#it looks like it rained a lot last night which is good for the plants

[jedi-bird]

Tried to go outside and do some more yard work this morning. Managed to get the native Douglas yellow iris and the hollyhocks planted before it started raining. I've now abandoned the yard in favor of laundry and hot tea and dreams of going to ikea to drool over couches.

#adventures in gardening #it looks like it rained a lot last night which is good for the plants #the new herbs survived nicely #i was concerned that whatever keeps pooping in my citrus beds would dig them up #i have about 10 pounds of ginger that i grew that i need to process and freeze and I'm putting it off #i also wish that i had friends who lived by me that were into gardening so i could foist some plants onto #there are so many succulent cuttings that they're taking over #the temptation to set up a plants for sale sign is quite high

[themidnightcrimson]

good morning ࿏ wm

summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.

words: 3.9k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.

Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.

The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.

Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.

The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.

It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.

Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.

And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.

And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.

But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.

Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.

Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.

You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.

It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.

It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.

So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.

The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.

Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.

Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.

Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.

There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.

Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.

She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.

Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.

Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.

Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.

As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.

It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.

There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.

“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.

Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.

The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.

A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.

Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.

Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.

You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.

Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.

“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.

“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.

You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.

“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.

Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”

Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.

You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.

“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.

“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”

Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.

“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”

Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”

“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”

Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.

The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.

After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.

“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.

Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”

Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #top!wanda #power bottom #subby top wanda #sub top wanda #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #wanda maximoff x f!reader

[morallyinept]

Frankie's Way - A Francisco Morales One Shot

Summary: When Santi turns up at Fish's door with a lofty proposal, you can't help but see red at the thought of losing your man again. My version of a possible TF2 opener.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No physical description of reader, it's you, bub.)

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Oral (F receiving) because Frankie is king/ fingering. Some mild violence towards the end. Nothing heavy.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me - you’ve been plenty warned. 

Authors Note: So, listen. I got to thinking, based off of this ramble about the TF2 news yesterday, and in typical Jett fashion, my brain conjured up a scene in where Santi arrives to rope Frankie into the mission, when I was trying to get some shut eye last night. And I couldn't not write it down.

You can also thank @missredherring for this, because I couldn't stop thinking about her added scene with Frankie's missus' part in it too.

There's some mild Spanish. I've not included any translations because there's not a lot, and it's easy enough to Google.

Enjoy! 🖤

MASTERLIST

"She's finally asleep..." Frankie says to you, his voice low and gravelly, as he pulls the door gently behind him.

He rubs his palms listlessly and hovers by the door like a Rottweiler ready to take up a solid position to be on guard there all night. And he would, but you won't allow him to. The separation will be good for him.

"She'll be fine. C'mon, Papi." You tug him by the arm gently as he glances back at the small crack, listening for any snuffle or gurgle that his daughter would make. The fraught, yet forlorn look on his face tugs at your heartstrings, but you're resolute in dragging him to the kitchen. 

It's been a long, arduous process; getting him to put her down in the crib to sleep. More often than not, you've pushed the door open, wondering why he's not in bed with you, to see him on the chair with Gigi asleep on his chest and him dozing off with an uncomfortable crick in his neck that would make him grumpy the next day.

But you miss your man; the absence of him lately in more ways than one. And Gigi needs to learn to sleep without the cradle of her father's protective arms.

It's early in the evening, the sky marred by the onslaught of rain that's been pittering for most of the day, and after some dinner, for which he has a second helping, you and Frankie are curled up on the couch with some modern western love story on in the background about a cowboy and a sheriff.

But you're not paying attention to it. No. Frankie's soft, pliable body is on top of yours gently nipping indented tracks in your neck.

Your fingers scooch down around the hem of his shirt and stroke the soft paunch there that seems more pudgy these days.

You pinch it and he groans with a smile. "Didn't know Gigi had another sibling on the way." You tease and he nips harder on your skin making your toes curls deliciously.

"No te burles de mi, querida." Frankie's hands come up and rub your stomach. He pulls up your shirt and plants kisses on the skin now ribboned with faint stretch marks. "Maybe you need another one putting in here."

"No. We're tying a knot in it until she's at least three." You giggle and he chuckles with a breathy grizzle back.

You knock the damn cap off of his head, dragging him closer to you by the curls around his ears. His lips find yours and you breathe out, a gentle sigh wafting into his mouth.

It's been too fucking long. And Frankie's been a rock. He's stepped up, even when you had your doubts, your concerns.

Even when he went off on his wild goose chase to wherever the fuck it was he went with the boys, leaving you knocked up with swollen ankles and a constantly aching back, and returned even more worse for wear than he was before he left.

You were worried that he'd sink again, that he'd slip from your fingers into a pile of the cloudy, white stuff, but surprisingly he hadn't let go of his sobriety. He hadn't. He'd held onto that milestone coin he kept in his pocket, pulling out to squeeze it in his fist when things got dark.

And things were dark for a while.

He came back, different. Withdrawn. With secrets and a fellow man down. He never told you what happened exactly on that trip. What happened to Tom. Didn't want to talk about it. And you didn't poke the bear.

At Redfly's funeral he and the boys seemed... strained. Distant. No more fight nights and beers after watching Benny clobber faces in the ring. No more barbecues and football at Will's place. Santi was missing from the service. And Frankie never brought it up.

Instead, he threw himself into finishing the crib and painting little ducklings on the walls in the nursery, which weren't really ducks, more so fuzzy chicklets in golden yellow acrylic puffs. Dabbed lopsided on the wall by a man who was far from a skilled artist, but you loved them nonetheless.

He went to work relentlessly; unlimited overtime in a small chop shop in town, fixing up used engine parts and bringing home money that despite the long hours, still didn't seem like it lasted very long.

You'd cut back. No more manicures. No more expensive brands, opting for the cheaper ones on the bargain shelves in the grocery store. No more bar nights and Frankie was home with you almost constantly.

And yet, you'd never been so far apart.

Waking in the night when Gigi would kick your stomach like running a touchdown, his side of the bed was empty. Cold. You'd find him sat in the overgrown garden, which he kept meaning to mow, with a warm, flat beer staring out at the sky, only moving to walk you back to bed. Or on the couch asleep with the luminescence of the TV casting shadows over his worn face.

Frankie was ageing in front of you, faster than you it appeared, and you longed to carry some of that load that he was so insistent he manage by himself.

It made you question everything. Long nights spent alone, even though his ghost was there in the house ruminating with you somewhere, you had never felt more alone.

Clutching the globe of your bulging stomach, you wondered if it would be better to just walk away. Anything was better than this.

But it all changed when Gigi was born.

Frankie was there puffing through the breaths with you as you screamed into his face that this was all his fault. The pain, oh God the pain was... worth it. When she came out, it was like something in Frankie pulled back and peeled open to reveal bruised flesh.

He held that tiny, gooey bundle in his arms and cried. Cried harder than you have ever seen a grown man weep. You're convinced he was letting something else go too that day. And you're glad he did.

Since then, he hadn't put her down. As far as father's go, he's the best. He'd been the one to feed her during the night so you could sleep some more. The one to change her diapers so you could eat the banana pancakes he'd made for you. He pushed the pram down the aisles at the grocery store cooing at her, and grabbing a stuffed animal each time that he said she would love.

Even though you couldn't really afford it. Even though the pile at the end of her crib was bigger than the Matterhorn and threatened to crush her in its ply softness. But seeing them bond over a stupid, six-dollar stuffed giraffe made you smile.

He doted, stepped up. He seemed like Frankie again.

But yet there was still an ache between you. Needs and wants for Frankie to put his hands over you again; to put his mouth on you the way he used to. You needed him. God, you fucking wanted him after watching how he always was with Gigi. That paternal instinct of his making you crazy and now, you were determined to have him. It had been too fucking long.

If Gigi woke and cried you were determined to just let her work through it herself. You needed your man to hold you, to tell you he still loved you. To make you come for him as he held you down by the wrists and pumped you full of that love. 

"Hermosa," Frankie whined as your hand slipped down to the obvious bulge straining against his denim and squeezed gently. You'd missed the weight of him, how he would pack out your throat as he fucked it. Your mouth salivated, remembering the taste of him.

Gasping into you, his kisses became heated, desperate.

Frankie drew back, those big browns regarding you as you fingered through his greying scruff that was wild and patchy. His curls more wayward and unruly. His tan skin a little more plump around his cheeks and eyes. God, he was fucking beautiful.

Kissing the tips of your fingers delicately and sucking your thumb into his mouth, you became aware of his hands undoing your jeans. He tugged gently, pulling your panties with them all the way down your legs as he slid them off. Oh, thank God.

His eyes dropped to your centre, to that seam that glistened and called to him. He'd missed it. Yearned for it, but each time the wave of lust came, the tiredness crushed it out of him. He can't remember the last time he came. Even knocking one out in the shower seemed like a distant memory he couldn't recall.

He licked his lips, lowering himself down further on the couch, groaning as the swell of him brushed against the cushions and made his hips jerk into them.

He eyed you as he kissed up your thighs gently, delicately. His large hands on them and splaying you apart further. Your cunt lips unsticking from each other, opening as wide as he wanted you.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already," Frankie husked. He ran his nose up the side of your inner thigh and revelled in your quaking. Your hands twisted inside of his crown, snaking through his hair, and tugging at it.

"Frankie," you whined as he drew close again, his breath cooling your heat. "Need you..." you murmured, contorting in your agony.

"I know, baby. I've missed this pussy so much."

Another kiss on your thigh. One more just above your clit and you feel it then; the graze of his fuzzy chin and whine out - a little too loudly.

Frankie smirks then immediately stills; listening out for Gigi.

"She's asleep." You remind him and he nods, accepting it, albeit reluctantly.

"Use this." He tosses a cushion up towards you and you press it to your mouth anyway. You groan out into its marshmallow fibres as he licks a fat stripe with a flat tongue all the way up your pussy.

Your thighs buck and tremble and his hands flatten them still. He breathes out as he runs his tongue around his mouth, savouring the taste of you. Remembering.

He pulls you apart, spreading your lips to reveal your drenched hole and engorged clit.

"Mmm," he strangles a groan. He suckles on it gently, swirling his tongue around and around and your squeals into the cushion are ragged and howling.

"Fuck!" He hears you gasp as he suctions his lips around your bud and sucks on it deeply.

His tongue traverses the hilt of it, the spongy flesh so tasty and sugary in his mouth. He licks down, flicking up and catching your clit, then dipping at the very entrance to your hole where he teases out more of your slick to swallow and circles around again on that bundle of nerves. Driving you utterly fucking crazy as he feasts between your legs like a man starved. And he has been, starved of you.

Your back is arching, your thighs are shaking as the puffs of warm air from Frankie's nostrils on your mound become scorching. He dives in fully; tongue sliding down into your hole, nose pressed to your clit and hums in satisfaction as he fucks it.

"F-Frankie!" You're biting at the cushion now, tearing it apart with razor teeth as your orgasm peeks it head out from around the hill. Hello, old friend. Thrashing and gasping for air that doesn't quite fill your lungs. That tightness in your belly; that heavy feeling of dread and worry, seems to melt away as he sucks it all out of you.

You've needed this, this release. This comfort and reassurance from him; this confirmation of desire that he still wants you, still finds you sexy now that your body has changed from childbirth. Fuck, you've needed it for so long and now that he's finally giving it to you, it's too much.

You feel the glittered heat of the sun burn your face, blinding you. Your body feels floaty; your eyes heavy as they roll back into your skull and you fully let go.

His hand reaches up to clasp yours. Thick, calloused fingers interlocking tightly with yours. You squeeze back as he rubs his thumb over the hilt of your knuckles. It's okay, baby.

It's him. The reassurance that you've desperately needed for so long. You've needed Frankie. You've needed his mouth, his tongue, his cock. His love. It's enough to make your eyes water. It's okay.

You blink and tears fall as Frankie still tongues your orgasm out of you and into his wanting mouth. He lets go of your hand and charges back to your clit, watching it for a second as it pulses of its own accord. He knows it's so sensitive right now so he licks it gently. A little flick. A little kiss. A soft little blow of his breath. But your body jolts like you've been Tasered. Crushed by a tidal wave.

He slips two fingers inside you; you feel them fill you and stretch you. He curls them in just the right way and already it's unbearable.

"You've got another one," he says nodding when you shake your head. "Give it to me. Eres tan jodidamente, hermosa."

His chin is sticky, shiny. A string of your slick caught in his scruff that shimmers in the TV light like a diamond.

Your reach for him, bring it to your tongue and lick it up. You taste so good from Frankie's moustache. His tongue darts into your mouth as you whimper. His fingers fucking deep and against that spot that makes your back arch and your cunt clench around him.

He steadies you with his other hand against your lower back, pulling you closer, deeper onto his fingers.

You want him. You want him inside of you, filling you up with another baby. Want him fucking the shit out of you and peppering your face with those feral growls when he comes.

You nip on his bottom lip, sucking it between your teeth as you gasp and tense. Your thighs shudder, your hands fist in his plaid collar. Your forehead crushes into his as you gush over his fingers sliding harder in and out of you. "That's it, like that. So fucking hot." He croons.

He pushes them in deeper, harder against your spot and you lose your shit entirely. He kisses you to silence your scream. Swallowing down muffled chokes of his name. Of your pleasure. Of your undying love for your Catfish.

He pulls out those shiny digits gently; thumb caressing your clit as you jolt and shake from the overstimulation. You giggle and he smiles at you, and it's like flying too close to the sun.

You can only watch, destroyed and without a functioning brain, as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean; humming in satisfaction as he tastes you again.

You're about to reach for his painfully hard cock; free it from his jeans when a loud knock on the door makes you both jump back to reality.

"Who t'fuck is that?" Frankie hisses, jumping up. He reaches for his cap on the floor as you reach for your jeans, a flush warming your cheeks.

The knock comes again, louder this time and the panic in Frankie's eyes swarm at you.

"They'll fucking wake the baby!" He growls, storming out the lounge and towards the front door. You smile at his protectiveness. Gigi's a lucky girl.

He wipes at his mouth, his chin frantically. The slick of your cunt like oil in his facial hair that won't dilute. He can smell you all over his face and his cock knows it too by the way it throbs.

Frankie yanks the front door open, ready to clock the son of a bitch hammering on it, but is stunned into inaction as Santi stands before him, drenched, on the other side.

"Hermano." Santi says, a small, but wary smile on the crack of his lips.

Frankie's frozen momentarily, but then yields as he steps out into the rain-soaked porch barefooted and envelopes Santi in his arms. Santi hugs him back, fists clasped together around his compañero's broad back as they both laugh in some jarred disbelief.

"Demasiado tiempo, hermano," Frankie sighs.

Your smile dissipates when you hear a familiar voice seeping in through the hall. No. He wouldn't dare. No fucking way.

"Shit. Look at you." Santi says, knocking Frankie's chin playfully as he blushes.

Frankie turns to invite him in, but Santi's stopped by your fist colliding with his jaw.

"You motherfucker!" You screech at him.

The thud against his face stuns Santi for a moment. Benny taught you how to throw a decent right hook well, it seems.

"Whoa!" Frankie holds you back; thick arms around your waist as he lifts you off the ground as you scramble fiercely like Scrappy-Doo. You're yelling and cursing obscenities; jumbled Spanish words that don't make any sense. Frankie shushes you, but you don't care if Gigi wakes. No. You just want to kill Santi as you battle through the red mist.

"Easy, baby. Easy." Frankie reassures you.

"You've got some fucking nerve." You bite to Santi when Frankie puts you down finally as you still.

Santi rubs at his jaw and nods. "I'm sorry, cariño." Those tired and weary brown eyes of his bore into you sincerely, and you feel your shoulders release some of the wrangled tension, albeit unwillingly.

You want to hate him. Make him suffer for dragging Frankie away on whatever stupid fucking mission it was that made him come back withdrawn and empty. That made you almost lose him. You want to loathe Santi for always showing up and throwing chaos into Frankie's life when he finds some bearing.

You want to, you really want to, but you can't. Because Frankie loves him, and you do too, despite yourself.

"Asshole." You sneer to him, folding your arms.

"I missed you too." Santi smiles lightly.

The three of you stand there, in the rain, unmoving. Mute. Just stunned by Santi on the porch. He adjusts his heavy backpack on his shoulder, rainwater dripping from his eyelashes.

Frankie speaks first. "You're back then?"

Santi shakes his head. "No. Not permanently."

"So, this is a social call, is it?" You question shivering as the damp takes up root in your shirt.

"I need you, Fish." Santi begins and you immediately shake your head. You know what that means. Whenever Santiago 'Pope' Garcia needs something it's always an offer that comes with a heavy price.

"No." You confirm vehemently. "No."

"Baby." Frankie stiffens his voice, hissing.

It quells you as you shake your head viciously. "I'm not losing you again." You say to him.

"You never will." Frankie assures. He turns to Santi. "What do you need?" He asks, his chin cocking towards his oldest friend; his fellow comrade. The man that both he, and you, know that Frankie will do anything for.

Santi fishes in his pocket and pulls out some crumpled bit of paper. Placed inside Frankie's palm, he reads a couple of sets of numbers.

"Co-ordinates?"

Santi nods. "Will and his numbers, man."

"Is this for real?" Frankie asks. "Don't be making this shit up, not after-"

"It's real." Santi confirms.

"Fuck." Frankie breathes through the catch in his throat.

He's dreamt of this. Conjured up his own plans for a mission on how he could possibly birth this into fruition. He'd do it right. No fuck ups. A hard out if he needed to.

But he always came up empty because he had no fucking clue where it was exactly they'd left all that dirty money. Wrestling constantly with his own regret. His own stupidity; his own morals at agreeing to give his share of the money they had brought back to Tom's family. It was the right thing to do. A small consolation to those girls without a daddy anymore. Yeah.

But a part of him still hated himself on the daily for it. Hated how he couldn't make life better for you. Hated how you both had to struggle and just get by on his paltry income doing something he loathed now, not flying anymore, when his hands had held millions in them once.

Frankie takes off his cap and runs his hand through his hair and plonks it back on and sighs. You watch as Frankie retreats to the step and sits himself down on it with a wet thud.

"What is it?" You question. Frankie looks up at you, eyes molten and reluctant. But he can't keep this from you anymore.

"We're going to get it. We need you." Santi presses.

"We? You sweettalked Benny and Will already?" Frankie confirms nodding. Of course he had.

"All of us have to go back. Together." Santi confirms. "Need my best pilot."

Frankie snickers, his shoulders rising and falling as he absorbs it, works through the possibilities. The successes. The simplicities. The mourning of leaving you alone again. Of leaving Gigi. Even for just one night seems unbearable.

You stand there, toes numbing out to the cold and wet as Frankie looks up at you earnestly.

He speaks to Santi, but looks at you. Eyes locked on yours. "I've got the baby now. I have to come back. We can't fuck this up."

You start to sink a little. But Frankie's eyes confirm to you that whatever this is, it's worth the risk.

Santi nods too. "In and out. No-one knows it's there but us."

You shake your head slowly, but Frankie nods once at you. It's okay, baby. We're gonna be okay.

Frankie turns to Santi and stands. "Whatever plan you have, scrap it. We're doing this my fucking way or not at all. You hear me?"

MASTERLIST

Gah! I am excited at the prospect of a Frankie part 2 in a possible TF2! Hope you enjoyed this! Re-blogs & comments fuel me. Ta muchly! 🖤

#frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys #jett has spoken #triple frontier boys #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier frankie

[berryhobii]

Clouds (jhs x reader)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x black!female!reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: heavy angst, metaphors and illusions of depression, mentions of autism/depression/sociopathic disorders, mentions of the mistreatment of black women in medical situations(bc this very much still happens), overbearing mothers(but she comes from a good place I swear), feelings of being incomplete, feelings of inadequacy, a very bad date, mentions of fetishizing black women, Hoseok being a ray of sunshine, CRYING, mentions of codependency(bc it’s a soulmate au), one kiss but it’s very sweet, lots of rain and sun metaphors

A/N: Hi hi! I’m back with this sobfest of a fic 🥹 I swear I did not mean to make this this sad, it just kind of happened. I rewrote it a bunch of times and finally flowed on his particular idea. I love soulmate au’s, especially the cute ones with a countdown timer but I wanted to try something different. Something not as overt while still keeping the spirit of a soulmate au which is finding your other half. This is also a shoutout to all of the black people who suffer from depression. I know us being depressed isn’t taken as seriously especially to our families. Mental health isn’t taken seriously in black communities altogether and I really hope that will change. I see so many of us breaking generational curses; with our children, our friends, our relationships, and ourselves. I love seeing it. If you’re non black and read this, I hope it gives you some insight as well. To my black and melanated readers, I hope my stories can give you some comfort outside of just BTS. I hope you feel represented, I hope you feel important, and I hope you feel loved. Because you are all of those things🩵🩵much love. Stay safe. Criticism is always appreciated.

~

Dull. Stagnant. Lifeless.

That’s how you’d describe your world.

Each minute passed slower than the last, the monotony of your days only broken up by the arrival of the night. You didn’t even dream. Sleep was purely a necessity for you; you couldn’t escape to the vividness of a dream because color didn’t exist in your world.

You’ve accepted it. Accepted that you’d simply exist, drifting as another human among the billions of others. There was nothing special about you nor did you have any qualities people desired to interact with you for.

Mundane. Indifferent. Uniform.

That was you. Plain ol’ you.

“Are you okay, baby?” The voice of your mother called from the doorway of your childhood bedroom.

Rain pattered against the window, your gaze following whatever drop you found most interesting. You’d follow it until it disappeared or until it merged with other drops, the combined weight causing it to cascade faster down the glass.

You wished you could be a raindrop. Falling from the sky to nurture the earth then returning upward to form clouds. Then at least, you’d be useful. You could help plants grow, overfill the streaming rivers, bring relief to dry deserts.

Raindrops were so important.

You tore your eyes away from the window, looking at your mother. “I’m fine, mama.”

You could say that but she knew it wasn’t true. She also knew that asking you too many questions only resulted in her own emotional breakdown.

Why was her baby like this? What was wrong with you? Why did you look at her like she was just a stranger?

Swallowing back her tears, she managed a tiny smile. “The food is ready. It’s baked chicken, your favorite.”

Was that your favorite meal? You didn’t even know. Food didn’t matter much to you. It just kept you alive.

“Okay. I’ll be down in a second.” You said before turning back to the window, only to find the rain had let up. A light drizzle.

Your mother didn’t say anything, just backed out of the room, a single tear rolling down her face.

When you were born, the doctor’s considered you kind of a strange child. Not only was your mother’s entire labor pain free but you didn’t cry coming from the womb. You were breathing and all of your senses were completely fine.

You just wouldn’t cry.

You didn’t cry when you were hungry or wet, not even when you fell and hurt yourself. You felt pain but you didn’t cry.

Lots of people chalked it up to you just being a well behaved and calm kid. That should have been a blessing to your parents, right? A kid who didn’t cry or throw tantrums to do regular stuff kids did. Your parents should be so lucky.

But your mother knew something was wrong. That perpetual blank stare you always had, how you never smiled or found any real interest in toys or television, how you kind of just drifted around. You reminded her of a still flower on a rippling pond; so beautiful but unaffected by things around you.

She consulted many doctors on possible reasons for your seeming lack of emotions.

Were you chronically depressed? Did you have a sociopathic disorder? Were you autistic?

Maybe. Perhaps. A possibility.

Nothing was set in stone.

It even hit a point where your parents just completely lost hope. They still loved you the same. They’d just have to accept that you were the way you were.

But then your mother took you to see one final doctor who cleared up every suspicion anyone ever had.

Soulmates.

Less than 0.0001 percent of the population were comprised of these special people. However, there was so little information on this phenomena that affected such a minuscule portion of the population. Did a such thing even exist?

Your father was skeptical. He thought you just had some sort of mental problem and that the doctors were misdiagnosing you. He worked in the medical field and he knew black women were more likely to be mistreated. He believed they just didn’t care.

But your mother believed. What else could she do? She was holding on to the little ray of hope that you could get better.

Soulmates were opposites of one another in a multitude of ways. Sometimes it could be something as simple as height or biological sex, other times it could be complex like gender or religious affiliation.

And in serious cases like yours, it could be something as deep as the very fibers of your being.

You were incomplete without your soulmate. Only they could shine the light and illuminate the darkness that surrounded you.

The only problem is there was really no identifying factors that could help find your soulmate. No marks, no red string, nothing.

And with so many people all over the world, the chance of you finding them was almost nonexistent.

But your mother wouldn’t give up. She’d fix you.

~

“He’s a very nice boy. His mother says he’s upbeat and friendly too. He might be the one.” Your mother gushed as she removed another flexi-rod from your hair, her oiled fingers working carefully to unravel each one.

You didn’t say anything, staring ahead into the mirror in front of you. You had become used to seeing your made up face; foundation, concealer, highlight and whatever color eyeshadow matched the outfit she chose for you. You didn’t really care but your mother insisted you wear some to impress your date.

That’s why she was doing all of these preparations; to send you on yet another date in hopes of finding your soulmate.

Now that your mother knew the cause of your “ailment”, she was working overtime to find whoever they were. So far, you’ve met 41 people, male and female, multiple ethnicities, and all from different backgrounds. The only thing that tied them together was that each other them were happy and bright people. Each of them were social and loved by many. That had to be who your soulmate was, right?

All of these people and meetings and you’ve yet to find your other half. Your mother had been expanding her social circle in search of the person who would “heal” you; children of close friends, children of friends of close friends, even random people she’d overhear talking about their own children. She was on a mission and nothing would stand in her way.

Your mother completed the final touches on your hair, her smile wide.

“Look at how beautiful you are.”

She told you that often, ever since you were a little girl. Words of affirmation recited to you in an attempt to build your self confidence.

You guessed it must be true since she said it everyday.

You didn’t say anything again, her smile faltering just a tad but quickly widening again. She retrieved a simple necklace off the vanity, clasping it around your neck.

“There. Perfect.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and your mother sprang into action.

“He’s here! Come come.” She beckoned you with a frantic hand.

You stood from the chair, following her out of the room and to the living room. She handed you your purse and draped a shawl over your shoulders.

“Okay, you’re ready. Remember your manners and smile, okay?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly as she always did. Affection wasn’t really something you minded nor did you reciprocate it. Your parents hugged you all the time but you never really felt anything. You understood it was how people showed affection and love, the internet told you that.

You just didn’t get it. You didn’t feel it.

But you hugged her back anyway.

You stood there in her embrace for 23 seconds longer before she released you. Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb running across the apple of it.

Her smile was gentle but it didn’t reach her eyes, that glossy sheen always misting her eyes. Your mother cried a lot but never in front of you. You could sometimes hear her or find her wiping away tears if you’d enter the room, that smile always pulling at her lips acting as if nothing was wrong.

It confused you. It was obvious she was cried so why did she hide it?

Oh well.

“Have fun, okay?”

Opening the door, you found date number 42 standing there. He was dressed sharply in a crisp suit, hair gelled back out of his face, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

His mouth dropped when he saw you, eyes traveling from your feet to the top of your head.

“Wow.” He breathed out. “You look stunning.”

Remembering your manners, you answered, “Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, he held out the flowers to you. “These are for you.”

You took the bouquet from him then you remembered something your mother drilled into you.

“Always smile when someone gives you flowers. It means you appreciate them.”

Wasn’t saying thank you the appreciation?

Still, you put a smile on your face. A practiced smile that you’d rehearse in the mirror under your mother’s watch.

“They are lovely. Thank you.” You tried to add some inflection to your voice to sound grateful but it just came out robotic.

If number 42 noticed, he didn’t say anything, simply taking your thank you for what it was.

Holding out his arm, he asked, “ready to go? Our reservation is soon.”

Nodding, you placed your hand on his arm and let him escort you out of the door and down to his car. He opened the door for you, helping you inside and even making sure you put on your seatbelt before closing your door. He rounded to the driver’s seat and got in, buckling himself in and starting the car before pulling off.

“I hope you like seafood. The restaurant we’re going to has the best seafood pasta.”

You didn’t dislike it. Food was food to you. It was simply sustenance.

You stared out of the window as he began rambling about his favorite restaurants. You blankly watched the scenery pass, not really taking note of anything. Just watching.

Then you saw a raindrop hit your window, followed by a few more.

You heard your date make a noise of concern. “I didn’t think it would rain. Hopefully it’s only a drizzle. I hate when it rains. Don’t you?”

“No.”

He glanced over at you, a little chuckle coming from him. “Ah you’re one of the ones who like rain, huh? Why? It’s cold and wet and makes you sick.”

You continued to watch the drops patter against the window.

Yes rain was cold. It passes through a thin layer of cold air before falling to the earth. Yes rain was wet. It was water.

But rain was also….

“Rain is important.”

He snorted. “I guess so. It’s just inconvenient in cities.”

Inconvenient, huh?

You didn’t say anything in response to him, silence engulfing the inside of the car.

He coughed to break the air before reaching for the radio. A low pop song began playing through the speakers, not doing anything to alleviate the awkwardness but doing everything to prevent any more conversation.

Thankfully(for him), you arrived at the restaurant just minutes after. The rain was still at a very light drizzle which was good since he didn’t bring an umbrella.

He opened your door, holding out his arm to help you out.

The restaurant was nice on the inside. It reminded you a lot of the places your parents would take you for birthdays or graduations.

Clean. Fancy. Stuffy.

You both approached the hostess that sat behind a podium. She greeted you both with a bright smile.

“Welcome to Rêverie. Do you have a reservation?”

“I do. Two under Lee Jihyun.”

Oh yeah. That was his name.

She scrolled through her tablet. “Ah yes. Right this way.”

She led you through tables filled with other patrons. For a Thursday night, this place certainly was busy.

Jihyun pulled out your chair and you thanked him before sitting down.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly.” The hostess said, bowing and then walking away.

After removing his suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair, he turned to face you.

“So, y/n. Tell me about yourself.”

That was an open statement. You didn’t know what to say.

So you questioned, “what do you want to know?”

He tapped his chin in faux thought, a little inquiring smirk on his face.

“Hmm….what’s your favorite food?”

“I don’t have one.”

His smile dropped a little but he remained positive. Letting out an awkward chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What’s your favorite color?”

“I don’t have one.”

You saw the little twitch in his brow. Your father did that sometimes when he was really focused on his work. He told you it was because he was annoyed or frustrated with something.

Was Jihyun annoyed or frustrated with you?

“Then where are you from?”

“Chicago.”

He exhaled some air through his nose, tilting his head a little. This was getting nowhere.

At that moment, a waiter came to your table with 2 glasses of water and some menus.

“Hello there. I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off some drinks?”

Jihyun seemed to perk up at the arrival of the waiter, his smile returning full force.

“Yes we are. I’ll take a glass of your finest red wine.” Then he looked to you. “And for you? A glass of wine?”

You didn’t drink alcohol. Mainly because you just didn’t like it.

“No. I’ll keep my water. Thank you.”

The waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back with those and to take your order.”

Now you two were left alone again. Great.

A silence just as thick and uncomfortable as the one in the car encompassed your table.

Jihyun drummed his fingers on the table, thoughts racing as he tried to think of a conversation topic to get you talking. Then it hit him.

“Your mom set this date up, right? My mom’s been hounding me about settling down. What about you?” He curiously inquired.

He didn’t know? Hmm.

“She’s searching for my soulmate. She said that I’ll be happy if I find them.”

That seemed to spark his interest. “Soulmate?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He tapped his finger again. “So…..how exactly does that work?”

You barely knew fully. The doctor who diagnosed you could only explain so much since soulmates still aren’t very common or explicitly studied.

“I can’t express or feel most emotions, specifically ones of joy or sadness. Whoever my soulmate is is the opposite of me. That’s why my mother set you and I up.”

He let that information soak in. His mother didn’t say anything about this. All she told him was that a friend of hers had a gorgeous daughter. And if he was being honest, he was pretty curious about dating a black woman.

You certainly were beautiful and your poofy hair was interesting looking.

Your personality though? It left a lot to be desired. He was expecting you to be a little sweeter, more responsive to him. You didn’t even react at seeing his super expensive car nor did you say anything about the restaurant. He was putting a lot of money into this date so he was expecting more.

At least you were pretty.

Now as for this soulmate business. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him. Of course he’s heard about soulmates but he thought it was a load of crap.

Then again, you were strange. You were expressionless and lackluster. Your monotone answers showed your lack of interest and you’ve only smiled once since he met you.

Maybe you did have a soulmate. No one could be this boring without reason.

Well, your personality didn’t really matter. You weren’t ugly, that’s all he was concerned about.

He snorted, waving a hand around. “You don’t have to worry about that. You have me now. I’m all you need.” He reached a hand over to cup your chin. “As long as you listen to me and stay pretty, it’ll be fine.”

Listen? Stay pretty? You already did that.

Your objective wasn’t either of those things. It was to find your soulmate; the person who was your other half.

The person who would help you.

“You’re not my soulmate. What could you offer me?”

His eyebrow twitched again, a forced laugh falling from his lips. He released your chin and leaned back in his chair.

“Ha! What do I have to offer? I have plenty.” He bragged with a huff and a flare of his nostrils.

But what? What could he offer you? Your mother said that only your soulmate could give you what you really needed. This man obviously wasn’t it so what could he give you? Why were you even still here?

“Never leave a date early. It’s rude.”

What was the point? Wasn’t the goal of this date to figure out if he was your soulmate? He wasn’t so why couldn’t you leave? All the lessons from those etiquette classes your mother instructed you to sit through danced around your head.

“You aren’t my soulmate. There’s nothing you could give me.”

That really seemed to piss him off because he was suddenly slamming his hands down on the table. The force caused your water to shake, the liquid rippling in the glass.

“How dare you?! I take you on this fancy date and try to be nice to you and you insult me like this? You should feel grateful I even entertained the thought of meeting you.” He ranted spitefully, his entire face blazing red and veins popping out of his forehead.

Grateful? You should feel grateful? How did you do that?

Other patrons were startled by your date’s sudden outburst, whispers and mutters sounding around the restaurant.

That’s when the hostess appeared at your table.

“Sir, please calm down or I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She attempted to soothe him, holding up her hands as if calming a wild horse.

But your date wasn’t hearing any of it. His anger was too much to contain right now.

He pointed at you. “I only went on a date with you because my mom said you were pretty but she didn’t tell me you were so disrespectful. She also said your mother was desperate to marry you off and that she’s been trying to push you on any person she could.” He bellowed with a hearty and mocking laugh. “Just how many people have you been with already?”

“41. You’re number 42.” You answered simply and that took his irritation from a 100 to a 101.

Letting out a growl of frustration, he stood from the table, grabbing his jacket and practically snatching it on his body.

“You know what? I don’t need this! I have plenty of women lined up for me. I thought dating a black girl would be exciting but you’re seriously a bore. I’m leaving.”

He stomped away from the table, leaving you alone and letting the mind’s of the strangers surrounding you racing.

Just as you were about to get up to leave, he came back to the table, snatching the flowers he gave you earlier from the surface.

“And give me these back!”

Ah. There goes number 42. Your mother would probably get that look on her face again. That misty look in her eyes…..that she’d just cover with a smile and reassure you that she’d find someone else for you.

Again and again. Over and over.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your waiter shuffling back over, a small brown bag in his hands.

“Um, we won’t charge you for the wine since it never reached the table.” He stated nervously, worried that you’d blow up next at his words.

“Okay.”

He then placed the bag on the table. “Please take this red velvet cake. It’s on the house.”

~

The rain was pouring when you stepped out of the restaurant. The awning outside protected you from the brunt of the downpour but you could still feel the drops hitting your bare legs.

You should call a cab. A cab would take you home.

Home.

As if they had a mind of their own, your feet carried you out into the heavy rain. The harsh drops hurt your skin but you continued.

Cold rain soaked through your clothes and all the way down to your shoes, goosebumps rising across your skin but it didn’t bother you.

Nothing did. Maybe that was your main problem.

The stares of people you walked by didn’t bother you. The chill of the rain didn’t bother you. The pain of your feet in these heels didn’t bother you.

Why? Why were you like this? Why couldn’t you feel anything?

“Because you’re broken.”

That’s right. You were broken. Like a porcelain ballerina on a music box; anyone could see how poised and perfect you were, a true sight to see. Sparkling and beautiful, their expectations were high but when they turned your key…..

No music came out. The inner workings of your soul were rusted and stiff, your heart merely a muscle that pumped blood through your veins, your life just something you lived.

You had no purpose. You didn’t exist for anything. You were just a doll, one that would collect dust in an antique case until the end of time.

Your feet slowed to a stop, the assault of the rain feeling like daggers against your skin. You tilted your head back to stare up into the dark sky.

You wished you could be a raindrop. You just wanted to fall and then go back to the sky.

At least then you wouldn’t be so useless. You wouldn’t make your mother cry. You wouldn’t be a burden.

You wouldn’t be incomplete.

“Hey are you okay?”

Your ears itched so you lifted your hand to scratch at it.

“Why are you out here without an umbrella? It’s pouring.”

Why were your ears so itchy? Did you need to clean them?

“Did the rain come out of nowhere for you too? The forecasts are so unreliable sometimes, huh?”

You didn’t understand. Why was……why…..?

Your head slowly came down from its craned position and your heart did something other than simply beat.

It squeezed.

Something you’ve never felt before jolted through your entire body, so powerful and consuming that your knees buckled. You stumbled forward a little, the grip on the bottom of your heels doing nothing to keep your upright.

“Oh hey! Are you alright?”

Then you were met with warmth. No, something more than that.

Heat. Body scorching and all encompassing heat engulfed your body. It felt like someone had poured gasoline over you and a lit a match.

A hand touched your arm and that heat spread like a hot brand across your skin. You couldn’t even feel the coldness of the rain that soaked your clothes and skin anymore. It was like someone wrapped a warm towel straight out of the dryer around you.

“Hey….”

Slowly, as if this bubble you formed would burst, you leaned your head back to look into a pair of eyes so iridescent and dazzling that you thought you were staring right at a cluster of stars.

Like the sun after rain, a rainbow stretching across the blue sky.

It was him. He had found you.

You two stayed locked in eye contact for a very long moment. The world seemed to fade away, not even the sound of rain or honking cars could bring you back.

Then like a ray of sunshine, he smiled but unlike your mother or other people you’ve met, this smile held no sadness, no pain, no ulterior motives.

It was pure. It was beautiful.

“Have you been waiting long for me? I’m sorry.” He lifted the hand that wasn’t holding the umbrella to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray raindrop.

Then the dam broke and for the first time in your entire life, you did something you never thought you’d be able to do.

You cried.

Loud and heart wrenching, as thunderous and roaring as the storm you two were in. Every emotion you’ve never felt since birth swelled in your chest, traveling up your throat and out of your mouth as you let out wails of sorrow.

Wails of joy. Wails of anguish. Wails of strife. Wails of gratitude.

You cried.

And he held you, shielding you from the rain and holding the broken pieces of you together before you could fall apart again.

His hand stroked your back up and down as he hummed a song to you. “It’s okay. Let it out. I know it’s been hard for you. I’m here now.”

Yes. He was here. He found you. You’d be okay.

~

The sound of a phone ringing woke you from your haze of sleep. Your head felt fuzzy and your body felt heavy.

Where were you?

Lifting your arm, you felt around the nightstand until you touched the object you were searching for. You turned on your side, bringing your phone to your face, eyes squinting at the brightness.

Mama.

Why was she calling you? Wasn’t she in the next room?

Pressing the answer button, you held the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“y/n! y!n, where are you? My friend just called me and told me you had a falling out with Jihyun. Are you okay? You didn’t even come home. I thought something happened to you.”

Jihyun? Oh yeah, your date. The memories of that awful dinner were starting to come back to you. You couldn’t even call it dinner since you didn’t even eat but whatever.

“Sorry, mom. He left me at the restaurant and it started raining really hard so I….” Your train of thought derailed, more memories of last night flowed into your brain.

Jihyun leaving you. Your walk in the rain. Bumping into someone.

That feeling in your chest….

Your soulmate! You found them. You never went home. You went with them instead.

“y/n? Is everything okay?” Your mother questioned with concern laced in her voice.

You felt something move behind you and you remembered everything.

“Mama, I promise I’m fine. I’ll be home later, okay?”

You couldn’t see the look of confusion on her face but you could feel it was there. “Uh, alright honey. Be careful. I love you.”

You smiled, feeling tears prick your eyes as your heart rapidly pounded in your chest.

“I will. I love you too, mama.”

And you did. You loved her so much. You could feel it.

Just like how you could feel her own tears even after you hung up the phone.

After placing your phone back on the nightstand, you paused and sat in silence for a moment.

So many feelings and thoughts rushed through your body like a rapid stream, rain had fallen and filled the cavern that was your soul, overflowing every empty crevice and nourishing the flora that had been withered and dry. With these new and unfamiliar feelings expanding, it almost hurt.

You were happy that it hurt though because that meant you were feeling.

You could feel now. You were so unexplainably happy.

Turning back to your other side, your eyes met the sleeping form of the person who made all of this possible.

Reaching a hand out, your fingertips grazed over his cheek. You could still so vividly remember how the cheekbone rounded when he graced you with that breathtaking smile. You wanted to see it again. You wanted to learn about what makes him smile, what makes him happy, what makes him sad.

You wanted to understand his feelings.

Your finger traced all across his face; his eyebrows, his nose, his lips, his chin. As if you were trying to memorize each atom of his face.

A part of this felt like a dream, one you were afraid you’d wake up from but if you did, you still think you’d be happy. Happy because at least you had this much. If this was a dream, you wouldn’t mind because this dream would be precious to you.

With another touch of his eyelids, he flinched causing you to do the same. His hand lifted to rub at his face, grumbles and mumbles coming from his lips. You watched as he stretched his body before flopping back down and then his eyes cracked open.

Your breath hitched in your throat, heart going crazy in your chest and another swell of emotions you couldn’t place surging as well.

He blinked sleepily before his eyes finally landed on you. Staring into the brown irises brought that heat back but even stronger this time. You didn’t really understand it but you wanted to.

“Oh, you’re awake? Did you sleep well?” His light voice croaked as he rubbed the drowsiness out of his eyes.

You nodded. “I did. Did you?”

Then he smiled and your heart squeezed.

“Yeah. I did too. For the first time in a while.”

There was a hint of something in his words but you couldn’t place it.

“Do you have a hard time sleeping?”

He looked up at the ceiling, staring as if it held the solution to all of his problems.

“Yeah.”

You felt like he had more to say and you were about to ask a follow up question when the sound of your stomachs growling interrupted.

His smile was bright and his laughter was contagious. “Are you hungry? I can make us some breakfast.”

“That sounds great.”

~

“I’m Hoseok, by the way.” He said as he placed a fried egg on a plate and then served it to you.

He let you shower first, even letting you wear some of his clothes since the dress you wore last night was still soaked through. You were actually already wearing a large t shirt of his and a pair of boxers that he leant you, both brand new of course. A part of you didn’t even want to shower because you didn’t want him to leave your eyesight. You finally found him and all you wanted to do was admire him and be close to him. He felt exactly the same but he was starving since he didn’t eat dinner last night. And now that you thought about it, neither did you.

Now you were both in his kitchen while he whipped up breakfast.

You didn’t even realize you never asked him his name. Hearing it now flared that heat in your heart again.

Hoseok. It was nice. It fit him.

“I’m y/n.”

He smiled at you again. You really liked seeing him smile.

“That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You’ve been hearing that for years, all your life really but hearing him say it, you truly believed it. From his lips, it sounded sincere, like he was looking past just your physical appearance.

He was looking at you. All of you.

“I have a question.” He said as he ate a blueberry.

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting him know he could continue.

“Why were you out in the rain like that?”

Any other time, you wouldn’t have hesitated to give the answer but your words got caught when he asked. Should you even tell him? Would he get upset? Why did you feel so guilty?

He noticed your hesitation and it was like he could see the cogs turning in your head. He didn’t quite understand you yet. What were you experiencing before you met him? What were the effects of your incomplete soulmate bond?

You felt a hand place itself over yours where it rested on the table, your eyes lifting from your half eaten breakfast to meet those sweet eyes.

“You can tell me. I promise I’ll accept whatever you say. I’ll accept you.”

Tears prickled at your waterline but you didn’t let them fall. You felt like if you cried again, you’d never stop.

Taking a deep breath, you admitted, “I was on a date.” When he didn’t say anything, you continued. “My mom would set me up on dates in order to find my soulmate. I was on one with this guy and he left me at the restaurant. I was about to go home but something told me to start walking.”

He listened intently, a little burst of anger firing in his heart at whatever asshole left you by yourself like that. He couldn’t help but feel a little relieved, however. Because if they didn’t leave you, he probably wouldn’t have found you.

“I see. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m not.” You quickly responded, moving your hand so your fingers could entwine with his. A look of surprise crossed his face, his gaze going to your linked hands. His own heart thudded wildly like a stampede.

Then you smiled and what an absolutely wonderful smile it was.

“Then I’m not either.”

You two tucked back into your food in silence, hands still locked on the table.

“I have a question too.”

“Yeah?”

“Why were you out in the rain?”

He made a noise, shrugging his shoulder and finishing off the last of his breakfast. “I couldn’t sleep so I took a walk. It started raining on my way back home. There was a convenience store on my way so I got an umbrella there.” He explained as if it was so simple but something told you it wasn’t.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

What a good question.

“Whenever I try to sleep, I get this overwhelming feeling that keeps me up. It’s like…..I’m always uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You parroted.

He hummed. “Like whenever I try to sleep, I can’t. It feels like….something was missing.”

“Like what?”

He pondered in thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it to you. He’s been asked that question before and he could never quite answer. To him, showing emotion came so easily. He could empathize with most; he cried when others did, he rejoiced when he was happy, he got angry when something didn’t go his way. All of it came naturally to him.

But when it was time to shut those feelings down and rest, he couldn’t. He took walks often as a way to both clear his head and try to tire himself out. He slept sometimes but never more than a couple of hours, those feelings always startling him awake again. He slept but he didn’t rest.

Something was keeping him awake. Something was missing. Something that he didn’t have.

His eyes left his empty plate to finally lock on the beauty of you. With you, all of those conflicting feelings calmed down. They settled in his heart, that heavy weight that once constricted him now lifted. Like when you curled up next to a window, a book in your lap and a blanket over your shoulders as a gentle rain fell.

“Peace.”

A soft smile stretched across his face, his eyes holding so many feelings that he’s always been able to express but never truly able to receive. Looking at you now, he knew he could have it all now.

He could have peace. The reason he couldn’t sleep was because there were too many emotions storming around him, leaving him lost in the torrent of his own life. He had friends who loved him, family who supported him, and bonds that could never be broken but even with all of that, he still lacked one thing.

One person.

You.

He rounded his small kitchen island until he was standing next to you, his hand that wasn’t holding yours moving to cup the back of your neck. He leaned down just a little. Your lips were so close, a few centimeters closer and they’d touch. A frenzy of everything was happening in both of your bodies; anticipation, fear, passion, and more things neither of you could make.

His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, back and forth.

“I’m so glad I found you.” He whispered.

“I’m glad you found me too.”

And just like that, your lips joined. As did your hearts, as did your souls, as did your beings.

Complete.

Like the sun shining through the clouds after a rainy day and the rain returning to cover the sun, you two fit together in a delicate cycle.

One that could never be broken.

The sun. The rain. The earth. The sky. The moon. Red. Purple. Orange. Green.

Blissful. Confusing. Playful.

The colors that made up your world were bright now.

All thanks to your sun ☀️

#bts #bts x black reader #bts fic #bts imagines #hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok x reader #black representation

[icansoiwill]

Heart of Stone Chapter Four: Where one ends, Another Begins

~Summary: Joel's temperament will probably be the death of him. Even with his walls up so high, you still are tender with him. He fights with himself even more because of this, still wondering why he is so drawn to you.

~Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

~Words: 3k

~Warnings: some slight similarities to the show that I thought would fit (I do not own the copyright), cursing (if that bothers you), mention of death, mention of cheating, (there are others I'm sure, but I can't think of them of course)

~A/N: So since it took me so long to do the other chapter, I thought I'd post this early. I also feel a lot better to write too. Also, this is a long one. I don't know how I was able to write this much, usually, I don't lol. I have some ideas for other fics as well. So I'll be posting those next too.

Previous Chapters: ~Chapter Three

The city was a lot rougher than Joel remembered from the last run over a year ago. A lot more buildings had fallen, more overgrowth of the various plants, and fewer clickers than he remembered. The lack of clickers and runners put him on edge. 

“You doing okay back here?” You had asked him, slightly removing him from his thoughts. 

“Yeah” He grunts in response avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay, just checking.” You say with a brush of annoyance. 

He knew that he wasn’t making a good impression on you. Not like it was a priority though. Honestly, he probably would have rather you stayed back at the QZ. You being here meant that there was another person to have to worry about. He didn’t want that. Ellie was so all over the place for him that she alone created enough concern for safety on this trip. 

And, you still had his jacket, from the night it rained, tied around your waist now. Which annoyed him only slightly. He didn’t want the jacket back by no means. You looked too good in it when you put it on last night. Joel even found it adorable when you tried brushing out the wrinkles that had been there forever. But, he felt that he shouldn’t have given it to you. It made it hard for him to concentrate on the surroundings in front of him. However, out of not wasting time, he gave you his. But damn, when you put it on… There was something about it. It was just a jacket. But you, in his clothes? He wanted more of it.

Joel realized his mind was wandering more than he wanted it to after that little interaction you gave him. Come on Joel, focus. He adjusted his shoulders and his hand placement on the gun. Walking along the downtown Boston streets, he looked to the left and to the right. Scanning the surroundings. When he looked in front of him he saw the connection you were making with Ellie. He hoped for your sake that, you weren’t getting too attached. Nevertheless, when Ellie found that joke book you two couldn’t stop giggling. Joel wouldn’t dare tell a soul, but he liked the sound of your laugh. It lingered in his mind, bouncing around in there like it was a boomerang, echoing in his ears. 

Joel still couldn’t understand how you had such a hold on him. He felt disgusted with himself for thinking this way about you with Tess still being an obligation to him. One thing Joel vowed to himself was that he would never cheat. Joel did like Tess, and liked what she could give him. But it didn’t feel like it was enough anymore. Joel began to realize that his feelings for Tess weren’t strong enough anymore. He knew that before he could even think about getting to know you more, he’d need to break it off with Tess. He felt drawn to you, since the day he went to meet Tess after her shift and Joel did want anything to get in the way of getting to know you.

Joel looked to the front of the line that had formed between the four of you. Tess is taking point. She looked back at Joel with a blank expression. He knew she was still frustrated with him after what happened at the museum. Ellie got scratched. He felt that he had the right to question whether or not he was putting himself in danger by taking her. Just because some kid says something, doesn’t mean it’s true. But Tess got annoyed, saying “Can’t you just take the win?” He wanted more than anything to take what good he could, but something seemed off. 

Joel only realized that Tess had fallen back and you had taken point after Tess tried talking to him. 

“Hey, did you hear me?” Tess questioned. 

“Huh? Oh, no.” Joel replied

“I asked if everything was okay with you.” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m good.”

“You just seem… distracted? Maybe? I don’t know. You just haven’t acted like this before.”

“I’m good Tess, really.” Joel tried convincing her. 

“Tell me. What’s really going on? Does this have to do with her? Do you like her or something?” Tess questioned flatly, “If you do, just tell me. It’s not like we were exclusive.”

“Let’s talk later. Now really isn’t the time for something like this.” Joel sighed. He’s not trying to prolong the inevitable. He’s not the type to string someone along. He just needs to be able to keep everyone safe and having conversations like these wasn’t going to help anyone keep a clear mind. Tess sighs and walks back up to the front to take point. 

By now, Joel knows they are close to the capitol building. As he scans the area again he sees plenty of Firefly symbols around. There are barricades up and barbed wire wrapped around planks to create small forts. They come up to the end of a street as they take a left. 

There it is the Capitol Building. 

Joel catches up to Tess and he takes point. He leads them halfway up the street where they stop behind a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Joel watches for a second. It’s quiet. Too Quiet. 

“Where are they?” Tess whispered Joel. 

“I don’t know. Stay here.” He replied

Joel felt all three sets of eyes on him as he moved towards one of the big transport trucks. He made his way slowly and once he got there, open the passenger door in a swift motion, immediately pointing the gun into the cabin. Joel knew something must've gone awry. He saw blood spatter all over the seats and windshield. He turned around. Making his way to the other side of the truck.

“Stay there” he mouthed to them. 

A foul stench met his nose as he moved to the driver's side of the vehicle. Joel brought his guard up even more once he saw the body lying halfway under the truck. Sprawled out with a used fire extinguisher over their flattened head. Joel grimaced at the sight. He was never going to get used to it. But he pushed on, making his way to the back of the truck where the latched doors were. He didn’t hear the noises of a clicker or a person, but that also could mean nothing. Joel slowly unlatched the door and swung it open. 

Nothing.

“Joel?” You called for him.

“Everything’s fine,” Joel replied.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tess asked

“I don’t know,” Joel told her. 

“They went inside” Ellie states from behind him. 

Joel looks to where Ellie is and sees the trail of blood. Joel or you don’t have time to react before Tess is grabbing Ellie by the wrist forcefully. Pulling her into the building. 

“Tess!” Joel calls out

“Come on!” Tess yells back. 

Joel and you run after her. Tess has already opened the doors to the building before Joel or you even have time to make it up the stairs. You both walk in and see the wreckage. Bodies lying everywhere. Boxes and cargo rummaged through. 

“This had to be FEDRA,” you tell Joel. Joel nods in agreement. 

“What the fuck? Something has to be here. Something, come ON!” Tess yells as she is rummaging through everything. 

“Give it up Tess, we're done,” Joel tells her. 

“Ellie, where did Marlene say she was taking you?” Tess asks, totally ignoring Joel. 

“Uhh, I don’t know somewhere out west,” Ellie replies.

“Then one of them has got to have something right?” Tess begins patting down the cold bodies.

“Tess, there isn’t anything you can do,” You tell her, “You did everything you could.”

“Joel, Are you going to help?” Tess asks ignoring you now as well.

“No! I’m not going to help because there isn’t anything more for us to do. It’s over” Joel explains.

“It can’t be over,” Tess says getting up to face him.

“We have to go home,” Joel tells her. 

“That’s not my fucking home!” Tess yells, “I’m staying here. You know our luck had to run out sooner or later.” She says more calmly now. 

“Shit,” you say. 

“Fuck” Ellie says, “she’s infected.”

Joel turns to Ellie in disbelief. Why would she say something like that? Tess is too careful to get infected. But there’s silence from Tess. Joel turns back to look at Tess. Tears are welling up in her eyes. He looks down at her hand to see it shaking uncontrollably. 

Oh, fuck. Ellies right. 

“Let me see,” Joel asks. Tess doesn’t move. “Let me see!” He yells now. 

Tess grips her fingers around the right side of the collar of her shirt and jacket, pulling it to expose the scratch she has. Joel can’t believe his eyes. It’s already dark red. 

How did he miss this? How did she keep it from him? Did this happen back at the museum?

“Oops, right,” Tess says taking a step toward Joel. Joel makes eye contact with her now. Tess tries to walk up to him but out of fear, Joel takes a step back from her. There’s no fucking way this could happen. 

“Take your bandage off Ellie,” Tess says. She walks over to her and pushed up the sleeve of the jacket. 

“Look, Joel, you see this. This is proof. She’s immune. I got this 2 hours ago and it’s already worse.” Tess tells him, “Take her to Bill. He’ll know what to do.”

“No, there’s no way I can do that. They won’t do it. You know Bill”  Joel tells her

“Yes you can and they will.“ Tess reassures. 

“No, I can-“ Joel gets cut off by Tess. 

“Just do it, Joel! I have never asked you of anything, much less feel the same way about me. You need to do this for me. Please it’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you Joel” Tess pleads. Joel feels a jab in his heart when Tess tells him this. He feels more guilt than ever now. 

Suddenly a truck pulls up. Joel sees you run to the window to take a peak. 

“It’s FEDRA” You them. 

“I’ll hold them off. Just go!” Tess tells Joel and the other two. 

Tess begins spilling gasoline all over the floor. Joel can hear the crash of the bins and the smell filled his nose. He swiftly grabs Ellie by the forearm and pushes the small of your back to indicate that you guys need to run. You turn to the doors that were behind you. Opening them to let Joel and Ellie through. You run ahead of them looking for the exit as Joel tries to pick up the pace with Ellie fighting against him. 

“No, Joel! Don’t leave her!” Ellie yells.

Ellie fighting his grip only makes him hang on tighter. He makes sure to catch up to you, following you through the back doors of the capitol building. You push them shut to slow FEDRA down. But, Joel knows that it won’t matter. He knows what Tess is about to do. Ellie isn’t fighting him anymore, but running ahead in between the short distance of you and him. You, Ellie, and Him make it far enough out to be considered safe-ish. Then…

BOOM!

Joel grabs both you and Ellie to crouch down. In the same instance, Joel turns to look behind him. Flames billow out from the building at all sides, anywhere the fire can reach oxygen. Painful cries from within the building are heard. Joel doesn’t know what prompts him but he turns to look at you. Tears are building up in your eyes. Another jab at his heart surfaces. He knew he would never want to see you like this again. However, he turns around and walks on. Leaving you and Ellie to stand there in the horror of the events that just happened. 

______________

A day had passed and we are barely out of Boston, just now getting into the suburbs. Joel is acting completely numbed and shut down after what happened with Tess at the capitol building. He’s talking less, not like he did much before, and he is much more cautious. Now more focused on getting Ellie out of his life. I had tried talking to him yesterday, maybe taking his mind off things.

“Hey, I just want-“ I began to tell him. 

“You need to take point” Joel harshly interrupts making no eye contact with you. 

He hasn’t spoken a word since then, only communicating in hand signals if he hears something or when he asks for the map. I’ve made sure to keep point, definitely avoiding going and talking to him again. I wanted to be there for him. I already miss Tess too. She was as close of a friend as I had gotten in the last year. It hurt me to avoid him like this. But, from what little I knew about Joel, I got the understanding that it was probably good for him that it be this way for now. 

Walking our way through the suburbs of Boston, we made stops at a few houses to get some supplies, definitely some food. We were running out already because neither Joel nor I brought enough food for any trip longer than a day. I was starving. I was trying not to think about it because the more I focused on it the hungrier I felt. 

While being at the front I made sure to keep my head up looking around. Checking my surroundings. Occasionally catching a glimpse of Joel because I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I felt the need to look out for him since he was looking out for us. I go to take a peek at Joel out of the corner of my eye. This time when I go to look over at Joel, he is stopped. He turns to look at me. 

“Let’s look through this one.” Joel gestures to the house he’s in front of. 

With most of the other houses looking like they had been bombed, I’m Joel wanted to check if there was anything good. We make our way into the house. Going through the front door there was an opening to the living room to the right and stairs to the left. A somewhat long hallway connected to the kitchen. Joel goes to move down the hallway.

“Check the upstairs.” Joel directed. 

I pull out my gun and make my way up slowly. At the top of the stairs is a hallway with rooms. The first door is closed, so I brace myself to the right of the door, taking the handle slowly and turning it. When I open it, I point my gun in. 

Nothing. 

It was just the bathroom. I check the rest of the rooms. Going through all of them, looking for anything useful. More weapons, bullets, maybe some medicine. I found myself in the master bedroom looking through the drawers. I could hear light footsteps making their way closer to me. I look up to find Ellie going into the kid's bedroom. I keep searching around when I hear Ellie getting excited. 

“No way! I found another one!” Ellie said enthusiastically. I’m guessing it had to be one of those comic books. I kept looking for something, anything. With no luck, I go to walk out of the room. I run into a familiar chest. Again. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this” I joke sarcastically with Joel. Maybe trying to chip at his 

There is no space between us when I look up to make eye contact with him. He’s looking down at me. I can see his brown irises clearly. 

“Did you find anything?” Joel asks me, not breaking eye contact. I can see him searching my eyes. 

“No,” I tell him almost meekly, “But I think Ellie did,” I say gesturing to the room behind him.

Joel turns to go to the kid's room. It’s decorated with dirty trophies and faded ribbons from various sports. Basketball, softball, soccer. 

Man, this kid was active. 

Pictures of teams were plastered all over bulletin boards. I turn to look at Joel. I watched him as he looks around the room for a second. I see a twinge of pain come across his face. 

Out of all the places, why did this affect him?

I could tell Joel wanted to get out of there. He moves past me with determination to leave.

“Come on, Ellie. We got to go.” Joel tells her as he bushes by swiftly. 

Ellie goes first to leave the room. I go after her. When we make it down the stairs and Joel, with his back to us, is waiting on the front porch. His silhouette looks intimidating and inviting all at the same time. If Ellie wasn’t here you might’ve made a move. But now isn’t the time for that kind of thing. Ellie makes her way around him and goes down the stairs of the porch. Before he takes his first step, I come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He almost flinches at the touch. His head turned in my direction. 

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me. But, I’m here.” I tell him looking directly into his eyes. 

He gently nods his head, keeping eye contact. After that, I move to catch up to Ellie at the end of the sidewalk. 

“Looks like you got some reading to do. Huh?” I ask her. 

“Yeah, I can’t wait to start reading this. It’s the next one in the series too.” Ellie says excitedly. 

“Let me know what happens” 

I walk ahead to lead the way. We still had a long way to go and it was going to get dark in the next couple of hours. I wanted to make sure we at least made it to the city limit of Boston. This trip was going to be a long, tiring one. 

Hopefully, I can get Joel to warm up to Ellie in the least. Doing that will make these things easier. I’m sure time will tell if they get along. Maybe I can convince Ellie to tell him some of those puns from the book she found. Some of them are actually funny. Maybe Joel will think the same. 

I felt my stomach grumble again. 

Hopefully, we can find some food too…

#Joel miller #Joel miller x reader #Ellie #Tess #The last of us #Joel tlou #tlou #Tlou hbo #Joel x reader #Ellie williams #Daddy Joel #Pedro #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Y/n #Daddy issues #Pedro Pascal is daddy #Daddy Pascal

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Blood. Where it comes from. Where it goes. Who gets it. Why it's important. What it does. Anything about blood.

time for another round of 'i have so many of these already', blood prompts collected (most of them), here u go:

A siren lived on the mountain. I saw her on a morning hike once, pruning her feathers, mouth caked in blood.

She always blamed the night shift. For her bloodshot eyes. The feathers on her floor. The scars that ran like fault lines across her back.

Death took his most bloodthirsty soldier out of commission. He placed him on earth, wiped of all memories, for rehabilitation. 

It felt wrong to call them vampires. They were dumb and fragile looking, their wings paper thin and delicate. They would drink blood from any living thing.

Something was killing nixies. I found one covered in duckweed and blue blood, and took it home to recover in my bathtub.

My blood heals anything and everything it touches. But with every drop, my heart grows colder, and no one knows what I’ll become when it runs out.

Blood Wine didn’t have anything to do with real blood. Well, not technically.

No one knew what would happen if you ate a blood berry, red and swollen. No one was brave enough to find out.

I was born with silver blood. No one knew what kind of creature that made me.

“Darken your lips with the blood of a loved one. This will allow you to enter the Court.”

Monster blood was great for human illness. The hospital did a roaring and very illegal trade in the basement.

The unicorns were made of stone, loud and unforgiving, stained with the blood of misfortune and sacrifice alike.

I met a half ghost on the midnight bus. An errand boy for death, he was shotgunning energy drinks, and cleaning blood out of his nails.

My family has magic in its veins. Plants watered with our blood come to cure any illness.

The well was full of blood. “That can’t be good,” said Uncle.

Spill a single drop of blood in the forest, and the tree roots will tear you to shreds, twisting and tangling as they scramble for their piece.

Rain Bringers slept a lot, when they weren’t harvesting clouds. Their eyes held no color, and their blood was barely red, so thin rumor said you could drink it and escape a thirsty death.

Our fight was already bloody, the scent of death heavy on the air as we fell into the freezing river together. Everything changed that day, under the ice.

We have six moons. To one, we offer opals, another, pearls. Three of them want nothing in particular, and the last asks for blood.

The potion is midnight blue, a consistency I know well. “Whose blood did you use?” I ask, as my throat grows uncomfortably hot.

Wherever my blood spills, a delicate black flower grows at once. I always eat it, which annoys mother, who would like to see them dried and pressed.

Blood Bags are stains upon the earth, rank and starving by nature, okay to exorcise on sight. But this one has a baby with it. A human one.

An alchemist comes to take my blood once a month. Red dye stains her hair, her tongue, red thread sewn into the lines of her face and hands.

A drop of my blood sizzles on the gold, until the smoke clears and reveals plain iron. “I am here to train,” I say, putting the knife away, “as an alchemist.”

The House of Red Glass sits behind a towering gate. They say your reflection talks to you in there, all distorted by the strange blood colored walls.

“If I’m the vampire, how come you’re the one always taking my blood?” I ask, a sad and desperate attempt to flirt with the medic.

The city has veins, strange red cords that run deep underground and pulse with ichorous blood. Something is drinking from them, and it is my unfortunate job to find out what.

His bathtub was covered in blood and feathers.

When I went to receive the results of my blood test, they told me they were classified.

#some of these date back to like 2017 #blood #blood tw #creative writing #writing prompts #list

[fand0mh03]

Runaway; part two

hi! I’ve decided I’m going to make this a series. I’m not sure how long yet, but there will be more parts coming soon. Thank you for reading!

“You seriously described the Boston Tea Party as a tea party held in boston? On a test?” Wanda laughed as she questioned Y/N, who had just told her a story from when she was a teenager.

“Can you blame me? I was out for a week, I had no idea!” She exclaimed, laughing along at the memory. This was the happiest the 24 year old witch had felt in a long time, especially considering today. It was like a breath of fresh air for her. The two women had been chatting away and enjoying the time together for the past 2 hours- making it about 10 o’clock in the night. Wanda was grateful to not have to spend this night alone; well atleast all of it. She was afraid she’d break if she was left alone for too long.  Y/N made her feel better, like a plant where after all of the sun, the rain finally came. 

“Hey, Y/N, I have to close up for the night, I’m sorry,” a man came out- to which Wanda assumed was the chef and owner of the diner. She looked over to Y/N, who nodded and said good night to the chef.

“Well, Wanda, looks like it’s time to go. C’mon,” She spoke to Wanda, who tried to hide her sadness, so she offered a small smile as Y/N stood up. Wanda stood up with her, and tried to stop herself from blushing when Y/N grabbed her wrist and led her out of the door.

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” Y/N’s sweet voice alarmed Wanda, making her look over at her. 

“I can manage,” She smiled at her, but Y/N’s face stayed worried.

“I have extra room in my apartment, you could stay there for as long as you need.” Y/N offered, and Wanda’s heart fluttered.  She knew it wasn’t a good idea to say yes, but she also had nowhere to go, and wouldn’t be able to access her bank account due to her identity being “dead”, not that she had much money anyway though. And safety aside, Wanda really liked Y/N, she couldn’t just say no.

“Yeah, okay, thank you so much. Can I offer you money or anything, I’m not sure how long I’d be staying for,” 

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to pay me, it's fine.  Here, let’s go to my car, it’s cold and late.” 

          Wanda followed Y/N to her car, which was a silver toyota camry, and slid into the passenger seat as she unlocked the door. Y/N buckled her seat belt and started the car, pulling out of the diner’s parking lot and into the streets. They sat in silence for a while until Y/N turned on the radio and started singing along to Taylor Swift. 

“We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘till january,” She softly sang, making Wanda slowly start to smile. 

“Cause this is our place, we make the rules”

“And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”

“Can I go where you go?” Wanda joined in with Y/N, causing Y/N to glance over at Wanda with a grin on her face.

Singing lyrics, and laughing at each other, dancing at red lights and stop signs, loving every second of their time together, Wanda couldn’t help but wonder, how long would this last? Would Y/N end up leaving too? This made her smile falter, but she put up the facade of enjoying herself to her wits end. She felt bad for thinking like this, but everyone she’s ever loved was gone, and she was scared of forming new relationships. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t have talked to Y/N for so long, maybe she shouldn’t have gotten in the car. 

“My hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue, all’s well that ends well to end up with you”

          Nervous, Wanda decided to read Y/N’s thoughts, to make sure she wouldn’t get betrayed (for now at least).  And Wanda almost started crying because all Y/N was thinking about was how she was excited about getting a new roommate for a little bit and a potential best friend.

          “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever,” Wanda and Y/N continued to sing together while she parked the car and danced along to the lyrics. Wanda let a tear slip down her face and Y/N stopped singing and gave her a worried, empathetic look, but Wanda gave her a little smile which Y/N returned.

           Darling, you're my, my, my, my Lover

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

          Once they got inside Y/N’s apartment, Y/N took her and Wanda’s coats and hung them up on the hooks by the front door. Y/N scurried off into the kitchen as Wanda followed, taking a seat on the couch.

          “Can I offer you a glass of coffee? Water? Tea? Anything?” Y/N stuck her head out of the kitchen to talk to Wanda, who softly laughed at Y/N’s hospitality, and took her up on the offer of coffee, because God knew Wanda needed coffee.

          “So, what brought you to the diner?” Y/N asked Wanda, wondering why the hero had decided to stop by a quiet coffee shop late at night.

          “Uh…” Wanda didn’t want to ruin this, she knew Y/N would already think she’s a monster.

          “It’s alright. I’m not interrogating you, I just want to know a little more about you,” She smiled at the red head, and went to get the coffee.

          Wanda took it graciously, and decided to tell Y/N what had happened. At least the rundown of what happened. Worst comes to worse, she leaves, right?

**********   think of MOM and her kids running from her *********

          Expecting Y/N to freak out, Wanda was shocked and pleasantly surprised when Y/N gave her a hug. This caused Wanda to break down. This is what she was afraid would happen.

          Loud, painful sobs racked her body as Y/N wrapped her arms around her waist, allowing Wanda to collapse into her arms and rest her head on her shoulder. Hot tears ran down her face, her eyes shutting closed, and the tears rolling onto Y/N’s bare shoulder. She shook from the mental breakdown, and Y/N brushed the hair from Wanda’s face, holding her and comforting her. Something Wanda hasn’t felt in a long time- comfort.

          “It’s alright, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” Y/N whispered to Wanda, in an attempt to soothe her, which worked, the tears slowing down. Y/N pulled away, leaving a kiss on her forehead, and rubbed the other woman’s arms, only when she felt the tears stop and the shaking came to a halt. Y/N continued to hold her, for as long as she needed, letting Wanda rest on her lap. Wanda’s eyes ached from crying so long, so she shut them, and soon, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

#wanda x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximilf #wanda maximommy #wanda maximoff #Elizabeth Olsen #elizabeth olsen x female reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #Runaway series #Marvel

[nirikeehan]

hiiiiiiii I'm READY for blackwall/thalia to make me feel things, how about kingdom come au-full "An open secret" from the evocative prompt list? <3

Hi Rowan!! I dithered a lot on whether what I was writing was actually answering the prompt, but I think I got there in the end. I will probably add this to the next chapter of Kingdom Come. Enjoy!

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1065

---

He kisses her on the temple and eases her out the door. He would take the day off, but he’s expected at company headquarters; there’s always one minor crisis or another the subordinates aren’t equipped to handle. Thom urges her to explore Markham, get a feel for the place proper. In a few days he’ll have the time to show her around himself. 

Thalia stands on the front stoop, belly full of the breakfast he made her, feeling untethered. The rain has evaporated, replaced by brilliant azure sky and the crisp warmth of early autumn. The cobblestones and stucco walls practically glow in the sun. Exposed, her face warms like a blush. She starts down the street, boots clicking underfoot.

She admits roaming the city for the day is a good idea. She needs to put space between them, lest his magnetism cloud her thinking. She still feels off-kilter from the rapid turn of events, wonders what exactly she agreed to in the bath this morning. Can she really stay here, as his — what’s the term? Mistress? Mortification seizes her. Paramour? Barely better. Lover? 

She cringes, narrowly sidestepping a noble in grey velvet who heads toward a golden-domed, marble columned building — the magistrate court. She heard the bells ringing at breakfast, signifying the start of autumn session. Thom told her, full of pride, how close his townhouse is to the beating heart of Markham’s legislature. 

The nobleman gives her a dirty look, and Thalia hides behind her hair, a thing one can do when it’s short and loose. He doesn’t recognize her, though there are plenty who might. She’s not the Inquisitor anymore, but her movements are still commented upon in the broadsheets; Leliana and Josephine both send her snippets from Orlais and Antiva when the gossip is especially salacious and outrageously wrong. They stopped when Cullen died, for which she is grateful. She has no desire to know what the rabble thought of that. Or what they’ll think, when they find out she’s sought out, for comfort, the war criminal she helped slip the noose. 

No one has to know, she reminds herself. Thom’s voice, in her head, assuring her.

Markham is a city of stone and plaster, of buildings built on top of streets and streets on top of buildings. Unlike Ostwick, which stands upon the sea and teems with gardens and canals, the Markham flora is far more deliberate. She spots a tree planted here on a walkway, another there, encircled by fences and dropping their scarlet leaves in lazy intervals. The wynds twist, turn, grow narrow and widen again on a whim. Thalia recalls the street that took her to the inn; the boulevard runs into the university, which was a place Thom suggested she visit while sopping up egg yolk with a piece of bread. His other hand strayed to hers, his thumb massaging a pale knuckle. It’s got a spectacular library, he said, almost sly. He knows books hook her like a fish.

 She recalls the book he was reading in bed last night, before they made love. In her haste she forgot to see what it was, and when she woke in his bed with reams of sunlight across her bare back, it had vanished. She has no idea what he might like to read. It troubles her. How can he seem so mysterious to her still, after all these years?

She crosses the street, keeps walking past the university entrance. Some things she can resist. 

---

Thom strolls into company headquarters — a stout fortress built into Markham’s outer walls, once a part of the city watch before it fell into disrepair and he bought the place cheap. He hears the lieutenants drilling recruits in the courtyard, the reassuring sound of shuffling feet and the clash of practice swords. This place is his pride and glory, the new life that he’s built upon the ashes of the old, and surveying it in the morning sun, he feels a swell of lightness deep in his chest. 

His office stands in the corner of the second floor. He breezes through reception, greets the boy on duty, steps into the courtyard to observe those training. After offering words of encouragement, he heads down the corridor to the main stairway. Payne stands by the base of the stairs. He is a nervous young man of some thirty-five years, skinny where Thom is broad, with hair the color and texture of a weasel. When Thom found him, Payne was serving a sentence for poaching, not because he’d been caught, but because his guilt had been so great he’d turned himself in. He’s a good second in command — not too ambitious, eager to please. 

Payne stares at him. “Are you all right, ser?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“It’s just— you were whistling, ser.” 

He snorts. “Didn’t think I was capable?” 

“Er, no, it’s not that. You just— seem in good spirits, is all.” Payne breaks into a sweat, as if accusing him of lightening the till. “More so than usual, I mean.” 

Thom blinks, lets out a hearty laugh. “Think it will damage my frightful reputation?” He’s known as the man in black to the company, possessing the gravitas of someone in perpetual mourning. He claps Payne on the shoulder and ascends the stairs before his startled subordinate can respond. 

He enters his office, flanked by his own amusement. He’s sitting at his desk, sorting a mountain of correspondence, when Sera breezes in. Her nose is scrunched as if she’s caught whiff of some rubbish. “All right, spew.” 

“I beg your pardon.” He does not lift his eyes from the parchment in front of him. A far flung prince would like to hire the company to protect him on his pleasure barge in the Waking Sea for a month. He tosses it in the discard pile.

“Everyone’s talking about it.” Sera paces back and forth, agitated. 

“About what?”

“You!” She points a disgusted finger at him. “They’re saying that you’re… happy.” 

Thom sighs. “Sera. It’s a beautiful day. Our coffers are full, my men are flourishing. Why wouldn’t I be happy?” 

Sera stares him in the face. She holds his gaze and refuses to blink. “You fucked her already, didn’t you?” 

The facial hair can only hide so much. A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Sera’s eyes widen. 

“Beardyyyyyy,” she wails. 

#thalia trevelyan #thom rainier #sera #blackwall x trevelyan #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle #kingdom come au

[tiredstressedemotionalmess]

10, 20, 23 for ghoulie and jet :)

10 - What’s a superstition they wholeheartedly believe in?

ghoul's got a lot imo he's very superstitious. he doesnt go outside for at least a day after it rains, he always has his mask on his person or within his sight bc losing it is like inviting death to come grab you, and he always counts the dead after firefights- crows and joys alike- bc he believes the number of corpses left behind can be either a good or bad omen, a sign of a lucky or unlucky future jet believes that if you see feathers around but can't see/hear any birds, that means the witch is in the area. she thinks it's bad luck to take them, too, that its disrespectful to try and take a part of her out of nature and keep it for yourself

20 - How accurately do people perceive their motives? Conversely, how well do they perceive other people’s motives?

most people see ghoul as an absolute wildcard, and for the most part they're right. he's got his own motives for any given situation, sure, but the way he responds to things is so impulsive and nonsensical, even he loses track of how his actions relate to his goals sometimes. no one ever knows what to expect of him, and that's just how he likes it. when it comes to perceiving other people's motives, ghoul's pretty heavily biased to always take people at their worst intentions. he's been fucked over by putting faith in the wrong people too many times, so pretty much every interaction he has with someone has him interpreting everything in bad faith and with ulterior motives jet is largely known for how dangerous he is, and as a result i think a lot of people tend to approach him with a tougher exterior than they need. not that he wont kick their ass if someone's asking for it, but jet's never actively looking for a fight (unlike some other members of his crew). so most people tend to be distrustful of him even though he's pretty upfront about his feelings/intentions. ppl tend to think she's as trigger happy as the rest of her crew. on the flipside, jet's actually pretty good at figuring out people's motives i think. he's not as analytical as kobra, but she's good at picking up on when people can or cannot be trusted. something about growing up with the uncertainty of the zones made her really good at being able to pick out red flags, and she knows to trust their gut when someone's giving off bad vibes

23 - How was their first time being alone in the Zones?

ghoul was first left truly alone at around age 6, but by that point he'd already been passed between so many different crews it didn't really phase him. he knew what he had to do to survive, so he kept his gun close in one hand, a small knife in the other, and he laid low in the station he'd been abandoned in until a new crew rolled in a couple of weeks later. it hurt a little, maybe, having just been dropped off with no warning again, but he didn't let himself get too worked up over it. it was fine; he was used to it by now. jet's first time alone was after both his moms were killed in front of him at around age 6 or 7. they told him to run, and so he did, and he didn't stop until his legs gave out , weak with exhaustion. he never really got the chance to grieve properly because he knew he had to survive, to keep running. he traveled mostly by night, under the cover of the stars, only waking early enough to use the last bits of daylight as a compass (and to be able to see which plants were edible). eventually, he stumbled upon a safe house where he was finally able to let himself break down fully, and it's only after he's found by someone else and his time alone passes that he realizes how truly terrified he was the whole time

#asks #ask game #THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS WAS SO FUN!!! #danger days #danger days headcanons #my headcanons #fun ghoul #jet star

[loisroo]

I know this is very cliche, but like...either coffee shop au or like Kindergarten/Preschool Teacher!Dongsik x Single Parent!Juwon. Just a really cute meet cute would be nice, for them. I think they deserve that

yayyy!! you are very correct, they deserve all the love. i tend to write a lot of fluff and sappy things more often then not so i hope it's good!! Thanks for sending me a prompt <3

Lee Dong Sik had never been much of a coffee drinker growing up or in his young adult years. It wasn't until after Sang Yeob got him hooked six months into their partnership, with a whiny "Dong Sik-ah, try it with the cream and flavor in it, I promise you'll love it."

Now years later, long after Sang Yeob had left the RUI for better prospects, Dong Sik still finds himself walking into a coffee shop every morning, craving the sweet taste of a warm coffee. (No matter how many times he tries to make the drinks at home himself, it never tastes the same.)

Sometimes it was the coffee shop close to his station, other times it was the one on his way to work but today he found himself following the directions on his phone to a small tea/coffee shop, fifteen minutes out of his way. Min Jung had sent the address last night and he sighed as he pulled his coat tighter around himself as a burst of cold air hits him. He should have insisted on the one close to his work.

He eyes the rain clouds above him as he walks faster and barely makes it through the door before the rain is crashing into the side of the windows.

He breaths a sigh of relief and glances around the little shop, it's small but not uncomfortably, giving off a warm and cozy vibe. There are more plants hanging around and on the table then he expected but it brightens the place up nicely. The chairs look antique but the cushions on them look plush and look nice with the dark wood tables. Overall, Dong Sik's surprised by the overall homey feel of the place shoved into this tiny building which was packed between busy buildings.

He doesn't see Min Jung anywhere, in fact there is only one other customer in the place and they are tucked in the back corner behind a laptop. He makes his way to the counter and sees the barista is turned away wiping his hands on a towel.

The man turns around and they lock eyes immediately, Dong Sik cant help but blink a few times nor the way his mouth falls open slightly.

It's not just the fact that the young man is attractive, he's really attractive-- almost princely good looks.

No, it's the combination of his amazing features, very expensive tan sweater, and the annoyed frown that makes him look extremely out of place in the small shop. His stance is tall, proud and the broad shoulders underneath his soft sweater are tight and powerful looking. He looks like he belongs at a semi-formal dinner party with investors and not behind the counter at a cute tea and coffee shop.

Dong Sik blinks out of his thoughts at the annoyed huff that leaves the younger man's mouth and sees his eyebrows furrow together, "Excuse me, can I get you anything?"

It's spoken like the young man has already said it before and Dong Sik feels his cheeks turn a little pink as his brain cataloging the man's extremely deep voice and the fact that Dong Sik's been staring at him for way too long. It's been a while since someone left him without words but everything about the younger man was just so out of place, it was a little disorienting.

"Umm... a drink?"

The man looks even more annoyed and Dong Sik feels something in his brain latch onto the annoyance, he can't stop the teasing smile that comes to his face even if he wanted to.

"What kind of drink?"

Dong Sik hums as puts his hands into his pocket, glancing up at the pretty menu and enjoying the impatience clearly growing on the barista's face.

"I've never been here what would you recommend?" He says it sweetly, a smile on his face.

The young barista straightens and nods, still looking annoyed but seeming to remember his job, "Do you like coffee or tea?"

Dong Sik hums, making a show of thinking, only opening his mouth and saying lazily saying "Coffee" after the man looked ready to prompt him again.

Dong Sik looks back at the menu but watches the barista from the corner of his eye as he takes a breath and then lets out a small sigh, "Do you like sweet or bitter coffee?"

Dong Sik slowly brings his eyes back down to the worker and looks him directly in the eyes, "I prefer things to be sweet."

He says it with as much teasing as he can, his eyes amused and his smile only growing bigger. He sees the man blink in surprise and his face shifts briefly before he puts his annoyed frown back on his face, "Then I suggest getting the tuxedo, it's white and dark chocolate flavor with whipped cream on top."

Dong Sik nods, still smiling, "That sounds great, a medium please... Joo Won-ssi."

The man startles a little before glancing down at his name tag and then scowling harder at Dong Sik. It makes something in Dong SIk's stomach flip with an overwhelming need to bother the man further. He likes the scowls and the annoyance but the looks of surprise have him intrigued at what other faces he can pull from the handsome, well-dressed barista.

So Dong Sik steps a little closer to the counter and leans against it slightly, putting him just a little closer to Joo Won. He sees the man look down at the counter and then back up at him but the barista doesn't say anything else.

"Now that I think about it, I'm feeling a little hungry too. Can you give me a suggestion on what's good?"

The man openly sighs again and Dong Sik can't help the laugh that escapes him. Joo Won folds his arms together and raises an eyebrow, "Are you being annoying on purpose?"

Another laugh falls out of Dong Sik's mouth and his smile gets brighter, losing some of the teasing from before, "Most definitely."

The man lets out another sigh but the small uptick of his mouth and the fact that he hasn't asked Dong Sik to leave keeps Dong Sik rooted in his spot.

Joo Won leans over to the display case and pulls out a delicious looking scone and places it on the counter, "Here, I suggest this."

Dong Sik hums and smiles down at it before looking back up at the taller man, leaning in a little further onto his elbows and peering up at him, "Is this the sweetest thing here?"

Dong Sik bats his eyes for heightened effect and Joo Won lets out an undignified snort as he rolls his eyes. He makes his way over to the machines behind the counter and starts to make Dong Sik's drink.

He's not really aware that he's staring at the barista until he catches himself leaning a little too far over the counter. Dong Sik feels his cheeks turn a little pink again and he straightens himself and takes a step back from the counter.

"Do you do that to everyone?"

Dong Sik tilts his head at the question and Joo Won glances at him, looking slightly amused, "Being annoying? Is that just your personality?"

He can't seem to stop any of the laughs from leaving his body today, a pleasant change of pace for him. The laugh is louder then the others more genuine then before, "If you ask my friends, it's an integral part of my personality."

Joo Won smiles slightly but just hums, finishing up the drink and bringing it back over to Dong Sik. He sets the drink down and then asks, "And what if I asked you?"

Dong Sik watches as the man for a second, the way he shifts his weight and folds his arms in front of his chest again, "I'd say I'm only annoying to the people I dislike or really like."

Joo Won blinks at that and raises an eyebrow, "So which is it right now?"

The question is said with a little more vulnerability then Dong Sik thinks Joo Won meant to convey, but something about the way he is standing and his voice makes Dong Sik think he's not as tall, proud, and confident as he pretends to be.

Dong Sik hums and takes the step forward again, watching as Joo Won slightly leans against the counter as well. He reaches over, straightens the name tag on Joo Won's sweater and the young man watches him the entire time.

Dong Sik smiles softly at the barista as he reaches over and grabs a napkin and a pen that's sitting in a cup labeled 'sanitized'. He pulls out some cash, scribbles on the napkin and hands it back to Joo Won and studies the young man's face as he takes it back.

There's a little bit of surprise there, and Dong Sik thinks he may have read the situation wrong until he sees pink tint Joo Won's cheeks and the barista quickly pockets the napkin.

Dong Sik opens his mouth to tease again when the door bursts open and Min Jung and Ji Hoon stumble in soaking wet, hair plastered to their faces.

Min Jung cries out, "Dong Sik-ah!"

They both run to him and he shuffles backwards, swatting at them as they try to hug him, "Leave me alone, stop it! Look what you did to Joo Won-ah's clean floors!!"

Both of the kids stop and blink at him in confusion but he hears Joo Won's sharp, slightly strangled inhale and Dong Sik can't help the grin and wink that he tosses over his shoulder at the red faced barista, "I like him, you two will need to be kind to him."

Dong Sik barely dodges the wet towel thrown at him in retaliation and he laughs brightly as he thinks to himself, fifteen minutes hadn't been that far out of the way, after all.

#beyond evil #beyond evil prompts #coffee shop au #i hope you enjoyed this #i loved writing it!!! #thanks again for sending me the prompt #it took a minute and its a bit longer then i thought but i just got really into it #also sorry for any mistakes i didn't really proofread alot

[fwl22]

Autumn Letter, 2004

Outside the rain falls in sheets, waving in the wind like sails over a blustery ocean, like mist moving over a mountain pass.  It is cold just to look at the steel gray sky and the dark shadows in the forest.  The season seeps into the house through the cracks and spaces around the windows and doors.  We go on fire watch to keep the embers glowing in the salone upstairs.  It’s for the guests we say, but since there are no guests these dark autumn days it is clear that we just want to keep the house warm.

The weather moved through the year like a giant descending stairs.  Summer lingered into October before we dropped off into a mild fall and now we plunge unceremoniously into winter.  Three weeks ago we were in shirt sleeves in the garden and today the winter coats are out and buttoned up against the unrelenting rain. 

The olive oil production is in full swing.  The frantoio has been in motion day and night as the freshly picked olives have to go into the mill as soon as possible.  The 24 hour work will continue for almost another 3 weeks.  There is a good chance that after a break for Christmas the work will continue into the new year.  The olives this year are small but the oil production is normal by weight, and the olives are plentiful, so output is high.  My brother in law Giovanni has had to purchase a number of extra containers to hold the oil.

The grapes this year were beautiful, and the wine also has a lovely color.  We harvested the first Sunday in October and people are drinking the vino novello this week.  The young wine is a traditional thing here, a process probably related somehow to the Beaujolais noveau.  But here at Canneto there is no forced fermentation, just a regular fermentation in a warmer climate, thus the process goes a bit faster than in more northern climes.  And the wine is not a true novello but rather just “new”.  While most wine has an alcohol level of 12.5% to 14% by volume, at Canneto the level is usually around 11% or 12% maximum.  This results, as one guest so aptly put it, in the “reedy” taste – a distinctive thinness and light aroma.  

Last year, when the weather was so hot and dry, the grape harvest was very small, but those grapes were full of natural sugars, and the concentration of the juice produced the best wine ever made at Canneto, with an alcohol level of 13% and slightly higher.  In the end there was probably less than 700 liters of 2003 vintage wine produced, while in 2004 the amount is more than 2000 liters.

There is a wonderful verb in Italian intendere, which in its intransitive form means to be knowledgeable or to be an expert.  So most everyone begins their comments on wine or olive oil here with Non mi intendo…. or I’m not an expert….  Speaking to the straniero (foreigner) though, brings out a lot of the experience and local knowledge of the men and women who grew up on and have worked the land.

So it was on a Sunday a week or so ago that our babysitter Bruna had me pick some mushrooms that were growing under the olive trees.  There were only 3 or 4, but she prepared them for my dinner.  “It would be shame to leave them,” she said, and Paolo and I shared the freshness and the taste of the musty earth (sautéed in delicious olive oil, of course).

The truth is that Canneto has always been a place known for making olive oil while the wine has historically been pretty awful.  Part of this has to do with the geography – Canneto sits on the northeastern slope of the Val Bisenzio and thus get very little morning sun.  The afternoon sun, then, seems more filtered and less direct than the morning light.  Nothing is irrigated here.  If it is a wet year then the vines are over watered, if it is dry they suffer.  (Last year (2003) was so dry that many of the large vineyards and farms had to water their crops to save the plants and the harvest.)

By asking, one discovers that Canneto became the property of Paolo Rucellai, the second son of the first Rucellai owner, Giovanni.  Giovanni’s mother brought the property to the family as part of her wedding dowry in 1759.  Paolo was a gentleman farmer and a bachelor uncle.  Canneto was then a working farm with at least three tenant families.  When Paolo was not hanging out at the seaside, at the palazzo in Florence, he would be with his fattore or foreman dealing with the business of running the large estate.  The villa here, as was the villa in Campi Bisenzio at the time, was not a place to live for long periods of time, and certainly not hospitable in the winter.  It was a summer residence or even a spring and autumn residence, and a kind of hunting lodge.  

When he reached the age when he no longer wanted to take care of the place Paolo announced to the family that he would sell the place.  The property was his retirement fund.  Paolo’s younger brother Cosimo and his wife, Editta, had come to love Canneto, and they arranged to buy the estate with annual installments beginning in 1906.  Paolo, seen in photographs from the time appears as either the slightly unrefined farmer uncle, or a kind of druid old man, in bathrobe with a long beard while at the beach at Forte dei Marmi.

Cosimo and Editta, or Edith as she was christened in Newport, Rhode Island in 1861, began to spend time here in the first decade of the 20th century.  After assuming ownership Edith began to transform the Villa into a more hospitable residence and its gardens into a more modern style, probably something between Edwardian and Tuscan.  

One has to remember that this was a very progressive period, although we don’t commonly think of it as such.  Edith Bronson was the daughter of very wealthy American parents who had spent all of her youth traveling between the US and Europe, settling with her mother in Venice where she really grew up.  Her father died in a sanitarium in France from tuberculosis and other malaties and is recalled as a loving, but somewhat sickly figure that remained at the edges of his wife and daughter’s life.  His family was an important one from New York and his father was a congressman, a US senator, and finally the postmaster general of the state for 25 years.  A Civil War officer, he kept his life and his title of Colonel.  Edith’s mother was Katherine DeKay Bronson, also from an old New York family with close ties back to the old country in Holland.  The Bronson’s had a house at Castle Hill in Newport, Rhode Island and had sold it long before the Vanderbilts and Rockefellers had built their mansions.  A painting of that house in Newport is on the wall in the dining room at Canneto as part of the wall paintings commissioned by Edith.  Katherine De Kay was a Victorian woman, definitely a powerful and well educated woman, and she is perhaps best remembered for having been one of Robert Browning’s closest acquaintances in the years after the death of his wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.  She rented a palazzo in Venice where she was part of the expatriate artist social scene of the city, hosting parties and guests with famous names – writers, composers, painters, poets, singers, and the generally famous people who would make the Grand Tour.  As the daughter of an outgoing, social woman, Edith was considered quiet and reserved.

Cosimo Rucellai for his part was the son of Giovanni, the eldest son of the original Rucellai owner of Canneto.  Cosimo was the primary assistant to the admiral in command of the Venetian naval base and met Edith through the intermingling of the high society of Venice with the high society of the American and English society in Venice.  Edith was fluent not only in Italian, French, German and a little Dutch, but she also spoke and wrote in the Venetian dialect which she had learned along with her mother.  The elders on either side of the couple were skeptical of the match, and letters of Henry James to Katherine De Kay reveal the period as the couple convinced everyone that they were in love.  

After the marriage, Cosimo was awarded command of a ship in the Adriatic.  He was first stationed in Taranto in Puglia, and then at Ancona.  Edith stayed, first in Venice and then in Ancona with their daughter, Nannina, born in 1896, and first son Bencivenni, born in 1897. Edith suffered through the mumps in Ancona, and when later she became pregnant with second son Bernardo, they decided to go back to Florence and be together.  Cosimo resigned his commission and turned his attentions to the work of a gentleman farmer. 

Ultimately the family moved into the villa in Campi Bisenzio, at that point a mostly abandoned house on a large farm that Cosimo’s father referred to as “frog infested”.  Cosimo and Edith threw themselves into making the place modern, livable and helping the neighboring contadini, or tenant farmers to improve their lives.  They built a school and a medical clinic and they established a number of workshops for training people in the local arts and crafts, such as basket weaving, tool making and embroidery work.  It is no wonder that the family was instrumental 3 generations later in creating a museum to honor the straw weaving which became so famous – making the original “panama” hat and countless other items in a tight weave – in the neighboring town of Signa.  The Villa was modernized and the family, now with four kids as of 1903, spent most of the year in Campi, just a 40 minute to an hour carriage ride to the Palazzo Rucellai in Florence.

Cosimo studied modern farming methods and worked hard to introduce new ideas to the very traditional contadini at Campi.  With the acquisition of Canneto, he immediately brought his fattore from Campi Bisenzio to help organize the work of the land at Canneto.  This man was an expert in trees and especially fruit trees, and he is responsible for much of the planting of fruit trees on the property.  This man and his son continued to work as fattore for Cosimo’s youngest son (born in 1903) Giangiulio at Canneto and retired here, where his granddaughter still lives, next to the Villa in the village of Canneto.  It is easy to see the signature of their work by comparing the trees at the Villa in Campi Bisenzio to those at Canneto.  The same trees surround both houses.  This is also the reason there are so many pear, cherry, fig, apricot, plum and persimmon trees.

Antonio Mori, the original foreman’s son was not interested in wine or grapes, he was paid to take care of olive trees, and so the small vineyard at Canneto received the minimum care, and the local farmers made the wine in the traditional methods.  My father in law Paolo tells how when he began to come to Canneto in the late 1940s it was well known that one should carry his own wine because the vino locale was undrinkable.

In the late 1970’s Paolo Piqué’s sons Giovanni and Lorenzo began to replant the vineyard, which represents less than an acre of land.  The ancient and sick vines were replaced with two local varietals that tend to do well in the regional climate – Sangiovese, the red or nero grape, and Trebbiano, the white grape.  There is also a small percentage of a vine called Uva fragola, or strawberry grape, a vine that produces both red and white grapes together that have a distinct aroma of strawberry.  The new plantings gained steam after 1985 when a terrible and long freeze destroyed a huge number of vines and olive trees.  Now these 15 to 20 year old vines are beginning to show a great improvement in the quality of the wine produced.

As part of the agricultural association of Prato the farm has access to expert advice and the enologist and vinicultural counselor (my term) upon tasting the 2003 wine (a man who knows the vineyard, this is) recommended to my brothers in law to put the wine away and not drink it.  “This way,” he continued, “if in the future anyone ever wants to know if you can produce good wine here, you can open a bottle of this.”  And, in fact, we put away all of this small production for the family.

Luckily the production for 2004 is normal and the grapes were lovely and healthy.  While we do not thin the fruit in the summer to give room for larger, more robust grapes, Giovanni has been improving the vines and taking better control of the pests (wild boar, deer, hare and pheasants more than bugs) and the quality of the harvest is definitely improving along with the maturity of the plants.  The 2004 wine has aspects that would seem to bode well for improvement over time, a statement in and of itself that seems amazing to make about wine from Canneto.

The fact is that the really awful but large harvest of 2002 (a wet, wet year with lots of ugly grapes) has produced a wine that after 14 months or so is a very mellow and delightful table wine, just perfect for our purposes of drinking everyday with lunch.  I don’t pretend to know anymore than the fact that this was an intolerable wine throughout all of 2003 and most of 2004, but now I actually like it.  Or maybe it has killed my taste buds…  The other fact to note is that Cannetani wine is typically low in alcohol, around 11% by volume.  The 2003 comes in around 12% while the 2002 is about 10.5%.  When you drink a bottle of wine made elsewhere, one must be aware of the consequences.

Tuscany has an area the size of Death Valley National Park, and every little area in Tuscany is full of still very fresh local knowledge of the land, the geography and how nature interacts with weather and season.  Many people have told me this year how traditionally, in the past generation, the time for picking the olives did not begin until the first days of December.  Now the picking can begin as early as the first week of October and the oil making can begin shortly after.  Still the idea is to pick the olives when there is a good mix between the dark, mature olives and the green immature olives in order to produce a well balanced oil.

The terrible freeze of 1985 lasted for three weeks with a low temperature of -22°C during one long overnight that killed hundreds of trees.  The olives all over Tuscany suffered dreadfully, and one can still see where the dead trees have come back to life in the form of three or four new trunks growing out of the “dead” stump.  But many trees were completely lost, and at Canneto hundreds of new trees were planted.  Now there are over 1000 trees on the property, but this is still very small for production standards, and certainly far fewer trees than are encompassed by the confines of what used to make up the estate.

Of the huge estate that Cosimo and Edith purchased almost 100 years ago, only 40 hectares remain, or about 100 acres.  By 1909 they had moved the family to the palazzo in Florence as their principal home, maintaining the villas in Campi and Canneto, and in 1915 bought a house in Forte dei Marmi that they had long rented for the summers.  Cosimo occupied himself with the farms and the farm families and Edith continued in a tireless series of progressive works to create organizations to help pregnant women, educate poor and underprivileged children and provide health care and education to contadini in Canneto and Campi Bisenzio.  Their oldest son died of Spanish fever in 1917 while serving as an ambulance driver in the Italian Army in the Great War.  The property passed to their youngest son, Giovanni Giulio (Giangiulo) (the middle son, Bernardo or Nado, inherited the title of Count and the Villa in Campi).  Nado also served in the Great War and was wounded on the northern front, and most likely forever scarred by the tremendous suffering and cruelty he had witnessed. Giangiulio married Teresa Higginson of Lennox, Massachusetts in 1925.  They eventually moved to Canneto and completed the work begun by Cosimo and Edith of making the house into a home.

Over 1000 olive trees grow on the various terraces of the 4 or so acres that is the orchard or olivetto.  The orchard is divided into sections that are tended by men with whom the family divides the oil produced from the trees in that section.  The oil is measured by weight.  My chemist wife reminds me that oil is lighter than water, therefore 5 liters of oil is less than 5 kilograms.  If a man harvests 40 quintali (20 metric tons, or 20,000 kilos) of olives, and the olives produce oil at a rate of 13% of their weight, the result is 2600 kilos of oil.  In the wet year of 2002, the family’s 50% take of oil was about 4500 kilos, while in 2003, the result was way less than a fourth of that.

The term extra virgin olive oil refers to oil that has less than 0.5% acidity.  Virgin olive oil refers to oil with less than 1% acidity.  Anything else, by the laws in Italy, is referred to as “olive oil”.  In Italy, after olive oil, there is not a large selection of other oils to be found for cooking or dressing foods.  What in the US is labeled as vegetable oil is referred to as “seed oil”.  Sunflower seeds are the main ingredient in seed oil.  In addition, the designation of “first pressing” or “second pressing” seem to be inventions of marketing people as in the frantoio the olives are ground up and then crushed by the big stone wheels (“pressed”) and then a large centrifuge and many filters extract the oil from the “other stuff”.  The other stuff (sansa) is then taken away where if treated with chemicals can produce more oil for industrial purposes.  The two things that damage and spoil the oil are air and heat.  Thus comes the term “cold press” indicating that very little heat is used to improve the amount of oil extracted.  While the press itself is cold, the temperature in the centrifuge is carefully controlled and regulated by law to give certain distinctions and classifications.  In general, in Italy, there is extra virgin olive oil and then there is everything else.  New oil is used for conditioning food, old oil is used for cooking.  Seed oil is used for deep frying.

After the dry year of 2003 the real recovery was in the fruit trees.  The work of the old fattore still goes on in the form of any number of pear, apricot, plum, cherry, fig and lemon trees.  The pears were plentiful this year, and we had to work hard to clean up after the birds.  After we could pick our fill, the birds came and cleared out the rest.  The plums were small buy many this year, and the apricots were delicious after having not produced any last year.  We canned apricot preserves as well as plum and fig.

There was a lot of attention focused on the elections in the US.  The accepted truth here is that the President of the United States is, in effect, president of everyone, or, at least, is the commander-in-chief of the largest and best outfitted military force in the world.  And, as is the case throughout the world, there is a lot of anger and disillusionment about a man and a government that could have so forcefully and precipitously, with bullying, lying, and bravado, led us into a very ugly war in the name of making the world safer, etc.  Many, many times conversations were begun with, “well, after there is a new president….” and I had to correct that Mr. Bush’s re-election would not be based much on foreign policy.  But the vagaries of politics, or the continuing demolition of politics in the United States aside, the strong public opinion remains that this was a referendum on the war.

To the contrary, the vote was a referendum on the United States and its people.  Typically citizens in other lands recognize that our political leaders seldom reflect who we are entirely.  And in a place like Italy, the locals often are able to get a clear impression of what various foreign people are like by being able to meet them and talk with them.  Tourists in Tuscany, while fewer than ever in the past 20 years, are still many, and it is common for the locals to have impressions based on these kinds of interactions.  In general, Americans are known for kindness, generosity and ingenuity.  On a negative side they are often considered to be ignorant of culture and arrogant of customs and insensitive to local ways.  But the point would be that traditionally the Americans have managed to get rid of leaders who are seen to be bad.

This year, however, the worm has turned, and to be American is no longer viewed as a good thing.  The re-election of the President has only confirmed that Europe cannot trust the American people to do what they (Europe) view as the right thing.  While European journalists have long been pointing out to their readers in very popular journals the corrupt nature of the Bush administration, the American press spends far more time on the dangers of the low-carb diet.  While Europeans seem to be able to vote their popular opinions into action, the Americans do not (Mr. Berlusconi notwithstanding).

Therefore it is not too surprising to see institutions and organizations in Europe that have had the name “American” in their title changing their names or removing the offending word.  The American International School of Florence is now called the International School.  The American Language Institute becomes the Foreign Language Institute.

Of course, more worrisome is the decline of the US dollar.  While this remains something that doesn’t affect many in the US itself, it is a source of great concern for the rest of the world.  You have seen gas prices rise.  But does anyone notice how no one is investing in the US?  It is certainly obvious that the President is not worried about this trend, but the negative effects for many sectors of the US economy, not to mention the economies of South America, Europe and parts of Asia are scary.  

But as somebody said the other day, it always seems that the US government can make the markets move like a puppeteer with his puppets, and when they want the dollar to be stronger, when it no longer serves them that it is weak, they will make it rise.  What can one believe?

In the end we will survive this.  Even if the world markets collapse and depression ensues, we will survive.  It won’t be as much fun, and we’ll finally have to give up those sport utility vehicles (perhaps cars altogether), but we’ll make it.  After all we survived eight years of Ronald Reagan and company followed by 4 years of Bush the father.  The “scandals” of Mr. Clinton didn’t ruin us.  Somewhere in history there was a President Taft and a President Harding.  There was a President Grant, too.

Tommaso only complains that he wants to go outside and ride his bike.  No matter that it might be dark and raining and freezing cold.  No matter that the frantoio is busy and the trucks and cars drive the narrow road churning up the gravel and mud.  The steam collects on the window in front of the big pot of water boiling for the pasta.  Perhaps some soup tonight instead for me.  Then a bath for the kids and we can fall asleep to the sound of men’s voices and olives falling by the bushel into the stainless steel scale, a sound like a hard rain on a tin roof, and wake up to the rumble of the stone wheels grinding the pulp and pits into an oily paste.

Canneto, November, 2004

#Vila Rucellai #Italy #tuscany #olive oil #Prato

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 8 ~ No way out

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Genre: Fantasy whump

Written per Whumptober 2022 prompts

CW: flashback of attempted noncon, panic attack, mentioned death, mentioned murder, angst, failed escape, buried alive, magic whump, captivity

WC: 4499 4503

AN: Ok, well, not only was this not much shorter than the last chapter, it also took me way too fucking long to figure out. Sorry!!!

Seriously though, like one measly paragraph worth of words to fix the issue holding me up... anyways. Nearly everything is under the cut because I started the chapter with a super fun flashback :D

This chapter is more angst than whump, but things are moving along nicely now.

Thank you to everyone following along! Hope you're enjoying!

Carr

Carr leaned against the tunnel wall and pressed a hand to her chest to keep her racing heart inside. She tried to gulp down air, air that felt like it went nowhere. 

This wasn't even the same tunnel. This was the tunnel she'd been painstakingly using her ability with earth to clear, the one she hoped to use to escape this shithole. The one she'd spent nearly every night working on since she'd been sentenced weeks ago.

It was not that other tunnel. She was standing, not lying on the ground. No one was touching her. There wasn't even room for another person, except directly behind her. Someone would have to enter her cell and find the entrance to sneak up behind her. It wasn’t even a rational scenario. 

But there was no light, and her mind couldn't tell the difference between this tunnel and that tunnel. Her breaths whistled down constricted airways, and Carr's hands flew to her throat, trying to scrape away the large, callused hand that was choking her. The other hand was everywhere, and she could do nothing, because she couldn't breathe.

It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real! 

But it felt real. It was dark, and she was underground, with tears falling down her cheeks like rain. That fucking hand that wasn't even real slid under her waistband…

Carr jerked away, a breathless sob emerging, only to slam her back into the tunnel wall. The dull throb of her lash wounds erupted into nerve-searing agony, and she barely had the presence of mind to clap a hand over her mouth. She bit into her palm, hard, to keep from screaming.

The shock worked like a reset button. As the pain in her back settled to a more tolerable level, Carr registered the musty smell of earth, felt the almost clay-like substance at her back. There was no stone in this tunnel. She couldn't work stone with her elemental ability. It was the reason she hadn't just opened the earth to swallow that asshole.

That very dead asshole. If she kept telling herself that, eventually, her body would believe it.

Sweat beaded on her brow, which she wiped away using her sleeve. Her hand was still trembling, and her head was swimming from that memory, and… today was not going to be that day. She had to get out of there.

She’d barely had the strength to come down to begin with, and now she was regretting that choice. Carr used what little energy she had left to call on the subterranean plant she'd coaxed to live over her tunnel. The soft crunch of its roots punching holes in the roof of her tunnel reassured her, and she forced her feet to move. As long as no one with elemental earth looked too closely, the plant's roots would register as earth, filling the suspiciously empty space leading away from her cell.

Frustration filled her when she slipped under the thin blanket on her cot and pillowed her head on her arms. It was taking too fucking long to tunnel out; she should've been done in a couple weeks, tops. But she'd been busy taking care of Resh in the manor for days and days. Then, she'd wasted a lot of time finding, creating a space for, and coaxing her cover plant to take up residence where she needed it.

She'd made good progress after that, only to end up here. With fresh lash marks slowing her down, eating at the vital reserves of energy she needed to fuel her elemental ability, and panic attacks she couldn't afford but had no control over. She didn't know when the prince was coming back, but Carr knew she certainly didn't want to be here when he did.

And, fuck. She now had a problem of conscience, as well. How was she supposed to just disappear into the night, leaving Resh here? After what he had done for her?

The thought kept her awake, even though her eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. She gave in and closed them, hoping… but no, her mind kept picking at his behavior.

As if it wasn't enough that he'd arrived in the nick of time, Resh had also half-carried her around all day when she'd refused to be carted off to her cell. She had needed to eat more than she needed to rest, and you didn't eat here if you didn't work. He'd kept her secret, a secret which he hadn't even commented on yet, which Carr found a little strange. How could he not care? Why did he care at all? She couldn't wrap her mind around that, most of all.

Feelings were… inconvenient. If she had an explanation for Resh’s behavior, maybe the feelings would go away. Maybe then, she wouldn’t feel like her heart beat too fast when he looked at her. Maybe his thoughtfulness wouldn’t continue to erode the wall she’d built around herself. 

Then it wouldn’t matter if she couldn’t find a way to get him out, too. 

~~~

Carr could feel Resh's eyes on her as she plunged her stupid spade back into the ground. The sun beat down on her as she dug up another beet and moved on down the line. Resh came in behind her to plant a different vegetable where the beet had been, something called succession planting, not that she gave a shit. 

The relief of being back on the topside rotation was lessened by the brutal heat and the fucking chains linking her feet together, which clinked every time she moved. Her sweat-soaked shirt was sticking to her back, which stung like a bitch. She was done with the bandages, but the level of activity expected from her kept cracking the wounds open.

Multiple days had passed, and she still couldn’t summon the nerve to ask Resh why he hadn't said anything about her being a girl. He'd just returned to their former routine without comment, although he'd kept a close eye on her since the incident. 

Carr wished she could just ignore the fact that anything had happened, but nightmares interrupted the little sleep she afforded herself each night. She wished she could ignore the fact that someone knew her greatest secret, but the fading bruises on Resh’s face were a constant reminder. It was driving her crazy.

To cap off her foul mood, the guards patrolling the perimeter of the field had been whispering about Marcus’ return, which from what she could tell, would be sometime tomorrow. Carr had another two or three nights of work left to do on her escape tunnel, but somehow she needed to make it work tonight. And she still had yet to find an answer to the possibility of bringing Resh with her.

"Ugh, this is worse than slinking around during a festival looking for marks," Resh muttered beside her.

Wait, what? Carr turned her head, watching as Resh wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve. "Why're you imprisoned here?" she asked, suddenly curious.

Resh scooped dirt over the seedling he'd planted. "I tried to run after the prince killed a prisoner."

"That when you were workin here?" Carr asked, pulling another fucking beet out of the ground. It would've been nice to use her element to harvest the damned vegetables, but she needed to conserve her energy. It was going to take everything she had to finish her tunnel tonight.

"Yeah," Resh said, arranging the dirt just so.

"That's all you're gonna say," Carr remarked flatly after a few minutes of silence. 

There was no response, and her heart sank when the all too familiar warning bells began ringing in her mind.  

Was this it, the part where Resh's ugly side came out? Because you'd have to be a sick fuck to willingly work at this place. Forced to take the work to feed a family, she could see that. But if you were disgusted by what you were forced to do, wouldn't you say so? Act embarrassed that you'd held such a shit-fucked job?

The motherfucking chains clinked as she moved from plant to plant, skipping over every other one. The shackles chafed her ankles where dirt had become trapped underneath. Her knees ached, her back stung, her eyes were gritty from too little sleep and too much sun. 

The silence stretched between them, and Carr stabbed the spade into the earth, wishing she was stabbing something else. Stupid, she was fucking stupid. Couldn't trust nobody; she should know that by now. Not that she had ever… trusted him? Had she?

Carr pressed her face into her shoulder, ostensibly to wipe off sweat but really to hide the godsdamn tears pricking her eyes. What the fuck was wrong with her? 

She gritted her teeth and quickly scanned her surroundings while she tossed some more beets into the collection basket. The other prisoners in this field—one of three the Center provided "workers" for—were spaced far enough apart they'd be out of earshot if one spoke quietly enough. She and Resh were near the center of the field, out of earshot of the guards as well.

"So… what?" Carr asked bitterly as she hacked at the ground with her spade. "You just worked here for shits and giggles?

Stab.

"Don't see why you'd bother runnin if you liked what you were doin."

Stab.

Resh's continued silence had her heart beating too fast.

"Or is killing people just one step too fuckin far for you?" Carr slammed her spade into the dirt and grabbed the mutilated beets she’d uncovered. She threw them in the basket. 

Why was she pushing so hard? She didn't give a fuck. And she certainly didn't give a fuck what Resh thought about her killing that asshole who'd tried to rape her.

The fucker planted another godsdamned seed, not even bothering to look at her.

"You gonna fuckin say something?" Carr snarled, so far beyond pissed that her eyes were trying to tear up again. So much for not giving a fuck, godsdamnit. 

"Does it matter?" Resh asked, still staring at the ground. "Does the why of it really matter? I was here. I helped him torture people."

His tone was off; something wasn't adding up. The wrongness of it pierced through Carr's anger and embarrassment. She looked, really looked this time, and could finally see how Resh's shoulders were slumped, recognized the way he refused to look at her.

He was ashamed.

Fuck. Now she felt like shit for jumping him like that. Not that she would ever fucking admit it. 

"Yeah, it fucking matters," she muttered, chains fucking clinking when she moved down the row. It mattered to her.

Resh sighed, but Carr gave him the courtesy of not looking at him. Instead, she concentrated on digging and not screaming with frustration every time she heard the chains rattle.

"When my father died, we lost our only source of income and got kicked out of our home. My sister was sick and kept getting worse. I couldn't afford the medicine she needed. I could barely find enough work to feed us at first. I was damned lucky to find a place to stay. When I finally turned eighteen, I petitioned the Crown."

Carr heard the rustle of fabric and chain as Resh moved. He couldn’t be much older than nineteen or twenty now, if she were to guess. Fuck, that meant he’d been, what, sixteen or so?  That was not a good age to suddenly find yourself out on the streets. Too old to garner the sympathy shown a child and too young for almost everything else. Everything else legal, anyway. 

"In exchange for two years of service to the Crown, Queen Melaina promised my sister would receive the treatment she needed. They sent me here to serve Prince Marcus. I…" he trailed off, swallowing hard.

"You had no choice," Carr finished for him, pausing her digging to study him. She wanted to cry again and cursed herself for being a stupid sentimental fool.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't really mean shit, does it. I still helped," Resh said, finally looking over at her, although he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

Carr scoffed. "You sayin it don't mean shit that the men I've killed all tried t’ rape me or hurt someone else? There's a big difference between killin for no reason and the other. At least, I think so."

She was primarily a thief, but Nykim asked her to off someone every now and then. Nykim knew how picky she was about her targets, though.

Resh's expression hardened, and he looked right at her as he said, "They deserved to die."

Something within her relaxed at the way he hadn't even hesitated. 

"Why haven't you said anything about… me?" Fuck, she hadn't meant to say that. Not yet, anyway. Carr bit her lip; it didn't matter now, did it? She turned back to the harvesting; it was her avoiding eye contact now.

"Because I know why you do it. And I figured it'd make you uncomfortable to talk about," Resh said.

Carr opened her mouth—

"Before you ask, no, I don't think any differently or less of you. How stupid would that be? What does it matter if you're one or the other?" Resh waited until she met his eyes before returning to his task.

Carr's heart fluttered. How did he do that? She wasn’t even interested in men. Or women, really. She didn't want anyone in her life, was completely satisfied on her own. Or as on her own as she could get, being part of Nykim's pack. She certainly didn’t look forward to spending time with any of them…

Reaper take her. She was imprisoned with the man, and she looked forward to spending time with him? 

She made a snap decision and asked, "You stole while you were on the streets?"

At Resh's nod, Carr quieted, considering. They were at the edge of the field now, so she exchanged her full basket for an empty one, was given a drink of water, and went back to her fucking harvesting. Resh looked at her quizzically, but she shook her head. Not here, where the guards could listen. They worked in silence until Carr figured they had gotten far enough in.

"Do you think… do you think you could steal some keys?" Carr asked, chewing on her lip when he turned to stare at her.

"For the cell?" His words were barely audible. "Carr, there's no way you can get out that way. The guards would—"

"No, for yours," she interrupted. "And t' get into mine."

Resh paused, his seedling halfway covered. "You have earth. But how? Marcus wards the grounds, and…" 

"Marcus hasn't been here for weeks," Carr finished. "Don't think he's renewed the wards in a bit, anyways. I was able t’ work past 'em even when he was here."

Resh’s hands moved again, finishing his task. "There's always guards on duty with earth, watching. How did you get past them?"

Carr huffed. "Don't worry ‘bout it. Can you or can't you? Marcus comes back tomorrow, so I need t’ leave tonight."

"I'll see what I can do," Resh said. "But, Carr?"

"Yeah?"

"If I can't, leave without me." His tone was deadly serious. "I'd rather not find out what Marcus will do to you for killing Creve."

Carr closed her eyes. She'd rather not find out, either.

~~~

Resh

Stealing the keys had been the easy part. Just a tiny bit of kinetic magic to ease them from a guard's pocket as the prisoners were locked back in their cells for the evening. It hadn't even been enough power to set Resh's eyes aglow.

Then, he sat on his cot and stared into the cell across from his. Eventually, the guards left, and the other prisoners quieted. Through the dim torchlight left behind, he watched as Carr held up a finger.

Wait.

At least, Resh assumed that’s what that gesture meant. He nodded, even though he had no clue what he was waiting for. 

Carr inclined her head, then threw her legs over the side of her cot. Except there was a wall on that side. The cots were horizontally placed against the back wall of the cells. But against all logic, Carr slid off the bed and disappeared.

Well. That was interesting. Resh used his lifesense to watch for her energy until she faded out of his range, then leaned against the brick wall, crossing his legs in front of him. Gods, it was nice to be able to do that again.

The splints had been removed a few days ago, and in their place, he had a stiff leather sleeve for his arm and leg that Mieste called a brace. While the braces weren't exactly comfortable, they were infinitely better than the splints, and Resh could remove them to bathe and sleep.

With nothing to do but wait, Resh practiced squeezing his right hand into a fist over and over. He'd been told it would improve his grip strength, since his right hand was noticeably weaker than the left.

He also thought about what this escape would mean. Could he even go through with it? If he didn't complete his end of the bargain with the Crown, they'd turn his sister out, and he'd have to flee the capital and possibly the country, to avoid being charged with abandonment of a debt. Resh wasn't even sure if Orla needed continuous doses of medicine or if she was cured now.

On the other hand, he really didn't want Orla to grow up in the palace as a lady's maid. Not with Marcus there. So maybe escaping, grabbing Orla, and fleeing to the northern realm of Va’ahl was his best bet. It certainly sounded better than enduring another year here.

Time passed. Resh could hear the prisoners in the adjacent cells snoring and shifting in their sleep. Sleep he wished he could join them in; his eyes felt so heavy, and his muscles were sore after working in the fields all day.

Every time a guard came through, Resh laid down and held his breath, convinced they would see Carr wasn't in her cot. But they never noticed.

Eventually, he grew tired of waiting. It felt like it'd been too long, that she should've been back by now. What if she'd exhausted herself? He waited for the next guard to make his rounds, then moved.

Over in Carr's cell, Resh knelt on her cot and tried to locate the opening to whatever tunnel she'd been making, but he couldn't see anything. Fuck, he should've thought about that. Of course, she would conceal the entrance. Maybe he should've waited after all. But the other prisoners were starting to stir, and so much time had passed that it must be near morning. He wouldn't have been able to wait much longer.

He was running options over in his mind when he caught the faint sounds of the earth shifting. Carr's head appeared over the edge of the cot, accompanied by a barely audible curse.

"Sorry," Resh whispered, concerned at what he saw. Even in the dim light, she looked too pale. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead, and her eyes were bloodshot. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she whispered back, although her tone and the shakiness in her voice told Resh she was anything but. "Come on, we need t’ hurry."

With her help, he slipped down into the pitch-darkness of her tunnel. His shoulders brushed against the tunnel’s walls, making him glad, for once in his life, that he wasn't a larger man. 

Resh utilized his lifesense so he'd have some kind of guidance as they began walking and was immediately fascinated by the green sparks of plant life he could see floating in the air. As Carr's golden light pressed forward, the green plant lights rose, allowing them to pass. When Resh glanced behind them, he could see they descended again once they were through.

"This is genius," Resh said. He was beyond impressed with the scope of this tunnel and the effort Carr had gone through to keep it hidden.

Carr's breath hitched. "I suppose?"

That shakiness was still there in her voice, and Resh was growing concerned. "Carr, what's wrong?"

"I… I've been… Fuck! Can you just keep talkin or somethin? So I know who the fuck's walkin behind me?" Carr asked, a rare note of vulnerability present behind the frustrated anger filling her tone.

"Of course," Resh said, the weight of the earth above him nearly crushing him as he realized why she would ask such a thing. He felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner.

He filled the silence with stories about his sister, when she had been well, and life had been happier. Carr made little noises every now and then, which Resh took as acknowledgment of his words. 

They walked for what felt like hours, and he had to imagine the guards would discover their absence anytime now. Resh was about to ask how much further when he heard the sound of water during one of his pauses between stories. 

"What is that?" he asked instead. 

"The river," Carr said, sounding absolutely exhausted. "Thank fuck. We'll need t’ walk upstream to make our way back to the city, but there's plenty of reeds and areas t’ hide in on the way if the guards think t’ search there."

"The water will hide our presence from anyone searching for us with lifesense," Resh voiced his thoughts as he worked through that plan. "Going back to the city seems a bit risky. I have to go there to get my sister, but you certainly don't."

"I do," Carr said. "Need to visit my stash, and Nykim has connections that'd be useful in gettin to your sister. Unless you're plannin on walkin into the palace lookin like you do? Askin the queen t’ let your sister leave the city with you?"

Light began to filter in around Carr's body, the sound of the river growing closer. Resh supposed she had a point, although he was extremely hesitant to ask for help from the city's most notorious pack leader.

"Why would Nykim help me?" Resh asked. "It's not like I'm—"

The earth around him began to shudder, cutting him off.

"Shit," Carr gasped. "Run!" She took off, still much faster than him, even injured and exhausted as she was.

There was enough light now that he could see the cracks forming in the earth above them. Way too much light. It must be later in the morning than he’d thought.

"Can you hold it?" Resh yelled as they rounded a curve, and the sky became visible where the tunnel ended. A tunnel that was quickly collapsing around them. To be so close…

"No," Carr panted ahead of him. "It… has t’be… Marcus." Her eyes were wide as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Hurry!"

Fuck fuck fuck. Resh could see how this was going to go. Only another fucking royal would have a chance against Prince Marcus' earth ability, but maybe… maybe his magic would be enough?

He didn't even stop to consider what could happen to him if he revealed his magic. Reaching inside himself, he threw power at the earth above their heads and the mouth of the tunnel, which seemed so close and yet so far away. He couldn't let that collapse, couldn't let them be buried underground, to either suffocate to death or be excavated by the prince for a different, more painful kind of death. Because surely Marcus would kill them for this.

Purple light flooded the tunnel ahead of him, showcasing the crumbling ground under their feet. Which was not fucking good, especially as he watched Carr stumble and almost fall.

Resh attempted to hold the ground together as well. The strain of using his magic this way was immediate; all he'd ever used it for was lifting small, valuable objects from a target. Sometimes he could even make the object appear right in his hand instead of taking the risk of floating it to him. But this… this was a much larger scale of magic use, and a piercing pain took up residence in his head, so bad it felt like someone was stabbing him through his eyes.

Reaction headache. Too much magic, too fast. He didn’t know much about his magic, but he did know that. Resh could barely see through the pain and the darkness pressing in on his peripheral vision. Shit, was he draining his Source already?

"Almost there!" Carr yelled over the loud cracks and groans of the earth breaking apart around them. "Resh? Shit, you're a fuckin mage? No fuckin wonder we aren't dead yet."

She must've glanced over her shoulder again. Resh couldn't tell, could only see a vague, blurry outline of her body in the light streaming in from outside. Every step he took felt like wading through mud at this point, his magic sapping his energy as he pushed harder and harder, desperately trying to keep the tunnel from collapsing.

"Resh, you have t’ move faster," Carr pleaded. Her voice sounded so very far away.

"I'm right behind you," Resh managed to say, grabbing his head. Gods, it felt like it was going to explode. "Go!"

Chunks of earth pelted his shoulders as his magic faltered. He pushed forward, blinking furiously to see through his tears. Was she out?

Resh stumbled over the suddenly uneven ground beneath him, crashing heavily to his knees. Fuck, there was a vise grip squeezing around his temples; he pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes to keep them from popping out of his head.

"RESH!" Carr screamed, and this time her voice stabbed through every nerve ending he had.

The earth rained down around him, and his knees sank into the softening ground beneath him. He needed to let go of his magic–the pain in his head was unbearable–but he wouldn't until he knew she was out. He wasn't going to make it, but she still could.

Whimpering, Resh forced his eyes open. Was she out?

His heart lurched when he saw half the mouth of the tunnel had collapsed, but then he noticed Carr's face peering in over the edge, saw her hands clawing at the dirt in front of her. It hurt to see how distressed she was, but he shook his head, trying to tell her it was no use. Her mouth moved, but he couldn't hear the words.

She was out.

Resh cut the channel to his Source, releasing his hold on his magic. The backlash of pain nearly knocked him senseless, blacking out his vision momentarily and filling his ears with the roaring of his own blood.

It wasn't enough to block the sound of the tunnel collapsing around him, though. Then, the light was gone, along with Carr's tear-streaked face.

Next

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#whumptober2022 #no.12 #what could go wrong #cave in #no.14 #die a hero or live long enough to become a villain #desperate measures #failed escape #i'll be right behind you #no.16 #no way out #no.27 #pushed to the limit #stumbling #magical exhaustion #OC #writing #flashback #attempted noncon #panic attack #mentioned death #mentioned murder #angst #magic whump #captivity #buried alive #whump #fantasy whump #whump writing #hidden depths

[pbandjesse]

My sinuses are very swollen. My allergies were bugging me a lot today. But I did get good sleep last night for the most part. I was very tired today though. Still am. I did not lay down and sleep when I got home only because I thought it would help me sleep easier tonight. But I also was to tired to actually do anything so I just laid here for 4 hours. Ugh. It's fine. Tomorrow's another day.

I woke up at 6 this morning and was not thrilled. I was able to fall back asleep but when my alarm went off at 7 I had James hold me for 10 minutes before I actually got up. I was struggling a bit. But I would be okay.

James walked out with me and it was very grey. It wouldn't rain but we weren't sure. Tomorrow it is supposed to. We will see how that shakes out.

I drove out to camp. Stopped for a donut. It was a nice day.

After eating my donut in my hammock, I spent that first hour collecting materials and making sure the tables were set up for the feild trip group. And then I went to the office. Where I found everyone else. We had some laughs about the rotations for today and forgetting to assign Sarah a role, plus being overstaffed for once. But we sorted it out. Celia would be doing critter talks, I was leading a mural, Nick was leading Gaga, Sarah would help with s'mores, Dechelle would help with the rotations. While indigo would lead a program they were calling "spirit sticks". Which was just a modified program using my paint brush supplies.

I was mildly concerned about this. I really like all the indigo staff but I get frustrated when things are just woo woo spiritual stuff. And the broad brush of "Native Americans" keeps getting used. Which frustrated me when I have worked so hard and done so much research to try to get us away from that! So I brought the concern up after we were like. Hey what is spirit sticks? And the answer we were given felt. Off. Like it felt like we were just being told a made up answer. So they would lead it. And they kids loved it. But I am not thrilled that we are basically back to doing something that could be considered appropriation. Like not the actual piece, which I guess is fine still because it was still basically the paint brushes, but the way they were spoken about and taught us sus to me. Elizabeth says a larger conversation will be had when Alexi and Heather come back next week.

It would still be a good day though. The group came and we very sweet but this was for sure the most rambunctious group we've met so far. Apparently because of a teacher shortage, last year yeah first grade class had 40 students. That's a wild ratio and I'm not shocked they are 2nd graders with 1st grade/kindergarten social levels. But they were still sweet, just loud and wanted to run a lot.

After we had a circle intro I took the first group and besides the yelling and running ahead they were great. We found just about everything on our list. We looked at and identified mushrooms. I got to tell them history about things. Talk about plants. We looked for frogs. Still no luck catching one down there. And we got all the way up to the horses. Which was so exciting for them. Some of them had never seen a horse in real life before. We fed them hay and pet their noses. It was really sweet.

We had carried the new MWEE staffs today and I think they look great. A child did accidentally hit me with one in the neck and I was very upset but couldn't show it. Was just like, okay I will take this stick now you cannot handle it safely. And we headed to lunch.

I really enjoyed the two teachers I was with today as well. Adam from indigo and Mr Duckett. They both had excellent insight and questions. It made the hike really enjoyable.

I just had to sit quietly at lunch I was so tired already. But to quickly we were heading over to get our groups.

There was a miscommunication though and while we had planned on 1215 for foest program they thought it was 1235. So I quickly fixed the schedule and we cut each rotation back down to 15 minutes. We made it work.

And it was fun! I was so pleased with how their mural came out. The first three groups filled almost all the frames and besides one or two mistakes everyone was good about not stepping on the fabric. The first group made me realize they didn't know what fabric was. Like what that word meant. So I would say we are drawing on fabric, fabric is like what your clothes are made of! We are using markers. We don't use markers on ourselves, our friends, the building, or the floor. Only on the fabric! And that worked so well.

The last two groups would be so gracious when I told them while all the frames were filled their jobs were to finish the drawings that didn't get done and then the final group was making it perfect. I think that language really helped make them excited, like they really were a part of the community making the piece. And that felt really good.

Once my last group was done and cleaned up, I folded up the metal and gave it to the indigo staff. They told me they will gift it to the principal. I love that.

I was able to run down to the fire pit and get a s'more and watch them pour water on the fire. It was really fun. I chatted with Sarah and Dachelle. And then we headed up to get all the materials and put them away.

Sarah was a doll and grabbed my drink and my walkie I forgot. And we set up the boxes to be reset tomorrow. But we were all just so beat. I changed my shoes back to my birks and We went and sat in the office for 15 minutes. I had a little snack. And when Sarah said she was walking to the lodge to clean up the tables I walked with her.

I would check in with Gabe about changing the project, maybe to musical instruments like a shaker or something similar. He said he'll be in touch to discuss it more. So fingers crossed.

Once all the chairs were put away and everyone else was finishing up the last tables I got all the sticks and things that needed to be out away and headed to the after building and then the office.

In the office I talked to Elizabeth. I put trash away. I made my to do list for tomorrow more solid. Eventually Sarah would come back up but she was soon off. Taking things to be mailed. Elizabeth had a tour and then she said she would leave right after. So I only stayed until her tour started. I was excited to leave a little early.

I would have to deal with some traffic but not to much. I decided to stop at Walgreens

Got some chapstick and a new sponge. I felt overwhelmed by vitamin choices. So I did not get any and went home.

I beat James home. So I took an everything shower. I was feeling really bad today about my hair and face. So I wanted to try to fix that. Trimmed my bangs a little more. Washed my hair. Might do my eyebrows. Just trying to feel nice.

James got home and I was so happy to see them. We had some packages. I got a graphic novel in the mail. I started reading it but I decided to wait until I could give it my full attention and I wasn't so tired my eyes were crossing.

James would record their podcast episode. I laid in bed and watched tiktoks. I answered emails. I have a meeting with someone from the creative alliance next Friday so I'm excited about that. But mostly I just laid here with sweetp. James would bring me a salad and a little cheese cake bite. And eventually they would shower and then join me in bed.

I am more then ready to sleep now. I feel so tired but I am still worried I will struggle to fall asleep. Let's hope it comes easy.

Tomorrow me and Sarah are the only ones at camp. I have high hopes of organization and knocking things off our list. I really hope we can get stuff done.

Goodnight everyone. Take care of yourself. I love you all.

[kim-poce]

7. No God In Town: Outing

On Patreon (two weeks earlier release)

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It had been three days since I first brought the cubs to my cabin. They always leave early after breakfast and only come back late at night, which is fine for everyone, I wouldn’t want to be around humans the whole time and they seem to not like staying inside a house for long. They like to work, it seems, they do it everyday as if their lives depended on that. Humans tend to keep themselves busy somehow, or so I think. After leaving that group behind I put on a lot of effort in not learning about humans. I don’t know what their parents think of this, though, from what I do know most parents don’t want their cubs to be overworking and wandering into stranger’s houses every night. But taking care of the cubs is their problem not mine.

Some things changed in the last days, first the flower cub, somehow, saved the dry mint plant, I gave up learning how, and tried just to focus on not killing it again. The mint cub went to buy several other mint plants, so I can take my afternoon tea without issues now. That’s good. This means I’ll only need to recall my memories once or twice a month as usual.

Another change was in my routine. It had been a long time since there were humans sleeping near me, and as much as they try not to make noises they are cubs of a noise species so they can’t help it. Which means I wake up at random times between seven and eight o’clock, it’s unnerving, really, but I can deal with it. Not for long but for now. Probably. At least the resting time wasn’t messed up, by the time I go to sleep the cubs are still out, and they get into their cub pile really silently for a group of humans.

There is a big issue, though. The cubs do not want me to leave the mountain. They said I ought to ask them if I need something from the town, that I shouldn’t go down by myself, that if someone showed up I shouldn’t let them see me. I hate it. I have had enough of being lock-

“-ed up? Your holiness, I implore for your forgiveness and mercy for such a deep misunderstanding,” the priest said while kneeling down. Shaking. “You are not locked, your holiness, we have no power to prevent you from leaving. We just ask that you trust your people, and trust we just do what we think it’s best for you.”

I have had enough of being… indoors. In truth I could go months without visiting the town, but not now that the cubs told me to. It has been several months since I moved to the cabin and I have been very well alone. I don’t need the cubs to do everything for me, I am capable of taking care of my tasks and errands myself. I don’t need nor want them to solve my issues for me, they are not priests and I am not a god.

This town is special, I wandered by several places but this is the only town I could walk in my true form and no one would point at how I’m not human, maybe everyone here is just too oblivious. Still, I did change my appearance the afternoon I went down the town, though, it had been a while since I felt the need to. There are too many news humans, and too many curious guards. The cubs seem to hate the guards. Enough for me to be more wary of them than I usually would.

I opened an old box where my human clothes were, not that the clothes I usually wear aren’t humans’, they are just from a group that no longer exists. I mean smaller clothes, for the small body of humans. These ones I brought when I first came to this town.

Taking a human form is tiring, too tiring, that’s not what I was made to learn. The first thing that changes is the dew-like gems covering my whole skin, it is as if I suddenly got dry after standing for a short while under a weak rain. The second thing was my skin, which went from coal-black to dark brown. My silver long hair became short and brownish. And I became way smaller than I was comfortable with. The shape of my face changed, the number of fingers on each hand decreased, my eyes became amber.

I looked in the mirror. I was just as any other human now, which is what I am for the town people, just another human.

I put on my human clothes —a simple beige shirt, dark brown trousers, and a vest of the same color— and started walking down the path.

“Oh?” the couchwoman said, recognizing me as soon as I approached her spot. “It’s been a while since I saw you like this! Got any packet for me to get rid of?”

“No,” I said. “And I already told you not to-”

“Talk about this, I know, I'll be quiet for you. You are one of my favorite clients, not the favorite. There is this lady who often goes to her lover’s place in the neighboring town. Nothing pays for my bread as much as the price of silence.”

“Do you tell humans about-”

“You? Of course not! Much less now with the mayor’s project for a madhouse, sorry, asylum. I very much want people not to think I’m crazy. And also I very much love to stay alive.”

I sighed. This woman is always like this anyway. I don't know why I bother.

“Anyway,” she said, “What brings you here a la human? Maybe you shouldn’t hang out down there too much. The winds are starting to blow the other way, you see.”

I didn’t care enough about the weather to mind her words. “I want to know where to buy things. Like blankets, and plates. The basic things.”

“You are finally fixing that place of yours?” she said with surprise, as if she knew either my place was neatly organized or not, as if she had been watching, as if she had some hidden reason to know my every step, as if- “That’s good. People should live in places cluttered with random objects.”

I’m not people, though. I thought. Lately I have been almost forgetting it.

The couchwoman told me where the store was. The old man who sells fruits gave me a free fruit. I gave him a silver coin this time. He bowed and thanked me deeply. I don’t like it when people bow and do anything deeply afterwards. But I let it all go. I didn’t pay attention.

I went to the place the cubs used to hang out in. There were no cubs, only two guards, they didn’t mess with me this time. The flower cub wasn’t selling flowers today. That’s okay, cubs shouldn’t work. The old lady who cleans shoes also wasn’t where she usually is. That’s okay, everyone should rest from time to time. The young woman in the clothing store was more tired than I had ever seen her. That’s okay, everyone has one bad week or two. I just walked past everything. I didn’t pay attention to anything but the blankets inside the story, and the new cups for the cubs to use. Also some books, the cubs may want to read something.

I glanced at the daisies by the road side. I wondered what the cubs were doing the whole day. They are cubs. I thought. They must be playing with their family as cubs do. I decided to just let go of my wonders; I spent centuries doing my best not to learn about humans, not to get involved and for sure I wouldn’t start doing it now.

I finished buying everything with no issues, I went back to the cabin, changed my clothes and took away that alien appearance. Nothing wrong had happened at all. No reason for the cubs to overreact. There were changes, but humans always change things. That was it. That annoying feeling in my core was just the good old me not being used to changes as usual. Nothing deeper than that.

I cleaned the living room, not that it was dirty or, nothing in the house kept dirty since the morning the cubs burnt the wall. I just felt like I should move a little. I made a pile with the new blankets and some change of clothes near the spot the cubs pile up to sleep. I set down the books. It was still not enough.

I did not think about the changes in the town. I certainly did not, I was too busy to think about it, I watered the plants, had tea, and watered the plants again. My rest time approached, but I was just too busy, making hay beds out of thin air. I was still awake when the four surprised cubs entered my cabin. I’m sure I was just tired —not relieved— when I sighed deeply at the sight of them.

—

@extemporary-username, @the-magpiesystem, @nexfox-art, @kathea, @wolfeyedwitch, @blu-jay-2779, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee

#no god in town #original fiction #original writing #fantasy writing #fantasy #my writing

[japanesepenguin]

Quick, Akina's in the office today. Current state of the garden?

Current state of the garden!

First row (left): wind- and typhoon-rain-destroyed beets; second row: wind-, typhoon-rain-, and caterpillar-destroyed carrots; third row: somehow surviving beets; fourth row: newly planted radishes (just sprouted)!

I've learned a lot from the above and I'd do things completely different with a second chance.

Since... well, probably for as long as I can remember, I have never intentionally killed another living creature (except mosquitoes, which I have always made it a point to intentionally kill), but in the past week I've killed a dozen aphids and a handful of caterpillars. I think trying to grow food brings out some primitive nature life-and-death passions.

Anyways, here's the latest addition: A $0.67 plum tree, just purchased yesterday. It was out in the direct sun in a tiny pot for at least a week slowly decreasing in clearance price (from an original $9.00) and I finally bought it last night. I've repotted it into my biggest pot with my best dirt in hopes it'll bounce back and establish itself before winter. The plums are technically "Japanese apricots."

Kale seedlings just absolutely taking their time to grow in the 90°F+ weather we've had the past two months. Hoping they'll take off soon and I can transplant them here:

The new side land! The owner visited a couple weeks ago and thanks to Akina I've learned this is our space, it's okay to plant things directly into the ground, and it has much better soil (since confirmed). He also will donate some edamame for us to plant here in the spring. In the meantime:

I've transplanted most of the broccoli sprouts I had. On the left and right are radishes (just sowed the seeds today). The photo distorts the perspective, but this is only using about 1/3rd of the row space. There's lots more room, which will be for:

Left: beets (I'm trying to sow them in the seed trays rather than direct sow since the Internet made it seem like it was possible, though I'm not convinced), ice plants, and two trays worth of salad greens.

The ice plants were Akina's request. They're... very hard to grow and have particular requirements. I got about 20% of them to germinate and now I'm just trying to not kill them.

Anyways, here's the shiso/ooba, going crazy. It's starting to bolt, which was the intention, since you can get hundreds of seeds off a single plant and two $0.07 plants is way cheaper than a packet of seeds (while also coming with leaves you can eat).

Got the basil to recover, looking good.

Pentas is just about on its last flowers. I hope I can get these to survive the winter; I really like this flower.

These flowers just keep making flowers. I dunno what they're called.

A fairly recent addition.

Rosemary clipped from... a public space and transplanted here. There might be a fungal infection on the bottom, giving it another day or two to see.

This is a male kiwi plant. It was $0.07 (like everything else). Only the female plant produces the fruit (and a male is needed for that to happen), but they both produce flowers. It was really close to death when I got it, but after dropping all its leaves it's now starting to recover.

The mums are just... existing. Flowers come in small and brown and then die.

The king 'n queen, blueberry bushes. Samson has a bunch of new branches and SukSuk just started sprouted her first two:

Wee~

Rock collection. Very important.

And, out of everything, the two things not doing great are the mint plants...

This concludes your garden update.

[arizonaconservativegal]

Hi there. Californian desperately looking to flee this coming summer. Was once considering Arizona but I’m concerned that the election chaos of CA is in AZ too and now you have a Democrat governor. Is this still a place I can safely flee or is AZ lost like Cali now? Honestly asking. I don’t want to absorb the work and expense of relocating just to be in the same place.

I might give it a year and see how much Katie Hobbs is able to bypass or bully the legislature. I think they'll be able to keep her in check but they have an unfortunate habit of being certifiably insane so I hate to put all my hopes on them. In general, I don't expect the next four years to be super fun here but I wouldn't say the fight is over yet. Our state party doesn't know what the fuck it's doing but if they get their shit together, the state is very winnable. We may have had a big influx of Californians moving here since covid but this is still a slightly right of center state.

I'll give you my usual warnings about moving here:

If you're renting, you should know that housing prices in the cities / larger towns have shot up about 50% in about four years and show no signs of slowing. Be ready for that. I don't know offhand what the trend has been for the more rural areas, but I imagine it's gone up a fair bit too. Still much, much cheaper than California though.

If you're buying, you need to very thoroughly dig into the water rights where you buy or you might find yourself in a lot of expensive trouble very quickly. This is especially true if you are looking at a rural area but several unincorporated areas on the edges of Phoenix have learned the hard way recently that hiring water haulers isn't cheap.

In most of the state, illegal immigration tends to be more of a political issue than a daily life issue but for areas on the border and along major drug corridors, it is a very serious problem. Good luck getting into a hospital in Yuma - they're overflowing with illegal immigrants. I also personally know people who cannot go outside on their own property at night because the cartels use it to traffick all sorts of things and they will shoot you if they see you.

We did manage to hold on to the corporation commission, which regulates the power companies, so I'm not too worried about this unless the legislature does something dumb, but we do need a new power plant soon or we may be looking at rolling blackouts in the not super distant future... I think it'll be okay but it would have been good to have a Republican in the governor's office to smooth that process a bit.

We have a very low income tax and property taxes tend to be low for primary residences. People think this means we are a low tax state. What they forget is that we have a very high sales tax - nearly 10% in some areas. All said and done, we're fairly average for total tax rates when compared with other states. It's still a lot better than California, but I don't want you to be surprised.

You need a car to get around here. Public transportation exists but isn't very functional and nothing is close enough to walk. Make sure you get a new Arizona plate (you only need one) because otherwise everyone will see your Cali plates and automatically hate you.

And the last warning I have is that yes, it really does get fuck-off hot here in the summer. Expect temperatures to never fall below 100 for the entire month of July. If Phoenix doesn't get a straight week of 115+, that's a mild summer. If you're from LA, you probably know what to expect. Otherwise, make sure you have a good AC system - and you want AC, not a swamp cooler. Trust me.

All that said, it's really a great state to live in. It's raining today and that's a rare enough event that everyone gets excited for it. There really is nothing like a southern Arizona sunset. Jeans and a button down shirt count as formal attire in half the state, especially when paired with cowboy boots. Most of the population is from somewhere else so you can find restaurants with quality food from anywhere you like. In most of the state, you will literally never have to shovel snow or scrape ice off your windshield. We have all the major sports franchises so you can go to big games when you want and they don't totally suck but none of the teams are good enough that anyone really expects you to root for them over your home team. We have more biomes here than any other state in the country so whatever kind of environment you want, you can get. Natural disasters don't happen in most of the state - the worst thing is forest fires in the north which are usually manageable. We have a weirdly huge historic car community because our climate is so dry that the cars don't rust. People put Christmas lights on cacti. Haboobs look like the apocalypse is rolling in but are really just a funny word for the newscasters to say a lot. You will see people wearing a bolo tie unironically. I once saw a woman put a tumbleweed in the back of a minivan. I love it here.