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talltalesandbedtimestories · 5 months

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“Person of Interest” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part 3 (Final) of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series (Read Part 1 Here, Read Part 2 Here)

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader

Tags: Fluff and Flirting, First Kiss (Finally! Get it Beau!)

Word Count: 2300

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Anonymous Gifts/Flowers" square.

Writing about Beau for the first time was so much fun. He's got such a sweet, gentle, charming, goofy way about him on the show. I am at least making sure in my story that Beau gets his kiss. (I have also been asked by a friend to maybe have a little "Big Sky After Dark" epilogue at some point. Will see.) I've gotten a lot of inspiration from my bingo card. Thoroughly enjoyed participating and hope to mark off every square... at some point.

Also, diving into Helena history for this date I came a lot of interesting facts and fun places along Last Chance Gulch Street.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: “Big Sky”/ABC)

Since you’d asked Beau out on a date - apparently, that was news to you - it was also up to you to pick the when and where. That was how he'd left it that night around the fire, anyway, with a wink and a smile.

It had been a busy few days after the fourth of July for the both of you. But, you’d settled on a Sunday evening, crossing fingers there were no abductions or bank robberies.

There was never a dull moment in Helena.

You’d decided on a time and place. The plan was to meet at The Windbag Saloon and Grill. You sat at the bar, sipping your Huckleberry Mule.

Your eyes dart to the door every time it swishes open. When you finally spot him entering, a sharp inhale steadies you. The nerves that wound you up all day threaten to release fast enough to spin you like a top upon the stool.

His gaze skates over the scene once, twice. The double-take and zoning in on your face when he clocks you forces you to exhale. You wish it didn’t sound like a frightened puppy. Thank goodness he can’t hear it. Recollection fills his face, and that sunbeam smile melts you.

He takes the stroll over. You internally confirmed sitting at the farthest end of the bar was the right decision. It gives you ample time to enjoy the view of the sheriff and prepare to be devastated by all that handsome up close.

He has a full, bouncy head of hair you’d kill for. Scratch that. You’d kill to run your fingers through it. His denim jacket with a fleece collar and hints of the warm and fuzzy liner has you imagining him offering it to you on a chilly walk. You only want to get a better look at the broad shoulders and chest underneath. The shine of his silver belt buckle directs you further south for probably a second longer than would have been appropriate to stare.

You sip a little more liquid courage.

“Did I get the time wrong?” he asks, confused and already looking apologetic when he meets you at the bar. He strums a few fingers on the countertop.

“Nope.” With a head shake, you offer the adjacent stool with an outstretched hand. “I was extra early. And you were early.”

He sighs and slides in beside you. “If you’re early, you’re on time. That’s what I was taught, anyway.”

“Slow day at the office?” you ask.

The bartender drops a coaster and a napkin in front of Beau and asks what he’s having. He requests a beer, then returns to your question in a flash. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

You decide to try the all-knowing approach. “You had time to have flowers delivered to Linda Devonshire.”

The caught-off-guard smirk gives him away. “Me? Flowers to Linda?” He tuts. “Why would I send flowers to a married woman?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because you were as ecstatic as everyone else in the park, knowing she was packing up and heading back home. I’ll bet you had the date circled on your calendar.” You spin in the seat a fraction. Inadvertently, you swish a knee over his denim-covered thigh while attempting to cross your legs.

He reacts a fraction to the touch, staring at the floor between you. His lips purse, and his brows lower. “Well, being as happy as the rest of those in Black Sandy State Park is not enough motive to suspect I’m the one that sent the flowers. Not very good detective work. Need a little more proof to convict.”

“Hm.” You shrug and wait for him to prod you more for your reasoning.

Instead, he licks his lips and smiles. “I didn’t recognize you dressed as a civilian.”

You straighten up and toss the hair back over your shoulder dramatically. “Didn’t think I could clean up this well?”

He shakes his head, all serious. “Nah. I just didn’t think you could get any prettier.”

That shuts you up.

“Yellowfin?” The server asks the both of you, now at a table after finishing your first round of drinks at the bar.

Your hand raises.

After the sandwich plate lands in front of you, the server confirms to Beau, “And the Vigilante for you?”

Beau nods, rubbing hands together, taking in the contents of his meal with high brows. “Yes, indeed.”

“Anything else right now?”

Beau points to you in wait, but you shake your head.

“All good for now, thanks,” he answers.

You groan, looking at Beau’s burger. “There is so much going on over there.”

He lifts the bun. “Yeah. Candied jalapenos. Grilled ham and onions. An over-easy egg.”

“Not to mention the half-pound of beef underneath all that.”

He resituates the bun and wiggles it in place. “Don’t forget the huckleberry barbecue sauce. I may regret it later. Worth it.”

You laugh. “I hope so, for your sake. Otherwise, this may be a pretty early night.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think anything could mess up tonight. Even my poor menu choices.”

The certainty in his voice makes you smile. “Kind of surprising you haven’t stumbled onto this spot yet since you’ve been in town. Considering how close it is to the sheriff’s office.”

“Well, the Boot Heel is where I usually end up with Hoyt and Cassie.”

You nod. “There’s a lot of history along Last Chance Gulch Street. Worth checking out and getting acquainted. Being the new sheriff in town and all.” You bite into a french fry.

“Hey, I did some research.” He clamps his large, beefy hands around the large, beefy burger. “This street was between a bunch of mining claims, where a lot of gold prospectors got rich.” He nods and confirms, “Give me a second with this, if you don’t mind?”

You laugh and wave both hands in permission. “Of course.”

He bites down and chews. Eyes close. Deep in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbles around the burger. “This was the worst idea in the best way.”

“Take it easy there.” You try to jest. Truthfully, you wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying the show.

He swallows and sips on his second beer. “Man, it’s good I walked ten minutes from the office. I’m gonna need fresh air to clear my head and some exercise after all this.”

“Maybe I can interest you in a little walk down Last Chance Gulch after this.” Your suggestion raises his cheeks with a grin. You add, “History lesson and all that to accompany your calorie burning.”

“I’d like that.” He dabs the barbecue sauce off the corner of his mouth. He thumbs towards the outside of the restaurant. “Know who the lady is on The Windbag sign?”

“Oh, that’d be ‘Big Dorothy’.”

“Big Dorothy, huh? She the original owner?”

“Not of the saloon. She ran a business on these premises. Got closed down in 1973.” You sample your sandwich and watch Beau enjoy another bite of his burger. You wait until he’s thoroughly invested in the act, swallow, and then continue. “It was a brothel.”

His face stills in mid-chew.

You giggle.

He exaggerates his munching for a few seconds more.

“The place was called ‘Dorothy’s Rooms’. She was actually very well respected in Helena. Donated to lots of charities, and then the police had to go and raid her establishment and shut it all down. You may wanna tread lightly, Sheriff. Dorothy’s ghost might not appreciate your kind under her roof.”

“Noted.” He clears his throat.

Your guided walking tour doesn’t have the intended effect of calorie burning. Instead, you sit with Beau in a green wooden booth at The Parrot Confectionery. You’re splitting a Parrot Special Sundae.

“Oh, man.” Beau indulges in his first spoonful. It’s wondrous to behold how much enjoyment the man has with his food.

The evening has been filled with light and easy conversation to start. Lots of laughter mixed with information gathering from both of you as the date wore on. You spill about your life, years back, out west. You aren’t ready to divulge much about the relationship you left behind except the marriage had not worked out as expected. Beau’s a bit guarded as well with specific details. Something had happened on the job, though, in Houston. Something alarming enough to have him quit the force. And you think it might be one of the reasons he was now divorced.

Beau’s eyes sparkle. “I’ll have to take Em here.”

You nod. “Definitely.” He lights up every time he talks about his daughter. It’s sweet and makes him even more endearing. It almost makes you feel bad thinking naughty thoughts as his tongue laboriously licks the fudge off his spoon.

“Gotta say, darlin’, it feels like you’ve given me the key to the city tonight.”

“And plenty of indigestion.”

“I told ya. Worth it,” he insists. It’s his turn to watch you eat a few spoonfuls. You focus on the strawberry scoop. He seems to gravitate toward the huckleberry flavor and completely avoid the split banana underneath it all.

“Well, we could walk a little more to the end of the street after this,” you suggest. “I mean, the old fire tower is down that way. But you’ve gotta know about that. Impossible to miss.”

“Oh, yeah, I know all about the Guardian of the Gulch.”

You smile. “Did I forget to mention that Linda Devonshire dropped off the flowers she got to the ranger’s office before she left?”

The spoon Beau is holding clinks the sundae bowl. “You did forget to mention that.”

You swirl your spoon in the vanilla. “Well, she thanked us and said the flowers would probably hold up better staying with us than the trek back home. And she also read the note aloud to see if we had any idea who the anonymous sender was.”

Beau sighs. “Of course she did.”

You tap a finger on your chin. “What was it exactly? Oh, yes. The note said, ‘Thank you for your excellent matchmaking skills. ~ a Guardian of the Gulch’. She was completely perplexed by it. Said she hadn’t gone out of her way to coordinate any dates or encounters in Helena. Didn’t know anyone well enough for that. But we did get to hear about how she’s introduced about a dozen people to their current spouses in her home state.”

Beau lifts both shoulders. A sheepish smile forms. “If it hadn’t been for Linda’s complaints, I might not have gotten all those chances to get to know you a little better. And we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“This all sounds very silver lining thinking.”

“I try. On occasion.”

You roll into a parking spot in the lot behind the Sheriff’s office, engine idling. Beau’s in the passenger seat.

“Well, I hope I didn’t keep you out too late.” He leans into the backrest. A couple of creaks emit from his spine. “I appreciate you walking with me up and down Last Chance Gulch after dessert. Between the beer and the beef and the banana split, every step counts.”

You smile. “This was nice. We should do it again sometime.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “I know, you accept.”

The warmth of his fingers gliding over yours, gripping the steering wheel, tingles your skin. Half in the night’s shadow, his face scolds with scrunched lips and slitted lids. “Give a man a chance to ask you out properly, would ya?”

You laugh to soothe your nerves. “I didn’t realize I’d asked you out again. Hell, I didn’t realize I’d asked you out the first time.”

He tilts his head. “I may have pulled the trigger on that one. Guess I’m finding it hard to be patient when it comes to…” He trails off, quiets, and looks serious. You realize he’s staring at your mouth.

“Sheriff!”

You both flinch in your seats. Deputy Poppernak is heading towards the passenger side of your car. Beau straightens, and you oblige the greeting and roll down his window.

“Hey, Poptop.” Beau razzes.

“Thought you’d left hours ago.” Poppernak halts five feet from the car, spots you, and waves. “How’s things going, Ranger?”

“Just fine, Deputy. How about you?” you ask.

“Can’t complain. Done for the day after a lot of paperwork. Headin’ home.”

The three of you nod in unison for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Okay.” Poppernak offers a friendly salute. “Night.”

You watch the deputy hop into a family van and drive off rather quickly.

“Well,” Beau sighs, “this is gonna be all over the office in the morning.”

“This?” you question. Beau eyes you. “How do you think they’re gonna classify this?”

He smiles. “Well, I guess this would be me spending some time with a person of interest. And actually, I think I’m gonna need to spend a lot more time with this person of interest. So, would you give me the pleasure of taking you out on another date, darlin’?”

All you can do is nod. His mossy green eyes sparkle. Cool fingertips round the shell of your ear. You shiver as he traces your jawline, moving in to close the gap. And then, nothing but you breathing in his warmth as he exhales softly into the kiss. It’s gentle and careful. But he tests how your lips fit and press against each other from a few angles. He settles for a spell and feasts on your mouth.

He pulls away. His fingers trail from your chin after a sweet pinch. “Are you free next weekend?”

You nod, dazed.

He grins. “Good. I’ll pick you up at your place if you’re comfortable with that?”

You nod again.

“Thank you for the ride.” He hops out of the car and closes the door with a soft click. Leaning into the still-open window he leaves you with, “Be careful headin’ home.”

“You too, Beau.”

He smiles from ear to ear, taps the window sill, and walks to his jeep. You can’t help but wait until he slides into the driver’s seat and gives you a wave. You shift into drive and leave the lot.

You can’t remember much of the actual ride home. Your mind is filled only with thoughts of Sheriff Beau Arlen. They make you smile. Hum along to the radio. You’re light as a feather and full of hope for what’s to come.

All because of a Guardian of the Gulch.

~ The End ~

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting

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mitschki · 22 days

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Jealous!Tartaglia, accustomed to being the center of attention, grows frustrated by her lack of focus on him.

The Eleventh Harbinger would never consciously dwell on another person’s lack of attention, considering it inconsequential given his status. However, unbeknownst to him— he finds himself subtly perturbed at the sight of you engaged in conversation with someone else from a distance.

Positioned outside Liyue's Northland Bank, he stands with arms crossed against the red railings, observing you amidst the bustling streets of Liyue. Despite his composed exterior, an undercurrent of frustration manifests as he grits his teeth, silently grappling with his unexpected reaction.

He was acquainted with you as a friend— Zhongli, the consultant from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, would occasionally broach the subject of you during their tea sessions. Tartaglia would emit a noncommittal hum and furrow his brow in response to Zhongli's insightful observations about you.

Perhaps he harbored a subtle discomfort with your perceived closeness to Zhongli compared to himself. Maybe that it was during these conversations that his interest in you began to pique. He would then find himself observing you more closely, noting your bright and welcoming aura, which seemed to effortlessly draw others into your orbit.

Your consistently friendly nature stood in stark contrast to his own, with the mere notion of harboring no ill intentions appearing almost foreign to him. Maybe that it was the stark differences between your personalities that sparked his admiration for you. No, he wouldn’t say admiration. He didn’t like the thought of it, at least. He would evidently dismiss that idea.

But was it imperative for you to laugh so much around that person? Or to extend them your attention? Perhaps it was the way you delicately twirled strands of your hair between your fingers, or the radiant and expansive smile that graced your countenance with each spoken word. With a roll of his eyes and a furrowed brow, he averted his gaze, expressing his discontent in a restrained manner.

"Sir, we humbly request your presence inside," one of the Fatui agents addressed, bowing his head in deference to Tartaglia's esteemed position. Tartaglia emitted a slight scoff in response before gracefully acquiescing, parting from his current observation point to proceed inside the bank.

As the evening descended, the tantalizing aroma of Liyue's cuisine permeated the bustling streets. Tartaglia found himself scanning the area for food, his hunger gnawing at him and his mood souring. There was nothing more unsettling than encountering a hungry and disgruntled Harbinger, his perturbed aura too palpable for passersby to ignore. He scoffed at the wary glances directed his way; usually, he might have taken pride in the acknowledgment of his presence. However, in his current state, such recognition failed to bring him any satisfaction.

"Excuse me, sir, are you going to buy that?” a familiar voice inquired from behind. Tartaglia's eyes widened as he turned to see you, a soft smile adorning your face as you pointed towards the last grilled fish. Ah, of course, he had been standing there lost in contemplation for quite some time, deliberating over his feelings on the fish. Perhaps he didn't pay much attention to the people behind him, who were patiently waiting for their turns to make purchases.

Tartaglia nervously chuckled, stepping aside, “Oh! Forgive me, too much on my mind," he apologized, guiding his hands towards the fish. "You can have it," he offered with a smile. Despite hours of feeling upset over you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. The complexity of his emotions in that moment left him feeling somewhat foolish. You responded with a soft laugh at his gesture.

"Let me buy this for you then, sir," you offered graciously, your smile radiant, “food eases thoughts!" You brimmed with enthusiasm as you paid the vendor and turned to him, extending the last grilled fish. A subtle blush crept onto his face as he took in the sight of you standing before him, your sweet smile warming his heart as you offered the fish.

Such a sweet girl. In response, he grinned as he remarked, "You are a remarkable person,” with a soft chuckle, smiling upon noticing a gentle blush spreading across your face.

“And you, sir, must be hungry.”

Perhaps your interaction was precisely what he needed. Your friendly nature that contrasted to his own, was what left him grappling with his own emotions and his understanding of you. Perhaps if you allowed him to immerse himself in your world, he would be more receptive to your warm shared perspectives.

#genshin impact #Genshin #tartaglia #childe #Zhongli #morax #genshin morax

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pappydaddy · 1 year

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beach date (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested by another lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: jj and y/n go on a winter beach date for valentines day

warnings: reader is scared for a second. happy tears.

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- not my gif -

“JJ! This is private property,” Y/N hissed as she tried to dig her heels into the soft sand that was chilled by the winter. JJ, her boyfriend, ignored her as he easily continued to lead her down the dunes towards said private beach. “Shoupe’s been on our asses lately, if he even has an inkling that we’ve been here, he’s going to book our asses!” She protested. The last thing JJ needed was to catch another charge.

JJ shrugged nonchalantly, slowing down his pace now that they were hidden by the steep imbank of dunes. “Relax, Sweets. I planned for this. The rich people that own this place only technically own from that dock,” He pointed out to a long dock that was lined with fancy street lights. It looked more like a pier than a dock - especially any docks Y/N saw on The Cut. “Down that way. That sign we just passed was put there illegally since it is not in their boundary. Pope told me so.”

Y/N nodded, relaxing slightly. If Pope said it was okay, then it was okay. Pope was a stickler for the rules even after securing his scholarship and acceptance to a bunch of schools. “Okay, as long as Shoupe isn’t going to mysteriously come and arrest us.” She muttered, wrapping both her arms around his free arm - the other one straining as he carried a large basket, as she nuzzled her cheek into his jacket covered arm.

JJ pressed a kiss to her head as they strolled down towards the rolling waves. “I mean, I think Shoupe is just always looking for reasons to arrest me, but he won’t arrest us because this is public property,” He nodded his head towards the span of the beach they stood on. “And, nobody is going to try to report us because those rich snobs aren’t even on the Island.”

“You really thought this all out, huh?” She smiled up at him as he stopped walking. JJ chuckled, freeing his arm from her as he sat the basket down.

“Sweets, I had this planned out for months.” He informed her, opening the basket and pulling the blanket that was messily folded at the top out, spreading it out over the sand. The moon, high in the sky, made the ocean darkened by the night gleam. Her hand slipped into his outstretched one as he gently pulled her to walk onto the blanket.

Together, the settled down and JJ covered them with another warm blanket, protecting them from the chill winter brought to February. Y/N watched fondly as JJ started to dig through the basket again. Her eyes stayed watching him even as he started pulling out take-out containers from The Wreck. “I wanted to cook for you, but Kie kicked me out of our cooking lessons because I kept screwing up,” He admitted shamefully, but he tried to mask it with a goofy tone and smile. “But she got her dad to give us the stuff that was nearly expired at an insane discount.” He shook the take-out container he was currently holding before setting it with the rest.

“I was in the mood for The Wreck anyway.” She smiled softly, but JJ kept his attention on making sure he got all the food out. She knew JJ was ashamed of not being able to bring her a home cooked meal (especially when she always cooks everything she plans the picnics. She also knew he would feel worse if she commented about his cooking which she loved. He makes the best grilled cheese. Always experimenting with adding different things.

“And I got Champagne-“ He cheered, pulling a chilled bottle and two flukes out, eyes proud and chest puffed out.

“You didn’t,” She smiled, recognizing the bottle. It was from the Country Club. Even though JJ left his job there, he still knew that place like the back of his hand and often swiped some things when need be. “I’ve never had champagne, this is gonna be the best Valentines ever!”

“I take offence to that, I would say our first Valentines was the best valentines ever.” He winked. They have spent some amazing Valentine's Days together. This marked their third one together, and she couldn’t be happier.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a noise over by the dunes startled her, making her whip her head around to look over her shoulder. Her wide eyes were met by nothing but the night sky that was littered with a blanket of stars - twinkling happily. “Did you hear that? I think someone is up there.” She asked JJ, looking over at him, He was also looking in that direction, but his eyes were wide with what appeared to be a mix of fear and disappointment.

“Might have been the wind, you know-“ JJ paused, squinting as the wheels in his heard were turning - searching for an explanation. “It’s cold, weird noises come from the cold.” He shrugged, turning back to face the cold looking water.

Humming, Y/N flicked nervous eyes back to the dunes before she turned back around, scooting closer to JJ - both because she was cold and because she felt at unease and he always made her feel protected. Soon, as the conversation flowed and the food was opened, the little incident slipped from her mind. Even the unopened champagne wasn’t even a thought in her head once they seeped into each other’s presence.

It was as if everything about them fit together like a puzzle piece, perfectly made for each other. From the way their personalities clicked together to the way their bodies mould together so perfectly - even in the most basic way. She never believed that someone could be so perfect for her. She never once believed that love was possible, especially not with the boy she thought only saw her as a friend. But she was wrong. And, oh, how happy she was to be wrong.

“Look, in the sky, you can see something.” JJ suddenly veered off the topic they had been rambling on for the last ten minutes, both lazily leaning on each other as the empty containers laid haphazardly in the basket from their half assed attempt to clean up. Perking up, she looked to where he was pointing in the sky, off in the distance over her shoulder.

“What? I don’t see anything, J.” She shook her head, squinting into the sky. The candles he had pulled out when the moon fell behind the looming house made the sky look even brighter and easier to see, but all she was were the dancing stars.

“Here, stand up,” JJ pushed himself up, hand outstretched for her to pull herself up with. Curiosity was a trap and she always falls right into it, but with JJ she knew it wouldn’t hurt her. Pulling herself up, she rolled onto her tip toes, wobbling a little before falling back down to her heels, the sand used the blanket shifting and making her fall back into JJ’s hard chest. “Right up there.”

JJ’s hands fell onto her shoulders, angling her in the direction before leaving her. The heat she felt on her back from his closeness seemed to distance itself from her, meaning he was moving away but she was too wrapped up in trying to find whatever he saw to be concerned. Besides, she knew it wasn’t something bad - she was with JJ after all. “JJ, I really can’t see it, did you imagine it?” She questioned, whirling around on her heel, the blanket and sand twisting and moving from the movement. As soon as she fully registered the scene in front of her, she gasped - hand flying up to her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

A smirk played on his lips, but she could see the sparkle of nerves in his eyes. “I think I saw the reflection of this, actually.” He commented, his normal confidence shining through. There he kneeled, eyes shining up at her, outshining the diamond ring tucked in the velvet box he held.

An unnatural noise left her as tears rolled down her face, shaking hands leaving her face to reach out for his face. “Is this why you sent Sarah to kidnap me for a spa day?” She chuckled through the tears, a smile so large on her face that it hurt. JJ laughed at this, his own eyes tearing up.

“I’m not very good with my words, but I know that I love you even if I don’t know how to say it as fancy as they do in the movies. And I know that you have me. Body and soul and everything else. I also know that I want to spend every second with you and I want to call you my wife. I want you to be the thing that saves the Maybank name because even just you taking it will make it better,” He paused, probably for dramatic effect if Y/N had to guess. “So, will you marry me and legally be mine?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” She breathed out, nodding frantically as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Oh my god, yes!” She proclaimed again, making JJ let out a soft laugh before she yanked him towards her by his face that was nestled in her hands, pressing his lips to hers. Her salty tears of happiness hit their mouths but neither of them cared.

JJ always was able to do things with his eyes closed. Take off a bra one handed. Roll a blunt. Pick Y/N out of a crowd. Now, he can add putting a ring on his fiancée’s shaking finger while his is shaking just as bad while kissing her to that list. Suddenly, excited screams started the pair, making them pull away from each other, startled. Looking up at the dunes, Y/N was shocked to see their friends running down the dune, each from a different place, but all with their phones held up, recording.

“Nobody warned me? I would have worked on my crying face and worn something cuter!” Y/N yelled, her large smile and the way she climbed to JJ as they stood up together showed how much she wouldn’t trade this memory for anything.

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ohforficsakelibrary · 7 months

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You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 1: Larkspur - The larkspur keeps away ghosts.

series masterlist / masterlist

Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes. Slow-ish burn.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: 3.1K

Rating: Eventually explicit 18+ / Minors DNI. tw blood.

A/N: At a Fourth of July celebration in Jackson, Joel starts to feel a little more human again.

It had been three months since they returned to Jackson.

Since they were given a home. A community. Three squares a day and as much whiskey as Joel wanted.

Which, admittedly, is more than he should have.

And, how had Maria put it—integrating—into the community, well.

Not quite yet.

Sure, he had been given a position out on patrols. Something he was good at. A way he could earn his keep. And working alongside Tommy again felt more comfortable than he anticipated.

Familiar, even.

Ellie, on the other hand, had been eager to integrate into the group of other kids her age. She hadn’t much wanted to fall back into the rhythm of school and Joel hadn’t pushed. But she made quick work of finding her niche on her own, helping out at shops in town, tending the animals in the early hours, working the farm and pestering Mitchell with her questions in the heat of the afternoon sun.

Eventually she graduated to farmhand. Integration achieved.

Tommy and Maria had convinced him to leave the cabin for tonight’s Fourth of July festivities. Independence Day.

Irony doesn’t step lightly among the adult members of the town.

Those who remembered The Before and the abject failure that led to The After.

The scent of freshly grilled meat wafts through the street and a band had set up on the steps of the old bank. Mess Hall tables had been dragged out into the street and kids raced between them, their laughter ringing clear in harmony with the music.

Nights were still cold, he’d yet to learn they nearly always were in Jackson, and Joel kept his arms crossed to keep the chill at bay.

It kept everyone else at bay too.

“You know if you got out there and danced, you wouldn’t feel so cold.” Tommy grinned as he fell back into his seat.

“I don’t fuckin’ dance.”

“You used to.”

“Used to do a lot.” Joel shoots his whiskey and his eyes snap back to the crowd.

The habit of constantly searching for Ellie hadn’t abated. She’s dancing with a woman he’s seen around who runs a store in town.

No threat detected.

The song ends and Ellie returns to the table, grabbing a handful of tortilla chips before adjusting the flower crown on her head. A few of the school teachers had taken the kids out into a nearby meadow this afternoon and taught them how to weave delicate stems. Ellie’s was a blood red shock of paintbrush plant, nearly glowing against her brown hair.

She’s off again just as quickly as she sat down.

Joel’s stare follows her out into the crowd and he notices most of the kids have one along with a handful of adults. Some teachers, some guards. That lady Ellie had been dancing with though was neither.

Speak of the devil.

“Alright, Maria,” she breezes in, haloed in a wreath of purple larkspur and grabbing for a chip, “let’s get you out there.”

“Lennie!” Maria rises with a smile, “Let me introduce you, this is Joel,” Maria casts over her shoulder as she hands the baby off to Tommy. “We finally got him out of the house.”

“It took the promise of whiskey to do it,” Tommy quips, adjusting his daughter into a more comfortable position against his chest.

“Joel is Tommy’s brother,” Maria continued, “and…”

“Ellie’s dad,” Joel finishes as he stands. Lennie brushes salt off on her overalls and holds out her hand with a grin. Joel takes it, surprised to find a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you, Joel. Ellie’s real sharp. Helps me out with little things at the store sometimes.”

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t realize he takes the compliment with a scowl on his face.

She nods at the younger man, hands on her hips, “how’s that gin treatin’ you Tommy?”

“It’s a great blend, Len. I still owe you a bottle of mine, I’ll bring it by this week.”

“No rush, I’m happy you’re enjoying.”

“You guys coming or what?” Ellie yells and Lennie presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows.

“I’m being summoned. Joel, nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.”

It takes Joel two and a half songs of silence and a fresh pour of whiskey before he finally opens his mouth again.

“What kind of shop does she have?”

“Who? Len?” Tommy looks over at him.

Joel grunts something that could mean anything.

“Oh she’s got herbs, teas, soaps, lotions, that kind of stuff.”

“Plant shit.”

“Yeah, but not like…”

“A hippie.”

“Nah not like a hippie, man, she knows her stuff. She’s also responsible for that,” Tommy nods at his glass. Joel directs his scowl towards the glass before appropriating it for a sip. It’s gin, unmistakably, and far more complex than whatever homemade corn swill he’s been throwing back. Tommy’s stock was low and the town default wasn’t exactly cutting it.

Now he was almost considering switching to gin.

“It’s good, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, don’t go showing too much enthusiasm.”

“Better’n your shit,” he adds. Just to rile Tommy up.

Joel cracks a hint of a smile before turning his gaze back to the crowd of people as the band starts up with Bob Marley.

He recognizes Lennie, but in this town it’s impossible not to see anyone around. He can’t say he’s ever paid her attention. He can’t say he really pays anyone attention beyond evaluating them for a threat.

He should probably ease up on that. At least while he’s here.

He settles for uncrossing his arms, fingers drumming against his thigh in time with the music.

He spares a glance at Tommy, baby girl cradled to his chest, fingers gently tapping against her back on beat. His own heart starts to clench.

Fingernails dig into denim.

And Joel settles for clearing his throat and gazing back out into the crowd, eyes drawn to a flash of purple.

Ellie's dancing with another girl about her age and Lennie and Maria's hands are locked, each singing to each other. She's about Maria’s height, dark bronze skin and a head of black ringlets that reach the middle of her back. He can’t really pick up anything else at this distance.

She’s pretty though.

Got a pretty mouth.

He’s old, not blind.

"What's that song called? It's good." Ellie slips back into her chair as the band launches into a Rolling Stones cover.

"Never would have took you for a Bob Marley fan," Tommy smiles.

"'S called Is This Love."

"I like it. Words are good."

Curiosity quirks Joel's brow and he manages to hide a hint of a smirk behind a sip of whiskey.

_____

Out of sheer curiosity he stops into Lennie's shop the next day.

“WILEY’S” the sign out front proclaims in black painted letters. Large windows flank the door and the afternoon sun shines on thick bundles of foliage mounted on racks that span the length of them.

He steps inside and is immediately greeted by the scent of something unmistakably green.

A younger couple sits on a bench at a long dining table to the right, engrossed in conversation and laughing over mugs of tea.

They don’t look like much of a threat.

They look. Happy.

Lennie stands behind a long wooden bar counter with three large jars spread across the top, chatting with a man he recognizes from the café.

“Hey, Joel!” She calls. “Give me three and I’ll be right with you. Feel free to have a look around.”

He holds up a hand and tells her to take her time before stuffing his fingers in his pockets and taking a lap. There’s a floor-to-ceiling bookcase along the right wall behind the heavy oak table. The shelves nearest the windows are jammed tight with books, the ones towards the back adorned with heavy jars of some kind of liquid in shades of green, amber, rust, and earth. He comes to a smaller bookcase along the back wall and an array of smaller mismatched jars, their contents opaque. There’s a generous farmhouse sink installed in wooden countertop beneath a window flanked by more shelving on which mason jars and metal bowls sit drying. Shelves to the left of the sink house baskets of fresher plant material yet to be processed. A dormant wood stove sits tucked into the back corner.

As he starts to make his way back around to the bar he notes that the shelving along this wall is stocked floor to ceiling with dried herbs, many of which have smaller jars of liquid beside them in the same array of shades as whatever’s next to the books.

And finally he makes his way back to the woman herself. Blue flannel and overall-clad, a too-worn canvas apron tied around her hips. Wild black hair is thrown up without care as to what’s falling out.

“What can I help you with, Joel?” Full lips part in a warm smile.

“I uh,” and suddenly he realizes that he hadn’t actually given thought to what brought him here. “Actually," his voice drops an octave as if to hide his ask, "have you got any coffee?

“If I had coffee, my friend, I’d be the most popular girl in town.” She mirrors his tone. “But, if you don’t mind squinting and overlooking…nearly everything...I have a few options that might hold you over. You looking for a caffeine hit or just the taste?”

He thinks on it for a moment, never quite having had to parse the preference.

“Taste, I guess.”

“Alright,” she wheels around to the dried material behind her and pulls a hefty jar off of a higher shelf. “Forgive me if this is too on the nose, but are you allergic to any mushrooms?”

“Only the kind you’re thinking of.” The distant relative of a smile tries to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“How about I make you a cup to try and then you tell me whether you want it or not.”

“Sounds good, yeah.”

She pulls a french press from underneath the bar and starts up a hot plate before moving easily across old wide planks that creak under her feet to fill the kettle at the sink.

There’s a massive leather-holstered hunting knife snapped into a belt loop on the back of her overalls.

Not a threat yet, though.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” she nods at a bar stool when she returns, scooping a few spoonfuls of what could be wood chips for all Joel knows into the french press. Only then does he realize he’s just been standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Looming.

“This has to hang out for ten.”

He’s noticed she does that. Throws numbers out there without units to keep them company.

“Thanks for the tea, Lennie!” The couple behind him at the table gets up to place their mugs in the sink and she throws them a wave and a big smile.

“Any time, good to see you Jamal. And Sheila, I just did up a batch of that face cream, let me know when you need a restock, yeah?”

“Will do, Lennie. I swear it takes 10 years off.”

“Happy to hear you like it, love. Y’all take care, alright?”

“Later, Len!” The man calls and suddenly it’s just the two of them. Joel runs his hands over the wooden bar top, noticing that at some point it must have been just that given the array of drink rings and cigarette burns marring its surface.

She grabs two mismatched mugs and splits the pour between both.

“You take it with…”

“Just black, thanks.”

“Alright then, cheers.” She passes one over to him and taps hers on the side. “Now remember…”

Joel brings it to his lips and downs a gulp before she finishes.

“Fuck.”

“I warned you it’s not the same. But I haven’t…”

“No. No, I mean…” He takes another sip and holds it in his mouth before swallowing.

“It’s ok,” she laughs and leans down to rest her elbows on the bar with a grin.

“No, Lennie, it’s—good.”

“Joel, I know you just met me, but I gotta tell you that you don’t actually have to lie to make me feel better, yeah?” She’s still smiling.

“No, I actually mean that.”

She would have doubted him if this wasn’t the first time she’s actually seen him smile. With teeth, no less.

“This is just plants? And mushrooms?” The look in those big brown eyes is actually sincere.

“Well, coffee is a plant, so,” she straightens with a wink. “It’s chicory and dandelion mostly, with a few secrets thrown in.”.

Joel throws his head back and drains his cup.

I could fuckin kiss you right now.

He quickly casts his eyes up at her to make sure he hasn’t said it out loud.

Being out in the wilds for that long tends to degrade your filter.

“Let me get a bag.”

A bag?

“Haven’t got any bags, but I can give it to you by jar if that’ll do.”

“Yeah. Yeah that’ll do just fine.”

“MISS LENNIE” erupts from the doorway and Joel is already clear out of his seat, reaching to his waistband for a gun he hasn’t brought.

Good thing, because this is a kid.

Not an Ellie-kid. Just a kid-kid.

“Miss Lennie, it won’t stop.”

The kid’s nose is gushing enough blood to stain his teeth. Can’t be more than seven? Eight?

She reaches behind her for a jar of golden liquid and under the bar for a two small scraps of cloth, one of which she rolls up.

“You get hit?” She grabs a metal straw and uses it to suction up some of the liquid to drench the rolled cloth.

“No, it just started and it won’t stop. Like last time.”

“Alright Benny, I got you.” Lennie swings around the corner of the bar and kneels down, gingerly wiping excess blood from his face before gently guiding Benny’s head backward.

“Might sting a little, but you’re brave, right?” She asks him as much with her eyes as her words.

“I’m brave, Miss Lennie.”

“Darn right you are. Alright, one, two…”

She slides the cloth into the offending nostril on “two” and Benny makes a noise like a startled dog.

“Alright, you’re ok,” she coos. “You ok?”

Benny finally opens his eyes and blinks hard a few times.

At least he isn’t screaming.

“You alright there Benny?” She repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Ok, good,” she chuckles. “Keep holding that there.” Lennie slips behind the bar again to grab a fresh mug and fills it a third of the way with still-warm water from the kettle. She adds a few drops of the same liquid and stirs before drawing some up in the straw and letting drips fall on the inside of her wrist.

“Alright, Bennie,” she kneels again, “can I get you to drink some of that there for me?”

Benny takes the mug and Joel notices the kid’s fingers and arms are streaked red where he had tried to rub the blood away.

“Alright, great job, Benny. Now come on, let’s get you washed up.”

Lennie gently guides him to the sink, hooking her toe under a short wooden step stool that’s slotted under there and yanking it out for Benny to stand on. She helps him to wash his hands and arms before she gingerly removes the rolled-up cloth and inspects his face.

“You’re all good, Benny. Now go ahead and get your face washed up, I’ll grab you a towel.”

Joel watches as the boy scrubs his face with soap and takes the towel Lennie offers, rubbing gently, and returns to the front of the shop. There isn’t a drop of blood in sight. Benny reaches up on tip toes to hand the towel back to Lennie over the bar.

“Thanks, Miss Lennie. I’ll bring you a rock tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, Benny. And hey, tell your momma to stop by when she has a chance, ok?”

“Ok, Miss Lennie!” He calls as he bounds out of the door.

A lot just happened, but the first thing out of Joel’s mouth is “a rock?”

“Yeah,” she smiles to herself. “Kids in this town don’t have to trade, but a lot of them still want to. To be like the grownups.” She takes a sip of her tea. “I always tell them to bring me something they find outside that feels special to them, but more importantly to tell me why they chose it.”

Joel smiles again. No teeth this time.

“Plus I like rocks. Pine cones too,” with a grin.

Teeth again now.

“What is that, what did you use?” he motions towards the jar.

“Yarrow tincture. It’s astringent, but yarrow, she just understands blood. Too much blood? Yarrow. Not bleeding when you’re supposed to? Yarrow. She’s got other uses too, but that’s a big one around here.” Lennie returns the tincture jar to the shelf. “Alright, let’s get you that tea.”

She scoops the coffee mixture into a smaller mason jar, caps it and slides it over to him. Out of habit, Joel reaches into his back pocket before realizing.

Things aren’t like that anymore, and yet this feels so. Normal.

“I uh, haven’t brought anything to trade.”

She begins to brush it off, call it a thanks for stopping in.

“Is there anything you need?” He points up at the herb shelf. “Figure I probably come across some of this stuff out on patrol, happy to help save you the trip.”

“I could some more of that, actually,” she nods back in the direction of the jar she just returned.

“Yarrow?” He repeats. “What’s it look like?”

“It grows pretty plentiful outside of town. It’s maybe yay high” she gestures near her waist, “tiny white flowers borne in a cluster. The key to it though is these lacy little leaves that…”

She can see the exact moment he glazes over.

“Gimme one,” and she disappears through a door at the back of the shop, returning with a fresh sprig of white blooms. “I keep a small garden of a few things it helps to have fresh, but not nearly at the volume I need for everyone. But that’s what you’re looking for.” Lennie hands it over. “These leaves here.”

Joel rubs the soft feathery flush between his fingers.

“Achillea millefolium. Thousand leaves.” She says softly.

“What’s the first part?”

“Achillea. Legend has it that Achilles’ mother dipped him in a bath of yarrow to grant him immortality.”

“I thought that was the River Styx.”

“Yeah that’s what I heard too, but the guy who named that,” she nods at the flowers in his hand, “apparently didn’t.”

He smiles, grabbing his precious jar of fake coffee. “Alright, Lennie. Thank you.” He extends a hand out of habit.

And most definitely not because her hands are soft.

“Thanks for stopping in, Joel. Don’t be a stranger,” she returns a firm shake.

And with that he’s gone.

Old chapters are hosted on the OFFS Library page. New chapters will be posted to Ohforficsake - follow me over there for future updates.

Shoot me a message @ohforficsake or comment under this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for updates! Thanks so much for reading.

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ohforficsake #tw: blood #YBMPF

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billthedrake · 2 years

Text

BREAKING THE DRY SPELL

Luke Carlson still felt proud of his body. He'd slimmed down to 230 but was still trim as ever. He'd stayed with the Panthers organization in a scouting capacity after this big retirement announcement. He credited being around football as inspiration for staying in top shape, and it helped that he still had access to the weight room and the same strength coaches he had as a professional player. And on weekends, he always had his health club in the suburbs.

Luke sat now at the bar of the Capital Grille. This was his regular weeknight meal out, once or twice a week. Just some alone Luke time, having a good steak and a couple of beers before taking a car service back to his suburban mansion. He'd started dressing more professionally when he showed up at the Bank of America Stadium... wool trousers, loafers, button-down shirt, and he had a custom blazer he'd throw on for these steakhouse dinners.

"Mr. Carlson..." a voice interrupted him. Luke looked up to see a 30-something business bro, in a similar attire, standing nervously next to the bar. 6-foot-even, dirty blond hair, brown eyes... Luke was a sucker for brown eyes. Like a lot of millennial bros, this guy was solid from dedicated time at the gym. Even with a busy career and a wedding band that suggested family life. "I hate to ask you, man... but could I have your autograph?"

Luke gave a faint smile and nodded. He hated this ritual, to be honest, but it came with celebrity and success. "Who am I making this out to?" he asked as he took the pen and paper.

"Um... Tom... God, thanks... I'm in New York but I'm a huge Panthers fan... grew up as one actually."

For some reason Luke was warming up to this guy. "Carolina boy?" he grinned. He hadn't picked up the usual local lilt, however.

Tom shook his head and laughed. "Chicago suburbs," he said. "I just thought the uniforms were cool as a kid... I got so much shit for that."

Luke laughed and handed him the pen and paper.

"God, thanks, man. I know you must get asked for that a million times."

"Some," Luke said gracefully but truthfully.

Tom got the hint. "All right, sorry to disturb your dinner, Mr. Carlson." And like that he returned to the party of bankers who were leaving after a business dinner.

Mr. Carlson, Luke thought. He couldn't remember last time he'd been called that. It made him feel old, at 30, but he also appreciated the implicit respect. Luke wasn't crazy about the way total strangers thought they knew him. Or were looking for a piece of him.

His shank of dick throbbed in his trousers. Carlson had somehow imagined that his NFL retirement would free him to get laid more. No longer under a media microscope, he could line up a nice thick cock to suck. Or a hot daddy ass to fuck. The old Luke would have reeled that Finance Bro right in. Dude might be straight and married, but he was starstruck as hell. Luke had spent his first few years in the league enjoying groupie sex after encounters pretty much like that. He missed those carefree days. His cock missed those carefree days.

But something was missing in his life. Luke didn't want a groupie. It was a catch 22: as an elite athlete Luke knew his worth and knew he deserved a special man, but he didn't trust anyone into him solely for being an elite athlete.

He took a sip. Stop being a sad sack Luke. You're 30. Not 50.

There came a twitch of his boner again, a firmness that made him glad his hardon was hidden underneath the bar. If it had been a while since he'd connected with a dude sexually, it had been even longer since he had a 50 year old. A daddy. It had taken Carlson until his mid 20s to realize, or admit, he was wired for older men. There were the teen crushes on authority figures in his Ohio town. And for a while he blamed his fixation on his losing his cherry to a State Street exec in Boston, a BC alum who chatted him up at a fundraising event. Luke still thought back to that man as his ideal, but he also knew if it hadn't been John Daley, it would have been some other older, successful man.

Like the banker who'd just arrived at the bar, three seats down. Suit and tie, just carrying his success in his demeanor. Luke took a second to size him up without being too obvious. Tall, about 6'3", and medium build, probably mid-50s, mostly gray hair kept banker-short, thinning but not receding. Handsome guy, with a roman nose, strong jaw, and just the right amount of tan and crows-feet wrinkles. And those brown eyes. Fuck.

It took a second, but Luke knew he was a familiar face.

"Hey, you go to my swim club, don't you?" Luke blurted out before he could even think or stop himself.

He expected the man to be annoyed, but instead the professional looked over at the former jock and gave a grin of recognition. "Foxcroft?" he asked to clarify.

Luke nodded. "I'm only there on the weekends, but I'm pretty sure I've seen you before."

The man smiled. "Probably. When I turned 50, I made a vow to get back in shape, and I've been holding to my end of the bargain ever since."

"Yeah?" Luke smiled. "Impressive." He didn't want to seem overly lecherous, but he had to admit this man was a total DILF and the body beneath the suit was clearly well kept. "How long ago was that?"

"I'll plead the fifth on that one, buddy," the exec smirked. "A while."

"That's cool," Luke said. God something about this man had the right amount of laid-back easy going, and right amount of no-BS gruff exec. "Listen... I know how it is to come to a bar looking for some alone time and everyone in the world coming up to you."

That got a sympathetic raise of the eyebrows from Bank Exec. "People been hounding you for autographs?" he asked.

So the man knew who he was. "Shit, I guess that sounded like one of those 'you know who I am?' lines," Carlson said with a blush.

The Exec laughed. "It's all good, man. I'm not famous," he added. "But I had to stop going to Del Friscos cause the gold diggers circle around there like flies. Took me a couple of tries to find a steak house that wasn't a divorcee scene, you know?"

Luke flashed an eye at the man's left hand. No ring. He thought he was being subtle, but the man caught where he was looking.

"Yeah, divorced myself."

Luke felt rebuked. "Sorry, man."

The Exec shook his head. "Don't be. I'm living my best life now. Got two grown kids off at college. And a job that pays for my golf habit," he joked.

"I kind of feeling that way, too," Luke said. "After retirement. At least mostly."

Exec gave that sympathetic look again. "But not entirely?"

Luke almost wanted to unload on this guy. But he just gave a wry grin. "Look man, you didn't come here to hear about a retired athlete's problems. But if you wanna come over, I wouldn't mind some company with my steak dinner."

There it was Carlson putting himself out there. Even if the Exec didn't see it as flirting, it was forward in its own way.

Thankfully, Exec picked up his scotch and scooted his stool back, sliding down to the free stool next to Carlson. "I'm Scott," he said, offering his firm businessman handshake.

Luke gave a friendly smile. "Luke, though you know that already.... so, Scott, what brings you out on a Wednesday night?"

"Long day... and I wasn't ready to go back to an empty house just yet, you know?"

Luke felt a connection to this man but had promised not to talk about his loneliness lately. "Where you live? Burbs I take it?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, Foxcroft, right near the swim and racquet club."

"I do too," the athlete said, and they traded their street locations. They spend the next half hour talking animatedly about their suburb and what it was like to live there. Then the following half hour about their interests and hobbies.

"I wasn't sure what it would be like to transplant to North Carolina," Luke admitted, but it's actually great for fishing and outdoors stuff.. you have the mountains and rivers and lakes, all nearby. The hunting is actually better in Ohio... " then turning to the Exec, he asked, "you hunt, Scott?"

The man shook his head. "Nah, but I love fishing. A few college buddies and I go out to Montana each year for a week."

Luke's eyes lit up. "That sounds amazing... invite me along next time," he joked.

Scott laughed and nudged his legs gently against Luke's suited one. There was a brief spark between the two, but Scott paused, feeling like he'd gone too far. Been too familiar.

There were men that Scott Monahan was attracted to as potential sex partners. And there were those incredibly hot, impossible men he'd jerk off to for a quick release after a late work night. Luke Carlson was very much in the second category.

"Um, well," the Exec said, checking his watch. "I should probably go. Long day tomorrow, you know." Somehow the time had passed and it was almost 10.

"Yeah," Luke said, trying to hide his dejection. His hardon had long gone away and been replaced by a half-forgotten fluttery feeling in his belly.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" the businessman said as he took the spare receipt and put it in his wallet.

"At the swim club," Luke replied in an almost a chipper tone. "I'm here pretty much every Wednesday, too," he added. "Kind of a little ritual. Some other nights, too."

Scott nodded and clapped Luke's strong shoulder before offering his hand again. "Well, it' was a pleasure to meet you, Luke."

"You too, Scott, take care, man."

***

Luke felt dumb the whole next few days. He actually jerked off imagining Scott the Exec over him, lifting Luke's legs and fucking him. Deep, hard, loving. Luke made a point of going to the swim and racquet club on Saturday. And again on Sunday. No Scott.

On Monday he went back to the Capital Grille. The same seat at the bar, where Josh the bartender always knew how to look after him. It felt less lonely this time, somehow. Like Luke was alone, but not alone. The memory and spirit of Scott was there. Luke smiled as he ordered a scotch, neat.

"Hey buddy," Luke could almost hear in Scott's mellow, refined tenor voice.

Only it wasn't his imagination. A hand clasped his delt muscle beneath the blazer and there was the 6'3" executive in the flesh. A navy suit instead of charcoal, but still very much dressed for the C-suite and looking like a million bucks. "Is this seat free?"

"God yeah," Carlson beamed, maybe a little too eager. But fuck it. Scott didn't seem to mind, pulling up the spare stool and sitting down.

"Quiet here on a Monday, huh?" he said as he flagged Josh down for a drink.

"Pretty much. Out on a school night, Scott?" Luke asked playfully.

The banker grinned. "Not ready to go back to a quiet house. And a steak dinner sure beats whatever microwave meal I was gonna have."

Luke laughed. It was like they were picking up right where they left off. Small talk, friendly banter, lots of eye contact, some light touching and bumping of the knees.

And their conversations went deeper. Scott showed Luke pictures of his kids. "Julie's at Williams... Mike's a freshman at Stanford, pretty good at soccer, too," the Exec beamed proudly.

"Impressive, man." Luke enthused.

Scott smiled but nudged Carlson's elbow. "You don't gotta be impressed. Mr. Pro Bowler..."

Luke blushed. "You must think I'm an asshole."

Scott shook his head. "Nah, just successful. I admire that."

"Thanks, Scott," Luke said. God it was hard to keep his eye contact from meeting the man's gaze directly. But the way the Exec was looking at him drove him wild. No longer mere butterflies, Luke was feeling some major wood in his trousers. "You give off that successful vibe yourself."

"I do huh, buddy?" Scott was definitely teasing him now. "What's your guess?"

Luke took a second to look the man up in down. Hot as fuck in his mid 50s and had the kind of expensive suit to show it all off. The blue brought out the dark-specked gray hair and those brown eyes. "I'm thinking.... definitely banking... upper executive.... maybe BofA...?"

Scott grinned. "Pretty good guess... Chief Operating Officer."

"Impressive," Luke said sincerely. Carlson was well to do in his own right and most NFLers wouldn't find a bank executive a particularly interesting profession. But Luke admired men who were successful in business - and since his BC days had admired the men sexually too.

"Thanks, buddy," Scott said as he took a sip of scotch. "I keep saying I'm gonna take an early retirement, but..." he lowers his voice as if sharing a secret. "Between you and me the money is too fucking good."

Luke laughed. Then his mood got a little more serious. He didn't want to kill the fun vibe but he craved to know more about Scott. "So, personal question, man, and you don't have to answer. But how long you been divorced?"

Scott had his easygoing manner. He was good at talking to people, with people. "I don't mind, bud. It'll be 10 years in May. Wife caught me fucking an intern."

Luke blushed. The devout Catholic part of him wasn't crazy when men didn't take their family and vow seriously. On the other hand, Luke had his own complicated situation. Besides, he was a man who was used to crude talk - in the locker room, on hunting trips, or wherever. "Was she worth it at least?" he asked in a conspiratorial kind of way.

Scott grinned. "HE was worth it, believe me. Princeton lacrosse player and built like one..." he stopped himself before his talk got lewd. "I mean, not worth hurting Kate or my kids, but I guess I had to own up to some stuff about myself, you know?"

"Yeah," Luke replied. A little too empathetically.

"My turn for a personal question," Scott asked, his brown eyes twinkling. "And you don't have to anwser... but you're married, right? Why are you having your dinners here instead of at home?"

Luke almost made up a lie. Like he usually did. Instead he decided to be honest with Scott. "Sharon and I... well, we've kind of separated." Luke sighed. "I mean, she's super Catholic and so am I, so we don't believe in divorce or anything, and there are the kids... I love them to death, you know."

This is the last thing Luke wanted to do. To spill his guts. To seem like an emotional mess with this perfect man.

Scott just patted his back. "I get it buddy. And good on you for being there for your kids. That takes guts, man." That hand rubbed small circles along Luke's broad back.

"Thanks, Scott," Luke grinned gamely.

Scott gave another reassuring grin then ordered a second scotch.

Josh came over with a new three-quarters-inch filled rocks glass without the ice, and it occurred to Luke that the two men had paused the conversation the whole minute it took. Finally, as the bartender walked away, Scott spoke again. "It's funny, when I was younger, everything was black and white. I knew what I wanted in life and how I was gonna get it."

Luke felt a strange empathy, even if he didn't follow exactly. "You don't now?" he asked.

Scott thought for a second and added, "I do for some things. At work, I don't have anything to prove really, and I know how to run a business. I'm good at it and I reap the benefits."

"But..." Luke prodded.

Scott grinned, realizing he'd been caught in some ambivalence. "No matter how many Princeton interns you fuck, that won't fill that hole for something more, you know?" He looked at Luke with a look that was suggestive but vulnerable.

"Tell me if I'm out of line, Scott. But I can't think of anything I'd rather do tonight than be your intern."

"Fuck!" Scott whispered, in almost a grunt.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Luke asked nervously. He was a 30-year-old pro bowler goddamnit, why did he feel like a kid asking a girl out to prom?

The exec shook his head and smiled. "The opposite, man. It's just..." he lowered his voice. "You gave me a huge fucking boner just now."

Luke laughed. He loved the man's easygoing attitude to sex. Like Scott had been around the block and didn't have time for bull shit.

"Um... I'd say me, too, Scott. Only I've had one the last ten minutes." Luke blushed but not too shyly leaned back in his bar stool and spread his thick thighs to show off the ridge of ex-tight end cock riding up into a solid ridge in his trousers. "Guess all that intern talk got me worked up."

Scott grinned and chuckled, taking in Luke's handsome, chiseled face before facing his drink and running his thumb nervously around the glass rim. "I'm pinching myself here buddy."

That was the first misgiving Luke had. He wasn't angling for more groupie sex, but he had to admit it was probably unavoidable. And if his pro-jock celebrity status was what got a successful business daddy like Scott interested in him, so be it

The 55 year old looked back up with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I've stroked a couple loads out thinking of you."

"Yeah?" Luke felt flattered and excited. And more than a little happy the man had been doing what he'd been doing on his own, too.

Scott nodded in a conspiratorial way. "Like I say, my house gets lonely sometimes."

"I find it hard to believe you couldn't line up who you wanted," Luke assured him. "I mean, if I..." he stopped himself.

Scott chuckled. Their scotch was half drunk but he was rock hard in his suit. "Let's get out of here, man."

"Yeah," Luke gasped, mad that his horniness and crushed-out excitement was almost keeping his words from forming.

He pulled out his wallet, but Scott placed a hand on his forearm to stop him. "My treat, buddy." He fished out a few twenties and tossed them on the bar, giving bartender Josh a wave of thanks.

The Charlotte air was warm for September as they stepped out of the steak house. "Your place or mine?" Scott asked. Again no bullshit. Luke liked that.

"Either's good. But I haven't had a dude back to my place in ages. Kind of miss it."

Scott nodded and nudged Luke's blazered elbow. "Yours it is, then, buddy.... will be cool to see how a pro bowler lives."

Luke was really warming up to the hero worship, maybe because with Scott it felt playful rather than needy. And in a way, he saw the exec as a peer, a successful man in his own right. Luke offered his car service and soon the two were getting into a sleek black Mercedes.

"I half expected a mansion," Scott grinned as they got to Luke's house. Carlson almost objected with a running account of the square footage and number of rooms his house had, but he realized then the exec was just teasing him, almost goading him into bragging. He had to laugh defensively.

The vibe when they got indoors was surprisingly easy. It was like riding a bike to Luke, stepping up to a hot daddy, softly gripping him by the mid section and pulling him in for a kiss. The man's suited erection felt hard against Luke's and the ex-athlete realized that Scott Monahan was pretty hung.

He couldn't help it. Luke humped his hips against the man as they made out. The executive had a big goofy grin as he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at Carlson's 230 pound stud build. Slowly, he helped Luke take off the blazer and openly admired the muscle filling out the dress shirt with his more slender but strong hands.

"Fucking nice, buddy," the 55-year-old growled, his brown eyes sweeping up to meet Luke's in a heavy gaze.

Carlson meanwhile admired every bit of Scott's 6'3" body. Not a pro athlete build, but the ex-linebacker didn't care. The exec was really fucking fit and the tailored suit only made the middle-aged build look even more perfect.

"Shit," Luke gasped.

"What?" Scott laughed, getting used to the idea Luke fucking Carlson would be so into him.

The ex-jock sighed and had to spread his legs to let his boner ride up in his trousers. "I can't decide if I want a nice slow session or if I want you to ravage me."

Scott's nostrils flared and the side of his mouth curled up in a half grin. "How bout this buddy? Whatever you pick, we do the other one next time."

"Think you can go easy with just a spit job?" Luke grunted. "It's been a while since I've done that."

The older man nodded. "You call the play, I'll run it." He started removing his suit coat, but Luke stopped.

"Leave it on," he interjected. Then feeling he was too pushy, changed his tone. "Please man."

Scott grinned and made a show of feeling up his suit lapel. "Buddy if this is what gets me into your hot ass..." He stepped up closer and claimed another kiss from Luke, reaching down to grip those amazing steely, beefy buns before moving his hands to the front to help Luke undo the belt and zipper.

That footballer dick was rock hard and thick and dripping clear sap onto Scott's hands and he felt it up. Truth be told, if Luke Carlson had made a move to fuck him, Scott probably would have gone against his top-only policy. Maybe that would happen next time, or time after next. Cause the banker had a good idea there was gonna be a next time, and more. There was just too much clear chemistry between the men.

But he didn't belabor the jerking stroke on that Carlson cock. Scott leg go and gave a soft pat to Luke's hips as a signal. The athlete moaned into the man's mouth and broke the kiss, looking him deep in the eyes before turning around and pulling down his trousers mid thigh.

Monahan crouched down. He ran his hands up the outside of those tree trunk thighs and wondered how he was so lucky. Before him was the roundest hardest ass he could imagine. Ready for him. Gone was any memory of prior men from his head. Even that Princeton intern couldn't hold a candle.

Hungry now, Scott nudged his face into that warm cleft and started rooting deeper, till he could lick Luke's soft, crinkled hole. Instinctively Scott knew Carlson was no stranger to bottoming for other men. But that ring was tight as a drum, almost virgin tight. It had been a while for Luke.

Luke's thick tool was almost pressed against his rippled belly, he was so turned on. He leaned forward, bracing his meaty upper body against the granite countertop as he got eaten out by a master. Carlson wasn't surprised this businessman was good at eating ass, but he was taken aback by how fucking good Scott was. It was technique, to be sure, but also hunger. The way the tongue varied its approach, the way the man seemed so abandoned to munch Luke's pucker....

He felt a gentle pat to his bare rump then knew Scott was standing up behind him. That executive cock was dripping a good amount and between the precum and the spit, Carlson felt good and wet for penetration.

"Ravage, huh?" Scott teased.

And all of a sudden Luke felt fingers grip his waist tightly and that daddy dick pressure its way in.

"Fuck!" Luke grunted as several inches of Scott pushed in.

"You got this," Scott assured him. His right hand rand up Luke's muscled back before coming back to its prior grip. "Ready for more?" he asked as he watched Luke's breathing return to normal.

"Yeah," the ex-linebacker said plainly.

This time everything felt amazing. Scott's girth, and more and more of his length, the sheer hardness of a man who loved to tap ass and was getting the fuck of his lifetime. Luke felt fuller and fuller, and with that sensation came the psychological thrill that he was getting taken. By an older, more experienced man. By a man old enough to be his father.

The balls pressed lightly against those creamy white buns, for a second. Then Scott pulled back.

"Fuck me, man," Luke urged, no longer embarrassed by his own need. It had been too long.

Scott Monahan was already doing just that. Deep steady strokes. The fingers growing tighter as they rode up Luke's obliques for leverage. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're tight," he growled in a voice that said it probably wouldn't take long to cum.

Luke reached down to his own neglected dick. It was slick with his own clear sap and he started working it up and down in time to the executive's hard thrusts.

"Harder, man," Luke urged. He was in the zone where he could take it.

"Fuck," Scott hissed and those hips worked faster. That hard prick pistoning faster in and out of Luke's hole.

He was hitting that spot, all right. Like that dick was made to get me off, Luke thought. The retired athlete looked up into the window. He probably should have pulled the blinds or something, but thankfully the view wasn't in the neighbor's sightline.

Good thing, because in the reflection, he saw his meaty body leaning over, bracing himself while his fucker, fully dressed in his expensive suit, railed his ass.

That vision did it. Luke came, firing onto the side of the island.

"Goddamn... here it comes buddy..." he heard Scott's urgent voice, cracking with orgasm. Then that heavy, surprisingly big dick inside Luke grew slick with seed. A lot of it. And it kept coming. It had been a long time for Scott Monahan, too.

They paused a second and Luke leaned up into Scott's embrace and soft, appreciative kisses along the corded neck.

"That was amazing, buddy," the exec whispered in Luke's ear.

He gave another appreciative pat on Luke's side and slowly withdrew. Luke played host and offered him some paper towels to wipe off as Luke did his best to wipe the spermed up crack.

"You gotta go?" Luke asked as he pulled his trousers back up over his rump. He tried not to let his emotion show through. Maybe this was groupie sex like so many times before.

The middle-aged man tucked back in, his dong still heavy but shrinking with post-release satisfaction. "Fraid so, buddy.... you know, school night and all."

"Yeah," Luke conceded. "I'll order you a car." He texted something on his phone, then after a second looked up. "They should be here in ten minutes."

The man zipped and stepped up to run his fingers along Luke's square chin. "I meant what I said earlier, man. We'll take our time the next time around... maybe a date if you're free this weekend?"

Those butterflies returned to Luke Carlson's stomach. But the defenses were hard to shake. Scott read his mind.

"We'll keep it low key, man," he assured Luke. "Kind of more my speed anyway."

"Honestly? I don't know that I can wait till the weekend," Luke said. Putting it out there.

Scott grinned and stepped back. "To tell the truth, I probably won't be able to either, man."

Luke chuckled and took a second to feel the man's shoulder though the suit fabric. He knew Scott was fit, but that delt muscle felt solid, more solid than Luke expected. "You better go, or there's gonna be more ravaging going on," he growled.

Scott laughed. "Yeah."

Luke walked him to the door and the two met for a soft kiss at the door.

Then Scott pulled back and stepped out the door into the night, giving one last wave just as the black car was pulling up.

#drakestories

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acommonloon · 6 months

Text

After a two hour forty minute nut crusher of a flight, courtesy of Air Brussels, we arrived in Porto just after noon. We had a van pick us up at the airport and for some time the ride to our accommodation revealed nothing but the typical sprawl of a modern large city, that could have been anywhere.

Things began to look interesting once we began to glimpse the river valley that bisects Porto and even more so as we pulled up to our apartment on the south bank of the old city. I didn’t realize the river was blocked only by our building so my first glance out our living room window was surreal.

We dropped our bags and hurried around the corner finding ourselves in an Indiana Jones movie. A modern day version for sure with tourists and businesses catering to the same at every point. Cable cars traversed the river high over head, boats of every description as long as that description was purposed to convey tourists docked and sailed as far as we could see, while busses and tuck tucks sped along the brick streets on both banks.

We were soon sat with tall glass tankards of golden Super Bock in front of us as our table was loaded with food mostly from the nearby Atlantic. Charred octopus, fish soup, creamed cod, and grilled sea bass for those who treasure such bounty while beef cheeks and peppered pork saited the others. It started to rain steadily as we ate but finished as suddenly as it started by the time we finished our cappuccinos and Americanos.

One of our party, aged three, became unconscious after her spaghetti, as such people are wont to do so I carried her to the nearest tuck tuck and we negotiated a ride to the other side of the river to see the sights in the old town. What followed was one of the more memorable rides of my life. The vehicle sped up the twisty hilly roads as I hung desperately to the side bar with one hand and the sleeping child with the other. It was exhilarating and a little terrifying at once. A roller coaster in a 16th century setting. When we finally stopped, I handed her out to D so I could get out. I was shaking a little from adrenaline but D handed her right back and we pressed on.

We walked and I gawked as I carried the child all the time I was moaning internally at all the pictures I was seeing but not taking. At one point we slowed as we neared a prominent square with crowds of young people dressed in black. It sounded like a football match had let out punctuated by police sirens and massed chanting. At first I guessed it a protest in support of Palestinians but many of the participants had garlands of cans spray painted green wrapped around their necks so perhaps it was an environmental theme.

The kiddo finally awoke once her older sister successfully lobbied for gelato. I left the group immediately to backtrack, hoping to capture a few of the images I saw more delicious than desert. I rejoined the group and we wandered towards one of the sights I’d put on my must see list.

There’s a certain book store of renown in Porto, famous for its grandiose interior. Long lines form each day to go inside and see this unique wonder and suddenly there it was. Even better, the line was short, probably due to the rain and late season. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the streets to go inside. D and our DIL went in with no wait at all but admitted afterwards the place was thronged with people snapping pictures and they felt rushed. I’ll post a few pics D took or I may sneak in myself on another day.

As we wandered back towards the river it began to rain again, hard. We zipped up our jackets and raised our hoods as we made our way down steep narrow streets, as much running streams now as streets and so narrow only a single car could fit. We finally found ourselves back at the river but by this time the sun had given up. Lights made the buildings glow as the rain turned to mist and the river was bejeweled.

While I still believe the Strasbourg Christmas market on a rainy night is the most beautiful city scape I’ve ever seen, I can’t say the Porto I’ve just seen is far behind. On the same trip I witnessed Strasbourg with D, she went on to Prague while I flew home. As we walked back to our hotel tonight , I asked her which she thought was more beautiful, Prague or Porto. She immediately said Prague but we’ve only had a few hours here in Porto.

It’s just after midnight here now. It started to rain again and we’re all tucked in after having kabobs and more Super Bock delivered to our hotel. Tomorrow we’ll have breakfast at 8:30 and we’ll see some more.

#porto

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richglinnen · 29 days

Text

First Day of Spring

is typed in tiny italics on the bottom of only one square in the entire flip calendar laid out before me on the kitchen table— or any calendar for that matter, regardless of whose kitchen it haunts— and is the only of its kind, not just for this reason,

but because, unlike its painted-over brethren, it opens like a window when the sacred day comes to pass, just as it does now under my ponderous face, at once terminating the endless banks of white that have piled up week by week, with a swath of blue sky, blinking open after a long and deserved hibernation,

and against my cheeks and nose and closed eyes brushes the air exuded by a tremendous yawn: a miraculously bearable, scentless breath, promising flowers; and into my eager ears the yawn hums the springtime sounds it carries on its wispy boughs: the droning of obese bumblebees, the distant tapping of elusive woodpeckers, the screeching of blue jays resuming their omnipresent conquest, the bassy music of Jay-Z from an idling car,

not to mention the creaking of barbecue grills, the clatter of cutlery and thudding of cupboards, the proud chuckling of the last landline in town, and the greeting that results, always too loud, as if this particular grandma was saying hello to you, and in a way, she is, for it is now spring,

and high time for these sounds, and more, who have grown tired of being cooped up all winter, to swarm my kitchen until it is chocked full and there is nowhere left for them to go, except to run, like children, skidding out into the street— just beginning its life anew with the first few scuffy heartbeats of hopscotch— as the flapping screen door behind them bangs away its au revoir,

and the sounds of neighboring houses embrace and spin blissfully into the air, past the telephone wires, where they sing joyfully together songs never before heard, never before possible,

(even though they were performed around this time last year, but whose memory can actually cross winter’s plains and remain intact?). Moreover, who even has the time to remember

when there’s juicy gossip to trade: tales of marriages and careers failed, burgeoning addictions, a cursory glance at who lost weight so they can segue into who got fat,

until they are reduced to whispers and crickets, spent under the streetlights and purpling sky, and all that’s left to recount is the humdrum of their hermit lives, during a time they can scarcely believe they existed, when the trees held up leafless branches as modest as magic wands.

#writerscreed #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #poet #artists on tumblr #writing #writers #poems on tumblr #spilled words #spilled writing #writerscraft #writerscribbles

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archinform · 8 months

Text

Fisher Building, Chicago

343 South Dearborn Street

Completed 1896; addition 1907

Charles Atwood, D.H. Burnham & Co. architects

1907 addition, Peter J. Weber, architect

2001 restoration and adaptive reuse, Pappageorge Haymes, supervising architects

by Roger Jones, August 2023

Fisher Building, photo by Roger Jones

Lucius Fisher (1843-1916). He was a Chicago, Illinois paper company magnate and architect. In 1895, he commissioned Daniel Burnham and Company to build the 20 story, 275 foot tall Fisher Building in the Chicago Loop.

Fisher Building, Chicago, taken April 29, 1896. From The Inland Architect and News Record, May 1896. [Link to full article PDF here]

The writer of the 1896 article described the building thus:

But here, for what we believe to be the first time in human experience, one of the highest commercial buildings in the world has been erected almost without any bricks. It fronts on three streets, and on the remaining side adjoins other property. The fronts are covered with cellular terra cotta on the outside, not in imitation of a wall, but following upward the steel supporting members, and closing in the transoms between the windows, leaving two-thirds of the exterior to be enclosed by glass… Only two bricklayers were employed at any time in this part of the work.

(Left) Daniel H. Burnham (1846-1912)

(Right) Charles B. Atwood (1849-1895)

The Fisher Building, 343 South Dearborn Street in the Chicago Loop, was commissioned by paper magnate Lucius Fisher. The original 18-story building was completed in 1896 by D.H. Burnham & Company; the architect was Charles B. Atwood, who died before the building's completion. An addition was later added in 1907.

Some facts about the building, from the Emporis site:

The original wing was only the second building in Chicago to reach 18 stories (after the Masonic Temple), and is the oldest still standing at that height.

Because of the building's great height for its time, the usual spread foundations were supplemented with piles underneath them to support the added weight.

The second floor was originally a banking room, and has especially large windows compared to the floors above it.

To enhance the facade's vertical emphasis, most of the ornamentation is placed on its horizontal members, reducing the banding effect that would occur if they were blank.

The Gothic ornament is in the 15th century style of Bruges and Rouen.

Declaring the structure a Chicago Landmark in 1978, the Landmarks Division noted:

Cladding this early skyscraper with Gothic-inspired, terra-cotta tracery was not a casual stylistic choice. Its designers looked for inspiration to the early Gothic cathedrals of Europe, which shared common characteristics of tallness and often having more glass than masonry. Cut glass door panel Eagles and mythical beasts decorate the upper stories, and aquatic creatures and seashells--a visual pun on the name of the building's original owner, Lucius G. Fisher--are found at the base. A later addition to the north is largely a repetition of the original design, except for the absence of bay windows.

Early postcard views of the building

Archival photos

Fisher Building under construction (left) and on completion (right)

Van Buren (main) entrance; Lobby stairs

Entrance hall

First story entrance corridor in 1896

Original elevator cage

Original elevators

Advertisement for Winslow Brothers, who executed the metalwork for the Fisher Building

Late 19th Century Cast Iron Elevator Lobby Door from The Fisher Building, listed for sale on 1stdibs.com. Compare to original elevators photo above.

Rendering of the 1907 addition, Peter J. Weber, architect

Other illustrations

Upper elevator grille. Art Institute of Chicago

Elevator frieze panel. Urban Remains, Chicago.

Architectural Description from the 1965 Historic American Buildings Survey Report [Link to PDF of report here]

PART 11 ARCHITECTURAL INFORMATION A. General Statement: I. Architectural character: The Fisher Building is a large office 'building designed by the firm of D. H. Burnham Co. in 1895. It has been cited by the Chicago Landmarks Commission and it is indicative of the level of achievement in skyscraper design attained by the architects of the Chicago School. The steel cage structure is sheathed in a curtain wall of decorative terra cotta and glass, providing ample space and light for the occupants and making it possible for the building to be erected relatively quickly and economically. B. Description of Exterior: 1. Over-all dimensions: Rectangular 70'-6" (five-bay south front) x 150' 0" (eleven-bay west front), including addition. Eighteen stories. 2. Wall construction, finish and color: The original block of the building had tripartite projecting bays alternating with planed surfaces. Bays end at sill of 17th story. Arches of varying width span the window openings of the 17th floor. The original salmon terra cotta finish is now coated with a black patina from the soot and dirt of the city. 3. Openings: a. Doorways and doors: The arched entrance on VanBuren Street, originally the principal entrance, is intact; that at 343 South Dearborn Street has received a 20th century I 'modernization"--a polished granite portal with plate glass and aluminum doors. The original doors from the vestibule inside are decorated with an ornamental fish cut in the glass panels. b.. Windows: Mostly one-over-one light, double-hung windows; those of the original building are grouped three to a bay window, two between; in the north addition, the windows are placed in a plane in groups of three. At the 17th floor the lights are gathered under wide arches; at the 18th they are again in threes with transoms above. The first floor display windows have been disfigured by a variety of signs, aluminum panels, and other attempts at commercial modernization. ...General setting and orientation: The buiIding occupies the southern portion of a narrow block at the south end of the Loop. Its neighbors are the Old Colony Building (HABS No. ILL-1053) to the south and the Monadnock BuiIding (HABS NO. ILL-1027) to the west. The buiIding fronts the sidewalk line on three sides and is adjacent to the elevated on VanBuren Street. Prepared by Larry J. Homolka, Historian and Assistant Supervisor National Park Service August, 1965.

My Photos:

Links / Sources:

Architecturefarm - old chicago skyscraper of the week–Fisher Building

Chicagology

chicago.designslinger

Emporis Buildings on the Wayback Machine – Fisher Building Chicago

HABS Report 1965

Historic Structures

cityclubapartments.com - Daniel H. Burnham's Fisher Building interior lobby original elevator doors executed by Winslow Brothers

Chicago Landmarks - Fisher Building

Researchgate

Urban Remains - Fisher Building

Urban Remains - Fisher artifacts

Wikimedia commons

#Fisher #Fisher Building #architecture #Chicago #DH Burnham #Charles B. Atwood #skyscraper #terra cotta #landmark #Peter J. Weber

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solesommerso · 9 months

Note

I would just like to request that you continue at some point to post more Zoe/ Street Werewolf au because I loved the first chapter. Thank you for all the hard work you put into your writing.

an alpha red || zoe powell & jim street

|| continuation from this moodboard post

|| tags : werewolves/supernatural au, alpha!street, background case, swearing, luca bashing but it’s not too bad

They work the case together, a simple drug bust that Zoe’s seen a million times from her brief time in narcotics. She had to move departments when the smells of everything started to give her pounding headaches, she switched to undercover work after that, much more her style. She’s always worked alone and doesn’t have many good experiences with a partner, but Street flows with her easily, they don’t run into any problems as they try and nail down guy who ran from their initial raid. Street tells her they’ll be done with the case soon, that he has faith in her skills, it’s refreshing to be lifted up by someone rather than put down.

Zoe wishes the rest of swat could be like that. Nobody else in the building seems to understand any of Powells actions or even what she’s trying to say, she’s critiqued on practically every move she makes, whether she means to be doing something wrong or not.

Luca’s the worst of it. Hicks and Hondo have loosened up a fair amount, but Luca can’t let go of the few stunts she pulled before she became an official swat officer. It’s annoying. Street must pick up on it when Luca walks in the room, his nose twitches and his eyes glance at Zoe for a split second too long.

“Did you guys get anything?” The storage unit they rummaged through was a big waste of time as all it was filled with was old childhood memorabilia from the main suspects past, all baseball caps, and funny enough, werewolf books. Street and Zoe both blissfully ignored those though, Powell only taking a minute to chuckle to herself at how badly written they were, well, from a real life werewolf perspective anyways.

“Nothing. What about you and Deac? Anything from the banks?” Luca shakes his head with a sigh, not even sparing a glance to Zoe as he starts to type away on the tablet he has in hand.

“Someone has to know where he went.” It just had to be the main suspect escaping from the raid, none of his “friends” are giving any information up either.

Zoe wishes she could grill them like she would when undercover, sure it was unethical and will probably send her to hell when she dies, but it was effective and her supervisors always looked the other way when her suspects came in with a black eye or bloodied lip. She never took it too far, never pushed someone that didn’t deserve it, and the bastards sitting in holding right now definitely deserve it. But that was before she was bit, she’s not sure if she has enough control to not take things too far now. Maybe Street can help with it.

“Hey we got a lead!” Hondos voice cuts through the room, Tan behind him with one of those smiles Zoe’s noticed he gets when he figured something out. Victor helped Luca train the recruits quite a few times so Zoe’s more familiar with him, he’s quiet but nice, the least prodding of the trainers she had to listen to all day.

“So, we know Blake’s parents are dead and have been dead, but Tan found an old house they all used to live at. It was bought under his mothers maiden name that’s why we didn’t catch it before.” The map of where the house is pops up on the screen, it’s on the outskirts of the city and far off from any other homes nearby, perfect place for a fugitive to hide.

“What are we waiting for?” Luca questions with more impatient than even Zoe herself, and she’s been waiting for this shift for months now.

“Hicks is getting the warrant then we roll out.”

“Is she coming?” The bitterness takes Zoe off guard, sure she knows Luca doesn’t like her but they had no issues this morning at the first raid.

The room stops with not even a breath being heard after Luca speaks. Street looks ready to snap and Hondos blinking in confusion so many times Powell suspects he’s never seen Luca be so outright hostile towards someone. She wills herself away from saying anything back, she could argue but todays supposed to be good, it needs to be, it’s her first real day on swat and she’s determined to make it good. The wolf in her is more hurt than her human side, she can feel the whimper pushing at her throat, the question of what she did to him, what’s warranted this all.

“Of course she’s coming, she’s been working the case all day.” Street’s tone is level and has none of the anger Zoe expected to hear considering his face being locked tight with irritation. Luca sputters a moment, twisting his lips, almost in disgust. She feels herself instinctively shrink down, she could get up in his face and start to yell, but that’s not what today is about. She just has to keep reminding herself of that.

“She was sloppy in the field this morning.” A beat passes before Streets arms go over his chest, his jaw somehow clenching harder, it has to be uncomfortable by this point.

“No she wasn’t, I was with her the whole time and she was fine.” There’s a look shared between Deacon and Tan, letting Zoe know this must happen more often than she assumed.

“Her footing was off going into the house.” It wasn’t, she knows it wasn’t. She made sure of it.

“Seriously? You want to bench her because of her footing being off? Get over yourself Luca.” Powell gasps small in surprise, both because having someone stand up for her is new, and because the sass Street just used was both shocking and iconic, she wonders if he gets like this a lot.

“It’s a valid reason!”

“Okay that’s enough, Powell isn’t getting benched and if her footing is off you can help her practice.” Hondo finally cuts in, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face before Hicks comes barreling in telling them to roll out.

Zoe lets Luca leave first, staying in her place behind Street but noting that his shoulders are still tense. Guilt twists in her gut, she’s already causing fucking problems, Street shouldn’t have to fight her battles or deal with any of this. He’s only ever been nice to her.

“Hey you didn’t have to do that.” She stops him just for a second, a hand on his shoulder that softens his pissed off expression.

“Your footing wasn’t off and you deserve to see this case to the end.” He says simply, as though it’s not the nicest thing she’s heard since moving to La.

“Thanks. Luca uh- doesn’t like me that much.” Her hand drops from Streets shoulder to rub at the back of her neck subconsciously, she hates already having someone dislike her. She’s never been one for trusting people or having many friends, but people usually tolerate her, assume she’s just quiet and shy, recognize that she’s smart and a good cop, that her being a loner doesn’t affect how good she is at her job. They don’t see her as fuck-up like Luca paints her.

“Well he should get over himself.” Streets eyes flash red, a bright red, an alpha red.

Zoe instinctively steps back and lowers her shoulders, she’s never met an alpha before, she’s read about them and how much power they hold but having one right in front of her is unreal. She’s never even met another wolf period, she doesn’t know what to do. But then Street blinks and the red is gone, almost looking regretful but she’s unable to read into it as Hondo’s pulling them to Black Betty.

#writing #werewolf zoe & street au!#might expand on this later #idk yet #zoe powell #jim street #street x zoe #zoe & street #js #zp

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nervousron · 1 year

Note

Hey have you ever spoke about the Trinity's cars and way they have the cars thta they do? And if not can you? <3

This was a lot of fun to do. thanks for the ask, @plain-pasta13 !

Michael - Obey Tailgater

$55,000 sports sedan. 5MDS003 (5 Michael De Santa 003)

"Luxury German Sedan. Better than a BF, but not quite a Benefactor. Fast and practical with a classy look, this is just the car to over-leverage on." - Southern San Andreas Super Auto description

Much like Michael, this car is sleek and smooth on the outside, can take a good beating, but has trouble steering at high speeds without the use of good brakes (The metaphor got away from me, but i stand by it). Im almost surprised it's not a more expensive car. He was pretty practical. (compare to Amanda's $95,000 Sentinel and Tracey's $18,000 Issi. He's on the pricier side of normal. Modestly pricey). He picked out a car that looks nice and can give him a small ego boost without breaking the bank. This is just a personal opinion, but I'd have thought he'd have an old Declasse, considering the stars in his eyes over Vinewood and its aesthetics. (Im sure if he did, he bought one the second they moved to Los Santos, then returned it after a year when he realized how much upkeep there would be.)

Then theres the Jimmy adjustments to the Tailgaiter after he mods the hell out of it. Im pretty sure this is all of em: Race brakes, Rear painted bumper & diffuser, EMS upgrade level 3, Dual exit exhaust, Chrome grille, Double vented hood, Musical horn 5, Xenon lights, Sport skirts, Lip spoiler, Sports transmission, Black dollar lowrider wheels (lol), and a Dark smoke window tint.

Franklin- Bravado Buffalo S

$96,000 sports sedan. FC1988 (Franklin Clinton 1998)

"Spotted speeding away from many Los Santos crime scenes, this is a special edition version of the updated 60s muscle car. The sports engine pack, aerodynamic body styling package and yearly upgrades make the price worthwhile." - Southern San Andreas Super Autos description

It's the most expensive of the trinity's cars, which makes sense because Franklin is the type of guy to save up for something worthwhile and really take care of it. If he's gonna go for something, he's going all out. It's a beautiful ride. I'm sure Lamar was jealous over it for months, and Aunt Denise gave him shit for buying an expensive car and not using the money to move out.

So, Franklins car is kinda cool because it has a slower response time and cornering radius than a good chunk of the other cars in the game. Since his special ability essentially slows down time and gives him the room for quick maneuvers, the slower response time makes it harder to overcorrect and ding into shit. The cornering radius being small makes it easier to take sharp turns in the bullet-time, too. (The Buffalo is a b o a t and hardly ever spins out, Franklin knew exactly what he wanted for his street races) At first i thought these specs were counterproductive to his ability, but they definitely were picked with that in mind.

Trevor - Canis Bodhi

$25,000, off-road pick-up truck BETTY32 (the assumption is that Betty is Trevor's mother's name and she was born in 1932. This liscense also appears on the Faggio scooter Trevor drives in the "Scooter Brothers" switch-to scene.)

"The Canis Bodhi has traveled the well-trodden path from military to redneck to hipster. This 'gently used' model is the definition of retro chic; every stain on the seat tells a story." - Southern San Andreas Super Autos description

The Bodhi is a Point Break reference to Bodhi's Kaiser M715. If youve seen Point Break, you know its that gay Patrick Swayze/Keanu Reeves movie.

This car is kinda perfect for trevor. Little to no protection from gunfire, permanently dirty, igniton problems, fantastic turning, and nearly indestructible. The car description is a fun nod to Trevor, too. journey from pilot to redneck to hipster. (Still cant believe he's canonically a lifestyle guru in Los Santos as of the online dlcs. What a world)

Trevor's Bodhi seems to have a CB radio that works in Blaine County, specifically. (This doesn't work for online Bodhis as far as i can tell. just Trevor's), and I can only assume it's for hook-ups, murders, avoiding cops, and pissing people off.

Trevors' vehicle is the only one with a personalized interior. Theres gum on the dash, cum stained pinups, and sticky notes.

#talkaton #thanks again! sorry it took so long to respond

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homeahoy · 1 year

Text

Black Coffee & A Smile

Fluffy Fluff. Bill x Mike

Not beta read or spell checked cause am lazy.

Eoin leaned over Bill where he stood at the counter staring out the window at the car garage opposite. "Whatcha looking at?" Eoin asked in a sign song voice. He knew exactly what Bill was looking at or should say who he was looking at . A certain blonde haired mechanic that had seemed to have grabbed Bill's attention some months back perhaps. Eoin’s voice had startled Bill out of his fixated staring. It was maybe a good time as the lunchtime rush was about to start and it was always busy in their little cafe. A Cafe that had been a roaring success since he and his best friend Eoin had decided to open it a good few months back. It helped that it was on a busy street with plenty of businesses nearby. There were the newspaper offices and bank down the street, with the library next door. The gym where Eoin’s boyfriend Paddy worked was three doors down from the Cafe. Opposite was the car garage where the object of Bill’s current crush worked. There were other businesses up and down the street but they didn’t hold much interest.

Blushing furiously, Bill stood up and muttered “Nothing” Before turning and busying himself putting fresh coffee into the coffee machine. Eoin laughed “ You sure you weren’t staring at a certain mechanic across the road again?” Bill’s crush was a great source of entertainment to Eoin. It had all started when two of the men from the garage came in one day not long after they had opened and ordered coffee and about a dozen cakes between them. Eoin had noticed a red flush creep up the back of Bill’s neck when he had served the one who had introduced himself as Mike. The other who introduced himself as Dave didn’t quite seem to have the same effect. This little nugget of information had followed with Eoin grilling Bill about what he thought of the two men. Which resulted in Bill blushing and stumbling over his words, trying to deny he had felt anything despite the opposite being oh so obvious.

This first meeting followed many more visits from Mike, visit’s in which Eoin always miraculously disappeared leaving Bill to serve him every single time. It wasn’t like Bill was going to complain about it any time soon. He had butterflies in his stomach everytime MIke came in . The kind that felt like the air had been sapped from your lungs and only returned when he had left. It had gotten to the point that Bill knew his order off by heart, it was the same nearly every single day. Black coffee, two sugars and a danish. Bill knew today would be no different and made sure to put aside a danish just for the man who had captured his heart and imagination. Even if the only things he had learned from their short encounters were that he liked his coffee black with sugar and that he had a kind smile and always smelt of engine oil and soap.

Mike Sadler had worked in the Garage since he had left school, he had always been interested in cars, and travelling to discover new places. He couldn’t really think of himself doing anything else. He had started as an apprentice with two other boys Dave Kershaw and Thom Berry, only He and Dave remained. Eventually they had taken over the garage. Going into business with each other, that had been over three years ago now. It had been hard but they had made a good go of it and were doing okay for themselves. When the bakery called for old times bake of all things, opened across the road from them he could have sang from the rooftops. Despite being a pretty capable man Mike hated cooking and making his lunches had been the bane of his life. What he hadn’t expected was the tall awkward yet handsome man behind the counter and his glorious smile. He had barely paid attention to the other man who had learned was called Eoin, no Bill was the one he cared about.

From that day on he had made sure to go to the bakery every lunchtime. Dave had teased him about it relentlessly. That was until he got his fair share of cakes, which always seemed to shut him up, well for a few minutes at least. Dave took the gentle ribbing in his stride, he wasn’t someone to get worked up about that sort of thing anyway. He was surprised however that it was always Bill who seemed to serve him, Eoin always seemed to disappear as soon as he set foot in the place. It wasn’t until he had spoken to Paddy who had known for a while and had discovered was Eoin’s other half that it was done on purpose, because a certain blonde haired baker had a crush on him. Mike would be hard pressed to say the feeling wasn’t mutual. He liked Bill’s hair that was so obviously styled in the morning but a fluffy mess by afternoon and his smile that was like a beam of sunshine. So he continued to visit but he never pushed the matter, waiting for Bill to maybe make a move himself if it was more than just a simple crush.

Only one simple afternoon would change all that. Mike wasn’t sure what was in the water that day but there had been non-stop services, MOT’s and a clutch that had somehow gone missing. It was looking likely that he wouldn’t be getting his lunch anytime soon. Bill had served multiple customers when the lunchtime rush came in that day but there had been no sign of Mike. His heart had dropped a little and it was all over his face. Eoin had noticed the sad look upon his face and asked “What’s wrong?”. “Mike hasn’t come in yet. I hope nothing bad has happened, "he replied. He knew he was working; he had only been staring at him an hour or so before through the window. Sensing Bill’s concern and anxiousness Eoin suggested “Why don’t you go take them their lunch, am pretty sure they are just busy and working through lunch not that something bad has happened” Bill immediately brightened up at the idea. Making up their usual order he placed the coffee in a cup tray and the pastries in a bag and made a beeline for the garage across the street. Well that didn’t take much convincing Eoin thought to himself.

Bill entered the garage tentatively not really sure where he should go and where might possibly be a bit dangerous to wander into, so he headed towards the office area. As he did so he heard a familiar voice cry out “Hey, what are you doing here?” Turning around he saw Mike coming towards him cleaning his hands off on a rag. Bill, trying to play it cool and failing, said “I saw you hadn’t come in yet so I thought I would bring you your usual order” As he spoke he held up the tray and bag. “That’s so kind of you, We haven’t had a chance to have a break yet. But don’t make a habit of it. I might get used to pretty boy’s in aprons bringing me lunch” was the reply, “I’ll also pay you back for this” he added as he made to take the items from Bill. Bill who was now nearly a violent shade of red from blushing at Mike’s comment. Waved his now free hands and said “It’s on the house, for our best customers”. Mike grinned and said “Well how about I do something for you, like take you out to dinner sometime?” He stood for sometime waiting for an answer and watching Bill practically malfunction on the stop before finally spitting out “Yes, yeah, cool , sure” “It’s a date then, I’ll drop by tomorrow to arrange something with you but for now I’ll let you get back to work”

If he could have floated back to the bakery Bill would have but being only human he had walked in a daze, pushing open the door and then walking back behind the counter and standing in a stupor while Eoin asked “How did it go?” “He called me pretty” was the reply. Grinned and giving Bill a little shake he asked “Anything else?” Turning to Eoin and now looking a little bit distressed Bill said “ I think he asked me out on a date.”

#sas: rogue heroes #sas modern au #mike x bill #fluff

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teaandsconeswrites · 2 years

Text

Completed Longfic: Seven Months in Heaven

Premise: Canonverse Fake Dating

Rating: T

Wordcount: 125k

Status: Complete (I actually finished last week but I never posted oops)

Tags: Tartaglia | Childe/Zhongli (Genshin Impact), Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Romance, First Relationship, Public Display of Affection, Falling In Love, Wingman Hu Tao, Fluff, Angst, Minor Character Death (It's not Hu Tao don't worry), Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Pining

Summary: “By order of the Liyue Qixing, all members of the Fatui who are non-essential to the day-to-day operations of Northland Bank are to leave Liyue by the end of the month. Please note: Harbingers do not qualify as essential staff.”

The only thing more difficult than completing a mission in a nation where Childe is hated, is completing a mission in a nation where he’s being threatened with imminent deportation.

Out of alternatives and with failure not an option, the only way he can hope to remain in Liyue is by entering a relationship with one of its residents. He can think of only one person eccentric enough to go along with such a suggestion.

OR: The inherent awkwardness of undertaking a secret mission while falling in love with the guy you’re fake dating for your residency permit.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39117234/chapters/97859319

Preview Below Cut

Preview:

By order of the Liyue Qixing, all members of the Fatui who are non-essential to the day-to-day operations of Northland Bank are to leave Liyue by the end of the month.

Please note: Harbingers do not qualify as essential staff.

Childe crumpled the letter in his fist and tossed it into the wastepaper basket beside his desk. Harbingers do not qualify as essential staff? They could’ve just sent him a note with Tartaglia get out written on it and saved all the fancy language.

He resumed his pacing.

Childe’s status in Liyue had been on tenterhooks since the Golden House incident which, admittedly, had been his fault. The incident which had incited the letter, however, had been completely unintentional on his part.

One week prior, the final day of the Lantern Rite celebrations had been in full swing. Food stands lined the streets, the sweet and salty aromas of their goods mingling so that a taste of the air allowed Childe to sample their flavours, tingling on the tip of his tongue. He had been making the most of the evening, holding a freshly packed mora meat in his left hand and a grilled tiger fish skewer in his right while the buzz of the crowd hummed through him. A man with long, dark hair with golden tips had called out to him at one point, but Childe had made the decision to ignore him.

As he’d been about to take the ramp to the docks to see what was on offer down there, the cry of a child distracted him.

“I can’t believe I missed them! It’s not fair!” bawled a young girl, face scrunched, red and damp with tears. Two equally young boys stood beside her, patting her on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, Lulu, they’ll have more next year.”

“But I don’t want to see them next year, I want to see them this year!” She dissolved into a fresh fit of sobs, interspersed with snotty snivels that she wiped on her sleeve.

Childe must’ve been staring, because one the boys turned to him and waved.

“Hey, over there! Can you tell the other adults to do the fireworks again? Lulu missed them because her parents made her do chores, which is really, really mean!”

They had come to the right person, because while Childe considered himself to have few weaknesses, the mere hint of an unhappy child was his ultimate foil. The girl looked at him, crying paused and eyes drawn wide with hope, and Childe was defeated. He walked over to their group and squatted down to match their height as three pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“Well,” he said, “that doesn’t sound very nice of your parents, Lulu.”

“No, it isn’t!” The other boy piped up, “Meng and I even went to ask special permission for her to come out with us, but they still said no. My name’s Fei, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you all, my name’s Tartaglia, but you can call me Childe.”

“Mister Childe, can you make them do the fireworks again?” asked Fei.

The children stared at him, filled with dreams of an evening of fireworks and fun, and if there was one thing Childe didn’t do, it was let the dreams of a child go unfulfilled. Besides, it was hardly a difficult request to carry out – sure, he wasn’t supposed to use his Harbinger status to access Fatui supplies for external purposes, but if it made these few children happy, what could be the harm?

Childe shook his head. “I don’t think I can ask them to do that, but what if I said that I have my own special fireworks to put on a show for you guys, how does that sound?”

That was how he’d ended up carting a selection of the Fatui’s supply of Tactical Distraction Fireworks down to the docks to put on a firework show for three children he’d met only five minutes prior. Their faces had made the excursion more than worth it: Lulu’s tears had dried and her eyes sparkled, Fei hopped from foot to foot in anticipation and Meng clapped his hands as Childe explained to him what each firework in the collection was about to do.

The display set, he placed the match to the fuse before jogging back to where the three children waited a safe distance away. The rockets launched in a series of sparkles and flashes, forming patterns of flowers, hearts, and stars. It was quite spectacular, if he did say so himself. The images lit up the sky in a glittering array and the children oohed and aahed as the rainbow of colour flickered above the ocean.

It was all so wonderful. Until it wasn’t.

It happened so fast. One second they were admiring the show, the next Childe watched on in horror as one of the rockets careened off at an angle, striking a large transport ship that sat docked nearby. With a deafening bang, a pillar of smoke and ash spiralled into the sky, the ocean wind carrying its bitter scent to where Childe sat, the acrid fumes stinging his eyes and nose. Flames raged across the hull and up the mast, and a few figures launched themselves from the deck into the water below.

“Oh dear,” said Fei, “Isn’t that Merchant Wu’s ship?”

It was.

Merchant Wu was not happy about the destruction of his prized ship. Merchant Wu was also responsible for 70% of Liyue’s fashion-related imports and exports over the past year. As a result, despite Childe’s protests that this time it really wasn’t his fault, the Qixing had deemed the incident malicious sabotage conducted by the Fatui in order to weaken Liyue’s economy.

Childe sighed.

He’d come to enjoy Liyue: the way the air was always warm so that he didn’t have to shiver under a dozen blankets to sleep at night, the ocean that sparkled blue and clear instead of grey and gloomy and, up until a certain day, the company had been pleasant, filling his nights with eager conversation and emptied wine glasses.

But Childe wasn’t thinking about him.

Childe was leaving. Her Majesty hadn’t sent him his next orders yet, so he could kill some time on Dragonspine: ice fishing, climbing the peaks and making light work of the ruin guards and ruin graders that littered the area. He pulled out a box from the storage cupboard and set to placing the stationery from his desk into it; if he was leaving, he wouldn’t be needing them any time soon.

When the box was about half-full, there was a sharp tap on his door.

“Come in,” he called as he heaved a thick folder onto his chair, thumbing through to decide which documents to keep and which to throw out while absent-mindedly tossing a trinket in his spare hand.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Ekaterina hovered by the door, an envelope in her hand. More bills, no doubt – after all the repatriations they’d made him pay, the Qixing still had the nerve to threaten him with deportation.

He waved a hand. “Put it on the desk, Katya, I’ll deal with the Qixing’s demands later.”

Ekaterina came to stand by the desk and hesitated. “Erm, sir…”

“Really, it’s fine, they can wait a day.”

“It’s not from the Qixing.”

“Oh?”

“It’s from Her Majesty.”

Childe dropped the ornament with a clang and grabbed the envelope from Ekaterina, tearing open the seal and pulling out the letter.

My loyal Tartaglia,

It has been a number of months since we were last in contact, following your previous assignment with Morax. I must commend you once again for your actions that led us to successfully securing the gnosis.

Following communications with Pulcinella this past month, I have been informed that when the Chasm was sealed by the Qixing, he was forced to dispose of some valuable assets in the underground caverns.

As you are currently situated in Liyue, I hereby task you with entering the Chasm and retrieving them. I understand this may be a difficult task given the current diplomatic situation, but I require that you complete your mission by the end of September.

Please ensure you keep the contents of this letter STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL and destroy it promptly after you have absorbed them.

I trust there will be no issue.

The Tsaritsa

The end of September. He had just under seven months.

Childe stared at the letter, a well of trepidation building within him. The only thing more difficult than completing a mission in a nation where he was hated, was completing a mission in a nation where he was being threatened with imminent deportation. But if Her Majesty’s will commanded it, he would have to find a way. He nodded to Ekaterina, dismissing her, and sat down to pen a response.

His trip to Dragonspine would have to wait.

#zhongchi #tartali #zhongchili #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin impact

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