#we were in a pretty populated area around stores and stuff so i was just trying to stay around other people

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Trying to go for a nice walk before work and someone started following me...

[chojrak-making-things]

Today I want to show you world that was made almost 6 years ago, and has been pretty forgotten by now. This world is called Mandora and it’s mild exotic island made by GreenPhoenix. It wasn’t fully released as an alpha, but was in the making in 2017 and was released as beta, for testing. For me it looks like finished, and since download is still publicly available, I decided to remind about this gem. This world come with a save file, so it’s populated.

To download, you need to go to *this thread* at ModTheSims, scroll down to post #18 written by GreenPhoenix, and at the end of this post you’ll see attached files of world and save file.

This world requires all expansion packs except for Supernatural. From Stuff Packs it uses Outdor Living Stuff and Town Life Stuff. No store or CC as far as I know. All other information you can find in thread linked above.

I encourage to leave original water color, at least for first time, because world looks really pretty with it.

More pictures under the cut

...

This is town centre and first district of houses (more towards bottom)

It has nice cafe and arcade.

You can also find this nice little park with playground and fishing spot.

And alley with houses that looks kind of exotic (?) I guess. Most of them have one color as a scheme, for both interiors and outside. They’re covered in corrugated sheet.

Interior of one of the houses, lilac one.

Second district is more towards middle of island. It’s heavy brick and industrialized area. Though very clean and chic in that matter.

It has apartments too!

and cute little coffehouse. You’ll find a surprise in basement, lol.

Driving towards other edge of island, you’ll find swamp area and farm district.

Houses in farm area are very detailed and well made.

They have even sloped roofs with beams and wood textures. Debug lights were used on outside to light the whole building evenly.

On top of island there’s area with more suburban and regular style of houses. I would say the most neutral ones. Seems spacious and good for big families.

And on this flat peninsula bellow you’ll find futuristic houses. Also rainbow colored. These seems more expensive ones.

Recently I was also wondering, that since most colors are segregated and prescribed for certain houses, this world would be good for Not So Berry Challenge. 

...

There are also multiple houseboats closer to the centre. In one of them lives a lady who loves lilac color and animal prints, so some interiors despite one color or one shade, are very characteristic.

and the creator didn’t forget about diving places either! So definitely a good choice if you’re looking for light substitute of Isla Paradiso. For sure it is less laggy.

Around 2017, when I had first time Mandora in my game, I felt like this town lacks of certain spontaneity and crazyness, but now I see I just wasn’t paying attencion to details. Usually exotic worlds attacks you with dense jungle or orgy of colors and patterns, but this one seems more calm, orderly, and tidy. I think it’s cool we have now something made in that way.

I was lurking on MTS while this world was in making, but had problems with my account and finally didn’t write anything there. It’s specific site, and I felt unmeritoric comments wouldn’t be welcomed in world making section. Though I felt like I should at least somehow cheer, because encouragement is always nice during such a long projects. I’m sure author had a blog with process of making, maps and addresses of certain lots, but I can’t find a link now. Don’t know if it was on tumblr or other platform. I think it was blogspot or wordpress more likely. So if you find it by a chance, please post link in comments.

Thanks for reading!

...

[shadowbrightshine]

I'm at an old closed Christmas shop. It's got a beautiful organ that's been in the shop since 1960 and it's only open for about a week of the year. Pictures and more will be at the end.

I made friends with a woman, asked them to sing happy birthday for a random stranger at request, met the Nora town cat, and more. Stories below

The town, or the town sign says population 5.

This is a tiny town seemingly that consists of only the people who live in this shop.

I think the shop itself is the town. The shop-town-place of Nora. Population 5+ the Nora cat.

And once for a week every year the shop opens and they play the organ. The building is under federal/government protection apparently. It's old and so cool.

It's beautiful. Here's a little bit of the organ playing. I'll be rebloging this with a video so it isn't hidden from me.

The man who plays the organ and owns the shop is very funny. He's been doing this yearly thing for 35 years. The shop closed down years ago. You can't buy any merchandise of the event either. Memories have to do.

And he holds this for free.

I love living in the small town area of my state. My own town is only about 10k people, but it's bigger than some.

This is a beautiful thing.

Thank you tiny towns.

I just sang the highest notes I ever have for "O Holy Night" and I didn't choke once. If I had a recording I would keep it forever because I haven't felt that proud of myself singing in a long time. This place feels like a dream.

Like the movies, when you're in a beautiful little town and surrounded by strangers but you leave as friends.

A little boy in a rainbow striped jacket spilled water all over my jacket and I just sent him to go get his mom because he also spilled it on his monkey plush that according to him has no name. I'm alright, it's fleece it doesn't really absorb water.

We ran out of chairs so families are standing by us at the snack table, I made friends with a mom whose two year old keeps kicking me and dropped his stuff on my feet. It's ok, he's just a toddler.

I gave my book of songs to the standing family. Most of the pages are falling out from years of use.

I've been using a big bell ringer and I love it.

I've never felt closer to God here with all these people singing to an old organ in the middle of nowhere, all crowded together in a tiny closed down store.

I made friends with the woman standing next to me. Her name is Kendal, and her son is 2 years old and loves tractors.

Kendal asked me to call out a request for happy birthday for a woman named Donna. I'm not sure how they were related but I loudly called out the request for her.

She told me I had a beautiful voice, and then the woman in front of us turned around and agreed! I added both to my list of kind things people have said to me.

We exchanged phone numbers. Now we're friends and she's told me we're going to exchange cat photos.

My mom in the car told me I kept good time on the bells and asked why I never went into percussion. The drums were too loud, but she said since I'll be heading to college soon, I might be able to play the bells there. I hope so. I adore Bella. I even collect them, old vintage dinner bells and normal bells and bells a ringing!

I gave what money was in my bag to the man running the event, I hope he can keep it open. I'll be wanting to come back every year I can from now on.

This is the cat, the store, the sign, and blurry pictures of some pretty Christmas lights I passed.

I love Christmas.

[alliluyevas]

hey fun fact, my girlfriends coworker just quit and is going to Utah for a while. this guy smokes, drinks, does drugs, he's a real hippie. he's going for the nature and national parks and stuff. we had to be the ones to tell him he might have a hard time finding coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, etc because it's a predominantly mormon state! he had no idea!

he's just like...going to chill in the national parks? honestly good on him. i will say, my experience might be skewed because i don't use any substances (or drink coffee, I had to go back and add that because coffee is not A Substance unless you're Mormon) but when I went to utah I was with 2 people who do drink both alcohol and coffee and they had no trouble acquiring those in slc or around zion/bryce canyon national parks. slc has a large secular population and there's a lot of tourist traffic around the two parks so they know how to cater to non Mormons.

my friends don't smoke and no one was looking to do drugs so idk about that, and it might be harder to find even alcohol in areas that aren't the far north or far south of the state and are predominantly mormon without a lot of tourist traffic. i imagine you could probably get grocery store ground coffee at a supermarket but coffee shops would be pretty scarce.

that being said omg how did he not know that? I feel like Utah is so polarized in terms of its population/pop culture presence because it's like Outdoorsy Hippie Place but also Mormon Central.

also just musing but--the interesting thing about visiting Utah as someone who doesn't drink alcohol or coffee but isn't Mormon and was traveling with people who do is that establishments feel really polarized--they either don't offer things that don't conform to Mormon consumption standards (like those soda shops, they may have juices or flavored water or something lighter but they don't also offer coffee), or they are very obviously catering to non-Mormons and don't offer a lot of variety for either practicing Mormons or people who just choose not to drink.

Like we went to a restaurant that had a wine list, extensive cocktail menu, big bar right in the center, etc, and I feel like an equivalent restaurant in most of the cities I've been to would have had mocktails offered, something a little more fun and upscale for non-drinkers. This place had Coke, Sprite, or water. Similarly, we stopped at a trendy-looking coffee place that was either independent or a local chain so my friends could get a coffee. They had lots of different types of coffee preparations and a few different tea options and the only thing that a Mormon guest could have gotten was Swiss Miss hot chocolate. (Which is what I got, lol). These places were both in Salt Lake City. We did go to one place near Zion that had beer and wine but also a wider range of options for non-drinkers including this giant prickly pear lemonade that I ordered which was bright purple and unfortunately not very good kjesdfhdas I thought it was too sweet. Utah moment.

It kind of made me feel a bit weird personally...I felt like I was going to that coffee shop and the barista was thinking oh look at this cringelord Mormon ordering the Swiss Miss. but also on a sociological level it's really interesting because it's a real reflection of cultural polarization in utah, like I'm sure there are plenty of mixed friend groups that have some Mormon and some non-Mormon members, but some Mormons I think would prefer not to go to a restaurant that has a bar or to a coffee shop in general. (Appearance of evil, etc). And I think also like...some people who do drink may kind of look down on those who don't especially because of the religious context so you end up with establishments that basically offer the bare minimum in non-alcohol/non-coffee.

[callsign-bunnie]

Migration PT2 (Teeth and Skin)

Gaz and Price are back on the rode. Back on a mission. So far, it’s been boring as hell. So far.

--

Gaz took it back. He could not keep listening to Price’s music. He was slowly losing his mind. At least it wasn’t Britney Spears but it was the same three albums from three separate artists. “Fuck it, we’re going to find a music store to raid.”

“Fine with me.” Price shrugged and chuckled softly. “But, I’m also fine with this music.”

“We’ve been driving for days and we’ve listened to the same damn tracks over and over and over again. I am now seriously concerned for your brain chemistry, sir.” Gaz rolled his eyes and glanced over to Price.

Gaz had taken over driving when Price needed to sleep but for the most part, Price drove. He claimed it kept him sharp but Gaz knew the truth; Price liked driving. It gave him this idea of control over an uncontrollable situation. They all had to cope, somehow. He knew that. Gaz coped by just not thinking about it, most of the time.

Price coped by trying to keep control, even when it was clear he didn’t have it. Gaz let him have that control. He trusted the older man with his life.

In the last two years, he’d stopped trying to hide that he saw Price as a father. Not a father figure, just his father. Price had pretty much stopped hiding that he saw him as a son.

Price laughed softly. “If we find new tapes, I will use them. What would you prefer to listen to?”

“God, anything new. Anything but this.” Gaz turned to the radio instead, going through the transmissions. He stopped at an old station, frowning a little as he heard English being spoken over it.

Both had picked up Spanish. They had to, in order to survive. So, it was surprising to hear English. American English no less. Price seemed to pick up on it as well, glancing at the radio.

The transmission was faint, likely due to distance. Gaz could barely make out the words, but it seemed to be detailing some event happening in a city they had to go around. They knew of the city, as it was very overrun with zombies and was generally seen as something to avoid.

Well, whatever it was, they planned to avoid that city, anyway. So they’d likely miss whatever it was. “You know, I’d kill for pizza right now.”

Price laughed. “I don’t think even killing would get you one of those.” He joked. “Two more hours and we’ll stop. Set up camp.”

“Good.” Gaz nodded, since the sun was going down. They hadn’t stopped since they’d started going, save for a quick supply gather in a town, and it would be good for both of them to get a full night, or full for them anyway, of sleep and for the truck to be off for a few hours.

As promised, Price found a place to stop. They didn’t dare camp out of the truck, since they were in a heavier zombie populated area. Granted, they were not actively in a spot where that was a risk but, it was better to be safe than sorry. Zombies didn’t have rules.

Yeah, they had patterns and it was usually pretty easy to tell when groups of them would do something, but at the end of the day, they went where the food was. That was it. There was nothing beyond that. No feeding patterns, nothing.

Just pure hunger. Gaz and Price, or anyone else, hadn’t really tried to dig into why they ate, either. Gaz could remember a time they’d seen a zombie with half of its intestines gone, still tearing into a body. It clearly wasn’t to survive. They didn’t need to survive, they were already dead.

Gaz did have a notebook where he took down information they learned about the zombies but.. It was hard to get anything when the only time they were actively interacting with them was running for their lives. 

When Price found a good place to stop, Gaz hopped out and went to the back of the jeep, setting up their stuff. Price used to offer to do it, but Gaz was way better at getting them set up in a speedy manner than Price was.

Price just did some maintenance on the jeep while Gaz did so. Both were very tired, though, so Gaz wouldn’t be shocked if Price just came to the back, climbed in, and crashed. Gaz definitely planned to.

In fact, as soon as he was done, he climbed in and immediately laid down. As expected, Price followed a few minutes later, and he was shutting the door, locking it. However, instead of laying down, he stayed sitting up, frowning.

Gaz sat up a little. “Sir?”

“Shh… Do you hear that?” Price started to reach for his shotgun, which they kept in the back. Gaz listened and then he did hear it. Clicking. He furrowed his brows. As far as he was aware, there were only four types of zombies. And none of them clicked. Bleeders hissed, Heavies growled, Sprinters screeched, and biters groaned. None of them really… clicked.

A soft booming noise came from their right. Gaz immediately moved to the window of the back door, ducking a little as he saw jets flying overhead. “What the fuck?” 

Price came over and frowned, having to lean over Gaz, who scrunched up to give him room. “What the hell?” 

Gaz looked at a jet, seeing an American flag. “Either some fucking survivor group got their hands on a few jets or…”

“The Americans are trying to reinstate themselves.” Price grred and shook his head. “This will not be good.”

“No kidding.” Gaz snorted and ducked again, watching odd colored explosions hit a city in the distance from the jets. Thankfully nowhere close to them but… great. This was just another element of bullshit that they’d have to look out for. “What do we do about this, sir?”

“Can we do anything?” Price went to his spot and laid down. “Avoid them. If they start to threaten survivor settlements, we’ll do what we can to help but…”

Gaz understood. They were two people. They couldn’t exactly take down an entire military, even if he’d like to try. They helped people, now. They didn’t really run missions. Even if he’d like to frame what they were doing now as one, it really wasn’t. It was them going a longer distance to help someone. Again.

Gaz wished it was different. He wished this had never happened. He wished they could be back in England, running missions, going home for Christmas or leave. Price had let him move in with him when he lost his apartment. Watching football on the television, eating shitty tv dinners or takeout because neither of them felt like cooking.

Hell, he missed Farah and Alex. He’d go back to Urzikstan if he could, just to see them. Alex had stayed with Farah… Change the subject. Now. “Hey, sir. Remember that heavy we took down?”

Price raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t settled in yet, fucking with a map. “Yeah. It was a pain in the arse.”

“Piss off, you weren’t the one being chased by it, having to narrowly dodge bullets. Your aim is dogshit.” Gaz laughed. Price had managed to get up on a roof and had yelled for Gaz to run from the thing. To be fair, Gaz was a hell of a lot faster than Price. He could outrun it, Price likely couldn’t have. However, the problem was, Price planned to take the fucking thing down.

So Gaz had had to run in circles while dodging the occasional stray bullet. Price’s aim was pretty good, but it’d been a high stress situation. 

“My aim is bloody fantastic. The damn thing kept dodging.” Price grumbled. “Why did you bring it up?”

Gaz shrugged. “I was thinking about it.” He lied. He’d wanted to distract himself. It hadn’t fully worked, but hey, he wasn’t about to go down that rabbit hole of hurt. He decided he was tired enough to sleep and laid down, pulling the blanket he had over himself. 

It didn’t get that cold at night, but it was cold enough he needed a blanket or he’d freeze. 

He heard Price eventually settle in behind him and he relaxed, closing his eyes. 

Gaz took deep breaths, trying not to freak out. He knew the room around him, well, and he hated being there again. He did not want to be there. He would rather be anywhere else but… No. He was here, again.

“Shoot him.” 

“No.” Gaz shook his head, trying to drop the gun in his hand. It was glued to his hand with a thick layer of blood, though, so he couldn’t. “Please, I don’t want to.”

“Shoot him.”

“I can’t. He’s barely 18. Barely a kid.” Gaz stared at the fresh faced soldier, tied up in a chair in front of him. He was sobbing, clearly not wanting to die. Why he was there, Gaz didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about him, just that he was 18.

“Shoot him.”

“Please, I can’t-”

“Shoot him.”

“No, I won’t-”

“Shoot him.”

“Please-”

“Shoot him.”

Gaz let out a breath, his whole body shaking. The kid was begging. “I don’t want to die. Please. I want to live. I want to see my mama again. I… I miss my mama, please. I miss her so much. I don’t want to die.”

Gaz couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do this at all. He wanted to leave, he wanted to spare this kid. He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t. 

The kid continued to beg for his life. “Please, sir. My name is James. I have three siblings, they’ll miss me. They hang onto my letters. My mama will be lost without me, please… She was so upset I left… She said I’d get myself killed. Please don’t let her be right.” He wasn’t begging Gaz, he was begging whoever had put them there. 

“Shoot him.”

“I can’t!” Gaz snapped. His entire body felt icy cold. How was he supposed to shoot this poor kid?

That’s not what happened, though, was it?

Gaz stopped and his whole body shook. No. No! He couldn’t kill this kid.

But you did.

Gaz squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Shoot him! Shoot him! SHOOT HIM!”

Gaz took aim and shot the kid. Right between the eyes. He watched his head jerk back and Gaz tried not to scream. What had he done?! NO! He wasn’t supposed to do this!

Then the head slowly rose back up straight. Gaz stared into yellow eyes. Skin rotted right off the bone. The kid became slim and gangly.

The gun disappeared. Gaz wished it hadn’t. He wished it’d stayed. He would need it. He watched the kid open its mouth and start to screech. High… so high… It hurt his ears. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe-

It attacked. Gaz backed up as it lunged forward, biting right into his shoulder. He felt the pain everywhere. He shoved and kicked at it but it just kept biting and screeching and biting and screeching and-

Gaz woke up with a start to Price shaking him rather hard. “Kid! Kid wake up!” He looked at Price, shaking. 

“Wha-” He started before stopping as his throat burned. He’d been screaming again. Oh. The nightmare was already fleeing his mind. He checked outside, seeing the sun was already fairly high in the sky. Getting up, he decided not to acknowledge anything. It was better. Smarter. “Ready to get on the road?”

“I’ve already eaten.” Price mumbled. Gaz had been doing this for so long, he probably knew not to bother. “You should eat on the road.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gaz groaned as they climbed out of the truck, finally. They were stopping for a supply run and Gaz was incredibly grateful. He wanted out of the jeep. He liked it, don’t get him wrong, but… It was stuffy when you rode in it for a couple days straight. They’d only been on the road for a week but… it was a long fucking week.

Price checked their stuff and shook his head. “We need more food.” He groaned and shook his head. “A lot more food.”

Gaz frowned and went over, checking their food supply. He was shocked to find they would barely have two days. Four or Five if they really stretched it. But… They would have to barely eat. “We’ll see what we can find.” He shrugged. They were stopping for supplies, anyway. Surely they would be able to find something.

Price didn’t seem too sure but nodded, anyway. Gaz knew he was just worried. He was always worried about this stuff. Even if they had plenty of food, he’d still be worried. That was just how Price was.

So, Gaz shrugged off his concern and got his rifle out of the back of the truck. “What else do we need?”

“Ammo, medical supplies. Water.”

None of the water was really safe to drink unless it was from big water sources. Granted, if you were immune, bites wouldn’t turn you, but it could still cause infection to get any sort of fluid from those rotting bastards.

Not to mention, both heavies and Bleeders posed significant threats. Bleeder blood was literally acid so it could burn a hole through your stomach. Whatever caused Heavies to bloat like that was potent and you were pretty much guaranteed to get violently ill if not die.

Gaz had done the math from everyone he’d asked about it and the odds for violent illness was 90% and death was like 64%. Granted, his numbers weren’t precise but… he trusted them enough to know he would rather not take the risk.

One could filter the water, if they had a filter. Gaz and Price were not so privileged, though. They’d tried to find one, but there were always higher priorities. Food, medical aid, supplies. Etc etc. 

“Might try to find you some new boots, eh sir?” Gaz offered, since he’d noticed Price’s were wearing down.

“If we find any.” Price nodded, getting his own gear out. Despite the heat, both wore jackets. They were loose, which helped since it was a dry heat, but it was significantly harder to get bitten or scraped in a jacket than it was without one. 

Gaz decided to keep an eye out for his own boots. “Oh yeah, and the music store.”

Price full on laughed at that one. “Alright, kid.” He gave a thumbs up and then they headed to the first store. Price had to break into it, which was hopeful. That meant they might have decent luck with their supply run.

Price took down a biter that jumped out at them as soon as they walked in with ease. They were most common for a few reasons. One, they were named for what they do. Which was Bite. Yeah, they generally did feast if they were in multiples, but one tended to get bored pretty quickly on its own.

Still, if you were alone in a room with no way to defend yourself and it just so happened to decide it was hungry enough (close to a 50/50 chance if Gaz’s math was correct) then you were likely just stuck and fucked and would probably die.

The second most common were Sprinters, which were functionally biters but something caused them to lose all excess mass so they were just speed machines. Terrifying speed machines. Gaz had had the misfortune of watching five of them go after the same human and they had torn them to shreds. Gaz wasn’t even sure they had any time to react to whatever was happening to them before they were dead. But, they still bit and it was fairly easy to get away from them in close contact, since they were light and easy to knock away. Gaz… knew that first hand.

Bleeders were third most common, though only just so. Their common attack didn’t really allow for them to bite until the victim was already dead, though Gaz had heard of those unlucky enough to get bitten by one. Or who would swallow blood and survive. Hell, he’d heard of a cartel leader who’d done it on purpose. He’d gotten lucky and was immune but… the idea of that had been horrific to Gaz. He’d apparently done it because one of his men had gotten bitten and it was revealed his blood was now acidic, though not to the same degree as a regular bleeder’s was.

Gaz wasn’t sure he believed this story, but hey, people were just crazy enough.

Funnily enough, Gaz didn’t know much about Heavies. Price and him had only had the misfortune of dealing with one and Gaz planned to keep it that way. He supposed now was certainly a time when only knowing a little about these things, unless you had regular contact with other survivors, was a good thing.

At least, Gaz certainly saw it as one.

They were greeted with a large stock in the store. Gaz chuckled and nodded. “Awesome.” He searched for the main things they needed. Medical supplies took priority for now, since they could stretch food, but they couldn’t stretch most medical supplies.

However, Price seemed to have food covered, so Gaz wasn’t too worried. “Hey, sir? Should I just grab all of the bandaging?”

“We can come back for more stuff. As long as it fits in the jeep, I don’t care. So just take as much as you deem necessary.” Price nodded, glancing at him. Gaz shrugged and turned back to the aisle, knocking all of the basic first aid into his bag.

Sadly, ammo would not be found at this place, since it was a dollar store, but canned foods, pre-prepared meals, and water would be in excess. Along with medical supplies.

Gaz did take most of the socks in their size. Even the apocalypse didn’t stop them from losing socks. Well, they were useful as hell. The long ones could be made into quick weapons with a rock. And, once Price had sliced his arm open, elbow to wrist. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but it was an infection risk. So, Gaz had wrapped it up and then they’d cut off the toes of a knee high sock and rolled it up over the bandaging to keep it secure so Price could move easily.

Gaz still felt pretty smart for that one. Price had said it was smart thinking, since they moved a lot in their day to day. The sleeve had given him freedom of movement.

So, Gaz had no problem wasting space to grab them. Hell, like Price said, they could always come back to get more. They hadn’t seen many biters through the town and they’d parked close enough that running to the jeep and running back shouldn’t be an issue.

Gaz stopped in the craft aisle. He usually would grab the blades for the precision knives, and the handles, that they had there. Plus the shitty super glue. It wouldn’t hold too much, but it held just enough to be useful. He grabbed all of those things and then made a decision to grab some more pens and a small notebook. He had the space.

He paused in front of the activity book section. He’d loved doing the random activities in them when he was a kid. His foster mom had had a ton of them for mental enrichment. Glancing back at Price, he saw he was preoccupied looking at the labels on some cans of what Gaz was assuming was ravioli. That or some kind of bean. Likely some kind of ravioli or canned pasta. Gaz actually didn’t mind those. Especially since they would pop the tops off of them with a can opener and stick them in the fire to heat them up.

They had a few pans but they were reserved for when either one of them couldn’t stand pre-made meals anymore and would throw a bunch of shit in it and make some form of cooking happen. They didn’t want to bother having to clean them up. 

Then, they’d keep the cans, which were good for making bombs if they felt like it.

Which, they rarely did. But, they collected them all the same as many survivor settlements would trade for them. They’d trade a decent amount of items for them, too. Food, medicine, ammo. Apparently aluminum and tin was really good if you knew what to do with it.

Gaz shrugged and grabbed a few books. Again, he had the space. His bag was huge and could fit a fair amount in it, since it was only the bag they’d use for grabbing supplies. When he was finally done grabbing things (oh and another pack of plastic silverware, which they kept when it broke since there were plenty willing to trade for that, too. None were really willing to say for what, though…) he grabbed a random set of men’s reading glasses and held them out to Price, laughing at the withering glare he received.

“Goddamnit, Garrick! I don’t need those.” He huffed and shoved the cans in his own pack.

Gaz laughed louder and shook his head, setting them on a nearby shelf. “Don’t squint so hard at words, then.” He shrugged and turned back to Price. “Old man.” He added, just to rib at Price, though he was only 37.

Price rolled his eyes. “I’m in my thirties, kid.” He shook his head and grabbed more food. “You grab everything you think is necessary?”

“Yeah.”

“Fantastic. Let’s go stock the truck and then we’ll look for a store that will hopefully have ammo.” Price nodded.

Gaz agreed and they both left. Gaz followed close behind Price. Since Gaz was much faster than Price, he stayed behind him to make sure neither got left behind. It was easy for Gaz to get caught up in his own thoughts and then Price was several feet behind him.

Once they got to the jeep, Price helped Gaz get out their boxes and look through them, organizing everything into where it went.

“Fuck, you think you grabbed enough socks?” Price raised an eyebrow as Gaz emptied them into a bin labeled the “sock bin”. 

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to have to try to run through towns on blistered feet? Do you want to try to wrap a fuck ton of bandaging on big wounds? Or should we save that for our torsos?”

Price raised his hands in concession and then stopped, frowning. “That clicking noise again.”

Reasonably, there was no reason to believe that they were in immediate danger, but… dread still flooded Gaz’s veins, regardless. He quieted and listened. It was much louder this time.

Then they saw them. All black fighter jets with the American flag on them.

“Fuck!” Price cursed.

In the distance, they could make out trucks rolling up. Military trucks. Gaz should have taken this as a good sign, but no. No, things were never that easy. They rolled up in the distance and stopped and the angle meant that Price and Gaz could see them, but they likely couldn’t be seen. They’d done this on purpose so they wouldn’t have to deal with the various groups of shitbags around.

Gaz went to go around to the truck, but then a piercing shriek sounded through the air. Not a sprinter shriek, no. An electric shriek. Gaz’s eyes went wide as he saw groups of biters flood from their buildings. No, not just biters. Sprinters, bleeders. He covered his ears and quickly went around the truck with Price, getting in and locking the doors. Price had thankfully slammed the back of the jeep shut.

“What do we do, sir?”

“Get the fuck-”

Price was cut off by the first explosion. Gaz expected a bomb, but… no. Something large and round had dropped down on a group of biters and exploded in a purple cloud of gas. Gaz knew it was gas from the way it hung in the air, spreading out rather than up like smoke.

Gaz stared at the group, watching them all drop like flies. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t fucking know, but I’m not sure I want to find out what it does to humans.” Price growled and put the jeep in drive. 

“Sir, how are we going to get through this town? Do we keep driving through?” Gaz knew from the map that going back would mean adding two more days of travel. From Price’s frustrated expression, he was thinking the same. “We could hide somewhere, wait them out?”

“No.” Price shook his head. “That’s too risky.”

Gaz sighed, since it was. Plus, what happened when it drove the hoards out of the town? They would be stuck. “Can you travel the backroads?”

“Let me see that map.”

Gaz got it out and handed it to Price, keeping an eye on the biters and the approaching military men. He wondered why they were there.

Well, that question got answered quickly because no sooner had he thought it then a group of three survivors were coming out of a building nearby. They started to choke and grasp at their throat. “Price-” Gaz started, before jerking away as something slammed against the door of the jeep.

A soldier in a gas mask was at their door. Where did he come from?? He was yelling at them in shit spanish to get out of the jeep. Price looked up, alarmed, but nodded at Gaz to comply. Gaz hesitated before carefully getting out of the truck. He looked around and saw the three survivors were now on the ground, two soldiers standing over them. 

One of them was convulsing and he could hear the other two screaming. It was… a horrible scene. Gaz’s stomach churned from it. The soldier kicked his knee in so he was forced to kneel and he put his hands behind his head immediately. Price did as told as well, being made to step out of the jeep. Gaz was made to go around to his side.

“Can we leave?” Price tried, doing a convincing American accent. If Gaz said so.

“No. Orders are to neutralize all survivors in this town.” The soldier put his gun to Price’s head.

It was a sheer moment of panic. Gaz had the gun away from the soldier within five seconds. Clearly they weren’t expecting someone trained in this shit. He shot them in the chest and yanked their gas mask off their face as they fell, tossing it to Price, who quickly slipped it on.

Gaz shot another soldier that approached, whipping around and immediately shooting another. Price yanked open the door to the jeep, ducking behind it as gunfire sprayed near them. Gaz practically sprinted around it after yanking another gun off one of the soldiers he shot. 

He put his hand on the door handle when he was suddenly being yanked back. He was met with the yellow eyes of a sprinter. The gunfire was so loud he hadn’t even heard it screech. He didn’t waste time to shoot it through its head and he was lifting up again.

“Get the fuck in!” Price ordered. 

The group of soldiers in the distance were now being surrounded by biters. Even with the gas taking them out, they were still quickly swarming them. “This is clearly not going to plan for them!” Gaz called and Price just shook his head.

Gaz started, again, to get into the jeep, but then his vision was flooded with purple.

Then black.

--

Hey, want to get added to a tag list for this ship or AU? Reply to this with "add me to the tag list for [ship/au]" and I will tag you in everything I post for whichever you choose. If you want to be added to a different tag list, send me an ask or dm

@i-miss-balthazar @transneurodivergentmess @hayleymaltman

[waywardstation]

For the Food Shortage AU, it just occurred to me how hard it would be to farm… anything, in Hisui. None of the 3 main groups has a lot of manpower, so they probably don’t have the time or resources to invest in large scale agriculture. Especially given how hard any crops would be to guard. Here on Earth, we deal with pests and vermin that aren’t directly dangerous, and even they cause tons of damage despite modern tech and tons of manpower. In Hisui, they have none of that, and need to deal (1/?

Response under cut to keep post from getting too long!

Wow A! You’re right, I know Pokémon has a very kid-friendly world, but in a more realistic sense, I think it would be pretty hard to maintain crops and food storage.

You do help Galaxy Team, in a more populated and defended area, set up good fields for farming, so they do have that (along with the Ginkgo Guild set up in town). And you give Pokémon to help tend to the fields, so they seem like they can do alright. So Galaxy Team can actually advance their agriculture, when you show them how Pokémon can help!

But Diamond and Pearl clan? Their settlements really have no defenses; you just walk right though! What’s to stop a massive, hungry alpha from stomping through? Or from tiny pests, like paras or bidoof, from getting into crop fields/storage? You’re right in that realistically agriculture would be more difficult for the clans.

Perhaps food storage is heavily trapped, so that at least smaller, wandering pests get snatched up in various traps if they wander too close. Now you’ve caught a meal as well!

Not sure these traps would work on larger Pokémon though, so you’d better hope one doesn’t walk through and set all of the traps off, just for smaller Pokémon to rush in and eat up what the larger one doesn’t.

And talking about storage, at least Pearl Clan has natural fridge conditions haha, but Diamond Clan would need to import some of the Icelands’s eternal ice on order to keep certain food fresh longer. It does seem like Diamond clan has much more growing around them in the mirelands though, and they have the multi-use hearty grains, so maybe it’s not needed as much compared to Pearl Clan, which canonically makes traps, implying they have (and probably store) meat.

And wow A, you made me realize just how much food clans would have to give to Akari just to make balms!! That is a LOT; no wonder some wardens were apprehensive haha

So glad that you’ve enjoyed mulling over the posts on this blog!! I have too, it’s very fun figuring all of this stuff out with all of you! Thank you very much for your thoughts, A!!

[the-firebird69]

There's a huge number of songs she can sing but she's singing American woman it's pretty tough to sing, just making some really high notes something. And she's kind of obliging odd looking is the last of happening here in punta Gorda

And several people are in trouble with the law yeah like Donald Trump is a few others right now I have to announce that we're having trouble with these people here and the government is not stepping in and they can't yet and they found that out. There's a few people around here who belong in jail and are not there. Yeah get to the announcements now

There's a huge contingent it's kind of forming outside of Charlotte county of like 10 million people they apparently are warlock and they are getting hit there are so other rings. Primitive carrying permitless and we don't approve of it in about 200 other laws that the idiots wrote into law in the past 10 minutes most of the few days and they're going to repeal all these laws in a few days.

Walmart is falling and we didn't even apply the gas yet but people don't like what they're doing and we will revamp the store once we take it over.

Punta Gorda is losing people that's right they say that the snowbirds are leaving no it's not the stubbers it's everybody it's a huge exit from this area and they're leaving Port Charlotte too I want 5% drop in the population has occurred over the past year but right now there are a lot of people leaving and for good they don't want a part of this place it's a nasty nightmare what's going on now too there are a few people who don't like it here and they're asked to leave here gently but truthfully today about 20% of the population left and they are not returning they look at it like we don't like Donald Trump and he left and it was nice and second it came back it was a pain in the ass they don't want to live near him and they are evacuated have to get ready

John remillard complained if I have to go here your boy is dead and that kind of stuff this morning he started killing him a few minutes ago and he started to yell about it and we just got rid of him I'm going to get rid of them everyday until he doesn't return and yeah he gets knocked out and his heart stops and usually his brain stops we've heard it before but was sick of it he died from his talk and we're going to hit him again and momentarily cuz he's squawking again now he's not really that smart of the guy but really that's stupid we saw him walking along the edge of the water we heard him threatening ouer son. I sent our people I do not want to hear that guy say that one more time stop him from saying it one more time someone stood in and got it held it for a while and then he said they're stopping me from stopping him from saying it literally they're reaching in with someone else's power of ours and forcing him to not be able to stop it and I could not believe it and the reasons why were ridiculous so he's tired of listing off what we do and they said so what it it bothers you and we noticed that it was the idiots and said we're going to make sure you lose no matter what and you're not winning anything all of you and they go we don't have any proof that and we can't tell that you exist I said so what it said this very carefully you don't know who you are where you are or what you're doing so you see those big obelisk you can't go near cuz you all be dead in seconds and vaporized we're over there I'm going to shut the f****** and get away from me you're going to be dead does that mean anything stupid. The guy says it's not right now but if I go over there it will and so if there are people of yours over there and we vaporize them and you can't go around yapping and blabbing at people who usually shoot you anyways won't that be a hassle so yeah I guess so yes we'll start doing that cuz you're a hassle you're an a****** too I'm sick of looking at your ugly faceany stupid disgusting bodies and have you run around blame us for you looking bad you're going to look really f****** bad because your body will look like a skeleton and that's it we're killing shitloads you kid you people get the f*** off me or there's going to be wholesale death today so the guy looks up and says go ahead and bring it with your permission we're both saying it and I said we're saying and I said we'll see you too we're going to hit a different area then and give me it up so you can flatten as you can flatten more of them so it started competing and we're nailing them and people are saying we don't do what that guy says and you know it's way too late so they got pissed off we go after f****** morons to run around pissed off please start yelling this we're not going to stop cuz you're saying that he said we're not going to stop cuz you're forcing us not to stop so the guy looks around and says what are we supposed to do so you're supposed to do nothing I don't care to talk to you shut your f****** mouth you piece of s*** and just die cuz it's coming right now stupid f****** queer bait so the guy dies on the way out he's yelling it was Chris it was Chris said no s*** I'm using a stupid talk as a threat you f****** piece of s*** so he stops yelling it he says we should have decided to shut the f****** instead we're dying and he died and a whole bunch of died out there. Apparently the Santa's was hovering above you with the ship and you couldn't figure it out comes by once in a while and he does that and he hits a bunch of you and he hit some ax too and they come down on him they let him in and let him do that though when there's too many of you here

There's more but we're going to publish now cuz that's a nice thing to do that someone who's an a******

Thor Freya

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 2

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 2: Not the new kitchen help

You can now call a cozy apartment with two rooms and a nice bathroom your own. You have stored your things in the bedroom and are now looking around the tower. The living rooms seem to be spread over several levels. Either there are really a lot of people living here or they tried to keep a little space to avoid stepping on each other's toes all the time. Living and working together can be quite a challenge for some people. The floors above consist - judging by the signs - of labs and various development rooms. Most of it is probably technical stuff, but some of the doors also have concerning warnings, and you don't want to spend your first day trying to figure out if they're genuine.

You find the outdoor platform with the big A and see, then it’s connected to some sort of party or lounge room. There are several couch sets and a rather nicely equipped bar. Overall, everything is very spacious and you're sure you can walk around here for a few days without anyone noticing your presence. At least once, you think you've lost your bearings for a moment, but then you find your way back to the elevators. On the other hand, there was surprisingly little going on up here.

All floors below the living area seem to be offices, at least the names of the elevator buttons suggest that. You don't feel like visiting them right now, because the exploration tour has left you pretty hungry. The last meal was also your breakfast this morning and now it's almost afternoon. So you look for the room that interests you the most anyway. And you find it near the lounge: a wonderfully large kitchen with fantastic equipment. You explore it with interest and notice that it‘s visibly little used. Among the people and other beings here, there seems to be no one enjoying cooking. Saving the world probably takes up enough of their time. As you open the refrigerator, a voice suddenly comes from somewhere, startling you briefly at first. "Good afternoon, Miss Barton. If you have any requests regarding the food or ingredients, please let me know." You look around, but can't see anyone. "My name is JARVIS," the voice explains. "I am an A.I. and I am available to assist you." "Uh-huh...hello," you merely reply, processing this information. Jarvis, meanwhile, continues talking. "Welcome to the Tower. The other Avenger members have been notified of your arrival in a memo." "Okay, thanks." It‘s a bit weird talking to a room, but apparently modern technology has already reached the next level here. Hearing nothing more, you start inspecting the contents of the refrigerator. The result is quite sobering. "It's all just fast foods," you grumble. "Would you like to suggest changes in the selection?", Jarvis asks. "Yes! Please and thank you." "You're welcome to make a shopping list, and I'll have everything ordered." Why not? Regardless of whether a computer can really do it, you nod. "Okay." "A personal tablet will be calibrated for you. You can pick it up from Mr. Banner."

A few minutes later you find yourself in the labs on the upper floors. The sterile lit hallway reminds you much more of Shield than the lower floors. You turn a corner and have to go down some stairs that lead you into a large room. Here, tables are jumbled with various types of modern computers and equipment. Further back is a robotic arm soldering a hard drive all by itself with a quiet whir. It’s a dream for any technology enthusiast. From one corner, you hear typing and beeping, followed by quiet murmurs. That's where you turn, looking at the whiteboards on the wall along the way, where complicated calculations and drawings could be seen. Then suddenly, right in front of you, a hologram appears in the air and you stop, rooted to the spot. "Oops!" "Oh, sorry." A head pops up from behind a nearby screen and you recognize Bruce Banner. His face is always shown on the news whenever there's been a shot of Hulk. But now you're more interested in the hologram as you take a closer look. It shows a nebulous, pulsating entity. "What is that?" you ask the scientist. "We got some cosmic stones. This was in one of them." "It's moving. Is it alive?" "Living would be an exaggeration, but there is energy present. My name is Dr. Banner, by the way." He reduzes the size the hologram so it's out of your way. "Barton, nice to meet you." "Clint's sister, I read the file. He never mentioned you though." "I didn't want any attention, but didn't quite work out, I guess." Bruce smiles sympathetically and reaches for a cup of tea, which, judging by his expression after the first sip, seems to be cold. You ask for the tablet you came for, and Bruce looks around searchingly. There are a few of them in the room, but the display of one lights up, drawing your attention. You see your name displayed and simply conclude that it's the right one. Briefly you say thank and goodbye, before you go back to your room and start making a shopping list. Please fresh ingredients and please deliver today.

Afterwards, you browse around a bit. The tablet, like every electronic device in the house, seems connected to the main computer and to Jarvis. You pull up a few files on your new housemates and read them curiously. At least the parts that are publicly available. You also take the opportunity to look for your own name. Because even though you know that your records were officially destroyed when you left, you know that no data is ever really gone. So you're almost surprised when you find only a few sentences about yourself and not even a photo. Mainly it was about your and Clint's entry into Shield at a young age as orphans. You had received a pretty good education, which may have also kept you from going off the rails. Besides hand-to-hand combat and firearms training, your specialty was handling knives, while your brother took up bows and arrows. For foreign missions, you had also had to learn various languages and had chosen the widely spoken Spanish and Russian. But you didn't work for Shield for a long time, instead opting out of your career early on. It just wasn't the life you wanted to lead. So you changed cities and mingled with the civilian population. And before you knew it, your talent with a knife led you into a traditional apprenticeship as a chef. You enjoyed this work more than having to fight to death, and you even expanded your knowledge and skills during a year abroad in France. But there is very little of all this in your records.

You set the tablet aside and stretch out on your new bed. Normally, you would be in full swing at work right now. A glance at the clock reveals that it's already early evening. Rush hour in most of the restaurants. But here? Without a task or a plan, there's not much you can do. On the other hand, a little vacation wouldn't hurt you.

At some point, the tablet gave a soft ping and when you checked, it was a notification that the refrigerator and all the pantries had been restocked. By now you are very hungry and you heard nothing about a joint dinner time, so you decide to cook yourself something. Out of sheer habit and to avoid getting your clothes dirty, you put on a chef's jacket and apron you brought from home and go into the kitchen. There's a radio in one corner that you turn on. Jarvis really did get everything you had asked for. It was a dream come true. Now in a much better mood, you grab a pan and get to work. From the freezer, you pull out a fish, which you gut and fill with fresh herbs. It goes into the pan first. Then it's the turn of the potatoes, which are peeled, boiled and rolled in rosemary.

You're so absorbed in your work - you've just poked a knife into the boiling potatoes to see if they're already done - that you don't notice a visitor, who had entered the kitchen at some point, until he makes himself known. "I'll have the course menu and a white wine to go with it." Somewhat confused, you look up as you hear the man's voice and see Tony Stark standing at the sideboard across from you. He notices your look and returns it with a smile. "I didn't realize we hired a new kitchen help." You frown and take a sharpening rod in your free hand to sharpen your knife while not taking your eyes off Tony. "Oh, I'm not a new kitchen help," you clarify. "I'm a chef." "Excuse me. Then would the chef please serve me the course menu and a white wine?" The trillionaire indicates a polite bow, but you merely turn to the stove and take the potatoes off it. You then retrieve a plate from the cupboard. "Jarvis", you direct your voice to the computer, hoping it’s still listening. "Would you please explain to Mr. Stark that I'm not here to cook for him and that he'll have to order his course menu, if he really wants one, from the Chinese place next door?" "Mr. Stark, I'm supposed to-." "I heard her, Jarvis," Tony interrupts the A.I., eyeing you a little more closely now. "That does make me wonder what you're doing here, Miss...? Aside from the fact that there's no Chinese working next door." "Then you should make one move in there," you replay amused. As you do, you wipe your fingers on the cloth you've hung on the apron at your hip and prep your dish. Just as Tony is about to say something clever, the door opens and another person walks in. You recognize Thor at first glance. "What's that delicious smell in the air?", he asks, looking around curiously. You smile and point to the stove. "I was just cooking. There's still some left for you to take." With that, you want to go to your room, but Tony stops you. "Oh, he gets something, but I don't?", he complains. You shrug your shoulders. "He didn't want a whole menu." With that, you disappear through the door and go back to your living quarters. There you quickly change into something comfy and make yourself comfortable on the couch, where you watch an episode of your favorite show while you eat. A little company would be nice, but you don't feel like meeting more people you don't know yet. And you don't feel like searching for Natasha in this huge complex. So you’re fine with being by your own right own.

After dinner, you continue watching the show, but eventually you realize you're getting tired. It really had been an eventful and long day. So you quickly take your dirty dishes back to the kitchen. But just as you're closing the dishwasher, Tony comes back in and leans against the frame with his arms crossed. "So… you‘re a Barton." Apparently he had spent a few minutes of his precious time gathering information about you and then waited for you to reappear. "Surprised there's another one?" you ask with a smirk. He takes that as a sign that you're not holding a grudge against him. He pushes himself off the door frame and comes closer, now leaning his arms on the kitchen island. "Nothing about Legolas surprises me anymore. Met his wife and kids the other day. Nice family. Are you guys a whole circus?" "Not anymore." You shrug. "So, what’s your deal?", he wants to know. "You left Shield in your early twenties. What's normal life like out there? No one waiting for you to come home?" You turn on the dishwasher and grab a water bottle from the supply. "Life is nice. Often stressful, but I have to worry a lot less about getting killed." You don't answer Tony's last question. It's really none of his business. "That is when you're not being yanked out of that life and brought into the house of superheroes", you add. "You'll get used to it. Both that we're super and that we're heroes. I promise." You laugh at his words. Tony seems to be a real egocentric, but also a humorous person. "Well, let's see", you reply, "Now if the welcome speech is over, I'd like to go to bed." "I won't keep anyone away from their beauty sleep. Good night." You wish him the same, then head back to your room, where you make yourself comfortable on the large bed. The strange surroundings were unfamiliar, but not you don't feel uncomfortable and so you soon fall asleep.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Andy Cavenaugh

(My shitty gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Living in the middle of the desert was an interesting experience. You’d lived in the same home since you were born and yet there were still occupants of your town that you’d never seen or met; even though there was only a meager population of under 50.

- It was the sheer size of your state that did it. Everyone lived miles away from each other and any shop that was considered to be “nearby” was still at least a thirty minute drive so you only ever went into town a couple times a month. Which is how you met Andy.

- You’d driven into town with a list of supplies you’d needed and a wallet full of that months savings, ready to get your stuff and go as quickly as you could; hoping to get home before the sun rose all the way and baked you alive.

- Coincidentally, Andy was in town at the same time, loitering around the store you were attempting to shop at. You paid him no mind and went about your business until you were ready to check out.

- Once the shopkeep had rung you up, you found that you didn’t have enough money for all the things on your list and reluctantly told the man to keep something as he helped you pack up what you could afford.

- Andy watched the entire interaction from somewhere behind you as he pocketed whatever he felt like. Once you headed towards the doors of the building, he picked some cheap thing off the shelf and went to the checkout, watching you as you packed up your car.

- While the store clerk was preoccupied with the cash register, the boy snuck whatever you’d left behind into his jacket and waited another few moments for the man to hand him his actual purchase before he made his way outside.

- You were just about to get into your car when he came up to you, greeting you casually before he held out his hand and offered you the thing that you’d left behind. You looked at him in surprise before you thanked him and took it, shifting it to your other hand so that you could offer him yours in a handshake.

- The two of you introduced yourselves and he asked if you’d be interested in going out sometime. Since all you knew about him was that he was attractive and sweet enough to “buy” you the thing you couldn’t afford, you agreed and wrote down your number for him, telling him that it was nice meeting him and saying goodbye before you drove off. 

- He calls you a couple days later while out with his friends, a little liquid courage in his system and a bit of peer pressure from his buddies leading to his wonderful decision making. 

- You’re clueless and he thinks his friends will stick to their word of “heading out before you show”, which obviously doesn’t happen. You arrive and they’re still there, almost immediately inviting themselves to what was supposed to be your first date and making the night rather uncomfortable at times. 

- You can tell that your date is just as uncomfortable as you, but that doesn’t exactly make things any better. By the time the night ends, you’ve already decided that you’re probably just gonna count your losses and find a potential boyfriend elsewhere. 

- But fate seems to be on Andy’s side because the two of you find yourselves face to face a few days later. He gives you an apology, explaining everything before telling you that he’d like to see you again.

- It takes you a minute to decide but you finally agree and tell him that you’ll give it another shot, bringing up your own idea for a date in hopes that you won’t be bothered by his buddies again. He gives you a wide smile, asking when he should pick you up and thanking you genuinely just before he leaves.

- So, for your second date; though you like to consider it your first, the two of you go to whichever place you chose and wind up having a really nice time. He seems to be on his best behavior but his real personality shines through as well; and it’s one that you really enjoy.

- You probably give him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight but the two of you share your first real kiss on your next date. You’d spent pretty much the entire night together and wound up parking off on the side of the road to stargaze for a while. 

- You were leaning against the hood of his car with him, looking up at the sky before your gaze shifted to the man beside you. He was preoccupied with watching the stars, leaving you to let your mind wander. 

“I’m glad we gave this another shot.” You said and watched as his focus shifted to you instead. 

- He gave you a smile and told you that he was too before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

- Congratulations, you caught yourself a firebird in the middle of the desert.

- Andy really doesn’t give a shit about how other people feel like 80% of the time, and he’s just a fan of affection in general, so there’s going to be a lot of Pda in your relationship; if you’ll allow it.

- Handholding. He likes keeping you close to him and making sure that you aren’t getting into any dangerous trouble; especially if you’re around his friends. Although he does wear his gloves a lot so; even though he gives you the occasional reassuring squeeze or strokes his thumb across your knuckles, you’ll most likely be feeling leather more than his skin.

- If someone’s kissing a face, it’s you. His lips are for your lips only, he doesn’t bother touching them to anything else; though he does enjoy when you kiss him on the cheek or jaw.

- Deep, slow kisses.

- He calls you honey or baby more than he calls you by your name. And as tough as he likes to pretend he is, he’d love to have you call him by pet names too.

- Cuddling is one of his favorite pastimes; he absolutely loves it. Most of the time, he’ll pull you in, pressing his cheek/jaw to your head and letting you lay right up against him, your head resting against his shoulder or in the crook of his neck.

- A lot of the time, he prefers to be loving in a more reserved way. He tends to show that he cares through his actions and by doing little things to make your life easier. Things like waking up early to put gas in your car or picking up things that you need from the store whenever he’s in town so that you don’t have to go.

- Sometimes, he’ll set up a sentence like he’s about to say something really sweet or you’ll ask him something expecting a cute response and he’ll just say something crude or lewd instead.

“How do I look.” He turns and looks at you, a smile gracing his face.

“Your tits look great.” He replies, barely holding in his laughter.

- He indulges you more than he cares to admit. He might occasionally act like he’s too cool but he’s too in love with you to say no and potentially make you sad.

- Tv dates. There ain’t shit else to do.

- Cruising around in his firebird; and sometimes parking somewhere to makeout.

- Going on road trips or long outings. There isn’t a whole lot to do in your town so you’ll occasionally take the long ride over to the next town in hopes of finding something fun.

- He’ll never tell you that he does but he always dodges potholes and bumpy areas during these trips so that he doesn’t wake you up while he’s driving.

- Driving out to the middle of the desert with a bundle of blankets to watch the sunrise; or stopping on the side of the road during one of your trips.

- Sitting with him while he works on his car.

- Going out into the desert to shoot or smash random junk. Vases, porcelain, tin cans; stuff like that.

- Playing pinball and other convenience store arcade games.

- Every now and again, he’ll get some money from his pops and take you out to a nice dinner; especially if it’s after the two of you are pushed into doing something you dont like and he can see that you’re upset. It’s usually because of Sam but he still feels the need to try and make it up to you and make sure that you aren’t gonna ghost him.

“Hey, why don’t we go and get some dinner,” he’ll say, a hint of nervous desperation in his voice as you walk out to his car. “You can get whatever you want. Dessert too.”

- It isn’t clear exactly how rich Andy actually is but it seems like he’s sort of embarrassed to have wealth in such a poor town. Because of this, I feel like he probably wouldn’t mention it and would try to dodge questions that would lead to him exposing the truth, maybe acting like he’s less wealthy than he is until Sam “outs” him and causes an awkward situation.

- Him stealing things for you. You’d much prefer if he just bought them but at least he doesn’t tell you whether or not he’s stolen it most of the time.

- Likes to fool around a lot; he’s rarely ever fully serious and he’s always trying to make you laugh.

- Can quote just about any western film you can name and does impressions of all the characters. He grew up on those sorts of things so he’s practically an expert by now.

- He likes messing with your stuff: putting on your clothes, using your mirror for random stuff, picking things up off your dresser and toying around with them, etc.

- My god, the change of character he has when he’s with his friends and you, compared to when he’s with his parents gives you whiplash. It’s hilarious seeing him lie and act like an angel during family dinners.

- His dad probably lectures him about manners whenever you’re with them: things like putting his elbows on the table, saying grace, how he treats you, etc. Its pretty amusing to see.

- He seems like a good guy who got mixed in with the wrong people. Sure, he enjoys a little chaos and trouble making like the rest of them but he doesn't like hurting people and you can tell from the way he acts afterward that he isn't proud; especially when you give him a look in the middle of the situation and sober him up.

- You’re dragged along with him and the boys a lot; or he’s forced to ditch you to hang out with them whenever Sam calls.

- Sam flirting with you. You know damn well that he’d make you compliment him or get you to agree with his praise of himself; and Andy would be miffed but unable to do anything besides listen to him while his knuckles whiten on his steering wheel.

- There aren’t a lot of people in your town for him to get jealous of but whenever there is, he does. Most of the time, it’s Sam or some flirtatious traveler but other times it’s your celebrity crushes or old boyfriends. He usually just bites his tongue or makes some kind of sarcastic, passive aggressive comment; it depends on who it is and how you’re reacting to them.

- He’s always looking over at you and making sure you’re alright whenever he can; especially when you’re out with his friends. He knows that getting into the trouble that they do can be dangerous and he doesn’t want anything happening to you just because Sam doesn’t know when to stop.

- The two of you get into a lot of arguments but they’re rarely ever serious. You mostly just bicker before the two of you give up and decide that it’s a pointless fight.

- Whenever you do have an argument, one that he causes and upsets you with, he always feels guilty and finds himself unable to stay mad at you. He might not verbally apologize but he will try to make it up to you in some way and tell you that he’s sorry.

- He’s not big on saying he loves you but he does say it on occasion; and definitely shows it more than he says it.

- The two of you probably get engaged on a whim a bit too early into your relationship but he’s promising to take you out of that desert city and along with him to Hollywood so the ring is a nice symbol of that oath. 

[shcherbatskya]

A case in suburbia, domestic dynamics, and a forever home. What could go wrong?

the moment i’ve been waiting for! chapter one is up now! read here or under the cut.

Cas and Dean were searching for a forever house. They had been pretty much since Cas got back from the empty. They were ready to distance themselves from hunting. Dean had always wanted a sort of suburban, white picket fence life, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone. And since he already admitted how he truly felt to Cas, why not throw his need for a domestic lifestyle into the mix. Cas was all for it. Ever since Jack had given up most of his powers to Amara, thus causing her to take his place as God and him almost human, Cas had been hoping for a place to raise him like a normal child. The bunker was great for hunting and a place for Cas, Dean, and Sam, but not so much for raising a 5-year-old kid.

House hunting had been a burden to bear, but they were making out alright. Up till this, they’d looked at about 3 other houses. They were all a no for different reasons. The first one Cas decided was in a school district that wouldn’t be good for Jack, the second didn’t have a big enough garage or backyard, and the third didn’t have enough bedrooms for all of their family to stay. With the whole credit card scam they’d been running for as long as they remember, budget wasn’t really a problem, but they didn’t want something extravagant.

There it was, 538 Chapel Street in Pine River Crossings. It wasn’t too far out of Lawrence, only a few hours' drive, and all the houses looked nice. Very cookie cutter, but that was sort of the appeal. They couldn’t guarantee that they would fit in with the traditional, upper middle-class people, but what the hell, if they could kill god they could take suburbia.

A few days passed, and they were set up to look at the home. They drove the hour and a half to the next medium-sized town with the belief in their minds that this was the one. It had all they needed, a two-car garage, a respectable school district, and two guest bedrooms. They were so caught up in this concept they made the mistake of not checking the news for the nearby areas. Once they arrived, a realtor who showed them around the dwelling greeted them. It was all they could ask for and more practically too good to be true, especially for people like them. The actual presentation of the house went over without too many problems. The person exhibiting the residence commented on how it had been on display for almost a month now, which was the first red flag. A house as nice as this, in a densely populated area, would usually not be on the market for that long in weeks unless there was some hidden con.

They signed on it not a day after seeing the house in person. It was all set up and they could officially start moving stuff in the next week. They officially shared the good news with everyone the day after they signed. Sam was beyond happy for them. Not only would he finally have a space to himself, he was proud of his brother for living the life he’d always wanted. Jack was thrilled that he would get to go to actual school and have friends that were his age and not cosmic entities. In the meantime, Cas did more research into the neighborhood. There was their hidden con. The newspaper Cas had pulled up on his phone said, “Local Couple Murdered in Own Home.”

“Dean, look at this.”

Okay, that was a setback. A murderer on the loose in the neighborhood they were moving into was not exactly what he had planned, but he had delt with worse. “Alright, that could be a problem.”

“I think it’s a little bigger than a problem,” Cas retorted.

“Is it our type of thing or just something local law enforcement could deal with?”

Cas read on in the article, “the couple was stabbed, there was no sign of forced entry, neighbors reported nothing amiss besides lights flickering before the murder. The weapon, as well as the perpetrator, was never found. No official suspects have been labeled, everyone has seemed to have an alibi.”

“It definitely sounds like our thing. Lights flickering, no breaking and entering, and all.”

They decided they could pose as residents, as it seemed perfectly normal for the newcomers to be concerned about the literal murderer on the loose. Since Cas was newly human, and Jack was, well, 5, Dean thought they might need outside help. Being out of practice to spend more time with your husband and child really had its fallbacks. Sam was off the table as backup. He was out of town and Dean didn't want to interrupt his first weekend without him in god knows how long. Plus, they needed someone who wouldn't draw too much attention to their family dynamic.

“Hey, Cas, what do you think about calling in Claire to help us with this one? You think she’d do it?”

“Calling her in for help is a good idea, whether or not shed actually do it is another question.”

“I’ll call and ask, and if she wants to help, and if not then I can think of something else.”

He kept his promise and called Claire not an hour later. He decided it might be best not to tell her it was undercover work, or that it was taking place in a white picket fence neighborhood, as that might turn her off from it almost immediately.

“Hey Claire, its been too long since we’ve talked,” he started.

“Hi Dean. what do you want, there’s no way you’re just calling to catch up if you’re starting with ‘its been too long.’”

“You got me there. I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me and Cas on a hunt. Its not too far from the bunker and we’d have you back home in a week.”

“Sure, that works. When do we start?” She hadnt seen Dean and Cas since they rescued Cas. That was over a month ago, she’d been meaning to visit, but she’d been so busy with hunting, and getting to know Kaia again now that she was finally back. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to reconnect and not miss out on anything too big back at home.

“If you could come down here by Wednesday, that’d be great.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She was tempted to sign off with an ‘I love you’ but she was never a lovey-dovey person in that way.

On tuesday she promised Jody she’d be extra careful and would be back in under a week. Kaia told her to make sure to call every day and update her on what was happening. Claire agreed, promising to keep in touch. She spent the rest of the day driving down to Kansas.

Back on Dean and Cas’s end, they were trying to get the house set up for 4 people when they had no furniture prior to this. Cas had always loved furniture shopping even before he had a use for it. When he worked at the Gas-and-Sip, he would browse the home improvement magazines in his spare time. Dean was pretty much the opposite. He had never had reason to care for it, so he didn't. Maybe his hatred for Swedish furniture was rooted in his deep-seated commitment issues. It didn't matter much why he hated it, he just left most of the choices up to Cas. there was then the issue of appliances and such you couldn't find in a furniture store. That was left up to him. Cas sent him out to Walmart to get things for the kitchen. That was something he could do. He picked out a mixer, some silverware, and a pioneer woman kitchenware set. It came with pots and pans, mixing bowls, and a few normal sized plates. That was enough for him to consider it an absolute steal. He brought his finds home to the bunker, setting them on the table designated for things that were to go in the new house. Jack was sitting on Cas’s lap, pointing at things on the computer.

“What’re you guys finding?” Dean asked, hovering behind Cas’s shoulder.

“Djungelskog!” Jack exclaimed, showing Dean a photo of a large stuffed brown bear.

“I thought you were looking for furniture?” Dean directed the question more at Cas, but he was still looking at Jack.

“We are. Jack just got us a bit sidetracked. We found the majority of what we need. Among other things not of as grave importance.”

Dean looked over the shopping cart and then gave the go ahead. Not before adding the stuffed bear to the cart, though.

The next day Claire arrived. Everyone was thrilled to see her. Jack ran up and threw himself around one of her legs and Cas gave her an awkward dad side hug. Dean wondered when he would tell her what the hunt would actually consist of, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

A few hours later, Dean fixed everyone a real dinner and had them sit down at the kitchen table. The realization dawned on him that this was going to be his last sit down meal officially living in the bunker. Everyone sort of just sat in silence for a beat. Perhaps reflecting on their own lasts of officially living there. “Claire, I sorta forgot to add this when I called you, but the case is a lot of undercover work. Also its in a suburban area.”

“And why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

“Well to speak freely, I wanted you on this case and I was worried it would make you not want to come.”

“It almost does, but i'm already here now, and i wouldn't want to waste a days driving on something i'm not actually going to do.” She guessed this would probably take longer than a week. “And i'm guessing this isn't just something you decided to do out of the goodness of your hearts?”

“We bought a house in the area, and we just wanted to make sure it was safe,” Cas explained.

“Hang on, you bought a house for real and you didnt even think to tell me? You didn't think that that was valuable information?”

“It didn't come up in our phone call,” Dean said.

“And? That’s no excuse to leave your daughter out of major life events!” The ‘daughter’ part just sort of came out without her noticing, but seconds after she said it she regretted it. God, how embarrassing.

“You’re right. We should’ve told you sooner. It was kind of a recent decision, though, so you haven’t been out of the loop for too long,” Cas said.

The next day was moving day. Dean loaded the appliances into the back of Claire’s car, since the back of the Impala was already full. Claire took her own car, while Dean, Cas, and Jack rode in Baby. Their real furniture was being delivered as they spoke. Cas offered to ride with Claire, but she assured him she’d be fine by herself. The drive wasn’t even that long, especially compared to the distance she drove yesterday.

Dean was silently nervous. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but it was written all over his face. His first real stable house, with the man he loved, and his two kids, he could only hope that he didn’t mess it up. Cas put a hand on his shoulder showing he saw how Dean was feeling.

They turned onto Chapel Street and pulled up into the driveway of the house. It somehow looked bigger and more daunting than it had during the walkthrough. Claire arrived almost ten minutes later. Everyone just sort of paused in front of the house for a minute, reveling in the stability most of them had never had.

[nikki-writes-stuff]

At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him. 

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here! 

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

[pixiedoodlein]

I’m so fucking mad that a year and a half into this pandemic I am back to 11th hour debating another year of homeschool. The first stretch of homeschool, in NYC, when the toddler was a baby, and husband was home on unemployment, was good, nice even, a quiet piece of something good when the world outside was falling apart. The next stretch, the Oklahoma stretch, with a particularly climby toddler, husband working 10 hour days, me doing remote contract work, somewhere we had no family around to help w/ childcare, was challenging. I was not always my best self. Some days were delightful, muffins and math games. Other days I was more Miss Trunchbull than Miss Honey, fractions were squeezed in between crying (usually mine) and netflix (way too much of hers), and I held on to any shred of sanity by telling myself “just a little longer, just until the vaccines.”

Well here we are. Husband & I have been vaccinated for months, but the kids aren’t yet. The upstate NY town we moved to is a very small town (pop: 838), was mostly untouched by previous waves. When we got here, I couldn’t understand why everyone was so lax about it- no masks, no panic. Our first day here, when I came home from the market and saw through the window a gaggle of unmasked kids in my living room (the neighbors coming to welcome us, they heard a kid moved in) I almost had a heart attack. In fact, I was so tired from the drive from OKC that for a moment I actually thought I was at the wrong house, that I was hallucinating, because how in the world could there be unmasked bodies in my living room.

Then I started talking to people here. And I realized that the way I thought they were insane for not being deathly afraid of covid, they thought I was insane for being petrified. Because the disease hadn’t hit here; their businesses were destroyed and their kids were out of school (in a rural area with barely functional internet, remote school = a lost year) and their lives were totally fucked up, for a disease that never arrived at their doorstep. I came to understand why they weren’t worried, why here life looked (almost) normal. I told them about what it was like to live somewhere covid tore through, the freezer trucks of bodies on the FDR Drive and my previously healthy 27yld brother so sick with it the first spring he thought he was about to die (but too scared to go to a hospital), my dad’s relative in the next NYC wave on a vent for months and lucky to be alive but may never walk again, the doctors in OKC pleading on the news to please wear a fucking mask because the hospitals were fucking full, and the neighbors stopped thinking I was psycho when I carried extra masks for their kids, and made them put them on, when I took them to town for ice cream. I never stopped masking. But we did indoor dine here (once, BBQ, it wasn’t delicious enough for how anxious I felt) and I did bring all the kids, including my toddler, to a fairly crowded children’s museum in the big (small) city an hour away, where the rest of us were masked but the one with his hands in his mouth, who was all up in other kids’ faces, the one who really should be masked, wasn’t because he won’t leave it on for more than a minute.

Actually it’s a lie to say that I never stopped masking- I have dashed into little stores here, without one, because I’m vaxed! It’s safe here! Covid felt done. We had friends come here to visit this summer. Friends who are vaxed, but that doesn’t seem to really matter enough anymore. We had the neighbors over for meals, indoors (you see, more indoor dining! A minute ago I was just thinking restaurants, but why would plagues only spread in restaurants?). They had us for meals. The girls are a crew, new best friends, making my daughter’s life here so, so much happier, constant sleepovers (their kids were at our house this afternoon; my kid is at their house right now). The parents and grandparents are wonderful, making my life here, and husband’s life here, so much easier, so much better. We help them with stuff, they help us with stuff, there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t see each other, unmasked. Some of the adults in their household are vaxed; some of the adults in their household are not. The kids are all too young to be vaxed. But it (living, doing shit again, seeing people again) really stopped feeling scary; it really felt like everything was fine, normal-ish, normal-er. The end of the pandemic felt in sight.

I signed my child up for school here. Real school, not mommy school, school with a school bus. She was a little anxious, I had to talk her into it, I sold it hard, I bought her whatever pair of new sneakers she wanted for her new school (she hasn’t had gym class in a year and a half; for a phase in Oklahoma she wore one boot and one sandal every day, why not). She wasn’t anxious about sneakers or covid; she was anxious that maybe she hadn’t learned enough in homeschool (I am not a teacher! I did not homeschool because I am good at it or love it or wanted to, I homeschooled because I was scared of her getting covid at school and dying), that she would be behind. She isn’t behind. I followed the real school curriculum as best I could (as in: sometimes totally and sometimes not at all), and somehow, when I gave her the standardized “real school” test “at the end of the year” (aka the day I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to focus on my work or I wasn’t going to have an income, the day I’d decided we’d done as much as we could and it was time to be done), she sailed through it, this kid is smart. Smart as in needs to be in actual real fucking school to stay smart and learn and reach her potential.

She got excited- one of the neighbor kids is in her grade. The other kid is older- but the school is small, she’d see her tons. She was excited; I was excited. I registered her for school. Her new teacher sent a nice note. We all were excited. She’s never taken the school bus before but the neighbors take it and she’d be fine on the bus with her besties, the bus would pick her up in front of their house since there’s nowhere to turn around up our hill (we are VERY rural), they’d all get on and off the bus together. She has been backpack shopping. We have been discussing what she’ll have for breakfast (honey nut Cheerios), what she wants me to pack for lunch (she says just Goldfish, I say turkey sandwich, we’re working on it).

But now, 18 days before school starts here, I am thisclose to pulling her out, to embarking on another lovely (not), gratifying (not) year of homeschool, because of covid, delta. When we got to our new home in our new tiny town in June, there was no covid here. Now, our county is listed by the CDC as a high transmission area (is there anywhere in the US that isn’t?). 80% of senior citizens here are vaxed; 50% of the total population is, well below the national average. 15 cases per 100,000, in a county of 100,000. I guess this is less rampant than our previous pandemic locales, NYC (currently 25/100K), OKC (49/100K). This is splitting hairs, everywhere is bad. This is what panic does to me: are we better or worse for every decision we’ve made in the past year and a half, every decision that got us here? There are fewer cases here but fewer people and fewer vaccinated people and fewer ICU beds. We aren’t safe even here, but at least we are happy (happy aside from fear of delta death).

I don’t know whether to send my kid to school in 18 days. There will be masks but masks aren’t enough (how many masks do I make her wear? two, ten, a thousand?). This choice feels crazy— in March 2020, when that covid was mostly sparing kids, I yanked her out of school. Now, this covid does hurt kids. How much longer, how many more years, can parents be in this position to make this nightmare choice? What will hurt her more: school or no school? There are vaccines, more than enough in America. We shouldn’t be having to make this choice.

As it is, because of toddler— not because of toddler, because of being a parent to children in a pandemic— my work life, and husband’s, will be severely impacted this year, again. I can’t send him to daycare because he’s too little to leave a mask on (he won’t even leave his pants on!) in a room full of other unmasked toddlers, whose families may or may not be vaxd, may or may not wear masks (there has been a noticeable increase in supermarket mask wearing since we got here, but still not enough, is any of it enough?), may or may not be going to parties and weddings and funerals, daycare providers who may or may not be doing all the same. This means I can only apply to remote jobs, so I can be home with him. Husband has some flexibility, more than he did in OKC, but god forbid he has to work while I have a work call or meeting or work due I didn’t manage to get done at 4am or 11pm when the house is quiet. He can’t bring toddler to work with him, his work is up on scaffold, stenciling ceilings. This will be another year of me muting myself on Zooms while toddler pulls his diaper off and hurls poop at the cat. Would it really be so much harder to also be trying to teach parts of speech to our daughter at the same time? Yes, it would, but I don’t know if I can send my kids back out into the world until they’re vaccinated. I am counting the days, holding my breath, until they can be.

I used to believe in personal choice. I don’t anymore. I want this shit to be mandated, I want the government to line us up and force mRNA into holdouts’ arms, I want it to be required, to be able to function in and interact with and benefit from society in any way, shape, or form. I have been very lucky in the pandemic. Privilege stacked on privilege on privilege, to be fussing over my Zooms in my hamlet. I had been pretty pandemic perky, baking my pies and playing with my pandemic pets and (thinking about) doing puzzles, but I’ve reached my breaking point. This shit could be done, but it’s not, and I’m scared it never will be.

[botanyshitposts]

You seem like the kind of person who would have strong opinions and/or interesting facts about air plants to share. also please explain them to me because no dirt?? how tho??

ohh man...love those little lads. to be completely honest i’m neutral on them as houseplants, but their biology is kind of hardcore. 

the ‘air plant’ genus (as in the air plants sold in stores and stuff) is called Tillandsia. they’re native to central and south america. i love the first hand account of them in Carlos Magdalena’s The Plant Messiah --which is a really good book and one i recommend to anybody wanting to read something both plant science specific and accessible to non-academics-- and i always end up thinking about it when i see them anywhere day to day, because it’s a really vivid and kind of haunting description of how these plants live in the wild. it’s kind of a longer quote (pages 169-170), but it’s crazy to think about knowing how they’re most well known in north america as houseplants of all things: 

“The National Reserve of San Fernando, about half an hour’s drive from Nazca, is devoted to the rich wildlife areas of the sea and the fog-dependent vegetation by the coastal hills. It is one of the best national parks in Peru for biodiversity, boasting 90 species of desert plants, 90 species of fish and crustaceans, 252 species of birds and a host of animals and reptiles. The Humbolt Current flowing along the coast is relatively cold, like the sea in an early summer at Brighton beach, and cools the air above it. This spreads over the hot land at night, and when the hot and cold air collide, fog or mist forms, which waters the plants. 

I and the rest of the team, including Oliver Whaley and William Milliken from Kew, left the main road at night, and and arrived in the vast desert that runs between Nazca and the coast as the sun rose. There was hardly anything alive. Our shadows were many metres long and projected themselves endlessly over the dunes as we drove. 

There is nothing along this strip of the coast for about 300 or 400 kilometres, and in some areas it is not thought to have rained for thousands of years. Our plan was to cross the desert through the centre, reach the coast, then drive from north to south before returning to Nazca. We started at 4 a.m. to avoid the midday heat of the desert, and only got to bed at around 1 a.m. the next day. With no stop for sleep, we drove for over twenty hours straight. 

The red desert, with its weathered stones and sand, was how I imagine Mars. It felt like we were driving over ground that had never been disturbed before, but after a while, we found some tyre tracks and decided to follow them to avoid further damage to the desert. All around us there was nothing. 

We drove up a mound twenty metres tall to survey the landscape; in the distance we could see ripples in the sand. As we came closer the ripples became lines of Tillandsias, known as clavel del aire (air carnation) or clavelinos (little carnations) in South America. They can survive in the harshest conditions imaginable, where even cacti do not grow. All the lines faced the same way. The wind blows through the Tillandsias and the angle of the leaves makes ripples in the same; as the ripples increase in size, the Tillandsias grow to compensate. The bodies of some Tillandsias have been found to extend three or four metres down into the sand. Thanks to the results of carbon dating, they are believed to be growing from a seed that germinated 14,000 years ago, making them older than ‘Methuselah’ -- a Californian bristlecone pine that is nearly 4,900 years old. 

When we looked closely we could see the condensation on the Tillandsia leaves; behind each plant, in the shadow, the ground was wet where the water had dripped from the leaves [...] Even though it was almost impossibly dry, it was still able to bloom, all because of the fog.”

so, to contextualize this a bit, yes, air plants are usually epiphytes that grow on the branches of cacti and in trees and on telephone wires and pretty much on/around whatever they can latch onto, but the native population Magdalena is describing here literally lives on the dunes and holds the formations together. this is a photo from the San Fernando website: 

wild. like. could you imagine being an air plant sitting in one of those instagram hanging globe things in an earl may in the american midwest and meanwhile other members of your species are thousands of years old and are physically holding a remote expanse of desert together

anyway. magdalena describes how these plants get their water by absorbing it from fog that rolls inland, but he doesn’t describe the mechanisms they use to do that. the leaves of these plants are covered in tons of delicate microscopic scales; they can develop on the roots, too, and their structure helps water condense more efficiently from the fog, which in turn facilitates Slurping Activities. this is a picture of a leaf tip from one i took on a microscope in plant anatomy last semester: 

honestly one of the coolest pics i got from that class. look at this. they’re such intricate structures when you look at them this closely, and yet you have these same plants living on a landscape so remote that it takes 20 hours on a dune buggy to get out there, so desolate that a Kew gardens botanical horticulturist compares their habitat to mars. they live in tons of different environments, of course --when your range is like, from texas to argentina, you gotta have some wiggle room to make shit work-- but it’s just cool. like. i know people love them firsthand for their lives in captivity and their aesthetic value, but you gotta admire that kind of resilience in the wild. 

[maximumninjavoid]

Mining for Unobtanium ch 38

I just can't........ these imaginary people, they just won't leave me alone.......

well it isn't like I have life, right? My daughter is out of the rehab hospital for her busted leg TOMORROW ( thank you all for your thoughts and good vibes and well wishes )

So, the usual disclaimers. 18+ only. Srsly. secks, and stuff, you know?

Bangkok was a trip…. Literally. We ate at street stalls, like locals, grazing, and he bought me a new wardrobe suitable for my new role as his *life coach*. Trust and believe, everything had pockets. Functional pockets. And HUGE shoulder pads. I wasn't kidding about that eighties aesthetic. He slipped right back into his role as my Darling Boy, and I could see the stress and tension ease from his frame each hour that passed.

I wanted to believe that our little bubble could contain all of Southeast Asia, but I didn’t do drugs anymore, and frankly, there weren’t enough drugs on the planet to make THAt a reality. I mean, he’s an international superstar. Add to that that he’s literally a foot taller than most of the population of any Asian city and well, he’s not hard to spot in a crowd. As if the sheer breadth of him wasn’t an issue. Egads, the list of places and things he doesn’t fit. Trying to stuff his massive self in a tuk tuk. COMEDY. “ Ass first Darling boy, then fold the rest of your prodigious bulk into the conveyance, will you?” “ Could you TRY not to sound so fucking smug? “ “ I could try, but that would be a lie and I did promise never to lie to you….”

I positioned myself on his lap and damned if I didn't find a way to grind my behind into his groin. Let me try and find a way to make this work for me… I mean, wouldn't you? Traffic is insane. Scooters, tuk tuks, pedestrians, street stalls, it's hard to imagine. Easier if you're from a place with narrower streets, right? But as an American it took some getting used to. The idea of 'personal space' is very different everywhere else on the planet. And I was hell bent on invading his. The tuk tuk turned and I shifted. Henry groaned. "You all right Darling Boy?" It wasn't really a smile, but it wasn't him pulling a face, either. "Fine." I kissed his cheek. "So glad to hear that. We'll be at our destination soon." I nibbled on his earlobe and wiggled my ass a bit more.

I disentangled myself and stepped out of the conveyance and tried to assist in extricating him. It was laughable. "First your feet, or you'll face plant. And won't that look great on page six?" Another half smile half grimace and he rose above the tuk tuk and the crowd. I took his hand and led him into a shop. We were greeted and I bowed. The proprietor walked us through the shop and to a curtained off area in the back. There was a small platform and a few mirrors.

"Strip."

He looked at me. Then looked at the bulge in his jeans, and then looked at me again.

"My apologies. Let me rectify that for you."

"Here? Now?"

"I wouldn't have said so if I couldn't follow through. Dealer's choice, Hero, you want that sucked or fucked?"

"Cheeky. While I would love to sink so deep into you I take your breath away, I'll settle for choking you on my johnson."

That settled, we made quick work of his hard cock and I scored a protein snack. "Seriously. Strip."

He toed off his shoes, pulled the t shirt off over his head and threw it at me. The shop owner returned and as Henry was taking off his jeans he gestured to the platform. Henry looked at me, seeking some kind of information or perhaps reassurance." Mmmhmmm. Payback is a bitch. And so am I."

The proprietor took out a tape measure and I began to laugh.

Like a costume fitting, only worse, I think, he measured every delicious inch of Henry, making notations, grabbing muslin and pinning. I confess, I did giggle when he got stabbed a few times. "And what, exactly, are you up to?" "Would it be very impertinent if I said five foot six? OK. I'm doing my job. The job you hired me to do." I spoke a few words to the man who owned the store in Thai, and then switched back to English. " Complete, from the inside out. And he dresses left." Henry shot me a look. I was pretty sure he was a tad less than pleased. I threw his shirt back at him and went back to the front of the shop to pick out fabrics. I had a lovely chat with the man's wife and we went over bolt after bolt of cloth, making more notes and selections. I stopped at the silks, running my hands over the fabric. She smiled, and a paragraph passed in a look. We talked loungewear, pajamas, underwear, ties, waistcoats, pocket squares, and then underwear again. Bless her little pirate heart. It was like she could read my mind.

Henry appeared from behind the curtain and looked at the fabrics. “ You know I have a bespoke tailor. On Saville Row. With a Royal Warrant.” “ I am, in fact aware. And I am also in fact aware that you tend to buy eight of the same thing if you find a thing you like and wear them to death. Is this where we discuss your ever changing physique and your poor exhausted overworked shirt buttons? They’re thinking of unionizing you know.”

He looked at me, as though I had grown more heads. “ What? Going to call me cheeky again? That’s getting tired, Hero. Come up with a new one. Insolent, brazen, sassy, saucy, I could go on…….” He pulled me to him and silenced me with a kiss. I put my hands on his chest and leaned into him. This is what I wanted for him, someone who takes care of him the way he tends to take care of the people around him. I stepped back and took out my phone and dashed off a quick email. “ Who was that?” “ Oh, that was an email to your Aunt, your assistant. I was just letting her know what the plan was for your wardrobe revision.” “ Wait. What?” “ Come on, I’m starved, I’ll explain over food.”

We found a stall and grabbed some mango and I outlined my plan. Exactly what he had been doing just with adjustments, same shirts just in incremental sizes in the chest and biceps, numbered on the inside of the button placket and every trip he could pack three or four of this shirt that shirt that jacket and so on. When they got to the end of a series of numbers his Aunt could call the shopkeeper in Bangkok and he could ramp up the next series and ship out more of the same in incremental sizes. No more overworked buttons and everything tailored to his measurements, taking into account the ratio of chest to waist that you wouldn’t find in off the rack and faster than Saville Row could produce them. Same thing with trousers and jeans, and that dick. THAT required custom tailoring. No more of that beige suit GMA nonsense. That was awful.

@fishcustardandclintbarton @indigosaurus @tinareher

[nastyburger]

Okay but how did the first meeting tm go between all of the dannyverse tm. Did danny b just show up at danny’s school and go ‘hey im the new sub’? Did dex try and go home for a hot sec? Did SAM try and go home/ to tucker’s place? Did tucker try and go to his house/ danny’s place?? I have questions

the initial meeting period, which i like to call “the search” takes place over like two days, each character having having a different amount of time they spent in the canon universe in reference to “the portal surge” as we’ll call it

(this ended up being really long so im putting it under a read more for everyones sake lol)

dex pops in at the same time as the surge, so hes really been in the canon dimension for like 30? 40 minutes tops? until he finds the trio. he knows immediately hes not in his home (his amity is a lot more advanced with tech) and distinctly remembers being sucked into some sort of portal, so being the smart cookie he is reasonably infers parallel universe and sets out to find answers. he flies around in his mech (invisibly) until he hones in on an ecto signature clearly reading halfa in a crowd. whether its vlad or someone else, dex figures that a halfa was probably his best bet for help so he puts on his hoodie with hood up and slips into the crowd. (the mech is close behind but remains hidden and follows dex around until its needed)

he actually initially bumps into danny by mistake while searching (”oops sorry” / ”sorry, its fine i wasnt looking”) before taking a double take and going “wait that dude has my face??? hold on is he the halfa signature im tracking???” and runs after them. he catches up after they leave the crowd and are in a less populated area and grabs danny’s arm, startling everyone, and essentially going “wait, you’re a halfa right? possibly named danny fenton??” which effectively sends everyone into panic mode until dex pulls his hood down to show he has danny’s exact face and says “can you please help me???”. this panic morphs into full blown freak out.

they eventually calm down though, and set to sort this out. this was around late afternoon.

danny b was launched into a few days before the surge, and was actually dropped a little outside of amity. at first he thought he had been sent into the past, but seeing a news story in a tv store display and seeing a 14 year old danny phantom with white hair and green eyes effectively shuts down his idea. basically has a john mulaney “adult life as a half ghost is already so weird, this might as well happen” moment in a parking lot and moves on trying to find this alt version of himself for help on how to get home.

it was a little tough for him in those few days, he doesnt carry cash and his bank account for his debit wouldnt exist, so he went hungry for a bit (probably used his ghost powers to steal some food when he got desperate) and slept on a couple park benches and all that. its a little sad really.

eventually, after days of wandering around, his ghost sense goes off as he passes a park and sees a group of 4 kids huddled together. its starting to get a little dark out by this point. danny b approaches the gang movie peter b style: from behind, somewhat ominously with his hand outstretch, with the declaration of “hey, kids....” and dex stranger danger panics and electrocutes him with his robot arm. he passes out.

the kids assess the situation, dex being able to read that danny b is a halfa (”how many of you guys is there supposed to be in this universe?” / ”only vlad and me as far as i know.”) and tucker pointing out that he kinda looks like danny if you imagine the hair black (”great, its ANOTHER version of danny like we dont have enough of those”). afterwards, they take everyone to fenton works, canon trio through the door and dex easily sneaking in with unconscious DB.

once danny b wakes up (in his childhood room nonetheless which is a little disorienting), he immediately takes refuge in canon danny’s shower, also taking the time to shave and eat whatevers in the fridge. the trio are a bit weirded out by this older danny, especially when hes on his 4th pudding cup and eating it like a rabid animal (”do NOT judge me its been a hard few days”). but they more or less get used to him, especially when he proves to be a pretty cool guy. once DB’s basic necessities were taken care of, they start to form a plan of action.

the first step they decide on is finding any other stranded interdimensional people. lucky for them, dex locks in on 2 other halfa signatures in the general area. they set out to search the next day.

mourner and ghouly are found almost simultaneously. dex tracks them down immediately and determines that one is flying through the air as a ghost and the other is in human form on the ground. the group splits up with danny looking for the full ghost, db partnered with sam to sniff out the human form one, and tucker staying with dex in the mech (everyone communicating through fenton phones).

danny finds mourner (”i think i found.....a sam? as a ghost?”) and needless to say that first encounter doesnt go well. mourner popped up a couple hours after the surge while it was nighttime, so she spent most of the night flying around trying to figure stuff out but not garnering a lot of information with the world asleep. seeing danny just makes her instantly hostile thinking its another weird ghost trick so she starts blasting and they duke it out for a bit. she really only stops until dex and tucker show up in the mech and reveal themselves does she realize “okay different versions of people i know, this is weird but its not a ghost manipulating me by puppeteering my dead friend around i guess”. she calms down and joins the group.

ghouly is easily the smoothest encounter, the gang has gone through this enough already to not freak out over it. most reaction would probably be mild amazement and typical confusion (”oh wow its a goth sam and........an older danny? with red hair?” / “we found a different version of tucker, i guess he’s a halfa”) ghouly just doesnt have as much reason to panic as much here. he got launched into this dimension at the same time as dex (the moment the surge happen) but was more or less lost and wandering around since his gps and technology didnt seem to have signal. he didnt sleep overnight so he’s running a bit on empty but bought an energy drink and sandwich earlier that morning (he carries cash) so he hasnt gone full homeless mode like danny b did.

while his initial reaction/meet up with the others were definitely the least weird and confusing, ghouly probably does stare at canon danny a little too much to the point where its a bit awkward. (”sorry its just so weird not seeing you wear black and also i still find you really cute and grappling with whether or not this is considered cheating if youre like the same person”)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Taking Chances 2/4

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Switching perspectives without clear divisions cause why not)

1 2 3 4 

Warnings- Brief mentions of smut, cheesy romance stuff 

Ayiana and Mark had left when the rain had slowed, and Keanu had insisted that they take the rented car back, after agreeing with Y/n that they could fend for themselves. After the couple had left though, tipsy and all over each other, the rain, as predicted by the forecast, had grown heavy again. Though, as the night waned on, most patrons, drunk and tired, had opted to bare the worst of the storm, leaving the pub scantily populated, with Keanu and his newfound friend cozied in a booth near the back, where the lights were lowest, beer bottles and empty glasses laid out on the table. By then, Y/n’s clothes were mostly dried, as was her hair, now in messy curls framing her gorgeous face. “Wait,” drunkenly, Y/n giggled, leaning in so Keanu could catch a whiff of the alluring remnants of her perfume mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of alcohol, “Say that again.”

“Okay, okay,” her fit of musical giggles were contagious and Keanu could help but grin wider as he realized how absolutely breathtaking Y/n was when she smiled, “I got up to check the air, and just like that this lady rear ends me.”

“And the bike slides out from under you?” She finished, eyes wide and her soiree interrupted by her gaping in shock.

“Basically, yeah,” Keanu nodded, “It was insane!” He laughed a bit louder, not caring how much attention they attracted, only quelling the sound when he finished off his latest drink. They’d had so many by then, that they’d both lost count and Y/n and Keanu could both safely say that they were way past drunk.

“But you were okay right?” And just like that, her glassy eyes were sparkling with genuine worry, and again, Y/n leaned in a tad bit closer. The nearer she drew, the harder it was to ignore how plump her lips were, how much Keanu wanted to kiss her. It was so strange, they didn’t know each other very well, and Keanu knew that Y/n would probably be gone by the next day; but he thought he could listen to her for a lifetime, her laugh, her voice, even her silences were enjoyable. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met, funny, intelligent, confident, but also so very shy at times, blushing when he least expected and laughing at his worst jokes. It wasn’t forced or fake laughter either, it was real, full bodied and melodious.

“Yeah,” Keanu’s smile softened as he reassured her, still surprised by her unexpected concern, “I was standing, so everything turned out fine.” They broke into a bout of silence, a brief one, which Keanu broke, "So, what brings you to Luxembourg? I mean, you're definitely not from around here."

At that, Y/n blushed, thinking back on how she'd messed up the accents on very simple words earlier, "I'm not," she chortled quietly, they'd just been equipped with fresh drinks, and as she thought of her answer, mind to blurry to work out all the details, she spun the glass in her hand, eyeing the whiskey inside with broken focus, "I'm actually here for…...inspiration. I thought some kind of spontaneous trip would somehow get the creative juices flowing, I'm a writer, or at least, I'm supposed to be," she chuckled dryly, "I used to be a journalist."

"Career change? You didn't like it?" Keanu furrowed his brows, holding his chin in his palm, elbow planted on the table. He wanted to know everything about her, willing to listen to anything she'd say, and based on their interaction, he could tell she felt the same. 

"I did," Y/n took a sip of her drink, staring off to the cleared tables ahead wistfully, "I traveled sometimes, but usually I'd be in Washington, covering press conferences and that kind of stuff. It was pretty boring," frowning, Y/n tried to put her thoughts into words, "I always wanted to be a writer, you know, write a novel or something that people would read even when I'm gone."

Like she had back at the bar, though with the moment feeling far more intimate, Keanu took Y/n's hand, curling his fingers over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, her skin silky smooth. Her plight resonated with him, the burning desire to leave behind a legacy, make his own unique mark in the world sometimes haunted him too sometimes. "But?"

"But?" Huffing with a faint smile, Y/n shook her head, taking another lengthy sip of her drink, "But I don't know how. I mean, what am I even supposed to write about?"

"Whatever you want," Keanu chuckled with a new enthusiasm. Untangling their hands, Keanu rummaged through his pocket for his wallet, eventually producing enough cash to cover their bill and more, before standing and offering Y/n his hand, "Come on."

Confused by his erratic behavior, Y/n's lips hung agape, finding it hard to formulate any semblance of a sentence, "What're…..what?"

"Trust me?" His plea was half a question for her to actually do it and half an inquisition to gauge how much she actually trusted him.

"Trust you?" Y/n shot back incredulously, though still taking Keanu's hand, their fingers interlacing easily, feeling as if they were made to fit, "I don't even know you!" Already, they were already at the front door, and Keanu was pushing it open, pulling Y/n along as he stepped onto the slippery, wet sidewalk. The sound of the downpour, accompanied by the claps of thunder and occasional burst of lightning welcomed them. Heavy drops hit the street and pavement, splattering upwards, in some areas creating huge puddles. In an instant, even though they were still under the guard of the under-croft, their feet were soaked, water clinging to the hem of Y/n's tea length sundress and soaking her wedged sandals, while Keanu's boots were completely saturated, as were his jeans. "Is your plan to get us sick?"

"No," Keanu flashed her a mischievous grin, the act enough to add a distinct boyishness to his rugged features, despite the evidence of salt in his trimmed beard, "You're here for inspiration, so let's find you some. You know what they say about experience." 

Squaring up to brace the weather, Keanu gave her one final glance to ensure Y/n was ready too, and when her eyes complied, he led her out. In an instant, they were drenched, cold rain water matting hair to their skin and  making their clothes cling to their bodies. Y/n barely had a moment to even be concerned with how wet the contents of her bag would be, or even the fact that she was still holding Keanu's hand when there was someone at home waiting for her. All that mattered then and there was the glee on Keanu's face, how contagious it was and how much she wished they could stay like that forever. "Well where are we going for this experience?"

"This is the experience!" Keanu laughed giddily, stopping when they were stood in the middle of the deserted street to look up at the sky, "You can't tell me you've ever walked through a foreign town, with a complete stranger during a storm in the middle of the night."

It was an oddly specific situation and Y/n without even thinking of it, resigned to sharing in his excitement, "No!" It was a strain for her soft voice to combat the sounds around them, "I can't say I have." They were walking down the cobblestone street, following the gentle slope downward, occasionally stumbling as a result of all the alcohol they'd had. It was cold, though neither of them noticed; the company was warm enough, and as they walked, Y/n looked around, closed stores looking vastly different from what they were like back home. There weren't bright lights embedded in the showcase, meant to display products even during closing, and everything just seemed so beautifully vintage, straight out of a forties film noir. 

"Tell me something about yourself," Keanu broke her thoughts as they grew further and further from the pub.

Briefly, Y/n turned to him, biting her lip at how enthralling he looked like that, so picture perfect, as if a snapshot from a movie had been plucked out of a television and placed right next to her. Keanu was nothing like Noah, he was enigmatic and fascinating because of his unpredictability. He laughed easier and much louder, he was shy and bold at the same time and much to her surprise, they didn't have any sort of awkward "getting to know you" period, they'd just lapsed into familiarity in merely a few minutes. "What do you want to know?"

“Anything,” everything. Keanu grinned broadly, knowing that he’d likely be content with listening to her for the rest of his time, without ever growing tired. “Just say anything,” being with Y/n, staggering through the rain, the sound of her kitten heels on cobblestone muted by the weather and her palm warm and right in his, couldn’t be anything other than the optimum of perfection. He’d never felt that at ease with someone, so ready to bare his soul to a stranger, “And I’ll listen.”

For a brief moment, Y/n glanced at Keanu, her smile faltering, softening, as their eyes met. Part of her knew it was wrong; the way she was feeling. If she were sober, then maybe things might have been different, but Y/n’s speech was slurred and her vision was blurry. Her mind was cloudy too, bombarded only with thoughts of Keanu; how much she was enjoying having his hand in hers, how devilishly handsome he was, how desperately she wanted to kiss him. Abruptly, with a pink hue, hidden by the darkness, spreading on her cheeks, Y/n turned away, “Lets see,” she deliberated, “My favorite book is The Great Gatsby, I moved to Washington for college when I was eighteen,” she thought some more, “And I love eighties music!”

Throwing his head back in wild euphoria, Keanu gazed at her, “Were you even alive in the eighties?”

“Nope!” Y/n giggled, almost tripping, only to be caught by Keanu, who took the initiative to pull her closer. Her laughter sobered, and in the back of her mind, Y/n knew she should pull away, tell Keanu the truth, but his embrace was warmer than anything she’d ever felt, and when she stole another glance at him, only to find him gazing down at her, his expression illuminated by the flickering street lamp, all she could see was a face that seemed strange and oddly familiar simultaneously. Then it hit her, she didn’t want to tell him, Y/n wanted to live like that with him, even if just for the rest of the night. It was out-rightly selfish, and utterly wrong, but she had a feeling that Keanu was worth it. Her heart hadn’t fluttered like that in a long time, and it had been ages since she’d done something so spontaneous. 

Keanu hadn’t noted that he’d been leading Y/n in the direction of the hotel that he’d been staying at until the elegant building came into view, yellow lights glittering through the screen doors leading to individual balconies and the valet’s station vacant, possibly due to the storm. “Where are you staying tonight?” Keanu inquired as they floundered towards the front doors.

“I…..” Wide eyed, Y/n stuttered, “I have no idea,” despite her distress, she was still smiling faintly, I guess I’ll get a room here.” Already, they’d stepped through the door, greeted by the middle aged doorman who warmly welcomed the two with French salutations. Easing her hand from Keanu’s grip, moving some soaked hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, Y/n twisted her body to rummage through the contents of her handbag, searching for her purse, in hopes that the hotel would have an unbooked room.

“Or you could just stay with me,” Keanu blurted, causing Y/n to stare up at him with a perfectly surprised expression, “Come on, it’ll be fun, we can have some more drinks, get to know each other better, it’ll be fun.” Holding his breath, Keanu hung on to the hope that she’d say yes; he really wasn’t ready to lose her company yet.

Internally, Y/n debated Keanu’s offer. It seemed appealing, and she wanted to say yes, to just go for it and see where the night took them. But she was engaged, and maybe going up there with him was taking the fun too far, she already felt like a cheater anyway. Not because of what she’d done exactly, you could hold anyone’s hand and it would mean nothing, no, the guilt had bubbled up like a broil in the pit of her stomach because of how she’d felt. You shouldn’t feel the way she did about Keanu when you had someone waiting for you to come back. To come home.

But Paris wasn’t home, and while she’d tried to make Noah her home, like he’d done with her, Y/n knew she was straying, far, far away from what was ordinarily familiar. She didn’t want familiar that night, she wanted Keanu, the thrill, the loud laughter that she’d easily sunk into, the feeling of getting lost in his whiskey eyes and the insurmountable comfort that came from simply holding his calloused hand. Y/n had the burning urge to know him, learn him, hold on and not let go. The feelings swirling around in her chest weren’t ones that Y/n thought could be built so quickly, yet there they were, and all she could say to his offer was, “Let's do it.”

Stunned by her willingness, Keanu’s features brightened tremendously, and he swore he’d never smiled so hard, “Great!” Taking her hand again, they trotted towards the elevator, leaving the deserted lobby behind, squinting at the bright lights and foggy reflections that dazzled their eyes as they entered the metal contraption. It took a minute or too, his eyes squinted and his stocky fingers fumbling until he found the ‘15’ button, hitting it harder than he should have. As they went up, they found that the air in there was colder than it had been downstairs, and when a shiver ran through Y/n, Keanu, without thinking of it, wiggled his fingers out of hers, proceeding to drape his long arm over her shoulders, reeling her in.

Instinctively, Y/n nuzzled into his side, reveling in the warmth that radiated off his body despite his soaked outfit, swallowing tightly as she tilted her head upwards, only to find that Keanu was studying her, his expression soft, though wanting. No one had ever looked at her like that, not even Noah; like she was everything that mattered, all wrapped up in one person. Like she held the clarity to every unanswerable question in her eyes. Like love could be simply contained in a stare. Love? Love. For probably the first time since they’d sat down in the pub, Y/n stopped smiling, though, it was only because the giddiness had been replaced by something more…….consuming. Thoughts of drinks and a chat late into what remained of the night dispersed, and the lump in her throat only thickened. Tell him, one voice urged, while the more careless one pleaded with her to just let things unfold. One night with a man who’d made her feel like she was the only woman in the world couldn’t be so bad, could it?

As if it were fated, their faces gravitated towards each other, just as Y/n turned slightly in Keanu’s embrace, cocking her head to the side. His lips were barely a hair away from descending upon hers and she could readily smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the scent of the rain and a long smoked cigarette. Altogether, it was alluring, and Y/n wondered if the next day she’d be able to go back to a life without it; if she’d be able to leave Keanu behind. She didn’t want to find out. As he came closer, her breath hitched, the soft sound contained in the hollow of her throat, and right as it was about to happen, right as she was about to finally break a sacred promise, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, ready to the deposit the pair on the sleepy hallway of the hotel’ fifteenth floor.

“We should…..” Keanu trailed off, not able to quite shake off the feeling that had prompted him to try to initiate a kiss in the elevator, though still leading Y/n towards his room, down the end of the hall. Secretly, he hoped that the moment could be rekindled when they reached their destination, it would be a lie if he’d said he hadn’t wanted to kiss Y/n since the moment they’d met. The thought had bounced around in his head all night, hope building in his chest every time their eyes locked, but the time never seemed as right as it had until they were in the elevator. Clumsily, he shoved his key card into the designated slot, swearing under his breath when he’d gotten it wrong the first two times, the mood only lightened by Y/n’s incessant giggles at his plight from nearby. When Keanu finally got it right, he was the first to enter, though she was close on his heels as he slapped the light switch near the door. 

Still laughing, Y/n barely noticed the kink in the carpet in the threshold, getting caught in her shoe, resulting in her stumbling forward and right into Keanu’s arms. Luckily though, he caught her, his hands planted on her waist, bunching up the fabric of her pleated, dusty rose colored dress, beneath her cropped leather jacket. Even when she was steadied, Keanu’s grip remained, only loosening to slip to her hips. Feeling the air around them grow electric once again, Y/n took the tiniest step forward, only just registering how close they’d already been. Once again, Keanu was staring at her, the way he had been during their moment in the elevator, “He looked at her the way all women wanted to be looked at by a man,” she quoted breathlessly, not quite sure why she’d felt the need to do that, her lips already ghosting Keanu’s.

“What?” Keanu knitted his brows, his arms moving again to circle Y/n’s waist, his tongue hurriedly darting out to moisten his lips as she stood on the tips of her toes to reach him better. 

Raising her hands, Y/n tangled her fingers in his shaggy, wet mane, when the other hand cupped his neck, feeling his scruff tickle her thumb. Barely, she registered the low twinkle of her engagement ring, occasionally made mute by the bursts of lightning that brightened the suite. “Nothing,” Y/n leaned in. Heartbeat to heartbeat, quick breaths in sync and minds only focused on one thing, they finally let it happen. Hot lips, meeting, taking a minute to feel each other out, slow and sweet as Y/n tasted him for the first time, though, growing passionate when their tongues warred. Better judgment was never going to prevail, and when Keanu found the edges of her jacket, pushing it off, she let him, thoughts of anything and everything that was outside of their bubble, fade away.

******

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