or if she’s mad at me that I didn’t do more to help her. Maybe… maybe she’d still be here.”

“No way, no chance in hell Willow would ever hate you, not in this life, or any life. She’d be so proud of you, y’know.” Gator speaks softly, fingers lightly tracing along the arm his hand rests on; his arm slung behind your shoulders, keeping you close. “Ya’ still got outta here, you moved halfway ‘cross the country, all on your own. You created a whole new life for y’self, one that you always deserved. She really would be proud, darlin’.” Gator tilts your face to his, hand resting along your jaw and cheek. “I know I am.”

The tears are already flowing, but you don’t bother trying to stop them. They’re not necessarily happy tears, but they’re not sad, either. Gator swipes some stray drops away with his thumb, and you can’t help leaning into his touch.

He’s not exactly sure why, maybe it’s because of the emotions running high, or the heartbreaking conversation, but he feels it’s right to ask first, respect boundaries, “Hey, darlin’?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss ya’?”

You’re smiling and nodding. “Always, Gator.” You lean into him first; it’s delicate and brief. You pull back to look him in the eye while he wraps his arms around you fully, nudging you back into him, kissing you again.

Neither of you rush the pace, letting things flow at their own rate; hands wandering on one another’s bodies, as if it’s the first time you’ve ever touched. Your lips dance with his, slow and smooth like silk, as if you’ve had yet to kiss. Gator tries to be graceful with the way his tongue swipes along your lips, asking for permission to be let in, but once you allow him, his teeth clash against yours, ever so slightly. It makes him breathe a laugh into you, embarrassed, but you’re still smiling into the kiss.

It goes on like this for some time, the two of you just soaking up each other’s presence and energy, enjoying the company while it lasts. Gator can feel your heart pumping out of your chest while you’re pressed against him. You don’t miss the tiniest whimper that slips from him when you’re climbing into his lap, or the way he’s tugging at your clothes, trying to bring you closer to him, as if there was still a gap to close.

Foreheads pressed together, he pulls back, whispering, “I love you.” He’s responded the few times you’ve said it, but this time he said it first. Breathless, your lips ghost over his, “I love you, too.”

Gator rarely heard those words said to him, nor did he ever really feel a need to tell someone he loved them. Being raised in a family where love was conditional, if it even existed, took a toll on his heart growing up. Hearing it from you sounds so honest, like your love is unconditional for him.

It always has been.

You’ve only exchanged those words with Willow, until you moved. Some of your closest friends in the city say it, and mean it, and you mean it in return, but this is different. This doesn’t stop at the boundary of ‘just friends’. This has no barrier. This is something you’ve always felt, even when hate shadowed over your love for Gator, it was always there. Just like his feelings were always there for you, too.

His lips crash back onto yours, and everything is bliss.

When the two of you meld together like this, the darkest moments of the past and their consequences fade away. Every little fuck up, harsh word, insult, even the years of silence, they all fall off into some distant place; out of sight, out of mind.

“Need,” Is all you can think to say, muffled against his lips while you’re dizzy from all of the emotions you’re running through tonight.

Gator’s kissing down your neck, trying his best not to rush for the sake of chasing a high too soon. “What d’ya need, darlin’?” The gravelly tone of his voice reverberates against your sensitive skin. A breath shudders out of you before pulling back, leaving Gator lost, but he reminds you, “We don’t have to do anythin’ if you’re not up for it.”

You’re shaking your head feverishly, moving back onto the pillows while grabbing Gator, tugging him back with you. He stops himself from falling forward onto you with his hands outstretched, boxing you in. ”Wait-“

”Can’t.” Your fingers are gracelessly fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, but he grabs your hand, stopping you.

”Just wanna close the back so we don’t freeze, that’s all,” Gator’s quick to pull the gate back up, shutting everything tight before coming back to you. “Always so needy.” It’s lighthearted teasing, but it ignites a spark lower in your body, heat blooming everywhere from the source.

“Only because you’re taking your dear sweet time over there,” You’re murmuring, tugging at his clothes again so he ends up on top of you.

“Jesus, where’s the fire, freak?” Gator jokes as you flip him over, ending on top. “Hey, seriously, we don’t have to rush th—“ The words die on his tongue while he admires the view of you from underneath. He’s only seen you on top once, the night he convinced you to sit on his face, but this is different. There’s something really cliche, but really… angelic, about the way the moonlight spills over you from this position.

You’re still fully dressed, you’ve gained extra eye bags and the circles have grown darker over the last few days with messed up sleep patterns; your eyes have been red from all of the crying you’ve done, and the bruising around your face injury is only becoming more prominent as time goes on, spilling out from underneath the bandages.

Despite it all, Gator can’t stop admiring your features, your entire being. Despite it all, you’ve got a natural beauty that radiates through the damage and trauma you’ve carried all of your life. You still try to find the bright side where you can, you’re the only one who believes in Gator, only one who ever has, passing on the hope to continue trying, continue making efforts to be a better person to him. Every little detail, mentally, emotionally, physically, inside and out, he loves. He loves you for you, and he could kick his past self for not seeing it until now, but he’s grateful he’s been given this second chance with you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You freeze, feeling shy under his observant stare. “Did I do something wrong?” He shakes his head quickly, sitting up and adjusting so you’re straddling him. You don’t have a chance to question what’s on his mind when he’s right back to teasing that sensitive spot on your neck with his lips. You giggle at the touch, hands wandering into his hair; he didn’t bother with slicking his hair back after showering earlier, and you’re silently thanking him, content that you can run your hands through his strands, have something to grab onto.

The work of your hands makes him hum against your skin, making his way to your collarbone with his trail of kisses. His fingers fumble with unzipping your jacket, trying to be slow and gentle, but he needs this off now. It’s not something he desires in a haze of lust, but he just needs to be as close as possible to you, bodies pressed and tangled together, no barriers.

“Gator?” You gasp as his cold hands work their way under your shirt, jacket and hoodie now tossed aside. When his fingers touch your bare skin, realizing you didn’t bother with a bra, he groans, while you yelp at the cool sensation of his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against the sensitive nubs. Your head lolls back as he toys with your piercings; eyes fluttering shut, breathy little sounds escape your lips. He’s tugging at the hem of your shirt, rolling it up and over your body, tossing that into the pile of discarded clothes quickly growing next to you.

“Yeah?”

“Off.” You’re grabbing at his layers, moving quickly, wanting to feel him against you. “Fuck, m’cold.” That’s all Gator needs to hear to help you strip him faster before he’s pressed against you.

“Gonna keep ya’ warm, promise.” He vows huskily before his mouth ends up on one nipple, hand toying with the other. Wriggling in his hold on you, you’re whining, arms wrapped around him in return. He’s alternating between teasing with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, ever so lightly. Your heartbeat runs wild, and Gator is hooked onto the feeling of it pounding against him while he’s close to you.

Your hips weakly move against his; you’re giving it your all to stay patient, not rush this moment, but all you can think of is grinding down onto him, making him shudder and moan. Gator’s losing the steady train of thought he began with; he’s craving you, all of you, and his mind’s running in multiple directions at once. He’s clumsily kissing all over you, fingers working in a desperate pace to discard your pants. He needs to touch every inch of you, kiss every part of your being, because he has no fucking clue when he’ll have you this close again.

Taking the hint of his motions, you awkwardly wiggle out of your pants, tugging his off too. It takes some patience and awkward laughs, but the two of you are finally, fully exposed to one another. The thought makes you retreat into yourself, growing shy, and Gator notices immediately.

“You doin’ okay?” He’s asking with sincerity, as always, while checking in with you during intimate moments. You nod as heat rises to your face, incredibly aware of how exposed you are in the moment, and not just physically. “What’s got ya’ nervous?”

You’re looking away, embarrassed, but Gator gently grabs your chin, turning you back to him. His thumb rubs gently along your jawline, a small, but mighty gesture of reassurance that you’ve grown to appreciate in your time with Gator.

“Sorry, I… I’m realizing this is, like, the first time I’m not hidin’ behind any kinks. Hasn’t happened with anyone I’ve been with… saying it out loud sounds so ridiculous, but—“

“Y’got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, darlin’.” Gator reassures, brushing his nose up against yours. “We can stop if you want, but if you’re okay to keep goin’, I just wanna show ya’ how much I love ya’.”

Biting your lip softly, a slight curve of a smile appears on your face before the overthinking restarts. “I just don’t want you to disappoint you. With anythin’, not just sex.” You’re whispering, like it’s your biggest fear. Because it is. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret any of this happened.”

“Disappoint me? Y’kiddin’ me?” Gator’s softly flexing himself up towards you, cock rubbing against your clit, earning a shiver and a matching whimper from you. “You could never. If anythin’, I should be worried I’ll disappoint you.”

It’s becoming unbearable to ignore how much you want, how much you need Gator right now. You make it clear with the way you’re lazily grinding along his length.

“You won’t. I believe in you. You’re a better person than y- you realize, Gator.” It’s difficult to keep focused on the heartfelt conversation when the tip catches on your entrance, hitching a heavy breath in your throat in anticipation.

“Only ‘cause of you, darlin’.” He locks eyes with you, awaiting permission silently, and you nod, pushing yourself onto him. The stretch as you sink down onto him is just as intense as the first time the two of you fucked, but this feels different.

“O- oh—“ The way he fills you is so mind numbing in all the best ways. He’s kissing your neck, whispering affectionate promises to you, ones that you almost miss over the way you’re breath continues to shudder. Gator’s fingers dance along your spine, tracing soothing patterns while you get adjusted to him all over again. His hands flatten against your back, holding you upright as you arch, panting softly.

All the other times you fucked, while nothing wrong with pleasure itself, were just for that, just for chasing the high you both would desire in the heat of the moment. Now, it’s the need to be as close to one another as possible, to become one, let the world crumble away and realize all that matters in the moment is what you and Gator have together. All that matters to you in this moment is Gator Tillman.

Once an absolute, unjustified asshole, the reason you finally left your old life behind, the absolute bane of your existence… now, he’s trying, and showing he wants to be better. He is better than who he tried to be all those years ago. Somehow, the boy who drove you to leave everything in the Midwest, became the man you unexpectedly loved and cared for this entire time. He became your biggest supporter, your protector, and all you wanted was to give that in return. You want to be his biggest supporter, the one who encourages him that he’s so much more than the horrid hand of cards he was dealt, until he can see it himself. Even then, you’ll always support him. Even if everything were to crash and burn tomorrow, your love and support for him could never, ever change.

Pulling back, he asks, “How y’feelin’, angel?” You’re holding your breath, nodding with your eyes clamped shut, but it’s not a sufficient enough answer for him. “Gotta talk to me, need to know if you’re okay to keep goin’ or not.” It’s not a demand trying to pressure you into consenting, it’s a demand to be open and honest for your own well being.

“Mhm- yeah- y-“ He twitches inside you, causing you to gasp roughly. “I’m good.”

“Y’sure?”

“Yeah I promise, m’good,” You’re forcing yourself to breathe slowly; this is a challenge for you to just rely on passion instead of lust. It’s there, the passion is very much present, but this is new for you. “Y- you good?”

“Look at me,” Gator softly orders, and you do, butterflies fluttering madly in your stomach as you lock eyes with him. The two of you are still for a moment, then he thrusts up into you, just once. It’s slow, but he’s not holding back on the intensity. “I’m good if you are.”

“F—“ you bite your lip, stopping yourself from whining a pathetic ‘fuck me’, trying not to ruin the moment. A smug look winds up on his face.

“Say it.” His lips are back on your neck, making marks; bite, sooth, repeat.

“No, I’m- M’tryin’ to be good.” You rasp out as he fucks into you again.

“You are bein’ good, darlin’.” You’re dizzy from his praise, words vibrating against your skin with his gravelly voice. “You’re my good girl, yeah?”

That causes a ripple effect of shivers throughout your body, walls fluttering around him. Gator starts to moan, but mutes himself as he starts marking you up again.

“I asked ya’ somethin’.” His fingers tweak and pinch at your nipples. “You gonna answer?”

“Y- uh-huh…” Your lids are heavy, eyes ready to roll back as he thrusts into you, deeper than before. “M’your good girl.”

“Damn right ya’ are.”

In a lust-drunk haze, you murmur, “You’re mine too.”

His tongue runs over a fresh bite mark, pulling a whimper out of you. He chuckles at your noise. “I am, angel. All yours.”

Another spark ignites within you as you think about how last minute change of plans and a miserable snowstorm brought the two of you back together, in ways you only ever dreamed of.

“I- I love you,” You’re murmuring against his lips as he makes his way back up to your face, rolling your hips and grinding onto him. “Fuck, Gator. God. Fuck. I’m so— ah!” Gator bucks up into you, eyelids heavy with desire as his attention’s all on you. “M’so fuckin’ glad we got snowed in together.”

Gator laughs softly before kissing you again. When he pulls back, he’s whispering between your parted lips, “Best Christmas in a long while, huh?” You’re rolling your eyes playfully, but laugh, too. Splaying your fingers against his chest, you push him back onto the pillows; as he huffs out a breath when he hits the pillows, he’s watching you in surprise and awe as you take over.

You tilt your hips as you arch back, hitting your sweet spot just right. Gator’s eyes begin to roll back, but he’s fighting it, wanting to watch the way you skillfully grind onto his cock. The grip your thighs have on his sides is strong, while his gaze is fixated on the way your plush thighs meet your soft hips and belly. “Fuck, you’re unreal,” he breathes, gripping into the doughy curves, guiding you as you continue rolling your hips.

“Please, you’re so h— fucking- f- fuck—“ You begin to spasm against his body, trying your hardest to stave off your climax.

“Let it happen, darlin’.” Gator coaxes, bucking up into you. You cry out, feeling how deep he is inside of you. “C’mon, pretty girl, I know you can do it.” He reaches down to your clit, both painfully needy for friction and over sensitive. You’re crying out again, head falling back while your hand reaches for his free hand, lacing your fingers into his.

“I- I don’t want to make a m—“

“Ya’ can, y’know I like it.”

“But I don’t w- want t- to on you.”

Gator bucks up into you again, grunting as his cock is buried to the hilt within you. “Did y’forget what ya’ already did on my face a few nights ago?” His words almost come off cocky, but if anything, it’s weirdly encouraging. All he cares about right now is making sure you feel good, reminding you that you’re safe with him, whether it be your deepest secrets, or your most vulnerable moments in bed.

You’re nodding, embarrassed, but the feeling building inside of you is too sweet to ignore. The pace of your hips stutter, getting sloppy as you get closer to your high. Gator takes over, planting his feet onto the makeshift bed beneath the two of you as he fucks up into you relentlessly. The wind is stolen out of your lungs as you cry his name, climax striking through you, causing your hips to jolt and body to shake as you ride it out. There’s a faint ringing in your ears, while you feel yourself become weak. It’s not like the time you passed out, but you’re drained; you let yourself collapse forward onto Gator, holding onto him with the little bit of energy left within you.

“Almost there, darlin’,” He’s grunting into your ear, doing his best to finish, knowing how overstimulated and exhausted you’re already feeling. “Fuck. Fuck—“ He’s moaning your name loudly as he fills you, grip on you tight as if this is all just a dream about to end. You’re whimpering as his tempo slows, feeling fragile; for the most vanilla sex of your life, you’ve never felt this spent before.

Raw emotions are one hell of a rush.

Gator is cautious and tender as he flips the two of you over to end up on top before leaning down to you. With his lips on yours, he’s not sure what pace to take, slow and steady or fast and needy, which usually comes out more clumsy than anything. He’s still inside you, barely soft as aftershocks cause your walls to flutter around him. He’s groaning as he pulls back a little to look at you, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, darlin’.”

“This is fucking insane, Gator.” Your voice shakes, and he’s nervously watching you, waiting for your next thought.

“… What is?”

“If this was with anyone else, I’d say it’s fucking crazy to go from hating each other to loving each other in less than two weeks, but … But it feels so… right with you. I don’t fucking get it.”

Gator leans in to kiss your forehead, lips lingering as he asks, “Is that a good thing? Because I really hope it is.”

“Yeah- fuck. God. Sorry. I’m all over the place right now.” You try laughing it off, but a tear slips out. Your breaths won’t slow, either as another tear falls. Then another. And another.

Get it the fuck together already.

He’s kissing each of your tears away, but that only makes them flow faster. “What’s on your mind?”

The words leaving you sound so broken, so foreign to you, but they’re brought to life regardless. “Can I stay?”

Gator wants more than anything to say yes. He wants more than anything to keep you here, leaving behind any worries of when he’ll see you again. He wants the reassurance of knowing you’d be safe with him around. He wants more than anything in this goddamn world to start it all over where it began, to rewrite the future with you, to have a future at all with you, one that whatever happens, you’ll be by one another’s side.

Except, what Gator wants isn’t what you need.

“M’sorry darlin’, I can’t let you do that.”

“What? Why not?” The look on your face shatters his heart. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

“You… y’know you weren’t meant to stay here. You know yourself how much this place kills ya’ inside.” It’s not a lump in his throat, but a massive boulder; he can’t keep himself from beginning to cry. “You can’t just stay here for me. That ain’t fair to you, and everythin’ you worked so hard for.”

Sitting up without warning, you wriggle out from underneath Gator, not even concerned about the loss of him once inside you, or the mess that the two of you made. “It’d be my choice, you’re not makin’ me do anythin’ I don’t want to.” You’re trying to stay strong, trying to hold back more tears, but the way your hands shake show otherwise.

“And it’d be the only one you’d ever make that I couldn’t support.” This conversation, centered around your unexpected relationship and what the outcome would be before flying home, had to happen at some point while you were still here. “You wouldn’t be happy, and I know there’s nothin’ I can say or do to change that if you were to stay.”

I fuckin’ hate when Gator knows me better than I know myself… only because he’s right.

“So, what? I’m supposed to just… forget about all of this? Are we gonna go back to hating one another?” Your voice trembles into a scoff as you teeter on the line between anger and sadness. “Jesus, you could’ve at least waited until I got home to tell me it’s over. Y’didn’t have to say you loved me back if you didn’t mean it.”

“No, wait, that’s not—“ He’s freezing up, thoughts tangling into impossible knots to sort through. Anger builds inside him, not towards you, but towards himself for always saying the wrong thing, to anyone in any circumstance. “I- I meant it, I swear. I wouldn’t say it back if I didn’t.”

“Then what is it, Gator? What are you trying to tell me?” Emotions building up, you’re doing your best to take deep, steady breaths. “I lost you once already, I can’t lose you again.”

It feels as if Gator’s chest is caving in on him, leaving him with shallow breaths and panic. ‘I lost you once already, I can’t lose you again.’ He can’t do this to you again, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that again. He wasn’t trying to, right?

“I can’t let ya’ stay and waste your life away. I can’t let you stay and end up stuck with a fuckin’ loser like me.” His face reddens, and he can’t hold it back anymore. It’s not a soft cry, it’s a full on sob. “Y’made a promise to Lo, to yourself. I can’t just selfishly encourage you to throw everythin’ away, especially not for me.”

That’s when it dawns on you; you jumped the gun, out of fear of abandonment, when he just wants to continue protecting you, even if it means keeping you miles and miles from here. Gator still thinks he needs to protect you from himself. Now you’re the one triggering his fear of abandonment without meaning to, but you’re still ashamed.

“Oh, God. Gator… Honey, I’m so sorry.” You’re hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He tucks his face into your bare shoulder, You don’t think you ever saw him cry like this before. Maybe when you were kids, when he realized his mom was never coming back home, but it wasn’t like this. This… this is tearing open barely healed scars, scarred by your pain from him leaving you behind. He just wants what’s best for you, even if it means you’re safe, far, far away from here. Even if it means he’ll never be able to see you again.

The sobs tear through Gator, leading his body to quiver against yours. You’re the one pulling him into your lap for once, while your hold on him becomes a shelter, safe and warm, keeping his fears at bay.

“I- I let my worries get the best of me. I’m so sorry, love.” You’re carding your fingers through his hair soothingly, kissing his temple softly. “That was unfair to you, especially to just… ask that of you, if I could stay, I mean.”

“Y’got no idea how badly I want to say yes.” He’s holding back his sobs. You can tell by the way his voice sounds so strained, and how tensed up he’s become. “I ruined your life once, I… I can’t do that to ya’ again by keepin’ you here.”

“Gator, y’know you can always cry around me, right? You don’t have to hide any feelings around me.” You try comforting him. “Whatever your dad told you about emotions, and how it ain’t manly enough, he can go fuck himself. Nothin’ shows strength more than bein’ honest with yourself, even if it means cryin’ it out. You can let it out. You’re safe with me, Gator. Always.”

Hiccuping as he attempts to stop the weeping, his embrace around you is heart-wrenching; tense but tender, finding refuge in your hug, one that’s genuine with a kind of love and grace never shown to him before.

“You’re no loser, y’know that? I’ll remind ya’ every day ‘til y’believe it ‘cause it’s true. No one should have to grow up through the shit you have. No one should ever see what you’ve seen, not when you were just a kid, and not now. No one should ever be forced by someone to do such horrid things to others, just to earn love. No kid should ever have to earn the love of their parents. Ever.”

Any attempt to bring the crying to a gradual end are gone again, but you know he’s needed to release this pain for years, so you continue comforting him. Not once do you attempt to quiet him down, just let him feel what he’s needed to feel for so, so long.

In any other relationship, this dynamic would seem co-dependent, and possibly toxic. The intensity and passion that built so quickly between you two only works here because of your history together. In reality, it would destroy you if he left again, but he has the freedom and space to do so if he wanted. The same goes for you. At the end of the day, the two of you just want the best for one another, together or apart.

You just want the clouds to finally part for Gator, to finally let him feel safe in his own self, finally learn and hold onto the truth that there’s so much more to this life than trying to be good enough for his corrupt, disgusting excuse of a father. He’s good enough without Roy’s unreachable approval. He’s more than ‘good enough’. He’s got a good heart somewhere underneath it all, and just in the last ten days, he’s proven he can keep doing better. Gator can and already is turning things around, showing he’s a better man than Roy Tillman could ever be.

Right now, the two of you need one another, and it’s not a crime to be needy for all the appropriate reasons. It’s not a crime to be human.

“What’s here for you, Gator? What’s keeping you in North Dakota?” It’s an honest question, one you’ve had in the back of your mind since rekindling even a hint of a friendship with him days before you hooked up.

Gator’s attempting to slow his cries, unable to look you in the eye as he thinks for a moment. All he can come up with is a silent, weak shrug.

“Have you ever been happy here?” You’re not trying to convince or persuade him in any way, again it’s just an honest question. This one, though, never crossed your mind until tonight.

Still silent, Gator shakes his head.

Deep breath, then dive in.

“Come home with me.”

He lifts his head, finally finding the courage to look you in the eye. Your heart twists in agony at how broken he looks, but you know he needed to let that out, actually let himself feel for once.

“… Huh?” He stares in disbelief, wondering if the ringing in his ears from crying so hard made him misinterpret your words.

“Come home with me.” You repeat, brushing strands of hair from his tear stained eyes. “Come back to the city with me.”

A flicker of hope reflects in Gator’s eyes, but he’s shaking his head, doubt holding him back. “I… I don’t belong somewhere like that.”

“You think I felt like I belonged there when I moved? Or anywhere? Some lost, miserable kid without a plan other than to leave? It took time, and I was scared, but the fear was… refreshing, compared to the fear I had here, day in and day out.” You admit, hand cupping his face along his jawline. Gator leans into your palm, breaths shuddering as he continues to slow his crying. “I’m scared out of my fucking mind for you to stay here, especially knowing your dad. Even if you go somewhere else, even if you don’t go with me, please don’t stay here. You need to go somewhere safe.”

“Won’t ya’ get sick of me? Isn’t your place tiny? Not that I care about it bein’ fancy, or whatever, I just don’t— wouldn’t wanna suffocate ya’.” Gator wonders out loud, eyes searching yours for any hint of a doubt or regret for asking him to come with you.

“I’ve got a spare room y’can have. And there’s so much to see and do around the apartment, you could always go for walks to clear your head, or whatever. I do it all the time.”

“Oh… you have a roommate?” He assumes off your words, quickly explaining his question. ‘Cause I- I wouldn’t want to make it more crowded.”

“No way, I lucked out with my place. It’s the top floor of an old townhouse, pretty big overall, for New York, at least.” You huff out a quick laugh, shrugging. “I’m technically alone, but the landlady is really sweet, and I ended up makin’ friends with the other few tenants in the house. We’ve kinda all became a lil’ family of misfits, and it’s… nice. Feels more like a family than my own ever felt like.” You catch yourself mid-ramble, shaking your head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, that was overwhelming. My point is, you’d belong too, Gator.”

He trusts you, but the voice of doubt in the back of his mind is loud enough to make him second guess. “You’re puttin’ a lot of faith into your friends to accept someone like me.” Gator murmurs. “What if I don’t like it there?”

“I… I can’t make you stay, I’d just encourage you to find somewhere else to go. Hell, I’d go with ya’ anywhere if it meant you were safe and happy... if that’s what ya’ wanted, of course. But it’s not safe for you here anymore, Gator.”

He’s quiet, lost in thought as he rests his head against your chest, sighing. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

You hold him close as you lay back down, pulling blankets over the two of you. “I know. It can be scary. So if you’re not into it, I just really think you should get out of here, at least. I can’t force you to do anythin’, and I don’t want to force you to do anythin’… but I do want ya’ to try to live a life you deserve, one that your shithead dad doesn’t dictate.”

“Yeah… guess that would be nice,” Gator cuddles up to you closer, tangling himself around you. The more he thinks about it, the fear of the unknown doesn’t settle much, but knowing you’d be by his side makes him believe it’ll be alright. “Are you sure you want a pain in the ass like me to live with ya’?”

“What am I? Not a pain in the ass to you?” You giggle, turning to face him. He looks so worn, but he’s calmer now, tears finally at their end. “Gator… I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t worried about ya’. And I wouldn’t worry if I didn’t care about ya. I just have one thing to ask of you if you decide to come with me.”

“Yeah, f’course, what is it?”

“Leave the hate behind. All that ignorant shit about anyone different from ya’. I know you learned it from your father, but it ain’t tolerated at my place, and for the most part, people don’t fuck with that mindset out there, either.”

Gator doesn’t deny it, doesn’t fight it, only nods and agrees. “Yes, ma’am.” He locks eyes with you before asking, “If I fuck up with anythin’, can y’call me out? There’s a lot f’me to change, so it might take some learnin’... But I don’t wanna be bitter like this forever.”

You stick a pinky out to him, and he laughs softly with an eye roll, hooking his pinky around yours. “Promise.” The two of you fall silent, gazing at one another, then a smile breaks on your face.

“So… is that a yes?” You suppress your smile from growing, not wanting to get your hopes up.

He’s raising a brow at you, feigning confusion. “Is what a yes?”

“You, comin’ home with me. Are you saying you’ll go?”

“Are you saying I’ll go?”

“Gator, I swear to God.”

“Now y’know how I felt the night you kept avoidin’ my question about you callin’ me cute.” Gator smirks, and it’s a much welcomed sight after witnessing how upset and pained he was.

“Okay, listen, Tillman,” You poke your finger into the middle of his chest, snorting and failing to keep a straight face. “Those are not even remotely the same!”

“I dunno… they were both pretty rough cliffhangers.” He’s shrugging as he makes his weak argument. “It wasn’t easy survivin’ that whole day without knowin’ how y’felt about me.”

“Gator, it was like, less than twenty-four hours before we fucked around.”

“Longest less than twenty-four hours of my life.” He sighs obnoxiously.

“Yeah, leave the dramatics here, too.” Gator flips you off, so you mirror him, giving him the finger right back.

He pushes that hand aside before mentioning, “Hey, y’know what I just realized?”

“That I’m the coolest and cutest person you’ve ever fucked?”

“What? No— wait, I mean— that’s not— yeah, you are, but that ain’t what I was talkin’ about. Don’t distract me.”

“Distract you? Like this?” You pull the blanket down to lazily flash your tits at him. He groans, but more in annoyance than anything. Giggling, you add, “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna get sick of me before I get sick of you.”

Ignoring the banter, Gator asks, “You mentioned that night we played ‘never have I ever’ that y’never had car sex before, right?”

“Yeah?” You’re confused as to why he’s bringing it up. “What does that have to do with any—“ He gives you a look, screaming “Really?”. It finally hits you. “Oh, it happened! How about that. Another thing to cross off the bucket list.”

“That was on your bucket list?” Gator’s unsure if you’re serious or not. You end up in a fit of giggles; yeah, you’re not serious. “Well, shit. I got excited, thought maybe there was more to do.”

You’re waggling your brows at him, “We can make a list.”

“Not if you’re givin’ me that look.” He’s shooting a stare of fake disgust, laughing through it anyway.

“Gonna give ya that look every time we fuck now.”

“I’ll put a paper bag over y’head or somethin’.”

“You’d go that far to still put your dick in me? Should I be honored or offended?”

Gator’s signature smirk is back, and it’s surprisingly a welcome sight after his necessary breakdown. “I’ll let ya’ figure that out on your own, darlin’.”

———

The two of you are dressed again, albeit, lazily, just wanting to get home and crawl into bed. Gator’s packing everything up when you look up at the sky, mesmerized all over again.

“Wait—“ you glance at Gator before looking up, admiring the stars hung with bright hope, holding wishes from others under the same sky, looking for a way out, looking for a new start. “I need to make a wish.”

Sunrise is in a few short hours, so the sky isn’t as deep and dark as it was when the two of you arrived, but it’s still dark enough to see the stars just fine.

Gator comes up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his head on the top of yours, searching for a meteor along with you. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get lucky. You knew there’s always meteors falling, but they’re scarce when it’s not during a well known annual event, like the Perseids at the end of the summer, or the Geminid shower right before Christmas.

“Whoa—“ falls from your lips while Gator’s murmuring “That was fast.” because at the same time, the two of you notice a bright trail, flashing across the void of the night, illuminating for the briefest moment before fizzling out. You clamp your eyes shut, crossing your fingers as you silently make a wish. Gator’s watching you with amusement, noticing the way you cross your fingers on a wish the way your little sister did.

“Okay,” You turn to Gator in his arms, smiling. “We can go.”

He waits for you to continue, anticipation getting to him after only a few seconds. “Y’gonna tell me what you wished for?” He asks, curious. You pull on his hand, leading him back to the truck before looking back with a smirk.

“Can’t do that,” You tease with a wink, anticipating his inevitable eye roll. “I want the wish to come true.”

———

When the two of you got back to Gator’s place, the sun was up, and you both were practically crawling into bed, energy sapped by the late night date. By mid afternoon, you woke up, cozy next to Gator in his bed; you were the big spoon, for once, arms wrapped around his waist.

Looking at the clock glowing 3 PM, you were grateful your past self booked such a late return flight, at ten tonight; it turned out to be a better decision than expected, despite the inevitable jet lag you’d arrive back with.

“My lil’ backpack,” Gator murmurs, teasing you for spooning him while he pulls you closer, tugging you by your hands on his torso.

“Okay, Dora the Explorer.” You’re snorting as you hug him tighter. “M’gonna miss waking up next to your annoying ass.”

“We’re only gon’ be apart for like… a week. You’ll survive.”

“What if I don’t, though? Then what?”

“How were you calling me dramatic?”

You squish your face into his back, hugging him even tighter, groaning in disappointment; you’ve started to really like the banter between the two of you, especially when waking up. The way his teasing sounds while he’s shaking the gravelly, sleepy tone off his words is something you’ve really grown fond of.

“You sure you can’t just come with me tonight?” You know asking is fruitless, but it doesn’t stop the pathetic question from rolling off your tongue.

“M’sorry, darlin’. I wish.” Gator replies with sincerity in his few words. “There’s some loose ends I gotta tie here first. Gotta turn in all my gear, and shit.”

“Wait… really?”

“It’s not like I can be a cop for Stark County all the way out on the East Coast,” He chuckles, tilting his head back a bit to catch a glimpse of you. He’s too tired to turn around just yet. “I don’t think I wanna be one at all anymore.”

“Oh thank fuck. NYPD is corrupt as hell. I mean…. All y’all are, no offense. But NYPD cops are a whole ‘nother breed. Nasty fucks.” You grumble, but you’re relieved to hear he’s not interested in pursuing police work out in the city.

“Didn’t realize just how bad it was until my dad had me convinced I had to do all that fucked up shit to maybe earn his approval. I… I can’t be a part of that anymore. I can’t even try lyin’ to myself and say I’m helpin’ people. The power trip kinda got to my head, too.”

“Kinda?” You tease with a kiss to his shoulder, resting your chin into the crook of his neck. He knows no ill-intent is in your tone, but he can’t bring himself to laugh it off, either. “It ain’t easy to admit all of that and realize the impact it left on others. M’proud of you, Gator. You’re smarter and stronger than your dad would ever fuckin’ wish to be.”

He nods, trying to accept your encouraging sentiment, but it’s going to take time for him to believe words like that. “Thank you, darlin’.” He’s quiet for a moment before the realization crosses his mind; he has no idea what you do for a living. “Wait, what have you been doin’ out there? Why the hell am I just realizin’ I never asked?”

“Oh, like for work? It never came up, so I never mentioned it. But lots of odd end jobs over the years, honestly. Stripped for a while, walked dogs—“

“You? A stripper?”

“It was brief, and good money, but it conflicted with opening shifts at the bookshop—“

Gator finally turns around, jaw dropped at the first admission. “No, no go back. Wait— wait, bookshop? Okay, wait, forget that for a minute. Back to the stripper thing, you really did that?”

You’re self conscious under his watch, awaiting your answer. “I mean… yeah. It paid the bills, and it wasn’t easy, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t have fun most nights.”

“Only most?”

“Yeah, the nights when perverts got rough and rowdy were not very… fun. The bouncer was really protective over all of us, at least, so it never escalated to violence or anythin’—”

“God… just when I thought I knew ya’ again…”

You’re wincing, wondering if you should’ve kept it to yourself, “Please tell me that ain’t a bad thing.”

Gator shakes his head frantically, hands wrapping around you to pull you close. “No, shit, sorry, I don’t care what you do to make a livin’, as long as you’re safe. M’just surprised, is all. Goddamn, you’re too fuckin’ cool for me.”

You snort with an eye roll. “Not really, but thanks. Goin’ from stripping to opening the bookstore was quite the leap, but it gave me the money to start it up with a friend. It’s all used books, and the other half of the shop is all used records, that’s my friend’s side of the business.”

Gator was speechless. You really were nowhere near the same, shy, reserved girl he grew alongside with as kids. From the ground up, you created a new life for yourself, doing whatever the hell you wanted to be happy and safe. He had nothing but respect for you and all the hard work you’d done to get where you were today.

“We have some cats that hang out in the shop, too. They were some strays who constantly came in the first summer we had to leave the front door open before we got central air. I didn’t have the heart to kick ‘em out.”

“Ya’ always had a soft spot for those barn cats at your parents’ house, so I ain’t surprised.” He’s smiling, but not teasing; speaking warmly about how some things hadn’t changed with you. “You’ve always had a good heart.”

“Just doin’ what I can to help, that’s all.” You shrug, not in need of praise for something like helping another living being. It makes you think about what Gator did a few nights ago, helping Karen leave the ranch unscathed. “You do too, y’know. I know you never cared for Karen, but you helped her and those girls. That shows you’ve got a good heart too, y’know.”

His face softens, murmuring, “Just couldn’t watch her disappear the way my mom did. Karen’s not the nicest person, but no one deserves to just… vanish for… what? Bein’ a woman? It’s so fucked.” He starts to choke up, but shakes it off as best as he can. “Watchin’ my dad hurt my mom, then when she’s suddenly gone, he started hurtin’ Dot…” You’re caught off guard when he uses Dorothy’s new name, not Nadine. “At least she got away on her own, she’s safe now. But I couldn’t look the other way without tryin’ to make sure Karen knew she had a way out that wasn’t a—“

You knew what Gator was about to say.

To make sure she knew she had a way out that wasn’t in a coffin.

Even that, though, was a generous statement; if Linda was really dead, you knew damn well Roy had no respect to even give her, or any woman, a proper burial. Especially not when the cause of death was by his own hand.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I should’ve left that alone.” You’re apologizing while running your hands through his hair. He’s grown to love these little gestures of comfort you give, eyes fluttering shut as he takes a deep breath, calming himself before a storm can begin.

“Nothin’ to apologize for, darlin’.” Gator sighs, adjusting as he settles into the pillow, worn gaze landing on you as his eyes open again. He changes the subject before the overthinking about what happened to his mom can start up again, “How’s this doin’?” He tilts your face to the side, getting a better look at your bandaged wound. Everything’s intact for the most part, but there’s a slight sting when he touches the skin surrounding it; you wince at the soreness rippling through your face from the source. The bruising has only become more prominent, and the longer Gator looks at it, the more the anger towards your father builds inside him.

“I could fuckin’ kill that scumbag.” He murmurs, eyes locked on the damage left behind in your father’s fury.

Gator’s jaw clench as his mind replays the night you were hurt. He wishes he did more to keep you safe.

Gingerly, your hands wrap around the wrist of his hand that was inspecting your wound. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” His response is quick, snappy. It’s not directed towards you, he just can’t imagine letting this go. Gator wishes he didn’t hold back on the well deserved pain he inflicted on your father; no amount of pain and suffering would ever add up to what you were forced to feel under his misplaced anger and constant abuse.

“But it will be. He’s not worth your energy.” Your fingertips trace in soft, random movements on his arm. “It’s okay, Gator. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Damn right he can’t—”

“Promise me somethin’, Gator. While you’re still here, don’t go after him.” His arm drops to your hip, while you reach up to his face, cupping his jaw lightly. “Don’t get yourself in trouble before you come home. I need you safe. Let him rot in his own misery, all I want is for you to come home to me, safe and sound. Okay?”

Gator knows you’re right, he knows the smart thing to do is leave things be, focus on tying up loose ends before heading out east to you. None of that calms the rage within him, though, and you pick up on that with ease.

“Gator? Promise me that. Please.” Your voice cracks, but the intent stays firm.

He nods hesitantly, without a word. You can’t bring yourself to ask or push for a verbal promise, nor does he offer to give one. Because you both know it’s just one promise he can’t really keep.

———-

When you landed in North Dakota ten days ago, at best, you expected a quiet visit with your parents, escaping to your childhood room when things would inevitably turn turbulent with your father’s drinking. At worst, you braced yourself to come home with some new bruises from a fist always willing to land rough, raw punches on you, the human punching bag.

Why you picked ten whole days to stay, you’d never understand. Maybe you had the hope to rekindle whatever kind of family bond could be left. Maybe you were optimistic, that the time of year would set aside everyone’s differences. You hadn’t been home in nearly a decade, and you never really called or wrote home. It’s not like your parents cared to do the same either.

What you never anticipated was for a last minute decision to ditch you with Gator as both of your fathers decided to spend Christmas God knows where, hurting God knows who, all for the sake of a sick power trip and blood money. Even in your wildest dreams, you never thought you’d see the day where Gator Tillman actually made an effort to rebuild the bridge he burned.

Whether by fate or coincidence, the two of you were forced in the same proximity for longer than the three promised days, thanks to a blizzard you cursed for keeping you inside with your ex best friend, the one you still had a soft spot for. The one you were planning to ignore and avoid, until he owned up to the pain he inflicted on you, and how much he regretted it. What you believed to be a lapse of weakness and lust, turned out to be far beyond that. Once pissed off by the mere thought of Gator’s existence, not once did it cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, that the big and scary four letter word, would roll off your tongue so easily for this complex human.

Not once did you ever expect that Gator Tillman, the reason you left the Midwest, would become the reason you now dreaded the thought of leaving a decade later.

It had to be that damn wish ‘Lo made all those years ago. Thanks, kid.

“Y’got everything?”

The airport is calm this late at night, and the TSA line is practically non-existent. Your suitcase is checked in, and all that’s left is the goodbye the two of you have dreaded for days.

It’s smooth sailing from here... Except you can’t find the strength to raise the anchor back to the surface.

“Sure fuckin’ hope so. That’d suck to have to miss my flight if I forgot my wallet, or somethin’.” You’re trying to joke, keep things lighthearted, because you know this farewell is going to weigh heavy on you until Gator makes his way home to you.

Home. With Gator. It warms your heart, knowing it’ll be worth the wait for him to arrive in the city. For him to be finally safe and sound, with you, for good.

“How’s your face doin’?” Gator tilts your head, like he has countless times in the last two days, checking on your wound and the bandaging. “You gon’ be able to take care of it while I’m gone?”

“I think I can manage, but it’s gonna suck cleaning this fuckin’ cut without you babyin’ me.” You tease, setting off the usual playful eye roll from Gator as he pulls you into the tightest hug he’s given yet. “Please be good. I need you to be safe, Gator.”

“Just gotta pack my shit up, settle some bullshit, it’ll be a week, tops.” He rests his head on yours, hand slowly rubbing your back, while your arms are wrapped tightly around his torso, head tucked into his chest. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, darlin’.”

“Yeah, well, too bad, the worrying comes with the love. It’s a two for one deal.” You pull back a bit to look at him, wondering how much longer a week will feel apart than when you’re together.

Gator pulls back further, reaching into the pocket of his jacket, before pulling out what looks like a sad, wimpy bundle of strings, tied in the messiest knots. He takes your hand, tying it onto your wrist, and that’s when you recognize it.

“How… how the fuck do you still have this?” It’s a friendship bracelet, a horribly made one from one of the many sleepovers you had as kids. The colors of the embroidery floss you stole from your mother’s sewing box were faded, fraying at the ends, knots already loose, threatening to unravel. “Gator, I- I don’t—“

“Never expected ya’ to save yours, not after the way I hurt ya’.” He makes sure it’s not tied too tight, but enough where it won’t slip off, either.

“No… I still have mine from you. At home. But I never had the heart to get rid of it.” You’re crying softly, rubbing the tears from your eyes quickly. “Your knots were always cleaner than mine,” that finally earns a genuine laugh from Gator.

“Keep that one safe, yeah? I’m gonna want it back when I come home, so y’can’t steal it.” He clutches the back of your head, kissing your forehead before glancing at the time near the board of arrivals and departures. “When does your flight board?”

You glance at the same clock he’s reading, “Fuck. Fifteen minutes.” You turn back to Gator, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. “I don’t wanna go.”

“I don’t want you to either, but I’ll see you sooner than ya’ think.” Gator’s voice cracks a bit; he’s scolding himself for getting choked up when he knows he’ll see you soon. He’ll be living with you soon. Start a whole new life with you cheering him on.

If he’s lucky, that is. He can’t tell you that, though. Not now.

“You gonna be brave for me, darlin’?”

You can only think to respond with a kiss, one that’s not long enough, but still carrying love, even if it’s just as clumsy as his kisses usually are.

“Only if you’re gonna be safe for me, Gator.”

That kills him inside. He has to promise this to you, he has to try his best to be safe, make it out unscathed. He can’t leave you high and dry, not again.

Gator sticks his pinky out to you, and you latch yours around his, squeezing tightly.

“Promise, darlin’.”

You step back, unhooking your fingers before forcing your feet to shuffle towards the security line. Looking back over your shoulder with a smirk, you giggle out, “See ya’ later, alligator.”

Gator’s face breaks into a dopey smile, flipping you off affectionately as he watches you walk away, hoping to God he can pull off this one last, completely reckless “job”, and make his way back to you, safe and sound.

If only you knew how heart-wrenching the next week would really be.

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman fic #gator tillman smut #my fics #part time soulmate full time problem

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glamorousdame · 9 days

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What the fuck Jax why are you doing me like this😭😭😭😭

Usually I'm a sucker for egotistical fictional characters ending up being the most somber, messed up, bundle of anxiety you would ever see in your life. This alone just hurts. THIS... YOU... AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAJJSHDJSBDJDBDJDNDHJEJSHD

HE IS SITTING, ALONE, BY THE BACK OF A TRUCK WITH HIS HEAD TOWARD THE GROUND/SAND/WATER WHATEVER THE HELL THAT IS WITH AN ARM WRAPPED AROUND HIS KNEE AND TRAILING HIS HAND LONGINGLY IN THE GROUND/SAND/WATER OR WHATEVER.

OF COURSE WE'RE GOING TO SUSPECT HE'S NOT DOING OKAY!!!

Ehhh, my analysis is, is that Pomni got captured by one or two of the gummy alligators (they seem like outlaws/bounty hunters of some kind?? Maybe they did something that peeved Queen Loolilu(?) and she sent the alligators to find the cast? I don't know, still working on it. OR, they're trying to steal the key that the Queen gave them!) and I think Gummigoo is the remaining alligator and holding Pomni hostage or something. Because you can see her on their truck and then he ends up taking her. I think Jax ended up being the one to drive the truck and eventually crashed into something or the gummy alligators drove them into the canyon! This is why Ragatha is mad at Jax in that one clip with not a Pomni in sight. He's like "she'll be fine stfu" and Ragatha will be "NO, Y O U STFU YOU'RE THE ONE THAT DROVE US HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU I D I O T -" ok I was outwardly using Ragatha as my thoughts screaming at Jax BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!

The point, is that Ragatha blamed Jax for getting Pomni captured, and sets some boundaries before getting Kinger and Gangle to rescue Pomni while she forces Jax to stay behind and watch Chad and/or Max and make sure they don't escape. (The other two gators are confirmed to be named that by Goose Lovely😍)

Is this what Jax usually does in his free time, alone? As in huddle up all to himself, seeming isolated? Well he is, but... Y'all my heart aches.

I hate him he's my favorite character

Against my better judgement.

But honestly, I'm so interested in this episode I am screamingG!!

ZOOBLE COME BACK I NEED MORE JAX AND ZOOBLE SIBLING BICKERING HATING EACH OTHER MOMENTS - even still Zooble is such an interesting character.

(Ragatha get your bbg back😭😭😭😭😭)

#the amazing digital circus ragatha #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus pomni #the amazing digital circus jax #the amazing digital circus #analysis #some character analysis #JAX AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS #GET OUTTEA MY HEADE!#why do yall ship ai with real people #gooseworx

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talesfrommedinastation · 8 months

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Redneck Neighbor Doug: Why Belters are Space Cajuns

If Mandalorians are space rednecks, then Belters from The Expanse are space Cajuns. This is not up for debate, according to the nerdiest Southern man of all time, my neighbor Doug, who, it turns out, loves this show too. I'm 99% sure he's also a TNG and Battlestar fan, but that would just kill me with exhaustion if we went into full deets about it.

Onto our friends in the Belt and why they have so much in common with the French-Americans who reside in the wilder parts of the deep American south of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama.

I will elucidate now, via Doug, on what Belters and Cajuns do that make them…them:

They make do: First thing we see in the entire series is how much the Belters are royally crapped on by life. They live in space, which permanently alters their bodies, to the point where they can not survive on a planet. To quote, “Belters work the docks, loading and unloading precious cargo…never meant for us”. They don’t have the wealth of Earth or the incredible military drive of Mars, but they’re scrappy, innovative, and do what they can to survive, whether it’s by smuggling, pirating, or allying themselves with powerful folks. Like the French folks in Acadia who got flung from their homes to the bayous of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, who scrape a living by fishing, boatmaking, bartending, and/or serving as a member of the X-Men. Cajuns and Belters do what they can to survive, giving them an edge that others do not have.

They party hard: Belters love drinking, having parties on their ships and in port, banging everyone on the crew, and overall just being wild. After all, you never know when you’re going to get your air or water cut off by the Inners, might as well live it up. And Cajuns, well, they invented Mardi Gras and their saying is ‘Laissez les bons temps rouler’ or ‘let the good times roll’. Life isn’t easy on a swamp that is constantly wacked by floods or hurricanes, but they party as much as they can. Just like the Belters.

Their women: Some of the best damn characters in the series are the angry ladies of the Belt (Camina Drummer and Naomi Nagata). Man, they something else. They’re loving, fierce, smart, crazy, and can go from Bambi to Banshee in five seconds. Cajun women love to host parties, help with church, and cook and make an amazing roux from dirt and crayfish, but God help you if you piss one off. Those pot carrying arms can snap a neck quicker than a blue crab shell.

They speak in patois: Ever heard Cajun French? It ain’t from Paris, that’s for sure. It’s mixed up and raw and beautiful in its own right, and for many generations, it was looked down upon by English-speaking neighbors. Belter creole is similar, a smashed up beauty of a language that has come out of life in space, filled with English, Chinese, Farsi, German, Hindi, and other languages. It even has a similar lilt to the bayou!

They are ungovernable: There’s a reason the Cajuns were never quite able to fully rebel against the various governments that took over their swampy goodtimes. They’re loyal to each other and their land, and that’s about it. Belters are the same–they’ve tried with the OPA, and even then, there’s different factions and squabbling (Anderson Dawes vs Fred Johnson, for example) and it’s only until there’s a genuine, alien threat to they get all united (plus Camina Drummer comes to power, but that’s neither here nor there).

They’re good at figuring out solutions: Cajuns live in gator and snake infested swamps that flood and hurricanes smash through routinely. But they live and thrive regardless, with their pirogues and their bridges and their houses on the water. Same with Belters: their lives are lived in space, with crappy gravity and air. But they’re scrappy and tough and figure out how to survive. A Redditor pointed out that many of the more ambitious, driven Earthers left generations ago to live on the Belt, as the option was staying on Earth and living on an increasingly overcrowded, shitty planet. Not unlike the ancestors of the Cajuns who left France.

The Spice Must Flow: Belters have to pack their shitty food full of peppers and spices to make it palatable, to the point one of the nicknames for their most famous dishes is called ‘red kibble’. And have you ever had proper Cajun food? Crawfish, alligator, boudin, and frogs are freaking amazing when done properly, although my fancy British friends were horrified that I enjoyed them. Pass me them mudbugs with some Cachere’s seasoning, collards, and corn, I wanna feel the pain.

They work in weird and hard places: See above for both Belters and Cajuns. Jobs Cajuns have had range from oil fields to swamps to cities filled with yellow fever. But they take it and have a good sense of humor about it. Same with Belters–they work on rough ships, in radiation filled places in space, and don’t bitch about it. To quote the gaunt Belter, ‘They built the solar system on our backs’.

Everything and anything can be used as a weapon: A gun? Peshang! Guns are for fancy Inners. Belters will use guns, AND pipes, chairs, each other, elevators, fists, a toothbrush, shives, you name it, they’ve killed with it. They’re tough and scrappy, and so are the Cajuns, whose fights are notorious in the bayou and beyond. Don’t mess with them.

So yeah, Space Cajuns.

#the expanse #belter #theexpanse #james sa corey #cajun #space cajuns #beltalowda #for beltalowda #redneck doug #neighbor doug #fan theories

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dantran · 2 years

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BEACH DAY HEADCANNONS!

but like a lake beach because..... freshwater turtles (not that they HATE the ocean or anything the lake is just way better)

based mostly on the Rise! boys :D

Leo

BIG fan of the sun tannin'

floating in the water soaking in the sun is his absolute favorite

probably convinces raph to borrow someones lake boat

a menace if you get him to go tubing, an absolute fiend

challenges everyone to meaningless contests all day

hey raph!!! i bet i can hold my breath underwater WAAAAAAYY longer than you

hey mikey!!! betchya cant skip this rock as far as me

criticizes mikeys rock-skipping form, probably

HEY DONNIE....WANNA RACE??

eats all the extra food :)

Raph

really wants to make sure his brothers dont kill each other

(its a tough gig)

when Leo convinces him to borrow a strangers boat he's hesitant at first but then realizes its an incredible opportunity to fuck with his brothers

absolute crazy person driving

mostly bc this is his first time driving a boat

BUT ANYWHOOOO,

throwin the old pig skin around <3

probably has a really fun time swimming around looking at native wildlife

wins Mikeys best cannonball contest every time

Mikey

WATER!!! SPORTS!!

tubing, water skiing, knee boarding

he doin the flips and tricks

also beach volleyball, catch with raph, and convincing his brothers they should try and see who can do the best cannonball

also probably convinces Leo to do more idiotic things, like belly flopping off a building

makes it known that he NEEDS to have ice cream at some point because you just can have fun in the sun without ice cream!!!!

he also makes special snacks the day before but forgets them at home <3

"hello, birds!"

"hello, fish!"

"hello......OH GOD THATS A GATOR-"

Donnie

overpacks but refuses to share

snacks, towels, extra clothes, band-aids, brushes up on his CPR,

all for HIM AND IF YOU DIDNT BRING ANY FOR YOURSELF THATS TOO BAD!

loves rocks

he'll tell you about every shell, fossil, and rock on the beach (cause he knows about all of them in length and how they got there)

he DOES participate in tubing/wake boarding when roped into it by Mikey, but prefers to hang in the shade

when he IS roped into it though.....competitive

the lengths he will go to to stay on a tube longer than mikey are definitely not legal (as far as the rules of tubing go)

#tmnt #tmnt headcanons #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #rottmnt headcanons #disaster twins #rise leo #rise raph #rise mikey #rise donnie #tmnt donatello #rise of the tmnt

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nuggets-and-french-fries · 3 months

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Preface.

When I say the words 'Boca Raton', what is the first thing that comes to your mind?

Is it white sandy beaches, crystal clear ocean waters, fish and chips, golfing, warm sunshine? Or are you like me and think of Boca as a place people go to after they retire?

If your answer was white sandy beaches, crystal clear ocean waters, fish and chips, golfing and warm sunshine, my uncle Jeff would agree with you.

He always tells me that he loves it there and is glad he moved to Boca because it reminds him of all the holidays he and my mom would take with my grandparents when they were kids and on school break.

At first I laughed when he told me he was moving to Boca because the name alone just sounds hoity toity. Seeing how much he lit up though when showing me the pictures of his new house and telling me all the things he planned on doing, it made me feel bad. He was so excited and I made the choice to be happy for him, despite how I felt about him moving so far away from me.

Well, ok, maybe it's not that far when you fly but driving, it's 10 hours! 10....hours....! Like what?! Anyway, he has been living there for the past four years and today, I'm being 'dumped' on his doorstep while my parents take their 'well earned' holiday or at least that's what they call it.

I wanted to go on the cruise too but when I told them that, they made it their mission to make my face turn redder than a tomato when they explained that they wanted time to 'reconnect'. Yeah, that was a pretty picture.....NOT!

Oh well, they can have it and I get to spend time with my uncle doing things that we both love like fishing off the doc, eating fish and chips by the beach, taking bike rides and taking late night drives while eating ice cream and singing at the top of our lungs and very off key. I can't wait for all of that.

Anyway, before I continue, I guess I should introduce myself a little bit.

Hi, I'm Kenzie and I'm a 16 year old soccer nerd who lives in Mobile, Alabama with her parents, Scott and Tracy Maxwell. I have one cat who is cute but seems to have it out for me like any sibling would, even if they are of the furry kind. Also, I'm currently nursing a bumble bee back to health after I accidently stood on it while playing soccer in the backyard with my dad.....I was barefoot too which hurt a lot. Normally I would beg to take the bee with me but my friend Zarah offered to nurse him for me while I'm with my uncle this summer. She also said she'd send me daily updates on his health and well being.

Let's see, what else can I say, um.....Oh I know, my mom is from New York and my dad is from New Jersey. It's kind of besides the point of this story but they met during a St. Patrick's Day bar party. My dad was a bartender at his parents bar and my mom was stood up by a low life (her words) and rescued by my dad who fell in love with her from the minute he saw her walk through the door (his words).....*insert a kissy face here* *insert sick face here*

I don't think there is anything else to add right now so I should really stop writing and finish showing Zarah the ropes on how to care for the bee, otherwise we'll miss our flights and with how stressed my parents are right now, I'd hate to think of being used as gator chow as a form of punishment for making them late.

Ok, cool.

Bye.

P.s: I am not looking forward to flying by myself, so wish me luck....I'll need it!

===

Tag List: @geo-winchester @stilessbaseballbat @astralmctive

If you'd like to be tagged as well, please let me know😊

#originalstory #uncle and niece #playing cupid #wattpad #archive of our own #tumblr

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kcarkwright · 2 years

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ARKWRIGHT'S PREPTOBER LESSONS: Figuring out your plots. Yes, plural.

Ah, plot. Gotta love it. Unfortunately.

A good story is really just two stories hiding in a trench coat, trying to buy tickets to a film they're definitely not old enough to watch.

So, every story should have a PLOT A and a PLOT B. PLOT A should remain about that main conflict, the protagonist vs. the Big Bad™. PLOT B should be about the Major Character's personal arc through their journey.

And, if you're writing a series, you get to add PLOT C, the directional plot of the series as a whole.

Yay. Three responsibilities.

Anyways, while abandoning these and just writing sounds so ideal — it isn't gonna work. A Plot Outline is like a treasure map, guiding you to your precious treasure: finishing your fucking book. Without it? You'll probably get lost. Maybe eaten by a kraken or something.

Here is a thread of how to format each of your plots, starting with PLOT A.

PLOTLINE A – how the story gets told.

PLOT A is more like a road map: Major Character needs to get from point a to point b. Except, a giant fucking hurricane had just blown through, turning this simple drive into a little adventure full of fallen wires, flooded roadways, and hey, let’s add alligators, because why not? Maybe the drive is to escape the hellscape known as Florida.

That hurricane is the Inciting Incident. The big shebang that changes the entire course of the whole drive. Usually, the inciting incident is out of the Major Character’s hands – but who knows! Maybe they caused it directly by pissing off the great and powerful Florida Man. It’s up to you! You get to ruin their day in any special way you want.

Now, Major Character has hopped into their ol’ 2005 Kia Hatchback, a trusty vehicle Major Character has used for every drive since they’ve had their license, and starts off, a trunk full of boxes and a mind full of…mountains. Yeah. Mountains. Nothing bad ever happens in the mountains, right? Rarely are there any tornadoes, inclines would help with the flooding. And Major Character has always wanted to have a white Christmas!

The mountains. That’s where Major Character will be happy, and safe, and away from the fUCKING GATORS–

But, haha! Fate in the form of a sleep-deprived and caffeine-addicted author has decided to make Major Character’s rerouting absolute hell. Why?

For fun, obvs.

So this old Hatchback is chugging along as well as it can – there’s still severe winds after all, and the roads are just so slick – until it gets to the true damage of the storm. The intersection is absolutely submerged in a flood patch, a drainage pipe at the north of it just pouring gallon after gallon into it in a violent rush. But like, even then, the water doesn’t look too high. Major Character can still see the legs of the stop signs and they look about the same height as normal. And besides, they’ve got Hatchback on their side! This car has survived 18 wrecks, a dozen hurricanes, multiple break-ins, and a lightning strike, if the carfax is to be believed. It can easily make it through this glorified puddle. So, with faith in their dependable old friend, Major Character pushes forward –

And immediately waterlogs the engine.

This is all a metaphor, of course, for your Plot Point One. You can interpret this instance to fit your tale in any way you wish: did Major Character ignore all the warning signs and push through anyways, becoming a victim of their own hubris? Did they put too much faith in their tools because it’s gotten them out of every issue so far? Have they simply never heard the phrase “turn around, don’t drown”?

The Major Character’s reasoning for this first plot point is up to you, and is going to be a part of your Plot B. Don’t stress too hard about it yet.

I find Plot Point One to work best for the story if it strips something from the protagonist. Because now, that road trip has become a hike, exposing Major Character to the natural elements of the inciting incident, forcing them to adapt. And by stripping away the tool Major Character depended on, this makes it soooo much easier to kick them while they’re down.

My OCs love me, can’t you tell?

The journey for Major Character is so much harder now, but they keep on, more determined than ever to leave because holy FUCK they hate Florida. So they trek on with cuffed jeans, dealing with the effects of being Hatchbackless when they turn a corner, aiming to take a road that – surprise – was swept away by the flooding, now a patch of cement-sprinkled dirt, rushing along in a landslide.

This is a bit on-the-nose, sure, but sometimes we need it to be: there’s no more road for them to take. Plot Point Two, I believe, works best when you next take their choice of progress. Their chance of moving forward on the obvious and safest path. They’re either going to have to admit defeat and stay in the Sunshine State, or find a new way out.

Your Plot Point Two is also known as the Midpoint, the middle of your book. And I feel like it’s a good time for an intermission, and to mention something important.

At minimum, you need three plot points.

Minimum. MINIMUM. Not max, not total – minimum. This map is kinda like a Dora the Explorer map, and we need 3 stops on the trail for the episode to feel complete – but that isn’t the set amount we’re allowed to have. You can torture your Major Character in any way you please! And the Plot Points aren’t the only action you’re allowed to have in your story! Major Character has to get to the Plot Points, after all. Your Plot Points are your “Because [instance] happened, [instance] occurs next.” That’s where most authors feel daunted with their writing. Everything I’m typing here is to fit your basic (see: boring) Plot Structure. But this isn’t a set rule. You aren’t legally required to heed this advice to the letter. Just have those major points, those important instances that change how the Major Character takes this journey, and you can fill in the details of how they get there later. You don’t have to know your story inside out. You’re allowed to be clueless in some parts of your story; I find letting the setting and Major Character interact without my consistent interference is where some of my best writing happens.

Anyways, yeah, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Landslide. Major Character can’t go that way now! It isn’t safe, and besides, they don’t have the tools to get past. Even trusty Ol’ Hatchback wouldn’t have made that, if Major Character hadn’t sent it to an early grave. This Plot Point is where (! in my opinion !) you want to give Major Character the opportunity to change. Y’know, against their will. They don’t want to go a different, unmapped way, but they also don’t want to stay in Florida. So, with a grit in their teeth and a determination that exceeds their fear, they step off the known trail, over the guard rail and into the unknown.

Allow your Major Character the chance to begin shining, here. They find they’re actually not bad at navigating a post-hurricane bog. All those years in some made-up cub scouts equivalent somehow survived in the back of their mind. Sure, mosquitoes might be chewing away at exposed skin, and their fucking socks are wet, but Major Character is making progress. Finding a way out has been hell, but Major Character finally, FINALLY, feels like they can do it.

You see that hope? That assurance and confidence? Yeah, snuff it out like the Hatchback.

Major Character sees a highway overpass up ahead! Of course; if they take the highway, maybe walk it or hitchhike, they’ll get out of Florida waaaay quicker than if they just traveled random backroads by foot! Of course, they have to get on the highway first – and it just so happens that the on-ramp to this overpass is littered in sunbathing gators.

Plot Point Three is most fun most fun when you dangle a saving grace like a doughnut on a stick – right behind a major obstacle. The prize is so goddamn close, they can see the tape on the wrapping! And yet, it’s like they’re at square one.

Now, freeze frame on Major Character and the alligators: Plot Point Three is going to be the most important part of your book. Not the inciting incident, not your climax: Plot Point Three, iN My oPiNiOn, makes the rest of the book. Because your choices here will bleed into what makes the Climax.

Because from Plot Point Three will be born three beasts:

The Disaster

The Crisis

The Absolve

THE DISASTER is where you want everything to go to hell in a handbasket. Gators? In my roadway? It’s more likely than you think. Dozens of powerful jawed dinosaurs just waiting to eat Major Character. In fact, a scaly guy just at the edge of the gator gang has spotted Major Character. Why is it turning to face them? Oh god, it’s rushing towards Major Character–

Major Character isn’t fully unequipped; being Floridian, they’ve been taught since grade school to zigzag to escape a pursuing alligator. And just a ways away is a tree with a low hanging branch Major Character can use to hoist themselves up higher, away from the beast.

But Major Character wasn’t told how goddamn fast gators were on those stubby little legs, how it could snap side to side easily and only needed a few seconds to readjust itself before it was back on their tail, a jaw with an impossible number of teeth always getting too close to Major Character’s achilles before another zig or zag. Every close snap came with a breeze that warned Major Character, threatened them, but if they just dug their feet in, maybe used trees as cover when they dodged, they’d make it.

The gator keeps in pace, only just missing their legs from their constant jukes, but the branch is right there, splintery and wet as Major Character grips it and jumps, the spittle from the gator peppering their pants as they clambered up the tree and away from the monster, leaving it to groan dissatisfied in their wake.

THE CRISIS is the panic attack Major Character gets to have in the tree. Not just because they were almost eaten by Godzilla’s weaker cousin, but they’re now stuck in a tree. All metaphorical, of course: they’re now stuck in place, unable – and honestly, too fuckin’ scared – to move forwards. How are they supposed to get passed…13, 14, 15…yeah, fifteen gators?! They’re not Steve Irwin! They barely even qualify as a hiker! And now they’re stuck in a tree, a gator happily making a place in the shade to sleep for the night, and…

They’re trapped. They can’t get out of this elm, or Florida.

Major Character tries to rest, exhausted from running away and hiking and climbing and the allergic reactions from the mosquito bites…but it never really settles in. They stay in that in between, still privy to the sounds of their surroundings – and consistently getting startled awake by them. There’s the rumble of a gator clearing its throat that nearly sends Major Character out of the tree with their violent jerk, the constant harassment from the bugs keep them from truly settling, and there’s that crackling hum that keeps randomly snapping–

Major Character looks for the noise, finding a fallen wire insulated all but at its end, the frayed ends of still-live electricity shooting volts into the air. A cicada buzzes just a little too close and gets fried midair, turned to toast-smelling ash before it even had the chance to realize this was the end.

That wire…the idea was stupid, but as Major Character watches an anoli lizard scuttle across the insulated part and remain unarmed…maybe they can use it.

[i am legally required to tell you guys to not fuckin’ play with wires. This is fiction. Major Character already killed the Kia, don’t let them kill you too]

THE ABSOLVE is when Major Character begins making a plan. When, after googling how to survive a lightning strike or other electrical shock, they chuck their phone, the gator under the tree rushing towards the noise in search of a snack. It’s them practicing how to hold a branch with the back of their hands instead of a normal grip, so if they get electrocuted, their muscles tightening won’t hold on to the wire and (hopefully) further shock them. It’s them mentally mapping out the safest way to get to the raised middle of the road, away from the puddles and gators and at the perfect vantage point to electrocute everything alive and dash up the on-ramp. It’s silencing the group chat Major Character made to update everyone on how they were trapped, and to give a location in case something goes wrong. It was getting the chance to say goodbye because, either by wire or gator or storm or starvation, there’s a good chance they’ll die regardless.

Yeah, it’s dramatic. It’s meant to be. This is your building action to The Climax. This is everything that sets up the drama as Major Character clambers back down the tree and over to the wire, a hooked branch in one hand as the other slowly reaches out (facing backwards – never just fuckin’ grip anything that could be live!!) and gently brushes against it, breathing a sigh of relief when they actually survive the touch.

So they take the wire, keeping the live end as far away from them as possible, and begin tugging it forward, recalling that mental map of where to bob and weave so they avoid most of the gators.

Of course, in the small amount of time, a 12 footer readjusted, becoming a speed bump directly in their path, making them stop in their tracks. The gator spots them, opening its maw and letting out a low rumble. A warning. Don’t be so stupid, it advises.

Luckily, you get to make them as stupid as you want!

I’m not gonna sit here and map out the entirety of the action. That’s your job, I’m just the author self-appointing themselves a writing guru. Maybe your Major Character uses the wire as a whip, zapping the alligator right in its open mouth. Maybe they stop too suddenly and accidentally zap themselves too, the pain coursing up every nerve ending like a high speed rail train, lighting them on fire (metaphorically or actually!). The action here can be as calm, or as crazy, as you want it to be. Just try to keep in mind to keep it realistic to your tale; having aliens zoom down on a UFO and beam up Major Character doesn’t fit at all with the flow of your story. Keep all action, all lull and all character interactions befitting with the type of story you’re trying to tell.

But more or less, it should end with a chance, that split second, where Major Character’s feet land firmly on the dry topside of a sundried road, and they drop the wire, electrocuting every pursuing gator and leaving all the creatures in their wake as they rush up the highway, finally safe and able to begin making it to their destination.

Like an adrenaline rush, after the Climax comes the Falling Action, the patching of the electrical burn and the dehydration beginning to actually take its toll. It’s the Coast Guard helicopter flying ahead that was called in by someone in the group chat, a rope ladder being thrown down for Major Character to scramble up. Its the relieved cry of Major Character’s loved one that was called to be told they were found, alive and…mostly okay. The Resolution follows when they land in Savannah, Georgia, Major Character being released after an overnight hospital stay. It’s the boxes volunteer salvagers managed to retrieve from the Hatchback, it’s the Greyhound ticket to the smoky mountains.

It’s the moment you get to close your computer, and breathe, yourself.

Now, if you’re a single-novel writer, congrats! You just finished your story! But if you’re not, if you intend to put Major Character through more hell: The end of this story is the inciting incident for your series. I mean, yeah, they made it to the mountains, and so far, Major Character is comfortable; but you know what’s in the mountains? Mountain lions. Mountain lions and forest fires.

That's it for how to structure PLOT A! Click here for more information on how to structure your PLOT B.

CREDIT TO DEVILISHLYDELIGHTFULDIVIDERS FOR THE DIVIDER. Seriously their stuff is so cute go look at it.

#Arkwright Academics #preptober #nanowrimo #writeblr #writing #writing advice #KayCee Rambles #story writing

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pbandjesse · 11 months

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Today was kind of a logistical nightmare for me. And like it was fine in the end because we got through it but man. I hate when things are set up to fail.

I also just slept horribly last night. It was super super windy and it was just so loud and we should have just closed the windows but we didn't and so I woke up a ton. I also had really really intense nightmares. And so when I woke up I just felt so crummy. Like to the point I may have called out. But I know Elizabeth would be sad. So I got myself together and went to camp.

James was a little to hovery because they knew I wasn't feeling right. But I needed space so I tried not to be a huge bitch about it but basically waited until they left for work to do my makeup and finish getting ready. And then grabbed the sandwich they made for me because they love me so much and it made me feel less cranky about everything. Knowing how loved I am. Love them so much.

I got to camp at 8 and after getting my walkie and big spray I went to see Elizabeth and get the ropes key and the schedule for the day. That is when I noticed that the programs were an hour and a half with 15 minutes between them. So basically an hour and 45 minutes. For 5 kids to do programs that we struggle to fill an entire hour with normally. When we have 16 kids. So I was like hey, this on purpose? And she was just like oh, well just do whatever you can. So I was very stressed about this basically all morning. We probably said it to many times between me and Celia to the chaperones but they were a bit confused about it too. Like. It's just a lot of time! Longer then yesterday's when we were doing the same programs. So it was just really weird.

And then a bunch of stuff went awry. I went and set up ropes and Cecilia came up to get the old water cooler I found. And then no one was ready at 845 when we should have all basically been at the hacienda. And then I'm getting called to come down to the rock wall but then Tony (welcome back Tony!!) took over that and so I went back to the hacienda. Where we got a call that all the other water coolers were missing. And poor Sarah was driving around on the gator to try and find them. And then Brayden was there to get the group for horses. And then Celia was there and so we also took our ropes group and we were off.

We started right at 9. And we're basically done by 930. The program was supposed to go until 1045. So this was no good.

We would go and try the whale watcher. And I told them I can do my musuem tour as a podcast and so I did that with Celia playing the part of the children when I ask questions and the chaperone doing hand motions to act out what I was saying and it was really silly and fun.

Once I got like 5 or so minutes in to my speech I said I would go up to horses to check in.

Laney and Rachel were up there and they were also basically done. It was like 945 at this point. And they brought out paint to paint on the horses, just to fill the time, and they said I could bring out group up and have both groups up there. And once the first horse group was done painting they could do ropes.

This sort of worked. It was nice petting the horses. But then one of the girls, who of course really loved the horses, started having an allergic reaction. So I would take 4 of the 5 kids, who the chaperone took the girl having the reaction to their medical person.

This group has the highest support needs and while they were having fun, me and Celia were essentially the only spotters and they kept falling on me!! We were all laughing but these kids were mostly bigger then me and I was going to be, as one girl said, "squished like a pancake."

After they got bored of the ropes we went to the whale watcher. But they didn't understand or didn't want to actually balance. Instead they were for sure sensory seeking and were just slamming the seesaw down. For like a few minutes. It was loud and eventually Elizabeth called us and told us she could hear it across camp and we had to stop.

It was about 11 at this point. I will remind you that the first program should have been 9 to 1030, then the second program was 1045 to 1215. So it being 11 you see the problem. So I made the call to take them to arts to paint.

And that ended up being great. We went up there and I got them watercolors and they really seemed to enjoy it. It was just really pleasant and I felt happy. And I was happy when one of the boys, Calder, kept telling me how happy he was.

Celia had made a stop at the office to get a sweatshirt and when she came and joined us she let me know that all the other program areas had basically given up and they all cleaned up already. One group was in the field, one was playing diskgolf, who knows where the other one was. So Celia went to pack up low ropes, and around noon I took the group to lunch.

Me and Celia get along a lot. She lets me be very silly and we basically just use internet lingo all day which is just really goofy. I also showed her my fidgets and she told me about hers. I'm excited she's going to be specialty staff this summer.

We headed back to the office. Checked in with Elizabeth. She told me she also has a tummy ache. She told us that if anyone wanted to stay for hours they could but if not we could go.

I was hungry and was still not feeling myself. I was able to mostly hold it together for work but I was ready to get out of there.

I went to hunt valley and got a burrito at chipotle. I ate outside and it was beautiful out. It made me feel a little better.

I walked to Marshalls next. Where I got a candle and a cardigan and some body oil that smells like strawberry candy. And I just had a nice time looking around.

But I was ready to go home. I put on loud music to keep myself awake. I also drove with the windows down because it felt so nice out. And when I got home I got changed and showered. I cleaned the bottom of the fish tanks. And laid down.

I mostly just watched videos but eventually I did fall asleep. And had pretty intense dreams again. No idea why they have been so strong lately.

When I woke up James was there. They would make us nachos for dinner. I wouldn't feel ideal. So even though I already took a shower I decided to take a bath and fill wash my hair and shave my legs and it helped. While I was in there James went for a walk.

When they got back we just talked for a while. Hung out with Sweetp. Eventually got in bed to lay around and watch tiktoks together. And now the sun has set, surprising us both. I am going to go moisturize my face and get ready to sleep.

I have tomorrow off. And I am hoping to make a target run for some stuff. And clean the apartment. But mostly I just want to be alone. Which sounds terrible but also I haven't been a lone a lot lately and I'm sure the sun has been a big culprit in my tiredness but I also have not had any time to be by myself and we set. So let's hope tomorrow helps me out.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of each other! Goodnight!!

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playitaagain · 3 years

Text

Day 1 - October 4th: Rewrite a scene from season one or two

JJ hates him. Or at least he tries to tell himself that. It’s bittersweet when he watches his dad, the person who is supposed to love him unconditionally, pull from that dock. He knows it’s the right thing to do, can feel the physical ache of that man’s hands on him, but it still hurts to watch his father turn his back on him for one final time.

Kie’s hand is gentle on his shoulder, comforting in the way unconditional love is supposed to feel like. It solidifies that this was the right thing to do. The people waiting back at the Twinkie for him are his people, the ones who love him unconditionally like he’s wanted his whole life.

“Let’s go,” he mutters, hating the crack in his voice. Kie wraps an arm around his shoulders in silent support, walking with him to the truck that just shows how much she loves this group. JJ’s dad always stole from him but his friends have stolen for him time and time again.

Kie doesn’t say anything as they drive toward their destination, windows open. JJ feels a bit sick thinking about his dad, but he shoves those feelings away, compartmentalizing like he always has so he can focus on the project at hand. They’re already pushing it at this point, going long out of their way while their friends wait around in their drowning car.

It’s a relief when JJ starts to back down the narrow dirt road, seeing his friends come into view on top of the Twinkie. He can do this, get through this even when Pope starts shouting about the tortoise and tortoise. JJ’s sure he’s a bit frustrated as this is his family legacy they are fighting for. It still makes sadness settle in his stomach that Pope couldn’t give them a bit of leeway.

“Where the hell were you guys?” Pope grumbles, arms thrown in his frustration. JJ keeps his eyes down, frown tugging down his lips. He keeps telling himself to compartmentalize.

“Paternal complications,” Kie informs, pointing weakly in his direction.

“Luke showed up at the chateau,” JJ informs, as emotionless as possible, pulling bags from the back of the car so he can get ready to pull the Twinkie from the water.

There’s an awkward pause as JJ tosses the bags onto the ground, leaning down to unzip the bag. “Shit man,” Pope mutters, drawing JJ’s gaze up. He looks like he wants to ask more, provide the comfort he has in the past, but JJ shakes his head, frown tugging down his lips as he pulls out the correct piece.

With one more glance, JJ’s eyes begging Pope not to push, a promise of later whispered on his lips, Pope nods, taking the attention off of JJ.

“While you were getting the truck, John B was bit by a gator,” Pope informs. The relief JJ feels for the change in topic only lasts a moment as his friends start to bicker, tensions high from a day of treasure hunting.

JJ isn’t sure how it happens but suddenly he's giving the big speech, his friends watching him in awe. He can see the pride on Pope’s features before he hops down, hand gentle on his shoulder for a moment, just long enough to give him a reassuring squeeze before they start to hook up the Twinkie to the truck.

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I almost missed @jjpopeweek . Thank goodness for @jjpopie or I would have. Anyway, this scene bothered me so much when I watched the show. I thought it was very out of character for Pope so I decided to fix it. I hope you enjoy!

#jjpopeweek2021 #jjpope #jj #pope #mayward #mayward fic #mayward fanfic #jjpope fic #jjpope fanfic #maywardweek #outer banks #obx #e writes

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futurebicon · 3 years

Text

Carolina

Marine Biologist AU that no one asked for but I wrote because I miss my second home. Probably two parts.

Very brief mention of a family members death

"Hi welcome to-" Leo stopped his normal speech when he was met with the two most gorgeous men he had ever laid eyes on. "Welcome to the Fort Fisher aquarium. I'm your tour guide Leo and this is Regulus." He somehow managed to snap out of his shock even though the greeting was all muscle memory.

“Two guides. Must be special." The red haired one laughed a laugh that made doves fly. "I'm Finn." He shook their hands.

"That and both of us wanted a break from sticky children trying to swim with the sharks and gators." Reg smiled.

"Sharks? Like ocean sharks? And ocean alligators?" The shorter one asked in shock and a lot more than a sprinkle of fear.

'Fuck he's adorable' Leo swore internally. "Alligators are typically fresh water reptiles but if you are asking if they are real sharks and alligators, than no. They're they’re hyperealalistic mechanical sculptures." He kept a straight face.

"Cute and funny." Finn flashed him a smile after another angelic laugh.

Leo had to remind himself to not die right then and there.

“Don't worry, Logan" Finn told the other one. "I'll protect you from the scary teeth, baby."

Now Leo was sad.

“Oh yeah, right after you stop ogling over our hot tour guide."

Now Leo was slightly less sad and confused.

“Actually." Regulus pulled out his phone. "Our manager just texted and said he needs someone in the gift shop. Have fun." He left with a pat on Leos back.

Leo glared as he walked away, they didn't get texts from anyone for any assignment. Hence the walkie talkies on their belt loops.

“So, follow me and we can start the tour." +++

“This is our 235,000 gallon tank." Leo stood over top of the two story tall tank. In here we have our eagle rays, round stingrays, whiptail stingrays, hammerhead sharks, sandbar sharks, sand tiger sharks, hammerhead sharks. We also have two moray eels and an abundance of fish including shanks and groupers. And a personal favorite, Sheldon the green sea turtle.” Leo stood on the rusted grate with ease as if he didn’t care about the hammerhead only a few feet away from his toes.

“Um, this is great and all but can we not stand on the edge without a railing?” Logan stayed as far away as he could an the 2 feet wide walkway.

“You’re completely safe don’t worry.” Leo flashed a reassuring smile.

“Okay yeah but-”

“Stop being a baby, Lo.” Finn poked his side.

“I’m sorry I’m scared of falling into a 23 foot deep death cylinder filled with sharks.” Logan defended himself.

“Alright we can go officially start the tour.” Leo laughed. “But we do have to walk across the tank.”

“We what?” Logan asked.

“It’s okay. Just don’t look down.” He decided to risk a wink.

“Listen to the hot guide, babe.” Finn kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll hold your hand.”

“I love you, Harzy. But I do not trust you enough to not try and scare me.”

“I promi- no I don’t. Fine.” Finn whined when his plans were spoiled.

“Alright, let’s go.” Leo laughed.

They got across the walkway with only a few exaggerated wobbles to scare Logan. And a very grumpy Logan when Leo told him there was another way around the tank.

+++

“So here we have our bald eagle Maverick.” Leo walked up to the opened enclosure. “He’s five years old and has been here since he was two. He was found on the side of the road nearly starved after being hit by a car. If you look at his left wing you can see it juts out a little. That is due to the bones fusing together incorrectly and it makes him unable to ever fly again.” He recited the well known script.

“Poor baby” Finn stuck his bottom lip out.

Leo blinked away the urge to kiss the sad look off his face.

“If we walk up here you can see the aquariums prized possession.” Leo smiled. “Luna the albino Alligator.”

“Oh my god.” Finn hurried over to the glass.

“She looks like you, lover. Pale as fuck.” Logan teased.

“Luna is one of just 100 recorded albino alligators world wide.”

“World wide?” Logan asked in shock.

“Yeah. It’s an extremely rare genetic mutation and due to the inability to hide from predators they’re numbers are next to zero. Very soon they’ll be no more albino gators.”

“What happened to that alligators toes?” Logan pointed at the dark green alligator.

“That’s Gantur. He still hasn’t learn that Luna’s the leader.”

“She bit them off?” Logan’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t underestimate her. Ready to continue?”

+++

“This is my favorite exhibit.” Leo’s face lit up as they walked up to the touch pool.

“Touch anything as long as you use two fingers and don’t pick anything up.”

“Are those stingrays?” Finn pointed towards the end of the touch pool.

“Yeah. They’re still babies and their stingers have been trimmed. Their barbs are like thumbnails and can be clipped monthly without any harm.”

“What are those?”

Leo’s face lit up impossibly more.

“These are horseshoe crabs.” He held onto one of the dark greenish brown banjo shaped creature.

“They are also called living fossils due to the fact that they haven’t evolved at all since the dinosaurs, around 450 million years. It’s mostly due to the fact that they didn’t need anything added or taken away for survival. They were made perfectly. Now their tails.” He pointed to the long stick like end as it moved around with the help of what looked like scaley gills. “Most people look at it and think it will hurt. But it won’t hurt at all. They are extremely, extremely clumsy and use the long tail to flip themselves back over.”

“Sounds like you.” Finn kissed Logan.

“Rude.” Logan scoffed.

“Horseshoe crabs aren’t actually crabs at all. They’re actually more closely related to scorpions and spiders. Watch.” Leo smirked and flipped it over.

There were five pairs of claws moving around as the gills moved up and down like abs, causing the tail to move with it.

“Here-” Leo grabbed Logan’s hand, he tried hard to ignore the way his skin burned. “Touch it.”

“Oh no I’m okay to just look.”

“Come on, just touch it.” Leo begged. “Please just touch it.” He pouted.

“Oh my fuck you’re adorable.” Logan voiced Leo’s exact same thoughts from before.

“Here” he blushed and bit his lib to contain the smile. “Touch it.” He guided Logan’s hand down to the center of the legs, desperately trying to not think about how close they were. Logan’s t-shirt touching his blue polo shirt with his name stitched in the side. The way he could feel Logan’s breathing against his side, the way his leg was pressed between Logans le- stop it.

“Eww that feels weird” Logan’s laughed raised goosebumps on his arm.

“You’re touch his mouth.”

“Ew ew ew ew” Logan pulled his hand away quickly as Finn cackled.

“You asshole” Logan laughed as he pushed Leo lightly.

“Sorry, but it’s funny.” Leo laughed.

“You are now my second favorite person on earth.” Finn put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Oh my god I’m crying.” He wiped his eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind if he stayed our favorite.” Logan smiled.

Leo blushed and moved onto the regular view of the huge tank.

+++

“So how’d you get a job here?” Logan asked Leo as they walked around.

“I’ve lived on the island my whole life and started volunteering here when I was 13.” He explained. “I’m going to UNCW for marine biology. Are you two just here for vacation? Even though it’s April.”

“No. We’re actually moving down here. My grandparents owned the arcade on the boardwalk and left it to me once they passed.” Finn told him.

“Oh. I’m sorry about their passing.”

“It’s okay. Didn’t really know them at all.”

“Well I’ll hopefully see you around.”

“Maybe you don’t have to hope.”

Leo tilted his head in confusion.

“We were just wondering if you would want to show us around the island.” Logan told him. “We’ve only been here for a few days and this is the first place we’ve been to. Not even the beach.”

“Oh that’s nearly a sin.” Leo teased. “I’d love to show you guys around. I get off in an hour.”

“Perfect.” Finn said happily. “Do you want to drive over to our house and then switch cars or do you need to change?”

“That’ll work. There’s a locker room and since there’s next to no one here considering the time of year Evan will probably let me leave early.” Leo couldn’t hide his smile as they walked into the brightly lit gift shop.

Logan let out a loud gasp and ran over to the 6 foot long jellyfish stuffie. “I want it.”

“It’s tentacles are going to strangle you, love.” Finn shook his head.

“Kinky” Logan wiggled his eyebrows.

Finn scoffed as three other people in the quiet store laughed.

“Oh hi again Regulus.” Logan smiled at the black haired man who was sitting on the countertop beside the register tossing a brightly colored foam ball with turtles on it between his hands.

“Hey” He smiled back.

“What’d they need help with down here?” Finn looked around the empty room cluelessly.

“He didn’t help me?” The girl beside him raised an eyebrow. “Hi, Rue by the way.” She waved before going back to glaring at Regulus. “Did Evan tell you to help me?”

“No.” Reg smirked. “Just wanted to leave Leo alone with his crushes.”

“Reg” Leo pushed him.

“It’s mutual.” Finn said and Logan nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna go ask Evan if I can get off early so I can show you a tour of the island and then get changed and I’ll be back down.” Leo changed the subject quickly.

“They’ll show you a tour of their bedroom and then get you off early.” Rue said quietly but not quiet enough. Leo shoved her hard as Logan, Finn, and Reg cackled.

+++

“So are we ready?” Leo walked back down in shorts and a UNCW t-shirt.

A cropped UNCW t-shirt.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah. Um, yeah.” Finn stuttered failing to make it look like he wasn’t staring at Leo’s tan abs.

Finn on the other hand had no shame. His eyes raked his entire body as his mouth went dry.

“Alright. I’ll follow you guys?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Logan nodded.

“Get it Knut.” Reg cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted as they left the gift shop and headed outside to the 100 degree weather.

@lumosinlove

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #sweater weather lumosinlove #oknutzy #Carolina

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator. And racism. You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick. I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’. He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living. Naturally it’s not as simple as that. Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight. Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all. Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it. Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first. The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny. There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever. The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river. The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless. Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie. The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss. This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile. It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’. There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it? All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen. We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others. They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals. Holy shit. I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t. Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie. Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped. We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him). We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive. Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight. The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it. The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle. Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people. Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims. These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves. The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there. The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too. By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages. They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave. Is it really that easy to kill a god? Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway? Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism. One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle. Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them. You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’. You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat. Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature. Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out. The Kuma literally say as much. So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end? Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian? I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room. Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle). Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can. You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year. I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie. I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed. Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce. Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it. The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist. I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the river of the great alligator #the great alligator #fuck this movie #fuck it so much #70s

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sherlollydramoine · 4 years

Text

Because I Love You

Prompt 3: “you did this”

Fandom: The Pacific/HBO War - Modern Day AU

Pairing: Sledgefu

Word Count: 1621

Warnings: There aren’t any warnings other than maybe some language. PG/PG-13

This is my first foray into Sledgefu but I’ve been wanting to write them FOREVER. I’m sure I’ve got the characterization all wrong but I was nervous.

Pulling into the driveway slowly as it was late and the gravel under the tires of the old truck always feels deafening in the silence of night. Shifting the truck into park and turning the key over to shut down the engine, he lets out a tired sigh. He was a bit bitter that he’d had to go to a study group on Halloween but there was a major exam next week and he couldn’t afford to miss the study session. The love of his life had been understanding though the disappointment on his face was clearly visible. Halloween was always their special thing and they often spent it getting way too drunk and having way too much fun. But with so much that had been going on this year with a global pandemic, political and civil unrest, and so much brutality in the world all of that had been canceled.

Eugene was weary, so done with everyone’s shit but mostly he just wanted to be done with school. His lover was mostly patient and kind to him though to others his husband was often perceived as hard and mean. Whenever Eugene brings it up Merriell just smiles and says that he has a reputation to uphold. Looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror he runs his fingers through his ginger hair lets out another tired sigh and grabs the bag off the seat next to him.

The door to the truck loud as it’s old rusted hinges protested with an angry squeak before slamming it shut behind him. Wanting nothing more than to take a shower and go to bed he exhaustedly shuffled his way across the drive and up the stairs of the rickety porch. The one porch light that was in working order was on emitting a low glow and he could hear the moths and whatever other flying insects had gathered to worship in the light repeatedly flying into the light cover. As he pulls open the screen door he notices a piece of paper haphazardly fastened to the door and his heart nearly drops into his stomach. Ah fuck, please don’t let it be another shutoff notice.

Yanking the paper down and squinting in the dimness of the half lit porch he managed to ascertain that it wasn’t a shutoff notice but rather a handwritten note that had been left there by his love. Heart-melting at the familiar scrawl, as he unfolded the paper completely to read what message it contained. He’d assumed that Mer wasn’t home and this was just a little way of ensuring that Eugene was made aware of it before he settled in for the night. He was pleasantly surprised when the note indicated no such thing but rather a sweet, for Merriell, message.

‘Door is unlocked. Please go wash up and then meet me on the back porch. Dinner is waiting for you.’

Smiling to himself he turned the handle and stepped inside the dark house kicking off his shoes out of habit, and then leaving them on the rack next to the front door, dropping his backpack and leaving it on the floor.

“Mer?” he calls out in the dark, waiting for a response that didn’t come.

As he walks deeper into the house he glances towards the kitchen noticing a soft glow from some of the Halloween decorations coming from the dining room table. The back porch door was wide open, only covered by the thin layer of mosquito netting that had been hung over the outer part of the doorway. His stomach rumbles as the delicious scents wafting in from the kitchen hit his nose.

Suddenly he was starving as he remembers that it had been nearly ten hours since he’d last eaten. His study group had provided snacks but everyone was so intense discussing and clarifying information that they were hardly touched. The primary thing he’d consumed all day was coffee which always made his stomach hurt but wasn’t it considered a magic bean? The life giving substance? He knew for himself and for Merriell that neither of them could function normally without a few cups in the morning and for Eugene, he’d need more than just a few cups throughout the day.

His face splitting in a grin as he realized that even though their plans for Halloween had been drastically changed this year, he was not going to let that stop him from making the best of it. His husband had made a show of making sure that the house, both inside and out, was decorated as fully as it could be. The only damper this evening is that his husband was nowhere to be seen and he found himself mildly disappointed at not receiving his ‘hello, welcome home, I love you’ kiss that he had been so accustomed to.

Deciding not to dwell on the fact that he was actually missing his husband he heads to the washroom to clean up as he’d been instructed. The hot shower was exactly what he needed as the grime from the day slowly made its way down the drain taking with it the exhaustion he’d been feeling. Now all he felt was a sense of excitement perhaps brought on by the chance of seeing his husband and also knowing that he’d have all of tomorrow to rest.

Turning off the water and stepping out of the shower on the ugliest purple bath mat that Mer had insisted they had to have, he toweled himself off. Deciding against shaving since his husband loved it when he didn’t have a fresh face. His husband often joked that his freshly shaven face made him look like a twelve-year-old boy but the scruff definitely had a positive effect, making his usually incredibly randy husband even more so. As he glances at the counter he realizes that his husband must have slipped in undetected and left his Halloween costume hanging on the towel rack next sink. A little note was pinned to it presumably with the strict instructions to put it on before heading out to dinner. Donning the costume that Merriell had picked out specifically for him to wear and combing his hair so that it sat just as he knew his husband liked it he admired himself for a moment. Merriell really knows how to pick a costume because damn, I do look good.

Making his way through the house admiring all the little decorations and other little things that were distinctly Merriell that make this rickety house feel like home. Merriell was a collector of weird sometimes macabre things but the item that he loved the most was Billy, the Gator skull, that sat on the mantel over the ancient fireplace that was meticulously decorated by Merriell for every holiday or season. By the time he got to the back porch his face was almost hurting from how hard he was smiling. This house was chock full of mismatched, eccentric decorations but it felt more like home than the rigid, full of antique, don’t-touch-anything, it can’t look like anyone lives here upper-crust southern home he’d grown up in.

Reaching the back door he steps through the magnetically connected mosquito net and called out for his husband.

“Have a seat please, I’ve prepared quite a little feast for us,” Merriell says from behind him. He jumped a little putting his hand over his heart making his husband chuckle.

“Sorry boo, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Mer says as he moves in front of Eugene, wrapping his arms around Eugene’s neck. “You look incredibly handsome boo. I love you, welcome home.”

Merriell gives his husband a quick kiss and instructs him again to have a seat before dashing off back into the house. Merriell had recently fixed up an old wooden table and had found some chairs that fit the table though they were not a matching set. Sliding into the worn but comfortable chair he sat and admired the table set up. Merriell had gone all out and had decorated the center of the table with some small semi-odd decorations. He had set the dishes on the table in a way that Eugene suspects was trying to mimic the overly fancy, start from the outside and work your way in, setup that Gene had grown up with.

His gaze goes back to the back door as Merriell came in and out of the house several times carrying the various food items that he’d prepared for their Halloween feast.

What a feast it really truly was. His lover had made what he called bloody vampire soup which was really just a tomato bisque, severed finger breadsticks, various fruits on skewers that he somehow managed to make resemble bugs, a salad, and for dessert, he’d made a cake coated in black frosting and bits of cotton candy with fake spiders on them.

“I really don’t deserve you Merriell. I just can’t believe that you did this. You do everything for us and what do I contribute to our marriage?”

“Gene, don’t start this. I do these things for you because I love you. You know what you do for us? You are getting the education that I never did so that you can get a good job. Then I can become a full time house and trophy husband.”

This elicits a laugh from Eugene.

“Is that all you ever wanted darling? To be reduced to nothing more than a house husband?”

“Yeah, a house husband that can fix this place up with my own two hands. Your parents were more than generous to buy us the shitty little shack as a wedding gift.”

“My darling, I look forward to the day when you can take our shitty little shack and turn into our dream castle.”

@ramimedley @xmxisxforxmaybe @detectivecutiepantsandhisbabyfox @aboutthatmelancholystorm @will-grammer @theblossomknows @diasimar

#FIctober20 #Sledgefu #The Pacific #HBO War #This is my first Sledgefu #Please be kind

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brutal-nemesis · 4 years

Text

Crackwhump III: Audience Participation Edition

Thanks to everyone who sent in questions :D

As usual, I would like to formally apologize for the SHEER level of stupidity

Now for the Reddit AMA:

From anon: “Corvus are you sure you don't want to at least bite thee iron serpent? Even just to see what it tastes like? It would also be gnarly if you found out your strength surpassed that of the great serpent and you broke free of your shackles, ready to reign terror on those who slighted you.”

I mean I can try. Okay, I tried it and it didn’t work and also my teeth hurt now. That did not taste good. I don’t recommend.

From @legallylibra: “Corvus I would like to hear more about the EGG boys”

Oh, hella lit. There are a lot of us in the frat, so I’m just gonna tell you about the ones I’m camping with right now.

Cam: This guy is WILD. Anytime you want someone to break into an abandoned gas station or boil Tang with, Cam is your man. He helps me pull pranks on our bros all the time, like that one time we accidentally donated Sam’s skateboard to charity.

Riley and Jonesy: These two are basically the same person. I thought they were like, connected by destiny, since they said they’d had the same tattoo since birth, but I later found out they actually got the tattoos after they were born. They’re big hockey guys and they’re always finishing each other’s sentences. You can’t play Cards Against Humanity with both of them though cuz they’ll just keep giving each other the win.

Jarrod: He’s the biggest gamer of all of us. Anytime we play FIFA or Mariokart he dominates, man. He’s horrible at Jackbox games though. The guy is NOT funny, even when he’s drunk. He always laughs at his own jokes and we all just kinda sit there.

From @dramaticcollapse: “Would you rather fight 1 horse-sized duck or 10 duck-sized horses?”

Duck sized horses all the way, man. I’ll just borrow my boy Riley’s hockey stick and go to town on the little glue boys. Easy win since they automatically die if you break their legs.

From anon: “are you gay”

I’m totally straight dude. Nothing against the BLT community though! I see people eating peanuts on campus all the time and, like, love is love, ya know?

From @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi: “QUESTION CORVUS: What's your go to slurpee flavor??”

Blue razz all the way. It’s my favorite fruit, even though they never seem to have it at the store.

“Are you afraid of the great beyond??“

Nah man. All that’s out there in space is a chocolate donut that keeps multiplying itself and will eventually suffocate everything, which’ll be kind of a baller way to go.

“How many lizards have you caught?”

With my hands? 27. With my feet? 2. With my mouth? That’s a secret ;)

“Fried gator or frog legs? (i'm on the fried gator side)”

Gator gang rise up! It’s like if there was a chicken version of LaCroix that was ocean flavored.

“How many numbers are there?”

2 billion, since that’s how high the calculator on my phone goes. At least I think so. Flynn took my phone, so I was without the internet for like, eight hours, until I hacked into his laptop to do this lol.

“Opinion on shoes?”

Not gonna lie, I think they should be optional for like, 90% of places. They’re just not a vibe, man.

“How many states are there?”

42 because that’s the number of presidents we’ve had, duh.

“What kind of car do you drive?”

A gray Jeep named Vivian. She’a a trouper, let me tell you. Drives on those swampy back roads like they’re nothing.

“When was the last time you drank just plain water?”

I can’t count that high on my fingers.

“How's the weather there?”

Cold as balls. I don’t know how the hell that stupid surfer dude is sitting out there in just swim trunks. He doesn’t even look cold! And he keeps sticking his hands in the snow. Honestly, I’m only grateful to be in here cuz it’s heated. Camping is way colder than I thought it would be.

“Are you happy with your place in the universe?”

Technically no, but I will say this couch is hella comfy. If I could be on this couch with my boys playing some COD and also not chained to the wall, that would be ideal. So I guess I’m happy with my place in the universe, like physically, because couch, but not the whole “kidnapped” part of it.

“Why are you the way that you are?”

Damn bro, you my mom? She used to ask me that all the time lmao. For real though, I think it’s because they started putting fluoride in the water.

“I love you.”

Uh...do I like, know you, bro? I mean thanks for asking me all the questions and everything but like, chill (unless you’re that girl in the apartment above me. In that case, hey).

From @galaxywhump: “Corvus, how long do you think it will take your bros to find you?”

Lowkey I’m kinda the brains of the group so I’m a little worried they’ll just assume I was eaten by a mountain goat or something. Also our flight back to Florida leaves in four days and I don’t know if they’ll be able to do it before then. It’s alright though, I can get away from this surfer dude myself. I just need to do something really un-vegan to scare him. Assuming he’s vegan. If not I’m screwed.

#flynn is not vegan lol #crackwhump #corvus #the surfer whumper #flynn isn't even in this but that's like the series name I think #thanks y'all let's do this again sometime #i think i'm funny af part three #i wrote something

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monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Monster Match — Baptiste the Rougarou x F Human, SFW

Monster Match for @kwat01

You could see them, just ahead, at long last.

Normally, the sounds of squawks and chirps accompanied your work, leading the way as you followed with your camera, but not this assignment.

Not the cajun flamingos.

The colorful birds were nearly silent, making only the odd low grunt, none of the ebullient chatter you’ve come to expect in your years working for the nature magazine. The spoonbills were foraging in the brackish shallows of the swamp; white heads bobbing and weaving, searching out food in the murky water as the fan boat drifted.

It was a perfect evening–the air was thick and balmy, as you’d determined it always was, here in Terrebonne Parish, and the bayou was perfectly still. Overhead, the sky was awash with color as the sun slowly set, leaving a rosy, crimson flush to add to the backdrop of your photos, matching the brilliant plumage of your elusive subjects. An ancient live oak, draped in spanish moss, dipped her long branches into the water, and the only movement was that of the birds.

As you waited, the perfect shot presented itself: one of the birds reared up, flapping its wings, and two of its fellows followed suit in a brilliant display of color that you captured with a rapid series of clicks.

When you turned back with a beaming smile, Baptiste was watching you with one of his own.

He’d told you about bayou magic, and damned if he wasn’t right.

You’d arrived in Louisiana more than a week earlier, with little more than a duffel and your camera gear, used to traveling light and in a hurry. Your accent set you apart, as it did almost everywhere, but you discovered the only people making the same tired “shrimp on the barbie” and dingo jokes were tourists announcing how excited they were to be in Nawlins, walking around with beads around their necks and blinking souvenir cups from the Bourbon Street bars. Everyone else was too busy living their lives to pay you any mind.

The drive from New Orleans to Terrebonne Parish took less than an hour in your rented car, always an adventure in different countries, although finding a guide turned out to be slightly more challenging. The contact that had been set up through the magazine had bailed sometime during your transpacific flight, and the message from your office had been to “feel out the locals.”

Wildlife photography was easy peasy over here in the colonies, when compared to the hassles and dangers you’d encountered in parts of Africa and South America, but the few offices you’d dropped into seemed reluctant to take you on.

Roseate spoonbills, diamondback terrapins, and the ubiquitous alligators were your main focus for this trip, and you’d be back later in the season, to capture the critically endangered red wolf…but you had let it slip that you were very interested in another wolf you’d heard about; one that made the wild hogs cower and the gators keep to their swamps.

The stories had come to you during your initial research on the area, via online message boards: nested threads buried deep within innocuous conversations about the local fauna. A creature with claws like steak knives and teeth to match, one that prowled the bayou beneath the light of the full moon each month, leaving a trail of slaughtered hogs in its wake. The people on the message board seemed grateful for the beast, for the hogs were dangerous and a nuisance, and you were intrigued, having never heard of anything like the creature, nor the name they called it.

Rougarou

You had typed the unfamiliar word into your search bar enthusiastically, eager to find something potentially more interesting to search out and photograph…but the results yielded you nothing but legends; a cryptip, a monster creature of myth, a story taken from France to Nova Scotia and passed down from the Acadians as they resettled in the bayou. That doesn’t make any sense! You couldn’t believe that it was all a hoax, not when people seemed so sincere about the wolf-like creature. Maybe it’s just a red wolf, maybe some giant hybrid…

You’d mentioned your interest in finding this rougarou to the genial woman who ran the first tour operation you’d visited…had watched the smile freeze on her face and her eyes harden. It had hardly been a surprise when she announced just a few moments later that all of her guides were booked and she couldn’t help you. It had been a mistake you’d only made once, but evidently some sort of old-fashioned phone tree had been activated, for none of the local travel and tour outfits seemed particularly interested in giving you the time of day after that.

Except for Baptiste.

A fifth generation Acadiana cajun, as he proudly proclaimed, you’d found Baptiste in a small luncheonette in Houma, as you groused on the phone to your editor back in Melbourne. Or rather, you thought ruefully, he had found you.

‘I don’t know what to do, Ray! I’m telling you, there’s something bigger here than turtles. It’s a wolf as big as a man! How has no one heard of it, I don’t understand! But none of these people will talk to me. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to find the spoonbills as this point.”

“Excusez-moi, miss…I couldn’ help overhear that you’re in need of a guide? There’s no one in Terrebonne Parish tha’ knows the bayou half so well as me. Baptiste Thibodaux, for your service.”

He was tall and broad, with an unhurried way of moving, and the blazing afternoon sun had winked on his dark brown hair where he’d followed you to the sidewalk, bowing with a flourish of his hand. He had a languid smile and lovely hazel eyes, bright in his smooth, latte-colored face. You conceded that it was amazing luck for every other guide in the area to be refusing your call, leaving you stranded with this handsome stranger who professed to know the parish like the back of his hand.

You were immediately taken with him.

Over the course of the next several days you’d shot terrapins sunning on rocks, gators blinking thoughtfully from brackish shallows, and some slithering snakes you hadn’t even planned for, all in tucked away little corners and forgotten waterways. The spoonbills were a bit more elusive, at least, for what you were looking for. “Anyone can see one or two pecking for garbage in a drainage ditch on the side of the road,” you explained. “I want to see the flock.”

The time spent together was interesting and companionable, and you found yourself enjoying the time away from home far more than you had on any other assignment. You learned about life on the bayou and Cajun traditions, that his grandfather had been the one to teach him all of the hidden nooks and crannies when he was a boy.

“Save up your toys, boy. We’re gone fishin’,” he imitated as you laughed. “Ol’ Alexandre knew it all.”

Each day you pressed him for information about the mysterious rougarou, and each day he danced around your questions with a smile.

“Can’t say I’m friends with any wolfman out there in the swamps,” he’d chuckled the second day he’d taken you out, after you eagerly told him about the things you’d read and the creature you sought. “Sure you’re not thinkin’ of some red wolves?” You’d flapped your arms in frustration, and he’d laughed again. “There’s magic in the bayou, chèr…just gotta know where to find it.”

Everywhere you went, you questioned the locals, grilling busboys and mail clerks alike. As you’d experienced with the tour outfits, the townsfolk met your questions with uneasy evasiveness. If they’d laughed at you, had flat out called you crazy, you might have let it go. As it was, their shifty eyes and changed subjects let you know that you were on to something, and the whole town was in on the coverup.

“Why you interested in some ol’ wive’s tale anyway?” Baptiste asked with that slow smile, the sixth day he’d taken you out on his fan boat. “Come see, chèr.”

He smelled like pipe tobacco and worn leather, with a splash of bay rum, and the intoxicating trio made your stomach twist and bunch when you leaned in close to follow his outstretched finger.

He had been courtly and charming every day, and you’d lying to yourself if you pretended you weren’t wildly attracted to him. You’d made mention that afternoon at the small restaurant where you’d met for a late lunch before heading out for the evening that he would need to invoice his time so that you could forward it on to your Melbourne office, and he’d scoffed at your words with a wave of his hand.

“Saints alive, you’d best save the ink writin’ up that invoice. Showing a beautiful woman around my home is a pleasure, not a job, chèr.”

As you followed the sightline his long finger pointed out, your breath caught in your throat. There, snuffling at the base of a tree, was a red wolf. Few in numbers, rare to be spotted, and not seen in Terrebonne Parish in decades, but somehow Baptiste had known just where to go.

The wolf froze, spotting you bobbing in the water, but you continued to click as its hackles raised. Baptiste was silent beside you as gleaming fangs were bared.

A sudden breeze from the gulf lifted your hair, carrying your scent to the wolf on the rocks and the creatures beyond, further alerting them to your presence, when without warning, the red wolf lowered its head, whimpering. The sudden change in its demeanor caused you to whip around, expecting an even more dangerous predator slinking up behind you, but there was nothing there.

Nothing but Baptiste’s eyes, glowing like flames in the growing darkness.

Your breath had caught for the second time that evening.

Raising your camera once more, you took advantage of the solitary wolf, until it backed slowly into the brush, melting into the shadows.

“That was incredible,” you’d exclaimed that night, still bouncing giddily on the tips of your toes. It normally took weeks setting up a shot like that, yet you’d glided up to the bank easy as you please, taking the shots you needed. “Thank you so much, I can’t believe you knew just where to find him!”

You’d stood on the stoop of your rented room, gazing up at his wide, white smile, feeling a frisson of heat move through you. You should invite him in…the heady smell of leather and bay rum caught your nose once more as you stepped closer. He had a scar, you saw, cutting through his eyebrow from his hairline, running in an uneven line across his cheek to disappear into his dark hair once more, just above his ear. Baptiste grinned down, taking your in his own with a delicate touch. The feeling of his thumb running down your palm nearly turned you inside out, but before you could act of your desire to invite him in, your hand was raised to his mouth, his lips lightly gliding over your knuckles and released.

“Tomorrow we’ll be findin’ your spoonbills, chèr…then you’ll kick your feet up, Acadiana style.”

It wasn’t until later that you’d pondered on the unnatural luminescent glow of his eyes in the darkness.

Breakfast was at the little diner up the block the next morning, and when the waitress who’d been giving you the stink-eye all week ducked her head as you entered, you weren’t at all surprised. When the same waitress stopped by your table to refill the hot water for your tea, you’d raised an eyebrow.

“Have you talked with Adeline Boucher yet?” the woman hissed. “She’s the one who can tell you what you want to know.”

“I remember I was seventeen, “ the old woman sighed wistfully.

The Fair Oaks retirement community was where you finally tracked down Adeline Boucher, a silvery-hair octogenarian with a bevy of tales to tell. It had taken the better part of an hour to get her back on track with your line of questioning, but what she revealed had been exactly what you’d been trying to unearth since your plane had touched down.

Teeth and claws, long and sharp and lethal; a painful looking change beneath the bright, white moon, leaving a wolfish creature in the place of her sweetheart, on a night more than sixty years earlier.

“Alex was so handsome. Always a perfect gentleman, you know. We would have gotten married, if my parents hadn’t sent me away. Didn’t want me raisin’ any babies with the curse. I had a good life, and it’s too late for complaints…but Alexandre Thibodaux was my first love.”

The spoonbills continued to graze through the shallows, dozens of pink streaked wings and bobbing white heads, beneath the crimson-streaked sky.

It was perfect.

“We should head back, chèr,” he murmured, once you’d lowered the camera for the final time. “You don’t want to be missin’ your first fais do-do, do you now?”

The boat bobbed in the water, and you nodded. He was right—you did not want to miss your first fais do-do. “What if I stay?” He was close, close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell that intoxicating smell, but he still wasn’t nearly close enough. “What if I stay through the end of next week?”

His smile was a bit sadder, but he maintained eye contact as your hands drifted to his shoulders. “Well…I’m afraid I’ll be a bit indisposed form most of next week.”

You nodded, already having checked the date of the full moon. You’d been searching for what had been there all along, and now that you’d found it…it didn’t matter at all.

“I’ll be back then. To shoot the wolves, it’s already scheduled.” When he reminded you that you’d already captured one of the elusive wolves on film, you shrugged. “There are other wolves I’d like to get to know better.”

His lips were warm against yours, a hand at your waist and another in your hair, as you chased the giddy sense of anticipation that had cloaked your entire visit to Terrebonne Parish. You would be back, you’d be unable to stay away.

As your mouth moved against his, the spoonbills took wing. The silent air was rent by a hundred flapping wings, brilliant color taking to the sky, and you were unable to hold in your laughter, leaning against Baptiste’s warm side.

Bayou magic.

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