#I’ve seen so many ways to serve a banana today alone

[imagine-loki]

The Better Man

TITLE: THE BETTER MAN

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: SUBMITTED ONE SHOT

AUTHOR: amaru163

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you want to pursue Loki, but have no idea what to do to make him see you as more than a friend. Thor inadvertently finds you looking at Loki from a distance with lovestruck eyes. He decides to get himself involved in helping you pursue Loki. Hijinks ensue.

Possible situation: Loki notices that you and Thor are spending more time together, and feels somewhat left out/suspicious that you and Thor are in a relationship.

RATING: FLUFF

NOTES/WARNINGS: none really, brief mention of fighting, one curse word (I know, scandalous, right?)

When Loki breezed by you in the hallway on his way to the kitchen, you couldn’t help but turn to watch him for a moment. The scent of the subtle cologne he wore caused you to take several deep breaths, just so you could commit it to memory. You resisted the urge to close your eyes, though, but when the smell dissipated, you sighed and started toward your original destination, which was your own apartment. Once there, you’d probably take a moment to compose yourself before leaving again.

When you did face forward, you were startled to find Thor standing a few feet away, silently watching. You couldn’t stop your face heating up in embarrassment, and you dearly hoped that he hadn’t seen you mooning over his brother.

“Hi, Thor,” you greeted him softly, mentally begging him not to say anything to you, or more importantly, to Loki.

“Good morning,” he replied, smiling at you. “Were you coming to breakfast?”

“Yes, I just needed to take care of something really quick. I’ll be right there.”

“Good. I’ll save you a seat.” He nodded slightly before continuing on his way.

Ten minutes later, you returned to the kitchen to find that Thor had indeed saved you a seat, right beside him and opposite Loki. You usually sat on the same side as Loki, with someone between you so that you weren’t tempted to steal glances at him, and so that he wouldn’t be witness to any clumsiness on your part if he were to look your way.

Thor stood to hold the chair for you, and then helped to slide it forward. He’d never done that before, since meals together were always pretty casual, and you wondered why he did it now. He made a show of serving your plate as food was passed around, and would lean over to say something in your ear, making sure that no one heard him. All the while, the heat never left your cheeks. You also noted that Loki would give you two just the barest of glances. When his eyes landed on Thor, they hardened before he turned his attention to his plate.

From then on, Thor made a point to be near you when in the common rooms, or even during missions, which everyone noticed. After a time, your embarrassment eased because Thor was simply too likable and approachable, like a big ol’ puppy. The only person who *could* stay angry at him was Loki, who made it a fine art.

— — —

Today, about a week after Thor had caught you ogling Loki, you had made banana nut muffins, and they were just out of the oven. You were just taking them out of the pan when Thor sat at the breakfast bar to watch.

When you had time and the ingredients, you loved to bake and would often have cakes, pies or even homemade bread in the oven. Once, you’d made a banana pudding, which Steve and Bucky went nuts over simply because it reminded them of their younger days. You’d learned then to double up on most of the baked goods, because a shortage caused good natured elbowing between them.

“What kind of glorious treat do you have for us now?” He asked, his gaze intent on the muffins.

“Banana nut muffins,” you replied, putting one on a napkin in front of him. “It’s still hot, be careful.”

— —

The smell of the muffins caught Loki’s attention when he stepped off the elevator after he returned from the training room. He started toward the kitchen, but paused when he heard you and Thor speaking. No one else was there, so he was certain that Thor was looking at you with doe eyes, and going overboard with the chivalry.

That thought caused him to scowl for a moment before he schooled his features so that his face wouldn’t give away his churning thoughts. He hated it when Thor found a new love interest because Thor would always extol about said interest’s charms, and about how clever they were, or even other things that were simply TMI.

When they were younger, there was a rivalry between them, causing them to try to steal the other’s current interest. He liked you too much to play that type of game. He also didn’t want to hear anything about you from Thor’s lips, because now he was resigned to watch from the sidelines, and try to bear it now that Thor had shown an interest in you.

When Loki walked into the kitchen, you were leaning forward on your elbows, with your face mere inches from Thor’s. Loki just barely managed not to growl when he walked through to get bottled water. He was gone in the few seconds it took for you to turn, muffins in hand, to offer him one. Only Thor noticed that your shoulders dropped slightly, and he averted his gaze when you turned around again.

“You like him, don’t you?” He asked, while selecting another muffin. He’d nearly eaten them all by now, and you hoped that they were gone before Steve or Bucky returned, or that he’d save some for the others, which seemed unlikely.

“Wh-what?” You asked, surprised and wary of the question.

“I’ve seen you watching him,” he replied, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You’re mistaken,” you responded, while taking the pan to the sink in order to wash it.

“I don’t think so.”

His voice came from directly behind you, and when you jumped and turned around, you collided with his broad chest. He quickly caught you by the elbows to keep you from hitting the floor.

“Sorry about that,” he said, but didn’t let you go.

“For a big guy, you sure are quiet,” you told him, as you looked up, your eyes meeting his while he continued to hold onto you.

That prompted him to wink and squeeze your arms slightly. You stayed still, not wanting to hurt his feelings if you shrugged out of his grip. Thor then turned his head slightly, as if listening for something, before he picked you up effortlessly and set you on the countertop so that your eyes were level with his.

You started to say something, but then Loki walked in. He faltered before coming to a dead standstill. Once he gathered himself, he turned and left. Thor chuckled softly while you just dropped your head in dejection.

“I will help you.” His hands rested on your shoulders for a moment before he rubbed your arms gently.

“He’s not very tolerant of humans, and I’d rather just leave him alone,” you replied.

“Loki says many things that he doesn’t mean,” Thor commented. “You shouldn’t take it to heart.”

You shook your head with a shrug and started to slide off the counter, but his hands on your knees stopped you. Before you fainted from the shock, he tilted your face upwards so that your gaze met his.

“I believe he will come around, just follow my lead, hmmm?”

— ——

Three weeks later, Loki was almost ecstatic when a mission came up. He’d had to witness Thor showing you all kinds of attention, and was quite ready to blow stuff up, or get stabby with someone. His temper got the best of him, and almost everyone felt the sting of it. Except for you, he couldn’t bring himself to snap at you, so he limited his contact to avoid doing it.

First, there was movie night, when his brother sat beside you (too closely in his opinion), and shared your popcorn bowl. Then, during an outing at a nightclub, hosted by Stark, he’d watched in silence when Thor guided you to the dance floor. He took a small amount of comfort in seeing that Thor struggled with the Midgardian dances, but the fact that his brother held you in his arms (again, *much* too closely) nearly made him lose control.

Finally, there were the flowers that Thor gave you, apparently not knowing that you were allergic. You had sneezed violently for several hours before the vase was “accidentally” knocked off the dining table and to the floor, where it broke. The flowers ended up in the garbage, and Loki felt much better after that.

Now everyone was on the quinjet, with Thor inevitably beside you. For the most part, the trip was silent and allowed everyone to check their gear and to get their minds locked into what needed to be done.

A Hydra facility had been found, which needed to be neutralized, and any data retrieved from the computers. That task fell to you and Natasha, so she handed you an encrypted thumb drive, which you carefully secured in a pocket. Together, you both poured over the map of the facility, plotting the quickest way in and out once you had what you’d been assigned to get. You’d take separate routes so that if one couldn’t get there, the other could get the data.

— —

Loki was to meet up with Steve in a tunnel close to the computer rooms, so he silently slipped past other rooms and entrance points, taking care not to make any noise. When he drew closer to the target, he heard fighting up ahead. He grew even more cautious as he moved toward the sounds.

It only took a split second for him to recognize that you were fighting with a Hydra agent, and that two more of them were on the ground, quite still. You fought with a sharp dagger in each hand, and held your own against the larger man. As he watched, he thought that the way you moved, with conservative motions that saved your energy, was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He had watched before while you trained, or even during other missions, but he’d never actually *seen* you. Now, though, he was ready to toss Thor aside in order to take his place.

You’d defeated your opponent, and now stood looking at the three men on the floor in order to make sure that they were out of commission. A movement in your peripheral caught your attention, and you turned quickly.

“Loki! I’m—“

You were interrupted when he snaked an arm around your waist and lifted you off the floor. His lips found yours in a fierce kiss, surprising you by the move. After a moment, your arms slid over his shoulders as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

“What was that for?“ you asked, breathlessly.

“So that you will *forget* my brother,” he growled.

You blinked before you kissed him back with an intensity that matched his.

“Forget who?” You asked.

“Minx,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh, which drew a smile from him.

“I suppose that I should give him the bad news,” you remarked.

“The sooner the better,” Loki told you, firmly.

“Have I ever told you just how *hot* you look in your armor?” You asked, deciding just to go for it.

“No, I don’t believe so,” he replied, pretending to mull that over.

Before you could respond to that, there came a reminder that there was a job to do.

“Hey, you two, this is not the time nor place to play kissy face!” Tony’s voice came over the comm units.

Loki rolled his eyes again before setting you on your feet.

— —

After the facility had been secured and left in the hands of the support unit, the quinjet carried the team home. Before take off, Loki guided you to a seat, and sat down beside you. When Thor sat across the aisle, Loki put an arm around your shoulders in order to pull you closer, all the while staring at Thor, daring him to say or do something.

When your head fell against his neck, Loki’s attention moved to you, and he found that you’d fallen asleep already. Thor still watched the two of you, with a slight smile on his face.

“It seems that the better man has won,” Thor finally commented.

*Damn straight,* Loki thought.

#Loki #Others #Submission #Submitted one shot #the better man #amaru163 #submission

[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Lazerquest - part 3

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 3/?

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Tag list (msg me if you would like to be added):

@lolurnotmileskane @imagine-that-100

Updates whenever the heck I please (at least once a week) 

Oh also for those of you who don’t know: 

Y/N: your name (first)

Y/L/N: your last name

Y/F/N: your full name (first & last)

Y/N/N: your nickname

**************

“Oi, Y/N. Do you want to explain to me why Alex Turner is asleep on my couch?”

You were shook awake by your roommate, who looked rather embarrassed.

“I told him he could stay the night. Him and I were up until like 5 a.m…. Is that a problem?” you grunted before flipping back over and shutting your eyes.

“Yes it’s a problem, I just went out there in nothing but a towel to start my coffee! A literal celebrity could’ve seen me nearly naked!” Tatiana whisper-shouted. 

“Well he didn't, did he?”

“Well...no…”

“Then why are you in here, Tatiana? I don’t see an issue.”

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone grumpy,” Tati said and walked out of your room, but immediately she turned around and shot you a devious look. “Before you go back to sleep, though, I think your little friend is waking up. And since you didn’t give him a good shag last night, I’m gonna go make my move.”

Your eyes shot open and you were out of bed in a matter of milliseconds. “You better not, Tati. I swear to God.”

She winked at you before darting down the hall, and you ran after her. The two of you turned into a scene out of Tom and Jerry, chasing each other around the apartment but being silent so as to not wake up Alex. This went on for way longer than it should have, before the two of you heard rustling coming from the couch and stopped dead in your tracks. Tati had to put her hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter and you mouthed some profanities at her before watching Alex’s head pop out from the couch and rub his eyes at you.

“Well good mornin’ ladies. The two of you are pretty energetic, aren’t you?”

You thought Tati was going to pass out from embarrassment, and you had to chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter. “Morning, Turner,” you said.

“Can I get either of you some coffee?” Tati asked and turned toward the kitchen. Both you and Alex expressed interest in Tati’s offer, and you went to sit beside him while your roommate was in the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep?” you whispered to Alex and rubbed his back reassuringly.

“Not too bad considering how small your couch is,” he smiled and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I actually slept better than I have in days. I think that opening up to you last night really helped.”

You couldn’t help but grin. Alex and you had stayed up for hours talking about his feelings, and you could tell it was something that was long overdue. He had so much pent up that he told you it physically hurt to talk through his emotions, but a bottle of wine and many tears later he said that a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He wouldn’t tell you this until months later, but that first night Alex came to trust you and enjoy your company more than he ever had with anyone before. You already felt like an old friend to him, the way you clicked and communicated was perfect and he never wanted to be away from you.

“I’m glad to hear that, Alex. You better be well rested, we have a long day ahead of us,” you chirped, and rubbed your hands together in anticipation. Boy oh boy did you have a day planned for Alex. You genuinely wanted to help him get his mind off of Alexa as best as you could, and you knew only one way to do that.

Alex gave you a curious look. “What kind of long day?”

“That’s unimportant. Just know you’ll have lots of fun. Oh, you don’t have anywhere you need to be tomorrow, do you?” 

“Not that I know of… but if we’re going to be out all day and night then we’ve gotta go back to my place so I can change.”

Before you could respond to Alex and let him know that’d be fine, Tati re-entered the room with 3 cups of coffee, creamer, and sugar in her arms. “Where are you guys going? Do I get the apartment to myself today?”

“There’s our little waitress!” you clapped. “and yes, you get the apartment to yourself today. Alexander and I are going on a bit of an adventure.”

“Ah, a classic Y/F/N adventure! How come Mister Turner gets to accompany you in one before I do?” Tati pouted and handed out the coffees. She put a considerable amount of cream and sugar in hers before handing you the creamer.

You took the bottle from your roommate and thanked her. “Well, Tatiana, maybe if you didn’t work 6 days a week we would have gone on one by now. Alex just so happens to have an open schedule today, and I want to help him take his mind off of some things,” You smiled at your new friend, before noticing that Tatiana was giving you a wild look. “Not like THAT Tati. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Alex laughed heartily at that and began to drink his coffee.

“No cream or sugar for you, Alex?” Tati asked.

“Nah, I like my coffee like I like my women…. bitter and unforgiving,” Alex smirked. You and Tati looked at each other and then back at Alex before cackling like witches.

The rest of the morning was spent with the three of you on the couch, cracking jokes and enjoying coffee. Around noon you left Alex alone with Tatiana in the living room so you could go get ready for your day. 

After taking a shower, you slipped on a pair of black Levi’s shorts that very much reminded you of your time spent in the southwestern United States. They were vintage and had an extremely worn look, and you had added studs to the front and replaced the worn pockets with new ones made of a black bandana material. They served looks that you described as “trashy cowgirl”, and you thought they paired perfectly with a black bralette, a leopard print fur coat, and your go-to platform Doc Martens for a True Romance vibe. Back home, your friends praised your sense of fashion constantly, saying you were “classy coke whore chic”. Your most iconic looks consisted of vintage mini dresses, printed pants, platform shoes, corset style tops, and lots of fishnets. Basically anything that was out of the ordinary and had a vintage vibe, you were all over. 

After putting together your outfit for the day, you put on some mascara, a plum lipstick, grabbed your denim bag, put your hair up into a banana clip, and walked back out into the living room. You were surprised to find Tatiana and Alex still on the couch, playing chess. 

“That’s checkmate,” Tatiana yelled victoriously, and Alex had his head in his hands.

“Aw Turner, not too good at chess, are you?” You giggled. When he looked up, a wide smile appeared across his face.

“That’s one hell of an outfit you’ve got on, Y/L/N. You may even be taller than me in those shoes. Looks like something out of a horror movie,” he chuckled, and stood up from the couch. “Time for us to go, then?”

You nodded and walked toward Tatiana to hug her good-bye. “Yep. Except we have to take the tube around, unless Tatiana wants to lend me the car,” you looked at your roommate with puppy dog eyes, praying she’d say yes. Her BMW Z4 was one of your favorite cars to drive, and any excuse to do so you were all over. 

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’ve got a perfectly good car that we can take on our day trip back at my place. We’ll just take the tube back to mine,” Alex said, and gave Tatiana a hug. “Farewell, Tati, thanks for completely destroying me in chess.”

“Anytime Alex, hope to see you again soon!” Tati chirped, and with that we were out the door

************

“This is a really nice place, Alex,” you gasped as you walked through the door of his apartment. It was one of the most beautiful spaces you’d ever seen, and it was obvious Alex lived here. There were massive bookshelves overflowing with books and records everywhere, convert and movie posters on the walls, and close to 20 guitars in different spots of the apartment.

“Oh it’s not much, I’m in the process of moving again since Alexa took her shit and left. I think I’m going to take a lot of this stuff back to Sheffield and then get a spot in LA to record the next Monkey’s album,” Alex mumbled. You could tell he didn’t like being here much. “I’m gonna go shower, feel free to pop a record onto the turntable over there or raid my fridge or whatever.” You smiled and nodded as Alex turned down the hall. You headed over to the shelf containing his vinyl, and browsed his collection for 10 or so minutes, just taking in the massive amount of music he owned, before settling on a Best Of Tom Petty album. Petty’s music reminded you a lot of home, it’d be the perfect music to get Alex into the mood for the day you had planned. You walked over to his record player, which was very nice and had an amazing speaker setup, before putting the disk onto the machine and adjusting the needle. When you pressed play, American Girl began blasting through the apartment. You smiled. How fitting. 

Moments later, Alex emerged from the dark hallway, wearing nothing but black skinny jeans.

“Where’s your shirt, silly?” you laughed over the music. Alex didn’t reply, though, he just started singing and grabbed your hand. He put his other hand on your waist, signaling he wanted to dance, and after you put your free hand on his shoulder the two of you started singing and dancing around the apartment. The music was so loud and you both were so distracted by dancing and singing and laughing that you hadn’t noticed the door open and a man walked in. 

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” The man said, and you and Alex both nearly jumped out of your skins. 

“Jesus, Miles, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” Alex gasped, still clinging on to you for dear life. Miles was laughing so hard he struggled to breathe. When the three of you calmed down and caught your breath, Alex let go of you and went over to Miles. He gave Miles a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Miles grabbed Alex’s ass. The embrace lasted a few seconds, and then they both turned to face you. 

“And who might you be?” Miles said in a cheesy, fake, posh accent.

“Miles, this is my friend Y/F/N. Y/N, this is Miles Kane, one of my closest mates.”

Miles flashed you a smile and shook your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” 

“As it is you, Miles.” You flashed a grin at Miles. He was quite charming, and you could tell that his personality complimented Alex’s well. 

“So, Alex,” Miles muttered. “What kind of friend is this Y/N?” 

Alex elbowed him in the side. “A friend friend. We’re going on some sort of ‘adventure’ today, but Y/N won’t tell me where we’re going.” 

You gave the boys a devilish smile. “Patience, Alex. If you’d go out a damn shirt and some shoes on, you’d find out sooner than later.” 

At this Alex chuckled and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll go get ready. Miles? Is there any specific reason you’re in my house?”

“Just dropped in to say hi. You go get yourself fixed up and I’ll keep your lady friend company.” Miles said and put an arm around your shoulder. Alex gave Miles a warning look as if to say ‘play nice’, and walked back down the hall toward his room.

“So, Y/N, care to dance? I didn’t mean interrupt your and Alex’s waltz,” Miles said, and put a hand out. You nodded your head and flashed him a toothy grin before putting yours into his and the two of you began doing a little tango.

Miles was a flashy dancer, he had spun you around and dipped you over and over again, the both of you laughing and singing. When Alex came back out he stood against the wall watching the two of you with a big grin plastered across his face. Miles and you danced through the entire album, and when the familiar sound of the needle hitting the end of the record sounded, Alex erupted into applause. 

“That was bloody amazing, you two!” He exclaimed. You and Miles took a bow, and then he hugged you. 

“You’re welcome to Alex’s any time I’m here, Y/N. You’re a brilliant dance partner.” Miles chirped, and you gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“As are you, Miles,” you smiled and turned to Alex. “Ready to go, slow poke?” 

Alex nodded. “Miles, lock up when you leave, please? And don’t eat all of my leftovers!” 

As the two of you turned to walk out of the door, you heard Miles shout “No promises!” Alex rolled his eyes and shut the door behind you.

“So, how do I look?” Alex grinned, and did a little spin as to show off his outfit. He was sporting a Rolling Stones tee, his skinny jeans, and a pair of suede ankle boots. His hair was as long and unruly as always, and you had to refrain yourself from running your hands through it.

“You look fantastic Alex. Although I know something that would make your outfit absolutely perfect,” you smirked. He furrowed his brows in confusion, but you just turned around and started down the hallway of his apartment complex. “So where’s this car you were telling me about?”

#alex turner #alex x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys fanfic #tlsp #miles kane #tlsp fanfic #fanfiction #alex turner/reader #the last shadow puppets #nick o'malley #matt helders #jamie cook #suck it and see #am #tbhc #whatever people say i am that's what i'm not #favourite worst nightmare #milex

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid - Chapter 31

Wahoo my favorite chapter, read on AO3

The bliss from your wedding could only last so long, and you knew that, but it didn’t lessen the blow when things had to return to normal. 

“This is it, Dutch, our last big score!”

Hosea had poured over a map of Saint Denis for days mapping every possible route into the bank, the job Dutch claimed over and over was going to save the gang. 

“I’m telling you, this is the way to do the job. The best way! The distraction will buy you all the time you need.”

Arthur groaned from underneath you. You had fallen asleep in the morning sun and the voices from downstairs carried far too much for your liking, waking you up to the harsh light of day. 

“All they talk about lately is that damn job,” Arthur muttered. “If I heard ‘Saint Denis bank’ one more time I am going to lose it.”

“Arthur!” Dutch yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here, we need your help with this.”

The past few weeks since your wedding had been as blissful as they could when you lived with a large group of people on the run from the law. You and Arthur had enjoyed many free days where no one asked a thing of you. The lake was the perfect spot for picnics and more than once Arthur had suggested you slip away and relax at the water side. It was perfect and everything you could hope it would be.

But all good things had to end. 

“I’m coming! Arthur hollered back. He groaned as he sat up and you decided it was best to greet the day as well. 

“You know they trust you, that’s what they’re trying to say,” you spoke as you dressed. 

“They sure have a strange way of showing it.”

You were quick to follow Arthur down the stairs, greeting folks as they passed. Most were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes or drinking a cup of coffee. 

“I...I don’t like it.”

Dutch’s hesitation was palpable. For days he had been telling Hosea something about this job felt off, his intuition saying this was not the way. It struck you as odd because Dutch had been searching for one more score, one big was out and when presented with the idea he shrugged it off. 

You leaned against the doorframe watching Arthur approach the bickering old men. They went back and forth, agreeing and disagreeing about the best way to proceed. 

“It’s the right plan. We’ve done the work. I’ve been in town, looking, watching and waiting. I’ve tested it as well as I can. It’s the right plan.”

“I know,” Dutch chucked at how worked up Hosea had become. “I know. But between us, I’m...nervous. I suppose that’s it.”

Hosea placed a hand on Dutch’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re never nervous, that’s been my job all these years.”

It was clear Hosea was leading this robbery. He had timed the whole operation out and wanted it to move like clockwork, each cog and arm greased up and ready to go. You could see a younger man shining through; one who spent days and weeks putting heists together, using each member of the gang in s specific sequence so everything would be just right. 

As the three men got to talking, Micah walked in and watched behind you. It was unpleasant to have him over your shoulder but you remembered your vow to keep the peace with him as best you could.

“What’re they planning in there?”

“Bank job. Last one to get us out of here,” you responded softly. 

“The big bank? In Saint Denis?” Micah scoffed. “That’s one lofty goal for our ragtag crew, don’t you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Hosea has it all planned out. What could go wrong?”

“Oh, girlie, there’s plenty could go wrong. But let’s hope none of it does and we make out on top.” Micah shot you a wink that made you shutter and walked back out the front doors, taking off for somewhere or something in town. 

“Every plan is a good plan if we execute it properly. Every problem we ever had was because we did not execute properly.”

Hosea spoke impassioned. He needed Dutch to see he was right. 

“You’re right.” Dutch stood dramatically and looked between his lifelong partners in crime. “Let’s rob this bastard. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Look smart. Travel light.” 

The leader passed you with a half smile before going to track down Mrs. Grimshaw and Pearson to tell them of the new plan. At least we had some notice this time and didn’t have to throw everything around in a hurry. 

Arthur asked you to help clean the room and you packed together, chatting to keep the nerves away. There had been a moment where he wanted you to go with Hosea and stay away from the action but you refused; if your husband was going in so were you. He didn’t fight you on that very long. 

The thought of leaving Shady Belle filled you with melancholy. It was strange to think that one building could hold so many memories from just a short time. The gang really hadn’t been there that long but they had managed to make a lasting impact that could be seen as you walked the halls for one of the last times. You had to look forward; things would be better. How much more suffering and pain could one group take?

You found Abigail playing outside with Jack later in the evening, staring up at the night sky and admiring the stars. You plopped down next to her and tilted your own head back, thinking about the heavens. 

“You ever wonder if our destinies are planned?”

“I sure hope not. To think that someone put all of this together for us means we have no free will, no choice would be our own. And they would put us through all that pain!”

“Sometimes...I guess it’s just nice to think that I wasn’t the one who made all the mistakes in my life. That I could blame someone else for the way things turned out.”

Abigail spoke in hushed tones but never looked down from the sky. Her words echoed in your mind. 

“Your life isn’t full of mistakes, it’s full of love.”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “Sometimes a bit too much love if you know what I mean.”

She and John had been fighting again. From your shared room with Arthur you could hear them through the walls going on about raising Jack and trying to show him a better life. 

“Jack will be just fine, he’s got a lot of us who care. And so will you. You know I’ll never leave, you’ve got a friend for life.” You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and sat like that, enjoying the view and marveling at the size of the world around you. 

It was hard to sleep that night. 

You tossed and turned with anticipation of the next day, knowing everything would be different after the sun rose up in the sky. It could be a good change; like fire burning away the underbrush to allow for new life. Or it could be disastrous. 

The dichotomy of the choices made you restless. 

Arthur shook your shoulder gently that it was time to go. It was much too early, and the terrible night of sleep made it hard to drag your body from the warm bed and you tossed it a sad smile knowing it was the last time you would see the room you called home. 

The look on your face must have told Arthur something for he gave your hand a squeeze after you met him at the bottom of the stairs. 

“You know what?” He looked at you softly. “At the end of today, we’re going to look back and know we did everything right. We faced the day together as wife and husband. I’m never letting you go.”

With a kiss to your hand you felt your confidence rise back into place. All it needed was a boost from Arthur. Today was going to go smoothly, nothing could bring you down from the high of life you were riding. 

Everyone was dressed to the nines. Fine black suits with hats for the men, and clean flowing gowns adorned every woman. It was almost as if you were headed to a Sunday mass instead of a bank robbery. Even Jack had found a flower to stick in his coat pocket. 

“You got everything Arthur?” Dutch called as he handed Hosea a suitcase to load into a wagon. 

Arthur nodded. “Sure, house is cleared out of everything we could grab.”

“Just think!” Hosea spoke up brightly. “Within six weeks we’ll be living life anew in a tropical idyll spending the last of our days as banana farmers?”

The plan was for Hosea and Abigail to serve as the distraction. On their wagon sat crates of dynamite that when lit, would bring enough police attention that the robbery in town wouldn’t be able to pull them all away, giving the group enough time to slip out unnoticed. Hosea had looked over the details for days on end and everyone trusted him to know this plan backwards and forwards, no small part missed. 

You were riding in and acting with the robbery. At first, Arthur had asked that you go with Hosea and Abigail for they were far less likely to be caught. But to you that was out of the question. Now that you and Arthur were married you didn’t want him running off into battle alone, something you had to repeat over and over before Hosea finally relented and added you to the bank detail. It just made sense that you would be there. 

With your nerves shoved to the back of your mind, you sat next to Arthur on Eclipse as Zues stamped his feet anxiously.  

“Let’s get out of this god forsaken place and go rob ourselves a bank!”

A chorus of cheers rang out as the gang envisioned what life could be like after today. No more running and hiding, no more threats from the law, no more being told that their way of life was wrong or backwards, just freedom and the incredible feeling of hot sand between your toes. 

You were more than ready to be out of this place. 

Micah led the group up and out of Shady Belle, the horses moving much quicker than the wagons. It was slightly comical to watch a large group in impressive threads leave such a ratty and worn down home. Over the past few weeks you decided firmly that sleeping with four walls around you was a comfort you preferred. 

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen! The last one.”

Dutch was gearing up for a big speech as he rode behind Micah. 

“Where have we heard that one before?” John asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“What has happened to you, John? You lost all your heart.”

“I’m just trying to stay real about all of this.”

“Real!” Dutch spit. “Oh how I detest that word. So devoid of imagination.”

The group rode over the railroad tracks and your heartbeat started to pick up. This was real, you were taking part in a bank robbery. Oh if only your father could see you now. The lawman’s rebel daughter. 

“How soon are we shipping out?” Micah called from somewhere ahead. 

Dutch replied, “As soon as we get the passage organized. A boat down to Argentina, then another around the cape.”

“What about the money in Blackwater? We’re just gonna leave that behind?”

“Forget that, it's gone.” Dutch swiped a fly and the question away. “You all talk like it’s the only goddamned money in the world. We’re gonna take that and more, take it from the people who take it from us. This isn’t some hick town, hundred dollar operation. This is a big city bank!”

“Right,” John broke in. “With security, guards, police.”

“Hosea has done his reconnaissance,  we’ve been over this.” Dutch almost sounded tired. “The plan. One last time. Hosea and Abigail will draw out the police, we go in fast and calm. John and Lenny, secure the front doors. Javier takes the side exit. Bill, Micah, YN, and Charles, control the crowd. Me and Arthur deal with the bank manager and the vault. Got it?”

Everyone agreed that they did. Most of the other women were leaving with the camp supplies and not participating, and the look Dutch gave you was not lost as he took in his crew. 

Hosea reckoned they needed about fifteen minutes to set the distraction with Abigail and pull enough police and that sounded fine by Dutch. As the others rode off with the wagons, Sadie threw you a smile of encouragement and you spurred Eclipse on to keep up with the others. Nothing, not even your nerves, would hold you back from this job. 

Arthur had talked about when to tell Dutch that maybe sailing to another part of the world was not in the cards for you two, but it still hadn’t come up. Before the bank job seemed a poor choice as it would only take away Dutch’s focus, so tentatively the plan was set for later. There was a lot to think about lately and that was just another worry to add to the pile. 

“Everybody know the drill! We head in hard and stay calm. They won’t be expecting us. Any minor trouble, head back to camp. We’ll leave in a few days.”

Your nerves must have really been showing through as even Micah threw you a half grin. It wasn’t pleasant, but you accepted it nonetheless. 

Bill and Charles rode ahead to break up the group, hoping that it wouldn't look like a giant posse riding in together. The five of you left held back a few minutes and then rode into town, through the gates of Saint Denis and into the belly of the beast. You couldn't tell if your shaking hands had more to do with being on horseback or the impending mission, but you steeled them to stay still as you moved through the streets. 

Arthur pulled Zeus back and rode next to you. 

“How’re you doing?” 

Despite the bundle of nerves moving through your veins you had to smile. Arthur was clearly a bit worked up about the whole thing too; his words had a slight twang to them as he spoke. 

“Oh, I’m fine. I remember what you taught me. Just…” you looked around and remembered the first time you marveled at Saint Denis. “What if something happens?”

“It won’t, I promise you’ll be safe. Hosea went over this so many times he knew we had to get it right.”

You nodded. You had heard him mumbling the details for days.

Before you could respond your destination came into view and your mouth went dry. Lemoyne National Bank. The imposing building stood nearly three stories high with gold and white paint covering the exterior. The sun beating down was hot and you wiped beads of sweat off your brow after hitching Eclipse up next to Arthur and Bill. 

Charles made his way over. “Just wanted to say good luck. I know you’ll be fine, but...you know.” 

You smiled at your friend. His words brought you comfort even though they were minimal, but knowing Charles this was the equivalent of a long speech. You patted his arm in thanks and followed the group over to Dutch. 

“Foks. Robbing thieves, it ain’t no crime at all. People like this...they stole what this country could have been.” The men grunted in agreeance. “Now, act natural. Wait for Hosea to do his thing.”

As a trolley rolled slowly in front of you Arthur took your hand in his. 

“Now, it ain’t too late and no one would say a thing if you decided to leave. I’ll put you on this trolley and collect you myself as soon as we’re done and we can leave; put this city behind us and head off to freedom. You just have to say the word.”

You searched Arthur’s eyes and saw nothing but love and worry. The beautiful way the blue and green and maybe in the right light grey mixed together filled you with happiness and you knew your answer before speaking. On your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek and beamed at him. 

“You know I’m staying. I’ll be right at your side.”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth to speak the ground shook violently below you. You grabbed Arthur’s arm for support as the screams and voices rose through the city. 

Dutch let out a full laugh. “I love that Hosea! He’s a true artist.”

And with that, he led the way across the road and into Lemoyne National Bank. 

You pulled your mask up over your face, hands still slightly shaking. Javier whispered something before slipping around the corner to guard the side door, and on his signal Dutch burst through the bank doors, pistols drawn. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! This is a hold up.”

The room was filled with screams and the bustling of shoes on the tile as you aimed your gun at the innocent folks going about their day, corralling them back into an office to be locked up and unable to disrupt the robbery in progress. Bill was stuck with a particularly loud customer, so you poked the end of your gun into his back to shut him up, shoving him into the room. You got a grunt of thanks from Bill as he locked the doors. 

“Arthur! We have found the manager. Would you kindly have him open the vault?” 

A man dressed in a long purple coat shook like a leaf as he twisted and turned the dial to find the correct combination. He looked around the room for any willing pair of eyes but no one was able to help, simply sneered as he pleaded silently with Arthur’s gun only inches away from his face. 

The air was tense around you as John and the others patrolled the entryway. All of them were on the lookout for anything suspicious outside, any sign that this wasn’t going to work. But it had to. It simply had to; this was much too large of a show to go off with a hitch. 

A loud scraping sound resonated as the vault door creaked open with the poor bank manager pulling as hard as he could. Arthur cast you a look before heading in, his brow filled with worry to get this over with as soon as possible. You sent him a small smile, hoping he could read it under your bandana, and nodded for him to go on. 

Anxiety pumped through you. The bank manager stood outside and at Bill’s command called out the combination, his legs shaking from the stress. The seconds ticking away felt like hours and you wanted nothing more than to run away from all of this mess. 

“We got trouble! Looks like the law.”

Your head whipped around at John’s yell. His voice was tense and Dutch ran over to get a good look at the situation with anger and fear in his eyes. The others were quickly behind him. 

Everyone knew this operation had to be executed precisely. Anything short of perfection would mean failure and a real risk of death. With Hosea’s attention to detail and the way everyone knew their part Dutch had been confident this would go off without any problems. He already felt the warm, island air rustling through his hair, the grainy, hot sand beneath his feet, and the sweet, sticky mango juice bursting in his mouth. This was going to work. This had to work. Because if it didn’t, there was no way out. 

Unfortunately Dutch didn’t count on your father. 

“Come out! It’s over!” 

No, no, no, no. Not him, not now. Your heart pounded in your chest so hard you were sure the others heard it, and at the same time your stomach dropped down to your feet. How on Earth had he found you?

John said something about Abigail but a rushing sound filled your ears and you couldn’t make it out. Everyone had pressed themselves up against the wall in cover and you did the same, hoping you would be able to act when it came down to it. 

“Dutch! Get out here. Get out here now!”

A silence fell over the bank. Agent Milton walked out from behind a wagon across the street brandishing a pistol that was shoved into the back of Hosea’s head. Dutch let out a groan. 

“Someone must have squealed!” 

“We never should have gone after Bronte, Dutch,” John spat. His eyes were on the mother of his child just beyond his reach. 

“Mr. Milton?” Dutch’s voice lost its usual silk and instead was filled with fear, cracking slightly. “Let my friend go. Or folks are gonna get shot unnecessarily.”

“Your friend? Why would I do that?” Your father’s voice was loud and full of confidence. It sent slivers of fear through your spine as your mind raced. 

“C’mon, Milton!”

“It’s over! No more bargains, no more deals.”

“Mr. Milton, this is America. You can always cut a deal.” 

He was reaching his finale. Your father always loved making a show of capturing ‘the bad guys’ and you knew from his stance that you were running low on time. If someone didn’t do something Hosea would be dead, the rest of you following shortly. 

“Hey girly, remember way back when you and I made a deal?” Micah was standing much too close to your back for comfort and in your agitated state you tried to shake him off. This only made him mad and he grabbed your arm tightly in his grip. “You owe me, I’m cashing in. Only one way this thing and it’s with you outside of those doors while we escape.”

“What?” you asked, your mind racing and unable to comprehend his request.

“Daddy Dearest is out there about to blow us all to hell. We need a distraction and you are the golden ticket.”

You froze. Micah was asking, no, telling you to sacrifice yourself on the slim chance your father wouldn't kill you on sight. It was insanely risky, but it would give the gang and the people you had grown to love a chance, albeit slim, to get away safely. All around you were the tense faces of people who had time and time again proven they were good and loving, more than you could ever say for your own father who stood on the other side of the street with the power of the law behind him. In a way, you felt this had always been coming. Rushing towards you like a train in the night. Eventually it would have to reach its destination. Your hands shook as you realized that this might be the only plan, and you couldn’t risk the chance of your newfound family dying because you weren’t brave enough. Your father wouldn't listen to anyone else and as the seconds melted away you steeled yourself against the tide that would surely try and knock you over. 

“Well?” Micah shook you impatiently. 

You looked around. Dutch, Bill, Lenny, John, Javier...Arthur. These were people you would gladly sacrifice yourself for. Memories came flooding back of sitting around the campfire singing, hours spent in the fields hunting, and the times you and Abigail laughed yourselves silly. Your eyes watered at the thought of leaving, but it had to be done. 

“I’ll do it,” you spoke quietly. “But I have one request.”

“And what’s that?” 

Micah had started making his way to the door and Arthur, noticing you moving about, was heading towards you too. You met his eyes for a moment and you swore he knew what you were about to do. His footsteps picked up and you had to act. 

Leaving him was of course the hardest. Never had you imagined a love so brilliant and bright, and knowing that you were willingly throwing it all away tore you apart. The ring on your finger felt heavy with guilt but you clutched your gun tighter until Micah tore it from your hands. Arthur opened his mouth to whisper something and you knew waiting would make it worse. 

“Tell Arthur I love him.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Micah snorted and unceremoniously shoved you outside the giant bank doors before slamming them shut. Something on the other side slammed against them and you guessed it was Arthur, livid at the unexplained sight. A voice yelled something and then everything went quiet, and you looked up at the scene before you. 

Hosea stood in the middle of the street covered in dust and watching you with worried eyes. He shook his head slightly, telling you to leave, but you cast him a watery smile of reassurance. 

Behind him every gun held by the Pinkerton Detective agents was trained on you and ready to fire. You looked up and down the line realizing just how many there were. This had to be a set up, no one was ready that fast. 

A strangled cry that turned into a laugh came from the head Detective. He took a faltering step forward, then looked at you with utter bewilderment. 

“Put your guns down,” he said. The detectives looked over at him confused. “I said put them down!”

“Sir?” questioned one of the men to his side. 

“Because…” Agent Milton spoke slowly, still trying to process the change in events unfolding before him. 

You placed both hands up in the air and spoke with much more confidence than you felt. 

“Because I’m his daughter.” You looked directly at him, taking a deep breath before saying, “Hello, Father. Good to see you.”

#price to be paid #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #female reader

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 26: Cave

Human!Reader x Orc!Monster Woo

Warnings: Monster smex, size difference, choking

Citrus scale: Hand of Buddha

A/N: I swear the closer we get to Halloween, the more smut I’ve been writing, but like. Isn’t that what the Halloween Spirit is about? Monster fuckin’?

“Stay away from the cave.” They said. “A monster lives there.”

These words had been said to you year after year. The local kids and teenagers alike would dare one of their own, usually the one most full of fear in general, to go place something in front of the cave or to go inside for a certain amount of times. Parents would usually stop and scold them before they went too far. That didn’t stop them from trying. Some would claim to have gone in the dead of night, to have met the monster inside the cave.

Of course, no one would ever believe anyone to be brave enough or stupid enough to go near te rocky enterance. No one was allowed to roam at night. Sometimes, those who claimed to have gone to the beast’s home disappeared soon after. Missing? Taken? Sent away? Answers were rarely given to the youngers.

Even when they were given, there was no promise that they would be believed in the slightest.

“Come away from there. The monster will come get you if you misbehave!” Jessi said to her young cousin who had started to wander off.

Heechul called from his porch, “Ah, let her get taken. It’ll serve her right.”

You were returning home with your friends from school when you four stumbled upon this interaction, backpacks places firmly on backs and books clutched to chests.

She rolled her eyes and pointed at him, “I’ll bring you to the beast myself if you ever talk about my cousin like that again!” and held the small one’s hand to take her inside.

Jennie whispered, “My dad said that the Monster likes to choke the people who go into his cave and likes girls more than boys.”

Dahyun rolled up her sleeve, “If the monster ever got close to any of my friends, I’d make sure he’d no longer have hands to choke with.”

Rena laughed, “You’re so amazing, Dahyun! I would love to see you fight.”

“Maybe I can teach you so that you can do it yourself.” Said the silver haired girl with confidence.

The blonde girl with brown roots smiled shyly, “I...I don’t think it’d work well at all. I’m not very good at--”

You spoke up, “I’m sure you’d do great! You’re such a fast learner.”

“RENA! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT LOLLYGAGGING AFTER SCHOOL?” A parent called with anger like hot coals. “Get over her right now!”

She bowed to us and quickly went to the steps, getting pulled in and berated with words that wouldn’t last too long. However, it would be followed with being completely ignored until the next time.

Dahyun kicked the ground, “I’d like to kick their butt with my fists.” she pouted.

Jennie put her hand on the back of her friend and soon enough it was time to get home. All of you had seen the ‘mysterious’ bruises and how jumpy she sometimes was. She liked to daydream and would do amazing things! Still, it seemed like she would be better off and be able to make those dreams become reality if she were not where she currently was.

So you did the only thing you could do, sneak away and go towards the cave with an offering. One thing that had been agreed upon among all the stories of this horrible monster is that he liked sweets, particularly carrot cake. It was mostly banned other than from when there was a festival where a rather large one was made and placed at the mouth of the cave to keep the monster from taking too many people.

You only had some banana nut muffins that you said were for Jennie. It was still light out, but it would be dusk soon. So you set the muffins at a secret entrance and called into it with a brave voice.

“Monster Woo! I call upon you! Um, I have a friend who needs your help to get away. I brought you some muffins. She is hurt more on the inside than the outside and if you could get her to someplace nicer, I’d be forever grateful.” You looked around to make sure you were still alone before taking off your bracelet. “Return my bracelet to me once she’s safe.”

And off you went back home.

Three days later, your bracelet was on your windowsill when you got home. Rena didn’t show up to school today either. Had he really done what you asked? You looked out the window and smiled, deciding to quickly “run out for flowers” when instead you wanted to go back to the cave.

“Monster Woo! I call on you! This isn’t a request or anything, but I wanted to thank you for taking care of my friend.” Then you began to turn away. “That’s all!”

A voice rumbled from deep within, “Do you want to go somewhere else too?”

You looked at the ground, rubbing your arm, “What makes you ask?”

“You came to me not for a game to play, but with good intention in your heart. I do not think you belong here, Y/N.” He said.

Your head shot up, “How do you know my name?”

He replied, “I know everyone in this town whether or not they want me to. I’ve been here before them, and I will be here long after they’re gone.”

“That means you’re not human then...What are you?”

“Why don’t you come see for yourself?” His voice held something alluring now, like you wanted to say yes right away. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl.”

A shiver went down your spine, “I...I have home-homework I need to do.”

“Please? Let me give you a prize for doing so well.” A hand unfurled before you. It looked like a hand in this dark area under the trees.

“Y/N! Where are you? We have a project to do! Y/N!” Dahyun’s voice called.

You grabbed the hand, and it pulled you in without hesitation The next thing you noticed as that you were pressed up against the chest of a rather large being. There was the warmth of another human but also way hotter than any healthy human should ever feel. Letting yourself step back, you defied all the nerves in your body to look up at what everyone had called the Monster.

Monster Woo was a large man with green skin and teeth larger and sharper than any creature you had ever laid eyes upon. Somehow, you were supposed to be scared. Any one else would be and yet. You placed your hand on his arm.

“You’re hurt.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” He asked, confused.

You shook your head and swallowed, “No, I actually have a thing for height difference.” feeling your cheeks heat up at the confession.

An adorably bassy chuckle came from his throat, “Then this is going to be a reward I think you’ll enjoy.”

Before you could ask what he was talking about, he pulled you closer to him and ensured your eyes were on his before kissing you deeply. His tusks didn’t get in the way at all, but you could feel them rubbing your cheeks. You felt yourself getting light headed from lack of breath just as he pulled away.

You coughed and he apologized. Sometimes he forgot that you humans had smaller lungs than himself. Instinctively, you assured him it was ok. You liked the kiss and he blushed in reply and asked if you wanted...more than a kiss. An excited nod in reply, and so he took you deeper and ever deeper into the endless winding caverns of his home.

A noise scared you, and you found yourself clinging to his muscular and decorated arm.

“I didn’t know orcs got tattoos too.”

He smiled, “What else am I supposed to do alone in here? Anyways, here we are.” and stopped in his tracks. “Stay here, Little One.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to keep the moan from escaping your mouth. Just those words had gotten you so excited being said with that voice! That voice that sounded like a raging storm lulling you to sleep right after drinking hot cocoa while reading your favorite boo or drawing in a worn notebook.

“W-What’s your name?” You blurted out in your nervousness.

The giant looked back at you, puzzled by the question while in such a mood, “Youngwoo. I really do adore you, Little One. Pardon me if I’m being too forward, but I would like you to show your adoration by helping me with something.”

“Y...yea?”

He pulled down his pants to reveal the largest cock you had ever seen, and you had walked in on the soccer team having a dick measuring contest before. A few seconds of eye contact and a sheepish smile from Youngwoo, and your heart never felt so full. It wouldn’t fit by any measure into any orifice you had, but you were for sure you were going to try.

“Guess my homework will be a bit late.” You said before getting on your knees and using your minuscule tongue to lap at the dripping tip.

A low growl which sounded much like a purr came out of Youngwoo’s mouth, “Ah, yes, right there, Y/N.”

You liked the entire pole up and down like it were a lime flavored lollipop, sucking on the balls which reminded you of two heavy matcha flavored mochis. Grateful moans began falling from the...from Youngwoo’s mouth. He even covered his mouth when he felt as though he were being too noisy. Then you stopped working your tongue on his cock and pouted.

“I want to hear you, Youngwoo~ It makes me feel better when I know how good I’m making you feel.”

His eyes trained on your body which was pressing legs together in an attempt to hold back the last bit of dignity you had.

Youngwoo smiled, “Only if you do the same. Spread your legs.”

You did as told and he used two large fingers to graze across your front which was making puddles in your underwear. He kissed you again before ripping your clothes from your body and saying he was sorry. In your haze, you were able to mumble “It’s ok.” before straddling his balls that were so large that it was like sitting on a twin sized mattress and not uncomfortable for him. Kisses and licks on his length resumed as growls and bellows of joy and lust left his mouth.

“That feels so good, Little One.” he said and freely let curses fly.

Every inch of your body was becoming covered in his precum, making you glisten just as his cock was. The torch flames could not match the heat between your legs as you began to hump and rut against his giant balls, making the scene even wetter.

“Unggg, hold on tight, Little One.” Youngwoo grunted out.

You held onto him even tighter as the twitching of his cock made the world feel a bit like a roller coaster. Although, you had never before gotten this wet on any sort of amusement park ride. Your whole body was doused in his semen and completely marked by him and his scent. The experience made you reach your own orgasm, climaxing on a hard ridge of his length as you slid down onto the floor, your chest heaving.

Maybe you’d have to make your visits to the monster a regular thing.

#Monster Woo #Kim Youngwoo #Orc!AU #Magic!AU #Reader x Monster Woo #Monster Woo x Reader #smut #hand of buddha #buddha's hand #human!Reader #Orc x Human #Youngwoo x Reader #Reader x Youngwoo

[shaekingshitup]

Stay Grounded (Grindin Pt 2)

A/N: Writing this was a battle but I learned some things so it’s cool. Definitely don’t plan on anymore stories with these two. I don’t think I like Reader Inserts rn. But hey, he came back! If I told you I’d tag you and I didn’t I’m sorry. Idk a good method of actually keeping a taglist yet. D: This has been chillin in my drafts. Hopefully, you like it. Honestly, just thanks for reading! 💕

Word Count: 3.8k-ish but I swear it feels like 500 plot wise

Part 1

“Thanks Paul. I’ll see you next week,” you said as you placed one of your favorite regular’s drink on the counter.

“Bye Y/N” he called out on his way towards the exit. You checked in with your staff to make sure that they were doing okay. You weren’t an overbearing owner. You trained employees whom were competent and that you trusted to carry on your business when you weren’t there. But, you did your best to make yourself available to stop in when you knew your crew would be busiest. Plus, Grindin was your baby. You could never stay away for too long.

GRINDIN chimed out as another patron came in. You looked up to greet whomever it was with a smile.

“Michaela! Hey girl. Long time no see.” you greeted

“I know. I was honeymooning with my baaa-by,” she sang moving her goddess braids so that they were behind her back and making sure her diamond ring was on full display.

“YAS! Girl, I am so happy for you and Jon. I hope you two had a wonderful time. I see you over there Mrs. Kirk. Are you getting your usual today?” you asked.

“Girl, you don’t know the HALF of it. My boss paid for da baby and me to go on an all expenses trip to Bahamas,” you widened your eyes at this. You can’t even remember your last real vacation.  “Originally we were just going to spend a weekend away in San Diego. But, he surprised us with a week long paid vacation to the one place Jon and I truly wanted to visit. I can’t quit smiling.” she sighed with one of the brightest smiles you’d ever seen on someone. You couldn’t help but smile back. “But anywho, I’m not here for the usual actually. My boss just got back to the country from some away business as well and I guess his time away switched up his tastebuds. He’s going to take a large Brew Thang and I’ll stick with my usual small, hot Bad n Brewjie with whipped cream.”

“Absolutely girl. Comin’ right up,” Michaela handed over the business card to pay and afterwards you transitioned over to the bar to start on the drinks.It was clear that Michaela had more to say. You could see it in her body language that she was holding on to something that she needed to spill.

“Somethin’ on your mind sis? Gone ahead and spit it out.” you assured her.

“What’re you doing tonight?” she asked out of the blue.

“I’ve got a lil date tonight. Why do you ask?”

“Wait. Sis, you got a nigga?” Michaela whispered quite loudly as she raised her left eyebrow. That got you a few glances from some people working at the countertop. You were certain that the one with headphones in had heard her loud ass too. She could be really nosey sometimes but you still appreciated her presence and her business whenever she stopped in.

“Hahaha. Not at the moment.  It’s a date with myself because I deserve to eat well and be treated right -even if I’m the only one treating. Why? What’s happening tonight?” you asked trying not to reveal too much of your intrigue. Sure you had plans but if the offer was right, you could bend em.

“ Okay. So, my boss actually asked me to invite you to dinner tonight at The Liftoff because-“

“The Liftoff? Wait, who the hell is your boss? fucking President Barack Obama?” you damn near yelped as you stared at her with your eyebrows reaching the ceiling. In order to get into The Liftoff you had to have money. Not just a lil cheddar. But BIG BANK! More than that you had to have clout.  If you didn’t have someone invite you, you were never getting in. Many people hadn’t even heard of it- you happened to have a few wealthy and loyal customers stop in every now and then and had overheard them discussing it once.

“His name is Erik. I’m not sure if you remember him but I guess he was in here a few weeks ago,”

2 weeks and 3 days ago sis. But hey, who’s counting? You thought.

“That was when I was out for my wedding. I guess it was a good thing too.”

Aloud, you feigned delayed recognition “Oh yeaahhh. Yeah, I remember him stopping in”

“He was planning on picking you up tonight at six to go to dinner and finish up where y’all left off..” she trailed and left the floor for you. She was not so subtly implying that you two had started something and she was all ears.

“Well, sis. You can let Mr. Erik know that I’m unavailable for the evening. And if he wants to see me, Imma need him to come in here and ask me himself,” you said placing both drinks on the countertop.

“You playing hard to get sis?” she countered.

“I’m not playing anything. I have standards and I know my worth through and through. If he can’t come ask me face to face himself, then the answer will forever be no.”  

Michaela was shocked by your response but managed to get out “I’ll be certain to relay the message.” As she made her exit, she turned back to you. “I respect you sis. A lot of females see a nigga like him and are ready to hop over the counter at one of his slick ass lines. You’re bout to give him a run for his money- and he got plenty!” she cackled.  With that she left and left you alone with your thoughts.

————————

When you made it back to your place, it was time for a shower. The smell of coffee was one of your personal tell-tales signs of how long you’d spent at your shop to make sure everything was in order. Right now, the scent was permeating around you. It had been stated on more than one occasion that you were a workaholic. You simply cared about your baby and wanted to make sure that you gave the best back to the city that raised you. So, it was always hard to establish boundaries for when you had to tend to yourself rather than Grindin. But today was your day.

The second you opened the door, you started shedding your clothes as if they were contaminated. You loved walking around your condo bare ass naked- without a care in the world as to who did or did not see you in all your glory. You adjusted your A/C to a crisp 68 degrees and headed to your bathroom to start your water. Grabbing your phone, you put on a fun playlist to dance to a little. Kiana Ledé’s “Bouncin” started playing out of your waterproof speaker and you hopped in to wash the morning away and bounce a little yourself. The rest of the day was going to be a self-care day. You had it all planned out. First, shower. Next, nap. Then, you planned on putting on a little makeup, serving looks with your latest fit, doing some shopping and then you’d take yourself to dinner. You made sure to do this at least once a month with yourself. Sometimes people would see you dressed to impressed and they’d take pity on you for being alone. But that wasn’t how you saw it at all and you let them know it. Whenever anyone gave you sad eyes or took it upon themselves to join you on your night out, you let them know that this was your intended personal time and that you weren’t crumbled or broken by not having someone to sit across from you.

Obviously, there were times you really wished that someone would take it upon themselves to treat you so you didn’t have to do it yourself. But, on these nights you made sure to be appreciative of who you were whether there was an admirer to acknowledge this or not. Your mind drifted over these things as you hopped out the shower and moisturized your body from head to toe.

Shower ✅

You re-entered your room and buried yourself beneath your covers. The silk sheets had been calling out your name since you’d step foot inside and you were done denying them their request. It was time for that nap. 💤💤😴

——————————————

FRESH OUT THE BOX

STOP, LOCK AND WATCH

READY YET, GET SET

IT’S AALL THAT!

called out from your bedside dresser as you stretched out your limbs and tried to reach out for the phone.

OHHHHHH, OH, OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THIS IS ALL THAT!

THIS IS ALLL THAT!

“Fuck it,” you said as you hopped out the bed and began your performance. You grabbed your phone and used it as your mic as your bedroom became your stage.

Check it, check it, check it

Now this is just an introduction

Before I blow your mind

The show is All of That and yes we do it all the time

So sit your booty on the floor or in a chair

Ground or in the air

Just don’t go no-where!

You gave it all you had for the full 1 minute and 6 seconds only ceasing when the alarm tune was starting over from the top. Dancing was one of your favorite ways to wake up. It made you feel more alive and ready to conquer the rest of your day.

Nap ✅

You meander over to the kitchen to grab a banana and some cranberry juice before tossing on an oversized t-shirt and sitting in front of your vanity. Next on your list was makeup. You synched your phone’s bluetooth to your mirror and played your Self Love playlist to sing along to. You planned on applying a light beat and wanted to make sure you did so without getting any makeup on your body.  Makeup was not your forté by any means but you loved to play a little and were able to copy all the simple tutorials. Today that mean browns all around. You dabbed on some foundation and two brown eye shadows, one that was subtle and another with more shimmer to compliment your natural glow. A little black eyeliner, mascara and nude lip gloss to bring it all together.

Makeup ✅

The fit for the evening was on point if you did say so yourself. A little casual but alluring nevertheless. 

Jade green bottoms which accentuated your curves with a cream colored long sleeve shirt that had a very deep v cut. You were really playin into your sexy side for the evening and it made you feel bold and dangerous.

You went with rose gold accessories to compliment your brown skin and eyes. Your watch and lock necklace were simple but altogether the look had you feelin like you were an 11/10 and that was the goal. You always wanted to remember that you were desired-even if only by yourself. You removed your phone from the charger, responding to a quick text from Lu about your plans for the evening and when you’d be available, disconnected your music from the bluetooth mirror and headed to your front door to put on your heels.

Serve these fuckin looks ✅

———

You were on your fourth store and your Gummy Bear smoothie was all but gone. Thus far nothing was really speaking to you. You’d purchased some accessories and  saw a lot of cute clothing items but nothing that was significant enough to bring home. Your shopping rule was : “If you don’t love it in the store, you won’t love it at home,”. You exited the boutique and made your way to the escalator ascending to the second level where you parked your car. You reached for your phone as it vibrated in your back pocket. Glancing at the screen you saw that it was Ray who was reaching out.

“Hey Ray J!” you laughed at the nickname he despised. His one wish was that you would stop calling him that.

“Y/N where are you?” he sounded concerned. He hadn’t even yelled at you for using the nickname that he couldn’t stand.

“I’m leaving the mall. What’s wrong?”

“Jaime had a family emergency and can’t close tonight. Eve is there but she’s still new you know. He had to leave and no one else is available to come in for him and close,” he said.

“Really? No Sherell, Chris or Rico?”

“No. None of them can make it. I would go in but I’m in Frisco right now. I know it’s your date night and I hate to do this. But, do you think you can close up?”

“Yeah.” you sighed, “Yeah, I can make it. It’s almost quitting time anyways. Plus I’m hella closer than you are. But just know you owe me! If you took your ass across the bridge on a whim, the dick better be good! ”

“Trust me boo it will be and I got you next time!”

“Yeah, whatever.” You hung up and wondered why the hell Ray decided to go to San Francisco on a whim when he was scheduled to be back up in case anything went awry for the evening. That was the whole purpose of the schedule that the two of you created. This was a perfect example of something unexpected occurring and yet he was M.I.A. You pondered these thoughts as you headed to your car and headed back towards your shop. You made sure to call and cancel your dinner reservation because that definitely wasn’t happening anymore.

Thank God I always keep a change of clothes at work you thought, cringing about how awkward it would be to slang coffee with your titties on full display considering you’d forgone a bra for the evening.

When you pulled up it was 6:30. The shop closed at 8 tonight so you had half an hour before you began pre-close. You walked in and scurried to the back to change into a merch sweater which read “Stay Grounded and some black leggings.

Eve was holding it down as best as she could. But it was evident that she was stressed.

“Hey, I’ll take the bar. You go ahead and ring em up, okay?” you offered.

She sighed and released a lot of the tension in her shoulders. “Okay.”

There were already 4 drinks waiting to be made. So, you got to work.

“Sorry your first night shift has been a bit of a whirlwind,” you told her once it had slowed down a bit. It was 6:58 and you didn’t anticipate there being too much of a let up. “Do you have your pre-close list with you?”

“Yeah. I was going to do the final bathroom check.”

“Great! Go ahead and get started. I’ll do most of the behind the counter stuff tonight. You focus on the customer areas. I may call you if orders get crazy,”

“Sounds like a plan boss!”

“Y/N!” you corrected.

Customers trickled in throughout the last hour. But when 7:45 came around and they saw that you were already cleaning up shop, most of them started to pack up their things and go. By 7:56 you were ecstatic. Everyone was gone. You just had to lock the door and then you could count money and tips, do a final sweep and mop and head out the shop. At least that was the plan, until you heard GRINDIN chime throughout the store at 7:58 P.M. You rolled your eyes. Unfortunately, this was no new occurrence to you. Customers were notorious for getting their final fix in the last few minutes before you closed up. Most of the time it didn’t bother you. But tonight, you were hungry and jaded that your plans for the evening had changed.

“Welcome! I just want to let you know that we will be closing in just a couple minutes here,” you called out without looking up as you wiped down the counter, “Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Yeah I got one.” the timber of his voice compelled you to stop and give him your full attention. You looked up to see Erik, dressed in a slightly less formal ensemble than when you’d first met. 

He adorned a pair of dark trousers, a white button up shirt with polka dots and suede loafers. But, he still looked so..

“Delicious?” he asked.

Hol’ up. First he’s Barack and now he reads minds too?

“I’m sorry” you say trying and failing to hide your flustered nature. “What was that?”

He smirked. “It’s okay baby girl. I’m sure you got a lot to take in with your day and all,” he stated as he took a few steps forward which didn’t help to alleviate your confused state at all. “I said since you took the time to introduce me to something new. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. How about tonight it’s my turn to show you something delicious?”

Your reaction came as if you were on auto-pilot.

“I would love to but I’m barely closing up shop. By the time I count the drawer and we find a restaurant and actually place an order it’ll be pretty late. You shouldn’t hold off on dinner on account of me,” you said.

Erik kissed his teeth. “Yo workaholic ass don’t know how to say ‘no’ to anyone who wanna show you a good time, do you?” It must have been a rhetorical question because he went on, “Gone ahead and finish up closing your shop. When you done, meet me in the back.”

“Hold on. I

“Aht- aht- aht. This is no longer an option. This is the game plan. Close up, freshen up into some non-coffee gear and meet me out back. I’ll be there.” he said sternly and with that, he left.

Eve came out from the back of the shop with a broom in hand. You stood there frozen for a moment.

Did this negro just boss me around? In my own damn shop?? You thought.

Yes. Yes. He did sis. And you liked it so shut up and close up!

You locked the front door to bar anyone else from coming in and started counting the drawer. By the time you were done, Eve had swept, mopped the front and turned on the fans to help the floor dry quickly.

“Great job tonight Eve! I’m sure in the future it won’t be as.. disruptive. Either way, you killed it.”

“Thanks Y/N did you need me to stay or-?”

“Uh-uh. Go ahead sis!”. The second you locked the door behind her. You dashed to the restroom to freshen up and put on your clothes from earlier in the day. You rolled on some perfume and reapplied your gloss before you hit all the lights, locked the door, set the alarm and circled around the back of the shop.

When you got there, you came to a full stop and your jaw dropped. It was gorgeous. The back lot of the shop was decorated in lights throughout the trees. In the center there was a table for two, a whole ass waiter and was that music? You glanced around to find that tucked away in the corner there was indeed a harpist playing beautiful melodies.

“Damn girl and I thought I was going to surprise you with my view,” Erik said as you turned around to face him. He was holding a single purple daisy- which just happened to be your favorite flower. He placed it in your hands and pulled out your chair for you to have a seat.

“How? How did you do all of this and how did you know this was my favorite flower?” you asked with an expression of bewilderment taking over your features.

“I promise I’ll explain alldat baby girl. But first, I need to say I’m sorry”. This surprised you. You’d spent less than an hour in this man’s presence but he already didn’t strike you as the apologetic type.You placed your flower on the table and gave a nod of your head for him to go on. “When I met you a few weeks back. I meant to ask yo fine ass out right then and there. Unfortunately, that call that I got was urgent and it needed me to leave the country immediately,”. He finished.

“Oh my. Is everything alright?” you asked

“It is now. I handled it as I always do,” he stated with a conceited grin, “That’s why I came back to ask you out. I don’t leave anything unfinished.”

“Last time I checked this wasn’t an option. You didn’t ask nothin” He chuckled at that. The waiter came over at that moment to introduce himself, present the menu and fill up your water. He didn’t need to explain anything because there weren’t options on it. It was simply an itinerary for what your palette could expect. Appetizer, Entree, Dessert. They were all your favorites with a subtle twist. You were impresed. The menu was elegantly done and it looked fly as hell. You might have to keep a copy to give to Lu for inspiration.

“Well, actually I did,” Erik began when Duke, the waiter made his exit, “I was in earlier to ask yo stubborn ass-”

“You got one more time to talk about my ass before this becomes a solo event,” you interjected.

“Aight, bet. We can take a pause on that ass for now,” he smirked, “I was in earlier to ask you to dinner face to face, but yo people told me that you were unavailable for the evening. So, we made a few changes to make you available.”

“You what?”

“I paid ya mans Jaime a few bills to take the night off. Ray and Lulu was already on board,” you glanced down at the menu of our favorite foods again, “yup. That was them. They told me what you like. I just got the chef and made sure that Michaela hired the right people to make this vision come together. We all agree that it’s time for you to take a break, ma”

“Wait a minute. You bribed my staff? Plus, Lulu and Ray were in cahoots with you on this?! You barely even know me.”

“And? I’m tryna know you”

“I’m just sayin that’s a hole lotta trouble for a virtual stranger.”

“But you not a stranger. You the one that left me satisfied. Now just enjoy the rest of the evening and let me do the same for you,” he said as he picked up your hand and caressed it all the while never breaking eye contact with you.

“Okay.” you got out meekly. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Okay, Imma let you finish what you started,” you said

He smiled one of the most genuine and naturally alluring smiles you’d ever seen.

“ I can already tell you ain’t used to letting others take control. But don’t worry ma. I got this and I got you,” you were all the way blushing at this point, “Tell me about your day. Was it as brewtiful as you are?”

You laughed out loud as Duke placed your appetizers in front of you. “You corny.”

“And you like it,” You could already tell that he was going to do good on his word. You were leaving satisfied tonight one way or another.

Tag List: @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @shewrites02 @shewritestheblues @ghostfacekill-monger @sarcastic-sunshines @fd-writes @eyeknowmywrites @twistedcharismaaa @thadelightfulone @raysunshine78

#shaekingspeaks #grindin #stay grounded #erik stevens x reader #erik x reader #erik killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black panther #erik x black reader

[lifeafterten]

RtN 02: Sept 02 -Sept 12; Get Me the FUCK Outta Here

I’ve been here for days. Who the fuck stays in the hospital for days?... Fucked up people. And I’m in Fucked-Upville-- Population (points to self) this mother fucker. 

Okay. Okay. I’m turning the drama down.  Honestly though... I’ve been here a fucking while. I have an I.V. tube in each arm, one for fluids, because I’m perpetually dehydrated, the other is for the antibiotics that don’t seem to be working, because I still feel like death. I have to often lay in awkward positions so I don’t tangle myself and make the machines go off. So. Much. Beeping. And I swear to Christ, if they come at you with a little blue bag and claim it’s potassium... RUN--Fucking run, because once they hook your ass up to that shit you’ll feel like they’re injecting fire into your veins and you can’t scream because let’s face it: you’re too damn tired, so you settle for some weird case of facial Tourettes in the form of wincing and hissing. And they turn the drip down enough for the fire to feel like a sting... and you feel that effervescent sting until it’s done. It’s “supposed” to take 30 minutes-- they say. But my pansy ass can’t take the heat so the slowed down version makes it last at least an hour and some change. I pray I’m not stubborn enough today to take the morphine.  Why won’t you take the morphine, Ashley? I’ll fucking tell you why-- I have control issues.  And the morphine feels too fucking good that I need the pain to remind me that I’m still alive and to gauge between dream and reality.

At this point I’m agitated (by pain and impatience). I’ve been stuck by damned needled so many times, because of all the bloodletting I’ve been doing.  These assholes have been taking my life source (no, not coffee, you freak) twice a day. Oh, I’m sorry, they’ve been taking my “blood cultures” twice a day.

Why? They don’t say. They tell me to ask my doctor. My doctor is a pussy.  Soft spoken; pussy footing fucking pussy, who can’t give me a straight answer.

I dismiss my doctor more than a person dismisses alcoholism. Day drinking is not a bad thing. Who cares if it’s barely noon and you’ve been drinking since 9. ... Not speaking from experience-- Anyway!

I dismissed my doctor a lot. I couldn’t help it. I’ve been laying up in this bitch for weeks and you can’t give me some indication of what’s going on; let alone a time frame of when I’ll be able to go home-- on top of a mother fucking reason why I’m being kept in here for so damn long? Yeah. Fuck that shit. Dismissed, mother fucker. I have no fucks to give for useless asshats. Come talk to me when you can tell me what the fuck’s up. 

I’ve been moved to three or four rooms. From the ER bed to Surgery... Then to another room in Surgery... to the Telemetry ward, because my heart rate was too high-- which honestly I’m not surprised... I’ve been on permanent pissed the hell off for quite some time now.  They take my vitals every 30 minutes.  I’ve been counting because I literally have nothing else to do, besides... I only feel that it’s fair that I monitor them while they monitor me. But mostly it’s because I’m bored and there’s nothing on TV.  By now I’ve refused visitors.  I’ve dodged death a couple times.

Homicide via Mio overdose: Backstory: I asked for Mio, because they kept saying I was dehydrated and I thought I needed electrolytes like a muh’fug, so when my friend Kris came by (note she had no idea what Mio was let alone how to use it) and had dumped an entire bottle of Mio (24 servings) into my water jug (16 - 24 oz tops). I take one sip of it and I thought I was gonna die. Chest was on fire. My machines were going crazy, because I was coughing my lungs out and poor Kris is panicked and distraught. Its hard to convey you’re okay if you’re croaking like you’ve been smoking for about 300 years and your vision is obscured by tears. Sidenote: The incident still brings her to tears to this day, she feels so bad. Personally, I think it’s adorable and funny... Now, at the time...? Owie.

Suicide via Mother doth Love too much: I love my mother. I do. I love my entire family. But they like to hover and it was stifling. They’re looking at me with worried eyes when they think I’m asleep and I get it.  It doesn’t look good, kid.  My sister? God love her, she tries to keep the worry and her tears in check because she knows I don’t know how to handle them.  My Dad? Shit, my dad knows what’s up. He knows I’m gonna handle my shit the only way I know how. On my own terms. This is why I’m a daddy’s girl. My brother and sister in law on the other hand? My bother spilled water down the front of my gown (had to change that shit. not fun) and his wife, in her efforts to break my fever, stuffed my fresh new gown with ice packs.. And when I say ice packs, I mean latex gloves filled with ice stuffed in my gown. Stuffed. In. My. Fucking. Gown. That’s it-- I’ve had it! Everyone’s banned.

And it’s also hard to put on a tough front when all I wanna do is cry, but I end up just being angry instead.

The only human interaction I had is when the nurses are taking my blood, or my vitals, or switching my IV bags, or helping me to the bathroom to do bathroom things, or giving me sponge baths because I’m too weak to get out of bed, or shooting morphine into my body to ease my torment; or shoving pills down my fucking throat because nothing is fucking working. I’m still getting fevers out of nowhere.  People are coming in and out every morning to lift my gown up (they do it so much they don’t even ask anymore. A brief thought of charging them crosses my mind, and I allow a small giggle. Because it’s silly, because I’m glad I still had somewhat of a sense of humor.) Still, I think my cooter deserves some ounce of respect. Women’s lib and all that crap. I’ve turned this part of the day into a game (I’m SO fucking bored). I like to spot the face tightening moment when they assess whatever the fuck is going on with my leg (I don’t know. I haven’t seen... I don’t want to see yet). 

It’s fun for me, because they’re medical professionals-- they’re supposed to be used to this kind of thing. But the face tightening? To me that’s a victory. That just means they have to school their expressions to indifference so as to not alarm me. Ah, bed side manner.  They’re so sweet. But I know just by their non-expressions that it looks fucked up. I have to look at the small details; read between the lines of what they’re not telling me.  I’d be in the dark otherwise. What are they not telling me? I know they’re testing for something... But I don’t know what they’re testing for. I stamp down fear, because I don’t have enough data to panic.

My dreams are getting scarier, because of the morphine. No more morphine, I promise myself. Vicodin only.  Yeah, that seems safer. The nurses, I’ve learned, just need someone to listen to them. Since I can’t get a decent night’s sleep because they’re fucking coming in every 15 to 30 minutes all day, every day, all the fucking time... Why the fuck not? I got nowhere else to be. I seem to have opened Pandora’s Box, because it’s 3am and I’m giving life advice to Agnes who has a very rebellious son, whom I point out is 16 years old and he’s going through a phase, it doesn’t mean she’s a bad mother.  Which I reminds me that I need to tell Doris who’s part of the Day crew that Agnes is off on Wednesdays too and that they should hangout together, because I think they would get along. I make a mental note to pass Agnes’ number to Doris later. I really should start charging... This pro bono shit aint working out. 

During my hospital stay I’ve managed the following:

Make only 4 nurse assistants cry

Befriend most if not all the Filipino nurses (they gave me all the apple sauce I wanted)

Make that one stern Indian Night Nurse smile (she gave me yogurt and bananas every time she was on shift)

Counsel only 5 to 6 nurses, mostly 5.. the 6th one kinda got weird. Didn’t take whatever she gave me.

Snob my doctor almost every day. 

Made my main nurse laugh because she thinks I’m a riot. 

Days later it was time for me to go home. I knew this for damned sure.  I saw so many specialists from an infectious disease doctor to a surgeon. I was so fucking bloated from all the fluids they were trying to fill me with that they could barely find veins to stab to get their precious blood cultures from. 

I also decided that with my body like this the Mitchelin tire man was my cousin.

Sidenote: To hell with the Infectious Disease doctor. That heifer made me lay on my side for two fucking days straight. Fat load that shit did for me. With all the extra fluids in my body, it just shifted to one side. All it gave me was a backache and lopsided boobs... and some fucking fluid in my lungs. Fucking devil woman. I got a fucked up leg, I’m the size of a float during the Macy’s Day Parade, and now I got lopsided tits. It’s funny... now. At the time? Not so much. It was September 12.  I had broken out in a rash due to an allergic reaction to one of the antibiotics. (Let’s just add that to the list of whatever the fuck else is wrong with my body, shall we?) My “doctor” (doesn’t deserve the title nor respect. Sorry not sorry) was trying to get me to stay a few more days. I’ve had quite enough. I told him to get the discharge papers ready. I’m leaving. My fevers were gone. My leg wasn’t draining so badly anymore (ew, gross. sorry) I felt fine. Despite me constantly checking my hands so they don’t try to scrape my skin off. Fucking hell I was so itchy. I didn’t need to be in here. That’s when the good doctor decided to divulge that I hurt his feelings and that I was his least favorite patient. (Boo freakity hoo.) But I was a good girl and let him talk, said all the appropriate things. ... He’s still a pussy.  He was glad to be rid of me and the feeling was more than fucking mutual. I did not tell him to get fucked. I did not tell him to suck my dick. I did not flick him off. I did not throw shit at him. I was rather proud of myself. I showed great restraint.  But I did point out that just because he had the “MD” attached to his name, does not mean automatic respect. Respect is earned Dr. Pussy foot.  I signed the paperwork with relish. Jessie came to pick me up and I was whisked off to spend my mandatory (couldn’t argue my way outta that one) bed rest at the Joseph’s.  I’m so tired of laying down. TBC...

#blog #lifeafterten #hospital #Road to Nepal part 2

[saintmccann]

28 - home alone

This is an original that’s been marinating in my google drive for a really long time... like, since I started this blog a little over four months ago. I figured since I’ve still got a little bit to go on the current request, I’d dig this one out to hold you over until the next one is posted!

premise Young Van and reader are going out, but are new to ~things~. One day, they find themselves home alone! Awkward, fluffy, embarrassing, and a little bit funny.

___________________

Van wasn't listening to music, which wasn't, in itself, especially noteworthy, except that he had his headphones in; it was all a clever ruse, one that he had cultivated over many years of getting people to leave him alone. It was the first day he had off of playing little gigs in weeks, and he had arranged to meet you in the bed & breakfast after you got out of school. Mary had an irritating habit of wanting Van to work if he was in proximity, even if he had time off, so deception was necessary if he were to sit behind the counter and fend off Mary's attempts at getting him to serve guests. He situated himself behind the counter at an angle that allowed him a view of the direction you would be coming from and absentmindedly staring out the window. This way, it looked to Mary like Van was at least trying to help and was doing a bad job of it, when, in reality, he wasn't trying to help and he wasn't exerting himself. Victory: Van McCann.

Mary passed behind him, grumbling loudly, and Van just stared, furrowing his brow in apparent concentration. He even let his mouth hang open a little. In his peripheral vision, he saw Mary stop at his side, hands on her hips. Mary gestured to Van and then to the counter, where a guest was waiting. Van tilted his head at the iPod he wasn’t listening to and rested his chin on his fist.

"Van."

"Huh."

"Are you going to help?" Mary indicated the guest with a few quick jabs of her finger.

Van pivoted his head to look at Mary and then at the customer. He scrunched his face up and turned his attention back to the iPod. "I wouldn't bet on it."

"Van."

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he brought the iPod closer to his face. "Hang on," he drawled. "I just want to finish this son-" The bell rang and he looked up to see you come through the door.

"I'm leaving," he announced, suddenly at attention, tucking his iPod into his back pocket and rounding the counter to meet you.

"Oh no," Mary deadpanned. "How will I get anything done without you here?"

"Hey, you're the one who gave me the day off," Van said, hands raised defensively. You gave him a peck on the cheek. He tugged at your ponytail and kissed your forehead.

Mary sighed, tossing the order pad on the counter. "I hoped that maybe you'd use the time to study."

"You should have stipulated. Can't take it back now – Y/N's here. You'd make her sad."

Mary looked vaguely disgusted. "You'd be sad not to spend time with him?" You swiveled your attention from Van to Mary, sticking out your bottom lip and making the most pathetic baby rabbit eyes you could muster. Mary winced. "Fine, go."

"Thank you, Mother Mary," Van singsonged, putting his arm around you and guiding you out of the bed & breakfast. He leaned close to your ear as they walked down the steps into the sidewalk. "I'm glad you finally learned how to use that pout for the forces of good."

"Well, you hardly ever have an entire afternoon off."

"So you do miss me?" he asked, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Yes, actually. You work a lot, whether it be at the B&B or doing shows cross-country." You took hold of the hand he had draped over your shoulder, lacing your fingers together. Your other arm looped around his back, your hand resting on his hip.

"I'm industrious and motivated."

"When it comes to your passions."

He shrugged, defensive irritation prickling at the skin between his shoulder blades. He didn't want to argue. You really didn't get to see each other for significant blocks of time anymore, with your school work and his two jobs and intermittent school attendance. "So, what do you want to do now that you've got access to me? Movie?"

You tugged on his fingers. "It's Thursday."

"Yes it is."

"I have school tomorrow."

"So do I."

You snorted. "Well, I actually plan on being prepared for it. By doing my homework." His brow furrowed. It sounded like you were trying to get out of doing anything with him, but you’d been excited about today since he told you he had it completely free of Catfish prep. You saw the look on his face and continued quickly, "I just don't have time for a movie is all. We could do something else."

"OK. What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just want to get changed first, and then we can figure it out."

He turned to peer at you, which he thought was an impressive accomplishment when his face was about two inches from yours. You had to crane your neck back to look him in the eye.

"What?" you asked. He raised an eyebrow.

"You're being vague. It's not like you to be vague, unless you're hidin’ something. You're hidin’ something!" You opened your mouth to protest, but he continued, "What is it, a surprise get together with your entire extended family? Did your mom install a trap door inside your room that leads to the gates of hell, that will be triggered only by my DNA?"

"Van," you groaned, butting your head against his chin. "Stop."

"Fine," he muttered, kissing the edge of your mouth, which curved upward. He moved across your cheek to your jaw, and your fingers wiggled between his. Pretty soon he wasn't thinking about the plans for the rest of the day, distracted by the soft curve of your neck. He trusted you to guide your bodies in a straight line, fixing his attention on the feel and scent of your skin, not caring when you didn't warn him about an upcoming curb and he stumbled. He could feel your soft laughter traveling up your throat and vibrating against his lips. You squealed when he kissed behind your ear at your hairline, scrunching up your shoulder and pulling away.

"Oh God, that tickles!" You tried to lean out of his reach, but you kept your hold tight around his waist.

"Not supposed to tickle," he mumbled into your throat. "Supposed to turn you on."

You made a soft pfft noise and bumped him lightly with your hip. He continued kissing under your jawline until you pushed lightly at his chest. "Van, seriously!" He straightened with a sigh, arching an eyebrow at you.

"Don't give me that look," you said. "It's very distracting when you do that. Why is it that I always have to be the one to navigate, anyway? One of these days, I should get to be the one who latches onto your neck like a lamprey and you'll have to keep focused and get us safely from one destination to another."

"That'd never work," he said seriously, shaking his head, and you gave a little indignant scoff. "Trust me, you, I don't care that much about gettin’ anywhere. If you did that to me, we'd just have to give up on going wherever we were headed. So, it naturally falls to you, the responsible one, to be in charge of walkin’."

"Because if I left it to you, we'd just stand in the spot where we started and make out all day."

"Yep. Or, you know. Other things."

You laughed loudly. "Really, Van? In the middle of town?"

"Wherever you'd let me."

You were blushing but still smiling.

"Well," you said, ducking your head, "I'm not quite ready for exhibitionism just yet. If you can wait until we get to my house, I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Van snorted. "Great, so we can make out in front of your mom? I know you two are close, but that's where I draw a line."

You smiled at him, a small inscrutable smile that spoke of things you knew and he didn't. He lifted his eyebrows at you questioningly, but you ignored the gesture, turning your head forward. His interest piqued. Van thought that maybe you both could duck out somewhere after you got most of your homework done. Your mum would know, because she always knew, but she'd probably let you get away with no more than the disapproving I'm onto you look she always fixed on Van these days. He wanted to be irritated by it, but, if he was honest with himself, your mum was right. Van had very naughty things on his mind, pretty much all of the time.

"Why are you looking so smug?" you asked, digging your fingers into his side.

He couldn't help smirking. "Do I look smug?"

You gave him an appraising look. "Frequently."

"Well," he snorted, spreading his hand out helplessly, "I don't know what to tell you, because I feel so humble."

You scoffed. "Right. That's the vibe I usually get." You affected a deep, laid-back voice. "Van McCann. Humble. Cool. Writes three songs a night and plays guitar and loves tea and bananas. Because he's just that cool."

"Alright, that's it," Van said, leaning down to kiss your neck. You blocked his face with your hand and giggled and he tried to pull you around to get better access to your face,  neck, and the little dip of exposed skin at the collarbone. You staggered haphazardly down the road like that, finally becoming aware of surroundings when you stumbled and Van almost fell over you. You held on to each other for support, your fingers curled into his shirt at his waist, one of your thumbs hooked into his belt loop.

You glanced around, breathless. "Oh, home!" you cried, letting go of Van to head down the path. He sighed and turned after you, scratching the back of his head and feeling acutely aware of all the places on his body that had been pressing up against you but weren't anymore.

You sort of jog-skipped through your yard and up the steps of the porch, arms flapping oddly by your sides. He'd never seen anyone so abysmal at doing anything remotely related to physical exertion. As he walked after you, he noticed that the yard was empty. No car. No mother. He looked up at you, where you were waiting for him at the door with a look of triumph.

"I win!" you said, sounding a little giddy.

Van studied you, smirking. He indicated the empty yard with a wave of his hand and raised his eyebrows. "No mum?"

You scanned the yard as though noticing it yourself for the first time. "Huh," you said lightly, and pushed through the door.

He watched you go in the house, mind racing. A lot of thoughts were running through his head, but the most important were: you, house, and alone. He practically sprinted up the steps after you, surprised that you were already in the kitchen by the time he got inside. You dropped your backpack and took off your school sweater, tossing it into your bedroom. Van lingered in the archway, watching you expectantly. You said nothing and wouldn't meet his eye. Very suspicious.

"How long is your mum going to be gone?" he asked, shuffling cautiously into the room, checking around corners as though expecting her to pop out and surprise him.

You circled around to the opposite side of the room so the table separated you from him. "For being alone in a house with your girlfriend, you seem awfully interested in my mother." You tugged the elastic band out of your hair, shaking your fingers through it casually.

Van grabbed the back of a chair, leaning over it toward you. "Well, your mother's whereabouts and the duration of her absence have a direct bearing on what I do with my girlfriend in an empty house."

"Oh, you think so?"

He gave you a serious look. "Y/N."

"You want a soda? I'm thirsty." You turned around and opened the refrigerator, sticking your head behind the door. Van got the feeling you were laughing at him.

He couldn't quite figure out what was going on. You were being a lot more playful than usual, and he had it at about a fifty/fifty chance that either something terrible was going to befall him, or he was actually alone in a house with you for an afternoon. Banking on the latter, he decided to play along and pulled out the chair he was leaning on. He took the iPod out of his pocket and tossed it on the table, plopping down in the seat.

"Sure, I'll take something to drink."

You emerged with two soda cans and walked around the table to stand in front of him, placing both of the drinks on the table and crossing your hands behind your back. "And, since you were wondering," you said, "Mum has to stay at the inn tonight because of a big conference thing. She'll be there until at least seven. Happy birthday."

A slow smile spread across his face. "My birthday's not for months."

You swiveled your hips back and forth and shrugged, still not quite meeting his eyes. "Whoops."

You leaned down to kiss him, bringing your arms forward to hook your fingers in the holes in his sweater. You tugged him, pulling his shoulders away from the back of the chair, and he responded gladly, gripping your waist with both hands. There was nothing playful here, just a heady lust that drove all thoughts from his mind except for you – your smell, your lips, the crisp crinkle of your school shirt between his fingers.

You pulled back, exerting just enough pressure against his chest to let him know that he was supposed to let you break the kiss, and you lingered there, close enough that he could easily tilt in and drag his tongue over your bottom lip. You studied his face closely, searching for something, he guessed, but he didn't know what and his mind was buzzing too pleasantly to care. After a moment of just watching each other, he was ready to dip his head and kiss you again, but you straightened, keeping your hands fisted in his shirt.

You put your knee on the chair, just next to his leg, and he cocked his head at you. You mirrored his tilt of the head, mouth crooking upward in a self-conscious smirk, and brought your other leg up to rest on the chair so you were kneeling over him. Van grinned at you, dragging his hands down to the small of your back and pulling you closer. You scooted forward until you were fully straddling him, knees bumping the back of the chair and just your feet dangling over the edge of the seat.

Van laughed, feeling almost elated with surprise at your boldness. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but he wasn't about to question it, so he kissed you. You brought your hands up to cup his face, curling your fingers over his ears and then spreading them into his long hair. He worked down your chin to your jaw and neck, lingering at the base of your throat.

"Miss Y/N," Van murmured against your collarbone, "sitting in the lap of a delinquent? This town has come to expect better from you, and, as such, the board is issuing you a citation. For unsanctioned use of Van McCann as a chair."

You laughed, quiet and hot in the hollow of his ear, twining your fingers in his flippy hair at the base of his skull. "Van," you said, lips pulling at his earlobe, "the only times you ever talk too much are exactly the times I'd rather you shut up entirely."

"Another citation," he said, because he couldn't help himself, because he was an ass, "for being saucy."

You sat back, looking him directly in the eye, and for a second Van worried that he might have actually pissed you off. "Shh," you commanded, and set to work keeping him quiet by covering his mouth with your own.

He found the top button of your shirt and undid it, sliding his fingers inside to tickle the warm skin just below your collar. He plucked open three more buttons, not doing more than brushing his hands lightly over the exposed skin. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth, biting him lightly. His fingers slid down your body to rest on the tops of your thighs, and he ran the heels of his hands up your leg, bunching your skirt to your hips. This was where you would stop him, he thought, you would pull away and say his name softly and he would return to safe territory, although, he thought with a private smirk, he was good at making anything dangerous.

You didn't react the way he expected, though. You shifted, breathing in sharply, and pushed up, pressing your hipbones into his palms. He felt a little lightheaded, the result of surprise and most of the blood draining from his brain to his crotch. He groaned into your mouth and dipped his hands under the hem of your skirt, rubbing against the soft cotton of your underwear.

Your mouth slid left of his, lips and tongue leaving a wet trail on his cheek as you whispered his name shakily. He took that as an invitation to go further, and he dug his fingers into the curve of your ass, running his thumbs over the sharp jut of your hipbones. You kissed his jaw sloppily with trembling lips, working your way down to his neck. Van cracked his eyes open, tilting his head back to grant you better access, and watched the ceiling blearily.

"Well played," he slurred. "Now you are the lamprey."

He could feel you smile against his neck and the warm brush of air that was your laughter. "And now I see," you said, voice muffled and quivery, "just how useless you would be if I did this to you while we were walking down the street."

He wanted to say something witty, but all he could think about was that if you ever kissed him like this in public, even if it were in the middle of the bed & breakfast and his mother was feet away, they wouldn't go any farther than the floor. So he just said, "Huh," lightly, and let his eyes drift shut.

This was maybe the first time he could remember you taking any kind of initiative, apart from the impulsive first kiss, which was something of a bittersweet memory. You weren't generally shy about physical contact, not since you'd gotten over the initial awkwardness long ago, and you were very receptive to his exploration, but you didn't explore in turn. You didn't bring him over to your empty house and straddle him. And you certainly didn't sway your hips back and forth while sitting in his lap, rubbing a tentative rhythm against the fly of his dark jeans.

You couldn't be aware that you were doing it, because, as far as he knew, you really did like him, and would rather not see him die from a fit of boner-induced apoplexy. But then your knees pressed in, clamping tight around his hips, and he wondered if maybe his girlfriend was evil or just sending him signals that you were ready to do more than you had. His mind was flooded with images he didn't let himself entertain except in his quietest, most private moments that came all too rarely – fuck Mary for renovating his room for the bed and breakfast but not giving him any walls so he could jerk off in peace – and a weak moan escaped his dry throat. He flicked at the elastic on your underwear with his thumbs. It would be so easy, he thought. It was vivid in his imagination – all he had to do was unbutton, unzip, and move aside two inches of cotton.

But they hadn't talked about it and he knew, in one small rational part of his brain that was still functioning, that it would be too much too fast. Even if you wanted to, even if you suggested it, it was too big of a leap from your relatively innocent fumblings to sex. He refused to be something you regretted. Apart from which, he didn't have any condoms on him, fuckity fuck.

With enormous regret, he let go of that fantasy, and turned his attention instead to something that was workable. You were obviously feeling adventurous, and, at some point, had decided you wanted to do the sort of things that might happen between teenagers who had a house to themselves without giving him an indication that you had come to that decision. At least, he thought, brow furrowed, not as far as he was aware. He straightened, poking gently at your ass to get your attention away from his neck. You sat back and gave him an annoyed look that almost made him laugh. He tucked just the tips of his thumbs under the elastic at the top of your thighs and stroked the flesh there, running down the joints where your legs met your pelvis. He lifted his eyebrows. "I have an idea," he said playfully, quietly.

Your eyebrows drew together instantly, breathing shallow and quick. "I," you paused, "I was planning actually on maybe doing something else?" Your voice increased in pitch with every word, so by the time you reached the end of the sentence you sounded comically childlike. Van laughed, almost dizzy with distraction. Trust you to make plans about this sort of thing.

"All right, what were you thinking?"

You looked away, fingers clutching his shirt. You glanced back at him and then down at his lap, embarrassed. "Um. Just…" you trailed off and dragged your hand around his waist, trailing fingertips lightly over the bulge in his pants. He thought he might have gone crosseyed. You looked at him from under your eyelashes. "Not, you know, everything, but we've been dating for a while and I've never… I've never…." You huffed and frowned. "You have done some very nice things," you said, "that I've never …had done before. And I was thinking, I've never… done anything like that for you." You tilted your face up to look him straight on, expression terrified. Your thumb was pressing against the button of his fly and he was going to explode. Metaphorically and possibly also in his pants, which would be a pretty inauspicious end to something that started with such promise.

He wondered dimly what you meant when you said he'd done very nice things – in his opinion, he'd hardly done anything, and he knew you'd never reached orgasm with him. He snorted mentally. And if not with him, then not at all. It seemed to him a very good idea to fix that problem. Not just a good idea, possibly genius. And your mum was going to be gone for a while, and they had the whole house and plenty of time for you to try out your plan. He swallowed hard, trying to figure out what you might have in mind. Everything he pictured further deadened his higher mental faculties, and he muzzily wondered what the hell he'd ever done in his life to deserve this, this girl in his lap whose body fit up against his like it was meant to be there, like connecting puzzle pieces.

"Babe, you don't owe me anything." You opened your mouth and he cut in, "Which is not to say that I don't want you to do … whatever it is you're planning on doing. But we can do both." He slid his hands completely inside your panties, running his palms from your hips to your ass, giving a little squeeze. "It's all about taking turns."

You stared at him with wide eyes and he saw your throat work spasmodically. He could imagine the pro/con list you were writing in your head. Pros: it'll be fucking fantastic. Cons: none. Well, maybe that was his pro/con list. He didn't have enough blood getting to his brain to do better.

"Okay," you breathed. He couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face.

"Okay," he agreed. "Here." He guided you up so you were kneeling over his lap and extracted his hands from your underwear. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging little furrows high on his back. With his right hand, he gripped your hip firmly, supporting you. His left hand traced across your belly, over your bunched skirt, down between your thighs, and he cupped you over your panties. You were staring down at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open and breath coming out in hot little puffs.

He stroked you softly with two fingers. "It's okay," he murmured. You nodded and shifted, leaning forward to rest your head against his neck.

"Hey, wait," he said, and you pulled back to look at him.

"What?" she asked, voice barely there.

Van' eyes tracked over your face, from your parted lips to your dilated pupils and the sweat forming at your hairline. He cleared his throat. "I want to see you."

You made a high, squeaky noise at the back of your throat, so he placed a soft, chaste kiss high on your neck. He settled back in the chair, half-reclining, half-slouching, so he was looking up at you. You licked your lips and closed your eyes, breathing deeply. As he added a little pressure to the strokes between your thighs, he could feel your legs trembling around him. He used his right hand to guide your hips, rocking them back and forth in a gentle sway in counterpoint to the rhythm of his left. You rolled your wrists against his shoulders, pulling up fistfuls of his black sweater, and whispered, "Van."

Van used his pinkie to push aside your underwear, and slid his fingers inside. You tensed around him and bit your lip, brow furrowing. He stroked slowly, intent on your face. You looked deep in concentration, but not necessarily enjoying yourself.

He rubbed your hip to get your attention but you didn't seem to notice. "Y/N. Are you alright?"

You frowned and squirmed against his hand. "Just – wait – there." You took a deep breath. Then, your face scrunched up and he paused. "What are you doing?" you muttered. "Move."

He snorted and complied, starting off gently until, with little shifts and different angles, he found a rhythm that worked for you. Your face relaxed and you made a low, long sound of approval. Van leaned forward a little and kissed your chest, right at the soft swell of your breast, and you moaned loudly. He dragged his tongue across your skin, following the edge of your bra cup down between your breasts. Breathing you in, Van thought this might be a nice place to spend the rest of his life. He kissed you again and sighed, feeling his breath reflected back on him off of your chest. You were moving your hips on your own, now, and he settled back in his chair to watch you.

Like this, you were glorious. Your face was flushed, eyes closed tight, and long strands of your hair were sticking to your sweaty cheeks. Your open shirt left your chest exposed, and he watched the rise and fall of your breastbone as you took in sharp panting breaths. Nobody else got to see you like this. No one ever had before, and this was all his, his doing, his memory forever, your first forever.

And suddenly you looked at him blindly, jaw hanging low as you struggled to breathe, and then you cried out, eyes squeezing shut tight. Your body was completely taught, knees clamping around his legs and fists pressing into his shoulders, and your only movement was the sharp, rapid rolling of your hips and your muscles contracting around him. Van thought it was possible he'd never been so aroused in his life.

You came back to yourself little by little, muscles relaxing, though you were still gasping for air. You leaned down and kissed him hard, uttering little helpless noises into his mouth. Some of your hair was caught between your lips but Van didn't care, just kissed around it. He supported you with both hands as the spasms of your muscles died down, still stroking you gently, slowly, until your hips stopped jerking. Van slid his hand out from your panties and rubbed his knuckles against your quaking thigh.

You broke contact, moving just far enough away to look into his eyes, panting. Van smiled and brushed his thumb over your lip, feeling like just about the greatest motherfucking son of a bitch in the world. You couldn't find your voice; you got out the first part of his name, a guttural little "Vuh-" before trailing off and leaning in to kiss him again. Your fingers started on his belt and you had it unbuckled when he grasped your wrists gently. You pulled back and looked at him, eyes dilated and confused.

"Van?"

He took a deep breath. "Just give me a minute," he said. You nodded and he let go of you to run his hands up your arms and shoulders to your neck. You leaned in again and kissed him.

You pressed your hands against his chest, fingers spread out over his pectorals. You trailed your palms down his body to his stomach, resting on the top of his jeans, and his muscles spasmed in response to your touch. He groaned and moved his hands to cup the base of your skull. You snaked your fingers under the hem of his shirt, tracing cold fingertips low across his abdomen, curling over the waistband of his pants. You rubbed little circles in the coarse hair below his belly button and he knew this wasn't going to calm his arousal into something more manageable, but he didn't care, couldn't care.

Before he realized what you were doing, you unbuttoned and unzipped his fly and were reaching your hand into his boxers. All his muscles locked up as your fingers curled around him, lungs seizing as he tried to gasp for air.

"Y/N," he gasped, hands clenching into involuntary fists in your hair. You were already moving, though, stroking him firmly, and he felt the sudden pressure of oncoming release within seconds.

“Slow,” he gasped, “slower, please,” but slowing down wasn’t enough to quell the passion deep in him. Your touch alone was driving him over the edge. One soft kitten lick to the tip and he was undone, coming hot and fast and wet all over your hands. Quicker than you had expected from him.

“I didn’t know you would…” you gazed at him open mouthed as you realized he truly needed that moment he asked for earlier.

You grabbed tissues from the convenient box resting on the table behind you and cleaned him up, and wiped your hands, trying not to blush magenta at your first failed attempt to please him well because of your impatience.

As Van' blood flow redirected itself to important places like his brain, he started to feel curious about how you had decided you'd wanted to jerk him off. He wondered if you'd done research for it, if you'd read magazines or asked those frightening girls at your school for pointers. Books, if they were available, were the most likely, followed by internet searches. He wanted to sneak onto your computer and check your Google activity. You noticed the look on his face and frowned, suspicious.

"What?" you asked warily.

He shook his head and pulled a piece of hair away from your face. "Nothing."

You tilted your head, brow furrowing. "I don't believe you."

He smirked at you, raising an eyebrow. "How long have you been thinking about doing this?"

You ducked your head. "I – I don't know," she stammered. "I haven't."

"Did you do research?" You looked up at that, eyes wide, and he laughed again. "You did! What did you do? Did you go to the library? Get anatomy textbooks? A Cosmo? Download dirty movies?"

"Shut up! I didn't!" He tilted his head back and laughed at the ceiling. "Van!" You punched his chest and your sharp little knuckles actually hurt.

"Ow, hey. Come here," he said, hand on your jaw and drawing your face to his. He kissed you softly, stroking his thumb across your cheek. "You didn't do it wrong, love." He shrugged."You're inexperienced. Trust me, we have plenty of time to get you to a pro level."

Your eyebrows quirked, expression hovering between amusement and annoyance. "Oh, yes?"

He affected a grave demeanor. "I promise."

"You're very optimistic."

Van nodded. "I am generally known for my optimism and my sunny disposition."

You chuckled and rested your forehead against his, rolling it back and forth slightly in a sort of nuzzle. "That was very nice," you whispered.

"Very nice," he repeated, amused.

You snorted, glancing at him from under your eyelashes shyly. "Yes. Thank you."

Van felt his sad, shattered pride stirring. He ran his thumb over your chin, then touched it to your lips. "Darlin’, you're welcome."

You smiled and kissed him again, laughing softly, and he marveled at how comfortable he felt with you. In spite of a regrettable end to his own arousal, he was already chalking up the afternoon as a success. He had been pretty great, he thought, and you were taking steps together that he hadn't seriously been entertaining a hope of. And he liked discovering all the ways you fit each other. The way you fit tucked under his arm when you walked together, the way your thighs pressed snug around his waist, the way his palms were exactly right to cradle your hips. The way you both could bring up just about any obscure subject and the other would understand and smile knowingly. The way you were both unembarrassed, disheveled and you with your skirt bunched around your waist and him half hanging out of his pants and you both laughing into each other's mouths. Or the way he was certain he knew you, the way he worried you knew him. His hands curled into the rumpled pleats of your skirt and he figured there were infinite ways for your limbs to fit together, to intertwine, to collapse together, and he was determined to find them all.

#van fic #catb van #catb van fic #vanfiction #mine #catb fanfic #catb fic

[miragablog]

Top 10 Mahou Shoujo Shows for Babies (Part 1)

I’ll be the first person to admit, getting into Mahou Shoujo is hard.

With the lacking amount of accessible critique and over the top presentation shows of the genre adopt,

It can be genuinely uninviting for many anime fans to get a foot in the door that is Magical Girl.

After my last video, I received a handful of comments asking about what I’d recommend as great gateway shows for a newbie.

While a recommendations list is all good and well, giving context to why these shows are worth your time is what i’m more interested in talking about today.

Before getting into the list I’d like to clarify that the choice being presented arnt tiered based on quality nor personal preference.

Some of these shows I love more than others and others not so much; However when recommending shows to try in a sub genre like Mahou shoujo, I find it counterproductive to introduce ratings when breaking down audience bias.

Also I’m judging the viability of these shows on their first five episodes, maybe a few chapters of the manga.

With that out of the way, let's get into the first section….

Kill la Kill

In a world where facism has taken hold of Japanese government, scissor blade wielding badass Ryuko Matoi is on a quest to avenge the death of her father. This brings her to Honnouji Academy, a school run by the iron fist of Satsuki Kiryuin. 

For the sake of finding her father’s murderer, Ryuko must demonstrate pride in her body and fighting spirit with the help of a bloodthirsty seifuku known as Senketsu.

Let's say you made a magical cheesecake. Amongst the common choices, of strawberries, banana and cherries you dig through and find the tangy lemon that is Hiroyuki Imaishi’s Kill la Kill.

Trigger has done some fantastic work in its six years as a studio, revolutionizing modern anime as we know it. 

However what I never hear ANYBODY talk about is how Imaishi and co.’s work has pushed the concept of the Magical Girl.Kill La kill is a bombastic, stylish addition to the genre and a fantastic entry point for introducing others to Mahou Shoujo. 

It has a really fresh, fun take on the Magical warrior, in its most literal form. The use of a mascot character being the transformation item is rare enough, but including symbiote-esc elements to the costume as a whole is something i’ve never really seen done outside of comic books stateside. 

While some may critique the shows use of “Fanservice” to be pandering or perverted, I don't think it should be a roadblock in trying KLK out. Most of the nudity presented serves into a message about confidence and having pride in who you are.

It's not trite BS like what you see in Queens Blade or (shudder) Master of Martial Hearts.

If you’re trying to get your little brother or a friend to try Mahou shoujo without having to preface starting crunchyroll with a disclaimer- about how your a real man, throw this on with a bowl of popcorn and a pitcher of lemonade. You’ll have a blast.

Shugo Chara

Amu Himamori is, for all intensive purposes, popular.

Or is she feared?

The “Cool and Spicy” character surrounding Amu pervades the relationships she tries to make with others.

Despite her crushingly shy nature, classmates interpret everything she does in a rebellious lense, perpetuating rumors without making the effort to get to know Amu outside of her reputation.

But in a miraculous turn of events, she is given the chance to rectify her social standing with the blessing of three strange eggs known as Chara, portions of Amu’s buried personality that act as guardian angels.

Originally watching the show while airing in 2008, I can say that Shugo Chara is a contender with the likes of Pretty Cure when it comes to presentation. I’m surprised I don't hear more people talk about the series to be honest.

Transformation sequences are minimal but catch the eye.

The concept of having multiple characters to change in and out of when needed lends to keeping the audience guessing, especially when paired transformations with new Chara come into play.

In combination, Peach-Pits colorful art design and Kenji Yasuda’s directing kept me glued to the screen.

While the shows premise isn't horribly original, Shugo chara stands out for it’s “heart on it’s sleeve” approach to character development.

Overall Shugo Chara has a very child friendly plot while addressing overlooked themes in most bishoujo.  

Panty and Stocking With Garterbelt

Keeping this one nice and sweet as i’ve already mentioned Hiroyuki Imaishis contribution to the genre with Kill La Kill.

If you want to test your expectation or others of Mahou Shoujo while indulging in some vulgar toilet humor, then Panty and Stocking is worth checking out.

While shows like this may not be everyone's cup of tea, Gainax has definitely cranked out a fantastic parody addressing the more sexual undercurrents usually glossed over in Magical warrior.

You don't see many studios that have the confidence to implement pole dancing into their transformation sequences.

Atsushi Nishigori, Masahiko Otsuka, Yoh Yoshinari- Shit even my girl Sayo Yamamoto is here. With the diversity in staff, you’re bound to find something you like whether its the experimental realism in “Vomiting Point” or a saving private ryan homage with sperm ghosts in “Pulp Addiction”.

As someone who's watched all of Panty and Stocking through in both Japanese and English; I’d highly recommend the dub.

Not only does it help jokes stick but stays really close to the original intent while implementing some Adult Swim level humor.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll probably be swept away by the shows poppy, powerpuff girl-esc art and Teddyloid’s contributions to the OST, introducing punchy playlist worthy electronica. Just don't listen to it with your mom or anything.

Cardcaptor Sakura

Sakura Kinamoto is your typical fourth grader.

She's outgoing, participates in sports at school and is beloved by her fellow classmates.

One day, when returning from class Sakura hears a strange sound from her father’s study. Investigating the bookshelves, she opens a strange tome containing “Clow Cards”,

a magicians tarot deck imbued with the powers of aspected spirits.

However, with a gust of wind the cards are lost and with the help of the books guardian, Kero- Sakura must recollect the deck and discover her true self.

Cardcaptor Sakura is by far one of the least abrasive gateways into long form Magical Warrior.

I’m 20 episodes into the series and while I know I dont have the free time to watch another 50 I kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddddddaaaaaaaaa dont careeeeeee?

The scenery is beautiful, pacing is mellow and everybody, whether it be top tier camcorder waifu Tomoyo to the cuckoo lander childhood crush Yukito will find a way to melt your heart.

When others talk about the typicality of magical girls, I find that Sakura presents many unorthodox takes on commonalities to the subgenre.

The show doesn't have transformation sequences, but rather invests its runtime on  inventive fight scenes and dynamic character development.

On the Manga side the series is much more compact read, with about 12 volumes not including the newly announced Clear Card Arc. Mokona and gangs luxurious, carefully laid linework are in the forefront, taking a less hi-scifi approach than their other titles.

When it comes to wholesome, genuine Mahou Shoujo- Cardcaptor Sakura is a great series to snuggle into a blanket and watch with a friend.

Sailor Moon

YOU DON'T NEED A PLOT SYNOPSIS FOR THE DRAGON BALL Z OF MAHOU SHOUJO. IF YOU DO, YOU’RE EITHER LIVING UNDER A ROCK OR TOO YOUNG TO BE ON THIS SITE. FUCK.

Yes, the Dic dub is borderline horrible if you didn't grow up with it and the shows a popular prototype for what we now consider the Magical warrior, which for some is pretty stock. BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN IT ISN'T FANTASTIC AND WORTH THE BINGE.

As far as Magical Warrior goes, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon is a staple introduction to modern Mahou Shoujo.

While early sections of the series do contain buckets of filler, the show makes up for it with a lovable, diverse cast, Beautiful transformations and a fun premise.

Season three alone, Sailor Moon S is arguably one of the best installments in the genre and worth every second of your time as it showcases director Kunihiko Ikuhara, of Utena and Mawaru Penguindrum fame.

The story is nothing too crazy mind you; but if you’re interested in Sailor Moon manga-wise, Naoko Takeuchi’s illustrations are TO DIE FOR, drawn with meticulous detail and colored with a mixture of ink and translucent watercolors.

Look i’ll even make it easier; because I have no life and completed the show six times. A month or so ago I put together a “Abridged Viewing Guide” for people wanting to cut out useless filler so if you’re interested the link will be in the description.

Sailor Moon broke ground in the 90’s for what is now considered a “typical magical girl”. Truly, You would be doing yourself a disservice passing the series up.

#Sailor Moon #Miragephan #Maroogle #Mirage #Anime #Analysis #Manga #Magical #Magic #Girls #Magical girls #Cardcaptor Sakura #Trigger #Kill la Kill #Gainax #Shugo #Chara #Clamp #Peach pit #PAWSG #panty and stocking #Sakura #Usagi #Naoko Takeuchi

[jillmckenzie1]

A Death Without a Body

If you’re currently married or you were ever married, I’ve got news for you: your marriage is insane. I hate to be the one to tell you, but there it is. People you know, people you love, will take stock of your relationship and life choices and say, “They’re cuckoo banana-pants. No doubt about it.”

Luckily, you aren’t alone. Everybody’s marriage is insane—yes, including mine. From the outside, they’re nearly impossible to understand. From the inside? Well, it ain’t much easier. Some days you can feel an almost religious degree of closeness to your partner, while during others you feel like you’re seconds away from committing a felony. There’s a reason why the old cliché of “marriage is work” endures.

Statistically, somewhere between 40 to 50 percent of marriages will end in divorce. Is it because one or both parties aren’t putting in the work? Maybe, but not always. The reasons for divorce are as vast and mysterious as the reasons for getting together in the first place. Relationships ebb and flow like the tides. Sometimes you’re brought to rest upon a sandy beach. Other times, you’re battered against the rocks.

Noah Baumbach knows a little something about that. He’s the child of two successful writers, and his adulthood was informed by the conflict between a comfortable upbringing in Brooklyn and the divorce of his parents. Like many of us, he went through his own divorce, the white elephant gift of marriage, and he watched friends and family experience the same situation. It’s no wonder he’s so well-suited to make the searing drama Marriage Story.

Every marriage has its low points. Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) are going through exactly that. They’re visiting a divorce mediator, who has suggested they begin from a place of positivity. He suggests both parties write down positive qualities they admire about the other and read them aloud. Charlie is willing. Nicole is not.

While they live in what appears to be financially comfortable circumstances in New York City, their life isn’t easy. Charlie is an acclaimed avant-garde theater director. He’s worked his way up from nothing and is now on the brink of taking his show to Broadway. Nicole started in less-than-ideal circumstances as a teenage film actor. Now people are taking her seriously as a performer, and the pilot for a TV series beckons to her in Los Angeles.

All of that would be complex enough without factoring in the challenges of parenthood. Their young son Henry (Azhy Robertson) is a delight, but successful parenting requires communication and compromise. Nicole and Charlie mean well, they just feel that their marriage has come to a crossroads. Their divorce begins with the promise of amicability. They swear they won’t get lawyers involved—until they do.

Nicole “temporarily” moves back home to West Hollywood and her daffy mother Sandra (Julie Hagerty). She’s also taken Henry with her and secured the services of skilled attorney Nora (Laura Dern). During a visit to Los Angeles, Charlie is served with divorce papers. He feels blindsided and meets with legal shark Jay Marotta (Ray Liotta). From there, Nicole and Charlie see each other and themselves becoming the kinds of people they never expected, in both positive and negative ways.

Since Woody Allen was canceled, a void has existed. It’s a void that needed to be filled with movies about upper-class New Yorkers existing in a gauzy bubble of neurosis and privilege. Noah Baumbach has filled that void, and he does so with a sensitivity and perception that Allen has always lacked. He makes films like he’s the anti-Michael Bay, with long scenes allowing us to get to know the peccadilloes of the characters. When things get tense, and boy howdy, do they get tense, Baumbach organically shows us the build-up, the explosions, and the regrets.

Baumbach’s screenplay tells a very specific story of divorce, one where there are no sole villains or one-sided blame, only people engulfed in a confusing and wrenching process. True, it doesn’t exactly help things that Charlie had an affair with his stage manager. It’s also unhelpful that Nicole essentially decides on her own to move across the country and take Henry with her. We see them at their best and worst moments, and while we might not agree with the choices they make, we always understand why they make those choices. That’s good screenwriting.

A meaty script attracts good actors like sharks to chum. Everyone in the supporting cast has their moment to shine. I particularly liked Alan Alda as Bert Spitz, Charlie’s second lawyer who counsels him to behave with forbearance. Laura Dern continues to prove she’s one of the most skilled actors working today, and I loved the monologue she delivers about the entrenched sexism women frequently face in divorce proceedings.

If you’ve spent time on social media, there’s a decent chance you’ve seen a clip from this film of Scarlett Johannsson and Adam Driver in the midst of a volatile fight. That scene contains good acting, but it’s hardly representative of the strong work both leads do here. Their best moments are less showy. Watch an early monologue Johannsson delivers to her attorney as she tells the story of their relationship. Watch the scene where Driver, who is in no condition to be an effective parent, tries to conduct a normal visitation with Henry while being observed by a court-appointed child advocate. They both do outstanding work, and in Johansson’s case, she delivers a career-best performance.

I’ve been through divorce. I’ve seen people I love go through divorce. The only commonality in those situations is that you don’t want anyone to be in pain. You want them to move on with their lives and live well. Marriage Story is certainly not what I would describe as a fun time at the movies, and I can’t imagine watching it again. Yet it’s a film made with such skill and compassion that I think everyone ought to see it once.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/a-death-without-a-body/

[latestnews2018-blog]

The Militarization Of Sports And The Redefinition Of Patriotism

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/the-militarization-of-sports-and-the-redefinition-of-patriotism/

The Militarization Of Sports And The Redefinition Of Patriotism

This article originally appeared at TomDispatch.com. To receive TomDispatch in your inbox three times a week, click here.

As long as I can remember, I’ve been a sports fan. As long as I can remember, I’ve been interested in the military. Until recently, I experienced those as two separate and distinct worlds. While I was in the military ― I served for 20 years as an officer in the U.S. Air Force ― I did, of course, play sports. As a young lieutenant, I was in a racquetball tournament at my base in Colorado. At Squadron Officer School in Alabama, I took part in volleyball and flickerball (a bizarre Air Force sport). At the Air Force Academy, I was on a softball team and when we finally won a game, all of us signed the ball. I also enjoyed being in a military bowling league. I even had my own ball with my name engraved on it.

Don’t misunderstand me. I was never particularly skilled at any sport, but I did thoroughly enjoy playing partly because it was such a welcome break from work ― a reprieve from wearing a uniform, saluting, following orders, and all the rest. Sports were sports. Military service was military service. And never the twain shall meet.

Since 9/11, however, sports and the military have become increasingly fused in this country. Professional athletes now consider it perfectly natural to don uniforms that feature camouflage patterns. (They do this, teams say, as a form of “military appreciation.”) Indeed, for only $39.99 you, too, can buy your own Major League Baseball-sanctioned camo cap at MLB’s official site. And then, of course, you can use that cap in any stadium to shade your eyes as you watch flyovers, parades, reunions of service members returning from our country’s war zones and their families, and a multitude of other increasingly militarized ceremonies that celebrate both veterans and troops in uniform at sports stadiums across what, in the post-9/11 years, has come to be known as “the homeland.”

We can afford to lose a ballgame.  We can’t afford to lose our country.

These days, you can hardly miss moments when, for instance, playing fields are covered with gigantic American flags, often unfurled and held either by scores of military personnel or civilian defense contractors. Such ceremonies are invariably touted as natural expressions of patriotism, part of a continual public expression of gratitude for America’s “warfighters” and “heroes.” These are, in other words, uncontroversial displays of pride, even though a study ordered by Republican Senators John McCain and Jeff Flake revealed that the U.S. taxpayer, via the Pentagon, has regularly forked over tens of millions of dollars ($53 million between 2012 and 2015 alone) to corporate-owned teams to put on just such displays.

Paid patriotism should, of course, be an oxymoron. These days, however, it’s anything but and even when the American taxpayer isn’t covering displays like these, the melding of sports and the military should be seen as inappropriate, if not insidious. And I say that as both a lover of sports and a veteran.

I Went to a Military Parade and a Tennis Match Broke Out

Maybe you’ve heard the joke: I went to the fights and a hockey game broke out. It was meant to poke fun at the fisticuffs in National Hockey League games, though these days there are fewer of them than in the “glory days” of the 1970s. An updated version would, however, fit today’s increasingly militarized sports events to a T: I went to a military parade and a baseball (football, hockey) game broke out.

Nowadays, it seems as if professional sports simply couldn’t occur without some notice of and celebration of the U.S. military, each game being transformed in some way into yet another Memorial Day or Veterans Day lite.

Consider the pro-military hype that surrounded this year’s Major League Baseball All-Star Game. Not so very long ago, when I watched such games I would be transported to my childhood and my fantasies of becoming the next Nolan Ryan or Carl Yastrzemski.

When I watched this year’s version of the game, however, I didn’t relive my youth; I relived my military career. As a start, the previous night featured a televised home-run derby. Before it even began, about 50 airmen paraded out in camouflage uniforms, setting the stage for everything that would follow. (As they weren’t on duty, I couldn’t help wondering why they found it appropriate to don such outfits.) Part of T-Mobile’s “HatsOff4Heroes” campaign, this mini-parade was justified in the name of raising money to support veterans, but T-Mobile could have simply given the money to charity without any of the militarized hoopla that this involved.

Highlighting the other pre-game ceremonies the next night was a celebration of Medal of Honor recipients. I have deep respect for such heroes, but what were they doing on a baseball diamond? The ceremony would have been appropriate on, say, Veterans Day in November.

Those same pre-game festivities included a militaristic montage narrated by Bradley Cooper (star of “American Sniper”), featuring war scenes and war monuments while highlighting the popular catchphrase “freedom isn’t free.” Martial music accompanied the montage along with a bevy of flag-waving images. It felt like watching a twisted version of the film Field of Dreams reshot so that soldiers, not baseball players, emerged early on from those rows of Iowa corn stalks and stepped onto the playing field.

What followed was a “surprise” reunion of an airman, Staff Sergeant Cole Condiff, and his wife and family. Such staged reunions have become a regular aspect of major sporting events ― consider this “heart-melting” example from a Milwaukee Brewers game ― and are obviously meant to tug at the heartstrings. They are, as retired Army Colonel Andrew Bacevich wrote at TomDispatch back in 2011, propagandistic versions of “cheap grace.”

In addition, Budweiser used this year’s game to promote “freedom” beer, again to raise money for veterans and, of course, to burnish its own rep. (Last year, the company was hyping “America” beer.)

And the All-Star game is hardly alone in its militarized celebrations and hoopla. Take the 2017 U.S. Open tennis tournament in New York City, which I happened to watch. With John McEnroe in retirement, tennis is, generally speaking, a quieter sport. Yet before the men’s final, a Marine Corps color guard joined a contingent of West Point cadets in a ceremony to remember the victims of 9/11. Naturally, a by-now-obligatory oversized American flag set the scene ― here’s a comparable ceremony from 2016 ― capped by a performance of “God Bless America” and a loud flyover by four combat jets. Admittedly, it was a dramatic way to begin anything, but why exactly an international tennis match that happened to feature finalists from Spain and South Africa?

Blending Sports With the Military Weakens Democracy

I’m hardly the first to warn about the dangers of mixing sports with the military, especially in corporate-controlled blenders. Early in 2003, prior to the kick off for the Iraq War (sports metaphor intended), the writer Norman Mailer issued this warning:

“The dire prospect that opens, therefore, is that America is going to become a mega-banana republic where the army will have more and more importance in Americans’ lives… [D]emocracy is the special condition ― a condition we will be called upon to defend in the coming years. That will be enormously difficult because the combination of the corporation, the military, and the complete investiture of the flag with mass spectator sports has set up a pre-fascistic atmosphere in America already.”

More than 14 years later, that combination ― corporations, the military, and mass spectator sports, all wrapped in a gigantic version of the stars and stripes ― has increasingly come to define what it means to be an American. Now that the country also has its own self-styled strongman president, enabled by a spineless Congress and an increasingly reactionary judiciary, Mailer’s mention of a “pre-fascistic atmosphere” seems prescient.

What started as a post-9/11 drive to get an American public to “thank” the troops endlessly for their service in distant conflicts ― stifling criticism of those wars by linking it to ingratitude ― has morphed into a new form of national reverence. And much credit goes to professional sports for that transformation. In conjunction with the military and marketed by corporations, they have reshaped the very practice of patriotism in America.

Today, thanks in part to taxpayer funding, Americans regularly salute grossly oversized flags, celebrate or otherwise “appreciate” the troops (without making the slightest meaningful sacrifice themselves), and applaud the corporate sponsors that pull it all together (and profit from it). Meanwhile, taking a stand (or a knee), being an agent of dissent, protesting against injustice, is increasingly seen as the very definition of what it means to be unpatriotic. Indeed, players with the guts to protest American life as it is are regularly castigated as SOBs by our sports- and military-loving president.

Professional sports owners certainly know that this militarized brand of patriotism sells, while the version embodied in the kinds of controversial stances taken by athletes like former National Football League quarterback Colin Kaepernick (cashiered by his own league) angers and alienates many fans, ultimately threatening profits.

Meanwhile, the military’s bottom line is recruiting new bodies for that all-volunteer force while keeping those taxpayer dollars flowing into the Pentagon at increasingly staggering levels. For corporations, you won’t be surprised to learn, it’s all about profits and reputation.

In the end, it comes down to one thing: who controls the national narrative.

Think about it. A set of corporate-military partnerships or, if you prefer, some version of President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s old military-industrial complex has enlisted sports to make militarism look good and normal and even cool. In other words, sports teams now have a powerful set of incentives to appear patriotic, which increasingly means slavishly pro-military. It’s getting hard to remember that this country ever had a citizen-soldier tradition as well as sports teams whose athletes actually went almost en masse to serve in war. Consider it paradoxical that militarism is today becoming as American as baseball and apple pie, even as, like so many other citizens, today’s athletes vote with their feet to stay out of the military. (The NFL’s Pat Tillman was a noble post-9/11 exception.) Indeed, the widespread (if shallow) support of the military by so many athletes may, in some cases, be driven by a kind of guilt.

“Collusion” is a key word in this Trumpian moment. Even though Robert Mueller isn’t investigating them, corporate-owned sports teams are now actively colluding with the military to redefine patriotism in ways that work to their mutual advantage. They are complicit in taking a select, jingoistic form of patriotism and weaponizing it to suppress dissent, including against the military-industrial complex and America’s never-ending wars.

Driven by corporate agendas and featuring exaggerated military displays, mass-spectator sports are helping to shape what Americans perceive and believe. In stadiums across the nation, on screens held in our hands or dominating our living rooms, we witness fine young men and women in uniform unfurling massive flags on football fields and baseball diamonds, even on tennis courts, as combat jets scream overhead. What we don’t see ― what is largely kept from us ― are the murderous costs of empire: the dead and maimed soldiers, the innocents slaughtered by those same combat jets.

The images we do absorb and the narrative we’re encouraged to embrace, immersed as we are in an endless round of militarized sporting events, support the idea that massive “national security” investments (to the tune of roughly a trillion dollars annually) are good and right and patriotic. Questioning the same ― indeed, questioning authority in any form ― is, of course, bad and wrong and unpatriotic.

For all the appreciation of the military at sporting events, here’s what you’re not supposed to appreciate: why we’re in our forever wars; the extent to which they’ve been mismanaged for the last 17 years; how much people, especially in distant lands, have suffered thanks to them; and who’s really profiting from them.

Sports should be about having fun; about joy, passion, and sharing; about the thrill of competition, the splendor of the human condition; and so much more. I still remember the few home runs I hit in softball. I still remember breaking 200 for the first time in bowling. I still remember the faces of my teammates in softball and the fun times I had with good people.

But let’s be clear: this is not what war is all about. War is horrific. War features the worst of the human condition. When we blur sports and the military, adding corporate agendas into the mix, we’re not just doing a disservice to our troops and our athletes; we’re doing a disservice to ourselves. We’re weakening the integrity of democracy in America.

We can afford to lose a ballgame.  We can’t afford to lose our country.

A TomDispatch regular, William Astore is a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel and history professor who blogs at Bracing Views.

[Note: For more on sports, the military, dissent, and patriotism, William Astore recommends Howard Bryant’s new book, The Heritage: Black Athletes, A Divided America, and the Politics of Patriotism. An interview featuring Astore and Bryant on sports and patriotism can be heard by clicking here.]

Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest Dispatch Books, Beverly Gologorsky’s novel Every Body Has a Story and Tom Engelhardt’s A Nation Unmade by War, as well as Alfred McCoy’s In the Shadows of the American Century: The Rise and Decline of U.S. Global Power, John Dower’s The Violent American Century: War and Terror Since World War II, and John Feffer’s dystopian novel Splinterlands.

Copyright 2018 William J. Astore.

http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version=’2.0′;n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,’script’,’https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js’); fbq(‘init’, ‘1621685564716533’); // Edition specific fbq(‘init’, ‘1043018625788392’); // Partner Studio fbq(‘track’, “PageView”); fbq(‘track’, ‘ViewContent’, “content_name”:”The Militarization Of Sports And The Redefinition Of Patriotism”,”content_category”:”us.hpmgspo” ); fbq(‘trackCustom’, ‘EntryPage’, “section_name”:”Sports”,”tags”:[“@promoted”,”@partnersyndication”,”@health_erectile”,”@sensitive_politics”,”@health_ibs”,”@health_models”,”us-news”,”politics”,”sports”,”us-military”,”sport”],”team”:”us_blog”,”ncid”:null,”environment”:”desktop”,”render_type”:”web” ); waitForGlobal(function() return HP.modules.Tracky; , function() /* TODO do we still want this? $(‘body’).on(‘click’, function(event) HP.modules.Tracky.reportClick(event, function(data) fbq(‘trackCustom’, “Click”, data); ); ); */ );

[headinthecloudsfeetoffthegr-blog]

Wednesday 11/30

Update to yesterday:

Yesterday after post I ate chicken, avocado, rice, carrots, and soy milk.

In the last 3 days I gave skimmed over Isaiah and Romans. Today I believe is Corinthians. I’ve been taking a few notes on things that stand out to me and just trying to get a general jist of each part. I am so amazed. Before getting into today’s journal, I want to write a little about some revelations.

First, my relationship with God has not always been great. I was really dedicated when I was young. For example, even when my mom was out of town, I insisted that my dad drive me to church. He did not go to church at this time and did not encourage my faith at all, but the point is that even though I was terrified to go to mass alone (what little kid goes to mass alone?) I did anyway because I was devoted. I overcame that huge fear because my love for God was greater. However, I was young and my faith and devotion was imposed upon me rather than being fully developed. This means that it was easy to lose.

Although it was on and off, I always held on to a slight hope in God. I prayed and thought that maybe he could exist. In Boulder I tried to find a church to go to but couldn’t find one I liked. I started praying to God that I could have a relationship with him. I was really unhappy in Boulder and thought a relationship with God would help me. I felt a lot of guilt and decided to pray the rosary as much as I could. I felt better praying to Mary than God. When I moved home and started going to St John Neumann over the summer, I felt closer to God. In mass the priest talked about the importance of education, the verse knock and the door will be opened to you, and when Peter tries to walk on water but fails because he had doubt.

Knock and the door will be opened to you. I realized that even though I sinned constantly and had completely fallen out of grace with God and struggled to feel his presence, when I prayed for a relationship with him things started changing. I decided to keep praying to ask to get right with him. I wanted this more than anything but didn’t know how to go about doing it. I had tried just to go to mass but I didn’t feel closer to God. There were a couple of sins I could name that i decided to try to stop doing but it was only a few. Maybe God had forgiven my and welcomed me back into him arms warmly, but I could not forgive myself.

So I just kept praying that I could get right with God and that I could learn what sins I was committing and how to stop. I felt the need to read the bible. Somehow the first thing I stumbled across was Isaiah: sin and the dangers of it, exile in Babylon, and hope - all the things I was struggling with. Then I was told to read Romans. Amazingly, one of the first headlines is How We Are Put Right with God. Exactly what I had been praying for. When they say God speaks to you through the Bible, I didn’t realize how directly.

What I learned was that the way to get right with God was through faith in Jesus. Ironically Jesus was the one I felt I could never pray to - the one I had the LEAST faith in. I had to do a lot more reading and thinking, but I think I figured out why Christ is so important in our relationship with God. Before I had seen things like praise and worship Christ, Christ is our salvation, Jesus’s name in many places, etc., but it didn’t mean much to be. We are taught that Christ and God are one, and therefore I never knew there was a difference. When someone said praise Christ, I believed praising God was the same thing and I was doing what I was told. I don’t fully understand yet, but from what I have gathered so far they have come to mean two different things to me now. God is the one we sin against. Jesus is the reason those sins are forgiven. God sets the expectations for us. Jesus sets the example of how to live up to those expectations. In order to get right with God I needed to forgive myself for my sins and learn and abide by God’s expectations, but it is Jesus I need to look to for these things.

There were a few more, but I will end with a casual mention of the blog Peaceful Single Girl which gave me a lot of hope about my future relationship with God and helped me to understand the sin of idolization, which I didn’t realize until I read her blog that this is the first sin I need to change and will most likely be the hardest one. The second thing is that while I liked going to the catholic church here on campus and have never considered going to a Baptist church, I was looking at the websites of churches near by and a Baptist one stood out to me the most. The Catholic churches in the area seem very traditional, Roman type with grandiose architecture and little community. Not only does this baptist church seem modest and closely knit, but even their website included information that I have been reading about in the Bible lately like an explanation and even a diagram about idolization. There are a lot of things I have been wanted to do lately. I think its a sign that my depression is gone. One of them is that I want to sing in the church choir. I also want to find a religious mentor. I have a lot of hope in this church although I have not been there yet. I will pray about it and if its not what I am expecting I will find another.

Now, about today.

Diet: kiwi, coffee, and half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, whole peanut butter and jelly sandwich, soy milk, and BCAA drink for lunch, power crunch energy bar sample and two servings of black raspberry sparkling ice drink (0 calories) for a snack, and two scrambled eggs with cheese and toast for dinner. I’m sure I’ll eat something else before bed because I’m hungry now. Either apple or banana with peanut butter and chocolate chips or chicken and avocado.

I learned that BCAAs and pre workout reduce my appetite. I was surprised to find that sparkling ice drink has zero calories. It definitely tastes too good to be good for you. Googled it and it being bad was the first thing that came up. Oh well I can stick to water and milk.

Exercise: Did 1/4 mile warm up, light weight rows, chest press, and goblet squat. later ran a mile in 9:30. Started at 6 then 7 then 8, 8.5, back down. It felt good.

I didn’t make it to my classes, only spanish and history. A little disappointed in myself for skipping psych and ex sci but I woke up with a headache and sore throat and was drowsy from allergy med I took last night. Excuses excuses I know but it wasn’t gonna happen today.

Social: I went to the CPC pagent and had an ok time. It was fun to watch it was just the extremely long intermission that was super awkward because I don’t dance like that and don’t know who to talk to. The silence is uncomfortable. Its just a sign that I need to get closer to the girls ASAP. I also stopped by Stevens little battleship get together for a minute just to say hi. I’m proud of myself for resisting the urge to drink. Walking past the vending machine while doing laundry also gave me a craving for junk food but it was so easy to resist!

I also was able to help someone today. The girl in the laundry room with me was struggling to pay. The card just wasn’t working for her. Instead of leaving after I was done, I stuck around and tried my card for her laundry. I really didn’t expect her to pay me for it, it was only $2, but she had the cash and insisted. It was still nice to do that without expecting a return though.

I also practiced some guitar today. I thought it would be funny to learn Africa for the team, but it turned out to be more than that and I’m really excited to learn it.

It’s really late right now but I’m about to finish up with laundry and shower. Overall its been a good day. I don’t think I’ll have time to read the bible, but there’s still a lot from the last couple days that I need to think about and pray about so I will take the time to do that instead.

[sjohnson24]

Ecotourism in Costa Rica

Costa Rica Travel & Tourism – Nature reserves in rainforests, protection programs for threatened flora and fauna, organically farmed cacao for cocoa production – Costa Rica is known for all that, and has a reputation as an ecological role model. When I visited I tried to track down practical examples of sustainable tourism in three places.

Watch out! Babies on the beach!

I’ve never witnessed a birth, but today I’m seeing several. One of about 80 freshly-hatched turtles has freed itself from the hole in which its mother laid her eggs, and is scuttling twenty meters down the beach. There it glides into the lukewarm water of the Caribbean Sea. Its siblings are doing the same thing – but not all of them have it easy, because they’re not alone on the beach. I’m there, along with about 30 tourists. The beach is freely accessible; there are no barriers. A few guides from Tortuguero National Park on Costa Rica’s Caribbean coast are giving instructions: “Don’t get in the way of the turtles! Watch where you step! Don’t help!” The tiny animals have to find their way on their own. But many tourists only listen with half an ear – they’re much too busy taking pictures and filming. “Oops!” A señora next to me has just failed to notice one of the small animals between her legs and accidentally knocked it over, but the turtle picks itself up and keeps going.

It’s 5 p.m. – a good time to hatch, as the heat of the day has already slowly subsided. The nesting season of the green sea turtle, which is actually more gray than green, runs from July to October. “There is an estimated total of up to 40,000 nesting holes on about 30 kilometers of beach here,” Diego, one of the guides, tells me while tourists and baby turtles bustle around us. I want to know if there are official rules set by the authorities. Diego’s answer is a terse “no,” even though there are about 200,000 tourists annually in Tortuguero National Park.

“It hurts me to see this,” 14-year-old schoolgirl María Fernanda Vaquero Castillo tells me as I leave the beach. She lives here in the only village in the national park. “It simply has to be better organized and regulated. I don’t mean they should charge entrance fees for the beach. They should sensitize tourists about this natural miracle.” The eighth-grader has grown up here on the Caribbean coast, and together with her friends collects trash people leave on the beach. She has seen hundreds of turtles hatch. It’s certainly a beautiful experience, but now she has tears in her eyes. “Once I saw a dead baby turtle that had slit its throat on a beer can. That was the worst.”

The sun sets – and we go back down to the beach, this time to a different section of it. It’s pitch-black and suddenly sand flies in my face. The guide turns on his torch and it glows with a weak red light. I can just make out the outlines of what I was able  to admire in miniature version in the afternoon. A sea turtle about a meter in diameter is digging a hole in the sand under cover of darkness. She throws the sand far behind her with her flippers. “No photos,” the guide says quietly, not for the first time. Light and noise could disturb the turtle. Only the guide’s dim lamp is turned on occasionally and the beam of light moves over the animal’s shell. After a good half an hour the turtle has finished digging. While she lays her eggs, we slowly retreat.

Another half an hour later something moves in the hole. “She’s done,” whispers the guide. Shortly afterwards the animal ponderously moves back towards the water, followed by an entourage of tourists. No one speaks. All keep their distance and tiptoe behind the reptile. Has she noticed us? “We don’t know,” says the guide. The first small waves lap over the turtle, who continues undeterred and eventually disappears into the sea. The babies will never see their mother – perhaps only hordes of tourists who may be standing near the hole when they first see the light of day.

Touring the rainforest in an aerial tram

About 60 kilometers from the turtle beach as the crow flies, I’m taking an aerial tramway through the forest canopy. Below me I see the floor of the rainforest passing by. To my left and right, colorful birds sit in the treetops. “That one over there is a red-eyed vireo – an American songbird,” the guide calls from behind us, and the tram car stops briefly. It’s one of 22 that travel through the Rainforest Adventure Park.

The park is an hour’s drive from the capital San José and in private hands. In addition to the aerial tramway, which has stood here since 1994 and is considered the highlight of the park, zip-lining, hiking tours and birdwatching are on offer. 33-year-old Nicolas Staton, General Manager of Rainforest Adventures Costa Rica, welcomes 40,000 to 50,000 visitors a year here. Despite the number of visitors, he says it’s sustainable tourism: “We’ve been climate-neutral since 2012,” he announces proudly. That means that the park’s CO2 emissions are completely offset. Staton can name any number of examples of the sustainability of tourism here. “We are preserving 450 hectares of rainforest, waste is recycled and we use only ecological elements to clean up the park.” He adds that the park provides work for residents of the neighboring communities, which is part of sustainable tourism. “It consists of three pillars: ecological, financial and social development.” Instead of possibly hunting animals illegally or clearcutting in the forest, the locals who work here show its flora and fauna to visitors.

And in addition to colorful birds, that fauna includes other exotic animals. On a branch relatively near our tram car sits a huge spider. I notice it quite late, so I’m startled and jerk my camera and arm back into the car. I hadn’t expected the spider – but I did expect the laughter of the other five occupants.

The eco lodge in the middle of nowhere

We left the well-paved road to the Rainforest Adventure Park long ago, and if our Jeep didn’t have four-wheel drive, we’d be in trouble, because these ten kilometers are not paved at all, and there are many twists and turns. They couldn’t be driven in an ordinary rental car. At one point we even have to ford a river with our vehicle. Tourists have to accept this awkward journey if they want to get to Selva Bananito Lodge in the middle of the rainforest.

People who holiday here usually want to relax and switch off. What I have to switch on is my electric torch in the evening, in order to find the way to my small cabin. The sounds of the rainforest are impressive: chirping, croaking and tweeting everywhere. In the cabin itself I’m glad of the mosquito net over my bed, which in addition to an astonishingly small number of mosquitos keeps out a multitude of extremely diverse insects.

“This is no walled-off all-inclusive resort. I use tourism as a mechanism to conserve the rainforest,” says 51-year-old Jürgen Stein, who has lived in Costa Rica since 1974 and run the eco lodge for 22 years. But how does that work? “The great mistake is always to look for a quick buck. This is a small lodge with a personal atmosphere,” he says. “I might have 4000 to 5000 guests a year. In the future, our children and grandchildren ought to be able to carry out every activity here without our having destroyed anything.” That means, among other things, that every guest here plants a tree, that water in the cabins is heated by the sun and the soap is biodegradable.

Then Jürgen gets slightly irked. That’s due to my question of to what extent his eco lodge might be a mere drop in the bucket where climate change is concerned. “In my forest, more than 500,000 tons of CO2 are stored. The trees planted by my guests alone will make my lodge carbon negative in the next 200 years!” he insists. That is to say, Jürgen gives more to the environment than he takes from it. That’s the opposite of what his father intended when he bought 17 square kilometers of rainforest in Costa Rica’s Limón province four decades ago.  He had planned traditional agriculture: cocoa cultivation, banana plantations and animal husbandry. And that always involves deforestation. “My  sister and I saw that in clearing the forest he was destroying life support systems.” In 1985 that came to an end.

The next morning I see from the air that it wasn’t too late. Jürgen flies an autogyro – a slightly rickety-looking aircraft with two seats that resembles a helicopter. Before take-off I’m still pretty nervous, but in the air I’m so thrilled by the view that I forget my fears. High over “Jürgenland,” as the locals call this neck of the woods, it’s easily to recognize what the father did wrong and the son did right.  Three quarters of the area is a rich green in color – it’s pristine primeval forest. A quarter is light green. That part was deforested and is used for farming, animal husbandry and, of course, for the Selva Bananito Lodge.

We land, and now Jürgen is laughing again. I can hear him over the headphones in my helmet. Even though he’s flown innumerable times, that obviously hasn’t dimmed his enjoyment. I ask him whether Costa Rica can serve as ecological role model. “Yes,” he says, “but unfortunately there are so many areas that are overrun – for instance, Manuel Antonio National Park on the Pacific coast. There the monkeys on the beach come right up to the tourists and rummage through their rucksacks looking for junk food, because they’ve become addicted to it. The monkeys here in my forest throw sticks at you when they see you, because they feel disturbed in their habitat.”

And that’s how it should be, I think – because here I’m the interloper. The monkeys are at home.

Article & Pics – Lukas Stege, From DW.com

[longwalk-blog1]

Week 6, Days 36-39

The wind woke us up the next morning just in time to see the sun rise. I didn't take a picture for some reason and I regret that decision. We packed up and then made our way uphill. It was 10 miles to the roadway to get to Roan Mountain, TN (the town) and I wanted to get there fast because the wind was picking up and the rain looked like it would come at any moment. As we were packing up Pig Pen called one of the hostels and booked room for the four of us without really asking anyone. Anything that happens quickly to early in the morning just goes right over my head. I immediately left the crew in the dust and made my way upLittle Hump Mountain, the first of the two mountains in the way. When I neared the top the tree line disappeared and I found myself starring across a a grassy meadow covered in fog with winds blowing at least 40mph. This was bad and I did not have the gear to properly handle this situation if it started raining to I chose to fully engage beast mode and hustle. I tightened my pack to my back as hard as I could, put both my poles in my right hand, held my Snowbird hat in my left hand, and began to jog/run across the bald. I made it across Little Hump Mountain and back into the tree line in no time and it hadn't started raining yet. Now I just had to make it up and across Big Hump Mountain and I would be in the clear. As I approached Big Hump Mountain and came back out of the tree line I began jogging again. The wind on Big Hump Mountain was insane. As I made my way up and reached the top the wind was now blowing from 50 to 60 mph and the fog was so thick I couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of me. I was basically praying that it wouldn't start raining because if it did it would be instant hypothermia. The wind was blowing straight into me and even running full speed I was barely making any distance. Every couple of seconds the wind would shift what direction it was blowing and I would be knocked over because I wasn't able to hold my ground and brace myself quick enough. It was so cold my face and hands were totally numb. Eventually I could make out some trees in front of me and I scampered back under tree line. I was very thankful that it hadn't rained yet and I hustled my way downhill to get to a lower elevation. That entire situation had been downright dangerous. Once down at the road I waited for the crew to catch up. A pickup pulls of and it's the owner of one of the hostels. He tries selling me a room and I tell him I think I already have one at a different hostel. He asks me what my name is and then informs me that It was his hostel that Pig Pen had called. He drives me into town and drops me off at a burger joint to get food, taking my bag back to the hostel with him so I don't have to carry it around town. I grab a burger and then find out a little while later that the others are at a pizza place and I get a ride there. I decide I want a pizza too and end up eating the whole thing. At the pizza place I can tell that Turbo does not really want to be in town and he convinces me to bail out of the hostel situation and just camp back at the trail instead. When our hostel guy pulls back up we tell him our plan and hes immediately disappointed as we've just backed out of giving him business. We feel bad but it's $60 bucks for the two of us to split a room and we need to save the money. I can't afford to stay in every town along the way. He gives us a ride to the hostel so I can grab my bag and then the two of us start walking back to the road to hitch hike to the trail. As we are walking down the dirt road a different pickup pulls up and the kid inside tells us to hop in. This kid is doing work for stay for the hostel owner as a shuttle driver while an ankle injury heals. I guess he's seen us walking down the driveway and didn't want us to have to walk all the way back to the trail. This only makes us feel even more bad about bailing out on the hostel. Back at the trailhead we decide we want to look for crayfish in the broom and we end up catching ten of them and also a green frog. We set up camp a half mile up trail and make ourselves a lovely dinner. Even though it rained for most of the eve being we still had a good time by the fire listening to music and talking about all sorts of nonsense. We fell asleep to the sound of the rain. The next morning I packed up and went back into town to go to the post office to pick up Maddies package and to get some more food. Turbo decides he's going to push onward and I say goodbye. At the roadway I start walking towards town with my thumb out and a guy in a shiny Mustang picks me up and drops me off at the post office. I go inside and find out that the package hasn't arrived yet. They guy behind the counter informs me that the mail can be quite slow in the mountains and that it may not even arrive until Monday... today's Friday. I decide it would be best not to wait around for another day and ask them to bump it to Damascus so I can get it there. I head out of the post office and down the road less than a quarter mile to the burger place I'd eaten at the day before. I grab another burger, a chili dog, a large tot, and coffee and I relax there for an hour or two charging all my devices and talking to some of the other customers inside. Before I leave I decide I want a vanilla soft serve ice cream and the guy behind the counter hands me the literal biggest ice cream I've ever had in my entire life. I couldn't even finish the whole thing and I tried as hard as I could. I left the burger place and crossed the street to grab a few resupply items at the mini mart. An older couple gave me a ride back to the trailhead and I begin the 9 miles to the next shelter. I didn't see a single person the entire way to the next shelter, which was honestly a little creepy, but I did find 3 Miller High Life's sitting in a cold stream which was gold mine of a find. At the shelter I decided to push on another mile and a half to a campsite. At the campsite I was all alone and I set up my tent and got inside, stripping all my wet clothes off and climbing into my dry sleeping bag. Dinner was cooked out of the tents vestibule and I went to bed early. I spent the entire next morning in my tent thinning out my photo collection and writing out the past few days blog posts. It was cold and wet and I finally started hiking at noon. Even though I got on the trail late, once I got moving I decided I wanted to do a high mile day. I hiked fast, crossing lots of streams and passing many waterfalls/cascades throughout this section of trail and accomplishing 7.5 miles in 2 hours. I came upon a Big Agnes single tent and there was Turbo popping his head out. He said he could here me humming and singing to myself from a bit away. Dynamo, one of my favorite groups, just released their 3rd album, "Celina," the day before so I was listening to it on infinite repeat. I plopped down on the ground next to Turbo's tent to chill for about 25 minutes have lunch. Lunch was a Spam and mustard roll up. I guess he was taking a zero day in his tent, doing riddles, listening to podcasts and eating lots of snacks. Apparently there was a road, Dennis Cove Road, 8 miles ahead and I decided I wanted to try to get there by 4:30. I said bye to Turbo and pushed on at 2:30 going the same as before lunch. It turned into quite the foggy day 4 miles in. I managed to make it to the roadway at 4:50. Little slower than I wanted but everything happens for a reason. I didn't even know what I wanted to do when I got to the roadway but I took maybe 5 steps and a big Suburban pulls up next to me and the guy asks me if I want a ride, no hitch hiking needed. I hop in and he asks me where I'm going. I tell him I don't really know, all I really wanted to do was charge my electronics and get treats. Onion and I have started using treats as a generic word for anything. Treats could be a cold soda, candy, coffee, a cheeseburger, pizza, beer, fruit, iced tea, whatever. When I get to a roadway I want to get a treat. He tells me he'll take me a gas station at the bottom of the road and that he'll drive me back after too. Awesome. We chat it up the whole way there and after I come out of the gas station he tells me he was going to duck hunt the next morning on that same road and if I'd like I could just stay at his place and he'll bring me back in the morning. Even more awesome. We drive to Bryson City and finally exchange names on the way, something that hadn't come up yet, his was Tommy. Tommy's roommates are out of town so there's a spare bed for me to stay in. I get a chance to shower with real soaps/shampoo, do all my laundry, hang up my tent to dry in the garage, dry out my shoes, and reorganize my pack. He gave me Cotten clothes to wear, something I didn't realize I kind of missed, and took me out for a BBQ dinner. Some people in this world are just too nice. That evening we watched some hockey and hung out, heading to bed around 10:30. I stayed up till midnight utilizing the lightning fast service in Bryson City. Such a good day. I woke up at 6:50 the next morning and went downstairs. Tommy had decided he was going to fly fish instead of duck hunting and was doing a few things to prepare. I had a bowl of Cocoa Rice Krispies and a cup of coffee. Tommy ends up gathering a few things for me to take like a good luck buckeye seed pod, a few safety pins, rubber bands, twist ties, a keychain ring to better secure my thru-hiker tag, some paracord, and a banana and apple to pack out. On the way back to the trailhead he stops at a supermarket so I can resupply what I need. I grabbed a few things I didn't need too. Treats. Once at the trail head Tommy drops me off, I give him my contact info, and we hug it out. Some people are just too nice. Thanks again Tommy if you are reading this, you're the man! He pulls away and maybe 30 seconds later a different car pulls up and out hops RedEye being shuttled back from a hostel. Everything happens for a reason on the AT. If I hadn't hustled the day before I wouldn't have met Tommy and if he hadn't dropped me off exactly then I wouldn't have run into RedEye. We head off down the trail and my pack is a bazillion pounds but it's okay because treats. It's also a beautiful day out and Laurel Falls is up ahead. Laurel Falls is the largest waterfall in Tennessee and it's pretty intense. We stopped there for a bit to appreciate it. The trail then winds down along the river before heading up 2,000 feet over 2.5 miles and then back down 2,000 feet over 2.5 miles. A PUD, a pointless up and down. Me and RedEye trekked over the viewless PUD and then had lunch with this kid (who's Trail name I can't remember) at a picnic table alongside Watauga Lake. It is an earth dammed lake and the blast marks in the sides of the mountains are insane. I could only imagine what it would have been like to have witnessed the blasting. After lunch we hiked around the lake, over the dam, and then up onto the mountain ridge line, listening to "Celina" on the Bluetooth speaker to power us uphill. We reached Vandeventer shelter around 6:30 making it a 17.6 mile day. Made dinner, which was oriental ramen noodles, coleslaw mix (red/green cabbage and carrots), and bagged chicken, and ate while enjoying the amazing views of the sun setting over the lake. Onion showed up late after doing a 24 mile day and somehow squeezed his tent in next to me and RedEye and the shelter. It was quite comical. Slept well despite the wind.

#appalachiantrail #appalachiantrail2017