#Green Beer Fountain

[fanaticsnail]

Bachata (Dance Series)

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 3,105

Warnings: Fluff. Pure fluff, dancing, sensual dance descriptors, mention of alcohol (if you squint).

It was beta-read by the ever wonderful @sordidmusings (thank you bby grl, you are a blessing)

Song Suggestion: Stand By Me, Wake Me Up, la Isla Bonita

Your lips remained parted, eyes glossy and hyper-fixated on the movement of swaying hips, bent knees, and the biceps and forearms of your captain who effortlessly led one of the locals in a sultry dance. All his movements were in time to the beat of the drum, the fingerpicking of nylon guitar strings and the push and pull of airy piano accordion accompanying the lilt of vocals.

The atmosphere surrounding the beach-front festival on the coastal shore was loud, the crash of waves in the distance resonated within the chasms of the wooden dock where the Going Merry was harbored. Several vendors had set up temporary huts with canvas roofs atop wooden poles, selling their wares, local cuisine and fountains of exotic drinks of flavors you had never heard of before.

Although the musicians sang out their romantic souls into the air, prompting many a traveler to engage with them in dance and singing along to the tune: your eyes remained fixed on the way Luffy effortlessly spun the local girl within his arms, steadying her hips with his hands. His nose was scrunched with laughter, his grin drawn wide against his cheeks to bare his teeth in unbridled joy.

“Quartermaster?” the green-haired swordsman addressed you, “your thoughts?”

“Hmm?” you hummed in question, snapped from your entranced gaze held against your captain’s swaying body.

“You’ve been staring at him long enough,” Nami giggled at you, leaning back to recline against the wooden log behind her, “surely you have a bit of a hypothesis.”

You furrowed your brow, looking between the remaining companions you’d found yourself serving with on the Going Merry. Nami had a playful shimmer falling in her eyes, Zoro quenched his thirst by draining the remainder of his brown-stained beer bottle, while Sanji was making his way back from collecting the evening meal for the crew by bartering with the vendors.

Usopp and Luffy opted to join in the festival celebrations by swaying with the locals to the beat of the drum. Both men began surprising the crew with how effortlessly they danced to the tunes produced by the band, but Luffy was exceptionally surprising everyone by the way he almost had an air of sultry seduction in his movements. As soon as you witnessed the first effortless and tasteful gyration of his hips, your breath caught in your throat and a warm flush weaseled its way from your chest to tint your cheeks with its presence.

“On the dancing?” you asked again, Zoro chuckling at your thoughts.

“Alright, let’s backtrack then,” the swordsman rolled his eyes with a chuckled scoff, “look at him.”

“Oh she’s been looking at him enough, Zoro,” Nami scrunched up her nose, her tone light and teasing. You scrunched up your own nose in light mockery at her jest, prompting her to release a laugh into the night air.

“Looking at who?” the blonde chef asked as he placed the food down on the stretched canvas mat on the sandy floor in front of you all.

“Alright Sanji, non-biased opinion,” Nami said, leaning forward to sit herself closer to the food in front of her, “our captain. Where do you think he learnt how to dance like that? Look – no, really Sanji – look.”

The chef rolled his eyes and lulled his head over to look at the captain of the Going Merry. Luffy spun his dance partner to face her torso away from him, her back pressed flush against his bare chest as he ghosted his fingertips over her vertical forearms held upwards. His lips traced the back of her neck, his eyes fluttered closed as he swayed his hips against the beat, with his brows furrowed in passionate concentration.

“O-oh,” Sanji stuttered, his eyes widening with a downturned smile rising within his fluster.

“I know, right?” Nami loudly whispered in her hushed enthusiasm.

“I can honestly say: I have no idea,” the blonde nodded his head in confirming his words more-so to himself than to the group, “he doesn’t give off that kind of energy at all.”

The music concluded, the captain breaking away from his dance partner, and giving her a clap on the shoulder as a gesture of encouragement and joy at the time they spent together.

“Oi, Luffy, Usopp!” Zoro called to the two crewmen, “grub’s up, come and get it!”

Your captain’s face snapped over towards the crew; his eyes first meeting with yours. A large grin drew itself against his cheeks once more as he found Usopp and they stampeded together towards the canvas mat.

“You guys, the sand- the sand,” Nami aggressively shooed the two rapidly approaching men, their feet kicking up the coarse grains of sand dangerously close to the food placed on the floor. You giggled at them, looking to your captain and patting the unoccupied space beside you in a gesture for him to sit down.

Usopp claimed the vacant space next to Nami, taking a portion of the local cuisine for himself as he did so. Luffy, smiling at your gesture, immediately plopped himself down ungracefully. He playfully nudged your shoulder with the top of his head, giving you a small smile, his curls feeling soft against your exposed skin as his hat remained fastened to his back via the drawstring. You laughed, reaching your palm and fingertips to brush some of the strands away from his forehead to reveal his hazelnut-coloured eyes to you. You shook your head, scrunching your nose and playfully nudged him away from you.

Your role aboard the Going Merry was the Quartermaster: an aid in the navigation and smooth sailing amongst the waves, while being the secondary loyal soldier behind the first-mate. Luffy, upon finding you in a tavern off the shore of Shells-Town, immediately was taken with your skills and ease in breaking up a tavern brawl. Two rival pirate crews had stumbled into the family-run tavern and began immediately meddling in the affairs of one another’s business. The boiling point flashing like water to scorching oil within the halls of your favorite tavern: foreheads touching, guns withdrawn, fists flying and the breaking of brown, glass bottles. You threw yourself into the crowd, opting to disarm and do no harm, dancing effortlessly within the heat of the battle and incapacitating those who opted to remain fighting. It took little to no time to stop the fight, your skills drilled into you at the hands of many a brawling instructor and mentor throughout your childhood.

After the fight had finished, a brown-haired captain adorning a straw hat with a red ribbon approached you, telling you straight out, “Pack your bags, I need you on my ship,” to which you shrugged with a simple “aye, Sir”.

In your travels with the young captain, you were immediately taken with his innocence and fearlessness to be anything other than what he is: a simple man with the charm and charisma he needs to lead a crew, but also with the mischievousness and playfulness that comes with his inexperience. His heart is intensely displayed on his wrists, his desire to serve and protect those in need was admirable. You would follow him to the ends of the earth, with nothing to add than a simple: “aye, Sir.”

Friendship, proximity, and sleepless nights by each other’s side had a small whisper of emotion beginning to form within the very central point of your heart. The longer you remained with him, the more this feeling began to burn within you. You put it all down to the need to serve your captain well or perhaps a small crush if anything else. Choosing not to engage with such childish emotions, you smothered the feelings as soon as they began.

But there was something about the way his hips were swaying tonight. Something about the way his eyes sparkled, his nose scrunched and his lips drew out to reveal his playful grin under the glittering stars around the festivities that held you hostage to your unquenchable emotions.

“Nice meat!” Luffy’s voice cut through your inner monologue, prompting you to shake your head and blink slowly away your enchantment, “you had any yet-? -You haven’t had any yet! Here, have some!”

Your captain thrust an empty paper plate into your hands before piling a mountain of food atop the plate; it bending beneath the weight of the variety of items.

“Captain, slow down!” you giggled, shooing his hand holding tongs with the dangle of cooked meat waving from the end, “I’m not going to be able to get through all this, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“Anything for my Quartermaster,” he shot you a small wink, “gotta make sure you’re taken care of, you know?”

Your eyes fluttered rapidly in a flustered blink. You shook your head once more and furrowed your brows at his comments. He looked down at your plate, gesturing with his hands for you to begin eating.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I will,” he shrugged, leaning back in his place beside you and looking up at you with eyes full of adoration and appreciation.

“Thanks Luffy, I trust that you will,” you giggled, placing the plate down on the ground and tucking your hair behind your ears and away from your mouth. He smiled up with his broadening grin as the rest of the crew continued to eat the delicacies this area graced you with.

You felt his gaze continue to hold to you as you continued to dine with the other straw-hats, then pouring drinks from the large jug for one another and laughing to a tale Usopp was recollecting. He sat up briefly, noticing some strands of your hair began to fall back in front of your face and immediately reached up to tuck the locks behind your ear with his thumb and index finger. A warmth drew itself upwards to your cheeks at this unrestrained gesture, but you did not shy away from his affection.  

Sitting in silence, Zoro continued to hold his intense gaze in unwavering focus against your interaction and dynamic with the captain. His left brow arched at the subtle touches, lingering on your flushed face before looking to the mischievous expression your captain currently was adorning.

“Hey Cap’n,” Zoro smirked up, collecting a beer bottle from beside him, “why don’t you and the Quartermaster have a little dance after dinner? She hasn’t had one all night.”

Your eyes widened at Zoro, a scowl falling to your lips in wordless reprimand. Zoro’s smirk broadened with his left brow arching upwards to taunt you further. Before you managed to get a word out to chastise him further, Luffy spoke up to interrupt your thoughts.

“Sounds good to me!” he exclaimed with joy, “how about it, Quartermaster? Dance with your captain?”

Words fell halted in your throat, the breath you were going to use to speak them caught behind your parted lips. You snapped your gaze back to your captain, snickers from your crew began to whisper in hisses behind their clenched teeth.

“I-I don’t think I could-,” you began, watching your captain as he eagerly rose to his feet and extended his hand out towards you.

“-You’ll be fine,” he smiled, collecting your hand from beside you, “let’s go, music’s starting again.”

“Aye, Sir,” you nodded, allowing him to pull you to rise to your own feet.

You turned your head back to your crew as Luffy began leading you towards the open fire, closer to the vicinity of the music. Zoro’s smirk-like grin was plastered openly on his lips, shooting a small wink towards you at your unsettlement. Nami gave you a small wave, wordlessly uttering to you: “learn why he dances like that.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose with eyes scolding your crew before being twirled within the arms of your captain to meet his hazelnut orbs.

“Just relax, okay?” he scrunched his nose up while pressing his forehead against yours, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I know what I’m doing, let me lead you.”

A small squeak found its way to your throat, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He chuckled, taking both of your hands within his and began to effortlessly sway with you.

Crossing your arms upwards, he spun you to face away from him; rocking you within his arms briefly before experimentally intertwining his limbs with your own. He twirled you once again to face him, collecting your right hand within his left and placing his right hand wrapped completely around your shoulders beneath your left arm. He held you close in a tight and flush embrace, exaggerating his hips outwards and leading your feet to the beat and rhythm of the music.

Your eyes were wide and frantically looking everywhere else, breath hitching as he led you in the movements with such poise and ease. Meeting your eyes with the taunting and teasing gaze of the green-haired swordsman, you began to fall out of time to Luffy’s movements and stumble a little. You watched the swordsman’s chest tremble as a laugh fell from his lips at your stumble.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luffy’s voice called to you, drawing your face up with his left hand weaving itself away from your right, “what’s the matter, are you okay?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he reached his hand up to touch your cheek tenderly. He continued swaying the both of you to the music while his eyes searched yours for the source of your unease.

“I-I just,” you began, your own eyes fluttering its concentration between his, “I’m a bit self-conscious dancing like this. It’s a bit-, uh-…”

He nodded with his brows furrowed, leading you with his verbal tone; “-a bit…?”

You clenched your teeth with a small grimace, “-a bit out of the ordinary? A bit unusual to be dancing like this?”

“Oh!” he nodded, returning his broad smile to his lips. He released your cheek from his left hand and again sought out your right to claim, “you don’t have to be self-conscious. As I said, I know what I’m doing. And if the attention bothers you so much, keep your eyes on me!”

The flush returned to your cheeks, the warmth threatening to tint its way to cover the entirety of your face as he confidently wove your right knee between his legs and swung his hips to the beat. You released a shaken breath from your lips, closing your eyes to bring your focus away from the Straw-Hat crew and their teasing gaze. Reopening your eyes, you met with the warm smile of your captain.

“There you go!” he complimented you while tracing small and indistinct lines on your spine, “‘atta girl!”

Internally, you were screaming. Your captain’s praise was nothing foreign to you, especially when in the heat of combat. Within the proximity he currently held with you, dancing you provocatively within the romantic atmosphere, this praise felt especially outlandish. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the fog his verbal praise rose within you, you kept your eyes fixed on him. His eyes softened as he began to hum along to the melody, twirling you away from him. Although his twirls moved your body far from his, he would always bring you back to hold you securely within his arms with his hips almost flush against your own.

As the dance continued on, you began to get more confident in your movements and trust for him to always support and lead you through it. He would sweep you into long-arched dips, circling around his body before having you snap back up to fall within his grip. All laughs and smiles drew upwards against your cheeks, a laugh or two flinging from your chests in glee to the music.

“How do you know how to dance like this?” you breathily asked him while he again twirled you to face away from him.

He released your hands from his grasp as he slowly ghosted them over your ribs, dragging them to rest on your hips. With closed eyes, he brought his lips up to your exposed neck and whispered against your skin: “Shanks taught me.”

Your glazed eyes opened widely, a small “oh” parting from you in surprise. You had heard many tales about Red-Haired Shanks and his crew of seasoned pirates from your captain. It should come as no surprise to you that he had shared more knowledge than the influence of a life of piracy onto your captain, but apparently the charm that comes with sensual dancing.

“When you were a child?” you asked him, lulling your head over as he continued to hold his lips a hair’s length away from your skin. He hummed in confirmation, the vibration prompting your pores to spring upwards over your neck and forearms.

“And the knowledge wasn’t lost to you over the years?” you quizzed him. His hands shifted you within his arms, turning you to face him again.

“I practiced with my brothers,” he chuckled, placing his forehead against your own, “my biggest brother would play guitar sometimes. I’d make my other one dance with me to the music.”

Before you could ask Luffy any further questions on the matter, the music concluded and your captain released you from his arms and cheered loudly to praise the musicians for their song. You trailed your gaze from the raven curls atop your captain’s head down over his sun-kissed skin to hold your lashes half-lidded as they sought out his eyes once more. He was so handsome, you knew that much was certain. All the time you spent together aboard the Merry had you drawing yourself closer to him, but now; you were completely smitten.

His joyful and lilted praise drew itself to a close, him turning to meet your eyes once more with his warm eyes. He reached his left hand down to collect yours within his comforting grip.

“Did you want another dance?” he asked hopefully, before he tore away his gaze to seek out a vendor’s stand behind him, “or we could get a drink? I could go for another one of those juice-things, I think.”

You giggled, reaching up your left hand to caress his smooth cheek. His skin ignited beneath your touch, glowing alongside the smoldering embers of the beach-front fire.

“As long as I'm with you, I’ll follow you anywhere,” you answered whimsically, prompting him to reach his forehead down to touch against your own. His nose scrunched up once more, his lips drawing out to a large smile as he answered you.

“Okay, great! Juice first,” he confirmed, nodding against your head, “then more dancing.”

“Aye, Sir.”

[pilgrimattinkercreek1974]

REPORT FROM BEYOND BY MICHAEL BAZZETT

In paradise the work week is fixed at thirty hours and manual labor is only pleasantly more tiring than typing so that a morning chopping wood is barely enough to make the ham sandwich and the cold bottle of beer a bit more delicious at the rough wooden table afterward

Punctuation is underused because words flow one into the other like branching streams of snowmelt wrinkling over rough granite into alpine meadows where tiny stars pass themselves off as flowers and the children weave green stems into crowns which are the only trappings worn by the rulers who are wise and listen intently to their subjects without merely thinking of what words they will offer in response

The parks are clean the social system stable and the new eight day week has created a gentle hammock of time in what used to be Sunday evening where the bells toll and streets are closed so families might stroll the avenues

Old men still wear their pants too high public fountains are still fish-scaled with coins the authorities have yet to solve how the smell of frying food hangs in the air for hours

At first the great beyond was to have been quite different each life was to have comprised one note in the harmonious thrum of a cosmic chord but they found it too difficult to reduce even simple lives to a single sound and a gluey paste kept getting caught at the back of the angels’ throats

God has yet to make an appearance but this absence is common fodder for the rumors which suggest he wanders among them as a breeze so they see not him but his evidence

[therealtruthalways]

A young cashier told an older woman that she should bring her grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. The woman apologized, "We didn't have this green thing back in my day."

The young clerk said, "Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations." She gave him a firm stare and a hard grin and said “Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles, and beer bottles. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over. They were recycled.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, which we reused for numerous things. We walked upstairs because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power did dry our clothes back in our day. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. The TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief, not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded-up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.

Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades with a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

Back then, people took a bus and kids rode their bikes instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles in space to find the nearest burger joint. But the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing.”

The cashier stood there still and quiet as the old lady found her wallet to pay. Then lady turned to leave but stepped back and turned toward the cashier. She said “You have a world of knowledge in that little device in your hand. Pity you just use it to gossip, take pictures, and waste time. It would do you good to search a bit of history before you embarrass yourself like this again.

Forward this to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart-ass young person.

[phantom-dc]

Dad Hood - part 1

Danny is fighting Desiree. A giant monster tiger is attacking him. He dodges its claws and blasts it away with an ectoblast. Stupid tourists, making wishes at the fountain. This is not a little kitty, Desiree! Desiree taunts him, daring him to wish it away. The tiger pounces again, but it is caught in a Fenton net. Danny looks down. Thanks mom! Maddie reigns the tiger in. No problem sweetie! After the whole disasteroid thing, his life has become so much better! Amity Park knew who he was and accepted him. Thank god the rest of the world had no idea, otherwise the GIW would be after him! And with Vlad in space, Danny could finally live his half-life! Danny goes after Desiree again, defeating her. Jack is happy. Look at him. He's growing up to be such a great ghost hunter! He tears up. Sometimes I wish he was a little kid again, so he can hang out with his dad like old times! Jazz screams Dad no! But it is too late. Desiree grants his wish, enveloping Danny in purple mist. When it dissipates, Danny is gone. Maddie quickly uses her portal-zooka to pull Desiree into the Ghost Zone. Jazz is angry at Jack. Dad, what did you do? You know you can’t wish for anything near Desiree! Jack feels guilty, but he doesn’t understand. Even if Danny was made a kid again, shouldn’t he still be here? To hang out with his dad? Maddie becomes angry. Jack, did you forget that Danny was adopted? Jack thinks for a second. Oops.

Jason is tired. It had been a long patrol. First some thugs had been harassing his girls, then 2 dealers thought they could infringe on his territory, and after that he found a warehouse filled with penguins of all things. God, couldn’t that guy store his birds somewhere else? In short, Jason just wanted his bed. He gets to his latest safe house, one of the nice ones. He wanted to sleep in an actual bed tonight. Checking the alarms, he went inside. Taking of his helmet and jacket, he put them down on the chair. He gets a beer and throws of his shoes and shirt, forgotten on the floor. He puts the beer down and opens the closet, checking to see if this safehouse has pajama’s. Purple mist briefly rolls around his feet, but aside from a sneeze, Jason doesn’t notice due to fatigue. Picking Wonder Woman pants and a red shirt, he closes the closet and turns around. He stops. There’s a kid. In his appartement. The kid is holding his helmet, examining it. Jason tries to sneak up on him, but the kid notices him. Laughing, he runs off making Jason chase him. Jason needs the helmet back, it’s got explosives in it! Jason nearly trips over his shoes as the kid jumps on the bed. The kid tries to jump off, but Jason grabs him mid-air. Jason holds the kid up, taking away the helmet. The kid laughs, and Jason examines him. The kid has white hair and familiar green eyes. He’s wearing a black shirt with white overalls, and he looks about 5-6 years old. Jason asks him how he got inside. The kid shrugs. You don’t know? The kid says he can’t remember, but he doesn’t seem too troubled by it. He asks Jason if they can play more tag. Jason is confused: Tag? The kid squeals: TAG! And slips out of Jason’s grip, to his suprise. Jason chases after him again, yelling at him to come back, there are weapons in here! The kid just laughs. He tries to crawl under the bed, but Jason grabs him by the ankle, pulling him out. As he pulls him up, upside down, he notices something that shocks him. The kid’s eyes are full Lazarus green and glowing while he is laughing in delight! Jason puts the kid down, asking him to calm down. The kid still giggles, but sits down. First off; Who are you? 'My name is Danny!' Ok, Danny. You said you didn’t know how you got in here? 'Nope!' As in, you just woke up here? What’s the last thing you remember? 'Hmmmm. Nothing!' But you knew your name? 'Oh! Yeah I did! Weird!' Jason gets a bad feeling about all this. Do you know why your eyes are so… green? 'Oh! That’s because I died!' Jason was startled by how cheerily the kid said that. It makes his own eyes flash green as well. The kid is surprised at this, and climbs up Jason to get to his face. You’re like me! You’re dead too! Jason grabs him, telling him to calm down. Danny just keeps laughing. Jason sighs, putting Danny under his arm. He re-checks his alarms, but finds that none have been activated. Its like the kid just popped up! Jason asks if Danny has any place to stay. Danny thinks a bit, but can’t think of any place. Where are we actually? Jason is surprised the kid doesn’t know where he is. He debates his options. He could leave the kid somewhere, either at one of his shelters or with his girls. No, that’s a bad idea, the kid saw his face. He’d tell everyone. Maybe he could leave him with Bruce? An image of the 5 year-old in a Robin costume flashes before his eyes, tinting them green again. Not an option. So he can’t leave them with civilians, nor his family. Then that means… 'What’s this?' Danny is holding his taser. As Jason rushes to take it away, he just thinks that this is going to suck.

Next - AO3

[slicznymartwy]

stand by your man

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

tags: first meetings, cannibalism, thomas hewitt wears a face in this one guys, canon-typical violence, misogyny, slut shaming, fluff and angst, ambiguous/open ending, i mean to me its happy but yk, bad guys win sort of ending notes: second person pov – cis fem reader with some defined traits (tall, midsized, long hair). everything else is up to interpretation. i'm sorry if this fic seems really cruel towards thomas :( i love him i promise

read on ao3

Humid felt like an understatement on a day like today. Walking inside your little wooden shack felt like swimming in pond water, thick and stagnant. The morning wasn’t so bad but, before lunchtime, you had thrown open every window on the chance that a breeze would sweep through, even if it was only for a moment.

But there’s no wind today, which leads you and your old orange cat sitting like panting dogs out on the front porch. Your stomach growls, but you can’t imagine getting up and cooking for yourself like this. You want some soda fountain ice cream, but downtown is a long walk and the drugstore has been closed down for a few months anyhow.

Groaning, you roll onto your side and daydream about frothy root beer floats. You’re so deep in your fantasy that you hardly notice when your cat scrambles onto her feet, faster than summer lightning, and books it out the dusty yard on the heels of a field mouse.

“Goddamn it, Peanut,” you say to nobody, watching her go with a disappointed sigh. She must’ve been starving to run like that in this heat. You watch her go and go until she runs into the grass. Then you don’t see her at all.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

“Peanut?” you call out, sitting up. She’s nowhere to be seen, not even in the shady live oak a stone’s throw from the house. You stand up and walk out towards the grass, feet burning on the sun-exposed dust.

“Here, kitty kitty!” you call out, looking for movement in the fields. There is none, so you cup your mouth and try again, louder. “Here, kitty kitty! C’mere, Peanut!”

Nothing but the buzzing bugs.

Your little housecat wasn’t made for the Texan wilderness. She was getting old and preferred to spend her days napping in whatever spot was the coolest.

Wading into the tall grass, you almost want to forget about ever having a cat, but you know you could never. You love Peanut, even if she gets on your nerves.

The fields are droning with critters that you can’t even see. It’s like they’re all complaining about the heat, and you find yourself agreeing with them. You wish you had grabbed some shoes before heading out, but you’re already this far – besides, if you return home now, you’re sure you won’t want to keep looking.

You don’t know how long you walk, but the sun is high over your head when you find an old wooden fence. Trees line the property on the other side, and it sure is tempting to hide under those pretty green leaves for a while, but you’re getting more worried the longer you look for your cat. Maybe a dog or a snake got to her first.

You hop up onto the fence and swing a leg over, then the other. Standing on the bottom rung, you hold onto the post for balance. Cupping your mouth with your free hand, you shout out into the field, “Peanut!”

Thomas was bored.

They had guests two days ago, but Thomas was already finished separating meat from bone and cartilage. Before that, it had been almost two weeks since their last visitors, and he thinks he got a little too excited at the prospect of getting to butcher something.

They weren’t even handsome enough to keep. The whole thing felt like a waste.

It’s a hot day, but Thomas doesn’t mind it. It not much, but walking in the shade at least gets the sun off of him. The oaks circle their home, and he can walk in on one end and come out on the other, pretty much in the same place. He’s curious today, though.

No meat at home. He might as well walk as far as his legs will take him.

The leaves sway and rustle together quietly when the wind comes by, but even then the air feels thick. Thomas trudges along, looking for something he doesn’t know about yet. There’s movement in the brush, but he can see it’s just a fat orange cat. It bolts when Thomas stomps past it, running into a clearing of tall grass. Thomas keeps on going, searching.

Hearing a shout, he knows he’s found it.

The noise was far, but not too far to walk towards. The sound keeps repeating, and it’s a female sounding voice; today’s his lucky day since he didn’t bring anything with him. She might go kicking and screaming, but it shouldn’t be too hard to throw an unsuspecting woman over his shoulder and carry her to the basement.

Reaching the tree line, the brush and the tree limbs part to reveal you.

Tall and full bodied, he sees your legs first. They’re pressed together as you stand on his fence, and your dress rides up as you bend forward at the waist.

“Peanut!” you yell, and he realizes it’s what you’ve been yelling the whole time. You curse under your breath and wipe at your forehead. Your hair is long and it’s loose, falling down your back past your shoulders. You’re sweaty and you don’t wear any shoes. Thomas watches your curiously.

You must have given up on whatever you were doing, because you step down from the fence and lean on it, putting your forehead on your folded arms. Thomas stares. You don’t look like the usual kind of guest.

Guests were usually tourists, and although Thomas couldn’t place you, he could tell that you were local. You wore a house dress like Momma, and you didn’t wear shoes outside. You were a Texas girl, Thomas realized.

He’s not sure the last time he met a real Texas girl. Probably not since he stopped going to the doctor in town, and that was when he was still a little kid.

Thomas was torn. He’s never killed townsfolk before. Meat is meat, the annoying little Charlie in his head hollered at him, but his Momma was in there too, telling him that there wasn’t anything left of their town. Shouldn’t he try to keep their town alive? Wouldn’t that make Momma happy?

He’s still debating with himself when you turn around and startle. He’s expecting you to scream and run away from him, but you don’t. You close your eyes, cover your chest, and sigh heavily.

“I am so sorry, mister. I thought it was just me and the June bugs out here today,” you say, opening your eyes again.

You smile at him, and Thomas feels like someone’s nailed his feet to the dirt. You watch Thomas as he watches you. Your smile falls a little bit, and Thomas knows why. He was expecting it, anyways.

“I’m sorry if I’m trespassing, mister, really. It’s just that I live out that way and my cat ran away this morning. I’ve been looking everywhere for her, I thought I could get a better look of the field from up on the fence,” you explain, gesturing behind yourself as you talk. Thomas likes the way your hair moves when you turn, and even though it’s wet with sweat, Thomas's fingers itch to stroke it out of your face.

He's no genius, but he can tell you’re worried. You’re making the same worried face Uncle Monty makes when Uncle Charlie was yelling at him. He was gonna walk anyways, he tells himself, as he gestures for you to follow him.

You look surprised, but you hurry to his side as Thomas starts striding through the trees. You sigh once you’re in the shade.

“Hell of a day, today. Even the shade is hot enough to fry an egg,” you say, walking behind him. You were taller than the other girls that came around here, but still only came up to his chin. He wasn’t gonna bother waiting for you to catch up, one way or another, and strode forward.

Your daddy always used to say that you could talk a gate off its hinges, but walking with this enormous stranger, you found yourself all out of words.

He cut a massive and daunting figure, especially with that dark mask covering his nose and mouth. His clothes were dirty, with brownish reddish stains covering him and his butcher’s apron. His dark curls were unruly and stuck together from sweat underneath the straps and buckles of his muzzle.

There was no better word for what he looked like than mean, but that never scared you off before. Your grandpa was a mean-looking man too, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever known. You just wished the guy would talk to you too, that’s all. Maybe that would make the twisty nerves in your stomach go away.

Just as your mind starts getting creative about where the stranger could be taking you, he continues past the tree shade to an open field. The grass is still tall here, but it makes rolling waves on top of mounds of dirt.

“Guess here’s a good place to look,” you say, and you trudge forward in the tall grass. The dirt is cool between your toes, and you make little clinking noises with your tongue, interrupted by the occasional, “here, kitty.”

Thomas leaves your side to look on his own. The grass here is thick, and the holes make for some nice shade. Probably pretty nice for a little critter looking to get out of the heat.

You’re bent over, inspecting one of the holes, when you hear a familiar grumpy meow. You shoot back up, glancing down in the tall grass before your eyes land on the masked giant. In his arms is your fat orange cat, looking very displeased about being out in the sunshine.

“Peanut! You found Peanut!” you cry, jumping for joy before running to his side. The man stands there, frozen in place, while you take the cat from his arms and kiss her little forehead.

“Naughty girl, running away from home like that,” you scold, patting the spot above her tail like a faux spank. It barely even lands on her, but she still meows in annoyance. You laugh a little bit and look up at the man who’s already looking at you. Your smile softens as relief makes way for gratitude.

“Thank you, mister. You’ve got no idea how much this little guy means to me. How can I repay you?” you ask, holding on tighter to your cat so she can’t jump from your arms.

He doesn’t answer. You bite your lip.

“You free tomorrow?” you change your question. The man pauses before nodding. “Meet me by the fence again, okay? Same time as today.” The man watches you blankly, but the fact that he’s helped you already puts you more at ease. You smile at him and nod with a sense of finality.

“Thanks again. I’m gonna get out of your hair now.” He stands in the sun, and as you retreat back to the shade for your journey home, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re hidden by the trees.

“He seems nice,” you say to Peanut, who cries out pitifully at being carried. It’s gonna be a long walk home, you realize, as she squirms in your arms to break free again.

Thomas isn’t stupid, no matter what people like to say about him. All things considered, though, he feels pretty stupid standing behind the oak tree nearest to your meeting spot by the fence.

He knew you were coming this time. He could have brought his chainsaw, and if that was too heavy, he could have easily grabbed a hammer or his hook. He could’ve even kept them in his pocket, if he wanted to keep his hands free for the hour long journey.

Instead, he stood weaponless behind a tree, nervous to see you again.

His heartbeat races when he hears footsteps coming from the other side of the fence. He’s finally made up his mind to turn around and leave when you finally spot him. He sees a flash of your smile before forcing his eyes to the dirt.

“Hi, mister,” you say, and just like yesterday, his feet don’t really work. “Sorry if I’m a little late, it’s only ‘cuz I was pulling this out the oven.” He looks over at you and sees the brown basket in your arms, a plaid napkin covering whatever was inside.

Thomas nears you, noticing how your long hair was pulled away from your face into a braid that disappeared behind your back. You wore the same dress, but Thomas liked the way it looked on you. It clung to your chest and loosened around your hips, but the material was thin enough that it stuck to your sweaty legs just slightly.

His attention was forced back to the basket when you put it against his chest. With an empty brain, he grabbed it with both hands from the bottom.

“It’s water pie. My nana used to make it during the Great Depression. Kinda feels like that again nowadays, huh?” you say.

You smile as you say it, but it doesn’t feel like your big smiles, like the kind you gave him when he found your cat, or like how you smiled when you saw him behind the tree.

Thomas opens the napkin to see a still warm pie in the basket, glossy with a mix of white and yellow. He’s never heard of water pie, but Momma didn’t get the chance to make a lot of desserts these days.

He walks to the shady tree, wiping a hand on his apron, and sits heavily with his back to the tree. He has to look over his shoulder to find you, and you’re still standing by the fence.

Annoyed that you’re so far away, he quickly gestures for you to join him.

You give him one of your real big smiles and jump over the fence before sitting next to him, back also to the tree. He watches you take a dull butter knife from the basket and slice the pie up. You look up at him, and he looks down at you.

“Do you eat with that on?” you ask.

Thomas shakes his head. He keeps staring at her.

“Wanna take it off?” you ask next.

Thomas shakes his head again on instinct, but once he stops, he takes another look at the pie. He remembers it being warm still. His head nods once, the movement miniscule like he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I’ll look away if it makes you feel better. Swear I won’t look,” you say. Thomas breathes weird and turns away from her before reaching up to take it off.

You hear the buckles being undone and take it as your cue to turn away from the man.

It’s another hot day today, but you wouldn’t have missed your impromptu visit even if the fields were burning. Sure, the man might be odd, but he was mysterious as all get out and you longed to know more about him. It felt a little bit like you were a school girl again, crushing on a cute boy from your class, but it didn’t matter; you promised him repayment, and you always tried your hardest to make good on your word.

You reach behind yourself blindly for a piece from the basket and accidently brush against his hand.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you say with a little laugh, eyes trained ahead at the fence.

He takes a piece, then you take the slice next to his.

The filling is sticky and gooey, but it stuck together solid when you picked it up. You eat it slowly, savoring the memories that came with the taste, as well as the gentle breeze that picks up under the leaves.

You debate with yourself for some time about grabbing another slice but, figuring he probably wasn’t looking your way, you reach behind yourself and touch the ceramic pie dish instead. You run your hand in a circle and all you feel are crumbs.

“Well gee, mister, I’d’ve made two if I knew you’d be so hungry!” you said cheerfully, grinning as you brought your finger up to your mouth to lick it clean. It wasn’t exactly true, since you barely had the ingredients for one, but he probably already knew that, the town being in the state that it is. “I’m glad you liked it. An empty pie dish is a great compliment.”

You can hear the buckles of his mask again and keep busy by reaching for the basket behind you, folding the napkin back up. It’s pleasantly quiet before the question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since meeting the man finally springs out.

“What’s your name, mister?” you ask, still not looking at him. He doesn’t respond, and you risk glancing back at him. His mask is on, but he doesn’t look at you. It occurs to you that maybe the guy just can’t talk.

Opening the napkin again, you take out the knife and use the rounded tip to write in the dirt. It’s awkward and it’s none too pretty, but your name is clear enough to read. You look to him with a smile and hold the knife out to him, handle first.

He looks between the knife and your name on the ground before carefully taking it from your hand. You already knew his hands were massive but seeing the difference so plainly before your eyes made you blush. Tearing your gaze away from his appendages, you watch the dirt instead as he spells his name out. He writes it thickly, his muscles gouging out the dirt easily with a dull rounded tip. Thomas.

You glance up at him, and when your eyes meet, it feels like electricity.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” you say. You don’t expect an answer, but he nods anyways.

The sun was past its peak when you finally stood, brushing off your dress. Thomas met you at the fence after you had jumped over it again, basket swinging on your arm. You asked him if he could meet again tomorrow, promising another dessert.

He told himself to say no. He couldn’t picture hurting you the way he did when he first saw you, but he knew this wouldn’t be any good. He’s not the type to make friends, especially not with pretty ladies. It must be his heart controlling his neck muscles because he nodded instead. At least he got to see that smile again.

And so, he met with you again. And then again the day after. Then even the day after that one.

It was only a matter of time before his uncles and Momma realize he’s been out of the house for most of the day, but only Charlie says something about it during their family dinner. He’s loud in Thomas’ ear, and Thomas keeps his head down avoid looking at him. It makes him feel better to call him Charlie in his head. Not Hoyt. Just stupid drunk Charlie.

“You better focus on your work, boy,” Charlie threatens, steak knife pointing at him from across the table.

Thomas goes down to meet you the next day, anyways.

“Hi, Tommy,” you chirp happily, straddling the fence before hopping onto the other side. Thomas liked that you started calling him that, but he doesn’t let himself show it.

He rubs his hands on his apron to get the nerves out of his system and gives a little wave with his first free hand. You don’t have a basket today, but Thomas doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to see you.

“How’s your day treating you so far?” you ask, like you always do. Thomas shrugs, like he always does too. “Peanut misses you, I think. She wants to come with me, but always stops on the porch.”

Thomas thinks about the orange cat again. He wants to tell her that it probably just misses you, since it had been glaring at Thomas from your arms that day. Instead, he just tilts his head at you, not knowing how to gesture all that with his arms.

It’s easy to listen to you. Even when you leave open ended questions, you don’t make Thomas feel pressured to respond. He’d long since given up on pantomiming since he was a teenager, but people still annoyingly waited for his responses. You talked to him like he was an adult, and you never complained about having to deal with him.

You’re talking now, something about Peanut pushing things off counters, and all Thomas can feel is gladness. It’s been a long time since he felt it so strongly, so innocently. He kind of feels like a little kid again, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you under the shady tree in the summertime.

When he touches your hand, you cut yourself off and look up at him. It startles him a little bit, because he realizes that he had nothing he really wanted to tell you. He just wanted to touch you.

“You doing okay?” you ask him, putting your other hand on top of his. Thomas looks down at your hands and nods. He’s doing better than okay. He wants to keep feeling your soft skin on his hand.

“You sure? Looks like somethings on your mind,” you say, sounding sorry. Thomas struggles with how to tell you, which he’s sure you notice. He suddenly takes your hand in his and flips it so that your palm is facing up and your smooth delicate wrist is visible. With his calloused dirty finger, he starts to spell.

“What are you doing?” you say, standing a little straighter and watching how he made the same shape again and again. “Are you… is that a K?”

Thomas nods quickly, looking at you for a split second before focusing down again and drawing a straight line.

“That’s an I. K-I…” you look at him attentively as he gathers his courage. He writes the next two letters quickly in succession. He does it once more before you look up at him, your pretty eyes wide and shinning. “S-S. Kiss.”

Thomas is sure his face is flushed, but he nods. There’s no backing out of it now.

“Oh, Tommy,” you say, and your confusion melts into a smile. “Of course, I’ll kiss you.”

He’s still hunched over from writing on your arm, so the hand you put on his cheek doesn’t have to work much to guide him towards your lips. You’re ready to lean in when your lip brushes against his mask. You laugh softly, running your hand down from his hair to stroke along his covered cheek.

“Can you take this off?” you ask softly.

Thomas shakes his head quickly, covering your hand with his as if you might try to rip it off of him anyways. He knows you wouldn’t, but he can’t think about risking it. Not when you’re so close.

You bite your lip as you think. His own lips move under the mask, imaging what it would be like to touch yours with his. He wishes he was normal. He wishes he had one of his real masks on.

You guide him down lower and tilt your face higher up, and Thomas can feel your lips on his forehead. His eyes close instinctually. He trusts you.

You kiss the spot between his eyebrows next, and he sighs shakily. His hands move your waist, holding you gently.

Then, you kiss the bridge of his nose, and your bottom lips must brush against the edge of his mask. His stomach turns at himself, but he pushes the feeling away.

Your lips follow along the edge of the mask, kissing on the little bit of skin showing under his left eye. When you kiss his temple, your hand moves to cup the back of his head and he shudders.

“I hope you’ll trust me enough, one day,” you say softly, and he practically bends in half to hide his face in your neck. He doesn’t cry, but his throat feels tight like he might. He swallows it all back. He shakes his head softly in the crook of your shoulder, wishing he could correct you. He would bare himself to you completely today if he didn’t think you would run screaming. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to handle that.

Your hands are a soft but persistent pressure on his shoulders. When he straightens up again, he looks down at you.

You lean up suddenly, lip slotting against his mask. Your top lip brushes between his. You taste like sugar and summer air. The kiss is done quickly, but Thomas can’t open his eyes yet. He licks his lips where yours just touched him and commits the taste to memory.

“You still in there?” you ask after a long moment, and Thomas opens his eyes to see you smiling playfully at him.

Thomas smiles when he nods, and stops nodding when you lean in to kiss him again.

He’s never felt so light in his life, having said goodbye to you at the fence after another hour of listening. You even kissed him goodbye, lips touching briefly through the mask as you stood on opposite sides of the fence.

Thomas promised you tomorrow, nodding at your request to see each other again.

His good mood lasts until he gets close enough to the house to hear shouting. He sees Charlie flailing his arms like a mad man by the back of the house, yelling Thomas’s name.

“Where in the ever-loving fuck have you been?” he shouted by the garage, spit flying. Thomas hurried his gait as he neared them. Charlie was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. He steeled himself for what the furious man would sling at him next. “I’ve been screaming for you for the past fucking two hours. Jesus fucking Christ, Thomas! You know, I defend you when people call you names, but maybe you are slow. Just how fucking gone are you up there, huh?!”

Thomas glares at the dirt, imagines pushing his thumbs into Charlie’s eyes until he can’t scream anymore.

“I can’t even look at you, you fucking disappointment. I brought home two stupid as fuck tree-humpers for you, and this is how you repay me? Look at what they did to me. Look!” he grabs Thomas’ apron and shakes him, and Charlie makes him look at the cut on his head. It’s nothing, Thomas has seen him give himself worse when he’s drunk.

“Go get your toy and mow those fuckers down. They’re not getting far, not after what I done to one of them,” he mutters, looking down the dirt road where Thomas can see the distant figures of two limping people. Sighing, Thomas takes off after them, grabbing a hammer from one of the junk piles by the garage.

He didn’t think about you until well into the early morning. He is taking a break from his work, sitting outside while the rest of the family slept in their bedrooms. Blood coated his apron, and he sat on the wide porch with a heavy sigh. He thought about you, wondered how someone so nice could ever want somebody like him.

Thomas was not stupid. He knew murdering people was wrong, just like he knew he was wrong for liking it so much. And he knew he was wrong for liking you.

Rubbing his new face with both hands, he hauled himself up to walk back to the basement. He readjusted the eyeholes as he walked – he had made them too small this time. He’d have to fix that before he did anything else.

Thomas is only one step away from the trees when Charlie hollers his name from the back porch. Thomas sets his jaw and looks over his shoulder to see his uncle gesturing and shouting at him. He can’t make sense of what he’s saying, and he doesn’t really care to. He doesn’t let up, though, so Thomas forces himself to turn back around and trudge back to the house.

He stands in front of Charlie silently.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands. Thomas has no way of answering, even if he wanted to. His arms cross thickly over his chest instead.

Charlie glowers at him, and Thomas’ stare is just as dark.

“You listen to me, boy. Now, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, but I think I had good reason to be cross with you. Your family needs you here, Thomas. We need you to keep us safe. What if something happened to your momma?”

Thomas’ eyes glance at the house, where he knew his momma was resting comfortably. Still, the thought unnerved him. Looking back at Charlie, he sees the self-satisfied look on his face, like he knows he won.

“Be a good guard dog and guard the fucking house. Please.”

Thomas’ jaw tightened. He thought about you, walking from your home to see him. Thought about what you might’ve brought, although he wouldn’t care either way as long as you were there. But Charlie had a point. What if Charlie brought guests and they tried to hurt one of them? What if they hurt Momma?

A frustrated noise left his throat and he stomped away from Charlie back to his basement. He couldn’t think straight. The damn sun shined too brightly, and it made his head hurt. Slamming the door to the basement shut, he welcomes the darkness and sets his sights on his unfinished projects.

He only rises from his basement when the sun starts to set. A walk through the house tells Thomas he’s alone, the other members dispersing to be on their own too.

He’d been sad, passing the time while thinking about you getting stood up. Sadness in his chest, he walked to the fence anyways. He might feel better if he could just look at it and imagine how you look in your pretty dress.

At the end of his trek, he freezes as he passes the last low hanging branch. There you are, laying unconscious by the oak tree. He rushes to your side and hesitates helplessly before kneeling next to you. He holds onto your shoulders and tries to shake you awake, harsher and harsher as you don’t wake up. He’s beginning to panic when you suddenly open your eyes with a gasp. You stare up at Thomas with wide eyes. They shine in the white Texan moonlight.

“Thomas?” you whisper.

“What time is it?”  You sit up and Thomas stays next to you, arms awkwardly hovering around you like you might fall asleep again. He’s breathing hard like he’s been running. “Is it nighttime already?”

Thomas nods, sighing finally once he catches his breath. Head low, he touches your arm and drags his hand down past your elbow to catch your hand. His brows are drawn, and despite his size, he seems to shrink as he clutches you like something delicate that might blow out of his hold.

He looks up when you touch his chin, gently guiding him to meet your eye.

“You okay? Did something happen?” you ask him. Thomas just shakes his head, squeezing your hand in his. He carefully turns your arm over, revealing your wrist. There, he writes down four letters. S-O-R-Y.

“Sorry? Oh, bubba, you don’t have to be sorry,” you murmur, smiling at him. “I needed a little nap, anyways. C’mere.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a little hug. He melts into you, forehead pressed against the crook of your neck.

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, hand rubbing down his spine. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I should start on back,” you say after a few silent moments, your hand still rubbing comforting circles on his back. Thomas stiffens and pulls away, and he won’t meet your gaze. You don’t want to part from him tonight, you realize.

When he glances at you, you’re biting your lip.

“Unless you know somewhere we can spend the night?” you suggest softly. Thomas’s face is blank as he thinks about it, but he soon stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and he hauls you up, leading the way through the trees. You like how he holds your hand, all encompassing and pleasantly warm in the breezy night air.

He brings you to a barn, standing alone in an empty field. It looks out of use, but bales of hay still line some of the walls, as well as some common tools for the land. You don’t bother looking around too much – you only have eyes for your Tommy. He stands in the barn, looking around for the best spot to lay down. You know it’s wherever he is, his wide chest looks like it’ll be a softer pillow than what you have at home.

“Tommy, c’mere,” you say, finding a bed of dry hay that looks cleaner than the rest. You sit down first, laying back in the rustling fodder. Your eyes meet his as you stretch your arms above your head.

Thomas stands above you. His eyes are dark.

“Lay down with me,” you speak softly. Thomas glances out the open barn doors for a moment before giving up on whatever battle was going on through his mind. You watch him unfasten his dirty apron and hang it off one of the half stables beside them. He lays down beside you, his heavy weight making the pile unsteady. You fall into him with a little laugh, a steadying hand on his chest.

“Oops,” you say with a little smile. You’re surprised to see Thomas return it. He has such a handsome smile; you wish he would smile more for you.

Leaning up, you kiss him through his mask, hands coming up to hold his face.

He exhales heavily, it almost sounds like a moan. He tries to kiss you back, but it’s impossible through the thick leather. Sighing  softly, you kiss his temple and forehead instead, trying not to seem too frantic. It’s difficult, though, as you feel your body make you aware just how badly its craving Thomas.

“Please, Tommy. Please. I wanna kiss you. Please take it off,” you whisper, lips brushing against his tanned skin.

Thomas goes stiff hearing his pleas and pulls away. You watch him go with a pout. He turns away from you slightly.

“Thomas,” you say softly. He turns away further. Sighing quietly, you touch his shoulder. “Tommy. You know it don’t matter to me how you look. Not one bit. I’m always gonna think you’re my handsome guy.”

Thomas shakes his head, but you don’t give up. Kneeling, you hug him from behind, arms wrapping up to his shoulders from underneath his arms.

“I mean it, Tommy.” You put your forehead on his warm back. “I would never think bad about you. Hell, you could kill someone and I’d find a way to defend you,” you say with a little teasing smile. You feel Thomas put his hand on your forearm, gentle and unmoving.

“I could keep my eyes closed,” you suggest quietly. Thomas turns at that and looks at you with imploring eyes. You smile at him, small and secret, and free an arm to cup his cheek. You kiss the bridge of his nose just above his mask before pulling away.

You sit up and turn away from him partially, eyes closing and hands coming up to cover your eyes. “Ok, Tommy. I’m ready.”

In the dark, you rely on sounds. It’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear the buckle of the mask being undone. You exhale shakily, your heart beating near out of your chest. He must have set it down on the ground beside them because you can feel his hands on you, one on your elbow and the other covering your hands just over your eyes.

You’ve never really been described as small, but you feel it next to him. Even without vision, his presence alone towers over you. It should be intimidating, but it only makes you feel safe.

Your lips part and you drop your hands, letting Thomas touch your face directly. It’s even better since you can now put your hands around his back and hold him close.

Despite his size, he kisses you timidly, like he’s shy you’ll shatter into pieces with too much force applied. His touch is so gentle, even as he crowds you. You kiss him back passionately, encouraging him silently with your enthusiasm. You suddenly long to be naked in front of him, to let him blindfold you and use you however he needs. You know he’d be careful with you if this is how he kisses.

“Tommy,” you murmur between kisses, hands fisting in his shirt. “Tommy, I think I love you.”

Thomas can’t answer you, but he kisses you again and again like he’s saying the same.

Weeks pass. The summer turns into autumn, but the heat doesn’t go anywhere. Thomas can’t meet every day, but he wishes he could. Tourists come by from time to time, and everyone in the family does their part to make ends meet.

You’re all alone out here, he knows from your late-night talks. On evenings where neither of you had anything to do the next morning, you and Thomas would walk together to the barn. You always clung to his arm once the building was in sight, glancing up at him from time to time with your shiny eyes. He’s pretty sure you were both a little nervous everytime, but it was a good kind of nervous. He didn’t know there could be a good kind until he met you.

Thomas holds you on the hay pile, more comfortable now with a blanket you brought from home thrown over the mound. You’re naked, and Thomas likes your soft cool skin against his own. Although you’re both covered in sweat, the night is cool and comfortable, and Thomas likes the way you rub your hand slowly across his chest.

When your stomach growls, Thomas glances at you.

“Sorry,” you say. You smile, but it looks sad. “Just hungry. It’s been hard finding stuff to eat with the town being empty.” He knows the feeling well.

He takes your arm from where it’s resting on his stomach and gently twists your wrist towards himself. H-O-M-E, he spells.

“Mine?” you ask softly, head cocking to the side.

Thomas shakes his head and points to himself.

“Yours? What about it?” you ask softly, looking up from your wrist.

F-O-O-D, he spells next. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh, Tommy. You’re too kind to me,” you say softly, and Tommy lets go of your arm so that you can hug him.

His arms instinctually go around your waist, holding you close. He wants to tell you that he’s not just being kind. He would give everything he owns to you if what he owned was worth giving. He kicks himself mentally for not thinking about getting you some food sooner, though.

“Can we go tomorrow?” you ask. He wants to bring you there today, but there won’t be any food this late. He nods, hands running down your back slowly. He can feel his rough callouses catch on your smooth skin, but you don’t flinch or move away. You never have from him. He wants you, more than he wants to butcher, more than he wants to help his family.

“I should go home,” you say. The sky is dark, but the moon is large and bright in the sky, like the sun. Thomas shakes his head.

“No?” you say, laughing a little bit. You lean back and cup his cheeks over his mask. When you smile down at him, he imagines the touch of your lips against his own. On your back, he draws four letters, S-T-A-Y.

“All night?” you ask, pushing some hair off his forehead.

He nods, eyes stuck to your lips, so close but impossible to reach in that moment.

“Won’t your family be looking for you?” you wonder. You rub your thumb along his eyebrow, soothing him into shutting his eyes.

Thomas shakes his head slightly at the question, not wanting to knock your hands off him. He’s sure Charlie will be mad, but he doesn’t care. How could he when he has you in his arms.

“In that case,” you start, moving your legs apart to straddle his hips, “I suppose I’ve got you all to myself.” Thomas watches you closely as you run your hands down his chest and past his stomach, settling just above his open belt. Neither of you get very much sleep that night.

In the morning, he takes you by the hand as he leads you through the front door. The house is quiet despite its size, which makes it seem like it should be teeming with activity and sound. The outside is grey and dusty, same as the front foyer where you stand beside Thomas. You glance around, giving him a nervous smile when you finally hear footsteps coming from the other room.

“Thomas Hewitt, where have you been all night! You had us worried sick!” an older lady says, coming through the doorway. She’s short and plump, with tendrils of her grey hair framing her face, and her glasses make her look like a schoolteacher. She stops when she sees you, clearly surprised. “Oh! You brought company!”

You smile at her, stepping forward as she comes to meet you. She grins at you and takes your hands in her own.

“Hi, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” you say, introducing yourself with your name.

“Oh, the manners on this one! Usually, our guests are a little more ornery!” she says to Thomas, laughing. You don’t understand what she means, but you smile graciously as she tries to lead you back to the room she was in. You start to follow her, but stumble against Thomas as he blocks your way. He shakes his head at her.

“No?” the lady questions. She looks confused, but Thomas shakes his head again. He takes your hands from her, and then you feel his arm around your shoulder, keeping you at his side. “Thomas? What on earth is going on with you?”

You’re just as confused, but you don’t want to get in between a family dispute. You look up at Thomas, waiting to see what he does next.

“Is she why you didn’t come home last night?” the woman asks. A cold sweat blooms on the back of your neck with her face falls completely, turning into a blank mask. You’ve only just met her, but you can hardly recognize her from the woman that took your hands.

“I’m Thomas’ girlfriend,” you say, your voice smaller than you intended. You try to clear your throat politely. “I care about him very much, ma’am.”

You gasp when the woman turns on you, her finger pointed at your face as she snaps, “I don’t know how you tricked my son into falling for your tricks, you whore! Hoyt!” Thomas grunts, and the noise startles you – you’ve never heard the man make a sound louder than a labored breath before. Thomas pushes you behind his back and away from who must be his mother.

“No, I’m not a whore,” you say, but your voice is so meek under her disapproving stare. You clutch onto Thomas’ arm, and you can feel his tense muscles.

Someone stomps down the stairs then, an older man in a sheriff’s uniform. Seeing the pistol on his belt, you start to shake.

“And who do we have here?” the man drawls – Hoyt, your mind supplies,

Thomas shakes his head vigorously and stands in front of you completely now, shielding you from his mother and the Sheriff.

“She says she’s Tommy’s girlfriend!” his mother cries, as if she was grieving. The man barks a laugh at that, loud and unbelieving.

“A girlfriend, Tommy! That’s where you’ve been running off to all these weeks! How much he owe you, trollop? Because he ain’t got no money to give,” the man mocks meanly, guffawing as he tries to walk around Thomas to get a better look. You shrink behind Thomas as he does his best to keep you hidden away. “Bet you found her trying to hitch a ride off the highway.”

“I lived in this town my whole life, sir. I swear I’m no hussy,” you say, voice weak and muffled against Thomas’s back.

“Oh, yeah? That mean you two are in love or something?” he says, managing to grab your forearm and pull you out from behind Thomas. You shout in pain as you’re pulled between the two men, causing Thomas to let go of you. Without your shield, you’re faced with the old man and his drunk breath. You cringe away from him when he leans into you, inspecting you like you’re just a thing.

“Just get her out of here,” Thomas’ mother mourns.

“I ain’t no hussy!” you sob, eyes closed as tears start to escape your lashes. The old man laughs in your face, and he shakes you with his grip on your arm.

“Hear that, Momma? She ain’t no hussy! So, you sleep with Tommy for free?”

“I love him,” you sob, face crumpling as you feel yourself finally break. You wish you understood what you did wrong by these people. Thomas tries to break you and Hoyt apart, but the man shoves him away despite being smaller than him.

“Love? You love him?” Hoyt almost screams with laughter. “Does she even know what you do, Tommy? She ever see you without that mask on?

“Why don’t you go ahead and take it off? Take it off, Thomas! Shouldn’t your girlfriend know what you look like?” he turns you in his arms, forcing you to face Thomas. Your heartbreaks for him, and you see Thomas duck his head down low, arms bent by his stomach as he anxiously fidgets his hands.

“Stop it, leave him alone!” you sob, trying to wrench yourself out of the man’s hold.

“Why? Don’t you wanna see what he looks like? Pretty thing like you should have a handsome boyfriend to go along with it, huh?” Desperate, you look behind you to see Thomas’s mother watching the scene unfold with a handkerchief under her nose. You cry out when the man shakes you again, his grip unforgiving for such an old man.

“You know what? Why don’t we give your girlfriend here a tour, huh Tommy? What do you say?” Hoyt asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer when he starts to drag you out through the front door and down the porch steps.

You stumble down them, almost falling out of the man’s arms, but he forces you upright again before going around to the back of the house. Thomas follows you both, and you can see the frantic way he tries to grab for you but hesitates. Even now, you know your sweet Tommy is afraid to hurt you, but you wish he would rip you out from Hoyt’s grip and stand up for himself.

At the cellar door, Hoyt lets go of one arm to push open the wooden door. You can’t see beyond where the sunlight hits the steps.

“Don’t be shy. Go see,” Hoyt says, before you’re pushed down the steps. You shout as you fall, managing to cover your head with your hands, but your body throbs in pain once you land on the cold concrete below.

You weep at his cruelty, curling in on yourself to hide away from the next blow. Instead, you can hear Thomas’s heavy footsteps down the wooden steps. His thick arms wrap around you, and he holds you tightly to his chest.

“Tommy,” you sob, pushing your face into his chest.

“Tell her, Tommy! Tell her what you do! Share your family pride!” Charlie shouts, laughing at them.

“That’s enough,” Luda Mae says quietly from somewhere behind him.

“Show her who you really are, boy, then see if she loves you,” Charlie says. Then he slams the door to the basement shut, leaving them both in darkness.

“Tommy,” you whimper through your tears, starting to lift your head out from his chest. You’re stopped by Thomas’s large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you close. You can’t see the room, but it smells like blood and rot, and it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t ask him because he won’t be able to explain anyways. Hoyt’s words echo in your mind, and even if it makes no sense, you can understand that something is wrong here. But Thomas holds you and rocks you like a child until you have no more tears to give.

You wake up when the setting sun turns the sky orange. You rub your eyes and sit up, suddenly aware that you’re in an unfamiliar place. No one is around. Looking around the room, you see it’s a simple bedroom, with threadbare sheets. The only furniture besides your bed is a nightstand and a dresser with a missing drawer.

“Tommy?” you say out loud, but you don’t hear anything in response. You stand up and go downstairs, realizing as you enter the foyer that you’re still at Thomas’s house.

In the kitchen is the same woman from before.

“Oh, hi, darling. I figured you’d wake up soon. I realize I never introduced myself. I’m Tommy’s momma,” she says, like she wasn’t accusing you of something terrible earlier in the day. You smile weakly at her. You want to ask where Tommy is. You want to go home.

“Why don’t you sit down? You missed supper but I’ve got some leftovers still on the stove.”

You hesitate, but finally make your way to the kitchen table. Your stomach growls at the promise of food as you sit.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for before.”

“Nonsense. I don’t think any of us understood how much you meant to our Tommy.”

You smile and start to eat when she puts the bowl in front of you.

“Where is Tommy?” you ask, looking up at her.

“Working,” she sighs, smiling at you. “We had guests come by in the afternoon.”

“Like a bed and breakfast?” you ask naively. She laughs at you, right to your face.

“You’re a funny one, girl. I see why Thomas likes you. Pretty and with a good sense of humor.”

You smile, laughing shakily as you eat some of the stew. You can’t tell if it’s pork, beef, or rabbit.

“I want to see Tommy. Where can I find him?” you try again.

“He’s working, sweetheart. He made it very clear he don’t want you in the basement anymore.”

Flashes of the basement make you dizzy, and you shake your head.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, dropping your spoon in the bowl and holding your face with both hands.

She sighs gently and puts her hand on top of your head. She rubs your hair flat gingerly.

“Oh, baby. You are home. Everything’s gonna be alright now. You’ve got us to take care of you.” She lets go of you and gets back to her work from before you came down. “You just let Tommy blow off some steam first. He and Hoyt got into a little fight after he brought you to bed. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You swallow thickly as you look around the grey kitchen. You wonder what kind of work Thomas could be doing in that basement with his guests. You look at the bowl of food in front of you.

You’re so hungry.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

[floridaboiler]

Back in the day!

Anyone age approx 35 or over should read this - copied from a friend ... Checking out at the supermarket recently, the young cashier suggested I should bring my own bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. I apologised and explained, "We didn't have this green thing back in my earlier days". the cashier responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations".

She was right about one thing--our generation didn't have the green thing in “Our” day. So what did we have back then? After some reflection and soul-searching on "Our" day here's what I remembered we did have.... Back then, we returned milk bottles, pop bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles repeatedly. So they really were recycled. But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's nappies because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 240 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that young lady is right. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Wales. In the kitchen, we blended & stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn petrol just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. But she's right. We didn't have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But we didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the bus, and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their mums into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint. But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we older folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?

Please post this on your blog so another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smarty-pants young person can read this!

[freshstartbaby]

TERRIFY

Florian was waiting inside the restaurant. A sophisticated nice place, with dark decoration, brown vibrations and few neons lights. Youth’s Fountain was one of their favorite places with Grace.

The etablissement was neat, mature, delivered excellent wine, creative hookas and had a good DJ. The last information was essential for Grace, she could not settle in a place where the music was not giving.

Florian’s thighs was bumping into anticipation and he could not resist to check his silver watch every minute. She was late and he was sure she was doing it on purspose.

Grace was always on time, to her you were already late when you were on time. So if she was showing up late, she probably had an issue or she was doing it on purpose. The idea of something happening to her created a tiny stomachache to Florian, but he was sure it was not that. He knows how she act when she’s upset and why she was upset.

His long fingers let mist on the beer glass he just finished to eased his mind. Florian valued humbleness, even if he had a certain ego, he knew he messed up something in his friendship with Grace. And the worst in this situation was that it was entirely his fault, he wanted to make it right.

Once he decided to call Grace to reassure his self that she was alright, he saw her penetrated the place. He put down his phone on the table while his green eyes were glued to her.

Grace greeted the waitress and told her about the reservation removing her sunglasses. She was wearing her signature bright smile and followed the tall girl slowly. While the waitress was taking her to the table, people were definitely checking her out. Florian was used to that. The glow of her mocha skin always had this effect on people. Whenever hairstyle she was having, everything suits her, today was boho braids and Florian was already falling for it. She had an aura that made people shiver and Florian was definitely one of them.

He got up when she arrived at the table. Without a word one of Florian’s arms wrapped around Grace’s waist and hers gently grab his strong biceps. He was so glad she didn’t pushed him back. Not that she used to do so but he was just walking on eggshells. They looked at each others in silence sitting down.

« 28 look good on you G. » he said hyping her up before moving one of her braids and shaking her right shoulder slightly. His hands were already begging to have her.

Grace didn’t had the time to answer that a particular waiter came at the table addressing directly to her.

« I knew it. I knew that if this Big Boy was here, you wouldn’t be far away ! » he said pointing her with a teasing voice

« How you been Martin ? » she answered kindly. The waiter just nodded his head before continuing

« I love your outfit. » he cheesed referring to the olive dress she was wearing.

Florian licked quickly his lips before letting his arms fall on Grace shoulders, massaging the back base of her neck. A shiver traveled her spine before she finally thanked politely the waiter. Florian’s motion made him step back a little before he took the drink’s order. Florian let his fingers touch Grace’s neck while he watched the waiter go before he said with a little irritation in his voice

« The way he keep trying to flirt with you everytime we come here, it’s-«  Florian said letting the « s » sound between his lips looking for the right word

« It’s what ? » Grace said with a lifted eyebrow pushing the rest of her braids behind her shoulder

« Funny. »

« Funny ? » she repeated with her head falling to her left side

« Mhmh. »

« What is so funny about wanting to flirt with me ? » she said removing his hand from her body and locking her eyes with him.

Florian looked back at her for long seconds while his heart beat was increasing. He exhaled, look down and finally whispered in a low tone

« You know I what I me-« 

« I can’t ear you, speak up. »

« I said you know what I mean. » he said again more louder this time after a growl.

Grace stared at him having difficulties to say that simple sentence with a lot of deception. Why was it so hard for him ?

« How was your birthday ? » Florian asked breaking the silence.

« You weren’t there but it was pretty amazing. »

He smiled and kept digging. He knew Grace was going to act a bit bitter for a long time tonight and he couldn’t show anything less but resilience.

Few months ago Cloe came at Grace, publicly, during a party talking about how she didn’t believe in straight platonic friendship between man and woman and that it was just a matter of time before her boyfriend kind of dump Grace. Florian was so surprised that nothing came out of his mouth. Not a joke, not a argument, no nothing. The party became weird in a snap.

After that, too much time passed without any communication between them. Grace felt for the first time that Florian was not on her side. The feeling was not sitting right, not at all, but she didn’t want to pursue a relationship she had to fight for. Not like that. Relationship was supposed to be easy, lov- friendship was supposed to be easy. And since this situation, it’s not. Even if it will be hard, she just wanted to move foward. She had already experienced having to fight for being love back and she promised herself it will not happen again.

Florian did not had easy months either. All the arguments with Cloe, all the self doubt, all the burdened feelings. The situation was so wrong and he felt a lot of guilt. Not having news from Grace, specially during her birthday, which he knows was a very important moment for her, was not what he wanted. Even if Florian was overthinking for month, he only had the courage to contact her few days ago. Why ? He was freaking lost.

« I miss her. » Florian said slumped on the couch during a boys night. His friends looked at he him and started chuckling seeing him this miserable. « Just call her man. She will pick up, you know her. » Sandro said reassuring him. « She will not ! » Masias said knowing too much how Grace could get when Florian pissed her off. « Are we talking Cloe or ? » Dejan asked really not sure about the girl he was taking about. Masias and Sandro started chuckling again knowing their friend was in a complicated situation. Florian looked at them with a tiny smile and put his middle finger up « Fuck y’all. » he mumbled.

Dinner was alright. Not good, not bad, it was alright. Florian and Grace tried to catch up the last months, he was definitely asking all the questions but it wasn’t a big deal. He was really interested and earring her talk was a blessing after having no news. Grace’s answers were a bit short and straight to the point but she tried not to be on defensive. She didn’t want to be the bitter one, she really wanted to act cool.

It was harder than she thought. It was hard to be insensitive infront of him. The way his navy sweater was hugging his body, the shiny chain trap between his torso and the fabric, his hands always finding a way on her body, his eyes locking sight with her while blowing smoke from his hookah. Yeah it was hard keeping her composure and seeing him after all this time remind her why she was so mad. The amont of love she had for him was insane. Maybe too much ? It’s certainly was a waste. She wanted to be in a relationship with someone who really loved her, something when she wasn’t the second choice or the fantasy dream. And the way Florian act last time ? It wasn’t what she wanted. Their friendship had run out course.

« I’m get going. » Grace said after emptying her mint tea glass. She grabbed her purse looking for her credit card when Florian grabbed her forearm, frowned his eyebrow slightly before putting his card on the table. « Already ? » he asked touching his nose trying to look her in the eye, he felt like she was trying to shorten their time. She nodded slowly looking around the place, it was certainly the last time she will be there. She wasn’t a masochist.

« Look we didn’t have the time to talk about what happen. » Florian said looking Grace ready to get out his car. He had to insist more than five time to let him drive her home.

Grace remove her hand from the door slowly. « We had. » she said rubbing her right eye gently. « We had the time but we decided not to. Didn’t we ? » she said in a monotone voice finally looking at him. It was just above a whisper.

« You’re right, you’re right Gigi. »

« I am sorry Gigi. » that’s how he began. It was a good start, really. He tried his best patching things up, being honest, explaining how much she meant to him but also how much he didn’t want to risk their friendship over a relationship he didn’t knew if it was worthy enough.

After that he continued, trying to put the right words on what he was feeling, but Grace wasn’t listening anymore. « I got feeling but I don’t know if it will work or if it worth it. » she eared again and again. So she wasn’t worthy enough for him.

« Look Florian-«  Grace said cutting him off, she had ear enough. « Thank you for your apologies, I, I » she said losting the track of her thoughts. She wanted to be out of this car, quickly. « I appreciate them and accept them, but let’s just not go this way. We should you know, you do you with Cloe and we stay in touch in a friend way-« 

« Wait what ? » he said trying to keep up with what she was saying « Gigi talk to me, I don’t even know what you’re thinking, you been on mute-« 

« Because you didn’t even ask ! Like did you even care ? You were the one on mute when she came at me ! »

« Of course I care I was just surprised, what was I supposed to do, talk to her infront of everyone ? You know I couldn’t do that. It’s not because I didn’t do it infront of you that it did not happen ! You can’t be mad at me for that »

« Why are we having this conversation ? »

« What-« 

« Why. Are we. Having this conversation ? »

« Because I want to make things right ! »

« No we’re having this conversation because you want to feel better ! »

« Gigi » he whispered letting his head fall on the headrest « I just don’t want to lose you. »

Rain drops started falling on the car. The silence in the vehicle made the sound more loud. Grace looked at the window and finally find a way out

« I don’t want to lose you either. But I want a friend who can have my back 100% or a boyfriend that don’t have any doubt of my worth. » Florian head snaped quickly at the word « boyfriend «  not really sure of what’s Grace said.

« I know your wor-« he said in a quick motion

« Flo, take care. » she said ending the conversation putting her left hand on his.

Florian watched her leaving the car, still lost in his feeling and having the strong will not to give up on anything, specially not on Grace.

-

Helloooo guys, it was funny writing my first ask ! I was afraid that there were too much similarities with Same Hearts, different places but i think it turn out pretty well (?)

[boygiwrites]

Living the Vida Loca P.1

• Jesse Pinkman & Reader. (Platonic)

(Here’s part two.) (Here’s part three.) (Here’s part four.) (Here’s part five.) (Here’s the epilogue.)

• (Find this story on Ao3.)

Summary — A short story about how a young teenaged girl gets wrapped up in Jesse's life.

Notes — Okay, this is a little weird... because it's written in bullet points. I don't know if I like it or if I hate it! But I used them because I've been having major writer's block and paragraphs are impossible 😩

.

How it all began.

Jesse first saw you at a skatepark.

You were nine.

You were tagging along with one of Jesse's friends, who dismissed you as his little cousin.

The group's reaction was a simple; "Long as she don't bother us."

You sat in the grass with your spiderman rollerblades the whole afternoon.

Jesse... well, believe it or not, Jesse felt bad.

While they ate Burger King up on the concrete deck, talking about kicks and flips and chicks, Jesse kept an eye on you.

It was a subconcious thing. Like eyeing his drink to make sure there were no flies in it. That sort of thing.

Every time he glanced over, you were doing something different.

Like braiding your hair.

Like laying on your stomach, inspecting the dirt.

Like picking at scabs.

Like sky gazing.

Like banging the button on the dried up drinking fountain.

Like falling asleep on a bench.

By the time the sun set, he remembered thinking ; "Something could have happened."

And all anybody cared to keep an eye on was the amount of beer they had left.

But...

You know.

It was whatever.

He didn't like kids anyway.

And nothing happened.

For three years, you joined them at that skatepark.

You watched the whole place slowly get consumed by graffiti.

You watched that one tree get sawed down.

You watched everyone order from the ice cream truck that one time, while sitting on your cousin's shoulders.

( You picked rainbow sprinkles and triple chocolate mousse. )

You watched the sun set.

You watched the sun rise.

You watched Matty break his teeth on the ramp.

You watched Jesse as he taught you how to get the hang of a skating trick called an Ollie.

You watched all the graffiti get powerwashed away.

You watched Arjun drift away.

You watched Jesse punch Derrick in the face one afternoon.

( As you sat on your bedroom floor that night, you realised he probably spotted the bruise. )

You watched the Burger King shut down.

You watched them switch to Los Pollos Hermanos. It tasted better. They threw fries to you like a you were a bird.

You watched cars shoot down the highway whenever you sat ontop of Lee's jeep and talked about where you'd all go if you had a million bucks. Everyone always chose Vegas or Canada. There was no inbetween with these guys.

You watched them roll dark green stuff up into paper and smoke it.

You watched your spiderman rollerblades shrink and get thrown in the garbage.

You watched Jesse buy you bigger ones.

( Rainbow ones. )

You watched them all grow from teenagers into men.

You watched Jesse punch Derrick some more.

You watched Jesse watching you.

You watched Jesse.

Jesse watched you.

Derrick's last chance expired on a Sunday night.

On the basketball court, right behind the skatepark.

Everyone else was gobbling down cheeseburgers and curly fries for dinner, watching New Year's fireworks pop from far away.

Jesse led him away.

The streetlights died away.

It got real dark.

The laughter died away.

It got real quiet.

The atmosphere died.

It got real tense.

And then Derrick understood what was happening.

The fireworks were so loud no one heard.

Jesse watched the asphalt become streaked with blood.

He watched the ambulance lights whirl across the parking lot.

He watched Lee hold you as you shrieked.

Then, two weeks later -

He watched the blood get powerwashed away.

One of the last things Jesse ever said to Derrick was, "Only reason I didn't kill you was because I want you to do it yourself."

Things changed.

Derrick fought a long list of charges in court pertaining to child abuse.

Lee gave up on Canada and moved to Texas. It was as far as he could go.

Jesse testified in May.

You got tossed around in foster care.

The skatepark finally crumbled.

They bulldozed it to make room for a DMV building.

Derrick got sentenced ten years.

Matty overdosed in a place nobody ever went looking.

And then...

Then it was just Jesse.

He spent a long time blaming himself, killing himself, and slowly decomposing away in the cracks of other people's lives.

When he was in the shower, or microwaving rice, or just staring out a window for no reason at all -

He would think about that skatepark.

And those times.

Then, things changed again.

How it's going.

Your bedroom is on the second storey of a safe home.

You've got polaroid photos and birthday cards pinned to your wall. The photos are mostly of you and Jesse, eating in diners, taking dogs on walks for money, trying on sunglasses, and sneaking into lame, home-town concerts where the flashing lights make the film burst into pockets of color. The birthday cards are all mostly Jesse, too, but one or two are from Lee. He's got a girlfriend, now. And a kid. This year Jesse chose a card with a cartoon middle finger and a caption reading, Happy Birthday, This is For You. Inside, he quoted a poem and sketched your favorite animal.

In your top drawer is fresh underwear and and pink MP3 player.

In your second drawer is mangled school work and empty pens.

In your bottom drawer is a file, in which a flimsy bit of paper declares Jesse Pinkman your legal guardian. Sometimes, you just look at it.

It all feels so long ago, now.

On your dresser sits a pair of rollerblades.

Jesse is as immature as ever. Most days, it feels as if there are two sixteen year olds in the house. You get on like a house on fire.

On quiet days, you'll burn through at least a quarter dozen DVD movies ranging from Tinkerbell to Terminator, and make popcorn, and play Wii.

On some days, you're headed to the new skatepark and trying new hair-standing moves on your boards, or roaming a random mall.

But most days, you're spray painting the driveway and blowing bubbles out on the sidewalk.

You eat jam toast for breakfast and dance to music in your underwear, tanking complaints from Jesse to switch the song.

You're getting piggy backs from him, and beating him in Mario Cart.

You're in school, getting solid C's.

You're on playgrounds, getting sand in your hair, sunburns on your cheeks, and scrapes on your knees that remind you of being a child.

You're crying into Jesse's lap while he cradles your head and embarrases himself by singing quietly.

You're nagging him to always buy the newest games for his laptop, like Batman and The Sims 3. Then you let him watch you play.

There's always food in the kitchen. Even if it's just bacon and bagels, Jesse always makes sure there's food.

You're riding your bike around the neighborhood during twilight, licking ice pops and ignoring texts.

Everything is sunny and simple and the most comforting type of boring.

The type that makes you normal.

The type that means when you wake up tomorrow, it's just another day of living life.

And Jesse loves you.

Despite all his... Jesse-ness. And despite all your... you-ness.

You're...

Well, you're happy.

Both of you.

Truly.

Then comes Mister White.

.

End Notes — Let me know what you think!

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Do the baby rats ever return to the bilges? And by that do they spend much time with the old man? Are they free to drop in and make themselves at home?

I think it varies between them and over time.

Alfred drops in a lot. God knows there's hardly a spot in the world he hasn't made himself known but I still couldn't quite believe how many statues and memorials. The eagle squadron, the Eisenhower statue, the Reagan statue, the 9/11 memorial garden. Mark Twain, James McNeil Whistler, Harry Selfridge, FDR, Abraham Lincoln. Like goddamn I'm not sure why I was surprised but whoo. So many statues of Yanks paid for by the British.

Anyway: In the 19th century he'd actually spent time in England indulging his need for the latest technology and satiating whatever advances François or Gilbert wouldn't keep him abreast of. Nowadays, especially since the age of flight, he travels a lot and has no shame in rolling up, insulting the food but savoring the whiskey, crashing wherever he likes and drunkenly asking his father's advice. He's very free in how much space he takes up and how much time he feels entitled too. If he's jet lagged he'll just conk out on the old man's spare room and complain it smells like sheep but very much appreciate a night's sleep in a place he once called home.

Matt... He should be very comfortable in that space but he's a dipshit so imposing feels illegal. He kind of knows he can but he's also not willing to test his luck the vast majority of the time. If he's invited he'll show up on time, clean up after himself and promptly leave without causing a fuss. At least the cat's happy he's back to visit lmao. He got permission to pay for a wee fountain in the green park memorial. There was a gate we bought when Victoria locked it and we were still first dominion (Australia was still in the process of confederating.) But yeah he's welcome? Arthur doesn't mind him around if he's not underfoot. But it really was kind of a sign Jan had no idea what Matt's life was like anymore when he asked him to go stay at his dad's in the aftermath of their break up.

Jack lmao he's shameless when he wants some of the old man's attention. I don't think it's all the time, but there are a lot of links there. I swear to God I met so many Australians in England. I tumbled out of a test pit off a corner off a Hadrian's wall fortlet and there were like 6 Australians in every pub in fricken Yorkshire. He will just kind of show up with a very casual but somehow kind of prickly invitation to go to a cultural event of his artists or bands in England and the old fart isn't objecting. It took Arthur a minute to figure out that "Accadacca" meant they were going to go see AC/DC but he wasn't mad about it! Two manic fucks can have a lot of fun. They party quite hard sometimes. Jack was also very responsible for the old man's cooking improving by a metric and imperial fuck tonne. The espresso machine under the cabinet is his baby.

Zee I think is the easiest. She's as independent as Jack but that not quite dead idea that daughters are kind of allowed to be more in and out of the house makes it slightly easier for them. She rolls up and flops on the sofa demanding to be fed and watered. A full fifth of the NZ population lives overseas with Australia and the UK topping the list and if there's things she can't really do in New Zealand or she just doesn't want to live alone she'll just hop over. I feel like she goes in cycles of how independent and revolutionary she's feeling and will just kind of make herself at home if she wants another degree or something similar. She spent time in London without the old man too especially during the peak punk years and they ran into each other at a sex pistols concert. She had a full set of tattoos, an undercut and half a blunt in her system, Arthur had green hair and absolutely ripped on god knows what. She's never seen him so panicked. They stumbled home together having a hoot and throwing beer bottles at cops. Grade a hooligans, those two.

[seehowsupplethespineis]

I missed creating random headcanons, so here’s everyone’s favorite drinks! Feel free to suggest more!

Favorite Beverages:

Optimus- He’s particularly fond of jasmine and green tea, though really any herbal tea suffices. We all know the man needs to relax and herbal tea soothes him to a certain degree. If he’s in need of a dose of caffeine, he’ll switch to black tea. He never resorts to coffee; he can’t stand the taste.

Ratchet: Unlike Optimus, coffee is his friend. He downs at least three cups a day while typing away at his station. Some of it is to keep alert, though largely he just finds it comforting.

Arcee- She prefers iced coffee, namely oliang, or Thai iced coffee as it's often called. She could drink it all day and would if her companions didn’t cut her off.

Bumblebee- Lemonade! He enjoys the sweet and sour flavor and subsequent sugar rush. Sometimes he’ll even bounce up and down while drinking it (Ratchet is concerned about this).

Bulkhead- Strangely, he hates all sodas except for root beer, which is his favorite beverage. Root beer floats are even better!

Megatron- He’ll settle for plain black coffee, though in his heart of hearts he is a material girl who wants a cappuccino or latte served on a saucer.

Starscream- Earl Grey or English breakfast tea. He’ll even add a spot of milk and stir it condescendingly in front of the other Cons. He likes to think it an act of superiority even though he boils the water in the same dented teapot as everyone else.

Knock Out- You know he has the most obnoxious coffee order imaginable; he will not settle for anything less than what he asked for. So far, Breakdown’s been the only one not to crack under the pressure of fulfilling his order (mainly because Knock Out is much more forgiving towards him). Oh, and he also enjoys wine simply so he can swirl it about in a wine glass while lounging seductively.

Breakdown- Hot cocoa! All he’s ever tasted is the cheap powdery kind, but he does not care. He loves it. His secret sweet tooth must be satisfied (when no one’s looking, he adds lots of cream and sugar to his coffee in the morning).

Soundwave- Espresso. One shot and he’s good to go.

Shockwave- Water, of course; it’s the healthiest option. That being said, he’s not averse to coffee. It also has health benefits, so long as one doesn’t consume too much.

Bonus:

Skyfire- Vanilla steamer. It’s sweet and warm and soothing. He can only drink it at night, though, because it will immediately make him sleepy.

Rumble and Frenzy- Did anyone else mix together every single drink at the soda fountain as a kid? No? Well, I did and I think Rumble and Frenzy would, too. Doesn’t matter how disgusting it turns out in the end; they’ll drink every last drop and even offer some to Soundwave, who will sip it to appease them even though it nearly makes him break his impassive exterior.

Wildbreak- Bubble tea. It’s a special treat Knock Out gets him every once in a while. Somehow, his dad knows exactly what flavors he’ll enjoy.

[strange-august]

Tag Yourself as Energies my friends and I have

🐺 Werewolf Energy 🐺

Has an intimidating "tough guy" presence but is actually a big softie.

Has a contagious howl like laughter that they hate but everyone adores.

Less of a wolf kind of werewolf and more of a golden retriever kind of werewolf.

Actually insanely dog-like (IE: strong sense of hearing, taste, smell. Red-Green colorblind and wears glasses.)

Loves to cook but doesn't drain their ground beef. Says that's where all the flavor is and will not listen to reason.

Has a deep booming voice that you can hear from across the house. Even across an empty field on a good day.

Doesn't mind getting dirty and prefers hands-on types of jobs.

Laid back but has zero tolerance for bullshit.

Only truly scary when they're angry or frustrated which is rare from them.

Actually knows the phases of the moon by heart.

Aesthetic: Muddy clothes, Messy hair, Sun kissed skin, Piercing gaze, The roar of an engine, Oil stained hands, Leather jackets, Bacon and eggs in the morning, Hamburgers and fries from Mom and Pop shops, The full moon peeking out over the treeline, Audio books, Caramel flavored coffee, Driving with the radio full blast, Light growling, Thunderstorms, Lazy days, Tequila shots, Loud laughter

Theme Song: The Nights by Avicii

🐉 Dragon Energy 🐉

Like werewolf, they're more akin to a dragon from a kid's movie rather than a traditional dragon.

Major hoarder and has a spending problem. Most of their hoards consist of art supplies, crystals, candles, weird trivial objects they find on the street, stuffed animals, DnD dice, lighters, knives, etc.

Able to romantize and find the beauty in even the most mundane of activities like a trip to the grocery store, a boring car ride or doing laundry.

Sleeps in a "nest" of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals with the A/C full blast. Can't sleep otherwise.

A child at heart and has an imagination so vivid they often get lost in it. They often need a little guidance back into the real world.

Loves going on adventures and exploring new places. Can turn even the most mundane errand into a fun excursion.

Sometimes their emotions are too much to handle and they might get overwhelmed and explode. They always feel guilty about it though and apologize afterward.

Fiercely protective of their treasures (aka: their friends) and would probably die for their friends if they had to. Though maybe a little too protective.

Opens their mouth wide when they yawn because it makes them feel like they're roaring.

Bites and headbutts their friends as a show of affection.

Aesthetic: Shed snake skin, Shiny objects, Watercolor paint, Fleeting eye contact, Soft blanket nests, Gray afternoons, Chai tea, Apple Cinnamon candles, Fine china, The glow of a heat lamp, Notebooks, Big fluffy clouds, Vivid sunsets, Bonfires, Head stuck in the clouds, Aluminum pins, Thrift shop clothes, Wide eyed stares, Awkward toothy grins, Fountain pens, Patchwork jackets, Cracking your knuckles

Theme Song: Geronimo by Sheppard

🦋 Mothman Energy 🦋

Has real cryptid energy, thanks to their height and lanky limbs. Not to mention they're already a chaos incarnate to boot.

Immuno-compromised and kind of delicate but doesn't let that stop them from obtaining their dreams.

Has the spice tolerance of a God. Will eat a whole bag of hot cheetos till their mouth is completely raw.

Stares at lights before turning them, thus accidentally blinding themselves each time. Does it so much that everyone genuinely thinks they might be part mothman.

Honestly just hates society and people in general and wants to live in the mountains as a hermit for the rest of their life.

Pretty much everything they wear came out of the 60s-70s era.

Knows an astounding amount of information on cryptids from all different states and even countries.

"When your sleep schedule is abysmal, you can sleep anytime."

Seems to subsist entirely on root beer and mountain kickstart pineapple orange mango.

Has at least twenty different kinds of potted plants in their room, all in various handmade pots and on every available surface.

Aesthetic: Moss samples, Cheap ramen noodles, Cat hair on clothes, Bomber jackets and aviator sunglasses, Leather messenger bag, Pine trees, Waterlogged boots, Moths flying around a street light, Watching the stars, Wondering what's out there, Empty paint cans, Early morning walks, Zoo and museum visits, Befriending a stray cat, Watching obscure movies, Oragami figures, Late night talks, Sarcasm, Walking sticks, RGB lights

Theme Song: The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake

👽 Alien Energy 👽

Dresses like a cartoon character and it's honestly so cute. Wears a lot of patterns and colors that somehow all work together.

Mall culture to the max. Responsible for keeping the American mall dream alive.

Kinda shy but genuinely sweet. Will always offer you help when you need it.

Absolutely loves weird and unique animals, especially elephants. They track all the ones in captivity and give updates frequently.

Like Mothman, is very tall and lanky with long limbs. They also have freckles just like a galaxy.

Misses arcades and wishes they would come back. Goes to Dave and Busters for their birthday ever year.

All their pets are unique and named after foods such as their sharpei dog, Taco.

Has an old barn on their property where stray cats like to take refuge.

Loves old Disney movies and anime. Their favorite disney movie is Lilo and Stitch.

They also have a huge collection of anime and disney related figurines. A whole shelf full and continuing to grow.

Aesthetic: Teal and turquoise, Varsity jackets and athletic shorts, Pixie cuts, Binging anime, Microwave popcorn, Cuddling with your pets, Shag carpets, Colorful notebooks and fun pencils, Scented markers, Cotton candy soap, Cheaply made gimmick erasers, Tile floors, Homemade slime, Glowsticks, Stickers on laptop, Marble soda, Fairy lights, Ramen shops, Cinnabons, Star shaped Earrings, Young Adult Novels, Sour candy, Hibiscus tea, Orange tic tacs

Theme Song: Something in the Water by Brooke Fraser

[sysboxes]

saw someone ask another blog this

main pokemon team and/or favorite drink ( inf u dont like pokemon digimon/yokai/your collect the creature choice)

Mod Luxray🐈‍⬛️⚡️ - Main team is Luxray, Noivern, Vespiqueen, Mudsdale, Skeledierge, And Sylveon!! favorite yokais kyubi and kanekui him, favorite drink is ocean blue calypso

Mod Weeping ❤️- uhhhh idk we haven’t played Pokémon in forever TvT but favourite drink is iced coffees (especially caramel ones), honeydew milk tea with boba/bubbles, and Mexican/spicy hot chocolate mod plush 🌻 — we don't really have a set team, but our favorite pokemon are furret, girafarig, dragonite, mareep, milotic, and rhydon! our favorite drink is iced tea (bonus if its mixed with lemonade). thank you for asking! ^_^

mod wonder - my favorite drink is probably brisk raspberry iced tea. beautiful and perfect

mod morpho 🦋 — never played pokémon, but my favorite drink is hot chocolate! though if I go to a shop selling drinks, I get whatever decaf or non caffeinated seasonal / limited time drink they have

Mod Avon 📖 - Not sure on a full team, but it must have Dragonair. That’s my favorite! As for drink, I love Wildcard Sodas (what I call the mix of sodas from a fountain). My typical mix involves Wild Cherry Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, Root Beer, Strawberry Mtn Dew, and Lemonade.

Mod Bugz 🐛 - I have never played pokemon before :[ I don’t know many of the actual names of Pokemon, but there are some designs I find to be very cute. I also have very different favorites; monster ultra strawberry dreams, dr pepper, chocolate milk, boba tea, unsweetened green tea and some more!

[fuzzydreamin]

OC's as Obscure References

Thanks for the tag @bokatan💖 No pressure tags: @raid3r-r4bbit @serknighted @ss-bullseye

Under the cut for length~

Name: Nora Diane Sosu

Animal: Poodle Colours: Blues and Browns Month: November Songs: Sanctuary - Shelby Merry Gravity of Love - Enigma Gravity - The Superjesus Number: 88 (atomic number of radium) Plants: Chrysanthemum, Marigold, Begonia, Roses Smells: Florals and Traces of Cigarettes Gemstone: Blue Sunstone Time of Day: Sunrise Season: Spring Places: A personal office filled with books and an overpacked desk, A lively living or dining room, A grassy hill as the sun rises or sets Drinks: Cold-brew Coffee, High End Alcohol, Fruity Cocktails Element: Water Astrological Sign: Scorpio Seasonings: Rosemary, Mint, Cardamom Sky: Sunlit golden clouds in a blue-orange hued sky Weather: Clear Weapons: Heavily Modded Sniper Rifle, Magnum Pistol, Serrated Knife Social Media: Discord Make-Up Product: Bright lipstick, for leaving marks on others Candy: Turkish Delight Method of Long Distance Travel: Boat or Vertibird Art Style: Art Nouveau Fear: Loss of Control (Herself, Situations, Finding herself responsible if others die, etc) Mythological Creature: Banshee Piece of Stationery: Fountain Pen Three Emojis: 🌟⚖️💋 Celestial Body: The Sun

Name: Alberta Jefferson

Animal: Racoon Colours: Greens and Black Month: July Songs: Lion - Hollywood Undead Cancer - My Chemical Romance The In-Between - In This Moment Number: 101 (vault) Plants: Acanthus, Cowslip, Rainflower, Fungus Smells: Leather and Machine Oil (Also very slight Ozone smell to ghouls) Gemstone: Apache Tears Time of Day: Twilight Season: Autumn Places: The great outdoors on a wide open road, A bar packed with friends, A lonely dark corridor or side room filled with old tech Drinks: Pure Water, Regular Nuka Cola, Cheap Beer Element: Air Astrological Sign: Cancer Seasonings: Ginger, Parsley, Saffron Sky: Cloudy and Green Before a Storm Weather: Stormy Weapons: A3-21's Plasma Rifle, Modded Baseball Bat, Various Explosives Social Media: Tumblr Make-Up Product: Eyeblack Candy: Gumdrops Method of Long Distance Travel: Walking or Driving a Run-down Van Art Style: Grafitti Fear: Feeling/Being Trapped Mythological Creature: Chimera Piece of Stationery: Scientific Calculator Three Emojis: ⚙️⚔️☢️ Celestial Body: Uranus

[cypriathus]

Here is my version of Sir Calogrenant!

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: There is a brief mention of death during childbirth.

Kaloghrentius Äglovetrud L’Eyschatonur is the notorious, honourable, taciturn, and somewhat oblivious Sanguine Knight who has an acrid, raunchy, and cheeky tongue. Despite his foul mouth, he’s unfailingly polite and good-mannered, often expressing himself in a thoughtful way. He’s quite respectful, but it becomes an immediate loss when someone treats him rudely or harms his daughter, niece, and/or two nephews. He’s abnormally passionate about his line of work and ruthless when it comes to battling and people who provoke his fury. He uses his language in an eloquent and seductive fashion, and possesses an unwavering dedication to justice and vengeance. He has a willingness to defend the weak and oppressed, and he’s always up for a good challenge and a bloody, yet fair fight. He’s self-sacrificing, energetic, and fearsome, but occasionally experiences melancholic thoughts of doubt, uncertainty, and inferiority. There are instances where he comes off as arrogant, blunt, and snobbish, but that’s only directed towards low-ranking demons and irredeemable people. He can be easily distracted by the kindness of others and adorable things that remind him of his daughter. Despite his valiant nature, Kaloghrentius is unfortunately known for his impulsiveness, hot-headedness, and sadistic attitude.

Kaloghrentius is a 11’ 3” (342.9 cm) endomorph with mildly tan skin, a rectangular figure, some muscle, and a beer belly. He has sparkling heterochromia eyes–right is fountain blue and the left is mule fawn–with slit pupils of old gold. He has six scars on his face: a blotchy scar on the right side of his jawline; one that covers his entire left cheek and reaches to the underside of his ear; a horizontal one across the middle of his face; and three diagonal scratches on his forehead. His shoulder-length, side-parted red brown hair is accompanied with messy curls, sideburns, and a scruffy Balbo beard.

He dons a full suit of plate armour drenched in blood and a royal mantle of black with snow leopard trim. The mantle is decorated in a khokhloma pattern with blue snowflakes, bright red roses, green fishes, and a golden firebird in the centre. He wears a Russian boyar helmet flanked with a stylised wolf’s head in rose gold and tipped with two ostrich plumes. His cuirass depicts a ruddy kingfisher that has a long-haired woman’s head and his shoulder pads are chamois buck skulls with golden horns. Kaloghrentius possesses two shields with one of them serving as a backup: a red shield with a golden insignia depicting a coiled serpent devouring a naked man; and a pink shield with an angry white lion that has red claws on a crusily field. He wields a long-handled peasant flail that can create lakes, wildfires, tornadoes, and blizzards with a single strike. He also wields a parashu of wootz steel and a strong leather grip that enhances one’s military expertise.

He looks relatively the same when in his infernal form, but he doesn’t wear any clothes and has some noticeable physical changes. He’s 14’ 7” (444.5 cm) with a twisted head that’s blinded by bloody tears and scaly Prussian blue skin. He has the lower half of an eight-legged dun Priob horse with a dorsal stripe and zebra bars on the legs. He has four grotesquely muscular arms, massive rooster wings, and praying mantis forelegs in the middle of the Priob horse. A gnarly, cerulean-eyed, serpent-tongued wolf head adorns his abdomen and a horned viper is wrapped around his neck. Kaloghrentius’ golden-clawed fingers are slender and elongated, and his tail is reminiscent of a smoothhound.

Kaloghrentius has fantastic offensive and defensive combat skills that are far superior to most mortal and immortal beings. His combat encompasses incredible and efficient speed, strength, precision, reflexes, blade techniques, warfare and one-to-one battle analysis, bodily control, adaptation, and all aspects of practical fighting. His landscape-shattering strength waxes and wanes with the Sun, and he can summon storms and manipulate spring water and hallucinations. He’s able to heal severe wounds and change his size to match with the tallest tree known to humanity if he pleased. He can generate heat from his hands and suppress his physical need for sleep for an entire month. He has instincts to kill knightly enemies, infernal adversaries, and those who harm his daughter in the most effective ways possible. He has psychokinesis and heightened senses, and he can serpents, lion carcasses, and countries he’s familiar with to teleport. Kaloghrentius is a master of botany, geology, hunting, fishing, combat, seduction, and inducing sexual gratification and satisfaction.

FAMILY:

Unnamed giant murderer demon father

Unnamed sorcerer demon mother

Melothardius Bertolakhius Haludozert (adoptive older brother)

Pelmazodius Malwegrontius-Ulfebhorga Culwodrena (nephew)

Gwalchemozius Vortaghenius (daughter)

Gwalchevodius D’Balenomius (granddaughter)

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Sanguine Knight

The Great Fool

King of the White Mountain

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

As an Æylphitus, the different parts of his name have special meanings: Kaloghrentius means “rejoicing grumbler”, Äglovetrud means “trap of a valley’s strength”, and L’Eyschatonur means “north shine”.

During his younger years, he had a foolish and talkative mindset, but would later abandon it for a more chivalrous and quiet attitude.

He despises Melothardius

After he went his separate ways with his brother, he decided to live in Russia because he found their language to be humorously endearing.

He lives in a castle of icy fire, solar rocks, and underworld stone at the base of a snowy mountain deep in the heart of Russia, which has an eclectic melding of Byzantine elements and pre-Petrine architecture. Not only is it his home, it’s used as a boundary between Nifjazroghetus and the earthly plane of existence.

He has a habit of grumbling to himself, especially when he’s feeling bitter and angry.

He likes to brag about how he managed to seduce Gwalchemozius’ mother in a light-hearted, yet crude manner. He often cites that she experienced the most divine moment in her entire life before her untimely death during childbirth.

He loves drinking medovukha and kvass

[storiesbyrhi]

Yes pls to part 2.

- Metallica anon 🤟🏼

Ask and ye shall receive. This is also for @delusionalsunsets who also green-lit the second part.

No warnings. Just more vibes.

Drabble 002 (part 2) (here's part 1) 869 words

When you got home after school on Friday, you half expected to be grounded by your dad for having even a vague connection to Eddie Munson. However, you walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table with Eddie’s uncle.

“Hey, kid,” your dad greeted. “Heard you’re going to Metallica after all?”

You asked no questions, only offering a fountain of thank yous, and an offer to get them fresh beers from the garage fridge.

It took you all night, then all Saturday morning to pick an outfit. You psyched yourself out by trying to find something you thought Eddie would be into. In the end, you just went with clothes that felt comfortable and made you feel like you.

“You look… real cute,” Eddie said when you answered the door at midday, on the dot.

“Cute?” you repeated, looking down.

“Is cute bad? ‘Cause I got a whole vocabulary of words,”

“Save it, Munson,” your dad said, coming to the door. “Wayne’s a good man. I’m trusting his word here. I want you guys home straight after the show,”

“Yes, sir. Heavy metal and nothin’ else. Swear to god,” Eddie replied, almost standing to attention.

After a hug goodbye, you were following Eddie to his van. He opened the door for you, laughing when you pulled a face.

“I told you. I’m a gentleman.”

The drive to the city was long, a couple of hours at least, but it went by fast. Eddie had a slew of questions for you, and when your nerves settled, you for him. He was easy to talk to. Fun to get to know. A joy to be around.

Eddie knew a good burger joint, and paid for your meal despite your objections. As the waitress walked away from the table with a good tip, Eddie leaned across it and wiped sauce off the corner of your mouth. You watched him suck it from his thumb and felt short of breath.

The line was already around the block for Metallica, but both you and Eddie were buzzing with energy, high off the atmosphere. The sun set and the doors were opened. Eddie took your hand as he navigated the crowds, asking how far into the mosh you felt comfortable being.

For the first few songs Eddie was by your side, but as the crowd grew more chaotic, he pulled you to stand in front of him. You were safe in his arms, the pressure of him behind you a grounding force.

“You good?” he yelled in your ear, yet it still sounded like a whisper against the stadium’s speakers.

He kept doing, kept asking if you were good, and is this okay, and do you need anything. He was like a personal assistant, bodyguard, and boyfriend all at once.

Metallica were amazing. So fucking cool and loud and fast and everything you could have imagined and more. But it wasn’t the men on stage that were the true object of your adoration.

With only a song or two to go, Eddie took hold of your shoulders and turned you on the spot. He pulled you close, and asked, “You want a better view, babe?”

Babe. Babe was much better than cute.

On the same wavelength, you nodded and climbed onto Eddie’s shoulders when he knelt. Suddenly, you were above the mosh pit and absolutely soaring. You were in musical awe and emotional heaven and quite definitely madly in love.

Eddie kept his promise; you were returned to your home, coming straight from the show. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. Your dad brewed chamomile tea, let Eddie stay for a cup. The recount of your night, spilling from your mouth at a hundred miles an hour, was amusing but ultimately your dad knocked on the kitchen table twice and went upstairs.

You walked Eddie to the door when you’d exhausted all possible conversation points. Yawning, you leaned on the door frame and smiled at him.

“You’re a mess,” he whispered, ruffling your knotted hair. “It’s hot.”

You laughed and pushed him playfully, but he caught your hand and planted a kiss on top.

“Thank you,” you said. “For tonight. Sucks for Jeff, but good for me,”

“Jeff?”

“Grounded… Couldn’t come… Spare… ticket…” you reminded him, confused at his confusion.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed. “Yeah. Sure,”

“What did he get grounded for anyway?”

The hesitation was a dead fucking giveaway and Eddie could tell by the stupid grin on your face that you’d figured it out.

“You lied? Why?” you said laughing.

Eddie was blushing, but it was undetectable, the night was dark and the light from inside the house had an orange hue.

“Oh, you know… Trying to be cool… casual…” Eddie shrugged.

“You were shy!”

“Shhhhh,” he shushed, pulling you into a hug.

You giggled and looked up at him. “Don’t be shy. Like you said, we have things in common.”

Eddie thought on your words, then leaned down and kissed you. It was gentle until you kissed back, then it wasn’t. It was exactly what you wanted.

“Liiiiiike, liking each other?” Eddie guessed.

“Like liking each other,” you said, smiling so hard it hurt.

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Ooooh a writing prompt you say? How about Nishan and Kumari + dancing?? 👀

~ @poetinprose 🩵 (p.s.: thank you for being so patient with me atm!!)

heya there, jay! thank you for this particular request! this got a lil' longer than intended. however, i'm glad i got an excuse to focus on this story. 👏

this particular tale takes place prior to the main Blasted Scorn plot. just the crew chilling in an island village. 🏝🏝🏝

(no problem! i understand you get busy, so it's cool. you're welcome to interact at your own pace. ^-^)

send me a prompt? for any oc, dynamic, fandom characters, concepts.

Word Count: 901

T.W/C.W: romance, i guess

***

After a journey from kingdom to empire, the captain decided to stop by to a small village. Located on a small island, where they didn't have much visitors. They wanted to take the crew to have a night off and a break from their travels.

With the ship by the docks and night approaching, there had been a celebration of sorts. Multiple villagers gathered at the town center. Various lights of different colors and shapes decorated on random places. Attached on a string that connected some poles together. Lanterns surrounding the edges of a large fountain, where water shimmered from it's luminosity.

Nishan's breath caught in her throat at the sight of it all.

A small group of musicians played a jaunty tune and people chattered or laughed. Just clad in a combination of casual and formal.

Strangely enough, the villagers welcomed them with cordiality. One of them even murmured something to Titanarin, who shook their hand and gave a small smile.

Something told Nishan that they either must have done them a favor. Or they had been an old friend of theirs. Nonetheless, this might be one of those rare moments that nobody had a grudge for their thievery or tricks.

Biligan and Kentway were sitting by the table, drinking some wine and champagne. Just getting inebriated within minutes after they arrived.

Ianette joined in a game of cards with some villagers, clutching onto a beer bottle. They wore a black tunic and matching boots, their focus fixed on their valuables. Watching their opponents fiercely.

Eubha was making flower crowns for children, helping them to style their hair. Dressed in a sundress of ocean wave patterns. She smiled, her expression full of fondness.

Captain Titanarin sauntered throughout the area with Moloky following them. Flapping her wings, squawking. They laughed as she perched on top of their hat.

As for Kumari, she. . . She wore something known as a lancha. A green and yellow long sleeved shirt with a skirt flaring around her ankles. Her brown hair cascaded down her back in waves and some braids.

She stroked a sheep's head as it bleeped at her. Other people, children and adults, were accompanying the animals in the shed.

Clearly, a stunning sight to behold, she thought. Her heart fluttered and she coughed, pressing a hand over her tight chest.

She hadn't brought much fancy clothes since she got on board of the ship. She fixed her dark curly hair onto a bun on top of her head. Letting some strands frame her face. She chose a beige long, loose chiffon dress containing a pink and lilac embroidered lines around the torso. She could move easily in it, watching the fabric billow in the breeze.

She only sat by the fountain, observing most of the festivities. She would have brought a book with her if she didn't fret over losing it by accident. So, she settled to be quiet and enjoy the joy from her companions.

Before she could scoot to another spot, Kumari skipped towards her. She scrunched her nose and propped her hands at her sides.

"Hey! Why are just sitting here?" Kumari asked, propping her chin over her wrist.

"I'm okay with seeing everyone else enjoying the night," Nishan answered with a shrug. "I'd explore this village. But I suppose we won't be here for too long."

"Oww, that's a shame." Nishan pouted. "But certainly, you can explore this little square."

"I already did that." She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's alright, you can go and be merry. I won't be bothered."

When Nishan gulped, she nearly jumped at a sudden clap.

"Ooh, I know! Dance with me! It'll be fun!"

"Are. . . are you sure?"

"Very much so. Just one dance, that's all I'm requesting."

Kumari stretched a hand out, her eyes twinkling. Nishan bowed her head, feeling beads of sweat trickling down her face.

It would be one dance and just that. She wouldn't. . . she wouldn't do so terribly. She had learned how to dance from her father back at her home land.

Nishan's cheeks heated as she clasped onto Kumari's hand. She laughed and brought her along to a circle of people by the fire.

The lights glimmered around them in a bright golden glow as if a part of a different place. A smooth and cheerful melody resounded the area as the musicians performed another song.

To Nishan's surprise, she saw Kumari waved at a villager. They offered her a hand and someone else did the same for Nishan, who nearly didn't notice. They moved into a circle, going around slowly.

Compared to most dances she witnessed at a ball or gala, it wasn't people paired off together. Yet rather a small group of people, linking their hands and throwing a small kick forward.

Yet it could be just as intimate as a dance between two people. In terms of proximity and the amount of holding hands.

With their fingers entwined and Nishan's heart rate going between erratic and steady, she probably could faint. However, warmth engulfed her while Kumari threw her head back. She laughed, her expression brimming with pure mirth.

Just dazzling like sunshine in a clear sky. And utterly precious.

Nishan smiled, squeezing her hand tighter onto Kumari's. Just breathing in, relishing in her warmth. Sharing a wild laugh with her, grateful to know her.

***