#rose corolla

[lovekia]

[patito-oward]

First Night

masterlist

WC: 1.6k

Summary: YN and Pato spend their first night together

Previous Parts: I

me posting?? who is she. i hope you all love please repost if you do 🤍🤍

~

Pato had arrived at her house the next night to take her out once again. They went on a series of 6 dates in two weeks, and had become quite enamored with each other in that time. YN was hesitant at first, trying to keep her guard up while she waited for the other shoe to drop, but Pato had wormed his way in. It was hard to not let her walls down and let him in when he was so incredibly sweet.

Their second date Pato picked her up in a rented Toyota Corolla which made YN giggle when she saw it. “You actually rented a car to pick me up in?”

“I’m on my third strike and I couldn't risk it.”

Pato knew when he first saw her that she was special, but never expected to fall as hard and as fast as he had. He had come to expect that he was not seen as “boyfriend material” for most women. He knows his schedule and frequent travel doesn’t scream commitment. He had gotten used to a few dates, maybe a couple hookups, and not much more. He tried to convince himself he was okay with that. That the one night stands were fun and he needed to focus on his career anyways, and he was fulfilled by it. It worked– sometimes.

It worked until he’d watch a cheesy romance movie and think about how much he wanted someone to be by his side, or until he had a kid come up so him at a race, a gap in their front teeth and incredibly excited to meet him, and he realized how much he wanted a family of his own.

So he cut off the hookups, because after each one he would be left with this lasting feeling of emptiness, and he’d stopped going on dates for the most part, accepting that his career has prevented him from what he really wanted. If it hadn’t been for Elba’s incessant nagging, he wouldn’t have gone on the date with YN. He’s never been more thankful to have such an annoying older sister.

He invited YN over so he could cook dinner for her, and he was suddenly very nervous about how the night would go. He had tried to plan the perfect night, decorating his table with a large vase of red roses and candles, but as she got closer to arriving he started to doubt himself and wonder if it was too much. He doesn’t want a repeat of their first date where she was clearly overwhelmed.

Before he could think too much about it or change anything, his doorbell rang, and he decided to just try and make the best of the night. The second he opened the door he felt a lot better, she had that effect on him, just seeing her seemed to lower his heart rate and calm him down. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a pair of dark jeans and a cropped sweater.

“Hi!” She greeted him with the sweetest smile and he realized how utterly gone he was for her.

“Hi, you look beautiful.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, a quick gesture but even that made his stomach flip, and moved aside so she could come in.

She had seen his apartment before, but only briefly when he realized he left his phone after he picked her up, and invited her inside. He could tell she was really taking in the place now, the night time made it seem different, softer, the few lights he had on cast a soft glow through the place.

The timer on his phone went off and he headed towards the oven to take out dinner. He made pasta for the night, and it was in the oven to bake the cheese he topped it with. It was when they reached the kitchen that she took note of the dining table.

“Is it too much? I’m sorry if it is; I just wanted tonight to go perfect and I’ve messed it up already.” He started apologizing without her saying anything.

“It’s gorgeous. I can't believe you set this all up and thought I wouldn’t like it.” YN assures him, and kisses him hard trying to show him all of her gratitude.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Dinner is easy, like most things have become between them. YN has never felt so comfortable with someone, and wants to tell him everything. Pato already wants YN to know the deepest parts of him, he wants to learn her inside and out and vice versa.

The thing they’ve taken to talking to most is their families, and they’ve learned so much about each other through that. They both have one sibiling, their best friend, and they’re both extremely close to their families. In a lot of ways YN reminds him of Elba, when she talks about her younger sister he can tell how much he cares for her. She tells him about how she used to watch her sister frequently while her mom worked two jobs to support them. In a sense he feels like he’s met her sister and mother, the way she describes them he can tell there’s so much love between them.

They’ve completely gone through the getting to know you stage, conversations now filled with stories and deep conversations about fears and the future.

After dinner they settle onto the couch, and are scrolling for something to watch. Pato has a large, comfy sectional, but YN has chosen to curl up right against him. It sends a warmth through him, he can smell the mix of her strawberry shampoo and vanilla perfume, and decides it is his new favorite smell. He wraps his arm around her and she leans on his shoulder.

They scroll through netflix and find a baking show to spend the rest of the night watching. It was less about what they were watching for both of them, and more about just being together; however, they both got quite into the show, enjoying watching the competition and judging the bakers themselves.

As the night went on, YN grew pretty drowsy on the couch, and after an episode ended announced, “I should probably head home soon.”

When she sat up, Pato immediately missed the weight of her against him. “Ok, I guess it is getting pretty late.”

She kissed him then, “Thank you for dinner.”

“I’ll make dinner more often if that’s what it gets me.” She laughs at his response and leans in for another kiss.

The kiss quickly deepens, but it’s soft and slow. YN moves herself to be sitting on his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Up until this point they haven’t done anything other than kissing and heavy petting. Pato desperately wanted to know every inch of YN, but knows that if he does what he has always done the results will always be the same. Plus the teasing has been incredibly hot, and he’s willing to wait for her.

When they pull away from each other they’re both a little breathless. Pato can feel his heartbeat in his throat, and is glad the room is dark because he’s sure there’s a pink tint across his face. He speaks before he can stop himself, “Don’t go.”

YN freezes in her spot perched in his lap, “What?”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay, I’ll sleep on the couch if you want, we don’t have to do anything, just don’t go.” He’s begging at this point, but he really can’t stand the thought of her leaving him.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” She leans in for another kiss, so soft he almost doesn’t feel it.

He gently coaxes her off his lap and leads her to his room. He grabs them both some pajamas from his dresser. He gives her a pair of sweatpants and an arrow mclaren hoodie, remembering that she’d told him she freezes in the night.

He got out an extra toothbrush for her, and showed her where his face wash and medicine was. While she got ready, he got dressed himself. They switched places when she came out of the bathroom.

As she waited for him she looked around his room, not what she expected, but she didn’t really know what she expected. He had a white comforter and sheets on the bed, with black and copper throw pillows. The furniture is black metal and dark wood, giving an industrial but homey vibe to the room.

He leaves the bathroom and YN takes the opportunity to really sink him in. He’s in a pair of grey sweatpants that make her a little crazy, and a tight white long sleeve that hugs his biceps so perfectly she’s drooling.

They climb into his bed together and YN immediately notices his smell enveloping her. He smells woodsy and warm. YN notices that they both climbed into opposite sides without thinking about it, another way they fit so perfectly together.

Pato lays on his back and YN hesitates before curling into his side. He wraps his arms around her shoulder and she entangles her leg with his and rests her hand on his chest, “Is this ok?” She asks him.

He can’t believe she even has to ask because he’s never been better. “Perfect.”

She starts absentmindedly scratching at his chest, and the last thing she remembers before drifting off is Pato kissing her head and whispering, “Buenas noches.”

That was the first of many nights spent together for YN and Pato. Already fallen for each other much more than either was willing to admit. Their souls as intertwined as their legs.

[cait-writes]

Mine (Fluff)

TW: DV/Abuse

"Yes, you did!" He yelled, yanking on my arm to pull me back.

The arguing started since we left his buddy's house when after a few beers anything I said or did with anyone was considered flirting. We were driving back to my boyfriend's place when I wanted to go home and let things settle until he was sober.

"Brian, I'm not going through this again! I was not flirting - I was simply trying to tell him that we should stop drinking as we had to drive home. He couldn't hear me over everyone, so yeah, I leaned in a little. Nothing happened!" I exclaimed.

"You were all over him Y/N!"

I rolled my eyes and stared out the window. The farther away from my place, the worse my anxiety got. The thought to jump out of the car popped into my head and quite honestly, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Brian continued to yell and scream, calling me everything under the book. As I tried to build up the courage to get out, I noticed Brian started to swerve.

"Brian! Watch the damn road! You're going to get us killed!"

"Fuck you! I'm fine."

I grabbed my seatbelt and quickly undid it before pulling the door handle, thrusting myself forward. Brian swerved closer to the curb so I landed on the grass easily. The impact hurt, but it was manageable as I got up onto my feet and booked it. I looked over my shoulder and noticed his headlights so I went down a random alley and hid behind some garbage cans. I pulled out my phone and dialed Colby's number, hoping and praying he'd answer.

The first time it went to voicemail and my anxiety rose as I heard a car approach. "Damn it Colby, I need help. Please!" I whispered, pulling myself closer a garage and pulled the cans closer.

Colby's ringtone rang and I immediately pulled my phone away from my ear, "What the hell did he do now? Where are you?" He demanded.

"I'll explain when I see you, but please hurry. I jumped out of the car and I think he's looking for me. I hear a car." I share my location with him and he texted a thumbs up.

"I'm close by. I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't hang up."

I could hear the sound of the Corolla's engine and it roar as Colby sped up. It was about five minutes later when the familiar red car rolled down the alleyway. I dashed for his car and climbed into the passenger seat, throwing my arms around him as the tears began to fall.

"I'm so sorry, thank you for getting me!" I cried.

He held me tight in his arms before patting my back, signaling for me to sit back so we could leave. We stopped through the drive-thru to get some ice cream before settling back at Colby's as he didn't want me at mine in case Brian showed up.

Colby gave me the set of PJs that I usually wear when I'm here and gave me a sad smile. After the crying had stopped, it was hard to look up at him. I could feel the disappointment radiating off of him. After I changed into the clothes, we sat on his couch and put on some random show to play in the background.

We sat in silence for a bit before I started eating my ice cream. As my jaw opened, I winced. The adrenaline from earlier began wearing off and I could feel how sore my body was from the impact. I didn't remember hitting my head on the ground, but my jaw hurt like hell.

I went to take another bite of my ice cream when Colby leaned forward and ran his hand over my cheek, "Does it hurt?" He asked softly, his eyes scanning me up and down for any other injuries. He was gentle as he continued looking me over. 

"I'll survive..." I mumbled. I've dealt with worse from Brian, but not that Colby knew. Brian had been physical before, a few times. Brian left his hand print on my neck and makeup wouldn't cover it for almost a week. My excuse for not being around? I caught a bad stomach bug. I could tell that Colby wasn't impressed, but he never let on otherwise. 

"Not what I asked." He said sternly, his fingers gripped my chin and made me look up at him.

I took a deep breath before slowly nodding my head, my eyes burned with the threat of tears. "I'm fine, Colbs. I've dealt with worse. Way worse." I muttered, leaning forward and resting my head on his shoulder. He froze momentarily. "I don't want to talk about it right now, please. In the morning?" I asked, peeking up at him with a pleading look.

From my peripheral, I could see him clenching his fist, but he slowly wrapped his arm around my shoulders and rested his head on mine. It took a few steady breaths before he spoke again. "In the morning, we're gonna talk. But I am going to say this, Y/N, he's done. You're done. He's no good for you and you don't deserve the shit he's put you through...got it?" His voice was laced with venom, but I could see the anger he was holding back. 

A small smile formed on my lips, "Yes, sir."

The subject was dropped and we focused on the show that played, it wasn't good so we finished up our ice cream and got ready for bed. I pulled back the covers and as I snuggled in I was greeted with Colby's scent.  In my half groggy state, I felt Colby snake his arms around me and pulled me close before whispering, "You're mine."

[swifty-fox]

Would you be happy to share a little bit of John's head space when he was arrested, unable to reach Gale (not even knowing if he was safe) and then when Curt told him he'd got in touch? LOVEEEEEED this part. Prison tropes are yummy #chapel au

(p.s. I hope he was loyal in jail too!)

ask and ye shall receive (sometimes)

Now on Ao3!

The cops chip his tooth clean off throwing him over the corpse of the Corolla. He watches the white bone bounce away as pain blooms vivid and sharp across his face. Cursing before the sensation truly registers, still processing the sharp crack he cusses out the hands roving over his body, dragging his arms roughly behind his back, cold metal clinching tight around his wrists.

“It was a con. It was my fuckin hand in my pocket! There’s no goddamn weapon if you’d listen to me for just a second you stupid fuckin’ pigs.”

There’s a gun pointed at him. He’s not used to the reversal. His side throbs in phantom memory.

Folded into the back of a cruiser like dirty laundry he leans back uncomfortably on his cuffed hands and runs his tongue over the jagged edge of his tooth again and again, shuddering at the pain of it. 

He pictures Gale on a bus to California, staring out the window and playing with his braid until the flyaways outmatched the hair tie. Usually, he was frowning slightly, unless he had a gun in his hand or he was looking at John, and John imagines himself pressing a thumb to the imaginary furrow of Gale’s imaginary brow. 

It’s soothing enough as he breathes and watches the cops rip apart the car, scattering his and Gale’s entire life across the roadside. 

He shouts, knowing they won’t hear him, “There’s no fucking gun!”

-*~*-

They don't quite rough ride him but a few of the red lights have his chest hitting the front seat for how he can’t catch himself with anything but his already sore face. He cusses them out for it every time.

-*~*-

He’s given some fresh from the bar bushy-tailed lawyer who can’t be any older than he is. Veal’s convinced he’s saving his life, arguing for time served on account of his lack of a permanent address and he smiles at him with teeth and tells the judge to go fuck himself. 

It’s stupid. He can hear Gale sighing in his ear. Gale with his serious face and eyes that went electric and feral with a gun on his hand, a mask over his face. Quick clever Gale who had only ever missed a single camera in all their time together. Gale who is in California, waiting for a partner in crime who will never show up now. 

They hit him with the full fifteen months, of course. John sits as the courtroom slowly clears, eyes fixed unseeingly at the desk and thinks he’s made the worst mistake of his life.

-*~*-

Gale, Gale, Gale. 

If he were a less secure man he’d be disgusted with himself how often he spent thinking about his partner in crime. The whip of his braid in the wind and the white slash of his teeth when John got him to truly smile. The taste of his sweat and the way he was slow to wake in the morning. Quiet and unspeaking as John slowly coaxed him from bed with his lips and soft murmurs. Sweet and slightly vacant until they got a cup of coffee in his hands. 

He runs over the last moments of them together, the animal panic in Gale’s face, the soft growl behind his kiss as John drank him down in the shadows. The stiff broad line of his shoulders as he boarded the bus.

Tucking the snowglobe into his bag when he wasn’t looking, John’s fingers shaking. 

He’s used to leaving. He’s left his family and he’s left friends and towns and places all over. He’s left girls in bed and boys in rest-stop bathrooms and he’s left a fair few morals at his father's grave too. 

Leaving Gale, or Gale leaving him, feels like it had been the most enormous thing he’s ever done. He’d waved the bus away and then sat in their car until the sun rose, trying to convince himself to turn the ignition and put the car in a direction that was not after Gale.

It was a good plan. 

It’s not Gale’s fault that John never knew how to keep his mouth shut, never believed this stupid little car that had been his home, and then their home, would ever give out on him.

John wonders how long Gale will bother to wait for him. He wonders if he’ll try to make his way back to their usual haunts, if he’ll cut and run like he’d been ready to do before John had whisked him away. 

He calls Curt every few days, leaning against the phone booth and working his teeth over the inside of his cheek. 

“Ain’t heard anything, Bucky,” Curt says voice as tender as it ever could be. 

“You’ll tell him?” John asks, as stupid as the question was, “If he calls you’ll tell him I didn’t mean to not be there.” 

-*~*-

The worst part, aside from the fact his heart is outside his body and somewhere in California, is that prison is boring. It’s not awful, Nebraska isn’t exactly a hotbed of violent crime, but even so John is sure to carry himself with every inch of his size, turns up the swagger in his step and drapes himself into chairs with a sprawl that shows off how little he cares, how confident he is in his place. He doesn’t start anything, but he doesn’t frame himself as someone easy to push over either. 

A lot of time is wasted away with physical activity. Basketball or wall ball with himself or teaching himself how to do chin-ups until his arms shake. It pays off. He wonders if Gale would like it.

He calls Curt, and Curt tells him he’s heard nothing and John spends his nights fantasizing about breaking out and somehow finding his partner in crime in the vastness of America to deal with it. 

-*~*-

His bunkmate is a rail-thin man named Hamilton. He’s got a gold tooth and a fucked up face and looks like the sort of guy who carries a knife just to show it off but he’s friendly and easygoing as they come and found a way to bring up his wife in every conversation. It’s charming until it gets annoying.

“The hell’d he even do?” He asks another inmate even though it’s considered bad manners. 

Douglass shrugs, carefully sketching his way through a letter, “His sister’s boyfriend put hands on her, so Ham took a hammer to ‘em.”

John taps out a cigarette,and offers one to Douglass because it’s the universal way of making friends, even behind chain-link fences, “Is his wife really in the circus?” 

“Fuck if I know.”

-*~*-

“Anything?”

“John, I promise you’d be the first to know.” 

-*~*-

Sometimes, rarely, and only late at night, John prays. They’d taken his father's crucifix with the rest of his personals and its absence was heavy around his neck. It’s more to his father that he prays anyway, rather than God. Asks him if he’d be proud – doubtful. Or if he’d think there was still time to save John – more likely. 

Remembers his big hand wrapped around John’s small one, tugging his balking form towards the church.

“Why can’t I just confess to you? Why do I have to do it with Pastor Coyne?

“Because as your father I’d be tempted to discipline or lecture you, Bucky. This is for you to be forgiven; for you to forgive yourself.”

He preferred his father’s God. But that God had been lowered into the ground right alongside Pastor Egan’s casket.

Look after him dad, he doesn’t have anyone doing it now. Needs it more than I do that’s for sure. Just make sure he’s among friends.

-*~*-

In the less romantic sense, he thinks about Gale a lot. It’s a gentleman's understanding, taking care of one’s needs; quiet and unobtrusive as possible. He’s heard Ham’s hitched breathing enough times during night or knowingly squeezed a few extra moments in the showers to allow the other man privacy. What a man does under the rough wool blankets they’re given is his own business. 

John thinks about Gale. About the wild pout of his lips that were the first thing John noticed. The hollow of his neck and collarbones, the way both fit perfectly between his fingers. How Gale’s eyes rolled as John squeezed tight, uncompromisingly trusting. The flushed curved of his cock sliding down John’s throat, splitting John open as Gale slipped elegant fingers into his mouth and made him suck the flavor of the leather wheel off them. 

Pulls himself off to the image of Gale’s broad tanned shoulders, speckled with water and braid tucked teasingly to one side. He’s smiling at John, glancing over his shoulder with the sun turning his lashes wispy and clear.

-*~*-

He gets prison ink, bored and reckless and maybe a little angry. Thick black stars on the front of his hips, and the constellation of the moles on Gale’s face on the inner corner of his elbow. Nonsense dots to anyone else but he knows they’re accurate down to the millimeter. 

It should be. He’s had three years to memorize them.

-*~*-

“John.” Curt says, voice short and shocked and clipped. He’s breathless, a little giddy in the pitch of his voice and John’s stomach drops right down through the concrete floor. 

“Is he okay?” are the first words out of his mouth.

-*~*-

Five minutes he speaks to Curt, five minutes before he hands up and dials the number he’d said aloud until he had it memorized without risk of failure. His hands don’t shake, but his heart feels like it’s about to give out and he’s worrying the inside of his cheek like a dog with a bone, the flaws gone raw and bloody. 

Gale Gale Gale.

It’s a mantra in his mind, a hail-fucking-mary and for once he barrels right past the memory of his father and thanks the big man directly. Because Gale is alive and Gale is whole and Gale has fucking found him. His fingers slip on the numbers, the phones connecting before it barely has the chance to ring and then John’s suddenly unable to breath as he hears a quiet exhale that’s as familiar as his own face in the mirror.

“Gale?”

A quiet sound of confirmation, thick with breathless emotion. The creak of plastic as the phone is gripped too tight. John presses his forehead against the top of the booth as if he might escape through the line itself and be back at his partners side.

“Hi doll,” He croaks, unable to keep the first smile in four months off his face, “Hi sweetheart.”

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 6

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Sorry this chapter took much longer than usual. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share this on the page but y'all might already know... I'm a nurse. So my schedule is nice because I only work 3 days or nights a week but... sometimes those days/nights knock me on my ass. This week was no exception.

I really appreciate every single person who has liked, reblogged, and commented on my work. It means EVERYTHING to me. I hope you all enjoy this part!

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 2.2k+

You had been flipped to nights this week and your body was suffering from the sudden change to your circadian rhythm. You and Carly walked to the parking garage in exhausted silence together as the sun rose over the hospital. It was a hard night to say the least, you both were assigned to unstable elderly patients that seemed to be circling the drain. It almost felt cruel to keep them from dying peacefully because there was no way they were ever going to get better. The life sustaining care you were forced to give was just prolonging the inevitable. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Bradley tried to text you when he woke up at 5am for work to ask how your shift was going. You quickly responded that it was crazy and that you couldn’t talk until you got off at 7:30.

Bradley Bradshaw: Please tell me you’re out of there and able to see this incredible sun rise

You: I am, thank God! I love San Diego sunrises

“Who’s that?” Carly peered over at your phone and saw the name, “Oh my god! He’s checking in on you post shift?!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s his second time checking in on me, he texted me when he got up earlier but I said things were too crazy on the unit to talk.”

“What happened between you two then?” She asked, “You said he didn’t stay the night or anything.”

You knew she was going to ask for more information soon enough. You two were on your feet caring for your patients all night so there was no time to catch up at the nurse’s station. “He didn’t. But we hung out for a while, talked, drank a lot of wine, and he couldn’t drive himself home. So he took an Uber and then took me to brunch when he came to pick up his car.”

“He didn’t kiss you?” She asked.

You shook your head, “Nope, didn’t after brunch either.”

“Huh,” she looked puzzled, “He’s obviously so into you, we could all see it at the bar. And he took you out on a date. And he’s texting you first thing when he wakes up… he obviously likes you. Why hasn’t he kissed you?!?!”

You shrugged, “I mean, maybe he isn’t and he just wants to be friends. I also feel like dating a former patient probably breaks some kind of nursing ethics code.”

It was something that occurred to you after brunch with Bradley the day before, the possibility of this flirtation messing with your professional life.

Carly’s face dropped when the two of you stopped at your car, “Oh my god… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, “Yeah… so I’ve gotta ask you and I’d like you to pass it on to Madi and Sam too, not to discuss Saturday or my… friendship with Bradley at work.”

She nodded, “Of course, I’m sorry I even brought it up briefly when we got on the unit last night.”

“It’s okay, no one was around to hear. I’m just not very well liked by the senior nurses and some of the providers. I just don’t want to give them something to talk about, you know?” You explained.

“Absolutely. When is your contract up?” She asked.

“4 weeks, they asked me to extend though.” You rubbed your eyes, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Are you gonna do it? Or is it too early in the morning to talk about this?” She giggled.

You nodded, “Bingo. Let’s leave this as ‘to be continued’.”

“Alright, get home safe.” She waved you off and headed towards her car a few spots away. 

Once in your Toyota Corolla and buckled, you blasted loud music and freezing cold AC to keep you awake and alert on your commute home. Once there you peaked at your phone.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now that you’ve enjoyed the sunrise, you gotta get your ass to bed.

You: Yes sir, I’ll be out of commission until 1500 hours.

When you arrived home, you looked at your phone again to see Bradley replied with the saluting emoji. You dragged yourself out of the car and up to your apartment, in front of your door was a plastic takeout bag. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up, it was clearly left there just minutes ago. You blinked through your exhausted blurry vision and saw a note typed in the comments on the receipt… it was from the same place you had brunch with Bradley two days before.

“After working through the night, you deserve a true Californian breakfast and a nap. —Bradshaw”

This may be one of the most thoughtful things anyone had done for you in a while. You were so exhausted, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of the parcel. When you entered your apartment, you threw your bag down and went straight to the kitchen. You opened the bag to find a breakfast burrito neatly wrapped in aluminum foil, Bradley’s go to menu item. Maybe it was because of the surprise of it waiting for you at the door or because you were absolutely starving, but that thing tasted better than sex. You started your post night shift ritual with a shower. After brushing your teeth, doing your skin care, and changing into comfy clothes, you drew the black out curtains in your room, turned on the sound machine, and set an alarm for 2pm before popping a melatonin gummy. After many years as a nurse and often flipping between days and nights, you had this sleep ritual down to an absolute science.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █ 

Y/N <3: thank you so much for breakfast. That may be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.

Rooster’s heart fluttered when the message flashed across his phone around 8AM. The Dagger Squad had just finished running a drill that ended with 200 push ups. That small rush made him forget how his muscles were screaming at him. He went to reply and saw the “do not disturb” icon was on. He was so glad since that meant Y/N was most likely sleeping. So he left a reply for her to wake up to.

Bradley: I’m glad it came just in time! Hope you’re taking the best nap ever :)

“Is that sexy nurse?” Natasha inquired as she peered over his shoulder.

Rooster rolled his eyes, “Phoenix, she has a name… and that’s none of your business.”

“So yes,” she smirked, “you are texting her.”

“I’m replying to her,” he corrected, “she worked all night last night and is on again tonight. So she won’t get it until she wakes up.”

She stood on her tip toes to get a better look at the screen, “You sent her breakfast?!?!”

Bradley was not loving this line of questioning but he knew he had to answer or Phoenix would never lay off, “I sent UberEats for her to come home too.”

“You are down bad, my friend.” She shook her head.

“Am not.” He quipped back.

“ Are too!” She shoved him.

“That’s not fair Phoenix, just cause you’re one of the boys doesn’t mean I’ll stoop low enough to shove a woman.” He groaned.

She chuckled, “You’re just scared to get your shit rocked, Bradshaw.”

Hangman suddenly appeared beside Phoenix, skillfully placing her in a headlock. “Is this little lady giving you trouble, Rooster?”

She squirmed and screamed, “Hangman, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Ya know Phoenix,” he sighed, “Forever the bully.”

Phoenix reached over and Hangman a firm tap in the junk, causing him to jump and release her.

Rooster couldn’t help but smile as the two of them fought like siblings.

“I was asking him about the hot nurse from the other night.” She explained, “He’s texting her and sent breakfast to her place for her to come home to after work.”

Hangman’s face lit up, ���Bradley, Bradley, Bradley… I never thought I’d see the day. You’re courtin’ a fine lady.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Courting is a strong word. I’m showing her that I’m… kinda interested.”

Hangman and Phoenix gave each other knowing looks.

Natasha nodded, “Uh huh, yeah. Sureeeeee.”

2pm rolled around and Bradley was wrapping up his work day on base.

Y/N <3: Not the best nap ever but pretty damn good. I’m gonna walk on the beach and get some sunshine before it’s back to the dungeon for the night. What are you up to for the rest of the day?

Should he shoot his shot? She wouldn’t keep engaging with him if she wasn’t at least a little interested, right?

Bradley: Joining you for a walk on the beach if you’ll allow it.

Y/N <3: I would love that. What time can you be at my place?

This was good. This was really good. She’s invited him back to her place. 

Bradley: I gotta change out of my uniform and stuff, how does 3 sound?

Y/N <3: Perfect, I’ll see you soon :)

Rooster had an extra skip in his step as he packed up his things, grateful for the 6am start allowing his work day to have an early finish. Once in his Bronco, he sped home to change into some casual clothes. He decided to really shake it up and not wear his usual Hawaiian shirt and jeans combo. A UVA t-shirt and some gym shorts seemed a lot more appropriate for a casual beach walk. Bradley really couldn’t believe he was putting that much thought into what he wore for something so casual. 

When he walked up to her door he could hear music through it. Whatever Y/N was listening to, she was clearly jamming. When he knocked, she quickly called out, “It’s open!”. He got a better listen to the music once the door was open, it was high energy with a… saxophone? It was kind of lit.

“What is this?” Bradley asked, “It’s awesome!”

“Modern Woman by Bleachers,” she entered the living room wearing a similar outfit to his, a university t-shirt and gym shorts, “Isn’t it great? Kinda gives me Springsteen vibes.”

He paused and listened a little more, “Yes, that’s spot on!”

“Let me just make sure I have my life together for work, so I can just change and leave later.” She said, heading toward the kitchen.

He took another good look at her as she took her lunchbox, water bottle, and an energy drink from the fridge and set it out on the counter. Fresh faced from her nap, hair in a bun, shorts and a t-shirt… he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Y/N paused for a moment and looked over at Rooster, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my face?”  

He shook his head, “Yes, everything’s great… you look great.”

She smiled shyly and continued her task, “Thank you, Bradley… are you ready to head to the beach?”

“Hell yeah,” he asked, “which beach are we headed to?”

“Nothing fancy, just the beach a few blocks away.” She shrugged, “Hope you don’t mind tagging along on my normal, boring jaunt.”

He shook his head, “Y/N, nothing with you could be boring. I’d have fun watching paint dry.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █ 

The two of you walked along the shoreline; the waves ebbed and flowed across the sand and towards your feet. The wind whipped across your face and through your hair, making it dance wildly. Bradley looked so handsome beside you, you couldn’t help but stare and hope that maybe it would be less obvious since you had sunglasses on.

“I should start doing this more, it’s much more pleasant than running.” He chuckled to himself, “It’s so peaceful.”

You giggled, “Drinking bleach is more pleasant than running, in my opinion.”

“You’re not a runner?” He asked.

“Not unless something’s chasing me.” You quipped.

A smirk slowly crept across Bradley’s face. You weren’t exactly sure what was going through his head but you felt the sudden urge to start sprinting. Next thing you knew he was hot on your heels and you couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, running on sand was so freaking hard! Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease.

“BRADSHAW!!!” You cried out through your giggles, leaning your head back on his shoulder behind you.

His face burrowed into your neck, “You say you’re not a runner but you’re pretty speedy.”

You turned your head to look at him, nose to nose, still giggling breathlessly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said simply.

It was like two magnets, your lips crashed into his, there was no force that could stop it. Once you realized what you did, you quickly pulled away, “I’m so sorry.”

He placed you gently back on your feet, “Y/N, the only thing you owe me an apology for is stopping.”

Your stomach fluttered, “Soooo… you wanna do it again?”

“Kiss me, you fool.” He chuckled, grabbing you by the cheeks and stroking them sweetly with his thumb.

You stepped closer so you two were chest to chest and gently brushed your lips against his. With a jolt of pure electricity, you pressed deeper into his kiss. It wasn’t until this moment, when you tasted his lips, that you realized how fucking starving you were.

Tag list:

@sarah-bear706318

@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

@thespillingvoid

Please message or comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

[angelap3]

C'è tutta una lunga storia dietro al girasole... Una leggenda.... 🌻ma comunque x me è e rimarrà sempre il più bel fiore in assoluto.🌻... È un fiore dalle origini misteriose legate a tradizioni millenarie.. È il simbolo dell'estate e della bella stagione.. Sarà x i suoi colori estivi..🌻 Sarà x la sua vocazione a seguire sempre il sole volgendo magicamente la corolla in una posizione di rispetto e venerazione. Un fiore che si contraddistingue x la sua semplicità disarmante🌻... Le rose si... Sono belle e romantiche,hanno un buon odore... Ma il girasole aspetta il momento giusto x mostrare la sua bellezza.... (da sempre e per sempre lo amo)... Anzi lo adoro.... Buongiorno 🌈🌻

(Angela P.)

[lunamagicablu]

Un fiore selvaggio non dovrebbe dire a una rosa che è la più bella e un soffione non dovrebbe scusarsi con gli alberi se al primo colpo di vento ha perso la sua corolla. Fioriamo tutti in modo unico e originale. (Fabrizio Caramagna) art by_voodoochild4201_ ******************** A wild flower should not tell a rose that it is the most beautiful and a dandelion should not apologize to the trees if it lost its corolla at the first gust of wind. We all flower in unique and original ways. (Fabrizio Caramagna) art by_voodoochild4201_ 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Run These Streets {6} || Street Racer!Bucky

Summary: The group has made it to Miami! Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW WC: 1.8k

Bucky Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven ||

Miami, Florida

Music spilled out onto the streets from the bars and restaurants that lined Ocean Drive and neon lights of all colours glowed along the street to cast a rainbow into the night. It was energetic and chaotic and you loved it. You would certainly miss it when you left in a few days.

“Cars don’t win races, drivers do.” Bucky slapped his hand on the table top enthusiastically and you tuned back into the conversation that was quickly turning into an argument.

“You can’t tell me that that car,” Sam argued as he pointed to an older Toyota Corolla, “could beat my Evo.”

Sam was a racer Bucky had befriended when you arrived in Miami last week and he had offered to show off his city. Like most of the street racers in the city, he drove a suped up import and invested more into making the car look good than run perfect. 

“Come on, babe, back me up,” Bucky said as he draped his arm over the back of your seat. 

You stopped spinning the little umbrella that had come with your cocktail and your eyebrows pinched together as you looked at the car in question. “1985- maybe -86, 1.6 litre engine. It wouldn’t be pretty afterwards and you would have to add a poor man's turbo but, yeah, it could take on an Evo.” 

“Poor man’s turbo?” Sam asked Bucky as if you hadn’t been speaking English. 

“Adding a funnel to the air intake so it ups the pressure and boosts combustion,” Bucky explained. 

“You Brooklyn folk are built differently,” Sam said with a shake of his head before roaring with laughter and slapping the table top. “If you hadn’t been whooping our asses all week I would say you are talking shit.”

The next round was on Bucky and he found Steve on the way to the bar after he had disappeared with Hannah a while ago. From the smile on his face it was easy to guess what the pair had gone to do and Steve tossed his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “I fucking love it here!” 

You waved to Hannah as she swaggered over on unsteady legs and dropped into her seat with a slight wince that made you chuckle. 

“I haven’t seen you two race yet, or is it just your men who do the racing?” Sam asked between drinking his beer. 

“Oh no, I can’t even drive a stick,��� Hannah admitted with a laugh before jutting her thumb over to you, “but she does. She’s about the only person who could possibly beat Bucky, if they ever raced each other.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up his forehead in disbelief and he almost choked on his beer. “Now that is something I have to see!”

Bucky chose that moment to reappear with a handful of drinks and cocky grin revealing the small dimple in his chin. “How ‘bout it, doll? Up for a little friendly competition?”

You took your drink as you rose to the challenge, “No such thing as a friendly competition, and I only race for a real prize.”

A chorus of oohs and aahs broke out around the table but you only had eyes for Bucky as he leaned in closer with a smirk. “Yeah? What prize should we race for then?”

You bit your lip and looked up from under your lashes as you battered them his way. “I’m sure you can think of something you must want.”

His eyes trailed down the line of your cleavage, his pupils dilating with the thought of what lay underneath. “I already have everything I want.”

“Are they always like this?” Sam interrupted as he whispered loudly to Steve.

“Yup,” Steve said with an exasperated sigh. “Believe it or not it was worse before they got together.”

You hid your laugh in Bucky’s shoulder as the moment passed and a normal conversation resumed. You should have known Bucky wouldn’t let it go.

“Rise and shine, doll,” Bucky woke you with a sing-song trill. “One large coffee, just for you.”

It hurt to open your eyes with the curtains letting in the harsh sunlight that reflected off the Atlantic Ocean and an ungodly groan escaped your dry lips as you rolled away and pulled the covers back over you. “Go away.”

“That’s not what you were begging me last night,” he teased from the loveseat he was lounging upon, watching you with growing amusement. “Quite the opposite.”

“James,” you whined as you dragged yourself up against the headboard and tried to keep your eyes open long enough to pick up the coffee cup on the side table. “I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.” He jumped up from the couch with far too much energy and sauntered over to the bed. The sunlight hit his hair and illuminated the hint of red that almost always was hidden by the dark brown strands before he ran his fingers through the tresses. It was then that you noticed he was shirtless as his biceps bulged with the movement and the wariness of sleep evaporated. 

“Do you remember last night?” he asked as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, freeing it from the teeth you had caught it between. 

You could feel the evidence of last night and the memory that came with it as heat began to spread across your skin. “We got a little wild.”

His dark chuckle had your toes curling beneath the sheets. “Yeah we did, but I’m not talking about when we got back here. Do you remember the challenge?”

You blinked once, then twice. The memory slowly rose to the surface and you realised he wasn’t talking about the new positions you had experimented with while intoxicated. With a groan, you placed the coffee cup back on the side and slapped your forehead. “Shit.”

“Drink up, babygirl.” He stole a kiss before laughing as he made his way to his duffle bag. “I have a race to win.”

The sun had already begun setting by the time you had showered, dressed and met up with Steve and Hannah for dinner. There was a tension in the air as they ate sedately and you looked to Bucky for an answer but he shrugged, just as confused as you were. 

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked Steve after putting his knife and fork down.

Steve looked to Hannah and took her hand, the silence heavy. With a deep breath, Steve finally spoke, “We have decided to stay down here. Permanently.”

Bucky blinked at his best friend for almost a full minute before he could even attempt a response. Even then, all that came out was a choked sound from the back of his throat.

“Wow, that’s a big move!” you said when you recovered and elbowed Bucky who was still stunned. “We’re gonna miss you guys so much.”

Bucky tore his napkin into tiny pieces and avoided eye contact with everyone. “You’re really gonna leave Brooklyn?”

Steve gave his best friend a small smile and leant over the table to punch him in the shoulder. “It will always be my home, and we’ll visit so often you won’t even know I was gone.”

The waitress appeared to remove the empty dishes and you could see her eyes darting around the group, taking in the change in the atmosphere since she had last come around. No one said a thing as she stacked the plates onto her tray and made a quick exit out the back of the restaurant.

“There’s one thing I need before you head back home,” Steve murmured, Bucky’s head snapping to attention, “to see you two finally go head to head.”

The prospect of the race brought Bucky back from the morose mood he was slipping into and he draped his arm over the back of your chair. “Way ahead of you there, Sam’s already got a race organised.”

Steve’s face split with a wide grin and he rushed to grab his wallet and toss a handful of cash on top of the bill. “There’s no way a stranger is going to coordinate the race I have waited 10 years for. Let’s go.”

Your group had only been in Miami for eight days but it was enough to be recognised the moment Bucky pulled up in the blacked out Mustang he had won in Virginia Beach. Steve pulled into the underground car park a moment later an orange Firebird he won the night they sold the Ferrari. 

Every race in Miami since had only been for cash and the boys were flush.

“How’s your girl meant to race with no car?” Sam said by way of greeting as he saw you standing with Bucky at the hood of his car.

“She can use mine,” Steve answered as he tossed the keys to you.

You caught the keys but they were swiped in an instant and Sam shook his head. “Do me the honour,” he said as he held out his keys instead. “It’s not the car that wins races right?”

“Right,” you agreed with a grin, taking the keys and scanning the busy car park for the dark blue Evo VIII. “It will only make his loss more humiliating when I spank him with an import.”

Bucky nipped your earlobe and made you jump before he whispered, “I’ll spank you.”

You turned in his arms and twirled your fingers in the longer strands of his hair at his nape. His blue eyes were practically glowing in the fluorescent lights along the ceiling and you could see the desire reflected on your face and you tiptoed to reach his lips. 

“I might just enjoy it,” you purred. Unable to resist any longer, you caught his plump bottom lip between your teeth and he groaned as his hips pressed against yours. 

A throat cleared loudly behind you and Sam shifted awkwardly as he scratched his neck. “I’m just gonna go, uh, check everything’s all set.”

You lightly slapped Bucky’s chest as you pulled away. “Stop being such a distraction.”

His laugh followed you as you went in search of the Evo and found it surrounded by admirers. They watched with a mixture of surprise and apprehension as you popped the hood and inspected the belts and hoses for any splits before plugging your laptop into the ECU and checking the readings. The car was running in optimum condition and gave you more insight into Sam than talking to him over the last week had. The man knew how to take care of his car.

“She good?” Sam asked as he stuck his head through the car window to see the graph of the running engine on your screen.

“Better than good,” you replied with a grin. “She’ll do just nicely.”

“Good,” he nodded as he reached through and clapped a hand on your shoulder with a squeeze of encouragement, “'cause it’s time.”

Click here for part seven.

Click here for part seven.

[larvasmoon]

Portrait of the pale elf (6)- A garden of thorny roses

Chapter summary : Astarion reflects on what happened between him and Selene the night before, and unexpectedly stumbles upon Damian Fallheel at a party.

Word count : 5,7k

Trigger warnings : Blood drinking. Mention of past abuse. Manipulation. Physical violence.

Here's my Ao3 darling

Previous chapter

Astarion grabbed a flute of champagne when the waiter walked by with his tray in hand, and discreetly trod away to stand in a dark corner of the wide reception room. 

A crowd of refined elves and human nobles were dancing at the center of it, long dresses and petticoats unfolding and blooming around the ladies’ waists like flower corollas.

At the other side of the room, a small orchestra was playing tedious violin valses, each one as boring as the previous. 

That evening, however, he was in no mood for useless chatter or dances.

Memories of the last night, of her, kept tormenting him.

He’d carried Selene in the living room after she’d fallen asleep in his arms, laying her to sleep on one of the sofas.  

Looming over unconscious form for long minutes, he’d resisted the all encompassing urge to climb on top of her and finish what he’d started.  

Chest heaving, nails digging into the skin of his hands and jaw tightly clenched, he felt like he would never come down from the singular euphoria she’d propulsed him into. Every fiber of his monstrous body greedily demanded for more, for all of what was running down her veins.  

It was a miracle he’d even managed to stop in the first place. 

The intoxicating perfume of her floated in the air, full of sweet promises of perdition, and he could almost see the particles of it roll and bounce in the darkness.  

Like a red ribbon trailing back to her abused throat, raw and bleeding. 

Where he’d had his teeth buried not so long ago. 

Where he’d almost stayed even when her heartbeat had dramatically slowed in his ears. 

Possessed by the taste of her, too enthralled by the flow of it in his mouth, he’d even bit her on the neck and marked her in a place so exposed that it left no place for secrecy.  

He’d also quickly realised that the entirety of the manor smelt like her. There was not a single wretched corner he could have crawled into to shield himself from her, and to shield her from his violence. 

In a frenzy, he’d run into every single room to throw the windows open before the sun had entirely risen, especially the one in which he’d … had her.  

His old armour had come undone piece by piece, his fingers uncontrollably shaking around each buckle. The leather painfully stuck to his skin, slick with sweat and other things, and it had also taken long minutes to free himself from what she’d made him wear. He’d worn it to countless bloody battles without ever being defeated, it was the first time he took it off while feeling like he did.  

His body was even weaker than it would’ve been if he hadn’t fed for days, and he’d all but dragged himself to the closest bathroom. The delicious taste of her blood had awoken all of his worst appetites instead of satiating them. It clung to the back of his throat, thick and sweet like honey, and each time he swallowed he relived the terrifying elation he’d felt when it had graced his tongue. 

Immersing himself in a scorching hot bath, he’d scrubbed his skin raw with the heady flowery fragrance of his new soap, half-heartedly hoping it’d dissipate the scent of her on his skin.  

But when he’d wiped his body down, she was still there.  

A light trail of indefinable beauty in the palms of his hands. 

Even the most opulent and bubbly combination of jasmine and rose dimmed and withered against it.  

His fingers flexed when he pressed his nose there to take countless lungful breaths, as if he didn’t know whether he wanted to crush such magnificence or cradle it like a precious jewel.  

By the time he was done and came back to check on her, the blood on her neck had gone stale, dark and crusty where it’d dripped on the collar of her white linen shirt. 

Surprisingly, he’d decided to stay in the room, sitting on an armchair  to watch her move and sigh in deep slumber. There was so much confusion in his mind, an endless surge of irreconcilable desires as he thought back to what had happened upstairs.  

It was a mistake, all of it.  

He hadn’t meant to go this far. The sight of the wonderful picture she’d drawn of him, had simply rendered him vulnerable to his darkest instincts.  

Little pieces of his fractured mind clicked into place, and he wasn’t thinking straight when he’d laid his eyes on her again. She’d fallen into his arms when he still felt lightheaded, whispering all the sweet things he’d always longed for someone to say to him. 

“Nothing of you could ever be hideous, Astarion. Not to me.” 

The creature inside of him had looked at her from behind the bars of its enclosure, helplessly lunging forward. Hoping she’d embrace it anyway, all sharp fangs and coarse fur. 

And she had, carefully, softly, even when he’d growled and bared his teeth. 

Each time he’d seen her, whether it was in his shop or in the tavern, he’d kept himself on a tight leash. It had in fact proven to be significantly harder than expected to even stand near her without losing his decorum and wanting to tear her apart.  

As he silently sat, next to her slumbering body, he still felt that way. 

Strange emotions he refused to acknowledge rushed through his heart, each time she rolled on her side or mumbled something unintelligible.  

There was fear, fear of what he could do to her, of what she could do to him, and fear of repeating some of the mistakes he’d made in the past.  

There was shame, lingering somewhere in the pits of his stomach, because he’d yielded to the animal inside, because he’d almost torn the leathers off his skin and slipped his hands under her shirt.  

Disgust, because he’d almost given her his unclean and scarred body, that shell that he had trouble inhabiting and even more trouble sharing with someone else.  

But there was also tenderness, a soft buzzing feeling that had entered his heart at the sight of her talent and beauty. 

A fondness that had protected her from the worst parts of him, even when he’d been too blinded by hunger and thirst to even know what he was doing. 

Astarion was startled out of his reverie by a series of loud and obnoxious laughs.

Rhistel Kiiren, the host of the party, was surrounded by a flock of cackling and giggling contenders who were ridiculously competing for his attention. 

His auburn locks were tied in a ponytail with a large midnight blue bow that Astarion had placed there earlier. It elegantly rested on his nape, right above the water pearls stitched on his collar. He was wearing a velvet jerkin of the same colour, adorned with many constellations of golden embroidered stars and moons. 

That single piece might have been one the most expensive Astarion had in his shop, but the high elf was vain enough to buy things just because they were extremely costly. 

Just because he could, and just because he liked to flaunt. 

Rhistel’s emerald eyes settled on the vampire, gleaming with malice. 

He excused himself, a cortege of sighs and complaints following his departure, and gracefully walked towards him. 

“I thought you’d be the heart of the party, Astarion” he dramatically sighed, leaning on the wall behind them, “I took you for a master of all delightful things, mingling with beautiful strangers and enjoying good champagne being amongst the finest. But here you are, brooding in the shadows. Whatever could be the matter ? ” 

The vampire plastered his brightest smile on his face, retrieving the mask he’d abandoned in some scattered part of his mind when Selene had visited the night before. 

“I was just admiring my work in the lighting of this vast room, darling ! It looks even more stunning on you than when I sewed it” he said, adjusting the puffy sleeves of the shirt the elf was wearing underneath his richly ornamented jacket. 

“Something is weighing on your mind, isn’t it ? ” Rhistel insisted once again, “ We’re friends aren’t we ? You can confide in me, I shall prove to be a sympathetic ear”, but he was ever a fool to believe that his little masquerade could delude the king of deception. 

There was no such thing as privacy in the higher spheres of the baldurian nobility. Under all the pretty rouged faces of Rhistel’s guests were the piercing eyes of scavengers, always in search of carrion and foetid gossips to feast on. 

He might’ve been a monster himself, but he’d quickly understood that monstrosity was an affliction he shared with some of those white-cheeked vultures. 

“Why would there be, dear ? I’m attending a luxurious party in one of the most beautiful manors of the higher city, what more could I ask for ?” he laughed, walking in the light once again, and doing a little twirl when the orchestra started to play a new song. 

A bitter voice in the corner of his mind blamed him, “ I’d ask for her, because you’ve ruined everything again.” 

Selene had left in a hurry earlier in the afternoon, without looking him in the eyes.  

When she’d woken up, he was already standing awkwardly near the hearth, as far from her as he could. He’d promptly blurted out that he was in a hurry and needed to prepare for a party, squirming on his feet with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. 

It was in the way he’d said it, in the icy inflection of the words he’d hastily muttered.  

They wrongly sounded like she had overstayed her welcome in his house.  

Like they were strangers once again. 

But when he’d realised what it all could mean to her, it was already too late.  

His fists were tightly clenched, every muscle of his body tensing, because the sight of her with her hair untamed and her shirt half unbuttoned, had him shivering with the same kind of puzzling needs as a few hours ago. 

Selene’s face fell when she stared at him from across the room, sleepiness slowly clearing from her gaze to turn into dejection. 

She looked exhausted, but beautiful in the halo of the lit fireplace, more than ever before, and his heart sored with dread.  

“I apologise, I didn’t think I’d doze off, I truly must’ve been worn out after all that sketching” she painfully laughed, her dark eyes visibly welling up with tears when she averted her gaze.  

“Come closer, let me hold you”, a frail voice begged in his heart, “Please leave, I can’t be anywhere near you right now” commanded another in his head, and he didn’t have to listen to either as he watched her quickly collect her belongings with shaky hands. 

She’d almost instantly vanished, disappearing into the brightness of the day.  

Where he could not follow.  

What if he’d hurt her so much she would never want to see him ever again ?  

Another part of him, feared that she arborred the same morbid curiosity and desires as the “clients” that sometimes visited him in Carmine Red. Would she get bored of him, now that he had sunk his teeth in her skin and had moaned against the wet hollow of her neck ?  

No no, he knew this was different, she’d given so much to him already, including this unfinished but already breathtaking portrait.  

He’d spent the rest of the day sitting in front of it, touching his face with the tip of his fingers, gliding along his features, while looking at the stranger that she’d etched on the canvas.  

There was a warmth in his chest, something too fragile for him to dare and call it happiness, but strong enough to make the colours of the fabric he was using to make her masquerade ball dress look brighter.  

“May I have this dance ?” said a smarmy voice that had him anxiously remembering where he was and who he was with once again. 

Faceless bodies and colourful silks swarmed back into his line of vision.

Astarion had attracted some undesired attention, and young lords and ladies gathered around him, like bees flying to flowers. 

“ Don’t touch me where she held me. Don’t stain it. Don’t ruin it. ” he helplessly thought, but he made no movement to stop them. 

They grabbed him without restrain, as if he were a mere object that they could pass on to each other. 

The chandeliers spinned above his head, marring his vision with streaks of blazing light.

His dance partner changed a few times, and he barely noticed, because he moved to another tune, one that nobody in this room heard. 

The addictive melody of Selene’s thumping heart, right under his palm when he’d touched her. 

The way it raced when his arms had tightened around her bust.  

The way it slowed when he’d drank deeply from her.

As if she were an instrument and he had mastered the intricacies of her chords and keys.

He hoped that it wouldn’t be weirdly tuned after all of his missteps because, as he danced from arms to arms, he realised that he only wished for one thing. 

To make her sound pretty.

**

It was only the middle of the night when Astarion felt like he was too weary to stay, he longed to leave and find refuge in the darkness of his own home. Music and chatters faded in the distance as he ventured in the empty corridors and silently headed towards the entry. 

His eyes were drawn to the bleak sceneries and portraits hung on the wide walls. Stern and dull faces stared back at him, and they all looked the same unremarkable features copied on repeat according to the century’s latest canon of beauty. Identical poses, and redundant colour patterns, ridiculous frills and puffy skirts : he’d always thought it to be pretentious and uninteresting. 

Now that he was in front of a whole gallery of it, it was as plain as the nose in the middle of their faces, just how much Selene had a different way of approaching her paintings.

“A teacher of mine once said that painting a portrait is like capturing the essence of one’s soul.” 

At times, he’d wondered if he still had one, if there was still something of his own under the soft fabric of his tailored clothes, and the meticulously arranged swirls of his hair.

If there was still more to him.

In Selene’s eyes, at least, there had been. 

She’d drawn him from a much wider angle than usual, capturing the entirety of his body from curls to toes, and in a much more animated way than what was in fashion. 

He looked alive in it, painfully so, with his eyes fixated on the onlooker, his mouth open as if to discuss some unknown topic, and a dagger playfully swirling between his fingers.

At the other end of the hallway, he suddenly heard the echo of raised voices. 

His heightened senses picked up on it without him having to draw closer. 

“Lord Theris’ patience is running thin and he has already been exceedingly forbearing with you… But you shall know that his generosity is not endless” said a deep voice, sinister and ominous. 

“Just a few more weeks, please” pitfully begged another one that seemed a little familiar for his taste, “the girl will paint again, I will have the money by then !”

Astarion’s eyes widened, fury clawing at his insides, and he prayed to all the gods it wasn’t who he thought it was.

Sheltered in the darkness, pressed against the wall, he peered at the two silhouettes standing in the dimly lit drawing room. 

One look was enough to confirm all of his wildest fears. 

Damian Fallheel’s long hair was ruffled, the ribbon he always wore in them laid at his feet, torn and ruined. A tall and bulky man towered over him, grabbing him by the soft silky collar of his shirt to brutally slam him against the wall. 

He let out a ridiculous wail when his tormentor held him so tight that his brogue shoes lifted off the floor, and the lavallière bow of his garment strangled him.

It would’ve been funny, delightful even, to see Fallheel being manhandled in any other setting. If she hadn’t been involved in some way, he would’ve sat back and enjoyed seeing the cretin being beaten to a pulp. 

“How many times have you made promises that could not be kept, lord Fallheel ?” the mountain of a man spat in his face, “This shall be your last.” 

The sun elf groaned and moaned, stabbing the giant’s hand with his perfectly manicured nails. His bronze coloured eyes were growing teary, the protruding veins on his forehead a telltale sign of asphyxia. 

He trashed and floundered against his grip, like a fish caught in a net. For a second, Astarion hesitated to step in and slit the man’s throat, just because he knew about her , just because Fallheel had dared to involve “the girl ” into this ugly mess. 

His fingers searched for the small misericorde dagger hidden in the leather pocket of his doublet he’d especially sewn for that use, gripping the cold squared hilt. 

This small weapon was not beautiful, nor was it made for a spectacular death, it just was sharp enough for a single lethal hit.

However, spending years and years rotting in the damp cells of the city’s prison, was far from being a thrilling perspective, even for an immortal. So, Astarion’s hand lingered there, near it, without daring to take it out yet.

“We will come to forcefully retrieve what is owed to us, from you … or from your protégée. In whatever form Vastos Theris might see fit” he darkly added. 

A chill of horror rattled his bones at the thought of Selene, in place of Fallheel, suffocating under the man’s grip.

He’d crush her delicate windpipe so easily, with those fat sticky fingers. 

And she’d fall at his feet like a rag doll. 

Disarticulated and lifeless.

He silently came out of his hide, stepping out from the darkness and into the halo of the lit sconces, to stand menacingly on the threshold. Fallheel’s eyes found him first, from behind the large shoulders of the brute, widening with fear and incomprehension. 

He saw the long blade in his hands and started to frantically shake his head no. 

The fool had enough troubles on his hands, without adding murder to the list of it. 

When the stocky debt collector turned around, however, it was already too late. 

Astarion had already lunged forward, like a rush of cold air in the hushed atmosphere. Instead of jabbing him in the ribs like he had intended to, he ferociously slammed the back of his neck with the hard end of the weapon’s pommel. 

The light instantly went out in his big dark eyes, and he loudly collapsed on the floor, falling flat on his face. The loud noise it made could have awoken the dead or, even worse, interrupted the party downstairs, but nobody rushed to find the source of it. 

Fallheel was bent forward, clutching his neck and taking deep shallow breaths. 

“Who the hell is Vastos Theris ?” Astarion sharply questioned, straightening his doublet and standing tall once again. 

Damian’s eyes lifted up, sharp and angry behind the golden curtain of his messy hair. “You certainly love to mingle in the affairs of others, don’t you Astarion ?”

“Oh well, a “ thank you for saving me ” would’ve done just fine too, but you are most welcome, dear ” Astarion bitterly mocked, pacing around the tall and wide mass of the lout’s body, to grab him by the ankles and drag him into the dark closet at the other end of the room. 

The latch fell into place with a satisfying click when he locked him inside. He set his mind on  talking to Rhistel later about the “intruder”, to have him warn the flaming fists.

Fallheel was growing restless once again, and he started to nervously pace in front of the window, “I’m no damsel in distress, this is all just a big misunderstanding !”

“A misunderstanding that had you using Selene’s paintings as a warranty ? What is the meaning of this ? What kind of disreputable trouble have you dragged her into ?” he retorted, approaching the master painter once again to tower over him with a terrifying glint in his eyes. 

The elf’s nostrils flared, his pinched face getting flushed with anger and shame. 

“Take her name out of your filthy mouth, you know nothing about her” he barked, all teeth and no bite, “And you don’t know the first thing about the bond I have with this child, I’d sell my soul to the devil to ensure her safety.” 

Astarion’s laugh erupted in the room, loud and vexing, and the longer it lasted the more Fallheel’s features twisted into an ugly grimace. Each of his cackles felt like a slap in his dignified face.

“Please, you’ve always been a poor liar, dear” he finally said after taking his sweet time to humiliate him, “it’s an art you have yet to master. You’ve only ever cared about yourself, and your own interests. I doubt there’s room for another person in that heart of yours, so quit the sensible fatherly act and tell me the truth.” 

Damian got unusually silent, and sauntered over to sit on one of the blue velvet bench sits. He crossed his legs and slowly started braiding his hair back into a long complicated plait.

“Speaking of liars” he finally muttered with a deceiving levelled voice, “ Selene sneaked away to see you yesterday, didn’t she ?”

Astarion’s satisfied grin was wiped off his face all at once.

“How did she taste ? Good I reckon, considering how awful her neck looked” Fallheel continued, and he wondered how someone with eyes that looked so much like the sun could have such a cold stare, “I told her to stay away, but the girl never listens to what I say. She can be somewhat … obstinate. ”

He remembered the dark bruises on Selene’s arms, the dark indent of his fingers in her milky skin, the determined yet slightly frightened look on her face when she said she’d disobeyed her master to see him. 

Being distant and heartless, after coming between her legs, hadn’t been the only way in which he’d let her down after all. 

He had sent her home with a huge and swollen bite mark on her neck, without worrying about the ways she’d hide it.

Standing in front of Fallheel, Astarion painfully realised how he’d been too blinded by his fears to think about her own.

“What did you do to her ?” he breathed, fangs protruding from under his lips, eyes glowing in the gloominess of the deserted room.

Downstairs, violins started to play again and someone opened a bottle of champagne. 

A crude and cruel laugh.“You make it sound like I’m the one hurting her, but I’m not.” 

The sun elf smiled as he tied his torn ribbon back into his hair, seemingly enjoying the small beat of silence before his coup de grâce . “You are.” 

Astarion wished he could find an honest way to deny it, but he kept thinking back to the way Selene’s big black eyes had filled with tears a few hours ago.

“You should’ve seen the pitiful state in which I’ve found her, all feverish and bloodless” Fallheel sighed, digging the knife even deeper into the wound, “poor Selene had fainted on the floor of her apartment, and I had no other choice but to rush her back to my manor and have her healed.”  

His heart sank, painful and heavy behind the cage of his ribs. 

“She wasn’t -I didn’t ”he started, at a loss for words for the first time in centuries. 

His memories were fragmented, they looked red and blurred in his mind as if seen through the prism of the heightened blood thirst he’d experienced. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember if her complexion had looked ghastly, or if her legs had seemed too weak to carry her weight when she’d left his home. 

No , he’d been too distracted by the blood on her to notice anything else.

And he’d let her leave like that, without even offering a cup of tea, or his arms to lean on.

“She is too young and gullible, she just doesn’t understand yet that what she wants and what she needs are two very different things” he continued, getting back up to admire Astarion’s aghast expression, “and you are obviously not what she needs.” 

His words were like hammer blows, slamming down the nails of a coffin he’d once laid into, and he could not find a single fault in them. He’d once again underestimated the lord’s distinguished talents for manipulation and cruelty.

He slowly walked past him to retrieve the green velvet garment that had fallen on the floor when he was being strangled. “You’ll make her hope for things you cannot give. And god knows the poor child has already had enough of that in her miserable life.”

Before leaving, Fallheel looked back at Astarion from the threshold of the door he’d almost crossed, much like Selene once had in the tavern, the first night he’d ever talked to her. 

Except this time, it was her master speaking in her place.

The painter’s face twisted into a particularly vicious smile before he spoke again, as if he’d set his mind on truly torturing him this time.

“I’m simply concerned you’ll turn her into your personal blood bag, or worse, a replacement for … What was her name already ?”, he falsely pondered, making a show of squinting his eyes and scratching his head, “that ravishing wood elf with hair of fiery red, that was always with you at every grand reception and balls, before you had a little falling out with her.”

I should’ve left you to die and rot alone in this room, it would’ve saved me the hassle of dirting my hands with your blood, Astarion thought, as the dagger magically found its way back into his hand.

“Stop talking,” he quietly threatened.

“Ah yes, “Tavira” was it ?” 

He was over Damian in a second, his forearm pushing him so violently into the open door that it rattled into its hinges, all razor sharp teeth and wild eyes. “Now, let sleeping dogs lie, lest you get bitten, Fallheel.” 

“See ?” the elf still mocked him, too reckless for his own good, “even after all this time, it’s the only name that can make you snap. You do still love the woman, afterall.”

The cold edge of Astarion’s dagger pressed in his neck, and it would’ve only taken a flick of his wrist to wipe the vermin off the surface of the world. “Will you shut up, gods dammit !” 

But Fallheel kept on laughing, either too unhinged or too confident in the fact that he wouldn’t go as far as killing him.

“Ah here he is, the real Astarion Ancunín ! The dark shadow that lurks behind that pretty mask of white porcelain and scarlet rubies,” he sneered, smiling even wider when he saw a flicker of hurt into his red eyes. 

Astarion lowered his blade and stepped back, still pondering whether he’d do Selene a favour or not by killing the goon. Judging by what he’d heard the man say, if her master died without repaying his debts, they’d come for her instead. 

So he reluctantly decided against it, trembling with barely contained rage.

Just this once. Next time, I won’t be this merciful. 

The elf decidedly walked away in the corridor to join the party once again, talking with his back to him, “A word of advice : stay away from her, from us .”

“Is that a threat ?” 

Damian’s finger gilded against one of the paintings’ frames, tracing the letters of the author’s name, “Gods no ! We’re civilised, are we not ? Let’s just not repeat some of the mistakes we’ve made in the past.”

Astarion’s eyes followed the motions of his index until he could make out the letters. 

“D.Fallheel”  

It was a wonderful painting of Baldur’s Gate’s port, a bleeding sunrise on the sea, that he would never see again except in paintings and in dreams.

The only truly captivating one in the sea of paintings on display on the walls of Rhistel’s manor. 

And he wondered how such a petty and disgusting man’s fingers could ever create anything that enchanting, when he’d only ever seen him destroy things and people instead. 

**

Astarion waited for the city guards to come and take the mystery man away, hidden amongst the crowd of appalled lords and ladies, and surrounded by hushed and horrified whispers. 

“ We can’t even be safe in our own homes.” “ How did he even come in ? All the doors and windows were locked, the butler and the servants are the only ones that have spare keys.” “How frightening, Lord Kiiren! You ought to install bigger locks on the estate’s gates.”  

He’d memorised his gruesome features once again, in the brighter lights of the avenue, before treading away.

The pale elf felt ill and guilt-ridden. He’d started the night thinking about Selene, and he would end it the same way. 

Yearning to see her and to make sure that she was alright, his feet unknowingly carried him to the gates of the Fallheel’s estate. He hid behind a pine tree, aimlessly staring at the windows, and wondering in which room she was asleep. 

Maybe he could discreetly climb up the façade and peek inside, just to make sure that her cheeks were pink again, and her big dark eyes alert enough. 

Something in his chest broke at the prospect of seeing her face again, and so his feet remained planted on the street’s pavement.

He wished he could take it all away and start afresh.

He’d be more careful with her, with her pliant and delicate body. He’d be more attentive to the emotions reflected in the dusky pools of her eyes. He’d refuse the “ kiss with teeth ” she’d asked for to press a lingering one on her blushing cheek.

He would be good for her. 

If only he had it in himself to be such a thing. 

A carriage came to a halt in front of the manor, and Fallheel descended to meet his stern butler. 

“How is she ?” he asked as they both disappeared in the estate’s garden. 

“She has drunk the healing potion that you have provided, but she still has a high fever, sir. Much like that time ” the older man cryptically replied and the heavy door of the house closed on them. 

“That time ?” Astarion thought, “ does it mean that she has a weak constitution, or a tendency to get bed-ridden ?” 

This idea did nothing to soothe him. He worried even more, itching to lockpick a back door of the manor and take care of her himself, but he merely stood there for a few more minutes.

Pathetically watching shadows quickly walk past the illuminated windows of the only lit room upstairs.

Her room most likely. 

When he finally turned on his heels, fleeing the rising sun, he felt like he was abandoning her all over again, leaving her at the hands of her “master”. 

“You’ll make her hope for things that you cannot give”, the imbecile had said. 

If he had anything of worth in him, it would be deep in the gloomy cave of his soul, where a small stream of fresh and clear water ran once again. 

A single pearl washed out on the eroded banks. A small shimmering stone abandoned there by the swirling waters. 

Selene would have to dive in, slowly, carefully, and he’d have to find it in himself to light the way. 

His trembling hands made to hold a flickering flame, almost blown out by his own shallow breaths, as he slowly got closer to something he should be running away from. 

After killing Cazador, he’d sworn to himself that he’d never be in the power of anyone again. 

Just to betray his own words by vowing all of himself to Tav.

He had kneeled, offered his hands and feet so she could bind them in lovesick chains.  

He had let her undress him to the core, raw and exposed in her arms.

Her slave, in the name of devotion. 

All but condemned to remain enchained there, long after she had gone and disappeared, cruelly withholding the keys to his freedom. 

Maybe Fallheel was right in the end. Perhaps, Astarion was broken beyond repair, and he’d do well to leave the girl alone. 

Yet, at each street corner, with each of the heavy steps that took him away from her, his thoughts selfishly clang to her. 

Let me try. Let me shed all of those old and rusty shackles. I’ll break and tear at them, to reach out to you.  

When he finally arrived in front of his home, Astarion heard someone howl in fear in his garden and walked faster. 

He’d barely opened the gate when he saw a white ball of fur fly in the air, claws shining in the moonlight. 

The stranger screamed anew when Blanche landed on his head of dark curls, scratching his face like some kind of savage beast.

“Now now no need to get so territorial” pleaded the man, ridiculously trying to push her away, “I’m merely visiting an old friend”. 

What a funny spectacle it was, especially now that Astarion has seen his small cat in action, guarding the home in his absence just as well as some big watchdog. 

It was all delightful until the man turned around, and he saw his face. 

He knew the late night visitor. 

All too well. 

Gale Dekarios was staring back at him, purple robes askew and face bleeding under the paws of his murderous kitty.

[tarabyte3]

Having a terrible headspace/imposter syndrome/continued writer's block day. So have some more of my poetry instead. No pretty graphics this time. Just 4 poems with a decade between them.

I am lily-like,

To the Gardener

open and blushing, petals

speckled in salmon.

I want you to cup

and caress my blossom face,

the curve of throat down

to my long-stemmed sway

of hips, full figured flora

ready for pollen.

Pistil and stamen,

yellow fingers stretched outward

from their corolla

casing to bathe in

raindrops and breezes. Pluck me,

roots and bulb heavy.

Inhale my flower

sex—fragrant. Waiting for you

to see my ripeness

and hang me to dry

beside the aster, pansy,

rose, chrysanthemum.

- March, 2010

The Buried

The ivy here reaches up

like many greedy hands

groping stone, embraced

in a patient game of tug of war.

At every turn there are dunes

of vines, erratic tangled masses

where the ivy has won,

burying the plaques

like their patrons

interred below.

We are, all of us,

returned to the earth.

Not through a yawning chasm,

but boxed neatly and regifted.

Some are charred to ash

and dust and scattered, ghosts

of embers catching wind gusts

until they settle, are swallowed

still by dirt. By inevitability.

Though our markers and monuments

are lost to time, the ground

never forgets us. It carries

the memory of our bones

in soil and tells the living,

"This was life once, too."

- October, 2020

To the Moon

I have seen a full moon drive a man

crazy as a woman can, so you must

be a woman with thick red hair.

The Greeks call you Selene—

brightness, moon-faced woman,

curved, voluptuous night figure.

My body swells as you do, waxes

to fullness each month

until we are emptied and new.

You must be a woman who knows

how dark the world can be

on a moonless night—

I have watched men crying

for the moon in alleyways

at two in the morning.

- April, 2010

Light

I want to be a light.

I want to burn, beacon

bright and leave

neon shadows behind

your eyelids when you look

away. The impression

of me more than an echo.

A brand. A memory

that sharpens into focus

whenever you smell

my perfume in a crowded

grocery store or hear

raindrops patter rhythms

on your windshield.

You see, light leaks

when it's strong enough

and I want to leave you

with enough to brighten

anywhere you might go.

- February, 2020

[lordelmelloi2]

Nutmeg and Papyrus!

nutmeg- I would ideally like to have more plants in my room, but I am so so so fucking bad at taking care of plants and I move too frequently for anything other than faux plants to be feasible... not that I even have those either. I just want to do a livable, breathable style with some good wood furniture but Rose is fuckin Broke...

papyrus-

YAAAYYYAYAYAAYYAYAYAYAYYYYY I LOVE MY RED HOT CAR. THIS IS MY RED 2011 TOYOTA COROLLA'S THEME SONG SHE LOVES THIS SONG SHE LOVES IT.

my toyota corolla runs better when shes listening to this song ^^^^

^ my 2011 toyota corolla

[nickgerlich]

No Static At All

I bought my first car in 1979. It was a two-door Toyota Corolla, and about as basic as it could be. With a four-on-the-floor (which is now a rarity!), a heater, defogger, and AM/FM radio, it got me where I needed to be. And like a lot of people back then, I bought an add-on cassette deck, and mounted it under the dash. Two speakers on the rear deck meant that I was riding in style.

Well, in my mind. I kept telling myself that.

Skip forward to the van I bought in 2020 during high COVID. I knew the rental car companies were in a world of hurt, and needed to sell off inventory to generate cash flow, which would be used to buy newer models. This meant fire sales across the country at their regional sales lots. I shopped online, and got a killer deal on a low-mileage 2019, and am still driving it.



I had owned it for a full year before I discovered there was a CD player hiding behind the LCD panel. I haven’t listened to CDs in years. I had signed up for SXM when I got the van, and that was all I ever listened to, ignoring AM/FM as relics of the past. And when I get bored with 150+ satellite stations, I sync my phone to the system, and tune in Spotify. I suspect I am no different from millions of other motorists.

All of which causes me to ponder how much music consumption has changed through the years. We have gone digital, streaming either from satellites or cellular services, and in a fairly short amount of time. Spotify did not arrive in the US until 2011, and the original XM Radio in 2008.

The only time I have even used the old-school radio was last summer while crossing western Canada. I intentionally flipped over to FM, because I wanted to experience the Canadian Content law, which stipulates that at least 35% of the songs played must have some Canadian origins, either writer, performer, or production.

But for all the growth of digital music, companies like Spotify are still swimming in red ink. My students who were with me in MKT6356 last semester remember a huge end-of-semester assignment that involved watching a Netflix series about Spotify and the struggles it faced when it was founded. Their latest earnings report shows that, while listeners (both the free and subscriber kinds) rose significantly, things are not all that rosy. The firm slashed six-percent of its global workforce, or 600 employees.

And get this: Their shares popped yesterday. I guess that a growing listener base trumps losses and layoffs.

Spotify points to its aggressive moves into podcasting as the source of its woes. They dropped some major cash for exclusive rights, including $200 million for the Joe Rogan Experience. And some of those podcasts have not exactly performed at expected levels. Spotify relies on ears (unlike eyeballs for most other media), and if people are not listening (which they can track quite well), then advertising revenues will sag. Investors are bullish, though, and still see future profit potential.

In a related move, Ford just announced it was going to eliminate the AM radio in its new F-150 EVs. I’m not sure how or why they chose this model. While that move probably doesn’t ruffle the feathers of many EV drivers (or most people in general), it did upset one rural radio station owner who contends that farmers and other country folk need their AM radio to be able to get the latest wheat and cattle futures. That’s something you can’t do on FM, SXM, or Spotify.



I’ll let those people iron out that one, but for a guy who only used his broadcast radio for a few days in the last 2 1/2 years, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. I’ve got too many choices as it stands on my SXM and Spotify. I keep sending my money to both, and were even just one of them to go away, my drives would be a lot quieter. 



Kind of like in that ’79 Corolla whenever I drove out of signal range, and the cassette got stuck in the player. Oh, the humanity.

Dr “Turn It Up“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[jojameswinter]

🌹🌹🌹🌹

ISA MY LOVE! ❤️ TY for the roses! 🥹

She couldn’t help it then, her pride left somewhere in Corolla when they sped by. As soon as the car was in park, she threw open the door and went straight to his arms without a word. And there he was, as if expecting it. 

And Kiara thought, this. This was what was waiting for her. Something indefinable, but perfect nonetheless. A silence filled with every single thing they didn’t say over the last few weeks. A stark contrast of the wintery North, the rose blush warmth of summer in the South, wrapped up in golden tan.

***

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence (or more) of a random WIP i'm currently writing

[kudzumovie]

Kudzu

By Anna Rose Woodliff

I have written a thriller feature which takes place deep in the Mississippi wilderness.  You may be familiar with the leafy vine known as Kudzu that takes over everything in its path.  It is quite eerie to behold and is both the inspiration and title of my story.  

Kudzu is about a family living in an old house on the precipice of a great expanse of Kudzu.  However these vines occasionally move inexplicably as a low vibration permeates the atmosphere.  The father, David Green, is a Deputy Sheriff who is haunted still by his father’s disappearance when he was 14, the same age his daughter Avery is now.  Avery has her own demons as she struggles with panic attacks, also accompanied by supernatural vibrations.  Her only friend is Annie Carver, daughter of the town preacher.  When Annie goes missing, her parents call David in a panic, and the Green family becomes increasingly concerned.  A notorious serial killer, Dan Carney, is on the run and was reportedly seen yesterday in a white Corolla driving down Highway 49, prompting county wide road blocks.  David finds Carney’s car sunk in a river near the Carver property, right before Annie’s body is found, slaughtered. 

Avery spirals, overcome with grief and crippled by the anxiety which has ruled over her for so long.

David and several other teams start a wide-ranging search party to find Dan Carney in the wilderness.  But it becomes clear that there is something far more sinister going on.  An evil force lurks in the Kudzu, with an ancient bloodlust driving it to kill.  In a terrifying progression of events, both FBI  and civilian teams are slaughtered, and the predator is after David next.  After discovering Dan Carney’s dead body, David realizes he is in immediate danger.  As he runs with Annie’s father, John Carver, he falls and is badly injured.  John Carver hides David and sacrifices himself to draw the Demonic Spirit away.  After he calls to warn his family, David’s wife Joyce, their 17-year-old son Tristan, and the wise old family friend, Claire, enter the Kudzu wilderness to rescue him.  But it is the shy and anxious Avery who saves the family at the last minute.  Avery overcomes her anxiety and fear by surrendering to faith and stepping into an understanding of who she truly is.  Avery Green is loved and powerful.  Avery Green is rooted in legacy and ready to receive her rightful inheritance.  

The theme of this movie is identity.  Every word spoken to Avery either pulls her further into self-condemnation and disempowerment or speaks truth into her through encouragement and hope.  In the end, she must choose which voice she will believe in, the voice of life or the voice of death. 

[shygryf]

Getting to know each other

15 years ago I was just as into memes as I am now only I did them on Facebook and myspace. this one came up in my memories. I have posted my original answers and a clean version. I have added my current answers in green. below, there is a clean version if you want to answer yourself. Please tag me if you do so I can see your answers!

What time did you get up this morning? 8 5

How do you like your steak? medium rare

What was the last film you saw at the cinema HBP with T[redacted] 10 Things I Hate About You for the 25th anniversary with my BFFL Buttercup

What is your favorite TV show? Stargate SG-1 Still love SG1, but currently desperately waiting for season 2 of dungeon meshi

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? Tucson, somewhere with air. I now have air and still live in Tucson

What did you have for breakfast ? Coco roos French Dip

What is your favorite cuisine? Italian

What foods do you dislike? most vegtables, mexican peppers

Favorite Place to Eat? bed. lol actually any place with good people Still true lol. I have come to really look forward to weekly dinner with my friend Mark

Favorite dressing? Ranch

What kind of vehicle do you drive? 1988 Chrysler LeBaron Convertible 2013 Toyota Corolla

What are your favorite clothes? around the house: my ratty red target t shirt (which i'm wearing), ratty shorts leaving the house :saphire blue T, black capris something special: black/white/silver kimonoesque top (a/n it's a faux wrap top with kimono sleeves, I knew better then don't know why i called it that ) my current favorite is my Desert Sunset skirt from @mayakern for work and dress, my favorite loungewear is my pac man nightshirt

Where would you visit if you had the chance? UK

Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? depends where it started. if it started full its half empty started empty half full

Where would you want to retire? Here

Favorite time of day? late late night I still love it i just can't see it anymore I fall asleep very early

Where were you born? TMC

What is your favorite sport to watch? Wildcat Basketball Hockey

Who do you think will not tag you back? doesn't matter

Person you expect to tag you back first? see above

Who are you most curious about their responses to this? any one who does this I’m very nosy (keeping A[redacted]'s answer)

Bird watcher? in dove season lol

Are you a morning person or a night person? night

Pets? sigh 3 cats 2 dogs (A/N I had just lost my cat Taco, my first cat who was really mine) I have 3 cats and one dog now, none of them the same.

Any new and exciting news that you'd like to share? I have prescription sunglasses and they are old lady glasses I have clean floors and got my curtains hung up finally after a year of owning this house

What did you want to be when you were little? it changed a lot.

What is your best childhood memory? spoons at the Hacienda during quiet time Still a great memory but i am now missing my Dad and my brother and some of our happier times together

Are you a cat or dog person? both they are better together

Are you married? nope

Always wear your seat belt? as often as i can

Been in a car accident? several even more now

Any pet peeves? Liars

Favorite pizza topping? bacon

Favorite Flower? White roses

Favorite ice cream? Phish food Also now Mint moose tracks

Favorite fast food restaurant? Eegees though if i;m actually eating Little cesar's dear god what was I thinking!? Graze aka the hipster burger place is my favorite currently

How many times did you fail your driver's test? 4.

From whom did you get your last email? work AO3

Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? i wouldn't unless someone else was paying it off

Do anything spontaneous lately? took the dogs to the park by myself not for like a week

Like your job? I wish i could get more hours but otherwise it is perfect (a/n it was a terrible job and they strung me along for years before giving me more hours but still not 40) If I have to work my job isn't terrible. my bosses have my back and i'm finally bonding with a few people from work even if they aren't actually coworkers

Broccoli? Nope

What was your favorite vacation? Road trip with my parents Road trip with my mom

Last person you went out to dinner with? thinks back thinks harder My family CeCe's Pizza Last Monday went to a fancy italian place with Mark

What are you listening to right now? "I loved her first" Lonestar The A/C and my keyboard

What is your favorite color? Purple

How many tattoos do you have? none I've gotten 3 but the third is a coverup for the first

How many are you tagging for this quiz? 6 total. J[redacted]and A[redacted] came late to the party Not tagging anyone everyone is welcome

What time did you finish this quiz 2:01pm 4:28PM

50. Coffee drinker?

ETA sorry missed this one. not at all

What time did you get up this morning?

How do you like your steak?

What was the last film you saw at the cinema?

What is your favorite TV show?

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

What did you have for breakfast?

What is your favorite cuisine?

What foods do you dislike?

Favorite Place to Eat?

Favorite dressing?

What kind of vehicle do you drive?

What are your favorite clothes?

Where would you visit if you had the chance?

Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?

Where would you want to retire?

Favorite time of day?

Where were you born?

What is your favorite sport to watch?

Who do you think will not tag you back?

Person you expect to tag you back first?

Who are you most curious about their responses to this?

Bird watcher?

Are you a morning person or a night person?

Pets?

Any new and exciting news that you'd like to share?

What did you want to be when you were little?

What is your best childhood memory?

Are you a cat or dog person?

Are you married?

Always wear your seat belt?

Been in a car accident?

Any pet peeves?

Favorite pizza topping?

Favorite Flower?

Favorite ice cream?

Favorite fast food restaurant?

How many times did you fail your driver's test?

From whom did you get your last email?

Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?

Do anything spontaneous lately?

Like your job?

Broccoli?

What was your favorite vacation?

Last person you went out to dinner with?

What are you listening to right now?

What is your favorite color?

How many tattoos do you have?

How many are you tagging for this quiz?

What time did you finish this quiz

Coffee drinker?

[mckoysnews-blog]

Tragic Accident Claims Life of Happy Grove High School Student

Morant Bay, St. Thomas — A tragic car accident in the early hours of Saturday morning has claimed the life of a 16-year-old girl. The victim, identified as Abrianna Rose, was a student at Happy Grove High School and a resident of Duhaney Pen, Morant Bay. According to reports, the incident occurred around 3:30 a.m. when Rose was traveling as a passenger in a 1991 Toyota Corolla. As the vehicle…