#also this edible i took 3 (three) hours ago is hitting a little

[clancyycat]

ok i’ll say it. cruella was excellent

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[rextasywrites]

Grab a bite (Lady Dimitrescu x f!Reader)

Hello! This is my first smut fic here on Tumblr. Please enjoy, I tried my very best <3 mostly smut with a hint of plot, maybe i can expand this idea??? have fun!

Warning: period blood kink! smut! don’t like don’t read please!

Find this fic on AO3

 The days in the castle hadn’t been pleasant to you...to say it in a mild way. The three vampire chicks had thrown you into the basement, up to rot along your mates. The first one to go was Mike. He had suffered from a cold before you headed into the mysterious village, and his cold soon turned into pneumonia. There wasn’t anything you could do for him apart from making sure he was as comfortable as he could be.

 The next one to go was Jasmin. In the cells you three (and a corpse) shared were quite a few rusty nails and she had the misfortune of stepping on one. Sepsis took her in less than 24 hours.

 Just a few hours ago, it was James who perished. The food given to you by the vampires was barely edible.. for humans. While you suffered from stomach aches quite a lot, James had a bigger problem. His food allergies were through the roof, and a simple dish with some nuts in it was his last meal on death row. You tried to make a tracheotomy, you really did.

 The vampires kept you in the cage for just a little bit longer. The bodies were taken away by them, but you had no chance of escaping. As you laid on the uncomfortable bed that kind of resembled a murphy bed, your mind went to everything you had left behind. Your family, your friends. All of this for a stupid job and “exploring Romania”. Fuck this shit. Were they looking for you? Were they missing you?

 Your stomach churned at all the anxieties creeping up your throat, making you choke back whatever was trying to come back up. But that wasn’t the only weird feeling in your stomach. While you didn’t know how long you had actually been in this hellhole, you knew your birth control ran out several days ago, and now your body was keen on getting its hormone household back into place.

 As if your uterus called her, one of the vampire ladies stood in front of the cell you were locked in, licking over her lips. You couldn’t tell if the darkness of her lips was from lipstick or the fact that she was a half dead monster. “Lady Dimitrescu awaits you.”, the lady said and unlocked the cage. When you first stood up, you had to press your hand against your stomach, feeling how the cramps were slowly getting worse inside of you. The lady just watched with raised eyebrows - do vampires even get periods?

 She led you through the impressive castle, and you wondered when someone cleaned in here for the last time, spiderwebs and dust were settled on nearly every surface. But boy, if it wasn’t impressive. Bigger than anything you had ever seen in your life. This sentence also was fitting for Lady Dimitrescu, who was sitting on her luxurious bed, covers of satin under her impressive...body.

 “My dear, I knew you would make it alive out of there!”, she gave you her biggest smile, and when she stood up...Jesus, she was taller than anyone you had ever seen, easily reaching 2,5 meters. Absolutely supernatural. But the thing which caught your eyes the most were her huge breasts. They were right at eye height for you, and being killed by massive tits seemed like the most pleasant death in this place. Well, at least better than dying because of a rusty nail.

 Lady Dimitrescu cupped your cheeks, feeling how the past few days had made you visibly lose weight already. “Oh my...if you want to survive the ritual, we have to nourish you. Daniela, please, get us some of the wine. I wouldn’t want my daughter to starve, would I?”

 Daniela came back with a bottle of the wine Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, pouring it into two glasses before handing you one, the other one to her...mentor? Mother? You didn’t know. Lady Dimitrescu made your two glasses click together and took a sip off the exclusive fluid, smiling as it made its way to her stomach. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. A strong taste of dry wine, but the aftertaste was slightly metallic. “You know you are allowed to speak with me.”, Lady Dimitrescu said as she put her glass on the nightstand, which had looked hilariously small in her hands. “You are part of the family now, dear. There is nothing to hide.”

 “Why me?”, was everything you managed out. Daniela had left the room by now, but that didn’t help to lessen your anxiety.

 Lady Dimitrescu chuckled and took your hand into hers, giving you the gentlest smile a vampire demon whatever the fuck she was could give. “Because you are special. The first moment my daughters spotted you in the village, I knew you’d come here. I knew you’d make it out of there alive. And now, I will prepare you for the ritual.”

 “What kind of ritual?”, the questions were clouding your mind. The last ritual you heard of was from Midsommar, and you had no interest in being burnt alive! As your hands started to shake, Lady Dimitrescu tightened her grip on them.

 “I will make you one of us. But first, you have to show me you can handle this life. That you can handle…”, she got closer to your ear as she whispered into it, “my needs.” Her needs?

 Lady Dimitrescu took the glass from your hands, putting it next to hers. Once her hands were free she placed them on your shoulders, pushing you down into the satin covers of her bed, and once you hit the sheets, your eyes felt so heavy. “Don’t fall asleep little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu shooed, tapping her long fingers against your skin.

 “We would have started this sooner, but sadly”, Lady Dimitrescu gestured to your pants, “you have used this pill which stopped your period. And I need a good taste of you before we can continue.” What? A good taste?

 “I thought vampires drink blood!”, you bursted out, cupping your mouth once your brain realized what you just said.

 Lady Dimitrescu laughed loudly, giving your thigh a little pat. “Oh, we do, little dove. But I need to taste your innocence.” Your innocence… Her words flew around your brain while her fingers touched your bare skin from the holes in your pants. The bucket of water and the washing cloth might have helped you with feeling filthy, but it didn’t help with any ripped clothes. “It won’t hurt, I promise you. And once you have passed this test, you will be one of us in no time.”

 “...Okay?”

 “Good to hear that you agree with me, little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu smiled, and her next move shook you to the bone. Out of the fingers of her right hand came claws, something straight out of a Wolverine movie! You froze in shock as she came closer, but instead of hurting you, all she did was slowly ripping the fabric of your clothes - or better said, what was left of them. She hummed at the sight under her, while your face became hotter and hotter. “Do not worry, dove. You will get new costumes when I am done with you. We will burn this trash you called clothes. Cheap trash.”

 Soon you were left in your undergarments, Lady Dimitrescu eyeing you up and down as if you were a piece of meat, ready for the predator to rip into its prey. And it wasn’t that wrong of a thought. In the end, you were at her mercy, but slowly her soft touch made you feel warm on the inside, spreading from your stomach, reaching all the way to your fingers and toes, a warmth you hadn’t felt in days. Was it the wine? Or was it something else?

 Lady Dimitrescu smelt old. But not an unpleasant old smelt, not this smell from nursing homes, where the rotten flesh melted into the seats of the wheelchairs. The smell of old books and knowledge, aged like the fine wine she had just given you.

 As your mind was clouded, Lady Dimitrescu continued to undress you. Your period had started by now, and a single drop of your blood fell on the satin covers under your ass. She chuckled, dipping her finger into the blood, licking it clean. “Have you ever laid with a man before, my dove?”, Lady Dimitrescu asked, to which you were ripped out of your thoughts, your reply a simple nod. You didn’t trust your voice anymore. “That’s good. You are pure. You are innocent. Just perfect for my daughters and me. Oh little dove, we are going to have so much fun together!”, Lady Dimitrescu laughed as she clapped her hands together, giving you her widest smile - and for a moment you could spot her fangs. What a weird turn on all of this was.

 Once her finger was clean, a hunger formed inside of her. Your blood...it tasted so good, so fresh, so healthy. Unlike anything she had eaten in the past 500 years - and she fucking wanted more. “Come here, little dove. Spread your legs for the Lady.”, she said as she grabbed hold of your hips, pulling your middle closer. The claws on her right hand had gone back into her skin, and at this point, you didn’t even want to ask why. At this point, all you needed was her.

 Lady Dimitrescu settled between your legs, “Let’s make this a pleasant experience for the both of us, shall we?”, she smiled as she pulled down her dress, exposing her big breasts. “I noticed your stares.”, and by the gods, they were everything you ever wanted and needed. Big, her dress had held them up, it must have been painful to her. They were saggy, but who didn’t appreciate a great pair of tits? You reached upward, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh as she chuckled. Lady Dimitrescu placed her hand on yours, letting you feel her up as you desired.

 “Come on, little dove”, she smiled after some groping from your side. She couldn’t deny, your eager massages on her breasts had left her wet and ready, but she had to prepare you. Maybe once she managed to spill a sweet orgasm from your lips, maybe then she would engage in some self centered pleasure. But right now, you were her main focus.

 Her fingers dipped a finger between your folds, scooping up your wetness mixed with blood. Lady Dimitrescu hummed in delight as she sucked her fingers clean, happiness clearly evident as she savoured the taste on her tongue. “You want to try it too?”, you shook your head in response, to which she laughed, “Oh, you will appreciate blood soon enough, little dove!”

 You couldn’t gasp when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed your hips, pulling you up against her mouth. With your legs wrapped around her shoulders, she had your pussy right in her face, taking in the sweet smell of your arousal and the metallic undertone of blood. Just how she liked it. Just how she imagined it. “Oh, having to wait for you for so many days was terrible, little dove. But now, you are mine.”, she whispered as she dove her head between your thighs, taking in more and more of you. The moment her tongue hit your folds, a loud gasp escaped your throat, surely the vampires outside of the room would hear you. Lady Dimitrescu just chuckled against your wetness, flicking her tongue over your clit as the sweet taste of your wetness spread all across her mouth.

 Her tongue was in the same proportion as her body, longer and thicker than anything you had ever seen before - or felt before. She slurped up whatever fluid she could reach, humming in delight whenever blood found its way into her mouth. The blood of a healthy and innocent virgin had been her favourite kind for so long, so hard to come by and the resulting fullness lasting for even longer. Maybe she wouldn’t turn you and keep you as her little to-go human. But where would be the fun in that?

 As much as you wished she’d use her fingers too, it was like Lady Dimitrescu was reading your mind. “No penetration for you, little dove. You need to stay pure, untouched.”, but eating your pussy out was fine? Well, you had to play by her rules, not yours. You relaxed further in her grip as Lady Dimitrescu refreshed herself on you, feeling hundreds of years younger.

 Your orgasm came crashing down on you, unexpected but with a force you had never felt before. While you groaned and trashed under Lady Dimitrescu’s grip, she kept her lips on your pussy, taking in all the juices she could get her mouth on, the hint of blood making her moan in delight.

 The next thing you know is that the pain in your abdomen had stopped and Lady Dimitrescu had put clothes on your. You rubbed your eyes, blinking as you made sense of what had happened while you were out. The clothes on your body were dark and silky, just like the dress of Daniela before. The hunger inside of you was burning your stomach down, but it wasn’t just a simple hunger.

 You were lusting for blood. Well, time to find Lady Dimitrescu and tell her about the little changes in your body...

[mascwhump]

Chapter 3: She Burns Like Heroin

This came out a bit quicker than the last one, eh? Hope you enjoy! Oh and by the way, I’m still getting use to tagging TWs. Please let me know if I missed anything that might be triggering so I can edit the list :)

TW: Noncon drugging, drugs (mentioned), kinda creepy whumper, needles

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

-

Charlie was moved into a larger room. The one before might as well have been a closet. This new room had white tile floors, white painted walls, and was sufficiently lit. The door was metal, leaving no hope of breaking it down. The only other way out of the room was through an air vent on the ceiling, but the ceilings were at least 10 feet high. Not that Charlie would fit into it, anyway. In the corner of the room was a little bathroom. It had a sink, toilet, and bathtub inside, with a curtain instead of a door.

Charlie was attached to the wall by chains on his wrists. They were about 5 feet long, which allowed a little movement. Small hooks stuck out of the walls in multiple places, along with some in the ceiling. Mallory had come in a few hours ago to show Charlie that the team had indeed been released.

Strangely, he wasn't as afraid as he could've been. He knew the team would be looking for him. He didn't think about whatever Mallory had planned on doing with him. It didn't matter. He'd be home soon.

Sleep came often. It was the fastest way to heal. When he wasn’t sleeping, he’d passed the time by daydreaming or counting to high numbers in his head.  He was at 2,452 when someone entered the room. It was a small blond man carrying a tray.

"Hello, my name is Basil. I've brought a sandwich and some water for you," he said.

"Thanks, I guess,” Charlie replied.

Basil set the tray in front of Charlie and sat cross-legged a few feet away.

"I'm supposed to make sure you don't choke to death," he said.

Charlie laughed as he took a bite of the ham and cheese sandwich. He didn't like being watched while he ate, but he too hungry to care. He finished the sandwich quickly and downed the glass of water.

"Do you need to use the facilities?" Basil asked.

"'Facilities'? Yeah, I guess so," Charlie replied.

"Alright. Before I remove the restraints, do you promise not to attack me?" Basil asked.

"Yeah, I promise," Charlie said.

He was amused. The soft spoken tone and interesting word choices intrigued him. Basil definitely was out of place.

He used the restroom and was put back into the chains. Basil picked up the tray and left the room. He was almost robotic. It was like he was brainwashed into being some sort of orderly.

Charlie fell asleep soon after he left, counting to 300.

-

Days went by. It was the same routine every day. Basil would come three times a day to feed Charlie and take him to the restroom. The only other person he saw was a doctor. The doctor would check on his wound and change the bandages as needed. She never said a word to Charlie, aside from commands telling him what to do with his arm.

He was beginning to go a bit stir crazy. One could only count so much before all the numbers became a jumbled mess. He started a small exercise routine, mainly consisting of things he could do with his limited movement.

On the fifth day, things were a different. A few hours after Basil had given him breakfast, Mallory entered the room.

"Miss me?" He asked, walking in with a briefcase.

Charlie didn't reply. Mallory approached him, taking in his appearance.

"You look better than when I last saw you," he said.

"What's in the case?" Charlie asked, ignoring his comment.

"Remember how I told you that you're going to help change the world? Well, that starts today."

"I thought you said that would be after I healed."

Mallory opened the briefcase and pulled out a syringe. Inside of it was a dark blue liquid. It appeared to have a gold shine to it when the light hit just right.

"What the fuck is that?" Charlie questioned, pushing himself closer the wall.

"You're right, I did say it would be after you healed. And this here is what is going to heal you," Mallory explained.

He removed the cap of the needle and flicked the glass before commanding Charlie to put out his arm.

"No!" Charlie cried out, the sight of the needle making him dizzy.

He pulled his legs up to his chest and shielded his arms between them. He tucked his head down, effectively curling into a ball.

"Come on, Charlie," Mallory cooed, "don't you want to feel better?"

"Fuck you! This wasn't part of the deal!" Charlie yelled into himself.

He was shaking. Needles had always been a fear of his, and not knowing exactly what was inside of the syringe didn't help.

"I fulfilled my end of the deal. You fulfilled yours. Now, this isn't a deal. This is part of the real reason I kept you," Mallory explained, "I already knew everything you told me. I don't care about your team; they're useless to me. But you, Charlie..."

Charlie looked up. Mallory was kneeling in front of him now.

"When I had my surgeons fix up your shoulder, I also had them draw some blood. We did some tests. Charlie, you're perfect for this. You're just what-"

"Fuck. You," Charlie spat.

Mallory sighed. Something changed in his eyes. Charlie began to react when Mallory lunged forward and jammed the needle into his neck.

Charlie sat frozen as it began to feel like ice was flowing through his veins. Mallory pulled out the needle and tossed it to the side, watching as Charlie's pupils dilated. The ice quickly turned to fire, but the burn was almost pleasant. Charlie put his hands on Mallory's shoulders to hold himself steady as overwhelming euphoria took over his body. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood up, and he let out shaky, shallow breaths.

"Talk to me," Mallory whispered, "how does it feel?"

Charlie couldn't get a word out. The pain in his shoulder suddenly subsided, and he couldn't help but giggle, as if he was on laughing gas. His arms went limp and he began to tip over, so Mallory took hold of him to keep him upright. After a few minutes, the effects began to decay.

Once he could hold himself up again, Mallory let go to begin unwrapping the bandage from Charlie's shoulder. Once off, it was revealed that the wound had completely healed, only leaving a small scar.

"It worked," Mallory said, almost in disbelief.

Charlie moved his shoulder around. Before, it would've been agonizing, but now, it was like he had never been shot.

"That's... how did you do that?" He breathed, still recovering from the intense sensation.

"That's one of the serums we've been working on," Mallory said, "the lab is calling it Q-179 for now."

"It's like some sort of healing potion," Charlie said, "I can't believe it."

"What did it feel like? I lost you for a minute there," Mallory laughed.

"Like nitrous oxide met heroin, or at least what I'm told heroin feels like," Charlie explained, "I've never felt anything like that before in my life."

Mallory retrieved the needle from where he had thrown it and put it back in the briefcase.

"So, it worked. Am I free to go now?" Charlie asked.

"No," Mallory said, "that was just the first test."

"What else do you need to test?" Charlie questioned, standing up.

"Its effectiveness on other types of wounds," Mallory replied, leaving the room before Charlie could respond.

Charlie sat back down. Other types of wounds? He was completely healed now, so that meant...

He pushed the thought away by thinking about what he just experienced. What kind of concoction could do something like that? What could make him feel like that?

After an hour, there were no signs of any hangover symptoms. If this got out, it would surely be a success, just for the recreational aspect. Charlie had never done drugs before, besides the one time he accidentally ate an edible, and he drank and smoked occasionally. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how good it felt.

Basil came in to feed him, and the routine went back to normal. He didn’t see Mallory again for three days.

[mrsmarlasinger]

I fell asleep for a bit but I'm awake now, having dosed(???) five hours ago. Why can I feel my teeth!!!! I CAN FEEL THE NERVES IN MY TEETH. Ew. Also the inside of my nose is cold, and I am cold, but less cold than I was earlier (as well as marginally more clear-headed). I think I get what my QPP means when they say weed magnifies every sensation for them. See, I'm not too high to use active voice even when the subject is an inanimate object

OH MY GOD "Detention" by Melanie Martinez just came on and I FELT the start of the song move inside my brain, and in my nose and teeth. I love drugs. But actually, I think I still prefer DXM for music listening. I want my head to become a deep cave made of music and for me to dive into it and melt into the music and for my soul to float up through the music and into the stars. Y'know what I'm saying????

God, I sound like a fucking stoner. I'm not even. Today is the four-week anniversary of my t-break from dex. Hasn't even been hard--I think I'm through the worst of my DXM hyperfixation lololol. Instead my hyperfixation is my new story characters, who basically do a lot of drugs and have a lot of sex and make a lot of bad decisions and be really mencholly eel. Sooo in a way, I'm still hyperfixated on drugs, but only indirectly. You can't blame me, I'm 21 and only just going through my rebellious, bucking-the-severe-repression phase. And I made my characters in the Sims 4 and made a messy college house full of cups and cans and bottles for them and threw them a kegger, because I have the Discover University expansion pack and they are in college (even though I'm not, anymore). My teeth hurt.

Wait, was I hitting the Enter key three times last post? Or two? How much am I supposed to do it? Okay, I will just hit it once. Anyway, so like I was saying about the music cave earlier, I probably need a higher dose (a dose? A fucking dose? Is that what I'm supposed to say?) of weed. Next time I will take the whole edible all at once, I think. My teeth hurt. But at least on dex you can sort of hole...God, I wanna try ket so fucking bad. I want drug friends. By the way, my QPP is my drug friend because they gave me the edibles because...I kind of don't remember why, but love you, bestie!!!

You know text shadows in Microsoft Word or PowerPoint or whatever? That's what I'm seeing on my keyboard. Anyway, I need drug friends. I want acid and ket and shrooms and molly and kitty flipping and candy flipping and LSDXM...in Minecraft, of course. But I will pay money. In Minecraft. I won't say what other thing I'm thinking about doing because it doesn't matter and I can't do it unless maybe if I get a shitty old laptop from a pawn shop. Jk 😌 I wish I was rich. You know what I'd spend my money on, in Minecraft.

Anyway, my teeth hurt. I know this would synergize so well with DXM, just like all my besties in the dex subreddit say. I never get close-eyed visuals on DXM but I am getting some on this trip(??) because it's quite visual. And my hot pink fairy lights look so beautiful. Make DXM more visual?? Hell yeah.

With the dex, I so so so hope my tolerance break helps. I only did it four times in six weeks, and yeah I sort of broke the week per plat rule a bit, but how can I have already gotten desensitized to...what was the last dose I took...300 mg? 375? 390? It's not that high but I'm tiny, I only weigh like I don't know, maybe 110 lbs (that's a whole other herstory but I refuse to have an anorexic meltdown on weed ❤️).

And I kinda want RoboTabs but freebase hits faster and I love me a good long high. I don't know what dose I'll take next month (or whenever I'll do it again, idk and idrc). Maybe 450 mg? 15*3=45*10=30 gelcaps. Ughhh, the sorbitol would knock me on my ass. I would seriously throw up. Wish anticholinergics didn't give you dementia, it would be nice to have a little DPH with my dex...except I am really fucking sensitive to Benadryl, so maybe it wouldn't...oh wait, weed is an antiemetic!! That's partly why they say it works so well with DXM!! Yeah, maybe I do like 345 mg and an edible? Half an edible? Probably I should start low and experiment more before I go all in, but hey, I like astral projecting.

Oh my god, do you want to remember something scary I read about k-holing? I don't remember the exact source or exactly what it said, so take this with a shaker of salt, but I believe it said when you k-hole, your brain activity STOPS? Like being dead, but it doesn't cause brain damage because you're still breathing, your brain is still getting oxygen. Isn't that so terrifying? But I want it, I want to know. I've kind of dex-holed a little on low third plat, but definitely not like that.

The thing weed will not do is help with the histamine release you get with dex, which a first-generation antihistamine would, but it's so bad for you and a deliriant and DXM potentiates it. Wish the dex body load weren't so damn dirty. This body load is soooo much more manageable. But my teeth. Hurt >:(

Anyway, that's probably all I need to ramble. I forgot what else I was going to say. It was probably about dex I'm sure. Fun how I will not shut the fuck up about fucking cough medicine. God.

[avangee]

Fourth of July ( Pt. 6)

Read on AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Mikey sat awkwardly far from Pete, they were both still naked and dripping. What the fuck was he even doing? Fucking Pete Wentz was peobably a huge fucking mistake, not only because of his sore everything, but also because he was entirely sober. Not a drop of alcohol or marijuana in his system, it was fucking awful. He had started to think about the repercussions of this, which were not in slightest bit positive. Mikey didn’t even know if Pete was clean! That short motherfucker could have given Mikey an STD.

“You’re clean right?” Mikey asked, his voice was strained from the face fucking of twenty minutes ago.

Pete looked confused, so Mikey clarified, “You didn’t just give me aids or something, right?”

The older nodded his head no and the two settled back in to the awkward silence. Mikey’s towel fell off of him, exposing his semi-hard that he only had because Pete Wentz doesn’t follow through when you let him fuck your face. The entire rest of the shower Mikey had to ignore his dick and actually clean himself. Pete’s gaze somehow made it on to Mikey’s dick, and Mikey, the great liar he was, told Pete that his cock was only hard because of the sudden coldness. That was an obvious lie but Pete nodded, still staring at Mikey’s half erection.

“I am going to get dressed now, uh, my clothes would probably be too big on you but you can use them if you want?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, it was meant to be Mikey’s normal, cold statements.

Pete nodded again, he hadn’t said a word since they got out of the shower. Mikey had planned on kicking him out but it was still 4 pm and Pete did pay to see fireworks. Mikey sighed, he really didn’t want to be sober. He rifled through his drawers trying to find his shorts and a suitable shirt. His lazy ass didn’t want to wear underwear as they always seem to all disappear when he needed them. So he shoved on some red basketball shorts, an old Misfits shirts and was done with it. He wanted to avoid the very naked Pete for as long as possible, so he started to brush his hair. Of course the only brush he had in his room was a sparkly pink one. He had fucked himself on that brush numerous times, the thought getting him all the way hard.

Mikey tucked his dick into the waistband of his shorts and told Pete he was going downstairs to get some food. The younger had barely made it to the door before Pete was shoving him against it. Mikey flinched, expecting some form of pain to hit him. Nothing, Pete was holding Mikey’s hands to the door and was staring. Eyes shifted from Mikey’s eyes to his lips to his dick. Pete took a hand and locked the door.

“What do you want, Mikes?” Pete asked, his eyes were fixed on Mikey’s, keeping contact as he shoved a hand down Mikey’s shorts.

Mikey took that moment to realize that yes, Pete was still naked and yes, he really wanted Pete to blow him. He was sober and still he wanted his dick near Pete Wentz. Odd. The taller gained his compusure, he made hs face blank and unreadable. Pete’s hand was moving up and down Mikey’s dick, messing his shorts.

“I want to fuck your mouth.” Mikey wanted payback. Although he had liked his mouth being used, he didn’t like the strain on his throat every time he spoke.

Pete got down on his knees and pushed Mikey’s shorts down, kissing around his length and thighs. He pushed his mouth onto the dick in front of him, Mikey was a bit longer and a lot thicker than Pete was. Mikey grabbed a handful of Pete’s hair and thrusted, not giving a single fuck as to how rough he was being.

“Tap my leg if you want to stop, Wentz,” Mikey said, watching to see Pete’s teary eyes for a reaction. Pete moaned against Mikey’s unmoving dick in affirmation.

Mikey shoved himself in Pete’s mouth, it was different to fuck the shorter while sober. Better. Mikey could feel the back of Pete’s throat as his tongue licked around Mikey’s dick. The younger didn’t really pay attention as he fucked into Pete, zoning out. He focused on the way Pete’s lips would stretch as wide as possible everytime Mikey thrusted. The way his eyes squezzed shut every so often accompanied with a whine that made Mikey throb. Pete was beautiful, but Mikey shouldn’t be thinking that. They weren’t dating. Just fucking for the day. The younger wouldn’t have noticed he came if it wasn’t for his euphoria.

Pete brought the dick into the back of his throat as Mikey relaxed the grip he had in the other’s hair. The older swallowed around Mikey, milking him. It was blinding white pleasure, but Pete didn’t need to know that. Mikey only fucked Pete’s mouth as payback, so both their voices were strained and raspy. Fuck Pete, quite literally. Mikey chuckled at his own thoughts, he was coming down from his orgasm. Pete pulled off a while before, he was still kneeling bits of cum stuck to his face. Mikey guided Pete to his feet, his compusure was entirely fabricated as he licked himself off of Pete’s lips. The younger moved his tongue the way he’s seen Gerard put on lipstick. Circling Pete’s lips until the shorter pulled Mikey into him, kissing roughly but somehow soft at the same time. It was fucking weird.

“Food” was Mikey’s only words before he pulled on some shorts and disappeared behind the door, leaving Pete to pull on some clothes and do whatever it is Pete was going to do. Mikey found it more comfortable without underwear or a shirt, wearing just the bare minimum to conceal his dick. Basketball shorts were always Mikey’s pajama bottoms if he decided he wasn’t going to sleep naked.

True to his word, he did get some food. Well, he picked up the first edible thing he saw. The peach wasn’t mindblowing but it provided a little distraction from his thoughts. He munched down, realising that he was actually fucking starving. Excessive sex would do that to a person. Honestly, Mikey had cum at least four times within the six hours he met Pete at that 7-11. Three was too much for even a day. Sure, Mikey had made himself cum eleven times the first day Gerard went to fuck Frank that summer but that doesn’t mean he wants to cum half that in less than a day. Fuck, that day a bag of popcorn in his lap made him tremble. He didn’t want to relive that again.

Mikey was almost to the pit of the peach when Pete walked down the stairs, he was wearing Mikey’s missing Radiohead shirt and tight black briefs. Normally, Mikey wouldn’t hace noticed the way his shirt was big against Pete’s small body and went down to just above the older’s bulge. Jesus, if he had enough energy he would’ve been half hard by that point. Apparently, Mikey had a kink for guys wearing his clothes because there is no other explanation to how irrationally attracted to Pete he was at that moment. Fuck.

“Got any fucking tequila?” Pete asked, his eyes moving around the room. Leave it to Pete Wentz to ruin a moment of perfect sexually tensed silence. Not sexually tense. If Mikey was way too gucked out to even get a semi hard, Pete was the same. There couldn’t possibly be sexual tension, they already fucked. So what was it Mikey was feeling?

Mikey brought himself back to reality, grabbing a bottle of Tennesse Whiskey No. 7, there was no tequila and if there was Mikey wouldn’t fucking drink it. “Hate tequila.”

“Tequila is delicious, you uncultured swine,” Pete defended with faux offense, it was the kind of thing friends do.

“Fuck no it’s not, tastes like ass.”

“Thought you, of all people, would understand that I love the taste of ass.” Pete was joking but Mikey couldn’t help but think of the picture, Pete with his tongue inside Mikey’s ass licking everything. Shit, Mikey muffled a needy whine in the back of his throat.

He grabbed a package of Oreo’s and shoved the Jack Daniel’s bottle in the hands of Pete as he says, “C'mon. The fireworks are about to start.”

Pete followed blindly as Mikey walked back to his room with purpose, opening the window and tossing the Oreo’s out before moving to climb out. He always loved being on the roof, the sun had started to set and it looked beautiful. Mikey tried to come out to see the sunset as much as he could. He took a deep breath, it didn’t make much sense but the air always seemed better up there. Cleaner. Mikey picked the Oreo’s back up and sat a bit away from the window.

A leg had just started to cone through when Mikey sat, Pete looked confused when he stepped out. He almost tripped, that could’ve lead to a nasty fall. Pete laughed at himself and sat next to Mikey.

Mikey could hear the neighbors shouting but it didn’t really matter, all that mattered was the sky. It was beautiful that day, purples and grays mixing to create something Gerard would probably paint. The younger could feel Pete’s gaze burning against the side of his face, there was no possible way the marijuana was still affecting Pete so Mikey had zero idea as to why there were eyes on him.

Mikey decided to ignore it the best he could, but after a while he wanted to look at Pete for some reason. Just to take in his face, to study him. Mikey turned, brushing his nose against Pete’s. The two were still for a second before they moved hungrily. Inhaling eachother’s taste, lips moving at a speed that was urgent but not animalistic.

Fireworks.

Part 7 Part 8

[midgardbrewhouse]

Hawthorn Flower Wild Saison

So this is a blog of three parts really, the three parts to put together a Hawthorn Flower Wild Saison.

Part 1: Yeast Capture

I've had pretty good success capturing Yeast in the garden around the Blackcurrant bushes and I'm sure I read somewhere long ago that the leaves were recommended to use to get Blackcurrant wine going once upon a time. So I collected a couple of leaves from the bush and made up a starter of 500ml of water boiled for 10 minutes with 50g of spray malt and a pinch of Yeast nutrient. Cooled it below 20c and popped the leave in. Give a good shake and then shake daily till signs of fermentation.

After about 6 days there was good signs of fermentation but I needed to fast track the process a bit so built up the starter before it had finished fermenting. I did this with 250g of spray malt in 2L of water, boiled for 10 minutes. A bit more Yeast nutrient, cooled and then added in the original starter minus the leaves. It was gently bubbling and down to 1.024 when I did this and kicked off within hours, the fermentation was so fast it was pretty much done within 3 days. I might use this process again rather than letting the yeast finish up.

Part 2: Foraging Hawthorn Flowers

Early on Saturday morning I nipped out between rain storms to forage some Hawthorn flowers from down the road.. I was lucky to get a break in the rain as I didn't think I'd be able to collect any with the way it's been this week. I managed to get 15 pints worth, which works out to be about 640g. When foraging Hawthorn flowers try to choose flower clumps that still have a few buds on. This usually means the blossom is fresher. Don't worry if you get a few leaves, these are edible too. Don't strip one tree, take a little from many then your foraging impact is much smaller. Also go for the fresh scented ones, avoid any that smell like cat wee and don’t collect them from by the side of a road either, you don’t want engine fumes all over them.

Part 3: Brewday

As I was going for light, Farmhouse style I decided to try a full English malt bill based on a Belgian/French Saison with 80% Simpson’s Finest Lager Malt, 10% of their Vienna and 10% Torrified Wheat. Mashed at 66c, sparged at 75c. For the boil I used my homegrown Fuggles, 20g for 60 minutes and then 45g for the final 10. With 5 minutes of the boil remaining this is when I added the 640g of Hawthorn Flowers. Amazing aroma of earthy, floral heady but light almond from them, hopefully it'll translate into the beer well after fermentation. I've used them a few times before but this is the largest amount I've used and previously I'd added them to secondary so we shall see how it goes. The final process was to take my Wild Yeast starter which has built up really quickly over the last few days, from 1.044 to 1.011. As I didn't have time to let the Yeast settle out the whole starter went in. The sample I took off was fantastic. Very crisp, dry with a touch of sourness. It'll be interesting to see how well it attenuates and what additional flavours it brings to the Saison. Hit my numbers bang on with this one at 1.050 even with adding all the starter. I can relax now, it's always a bit of a rush to sync stuff up when it's a very time sensitive foraged beer, the Hawthorn flowers won't stay at their best for long. But it's done and fermenting away happily now.

[d00mbunnie]

Together again. chapter 1

I finished the writing weeks ago but, I took forever editing it because I decided part way through to change the story from past tense to present tense. this fic takes place after ff7 so they’re are spoilers. I can’t wait for the next installment of the game so I made a fic about what happens next.

We stood at the edges of Midgar waiting for someone to say something. Cloud spoke first

           “I think the best idea is to split up into two groups. It’ll be harder to track us that way.”

           “I dunno.” Barret says scratching his chin, “wouldn’t we be stronger together?”

           I was too tired and worried to argue. Either way works for me, both plans had merit. I stood looking up into the vast pink sky. Even at the outskirts I could hear the planet much louder. I knew the time had come to face my fears no matter how hard I try  I couldn’t avoid the future.

           “What do you think?” Tifa taps me on the shoulder.

           “oh.” I turn around to face everyone, “I think either is fine, but before we start shouldn’t we pick a leader.”

           “that’s already been decided.” Barrette says and smiled at everyone, “Of course that’s”

           “Cloud!” Tifa interjects, “he’s clearly the best person to do this.”

           Barrette frowns and crossed his arms, “Well I guess…”

           It was obvious it would be cloud, even if you didn’t know what would happen next.

           “so, who’s going with who?” I ask cheerfully.

           “I think you should stay with me, Aerith.” Cloud tells me his face was as stoic as ever but there was something different this time in his eyes. Concern or maybe it was it was sadness it’s always hard to tell what he’s thinking exactly.

           I smile, “Sure no problem. I’ll be okay if I have my bodyguard with me.”

           “I think red should come too. It’d be better if I could keep you too from being recaptured again.”

           “I can take care of myself just fine.”  Red-XIIII snorts.

           “I’m fine with just me and Tifa.” Barrette adds, “But where are we headed.”

           “We should split off and take two separate ways to Kalm the nearest town to Midgar. There we can resupply and ask around for any information about the area, who’s been through town. How dangerous the surrounding area is maybe even earn some money for the supplies we need.”

           “Sounds good.” Says Tifa, “we’ll take the western path and you take the longer southern path…it’ll be easier for Barrette and myself to take the shorter way.”

           Cloud Nods in agreement, “It shouldn’t take longer than a day to get there.”

           I wave good bye as Tifa and Barrette walk into the west. Red stands by my side, cloud a few yards away looking toward the south. He seemed lost in thought. Red spoke first.

           “It’ll be alright, Aerith.”  Red-xIII says comfortingly, “it may seem overwhelming at first, but you’ll get used to it. In fact, I think you’ll come to like it. There are so many wonderful things outside of Midgar.”

           “I know.” I say as I pat Red’ on the head, “Still it’s going to take some time to get used to hearing it.”

           “hearing what.” Red asks he looks like a sad puppy.

           “the planet.” I reply softly then walk over to cloud.

           “You ready?” Cloud asks looking at me if he was unsure of what to say.

           I push down the noise do my best to smile, I don’t want to worry him we’ve got a long walk, battles a head, there are still monsters roaming free, shinra will soon gather their forces and come after us. I don’t need to give our new leader something to stress about. So, I’ll do my best to be cheerful.

           “Ready!” I lift my hand up to giving him a high five. His face lightens and he slaps my hand back.

           We walk at a steady pace barely talking to each other Cloud walks a few feet a head of Red and I. His Amazingly blue eyes taking in every detail. His shoulders were tense and ready for whoever or whatever would jump out. Only a few wolves ever bothered us. They were easy enough to defeat. They ran away easily enough if you cast a fire spell. By midday I felt I should finally speak up.

             “Shouldn’t  we take a little break?” I ask.

           Cloud looks over his shoulder, surprised by the sudden break in the long silence.

           “Sure, why not?” He ssays and took his huge sword off his back and sat on a nearby rock.

           Red-XIII stretches his back then paces in a circle till he finally lays down with his head resting on his front paws. He yawns loudly and shuts his eyes. I Tuck my skirt underneath me and sat down on the green grass next to cloud. The sky was full of clouds, bright blue, the sun blazed in the summer sky. I turn to cloud and smile.

           “Too bad we didn’t have time to pack something to eat.” I sigh, “this is the perfect spot for a picknick.”

           “Not exactly the time for a picnic.” Cloud says, his stomach grumbling, “But something to be eat would be pretty good. Too bad we had to leave so quickly without getting supplies.”

           “Yeah, Kinda hard to pick up a sandwich or two when we’re wanted criminals.” I say looking down at my old boots.

                       “I’m hungry too.” Red-XIII adds, “I haven’t had a decent meal in ages. All Hojo fed me was dog kibble.”

           “Oh! How horrible!” I exclaim, “How long has it been?”

           “Months, at least I imagine.”  Red-XIII saiys without opening his eye.

           “Why don’t you go hunt something up then?” Cloud suggests a little annoyed. Maybe his hunger was getting to him.

           Red snorts but adds nothing more to the conversation. Perhaps he was too tired or maybe he just knew there was nothing edible to his species, whatever that was, around here. I scan the area; it was mostly grass land with a few bushes and even fewer flowers. It was greener than Midgar but still too close to be really fertile. I heard there were farms closer to Kalm, but nothing in this area. It was when my stomach was growling loudest that I notice one of the bushes had fruit. I quickly stand up and skip over hoping my eyes weren’t lying to me. They weren’t, it ‘s a blueberry bush. It’s early in the season for blue berries, but with all the Mako reactors close it might mess with the cycle of the plants close to Midgar that managed to live. I pluck one of the berries at tasted it. The berry is sweet and tart if not a little smaller than average.

           “Cloud, Red!” I shout as I turned around to wave at them. “I found blue berries!”

           Red’s ears perk up, then he opens his eyes. He walks over, cloud following him.

           “My nose must be broken to not smell something that close.” He says sniffing the air towards the bush.

           “Finally, something to eat.” Cloud says grumpily, “I thought I’d have to wait till we got to Kalm.”

           I hand a bunch to Cloud. He eats the handful in one mouth full. His angry expression slowly fades, I give him some more. I begin picking some for Red-XIII, but he goes straight for the bushes skillfully plucking them off with his cat like lounge. I wonder is Red-XIII a canine or a feline? Perhaps neither? He looks so much like a little lion to me.

           We were all starving. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Maybe when I was at shinra headquarters maybe it was even before that when I was at wall market. That was the last time I really had a rest. I couldn’t sleep in the lab no matter how hard I tried.

           When Cloud was finally satisfied, he speaks up, “We should probably get going now. The others are probably close to kalm now.”

           “oh!” I cover my mouth and giggle, Cloud has blueberry on his lips, “let me help you.”

           I took my thumb and whipped the corner of his mouth. He pullsback my touch, surprised, “let me help you it’s all over your mouth” I wiped the rest away. His skin is soft, smooth, and well shaven. He blushes the entire time.

           “Now your presentable.” I tell him.

           “thanks.” Cloud mutters and turns away.

           I guess he’s not used to people touching him. Even with Tifa he never gets too close.

           “do I have any on me.” Red-XIII asks.

           “Nope. You’re perfectly clean.” I said as I pat red’s head.

           “your hands are covered in it though.” Red begins  licking my blue fingers. His lounge was definitely like a cat's rough and dry. He cleans my hands not thinking that washing someone else with your mouth was odd. I smile at him and say “thanks”

           We begin walking. When are about a hundred yards from the blue berry bushes we hear a cry, “you’re gil or your life!” I grip my staff tightly, ready for action cloud is  already dashing towards the man, no three men who have come out of hiding from some scraggly shrubbery up a head. It became all too clear who these three were.

           “not them again.” I cry as a I rush after cloud.

           “you know these people?” Red asks running by my side

           Burke, Brute and Butch stood on the spot froze. They are whispering to each other, but we could all hear them.

           “Do you really try this again?” Cloud asks loudly his giant sword at the ready.

They did not reply or move an inch. Red got close enough to sniff them but still they did not move. The must have left the city hoping to rob people fleeing from it. Red-XIII snorts.

           “they smell of cowardice,” He growls, “and urine.”

           Their eyes go wide when they hear red speak, then they immediately fell down and act  like they are dead.

           “that was unexpected.” Red say as he sits on one of them and licks his paw.

           Cloud rolls his eyes then puts his sword on his back with ease. “I’ve had enough of this.” He walks on the head of butch or maybe it brute. I do my best to nimbly jump over them.

           When were just dots on the horizon I see the three get up and run towards Midgar. Hopefully that’ll teach them not to steal, but somehow, I doubt it.

           It takes another 3 hours to finally make it to the outskirts of Kalm. Farm land comes into view, then the farms themselves and a nice paved road that leads directly into Kalm. Once we hit the road old green trucks roll by, slowing down as they go past, a child in one over them waves at me. I wave back. I felt at ease as the blue shingled roofs of the town come into view.  I know there will be a roof over my head, a soft bed to sleep in, and a proper dinner tonight. I also know we are going to listen to cloud’s story. I know how hard it is for him to talk about himself. Still as painful as it must be, I want to know more about cloud. I wish I could ask more about the happy times, but not tonight. Tonight, we learn about Sephiroth.

           We talk very little as we enter Kalm. Red-XII sniffs things, he isn’t very trusting of the new place, but it doesn’t seem to  upset him to be there. He too must be happy to be free of Hojo.

           “This is the place.” I point to the sign that says Kalm inn, “looks cozy doesn’t it?”

           “Mmhm.” Cloud nods and surveys the area, “the others must be inside already.”

           “I smell them on the door.” Red said, his tail swishes behind him.

           “You been here before?” Cloud asks me

           “No.” I lie, or is it the truth, if you go back in time does that mean you haven’t been there yet, but you have because you did in the future, “My mother has been here before though. They make nice pancakes in the morning.”

           “I like pancakes.” Red adds

           I push the door open a friendly man with black hair is standing at the counter, “Welcome” he says. Then he notices red, “No…n- pets allowed.” Red glares at the man then replies, “I’m not pet.”            

           “No wild beast either?”

           “I’m perfectly civil.” Red-XIII tells them man the sniffs around, “They’ve definitely been here.”

           “We’re looking for our friends. A tall black man with a gun for an arm and muscular women with dark brown hair.” I smile at the man; I don’t remember him having this problem last time.

           “Upstairs…” he eyes red but does nothing more to complain about him. I hope he doesn’t charge us extra.

           I start up the stairs but then turn on my heel. Cloud is at the bottom.

           “don’t worry! We’re all here now!” I smile as the up the stairs, Cloud trudging up behind me. This will be hard for Cloud, but I know if I can get the answers I need when can change the future.

[thevulernablepreacher]

Thanksgiving

I just had a thought..and I don’t know, well whatever. I just went to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I can’t use the full length as that part of the room is plasticized off at the moment. Bathroom wall was taken down to extend bathroom by three inches so I can have a bathtub to soak in that I actually fit in.

Not having a mirror is a big fucking relief and weird.

But it just occurred to me. As I know my outfit is one that blends well and makes me look put together in a cool/fashionable way.

I am going to my mom’s in a little bit. 2 hours there and 2 back.

I strained my right foot 2 days ago. Silly step on a piece of wood in my path from construction work in process. It wouldn’t have been an issue had I not been home during the work hours and had I been thinking about my steps.

I hadn’t though. I think about them almost always as being completely unable to walk is not such a distance in the past.

I thank my blessings daily for being able to put on two shoes and walk comfortably particularly as its cold.

I thought I was out of the woods; but a misguided attempt to “clear heavy metals” stirred up my Mycoplasma and sent the pain in my body back into action. My feet are the favorite area of this crazy virus. So it may not be surprising that I tweaked my ankle.

It must sound so bizarre but I’m sooo grateful it’s my right and not my left foot. My left foot has suffered too many sprains..i don’t even like to say the word let alone write about this or talk about it b/c im so afraid of so much with this this.

I have had no pain for 3 months and been so active in my life. It’s been heaven on earth. And I just like to live without thinking about living.

So, I am going to my mom’s today. And it hit me that she will be pleased with how I look. It will make her feel proud in front of her friends and the whole Kendal community. Very important for her.

A few months ago I would have raged against this. Finally putting my foot down. Fuck you. Not doing it anymore.

And then everything shifted for me. Such a trip how our evolution happens. I wondered as I had the shifted thought if it was me in denial or doing myself a disservice. But I don’t’ think it is.

I thought that if this is the gift I can give her..my thought wasn’t this articulate; it was more of a feeling with some words around it.  I thought; then good. I don’t know how many Thanksgivings I have left with her. 10? I think probably 10. She’s 84 and despite a lot of stuff she’s incredibly healthy. And the gene pool on her side lives long.

And if it’s 10 times more that I can make her swell with pride; no matter how narcissistic or ridiculously misplaced the power of this pride is; it’s so easy for me to give to her.

And then I thought, am I doing myself a disservice? Am I making myself small?

I don’t think so. I know who I am deep inside. And, I actually really like my outfit. It’s not party disheveled, which I usually like but it’s; I don’t know; New England casual/fashionable. Very 52ish fashion.

NO doubt I’ll get really irritated today. I’m dining with 9 people in their mid 80’s to mid 90’s. Walking will be slow (fine, as I’m using a cane for support right now). Sitting may be long. Conversation may be unbearably boring. I’ll be a focus for a bit; everyone so excited to have youth with them. Food will be..not sure; edible.

Drive will be long.

My ankle will be sore. I can ice it when I’m there and castor oil wrap it later this evening.

And it will heal. It will heal. It’s okay.

I will heal again. The mycoplasma will get pushed back by the energy healer I’m working with who has helped me enormously; more swiftly than any other treatment I have had or pursued thus far.. We’re on it. It may suck for a few more days; at least I hope that’s as long as it takes. Feet burning off; general pain and weakness. Knee and thigh pain gone; that is HUGE!

I am in love love love with my work and grateful beyond grateful for my clients.

I am in love with my home and amazed that I have the profound blessings of being able to put in a new bathroom! What?!!!! Incredible. This is my mother who has done this for me.

She is a trip. I am a trip. Her companion of the last 5 years is dying. He may not be here much past the new year. She is acutely dealing with the pain of this loss already. The simple fact of him being back in his apt with home care and not with her at any given second is very stark and apparent and painful.

So I want to be there today. Because in 10 years or tomorrow or 20 years when she goes. These are the memories I will hold and be proud of and comforted by.

I threw out a can of paint at Wegman’s yesterday; from a client. I was sick of having it in my car. A really beautiful black woman made no bones about giving me a very clear eyeball; she knew exactly how wrong I was behaving and spoke volumes with that look; dressed my ass down.

I did it, and my gut knew it was wrong.  I thought about retrieving it on my way out; took a quick glance to see if it was there and may have made up a story that the trash had been changed and I couldn’t retrieve it. Really I was embarrassed and ashamed and didn’t want to be seen retrieving it or bothered doing so.

I wondered as I tossed it what the karma would be..this is the karma. I couldn’t believe I was contributing to the massive shit hole of garbage in the world in this way. And also there’s a part of me; that lazy ego part that just should never be listened to. The harder more pain in the ass way that leaves my conscience free to breathe easy is obviously always the way to go.

Sometimes my ego is way too strong; way too fucking strong.

I was trying to control and move quickly. I wanted my car free of excess. I freak out when there’s too much shit anywhere.

My house in disarray and its very hard for me..so I think emptying my car was my way of managing and controlling what I could.

This is all identical twin shit with my mother.

I’m nervous about the $$ I am spending. I had a great week at work and simply pray that money keeps coming. More and more issues arise. Bills come out of nowhere as things need to be fixed.

I have this deep need to have everything perfect. I am soo like my mother it is absolutely stunning. I am different but we are so alike.

I am repeating Suzie Orman’s mantra 2 times a day. Last time it reaped magic and then I forgot and then I got scared that I’d forgotten and what that might mean or bear as a result. The universe needs to hear what I have in my life and it will mirror it. I believe this.

So: “I have more money than I will ever need.” 25x   out loud, 2x day. Once silently 25 times while looking in the mirror.

Jesus..

Okay, off to Hanover listening to Michele Obama’s book. It is wonderful; so so thoughtful and wonderful.

[ablastulasrecipe-blog]

Nanowrimo, Day 4

I missed Day 3, but at least I almost made up for it today...

----

Late at night, Sherlock decides to sneak out of the house. He found out that since he rarely found people outside anyway, it would be best to investigate when the sun was out. At least he didn’t have to deal with the heat. Still, poor visibility meant he couldn’t rely solely on night investigations.

“Huh. Is that…?”

Walking outside, in the town’s main road, Baker St., Sherlock found something he never expected to find in a place or a time like that.

“I can’t believe it! It’s a pelargonium!”

But not just any pelargonium, it was a peppermint-scented pelargonium. An edible plant Sherlock ate in a trip to Africa. A sight was all it took to open memory’s flood gates and Sherlock got back to Africa. The exquisite mixtures of foods, of which he once competed with Watson who could eat a full potjieko of Chakalaka. Something Sherlock regretted doing, as he lost halfway through his food. Not that Watson ate fast or anything, but he had to impress the young woman two tables over who watched with curious eyes, and later that evening gave Watson some wild malvas, a plant whose leaves could be diffused into tea. Not much to either Watson’s tastes or his, but the man still drank more than he should.

It all ended with a broken heart however, as the woman was from another city and had to leave soon after. Their goodbyes were told in the same place where the competition happened, at the scent of the peppermint-scented pelargoniums in Sherlock’s plate. Forever to be reminded as the scent of nostalgia and unrequited love.

“Ah. Good times. It’s simply amazing someone would be able to grow such an exquisite plant, out here of all places! Wish I could talk to whoever did, and maybe buy some, they should make the food here taste a bit better.”

Leaving the plants alone, Sherlock decides to walk a little further before returning, but the plant was indeed the most important thing in his eyes for that night.

Bang bang bang. Yet again the little miss hit the ceiling beneath him. It was time to wake up. “Another lesson? Now? She’s so restless…”. Going downstairs an energetic Lyra awaits him.

-          Hey, we’ll have to go to town soon. – “We?” – So let’s train now.

He had time for a quick lesson, whatever that would be. “I really should make at least a basic plan of what I’m going to teach her. I have no idea what to do.” As they reached the backyard however, a loud man’s voice was heard.

-          Lyra, we’re going!

-          But daaaad! I was going to train.

-          You can train later, let’s go.

-          Oh, whatever.

-          And you’re coming too. – The man reached the door and pointed to Sherlock. – Can’t have a stranger walking alone in my home.

Sherlock was quite happy with the turn of events. He wanted to go soon to town and he didn’t want to train Lyra, so everything was good.

Walking around town, Sherlock decided to sneak out of their company and back into Baker St., to see if he could get his hands on some of those plants. Still, it was dark, and he wasn’t quite sure where he had seen them, and he would soon find out that Baker St. was the largest street in town.

“Ah, just my luck. Where did I even walk earlier?”. Contrary to popular belief, Sherlock’s sense of direction was quite terrible. The sun now was also making him start to regret his decision. A few hours later and he had searched the entire street, back and forth, multiple times, to no success.

-          There you are. Why did you run? – Lyra was casually walking towards him. – You look even worse than the first time I met you. Seriously, are you like a pig, or something?

Hungry and tired, Sherlock realized how long he had been searching for those plants. Of course he hadn’t had lunch yet, he was looking for better food. Still, maybe it was time to stop for now. He had more important things to do… Unless Lyra could help.

-          I was looking for some plants I saw a while ago. Someone was growing them around here, but I can’t remember where.

-          Growing some plants? What do you need that for?

-          It’s just… They were so exquisite! I need to find them again.

-          Oh, don’t tell me you’re of those people.

-          Those people? I can appreciate the art of horticulture when well done, and this person has demonstrated a skill far superior to most people I have ever seen, and certainly surpassed whatever lack of finesse the rest of this town has.

-          So, you’ll belittle my gardening skills to my face and expect no retribution? I’ll let you know I was two times champion of best crop in town, beating whatever loser you so champion. We’ll see today who grows the better plant once we’re back!

“Why did I open my mouth? I don’t even like horticulture that much, it was all just a ruse so I wouldn’t need to belittle their food. I suppose a better plan would have been to just try and not offend them in any way. Still, I don’t know anything past the basics on how to grow a plant.” And to say Sherlock knew the basics was a joke. He didn’t even t try to dabble in that kind of activity as a kid, nor has he ever read much about the task, besides having to open a hole, place seeds and cover the hole afterwards, he knew nothing. For all he knows, that South African plant could easily have been cultivated here. Hell, for all he knows, that plant was always grown here and exported to Africa afterwards.

Too late now, he knew as better as anyone that Lyra wouldn’t back down from that challenge. “I mean, why did she even try to offend me for trying to look for plants? ‘Those people’? You mean, like you? After learning about her love for swords did she realize she hated gardening?”

-          Either way, can you help me find those plants? We can go back afterwards.

-          Meh, sure. Was it on this street?

-          Yeah, that’s about the only thing I know.

-          Well, there’s only three people in Baker St. who grows crops. So it should be fast.

And fast it was. Not even two minutes later they arrived at the first house. The red door bothered Sherlock’s vision, but the few decorations around the house made him feel welcome. They were decorations of dogs, puppies to be more precise. And there were marks of someone trying to draw a dog’s paw in one of the walls.

-          Ugh, I hate these people, so I’m going to hide somewhere until you’re done talking. Find me when you’re done. – Lyra seemed slightly bothered, and walked away.

-          Wait. The people here refuse to talk to me.

-          Not them… Trust me. – Lyra is very determined to not be near him when he knocks on that door.

And they sure were very likeable. The older man who opened the door came with his granddaughter, who was leaping around with more energy than anyone Sherlock had met in that half dead city.

-          Ah! A foreigner. To what do I owe this honor, sir?

-          Nice to meet you, sir. I’m here in search of a specific crop I saw growing here in town. And was wondering if I could see your plants. – Sherlock was no longer completely sure he knew how to address someone for the first time

-          Ah yes. Say no more. Come in, come in. I’ll show you my finest products.

While crossing the house to the backyard, the place where the man grew his crops, the little girl tried showing Sherlock a multitude of toys, all hand made, and all related to dogs.

-          This one is my favorite! It looks like the last dog we had, Mr. Peanuts. I gave him that name because he had a face full of little balls that looked like peanuts. He never gave us trouble, but he died soon.

That looked like a very expensive and custom made toy. In fact, you could even see the little balls the girl referred to in his face. “They look less like peanuts, and more like a disease.” Thought Sherlock.

-          That’s very pretty, little girl.

-          I’m not a little girl, I’m Sonya.

-          Oh, forgive me, Sonya. Who made that toy?

-          I don’t know. The other toys were made by dad, but this one Lyra gave me last year.

“Lyra?”

-          You’re friends with Lyra?

-          Yeaah! She comes to play here all the time. – Sonya got so excited at the question she started pulling her braids, completely ignoring that the dog was still in her hand. – Do you know Lyra, mister?

-          Yeah. I’ve met her.

-          She’s so nice! But it’s been a while since she last came. Is she alright, mister?

-          She is. Still very… Energetic. – Sherlock was amazed someone liked Lyra that much. Maybe she treated other kids better? Could there be two Lyras in this town?

-          Oh, if you see her again, could you tell her to come visit me? I miss her.

-          I’ll pass the message.

-          Thank you!

-          Why did she stop coming?

-          I don’t know. I think it’s because I told her my cake was better. That was the last time I saw her

Surprising a little girl like that could already bake cakes. Sonya shouldn’t be more than 9 or 10 years old. Sherlock wondered for a bit why he never did this sort of thing as a kid. He was wondering that a lot lately…

-          Here we are mister. These are my pride and joy!

Maybe the sun was too hot that time of the year, or maybe there was a lack of books and knowledge on gardening in this town, but the crops all looked strange, almost like they were sick. Some had small white dots over them, some looked like they were completely dry, and some just didn’t look like what they were supposed to be at all.

-          I’m the most inventive when it comes to cultivating my creations. – The man holds a horribly deformed strawberry in front of Sherlock. – This one I grew when I experimented with growing berries on crates.

-          Huh. That certainly is… interesting. – Sherlock gave a faint smile, but forgot to follow with the eyebrows, ending with a very forced expression.

-          Are you looking for something specific? You can look around. – The man quickly puts the strawberry away.

-          Thanks.

Sherlock walked around the place to not slight the man, but he was already sure that was not the right house. The little girl followed him around the entire thing as if waiting for him to talk, but every single plant in that place amazed him in ways they shouldn’t, so he didn’t say a thing. A few minutes later, Sherlock was done.

-          Quite the creations you have here, mister… - He just realized neither of them introduced themselves.

-          Hoon. The name’s Acie Hoon. – The man smiles nervously, as if waiting for further commentary on his crops.

-          Nice to meet you mister Hoon, I’m Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.

-          The pleasure’s all mine. – Mister Hoon answered far too quickly.

-          I really like what you have made here – Sherlock became very careful with the words he chose. – But unfortunately, it’s not what I’m looking for. I was searching for a very specific plant, and it’s not here. Still, I can see why you are so proud of this place. Congratulations…

-          I… See – The man clenches his fist like he hadn’t clenched since the first day he lost the best crop award to Lyra. – Well then, mister Holmes, I hope you find whatever plant it is you’re looking for soon.

-          Thank you, so do I.

No handshakes were given at the exit, Sherlock simply walked outside and looked for Lyra.

-          Did you find it?

-          The plant? No. Your friend? Yes.

-          Ugh. At least you know why I didn’t want to go in there.

-          What’s so bad about her? She seems so energetic.

-          That’s what’s so bad about her. She wants to be near me all the time, keeps hugging me and calling me sister.

-          Oh, that’s so cute.

-          That’s serious! Last time we had a cake competition and she kept distracting me all the time with the way she cooked.

-          So that’s your excuse? Your cake wasn’t as good because she was “energetic?

-          Her cake was better because I couldn’t bake mine in time. Either way, how do you even know she won?

-          She told me. Says she misses you a lot.

-          Ugh, just what I needed. – A little shiver runs down Lyra’s spine.

-          Are you too old to play with her?

-          It’s not that, we just went our separate paths.

-          You’re barely old enough to even go down a path. – Sherlock knew it was true. He knew it because he was already in a similar relationship with a friend. Except, in his case, he was Sonya, and his friend was Lyra.

-          Whatever. Look, the next house is over there.

-          Are you going to hide again?

-          There’s no kids there, just a normal guy.

…

Finishing up on all three houses, Sherlock was perplexed and slightly bothered that they didn’t find the pelargonium.

-          Nice going.

-          How? I’m sure it was around here. – Sherlock scratches his head, realizes his hair is a mess, and stops touching it.

-          And I’m sure you’re wrong. – Lyra acted like she was scolding Sherlock. – There’s nobody else growing crops around here, and trust me, the 2 times town champion would know if someone was.

How did a plant like that even ended up in that town in the first place? Sherlock thought back on most of the plants he saw. Mister Hoon had nothing resembling edible food, and the other two, an old man barely growing anything and a woman studying biology had nothing so specific as to remind Sherlock of a peppermint-scented pelargonium. Was he seeing things?

-          Either way, we should go back, or dad will get mad again. – Lyra was already quite distant from the unmoving Sherlock.

-          Fine, let’s go back…

It eventually stopped being a matter of finding better food and it became a matter of pride. How could he be so mistaken. Even the scent was there. Or maybe it was just an image looking so much like the plant he wanted that the scent came from memory. Or maybe it never existed in the first place…

…

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I realized writing is also jogging my memory. It makes me feel good, because everyday I’m happier with my results than last time. Hopefully this keeps up. And hopefully I can keep writing for the rest of this month. Currently at 5663 words.