#I had a stream in the woods in my backyard

[writinganon1]

I mighta posted this before.... i dont remeber honestly

Anyway, vibe is terrified by your crush bc there's a cute boy in my class but he terrifies me and my vocabulary is reduced to bare minimum and I just panic lol

~

A breeze rustled through the trees as he watched her lie on the ground. Her face was buried in the grass, her fingers twitching occasionally. He looked back to the lake, a faint blue shimmer still floating through the water. He sighed and nudged a foot at Kendra. She mumbled something incomprehensible and swatted her arm in the opposite direction he had kicked her.

He leaned down to pick her up when he noticed her shirt was…well, it was somewhere. Pausing to squat next to her, he poked at her side again. She didn’t move. He brushed a few bugs away from her shoulder as he stared. She’d get eaten alive by mosquitoes the longer they stayed out here. Or catch a cold. Wet hair and the chill of the night never mixed well. 

He knew from experience.

Standing up, he begrudgingly took his own jacket off and placed it over her like a blanket. She made grabby hands at the fabric before rolling herself into a burrito. He watched bemused as she fell still again, her face once again buried in the grass.

He looked up to the sky. Deep purple faded into the blue, stars peeking through the clouds. He groaned. They needed to go home, but she obviously was unable to do much of anything. He bent down and hovered his hands over her sprawled figure. He didn’t know how well she would react to being touched without him telling her first. Why on earth had he ever let her drag him out here?

He hesitated a moment longer before lifting her from the ground. Her eyes shot open, arms flailing to the side. He rolled his eyes and shifted his arms to steady her as he walked back to the farm.

“Oh fmnks.” She mumbled, rolling herself to look him in the eye. She stared at his face before reaching out to trace his markings. “You cry purple? Nd you dint tell me!” She slurred. “Purple’z my favorite color.” She exaggerated her words, drawing them out unevenly before she let go of his face and leaned backward, seemingly forgetting that she was being held. 

He shifted his arm again to accommodate her and let her hang off his arm for a moment. She babbled as he walked, taking care to keep her steady as he stumbled through the woods.

This was stupid. All he wanted was a drink. But here he was, carting along dead weight.

She twisted suddenly, falling from his arms before he could catch. Fumbling on the ground for a second, she grabbed a fistful of sticks and held them to her chest. 

“I gotta get these guys back to their parents.” 

“Ken, they’re supposed to be there.” 

“Nuh uh.” She protested, picking up another handful. “Can’t you see how lonely they look?”

He sighed and held out his hand. “You can take some, but the rest have to find their parents on their own ok?” 

She nodded fervently, looking at her collection. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she chose four of the best sticks and cradled them to her chest. “Ready.” 

He had just wanted a drink.

“Aye.” She held her arms out again, letting him lift her before wrapping an arm around his neck and staring into his eyes once more.“Fanks for letting me stay at your place.” She mumbled slowly. “I rlly appriate it evn if I don’t ever see you.”

He paused, before shrugging off the comment and shifting her again. She looked up at him and smiled, loopy and unfocused. Her hand reached for his face again, this time cradling his cheek and pulling his head close to hers.

She leaned in close and whispered against his ear.“I mean it.” She pressed, “I really do appreciate you taking me in.” She pressed a sloppy kiss to his jaw and patted his cheek. “You’re a real one for that.”

He stood frozen, his face heating as he stared wide-eyed at her. She wasn’t focused on him anymore though. Her eyes wandered over the treetops watching in awe as the moonlight filtered through.

His tail twitched as he panicked.

 It’s just the drinks. 

Just the drinks talking. 

She bumped her head against his neck again, taking a deep breath before she started to sing.

“Yo presiento que tú volverás. Mi argumento, yo sé que jamás,” she sang passionately, holding her hand in front of her face like a microphone. “Nadie más te amará ¿Cómo te pude amar? Nadie más te puede aguantar. Como yo, como yo, uh.”

She held her fist to his face, right below his mouth so he could sing too. His face burned brighter as she hummed along to her own personal playlist, dancing slightly in his arms. She frowned when he didn’t sing, jabbing her fist closer to his mouth. He stayed stoic, still save for his tail. She shrugged after a third failed attempt and started a new song.

She put a hand to her chest, dramatically acting out the words as he listened in mild horror.

“ So much power. Soooo much power. But there’s no puppet hereeee.” She finished by making wild jazz hands before promptly barking out a small laugh at a joke before she had even said it. “Thank you, thank you. L’ be er all night.”

She looped an arm around him again, pressing her face to his neck, still holding back laughter. His tail flicked in fear as she watched him through half-lidded eyes. 

Never mind that she had nearly drowned a few minutes ago, she was in his arms right now. She was close, keeping away all the bad thoughts and filling his mind with Kendra.

He liked it when his mind was just Kendra. He would never admit that. She would never want to be close to him. He really should have had more to drink. His mind was clear enough to counter his own rationalization for keeping her away.

He sighed in relief when he saw the farmhouse in the distance. She ran a finger across his shell and giggled. Her mouth moved against his neck as she slurred something about how spongy it was. He stiffened, shivers running down his spine as she continued to lazily outline the spots on his back. He hadn’t drunk enough to numb his senses enough so he wouldn’t feel all weird and floaty every time she touched him.

He shuffled onto the porch, front door creaking as he pulled it open. He stepped inside and found, to his horror, that the house was not empty. Cass was sitting on the couch, a smug look on her face as she looked him up and down.

“You two have fun?” She smirked, eyes hanging over Kendra, who still didn’t have a shirt on.

“Shut. Up.”

“Baby tree,” Kendra mumbled, handing Cass a stick. “Take care of him for me.”

“But of course.” She turned back to him. “What? You two come home soaking wet and she’s half naked.” She poked Kendra in the stomach. “Not to mention she’s covered in dirt and has half the forest in her hair. I’m just going to assume you had a really great time at the lake. That’s all.” She grinned evilly before slinking off to the kitchen.

He was going to murder her. He stomped off to the girl's bedroom, tail flicking wildly in embarrassment. Stupid stupid stupid. He walked in and breathed deeply to try and calm down a little. It smelled like Kendra in here.

Lavender, with a hint of smoke.

 Well, right now she mostly smelled like lake, but the smell still lingered on her skin.

How did she get the smell to stick so well? Was it something she did in the shower? Or after? His face heated again. He did not need to be thinking about that right now.

He hesitated for a moment, tail flicking side to side before dropping his arms and letting her fall to the cot. She made a small noise of protest but quickly wrapped herself into a blanket and fell asleep.

He left quickly, leaving his jacket wrapped around her, not wanting to linger any closer.

~

I don't drink due to my religion, so I was basing Kendra off interactions I've had with drunk people :)

The doodle that inspired this -> rahhhh

oh bonus points if ya can tell me where both the songs are from >:)

@cokoweee

[driftwood-draws]

reconnecting to therianthropy ideas

hello y'all! first post! so recently i had a friend ask me how they can get reconnected to therianthropy, so i made a list and i thought i'd post it here!

-take walks in the woods or wild space -listen to a stream running while sleeping -sometimes when i sleep, i curl up into a ball on top of my covers -watch documentaries about your theriotype -go swimming in a lake and play on the shore if you have an aquatic theriotype -listen to your theriotype’s vocals -eat meat, if you’re a carnivore, or eat a salad if you’re a herbivore -take a cold shower and pretend it’s a waterfall -i’m dragonkin and being on the prow of a boat feels an awful lot like flying, but other options are standing facing the wind with arms outstretched, watching flying POVs with a fan pointed at you, and daydreaming, i guess -make a mask out of cardboard or buy a base (it’s okay if you can’t!) -lay in the sun outside -play with a pet, if you have one -if you have a lupine theriotype, play Wolfquest 3 Anniversary Edition on Steam. i’ve heard it has amazing graphics and hunting! -chew on something rubbery. i have an inflated rubber egg that i love to chew on -make a tail out if yarn. it takes a LOT of time and effort, but it feels good once completed -put glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling to simulate the night sky -watch Wolfwalkers, Brother Bear, Nimona (all relate to shapeshifting into a creature) -read Warriors if you have a feline theriotype -read Nat. Geo. magazines and articles -i like wearing sunglasses on my head because it feels like i have ears, but you could also wear a hat or a headband -draw your theriotype -if you have a nocturnal theriotype, try pulling an all nighter (if your parents will let you) -try hunting one of your stuffed animals (close the door in case you shift -climb a tree! -look up videos on how to get a shift by meditating (i personally don’t meditate but i’ve heard it works) -if you’re home alone, put a bowl of water or soup on the floor and eat/drink it like your theriotype would -if you can, try to get a tag to hunt something for real! when i hunt, it really connects me to nature (if you can’t, don’t sweat it) -go on a hike and try to act like your theriotype -make a den in your room or backyard -paint rocks or shells -decorate your room to match your theriotype -do quads, if your body allows. don’t worry about having the perfect form or jumping high, just have fun! you feel more natural the more you do it (i find going up stairs or uphill to be easiest) -find alterhumans in your area and make a pack -look at therian boards and concept art on pinterest -make a paw imprint in clay then hang it up -make a hidden therian/otherkin symbol in your room

thanks for reading my ramble! if you have more ideas, please feel free to comment!

stay wild 🐾 -drifty

[estapa-edwards]

I THINK I LOVE YOU - L.FANTILLI

paring: Luca fantilli x fem! reader

word count: 2.2k

requested? yes - “i think i love you…?” “….. think?” “let’s just say a ninety-nine percent chance.” “i’ll take it.” w/ luca !!!

warnings: use of y/n.

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The first time I realized I had feelings for Luca was a moment that was etched into my memory forever. It was a warm summer evening, and Adam had invited me over to hang out at their house. We were in the backyard, sitting around a crackling bonfire, the soft glow illuminating our faces as we roasted marshmallows and shared stories.

The atmosphere was relaxed and carefree, the air filled with the sweet scent of burning wood and the sound of laughter. As the night wore on, the conversation turned to crushes and relationships. Adam, being the cheeky younger brother, started teasing Luca about his love life, which he brushed off with a laugh.

"Come on, Luca, there must be someone you're interested in," Adam persisted, grinning mischievously.

Luca looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes scanning the faces around the fire before they landed on mine. "Well, there is someone," he admitted, his eyes locking with mine, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.

I felt my heart skip a beat as I met his gaze, a rush of emotions flooding over me. My cheeks flushed with warmth, and I quickly looked away, trying to conceal the sudden intensity of my feelings. I tried to brush off my emotions, convincing myself that it was just a passing crush. But as the days turned into weeks, my feelings for Luca only grew stronger, consuming my thoughts and filling my dreams.

I found myself thinking about him constantly, replaying our conversations in my mind and longing for the next time I would see him. Every smile, every laugh, and every touch sent shivers down my spine, and I knew deep down that what I felt for Luca was more than just a crush.

I would catch myself stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking, admiring the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight and the way his smile lit up his face. I would replay that moment by the bonfire over and over again, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions it had stirred within me.

It took me a while to come to terms with my feelings, but that summer evening by the bonfire was the moment I realized I was falling in love with Luca. And as scary as it was, it was also the most exhilarating feeling in the world, a secret thrill that I carried with me, treasuring it as my own little secret.

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The sun streamed through the leaves, casting a mosaic of light and shadow on the ground. I sat on the porch swing, swinging gently back and forth, lost in my thoughts. It was the usual spot where I would spend countless hours with Adam, my best friend and Luca's younger brother.

Adam and I had been inseparable since childhood. Our friendship was the kind that withstood every test of time and distance. We shared everything, from secrets to dreams and fears. And yet, there was one secret I had kept buried deep within me – my feelings for Luca, Adam's older brother.

Luca was different from anyone I had ever known. He was intelligent, witty, and had this irresistible charm that made everyone around him gravitate towards him. But what drew me to him the most was his kindness and the way he treated people with respect and genuine interest. Every time he smiled at me or brushed against my hand accidentally, my heart would skip a beat.

I knew it was wrong to feel this way about my best friend's brother. I had tried to push those feelings aside, convincing myself that it was just a silly crush that would fade away with time. But the more I tried to deny it, the stronger my feelings grew.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Adam's voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. He sat down beside me, concern etched on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, forcing a smile. "Just lost in thought, I guess."

Adam looked at me for a moment, as if trying to read my mind. "You've been acting strange lately. Is something bothering you?"

I hesitated, unsure if I should confide in him about my feelings for Luca. "It's nothing, Adam. Just some school stuff and… well, you know, the usual drama."

Adam seemed to buy my explanation, but I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. "Alright, just remember, I'm here for you, okay?"

"Thanks, Adam," I said, feeling a pang of guilt for keeping my feelings a secret from him.

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As the days turned into weeks, my feelings for Luca became harder to ignore. Every time I saw him, my heart would race, and my palms would sweat. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide my emotions, especially when Luca started spending more time with us, joining Adam and me on our usual adventures.

One evening, while we were all hanging out in Adam's backyard, Luca suggested we play a game of Truth or Dare. I hesitated for a moment, remembering the last time we played and the embarrassing dare I had to do. But before I could object, Adam eagerly agreed, and Luca set the rules.

As the game progressed, the dares became more daring, and the truths more revealing. I was starting to regret agreeing to play when it was my turn again.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" Luca asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Um, truth," I replied, not wanting to risk another embarrassing dare.

Luca grinned, leaning slightly forward as he asked, "Alright, who is your secret crush?"

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my cheeks turn crimson. I glanced at Adam, who was watching me intently, waiting for my answer. A mischievous idea formed in my mind, and I couldn't resist the urge to make Luca just a little bit jealous.

"Jake from my English class," I said, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the hint of excitement in my voice.

Luca's grin faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed my answer. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his reaction. "Really? Jake, huh? I didn't know you liked him."

I could see a flash of something in Luca's eyes – was it surprise, or maybe a hint of jealousy? It was subtle, but I noticed it, and it gave me a thrill.

"Yeah, well, you learn something new every day," I said with a playful smirk, forcing a laugh as I turned my attention back to the game.

The atmosphere shifted subtly, a new tension forming between Luca and me. I could feel his gaze on me, a bit more intense than before, as if he was trying to figure out my true feelings. The game continued, but the dynamic had changed. There was a palpable distance between us now, a barrier I had unintentionally created by lying about my feelings.

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A few days had passed since the game of Truth or Dare, and I could feel a subtle shift in the dynamics between Luca and me. There was an unspoken tension, a distance that hadn't been there before. I knew I had to address the elephant in the room, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up.

One afternoon, I was in the kitchen making a sandwich when Luca walked in, his expression serious. He paused for a moment, studying me as if trying to read my thoughts.

"Y/N, can we talk?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" I replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in my stomach.

Luca took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "I couldn't help but notice your reaction the other night during the game. When you mentioned Jake from your English class, it seemed... genuine. Do you really have a crush on him?"

I hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before answering. "Yes, Luca, I do have a crush on Jake," I said, forcing myself to maintain eye contact with him.

Luca's expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. He looked down, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his emotions.

"I see," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt a pang of guilt, realizing that my attempt to make Luca jealous had backfired. I took a step closer to him, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

"But that's not the whole truth," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "I said that to hide my true feelings. The truth is, I have feelings for someone else... someone I shouldn't."

Luca looked up, his eyes searching mine for clarity. "Who?"

I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to confess. "It's you, Luca. I have feelings for you."

There was a moment of silence as Luca processed my confession. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, clearly taken aback by my admission.

"Y/N... I don't know what to say," Luca stammered, his voice filled with a mixture of shock and confusion.

I felt my heart sink, regretting my decision to lie about Jake. "I'm sorry, Luca. I shouldn't have lied to you. I just didn't know how to admit my true feelings, and I thought it would be easier to pretend."

Luca sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I understand why you did it, but it doesn't make it any easier to hear."

I looked down, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Luca. I never wanted to hurt you."

Luca reached out, gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "It's okay, Y/N. I appreciate your honesty, even if it took a little while to get there. We need to talk about this, but for now, let's just take some time to process everything, okay?"

I nodded, grateful for his understanding despite the mess I had created. "Okay, Luca. Thank you for being understanding."

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A few days had passed since our awkward kitchen conversation, and the tension between Luca and me had only grown. We had barely spoken since that day, both of us avoiding the elephant in the room. But today, it seemed like Luca was ready to address the situation.

We found ourselves alone in the living room, the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. Luca took a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine as he began to speak.

"Y/N, we need to talk," he started, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I've been doing some thinking, and I realized that I can't keep pretending anymore. I've been feeling something more than just friendship for you for a while now."

My heart skipped a beat, a rush of emotions flooding over me. The uncertainty and tension that had consumed me over the past few days were suddenly replaced by a glimmer of hope and excitement.

"Really?" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

Luca nodded, his smile growing more confident and genuine. "Yes, really. I was just too afraid to admit it because of Adam and everything."

A wave of relief washed over me, and I felt tears of happiness forming in my eyes. It was a moment of clarity and honesty, a turning point in our relationship that had been a long time coming.

"I feel the same way, Luca," I admitted, my voice filled with sincerity and affection. "I've been so scared to admit my feelings, especially after lying about Jake. But the truth is, I have feelings for you, and I don't want to hide them anymore."

Luca's smile widened, and he reached out to take my hand, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "I'm glad we're finally being honest with each other, Y/N.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as if gathering the courage to continue. "Y/N, I think I love you...?" he hesitated.

"Think?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Let's just say a ninety-nine percent chance," Luca clarified, his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

A smile spread across my face, my heart swelling with happiness. "I'll take it," I replied, my voice filled with warmth and affection.

His eyes lit up with relief and happiness as I responded. Luca pulled me into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around me as if to shield me from the world.

"I've been wanting to say that for so long, Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion.

I nestled my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I've been feeling the same way, Luca. I just didn't know how to tell you."

He pulled back slightly to look into my eyes, his gaze filled with love and sincerity. "Well, now we don't have to hide our feelings anymore. I can't wait to see where this ninety-nine percent chance takes us."

I smiled up at him, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. "Me neither, Luca. Me neither."

Luca gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leaned down to kiss my forehead tenderly. "I promise to always be honest with you, Y/N, and to cherish every moment we have together."

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadow and Paws

Chapter 2: Trust Issues

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

AU: Hybrid 141 X hybrid reader

Warning: Mostly fluff, team building

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy this chapter, they aren’t together yet but they will be eventually. The reader’s nickname is Foxy

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist | Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The fire crackled softly, casting shifting shadows across the forest floor as the 141 team sat in a tense circle around the fox hybrid, who had introduced themselves as "Foxy." Their first meeting had been more of a standoff than an alliance, and while Price had given the signal to work together, trust was still tenuous. Foxy seemed to sense this, their eyes flickering from one face to the next, a knowing smile curling on their lips.

Captain Price leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Foxy. “We’ll give this a shot,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. That means learning to trust each other. No surprises, no games. If you’re keeping anything from us, now’s the time to say it.”

Foxy raised an eyebrow, their expression playfully defiant. “I told you—this is my territory. The rogues have been moving in, and I don’t plan on giving it up. If that’s not good enough for you, then maybe we’re wasting each other’s time.”

Ghost huffed, his eyes narrowing. “Your territory’s just woods. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than some fox’s backyard.”

Foxy’s gaze shifted to Ghost, meeting his glare head-on. “And maybe I have bigger things to worry about than trusting a bunch of outsiders with my life.” Their voice was light, but there was a bite to their words that made even Soap’s smirk falter.

Price sighed, the tension thickening between them. “Enough. We’re all here for a reason. Let’s see if you can back up your talk.” He rose to his feet, nodding toward the dark forest beyond their campfire. “You said this is your territory. Show us.”

Foxy’s eyes lit up, a playful glint sparking in their gaze. “All right, Captain. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

They moved through the forest at a brisk, Foxy leading the way with confident steps that barely disturbed the foliage underfoot. The team followed close behind, moving as a unit, each member quietly observing Foxy’s movements. Every few steps, Foxy would throw a glance over their shoulder, as if making sure they hadn’t lost anyone.

After a while, they came to a clearing with a small waterfall cascading into a narrow stream. Foxy crouched by the edge, motioning for the others to join. “Water here’s fresh,” they murmured, dipping a hand in and cupping some to their lips. “One of the few reliable sources around here.”

Soap crouched next to them, watching intently. “You know your stuff,” he admitted with a nod. “How long you been out here?”

“Long enough to know how to survive,” Foxy replied, a hint of pride in their voice. They scanned the area, their nose twitching as they scented the air. “We’ll take a short rest here. But don’t get too comfortable. This place isn’t as safe as it looks.”

Price leaned against a nearby tree, watching as Foxy moved with a grace that even Ghost seemed to begrudgingly respect. They settled into a rhythm of scouting and teaching, the team following Foxy’s lead as they learned the tricks of survival in the wild. After a while, Foxy paused, their gaze flickering to Soap.

“You,” they said, smirking, “think you’re up for a little challenge?”

Soap grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Always.”

Foxy took a few steps back, gesturing toward the waterfall. “The stones leading across the water are slippery, and the current is stronger than it looks. But if you make it to the other side without slipping, I’ll take you all to one of my hidden lookout spots—a place even the rogues haven’t found.”

Soap’s grin widened, his tail giving a playful wag. “Watch and learn,” he said, launching himself forward, hopping from stone to stone with surprising agility. He made it halfway across, the team watching with bated breath, when his foot slipped. He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself on a nearby boulder, his expression a mix of frustration and laughter.

Foxy chuckled, crossing their arms. “Not bad. But try again, and this time… trust your instincts, not your strength.”

Soap tried again, this time adjusting his movements to match the rhythm of the water. He moved with a newfound grace, reaching the other side with a triumphant grin. “How’s that?”

Foxy gave him a nod of approval, their eyes sparking with admiration. “Not bad, soldier. You might survive out here yet.”

They returned to the group, the camaraderie between Soap and Foxy settling some of the initial tension. Next, Foxy turned to Ghost, a challenging gleam in their eye. “What about you? Think you can handle yourself in the dark?”

Ghost shrugged, his panther instincts attuned to shadowed places. “I am the dark,” he replied, his voice barely more than a growl.

Foxy led Ghost a few paces into the trees, stopping at the edge of a dense thicket. “There’s a hidden path through here,” they explained. “It’s nearly invisible, and only those with a sharp eye will notice it. You find it, you can lead us.”

Ghost examined the thicket, narrowing his eyes. His movements were measured, methodical, as he searched for any sign of a trail. After a few moments, he spotted a faint indentation in the ground—a nearly undetectable path winding through the shadows. Without a word, he gestured for the others to follow, leading them through the hidden trail with Foxy following closely behind, a hint of approval in their gaze.

As they continued, Gaz finally spoke up. “You’re good at this, Foxy,” he murmured. “How did you learn all this?”

Foxy shrugged, their gaze shifting to the treetops where Gaz often perched in falcon form. “You learn a lot when you don’t have anyone else to rely on. Out here, you either adapt, or you don’t last long.”

Gaz nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But out here… it’s better when you’re not alone.”

For a moment, Foxy’s gaze softened, their usual guarded expression faltering. “Maybe,” they murmured, looking away. “But trust is dangerous.”

Price watched this exchange in silence, his wolf instincts sensing the weight behind Foxy’s words. He stepped forward, meeting their gaze. “We’re all taking a risk here. But if we’re going to survive, we need to start acting like a pack.”

Foxy held his gaze, something shifting in their eyes. After a moment, they gave a single nod. “Then let’s make sure we all know our place in this pack. You’ve shown me your skills, but survival out here requires more than muscle.”

They turned, gesturing toward a rocky incline leading up to a high vantage point overlooking the forest. “Up there. I want to see how each of you handles an ambush scenario. You make it to the top without getting ‘caught,’ and maybe I’ll start believing you’re more than a bunch of brutes.”

Soap grinned, taking the lead, darting up the incline with surprising agility, his husky instincts guiding him. He made it halfway before Foxy, moving with fox-like stealth, appeared from behind a boulder, forcing him to retreat. Gaz went next, taking to the air and weaving through the branches, but Foxy anticipated his movements, cutting him off with quick, calculated moves.

Ghost and Price exchanged a look, understanding that this was as much about strategy as it was about skill. They worked together, moving in tandem to flank Foxy, keeping their movements quiet and coordinated. Foxy, caught off guard by their teamwork, tried to counter, but the combined effort was too much. Price and Ghost reached the top together, their breaths coming in quiet, controlled pants.

When they turned, Foxy was watching them, a new respect in their gaze. “Impressive,” they admitted. “Maybe you’re more than brutes after all.”

They returned to the campfire, where the mood had lightened, the initial tension beginning to ease. Soap clapped a hand on Foxy’s shoulder, grinning. “You’re not half-bad yourself, fox. Think you’re finally starting to warm up to us?”

Foxy smirked, their eyes gleaming with playful defiance. “Don’t get too comfortable, soldier. This is still my territory.”

Price chuckled, settling by the fire as he felt the faintest glimmer of trust begin to form between them. The fox hybrid might be an enigma, but they had earned a place among the team—for now. And as the firelight flickered, casting shadows across the forest, he couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, they were exactly where they were meant to be.

————————

End Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

[leftshoeuntied]

quick lil dark soap x reader idea

tw: home invasion/phrogging, allusion to voyeurism, no actual violence depicted

That’s just the wood settling in the stairs, right? You left the light on in the upstairs bathroom, just as your mom had taught you, so people would know there was someone home, and so they wouldn’t be dumb enough to break in to a house that wasn’t empty, right?

It’s an old house, the wood is bound to creak as it settles, and it’s windy outside tonight, that’s why there’s creaks in the empty attic, right?

Your toes are tucked under the blanket, and the door to your room is shut tightly and the blanket pulled to your chin, prepared to hide under the blanket if needed. Your chest feels heavy and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, but you’re trying everything to focus on the real housewives fighting on your television across the room. Between the catty tones and the drone of your fan in the window, you let the sounds lull you into a sense of comfort and you brain finally begins to listen to your earlier reasoning.

You’ve lived alone long enough to be used to nights like this, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re too old to be afraid of thunder and lighting, the sounds above your heard are just the sounds of branches hitting the roof. You’ve experienced your fair share of stormy nights, it’s just the wind.

Right?

The next morning you wake to the stream of sunlight coming through your window, not remembering when you had finally fallen asleep, but at least thankful that you did. Stepping out of your bed and into a pair of sweatpants, you grab a sweatshirt on the way out of your room, prepared to go outside and check for damage the storm might’ve left for you. As you pull the sweater over your head, you don’t notice the light to the bathroom had already been turned off.

Stepping into your boots, you open the front door, and covering your eyes from the blinding sunlight as you schlep down the front stairs.

“Good morning, bonnie”

You hear from your right, looking over you see your neighbor John smiling down on you from his elevated lawn.

“Good morning, John, how’d the storm hit you last night?” You ask him with your hand still covering your eyes from the sun.

“Eh, nothing bad over here hen, how about you?”

“Inside was fine, thankfully didn’t lose power, but the branches were so loud on my roof last night, sounded like someone was right above me, it was crazy” you say with a chuckle, pretending like it didn’t downright scare you. “Might have to get up on a ladder sometime today and make sure there’s no damage up there.”

“Ach, I’m not letting you up there bonnie, let me get my ladder, I can go up there and check it out for you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Aye, it’s no worries, looks like you’ve got some fallen branches in the backyard. I’ll let you handle those, and I can go up to the roof,” John says with finality towards you, but the same smile pointed down at you “let me look out for you hen, yeah?”

You smile and nodded back at him, even though you know he wasn’t leaving much of a choice. “Thanks John.”

---

A couple of days later you woke up with a stretch and a groan, noticing that your room had a more noticeable chill to it than normal. When you opened your eyes, you noticed that the door to your bedroom was left open. Huh? You pause. You always shut your door before you go to bed, never having been able to sleep with the door to your bedroom open before. 

You did sleep with the window open last night and the fan on in the window, the wind could’ve picked up last night, creating a wind tunnel that pulled the door open, you try to reason with yourself. That has happened to you before while you’ve been in your room doing chores, only when you don’t fully shut the door, you brain reminds you, and you always fully shut your door before bed, double and triple checking. 

You try not think anything of it, the fan in the open window giving you enough reason to believe that wind must’ve picked up last night and the change in pressure must’ve pulled the door open last night, even if the storm y weather had already moved through the area a couple of days prior.

It wasn’t until you were at your dresser applying skincare, after washing your face, that you notice something is off from your normal tray of items. Your favorite purple lighter is missing from next to your candle, hm, you huff in confusion trying to remember where you might’ve taken it. It’s probably just in the living room, you think, you have other lighters down there with your other candle, but this purple was easier to use since you had pulled of the safety, so it makes sense you would’ve moved it, you reason.

---

“Thank you again John for helping me get this old freezer out of the basement” you say stepping down the basement steps looking over your shoulder to John, him falling in behind you, matching your steps and smile.

“Aye no worries, hen. I meant it when I told you I’d look out for you, whatever you need.”

You step off the steps into the finished basement looking over at John and saying “I really do appreciate it though” John just smiles and waves you off like it’s no big deal, so you continue “I unplugged it a couple of days ago, so hopefully that means all of the ice has melted” as you open and step through the door into the unfinished side of the basement. 

You stop though, caught off guard by what you see. “Everything alright bonnie?” You hear John ask behind you. 

“Yeah” you pause but John can hear the apprehension in your voice “I just…I swear I left the board in front of that door”. You say as you walk over the walk over to the door leading to the outside, and noticing that the plank of wood that normally lays in the metal arms across the door, is just leaning up against the wall to the side of the door instead. But the glass window in the door hasn’t been broken, someone couldn’t have removed it from the outside, so “I must’ve just forgotten to put it back up last time I was down here” right?

“Ah” John pauses “that makes sense, hen, you were just doing yard work back there the other day, probably forgot to put it back up then.”

---

Your brain was still hung up on trying to remember if you had gone through the basement door when working on the backyard at the beginning of the week, but you swear you went through the front door on the main floor and walked around instead. John had helped you bring the old freezer out the other day, and afterwards made sure to remind you to put the board back across the door this time, like it was a small joke now. You appreciated him for trying to help you lighten the situation, but it still weighed heavy on you, each of these weird things around the house on their own could be a coincidence, but together? It felt all too much.

Carrying your basket of laundry up the stairs to fold on your bed, you know your already anxious brain is on edge, scanning everything in sight. You tell yourself it’s so you can confirm nothing’s out of place, but part of you knows you are just looking for something to be outside of the norm to confirm your suspicions and unfortunately for you, you find something else. The string to the ladder leading up to your attic was tied into a loop, pulling between the hole in the door and then through the edge of the cutout back into the hatch on the ceiling. 

That’s not how you left it, you never tied the string, the previous owner had never tied it. Any other day you could’ve convinced yourself you had made the change, but with your limited time in the attic already and the basement door left without the board, the sight made your stomach drop.

Part of you was ready to walk into your bedroom, shut the door and fold your laundry like nothing happened, but something had happened. You drop the laundry basket, and reach for the string, pulling the hatch down slowly, scared something might jump out at you, but when met with silence you pulled the ladder fully down.

As you crawl up the ladder to your attic, not much stands out to you, letting your brain fall into a false sense of security. See? Your brain says to your anxiety. Nothings up here, you were freaked out for nothing. 

But your phone’s flashlight catches onto something in the corner. Rushing over there’s a small pile of miscellaneous items: a small flashlight, an old plastic water bottle that became a makeshift ashtray and an open pack of Marlboro Golds. But that’s not what scares you the most. Off to the side there’s a small hand-held drill, debris, and a small hole in the plywood, the same width as the drill bit. The hair on your arms stands up and you take a quick spin in the attic with your flashlight to make you are alone, before you lean down to look through the hole in the ground. You feel like you are going to be sick as you realize the pin size hole give you a perfect view of your bedroom. You sit back up on your knees, swallowing bile as you look around. A couple feet over there’s another small pile of debris, and a few feet over another pile, and then another a couple further from there. You get to your feet, sickness washing over you as you realize there’s small holes drilled into the plywood all throughout your attic’s floor board, giving viewership to each room in your room on your second floor. 

You pound on John’s door, hoping his car in the front driveway means he’s home, you don’t know where else you’d go right now if he wasn’t and you can’t see yourself going back int your house alone. John opens the door with a confused look, but smiles when he sees you there. “Bon-“he starts but you cut him off before he can get the term of endearment out.

“John, please I just need to talk someone right now, I thought I was going crazy but I think someone has been breaking into my house” John’s face drops at your startled state, pulling you through the door into his home

“Aye it’s not a problem hen, let’s get you settled, let me get you something to drink, tea alright?” You nod as John guides you to sit on his couch, rubbing your shoulders soothingly before stepping away into the kitchen.

“I feel crazy John, I don’t know what to do. There’s been all of these weird things happening around the house, and at first, I thought it was just weird coincidences, like things getting misplaced, the basement door being uncovered, doors being left open” you say as he emerges from the kitchen with a mug of tea for you, handing it to you with a soft smile as you lean back into his couch, trying to get comfortable, despite your racing heart and anxiety building in your stomach. John sits next to you, matching your body language. 

“What do you mean?” he asks leaning his head to the side, rubbing your shoulder soothingly as you take a sip of the tea.

“I don’t know,” you start again, your frustration and fear building, tears beginning to build along your eyeline “pieces of my laundry have been going missing, but I figured it was just my washer or dryer eating them. And then little things around the house have been going missing, like I don’t know where my favorite lighter is, which is so miniscule but I always leave it in my room” you heave out, the weight in your chest building as you finally begin to acknowledge the true depth of the situation. Someone in your home, in your room.

“And I know that all sounds stupid, but I noticed the string to the attic was messed up earlier, so I went up there and I- “

You pause, something on John’s coffee table catching your eye, and your stomach drops, unable to continue your train of thought. 

“And what bonnie?” John asks but then follows your line of site to the plate of items on his coffee table, not much standing out besides the purple lighter in tray that visibly had the safety pulled off. Your frozen in place, clutching to the mug, as you feel him turn to you, hum softly, place a hand of your knee, rubbing soothingly before saying 

“I said I’d look out for you hen.”

[izgnanik-a]

more shifter!NikPrice, you say? Whether it was asked for or not, I wrote it as a continuation of this fic linked here. MDNI

back to masterlist 2

slight body gore under the cut (they're carnivores, duh)

The bear became a usual sight. As well as the man.

Price didn't anticipate spending his well deserved vacation at his cabin dancing around a camper and the uncanny resemblance of a bear. The good thing about it all was that if he crept up on the camp, he could take the hanging food with no problem. The camper didn't seem to have a problem with it anyways, so long as it remained scraps and not whole meals.

The worry came when the bear got closer to the cabin than Price would have liked. He was sure he didn't leave his tracks visible from here to the stream, but he'd spotted the bear by his expansive backyard.

Price, in human form, watched the bear chuff and stick its nose up towards the cabin. The last thing he needed was for this bear to get any closer and get into his house. He wasn't one to play the caricature of a hunter, but he kept a shotgun around with salt rounds for show. It wouldn't slow an angry bear, but he could with his two hands.

The gun sat lightweight in his hand as he lingered at the back door watching the bear.

And the bear spotted him. Standing up on it's hindlegs, ears facing forward, the bear gave him a once over, tilting its curious body to the left and to the right before settling on it's front paws again.

All it would take is getting a little too close to the porch, and it could come inside if it wanted to. Price's scent should have been enough to ward it off, but it came closer. And closer. Nose nudging the bottom step of the porch, peering with it's big black eyes curiously at Price behind the glass doors with his shotgun in hand. It was taking in the smell of a wolf threatening the line of danger.

Much to Price's surprise, it didn't come any closer. Didn't climb the porch like he expected it to. It took in the smell of a wolf, Price, and dragged itself back into the woods to the call of corvids overhead leading towards dinner. Price wasn't settled by the thought of this bear knowing that just 10 miles from it's home - refuge remained.

🐺🐾

One of the coldest winter nights had come that sent Price huddling for warmth in his second skin. His fur gave him comfort and warmth, better than any hearth could. Despite the cold, he brought himself out into the snowy landscape.

There was no relationship between himself and the camper, but it didn't mean he couldn't check on him to assure that Price didn't need to call emergency services to pick up a dead body behind his land. Through the cutting wind that tossed old and new snow together, he mapped himself out by following the stream uphill and veering off the path.

He found the site still standing, campfire lost to the snow, rope holding tight to their knots. Shaking off the snow that clutched to his fur, he gave a yip and huff towards the tent when there came no reply. His ears perked when the zipper relieved itself, and the opening revealed a still lively, and casual man.

"Hello, милый." The man smiled. "Nice weather, ha? I've got no food for you today."

Price gave a huff, blowing out from his nose, and shaking his head.

"No? Not here for food? Well, I would let you in, but I don't appreciate being bitten by dogs I don't know." He joked, showing the back of his forearm. "I've already got my own problems."

The bite was sizably monstrous. The healed skin was torn pink, and the flesh was uneven in several places. But Price could see the curved display of what looked like teeth marks. It looked like his own bite mark, but his had been on his calf and he managed to get out with an even scar.

"Let's keep it a secret between me and you. Ya?" The man flashed a smile before reaching out with the back of his hand for the skittish wolf to scent.

Price looked at his hand carefully, bringing his snout close enough to feel the radiating warmth from the man's hand. He'd never saw the man with a weapon, so he figured he could get away if he lunged forward to snatch Price. Price pressed his cold nose to the back of the man's knuckles.

The man flattened his fingers to brush up against the bottom of Price's mouth. "красивый мальчик." The man whispered softly with awe.

He didn't expect his palm to turn upward and give a scratch at his chin like a domesticated dog. For a brief moment, he turned his head upright and bared his throat to the inviting contact. But the hesitation came back, and Price was pulling away quickly. Price shouldn't have overstayed his welcome.

The man said nothing as he watched Price step back from his touch. The man was fine in his campsite, the job was done, Price didn't need to stay longer. "Leaving, милый?"

He turned from the tent back towards the stream to follow it.

The next day had come and Price had woken to a fresh blanket of snow he'd have to plow out. And a fresh pair of human tracks following from the woods and leading back.

(a/n : what's going to happen next??)

[f0rlorn]

kingdom come → treech

treech!tbosas x reader

notes → in which your lover gets ripped away from you, and you’re left with mere memories, a promise, and a locket. feminine intended reader. i am a district seven girly FOR LIFEEE. when i was making a plan for a cato fic on wattpad, reader was ofc from seven ✨

warnings → me giving characters angst alert part two!!! not edited & uploaded via iphone

     “treech!” you giggled as you chased him in the woods you called your backyard. you heard him laugh as he leapt over a stream. attempting to follow him, you slipped, accidentally landing in the shallow water. luckily, you had your rain boots on. the red rain boots with hand painted black polk a dots that reminded you of ladybugs. on the other hand, your ruffly dress was not so lucky, soaked with water, dirt crawling at the hems. treech whipped around at the sound of you splashing, and offered a hand to help you up. you giggled as you took his hand. “thank you, my knight.” you teased, beginning to walk back to your home.

     “anything for m’lady!” treech declared, raising his arm triumphantly. your youth was filled with heartwarming moments like this. days spent playing with treech in the woods when the two of you were kids. and when you grew into your teenage years, long, meaningful conversations filled with laughter and secrets with each other after treech finished working. you had known treech your whole life, best friends for fifteen years and lovers for three, he was a part of you. 

     today, the day of the reaping, your mother had laid out an old striped dress of hers. the once colorful stripes had faded into something dreary, but the dress fit you like a glove. it was common knowledge in the districts that children should dress nice for the reaping. not because it was some momentous occasion, but because what they wear then might be the last thing they wear ever. dressing them up for their funerals, a devastating truth. treech met you outside, and he tilted his hat to you when you stepped out of the door. 

     “m’lady,” he greeted, providing his arm for you to latch onto. “well don’t you look ravishing,” he mused, and you curtsied at his compliment, before looping your arm through his. you were treech’s pride and joy and he made sure to treat you as such. the boy was more than happy to show you off, parading you around the streets of seven. the two of you chatted lightly about the days events as he guided you to the town’s square, located a mile and half from your house. eventually you had to part ways with him, but not before you left a quick peck on the cheek. he wore the kiss on his face boastfully as he joined the group of boys to your left. you smiled, finding your own place in the crowd of girls. the process went as normal, a few small announcements made before the female tribute was reaped. her name was lamina, a beautiful tragedy wrapped in a vest, but not anyone you recognized.

     your breath hitched as they called for the male tribute. it had happened so fast. you had never been this overwhelmed. they called treech’s name. your treech. you allowed yourself to hyperventilate for a few moments before catching sight of the boy slowly walking towards the front of the hall of justice. district seven, being one of the largest districts, had thousands of kids piled into the town square, separated by gender. out of the entire population of seven’s youth, it never occurred to you that your boyfriend could be the unlucky victim to be reaped. 

     struggling to control your breathing, you leaped into action, shoving your way through the crowd of girls to the pathway down the middle of the block. treech, still in shock, made his way down said pathway rather hesitantly, as if in disbelief that he had really been reaped. his eyes were scanning the crowd as he passed, stopping for a moment as he met yours. in an instant, you reached forward and grabbed him, pulling him into a hug before any nearby peacekeeper could intervene.

     “i love you, treech. i love you, i love you, i love you!” you repeated, sobbing into his jacket. his arms wrapped around you tightly, not wanting to let go.

     “i’ll win this, y/n, for you. i’ll see you soon, it’ll only be a couple days, just you wait.” he mumbled his promise to you. you pulled apart, woefully wiping away the lipstick mark on his face, cleaning him up for the cameras. there was no doubt that the entirety of the capital was watching you now. what must they think of the spectacle you had created? were they intrigued? disgusted? at this point, the peacekeepers had made their way to him, dragging him onstage.

     “treech!” you objected, reaching out for him. another peacekeeper lightly knocked you backwards, a pitiful expression adorning his face. the girls nearby, some you recognized and some strangers, held the same expression. none spoke, just stared at you. keeping your eyes on the ground, you creeped back to your spot in the crowd. soon enough, peacekeepers were hauling your boyfriend into the hall, and more were beginning to clear the square, forcing you to make your way back to your place of residence. unbeknownst to you, treech had slipped a token in the pocket of your dress before he was pulled away. it wasn’t until halfway through your agonizing, lonely trek back home that you noticed it. it was a dainty, wooden heart shaped locket. patterns had been intricately carved into the surface, no doubt by the careful hands of your loving treech. you traced the patterns with the pads of your fingers, tears staining the wooden block. 

     you clutched the locket, a newfound hope seeping into you, as you held onto the promise that he would win. for you.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Conversation Pit | Dieter Bravo x afab!Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: You’re viewing a mansion with Dieter, and it has a conversation pit. Does he have the discipline to keep his hands to himself?

Tags: friends with benefits, SMUT: Dieter’s favorite dom appears 👀 could it be someone we know?; mmf threesome, piv sex, semipublic sex but don’t worry, edging (m receiving), references to sex work

Word count: 4,112

Note: Listen. This fic was supposed to be conversation pit fucking and then it evolved into something else. I did not do her justice. I’ll come back to you baby.

This is the same universe as Coping Mechanisms. There's no plot connecting the two fics, but I recommend reading it if you want more sexy Dieter smut 😏😌

Masterlist

“It feels like a little much,” you say. Your neck aches from craning to look up at the many elevated features of this house. Or rather, this mansion. The sprawling, avant-garde chandelier in the foyer. The ocean-themed mosaics undulating across the domed ceiling of a bathroom. An enormous space lined with hanging walkways and tunnels and little nesting spots, for who knows how many cats.

This latest hallway is nice, though. Rustic wood beams pass overhead at a more average height, providing a sort of cozy, normal feeling for the first time since you entered. Here’s hoping they lead to a similar design style in the next room.

“I dunno, I kinda like it.” Dieter slings an arm around your shoulders. “Lots of walls to paint, you know? I could make it my own.”

“True,” you concede. “There are way more rooms than I was expecting, though. Like maybe more than even you could paint on your own.”

“You’re right about the rooms, actually.” The realtor gives you an sheepish smile over his shoulder. “The owner’s kind of a character- it took some real convincing to get them to send us any pictures at all, so they missed a few things. But they left the house in great shape, right?” He beams winningly.

This realtor has shown you and Dieter a few houses by now. He’s pretty okay for a chummy salesman type. His methods at least included giving you space to think and discuss, which you appreciate.

Not that discussion between you and Dieter was really necessary. He was the one buying a mansion, not you. He just wanted you here for impulse control, and a second opinion. “I trust your judgment,” he’d insisted. 

A lopsided smirk overtook his face. “Even with your choice of fuckbuddy.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Dieter had shrugged. “Fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, booty calls. We know what we are.”

“Coping mechanisms?” you added drily. 

He’d given you a wounded look- always so effective with those big brown eyes of his. “We can be friends and coping mechanisms.”

You’d laughed at that, and now here you were, touring the quirkiest LA mansion you’d yet seen together this week. Or maybe offbeat was a better word. You didn’t really have any idea how to describe these places. Homes, but also playgrounds of the rich and famous. They’d do the place up how they wanted (or how some expensive designer wanted) and then left the next person to clean up the mess- to paper over whatever was now deemed- *shudder*- out of fashion.

Or to paint over, you muse, thinking of Dieter’s impromptu artistic urges.

“Now, you may think you’ve seen the showstoppers of this house, but this next room might just make you reconsider.” Standing before a door at the end of the hall, the realtor pushes it open and stands aside with a flourish.

Your mouth drops open. 

It didn’t just open up, as the rest of the house seemed to. This room also opens down. The beautiful wood beams do continue overhead, and the entire back wall is windowed, making the space feel both grand and homey at once. Bright sunshine streams in. The glass wall looks out over the backyard, which is less of a backyard than an entire valley, wild and forested, without a trace of the other mansions you’ve been informed are tucked into the hill. On the left wall of the room rises a stone brick fireplace; on the right wall, tall bookshelves. The sandy carpet underfoot looks thick and cozy.

And in the dead center of the room: a conversation pit.

Your mouth falls open again.

Is that even what it’s called? The word has a strange texture in your mind. Yes, a conversation pit; that architectural relic of the 70s. A great round depression, a huge circular couch set right into the floor.

It’s hideous.

Dieter hurtles through the door, down the short staircase, and bounds right into the pit. “Hey, check this out! A conversation pit, sweets! Have you ever been in a house with one of these?”

The realtor is prattling on about the other features of the room, something about adjustable lighting and special outlets. 

“I haven’t.” You approach more slowly. The staircase below the door hugs the wall, presumably so that anyone who falls down it doesn’t carom straight into the pit. The carpeting is so luxurious that you almost feel bad about walking on it with shoes. 

You carefully descend the two additional steps down to Dieter’s level. “This feels like a safety hazard.”

“Whaat? No way, it’s so cool! Like we’re in some classy old 70s porno.” In an instant Dieter has whirled to face you, grinning, a wily gleam in his eye. 

Your eyes widen with what you hope is a forbidding look. “No, Dieter. Absolutely not.”

The realtor’s cell phone trills, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Excuse me, let me just check this.” He fishes it out and answers, and his eyes light up. 

“You guys think about the house, okay? I’ll just be a minute.” The realtor heads back up the stairs. “Heya, Brad. No, no, I’m not busy…” He shuts the door behind him.

Dieter pounces.

“Dieter Bravo, you stay right there-”

The pupil in the eye of the pit is a cushy ottoman, which Dieter leaps over with unexpected grace. Your brain and your feet have different ideas on where to go; instead of fleeing, you stumble backward and fall to your ass on the sofa.

“Tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Dieter-”

“This room would be perfect for sex parties.” He’s practically glowing with excitement. He leers down at you, his shapely mouth turning up suggestively.

“D, that happened one time! And it wasn’t even planned, it was only because everyone drank too much of that Romanian liquor that Alexandra’s mom made her.” 

The taste of cherries had haunted you for a month afterward. It was nothing like the syrupy-sweet maraschino flavor that smacked of childhood sundaes and red dye 40. This stuff was as black as the fruit itself and tasted of summer at its height, thick and ripe and heady.

Normally you’re not so keen to head off Dieter’s sex-related whims, but something about this moment, this room, feels different. Like your body can sense how little convincing it would take for you to give in.

Like Dieter can sense it.

“But it could happen again.”

Dieter crouches and pulls on something near the floor, and suddenly your feet are propped several inches higher off the ground. You blink, and in a fluid movement Dieter is kneeling between your legs, at the perfect height to put his mouth to your ear.

“Just imagine. You’re sitting here, just like this. I’m sitting here. Just like this.” His hand trails up your thigh. You swallow.

“The lights are low, low enough to see the stars in the sky outside. Maybe we have some music playing. Lying right there are John and Diana.” Dieter nods to the plush carpet inches from your face. “I know you liked watching them last time.”

As if in a dream, your head turns to look where he indicated. Your face heats furiously at the memory of your two attractive friends, and the heavy glances all four of you had shared that night.

“He’s fucking her, slow and easy. She’s watching us while he does. Maybe she’s telling you to join in- to let me make you feel good, like she’s feeling.”

Dieter’s low, husky voice is a potent aphrodisiac, and so is the picture it paints. The taste of cherries seems to coat your tongue. You fight down a little noise of want in the base of your throat, your body tightening and squirming. Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

“We can invite Samya and Vish again. And maybe Dani and Riley. They’re so hot.” Dieter sighs, briefly indulging in his own fantasy. 

Dieter’s hand has settled into a familiar shape- his thumb resting on your clit, but his fingers curled so the knuckles rest where they would normally slip inside you. Where they’d definitely be able to slide in right now. You can’t decide if you should thank or curse your past self for not wearing a skirt this morning.

“Remember how we could hear everyone? No one was hiding or acting shy, just enjoying themselves. Laughing and moaning…” Dieter’s voice drops to a whisper. “Diana was so wet you could hear it every time John thrust into her.” 

His lips brush your ear. “And so were you.”

His teeth graze your neck and you can’t stop your moan. He sucks on the sensitive skin just the way you like, his thumb bearing down, and your head drops back.

The bright blue sky brings you back to your senses. 

“Dieter!” You squirm away, gasping for air. 

He immediately retreats. He remains kneeling on the foot rest as you pull your legs up and together, attempting to regain some composure. 

“I think that courtesan part you played went to your head,” you say shakily. 

Dieter’s last role had been a four-episode appearance in a new fantasy period show. He’d played a queen’s favorite courtesan in her harem; but upon hearing inklings of a coup, she’d sent him away, leaving the audience with tantalizing hints that he wasn’t just a mere prostitute. The show’s first season had been a huge success, and though it had been renewed for more, the reappearance of Dieter’s character was still only rumor. 

Clearly he had picked up a few things from his character. You send him a half admonishing, half grudgingly impressed look.

Seeing that you’re not truly upset, he relaxes. “You like? There’s more where that came from.” Dieter walks his fingers up your calf. He smiles temptingly, his eyes still blown dark and beguiling. 

Huffing incredulously, but unable to resist smiling in turn, you shake your head.

“Ookay. I’m just saying, it sounded like our guy was gonna be a while. Especially if Brad is whose PA I think he is.” Dieter shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “Wouldn’t hurt to do a little test run.”

“Dieter Bravo, I am not having sex with you in a house we’re viewing.” You laugh, a bit high despite yourself off the endorphins from Dieter’s fantasy. 

You turn and rise, making to clamber right over the back of the couch.

Dieter gasps. “Wait!” All trace of seduction is gone from his voice. You only make it halfway out of the pit, your knees where you’d just been sitting and your hands on the floor beyond the back of the couch. 

“Babe, this is the position we’ve been trying to find! Look-” He’s hushed but excited. Dieter scrambles up behind you, his hands appearing on either side of your own, his chest flush with your back. One of his knees further compresses the cushion beneath you. When you twist your head to look, you see that his other foot is leveraged on the footrest. 

Dieter groans your name, low and pleading. “Tell me you wore these pants for a reason.”

You gasp as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants. LA weather means loose fitting bottoms, and high waistlines mean cinched elastic instead of button clasps. Dieter has no trouble sliding his hand into your pants and cupping your sex in a way that makes your elbows buckle.

“Dieter, we can’t.”

“Please, sweets, I’ll make you feel good- I won’t even come, this one will just be for you,” he promises. “You know I can be quick.” His voice goes velvety and dark with promise- with reminder.

Damn, but you did know. Dieter was a dedicated study; it didn’t take long before he could make you come faster and in more ways than any partner you ever had. The speed came in handy more often than you’d think. The man was insatiable, and his appetite could flare at any random moment- no matter how inopportune.

His persuasions are working. Your cunt throbs to have his hand so close and yet so far away through the barrier of your panties. You’re already wet from his earlier efforts, and the heavy drape of his body over yours brings your desire howling to life again.

“Hmmm?” Dieter traces a light circle around your clit.

You grit your teeth. The realtor could be back at any second. 

Dieter flattens his hand over your cunt, rubbing just so.

Your resolves breaks. “Fuck, fine- but quick,” you implore.

--

“Oh, this is going to take so long,” you assure him. Dieter moans, helpless to your designs, the binds on his wrists holding fast. “What’s wrong, D? You didn’t seem to care about coming earlier.”

“Please, please let me come. I’ve been so good, your pussy feels so fucking good…” Dieter rambles, sobbing, his eyes rolling back in his head as you sink down on him again, achingly slowly, taking him as deep as you can. Dieter tries to help, his hips surging upward like he can’t get far enough inside you. That could well be the case, given that his ankles are tied together as well.

He moans again.

“Mmn, you’re so pretty like this,” you sigh. Dieter’s chestnut locks are tufted from your grasp and dark with sweat at his temples. Red blooms in his cheeks. His lips are kiss-swollen, teeth-bitten from trying and failing to hold back his cries. His body is thick and strong beneath you, and you attempt to spread your thigh still wider, take that little bit more of him inside you.

Dieter makes a choked sound. He turns his head to the side, desperation all over his face.

It’s been hours since Dieter seduced you into coming around his cock in the conversation pit of the house you were viewing. As promised, he’d been quick- you hardly had time to break a sweat before he brought you that familiar hot rush of release. You needn’t have bothered worrying, though. The realtor took so long on his phone call that your panties had nearly dried out again by the time he returned.

But true to his word, Dieter didn’t come, and you’re pretty sure his hard-on hasn’t flagged once since then. Some part of him had been touching you through the entire rest of the house tour that neither of you had realized was still ahead. He was so worked up he’d canceled lunch at his favorite diner, and then looked agonized when he remembered that you hadn’t taken the car with the privacy screen. 

You follow his gaze. “What do you say, Ezra? Should we let him come?” 

Dieter’s favorite dom is sitting in an armchair off to the side, observing, loosely guiding, your activities and stroking himself with leisurely enjoyment.

Abandoning his own biology temporarily, Ezra approaches the bed. “A hard decision indeed, gem. But in my professional opinion, I believe that you should come once more before we allow dear Dieter the privilege.” Dieter’s eyes are glazed, bleary with desperation. You’d had one orgasm since the start of this session, but another sounded fine to you. 

“Should it be on his cock this time?”

“Hmmm. How would you feel about takin’ your pleasure on my cock first? Darlin’ Dieter got to experience it earlier; this time he can only watch, as a consequence of rushing his partner to the end so crudely.”

Surely that’s a little harsh. “Aww, I wouldn’t say it was crude. I did enjoy it,” you coo at Dieter, stroking his face reassuringly. Relief shines in his face, your words like a sunbeam breaking through the gathering clouds of his sudden anxiety.

“Oh, of course. My apologies; it was not my intention to imply otherwise. Nevertheless…” Ezra reaches over your thighs to give Dieter an apologetic stroke; then he runs his broad palms slowly up your body, Dieter’s eyes following like a starving man before a feast. Maybe like one of those ancient myths he's always drawing inspiration from- who was that one guy? Tantalus. Ezra tweaks your nipples and you shiver atop Dieter’s cock.

It had been your idea to text Ezra. On the car ride home, you’d suggesting upping the stakes, since Dieter had been so naughty in the house. He’d essentially already been edging himself since the conversation pit- why not make it a real challenge? (And maybe a little bit of a punishment, for being so cheeky.) Dieter had looked so torn, you might have asked him to choose between microwave chicken nuggets and taquitos for the rest of his life. But in the end Ezra was free, so you invited him over at three o’clock sharp.

Dieter sounds so anguished as you lift yourself off his cock that you think he might actually cry. You click your tongue. “You heard him, D. Consequences.” You lean down to kiss him, giving Ezra space to climb onto Dieter’s legs behind you.

“Stay there a moment, sweet,” Ezra requests.

Your breasts brush Dieter’s chest, and he automatically tries to lift his torso to meet you, forgetting that your hands are holding down his shoulders. He whines.

“Naughty Dieter, always pushing the rules. Trying to fuck me where other people might see.” You nibble at his neck and ear between murmurs. “Now you’re the one who has to watch.”

Your breath hitches as you feel Ezra’s cock notch at your entrance. “There we are, sweets. Sit back for me now, nice and easy.” His hands guide your hips, and you ease backward onto Ezra’s cock. A breathless moan falls free as you sit up, his length thick and full inside you. So joined, you shuffle forward just a bit- until Dieter’s cock rests against your sex. Dieter’s mouth falls open, mesmerized by the sight. He twitches, the movement brushing your clit, and you whimper. 

“Mm, I thought you might like this, gem. If it sounds amenable to you, we’re goin’ to use darlin’ Dieter’s cock to make you come like this, slow enough for you to enjoy every second of it, and then, and only then, are we going to let Dieter come.”

It’s delightfully ​​jarring to feel a cock inside you as well as outside against your clit; despite the pleasure winding heavy along your limbs, you manage to answer. “Perfectly amenable.”

Ezra cups his hand over Dieter’s cock and nestles it between your labia, coating it in your arousal and Dieter’s. The velvety ridges of him rub snugly against your clit- especially as Ezra begins to move. He starts gradually, thrusting into you with just enough force that you rock against Dieter’s dick at the same time. 

Oh, fuck. This is more stimulation than you usually get via both methods at once- it won’t take long for you to come like this. You moan in approval.

“Does that feel good, gem?” Ezra asks.

His thrusts aren’t forceful. Rather, they’re constant, unceasing strokes along something inside you that makes your vision blur; and all the while he holds Dieter’s cock against your clit like the perfect toy.

“F-f-ffucking incredible,” you stutter. “Keep going, like that.”

Ezra rumbles in approval. Dieter’s eyes are as round as saucers as he watches his dom pleasure you with both their cocks, and he spills out a steady babble of praise. “Oh fuck, you’re so hot, sweets. Look so good like this. Can use my dick whenever you want…” Every muscle in his body jerks and strains, but whether trying to come or in effort to stop himself coming you can’t tell, and you stop trying as Ezra’s movements pour brain-numbing pleasure directly into your skull and down your spine.

You squirm and sob at the onslaught of stimulation. There’s no escape- not that you really want it. You can feel your peak approaching, a tingling creeping up every limb like vines about to fruit.

“Dieter- Ezra-”

“Ah, the end is nigh, is it, sweet? Go on then, let it come- give us everything you got.”

Ezra’s poetry is obliterated by the roaring in your ears. Something breaks open inside you, spilling bliss through every crack and crevice of your body. You quake and keen in Ezra’s arms. For long, long minutes, it feels like it physically rocks you, pleasure pulsing in an endless flood. Distantly you recognize that it’s Ezra’s movement creating the rocking sensation, prolonging your pleasure for as long as he knows you can last. You finally go still only when he does, the rushing pleasure slowing to a trickle.

Sagging into Ezra’s arms, you shudder as the bliss tapers off. As your breathing slows, other sensations come back to you, including that of something clinging to- or maybe dripping from- your thighs. Dieter.

Your paramour is gazing at you, awestruck, a familiar dopey, dazed grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. You make a questioning sound.

“You coming set him off, sweet. That was some mighty powerful pleasure, if I do say so myself.” Ezra’s rasp in your ear sounds thoroughly satisfied. “It seemed unduly cruel to deny dear Dieter any longer after such good behavior, so I took the liberty of takin’ care of him.”

Indeed, Ezra’s hand is wrapped more fully around Dieter’s cock, though both are now somewhat obscenely mashed against your sex and covered in his spend. “Oh, good,” you sigh.

Ezra chuckles. “I’ll give us a wipedown, gem. Then you can untie his hands, if you wouldn’t mind, and I’ll get his feet.” 

You blink yourself slightly more alert. Dieter didn’t like being tied up for very long after the fun stuff was over. “Mhm. Okay.” 

You help Ezra wipe the various fluids from all three of you. Your brow knits at the sensation of him pulling out of you, but Ezra appears unperturbed, humming an idle tune as he rotates to unbind Dieter’s feet. You turn your focus to doing the same to his hands.

A serene, almost cherubic, expression lay over Dieter’s face; with his eyes closed and his breathing deep and steady, he looks halfway to sleep. When you lean back from untying him, his eyes are open. You start.

Then you chuckle. “Hey, D. Feeling okay?”

Dieter lengthens his already long limbs and then contracts them in a wiggly stretch. He rolls over toward you, resting his head on your thigh. “Mmhmmm.” 

He looks for all the world like he intends to fall asleep right there. Honestly, the man resembles a giant cat sometimes. Or maybe some other, more exotic animal. Actorus libidinous.

A ferocious rumbles issues from what you can only assume is Dieter's stomach. His eyes fly open. "I'm so fucking hungry."

He appears astounded by this fact. Or maybe by the fact that he forgot his hunger in the first place- it’s truly a testament to how worked up he was that all other needs fled his mind so completely. (You made him eat a granola bar before Ezra arrived, but still.)

Ezra returns from the ensuite, and your eyes widen. Your hunch earlier was right- he didn’t come. Ezra’s still-hard cock bobs as moves around, flushed a deep red and still smudged with your arousal in places.

Dieter spots it as Ezra begins getting dressed, and his eyes go round. “Whoa, Ez, did you not come? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Ezra’s mouth quirks. Sifting through the scattered clothes on the floor, he extracts a pair of pants and begins turning them rightside-out. He gives an arch shrug. “What can I say, starlet? Your perseverance inspired me. I enjoy a good edging session myself; I thought I might wait until I arrived home to take care of it.” Ezra pulls his jeans on without anything beneath and fastens them snugly over his erection.

Ezra was an old hat at this profession. He didn’t entertain feelings of awkwardness or shame. If he wanted something, he asked for it. 

“In that case, send us pictures,” Dieter says. His eyes wander Ezra’s sturdy, shirtless body with wanton admiration.

“That costs extra.” Ezra sends them a saucy wink. He reaches for his shirt without a hint of discomfort.

“Worth it.” Dieter rolls onto his back with a great sigh. His mostly-softened cock flops over with the movement, dribbling a bit more fluid as it does.

Now dressed, Ezra comes over to say his goodbyes. First he hands Dieter a tissue, nodding toward his dick. Then he gives you both a kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps this time I might allow the debt to be paid with some of the takeout you’re about to order.”

You grin. "We'll schedule your delivery for an hour from now."

Thanks for reading! 💕💕💕

The Romanian liquor is real and exactly as delicious as it sounds- it's called 'visinata', which means '[thing] made from cherries'. I highly recommend making a Romanian friend and having them bring you a bottle of their mom's homemade stuff, although I cannot promise that it will lead to sex parties. That was just wishful thinking on my part 😬🤷🏻‍♀️

Dividers by strangergraphics

[songforeddiemunson]

Things That Go BUMP

Eddie Munson x Reader (description vague for inclusivity, no use of YN, no upside-down).

Summary: Eddie and reader agree to house-sit for a recently widowed woman, and things happen.

Warnings/Tropes: established relationship (this could also be a sequel to Next Summer), no smut, ghost story, talk of accidental death, description of and discussion of death and mortal remains, rather inappropriate funerary banter, dark themes. Avert thine eyes if death talk unsettles you, but this IS a Halloween fic, so, yeah.

Author's Note: this is actually based on a personal experience I had with my boyfriend at the time. True story, my buddies!

Here is a map of the layout of the house. I only included details, i.e. furniture, if it was relevant to the story.

Word Count: 3300

October 1991

Life in Hawkins was harmonious, and you were looking forward to your first autumn in rural Indiana with Eddie. You imagined there would be long walks through crunchy leaves whilst scenting the faint aroma of wood smoke as it drifted among the trees.

Things, however, didn't quite go as you'd planned.

Lenny Weir, a kind middle aged man that you had built an acquaintance with, was killed in a tragic accident where he was fatally electrocuted while repairing an appliance.

You had been deeply saddened to learn of Lenny's passing. Everyone in Hawkins had heard of the accident; he was a popular fellow among the locals, and was known for helping people when something needed to be fixed or tended to, free of charge. Word traveled fast, and a blanket of sadness enveloped the whole town.

He and his wife Pam chose to remain childless, preferring the company of a tabby cat called Jasper and a particularly intelligent Border Collie named Toby. You knew all of this because you had house-sat for them for a week over the summer when they went on vacation. They lived in an idyllic little cottage framed by flowering shrubs and a stream flowed through their backyard. It really was a lovely place and you had enjoyed staying there immensely.

You attended Lenny's viewing with Eddie. You had never felt very comfortable with death in the past, and you had only been a permanent resident of Hawkins for four months. You didn’t know many people yet, which heightened your feeling of shyness as the other people from town filled the room around you. You sat toward the back, nodding solemnly at the people you saw that you did know, but preferring to stay out of the way.

When it came time for everyone to file past the assembled family and view the deceased, your heart was in your throat. You hesitated, gripping Eddie’s hand tightly.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered, leaning his head conspiratorially toward yours. “I’ve got you. We’ll do this together.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you replied anxiously.

As you moved toward Lenny’s relatives, who were standing near the front of the room next to the casket, you nodded and murmured the usual script of ‘so very sorry,” and “such a tragedy,” until you spotted Pam, who looked composed despite having red, puffy eyes.

“Pam,” you said as you reached her. “This is awful, I’m so sorry, I don't really have the words. How are you holding up?”

Pam shook her head. “I don’t really think it’s all fully registered; I feel like I’m trapped in some kind of awful dream.”

You nodded sympathetically, “I can only imagine. Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually,” she replied, “Next week I’m going away for several days to stay with my sister in Utah and get out of the house for a while. Would you mind staying and looking after Jasper and Toby?”

“Of course I will,” you said without hesitation. “Do you mind if Eddie comes too?”

“Not at all, he’s more than welcome.”

“Great, we’ll be there,” you said with a small smile.

“Thank you Pam,” Eddie added. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice thick. “Now I guess you’d better go say goodbye to Lenny.”

“Here goes…” you murmured quietly to Eddie as you approached the casket, kneeling down on the provided cushion.

You quickly noticed that the glue holding one of Lenny’s eyes closed was starting to come loose, giving his right eye the appearance that it was partially open.

“Oh god,” you groaned.

“Fuck, that’s not how that’s supposed to look,” Eddie whispered.

“Jesus, should we tell someone?”

“Well I doubt we’re the first ones to notice it, we're among the last people up here…”

“This is why I hate these things. Viewings. It’s all so unnatural…” you broke off with a shudder. You were horrified, and you couldn’t stop staring at poor Lenny's eye.

“Well we started having viewings because we kept burying people alive back in the day. And it kinda looks like Lenny is starting to wake up right now…”

“Dude,” you admonished in a firm whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, “it’s just shocking." Eddie paused, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh god, Lenny was electrocuted…do you think anyone told Pam his death was ‘shocking’? Oh man, I hope not.”

“I can’t take you anywhere,” you said. You were mortified, but the stress of everything was making you want to burst out into very inappropriate and ill-timed laughter. “We are leaving right now!”

“Sorry Lenny,” Eddie murmured hastily as you dragged him away.

You arrived at Pam’s house the following week with a duffel bag and Eddie in tow. Pam greeted you at the door and walked you through the house. She reminded you about where the pet food was and all the other things she thought you should know. Before she departed, she left you with some words you would never forget:

“Kids, sometimes weird things happen in the house. I don’t know. I wonder if maybe Lenny hasn’t moved on.”

“Say what now?” Eddie prompted.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, sometimes I just hear things sometimes, and I wonder if things get moved. Either that or I’m losing my mind.”

“Well we don’t want that," you said, and Eddie laughed a little too loudly.

“No, we would definitely prefer ghosts,” he said, making Pam actually laugh a little.

The first few days passed without incident.  You and Eddie enjoyed playing with Toby, lounging about outside by the fire pit, watching TV with Jasper curled up on your lap, and picking apples from the gnarled old apple tree in the backyard.  Out of respect for Pam and Lenny, you and Eddie shared the large sectional sofa in the living room; it was shaped like a large letter L so there was plenty of room for both of you. 

One day, your curiosity got the best of you.

"Lenny was cremated, right?" you asked Eddie.

"Yeah, so I heard."

"So where are his ashes? I wonder if he’s in the house or if Pam scattered him somewhere,” you pondered, and then began looking around the house for an urn.  

It had occurred to you that perhaps you were being disrespectful, but Lenny was such a sweet guy and you didn't think he would mind. Besides, part of you just really wanted to know if you were sharing a house with someone’s mortal remains. 

Shortly afterward, you came across a small inconspicuous brown box on the nightstand between the couch and the sitting room wall, but it was on a lower shelf that was hidden from view by the sofa.

"Do you think he's in there?"  Eddie asked.

"Only one way to find out."

You opened the box.  Inside the box was a cylindrical, plain, brass-looking tin.  The suspense was killing you both.

"I think that's it," Eddie said almost in a whisper.

"Well if it is," you said, "it isn't very ceremonial.  It doesn't look anything like what I would expect an urn to look like."

"I think– well, when my mom died they gave us her ashes in something pretty plain. It’s up to the family to buy something nicer.”

“Oh I’m sorry babe,” you said, giving Eddie’s arm a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, it’s okay,”  Eddie said with a reassuring smile.

“But if that is Lenny, why is he tucked away out of sight as if she’s hiding him?”

 "Maybe keeping it in view is too painful for her right now."

"Maybe it's just candy or something."

You went back and forth on this for a while, but you had to know for sure.  You started to open the tin.

"Jesus, don't!"  Eddie hissed.

"I’m sorry but I have to know," you said. “Besides, there’s no harm in just looking. I’m sure Lenny wouldn’t mind.”

“Ugh, fine,” Eddie said. "But if you let out a ghost, I'm blaming you."

You opened the tin.  Inside the tin was a clear plastic bag containing the cremated remains of Lenny.  You and Eddie stared silently at it for a moment.  It definitely didn't look like what you had imagined the ashes of a cremated person to look like.  You always thought it would look like...well, ashes.  It didn't.  It closely resembled gravel, and you could see little bits of bone as if someone had smashed up what was left with some sort of hammer.  You immediately felt uneasy and replaced the lid. 

"Wow. So that's....that's Lenny," Eddie said.

"Yeah," you replied simply. You weren't sure what else to say.

You silently sent an apology into the ether, feeling a little remorseful for prying.

You didn't talk about it much after that and went about your business, but you had the very unsettling realization that you had been sleeping with your head no more than six inches away from Lenny’s remains for days.

The following day it was raining and quite chilly, so you and Eddie spent most of the day inside watching TV.  Somewhere around 8pm, the TV abruptly switched off.

"Did you lean on the remote?" you asked.

"No, it's right there on the table," Eddie replied.

That's strange... you thought to yourself.  Then Pam’s voice echoed in your mind.  Sometimes weird things happen.  You shrugged it off.

You turned the TV back on and continued watching.  About ten minutes later it switched to snow, then turned off again.

"What the hell..."  You and Eddie said in unison.

Suddenly Toby the dog lifted his head and stared into the adjacent kitchen, a low growl emitting from his throat.

"Okay, that's freaky,"  Eddie said.

"Go look and see what it is," you said with wide eyes.

“Uh, I’d rather not."

You quickly dialed Nancy’s number to get her opinion, who told you your imaginations were running wild and you just had to calm down.  She chatted with you for a while and nothing further happened, so you hung up and tried to distract yourself with a bit of making out. You had a hard time feeling interested in sex, however. You had the very unsettling feeling that you were being watched.

A couple more hours passed without anything odd happening, and you were beginning to feel quite sleepy.  You realized that you didn't want to turn off the lights, and you also didn't want to keep sleeping on the couch next to Lenny’s remains.  Ugh suck it up; what are you six years old? You thought to yourself, and laid down to go to sleep. You did leave a light on in the kitchen, however.

The night passed quietly, though sleep was difficult to find.  You tossed and turned, and what little sleep you did achieve was filled with strange and frightening dreams.  One dream that stood out consisted of you waking to go to the bathroom.  As you passed the room that used to be Lenny’s office on the way to the toilet, you saw him.  He was jogging on his treadmill whistling a happy tune, but he wasn't alive.  As you paused in the doorway his head turned to look at you. He was burned black; one eye stared at you, and the other was burned away. His mouth was twisted into a horrible grin.  For a fleeting moment you wondered how he could whistle with no lips, and then you screamed.  You awoke with a start, and stared at the window for the rest of the night, waiting for the morning light.

The next day you spent the majority of it out of the house.  You drove around and visited some friends, and grabbed a bite to eat at a local diner.  You were avoiding the house, but neither of you would admit it.  When you finally did return just before nightfall, you entered the house trepidatiously, as if something was going to jump out at you.  

You were greeted by Toby, who wagged his tail and seemed very thrilled by your presence, which was comforting.  You found fixings for s’mores in the kitchen, and built a fire in the pit in the backyard.  As you sat at the crackling fire, your eyes were frequently drawn to the house, as if you would see someone walk past the window, or worse- a charred face grinning back at you. Eddie gently teased you for getting yourself “all worked up,” but you could tell he was uneasy too.

After a couple of hours the fire began to die out, and it was getting cold.  You knew you had to go in, but you took your time gathering up all of your things.  As you entered the house from the back door into the kitchen you spotted Toby, who was sitting in the living room at the doorway to the kitchen.  It was the first time he hadn't greeted you at the door.  

"Hey Toby!  C'mere Toby!"  you called.  He wouldn't come.  He didn't growl, he didn't cower, he just stared and wouldn't move.

"That is not like him at all," Eddie said.

"I know," you agreed with building unease. 

You both continued calling to the dog, and after no success Eddie walked over to him.  He took Toby’s collar by hand and gently pulled, speaking to him in a soothing voice, but he resisted.  

He kept looking at you as if he wanted to come because he was a very good boy, but his attention was always drawn back to something else.  Something past you, past the kitchen- toward the end of the house that contained the bathroom and Lenny’s office.  Your mind was frantically trying to determine what would cause this sweet and intelligent dog to refuse to enter a room in his own house, and it freaked you out.

"Toby!  COME!"  you yelled. 

You regretted shouting at the dog the moment you did it because just as you did, Toby lowered his head and practically crawled into the kitchen to your side where he stood with his tail between his legs, whimpering.  You felt sorry for him, but it did nothing to assuage your growing fear.

You apologized to the dog and made your way into the living room, and Toby followed without protest.  Too nervous to go right to bed after the event that had just occurred, you turned on the TV.  Sure enough, after a few minutes it shut off.

"Maybe the TV is old, and there's something wrong with the wiring," Eddie said, though he seemed unconvinced.

"But how do you explain the rest of the weirdness?"

"Dunno.  Maybe Nancy’s right and we're just letting our imaginations get carried away.”

Right after Eddie spoke, a white flash shot past the window.

"Did you see that?" you asked a little too loudly.

"Uh, yeah, I sure did," Eddie replied.

"Probably a white moth reflecting the light from the front porch light."  you said. “Right?”

 "Yeah, that would have had to be a very large moth.”

“But wait.... the front porch is on the other side of the house."

“You’re not helping,” Eddie said, his eyes darting around nervously.

You sat and stared at the windows for a while. After several minutes, it happened again.

“Alright, what the fuck was that??” Eddie said, his voice increasing in timbre.

"Big white moth, remember?" you weren’t sure why you were trying to convince yourself of this when you didn’t really believe it.

"Right.  Big white moth."

Suddenly, right behind your heads on the wall against the sofa you were sitting on, there was a distinctive banging sound. Three distinctive raps, as if someone was pounding with their fist. Thump, thump, thump.

You screamed and Eddie jumped off the couch. The dog barked.  It happened again, but it was louder. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. Toby barked again, but he wouldn't go investigate as one would expect a dog to do.  He was scared.  So were you.

"What's on the other side of that wall?"  Eddie asked.

"The bedroom!"  you replied.

"We'll go together to see what it is."

"Are you crazy?!?"

"We have to see if someone is messing with us.  What if someone broke in?" Eddie reasoned.

"How dare you use logic at a time like this? Fine. Grab the dog."

As you slowly made your way off the couch and toward the kitchen-- which the bedroom was off of on the left-- you attempted to summon the dog, who would have none of it.

"Forget Toby, he's not coming,"  Eddie said.

As you neared the bedroom door you heard another sound.  

It sounded almost like a tea kettle going off to signify the water is boiling, only it wasn't constant.  It fluctuated, almost like a person rubbing their finger across a freshly washed window.  But it was loud, and it was in the room with you.

You both screamed and abandoned the bedroom inspection, and instead ran toward the bathroom to put some more distance between yourselves and that awful sound.  As you ran past Lenny's study you remembered your nightmare, and squeezed your eyes shut as you hurried by, clutching Eddie’s hand as he guided you toward the bathroom.  

The bathroom was at the far end of the house, directly across the hall from the front door.  As you neared the bathroom you glanced toward the front door, and then a bolt of terror shot up your spine to your scalp, almost paralyzing you in place.

The front door was wide open.

Eddie was clever enough to grab the cordless phone before your flight to the other end of the house, and you locked ourselves in the bathroom.

"The front door is open!  What the fuck? The front door is open!"  you stammered in a panic.

"What?!?"  Well...we have to close it!"

"I'm not leaving this room!"

"Jesus Christ! We can’t just leave the front door open!"

You called Nancy again.  Eddie dialed while you professed your regret– out loud–  to Lenny for interfering with his ashes.  As usual, Nancy was not impressed.  She said you were just being silly and needed to knock it off.  Next, Eddie called Steve, who was more appropriately concerned and agreed to come right over, but he lived twenty minutes away.  So you waited.

Nothing seemed to happen while you were in the bathroom.  Finally after what seemed like an eternity, there was a knock on the bathroom door, making you scream.

"It's just me," Steve’s muffled voice proclaimed from the other side of the door, and you flung it open and practically strangled him with a huge hug. 

"You guys left the front door wide open," he said.  "You shouldn’t do that; it’s unsafe!" 

For the remainder of the week you took care of the feeding and watering duties by arriving solely to do so, and then leaving as soon as you were done.  You and Eddie were in agreement that you would not be spending another night in that place.  

You told Pam about it, and she said that the strange behavior didn't seem like Lenny at all, but surmised that perhaps he was just trying to get your attention for some reason. Everyone’s heard the stories about people who die sudden deaths feeling confused and unable to move on; perhaps that was the case here.  Maybe it wasn't Lenny at all, but something more malicious.  You tried not to think about it too much.

Six months later, Pam dreamed of Lenny.  In the dream Lenny was standing on a beach waving to Pam.  She tried to run to him, but no matter how much she ran she couldn't catch up with him.  She then realized with a stab of profound sadness that Lenny wasn't really trying to greet her, but he was actually saying goodbye.  

He then turned and walked away from her, while Pam stood and watched. Once Lenny was out of sight, she felt a deep sense of relief.  She never dreamed of him again.

A few months later the house burned down.

Thank you for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of all fic writers. Please show us some love! :)

(yes, this is really a true story)

[extinctionstories]

When biotech companies talk about resurrecting the passenger pigeon, through cloning or other genetic wizardry, it’s hard for me to take them seriously. Partly because I have my doubts regarding technology that hasn’t succeeded in producing even a simple domestic chicken. But mostly because, I wonder where they think the newly-created birds would fit.

Imagine millions of pigeons landing on power lines; toppling poles; taking out cable and plunging cities into darkness. Nesting in the false branches of cell and radio towers. Sending light posts crashing down onto cars in parking lots and streets. Swimming against the stream of interstate traffic. Colliding with skyscrapers, dazzled by their own reflected hordes.

Fluttering silhouettes, black against the blue, would block out days of summer leisure, blanketing festivals and concerts and sports fields with their white sleet. They’d interfere with fireworks and drone displays, and even the take off and landing of airplanes. Think of the trouble just a couple of geese can cause. (The last free-flying pigeon died without ever having had to share the skies with wings of wood or fiberglass or steel.)

Birds swooping down, to drink and to drown, from public reservoirs and lakeside harbors and backyard swimming pools. Decimating the manicured trees of city parks. Frightening pets and children and livestock. Antagonizing home owners associations up and down the east coast.

If we brought them back, this wing-flapping force of nature, what would be their place? This compound organism whose way of life depended upon existing en masse. A gust of wind can’t be held in a bottle.

For tens of thousands of years, passenger pigeons thundered over the land, marking and maintaining it, the rare species whose environmental impact could rival our own. It took scarcely a century to craft a world with which they were fundamentally incompatible. A landscape that can exist only without them.

And then I wonder, how much of that sterilized world came about because of their absence. What other ways might we have found to live, if we’d been forced to share the landscape with the wildness of the feathered gale?

How much better might things be, if the pigeons had never been gone?

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Disobedience (Simon Riley / Reader) Chapter 3

Concequence

CW: Murder, depictions of blood, hunting

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.1k

Chapter 1: X

Chapter 2: X

The bright sun beamed down on our inlet by the river. With a watering can in hand, I tended to the garden in the backyard. The asparagus was nearly ripe enough to harvest. Perhaps one more day. 

The back door swung open. Simon stepped forwards, mask adorned. 

“One of the traps went off. How about you help me bring this deer in?”

And so we hiked to a little clearing in the woods, down the hill, and west of the stream. Dangling from a tree was a white-tailed deer. It writhed against the rope trap. A pant of guilt struck me as I watched the animal. After all, I was in a strikingly similar position just a little bit ago. 

“I’ll kill it and you can help me carry it back,” he proposed. I nodded, watching as he carefully sliced the deer's neck. It was a quick death, a matter of seconds before the animal went limp. I hoped it was painless too. 

And so I slung the corpse over my shoulder, waiting for Simon to set the trap again. He set the end of the rope out and covered it with leaves and dirt. In the center of the trap was a small pile of dried fruit.

“Alright, let’s go, love,” Simon slipped his pocketknife into his shorts. We slipped into the tree line, following the familiar path back to the cottage.

A metallic clank drew my attention. Standing in the clearing were two armed soldiers adorned with the crest of Blackburn. I couldn’t recognize them with their visors on, but it could’ve been anyone in my fathers conclave. 

“Your fathers been looking everywhere for you,” one of them spoke. “It’s not a good look on him to have his only child flee before their wedding arrangement.”

Simon stepped forward. I nudged him with my elbow, urging him to stand down. 

“Tell him I’m dead. I’d much rather be here than in Aysgarth.” My words were blunt and uncouth. Much to be expected for someone with a corpse over their shoulder and a devilish creature at their side. 

“Suit yourself,” one of them grunted. The two guards turned away, trekking eastward through the forest.

Simon gently placed a hand on my blood-stained cheek. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. It was his silent way of showing he understood. 

I’d grown accustomed to his manners in the span of almost a week. He placed his hand on my thigh whenever I’d come down from an orgasm in an attempt to ground me. He’d do the same if I was upset. 

He stopped adding hot peppers to his dishes after one complaint of it being too spicy. If I got pulled away from my reading, he’d bend the corner of the page without me asking him. 

He kept my favorite quilt, the one that smelled most of him, on the back of the couch. 

Love was a word that described this relationship well. It was also his nickname for me. It sounded good on his tongue every time he spoke it. Bliss was a close second to describing how I felt when I saw his fuzzy face.

He made me feel strong when he asked of me to carry the deer. He assumed more of me than anyone else had.

We arrived back at the cottage with the carcass. Simon preferred to prepare the meat outside, so as not to dirty the kitchen. There was a stump from an old willow tree which he used as a makeshift preparation table. 

A small butcher's knife rested on the stump. 

I stepped inside the house and brought a pot of water to a boil. Surely a plate of asparagus would go well with cooked venison. 

After dinner, and before sunset, we shed our stained clothes and went for a swim in the river to wash off. I grabbed Simon by the horns and pulled him in close. My fingers dug into the spot just behind his horns. I knew he couldn’t reach this on his own.

He whimpered, dropping his head to my chest. I laughed, moving my fingers to the space behind his ears. He pressed kisses along my collarbones. It was a moment of vulnerability, something I’d caught more and more glimpses of as we grew accustomed to each other's presence. 

“Simon, you’re so sensitive,” I chuckled. He gripped my waist and hoisted me into the air. I crossed my ankles behind his back, holding tight as he lifted me onto the banks of the river. 

“How dare you mock me like that,” he laughed as he placed me gently onto a towel. 

“Simon,” I whined, “I’m not mocking you. It’s adorable seeing you react.”

He huffed and faked an exaggerated pout as he towel dried me off. He took a bit too long drying my thighs, taking extra time feeling my skin. I pulled his shirt over my head and slipped into some shorts. 

Knowing that towel drying is an arduous task for someone with his coat length, he stepped into his shorts. We’d deal with the damp sheets another time. It was far too late to ponder that now. 

As we slid into bed, he pulled me into his arms. The quilt shook as his tail flicked. The last candle had long since been blown out. It was only the moonlight now which faintly illuminated his face. 

In this peaceful silence, he looked beautiful. His long lashes perfectly framed his closed eyes. And his lips, how plump and perfect for kissing they were. I knew then, looking over his sleeping form, that I loved him. Truly loved him. 

When we rose in the morning, something was wrong with our garden. Our produce was chewed up, withered, and dying. On the underside of leaves were freshly laid eggs. Somehow, slugs and vermin had made it past the fence. 

“It’s nothing we can’t fix. I’ve got some seeds inside. Why don’t we plant a new garden?” His optimism was something to be admired. I supposed for tonight we could just have venison, at least until we found something to forage.

While he looked for the seeds inside, I took to digging up the wilted crops. Stomping the shovel into the dirt would be much easier if I had hooves like Simon. Or at least something more than just ballet flats. 

Despite my lack of adequate footwear, I dug up the garden and divided the land into small sections. Tomatoes in the left corner, carrots and asparagus in the right. Tubers had their own section by the back window. 

I watched as Simon carefully planted the seeds. He gently scooped up dirt with his hand and covered the seeds. He stuck his tongue out when he was focused. I found it adorable. 

I set out to look for game while he finished sowing the seeds. The forest seemed quiet today. The usual chirping and crowing from flocks of birds was no more. Even the chirping crickets had faded. It was eerie, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had their eyes on me.

I wrapped my fingers around Simon's pocket knife. While useless against any stalking predators, it was a reminder that he was only a shout away. 

I reached the clearing, the same one with the bubbling stream that I’d met Simon in. The rope trap hadn’t been triggered yet. Sighing, I stepped forward to check the bait. My eyes widened as I got a closer look at the rope. 

It was neatly cut, as if with a knife. The end of the rope dangled against the tree. The bait was gone, meaning a deer had been nearby. Someone had freed it. 

A small crack echoed through the forest. I followed the noise with my gaze, landing upon a familiar face. Donned in his finest chain armor, with his beard streaked with dirt, was the marquess of Blackburn and a handful of soldiers from his battalion. 

My father’s face was scrunched up in anger. His face was cherry red, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d’ve expected him to whistle like a boiling kettle. In his bruising grip was a torch to light his way through the dense tree cover. 

I turned on my heel and sprinted into the tree line. I could hear my heartbeat swishing in my ears. My hands shook as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Once the cottage was in sight, I shouted.

A set of familiar horns appeared from the side of the cottage. Simon ran to encase my body in his embrace. 

“What happened?” His voice was soft. 

“I’ll tell you what happened…” a gruff voice spoke. The troop of men had made it to our doorstep. My father stepped forward, handing his torch to one of his men. “You went off, dabbling in the sins of the flesh. Do you have any idea what this cost me?”

“Can you at least tell the earl of Aysgarth that I’m sorry-“

“No. Nonono, once he heard of what you did, giving yourself to this…filthy creature, he wanted nothing to do with us. Not even a forced apology could quell his wrath,” spit flew from his mouth as he snarled. He seemed more beastly than the man by my side. “I don’t know how I could’ve raised a whore like you.”

“What did you-” Simon started. 

“I saw the way he touched you in the river. I know how whores like you act. You’re no different from the prostitutes in the brothel.”

My throat ached. I could feel the familiar burn of tears rising in my eyes. I clenched my jaw tightly, concealing my rage from inside me. 

His sweaty hand grasped my wrist, pulling me from the embrace of my beloved. 

“You deserve nothing but to rot in prison,” The Marquess spat. 

In that moment, something ignited in me. Something that I still can’t quantify. My body moved on its own, grasping the blade within my pocket. 

In one swift movement I lashed out, cutting his throat in one quick slash. His grip on my wrist went limp. In a matter of seconds he was on the ground, grasping at his severed throat. 

In that moment, he was nothing more than a deer. Nothing more than a thrashing corpse on a rope. Nothing more than a blockade to my freedom. 

My chains snapped at that moment. The overwhelming sense of freedom coursed through me. 

If the head falls, so shall the body. It was something he’d said in meetings. It seemed especially true when his troop of armed soldiers fell back, dragging his bloated body with them. A trail of bright red blood streaked the grass. 

He scrubbed my body of the blood in the river. Tears ran down my face. My voice came out in ugly, choking sobs. I didn’t quite understand why I felt this way. Why was I crying over someone who hurt me, treated me like nothing more than a possession? 

He carried me into our cottage. My crying quelled once he took me into his arms. He placed my towel-clad body onto the mattress, joining me under the heavy quilt. His lips were soft against my skin as he trailed kisses up and down my neck. 

He ran his fingers up my side. His fingers traced circles into my skin. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to my chest. 

“I love you, Simon,” I spoke against the soft blonde curls on top of his head. He pulled back, horns clanking against the headboard. His brown eyes locked onto mine. They seemed more vibrant, even in the low lighting. 

“I love you too, dear.”

As the winter passed, our crops flourished. This time, with no sign of infestation. The birds woke us up in the morning with their chirping, and the crickets sang us to sleep with their song. 

His thick curls shed as the heat of summer slowly crept up on us. Every now and then, I’d take him into the backyard and brush his coat. Clumps of golden fur were swept up by the wind or taken by the birds. 

We settled into a comfortable routine, sometimes stepping out of that safety with a trip to a neighboring village whenever I wanted a new book. Simon would always pick out a ceramic figure or a new bottle to take home. 

One night, the smell of cinnamon drew me from the garden. Simon stepped into the backyard with a silver plate in his hand. 

“This was on the porch,” he explained, handing me the dish. It was a cake, exactly like the ones my mother would make me in Blackburn. Beside it was an orchid. I could smell her perfume lingering on the platter. She picked lavender as her signature scent, adding hints of vanilla for an extra “pop” as she called it. 

And so a new head had sprouted in place of the old one.

Masterlist

[paperbackribs]

I AM HERE FOR THE WIP THINGY FOR “Timetravel Steddie”!!!! ♥️

he he he so timetravel steddie in my wip folder is Copper Boy, but I like not having a proper name for it as I work on it, I suppose? if it’s less official then I’m more likely to write because I’m less intimidated. But I’m having such a blast with this fic that I have to thank you, Finn, for asking, because I. am. desperate. to share more. 😂

Warning: not exactly spoilers of Copper Boy since we know the endgame is steddie, but the snippet is from a chapter still weeks away from posting.

“This is nice,” he admits.

It's peaceful amongst the maple and birch trees with the dappled light rippling playfully across the forest floor. Steve points to a puddle at the base of a bare blackberry bush; a small blue jay dips its head in and out of the water, vigorously shaking with spray erupting from around its body. It’s adorable and Eddie smiles.

Steve squeezes his hand and leads him onwards, “I always wanted to share it with you.” He pauses, “That sounds weird, doesn’t it? Like this is my woods, even though it’s your backyard.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head gently, “My closest connection to nature is the bench I deal at. I like the idea of it all in theory, but I usually end up with my pants full of ants and bitten to all hell by mosquitoes. I’ve also been known to trip on air, so a woodland ground littered with sticks and rocks is bound to take me down eventually.”

Steve laughs, pulling a vibrant green leaf off a birch tree to fiddle with it in his free hand. “Like the time you rammed nose first into the gym wall?”

Eddie gapes. “You saw that? No one saw that.”

“It was a bit hard to miss, Eddie,” Steve says wryly. “You had bright red blood streaming down your face. To be honest, I was going to offer to take you to the nurse’s office, but you ran out so fast that I left you to it.

A blush of embarrassment spreads across his face, “So everyone saw that.”

Steve draws Eddie to a stop, brushing a knuckle down his hot cheeks, “No, I’m pretty sure that I was the only one looking.”

Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, finding affection and a touch of heat that causes the back of his neck to prickle. “Yeah, like something you see?”

Steve steps forward, which makes Eddie inexplicably feel the need to move back. He retreats a fraction and Steve’s eyes narrow. “Eddie,” he says prowling closer and Eddie backs away with a larger movement.

“Yeah, Steve?” Eddie asks breathlessly, feeling his body tense, muscles almost quivering with the tension filling them.

“You have ten seconds,” Steve says deeply, his words a rumble Eddie can almost feel in his chest. Electric tension crackles in the air, sparking the pounding of Eddie’s heartbeat, each thud growing louder, faster, and more insistent. He stands frozen in the mounting pressure until Steve starts to count.

“Nine, eight…”

The dam breaks and Eddie darts away, the tall trees that surround them blurring as a surge of adrenalin propels his legs across the ground with reckless speed. He can’t hear anything over the pulse pounding in his head, but he imagines the heavy tread of Steve’s steps behind him, a powerful thumping that matches the heat in his blood.

Steve’s breath pants into Eddie’s hair making Eddies fingers and toes curl, “Got you.”

The thrill of pursuit fizzes through him, filling Eddie with a radiant exultation, laughter breathlessly spilling from his open mouth. His flight is dizzying anticipation and playful freedom.

Just as Eddie giddily thinks that perhaps he is too fast, even for Steve, he is tackled from behind; Steve wrapping a quick arm around his middle, the strong band redirecting his flight forward to spin him around in mid-air and back down onto the ground again.

Eddie wiggles like he’s trying to get away, causing Steve to laugh breathlessly. “None of that,” he commands, spinning Eddie to back him up against a broad tree trunk. Strands of Steve’s bronze hair has fallen over his face, his cheeks ruddy with exertion, and excitement high in his expression. Eddie wants to lick him all over.

“You still trying to get away from me, huh?” Steve says, voice dropping to gravel as he runs his eyes over Eddie’s panting mouth and heaving chest.

“Why? Worried you can’t catch me?” Eddie lightly taunts.

Steve’s eyes turn dark, the hint of heat in his gaze flickering higher, reaching the heights of wildfire. Eddie shivers in the thrill of prey tempting predator that crackles through his body. The tension only twists tighter as Steve leans in with slow deliberation, he draws the tip of his strong nose firmly across Eddie’s cheek, his breath hot in Eddie’s ear, “I think I’d always be able to find you, Eddie. No matter where you are.”

[communist-ojou-sama]

1

Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black

faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-

fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,

cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare

across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know

their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,

they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;

they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.

I have at one time or another been in love with my mother,

1 grandmother, 2 sisters, 2 aunts (1 went to the asylum),

and 5 cousins. I am now in love with a 7-yr-old niece

(she sends me letters in large block print, and

her picture is the only one that smiles at me).

I have the same name as 1 grandfather, 3 cousins, 3 nephews,

and 1 uncle. The uncle disappeared when he was 15, just took

off and caught a freight (they say). He's discussed each year

when the family has a reunion, he causes uneasiness in

the clan, he is an empty space. My father's mother, who is 93

and who keeps the Family Bible with everbody's birth dates

(and death dates) in it, always mentions him. There is no

place in her Bible for "whereabouts unknown."

 

2

Each fall the graves of my grandfathers call me, the brown

hills and red gullies of mississippi send out their electric

messages, galvanizing my genes. Last yr/like a salmon quitting

the cold ocean-leaping and bucking up his birth stream/I

hitchhiked my way from LA with 16 caps in my pocket and a

monkey on my back. And I almost kicked it with the kinfolks.

I walked barefooted in my grandmother's backyard/I smelled the old

land and the woods/I sipped cornwhiskey from fruit jars with the men/

I flirted with the women/I had a ball till the caps ran out

and my habit came down. That night I looked at my grandmother

and split/my guts were screaming for junk/but I was almost

contented/I had almost caught up with me.

(The next day in Memphis I cracked a croaker's crib for a fix.)

This yr there is a gray stone wall damming my stream, and when

the falling leaves stir my genes, I pace my cell or flop on my bunk

and stare at 47 black faces across the space. I am all of them,

they are all of me, I am me, they are thee, and I have no children

to float in the space between.

[jellogram]

Three moments that stick in my brain and I can't explain why

One time my old boyfriend and I drove up to San Francisco to meet our friends for New Year's Eve and we got to downtown to watch the sunset around 5pm which meant we had seven hours to kill but everything was closed for the holidays. So we just wandered around in circles in downtown San Francisco and it felt endless, it felt like midnight was never gonna come and I just couldn't wait any longer and wanted to kick the current year out the door, but after an eternity of dark city streets, midnight finally comes and we ring in the New Year in a massive crowd of people, all shoulder to shoulder with thousands of cheering strangers, and we celebrate the arrival of 2020.

Now I'm in Alaska a few years later and it's September so the last of the salmon are swimming upstream and I crossed a bridge over this one little inlet in the creek that had a falls at such an odd angle that the salmon couldn't get up it. I watched while they sped up the stream, tried to leap over the falls, and beached themselves on the creek bed over and over. And I thought, "There's water right behind them. They could just turn around and go back into the bay," but of course they didn't, they didn't know anything but blind instinct. So they just flopped onto the shore one right after the other for no real reason besides their own inability to turn back.

In this one I'm only five years old so I don't remember it as well. My grandpa and dad and older brother are all building a shed in my backyard. My brother can't help much, being only eight, so my dad gives him a hammer and some nails and a block of wood and my brother starts hammering the nails into the block as practice. I ask for a turn and I get my hands on this piece of wood while my brother goes off to help our dad and I start trying to hammer in the nails just like my brother. But I can't do it. The nails won't go in. I look at the nails that he hammered into the wood, but I can't get mine to work. I start crying and my dad comes over and asks why I'm crying and I try to explain it but he doesn't understand.

[firstclasswithharlow]

When it started

Amina was a smart and adventurous girl who loved to explore the world around her. She met two boys, Urban and Jack when they were all seven years old. The three of them quickly became best friends, spending all their free time together. As they grew up together, they remained inseparable. They went on countless adventures, from exploring the woods to building forts in the backyard. They shared everything with each other, from their deepest secrets to their favorite snacks. One day, as they were walking home from school, Jack pulled Urban aside and whispered something in his ear. Amina couldn't hear what he said, but she noticed that Urban's face turned red. They both looked at Amina and started giggling. "What's so funny?" Amina asked, feeling left out. Jack nudged Urban, and he finally spoke up. "Jack just told me that he likes you, Amina ." Amina  was taken aback. She had never thought of Jack in that way, but she couldn't deny that she felt something for him too. Over the next few weeks, Jack and Amina started to spend more time together. They would hold hands on their walks home from school, and Jack would always save her a seat at lunch. Urban was happy for his friends and supported their relationship. However, not everyone was as supportive. Some people in their school started to talk about Amina, saying that she was not good enough for Jack. Y/n tried to ignore the rumors, but they started to wear her down. One day, Amina overheard Jack and Urban talking about her. Jack was defending her, saying that he didn't care what other people thought. But Urban was hesitant, saying that they didn't want to ruin their friendship over a girl. Amina was heartbroken. She couldn't believe that her best friend was considering ending their friendship over her. She decided to talk to Urban about it. "I don't want to come between you and Jack," Amina said, tears streaming down her face. "But I don't want to lose my best friend either." Urban looked at her with a sad expression. "I don't want to lose you either, Amina. But I can't control what other people say. I just want us to be happy." In the end, Amina and Jack decide to keep their relationship a secret from their classmates. They knew that their friendship was more important than what other people thought. And as they grew up together, they remained best friends, sharing their joys and sorrows, and always supporting each other through thick and thin.

[on-noon]

The Forest Has Something New

for @flashfictionfridayofficial

[#FFF197 An Eternal Summer]

On first Monday of September, my friend's father took us stargazing. As I lay in the field, I turned to June.

I said, "This summer has been perfect. I wish it never ended."

"Look, a shooting star," June's dad said.

Once we started yawning, we drove back into the suburb where we live.

I woke up the next morning, my room bright from the sun. I went upstairs for breakfast. Kyle was at the table.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" I said, "Hey, where's the pop tarts?"

"We don't have pop tarts. We never have pop tarts. And school ended yesterday, remember?" Kyle said.

"Your school starts today. I don't have to go because I'm not a freshman, though."

After looking at my phone and looking around the house, I realized Kyle was right. School ended yesterday, it was the first day of summer. Somehow I traveled back in time.

The next day, I went to a start-of-summer pool party.

I hadn't seen most of my friends there for the whole summer, since this same pool party, and it was nice talking with them.

I got some drawing done, something I felt I missed out on doing last time I went through this summer.

When July came round, I went on the family vacation to the Grand Canyon again. I had forgotten how hot it was.

I started missing school around then, but only barely.

Come August, I worked the same job at the State Fair again. It was nice knowing what to do, not messing up people's orders when there was a line twenty people long and growing.

And then on Labor Day, June's dad took us out stargazing again. We didn't see a shooting star, though.

The next morning, I checked the date. It was June 8th. Again.

Again I went to the pool party.

I wandered through the woods, where I wouldn't have to worry about accidentally knowing someone I hadn't met.

I still worked at the State Fair, just a different job. It felt less stressful, I knew how to work a job now, but I couldn't predict most of what would happen.

And then stargazing, and back to the beginning of summer.

I skipped the pool party, faked sick.

Every day, I'd go out into the forest, sometimes taking my sketchbook and drawing the animals. I liked seeing the forest change day by day.

When we went to the Grand Canyon, I miss the forest in my backyard, I wonder what's happening there.

I don't work that summer, I just hang out in the forest.

As summer after summer repeats, I explore more and more of that forest.

I feel like I'm faking whenever I talk with my family, pretending to be the person I was ages ago.

Once I told them I was repeating summers, predicted everything that would happen. But it's just easier to pretend everything's normal. I have lots of practice.

Sometimes a get a job, a new one to give me more novelty, but I always feel odd. I shouldn't be this used to working at 16.

I shouldn't know the forest this well either, but no-one can see how much I know of the forest over this summer. How I know every deer, squirrel, and bird. I know where all the nests and dens are, I know every type of bug. I know every stream and every tree.

But still I venture out there, see what this ant colony does on that day, or where that bird flies to this day.

The forest always has something new to find out, even in an eternal summer.