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tj-dragonblade · 1 year ago

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Dreamling Fic Masterpost

In honor of Dreamling Week, here's an updated masterpost of everything I've written for them so far, split into SFW and NSFW. Each section is arranged oldest to newest. Links go to Tumblr posts, and each Tumblr fic post has the direct AO3 link also.

You can also find me HERE on AO3.

(Read More for length so it's not ridiculous when pinned)

💕🌼The Fluff and Assorted Other Offerings🌦️❤️‍🩹 If it's rated M there is a brief spicy passage somewhere in the fic but not enough to warrant the full E

Use Your Words Rated T, ~2500 words Hob finds mistletoe hung in the bar. Dream is. Insistent. That they adhere to tradition.

Old Acquaintance Rated G, ~800 words It’s New Year’s Eve at the New Inn, and Dream and Hob are on the same page

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: velvet Rated G, 165 words One of Hob's favorite things about Dream

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: memory Rated G, ~230 words Dream is distracted by a memory

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: thread Rated G, ~200 words Hob loves his grey hair

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: daydream Rated T, ~800 words Hob's daydreams are not the only distracting ones

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: enthusiasm Rated G, ~200 words Enthusiasm is one of Hob's defining traits

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: trust Rated T, ~1500 words Dream finds Hob cooking for him (aka The Spicy Omelettes one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: grass Rated G, ~330 words A date in Fiddler's Green

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: fireplace Rated G, ~170 words Generic hearth metaphor

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: strong Rated T, ~3400 words Dream helps a drunken Hob get home (aka The Drunken Confessions one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: teach Rated T, ~520 words Dream teaches Hob how to summon him; self-immolation discouraged

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: vague Rated M, 465 words Sometimes Dream speaks vaguely. Sometimes he is Very Direct

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: glasses Rated T, ~330 words Sometimes Hob wears Glasses

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: yesterday Rated G, ~470 words Time works different in the Dreaming

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: recovery Rated T, ~2900 words Dream is dating; Hob works hard to just be a good friend while watching it fall apart (aka The Thessaly Breakup fic)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: friend Rated T, ~1800 words Dream contemplates friendship, Hob, and the blurring of boundaries

In the Morning Light Rated T, ~1960 words Dream visits Hob on a rainy morning

Anticipation Rated T, ~700 words Dream chooses Hob’s Halloween costume (spoiler alert: it's the Wavemother's robe from BG3)

Untitled Knight Hob/King Dream Scene Rated M, ~1300 words A synopsis-plus-scene-draft of a potential Knight Hob and King Dream AU that in all likelihood I will never actually go back to, but I like what's here so it goes on the masterlist

The Keeper and the Traveler Rated G, ~1700 words Not-Exactly-Human AU. A campfire folktale about finding what you didn’t know you were searching for, or something like that. Inspired by Nightwish's 'The Islander'

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm Rated M, ~6900 words It’s winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

Shampoo Rated G, ~550 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Scent'. Big changes also mean small changes, and sometimes a loss can bring gain as well

London Fog Rated M, ~3500 words Sequel to Caribbean Sunset. Human AU. Dream does his best to ignore Possibilities while he copes with returning from holiday

Before I Go Rated G, ~850 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Evening'. A Season-of-Mists-style leave-taking visit, some time later in their relationship

Vogue Rated M, ~750 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Photography'. Human AU. Dream comes home and Hob greets him with a camera.

☂️The Umbrella Boys series, a Human AU☂️ A Sweet Romance Beginning in a Queue Rated T, ~4500 words 🎶Bus stop, wet day, he’s there, I say, ‘Please share my umbrella’🎶 Love Rain Down On Me Rated M, ~2300 words 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not.

Chaos and Calm Rated G, ~1550 words Searching for rain boots and meeting friends in the park. No real plot, just meandering domestic parenting vibes.

🔥🌶️The Spice and the Smut🌶️🔥 (aka The Stuff You Hide in the Pantry at Work For) 😉😘

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: snack Rated E, ~1800 words Hob comes home to find Dream waiting from him in the traditional murder-widow robe

Built For You Rated E, ~820 words Hob questions Dream on some particulars of his waking world anatomy

Insatiable Rated E, ~3100 words Dream gets rimmed and railed within an inch of his life

Of Cutoff Shorts and Classic Cars Rated E, ~4300 words Hob has made some very distinct wardrobe choices on a hot day. Dream approves.

Little Indulgences Rated E, ~1000 words A spot of fun with lingerie and sex toys

Caribbean Sunset Rated E, ~5500 words Human AU. Hob hooks up with a beautiful stranger on a Caribbean cruise

My Song Can But Borrow Your Grace Rated E, ~6800 words Fanfic for Flatter the Mountain Tops by Teejaystumbles (linked in the post). Dragon AU. Hob wants Dream in dragon form to fuck him while he stays in human form; Dream is beginning to see there’s more to it than just a size kink.

Appreciation Rated E, ~4300 words Sequel to Anticipation. Hob wears the costume (the Wavemother's Robe from BG3); Dream has his fun.

On the Edge of a Waking Dream Rated M, ~3900 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Ghost'. Human AU. Dream never believed in ghosts until his boyfriend became one

The Beauty of the Beast Rated E, ~3100 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Were-creature'. Recently-turned werewolf Hob wants to protect Dream from this new side of him. Dream is. Not interested in being protected.

Ambrosia Rated E, ~4000 words An exercise in celebrating the human messiness (and messy humanness) that Dream finds so attractive in Hob

Customer Service Rated E, ~4500 words For the Dreamling Week 2024 June 5 prompt 'Dirty'. Human AU. Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

Please see the TJs Fics tag for fics added since I last updated this

#Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Week 2024 #Masterpost #TJs Fics

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impala1967dwinchester · 1 year ago

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Sam Winchester: Fate

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader/Sam

Warnings: Monsters as usual (Dijnn), depression, pregnancy, fighting

Summary: With Y/n on the run, Sam's depression can't help but get the best of him while the fate of his relationship and child hangs in the balance.

WC- 2.677k

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers, This is a part 2 of something I wrote nearly a year ago. "Sam Winchester: Running Away" I

Main Master List // Sam W. Master List

It's weird hiding from the Winchester boys. Weirdly, people are so much nicer to me now. The summer sun in Texas is hot on my back as I walk out of the grocery store. I tried my best to settle down and got a small job at a travel agency. I'm renting a small apartment from an old lady who helped me when I first got off the bus in Bay City.

In the past few months, my body has changed in many ways. I have a larger belly and more cravings than I've ever experienced. I talk to my belly almost every night after I calm down from work. I tell them stories about Sam and Dean. I tell them how their father is a hero, how he's saved the world, and how he has taken my heart with his bright, kind smile.

Like clockwork, every night, there's a message from Sam asking me if I'm doing alright, or begging me if I can just respond. It breaks my heart, but no matter what, I can't bring myself to type back a message. It didn't take long after I walked out of the bunker to know that I was walking away from the person that I love and that my home was disappearing into the background of the Kansas sunset.

Yet I couldn't bear to walk back into the bunker; somewhere in my twisted mind, it told me I had to go. I had to leave it all behind because I wasn't worth it. I wasn't worth the stress, the worry, or anything I might bring down on the Winchester boys.

I thought I had gotten away from it all—the grueling monsters, the death at every corner. I guess I was wrong because one second, I was shopping in a local baby store, and the next, I was somewhere completely different. Some places had air that felt lighter, and some places had my hopes and dreams feel like reality.

There's a warm hand wrapping around my middle. "Good morning, sweetheart." It's a voice I know, a voice I haven't heard in such a long time. One that makes my heart soothe from the racing it's currently doing in my chest. Then, I realize we aren't in the bunker but in a rather nice-looking bedroom. The sound of smaller feet pounding on the ground brings me to look at the doorway. "Anna must be up," Sam says in a whisper, his soft words brushing against my ear and giving me a round of shivers.

Anna comes busting into the bedroom, uncaring to knock on the bedroom door. You think you care but don't after you look at her. Hair as dark as Sams but eyes like yours. A gigantic smile on her chubby cheeks. "MOmmY!" She shouts as she climbs up the bed to get onto your body. You can see Sam out of the corner of your eye. It's a smile you only ever see reserved for you, and you don't know how you managed to be back in his arms and a kid you share together. You're lost in how you got from the store alone pregnant to here in his arms, in bed together with your family.

The feeling stays with you as the day starts, and you watch Sam shift from sweats and a white t-shirt to a pair of shorts and a hawwin shirt. "Aren't you gonna get dressed, baby?" He asks as he catches you staring at him from the bed still. "I… Where are we going?" You ask him, unsure still by the normality of this odd life. "Don't tell me you forgot about the barbecue that Dean invited us to?" He says, a knit-in his brow. You lick your lips and try to think, but there's nothing there, just white clouds that fog your thoughts.

"It's alright if you forgot, babe, just get dressed. It's warm out, so wear that pretty little sun dress you bought a few weeks ago." Sam says as he comes over, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I'm going to get Anna ready, I love you." You stare at the door for a few moments longer, waiting until he's left, and you can hear Sam and Anna talking down the hall. You get up feeling the carpet under your feet and the warmth that radiates through the window.

You do get dressed in the sun dress Sam mentioned. It still had the price tag on it, so you assumed it was the one he was talking about. It fits you perfectly, curved around your hips with ease, and giving everyone who might look at you a perfect display of your breasts. You find a nice pair of sandals and make your way towards the echos of voices.

"There she is," Sam says, happiness and warmth seeping from the kitchen. Anna turns around whipping her head in your direction, she too is dressed in a sundress pinks and purples mixed together with her hair up in braids. "You look good, Mommy," Anna says as she comes over, hugging your leg. You breathe it all in, getting deeper and deeper into it. You aren't sure still unsure how you managed to get here, but you can't say you're mad about it.

The ride to Deans is off, but everything is off for you. Sam can sense it; one hand from the wheel comes to the rest of your exposed knee. "You doin' alright, honey?" he asks, worry laced in his words. You shake your head, giving him more to worry about, but you don't know. All you can think of is the tiny giggles coming from the back seat.

Anna is watching something on a tablet, and her smile glows from whatever she's watching. "Come on, honey. You can talk to me about anything," Sam says, trying to trigger the conversation to continue. "I know, Sam. I'm just trying to be in the moment." You say, and that's the reality of it. Because this moment and the one this morning had been everything you were dreaming about.

"Dean, I just know something is wrong!" I say to my brother as I continue to stare at my phone. The text messages aren't even being read anymore. At least when Y/n was reading them, I knew she was safe; I knew that she was doing alright. I can hear the sigh of frustration fall from my lips as I put the phone back down the library table. "Sam, we can't do anything if she doesn't want us to," Dean says, trying to support both of us.

I lift my head, staring angrily at my brother. "I don't give a shit anymore. I don't care why she ran away. I don't care at all. I just want her back in my life. Now I'm pretty sure Charlie can figure out where she is." I huff out. With a grunt and shake of his head, he's got his phone beside his ear, calling our good friend Charlie.

I can hear the slight argument between Dean and Charlie as I sit, waiting for a quick answer. "I know, but can you just help us. Y/n hasn't been reading." Dean says, looking over at me. "She hasn't been looking at Sam's messages. Can you just give us a location so we can restart this?" Dean finishes. There's mumbling on the other side of the phone, but then I see Dean hidden. "Okay, text that to me, Charlie. Thank you," he says and then drops the phone from his cheek.

ASnxeity has set in when we get to where Y/n has been staying for the past few months. Her car is there, but the door to her apartment is cracked open; my blood runs cold, and just like that, I'm set on finding her. Dean tries to calm me and reminds me that not everything is terrible. She might just be doing something, like taking out the trash.

I glare at him and bring my gun from my hip to sweep through her apartment. Baby books and a few baby clothes are in the living room. Her bedroom is perfect as if she had never made it home. "Is she just taking out the trash now, Dean?" I snark at him, "I was trying to help. So… we have to work this like a case now?" Dean questions, I nod, and just like that, I'm searching for Y/n all over again.

Dean is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and the kids run all over the house. His wife easily kisses his cheek, and he holds her close to his side. "Uncle De!" Anna screams, and Dean smiles broader and brighter than you've ever seen him. "Hey, kiddo," Dean says warmly as he picks her up and puts her on his hip. "You guys made it." Dean's wife says, and she comes over to give you a hug.

"What about us, baby girl?" a stranger asks. When I turn, I'm struck by the Winchesters' parents—happy, healthy, and very much alive. "Hey, Dad," Sam says happily, hugging his father and wrapping his mother tightly. You watch as the day goes on with absolute ease. Dean talks about adding a new portion to the Winchester auto shop; John lights up with joy at the idea of more business and growth for the business he's known since he was a young adult.

Sam holds you close to his chest as you two dance in the yard, the sky turning purple and orange. You rest your head on his chest and let the movement of your feet guide you into contentment. "You know I love you, right?" Sam asks you as his large hands hold your waist and back. You hum, but you are not willing to open your closed eyes. "And you know you are everything I've ever wanted, right? No matter what happens between the two of us, I'll always want you." Sam says you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes.

"I know Sam." Your voice cracks and gives away the way tears are threatening to fall. "I love you too." As you lift onto your tiptoes in the cool grass, you mutter back and press a needy kiss to his lips. You two are sadly interrupted by John. "Anna is sleeping; if you wanna, you guys can come to pick her up tomorrow." John offers, and Sam pulls me closer. "Thanks, Dad." He tells his dad, then turns to me, "Let's go home." You nod and take his hand in yours.

"What did I fucking tell you!?" I knew she was in trouble; I knew something was wrong. To be the cherry on top, she's pregnant, and she's been taken for whatever fucking reason. "It's just a dinner. We've dealt with enough of them to know the deal," Dean says. I slam the trunk of the baby shut, my molars grinding as I look at the depleted cave that's currently holding my girl and baby prisoner in a fake world.

Of her own imagination.

The silver blade drips all over the ground as I enter the cave. The dark walls hold secrets and horror that I hope and wish Y/n would never experience. It's all a blank somewhere between entering the cave and getting to Y/n. The only thing I feel is the splatter of blood onto my face and my eyes searching for that beautiful face.

She doesn't look like she's been there for too long, but her arms hang above her head, her belly prodding out. I'm stuck standing still over the djinn. Dripping its own blood back onto the dead man, Dean is quick to get over to Y/n, pulling the attachments out of her arm and pulling her down gently.

"Sam, get your ass over here. We… we are gonna have to take her to the hospital." Dean says, and somewhere in my frozen mind, my legs move to get a closer look at her. Her cheeks are a little sunken, but her face is still full of color. I know why Dean said we would have to take her to the hospital.

It's not too long before the large white building in Texas appears in the Impala's view. "I'm going to stop by the emergency doors to help your girl and that baby get some help. I nod and wait for the red letters to appear. A nurse is already waiting for us, and she takes a view of Y/n. "What happened?" the nurse asks, and for a moment, I think of telling the truth, but something else comes out. Something like, "She went for a walk a few hours ago, and then I didn't hear anything back from her." I say, my voice wanting to crack. The nurse nods, and I follow them for as long as possible.

Y/n is stuck in the cold hospital room for way too long. Fluids and IV being run into her system, the baby had been pretty much okay. Besides needing extra fluids, everything was fine, according to the doctors. They allowed me to stay in the room with her. The ICU has too many beeping machines, and there's constantly a team over Y/n making sure her and the baby's vitals are alright.

"Sam," A small voice calls out. "Y/n," I say, alerting half of the ICU floor that she's awake. She smiles slightly and then looks around her surroundings. "Where… why am I here, Sam?" She asks me. The happiness that was once there filters out and hits the bottom of my stomach. "You… Dean and I took care of what caught you," I answer her. "What caught me?" The heart machine starts to pick up speed. "Calm down, baby, please. I need you to breathe slowly and out before I tell you." I say to Y/n. She takes a few breaths and then squeezes my hand, wanting me to continue.

"You were caught by a djinn," I say, swallowing hard. It took Dean and me about three days to find you and another two beforehand to figure out something was wrong." There's silence from Y/n, and then she looks up at me with tears. "What about our baby?" she asks. I nod. The baby is fine; I did all sorts of tests to ensure everything was good," I tell her.

The silence continues until Y/n brings her attention up from her belly. "I saw a few things." "Did you?" I ask, wondering if she's going to explain. "I saw us, Dean, and your parents. I saw a life I so desperately wanted with you but thought I wasn't allowed to have with you because of our life." She says with a heavy sadness in her voice. "I thought I had to leave to take that burden away from you and Dean. I thought…" She hiccups, and tears roll down her cheeks.

"Baby, you will never be a burden to me, nor will our kid. I want nothing more than for you to come home so I can keep both of you safe and protected. I worried about you every single minute of every single day. It was hard to know that you thought you would be better off elsewhere." I say to her, wrapping her tightly in a much-needed hug.

"How'd you know where I was?" She asks when I release her from the hug. "I had Dean call Charlie," I say without a single ounce of regret. She giggles a little, "It wasn't funny; I'm pretty sure the next time we see the girl, she's gonna slap me across my face." Dean says, making us both look up at him.

"Thank you." Y/n says, "Of course, you're family, after all." Dean says from his spot in the doorway. When can I go home?" She asks, "Let me go get the nurse, and we will figure it out, baby." I say, letting go of her hand before pressing a kiss on her temple and running out to get a nurse.

Completed on: 03/15/24

Posted on: 03/15/24

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #supernatualfluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #fluff #angst/fluff #pregnancy

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self-indulgent-fiction · 13 days ago

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Should Have Known Better...

/ smut / dubious circumstances / rough play / kidnapping / light breeding / obsessive!friend /

Don't trust strangers. Not even strangers who smile.

You let him hold your hands once, helping you on the way home. The warmth of your skin has become his obsession, and if you won't take care of yourself, well, he'll just have to do it for you.

°.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•. °.•.

"Shh, shh, shh..." His breath on my neck makes me shiver.

His hand firmly placed on the middle of my back means I can't do much more than squirm as I realize what's happening. He must have tied up my hands while I was passed out as I can't separate my wrists and there's something tight and cold digging into my skin.

Tears prick my eyes. I'm scared, the world is oddly muttered and my thoughts coming slower than I'm used to.

Last I remember, I was headed home on the bus late night, talking to that guy who takes that route about as often as I did. We were friendly, he seemed nice. He always worried about me being out too late, telling me to look out for weirdos. He walked me home sometimes, just to make sure I got back safe. I won't lie, I liked him but haven't worked up the nerve to ask for his number.

That wasn't last night though. Last night I'd been exhausted, practically falling asleep mid-conversation.

He looked almost mad at me, sounded it too. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"I guess not." I half-laughed. He doesn't seem to think it's funny.

"Drink some water before you pass out on me. I think it's about time to take you home."

How could I have been so tired that those words didn't even strike me as strange? That I'd take a drink from a stranger I barely even know the name of? That I'd let him follow me home?

What a stupid girl.

All his weight is on me, pinning me to the bed. It feels like there's no escape, he's my entire world now whether I like it or not. The panic tells me I'm trapped, that louder voice says I've always wanted this. I need to feel crushed and used.

Now he was saying, "That's right. Don't fight it."

I hadn't even realized my arms stopped fighting once I recognized his voice.

"The handcuffs are just for your safety, if you behave we won't need them forever."

Forever?

But his hands have moved on from my back. His fingers dig into the flesh my thighs and pull me flush against his hips. I'm wet. I hear the stickiness of my thighs and it makes my whole chest burn with an intense feeling of shame and an echoing ache of need deep.

"Needy fucking cunt, huh doll face. I fucking knew it."

"No!" I manage to whine out. As my reward he leans over, slapping his hand over my mouth.

With one rough thrust, like he was waiting for my groggy protest, he penetrates. An explosive moan bursts out of me. I can't help it. The burn of stretching makes my toes curl. That dark sick laughter he lets out tells me he knows what he's doing to me, he can feel the pulse of my pussy and that my body is enamored.

Ruthlessly pounded into the mattress from behind, every slap of his hips feels like a brand into my soul. I'll never forget this, he's a part of me now even if I should hate it. Every inch of me cries when that cock threatens to leave me unfilled for even a moment.

I cum, terribly, terribly hard. Thighs shaking, chest heaving. He's still in me and I just can't stop quaking on his cock. If he thrusts again I don't know if I'll weep or just pass out.

Of course, he hasn't released yet. He brands me again and my vision blurs. Soft broken noises of pleasure fog my breaths. I can't keep my eyes open.

"That's right, go back to sleep. I'll take everything I need from you, and you don't have to worry about a thing at all..."

As terrible as it sounds, my core tightens. in my sleep he'll breed me. If I'm lucky he'll leave after that. But something tells me this isn't just a nightmare, and in the morning his won't just be the ghostly touch of a wet dream.

The heavy weight of the handcuffs, hot now though no less restrictive, promises to hold you there for as long as he desires. No longer, no shorter. And if he's telling the truth, it sounds like he's keeping you for a long time.

But, well, doesn't every girl want a man who will stay forever?

Just had a little thought I'd like to share... ever have those days you just want to be bent over and used? I have those a lot. Hope you enjoyed.

With Love, Bede

#submisive and breedable #cnc k!nk #rough cnc #indie author #cnc degradation #breed1ng k!nk #breeding toy #cnc r4p3 #cnc stalking #male yandere #requests open #fem reader #cnc free use

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rotm-channel · 10 months ago

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The Legend of the little Boy.....

Twas a cold dark night in auttum and Pippa was resting in her little bed,she was tired and was almost ready to go to sleep,Jack tucked her in gently.

Pippa however was not ready to go to sleep yet

“Jack?Could you tell me a story, you know lots of them!Could you tell me one please?”

“Okay,but you'll have to go to sleep after”He said,Jack really did hear plenty over the years and liked telling them to the kids

“I will!Could you please tell me one of your spooky stories?”

“A spooky story?”But it's not Halloween just yet,besides you're trying to go to sleep and a scary story will just keep you up and give you nightmares”He said to little girl

“Oh!Don't worry about that youre stories never scare me!Go on now!Tell it.”She replied,eagerly awaiting his answear

When Jack heard that a mischievous grin formed on his face

“WE-L-L If you insist,here is an old story about a boy from long,long ago”He said as he sat on her bed and began to unfold his old story:

He lived in a little town. I don't know his name but I do know he was a chipper and eager little boy who was part of a family of LumberJacks.

He worked hard day after day with his dear father and other fellow Lumberjacks and was friendly with everyone and loved his little town very much and all of its surrounding….

There was however one particular part he didn't really like…

There was an old abandoned quarry a few miles away down a sideroad,many claimed it to be haunted,the little boy was always nervous whenever he had to venture there.He didn't know why exactly,but he always felt as if he was being watched....

One night he came back to town along with a last load of lumber in a horse drawn cart with other lumberjack, when one of the Lumberjacks came to him “Little boy could you please go back down the road to pick up a cart,it was left there by mistake and well really need it for tomorrow”

The brave boy was always happy to help so he got on a pony and raced into the night to find the missing cart.

As he headed boldly in the darkness though a fog came down “Surely it will pass over soon,besides it'll take more than a bit of fog to stop me” The fog however quickly became so thick that he lost his way down the road.

And ended up getting lost and going the wrong way.

The boy was unaware of this until he reached his destination.

For in the fog he became so lost that he hadn't realized that he was heading towards the abandoned quarry.

The little boy was scared of being at the quarry all alone in the dark,but he was tired and so was his pony and he knew it was unsafe to head back down the road in the thick haze…

In spite of his fear,he decided it was for the best to wait until morning in hopes that the fog would be better then

He went into one of the old buildings and drifted off uneasily to slumber.

Late that night awoke startled to a noise coming from beneath the building.

He opened his eyes and saw long ghastly looking fingers reaching for him through the floorboards!

THERE WAS A MONSTER under the structure.

Terrified, the little boy ran out of the building as fast as his legs could carry him, with the horrible man-eating monster chasing him through the night……………..

“The-then what happened?”Pippa asked nervously

"Ahh,but thats where the story ends little Pippa no one ever saw the little boy again…."Jack replied stoically

“Bu-bu-but what about the Monster?!”She stuttered

"No one knows for sure….legend has it the monster still lurks about to this very day,hiding by unsuspecting people….."

"Waiting for the right moment…. TO STRIKE…"

“Anyways theres your story,so it's time to sleep”He said giving little Pippa a frosty kiss on her cheek

He went to the window and said “Goodnight”and flew off into the darkness…

Pippa however was far too scared to even think of sleeping,while she was no longer bothered by the cold presence of the frost sprite,her thoughts now dwelled on Jack story

“It couldn't be real!....could it?Pippa dared not to make a sound just in case any monsters were listening…

One terryfing tale for:@rotg-halloween

#rotg #@rotg-halloween #rotg jack frost #rotghalloween #rotg fanfiction #rise of the guardians #dreamworks animation #scary stories #jack frost #halloween story #halloween #spooky story #monster under the bed #creepy stories #creepypasta #monster

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pink-tiled-bathroom · 9 months ago

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where the light doesn't reach, 23/10/2024, 14:24

i can feel the white noise begin in my mouth, static pinpoints leaking down my throat

the same way it spreads across the insides of my cheeks before i vomit.

i remember when the gas prices stilled between $2.30 and $2.50

and as the bus lulls on its late night passage between work and home

it pauses by a gas station where the sign is burnt out and just reads $3. 9

who is there for the martyrs?, who is there for god,

when they are the ones who give?

do they spend their late nights alone, clutching a bottle of whiskey between calloused palms and bloody fingertips,

praying to someone above them to make them feel less alone in their pain? or to end it completely?

my mother looked me in the eyes once while asking me for a glass of wine and told me

that i was only born to serve. born to give. never to feel anything besides giving every fibre of my living to anyone who asks for it.

how is a daughter to live with the weight of being born only to give every part of her away until she rots? that she is undeserving of anything but the chisel?

i feel that this is some sort of convoluted convocation of being a mother’s daughter.

the nights have gotten cold again. i dont sleep much anymore--the shadows whisper broken cries of shortcomings

and i can smell the copper-ferrous carmine lingering on their chapped lips from my own cold-sweat soaked sheets where i lay (alone, terrified).

i am the deer on the side of the highway, softly lulling between seeing what the people with guns call “god”, and the blinding afterlight of my blood on the asphalt,

the night sky cradles my half-alive body and the starlight looks like broken glass. the stars reflect onto each other like gemstones,

murmuring all the dreams ive had since I was six years old. i pretend everything isn't a metaphor for grief,

i pretend i am still unborn, before i was told no god would return my purity. i repine in the realization that i won't ever be able to go back.

i've lost the ability to tell whether the lump in my throat is some hopeless feat at self sabotage or the smoke in my lungs coming up to choke me,

most times its the former though every time i pray its the latter. the trains blare night in and night out with the cries of crimson on the rails.

sometimes i wish it was me. the only thing that lets me rest at the unholy hours of dawn is romanticizing

a horrid and gory suicide, legs splayed across the gravel, torso mangled, skull crushed in glass shards,

the front of the train now having all it takes to be human (blood, skin, flesh, bone, heat, and nothing inside you but lost dreams).

no epilogue, no note; only the fog hanging heavy over my carcass, ululating all the broken promises once made through gritted teeth.

there is a god just mortal enough to look human. she breathes the color of all my sins, slurring morning dew with crimson brume--

and i repent in the early hours of morning, knowing i fell from the golden light for abandoning god's faith. gabriel will lower his trumpet when i visit him again.

i am a better wound than i am person; my hands have always been blackened with contrition.

if you were to read my name aloud, it would spell out sacrifice, in its most grotesque form. strident, mangled, like knuckles torn to shreds.

there exists within my chest a desire to be wanted-- fervently, earnestly, to be devoured whole until my wounds exsanguinate;

but alas, grief fills october’s empty lungs like kerosene, and i wait around the corner like a mutt.

at my core, i exist as nothing more than a beaten dog. i will wait for you, even if it is not what i want. i know nothing else but waiting for the whip to crack,

tearing into the already blue-black flesh barely hanging onto my bones, spattering vermillion onto the tile like sunlight. every welt feels like home.

at some sentient part of my canine head i want you to drown in the guilt of the blood on your hands. i will bark and bite, but i will never speak.

i wonder if god looks down upon the fallen angels and wishes them well, because he too feels guilty.

#poetry #poets on tumblr #poem #prose #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writing #prose writing #wlw poetry #wlw poem

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bu1410 · 1 year ago

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Good morning TUMBLR - March 12th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

DINAJPUR – PANCHAGAR ROAD REHABILITATION PROJECT - BANGLADESH 1992

At the beginning of January I was called by the San Donato Head Office office, where SNAMPROGETTI proposed my return to Saudi e Al Jubail petrochemical project. I didn't intend to return to that country so soon. Therefore I asked if there were any alternatives, but was told that at that moment it was ''Saudi or nothing''. I said thanks, it will be for another time.

Faced with the ''either Al Jubail or nothing'' I accepted the invitation for an interview first, and than for the assignment by BONATTI Parma. They had a project in Bangladesh to propose for me. To tell the truth, it was an unusual project for BONATTI. The rehabilitation of a road, specifically the 84 km that linked Dinajpour to Panchagar, in the North of the country. The work was part of an aid package that the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs intended to implement in Bangladesh through the Italian Cooperation Fund.

Before my departure to Bangladesh, Mr. Romitelli (Deus ex Machina of BONATTI) told me:

''You have to come to Parma for a couple of days to familiarize yourself with the ROADCALC software, the tool with which the project's accounting will be done''.

''Ok fine – I replied – I'll be there. In fact I went to the BONATTI Parma headquarters, I met with their IT Manager who took me to his office, throw a package with 5 CDs on the desk, and told me:

That's it, take them and .............now you can go!

Thanks a lot Sir - I answered -and goodbye!! And this was the ''training course'' BONATTI gave me in order ''familiarize myself with the calculation program''.

JOURNEY TO BANGLADESH I left Italy in early October, and it was still hot when in Rome Fiumicino we were taken by airport shuttle bus under the DC10 of BIMAN, the national airline of Bangladesh. The flight schedule included a stopover in Dubai, and than would arrive in Dakha after another 5 hours. I noticed some alpinists boarding the plane with us: judging by their clothes and boots they were wearing, their final destination was undoubtedly the Himalayas. Nevertheless, I thought, why wearing such heavy clothes in warm Rome's autumn?

Again: why had they brought crampons, ropes, ice axes and other climbing items into the cabin (perhaps to save on extra baggage?)

Anycase we had been sitting inside the plane for almost one hour, but still takeoff did not take place. Finally the Captain spoke on the loudspeaker and told us that the loading service was unable to introduce a pallet with some items into the hold. To entertain us while we waited, the cabin crew distributed a snack: a toast bread stuffed with one slice of cheese and a leaf of green salad! (And a glass of water.....). ''What a great start......'' I told myself'' - but the best was yet to come. After more than an hour, the loading operations were completed, and the pallet was left on the ground. Than the plane took off. Normal takeoff, aircraft at flight altitude. About an hour passed, and from the window I saw some snow-capped mountains: I wondered what chain it could have been, given that a normal route to the Middle East should not have flown over snow-capped mountains in that period. Another hour passed, and the Captain kindly informed us:

We like inform passengers that we have begun the descent to Frankfurt airport, fasten your seat belts…etc…etc.

But ......why Frankfurt? I ask the stewardess – weren't we supposed to go directly to Dubai?

Yes – she tells me – but then we were late and then it was decided to go to Frankfurt to pick up some passengers.

Ahh…ok….sure we're travelling on airplane? Not in a city bus?

She smiled and went away without replying........ With now the plane approaching the landing, Captain spoke again:

Hallo.......Here your Captain speaking - we were warned by Frankfurt airport control tower that the persistent fog does not allow landing at the moment, therefore we remain at altitude nearby awaiting for instructions. Another good half an hour passed like that, while we flew in circles over Germany. And than the ''Our Dear Captain' said:

''The Frankfurt control tower warns that no clear weather is expected in the next few hours, so it has been decided that we're continuing our flight to London Heathrow''. LONDON HEATROW!! If we continue like that.....next announcement could be ''we've turned left, we're going to New York!. Anycase after 45 minutes safely landed at Heathrow!. Some passengers boarded and than the stewardess announced the plane would take off for Dubai in a few moments. We reached Dubai and it was already the dawn of a new day, and we were told to desambark becasue of refuelling operation will take place. As usual, inside Dubai airport it felt like being at the North Pole: the temperature was 16 degrees, definitely too low for an airport lounge. Then, with another 5 hours flight, eventually we reached Dakha, our final destination: 27 hours had passed since we left Rome!! The customs and immigration formalities were pretty quick – I came out of customs and saw a guy hoisting my name up on a board: he was the driver sent by Company Branch. He took my luggage and we started walking inside the airport, when I saw a group of people who seemed to be accompanying a tall and big man – when we were close enough, I noticed his hair and thick gray beard, his tortoiseshell glasses. , the perfect cut dress: Gian Franco Ferre', one of the great names in Italian fashion! Someone later explained to me the reason for Ferre' visit to Bangladesh: in Dhaka there was a ''Free Zone'' where big foreign groups had invested large capital and where no taxes were paid locally, as long as local manpower were employed (Which naturally cost very little). In this Free Zone all the big names in Italian fashion were present: in addition to GF Ferre', there were Valentino, D&G, Versace and few others. An elderly and still attractive Italian Lady who I later got to know, was in charge to manage all the production laboratories.

DAKHA GUEST HOUSE It took us a couple of hours to get to the Guest House: Traffic in Dhaka is a nightmare not only for cars and buses, but because of thousands of scooters and bicycles. The company Guest House was the former Italian Embassy. Italian diplomatic corps had recently moved to an even larger and more luxurious villa. Gulshan, the embassy area of Dakha is of course the most luxurious within the city, with large villas surrounded by tropical gardens. When we arrived I was so tired that I got into the bed without having any breakfast at all. In reality I had lost track of time, and I wasn't sure whether it was morning or afternoon or whatever........ Any case, I slept until the following noon without interruption. I was woken up by the housekeeper, who told me that lunch was served. Once at the table I met my two new Italian colleagues: one of them was in charge of customs and personnel, the second was in charge of the logistics of the construction sites. They gave me some informations regarding the project, and we had an excellent lunch prepared by the Bengali chef. Company office was located on the villa ground floor. Three local employees were present, and greeted me at the time I entered. Educated Bengali people are very polite.

TRANSFER TO THAKURGAON

The next day I left for Dinajpur in a domestic flight: about an hour by plane with an unbearable stench caused by the grease that the locals spread on their hair to make it ''shiny''. Upon arrival, another driver was waiting to take me to Thakurgaon, 60 km away from Dinajpour airport. I thus had the opportunity to see the conditions of the road that was the subject of our project. Some sections were really in bad shape, with deep potholes and bumpy asphalt - more worrying were the conditions of numerous bridges we crossed the frequent rivers and swamps: there would have been work to do!

My driver was chewing ''paan'' (a preparation that combines betel leaf with areca nut, which turns the tongue and teeth red-brown - In Bangladesh, paan is chewed throughout the country from all classes and is an important element of the country's culture).

In the world majority of the countries people drive on the right lane. There are others where left lane driving is established. (UK and former colonies in general). And than there is Bangladesh where people drive in the middle of the road! When two vehicle from different direction meet, the challenge is always the same: to maintain the center of the road until the other one moves onto the road shoulder… We arrived in Thakurgaon, and I found out it was a fairly tidy little town. BONATTI had built a compound of brick houses which essentially consisted of a bedroom and a bathroom: much better than the usual prefabricated sheet metal containers! There was a canteen-kitchen building, and one for offices. A tennis court and basket ball playground was also provided. All in a well-kept garden of palm trees and tropical flowers. And of course a spacious workshop for the maintenance of construction equipment. The compound housed 12 Italian expatriates, plus a dozen Filipinos and locals who worked with us, or belongs to Works Management. It was lunch time, and so at the table I got to know my new colleagues, starting with the Construction Site Manager Mr. Coda, originally from Biella - Italy - a man with West Africa background. The cook was Bengali, but the food was Italian, albeit with some local influences. In the afternoon I went with the Site Manager for a tour of the areas where work in progress, and than to visit the area where an Italian technician was assembling a plant for the production of aggregates, gravel and sand.

A Virtgen was also expected from Italy, a machine capable of ''eating'' existing asphalt and recycling it. In short, the work was interesting, with a lot of activities to be carried out along the 80 km of the road - the equipment available seemed excellent, and the staff capable. Objectively there were enormous logistical problems: difficulties in supplying fuel and spare parts - practically non-existent telecommunications, but we need to consider we were in North of Bangladesh, not beside Abu Dhabi......

ITALIAN CATHOLIC MISSIONARY HOSPITAL

After the settling-in period, I was told by Site Manager to investigate on the possibilities of emergency response in the event of employee's accident-illness. We had learned that about 40 km from Thakurgaon there was a hospital run by Italian Catholic missionaries, lost in the immense rainforest. So one day I went there. It was not easy to find the hospital location, given the total absence of road signs. I was welcomed by Father Rodolfo Albanese, originally from the province of L'Aquila. A man in his '60, whose goodness of spirit and the vicissitudes passed in more than 30 years of Bangladesh could be read on his face. He introduced me to the nuns who collaborated in the community - in addition to the building used as a hospital and the church, the compound had a school, a building where trades such as carpentry and crafts in general were taught. There was of course a large vegetable garden, from which a great deal of sustenance was drawn for the community. Plus a poultry and rabbit farms. I met the three ''Sisters of the Immaculate Mary, all of them very elderly, unfortunately. I spoke with one of them, she was originally from Dalmine, a city of Bergamo province.

And tell me - Sister Angela asked - how is Italy doing? Do you have Coca Cola there? And actor Amedeo Nazzari, how is he?

Sorry Sister - I said - may I ask you when you been in Italy last time?

Well… you know… we sisters of the Immaculate Mary suppose to leave Italy for ever .....but Pope Montini, believing it was unfair, granted us a return ticket every three years of permanence here - I however – she added – whenever I receive the ticket I don't use it, and I always ask for a refund, so we can use the money obtained for good causes! Therefore I haven't returned to my country of origin since 1957........

Ohh well… this does you credit, Sister! Anyway yes, in Italy we have Coca Cola and Nazzari… well I think he is very old now!! (I didn't dare to tell her that he was dead......)

And how do you find yourself here, Sister?

Well here you see by yourself… life is very hard, we are in a Muslim country, but we are respected, the people are good to us. Of course there were more critical times, such as during the war of liberation from Pakistan - as good Christians we tried to help everyone, but the Pakistanis told us that we were helping terrorists, and the Bengalis that we were helping the enemy. It was very hard time for us!!! After a simple but good lunch, I said goodbye to Father Rodolfo and the Sisters, promising that we would do something for them, and that in case of need we would certainly turn to the hospital.

GRAVEL AND AGGREGATE. Bangladesh is such a poor country that it doesn't even have rocks. And without rocks one cannot produce gravel. So huge boulders of 4 or 5 cubic meters are imported from India which are than transformed into gravel by women equipped with a hammer and chisel. There was one such kind of ''crushing plant'' in Thakurgaon, and the women who worked there were paid 2 USD per day. Under the scorching tropical sun, there wasn't a single one who suffered from excess fat........

When they saw our gravel crushing plant, they did not hide their anxiety at being deprived of their job, and therefore a source of livelihood. We assured them that we intended to use the gravel only for the project, without selling it on the local market.

ANTI-MOSQUITO Bangladesh land is almost perpetually under water: floods are frequent, and stagnant water favors the proliferation of mosquitos. The local system to fight mosquitos involves the whole family, the oxen and the cows. The excrements of these animals are collected by children, and then mixed into a round pyramid shape with clay, straw and dry branches - stuck to the walls outside the houses, with a stick in the center of it - when the dough falls to the ground it means that it is ready for use. Some families make commercial use of it, in the sense that part of the production is put on sale on a roadside stall. During the night the anti-mosquito is set on fire, and it burns slowly, releasing an acrid and smelly smoke into the rooms - a smoke and a stench that mosquitoes cannot stand, leaving the occupants of the homes to sleep peacefully.

FOX BAT A afternoon the warehouse guy call us: a fox bat had just landed in in front of the warehouse, and it didn't seem capable of flying. We went to see, and we noticed that fox bat was a very large specimen, the wingspan must have been more than two metres. It had enormous black wings attached. Bat was wounded on the right wing, and blood was dripping onto the ground. I called the nurse, who brought everything needed to disinfect and treat the bat. It looked scared, and the nurse gave him a calming injection. Bat stayed with us for a week, every now and then I went to visit him; it ate an industrial quantity of mangoes and bananas. At the end of the week the bird made some flight attempts, and after a couple of turns over the warehouse it left and returned to the forest.

BUSH SURVEY Every now and then I accompanied the surveyor to carry out measurement activities. On a very hot afternoon, after the usual torrential rain, we were close to a half-collapsed bridge, one of those that we would have had to rebuild, and on which traffic was currently flowing in alternate directions. We entered the tall grass, the local surveyor with his assistant were ahead of me by about ten metres, when suddenly they came back running and shouting ''SNAKE .....SNAKEEEE.........''!! We all started running backwards along the path barely visible in the thick vegetation. When we arrived at a layby, we stopped, out of breath.

What did you see – I ask.

A big snake Sir, very big!

Ok – I told him – let's go back there

No Sir, it can be very dangerous, Sir!

Take the machete from the pick up and then let's go and see. We retraced our steps, advancing cautiously through the tall grass. The faces of the two Bengalis were ashen. As we approached the point where they had seen the snake, they slowed down more and more. Finally we saw what had scared the two boys to death: a skin of what an expert would later tell us was a Python reticulatus, the longest snake in the world, as well as being the longest of all reptiles. The Bengalis began to laugh, that nervous laugh you get when you have escaped danger. We recovered the skin, and took it into town to the local Wildlife Office.

LOCAL DRIVING LICENCE I had an appointment for the exam to obtain my local driving license. I was sitting in the office of Police Chief, a fat guy, who, using a long, thin bamboo stick, was pointing out signs with Bengali writing on the room wall.

What does this mean? - he said.

I don't know, Sir – I replied

And what does this mean?

I don't know, Sir.

He looked at me sideways – and what does this mean?

Again Sir, I don't know….

Let's make one last attempt: what does this say – the officer asked me, pointing to a doodle written in green.

I'm really sorry, Sir, I don't know......

But you - said the Officer - can you read the characters written in Bengali?

No Sir.

Then why didn't you tell me?

You didn't ask me, Sir. He collapses into his chair, behind the desk - then all in one breath, without looking at me, he said:

Give me 1,000 Taka (9 euros) -I put the bills on his table. -He stucked my photo on a beige booklet, he affixed a couple of stamps and then while giving me the driving license he said:

Be careful while driving – good bye! I had passed the exam.

SECRETARY Our secretary was a small girl, with delicate features, prettier than the average Bengali woman. She was in her 30 but she looked less than 20, and she had been married for sometime. One day I asked her how many children she had and she replied:

Three Sir, a boy and two girls - I got the 10 year old boy from my husband, then he left and I haven't known anything about him for years.

But ......beg your pardon ....your daughters ...who's the real father?

I don't know Sir – she replied – at night we all sleep in a large room, we don't have electricity and it's dark – so I don't know exactly who the father of the two girls is. Too sad......

HINDU TEMPLE VISIT. I had learned of the existence of the very important Hindu Kantajewm temple, around 40 km away from Thakurgaon. Kantanagar Temple, commonly known as Kantaji Temple or Kantajew Temple in Kantanagar, is a late medieval Hindu temple near Dinajpur. Kantajew Temple is a religious building built in the 18th century. The temple belongs to the Hindu Kanta or Krishna and this is the most popular with the Radha-Krishna (memorable love assembly) cult in Bengal. This temple is dedicated to Krishna and his wife Rukmini. Built by Maharaja Pran Nath, its construction began in 1704 AD. and ended during the reign of his son Raja Ramnath in 1722 AD. It is an example of terracotta architecture in Bangladesh and once had nine spiers, but all were destroyed in an earthquake in 1897. The driver took me there in a Friday afternoon. The temple was beyond a marshy area and a man with a rowboat ferried us to the island. Taking advantage of the relative isolation, a small community of Hindu fishermen and farmers who had settled there were little safer, in a country where 99% of the population is Muslim. I met a group of Hindu pilgrims from a Dakha school, visiting the temple. And I spoke to the ''Guru'' of the temple itself, a small, elderly man with a face lined with a thousand wrinkles. In truth the temple was very beautiful and large. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I retain the memory of an enchanted and timeless place, where miserable human events lost their meaning.

CHOLERA There is an unwritten law in the country: up to 500 deaths a day, the press and television report the news as ''dysentery''. Between 500 and 1000 deaths per day the news is given as a ''possible cholera epidemic, the case investigations are underway''. Starting from a more significant number of daily deaths, the area of infection is subjected to lockdown, in an attempt to limit the proliferation of the disease. In the country there are thousands of deaths per year from these epidemics.

AMBULANCES As a country at the bottom of the list of underdeveloped states, Bangladesh was and is the object of continuous aid and donations from International Organizations. In 1992, the Croix Rouge of Belgium collected enough donations to purchase two modern Mercedes ambulances to ship to Bangladesh. Arriving by ship at the port of Chittagong, the two ambulances could not be unloaded. The local customs asked the Belgian Croix Rouge to pay the import taxes. The Belgian Ambassador, present at the port and waiting to attend the ceremony of delivery of the ambulances to the local Red Crescent, realizing that the problem was not solvable, ordered the ambulances to be brought back to Belgium.

TETULIA A Friday, a day of rest in Bangladesh, I left for an excursion to Tetulia. Also known as "The City of Dreams", Tetulia is a city in the far north of Bangladesh - tea, orange and pineapple cultivation is abundant in its surroundings and is located on the Indian border with Darjeeling. It was a wonderful day, and from the heights of the city I saw the snow-capped Kanchenjunga shining in all its beauty, the third highest mountain on earth, less than 100 km away as the crow flies. In addition to the shining Himalayan mountains, I also saw the very high fence that the Indian Government had installed along the border to try to prevent the illegal immigration of Bangladeshis into India. In 1992, India launched an operation called 'Push Back' in an attempt to repatriate many of the 20 million-plus Bangladeshis living in India illegally.

Mr. CODA. A morning, after breakfast I went to the office: I needed to speak to the Site Manager, but Mr. Coda had not yet arrived. I waited in vain for his arrival for about hour, then I asked the secretary-factotum - a very smart Bengali guy - to accompany me to the site manager's house. We knocked in vain and then called the cleaning girl who had a passpartout key. Once the lock was opened, the door resisted because Mr. Coda's body was on the ground against it. The secretary heard his heartbeat and gestured to me with his thumb: he's breathing, he's still alive! We put him on the bed, the nurse had arrived and was carrying out some maneuvers to try to resuscitate the poor guy. In the end Coda reopened his eyes, he was obviously dazed but managed to blurt out a few words like ''my heart… my heart''. A nitroglycerin tablet was placed under his tongue, in the meantime I had gone out to call the driver and have the Toyota prepared to transport Mr. Coda to the Italian Missionaries' hospital. So within a few minutes we placed the poor guy in the Toyota with the seat reclined. I took a seat next to him and we left for the hospital. The 40 km that separated us from the hospital were traveled at the maximum speed allowed by the condition of the road and traffic. When we arrived in front of the hospital Father Rodolfo was out there. He saw Coda's suffering face and said:

Poor thing! What happened to him?

I think he had an heart attack Father!

Ohh…poor guy…eeeehh…I mean…did you bring any medicine with you?

………………….. I was speechless…….

Sorry Father… the medicines… to tell the truth we… thought that the medicines… you had them here… it's a hospital here no?…

Noo……noo…here we just have some sedatives……and something for colds and flu….

So we came all this way for nothing?

No why? We can pray together…….

Thank you Father……. We retraced our steps, while Mr. Coda seemed to be doing a little better. Before leaving the base, I had asked the secretary to call Dhaka and inform the Branch of what had happened. When we were back in Thakurgaon, Branch had called to say that an air ambulance SOS Medical from Singapore had been alerted, and that it would arrive at Dhaka airport the following afternoon to evacuate the patient. The problem was to transport Coda to Dhaka, 700 km away. On the plane it would have been dangerous for a person with an ongoing heart attack. It was decided to leave immediately for Dhaka with the Toyota, me, Coda and the driver. It was a difficult journey, 700 km of very bumpy state roads, with the crossing of the Brahmaputra river by locals ferry, a small boat made of colored wood and sheet metal where sixty people and two cars were piled up. The crossing took almost two hours, and takes place by cutting the river diagonally, because the current does not allow otherwise. After a journey of over 15 hours, we arrived at Dhaka Airport in the afternoon. Our local customs officer was waiting for us and had already negotiated permission to access the plane's parking area by car. Mr. Coda was quite well, considering his state of health and the long difficult journey from Thakurgaon. The Singaporean doctor and nurse welcomed him on board the plane which was a real flying operating room. They checked his health, put him to bed, immediately hooking him up to various machines. We said goodbye to Coda, wishing him good luck. The next day I returned to Thakurgaon by airliner, leaving the driver the ''pleasure'' of returning alone.

After a few days, we were informed that Coda had passed the critical phase, and once he had fully recovered he would return to Italy on an commercial airliner. We were requested to send his belongings to Dhaka.

PROMOTION I was therefore promoted to the new Construction Site Manager, I must say to the happiness of all the employees, both expatriates and especially locals, who did not take kindly to my predecessor's frequent outbursts. One of the first measures I took was the dismissal of the cook and the promotion of his deputy. It happened one day just before lunch - I saw that Bengali cook returning from his shopping with a motor rickshaw. On the seat next to him, from a distance, I couldn't make out clearly, but I thought I saw bags of cement! I left the office and approached the canteen, noticing that the cook was unloading some bags of cement, yes, but they contained rice, flour, grains!

But you've gone crazy or what??? ! I told the cook, already annoyed.

Why Sir? Why are you telling me this? He answers me with the most surprised face

Why?? you're transporting the stuff that WE eat in bags where before there was cement! And you ask me why I get angry??

But Sir……I eat this stuff too, not just you….

You can poison yourself as you like, but you can't poison us!! Okay, let's go to the kitchen, while we're on the subject I want to do an inspection. We went into the kitchen, and what I saw took away all my doubts:

Abdulkharim…come to the office…immediately! When we were in the office, I called the secretary and in front of the cook I ordered him to prepare the letter of dismissal and all his entitlements - I wanted him out of the camp by evening. In the afternoon Abdulkharim again asked to speak to me.

Tell me quickly, I don't have time to waste with you…

Sir, I'm very sorry Sir……and in any case you will appoint the assistant chef as the new head chef in my place.

And then?

Well you don't know what he does when you Italians are absent and can't see! -What does he do?

He takes one of the girls into the storage room and then………

Really??

Yes Sir….

Well, then in this case I will give him a raise… goodbye.

Well…Sir…

Fatimah accompanies this gentleman out.

BENGALI MINISTRY OF TRANSPORT VISIT The rehabilitation of the Dinajpour – Panchagar road was a project of National interest. One day a visit by a government delegation led by the Minister of Transport was announced. I got in touch with the Dhaka branch, and informed them about the visit. They were already aware of it, and they told me that the commercial attaché of the Italian Embassy in Dhaka, Mr. Colombo, would also participate in the event. On the day of the visit everything was ready to worthily receive the Minister. But with my desappointment, the Italian Embassy chose a ''low profile'' and denied permission for Mr. Colombo to reach Thakurgaon and attend the Minister's visit. I therefore found myself alone in front of a large delegation from the Ministry, whose members all had questions to ask and curiosities to satisfy. Nonetheless, the visit went well: the Minister was satisfied with what he had seen, and was impressed by the crushing plant (a premiere in the country). The visit ended with a reception at our compound, during which traditional Bengali dishes were served.

The next day I was informed by the secretary that in the evening, on the state channel, the news would be broadcasting a report on the Minister's visit - so I saw myself on TV, and I must admit that it wasn't bad at all. Following the reportage, sometimes in the shops or cafeterias of Thakourgaon I was ''pointed out'' by someone who had seen me on TV. However, the lack of participation on the part of BONATTI, the Italian Embassy, and in general the news coming from Italy, where the Company was heavily investigated by the Judiciary, had generated a sense of abandonment and distrust in the local staff.

DIESEL We had enormous logistical difficulties, and one of the most critical was the continuous lack of diesel and fuel in general. The supply took place through tankers which sometimes arrived from very far away. There was a particularly difficult period, in which many construction operations had to be suspended due to lack of fuel. One day we were notified that a tanker with 33,000 liters of diesel had left from Dhaka – 700 km away – towards Thakurgaon. The wait became exhausting, especially due to the obligation to sip the remaining diesel. After 2 days we were informed that in a village about 30 km from Thakurgaon a tanker - probably ours - had had an accident. We left immediately to go and check, once we arrived on site we found that it was the tank intended for us that had had the accident. The driver, probably tired from the long journey, had fallen asleep, the truck had ended up in the drainage ditch next to the road, and had tilted onto its side. The usual crowd that had appeared out of nowhere had gathered to witness the accident, and everyone watched impassively as the fuel leaked from the open manholes of the tanker and flowed into the drainage ditch and then towards the nearby river! Nobody did anything to stop the disaster, and that was precisely the reason why Bangladesh was the country it was: not even in the face of accidents, spreading infections, natural disasters, these people moved a muscle! They simply watched helplessly. The driver was unharmed, but in shock. Luckily we found an old crane and within an hour we managed to right the truck – half the fuel load had gone into the river, unfortunately. The vehicle was damaged and unable to continue, we left a couple of people to guard the tank. The next day we sent another tanker to transfer the remaining diesel, and then finally reach the Thakurgaon field.

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neewtmas · 2 years ago

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What's Mine is Yours

A/N: This was so fun to write! It's a little bit on the shorter side, but I hope you all enjoy :) @hufflepuff1619 thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it <3

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a one shot please for Lockwood. The reader works for Lockwood and Co and because of their job, she gets nightmares a lot and that usually ends up with her sleeping in Lockwoods bed and it basically become her bedroom too. Thank you. - by @hufflepuff1619

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you wanna be added/removed, just send me an ask/message :))

masterlist

The only sound in the cold night air was the cab driving down the street, lights quickly disappearing in the thick fog drifting over the pavement. Lockwood, George, Lucy and Y/N stood in front of 35 Portland Row, duffle bags on the ground next to them.

"Well, let's get inside and get some sleep", Lockwood's voice cut through the silence just as the ghost lamp at the corner switched off. The gate creaked as he pushed it open, and the small light next to the door switched on, illuminating the uneven stones that paved the way to the steps. He carried his bag up to the door and set it down, reaching for the keys in his pockets. He fumbled with them, almost dropping them before he found the right one and unlocked the door. It swung open and he let the other three trudge past him before he entered and closed the door again, leaving the darkness of the night outside.

The light in the hallway, though homely and warm, showed just how exhausted everyone was. No words were exchanged as they all left their bags by the door, the clean-up a concern for the next morning, and went into the kitchen. George immediately set a kettle on the stove, and Y/N sat down on one of the chairs while Lockwood rummaged in one of the cabinets for some biscuits.

Lucy grabbed one from the plate he set down on the table and excused herself to bed with a 'good night' mumbled out between bites of biscuit.

Y/N took the cup George gave her and gave him a thankful smile. She poured a bit of sugar in and stirred a few times, watching the liquid swirl around her spoon. She was tired, eyes threatening to fall close every few minutes. She had already dozed off on the cab ride home. But as much as she wanted nothing more than to curl up under her blanket and fall into a deep sleep, she also knew that it probably wouldn't be that easy.

"That ghost was something, huh?" Lockwood said to no one in particular. George snapped out of staring at the wall and nodded slowly. "At least this time, we weren't wholly unprepared."

He was right. From that perspective, tonight's case had gone great - no ugly surprises, and everything had been just the way George had predicted it with the material he had researched. They had worked together fabulously, and for once, no one was subjected to a near-death experience. Unfortunately, that was unusual.

"Raw-Bones are truly the worst", Lockwood said contemplatively, examining the biscuit he was holding closely before taking a bite. "Haven't seen a visitor this nasty and revolting in a long time."

Y/N squeezed her eyes closed, trying hard to stop her brain from conjuring up the memory of the ghost they had encountered just a few hours ago. "I think I'll go to bed as well", she said quietly and got up. She could feel Lockwood's eyes follow her as she walked over to the sink and emptied her cup into it. She hated wasting perfectly good tea, but right now she didn't feel she could stomach even one more sip.

She slowly made her way upstairs, feeling heavy and tired. A dull ache had started to form behind her forehead and after she exchanged her ectoplasm-stained clothes for soft pyjamas, she finally climbed into her bed and sighed a breath of relief. She pulled the blanket up under her chin and curled her knees to her chest, head comfortably buried in her fluffy pillow. She reached out from under her blanket to switch off the small nightlamp on her bedside table, and then her room was pitch black.

She did not yet close her eyes, but instead just stared into the dark, trying to calm her breathing. She listened to the quiet creaking of the floorboards as either George or Lockwood moved around one floor below her room. After a while, doors closed and the only thing that was left to hear was her own breaths. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself and tried to close her eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

But the moment she did, her mind was flooded with the gruesome pictures of the Raw-Bones she had fought off hours earlier. One would think being an agent and fighting off ghosts for a living would get easier with time, and in some ways, it did - where she started as a talented but terrified ten year old she was now a capable agent. But no matter how well she did in the field, her sleep suffered after especially horrific cases, just like the one tonight.

George had prepared them - they knew what was coming. But seeing the skinless corpse, bloody all over with ribs sticking out, eyes bulging out as it robbed over the floor, leaving a trail of blood that was of course just ectoplasm but sure as hell didn't look like it - it was enough for her to know that the nightmares would come.

She opened her eyes again, quickly switching on her night lamp. The warm light was comforting. She knew that sleep was impossible tonight. Should she go down to Lockwood's room? He had been kind and understanding from the moment she first knocked at his door after a nightmare that had left her shaking a few weeks after she had started working here. After that, it had happened a few other times - and even though he never gave her the feeling that she was too much, maybe he just wanted to be nice.

A few minutes later she was tip-toeing down the stairs. Maybe he was just being nice, and maybe it meant nothing at all, but she desperately needed sleep and knew it wasn't going to happen if she stayed in her bed by herself.

In front of his bedroom door, she hesitated for a moment, not quite sure of herself. But then she took a deep breath and knocked three times, just like every time before. It was silent in his room, and for a moment she thought he was already asleep and was ready to turn around, but then she heard rustling and footsteps behind the door.

The door swung open and revealed Lockwood in his pyjamas, hair already messy. "Y/N. Are you okay? Another nightmare?" The way he said it made it clear that he was concerned, and not at all annoyed like she had feared. Her shoulders slumped down. "Not yet", she whispered. "But I can't sleep."

He extended his hand to her and she hesitantly took it, allowing him to pull her into the room and closer to him. He closed the door behind her, and now they stood in darkness. He squeezed her hand and led her to his bed where he switched on the night light.

"Do you wanna sleep here tonight?" She nodded and he climbed into bed, scooting over so that she had enough space to lay down next to him and lifted the blanket. The spot was still warm from him laying the moments earlier. He reached over her to switch off the light, and she could feel his breath at the back of her head and his warm body pressed up to hers. He didn't pull his arm back, instead wrapped it around her and pulled her closer to his chest.

She suddenly felt very hot and was glad that the room was dark, otherwise, he would have seen the intense blush that coloured her cheeks crimson. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but she was flustered just the same, every single time.

"Sorry that I'm bothering you again", she said quietly, cringing at how loud it still sounded. He was silent for a moment. "You're not bothering me, Y/N. You could never bother me." He paused and leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Do you wanna know a secret? Every time a case is especially scary, I lie here and wait and hope for you to show up at my door."

She swallowed hard. This was new. His thumb was tracing patterns over her stomach where he was holding her. "Really?", she asked, breathless. "You don't mind sharing your bed?"

"Not if it's with you." He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "What's mine is yours, as long as you want it."

thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader

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feverishly-kpop · 2 years ago

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Yeosang & Ateez - Under the Weather

Yeosang was miserable. Beyond miserable. And he was alone.

Logically he understood that coming down with something the day that they were set to begin filming their new variety show meant that he’d have to stay behind while the others went to work. But, given the state of fog his brain was in, Yeosang couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about being left by himself.

Yeosang had been in and out of consciousness all day after waking up that morning feeling like he had been hit by a bus. He vaguely remembered hearing Yunho on the phone with Seonghwa but he hadn’t been able to make out exactly what they were talking about. He picked up a few words here and there, like “exhausted,” “nauseous,” and “overworked.”

“Stop talking about me” Yeosang muttered under his breath to nobody but himself before pulling the edges of his blankets in closer, trying to will himself to stay awake until Yunho was off the phone. He wasn’t entirely successful.

After a few minutes Yeosang was roused by Yunho knocking on his door.

“I have to go,” Yunho said sadly, looking down at his feet. “Seonghwa-hyung wants you to stay in bed and he said he’ll come over and check on you once we are done with filming.”

Yeosang didn’t respond, only turning his back toward Yunho. Yunho sighed, feeling guilty about having to leave Yeosang alone in his condition.

“I’m sorry somebody can’t stay with you” Yunho added. “Is there anything I can get you before I leave?” Yeosang shook his head but, once again, said nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~

After a few hours of restless sleep Yeosang woke to the sound of keys rattling and the apartment door opening. Assuming that filming was finished and Yunho was home Yeosang closed his eyes again, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before Seonghwa stopped by to check up on him. He was surprised, however, when he heard his bedroom door open and the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Without a word he felt the side of his bed dip down behind him and a warm body getting comfortable under the covers with him.

Typically Yeosang wasn’t very fond of skinship or cuddling, but he had to admit that the extra warmth felt amazing. He had been bitterly cold all day, no matter how many blankets he piled on top of himself.

“What are you doing here, Wooyoung?” Yeosang asked, not even having to look over his shoulder to know who had joined him. “Is filming done?”

“No, they’re still filming. Probably for a few more hours. But I told Seonghwa-hyung that I was feeling sick and Hongjoong sent me home” Wooyoung responded in a matter of fact tone as he snuggled in closer to Yeosang.

“Shit, Woo, did I get you sick? Are you sick to your stomach? We can get you some medication…” Yeosang started before being interrupted.

“I’m not actually sick, Sang” Wooyoung interjected. “I just felt bad that you were here all alone. So I just…pretended. Maybe I should audition for a drama…”

Yeosang laughed for a second before his laugh turned into a cough.

“You’re shivering” Wooyoung said sadly after Yeosang’s cough had passed. He quickly disentangled himself from Yeosang and got out of bed before returning with another blanket.

“Did you just take that from Yunho’s bed?” Yeosang asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s fine, he doesn’t need it right now” Wooyoung replied, draping the blanket over Yeosang and climbing back into bed, once again wrapping himself around Yeosang.

Yeosang instantly relaxed, the extra warmth and the presence of his friend providing enough comfort for him to fall asleep again.

“Hey Sangie” Wooyoung whispered Yeosang’s ear just before he was about to doze off. “If hyungs ask, I was really sick when I got back, okay? Burning up. Throwing up. All of it.”

Yeosang smiled and nodded. If he had to lie to have his friend there to take care of him when he was feeling sick, Yeosang had no problem with it.

#kpop sickfic #kpop fluff #sickfic #ateez fluff #ateez sickfic #sick yeosang #yeosang sickfic #yeosang fluff #sick ficlet

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archived-junkissed · 3 years ago

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sunshine café

member — cafe owner!seokmin x gn reader genre — fluff, strangers to (implied) lovers, cafe au word count — 1.3k warnings — food mention (he owns a cafe...), seokmin is the actual sweetest person on earth, seok is shy teehee, a pinch of idiots to lovers notes — lowercase intended, starbucks pls don't sue me, i hope it's not obvious i don’t understand how coffee machines work lmao i am a tea drinker. hope you enjoy!

one reblog = one warm cinnamon muffin

"hey, seok! what's on the menu today?"

the day you decided to walk home from work instead of taking the bus was the day you discovered the sunshine cafe. it was also the day you met seokmin, the cafe’s cheery owner and sunshine personified.

cherry blossom petals scattered the ground and a light mist of fog had hung in the early morning air on that spring day. you yawned, fighting to stay awake from the graveyard shift you’d just left. maybe the bus wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

so when the cafe’s bright sign and cozy feel caught your eye on the way home, you figured, what could it hurt? sunshine was probably the exact thing you needed to cheer you up after an exhausting night.

and when you walked into the cafe, doorbell jingling airily behind you, sunshine was exactly what you got.

“hi, welcome in!” you heard a soft, cheerful voice call out. “what can i get for you?”

you looked up. the prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life greeted you from behind the counter, waving in your direction.

“hi,” you said, suddenly feeling shy as you walked closer. “um, what would you recommend?”

he smiled, his eyes scrunching up so much they almost seemed to disappear. his smile was contagious; although you were the only two in the cafe, he lit up the room and made everyone around him want to smile too.

“well, our signature drink the sakura latte is here for the season!” he beamed, seemingly proud of himself. “it’s pretty popular.”

“i’ll take your word for it,” you giggled, pulling your wallet out of your bag.

he waved your hand away. “on the house,” he said, his smile still sparkling. “you look like you need a little bit of sunshine today.”

and somehow, your new friend seokmin knew exactly how to turn your day completely around, with just a few words and a pink latte.

you pulled out a chair from a table near the counter so you could be near him while he made your drink. he had such a warmth about him that drew you in, making you want to be around him all the time, even though you’d only just met the man.

“did- did you come up with the menu?” you asked.

he nodded before pressing down on the handle of the espresso machine. “yep, all my own recipes. this cafe’s always been my dream.”

you watched him maneuver around the bar with practiced ease, his long apron fluttering around his legs as he moved.

after a minute the machine quieted, enough for you to talk over it. “what other recipes do you have?”

he stopped, thinking. “hm. well, my favorite thing to make is cinnamon muffins. they only come out in september for our fall menu, though. you should try them sometime,” he added quickly, and you didn’t miss the blush creeping into his cheeks as he hurriedly turned his attention back to making your drink.

“i will.”

he paused, his gaze shifting back up to you. “i’ll save a special one just for you, fresh from the oven,” he said, his smile growing.

you grinned. “i’m gonna hold you to that, you know.”

he popped a plastic lid on your drink and you stood up, pushing your chair in before you walked over to him.

his eyes twinkled as you took the cup from his hands, fingers brushing for just a beat too long. “i hope you do.”

the sound of the bell on the front door alerts seokmin to someone entering the shop, but he doesn’t turn around from the oven. the cold autumn wind whistles into the cafe for a moment, then stops suddenly as the door shuts. there’s only one regular that comes in this early in the morning, one that never fails to brighten his day.

“hey, seok! what’s on the menu today?”

your cheery voice fills the room, and a smile spreads across his face at the sound. he opens the oven door and carefully pulls out a tray before finally turning around.

“well... we have a new item today,” he grins, waiting for the words to sink in.

you gasp, unable to contain your smile. “is it finally that time?”

he can’t count how many times he’s had to stop himself from making a batch over the past few months, just because he wanted to make you happy. and, a part of him that he didn’t want to acknowledge, had thought that you might not keep coming back until then. but, no, you had showed up at five thirty on the dot every morning without fail, asking him for his recommendation of the day and chatting with him in the same chair right by the counter. the cafe was almost always empty at that time of morning, especially after the new starbucks opened up around the block, but you were always there; by now, you'd probably tried every recipe he knew how to make. except one.

some days there’d be a few other customers in the cafe, stragglers getting up earlier than normal for their morning coffee fix. he always dreaded those days, because he wouldn’t get the chance to talk to you. running a cafe practically by himself wasn’t an easy task, but you made him excited to show up to work every day, and looking forward to seeing you made each task seem a little less difficult.

little did he know, he had exactly the same effect on you. he made you excited to get off work every day, and even after the longest and most exhausting of shifts, you could always count on him to bring the light back into your eyes.

he slips the oven mitts off his gentle hands and takes a muffin from the tray, carefully picking the best one for you. he grabs a napkin from the holder at the counter and wraps it around the muffin before handing it to you gingerly.

“careful,” he says, cheeks rosy from the oven’s warmth- or maybe, from something else. “it’s hot. fresh out of the oven, just like i promised.”

the smile on your face as you take the treat is bright enough to power the whole world, he thinks. and the way the happiness seems to radiate off of you when you finally take the bite you’ve waited months for must be enough to power the world ten times over, he’s sure of it.

“this is so-”

“do you-”

you giggle, still chewing. “you first.”

his face flushes. “well, um... i was just gonna ask, uh...” he clears his throat and starts again, regaining his confidence. “do- do you maybe wanna go get lunch sometime? my shift ends at 11,” he says quickly, his eyes darting to the floor and back up again.

you swallow your mouthful of muffin and clear your throat, too, bringing his attention back to your face.

“i’d really like that, seok,” you say, barely able to contain your smile.

you stare at each other for a moment, wrapped up in each other's happiness and warmth. time seems to stop for a second as you gaze at him with such a fondness, there might as well be little pink hearts floating around your head.

suddenly, seokmin stands up straighter, remembering. “what was it you were going to say?” he asks, clasping his hands together as he bounces back around to the other side of the counter, a new skip in his step.

you laugh, and it sounds like music to his ears. “the muffins are really good. i’m glad i waited.”

and he has a feeling you're talking about more than just his baking.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!!

taglist | @foxdaisy @tinkerbell460 @dokyeomblr @just-here-to-read-01 @ny0sang @enha-choo

join my taglist here!

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brockify · 3 years ago

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heaven’s cloud— steven grant

steven grant x barista!gn reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: the tiniest bit of angst, sleepy steven, fluff, steven w/ sweater paws BEWARE

note: this takes place at the beginning of ep 1 so no mentions of mk shenanigans or marc but hints at it!

“london fog with extra vanilla!”

hearing the order that steven knew by heart, he wiped the sleep from his eyes with his sweater sleeve.

truth be told, steven liked tea, but it wasn’t what truly woke him up. if he had it his way, he’d drink the strongest mocha he could ever have made but he had a special reason for always getting the same drink.

that reason was you. watching you make his drink every morning made his days slightly better. some days you’d look a little disheveled after pulling an all-nighter from watching your new favorite actor’s movies, and others with you being energetic after having slept more than a few hours.

today you seemed more tired than normal, (perhaps you had slept late again? he knew you were currently on a tv show binge) or perhaps you had just woken up earlier than usual. walking over to the counter, steven grabbed his cup before giving you a small smile while you made one of the long line of drinks waiting for you.

“cheers.”

you watched steven leave the store, humming a tune that you couldn’t quite place where you had heard it before. steven was one of your favorite customers who came in everyday. most mornings it wasn’t too busy, and you were able to chat with him about everything and anything. your current topic of discussions in the morning were about best book adaptations into film. depending on the day, he’d stand there next to the pickup counter while you worked and made the orders, and others you would chat while ringing his order up.

you weren’t sure why steven always picked the same drink everyday, but it did make it easier for you to predict and ring up.

today was unusual though, as it had been the first time you had seen him in over a week. the dark circles under his eyes became more prominent, seemingly protruding outwards in some angles. He also barely conversed with you, and started to fall asleep on the pick up counter.

you were worried, hoping that nothing was going on that was stressing him out. it was known to your coworkers and every other usual who came around that you and steven had a very… interesting relationship. Everyone assumed you two were together, both of you ignoring the other’s flushed faces and reddened ears when stating you were just friends. you had hoped that he would come back soon, and look a little more like his normal self to ease your nerves a little.

3 weeks had gone by since the last steven sighting and you were concerned. you woke up extra early today, wrapping a present that you had bought him. it was simple, but you had hoped it would lift his spirits a little. in the box, you had folded the new slate cardigan you had bought him, with little clouds embroidered on it. you had also put a card in, a little anxious about the card and its contents, but pushing through nevertheless. you noticed that he typically cycled through the same 4 shirts and wanted to give him something that you thought fit his vibe.

you were thankful that you had the day off of work, and also grateful that you had your own little coffee station in your apartment, albeit less expensive and complicated than the one at your job. quickly whipping up a coffee for yourself, you drank the steaming mug while getting ready to go visit the gallery. your conversations with steven had ventured into talk about work before, which is why you knew where he worked and what department.

checking the time, you quickly ran out of the house to catch the bus, not wanting to miss it. you were able to snag a seat, happy not to have to stand the entire ride smushed against another stranger. you weren’t sure how it happened, but you found yourself dozing off, only to hear the automated voice state that the next stop was for the gallery. you quickly gathered your stuff together, and pulled on the signal cord as fast as you could. The bus came to a halt, swaying everyone forward with the force of the brakes. getting up from the seat, you made your way to the doors with a series of “excuse me” and “my apologies”.

stepping off the bus you stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the entrance. hanging from the top of the building you could see banners posted for the new ennead exhibit they were hosting. tightening your grip on the box ever so slightly, you took a deep breath before walking up the stairs. at the entrance you stood there, not sure if you should ask for directions but figured you’d walk around until you found him. that is if you found him.

you ended up walking around the entire gallery, enamored by the exhibits and all of the little plaques explaining each item in detail. you finally made it to the gift shop area, where you saw a tuft of hair that was eerily familiar. steven was sitting in a chair that he had found behind his counter, arms covering his face. his woven beige sleeves seemed to act as a pillow for his face, and you could hear the soft snores emitted from him.

letting out a soft giggle, you looked around the gift shop before grabbing the taweret plush and walking over to the counter. placing the neatly wrapped box, you tapped ever so slightly on steven’s head. he jolted awake, nearly jumping out of his own skin.

“oh my days, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

he wiped the sleepiness out of his eyes, and his breath hitched slightly when he saw you standing in front of him holding the plush. he knew you were aware of where he worked, but he had never thought that you might show up one day.

“oh, hullo.”

you raised an eyebrow at him which in turn made him let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck out of habit.”

“steven, i’m so glad you’re alright. you had me worried sick! i haven’t seen you in weeks!”

he grimaced slightly knowing that he didn’t know how to explain his sudden absences. he seemed to sleep for days, and had to double check his ankle restraints. recently things had gotten…weirder in his life, strange occurrences happening that even he wasn’t sure truly happened. his gaze landed on you gently, trying to gauge your emotions through your eyes.

“I'm truly sorry I worried you love, it’s just been busy.”

letting out a particularly loud exhale you shook your head and gave him a small smile.

“it’s alright, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

steven kept his gaze on your eyes only to find understanding and a warmth that brought him comfort.

he nodded, and snapped out of his daze before realizing you were holding the plush and had a neatly wrapped box on the counter. pinching the taweret plush from your hands he quickly scanned it before pointing to the box.

“What's the box for?”

you had forgotten all about the box and the present you had gotten him inside.

“oh! it’s uhm for you.”

you slid the box towards him, not making any eye contact and opting instead to look around the shop once more, ignoring the tips of your ears burning.

steven placed the plush on the counter and picked up the box. he admired the wrapping, a light blue wrapping paper that was admittedly very simple but made his heart flutter, seeing the scribble of his name written at the top.

he smiled his big smile that he always made when he was content or excited (something you loved to see) and placed the box next to his bag.

“thank you. i’m sure it’s very lovely. you didn’t have to get me anything though. your banter and wit are more than enough for me.”

shuffling through your wallet, you picked your card out handing it to him.

“It's no problem really, I just thought you might enjoy a pick me up!”

he swiped your card and printed the receipt before asking for your signature.

“I promise I'll open it the moment I get home and I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

hearing him say he was going to see you tomorrow made you nod and hide your smile, feeling a little silly for acting like a child with their first crush.

“sounds good. I have a few errands to run but i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

he nodded and waved you off, watching you exit the gallery with the taweret plush in hand.

he would never admit it, but steven rushed home for the first time in a long while. he was staring at the gift all day, trying not to open it then and there at work. even donna had noticed that he was in a more cheerful mood, making a comment about how he was finally doing his job right. finally getting into his apartment, he threw his shoes off and tossed his bag to the side.

taking the gift to his dining table, he set it down before looking for a pair of scissors. after a few minutes of rummaging through drawers he finally found a pair and made his way back. steven tried his hardest not to rip the wrapping paper, but to be fair it was just so quick to rip so it hadn’t been his fault when he tore it to shreds.

the box was an ordinary box, taped on the top just to have it not open. cutting the tape, he opened the flaps to reveal the cardigan you had bought him, folded neatly with a card atop it.

pulling out both the card and cardigan he placed then on the table before opening the card. inside the card you had written him a note, and made him smile.

the note read: “hope these keep you soft n warm, steven <3 let me know how it fits?”

at the bottom of the card he noted a phone number with a small heart next to it. he let out a small laugh, the beating of his heart loud enough in his ears that he could hear it. he was never aware that you shared the same feelings as him, but he was ecstatic.

he was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow for his tea in his new cardigan.

#moon knight #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fan fiction #moon knight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fanfic #steven grant imagines #steven grant drabbles #steven grant fluff #steven grant x you #moon knight fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #steven grant moon knight #moon knight steven

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direwombat · 2 years ago

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tagged by @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @gaeadene, and @vampireninjabunnies-blog thank you lovies <3

tagging (with no pressure): @adelaidedrubman, @strafethesesinners, @strangefable, @fourlittleseedlings, @kittiofdoom, @aceghosts, @poetikat, @sstewyhosseini, @confidentandgood, @roofgeese, @deputyash, @harmonyowl, @purplehairsecretlair, @baldurrs, @afarcry5fromstraight, @josephslittledeputy, @voidika, and anyone else who has something to share!

i still have a fair amount of plotting to do, but i've started coming back to work on chapter 1 of kneeling at the crossroads, so here's the beginning to the second scene

Sybille sits atop the radio tower, waiting for the physical fog of war surrounding the island to clear away into the much more frightening metaphorical kind.

She checks her watch. It’s just past nine in the morning. Hope County may have more water thanks to the Henbane flowing through it than the flat prairies in the eastern part of the state, but this kind of humidity is unusual. Misty mornings happen, sure, but it almost always bakes away once the sun rises.

This fog lingers, smothering the land and people beneath it under a thick blanket, willing them to sleep forever. It's almost unnatural.

So, she waits. She waits for the mist to clear. She waits for Dutch to radio her back on their short-range channel to tell her what he’s learned. She waits for her next instructions – a soldier patiently standing by for her next orders.

Only instead of a foxhole, she finds herself lofted high above everyone else. Rather than sitting in the piss and shit of the trenches, she’s perched upon a steel throne that thrusts into the sky.

She’d much rather be in a foxhole. At least there she could give herself the illusion of safety. There’s a certain sense of comfort in those dirt walls. They’ll keep her safe or they’ll bury her. Either way, the earth will take care of her.

But up here, with the wind whipping around her and cutting through her flannel, straight to the bone, she just feels exposed. There's no guard rails to stop her from teetering over the edge. Nothing for her to use for cover. Nothing but the hard ground to break her fall if she so much as missteps.

Her stomach lurches as she peers down at the station below her. That woozy sense of vertigo she got the handful of times she had to leap from a plane and parachute into a combat zone sends her head spinning and body swaying. Humans aren’t meant to be up this high, she thinks to herself.

Her fingers wrap tightly around the slatted steel grate that makes up the base she’s sitting on, and her eyes screw shut. She breathes, waiting for the swaying to stop. Once it does, she opens them again, and this time, she pointedly looks out at Dutch’s Island, rather than down.

Her eyes land on the Ranger’s Station, and this time, the unpleasant pit in her gut is due to dread. The place had been crawling with Peggies when she came across it, and there hadn’t been any sign of the rangers who occupied it.

Well, none save for the corpse she found that she swears she recognizes from the few times she went for drinks with her brother and his coworkers. But it was hard to tell. The poor woman’s face had been turned into minced meat by buckshot.

There hadn’t been any sign of her brother there, either. Not his backpack or sleeping bag. Not even his favorite mug.

When she left Dutch’s bunker, she’d desperately hoped this was where he was stationed last night. She desperately hoped she could find him quickly and make sure that he was safe and sound. Make sure that he survived the night unscathed.

She still hopes that. Hopes he’s out there somewhere playing it smart and safe. Waiting for her to come get him, just like he used to whenever he couldn’t find his way home as a kid because he fell asleep on the city bus.

“I will always come and bring you home,” she had told him while he sat in the passenger seat of their mama’s old beat up Chevy, sobbing out the anxious tears he kept at bay while he waited for her to pick him up.

She made him a promise, and Sybille is a woman of her goddamn word.

She will bring him home. She has to.

He’s all she has left.

But she has to actually find him first. And if he wasn’t stationed on Dutch’s island, that leaves only one other Ranger's Station left in the county. The one in the Whitetails.

She turns to face north, watching as the fog begins to fade away, revealing peaks so tall they seem to claw at the sky, as if trying to drag Heaven itself down. The mountains are treacherous to begin with. Stray too far off the beaten paths and you’re liable to run into bears, wolves, and mountain lions. And the higher you climb, you run the risk of rock slides and avalanches.

Cardiac arrest is the most common cause of death in the county according to the coroner, but the Whitetails are a close second. Both tourists and locals lose their lives up there, and it only gets worse during the winter.

And now there’s an ex-military cultist raising an army and training killer wolves up there, making it even more dangerous.

Her mouth twists into a grimace and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip. She taps her radio impatiently against her palm. “C’mon…” she says.

C’mon fog, hurry up and clear already.

C’mon Dutch, hurry up and tell her what she needs to do, so she can get a fucking move on.

She may have secured the island, but that doesn’t make her any less of a sitting duck. She never did like staying still for long. It’s why she stayed in the infantry. The twitch in her restless legs is urging her to run, and she has no other direction than straight into battle.

Just like old times.

One war swapped for another. Only difference is that this time it’s on her home soil.

She just needs to make sure Augustine is safe. Once she has him back, she can focus on fighting back against the Cult like Dutch wants without any distractions.

Maybe she can use the fog to her advantage. Maybe she can use it to slip into the Whitetails unseen. Her unit had used sandstorms as cover to make stealthy assaults while she was in Afghanistan. How different could fog be? She’s contemplating moving out without waiting for Dutch when her radio chirps to life.

“You there, Dep?” Dutch asks. His voice comes in loud and clear. The overwhelming static present in their earlier calls is now gone.

She lifts her radio to her mouth. “I copy. What’cha got?”

#not a fan of how much repetition there is here but this was all handwritten and then transcribed #so stuff like that tends to happen #anyways...i just needed to put words down to get the ball rolling again #wip wednesday

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sondersil · 2 years ago

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a love letter to the cats from my youth.

i was feeling a bit sad recently when i thought about my younger years and how it feels like more and more memories have started fading. i know that i am the unreliable narrator of my own life, but there's certain things i hope not to forget.

when we were living in a small house between the fields in Canada, we decided to adopt cats from someone i'd met at school. we were only going to take two, but we fell in love with three of the kittens and took them home, marking the beginning of my little family.

they were: Big Foot (left, he was a 24-toed polydactyl, he always looked like he was wearing a cat-suit one size too big for his build), Bubbles (a cute little tabby) and Loveless (right, beautiful, fluffy, gray).

what we didn't know, however, was that there was another cat living in one of the abandoned and dilapidated buildings on the property. after we adopted the kittens, she became curious. we assumed that she must've lost her own litter, because she adopted the kittens and started nursing them. she was very hostile towards us at first, but eventually warmed up to the point that we could let her inside, pet her, have her sit close by. she never let us pick her up though, which is fair. whenever she had a litter, she would always hide the kittens under my mothers bed. i called her Blackjack. she was wonderful. the mother of mothers.

i did everything with these cats. if i was inside, they were near me or on me. if i escaped the house, they would follow. they joined me on every walk. climbed up every tree with me. they sat in all of my puzzle boxes and napped on me.

in the evenings, i would sit myself in our freezing little porch area while all three of them were curled up on my lap because i couldn't bear to be apart from them. (space ran out when they got older and larger, but they made it work & i got used to not feeling my legs under the mass of fluff.)

as an adult, i now realize that it was reckless and irresponsible, but we couldn't get them sterilized due to financial problems. so they had kittens, naturally. lots of them. we would always find them good homes, but with every litter, at least one would stay with us. my family of cats was ever growing and i loved all of them so fucking much. they were, more often than not, one of my only reasons to come home, to stay home, to get up in the mornings and to stay alive.

i miss the days of being buried beneath ~10 cats. i miss singing to them. i miss our walks. i miss the rustling of the grass around me as they followed my every step, their tails peeking out in between. i miss escaping with them. i miss how sweet they sounded and how they were more family to me than the people with whom i lived in that house. they walked me to the bus in the mornings and picked me up when i came home. they joined all of my adventures and they were the only reason i didn't feel completely alone while i was lost in the fog of life and the creeping depression of teenage.

they sparked joy when there was none and brought love to someone who needed it desperately.

they were everything.

Sora (the fluffiest motherfucker alive, he was baby) and Russia (don't ask me why i named a cat Russia):

Killer (chased a fox thrice her side across the fields, she was death, destroyer of worlds, the feistiest and most energetic cat you could ever imagine) and Chou (severely disabled, but so /so/ fucking sweet. she was pure sugar, pure love, an angel on earth. she just understood. if i thought i'd ever experienced unconditional love, it was from her):

Halfpint (named after Laura Ingalls from Little House On The Prairie, he looks a grump but he was a calm and loving soul) and Charcoal (sweetheart, looked like she sneezed into a pot of black powder lol):

some group pictures:

top: Chou, Sora and an unnamed kitten | left: Sora, Blackjack, Killer, Russia, Halfpint and Chou | right: Blackjack and Sid (a cat we took in briefly, he was attached to my hip, but didn't get along with the rest)

we couldn't take them back to Germany with us when we had to leave, and i still miss them dearly. i only hope they are still happy and well to this day, that the people that took them in loved them as hard and as wholeheartedly as they deserved.

but not everyone made it until the end, unfortunately, and i couldn't let them go. so i made them a little graveyard. hidden somewhere between the trees. RIP Big Foot, Bubbles and Russia.

#bug going on a trip down memory lane #very ineloquently #i was feeling sentimental #journal entry #bug.txt

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notchainedtotrauma · 2 years ago

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I write microfiction in response to the feelings songs evoke in me. Here are my favorite pieces:

I always wanted to go there. There was the sun, pale and gritty, or bloated and burnished, the linoleum floor speckled with grease, yet comforting. I felt good there. The house was filling and delectable, like a life size pastry. On Sundays, when there was nothing to do but sit in the heat, was the day I most wanted to go there. The heat wasn't less cruel but you could drink bottles after bottles of too sweet soda and sleep on the couch, which I wasn't allowed to do at home. At home, there was the shadow of the pallid, slow moving man that came two years ago and never left. And he was mean, and he was dirty, and he threw his tongue in my aunt's mouth, and what's worse, she seemed to like it.

I wake her up every Tuesday, my hands on her lips, my fingers lingering on her cheeks, and I prepare myself for our morning breakfast, an even in and of itself. Pancakes drowned in syrup and dulce de leche, scrambled eggs and overcooked peppers, frozen waffles reheated in the toaster, everything eaten on the worn out couch I bought two years ago, with paper plates and our fingers. I always remember to laugh, to hold her so tightly neither of us can breathe. The Monday evenings always come thick with a kind of floating ache, and we can't do nothing about it, so we go to bed early and only eat a limp, warm salad. I know I want to take care of her everyday, and I ask her what she wants, and crumble when she doesn't know what to say, which is always. So I rehearse her body coiled around mine, and I kiss every part that isn't scarred.

All I see those days is a muted fog; I can't seem to stop myself from creating nightmares, from the leaves speckling the murky pool, from the ruined popcorn littering the ragged carpet, from the too bright television. I can't seem to stop drinking either, lukewarm glasses of orange juice, cups brimming with lemonade, the crushed ice like bits of glass cracking in my mouth. There were the mornings now, his body sweltering always, his face a shadow I couldn't decipher, the sheets somehow blooming with dust, a kind of sullen discomfort swelling between us.

I was looking forward to the evenings alone, the cool and brittle light emanating from the half open windows, the novelty of the large, gentle rooms, something bigger and softer and lonely in such a pleasant way. The bus rides then felt so dutiful the landscape frittered away, a blurry collection of unusable fragments. I couldn't go back home; it felt oily, politely unpleasant. There were mornings without the body, the bed, mornings spent walking through the stretched out heat with a small pack of fries, growing cold and soggy, and a cup of too sweet iced tea I never could finish.

She loved to watch the water swallowing the ground, to anticipate the tactile pleasure of wet clay. Something about her hands buried into the carpet of damp soil, only to see it crack around her fingers, her clenched palms, later. She was so small but unafraid, her woollen ball of dark hair a cloud against her skin, her eyes speckles of deep brown. Here, in this run down house, she could play all day and all night, while men walked reluctantly and spoke with a slow drawl and a stout woman supplied her with punch and stale crackers. She didn't care about the dry crackers, there was so much to take in, and the gentleness of the men made her feel safe.

I tightened against the slipperiness of the wheel, waiting for May to say something, at long last. It wasn't their lithe body, slumped against the back seat, the unremarkable outfit, a mundane stud uniform, but the hushed collection of glares, their knuckles tense inside their lap. We weren't quite sure of each other, as long as we'd worked out our siblinghood together, the slurry of kisses, the gut bursting laughter, the unceremonious nonchalance. And still, a crevice. And maybe we left each other, in some ways. The passenger side unceasingly wounded; eyes shrunk and blinking, bleached with anguish, her pleats an act of self admonishment. I could sense the belt slash into her chest and her head lolling from side to side. I took her to sever her trailing rope of confessions. They trumpled on her for so long and with such horror that she was here and there, a mind airless in poisonous water. I sped up, because there was no one, and nowhere, and I wanted her through the window, eyes wide open, even.

#my brain is writing #Salt

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twooneztaylorthecat · 3 years ago

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Sexual Tension - Adam Stanheight / Reader

18+ HEAVY FLUFF

A/N This story is slightly more detailed in writing. I'm gonna put a warning just in case. Idk. Anyway, please enjoy the new story!

18+

Rainy days were the worst days, but sometimes they could be the best, too. Mostly, they were terrible and cold and wet and filthy, but today was an exception. You sat in front of the big cozy fireplace that was located at the center of the cafe. This place was special because you’d met Adam Faulkner Stanheight here for the very first time. It felt like such a long time ago now, but it had only been six months. You’d hit it off pretty well with the man, in fact it had become a weekly activity to meet at this place, after work, on Friday. Your time spent with Adam took your mind off the crappy weather outside. You loved that.

Stanheight came bouncing in through the glass, double doors, shaking his umbrella. He looked mostly dry… He’d warm up in no time standing by the fire. But you did feel bad for him, seeing as he had to walk most of the way in the rain. That was his choice, though. He didn’t want to take the bus, he preferred walking.

Adam saw you eyeing him from across the room. He folded his umbrella and struck a pose. You covered your mouth daintily with your hand, smiling a little bit in amusement. He crossed over to you and sat in front of the fire. “How’re you, lovely?” He winked.

You giggled, feeling shy and fuzzy at the same time. “I’m good. How are you, Adam?”

“Swell,” He said smugly. “But I’m much better when I’m with you.”

You blushed brightly, and glanced away from his eyes. You got all fidgety when Adam was around. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Is it?” Adam asked, as he leaned back against the couch, and looked at you. He gestured you over with his hand. “Come here, darling. What are you doing by yourself?”

You crawled over him and laid down with your head in his lap. You felt warm and content. Your heart was like a panicked butterfly in a cage, slamming its wings painfully into the bars, trying to burst free. It made you dizzy, but you held on to sanity for just a little longer. You breathed steadily, keeping your nerves calm, forcing yourself not to dive out of the pressuring moment. You felt good. “You’re so warm, Adam,” you said softly.

Adam looked down at you lovingly, a small smile on his lips. “So are you. You’ve been sitting by the fire for a while, haven’t you?”

You nodded, your hair poofing itself around your head at the motion. Adam stroked his fingers through your hair compassionately. “Mmh, you’re pretty, do you know that?”

Surprised, you met his gaze. From this angle the overhead light cast a shadow on Adam’s face. For him, the overhead light cast a glow to your face. Shadows surrounded your face, corrupting your hair and neck. “Thank you. You’re too.”

“Not nearly as good looking as you.”

You sat up finally, your throat feeling dry. “Hey… Um… I’m going to get something to drink. You want something?”

Adam considered you for a short minute, then said, “I guess I could use a glass of water; I haven’t had anything to drink since this morning. But just so you know, there’s something else I’d rather have in my mouth right now.”

“W-What would that be?” You asked dumbly, you wanted to make sure you understood correctly. Adam only tilted his head up at you in reply, but said nothing else. “I’ll just get you that water…” you decided nervously.

Adam watched you leave while a wry smile crept up on his face. He’d just take this moment to check you out. Your body was stunning.

Coming up to the counter, you ordered two waters. Now that you weren’t so close to your love interest, you were able to think clearly again. The brain fog was lifting like a cloud after a thunderstorm. Sun was shining through now, making it easier to see.

“Y/N! Y/N! Will you please move forward? You’re blocking the line!”

You shook yourself out of your trance, and looked around frantically. The barista was glaring at you over his glasses. You hurried out of the way to grab your orders, apologizing repeatedly. You felt awkward now. You headed back towards Adam hesitantly. While you did enjoy spending time with him, it took up a lot of your social battery and made it difficult to keep up. But… in all honesty, you needed this. Adam made you feel an assortment of good things, you didn’t really want to leave yet.

You placed one of the glasses down on the end table for Adam, and then you started to gulp the water from your own glass. The coolness trickled down your throat and helped you to regain yourself. You set the glass down hard on the table, half of the water gone from your glass already.

Adam raised his eyebrows, seemingly impressed. “Better?” He inquired.

“Yeah…” you admitted self-consciously.

“I believe it,” Adam murmured in awe, and then he stood up. He cupped your cheeks suddenly with both hands, making you squirm. He pressed his body against yours. “Remember when I said you were pretty?” He lowered his head to yours slowly.

You tilted your head to the side. “Y-Yeah?” Your voice wavered a little. The close proximity made your heart stutter. Your breath sounded too loud in your head.

“Well, I think I was wrong…” He said casually. His lips were almost touching yours now. “You’re gorgeous.”

You squealed audibly. It was an accident, but Adam’s words made you woozy. So much so in fact that you couldn’t hide it. “Oh wow…” You breathed out. “W-What do I even say t-to that?”

“You don’t have to say anything, darling.” His hands trailed down your neck so lightly it left tingles on your skin. They went past your collarbones, past your chest and over your diaphragm. You were forced to lean into him because your back and knees felt weak. He had never done anything like THIS before. What was he doing? Where was this leading to? Somehow you wanted more though. Lucky for you, this wasn’t about to be ending soon.

“Woah? You like that?” He whispered into your ear.

You shivered against him. “Oh yeah.”

“Nice.” Adam began to bring his hands back up, only this time he went under your shirt. His hands skimmed your stomach and some of your more sensitive parts as well. You buried your face into his shoulder, letting out a couple of moans. His shirt was soft and silky on your face.

“Which do you prefer?” He asked, sliding his hands back out. Your skin felt cold and empty where he had been touching you. You pulled back, trying to bring yourself back to the present. “Hands under or over?” Adam lifted your chin up with his pointer finger. You gazed at him like a lost puppy.

At your silence, Adam dropped his head down and pressed his lips to yours. You were stunned. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever experienced in your entire life. It was like flying. It felt like wind in your mind, easing you, gratifying you, wooing you.

And damn, did Adam Faulkner know what he was doing. It was impossible something so good could exist. The way he bit your lip. The way he let his mouth wander. The way he kept pushing harder on your lips. It was dizzying.

Adam sank down on the couch again, keeping his mouth on yours. He pulled you after him. You straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck. Adam let his hands explore the lower half of your body. You shuttered at the teasing sensations.

You were a mess by the time Adam withdrew. You gasped into his mouth desperately, your mind racing. You could hardly think! All you were aware of were the trembling in your lips and the stress building in your body.

Holy shit! Call that sexual tension!

You leaned against Adam, trying to get in some relaxation because you were worn out. It amazed you how something so idle could make you feel so out of energy. But damn it was definitely worth it. Adam pinned you against his chest, murmuring quietly in your ear. “That was fun… Maybe we should do it more?”

You hadn’t realized till now just how much you TRULY liked this man. You nodded your head slowly, breathing in Adam’s scent. “Perhaps,” you whispered.

“ ‘Perhaps’? Why be so vague? Do you or don’t you want me?”

“I do!” You exclaimed. “I never knew I could feel so many things for one person.”

“Welcome to the club,” Adam replied heartwarmingly.

You looked up at him once you got your strength again. His brown eyes were so perfect. It was like they glowed in the dimness. They shone with fondness as he gazed down at you. Something inside your heart felt whole. You didn’t quite know how to explain it… Or did you?

That feeling of wholeness, it was like you had been without it for a long time. Like a dusty glass being taken down from the shelf after a long hibernation. For once, it was being filled again with something warm and enjoyable… something called LOVE…

You stared into each other’s eyes for a few minutes, until you remembered your dog/cat at home. Immediately you scanned the room for some kind of clock. There, above the menu! Eight fifteen P.M.

You fumbled in your pockets for your phone, when Adam put his hands on yours. “Are you okay?”

You kept your gaze on your lap, for the fear of being captivated by him once again. “Oh, yes. I’m alright. I just remembered that I have to feed my pet! Sometimes they like to go outside, but if they do, then I always go with them.”

“We stayed longer, didn’t we?” Adam asked you.

“Y-Yeah…” You murmured. “Quite. But I enjoyed it!”

So did I.”

“Want to meet up again next week?”

“Why even ask at this point?” Adam wondered casually. “We both know we’re going to be coming back here next week.”

You blushed. “Yeah. You’re right…”

Adam clasped your hands in his. His palms were soft and smooth. He leaned his head in towards yours again. In a lustful bliss, Adam began kissing you again. His hands skimmed up your body.

We’re kissing again! The thought ran through your mind so fast you could barely comprehend it. Oh my god, what do I do? I can’t get caught up but… It’s so good!

Adam pulled away slightly so you could get some air. Only one gasp, then his lips were at it again. Time was ticking away, and you could practically hear it.

Eight eighteen.

More kissing and grabbing.

Eight nineteen.

Air.

Eight twenty.

Kissing.

Eight twenty one.

Hands in hair.

Eight twenty two.

Eight twenty three.

Eight twenty four.

Eight twenty five.

And then… finally, it was eight thirty.

After another, impassioned kissing session, you broke away at last. Your head was foggy and hot. You stumbled back. Swallowing nervously, you said, “I’d say that’s a goodbye kiss, for sure.”

“It doesn’t have to be…” Adam murmured in your ear.

You shivered. “What do you have in mind?”

“We know each other well enough. Would you let me stay the night?”

You stared up at him in awe. “S-Stay with me?”

“Why not? You said you have to take care of your pets. So let’s go.”

You led Adam out of the cafe, suddenly realizing the… problem you had going on ‘downstairs’

Oh, shit… you thought to yourself miserably. What am I going to do about THAT!? Fuck, I don’t even have a place for Adam-

A sense of awareness came over you, and you looked back at Adam, as you sat down in the car. Stanheight was sitting next to you in the passenger’s seat. He had invited himself over not to stay the night… He wanted to FUCK you. Why the hell hadn’t you seen it from the beginning? Were you really that deceived?

You grit your teeth. How were you supposed to drive with THAT idea clouding your mind? Grunting, you turned the ignition and started on your way home. You were excited to show Adam your place, if you were being entirely honest. And maybe your ‘places’, too... if you know what I mean?

You wondered what Adam would do first when you got to your apartment. Would he let you feed the dog/cat first or was he going to bang you first? Which one was more important? Would he take you to the bedroom, or was the couch good enough? The more you thought about it, the more excited you became, and it took all your strength to NOT think about it at all. But you were a mess by then and you could barely wait any longer. Well, lucky for you, home wasn’t very far away.

And neither were tonight’s plans.

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