#Three Things You Should Know About the Road Less Traveled | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirfrogsworth · 7 months

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FFFF: Froggie's Fuckin' Fancy Foray

In a previous post I was debating whether I should go to the Sam's near me, which requires a short 11 minute drive, but the path to get there is quite stressful due to traffic and construction and frustrating detours onto narrow side streets.

There was even a time when a bunch of signs got knocked over or removed and I accidentally went down an unfinished road that dead-ended into a pile of rocks. That was a fun moment. Especially when people stared at me as I did some improvised off-roading to get turned around.

Like I said... STRESSFUL.

Or I could head the other direction across the river into Illinois.

A scenic 22 minute drive with empty highways to a much nicer Sam's. The extra 20 minutes of total drive time is a lot, especially after all the walking required to collect my groceries. And I feared it would test my energy limits, since I had to go to Sam's and Schnucks to get all of the groceries I needed. Sam's is great, but sometimes I just don't need seven dozen of something.

I was having a decent energy day, so the scenic route won.

My plan was to go to Sam's for the bulk of my groceries and then drive all the way back across the river, past my house, and go to the Schnucks that stocks my favorite new fancy Fitz's soda. Which would add another 30 minutes of driving. Though I figured if I wasn't feeling up to it, I could go to Schnucks another day.

But as I stood in the Sam's parking lot holding a five dollar rotisserie chicken, an idea struck me... "Maybe there is a Schnucks near here."

I opened Maps and to my dismay, there was a Schnucks just down the street and for three entire years I never thought to check.

Literally half a mile down the street.

I think we are all familiar with the concept of chain stores varying in quality depending on the area they are located.

There is a Schnucks only 1.2 miles from my home. It is what I would call "tolerable."

Let's deem this location "TS" for Tolerable Schnucks.

TS is clean and has all of the essentials but they try to shove ten pounds of Schnucks into a five pound bag. It is cramped and poorly stocked and the lighting is somehow extra florescent.

They managed to squeeze in a decent deli, but that is where the niceties end. They usually have one register open even if the checkout line wraps around the dairy section. I have yet to find a less busy time to go. It's always filled to the brim with people—morning, noon, and night.

And, frustratingly, they rarely stock my new botique soda obsession, Fitz's.

I allow myself one occasional sugary treat to manage the cravings and I never know if they are going to have it.

However, if I travel an extra 15 minutes then I can upgrade to the Schnucks I would call "nice." So we'll go with "NS" for Nice Schnucks.

Weirdly the NS is near the "tolerable" Sam's (no acronym because that would be confusing with Tolerable Schnucks (TS)). They are only 3 minutes apart but the store quality difference is pretty drastic. If I have the energy, I will try to stop at both places in one trip since they are so near each other.

NS is a much bigger store than TS and they even have a bigger selection to go with that extra space. I have to get my fancy soda there because I guess TS figured "let's just fill the aisle with Diet Coke and nothing else." NS has a much bigger deli and full bakery and a fish person and even a quaint little floral department. They usually have multiple registers open and they stay open past 8pm so you can go when it isn't busy. The lighting is a little better, they keep things in stock, and they even have half-sized shopping carts that are easier to push if you only need a few things.

I thought that was the gold standard for Schnucks.

As nice as it gets.

But then I discovered this new Schnucks near the Nice Sam's and that assertion was about to be shattered.

Let me introduce you to the FFS.

The Fuckin' Fancy Schnucks.

The first thing you notice at the FFS is the front has well-maintained landscaping. Like, proper shrubbery.

That's fuckin' fancy.

The second you enter the store you are greeted with a fully staffed floral department.

It felt like if Valentine's Day could manifest a jungle. Brightly colored flowers everywhere surrounded by mylar balloons wishing people happy whatevers.

Then I turned the corner to see the biggest Schnucks of my life. With one entire side of the store dedicated to bespoke food items.

They got a deli. They got a bakery. They got a fish person. They got another fish person who just makes sushi all day.

They have an entire wall of prepared food items made at the store daily. Sandwiches and salads and pastas and full chickens. They even make their own frozen pizzas.

And then I noticed... the Meat Masters.

They have their own damned butcher on staff!

I found myself just going up and down all of the aisles and discovering new things the other Schnuckses never stock. The soup aisle was ridiculous. I was getting pretty tired and I was paralyzed by too many choices. So I decided to just get my normal boring soups and come back another time to explore the Fancy Soup Section.

The FSS at the FFS, if you will.

And the lighting was just so much more pleasant. It didn't feel like a 90s office building.

And look at that flooring. Did they hire an interior designer?

TS & NS just have generic square tiles.

I mean, I guess making some of them blue is something. But even the ceiling is drab comparatively.

And look at the TS Zapp's display compared to the displays at FFS.

I will say, TS takes much better care of their robot friend. FFS stuck their robot in a very undignified location.

This Roomba with a giant erection spends all day counting stuff and they stick him next to the men's room? Let him hang out with the Meat Masters or the fish people.

This is how a robot uprising starts.

The soda aisle was at the end of the store so I arrived there last. I was nervous they might not have my beloved bottled soda pop. Not only did they have it, but they also had 4 other flavors I didn't even know existed.

I guess you could say the FFS had an FFFS! (Fuckin' Fancy Fitz's Section)

I got that same feeling when you unlock bonus items in a video game. I don't know what the difference is between cream soda and "cardinal" cream soda... but I'm gonna find out!

Update from Future Froggie: It's fuckin' tasty!

So...

Future Froggie approves of Fuckin' Tasty Fitz's Soda from the Fuckin' Fancy Fitz's Section at the Fuckin' Fancy Schnucks and is sad Nice Schnucks and Tolerable Schnucks Failed Future Froggie with their Lacking Fancy Fitz's Soda Section.

Or...

FF approves of FTFS from the FFFS at the FFS and is sad NS & TS FFF with their LFFSS.

Got all that?

I loaded up the FTFS and my frozen pizzas and my non-fancy soups and headed over to the registers. They had 3 lanes open despite hardly anyone shopping at the time. I didn't have to wait in the dairy section for 25 minutes. So I justified that extra drive time and then some. Because standing in line is harder than sitting and driving.

So I guess I answered my question about which path to choose. If only I had known about the FFS earlier I would have forgone NS and Tolerable Sam's and just drove the extra 20 minutes across the Mississippi River to and from MO & IL.

On the one hand, it is kind of depressing that just like public schools, property taxes dictate the quality of vital stores in our communities. I mean, these are stores run by the same company. I know the physical property can necessitate some variation due to size and configuration differences. But it's clear they are pumping a lot more resources into the FFS. Not just more cashiers with a bagger on every lane, but actual experts in flowers and fish and baking and deli.

And who knows how much a MoM costs. (Master of Meat)

On the other hand...

We live in a society and can't fix capitalism overnight and all that.

I need my FTFS and FSS at the FFS, okay?

#long post

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malyce19 · 1 month

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Hi.

I’m working on coming back to the world of fic writing after a very long hiatus. TLDR I got sober and had a baby and my perspective on the whole world changed, as it does. So if you’ve liked my fics in the past, I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for so long. Here’s a teaser of what I’m working on right now. It’s called State Lines.

“there’s no such thing as a clean break when your heart starts bleeding out.” - chance peña

Day 1

She sold her penthouse and bought the car. A gray sedan, plenty of room for all of the belongings she cared enough to travel with. Nothing flashy, something reliable and low maintenance that wouldn’t call too much attention to her presence as she made her escape. All that mattered to her was that the car’s suspension wasn’t impacted by all of the emotional weight she was bringing with her on this journey to nowhere. She should have said something, she knows that. But what do you say when you’re leaving everything and everyone behind?

She didn’t know where she was going, not that it really mattered. She’d been driving for two days, only stopping for gas and compulsory restroom and food breaks. The more distance she could place between herself and blonde haired blue eyed loves of her life, the better. So she drove, vaguely eastbound with stinging eyes and an aching heart.

Miles passed and the road lines started to feel like metaphors, lines in the proverbial sand. Endless expanses of pavement and exit signs beckoned her forward, the promise of anonymity and rebirth lingering somewhere on the horizon as she drove. As her old life burned to cinders behind her, she felt less like a phoenix and more like a nondescript speck of ash, floating aimlessly on the wind. And maybe that’s all she was now, without her.

Day 3

By day three, Lena had to stop to sleep. She’d pushed herself as far as she could, coffee and disgustingly sweet energy drinks sustaining her only to the point of blurred vision and shaking hands. So she found a slightly innocuous looking hotel a few miles off the highway in northern Texas, pulling her borrowed (now stolen) NCU baseball cap down as far as it would go to obscure her features as she checked in. It helped, she supposed, that the kid behind the counter couldn’t drag his eyes away from the football game he was watching long enough to look her in the eye, so being recognized wasn’t an issue. She paid for the room in cash, as she had with everything else on this trip, and she tipped the boy an extra $100 bill to ensure housekeeping left the room alone until she’d checked out. Leaving a paper trail would defeat the purpose of a clean break, and she couldn’t risk being recognized by a well-meaning staffer trying to offer more towels.

In the safety of a locked hotel room, Lena took her hair down and tossed the duffle bag on the bed. It was getting dark out, and she closed the heavy curtains to keep her eyes from searching the clear sky for familiar streaks of red and blue. It was only a matter of time, she knew, before her absence would become obvious. She’d left LCorp on sabbatical, leaving Sam at the helm for the time being, vaguely committing to take the reins again sometime in the future. Her new phone was blissfully quiet, Sam and Jess the only two she trusted with the number. News alerts about superheroes and aliens and secret government agencies were disabled, and all that graced her lock screen was a stock photo of some rainy trees.

As she sat down on the bed, exhaustion starting to settle into every nerve, she couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she got here. Not physically, that was obvious. She bought a car and drove for three straight days until she realized she was endangering the other drivers (though there’d been very few) by continuing on like this. She just didn’t trust herself to keep going without rest, so here she was, in a Hilton hotel in fucking Lubbock, of all places. Trust. That’s what this all boiled down to, wasn’t it? Misplaced trust, betrayal of trust, lack of trust where it was dutifully earned with literal blood, sweat and tears. Trust, broken and shattered and disintegrated in one fell swoop with her former favorite person’s too-little-too-late confession.

#supercorp #fan fiction is my comfort object #supercorp fic #lena luthor #supergirl #kara danvers

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5eraphim · 1 year

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You mentioned in the past that you thought yandere medic would be okay with sharing y/n with another person. How do you think that would go? maybe with heavy, since they’re so close? (If you aren’t doing request rn feel free to ignore this <3 have a good day )

anon,, my sweet beloved and treasured above all loving sentiment, if only you knew how long I've awaited this very ask....

I teased this idea way back (here, the first part obvi.). I've gone back and forth about going for it and writing out the prompt in full, as I think it would be very, very... enticing, and another one of those things I would love to read which must unfortunately start with a blank word doc. I wound up writing this to be rather light-hearted, but if anyone wants to see this scenario played out a bit darker, I'm open to the request!

But additionally, I know myself well enough as a person, and didn't really want to go through all that effort unless if was for a request, or unless I knew it would be for me and at least one other reader, because it feels only natural a multiple character x reader one shot should be long enough to give each character a decent enough feature, thus will (safe to say) always be much longer, and take much longer to write, than a regular x character oneshot. (If that makes any sense?) Anyhow, that's all to say, thank you, thank you, thank you ever so kindly for the ask, I really hope you enjoy how this came out, it was a pleasure to write. <3

Characters: The Heavy 🐻 and The Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Summary: Drunkenness and tenderness between comrades lowers inhibitions, let's hope your ambitions will rise to compensate.

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: AFAB reader, smut, three way, oral (female receiving), first time, size difference, slight intoxication, dubcon (nothing too intense, but for the sake of intoxication/slight coercion), heavymedic sandwich.

Word Count: 4.5k

MASTER POST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo: Delicate Weapon- Grimes)

"when I say eat me, I mean suck the bones clean, leave nothing for the waiting, leave nothing for the vultures, or the travelers to come." “vivisection (you’re going to break my heart)” by Marty McConnell from The Best American Poetry 2014, edited by Terrance Hayes and David Lehman.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. So while the work bored you, the company would make it all worth it.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. The work bored you, but the company made it all worth it.

The road down was straightforward enough, and collecting the supplies was just as effortless, but the trip back was less so. A sudden and severe thunderstorm forced the lot of you to find a room for the night to accommodate all three of you and your cargo. Along with a few beers picked up along the way, a little treat to celebrate a hard day's work. While typically, you knew drinking on the job wasn't professional, this was a special occasion, and you knew it would be back to work once you returned home, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Finding a suitable room big enough for all of you on such short notice was a miracle, but this place suited you well.

Two double-wide beds, a radio, an armchair, a couch, and a little kitchenette with an ice box to keep the beer nice and cold while you took turns changing in the bathroom out of work clothes and washing up a little. You took the initiative to contact Homebase regarding the delay.

A part of you was so tired you wanted to crawl into bed right away, but you weren't about to deny yourself a nice cold beer with friends. To your surprise, Medic sat in the armchair beside the couch while Heavy sat on the sofa, leaving the only open space to unwind next to Heavy, which you reclined comfortably into. Considering how they were practically glued to the hip most of the time, you didn't understand why they didn't sit together now. Also, you didn't like how Medic's eyes seemed to follow you across the room as you sat down next to Heavy, doing your best to keep a respectable distance between you and Heavy.

For some time, you relaxed, talking, listening to the radio, one beer turning into two, and two into two and a half as you settled more comfortably into the couch, no longer holding yourself so austerely, relaxing a little. Your head eventually resting on Heavy's shoulder, he looked at you, "Comfortable?"

You nodded, his body mass was so burly, and you could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, making you feel a little giddy. "You're too cozy- I wanna sleep right here."

"Still cold from storm? I warm you."

It wasn't a question. And without waiting for a yes, Heavy effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, sitting you sideways on top of his legs. With one arm slung over your shoulder and one under your knees, he pulled you into his lap, the overwhelming closeness feeling sudden, but he was still so temptingly warm and comfortable you didn't want to pull away.

"Feel better?"

You giggled, nodding your head as he ruffled your hair playfully, keeping one arm around your shoulders as you settled against the arm of the couch. Your eyes were closed, your head feeling all floaty as you felt his hand move from the top of your head to the side of your cheek. His hands, no longer concealed under his gloves, felt calloused but so gentle against your cheek. He moved subtly, decisively. You didn't even realize he moved your face to meet his until you felt his lips connecting against your own.

Without warning, you pulled away sharply with the awkward rigidity of a stranger. Your actions caught Heavy by surprise, allowing you to detach yourself without restriction, though you could see his confusion through wide, frightened eyes. In a moment, you were made shockingly aware of everything the alcohol so effectively blinded you to before now. It was that awkward, sinking feeling of becoming all too aware of your own body all at once, aware of the space you were taking up, of how much of your body was pressed up against the massive Russian you shared the couch with, the clammy sweat coating your palms, the tension in your joints, yet most of all the butterflies in your belly which intensified into something less than pleasant. All of this awkwardness made you feel suddenly insecure about yourself, your form, and your relation to the men around you; how could you have been so blind to this before? For goodness sake, these were your coworkers; it was your responsibility to keep things professional between the lot of you, a task you could not more thoroughly have failed at. It was humiliating to realize you folded after just a couple of drinks, even if Heavy was playing along; it all felt so wrong and too pushy. Not to mention the fact Heavy was a taken man. The truth made all the more grievous, considering his partner was sitting right there facing the two of you. While the guilt for what you'd just done made you want to hide your face in shame, it was impossible to keep from looking at Medic. However, to your surprise, he merely sat there watching the two of you, cocking his head to the side slightly, with a confusion matching Heavy's as though you were the one acting strangely here.

"Something is wrong?" Heavy inquired, his hand on your waist tightening slightly, likely in reassurance, unfortunately having the opposite effect. It felt too awkward to look Heavy in the eye or face him at this point. So instead, you kept your gaze locked on the floor before the two of you as you nervously tried to squirm your way off the larger man's lap. All to no avail, however, as Heavy's grip on you was cast iron, and you resorted to clasping your hands together on your lap, speaking as levelly as you could, using all your willpower to keep the emotions and alcohol from causing your weak voice to crack, "I'm sorry, Heavy. I think I've, um-overstepped here; I shouldn't have, y-you know… Well, I mean, I think I'll turn in now- it's so late, already…."

Your voice trailed off, and you hated how wishy-washy you sounded, betraying your will to stay strong, to appear rational and firm as any reliable comrade should.

Heavy was not convinced. "You were fine when I pulled you on my lap. Why so tired so fast?"

Forcing a nervous laugh and uncomfortable forced smile, you tried to turn to Medic for reassurance, but he stared back, eyes squinting slightly, matching Heavy's suspicion. "Must be the alcohol's catching up with me then-'' It wasn't a total lie, as you could've sworn you could feel the alcohol churning in your gut, almost taunting you, forcing you to remember just how much you'd drunk in such a short amount of time.

"Explain." Heavy looked at you and deadpanned, waiting for you to tell the truth. You tried to swallow, but your mouth felt dry.

"I mean, aren't you two-" The awkwardness melded uncomfortably with the guilt; how were you supposed to explain yourself in a situation like this? "I mean- but you two are together, aren't you?"

"And?" Heavy spoke bluntly, putting you right back on the spot. You sighed nervously, nibbling at your lower lip and turning your head to face Medic.

"I just, I-I know it's not my business, but I mean- I can't imagine you're alright with any of this-'' You thought you knew your friends well, but you never would've imagined winding up in a situation like this with the two of them. To your surprise, a smile spread across Medic's face.

"Of course I am! This was my idea, after all!" You merely blinked at him, not at all following what he meant by that.

"Huh? What do you mean, it was your idea?"

"Well…" You could see his eyes flick from you to Heavy, silently asking for some backup. Heavy's fingers began to rub comforting little circles over your waist, his other hand covering your own hands on your lap in a reassuring gesture.

"You're pretty and kind but sp shy. We thought a little experience would help." His blunt words took you completely by surprise.

"Experience?" You managed. Heavy nodded, not at all registering the shock on your face.

"What he means is-" Medic chuckled slightly, interjecting, amused watching how flustered Heavy's words made you. "We thought if we helped you with a little, let's say, physical bonding-"

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what exactly he meant by this, but he pressed on.

"Nothing too intense now- just a little intimacy to get you more accustomed."

You hated how vague he was being, but also, you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of being in a situation like this before. Only in your wildest, most unrealistic dreams, or so you thought. The two men were handsome in their own ways, you'd known before you got to know them, but you never liked to dwell on such lewd thoughts. You always felt so guilty afterward; they were your friends after all, even if just in your thoughts, you knew it was wrong to think so lustfully of friends.

Sure, there was always a little lighthearted play-flirting occasionally, but you would never have tried anything serious with either of them. Your friendship meant too much to risk losing like that.

You felt Heavy kiss the side of your head, murmuring in a low, uncharacteristically quiet voice into your ear, "You're shy but not sneaky. I see how you look at Doctor behind his back. He says you stare at me also. Is this true?"

Your breath hitched when he began to trail his beautiful, massive hand from over your hands, snaking it up your belly until it cupped the side of your face, forcing you to focus on him and meet his eye. Heavy drank in every detail of your face before settling his eyes on your lips, waiting for you to answer, and with a trembling exhale, you spoke, "It is." Before he could wait no longer, closing the space between your mouths once again, his lips curling into a smirk just seconds before his parted lips connected with yours.

While you were still awestruck at the surrealness of the situation, you felt your reservations evaporating by the second. Finally kissing back, you allowed Heavy to deepen the kiss as he used his hand to push your head closer against his. His thumb brushed over your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin as you felt almost uncomfortably overheated. He moved slowly but so lovingly, using his tongue to dip into your mouth and taste you, sucking against your lips as you broke the kiss with hesitation, asking,

"Are you sure you want to go through with all this?" He nodded with a mellow smile as you continued, still feeling traces of nervousness clinging to you stubbornly. "I'd never forgive myself if I ruined our friendship, and I, uh-" Despite your awkwardness and hesitation, Heavy smiled at you so resolutely, so affectionately. Watching you as though you were the most beautiful person he'd ever beheld.

"I don't want to let you down here. You guys were right; I've got no real experience here… I don't know if I'll be any good at this." It was almost shameful to say out loud, but Heavy didn't even blink, playfully kissing your cheek.

"Don't think of that. It's your time to learn, not lead."

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, the feeling almost ticklish, making you stifle a giggle. "Just lay back and look pretty. You'll do perfect." He pulled away a little, his hand on your waist, tugging at your shirt a little; only then did you see how blown out his pupils were, "Will you come to bed now?"

It was time to be decisive. The abruptness of the question caught you off-guard, but you had no idea if you would ever get a chance like this again. This was your moment; it was time to act or wish you had. You swallowed your uncertainty and nodded, finally removing your hands from your lap to help Heavy pull off your shirt before reaching out to touch his own top and about to do the same. But he gave you a look that made you pause.

"This one off too? It's not too much? We only go as far as you want." As praising as he was moments ago, his firmness and evident respect for your boundaries made you feel all the more loved. You took this as your chance to try and charm him, as he did so effortlessly to you.

"The shirt off is better; I mean, I've always wanted to get a look under these clothes." The sound of Medic chuckling beside you made you realize you'd almost forgotten he was there in the first place. It felt odd knowing he was so close, though if this was all his idea all along, you wondered where he factored into all this. Pushing that thought aside, you helped Heavy remove his shirt as you curled a little closer, your head resting against his chest, your hand on his shoulder as you softly kissed his skin, nuzzling to feel the delightful feeling of skin-to-skin contact as much as you could. "Heavy, your body is so warm. You feel amazing." Your words were mumbled, quiet, and practically smothered as you spoke without moving your head much from his chest. You could feel his chest rumbling with a low laugh, and when you felt his hips gently press a little closer against your body, but you didn't shy away. You could feel he was aroused and didn't doubt he knew you were too. You felt the warmth between your legs intensifying the longer you felt Heavy's bare skin against yours, your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter, and you swore you could feel a bit of wetness from the kiss alone.

"Will you take me to bed now? Please?" The neediness gave you a bit of confidence as you looked up at Heavy, who needed no further incentive. You leaned against him for support as you both rose, your hand finding his as you two walked to the bed, laying down. At the same time, Heavy lingered for a moment overhead, distracted by the curves of your body now spread out like a banquet before him, eyes looking everywhere but your face. Then, for a second, you felt a twinge of insecurity, "I won't lie; I'm still a little scared this is gonna hurt."

Instantly, this snapped Heavy's attention back to your face as he sat beside you on the side of the bed, his hand finding yours again as he spoke, "We only go as far as you want… We can stop now if-" You didn't talk, just shook your head no, moving Heavy's hand with your own to the waist of your pants. He looked at you one last time for assurance. However, you could practically feel his hand trembling in yours with anticipation before you guided him to unbutton your pants, helping pull them off you. At the same time, you slinked out of them and your underwear, kicking them to the floor.

Even against your thigh, his hand loomed intimidatingly, the size difference so beautiful, making you shudder, wanting this man more than ever. You were so distracted by his hands you didn't even hear Medic sneaking up behind Heavy until you heard him speak. "How precious you two look~" You jolted a little in surprise, seeing Medic peering down at you from behind Heavy with narrowed eyes glazed over with lust, shamelessly checking out your nude figure, now stripped perfectly naked in front of him.

"You didn't forget about me so soon, did you?" He asked in a faux-hurt voice, "You're doing so well. Are you ready to go a little further now?"

"I am." You spoke without hesitation, the burning between your legs intensifying almost painfully as you shyly parted your thighs, feeling cool air ticking your sweaty skin as Medic walked to the foot of the bed to get a better view before you sat up a little, pushing away from the headboard as Heavy got into bed behind you.

"Heavy is here, right behind. You will be safe."

Before now, you remembered how painfully tense you felt, but at this moment, you were put at ease, comforted at last by the presence behind you, no longer so overwhelmed. How foolish you were to think your relationship with the two men had to be strictly business, how blind you were to the pleasure the two men had to offer.

"We will stop at any time-"

You cut him off with a kiss as he settled at the head of the bed, "I know I'm no good at showing it, but. I want this. I've wanted this for so long. You two mean so much to me, and I trust you."

You were about to say, 'I love you,' but you held back. You didn't have the guts to say something so bold. But you hoped Heavy, as well as Medic, understood, despite your shy quietness. There was a minute or two of moving around, Heavy moving from his spot at your bedside to get behind you; he spread his thick legs to give you space to settle between. Finally, you were lying down, your upper back and head resting on his belly, noticing the bulge in his pants as it pressed not-so-subtly into your back. Despite the lewdness of it all, you let your head fall back a little; Heavy's body felt so solid and warm behind you, it almost made you want to skip everything and just cuddle up and fall asleep already, but you knew Medic wouldn't allow such a thing.

"I'll start nice and slow, just for you." Medic's words were deceptively sweet, almost enough to hide his lustful intent. Your throat felt too dry to speak, so you merely nodded, feeling the heat in the pit of your stomach intensify at this new position. He was condescending to you, and yet you didn't even have the inner strength left to respond. Medic moved over you, his hands resting on Heavy's thighs around your head to keep you nice and caged, right where he wanted you. He could see it written all across your face; you were getting turned on being obedient like this, submitting and letting them take the lead. He leaned his body down further, enough for you to feel the rub of his pants over your naked flesh, the odd sensation making you wince as he slotted his knee between your legs, the gentle contact alone enough to make you jolt a little, startled.

"Aww, I'm sorry. Did I scare you? You must be pretty needy down there, aren't you? Did Heavy do a good job getting you warmed up?" Medic could feel your chest rising and falling rapidly as you breathe deeper. He continued, "You've masturbated before, haven't you?" The question caught you off guard. You looked at Medic with wide eyes, feeling another throb of arousal, seeing his predatory grin, one you'd seen countless times in battle but appearing like never before, given the current position. He pressed his knee a little harder against you.

"Y-yeah, I've- a lot, I guess…."

"Did you ever think of it like this? Your pussy leaking all over me while you grind against me as hard as you can?" You keened, your hips rolling against his clothed thigh, the muscle bulging distractingly beneath the thin covering. It was humiliating to have him mocking you while you were powerless to defend yourself, yet still, you wanted even more. He laughed, amused by your lack of a response, as though your brain was already succumbing so quickly to your own lust you forgot how to form whole sentences.

"Does it turn you on when I dirty-talk you like this? I bet behind that pretty face, you're even more perverted than either of us." You grit your teeth, biting back a moan.

"Medic, w-why are you keeping your pants on?" He paused momentarily at the abrupt question, looking at you with an eyebrow raised as you rushed to explain yourself. "I mean, doesn't it feel- like, weird?"

"You want to see me undressed that bad, huh?" Medic responded. Of course, he wasn't wrong, but the self-satisfied look on his face stopped you from admitting he was right.

You shook your head, "W-well, I mean, aren't you uncomfortable under all that?" He grinned, seeing right through your bluff. But, even though he knew you were lying, Medic wasn't about to press you too hard on the matter.

"You'll understand once you get more experience. But, you know, it can be just as rewarding to stay dressed, to keep control-" He paused to trail a finger from between your breasts down, just below your navel, the light sensation causing you to throb with want against his thigh. Continuing in a low, almost antagonistic tone, "While your partner is a wet, needy, naked little mess beneath you." He could not more clearly be mocking you, but something about it had quite the effect on you. Medic knew just how to push your buttons, and it was driving you crazy.

He was about to say something when Heavy's voice from behind interrupted.

"Medic, be nice. This is first time. You're embarrassing her. Don't overdo it." Thank God there was a literal angel over your shoulder to watch over you and reign in his partner.

"Perhaps, but it looks like someone's enjoying it." He was about to move his hand lower when you interrupted,

"Medic?"

He stopped his hand immediately, eyes meeting yours as you continued, "Can I get a kiss first?" You felt awkward, making such a bashful request compared to how confidently he spoke. His face softened at this, nodding before leaning closer, your hands cupping his cheeks. It felt good to be the first to deepen the kiss, your tongue flicking over his lip as his mouth parted, allowing you to get a better taste. Then, without breaking the kiss, his hand began to move down again, his thumb finding your clit quickly, causing you to moan into the kiss.

Your mind went blank with pleasure at the stimulation, his thumb rolling softly over your clit as his other fingers deftly traced the exterior of your sex, collecting the abundant moisture and spreading it over the entrance while you throbbed beneath his fingertips. You felt an almost painful burning feeling as his fingers moved faster, lips working in rhythm against your mouth; far better than any fantasy you'd felt before.

Medic broke the kiss, "Do you want me to use my mouth? Are you ready for that?"

Without waiting, you nodded, "Please! It feels so good- please, please don't stop!"

"Just wait another moment- need to make sure you're ready," Medic spoke in a sweet, gentle voice, so sickeningly sweet you could practically feel your heartthrob. He pushed two fingers inside, and you couldn't help but buck forwards at the contact. Making Medic hum in satisfaction at your reaction. You could vaguely hear him chiding you for your impatience, but you were beyond caring at this point, and when you felt him tracing painfully slow little circles around your entrance, you whined out loud in annoyance.

"Will you stop teasing already and get on with it- Fuck!"

Medic looked genuinely shocked momentarily at how bold you were, but it didn't deter him. Instead, without waiting for another moment, he dove his face between your legs as you unconsciously spread your legs further for him, leaning back against Heavy for support, arching your back, feeling his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady; it wasn't long until you felt Medic's hands just above your knees, his breath fanning against your pussy.

But far be it from Medic to let you off so quickly, and you groaned out loud as you felt his tongue moving, intentionally moving up and around your clit, but refusing to make contact. You were dangerously close to digging your fingernails directly into Heavy's thighs. But you forced yourself to move one hand to the top of Medic's head, your fingers clutching his hair, trying to guide him into place while you ground against his face. When you finally felt his lips connecting with your clit you were practically sobbing with bliss, the feeling intensifying as he began to suckle against the swollen bundle of nerves.

"More, more- Oh God, please- More!" You were getting louder than you intended, but fortunately, the radio likely kept anyone from overhearing any of this, but you only got louder as he began to suck harder. His tongue lapped upwards, swirling against your clit, as he moaned into you, swallowing as much as he could. You felt feral. Like you were burning hot on the inside, but Medic kept tempo without issue. Finally, you could feel your climax coming on, rolling your hips even harder, unintentionally pulling his hair just as fiercely. Still, if he was bothered by this, he didn't say anything, slurping contently as you finally felt the end coming on. And you trembled, feeling your body awash in ecstasy as you succumbed to the blinding pleasure between your legs.

It was an embarrassingly long time until you managed to catch your breath, the gap in experience between you and them becoming painfully obvious once again. Your throat felt so dry and scratchy from your heavy breathing and moaning, much like a scorched throat from pushing yourself in physical training. Though other than that, you were in a situation unlike any you'd known before. Naked, slick with your own sweat, your mind still tipsy and unstable from your orgasm.

You could feel Heavy's hand petting at your hair from behind, and you couldn't help but swoon, feeling so supported and intimate with him after such a perverse moment. "You look so pretty when you come." There was an edge in his voice, and you thought he was indirectly asking if you wanted to go again, but you were too tired, too used up to think about doing this all over again. You didn't know how to respond; thankfully, Medic spoke first.

"It would be a shame if we kept this a 'one-time-thing,' wouldn't you agree?" And you felt your headrush, this evening felt too good to be true, nothing less than a dream come to life, but the promise of more was all the better. Nodding, you focused your gaze on Medic as he moved from between your legs; you responded, "So long as it's ok with you, I'd never want to come between things-"

You felt like a rag doll, limp and being pulled lifelessly by the other two, Medic facing you, arms around your back, pulling you into his chest. "Don't worry about it; you're the one with much more to learn here." You felt Heavy's enormous arm pull the both of you tighter into his chest. And at this moment, sandwiched between the warm bodies of two men you cared more about than anyone else in the world, you prayed the night would never end.

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betterthanburrow · 1 year

Text

I Know Places - Joe Burrow

Summary: After months of keeping the relationship a secret from the general public; TMZ decides to exposes the relationship between NFL Quarterback Joe Burrow and WWE Wrestler Y/FN Y/LN… Now the newly-exposed couple has to deal with the aftermath of their private relationship being exposed for the world to see.

Genres: Fluff and Angst (Warning: Mentions of Anxiety) (Secret Lovers AU)

“Just Grab My Hand and Don't Ever Drop it, My Love, They Are The Hunters, We Are The Foxes, and We Run” - Taylor Swift; I Know Places

It should not have been a surprise that the notifications coming from your phone woke you up out of a peaceful sleep and as you turn to grab your phone, with the screen light shining bright on your face trying to figure out the reasons why your phone is going off so early in the morning hours before your alarm.

The alert text messages from your manager confuse you as this morning was one of your only off days that you have during the week where you can relax at home and not be on the roads traveling from different cities to do wrestling shows every week.

Things have never been easy for you since joining WWE as you quickly became one of the company’s most popular wrestlers by winning multiple championships across the three major WWE brands: Raw, NXT, and Smackdown… While the love from wrestling fans is one of the reasons your passion for wrestling continues to grow, the obsessiveness that some wrestling fans have over a young woman in the business is the reason you’re so private about your life.

Scrolling through all the text message notifications before you can unlock your phone, you feel your boyfriend move closer to you and snuggle right behind you while wrapping one of his arms around your waist trying to pull you closer to him as he was slowly starting to wake up out of his peaceful sleep due to your movement.

“Darling… it’s too early for anyone to be awake” Joseph mumbled. “Who is texting you at this hour?!”

“It’s my manager…” you whispered. “I was just about to unlock my phone, it has to be important seeing as she knows today is one of my only off days.”

Finally unlocking your phone, as Joseph tries to fall back asleep, seeing the texts from your manager that woke you up from a peaceful sleep… Your eyes widen as the article link your manager sent to you causes an anxiety bubble to start forming in your chest, sitting up in a panic causing Joseph to groan in his attempt to fall back asleep, you click the article that you never thought you’ll see being written about you and Joseph.

TMZ EXCLUSIVE

WWE SUPERSTAR Y/FN Y/LN AND NFL BENGALS QUARTERBACK JOE BURROW CAUGHT TOGETHER IN PUBLIC DURING THEIR OFF-TIME.

As you read more of the TMZ article, you feel as if your heartbeat is beating out of your chest and the world goes quiet. The paragraphs written by some reporter exposing your relationship with Joseph are in descriptive details of how the two of you met through mutual friends which started forming a friendship that quickly turned into something more once Joseph’s off-season from the NFL started earlier in the year and how you’ve been keeping this secret from all of your co-workers in WWE as you were terrified of how people would react due to the reaction of your last relationship.

Scrolling back to the top of the article, looking at the two photos that TMZ decided to use in an attempt to get more clicks, you easily recognize that the photos were taken at an private party that Joseph and you are invited to attend by Pat McAfee a few weeks ago.

The private party has less than 30 people in attendance and everyone in attendance knew about your relationship with Joe Burrow. In that moment in time, you didn’t realize that photos of you and Joseph were being taken as it’s very clear the two of you were in your own world on the party dance floor but you weren’t thinking about who took the photos, you were more focused on the thought that your private relationship is now a public relationship.

Joseph groans in his sleep once again as the light from your phone is illuminating the bedroom, his cold hands touch your back in an attempt to get your attention causing you to zone out of your thoughts and be present back into the real world.

You quickly turn to Joseph and by the look on your face that he sees due to the light of your phone, the NFL quarterback can easily tell that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?!” Joseph asks as he’s rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up. “Did something happened in the WWE?!” As your eyes tried to make eye contract to focus on him, your mind is wandering all over the place as your frozen still.

Joseph notices your frozen figure and sits up in a panic to comfort you in his arms while he takes the phone out of your hands, finally feeling free from your frozen form you wrap your arms around his waist and cuddle into his chest as Joseph finally reads the article that has you in a panic state of mind.

The NFL Quarterback carefully read through the article noticing the descriptive details that “insider sources” claimed to know about your relationship and many more photos of the two of you out in the town, holding hands and acting as a normal couple that wasn’t being followed by stalkers who felt as if it was their right to expose your relationship before the two of you are ready.

After the trouble you went through because of how your 2 year relationship with AEW wrestler “Jungle Boy” Jack Perry ended, due to the pressure of being in two different wrestling companies and continuously being stalked by wrestling fans. You faced so much backlash for the how the relationship ended even though it was a mutual decision between you and your ex-boyfriend, but the internet loves picking sides.

Joseph tosses your phone on the bed and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you closer to his chest to give you the comfort that you needed… As much as the rage boiling inside his chest wants him to get on his phone to make calls and to start yelling at his manager for allowing TMZ to leak this information to the general public before either of you were ready for the world to know, all he wanted to do was protect you from the world that has shamed you for being a woman in love that knows her worth and deserves much better than the love that she has received from ex-boyfriends in the past.

Finally after many minutes of the two of you just sitting in silence, trying to comfort one another and realize that the privacy that your relationship had was all gone… You decided to slowly move away from Joseph’s chest, unwrapping your arms from his waist while Joseph unwraps his arms from your body and sitting up to face each other.

The light phone that was tossed onto the bed is still the only light that is illuminating the room and the morning sunrise is barely peeking it’s way through the dark curtains of your shared bedroom.

A text message notification sound cause you and Joseph to look at your phone before you decide to grab it and read the message, it shouldn’t be surprising to see another text message from your manager.

You feel Joseph move closer to you once again as you both read the messages on the screen from your manager that you didn’t read after seeing the text message that was the link to the TMZ article.

The text messages from your manager reads that they’re trying to figure out who these insider sources are claiming to know so much information about your relationship with Joe Burrow and trying to figure out who sent these photos to TMZ. The newest text message states that the reaction from wrestling fans and NFL fans about your relationship is mostly positive, but more articles about your relationship are being spread around by more media sources.

“I’m sorry.” Joseph apologized. A confused look appeared on your face when you turn to look over your shoulder before Joseph continued his thought. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way that I should’ve.”

“Joseph… what are you saying right now?!” You asked, still confused on Joseph’s apology. “None of this is your fault?!”

Joseph sighed. “It was my idea to go to Pat McAfee’s party a few weeks ago-“

“There are photos from other events too. We weren’t caught at the party: These stalkers have known about our relationship for months and TMZ is only just know releasing the articles with all the photos. There are no places that we could’ve hid from them. They found us and took pictures of us at the park, the stores, out walking the streets, at festivals and many more places that we’ve went on dates too… How could we have known that we have been stalked for these past few months?!” you exclaimed as your hands grab your hair to pull and you curl into a ball. Joseph took your hands from your hair and interlocking your fingers together, he knows that when you get easily stressed out that you like to pull at your hair in an attempt to distract yourself from the stress with pain.

“I just- I just don’t understand…” you stuttered, looking at Joseph who notices the fear and worry on your face and the tears in your eyes. “Things were going so good for us; for many months we were able to live our lives together and apart without the judgment from people who think they know us, we didn’t have to care about the things that people who don’t know us thought. we didn’t have to worry about all the things that caused my past relationships to fail.”

As the anxiety bubble is your chest is causing you to struggle to breathe as the tears stream down your face, you turn away from Joseph while letting go of his hands to wipe your tears away. All Joseph could do at the moment is allow you to continue to talk through your feelings of fears.

“We already struggle so much to be together with our schedules, and it’s only going to get worse when the next NFL football season starts.” you exclaimed, looking back at Joseph who had an apologetic look on his face. You take a moment to think about what you said, the last thing that needs to happen right now is for you and Joseph to get into an argument. “I’m sorry… I’m not blaming you I swear-“

Before you could finish your apology… Joseph wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap to be as close as he can be to you as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him close to him into a hug.

As he rubs his hand against your back and hums a melody of an familiar song, your panic breathing from the anxiety bubble in your chest starts to deflate to match his breathe pattern and as you hold each other closer… It’s in this moment you realize that Joseph isn’t going to leave you, this rough patch that you’re going through in your relationship with him isn’t going to cause him to want to give up and leave.

You’re not the only one who is going through the hard time of dealing with your privacy being exposed to the world by people who only want to make a profit off your names and relationship, while you’re making this situation all about you due to the anxiety you felt after seeing the article with the photos, you failed to realize until this moment that this will affect Joseph too as he has been private about his life outside of football.

After a few minutes of Joseph’s hums of familiar song, the sunrise light is starting to shine through the curtains and the early morning sounds of birds start to chirp outside your window… You pull away from Joseph and he gives you a soft smile before leaving to give you a kiss on the lips.

The kiss doesn’t last long as Joseph’s alarm goes off for football practice goes off, he quickly reaches over to his nightstand to turn off his alarm before his arms hold your waist as you’re still sitting on his lap with your arms around his neck.

“I promise to you, that I will not allow anything to let our relationship falter under pressure; no one in the world is going to stop me from loving you the way that i’ve been loving you for all these past months and how i plan on loving you even more every second of the day until death due us part. This is a promise that i plan on keeping forever, do you plan on keeping the same promise to me?!” Joseph asked.

Being very overwhelmed with so many emotions in the past hour, unable to speak or else you know you’ll be crying in Joseph’s arms (but this time, for a good reason). All you could do is nod your head and pull him close to you once again as you kiss him with so much passion.

You don’t know how the future your relationship with Joseph is going to be now that the foxes was finally caught by the hunters… but one thing you do; is that as long as Joseph decides to stick by your side, the two of you can be able to outrun the predators together and will be able to keep what makes your relationship so special to yourselves without outsiders’ opinions.

Author’s Note:

i hope you enjoyed reading my first fanfiction that has been published on this account. please like, comment, and reblog the fanfiction if you enjoyed the story… it really does help out small writers gain an audience of readers.

thank you for all the love and support! 🤍

#Joe Burrow #NFL #CBF #Cincinnati Bengals #LSU Tigers #Joe Burrow Fanfiction #Joe Burrow Fanfic #Joe Burrow Fic #Joe Burrow Imagine #Joe Burrow x reader #Joe Burrow OneShot #Joe Burrow x OC #Joe Burrow x Y/N #NFL fanfiction #Spotify

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years

Text

You're really here? (Mick Schumacher)

Busy bee Y/N manages to get her colleagues to get their work done quicker so she can travel to the race and surprise her boyfriend

Note: english is not my first language I added a little something so that it would have even bit more content, I hope it is okay!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share (thank you so much to everyone who did so far), feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

Tw: curse words

It was the final week of a triple header and Mick hadn't been able to come home with all the sponsorship events and meetings he had to attend to in the factory, so you resorted to videocalls in hopes of making you miss your partner a tiny bit less, "you know, Angie keeps looking at the door whenever someone walks in, and mom seems to think she's waiting for you", Mick said, "are they still keeping you for the meeting on Sunday?", he asked, a sad smile on his face. Sighing, you smiled at the dog's actions before replying "Yes, they still want to keep me for the meeting, and it's going to be really busy apparently, loads of things they want to discuss. I'm sorry, bubs", you looked at him, the expression on your face showing just how much you hated not being able to go and see the race on the garage. One day you were going to take over and decide that no such meetings should happen over the weekend, no matter how many days off they offered, you though to yourself. You knew that, if you were lucky enough, your team could get everything done by Saturday night and you would be able to fly out on Sunday morning but, not wanting to build Mick's hope up and then crash it all again, you stated the information as you knew it. "It's alright darling, it's your job. At least we get some days together, just me and you", he smiled at the prospect, Angie making her presence known as she jumped on Mick, "and you too Angie, all three of us", your boyfriend said as you all giggled. After talking a bit more about media day for Mick and what you had gotten up to at the office, waving at his mother, who had travelled to see the race, when she appeared on the screen, you bid eachother goodbye, knowing how Mick needed his rest for the next day.

The free practice sessions were over, and Mick was feeling pretty good about the car and its performance on the track, going over a few adjustments of the car before heading out of the paddock with his mother just as someone called for him, "Mick! Only now I'm catching you properly", Sebastian said as he greeted Corinna with a kiss on each cheek and then hugging the young driver, "No Y/N this weekend?", he asked. "She has meetings all weekend", Mick explained quickly. It was something that you appreciated about him, how he never wanted you to put your career or your job in the back so he could achieve his own, always supporting you in whatever your job entailed and being your biggest fan. "That is what you get when you have a strong independent woman on your side, hopefully I'll see her soon, the girls miss playing with her too!", Seb teased, knowing no one would take harm in his words given that, since he met the girl Mick had fallen head over heels for, he was happy that his friend had found someone so honest, kind and loving and that had no interest in his last name. Mentioning his kids before bidding them goodbye, Seb cycled away as Mick and Corinna got inside the car so they could drive to the hotel. "You know", Corinna started, "I know what it is to be at home while you watch the love of your life travel everywhere in the world for races, but Y/N is such an amazing woman that I always knew you two would be just fine, no matter what the world throws at you", she smiled at her son who smiled back to her briefly before keeping his eyes back on the road, "I know that the way it is hard for me to be away from her, it is also hard for her. But I also want her to know that she can br ger own person and achieve the amazing things I know she is capable of. Did she tell you that she got promoted again? It was the second time in a space of 10 months", he revealed, "she probably didn't tell you because she thinks people will think she's bragging but yeah, I never want her to feel like my career is more important than hers, or that she should be the only one making changes and sacrifices", he finished. Corinna could only smile at her son's words, knowing that herself and her husband, along with the rest of the family, had raised an attentive and considerate young man who had been lucky enough to have someone like you in his life.

"What if we get all of this done tonight? This looks like a 3 hours work and it's only 6pm, if we are quick enough we can even have a later dinner and we'll have tomorrow free", you tried to persuade your colleagues on the Saturday meeting. They changed looks between eachother as Anna spoke, "It would be pretty cool to have Sunday off, I could relax for once after this hellish week", and your hopes rose a bit, "Do you really think we can do this today?", the other asked, "Well, if all of us pair up and get on with different tasks I think we can, yes", you smiled while waving the papers. Everyone looked at eachother, really not wanting to have to go in the office on a Sunday, before they got up and paired up like you had suggested, yourself grabbing your own task and discussing with Anna how you were going to tackle it. Finishing it in the time frame you had set, you submitted it in the platform before deciding to go for a celebratory dinner. Arriving at a restaurant you and Mick usually get takeout from, you asked Anna if she could order for you while you went to make a phonecall outside, telling her the dish you wanted as you grabbed the tablet from your bag.

"Hello, my love", you said into your phone, "Am I bothering your rest?", you asked, nearly sure you were not but checking just in case, "Hello darling, no, no, I just got to my room from dinner. Had this really nice pasta that I know you'd love. How was your meeting?", he asked, "it was tiring, many things to go around and there's still stuff to do", you said, deciding you wanted to surprise him tomorrow, "I saw you got P9 in qualifying today, congratulations handsome, I'm so proud of you", you said, sad that you had missed the actual session but making a mental note to watch it later. "Yeah, felt pretty good in the car today actually, hopefully tomorrow we can hold on to it, maybe even get one or two positions up if we are lucky", your boyfriend replied over the phone, "I wish I could see it there, but I promise I'm going to be watching it on the TV, Haas t-shirt on and everything", you mentioned his royal blue t-shirt that you loved to steal, "you'll be the best supporter out there", you heard a faint smile before you spoke a little bit more, saying goodbye to eachother as you finished the call, your finger opening the messages app and texting Sabine, Mick's agent. As you asked her to call you when she had time, you grabbed your tablet so you could buy a plane ticket and, about ten minutes later Sabine called you, "You're coming to the race aren't you?", she said quietly after you heard shuffling on the other side of the call, "yes, but can you please not tell Mick? I want to surprise him this time", you explained, "Alright with me, I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you. So, how did you manage to do it?", Sabine spoke, "I may have pouted to get my way so we could finish the last few things so late in the day, but it also means no one is working on a Sunday, which I feel is quite nice too", you chuckled as you heard Sabine's fingers type on a screen, "I need you to get me a pass for tomorrow if that's possible, please. I already have my plane ticket", you said as she hummed on the other side, "I'm glad I have yours saved just in case otherwise someone might have taken it", she referred to the sponsors that were visiting the garage that weekend. Checking the details for the pass one last time, you thanked her again before heading inside.

"Someone is very happy", Anna smiled, knowing the main reason why you wanted a free Sunday, "I just miss him a lot and in all honesty, I have no idea why they wanted us to work on Sunday", you said as you mentioned the boss' idea, "dear, next time there is an opening, you should apply because thank to you we got some free time", one of your other colleagues raised his glass as the rest of the table toasted to it.

Thankfully, past Y/N has already packed a small bag with the essentials you needed if you were to be able to travel on Sunday to the race, making the daft o'clock time you had to get up at seem less harsh, even though your body still rushed at the prospect of hugging your boyfriend and your furbaby Angie.

Arriving at the airport, you got on the transport Sabine had arranged for you to get to the track. Thanking the lovely driver who wished you a good race and that you would indeed be able to surprise your boyfriend who was working there (never disclosing that he was a F1 driver), you made your way in, scanning your pass and being able to go pretty unnoticed despite the small luggage you were carrying.

Angie knew better than to run around in an environment like this so, when she saw you at the back of the garage greeting Sabine, the dog started to wave her paw at you, hoping you would finally see her and greet her, "Angie, hey, hey, calm down for a bit", Mick said gently as he watched the dog sit and wave her paw around, "She only does this when Y/N is around, what's going in with you, hm? You miss her too, don't you?", he said as he scratched her head while speaking to Gary. Since the first attempt failed, Angie decided to take matters into her paws, her snout bumping os his leg until he looked at her before she looked at you, "Y/N, you're really here?", he said as he saw your figure approaching, not quite believing it. Smiling all the way there, you hugged him as soon as you were able, feeling his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, "We managed to squeeze everything in last night's meeting, and Sabine helped me get here", you explained, looking into his blue eyes as he bent his neck to kiss you on the lips, not caring that the people he worked with were watching you and just enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. Everyone in the garage awe'd at the display of affection, Gary excusing himself as Mick returned to his usual shy self, hiding his blushed cheeks on your neck, "I missed you so much, schatz, thank you for coming here", he mumbled before he gave your neck some butterfly kisses, the tickles it caused making you nestle further into his body.

"I missed you both too, so much", you said, scratching Angie's ears as best as you could before noticing Corinna out the corner of your eye, "Y/N, dear, you're here!", she said as she hugged your, prying her son away from you, who unwillingly complied as he watched two of the most important women in his life, "you didn't know about this?", Mick asked his mum, "Sabine was the only one who knew", you said, grabbing his hand as Mick looked for his agent, mouthing her a thank you.

Already in his racesuit, Mick grabbed a pair of headphones for you so you could listen to him inside the car, placing them gently on your head before kissing you chastely, "this race is going to be for you beautiful", he said before putting on his balaclava and then his helmet, strutting out of the garage with a new confidence your presence had brought in him.

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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lennsart · 6 days

Note

what is the autism fic about?

this is starting to feel like bullying-WHOSE FEELINGS ARE ETTING HURT???

and b*tch are you okay, is someone having a breakdown in there omg FEED ME

Ooooo you really sniped two of my most dark fics out of the three you chose 😂

I've already answered about "This is starting to feel like bullying" so I'll answer for the other two !

Let's start with the softer one :

- The Autism fic

"The Autism fic" is about... What's in the title ! lmao

It is also one of the Legend-centric one, but everyone has an important role and will get their moment to shine :)

Directly from my notes :

"Everyone is autistic 🎉

Legend has been raised to hide and mask it, and is ""conditionned"" to think it's rude to let autistic traits show

So at first most of the Links are like "wow, what an asshole"

[...]

Time and Wars are going full parents mode, they want everyone to feel comfortable in the group, so they try to protect them from ableism... which Legend does without knowing what it is

So they don't get along well

Actually it's like :

Know they are autistic and what it means :

- Warriors (spent a lot of time researching trauma response and the way the brain worked after the war (firstly to help his friends))

- Time (learned the terms during the war)

- Four (not the exact word, but he knows about neurodivergence)

Know they are "different" :

- Hyrule

- Sky

- Legend

Never really thought about it :

- Twilight (when he was a rancher it perfectly met his needs (I'm sure petting goats when you're overwhelmed is like THE remedy) and afterwards, some people were rude in castletown but he thought it was because he was a villager)

- Wind (is seen as a hyperactive and curious kid but not really more)

Wild is special because he knows, but also think it's because of the 100 years sleep thing ? And who cares, he saved the world and spend most of his time alone anyway."

I have the story planned out and a few scenes written, but it's mostly ideas and random scenes, it's far from being done (and not the wip I'm working on right now !)

Basically, in the downfall timeline people get more scared of difference and intolerant (maybe even because the fallen hero was autistic and they're like "well look how that turned out", but it's... A pretty sad idea). So Legend has been raised to hide it, and have constently been told that the way he acted (stimming, questionning social cues and stuff) was rude, unproper, and more importantly, dangerous for him.

I'll put the beginning here, because it summarize the whole thing pretty well, but I'm sorry for the length of this answer zhehhzehbhbezhez

Snippet :

"Apparently, the weirdness was a hero thing.

Legend was quite puzzled upon this discovery. He had thought his whole life that the weird was a 'him' thing, and a bad one. That what was natural to him was very rude and that he needed to change it.

[...]

He was used to conceal.

He was used to act, smile and look in the eyes and laugh with everyone else. He was used to control, checking every few minutes if his hands were still and quiet. He was used to pretend to be like everyone else, and to be able to release those barriers when he was home, to collapse for an hour or so in his room, in the dark and under his covers.

Somehow, when he traveled during quests, he got surprised to note that he was less tired from a day of walking and exploring than from a day in town. Somehow he felt more like himself when he was alone on the road and bouncing on his feet when he saw a fun animal that he had never seen before.

Somehow, he had associated that feeling with travels.

And he was quickly understanding, as he spent time with other heroes, that he should have associated it with being alone.

He couldn't rest. Well, no, he could rest, they slept on the road and they didn't overwork themselves, but he couldn't rest like he did at home.

Because everyone would see, and it wasn't because they had some of the weird that they would accept all of his.

The first few days, he managed. He had met the heroes while in a bad mood, and didn't bother to force any smile he didn't want to. They categorized him as grumpy, and not only was that fair, "grumpy" was an incredibly easier role to act on than "agreeable".

(Probably because it was less polite, but... It was a bit late to be, and they didn't seem to mind too much.)

But after a while, it started to wear him out.

He joked less and mocked more. He was more tired and thus less considerate. He didn't manage his tone as well, nor his facial expressions.

He played with his rings a lot (which was an acceptable way to let out some steam, he had found out while observing adults in town, but only as long as it didn't become obsessive). He felt frustrating needs to just gesticulate nonsensically until his body felt less stiff, less foreign, more... Right.

He didn't feel right, was what it was.

And he resented the other heroes for not making any effort."

- Bitch are u okay

I want to clarify one thing : when a wip have a funny title, most of the time they are speaking to me !

"This is starting to feel like bullying" meant bullying towards Legend, that I kept writing whump about.

So the question "bitch are u okay" is directed towards ME, and the answer is no :D (at least when I started writing this)

This is legit the heaviest wip I worked on :)

To put it simply, Legend is depressed, very much so, and Dark Link feeds off the heroes' negative feelings. This doesn't mix well as you can guess !

The first part of the fic would be a descent to hell. Poor Lege is already struggling, and the more he tries to make an effort and do things, the more he feels like he messes up. So why try at all ?

I think I have written about darker themes, but the fact that this is often Legend's POV makes it kind of... Hard to read, in a way ?

I only write on this wip when I'm either in a good mood and know it won't affect me, or when I struggle and need to vent, no in-between because then it would make me feel down.

And, yeah, Legend is having a breakdown in this one. A big one 😅

But what is important to me is that the second part of the fic is about healing. It's about how having a good support system helps, how healing isn't linear but progress is always progress. It's not just a vent fic, I want Lege to get better, dammit !

The thing is, I like "healing" as a theme for my fictions, and the next long fic I plan on posting also speaks about this (with a twist). I just don't know if I should fuse those two fics (but I'll lose some of what makes them special in both cases) or if I should just assume that I'm always writing the same stories in different fonts 😆

I don't have a big snippet for this one, but just to set the tone, it starts like this :

" It's just one of those days.

Legend wakes up, barely opens his eyes, and suddenly, existing is too hard.

Getting up and eating and talking with friends sounds like torture. Having to wait for the night to be able to curl up under his covers is already an ordeal, and for Nayru's sake he's not even out of his bedroll yet. "

(I'm sorry for the length of this post oh my god now THAT is rambling)

#linked universe #lu fic #lu fanfiction #writing #wip #tw depression mention #depression mention #ask game #ask answer #Lenn rambles

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jelzorz · 4 months

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163c.

a and b

It's quiet in the castle when they're out. Opeli had thought she was used to it, and there was a time, not so long ago, that she'd welcomed the peace. It's not to say she didn't enjoy their company—they were younger in those days, louder and more boisterous, and she was a stick in the mud to begin with, let alone a stick in the mud with frequent migraines.

They're all grown now, and these days, they are her friends, not her wards. Ezran can rule without her guidance, and Callum and Rayla are married, and Soren is a fine Captain of the Crownguard, and a better friend to her than she will admit. They go where they're needed, when they're needed, and Opeli stays to hold the fort as she's always done, managing their correspondence with the other kingdoms and praying for their safe return.

She still worries though. It's a difficult habit to shakw. It was part of her job to worry over them for so long that it's second nature now, and they're only in Duren, where the road is familiar and wide and well traveled, and they are a knight, an ex-assassin, an archmage, and a king who can talk to animals, but still, Opeli frets, and moreso than usual. Three times now, she has caught herself watching the northern horizon, hoping to see their horses on the road into to town, and three times, she has had to go to Barius for tea to help shake the anxiety gnawing at her bones.

"You worried less when they were younger," points out Barius, sliding a plate of jelly tarts across the table to her as well. Her tea is still steeping and Opeli drums her fingers on her tea cup, eyes drifting to the empty seat beside her and thinking of early morning conversations in the near dark. "You know they're fine."

"Yes," says Opeli levelly. "But be fair, Barius, they went to help Queen Aanya with a recent attempt on her life, you cannot blame me for being concerned."

"There's a difference being concerned and being neurotic," drawls Barius, taking the seat across from her. "This is the third time this week you've asked me to brew Claudia's calming tea for you. Should you perhaps see someone about your concerns?"

"Who is there to see? I am usually the one people come to to discuss their troubles."

"Yes, and one of the things I've heard you say many a time is to know when it's time to seek further help."

Opeli snorts into a jelly tart. "You of all people should know I am terrible at taking my own advice."

"I do know that," chuckles Barius. He studies her for a moment, and too late Opeli realises she's staring at the empty seat beside her again. Her eyes flit away, but not quickly enough for Barius to misunderstand. He waits until she sips at her tea and pours his own, eyes far too knowing to be comfortable. "Is this because of the last assassination attempt?"

Opeli tries not to wince. The last assassination attempt, though taken care of quickly and discreetly, was not without injury on their side. Opeli can still feel blood on her hands sometimes, warm and sticky and too red against the white of her hood. They never even came near Ezran, but it was Soren who took the brunt of the damage, and her fingerprints are still marked on her copy of Iustita in his blood. "No," she says stubbornly, which is only half a lie.

Barius raises an eyebrow at her. "I meant no disrespect, High Cleric," he says. "The Captain was fine, after all, but I can see how the early mornings can feel lonely without him."

Opeli almost spills her tea. She makes a face at him, scandalised, affronted, but her mouth goes dry at the mention of him and she's too caught off guard to deny it. "I—what—I did not say—"

"This is my kitchen, Opeli," says Barius drily. "There are two cups left here most mornings, and who it's for is a relatively easy process of elimination. We've known each other long enough now that I'd hope you can be honest with me about these things."

Opeli feels warmth flood her cheeks, because the way Barius looks at her over his tea is too knowing, and there's no lying her away around this. "You can't say anything," she says sharply.

"What would I say?" asks Barius. "Who would I tell? My loyalty is to the crown and royal family."

"That is not comforting, neither of us are the crown."

"But you are both the royal family," he points out. "No one would argue that. In a few years, you may be formally."

She shuts her mouth, her face warm and not because of the steam rising from the lip of her teacup. "You're not..." She trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence, but Barius eyes her seriously over his cup, and for the first time, Opeli knows what it's like to be on the other side of her stare.

"It's your business," he says, "but you're still my friend, Opeli. Whatever is going on between you both... it has consequences for you. I don't doubt the Captain's intentions but you still have vows to uphold."

Opeli looks away. She's broken them already, and Barius does not ask, but she knows he knows that too.

"Are you happy?"

Opeli blinks then, caught off guard again for the second time in the same conversation. Barius reminds her of her father sometimes, and she'd thought he would disapprove or reprimand her for being involved in something so scandalous. But there is only concern there; genuine concern, and hope for her and for something even she doubts she can really have.

"Yes," she says quietly. "More than I thought I would be."

He chuckles and reaches across the table to pat her hand. "I'm glad for that at least."

#lady justice and the sun #sorpeli #this wasnt what i intended to post today but the more sorpeli the merrier #barius is such a gem i dont write him enough

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the-lady-writes-what · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER 2023

Y'all remember that poll I made last month? This is for the winner of that poll: Shouta Aizawa

Dark/Medieval-ish Fantasy AU

Vampire AU. Also, he's a highwayman (robber who hung out on the roads and stole from travelers) cuz I want to

Also, also, thanks to pop culture osmosis, I have consumed a little too much Baldur's Gate III content for somebody who hasn't played the game...yet, so there's a little inspiration from Astarion throw in there. As a treat

Content: knife play, blood drinking (duh), biting (again, duh), praise, oral (giving), use of "good girl", cum play, cowgirl, missionary, "kidnapping" (except not really)

FYI, long post (sorry)

*Cutpurse: thief or pickpocket

🔞NSFW Content Below! 18+ Only! Minors DNI!🔞

The closing of summer and the beginning of the end of another yet started with drizzle. It was a cold, gray morn on the eve before All Hallows. And you, the local tavern wench, have to work into the wee hours of the morning before getting up the next day to do it all over again. You gathered coins from the bar and stuffed them into your apron. Beer flowing from the caskets they were drawn from into deep mugs. It took all of your will power not to spit into the drink of the man who made it an unhappy habit for you to squeeze your ass when you passed. Over the last several months, you learned how to dodge his sweaty, grubby hands. It took a lot less effort when he eventually, inevitably got so drunk he couldn't even recognize his own hand if he held it in front of his face.

You carried a tray of ale to the table waiting across the tavern while the bard hired for the evening played a dull tune on his lute. You walked to the table without incident, but left without a tip. You smiled but the moment your back was turned, your face turned sour like you just swallowed a lemon. 'Oh, you should be so lucky to have a job and not starve to death' or 'Be grateful' were words you heard time and time again. They were usually spoken by folks who had more coin than you did. You scrounged and saved every copper to get yourself out of this one-pony town to find better employment. A governess for the child of rich lord or a seamstress's apprentice? Anything would be better than dodging meaty paws and washing beers stains out of your aprons every other night. Reeking of ale and pipe smoke when one comes home from work was not the ideal lifestyle, certainly not yours.

As you crossed back over to the bar, you heard the local gossip. A few months ago, the hottest gossip was about the local cleric's daughter getting entangled with a cutpurse*. As of late, the news was not so bawdy.

"Drained of blood they say. Not a drop left in the horse..." Whispered one patron, not wanting to frighten the others.

"I heard that all the goats and chickens died over three weeks in the village two miles east of here," said another.

"The Dark Hand was spotted in that area about that time. Pinched a pearl choker from the duchess and left her stranded. Stole BOTH her horses from her carriage. Knocked the driver unconscious. Nobody thought the fellow would live."

The Dark Hand was a name growing more popular each night. He was much more entertaining than listening to hearing tales of bloodletting and dead goats. Nobody saw his face or knew his name. He wore a mask and cloak. Who knows who gave him the moniker, the Dark Hand, but the name stuck. The highwayman lurked on moonless nights on the highways and byways and forested roads for victims to steal from. The strange thing was that he left most of his victims alive, save for one or two foolish men who did not expect a thief to be so adept at fencing. However, he almost always stole the horse, presumably to buy him time and evade authorities.

"What you think the Dark Hand is bleeding goats and chickens when he's not stealing horses?" A patron laughed.

"I'm just sayin' it's an odd coincidence that the animals died, all drained of blood, and that's the last spot the Dark Hand was seen..."

The patron's voice faded and melted into the crowd as you walked away. You returned to the bar and washed mugs in between serving drinks. When you finally had the time, you dumped the coins that weighed your apron down into the large iron box hidden inside the bar counter.

Each passing hour slugged by. Drunkards were carried home by their comrades while others slinked off to their cots and carriages. One by one, two by two, and three by three, they stumbled, lurched, and fumbled their way out the door. The tavern became quiet like a grave as all the souls left to wander the night. With a rag, you cleaned the bar counter to the best of your abilities, but there was no removing the stains and the smells without a little bit of magic which you did not possess. The tavern keeper, the owner, sauntered downstairs from his chambers on the floor above. He played little part in the goings-on of the business he owned, choosing to coop himself up and day-drink and gamble and doddle with a prostitute. Your boss only ventured downstairs when the tavern was emptied and there was no work for him to do besides count the box's contents and pay you.

While he counted the money, you busied yourself with picking up after the patrons. You grabbed forgotten and discarded mugs from every surface. Many patrons dropped their mugs and never picked them off the floor, much to your displeasure. From the corner of your eye, you spotted the bard looking sadly into his tin cup. He packed his things and left without a goodbye. Only until you had an armload of mugs did your employer look up. He curled his finger, bidding you to come to the bar. You dumped your load into the enormous sink of dirty dishwater. When you turned to the bar, the tavern keeper gave you ten copper and a silver. You glanced at the pile of coins he began stashing into a bag.

"Where's the rest of it?" You asked.

"The rest of what?" He cinched the leather bag closed.

"My money? This can't be all that I've earned today. I've been here since noon."

"You dropped a customer's drink this afternoon. I took it outta your pay," said he.

Your jaw dropped. A single wasn't equivalent to half your pay for working ten hours. Your brows furrowed into an angry V-shape.

"I can take the silver away. I could take the copper and leave you with nothin'. Take your pay and go home. I'm tired."

"Tired? You've set foot downstairs twice all day, including right now! I spilled one drink. ONE. I'm doing the job of five people, and you're cutting my pay in half because of one drink? You weren't even here to see it. How could you have possibly known that happened?"

"I got sources." He got up close and personal. Too close and too personal. You could smell his fetid breath. "And I suggest ya keep your pretty mouth shut, missy. I can replace ya like that." He snapped his fingers.

"And where do you think that'll leave you? I'm the only one who's stuck around for longer than a few weeks. You don't even a cook anymore. Who's going to pour drinks? Who's going to wipe up the bar and tables? Who's going to mop the floors or tidy up the rooms? I need you far less than you think I do."

"Tell me where'd you go then? Hm? Take up a job at the fish market? Peddle some flowers? You got looks, I'll be honest. You could make more on your back," said he.

You grabbed your money from the bar and struck him. He was stunned for just a second. His cheek bore a red mark the size and shape of your hand. You scurried away before he could get within reach of you. The tavern keep had always been slow. You could outrun him with relative ease. You turned your head back at the last moment as you stepped onto the tavern's thresh hold.

"Don't expect me to be here tomorrow night, bastard!" You shouted.

In the whirl of emotions, you'd forgotten your one and only cloak. Oh well. You can buy a cheap one at the market. A wool blanket would do in a pinch if necessary. However, with winter fast approaching, you didn't have much time to think about those things. You needed to stay warm if this winter was going to be same as last years, cold, frozen, and wet.

You trekked alone in the dark. You tucked your fistful of coins into your apron with no other place to stash your money. Looking at you, a tavern wench without a purse or cloak, you weren't a thief's target. The wind blew at the back of your neck, causing the hair to stand on end. Candles flickered in windows until they were snuffed out. The cobblestone streets before and behind you were dark. Still, you needed to get home. Your feet and legs ached and you needed to be up in the morning to find a new job.

Alone with nothing but your arms to keep you warm, you pushed further along. Even late at night, you knew the path well enough to not even need a lantern, though having one might bring more comfort. You hugged yourself to stave off the cold, but your fingers grew numb from the biting night wind. You rushed down the cobbles in the hopes of getting home sooner where you could at least get a fire going and sleep near the hearth.

The words of the tavern patron's kept you distracted. All that talk of highwaymen and animals bled to death kept you on your toes. You looked behind you and paused to look before passing every alley. You peeked inside but found only piles of rubbish. You crossed the bleak alley.

You were so close to home now. Just a little further and you could lock yourself indoors until sunrise.

Your little hut appeared in the midst of others. The sign above the blacksmith's swung above his door. You sprinted forward, safety and warmth so very close at hand. You were going to kiss the door before you unlocked it. Your hand seized the key from around your neck and slipped it off. You carried it in your fist as you made a beeline for your hovel's door.

You did not see the outstretched hand in the alley. Your eyes were too focused on your front door. You screamed as the hand captured your arm as you walked past the dark alley by your house. A hand clapped over your mouth before the sound could alert your neighbors. A strong arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you deep into the alley. You kicked and thrashed. All your efforts did was make your captor squeeze harder. You gasped for air as you were pressed against them.

In a flash, your back hit the nearest wall. The icy-cold sting of a knife pricked at your neck. A quick glance down made your worse fear come true. Glinting in the moonlight was a knife to your throat. You looked up. Half of their face was covered in a black mask. Red eyes glared out of the holes made for the eyes. Now that you could see the features, your captor was distinctly male. The shape of him gave it away, broad shoulders, thick neck, and stubble growing beneath his mask. He wore all black. Tight in his leather gloved fist was the glinting sharp knife whose point aimed for your artery.

"Do not scream again, do you understand? If you scream or call for help, I will slit your throat. Nod if you understand me."

The timber of his voice made you shiver. You had to admit it, the sound of it made a low fire start to burn in your lower belly. You nodded.

"Good girl." The man did not lower the knife. "Where do you live?"

"T-The house over there. I was...I was just heading home. Please don't kill me. I have nothing you can steal that's worth any value."

"I know you don't, but you do have something I want. Daybreak is coming and if you allow me to hide in your cellar, no harm will come to you."

"I-I have no cellar." You lied. There was one, but you weren't about to let a man who held a knife to your throat into your house.

The tip of his knife dug into your flesh. Blood rushed to the surface from the pinprick the knife made. You whimpered as the knife dug in.

"I can smell a lie. This will all be over if you open your cellar to me. I'll be gone by sunrise anyway. I don't want to slit the throat of a pretty girl, so don't make me do it," said he.

The knife, the black clothes, the red eyes. All these things you heard before. These were the descriptions of the Dark Hand. You shivered as you took his visage in. In spite of the mask, from what you could see of his face was quite handsome.

"Alright, alright. Y-You can hide in my cellar. I don't want any trouble," you said.

"Good." He withdrew the knife. The man stepped back and gestured for you to show the way.

Your legs trembled beneath your skirts. You led the man to your house only two dozen steps away. The key in your fist turned the lock, opening the door for the both of you. Perhaps in hindsight, you could have ran inside and locked the door before he could follow behind, but for whatever reason, you didn't. The man trailed after you into your hut. One space held your kitchen, dining room, and bedroom. There was a rocking chair by the fire and a loft for storage. A chair held your washing basin and your privy was the outhouse behind the hut. The stairs to the cellar were behind a door in the corner.

The man let you lock the door behind him. You lit a candle. You stepped towards the cellar's entrance. The man moved in the corner of your eye, not to follow you, but towards the fireplace. You turned to watch him creep in the dark as if he's lived here all his life and knew where everything was. You watched him sweep ash from the hearth and stack new logs. He threw a burning phosphorus match into the fireplace and soon it crackled. The man stoked the fire until it he was assured that his absence would not cause it to snuff itself out.

"T-Thank you." It felt odd to show gratitude towards the man who held you at knife point and threatened to kill you if you didn't let him inside your house. It was equally strange for him to go out of his way to warm your hut with a new fire. He wouldn't have been able to use it to his benefit if he was hiding in the cellar.

"A little gift for your cooperation," said he.

In the glow of the fire, you saw him better. Mud-covered boots and a heavy cloak stood before the fire. His whole frame was draped in black. Even his hair was the color of coal. The pale color of his skin stood out the most against all of the darkness he wore like a hat.

"I...I know who you are." You managed to say. Your tongue cleaved to the roof of your mouth.

"Then you should know better than speak a word to anyone."

You walked a bit closer. The man did not move. Where did all this daring come from? You crept a little closer towards him. The Dark Hand's eyes followed your every step. Each time you flinched, you captured the detail in his mind. You stared at him just as he stared at you.

"You're much more handsome than the stories say," you said.

"There's a lot that the stories don't tell."

"Are you on the run?" You asked.

"Almost caught. But I will be out of your hair next sunset. Don't bother locking the cellar door and alerting the authorities by the way. I have my ways of escaping, and then the next time we meet you won't be so fortunate."

"The cellar door doesn't lock anyway. It's been busted since I moved in."

"Awfully dangerous thing to say to a stranger," said the Dark Hand.

"Awfully dangerous thing to do to let a man who had a knife to my throat stay in my house," you said.

"Are you going to stand there all evening or show me the way?"

You gestured your head towards the back door. "I trust you can see. The cellar is just beyond the door. Watch your step. The last stair is broken."

"You should sleep," said the Dark Hand.

"With a highwayman in my cellar? I don't think so. I wouldn't be able to sleep if I tried with you down there."

The Dark Hand narrowed his eyes at you. He scrutinized your face before shaking his head.

"Your dark circles are worse than mine."

"May I see?"

His indifferent eyes turned into a glare.

"Can't blame me for being curious."

"You know what they say about curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back," you said.

"Oh really?"

The Dark Hand turned and flashed fangs. Not blunt human teeth. Fangs.

You gasped and stepped away from him only for the Dark Hand to saunter over to you.

"You're a vampire. T-That explains all those dead goats," you said dumbly.

"I got a little carried away." He reached up and took off his mask. "This mask is pointless now I suppose."

You stared at his face. He was handsome, but there was plenty to mar him. A scar under his right eye, dark shadows, and a thin red ring surrounding both eyes made him look sullen. If you saw him in broad daylight, you would swear he was just another haggard traveler.

"Wait, wait, before you decide to drain me, let me give you a counteroffer!"

He stopped to your surprise.

"A counteroffer?"

"You...You need a place to hide for now, right? You must also need fresh blood to survive. I can provide both and maybe more if when you leave this town, and I know you will,...take me with you."

Your heart hammered. It felt like your rib cage rattled with every thump and throb of your heart pumping blood. You felt your pulse quicken in your throat.

"You...You want to come with me? As what a servant?"

"Literally anything would be better than staying in this place. Look at all this! Do you think I'm spoiled here? I just quit my bloody job at the tavern. I want to leave this place and never look back. You need somewhere to hide and get a meal once in a while. So...So before you decide on killing me to guarantee silence, think about my offer. Please?"

The Dark Hand looked around your hut.

"It is a bit cramped and squalid. It's a wonder you have a cellar at all."

He closed the rest of the gap between you. His gloved hand cupped your chin and tilted your head. His blood-colored eyes scanned your face.

"Up close, you are easy on the eyes. I could always use an extra pair of human hands to help me in the daylight. Very well, clever human. You get to live another day."

"Do you...Do you need to feed now? Is that why your eyes are red?" You asked.

"And where do you expect to find an animal I can feed from at this time of night?"

"Animal? You don't feed from..."

"Humans? Not for the last half century. Are you offering yourself?"

"Yes."

The word burst out of your mouth without you bidding. You stared at his rugged yet handsome face. He was not the image of a perfect, well-groomed, posh vampire, but he was all the more attractive because of it. The Dark Hand stared back.

"Eager?" He quirked a dark brow.

"P-Perhaps..."

The Dark Hand leaned his head towards you. He inhaled sharply the smell of your skin from the crook of your neck. You felt his cold breath ghost across your flesh as he sighed.

"Very tempting. I can smell your excitement. I feel your blood racing to the surface, calling to me. And you have such a delicate, pretty neck. I almost hate to ruin it," said he.

"You can smell that?" You gasped.

"Yes. I also smelled the hint of arousal when I had my knife to your throat. Do you like dangerous men? If I put my hand under your skirts, will your cunt be soaking wet for me?"

"You go too far, sir!"

"Sir?" He laughed. "Nobody's called me that in a long time."

"Oh? What else have you been called?"

"Shouta," the Dark Hand Answered.

"Shouta." You tested the name on your lips.

"It's been a very long time since I last felt the touch of a person who wasn't trying to jab a stake through my chest. And judging by how fast your heart is pounding, it's been a while for you too. Shall we remedy that?"

"Please!" You whined.

Your fate was sealed when the Dark Hand Shouta sealed his lips on yours. You unfastened his cloak. It fell away and your hands were free to wander his chest and shoulders. Muscles rippled through the shirt his wore. Likewise, Shouta untied your apron. However, he was too impatient to unlace your bodice. He produced the knife from his belt and slit the ties from top to bottom. You protested but the words fell on deaf ears. His hands cut the ties to your skirt too.

"I'll buy you more." He husked against your neck.

You shivered in just your shift. Shouta kissed your cheek. His lips trailed down your throat and down to your collar bone. He pressed his lips to the top of your breast. You squealed with no small amount of delight mixed with surprise when he hefted you unto his shoulder. Shouta carried you off to the straw-filled bed. Shouta saddled himself to straddle your hips. He slowly, oh-so-slowly, removed his belt. He plucked a small leather satchel that had been hanging on his hip. Before tossing the purse away, Shouta produced a necklace of pearls.

"Are those...the duchess's pearls?" You asked. What was he going to do with those?

"Didn't fight to keep them either." Shouta closed the necklace around your throat. "They look better on you anyway."

He kissed you again, this time with more passion. Shouta let you tug at his shirt until it came loose from his doe skin breeches. He broke from the kiss only to take off his shirt and throw it somewhere in the dark. By the firelight, you marveled at his marble torso, pale and sturdy. His body was scarred. All of them old, weaving a tale of fights and battles long before he became one of the undead.

You reached down to touch him down there. You stroked his cock through his leather breeches. Shouta let out a hiss through his teeth.

"Don't fucking tease me, woman."

"Do you trust me?" You asked.

"That should be your question."

You rolled your eyes. "Just lie down for me, alright?"

Shouta kicked off his boots. He rolled over on your bed. You fiddled with the hem of his breeches before slowly pulling them down. Inch by inch. Shouta lifted his hips to help you tug them off. His cock didn't spring to life right away. You didn't expect him to since he was...you know, vampire. He twitched and then you touched him. Your hand felt so warm against his skin. You stroked his cock, slowly warming him up, in more ways than one.

You slid down his body and settled between his legs. Your tongue swept along the shaft of him. You enjoyed the slow hiss that came out of him as you did so. You teased him some more, reveling in the sounds he made before wrapping your lips around the tip. You sucked and drew him deeper into your mouth. Shouta let your head bob up and down and stroke what you couldn't fit. His body relaxed under the sensations you were providing. Shouta cradled the back of your neck.

"Fuck...Where'd you learn to do that?"

You brought him to completion and swallowed the tide of cum down your throat. You missed a droplet of cum on the corner of your lips when you released him. Shouta swiped it up with his finger and put it inside your mouth. You licked his finger clean before straddling him.

Shouta sat up and seated his cock deep within you. He kissed your cheek, making his way to your neck. His lips lingered right above your pulse point. His arms felt like timbers as he wrapped them around your waist. He held you tight as he fangs sank into your flesh.

You gasped, of course. It was not the awful maw of a beast or the deadly bite of a viper. A vampire's kiss stung all the same. It was like two icy pinpricks stabbing your neck. You felt Shouta draw the blood from your veins. A little bit of your essence flowed in him.

His cock buried to the hilt twitched. The flaccid member grew hard as Shouta sucked your blood. Pulsing life and activity returned. Soon, he was thrusting up into. Shouta pulled away from your neck. His cool tongue lapped up the drops of blood from the little puncture wounds. You felt a tingle and the puncture marks healed themselves. You touched your neck in amazement.

"What?"

"We can't have you walking around with a sign that says 'A vampire was here,' can we?" Said Shouta.

You looped your arms around his neck. You moved your hips in time with his. An ache, a need, started to fill you. You thrust your hips back at him, faster, going faster. Your tiny hut reverberated with the sounds of you fucking. It had been so long, too long. Shouta filled you up, stretched you, and played with that bundle of nerves between your legs that every other man ignored. His fingers were rough to the touch but oh-so gentle when he played with you. You kissed and you tasted your own blood on his lips.

Your wetness spread everywhere. All over your thighs and his. Shouta's face scrunched up like a hungry animal. In a flash, he had you on your back. He pushed your legs onto his shoulders as he rammed harder into your soaking cunt. His thrusts turned bestial. He was a demon of lust taking his fill of you. Silver fangs glimmered in the red-orange light of the fireplace. Shouta licked his fangs before sinking them into your breasts. He drew blood there though not enough to drain you. He bit to taste more of your flesh and blood. As his craving grew stronger, so did his fucking you.

The bed frame creaked and moaned. It threatened to break asunder beneath your bodies. Shouta fucked you into the mattress so hard that he ripped the seams. Straw spilled out the sides of your shitty mattress.

You try to reach for Shouta, touch him, drag your nails down his back. You manage to get a hold of his arms. His hard muscles twitched under your touch. Your blunt nails scratch him as he pounded into you.

"You're getting tighter." Shouta growled. "You're so close, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

"Then come. Come for me."

Shouta's eyes bore into yours. He folded your body into a mating press. His thrusts grew more erratic, desperate for release. He played with your clit faster. Your legs stretched on his shoulders, spreading out and wide. Shouta kissed you on the mouth to stifle the scream that would have woken your neighbors if they heard. You moaned into the kiss as the base of your spine tingled and exploded with pleasureful fireworks. Shouta followed behind. He buried himself deep. Rather than warmth growing in your belly, there was...nothing. Not cold or hot, just nothing. You certainly felt his cum paint your insides. Felt it seep out of you but there was no warmth, no life.

Shouta pulled away. He withdrew his cock slowly. You lay on the bed limp as a rag doll. Perhaps he played with you too rough. Shouta shoved on his breeches and walked barefoot to the other side of the hut. He grabbed a washcloth and dipped it in the tepid water in the washbasin sitting on the chair. When he returned, Shouta cleaned you up.

"You shouldn't worry. As a vampire, you won't get pregnant from this. My cum is....not viable." Shouta explained.

"Good to know," you said.

A certain tavern owner marched down the lane. He headed for a hovel a few blocks away from his business. He never thought the uppity woman would hold true to her word. Crickets chirped, owls hooted, and stars shined. Customers lined up at his tavern, but there was no one to cook the food, stoke the fires, or pour beers. He passed the blacksmith's house, the kiln cold as death.

He pounded on the woman's door. He shouted and raved in the street. Even when the neighbors poked their heads out to complain of him, he would not quit. He banged his fist on the door.

All the windows of the hut were cold and dark. Not even a candle sputtered. The tavern keep yanked on the door handle. The door opened.

It did not occur to him that entering looked more suspicious than waiting and banging on the door. The door swung open like an invitation. How could he not go in? The tavern keep crossed the threshold.

Shadows were cast all around the hut. From what he could discern, the place was left in disarray. Furniture turned over, boxes and baskets emptied and then discarded, and bed sheets torn to shreds. He checked the fireplace. Cold as ice. Nobody's touched it in hours. The candles were much the same. He lit a lantern and checked the cellar. Nothing but cobwebs and unused wine racks from the previous owner. He scowled as he couldn't even pinch a bottle as there were none to steal.

He checked the small garden. Still no one to be seen. It seemed as though something very bad happened to the tavern wench he hired. He would not suspect that she sat beside a highwayman in a covered wagon they stole and raced off into the night.

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rogueshadeaux · 3 months

Text

Chapter Thirty-Two — Ingress

Some of the metal came up with his pull — other pieces fell, careening around as they disappeared into the darkness. We all paused to watch the pieces of metal fall, the thunk that followed coming about eight seconds later. “That uh…” Brent drew off, straightening. “That means it's pretty deep, right?”

5.6k words | 18 - 23 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Acrophobia, alligators mention (they're freaky okay?)

“That is the most conspicuous thing I have ever seen in my life.” Dad deadpanned, hands in his jean pockets.

Zeke was standing proudly in front of one of those big utility vans that had been painted an earthy green, black racing stripes along its sides. The back doors had a mural of a wooded landscape with a satyr chasing two rather scantily clad women, and the headlights in the front were replaced with some sort of RGB lights that spun in circles. Brent looked over at me in disbelief at the absurdity of the car as I just sighed, closing my eyes. This was definitely not going to help Zeke’s standing with Dad.

“Hey, it drives,” Zeke shrugged. “And sometimes the weirdest things work as a red herring, you know? Keeps people from really looking close at the situation. Well,” he said, opening up the back doors to expose the gutted out interior, “Hop in.”

So there I was on the rubbery flooring of the back of the van, tucked in between Dad and Brent as Dr. Sims rode shotgun in Zeke’s monstrosity of a vehicle. “I’ve got, like, an inflatable bed and stuff,” Zeke called back, “This was my car when I was ‘nomadic,’ so to say. But otherwise it’s…yeah, sorry about the discomfort.”

As if on cue he hit a bump on the badly maintained road, sending my tailbone into the hump that covered the curve of the wheel and making me curse under my breath.

“Looks like we have three plantations to search,” Dr. Sims says, scrolling on his phone. “Cypress Grove, Bellefontaine, and Magnolia Ridge Estates,” Dr. Sims looks back. “There’s five of us. We could split up, explore each one on our own—”

“No.” Dad says. “My kids aren’t leaving my side.”

“Should we split up?” Brent asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Seems like a bad move when exploring abandoned places. That’s like the first thing not to do if you wanna survive a horror movie.”

“We have to be mindful of the time,” Dr. Sims said, looking out the window. Traveling out of the swamps by boat and walking to the garage holding this…thing cut a good three hours into our adventure, and the sun was already past its midpoint in the sky. “We have about four hours before sunset and being out in New Marais at night is less ideal than exploring alone.”

“But that should be enough to find this entrance, right?” I asked over the rattling of the van. “We shouldn’t have to split up for it if we’re thorough, and staying together would mean we could go through each plantation faster.”

Dad sighed. “She’s got a point.”

Zeke nodded, abruptly turning the steering wheel and sending me into Dad’s side. “Alright, then we go together. We’ll start from the farthest one and work our way back towards the swamps.”

The first plantation was close to the water and definitely didn’t have a carriage house — in fact, it didn’t have much of anything; so much of it had eroded over the years and what was left was something we definitely couldn’t explore without risking having the entire place come down on us. We searched the outside nonetheless, coming up short to no one’s surprise.

We packed up into the van to move to the next plantation, where dad nearly screamed a slew of curse words the moment we got close. Whatever Bellefontaine plantation that used to stand here was now home to a parking lot and a restaurant called the Angry Oyster, the pier dining full of patrons with it being dinner time. The little animated oyster shined over a sign that said Well Shuck Me!, a phrase Dad repeated once with the sh— becoming a f—.

“What do we do?” He demanded, looking at Dr. Sims. “What if they paved over the entrance?”

Dr. Sims turned in his seat as Zeke parked the car, motioning for his computer bag, which Dad passed over. “Let me see what I can find out,” he says, pulling out the mini laptop. “There’s gotta be some land ownership records or a property transaction or something.”

We spent nearly an hour there as Dr. Sims struggled to find the records he was looking for before eventually disconnecting from the restaurant’s wifi, declaring, “This place didn’t belong to Bertrand,”

“So it’s probably not the First Sons’ base?” Dad asked from the back. I was braiding my hair beside him and Brent was snoring lightly on his other side, both of us bored with the stagnation.

“Probably not, but we’ll come back if we need to. We should check out this last place before the sun sets.” Dr. Sims decided, closing the computer and shoving it back in his bag.

Zeke drove a bit more into town to get to the third plantation, passing the cathedral on the way. The floodlights illuminated Cole’s statue, casting shadows on his face that made him seem more menacing, more heroic than he did in the daytime.

Yet I couldn’t get the sound of his quiet sobs out of my head.

Zeke drove around to the back of the cathedral and then turned onto a side street, the veranda of a large and well-kept plantation cresting into view as we drove forward. It was huge, pristine white trimming that shone even in the setting sun. There were people milling about on the front lawn in dresses and suits, champagne glasses in hand as a flash on the left caught my eye, making me look in time to see a cameraman reposing a wedding party for their next picture.

“Shit,” Dad hissed, moving to sit in the space between the passenger and driver's seats. Brent was still leaning on him for support while napping and nearly fell into me, yelping awake.

“W–what’s going on?” he muttered, looking around with glossed eyes.

Zeke took a right, driving slowly in front of the estate. The reception of the wedding was in full swing; there was a DJ in his own booth, stark white tables with bouquets and used plates on them, and a separate garage dedicated solely to being a bar, two tenders at the counter built into its entrance.

“That’s the carriage house,” Dr. Sims realized, looking at the bar. “It has to be,”

“That doesn’t look like much of a carriage house,” Brent remarked groggily.

“Carriage house is just another fancy word for separate garage,” Dad hummed. “This is the only one we’ve seen so far. If it’s not under that restaurant? This is it.”

Zeke pulled into an alleyway and parks the truck, turning in his seat to look at all of us. “Well, what should we do?” He asked. “We can always come back later—”

“We need answers now,” Dad strained, “The sooner the better.”

“Dad, there’s a wedding,” I stressed, “We can’t just crash it.”

Brent shrugs. “Well, we wouldn’t be crashing the wedding. Just breaking into the bar,”

“Just?”

Dr. Sims sighed. “We could use the information. Knowing now would let us move forward with a plan tomorrow,”

Zeke nodded, more to himself than to anyone else, eyes traveling to the floorboard as he trilled his lips in thought. “We need to draw those guys outta the carriage house,” he said, face growing more thoughtful. “Make some sort of distraction.”

“We’d need one to get them out of the bar, and another to keep them away for long enough,” Dad sighs. “Dunno how we’d do that,”

Zeke’s thoughtfulness gained a smile, and he sorta chuffed to himself. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” I whispered incredulously to Brent.

He was glaring at me as we crouched behind a manicured shrub, trying our best to hide in the shadows the setting sun was casting. Dad was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Dr. Sims or Zeke. They were all getting in position for this horrible plan we cooked up in about fifteen minutes.

“I mean I can’t, that’s not how Conduits work,” he scoffed like I was an idiot. “I can only play with the steel I put out,”

I blinked. “Wh–, that’s not how Conduits work. You should be able to do anything with steel.”

“What, and you can control any water source? C’mon Jean, this isn’t Korra,”

I glared at him before sticking a hand out and pointing it towards the water fountain just beyond our shrub, etching a gap in the trickling waterfall from its scalloped tier to form a middle finger.

Brent balked. “What? How did you do that?” he demanded.

“Oh, sorry, it’s a water tribe secret,”

“You know what—”

There was a sudden alarm from the giant mansion, catching the attention of everyone on the grounds of the plantation. Dad, that had to be Dad. All the attendees of the wedding awkwardly glanced at each other, confused at what was going on until someone came out of the mansion itself shouting something about a fire alarm.

I felt pretty bad. I mean, we were crashing someone’s wedding. That’s not an experience you’re supposed to get more than once — or at least, you’re supposed to aim for it to be a one time thing. So they’d get no do-over, and the memories of their big day would be this. An evacuation to the far side of the property, near the entryway gate. But it was a necessary evil.

Not necessary enough, apparently; the barkeeps didn’t move. They shifted around awkwardly but made no move to leave the little building.

“Son of a bitch,” Brent growled.

My jaw clenched. Dad said if his smoke setting off the alarms didn’t do anything, it would be our turn to try something, with Zeke and Dr. Sims as our hail marys. “We’ve gotta figure out what to do,” I muttered. That’s what we were talking about before our argument; how exactly to draw the two barkeeps away from the bar.

Brent’s eyes narrowed as he looks around. “Y’think you can control alcohol?” he asks. “It’s liquid.”

“It’s liquid but not water,” I whisper.

“I mean, it has some water in it, right—”

“Would you shut up?”

Brent glowered, glaring at me for a moment before looking around. “So you can just control any sorta water?” He asks.

“I mean, yeah, sorta,” I shrug. “It can be—”

“Can you control the water in the tap?” Brent interrupted me. “Flood the bar?”

My sentence died off in my throat when I processed his question. I mean…could I? I could sense the water around us, feel the gators lurking at the edge of the waters and the pulse of the water’s ebbs. The sink, though, was something entirely different. My vision shattered into normal and whatever I could use to sense the element, the sparkling crystal blue in my vision snitching on where it all was. And there was barely anything in the sink. “There’s not much,” I muttered, looking at him.

Brent cursed under his breath. “Okay, okay, uh,” he muttered to himself, looking around. His eyes zeroed in on something, and he pointed to it. “What’s that?”

I looked at the white box he was pointing to near the edge of the property and was about to ask him how the hell should I know when my vision pushed deeper, through the plastic and metal to the plethora of water below. It pulsed from the machine like a heartbeat, in cadence with the scream of the fire alarm. “I think…” I drew off. “I think it’s a well. I can see water going from it into the house right now.”

Brent’s eyebrows knit close together as he tried to come up with a plan, looking around. The light from a lamp post caught in his eyes, and I watched them dip from seafoam to pure silver before flashing back to his normal color. “The well is steel,” he said, absolutely sure of the fact. “I’m gonna go fuck with the pressure gauge, turn it as high as it can go. If you can somehow send water to that tap, then good. If not, try to make the pipes burst,”

“Wh–, burst?” I whispered, incredulous.

No use, though; Brent was already gone, content with his idea of vandalism and destroying property.

The fire alarms died off, and there was a reassuring call to the wedding attendees from someone in the same outfit as the barkeeps that prompted them to begin walking back to the center of the property. Shit. There goes plan A.

There was a line of men that went for the bar, keeping the tenders busy for a moment. Off on the side, Brent was messing with the well, and after a few moments, there was a shriek by the DJ followed by more shouting. “Gator, gator!” Someone yelled in alarm as the crowd scurried. Someone tripped in the stampede and went sprawling into the dessert table, the 3 tiered wedding cake on it slowly teetering.

I’ll give it to the groom — he tried to catch it. Tried being the keyword. The second tier on the cake slipped to the side, staining his black suit jacket as the top tier slammed into his face, his head snapping back with the force.

The shouts from this happening was enough to cover up the sound of Brent pushing the pressure gauge to its highest setting, the bar snapping under his strong grip. I watched the flow of water spike like blood pressure, flowing off to the house and near every tap in a bull rush.

At the bar, a group of jazzed up men watched the groom take a facefull of cake much to the bride’s wailing, reaching over the bar to demand something while throwing glances over their shoulders at the commotion.

One of the barkeepers grabbed a rag from under the bar, and briskly walked over to the sink.

And the moment he turned it on, I stuck my hand out and let the pressure loose, the forceful spray of water that came out shooting out making the bartender stumble back as it hit him square in the chest, making him yelp.

There were some more screams, and I heard someone specifically yell “What the fuck is going on?” while the two bartenders tried their best to turn off the sink. But Brent’s idea worked; with enough pressure behind the blast, turning the knobs to turn the water on and off only changed their temperature, the steady spray of water combined with my influence enough to break the sink entirely. Brent rushed close to me as one of the bartenders dove under the visibility of the countertop.

“What’s going on?” Brent whispered, looking between my outstretched hand and the chaos behind us at the dessert table.

I shrugged. “Something about an alligator?” I said back, unsure. “Groom lost the fight against vanilla, though,”

My power over the flooding suddenly stopped as the barkeeper turned off the water valve on the sink, pausing the assault in its wake. I lowered my hand and cursed, about to tell Brent the bad news when I saw the one super soaked bartender stomp off, out of a back door and towards the mansion while the other handed a wet rag to the wedding attendees, who all rushed towards the cake covered groom. The poor barkeeper left behind looked down at his feet, shaking his head, before following his coworker out of the backdoor, coming around to the front to begin pulling down the garage doors, locking them closed with a key.

They were leaving the bar alone. We managed to clear the area.

Brent and I looked at each other triumphantly, leaving the sobbing and exclamations behind us to do an awkward crouched jog towards the carriage house. “Back, go around back,” Brent whispered, leading the way.

The wedding party was shouting now, all staring in one specific spot as Brent and I rounded the corner of the carriage house. Brent yelped, jumping back into me and making me stumble and nearly fall before a firm hand gripped my arm and yanked me back up, steadying me on my feet. “You two okay?” Dad asked, looking between us.

“Scared the shit outta me,” Brent breathed, hands on his knees.

“Brent—”

“Yeah yeah, don’t curse, I know,” Brent muttered, waving Dad off as he tried to steady his racing heart.

The shouting got louder, began to get closer, and I peeked around the corner with Dad, concerned — there was no way they knew we were here, right?

No; they were chasing what had to be a 5 foot gator around, trying to shoo the giant lizard away from the center of the wedding reception. The scaly creature scurried at a pace that scared me, ducking behind the same manicured bush Brent and I were hiding behind moments ago — before dissipating into a cloud of pixels. Blue light dissipated into the shine of the lantern light moments before an angry older man practically drifted around the bush with a raised white wooden chair intent on bopping the creature and stumbling over his steps when he realized it was just gone.

“Brent,” Dad said, stepping back from the corner to look at him. “Can you use your powers to uh, lockpick the door or something?”

Brent shrugged, face doing that grimace most people do when they’re unsure of something like a test answer or where someone’s keys are. But he dropped to his knees, sticking the end of his finger against the deadbolt of the door as his arm dipped silver.

A few minutes later, there was a hard huffing sound behind us as Zeke climbed the small hill, the ends of his pants legs wet as he threw his — or, Cole’s — sling bag back on. “Got your message,” he said to Dad. “What’re we waiting on?”

“Fuck this,” Brent growled angrily, his third attempt at picking the lock just as much a failure at the first two. He stood straight and threw a punch, splintering the thick wood door and pushing the lock through its form onto the other side, where it landed with a moist thud.

“You…realize that the lock was steel, right?” I ask him. “You could have drained it and weakened it.”

“Yeah, well, it was pissing me off,” Brent snipped, shoving his hand through the gaping hole to unlock the knob. Dad just stood off on the side, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Brent threw open the door and Dad waived for us all to go in, closing it as well as he could behind us with its broken handle. “Eugene’s gonna keep watch,” Dad said, looking around. “We just have to find this…”

He trailed off, and I think we all realized what he did at the same time; we had no idea what we were looking for. This wasn’t exactly ‘hidden entrance’ friendly; the shelves in the back were stacked with alcohol, freezers lining the floor. The bar had cleaning materials and rags and a bunch of little fancy shakers and stuff in the alcoves under it, and there was a wine cooler the size of a fridge.

And other than the bit of water damage I gave the area, that was it. There was nothing else.

“Do you remember how Cole got underground?” Dad spun in place to ask Zeke.

Zeke shook his head. “No, I–I wasn’t there,” he said, looking around. “I barely remember what happened that day,”

Dad cursed, kicking at the water at his feet. Brent looked around, saying, “It’s an underground entrance. Just keep looking down, we’ll find it eventually,”

Brent could be so snippy when stressed, it honestly pissed me off. He was lucky he wasn’t in smacking range.

We looked. And looked. Dad opened the broken door and had me push all the water out of the room and to the grass, Brent putting up a wall of steel against it once it was closed again in case anyone returned. We searched every shelf, moved every bottle in case one was a false switch for some magical trapdoor or something. There was nothing behind the wine cooler or under the bar counter.

Dad eventually stopped, straightening with a groan and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck,” he hissed, “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

Zeke sighed, hands on his knees as he looked under the bartop again. “Gotta say, it ain’t looking too bright.”

Dad sighed hard, the end of the sound becoming a groan before he moved his hands and blinked hard a few times, eyes meeting mine. He looked dejected and on the verge of calling off the search and declaring it was time to leave when Brent said, “Dad, step back,”

Brent was looking at the ground where Dad stood; the concrete had dried up for the most part, but instead of a stain of wet, there was a jagged line of white at Dad’s feet that moved in an awkward and wide shape, like someone ran the long side of a chalk stick around this section. Brent bent down to run his hand along the white, straightening and rubbing it between his fingers. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, looking up at Dad before he could chastise him and pointing to the bit of floor that had the white grit lining it. “It’s here. The entrance is here,”

“What?” I asked as Dad gave Brent a look of disbelief, “How do you know?”

Brent pointed at the white. “This is calcium carbonate,” he began. “When new concrete gets wet, it does this thing where when the water rises, it takes the free calcium in it and pushes it to the surface. Efforflescence or something.” He then looked down and grimaced. “That also means they probably haven’t been mopping this place at all, which is disgusting.”

Leave it to Brent to know something about architecture. “So it means this is new?” Dad asked.

Brent shrugged. “New enough. It can take like fifteen years for all the calcium to come out.”

“This place became a wedding venue tenish years ago,” Zeke chimed in. “There was a whole ceremony and everything. I only went for the finger sandwiches and the corporate babes, though,”

Brent shot me a bewildered look as I did everything in my power to not snort at the image of this portly and graying man prowling for women with a handful of mini-sandwiches.

Dad dropped to his knees, hands gliding against the concrete like he would be able to find a gap he could peel apart. “They sealed it,” he realized.

“How do we get down there?” I asked, looking between everyone. “If it’s paved over, there’s no way we can enter the base.”

Dad’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the smooth ground before saying, “Brent, steel up and punch this until it breaks,” pointing to a section of floor.

Brent looked at the top of Dad’s head like he was insane but listened, skin going from tanned to silver in the blink of an eye before he balled up his fists and dropped, pounding them into the ground. He punched one, two, three more times before something gave away and there was a tiny divot in the ground, shattered concrete bursting away from it.

That was all Dad needed; his hand came out and drained from the pebbles, taking on concrete as his power. He waved Brent off and let his own arms become encased in the man-made rock, pounding away at the ground to break it further with deafening crunches that made me press my hands to my ears.

Dad chipped away at the concrete, punching and digging like a dog with both a bone to pick and a bone to bury. He absorbed more and more of the concrete as he made the hole, this three foot wide gap that he tried widening more and more with every hit down.

And then, slowly, as Dad kept up the attack, something began to peek out from under the concrete; a steel grating, the only thing separating the floor from some long and very deep chasm below it. “Well that's not structurally sound,” Brent muttered beside me as Dad began to tear away at some of the concrete, yanking it up out of its spot.

I didn't really care. All I knew was that under that grating was nothing more than a glorified elevator that would take us down to what could potentially be answers about what was wrong with me.

There was just one big, glaring issue. “How the hell are we supposed to get down there if the elevator ain't got electricity?” Zeke asked when Dad stopped to catch his breath.

Dad pursed his lips, looking down at the tight, thick grate that sat under the bar. “I'm not sure,” he muttered, displeased. “But we're getting down there, no matter what.”

Dad continued to beat away at the concrete for a few minutes longer until there was a gap about four feet wide, enough for one person to stand on comfortably — if we could get the elevator to move. That was our next big issue. Dad sat back on his feet, glaring down at the next obstacle as his mind seemed to move at a mile a minute, trying to come up with a plan. “Brent,” he eventually said. “How much control do you have over your steel?”

“I was telling Jean this earlier,” he began, “I can't just control any steel—”

“Not all steel, just yours.” Dad corrects, looking up to where we stood. “If we can destroy this, you can make a new floor to fit the shaft and glide us down.”

Brent bit his lip. “I...I might be able to do that?” he ventured, unsure.

Another good forty-five minutes blew past while Dad excavated a wider perimeter around the old elevator shaft, trying to make enough room for Brent to come in with a steeled body and begin pulling against the metal, draining it as he did so until the grating began to crack under his palms and he yanked it.

Some of the metal came up with his pull — other pieces fell down the shaft, careening around as they disappeared into the darkness. We all paused to watch the pieces of metal fall, the thunk that followed coming about eight seconds later.

“That uh…” Brent drew off, straightening. “That means it's pretty deep, right?”

Dad sighed. “Let's just get this new platform built and…hopefully it'll work.”

“Hopefully we won't fall to our deaths,” Zeke corrected.

Dad gave him an exasperated look, but didn't say anything.

Hour two came and went by the time Brent straightened, having spent a good quarter of it hanging halfway into the hole. “I think I got it,” he said, looking at Dad. “It fits the grooves and stuff on the old shaft,”

His hands stayed out, rigid and tensed as they stayed pointing towards the solid steel flooring. He was still using his power over the floor to keep it in place. What had Dr. Sims called it? Conduvergence? Whatever it was, it seemed Brent had to keep his hold on the steel he produced if we didn't want to drop into the darkness.

Dad crawled into the hole first, Brent leaving a big enough gap for him to be able to move around while crouched. He inspected the platform, made sure it was fit securely to the old build of the original shaft's flooring before looking up at the gap, saying, “Jeanie, c'mon, your turn,”

I looked at him like he had lost it, my silent plea to not have to go on Brent's Tower of Terror ignored with a quick motion of his hands as he beckoned for me to hurry it up.

The shaft groaned slightly as I stepped down on it — and Brent did too, readjusting his feet on the ground as the muscles in his arm flexed. He must have been feeling every pound we were adding to this thing, which did absolutely nothing for my fear of falling to my death. Dad grabbed my shoulders, moving me out of the way of the gap as he called up, “Think you're okay to hold Zeke too?” to Brent.

“Yeah,” Brent huffed. “Yeah, I'll just — I'll fly after you guys when you get down there,”

Another moment and Zeke was coming down into the hole, the platform jerking under his feet and making me yelp as my soul left my body. “Hey, hey, you're okay,” Dad said behind me. His grip on my shoulders tightened though, knuckles going stark white, and it did nothing to reassure me.

“Sorry,” Brent groaned above.

Zeke settled in place and Dad looked up at Brent and nodded. “Take it as slow as you can,” he instructed.

Brent nodded, the steel of his arms flaring and becoming aural as the platform began to slowly move down.

I stayed holding on to Dad for dear life as the platform rattled against the old shaft, feeling like it would give way and send us spiraling down. I knew, theoretically, all I'd have to do was use my powers to protect myself and it would be fine — but that didn't make the ride down any more comfortable. I wasn't exactly scared of heights, but I didn't like the idea of falling into a dark hole.

That was another issue — how dark it was. The lower we got and the further away from the hole we went, the harder it was to see...well, anything. Holding on to Dad became less about fear and more about just keeping a hand on him to know he was still there. One of his arms left my shoulders and a moment later there was a bright light, His phone's flashlight on and the light bouncing around the silver walls. A second later, Zeke clicked on a small one as well, shining the light around.

“Hey, look,” Zeke said, prompting us to turn. There was an archway opening beside him, the entrance to the underground tunnels growing longer and longer until the steel platform hit the floor, making us all stumble.

“You guys okay?” Brent called from above, the grinding sound echoing up the chasm.

“Yeah, yeah. Come down here,” Dad called back up, shining his phone’s flashlight towards the small pothole sized sun way up high. “Jean, take out your phone, use its flashlight,” he commanded me as he lit the way for Brent to come down.

The edges of Brent's wings scraped against the walls as he flew down, the horribly shrill sound making us all cringe until he shed the wings and landed hard on his feet. “Jeez, it's dark,” he muttered, searching for his own phone to use his flashlight. ”No good reception, either,“

I looked at my phone; one singular bar, and everyone knew that was hardly a step up from no service. Honestly it would have been better to not have any service, that way it wouldn't feel like the phone was lying to you when its messages wouldn't go through. “I should have messaged Eugene,” Dad cursed, realizing he missed the chance. His flashlight went from shining up at the opening of the shaft to down the long hallway, pristine white walls almost untouched after all this time and shining the light back tenfold. “Alright. Stay behind me, you guys,”

The hall was so clean and bleached that our phones' flashlights bounced around again and again until our little group was encased in a warm glow. The walls didn't look painted but they definitely weren't metal, the texture smooth and glossed as I let my hand glide over it.

“Weird,” Brent muttered, pointing his phone's flashlight up at the ceiling to expose a long row of rounded, defunct in-ceiling lights.

“What did that guy say these were used for?” Dad asked, not turning around. “The Underground Railroad, right?”

“This looks way too nice to be some dug up tunnels for that,” I muttered, pulling my hand away and tucking my hoodie's sleeve over my cast.

Zeke huffed, “Well, you gotta remember, we're talking about the First Sons here. They weren't gonna be caught in some dingy little cave system,”

Dad put out a hand, silently signaling us to stop as his light caught the glint of a piece of metal up ahead. “Stay back,” he warned us, stepping forward.

One hand stayed holding his phone while the other lit up a light amber, the rough scrape of him activating his concrete power echoing down the hall. He crept up to the exit poised like a large cat ready to jump on prey, and nearly did exactly that as he stepped out of the hall into the room.

His ignited arm immediately fell, and his shoulders seemed to sag a bit. “Well, this complicates things,” he said, before turning and beckoning us forward.

I was expecting a single large room, maybe some sort of observation deck like those old viewing galleries for operating rooms. Not this. Not two stories of something straight out of Star Trek.

Every wall was a sculpted slope, pier-like patios poking out and away from stairwells to overlook the giant futuristic atrium. There was a tube in the center of the room that led to a defunct and dried up pool in the center, each patio wrapping around the tubing like it was the center of a roundabout. Everything was pristine white or accented in the lightest blue in this courtyard, the wide open space dimpling in some spots to curve in, creating lateral archways for other hallways. There were a few emergency lights that barely illuminated rounded doors, leaving the rest of the room in an eerie dusk that our lights had to fight through to illuminate. “Well,” Zeke huffed, looking around. The ceiling was so high our lights couldn't even reach it. “This is gonna take a bit longer than an hour of lookin', huh?”

#infamous second son #infamous erosion #delsin rowe #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #zeke dunbar #fanfic #sucker punch productions #alternative chapter title: the gang crash a wedding

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fallintosanity · 10 days

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Eh, why not!

12, 14, 25 for Fire Emblem Three Houses!

Tumblr itself chose violence when it ate my first attempt at answering this when I was a good 800+ words in >:[ Trying again!

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

You'd think that with a cast of over 40 playable main and guest characters, it would be pretty easy to find unpopular characters in 3H! But while there are many many divisive characters, I can't think of any that are universally unpopular. So instead of "unpopular" as in "disliked by most of the fandom", I'm going with "unpopular" as in "gets very little fandom attention" instead, which gives us...

Raphael Kirsten.

y'all I adore this big muscular oaf and you should too, because he is the purest character in the whole game (yes even more than Flayn). He is kind. He is gentle. He can and will beat the tar out of anyone and anything threatening the people he cares about, but only as a last resort.

He often gets dismissed as the simple-minded musclehead stereotype, which is TRAGIC because this dude has LAYERS. He's guileless, yes, and very unpretentious; and by his own admission isn't at all book-smart. But who tf cares, because he is so freaking EMPATHETIC and COMPASSIONATE!!!! He recognizes when Byleth is overworked and exhausted, and convinces them to rest and take care of their own needs. He understands that he's terrifying to people like Bernadetta, and does his best to be less scary. He not only accepts that Marianne can talk to animals, but finds his own way to participate without implying that she's either lying or crazy. He defuses Ingrid's scolding without getting defensive or angry (and I firmly believe he perfected that trick with his little sister). He teaches tiny Flayn how to B I G Y E L L!!!!

Raphael Kirsten is the sweetest, kindest, most caring person in the whole damn cast - AND he can rip your arm off and beat you to death with it. What's not to like?

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

idk how much violence I'm choosing with this one because on the one hand the game does it too (for gameplay convenience) but on the other hand the game also tries to imply otherwise (for narrative coherence).

Travel times around / across Fódlan. Due to the way the in-game calendar system works, repeated trips from Garreg Mach to the four corners of the continent to fight battles are a leisurely Saturday afternoon activity. The game doesn't show or account for the amount of time it takes to move a whole-ass military force, complete with camp and supply caravans and dozens or hundreds of troops. And I see this happen in a lot of fics, as well: Faerghan characters popping over to Leicester for brunch and swinging down to Adrestia for afternoon tea, before returning to Faerghus for dinner.

(okay that's a BIT of an exaggeration, but i'm choosing violence here remember?)

Fódlan is a whole COUNTRY! And not an especially small one! When your main mode of transportation is your own two feet, or maybe a horse or horse-drawn cart if you're lucky, going from one major city to another in most of Fódlan is a multi-day affair at best! Even flying on pegasus- or wyvern-back won't make you much faster, based on the relative movement speeds of flying and mounted units in the game. The only gain from flying comes from being able to ignore terrain and travel in a straight line, which might be significant when crossing a mountain range or a canyon, but means very little if there are good, straight roads on the ground.

Anyway yeah that's That One Thing in fics, fight me.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

this one won't make sense to anyone who didn't know me back in the J'entre days but oh well

How ALARMINGLY fucking easy it is to cross the 3H universe with the Dofus/Wakfu universe...

...and how badly I kind of want to >.>

the Choose Violence ask game is still going!

#sanity replies #fire emblem three houses #ask meme

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thebuginthecornerofyourroom · 10 months

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Imagine you're a mage, right, but not just a mage, a top-notch fire mage, immortal, absurd levels of power, got the knowledge of the True Fire Magic from elder dragons, can melt dark steel asi if it were wax, sbsolutely scary stuff, and you and your fellow immortal heroes have fought calamities and fallen gods and brought peace to the world, and through guidance and patience have produced first an era of enlightenment and then technological advancement, we're talking living androids, flying autonomous cities, colonies in three of the moons, and things are not without some degree of conflict, but nothing that the people can not handle, so you find yourself in a personal crossroads, because with the magic technology, people are much less dependant on classical magic than before, and while the rest of the immortal heroes have found some purpose in research and study, or teaching, or some other ambicious goals, you, the living weapon, the calamity in the shape of a person, the one that holds the Sun in the palm of their hand, find yourself useless for the society, because no one really wants to study or document True Fire Magic, as talking to dragons was prohibited with the Law of Mythical Entities of 6548, books already say everything needed to know about it, and if you need fire there are other ways less dangerous than learning by trial and error how to modulate the intensity of a fireball, so you quietly leave the group of adventurers trying to find something new in your eternal life, and your travels are not as successful as they should because you cannot really hide yourself, as the Magic brands your body, and while people are not scared since they all have seen the stories and the old shows in the TV, they are still distant because of the whole living weapon and all that, so you continue your travels and you end up in an old inn, beautiful place, in the side of the road in a clearing in the forest, and the ambience inside is chill and calm, and no one seems to lay an eye onto you, which is a strange sensation for once, and you start talking to the innkeeper and by the Gods this person loves to talk, and they tell you about how they inherited the inn from their father and his father before him, and how the building is set atop some kind of sacred ground so no big disasters have hit it, just the usual manteinance for a building of its kind, and you spend the whole afternoon listening to this person who should have been a bard but is an innkeeper, and night comes, so you ask them to pay and also for a room and they refuse because no one really stays this much and it has been a long time since they could tell their stories, and so you spend the night and in the morning the innkeeper serves you breakfast and starts again telling you stories from the decades and decades of people that have come and gone from the inn and they sure have a lot of stories, god damn, and they keep chatting interrupted only by the occasional customer and the usual tasks of the inn, but they keep chatting with you, even if you have to go with them to each room to see them clean it because they are in the middle of a story and it would be a shame to leave it unfinished because you are absolutely transfixed into this person and their tales, they are the most intesresting thing that has happened to you in millenia, and it's nothing epic, nothing heroic, just tales of a world alive, so you stay one more day, and then another, and another, and you start noticicing yourself paying too much attention at their beautiful hair, starting to grey, and the wrinkles around the mouth and forehead from smiling too much, and their hands, rough from work but full of life, and some nights you just talk and some nights you laugh, and some nights you drink, and some nights you cry, because they have no children so when they pass no one will be there to run the inn and they feel a small piece of magic will die, so you look deep into their eyes, plain and common, with yours, crowned by the eternal fire, and you speak true for the first time in centuries.

You confess feelings you had not felt since you were an apprentice, how they've been the first person in forever that has treated with such kindness and respect, and how you cannot bear the thought of leaving their side, and you kiss, and you love them, and they love you, and in a newfound life you stay, you run the inn with your partner, you start a small library with their stories, and the years pass, and you see them grow older and older, but it's ok, and you start taking more and more of the tasks of the inn yourself, but it's ok, really, and every year they are more and more old and tired but you still love them the same, and they still love you the same, and the time comes with sadness, but also joy, because you understood it from the beginning and treasure the small time you've spent together, and you bury them in the magical grounds, in a spot where years later thousands of different flowers bloom every year, even plants from other regions, and you keep the inn, full of memories, full of a magic that cannot be taught or manufactured, and after all this time of unrest and uncertainty, you finally feel at peace.

Imagine that.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #how in the hell can I ramble stuff in peace when paragraphs can only be 4000 and a something characters long #imagine that #short stories

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foodandfolklore · 1 month

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The Grimm Variations, Episode 1

A new Netflix Anime has caught my eye. It's Called the Grimm Variations; which feature retellings of Original Brothers Grimm fairytales. But rather be a beat for beat, they are more reimagined. A "What If" kind of thing. I figured I'd share the original Fairytales these stories are based on for those interested.

Edit, For some reason Netflix played these out of order for me. That doesn't matter much as these show can be seen in any order. The first episode is based on the story The Bremen Town Musicians. The reinterpretation of the story deviates quite a lot, as people are in place of the Animals. But the core of the story is there.

There was once an ass whose master had made him carry sacks to the mill for many a long year, but whose strength began at last to fail, so that each day as it came found him less capable of work. Then his master began to think of turning him out, but the ass, guessing that something was in the wind that boded him no good, ran away, taking the road to Bremen; for there he thought he might get an engagement as town musician. When he had gone a little way he found a hound lying by the side of the road panting, as if he had run a long way.

"Now, Holdfast, what are you so out of breath about?" said the ass. "Oh dear!" said the dog, "now I am old, I get weaker every day, and can do no good in the hunt, so, as my master was going to have me killed, I have made my escape; but now, how am I to gain a living?" - "I will tell you what," said the ass, "I am going to Bremen to become town musician. You may as well go with me, and take up music too. I can play the lute, and you can beat the drum." And the dog consented, and they walked on together. It was not long before they came to a cat sitting in the road, looking as dismal as three wet days.

"Now then, what is the matter with you, old shaver?" said the ass. "I should like to know who would be cheerful when his neck is in danger," answered the cat. "Now that I am old my teeth are getting blunt, and I would rather sit by the oven and purr than run about after mice, and my mistress wanted to drown me; so I took myself off; but good advice is scarce, and I do not know what is to become of me." - "Go with us to Bremen," said the ass, "and become town musician. You understand serenading." The cat thought well of the idea, and went with them accordingly.

After that the three travellers passed by a yard, and a cock was perched on the gate crowing with all his might. "Your cries are enough to pierce bone and marrow," said the ass; "what is the matter?" - "I have foretold good weather for Lady-day, so that all the shirts may be washed and dried; and now on Sunday morning company is coming, and the mistress has told the cook that I must be made into soup, and this evening my neck is to be wrung, so that I am crowing with all my might while I can." - "You had much better go with us, Chanticleer," said the ass. "We are going to Bremen. At any rate that will be better than dying. You have a powerful voice, and when we are all performing together it will have a very good effect." So the cock consented, and they went on all four together.

But Bremen was too far off to be reached in one day, and towards evening they came to a wood, where they determined to pass the night. The ass and the dog lay down under a large tree; the cat got up among the branches, and the cock flew up to the top, as that was the safest place for him. Before he went to sleep he looked all round him to the four points of the compass, and perceived in the distance a little light shining, and he called out to his companions that there must be a house not far off, as he could see a light, so the ass said, "We had better get up and go there, for these are uncomfortable quarters." The dog began to fancy a few bones, not quite bare, would do him good. And they all set off in the direction of the light, and it grew larger and brighter, until at last it led them to a robber's house, all lighted up.

The ass. being the biggest, went up to the window, and looked in. "Well, what do you see?" asked the dog. "What do I see?" answered the ass; "here is a table set out with splendid eatables and drinkables, and robbers sitting at it and making themselves very comfortable." - "That would just suit us," said the cock. "Yes, indeed, I wish we were there," said the ass. Then they consulted together how it should be managed so as to get the robbers out of the house, and at last they hit on a plan. The ass was to place his forefeet on the window-sill, the dog was to get on the ass's back, the cat on the top of the dog, and lastly the cock was to fly up and perch on the cat's head. When that was done, at a given signal they all began to perform their music. The ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cock crowed; then they burst through into the room, breaking all the panes of glass.

The robbers fled at the dreadful sound; they thought it was some goblin, and fled to the wood in the utmost terror. Then the four companions sat down to table, made free with the remains of the meal, and feasted as if they had been hungry for a month. And when they had finished they put out the lights, and each sought out a sleeping-place to suit his nature and habits. The ass laid himself down outside on the dunghill, the dog behind the door, the cat on the hearth by the warm ashes, and the cock settled himself in the cockloft, and as they were all tired with their long journey they soon fell fast asleep.

When midnight drew near, and the robbers from afar saw that no light was burning, and that everything appeared quiet, their captain said to them that he thought that they had run away without reason, telling one of them to go and reconnoitre. So one of them went, and found everything quite quiet; he went into the kitchen to strike a light, and taking the glowing fiery eyes of the cat for burning coals, he held a match to them in order to kindle it. But the cat, not seeing the joke, flew into his face, spitting and scratching. Then he cried out in terror, and ran to get out at the back door, but the dog, who was lying there, ran at him and bit his leg; and as he was rushing through the yard by the dunghill the ass struck out and gave him a great kick with his hind foot; and the cock, who had been wakened with the noise, and felt quite brisk, cried out, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" Then the robber got back as well as he could to his captain, and said, "Oh dear! in that house there is a gruesome witch, and I felt her breath and her long nails in my face; and by the door there stands a man who stabbed me in the leg with a knife; and in the yard there lies a black spectre, who beat me with his wooden club; and above, upon the roof, there sits the justice, who cried, 'Bring that rogue here!' And so I ran away from the place as fast as I could."

From that time forward the robbers never ventured to that house, and the four Bremen town musicians found themselves so well off where they were, that there they stayed. And the person who last related this tale is still living, as you see.

#food and folklore #fairytale #folktale #brothers grimm #The Bremen Town Musicians #Donkey #Cat #Mad Dog #Rooster #the grimm variations #netflix anime #fairy tales #folklore

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angel-fics · 11 months

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Darkness Within the Light

Chapter 2 of a Dwayne Stephens x Latina!Pregnant!Witch!OC

Warnings: depictions of violence, descriptions of grief and homelessness, threats on life, foul language and adult situations. All readers are responsible for their own media intake, if you’re a minor, it is not my responsibility to decide what is or isn’t appropriate for your viewing.

Summary: Jessamine is new to Santa Carla and mostly fully aware of the strange occurrences that plague the small town. Running away from one large problem into what could be another one isn’t going to deter her from doing whatever it takes to make her unborn child safe again.

Jessamine felt as though there were many reasons as to why events happened the way they did. She was very much a believer in the whole “everything happens for a reason” faith system. However, that didn’t mean she always liked it and was prone to acting less reasonably than she felt she should.

Like now, for instance, as she argued with a local peace officer for parking outside of the police station to rest. In her very much valid defense, she had been driving a very long time to a place that was mostly unfamiliar to her. It was in her best interest to settle down in or near a place that’s entire purpose was to protect and service her. What was so difficult to understand about that?

“Ma’am, I understand completely, but you are not permitted to park your van outside of a police station without an appointment or permit. You’ve given neither and are therefore loitering, which is prohibited,” the surly officer explained. The bright, hot morning sun sparkled off his badge, obscuring his name, but that wasn’t something Jessamine particularly cared about this early.

“Yes, I know, you’ve said so three times, all without letting me fully explain myself. Which is why I haven’t the faintest clue as to what you supposedly ‘understand’ because I haven’t said anything,” Jessamine rambled, tired and frustrated beyond comprehensible belief. “I’m new to town, I just arrived late last night. I don’t know any of the hotels or temporary testing spots and this seemed the safest place to be. So much for serve and protect.”

The cop blistered considerably at her jibe, his fair complexion darkening to a worrying shade of rose in irritation. “Ma’am, it really wasn’t a wise decision to travel to a new place without a previously planned place to stay,” he chided her, shifting his weight to readjust himself in the sweltering heat.

Jessamine took in a deep breath and asked the Great Mother for guidance. She counted out just a few seconds silently, before allowing her breath to flow from her lips and join the countless particles in the surrounding air.

“I do have a place to stay, I was not in the right physical condition to continue driving. As I previously said. I did not mean to cause such a commotion but I was on the verge of losing consciousness at the wheel and would’ve preferred to not have broken a few more serious laws in the process,” she explained as calmly and politely as she possibly could, closing her eyes to envision her self control as if it were a tangible thing.

She imagined herself grasping it and holding it close to her chest to act as a healing balm from her more scattered thoughts. It wrapped around her coolly, bringing down her spiritual and emotional temperature to something more manageable and less distracting.

“I will take my leave now, officer, if you could just point me to the library,” Jessamine sighed languidly, fluttering her eyes back open to see the cop’s disapproving but slightly relieved gaze.

“You’ll find that most public spaces are on the same road, the main one, that branches off between the boardwalk and grandpa’s ranch,” he pointed out, literally pointing in the direction of where she ought to go.

“Grandpa?” She tilted her head questioningly, the spark of recognition flaring in her eyes. “I wasn’t aware everyone called him that.”

The cop laughed loudly from his belly, a lot more at ease knowing she wasn’t some young tourist looking to make trouble. “It’s not as if the old coot could be confused for anything else. I swear that geezer has been past his prime since the day I was born. Every year I think the city council is gonna grant him ‘historical landmark’ status,” he chuckled at his own jokes, obviously knowing the man fondly.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, he has a habit a becoming a local treasure where ever he goes,” the young woman went along, hoping to end the conversation now that she’d gotten what she’d wanted.

The cop readjusted himself once more and placed his wide and stubby hands around his utility belt, also eager to get to a cooler environment. The sun bear down mercilessly, not a cloud to shield the surface from the heaven’s rays, and staying exposed for an extended amount of time was sure to give one heatstroke.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it, little miss, just don’t let me catch you loitering on public property again. Stay in parking spaces or get a permit, ya’ hear?” His stern warning combined with a chastising finger wave did nothing to intimidate her as he might have hoped, but she played along for the outing of the situation.

“Yes, sir, you won’t hear a peep about me,” she agreed gratefully, getting extremely lucky when her old faithful van started on the third raucous twist of her key and wheezed to life. She drove off with a small flutter of her ringed fingers and pulled out of the parking lot. Much to her relief, the officer who’s name she never learned quickly took the opportunity to head back to his ventilated work environment.

Readjusting her review mirror, she analyzed all of the signs on all of the local shops and vendors that made up the entire center of Santa Carla. She drove by so many ice cream shops, diners, gift emporiums and convenience stores that they all blended together. They were all perfect for tourists, especially those who valued the “small town charm” that these shops exuded. There wasn’t a single pharmacy, clinic or any singular building along the strip that was for locals or permanent residents. Jessamine figured that all local practices were private so that the main public income could come from tourist revenue. The only building that was serviced to both local and foreign visitors was the library, and it stood out like a black beacon against a neon background.

Almost literally. While every other shop or store in the area was printed with long faded, but once bright colors, the library itself was donned in various hues of black, brown and grey. Also unlike the other businesses, it stood tall, nearly able to block out the sun with its sheer height. Even the architectural design was different, obviously older and better maintained. There was no chipping of the shutters or cracks in the stone pavement and steps below the large, iron-wrought double doors.

Jessamine honestly felt a bit insecure with her eyesore of a van being parked outside such a place, with dirt and dust caked along the edges, covering the dull paint job of what was supposed to be a vibrant medley of yellows, purples and greens. She tried to dampen the slight shame and fell into a new habit of hers whenever she became stressed and needed to reassure someone that she knew what she was doing.

Placing a hand upon her stomach, her palm slightly sinking into the fat as close as she could without compressing her baby, she began to comfort her unborn child. Logically, she knew that her baby wouldn’t actually be harmed if she placed the full weight of her hand into her stomach, but she didn’t like feeling like the child was crowded within her womb.

“Our Great Mother has kept us safe thus far and continues to bless our ongoing journey, lovey. May she continue to guide us along a safe and happy path while we devote our faith and practices in her name. We must face yet another obstacle in our journey, but it is nothing we can’t handle. We have a home now, there will be no more scavenging for food or fighting over sleeping spots. Let us be off, then,” Jessamine concluded, giving a small kiss to the medallion that hung from her neck.

Usually she would talk to the Great Mother for comfort or. . . him. But she couldn’t anymore, not directly without setting off a chain of events best left alone, as least as long as it took to guarantee her safety. Guiding her child along the right life way was the next best option. But oh, how she missed the comfort of receiving Great Mother’s celestial guidance, a potent and visceral anomaly that she cherished greatly.

Jerking her door violently and having to shove her entire body weight just to open it, she nearly fell onto the sidewalk when it gave way. Dusting herself off and fighting her clothing and hair into a somewhat less unkempt position, she grabbed a large binder with all of her legal papers and approached the large double doors of the library.

Even though her van wasn’t parked all that far away from the library, the young brunette felt all the more intimidated by the sheer power that the large, ancient building gave off. Invisible to the naked eye, but all too clear to those with a deeper sense of the surface plane, like Jessamine. She knew she had no reason to be so cautious around this new place. It was a place of safety. An escape. A sanctuary. A new home to raise her miracle baby and hone her magic to keep them safe. Although the “Murder Capital of the World” wasn’t the ideal place to start a family, it would serve her purposes, and maybe even be a permanent place to settle.

Jessamine was a witch, or Wiccan, if you prefer. An individual in touch with their spirituality and nature and the energy around them. Before this, before the accident and the move, Jessamine wasn’t a particularly powerful witch. And when in her own body, she didn’t carry much of a presence. She spent most of her time on the astral plane, simply absorbing the cosmic power and communicating with the Great Mother. She had a job, of course, a role within her coven.

Just like she was trying to become here, in Santa Carla, she was a historian. She kept track of every known magical artifact or objects with Wiccan significance. Another one of her duties was to translate the runes and glyphs used on maps or in inscriptions or written by Elders in diaries. She also did research on the importance of maintaining or locating said items so that the Coven Council would approve on expeditions to extract those items. She wasn’t one for exertion or physical labor, she was too open-spirited. It made it very difficult to focus on the physical world around her for long periods of time. It’s very dangerous to be separated from your body for long periods of time without protection. Especially in risky environments. She wasn’t the only person who did such research and she wasn’t the most dangerous person who looked for them.

The natural enemy of most modern Wiccan were dark practitioners, people who abused the Great Mother’s gifts for dangerous and harmful purposes. There was no such thing as a dark or evil object or spell. In order for that to be, there’s have to be a dark energy, and such didn’t exist. All energy is ambivalent at best, and geared towards universal balance. Wiccans are those who can hone and use energy as a corporeal thing that can suit one’s purpose. Spells are words that act as hands for that energy. Objects are a talisman to contain energy that can be used later on and influenced by its user. Dark practitioners manipulate the natural forced for malignant intentions. Magic is simply how it is used, which is why there are so many different types.

Jessamine wasn’t well suited to go against dark practitioners, not physically or magically. And certainly not while pregnant. Pregnancy is a natural magic that anyone can register. It is beautiful and powerful, but very dangerous on mothers. It’s not a necessary magic and many choose not to indulge or witness it. And while pregnancy had drastically increased her power, she needed the time and space to get used to the energy that was granted to her. Wiccan who simply use the energy to feel it aren’t particularly knowledgeable or powerful, especially when so young as she was.

That’s why, after muttering a small safety spell and then a luck spell, she mustered up all the courage she possessed and marched through those big, dark doors into what would hopefully be her pathway to a new life.

The entryway opened up to a lobby area and through a revolving door was the actual library. Unlike most modern libraries, there were no computers or phones of any kind. The lobby where Jessamine stood held five iron baskets that were each filled to the brim with newspapers, each one topped with that day’s paper. There were no people that Jessamine could see or sense. No that it mattered, Wiccans we’re good at obscuring their presences if needed. Beyond the lobby, there wasn’t a single person among the huge book shelves, nor at the numerous long tables, nor behind the help desks. It were as though the place was closed or abandoned, despite the doors being unlocked and the lights illuminating the entire building along with the afternoon sunlight.

Grabbing a newspaper, Jessamine sat down in an old and uncomfortable lobby chair and pretended to occupy herself until life made itself known within the library. She was just finishing up the extremely extensive Missing Persons section before she heard a slight shuffling to her right and was startled to find an odd looking young man right in front of her. He was tall and thin, he looked to be of Asian descent, with large, thick spectacles making his brown eyes look owlish. He silently stared at her curiously, his fingers intertwined and laying limply atop his pelvis. He didn’t look to be all that much older than she did, maybe about two to four years her senior. His long-sleeved button up was buttoned all the way to the top and tucked beneath his belted corduroy slacks.

“What are you doing here?” His low voice was smooth and quiet, a bit of a lilt revealing that he wasn’t a native to California, but Jessamine couldn’t quite place it. His rather odd wording also told her exactly why no one besides her was here.

“I applied to work here because you were urgently hiring,” she answered silkily, ignoring his mannerisms. Something told her that there was more to him than just a simple, small town librarian.

“You’re a long way from Vermont, Miss Marcel, and in no condition to be doing what you’re doing,” he chastised her, wagging a disproving finger in her face as though she were some disobedient child.

Making a face, she grabbed his finger within her own fist and held it away from her. “Yes, the undead population here is a tad bit more concerning than what I had initially anticipated.”

He yanked back his finger as though she had burned him and grabbed her binder, flipping through it, his facial features occasionally twitching as he took in the information she provided.

“The vampire problem is being handled appropriately. However there isn’t much to do about the werewolf working the council, and she hasn’t attacked anyone yet, anyway. Besides, you know that’s not what I was referring to,” he insisted while not looking at her at all.

“I’m not looking for anything here other than a job. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, and I don’t expect you to outright believe me, but I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I haven’t the faintest clue as to what’s going on over there, only that me and my child aren’t safe. This library is a safe haven unless threatened, and I am no threat. At least not to you,” she assuaged, dragging back the brown leather binder to her chest and cradling it.

The taller man considered her suspiciously, taking in her slightly haggard appearance and desperate brown eyes. “But you mean to become a threat for someone, no?”

“Not anyone who wasn’t a threat to me first. If it’s any consolation, I don’t know who’s after me, or why. But they killed the father of my child and it seems to have something to do with me. I want no part in whatever grapple for power is going down in that part of the country. I intend to make this my home and make a life for my baby here,” she swore, leveling him with a determined stare.

He swallowed at the severity of her words, the ingenuity leeching out of every pore, in a way that only a mother could manage. He knew who she was before coming here and he wasn’t particularly concerned about the potential consequences. He was powerful enough to take on any sinister forces and it wasn’t like he was the only supernatural being in Santa Carla willing to shed blood to protect their livelihoods. Plus, he could feel that baby, there was more about this entire situation and he knew the Great Mother would prefer him to protect her wounded daughter than return her to her original coven.

“My name is Leighten Waters, I am the librarian of the Santa Carla Public Library as well as the magik head of this region. I am in great need of a historian and welcome your expertise and qualifications. Allow me to explain your duties and lead you to your new living arrangements.”

~*~*~*~*~

End of Chapter 2

Tbh, i’m not that happy with it because it doesn’t have a whole lot to do with the plot and isn’t that interesting but don’t worry, lovelies, it’s all for world building and the introduction of the OC

I know this chapter doesn’t give off much about her, but I just wanted to build a foundation before I got into anything else. We will be learning more about her and her backstory in later chapters and i’m planing on having her meet Dwayne soon ;)

Oop sorry spoilers, but that’s all for now, i hope y’all enjoy and stay interested bc there’s a lot more to come. Pls like, share, reblog, send asks and comments

#the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #fanfic #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #romance #tlb 1987 #new account #new story #oc #dwayne x oc #smut #fluff #magic #witches #vampires #80’s vibes #latina

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