#Old World Brewery

[grombrindal-returns]

What if?

[djpain619]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Progress on Anker Brüggards/Jörgan Brüggardson (and Boris Bagger)

I redid the flesh tones on Boris, as well as his Eyes. I repainted his natural eye and touched up the leadbelcher on his eyepatch goggle. I think I'm ready to call him done. I just need to do his square base.

I painted the jumpsuit, gloves, and eyes Evil Sunz Scarlett and slapped Hashut Copper on some details. Painted the collar White Scar.

I painted the porthole black in preparation of my most ambitious project yet; painting a tiny picture of swirling beer.

What I'm going for:

[Just the porthole]

As for the name, Anker Brüggards is the one that Establishes the Aleniheim Brewery during the time of The Old World, Jörgan Brüggardson is his Heir that runs the Brewery and coaches the Team during the current era of BLOOD BOWL.

During the time of The Old World Boris Bagger is a young and accomplished Mercenary Captain hired by Anker Brüggards to be his Chief of Security. During the current era of BLOOD BOWL, Boris is the Old Grizzled CEO and Commander in Cheif of the renowned Grogstout Arsenal.

[xtruss]

A Lager Darkly — In Search of Culmbacher, One of America’s Great, Extinct Beers

— Words By Michael Stein | Illustrations By Colette Holston | Published: March 17, 2021

A recipe for Culmbacher lives on in archival perpetuity in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C. Introduced to American drinkers in the second half of the 19th century, the Lager style was born in Kulmbach, Germany before it found a receptive audience overseas. As its popularity increased in the ensuing decades, scores of breweries started making it, from New York to California.

According to source material, the original, Old World Kulmbacher was a dark beer. It had a pronounced malt flavor and a sweetish taste. For American brewers, it had Bavarian characteristics, in that it was brewed along the lines of a Bavarian Lager, with a strong starting gravity. Perhaps the greatest variation between the German original and the American adaptation is that U.S.-made Culmbacher was sometimes brewed to be a near beer—that is, high in extract and low in alcohol.

Borrowing a page from Germany, American brewers sold copious quantities of kegs to the beer-drinking public in biergartens adjacent to their breweries, or elsewhere across town. In Washington, D.C., where the historic Washington Brewery Company once produced large volumes of the style, numerous biergartens were run by German immigrants. Another was run by a Frenchman who, every July 14, staged a reenactment of the storming of the Bastille. And down by the docks, where there is still a seafood market today, customers would crush foaming seidels as they cracked hard-shelled Chesapeake crabs.

But for all the ways that Culmbacher reflected the push-and-pull of German-American beer culture and identity, the style was not to last. Ultimately, the nativism and xenophobic sentiment that sprung up around World War I meant that German beer traditions began to fall out of favor. Later, the hope that Culmbacher would weather Prohibition was a fanciful one, as most breweries that produced it ultimately closed. Today there is little trace of the style, beyond the recipe for “Kulmbacher” (it was spelled with a “C” in some places, and in others with a “K”) that remains in the National Museum of American History’s archives, on a single, typewritten page.

Still, discovering this trace—knowing that a shadow of this beer existed, even in obscurity—convinced me that Culmbacher could, and deserved to be, revived. When I read the recipe for the extinct near beer, I knew then, there in the archives in 2016, that I had to convince a brewer to help me recreate it.

Two Countries, Two Recipes

As early as 1831, Kulmbach began exporting beer to Saxony and other parts of Germany. Around 1863 and 1864, Kulmbach was exporting as much as 96,000 hectoliters of beer—or over 81,000 barrels. In 1868, the U.S. and Australia were listed as export markets. By 1896, Kulmbach was producing 600,000 hectoliters of Kulmbacher, or over half a million BBLs.

Beer historian Ron Pattinson has, in his collection, an 1879 Kulmbacher Export recipe made with two German malts, Munich and Carafa. The German recipe yielded a beer at 6.2% alcohol by volume, which was typical: In the 1880s, analysis of the Bavarian export showed it ranged from 5.2% to 6.6% ABV. (Once it arrived in the U.S., the style diminished in strength in many cases—Milwaukee’s Blatz Brewing Company, for instance, brewed a Culmbacher at 4.75% ABV.)

There are still many mysteries surrounding Kulmbach’s eponymous style, including its spelling. To begin: Is “Culmbacher” just an anglicized version of its name?

“I would have said ‘Culmbacher’ was an anglicized version, except I’ve seen a Heineken version with that spelling,” Pattinson says. “Which leaves me wondering where the hell it came from.”

“Beers were named after their hometown but they came to be brands and styles brewed elsewhere as well,” says Mark Dredge, author of A Brief History of Lager. “I don’t know why the ‘K’ or the ‘C’ in the spelling. Perhaps it was due to not wanting trademark infringements, as there were plenty at the end of the 1800s.” As an example, he notes the seemingly small but important differences between “Pils” and “Pilsener”: “Heineken was one of the first to add the extra ‘e’ in Pilsner, so maybe that’s why they had a ‘Culmbacher,’” he says. The difference between Dutch “Bok” and German “Bock” is another form of this discrepancy.

Further complicating our understanding of Kulmbacher is the fact that it could be brewed as a very low-alcohol near beer. In the 1920s, Pabst’s Kulmbacher contained less than .5% ABV. As for the recipe I found in the Smithsonian’s archives, which was donated by Walter Voigt—the son of German immigrants who was born in 1906, and who was a member of the Master Brewers Association of the Americas—the piece of paper reads in all capitals: “Malt to be used for various types of near beer.”

Voigt’s Kulmbacher recipe contains four malts: high-dried, pale, caramel, and black. Missing from the recipe are hops, corn, and yeast. As Pattinson puts it, the recipe “looks to have been adapted to U.S. malts. You wouldn’t see high-dried in Germany. The equivalent would be Munich malt.” He goes on to speculate that it “could also be that they had added different malts to give the near beer more body. Body might well be the reason for skipping the adjuncts, too.”

Dark Lager's Bright Rise

In Bavaria in 1863, master glassmaker Simon Hering began brewing on a large scale. His brewery, Export-Bier-Brauerei Simon Hering, started exporting beer to the United States in 1864, during the Civil War.

Hering was the first German brewer I could find who exported Kulmbacher to the U.S. However, there seemed to be earlier awareness of the style: In a German-language newspaper in the Library of Congress, an 1861 article published in Minnesota states that Benzberg’s Dampfbrauerei made Lager in St. Paul, and that it was as good as Culmbacher or Nürnberger.

“Eventually, as the years wore on, the U.S. began to import less Lager in favor of brewing it at home. That change happened gradually, as German-American brewers began to produce their own versions of traditional styles. ”

It was becoming common in the mid 19th century for exported German Lager to be bottled and sold stateside. Such beer wouldn’t have made the trip to America without demand. The largest contingent of immigrants in the Union army were German soldiers. Kulmbacher appealed to those immigrants as a product they could buy from the old country, in the new one.

Eventually, as the years wore on, the U.S. began to import less Lager in favor of brewing it at home. That change happened gradually, as German-American brewers began to produce their own versions of traditional styles.

In 1875, a saloon owner in Wheeling, West Virginia began his Lager beer-bottling business, and would deliver pints and quarts throughout the city. The same dealer advertised Kulmbacher in 1880. In 1889, a Pittsburgh brewer manufactured Culmbacher and Vienna Lagers for city use. And in 1889, the Washington Brewery Company sold more Lager in D.C. than all breweries currently operating in the District today: 36,000 BBLs of beer in 1889, versus a combined 35,857 BBLs from 12 breweries in 2019. By 1900, the Washington Brewery Company boasted that its Culmbacher equaled the finest imported beer. This would become a common claim for American brewers who wished to convince the beer-buying public that their product was just as good as, if not better than, German imports.

As domestic Lager proliferated at the turn of the 20th century, American breweries made dark beers from coast to coast. In its heyday, Culmbacher was brewed everywhere from New York City and Washington, D.C. to Milwaukee and San Jose. By 1909, Kulmbacher and Pilsner were even available at the Criterion Hotel in Honolulu, Hawaii. The beer was likely the imported article, though Honolulu did have its own brewery in 1909, making Pale Lager in the German style.

Today, former Culmbacher producers like Pabst and Blatz are better known than their historical competition. But in addition to businesses like the Washington Brewery Company, little-known breweries like the Fredericksburg Brewery in San Jose and the Lion Brewery in New York City also manufactured Culmbacher.

For Relaxing Times

In the early days of Culmbacher’s spread, the style was advertised mostly on draft. If you wanted it in Los Angeles in 1884, it would cost you five cents a glass for the Kulmbacher Lager brewed by the Fredericksburg Brewery, which could be quaffed at both Jake Phillipi’s Buena Vista or the Grand Central Hotel saloon.

The later transition from the saloon to the biergarten likely allowed brewers to sell more beer. In many cases, it benefited drinkers, too. At the Washington Brewery Company, for instance, the brewery’s biergarten was right next to the brewery. The Culmbacher manufactured, cellared, and eventually sold on draft there never traveled more than a hundred yards.

The concept of drinking for pleasure, rather than intoxication, is commonly credited to the influence of German beer culture. And if it was American to have drinking in saloons limited to men, it was German to have women drinking in biergartens. In 1885 in D.C., one saloon—Kozel’s Saloon on 14th Street—expanded to the back of a lot and took over a second floor. The second floor became a special room for women patrons.

Even if American societal norms frowned on women drinking Culmbacher in public, a case of beer for home use could be delivered in unmarked wagons, lest your neighbor judge. Washington Brewery Company encouraged consumers to “keep your ice box well supplied” with Culmbacher, which was also sold in 24-pint or 12-quart bottles. By the end of the 19th century, the brewery was marketing directly to women: Its beer was pure. It was as good as the imported article. It had double strength. And it was the best of all tonics. In fact, it was unsurpassed as a tonic. Alongside claims that it was calming to a woman’s nerves and stimulating to her appetite, depictions of women drinkers were featured in its ads.

“Double strength” here implies an alcoholic beer, at a time when we know some Lagers were 3% ABV and that the export beer coming out of Kulmbach was 6% ABV. While the Washington Brewery Company’s Culmbacher might not have had the same recipe as the Kulmbacher in the National Museum of American History’s archives, there is no doubt it was advertised to the public as “heavy in body.”

According to Truth, a London periodical in 1889, “American lager beer breweries possess great advantages over others, as thin light beer is the national drink of the United States, and suitable to the climate.” While thin light beer may have been the national drink, it had competition in the rich, potent Dark Lager sold across the country.

Several breweries that made Culmbacher, in addition to other Lager styles, were successful enough that they made attractive entities for acquisition. In 1889, the owner of the Washington Brewery Company was paid $400,000 for his brewery—over $11 million in today’s money. Similarly, in 1891, Valentin Blatz Brewing Company in Milwaukee sold for $3 million to a London investment group, or for between $80 and $90 million today. And while there’s no proof that these breweries were bought directly because of their Culmbacher production, they were able to build their reputations—and their fortunes—off the back of such Lager styles.

By Prohibition, an irrevocable transition had occurred from Kulmbacher as an import, bottled stateside, to Culmbacher, a domestically brewed beer. In the course of five decades, the recipe had also changed: The beer had gone from a strong Bavarian beer brewed with German malt, to, in some cases, a non-alcoholic near beer brewed with American-grown barley.

While the Washington Brewery Company went out of business in 1917, it is noteworthy that Blatz brewed the style even after Prohibition’s repeal. Blatz’s Kulmbacher won silver at the first-ever judged Great American Beer Festival in 1987, in the American Lagers category. At the time, the brewery was owned by G. Heileman Brewing Co. of La Crosse, Wisconsin.

Evil, Traitors, Spirs

Lagers remain America’s most popular beers today. But there was a point in time when temperance advocates and anti-immigration backers viewed them as too German.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Germans still made up the largest ethnic group among immigrants to the United States, as they had done throughout the 19th century. Between 1820 and World War I, nearly 6 million Germans arrived in the United States.

“‘They [Germans] changed America, notably its own beer-drinking culture, and America changed them right back. Naturally that led to some friction ranging from friendly to violent. And for all their ‘palatability’ to white, Anglo-American sensibilities, they could never seem to fully shake nativist animus either. Anti-German xenophobia during World War I showed that.’” — Brian Alberts, Historian

“They [Germans] changed America, notably its own beer-drinking culture, and America changed them right back,” says historian Brian Alberts. “Naturally that led to some friction ranging from friendly to violent. And for all their ‘palatability’ to white, Anglo-American sensibilities, they could never seem to fully shake nativist animus either. Anti-German xenophobia during World War I showed that.”

Anti-German sentiments flared leading up to World War I. From 1850 to 1870, Germans largely gained acceptance from white Americans. But, Alberts says, Germans “were the ‘other’ in a predominately Anglo-American society because [they thought] their neighborhoods stunk of sausage and Limburger cheese, and they let the Lager beer pour every Sunday.”

According to Alberts, Sunday festivities, parades, and biergarten picnics “seemed sacrilegious to some.” These modern aspects of German-American beer culture were regularly celebrated, but the xenophobia associated with bringing your family to the biergarten was often glossed over.

During World War I, that xenophobia extended to food and drink. Sauerkraut was rebranded as “liberty cabbage,” and hamburgers became Salisbury steak. Symphonies were banned from performing Beethoven. Teaching German was struck from many curriculums and angry mobs attacked German-American citizens. Violence resulted in beatings, or even murder.

In 1917, the Trading With the Enemy Act legalized seizing citizens’ businesses and livelihoods. New York brewer George Ehret’s mansion and brewery were both seized. At the time, his Hell Gate Brewery was the biggest in New York City. His estate, property, and possessions, worth $40 million, were all taken.

I asked Maureen Ogle, historian and author of Ambitious Brew: The Story of American Beer, which had had a bigger impact on German-Americans’ lives—the state-sanctioned xenophobia or the daily harassments they experienced. “Probably the state-sanctioned attacks, because those, in effect, gave regular folks ‘permission’ to act violently towards German-Americans,” she says. “Certainly the news, national, that the AG [attorney general] had gone after brewers’ property affirmed a belief that German-Americans were evil, traitors, spies, etc. Never mind that they were American citizens.”

Even citizenship could not save German-Americans from having their property seized, being beaten, or in the case of at least one man, being hung. Robert Prager was a German immigrant who was lynched in Collinsville, Illinois in 1918. Prager had been a mine worker, but was denied membership in the United Mine Workers of America. The dispute ultimately led to his death at the hands of an angry mob of hundreds. The marauders made Prager kiss the American flag and sing patriotic songs before ultimately taking his life. There were no convictions in Prager’s murder, and the 12 men indicted walked away from the trial.

Of course, angry mobs have used terrorism, and lynching, for centuries in America, with Black people making up the vast majority of the victims. Multiple anti-lynching bills have passed the House and the Senate, but never at the same time. The Dyer Anti-Lynching Bill, first introduced in 1918, passed the House of Representatives in 1922. And while the first anti-lynching bill was introduced in Congress in 1900, still to this day no bill has been passed by both houses and signed.

The Comeback of Culmbacher

It’s tricky to pinpoint why Culmbacher was lost to history. In the U.S., multiple factors led to its decline, while according to Pattinson, Kulmbacher isn’t even brewed in Kulmbach today. Other traditional German styles can be found in breweries in Kulmbach, he says, but “no one really brews a beer in what I would call the ‘Kulmbacher style’—something that’s 16 degrees Plato, virtually black, and loads and loads of hops in it.”

Perhaps that’s why, when I saw that typewritten recipe in the museum archive, I knew I had to at least attempt to bring it back. So I reached out to the master brewer who helped me take my first homebrew recipe commercial in 2012: Favio Garcia, the director of brewing operations at Dynasty Brewing Company in Ashburn, Virginia.

“‘Certainly the news, national, that the AG [attorney general] had gone after brewers’ property affirmed a belief that German-Americans were evil, traitors, spies, etc. Never mind that they were American citizens.’” — Maureen Ogle, Historian

Garcia first brewed a Kulmbacher in 2016, sticking entirely to the historical malt bill outlined in the Smithsonian’s archives. Its requirements were 11 lbs of high-dried malt, 33 lbs of pale malt, 3 lbs of caramel malt, and 1 lb of black malt. In 2016, this was translated to 11 lbs of Vienna malt, 33 lbs of pale malt, 3 lbs of Caramunich malt, and 1 lb of Carafa Special 3. We hopped it with the American Empire hop, which originated in Sweden but whose new stock was propagated on a farm on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

The resulting beer was historically accurate with its malt proportions, but it wasn’t dark, and it wasn’t the immaculate beer Garcia is renowned for. The 2-BBL batch had a bitterness that clashed with the black and caramel malts; the resulting beer came across as a dry Lager. It was not the full-bodied, sweetish, rich Bavarian beer described in the source material.

In 2020, Garcia returned to the recipe. In addition to a mild tweaking of the recipe from the archives, Garcia also came armed with more primary research conducted by Ron Pattinson. He employed a decoction mash with two steps, and used German and Czech hops instead of American.

Garcia also selected Virginia malt from Murphy & Rude Malting Company. In the mash tun, Pilsner and crystal malts mingled with Vienna malt, made from a 2-row variety of barley called Calypso. It was grown on the Brann & King Farms in Christiansburg, Virginia. Later, he added black malt to color the wort. In the end, Garcia used 660 lbs of Pilsner malt, 300 lbs of Vienna malt, 50 pounds of crystal 40, and 50 pounds of Carafa Special 3.

Where the first batch of Garcia’s Kulmbacher was pale brown, the new iteration looked like a Stout. There was an unmistakable German and Czech hop character to the beer, and it had a perceived sweetness on the first sip, followed by a subtle bitterness and a pleasing dryness on the finish. It was a wonderful expression of fresh malt, and featured a deep bready character that was somehow sweet, full, dry, and very digestible all at once. At 6.2% ABV, it was stronger than most of the Lagers Garcia brews.

The beer, Love Vigilantes, is named after the New Order song. It was a three-part collaboration beer with Dynasty; Dulles, Virginia’s Ocelot Brewing Company; and my beverage research firm, Lost Lagers. My greater goal with the beer is to bring back something stuck in beer history that deserves a place in the beer world today.

My bias is shaped by my father, who came to New York City as a refugee from war-torn Prague. When he came, he only had his mother. His father, a Jewish concentration-camp survivor, couldn’t get a visa. So Petr Stein became Peter Stein, and a boy who lived in a room the size of a closet with his mother wound up becoming a doctor of sociology, a published author, and the director of a graduate sociology program featuring Holocaust and genocide studies. My grandfather experienced the loss of his family in death camps while he survived his interment in the Theresienstadt concentration camp. But he had his life, and his wife and son had visas, and eventually they were reunited in New York.

In spaces where we have the ability to ask hard questions, be it about beer or what we believe to be right or wrong in terms of immigration, we, humans, have endless opportunities to improve ourselves.

“Kulmbacher” on paper in the archives, as it sat for the better part of a century, was made better with its second modern brewing. And its story cannot be told without acknowledging its origins, and the people who made and shaped the style as it evolved. I hope we can all find our own time-lost Kulmbacher—that we can discover and revive vestiges from the past that still speak to, and make sense of, the world today.

— Michael Stein is President of Lost Lagers, Washington, DC’s premier beverage research firm. His historic beers have been served at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History and the Polish Ambassador’s residence. Senior Staff Writer at DCBeer, his work appears in Washington City Paper, Brewery History Journal, and CIDERCRAFT Magazine.

— Source Material: Delving into the archives, digging up artifacts, and finding voices in the dark, this series illuminates old traditions that we're still part of today (whether we know it or not). Beer's past shapes its present and future. Follow along as these historians and writers take us back to the source.

— GoodBeerHunting.Com | September 10, 2023

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling past my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and bringing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was up to no good without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, stepping closer to his body. My hands reaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly closing the gap between us. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“I belong to you….no one else.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I’ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it.


“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want you.”

“That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”

Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

[ts1depot]

San Marina Has Been Officially Released!

The long wait is over! San Marina, the WIP that was delayed over the summer, is finally available for download!

Quick Rundown:

212 Lots!

10 districts

Heavily populated, with bios and town lore!

Celebrity sims who might look familiar to TV and movie fans!

Needs everything =except= Into the Future and Supernatural

Only CC is Riverview, the free world from The Sims 3 store.

A homeless challenge

And much, much more!

Links to and description of the world@ The Sims Depot

Edited to Add (10-25-24)

There are two lots that have minor errors. New versions have been uploaded. They are The Poseidon Community Center and The Old Tyme Brewery Inc. Click on the links to download at The Sims 3 Exchange. More information about this at The Sims Depot.com.

Watch Bike Video Tour Below!

[waynes-multiverse]

The Exit Strategy – Part 4

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, some angst & feels, family secrets, spy stuff, a bit of spiciness

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome back, friends! We're diving a bit into Shaw family secrets this week – fully Wayne's version, though. While I did read the books, there's no major spoilers**, so don't you worry. I just played with an idea here 🤓 I also won't be fully diving into the Shaw family life, but some things are heavily hinted to be... fishy here 👀 Enjoy & let me know what you think! 🤍

**There's a small part where Russell tells Colter about their parents. It's mentioned in the books that their mother was a psychiatrist. I took that and ran with it 🤷‍♀️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 4: This Is Not an Exit

“You’ve been walking down memory lane a lot tonight,” you teased with a nudge of his ribs, still tightly cuddled in his warm embrace in the freezing basement.

“Haven’t you?”

“No, I have,” you admitted with a melancholic sigh. “Maybe we should stop dwelling on the past so much. Think more about the future…”

Russell scoffed a small chuckle. “Dory said something similar not that long ago. Actually the reason why I came here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his fingers absently drawing circles on your arm. “I think it’s time we retire, sweetheart. I mean, after everything we’ve been through, I think we deserve to, right? You know, sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I’m surprised we’re even still here, considering how many war zones we’ve been in.”

“Well, you know what they say – beware the old soldier because he’s old for a reason,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, think I might be getting a little too old…” Russell chucked lightly, running a hand through his long hair. “So? What d’you think? One last hurrah, and then we hang this up? I was thinking maybe we could open up a brewery, you know? A family place. Bet the kids would love it.”

“Sounds nice,” you said with a yearning smile. You wanted all of that and more. “I’d love to retire with you.”

“But?”

You laughed slightly at his anticipating look. “But I don’t think you can yet.��

His eyebrows drew together till they met above the bridge of his freckled nose. “What d’you mean? I just told you I’m ready.”

“You say you are, but you aren’t,” you replied like the annoying Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Have you solved the murder yet?”

Russell licked his lips, which was his telltale sign that you caught him there. After all, you knew him better than anyone in this world – knowing when he needed to be pushed and shoved was part of it.

“No, but I don’t need to anymore. Look, the only reason I wanted to solve it was because I thought I had to prove my innocence to Colter. And well, turns out I didn’t. He believed me anyways, so…”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” you reminded him with a scrutinizing look.

“Maybe, but like I said – Dory thinks we should keep all this bullshit in the past, and after the last three years, I’m starting to agree with her,” Russell said, dragging a hand over his face.

“Look, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s what I want,” he assured you and placed a hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Having my little brother and sister back is enough. I don’t need more. Nothing good ever comes from being greedy.”

You nodded in understanding, clearing your throat. “Still, in the name of our deal to always be honest, I kinda have to confess something.”

Rising from your seat, you dusted off your awful, flowery skirt and wandered to the wall safe once more, retrieving a thick folder from it. You took your place next to Russell again, his questioning eyes meeting yours as you handed him your research.

“When you didn’t come back after a year or so, I started looking into it as well. Might have done a full deep-dive,” you admitted with a bite of your lip.

Russell shot you a chiding look, shaking his head, but most of all, he was worried. “I told you to leave it alone. You don’t know what sorta people we’re dealing with here, but we do know they’re dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Figured I could speed it along. I do have more access than you,” you countered softly. “I’m sorry, okay? But I was careful. I promise.”

“Good,” he said and looked at you, interlacing your fingers with his. “‘Cause the last thing I want is losing you over this bullshit, too.”

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “There’s something you should know, though.” He raised his brow anew – you’d always been full of surprises. Life certainly had never been boring. “Someone accessed the files after me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Definitely had a higher clearance than me, though,” you replied.

Russell threw his arms up, and you could see he was getting more upset again. “See? This is what I’m talking about! The whole point of us separating was to keep you and the kids away from it. Otherwise, we could’ve just stayed together, and I could’ve joined Horizon anyways.”

“I know that, too,” you said remorsefully. “But don’t worry. I wasn’t followed, and no one ever came after me. I made sure of it. It’s been two years now. They probably figured it was nothing after I didn’t reach out to you straight away.”

“Still… I don’t want you involved, alright?”

“What about Colter? Doesn’t he want to know? He doesn’t strike me as someone who just lets things go,” you noted observantly.

Russell clicked his tongue – a sign of defeat. “He isn’t, but he’s not gonna find anything either. I mean, the only reason I know is because you were so relentless and kept digging.”

“You haven’t told him what we found out?”

Russell licked his lips and admitted quietly, “No. I don’t think it does anyone any good to keep looking into this.”

Leaning forward and hugging your knees, your head bobbed pensively. “I thought you guys talked about what happened?”

“We did. Kinda… It’s complicated,” he stated, swallowing. “Dory was easy, you know? I guess she never really believed it… But it took a while till Colter even picked up the phone, let alone answered a goddamn text message. Had to get a little annoying.”

You smirked. “Well, you’re good at that. That’s how you won me over.”

“By being persistent?”

“Exactly. Like a tardigrade.” You grinned. “I mean, you kind of are doing it now again, too.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Is that why you haven’t told him about me and the kids? Because you’re not sure about him yet?”

“Partially, yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I wanted to protect you. And maybe myself a little, too… Not sure I’m ready for those two worlds to meet yet, you know? I mean, you and the kids are the best things that ever happened to me, and when I look at Colter or Dory, I’m sometimes reminded of the worst things in my life.”

“What about your mother?”

Russell let out an exhaustive sigh that was half amused. “Geez, you haven’t changed a bit. You still ask the most uncomfortable questions possible.”

You laughed a little. “Gathering intelligence in uncomfortable ways is kind of my job, Shaw.”

“Yup, and no one’s better at it than you, sweetheart,” Russell quipped.

“So I’m guessing it’s a no on Mommie Dearest?”

Russell licked his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna see her. Mostly because I don’t even know what to fucking say anymore,” he said. “I don’t want her to meet the kids either.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him and took his hand in yours. “It’s your choice, Russ. We go at your pace, alright?”

“Thank you.” Russell brought your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand before he looked at you deeply, a smile dancing across his plump lips. “I love you.”

You mirrored his smile, your heart fluttering like a wild butterfly in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll tell them – Dory and Colter. I want this to work,” he promised. “Just… after we finish this. I want him to have a clear head. I prefer not to get him killed, you know?”

“I get it. I thought the same thing when I first met you, too,” you joked, patting his chest. “But you brought him into this. It’s kinda on you.”

Russell scratched his bearded chin. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know what I’d bring him into.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

Amused, Russell bobbed his head. “Yeah, maybe I did,” he acknowledged. “You know, when Manny called me–”

Your eyes widened. “Manny called you?”

Russell blinked at you, brow creased in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“That motherfucker…”

Furiously, you stomped to the desk and grabbed the radio. “Drone-5. This is Queen Bee-1. Report to Hive.”

The static of the radio cracked almost instantly, as if the idiot had been waiting all night for this call. “Yo, Queen Bee-1. How’s my boy?” Manny’s laugh echoed through the basement.

Russell’s glowing cheeks reached his eyes when he heard his friend’s voice. He’d known the guy almost as long as Doug.

“You’re the one who fucking told him?!” you yelled into the radio, almost crushing the device in your hand.

“To be fair, I told him not to engage with tango,” Manny sheepishly replied.

“Ha-ha, funny. Fuck you,” you huffed and tossed Russ the walkie-talkie. He caught it with one hand.

His boyish grin widened as he pushed the button. “You know, Drone-5, you could’ve told me you were actually working this thing.”

“Aw, you know I can’t do that. But I guess congrats on crashing another operation. You’re Worker Bee-3 now. Old habits die hard, huh?” Manny chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess…” Russell replied with a lighthearted chuckle, but his teeth tugged pensively at his lips.

“Great to have you back, brother. Hope this works out for you. See you on the other side, man. Oh, and could you move like three feet to the left and turn the washer off? We can barely hear and see you guys, and Drone-2 just ran out to grab popco–”

“No, absolutely not. Out,” you snapped as you grabbed the radio from Russ. He laughed as you put it furiously back on the desk. You knew what you had signed up for, but you still deserved some privacy. Annoyed, you took off your cross necklace – another bug – and settled down beside him again.

“What did he say when he called you?”

“Nothing much, really. Just told me your coordinates and that you like to pick up your mail at three o’clock at the local post office,” Russell replied.

You shook your head, smiling. “Well, he always loved you, so…” You started to chew on your lower lip, the anxiety in your belly returning. For the sake of your mind and heart, you had to make sure Russell was fully back, and this wasn’t just a fluke. “You know, I worry sometimes that if you don’t face this thing with your family, you’ll always feel this way. I mean, after Lewis was born–”

“I know.” Russell nodded, swallowing thickly. He saw the worry shimmering in your eyes, and it cracked his heart a little. “I know I kinda lost it there. Took me by surprise, too. Trust me. Figured I had dealt with all that shit already, you know? But I guess seeing you with him and feeling all that love myself, I just-… I don’t know. I don’t know how she could do it… Ashton was one thing, but she just stood by. And I don’t even know what the hell she was up to while he took us out into those woods…” He shook his head as if to rattle the answer out of his brain. “And then when we found out you were pregnant again… I mean, I’d barely held it together with Lewis. Everything just became a blur. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and I worried all the time I’d be like them…”

“I tried to help,” you said softly.

“I know you did. Guess this was just something I had to figure out on my own,” he replied with a beat shrug.

“How’s your vision now? Still blurry?”

“Clearer than ever.” A smile flickered alive on his lips, green eyes boring into yours as he leaned in and kissed you slowly like he meant every word. Blowing a raspberry, he then turned his attention to the file in his lap. “So, what am I gonna find in there?”

“Honestly, nothing we haven’t already puzzled together,” you replied, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “But I found a couple of names associated with your parents. Thought maybe you could look at them and see if you recognize the person you saw in the woods.”

“I already know where this is going…”

“Russ, please, just–”

Russell interrupted you, placing a soothing palm on your thigh that curbed your enthusiasm. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

Satisfied, you raised two placating hands. “All I was asking…”

“How was the lasagna?”

After four hours in the basement, you and Russell quietly treaded up the stairs a few minutes after midnight, finding Colter in the kitchen, eating leftovers out of the ceramic form in the warm glow of the stove light. Tom, on the other hand, had passed out on the couch, only the blue flickers of the TV and the soft noises of a peaceful nature documentary filling the silence of the dark living room.

“Excellent,” Colter stated, swallowing down a mouthful of lasagna before speaking. “I told Tom he should be a chef in a restaurant or something.”

Russell’s brow knitted in doubt. “Really? Lemme try.”

“You just ate two entire bags of junk. You can’t still be hungry,” you argued with a giggle, shaking your head.

“It’s lasagna,” Russell said simply, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and dove right in.

That man would eat anything. You’d seen him do it, too. He didn’t even go hungry when he was lost in a desert.

“Wow, that is good,” Russell announced his judgement with a full mouth. “Maybe we should hire Tom for the brewery, huh?”

“I’m guessing this means you two talked?” Colter asked with a carefully arched brow.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Russell mused in jest. “What d’you say, sweetheart? You taking me back?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Guess I have to. God knows returning you is impossible.”

Russell laughed and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your temple.

But then you noticed Colter’s smile falter, his brows creasing in question. “Is your hair different?”

“Shit!”

Wide-eyed, you bolted back down the creaking stairs to the basement, hearing Russell’s laughter fill the kitchen.

“Was she wearing a wig? And her eyes too, right?” Puzzled, Colter tried to piece it all together. He had already figured by your extensive vocabulary of swear words that you might be a better match for his older brother than he had initially surmised.

“Yup, all fake, man,” Russell confirmed and smirked. “Still think she’s not my type yet?”

“No, I can see it now,” Colter admitted, chuckling. “So, you guys are good?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Russell nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, swallowing.

Colter’s smile widened, filling the older Shaw’s stomach with more guilt. “That’s great. Happy for you, man. Guess that means you’re retiring now, huh?”

Russell scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, we’ll see. Always depends on what the wife decides, you know?”

Yup, he sprinkled that important bit of information into a joke. Then, he watched his little brother take a stumped step back, brow furrowing and unfurrowing and then furrowing again.

“Wha-, wife?”

Russell produced a popping sound with his lips like the noise of a bottle when the cork was pulled. Welp, this bottle was surely open now.

“Yup, got married in Thailand in 2011,” he added another helpful tidbit of information, but Colter’s jaw dislodged all the same.

“Alright, got this all figured out,” you said, sauntering back into the kitchen with a pastel pink towel wrapped around your head and a matching bathrobe. You’d just grabbed them from the dryer, the fluffy material still cozily warm. It was the best option, considering you didn’t want to mess around with your wig as well after popping the lenses back in had already cost you most of your patience. In your little bubble of bliss, you hadn’t instantly noticed the brothers staring at you. But once you did, your brows morphed into a frown. “What’s going on?”

“You two are married?” Colter asked, a pointed finger flicking from Russell to you.

You threw your arms up, looking at your husband. “I was gone for five minutes! What happened to telling him after the operation?”

Russell offered you a sheepish shrug. “Well, this old soldier’s getting weak too, apparently.”

“He said it like a joke…” Colter mumbled, still in the middle of processing this new revelation. His older, estranged-but-now-less-strange brother had a wife. A family. Friends. And he knew none of it. What else was there? Kids?

“Yeah, he does that...” You shot your husband a scolding sideways look. “Should I leave you two alone for this?” you then offered, hoping the answer was a goddamn yes.

“Why would you? You’re family, right?” Colter retorted with a dry smile and a sharp look.

You pursed your lips. While you could see some similarities between the brothers, you took note of one big difference: Russell wasn’t as sarcastic and sharp-tongued. Probably because Russell had always been more concerned with what he should, would, or could share with people in an overthinking loop, while his younger brother seemed obviously free of that burden.

“Don’t take it out on her,” Russell stepped in gently, which really was a warning. “She didn’t know about any of this. Kinda pushed her into it.”

“Seems to be your style,” Colter scoffed.

“Can’t work for the CIA without going through a baptism of fire, little brother,” Russell said simply, giving an unapologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would you not tell me?” Colter stared at him, his look a mix of reproach and agitation.

“Look, you weren’t exactly welcoming during our first meeting,” Russell argued with a bit of bark in his deep voice, although confrontation was probably not the best approach. But why should he always have to take the blame for everything? He’d already done that for more than two decades.

“That was months ago,” Colter countered, scowling. “I’d like to think I’ve come around since then… Coulda told me after we saved Doug.”

Russell let out a small sigh of defeat, rolling his eyes back slightly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, man, alright?” he apologized earnestly.

With a questioning brow, you carefully nudged your husband’s arm. “What happened to Doug? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, uh, he went to work for Horizon with me. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Russell replied, his voice a lot quieter as if sharing a secret, and if Horizon was involved he probably was.

“Is Tracy okay?”

“She’s fine. Little shook up. You should probably give her a call. Smooth things out,” Russell told you.

Tracy thought you worked in marketing at some company for the government. Whenever you, Russell, and Doug were stuck on a mission, the boys made you call her to “smooth things out” – aka reassuring her everything was certainly fine with her husband and he wasn't in any danger at all. They’d once made you call her from a Black Hawk. The noise had been fun to explain away – you’d told her you were picking up a client from a helicopter pad.

Colter chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “So she knows Doug, too?”

Russell nodded. “Yeah, me and Doug were mostly Delta, but SAD liked to borrow us from time to time. We ran in her team for quite a while. She was actually the one who recruited me.”

At his little wink your way, you smiled. He’d come along way from the sweet boy you had once teased like a special-forces-trained kindergartner.

“Listen, things were obviously a little complicated between me and her the last few years,” Russell (under)stated. “But I’ve brought you here for a reason, okay? Figured it’s time you meet your sister-in-law.”

Eyes drifting from you to Russell, Colter pursed his lips – a tell he shared with his brother.

“Are you mad? I can’t tell.” Frowning, Russell tilted his head.

“No,” you absentmindedly replied for Colter, who gave you a curious look but steered his attention back to Russell.

“No,” the younger Shaw repeated your assumption. “I mean, not more than I was before, you know?”

Russell’s creases only deepened. “No, I don’t know.”

“He means he’s indifferent about knowing or not knowing we’re married because he’s already pissed about not knowing about my existence in general,” you explained.

“Ah. Your nerd is showing, sweetheart,” Russell teased you with a smile that made your heart melt.

“Dory would like her,” Colter commented like the thought had just popped into his head – something else he didn’t share with his brother.

You’d always wondered about the youngest Shaw of the three. Russell could never tell you much about Dory. His memory had been one of a smart and feisty nine-year-old, not a young woman and physics professor.

Thumbing at you, Russell cocked a brow at his brother. “Is she right, though?”

“Spot on, actually.” Colter’s tongue poked his cheek, his gaze flickering with a hint of astonishment and new-found respect for you. “And I guess I’m not really mad either way. Just… surprising, you know? I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

Russell seemed more than a little baffled to hear this, considering he had to pause to find an appropriate response. “No, uh, we’re good. I could’ve just told you, anyways.”

“Yeah, no, that’s alright.” Colter swallowed, sending his older brother a smile of forgiveness. “Honestly, I was glad to hear you weren’t alone all this time, so…”

Russell’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pushed down the lump in his throat. With a nod, he averted his green eyes to the kitchen floor. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Aw, aren’t you guys adorable,” you teased.

Colter wanted to retort something dry-witted, but Russell held up a warning finger. “Ah – wait for it… Trust me. She’s not done.”

“You girls need tissues or a tampon, maybe?”

“Oh, Dory would definitely like her,” Colter repeated his earlier statement with an amused grin.

Russell, on the other hand, shot you a pointed look, but that had barely ever stopped you before. “Okay, you can lay down. You don’t have to give him the initiation. No hazing my little brother,” he ordered you sternly, and you stifled a snort. “And no one better kidnaps him tonight and puts a bag over his head, alright? I don’t wanna pick him up beaten and bloody from some warehouse tomorrow morning.”

“Hm, what?” Colter’s brow furrowed. For the first time, you could see slight panic spread in his pupils.

Who was hazing who now?

You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Fine, we’ll leave him alone,” you acted your capitulation.

The younger Shaw blinked at you. “Thank you?”

“Should we at least tell him about the other thing while we’re at it?” you asked Russell with a suggestive look.

Thoughtfully, he paused for a beat, then clicked his tongue. “No, I got it from here. It’s getting late. We’ve been here long enough,” he decided. “This is less becoming a friendly ‘welcome-to -the-neighborhood’ dinner and more starting to look like an orgy to the neighbors. Especially since you’ve put on the robe.”

“It just came from the dryer. Look, it’s so soft and warm,” you argued, pouting, your palms caressing the fluffy material on your arms.

“Uh-huh.”

The little bob of his Adam’s apple made you grin slyly. The way his jaw ticked and his pupils widened with a primal hunger, you could tell he wanted to tear that robe right off of you. The thought caused a shudder to run down your spine.

“What, uh, other thing do you have to tell me?” Colter asked and smiled expectantly, tapping his fingers on the the counter.

Russell, however, grabbed his arm and dragged his curious little brother toward the exit. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said and thumbed to the front door behind his shoulder. “Wait outside. Gimme five minutes, alright?”

Wordlessly, Colter nodded without argument, gave you a quick goodbye-wave of his hand, and strolled leisurely back to his car as if he knew exactly what his older brother intended to do.

As expected, Russell impatiently conquered your lips, roughly pressing you against the foyer’s wall, your arms draping around his neck.

“What’s the bedroom situation in this place?” he asked between kisses.

“First floor, west side, third window from the right. I’ll leave it unlatched,” you replied, smiling against his lips. “Tom’s always sleeping on the couch. Part of our cover is going to marriage counseling with Pastor Jeff, which happens to work out great for us.”

You exhaled a shuddered breath when one of his hands wandered past the robe and splayed warm against your ribcage, just underneath your breast. His thumb fought an itch to get closer.

“Wouldn’t do that, baby,” you murmured into his ear with an amused smirk. “That boner’s not gonna go away in five minutes.”

“Mmm, I know,” he groaned and dropped his head between your boobs, lips pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. If he continued on with this, your arousal would surely streak down your bare thighs soon. Luckily, he had mercy on the both of you. “I’ll talk to him and then come back, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. He kissed your lips, then your forehead, and then disappeared through the door with the same cometary velocity he had entered your vision.

And all you could do was hope you’d see him one more time in your life.

“So?”

4.3 seconds after Colter killed the engine of his pickup in a spot a block away to the west side of your house – as per Russell’s very specific instruction – he stared scrutinizingly at his older brother.

Impatience was also a family trait – one even their father had despised.

“Look, uhm, there’s no easy way to break the news…”

“Is this about you having two kids?”

When Russell’s eyes met Colter’s, he didn’t recognize any anger, hurt or resentment in them – just pure slyness. At least that was good news. His little brother was just going to be annoying about this whole thing.

“Yeah, remember those five minutes you left me alone in the car? I called Bobby. Had him check some things out for me. Wasn’t easy to find. I’ll give you that…”

As expected, Colter was going to be a smartass about it. He figured it out on his own. He won the game.

“Hmm.” Russell pursed his lips, nodding. “You do know the CIA is on your guy’s ass now, right? Shouldn’t have done it in their perimeter, man. Manny’s probably all over this by now…”

Then his brow knit as if the thought of his old friend had provoked an idea, his head tilting with narrowed eyes at the air vents on the dashboard. How long had that car been parked outside and out of sight again?

Like a game of Operation, Russell then used thumb and pointer finger as his tweezers to retrieve a tiny bug – the spy kind.

“Gotcha,” Russell muttered, smirking. He then held the bug close to the speakers of the radio before turning up the volume to its highest setting – only for a second. He switched the radio off, rolled down the window, and threw the unwanted listening device onto the pavement. “That should teach ‘em a lesson…”

Colter cocked an incredulous brow at his brother. “They bugged my car?”

“Oh, trust me, they bug anything they can get their greedy little hands on,” Russell retorted. “Would probably check for a tracker underneath, too.”

“Great, thanks,” Colter huffed wryly.

“Hey, you wanted in. That’s what they do,” Russell reminded him, shrugging, but there was a smile of amusement on his lips.

Colter only bobbed his head. “So, you and her? You guys are good now? Just like that? Seemed… easy. Sorta…”

Russell chuckled lightly, brushing a hand through his beard. He knew his relationship with you was unconventional, but it had always worked for you and him.

“Me and Y/N have a deal, you know? It’s not all black and white. I mean, we became aware a long time ago that the two of us operate in a lot of gray zones. But, uh, we always know we can rely on each other, you know? Doesn’t matter if we’ve been separated by time or space,” Russell explained to the best of his abilities.

“So what happened?” Colter prompted with the same amount of confusion. “Why did you guys split up? I saw on the birth certificate your daughter was only two years old. I mean, did you-… did you even know?”

Russell inhaled deeply, nodding. “I knew she was pregnant. When she told me back then, I-…” He paused, licking his lips. It wasn’t something he had ever talked about with anyone before – not even you. “Well, shortly after that, I had a breakdown and I-… I almost hurt her.” He choked on the words, fighting the sting in his eyes.

He’d tried so hard to forget, wasn’t even sure he had ever really apologized for it to you because he so badly didn’t want it to exist that he’d tried to wish it out of literal existence, and hence, never really blamed you for leaving like you did. He understood. In fact, he had even wished you’d leave. He had convinced himself you’d be better off without him – something he still believed to be true – but he also knew he wasn’t better off without you.

He’d been lost and alone. And maybe, he was being selfish by crashing back into your life now. Or Dory’s. And Colter’s.

“I mean, nothing ever really bad happened. It’s just-… That night I came scarily close,” Russell confessed, swallowing thickly. He still hated himself for that night and everything that followed. “It’s like a switch flipped, you know? I couldn’t do anything against it… And Lewis saw parts of it, and I was already impatient with him and short with her the weeks before, so I just left that night and disappeared for two months. Volunteered for some mission. Figured it was best for everybody.”

It’s better off if he never comes back…

Russell licked his chapped lips. The next part was the hardest.

“When I got back, she told me she got a job offer in another country, and that she would be taking it and taking Lewis with her. She wanted me to use the time to… I don’t know… solve this, I guess.” He let out a humorless scoff at the painful memory.

Russell hadn’t seen it at first, maybe because he hadn’t wanted to, his anger and pain blurring the truth. After his son had been born, Russell knew you could see him struggling, so you started digging deeper into his family and what really happened. And when you’d found something – Horizon – you’d told him you could infiltrate. Naturally, Russell had passed a hard no – it had been a five-hour long fight, but he'd emerged victoriously by the end. So, you’d told him he should do it, but he didn’t want to leave you, and he didn’t want to endanger and jeopardize his family.

He’d told he was fine, but he wasn’t. It kept gnawing on him – and gnawing and gnawing and gnawing… till you eventually pulled the plug and ended his suffering.

“I was exhausted, so I told her we’d talk about it in the morning. When I woke up, they were gone. Didn’t even notice she’d already packed.”

Colter was silent for a beat. “Was it PTSD or something?”

“Or somethin’,” replied Russell.

“But you’re good now?” Colter checked with a warily raised brow.

“Guess so…”

Truthfully, Russell didn’t know if he was or wasn’t. He’d tried hard to figure out what it was exactly that had set him off that night and fix it, but he didn’t know if that feeling would ever disappear for good. He just knew he had never felt that way again since then. But could he guarantee it would never come back?

He didn’t know.

“Look, all I know is, seeing you and Dory again helped, so…” Russell twitched his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t know what else to say, how to explain it better, but Colter seemed to understand anyway, reading between the lines.

Russell worried he’d be like their father.

“I think I get it.” The younger Shaw nodded and licked his lips. “You know, you’re not crazy like Dad was, Russ. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy in your own way, but I wouldn’t worry about the other stuff.”

“Well, thanks,” Russell said, not convinced but appreciative of the vote of confidence. “Makes at least one of us…”

“I-, uh, I noticed their names,” Colter then said and clarified, “Lewis and Amelia. Like explorers. Like us.”

“Ah.” Russell smacked his lips and brushed it off, “Wasn’t really my idea. I told Y/N that story once. Guess she took a liking to it..”

“Are you, you know, gonna tell Mom?”

Russell was almost surprised by the question. The brothers had barely talked about their mother since they’d reconnected. Considering Colter had never brought her up again after their first meeting, Russell figured there was a reason for that – and he thought he probably knew the reason, too.

Russell scoffed a chuckle and looked at his little brother with an almost incredulous look. “I think you can guess the answer to that one,” he replied and figured it said enough. “Did you tell her I came back?”

Colter pursed his lips, and Russell took it as a sign of admission. So his mother knew. Great…

“Sorta,” Colter admitted hesitantly.

“What d’she say?” Russell almost smiled out of amusement. He already knew the answer, but his brother still seemed reluctant. “C’mon, you can tell me. I’m not gonna be butthurt after twenty years…”

“She told me to ignore you,” Colter finally confessed, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had ever since his mother said them, but even more so now that he knew his brother – and parts of the truth.

“Hmm,” Russell hummed with tight lips and ground his jaw.

Granted, the confession stung more than Russell would ever be willing to admit. The tiny, naive part inside of him had constructed a hopeless fantasy of his mother having a sudden change of heart over the last two decades and happily welcoming her firstborn back. Apparently, not a thing had changed, though, and he cursed himself for feeling disheartened.

“But I actually haven’t talked to her in a while now,” Colter added with a small shrug, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Huh, really?”

“Yeah, uh, and when I did, I didn’t exactly tell her I didn’t take her advice, you know? So…”

“Why not?” Russell’s brow furrowed a little more as he analyzed each word, simultaneously realizing why he had been so reluctant to share his life with Colter before – his subconscious had been afraid his alienated little brother would report back to the mothership.

Colter’s lips pursed. “Because I disagree.”

“Ah.”

Colter chewed on his lower lip. “Look, I know you and Dory wanna keep all of this in the past and play family – and trust me, I want that too,” he assured, but his heart was beating fast in his chest. “But I need to know, man. I need to know why she lied about this for twenty years and, you know, did all of this,” he insisted, and yet, Russell could tell he wasn’t done. He might have broken the dam. “She did it to you. I mean, aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad,” the older Shaw admitted, but there was no fire behind his words.

“Then why are you so calm?”

Amused, Russell chuckled, shrugging. “Probably ‘cause I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you, little brother.”

“So, what are we gonna do now?”

“We ain’t gonna do anything,” Russell clarified, his voice stern. He’d die to protect his family, you and the kids, and do anything in his power to keep you out of it, but Colter was a grown-up – a free agent. If he didn’t want to listen, Russell couldn’t force him. “Look, you wanna find out, you go find out. And if you do find something and need help, you call. But I can’t be involved in this,” he explained, his firm expression morphing into something more vulnerable and sincere. “And frankly, I don’t care that much. You, me, Dory, Y/N, the kids – that’s all that matters, trust me. You’re not gonna feel better or more… whole after finding those answers.”

“How do you know? Do you know what really happened?” Colter instantly asked, and Russell knew in that moment, it’d be hopeless. His brother wouldn’t stop till he found it – forever restless.

“No, I told you. I don’t,” Russell repeated, and while he didn’t know everything, he omitted that he knew something.

“What about Y/N?”

Russell froze at the bare mention of your name, his protective instincts kicking in. “Leave her out of this,” he all but snarled.

But Colter didn’t think about stopping. “Did you ever ask her? I mean, she’s CIA. She could probably find out something, right?”

“Yeah, I asked her once, alright? Was a long time ago,” Russell admitted, sighing. The intended lie would stick better if there was some truth to it – you had taught him that.

“C’mon, Russ… And?” Colter impatiently threw his arms up, brow raising higher and higher as he waited for an answer.

“She never found anything,” Russell said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

This time, it wasn’t just an omission. It was a blatant lie.

“I think whatever Dad was involved in – or both of ‘em – was just some activist shit. I don’t think the government cares.” Lie. “We both know he had a mental thing. Paranoid, probably schizophrenic… I mean, Mom used to pump him full of meds sometimes when he got too out of hand.” Truth. He then stole a glance at his little brother and saw the confusion shimmering on his face. Russell scoffed. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Quietly, Colter shook his head.

“Well, you were a kid,” Russell said and hoped it would curb the blow slightly, although he knew better than that. “He always took something as far back as I can remember. She used to prepare his pills every evening after you and Dory went to bed. But when we moved to the cabin, he started refusing to take them. Said they made him ‘not clear-headed enough.’ Kinda ironic,” he shared and snorted. “When it got too bad, though, she’d still crush ‘em into his food.”

Colter took everything in with a nod but didn’t say anything more.

“You good over there?” Russell checked after a full minute had passed.

“Yeah,” Colter said and even tried to form a reassuring smile before the attempt failed. Instead, he swallowed. “Just a lot, you know? I didn’t know. I mean, I had some idea, but not-… not that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Russell said, his voice almost a whisper in the silence of the night. “Like I said, you were a kid…”

When Russell finally left the car to sneak back to you, his shoulders felt a little lighter and his heart a little calmer. He might just float through that unlatched window tonight.

The bad news was, though, he might not be able to retire just yet.

Part 5: This Is a Start

Honestly, I should've called this chapter "Heart-to-Heart Part II" 😂 I'll see you for the finale next week, but as you know, it's not the end for them – only just the beginning 😉

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[theseptembersim]

The Old Brewery Karaoke Bar

Converted brewery factory into an industrial venue for your Sims to sing horrible out of tune pop songs.

MOO and debug used Bath: 4 World: San Myshuno Type: Karaoke Bar

Origin ID is TheSeptemberSim

You can watch the speed build here

If you would like to download this build please use the links below. Although all my builds are no CC, I use a custom thumbnail so make sure 'modded' is checked to see this in your game.

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[littlemourningstarr]

Purge the Desire

Astarion was convinced no one else could have stomached Thisobald's brew- but even his undead stomach can't handle whatever vile concoction the grotesque had him guzzle down. And, having not fed in days, he finds himself in quite the sorry state, in need of help he doesn't believe he truly deserves.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Gale x Halsin

Tags: Sickfic, Vomiting, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Edging

Astarion reached out, placed his hand on the old wooden wall, squeezing his eyes shut to try and close out the endless spinning. He’d kept himself together while downing that vile brew Thisobald pushed his way, until the grotesque and finally burst. Hells, he’d kept himself together while the party had explored the Waning Moon, picked up a few odds and ends that could be useful.

But he was fraying at the seams, and he knew it. He had hoped because it was just a liquid he’d be able to keep whatever hells was in that tankard down, that his body could adjust. Hells, he could drink wine typically.

But whatever the brew was laced with was wrecking him. His stomach was in tight knots, cramping so tightly it was as if it  was folding in on itself, and yet something was alive in there and clawing its way out.

“Astarion?”

Gale’s voice broke the strange ringing that had begun in Astarion’s ears. He opened his eyes, turned- and the wizard was a step back, looking at him skeptically. Astarion straightened up, squared his shoulders. “Hmm?”

He pointedly did not turn to face Gale. But he could hear his footsteps as he walked closer, and dammit all, around to face him properly. His brows shot up when he took in Astarion’s face- which must have had a paler strong for even the vampire, the skin around his eyes dark.

“Are you quite alright?” Astarion waved him off, but couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth, to form words. His saliva was thick, yet his tongue felt swollen and dry somehow. He was sure any words would only be half formed. He just needed to get out of there, back to Last Light, take a second to compose himself, vomit up all of this noxious concoction sloshing in his stomach.

He’d be fine.

But as he tried to wave Gale off the world spun around him, and suddenly Astarion was pitching forward. Gale’s hands grasped at his biceps, held him up as Astarion sagged against him, his forehead pressing into the wizard’s shoulder. He could register shock in Gale’s voice as the man said his name again, then a frantic pitch as he called out to Halsin and Shadowheart, who were still roaming the brewery. Astarion wanted to tell him to shut up, not to call the others, not to worry anyone. He was as fine as ever, right as rain-

He felt his knees buckle then, and Gale’s grip tightened on him, just as he could hear Shadowheart and Halsiun’s footsteps- and then the latter running to reach for him, pulling his weight from a struggling Gale.

Astarion felt Halsin’s large hands on his waist, leaning him against him, and gods above despite the delirium he was feeling, it was so lovely to lean into the Druid’s broad chest, feel a hellfire of heat radiating from him. He heard his name, and it took a moment for him to register that it was Shadowheart, a note of near panic barely hidden in her voice.

“Fine,” he managed, his voice cracking.

“Like hell,” she cursed, and Astarion managed to turn his head, take her in. Frantic eyes and a stern, utterly pissed off mouth. “You shouldn’t have drank whatever hell was in a cup down there.”

Astarion tried to lick his lips, got as far as getting his tongue to  poke at his fangs. He couldn’t tell her that he didn’t trust any of them to handle it otherwise. The only other companion he thought could have handled it would have been Karlach, but she had stayed back at Last Light today. The others wouldn’t have the stomach for it.

He assumed it would have been like anything else his stomach couldn’t digest- he’d just purge later and feel a bit uncomfortable. He’d even tried to mime drinking, but Thisobald’s comment on such a small drink had worried him that his charade had been seen through. He’d drained a whole tankard by the end.

“Jus-need’to” his words were slurring, and he closed his eyes again, his lids so heavy. Was that sleep, crepeing in at the edges of his consciousness? The goddess he so seldom knew- never since his undeath, no. Cazador had never dined to give him the gift of sleep.

“Get back to Last Light.” Halsin, his voice somehow calm, a deep rumble that made his chest vibrate, pleasantly pulsed through Astarion. “We’ll follow shortly.”

“The curse,” Gale started, but Halsin shifted Astarion slightly, held up a hand to silence him.

“Shadowheart need not fear the dark.”

Not while Shar still looked at her so fondly.

Shadowheart nodded. “I’ll tell them you’re bringing him back in bad shape.” She reached out, dared to touch Astarion’s shoulder. He wished he could feel her fingertips through his armor, but all he got was a subtle pressure.

She was gone quickly, running, and then he was suddenly being lifted, carried over the threshold of the Waning Moon. The old wooden board creaked, and then it was Halsin’s boots in the fetid soil outside. Astarion opened his eyes, trying so hard to keep himself present, could see Gale keeping stride with Halsin, just looking at Astarion.

He was worried. Or at least, he looked it. And of course he was, Astarion was an asset, they needed him-

Astarion told himself not to be delusional and think it was anything more.

Halsin knelt down, and began easing Astarion onto the ground. Gale threw himself down onto his knees, grimaced at the ache that shot through them as he helped adjust Astarion to be kneeling.

“We need to get it out of him,” Halsin said, “all of it.” Astarion braced his hands on the Druid’s shoulders, pushed himself away gently. He knew that.

“Gim-me a… moment.” He tried, before he swayed, and suddenly his shoulder was crashing into the ground before any of his companions could catch him. His arms felt like dead weight then, and he realized his body was beginning to shut down, to ignore his mental pleas to move.

“He can’t do it himself,” Halsin said, gathering him back up, holding his limp weight with such ease. Astarion tried to blink, but the dark around him was swimming, and even his eyelids felt foreign. “And I’m afraid he might choke on my fingers.”

There wasn’t a single second of debate after that.  Halsin kept an arm braced around Astarion’s chest, keeping him from collapsing again, and Gale grasped his chin in one hand, forcing his mouth open. “I’m sorry,” he said, rather softly, before two fingers pushed over Astarion’s tongue, back against his throat. Astarion felt his mouth water, drool thick under his tongue, and then his throat clench up over the intrusion.

Gale pulled his fingers out, and Halsin gave Astarion enough slack to lean over, mouth hanging open as his stomach turned. For a single moment he thought he might not wretch, but then he could feel his mouth salivating more, his stomach aching so badly he whimpered, and then that fiery convulsion of muscle.

He gagged, coughed up a thin stream of oily bile, before his stomach released on its second attempt. The liquid was bitter laced, much more sour than when he’d first drank it down. It felt oil like on his tongue, over his lips as he vomited into the acrid dirt. His throat burned.

“Good,” Halsin said, softly, and in any other moment Astarion would have silently bristled over the praise, reveled in it silently. Now he could barely focus on who was even with him.

He felt a hand, Gale’s, pushing his hair back as he coughed, vomited a second time. Acidic now, as his stomach had little to give now that the ghost of Thisobald’s brew was sinking into the hungry, dying dirt of the Shadowlands. Astarion could feel sweat prickling on his spine, his scalp, and he wanted to push Gale’s hand away- but gods it felt nice, and he still couldn’t bring his arms to even move.

He coughed again, a pathetic, broken sound leaving him as he gagged, heaved, but his stomach had no more to give. Halsin hushed him, and Astarion squeezed his eyes shut. Could feel tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.

Before he could even think the word pathetic, the world melted away, and there was simply nothing.

*

When reality filtered back in, Astarion felt different. Lighter. He forced his eyes open- and the ached- was met by the dim lantern light of a small room. He was lying on his back, and he realized quickly in a bed. His armor was gone.

He sat up, grimaced as the movement set his head to pounding. He reached up, cradled his forehead, his hair coming free in wild, unkempt curls. He closed his eyes against the pain, tried to piece together what in the ever living hells had happened.

The Waning Moon. Thisobald. That vile brew.

Haslin’s arms around him.

Gale’s fingers in his mouth.

He groaned, the pit of his belly sinking further. He couldn’t even hold himself together long enough to get back to Last Light on his own, pathetic. He should have known he wouldn’t have had the fucking stones to handle whatever the was, but gods above and below he couldn’t put the other through it, and- and…

And maybe he wanted to seem strong in their eyes.

The creak of the old wooden door snapped him from his thoughts. He let his hand fall from his forehead, turned- and Karlach was peeking just her head in. “Hey soldier,” she offered, boisterous voice rather soft. She didn’t move to push the door open more until Astarion gave her a nod, and then she was inside, pushing the door shut. She had a small glass in one hand. “Heard the bed creak, figured you were back with us. You didn’t move an inch otherwise, worse than the dead.”

Astarion snorted a very undignified laugh, and Karlach grinned at him. “Funny,” he said, relaxing just a little. It was hard not to, around her.

She walked over and sat on the bed, reached out her free hand and pressed it to his forehead. He was chilled as usual, skin damp with a layer of sweat that he was becoming all too conscious of. He wanted a bath. He wanted a potion to actually sleep for the first time in near two-hundred years.

He wanted to fucking feed so his body could recover.

Despite it all, he leaned into her touch a little. Now that Dammon had her as tuned up as possible, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from constantly touching someone. Astarion had never said he liked it, because her touches were so innocent, sweet and without purpose other than to soothe.

That, and she burned as hot as the hells, and he wanted nothing more than to be completely enveloped in that heat.

“How are you feeling?”

Astarion huffed. “Like shit.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, felt like his mouth was coated in a thin, oily layer, like the sweat on his body. He hated it. The sour, near bitter taste in his mouth made his stomach threaten to roll.

Karlach held out the glass- it looked like water, but Astarion could smell it. Something refreshing, minty. “Wyll mixed you up something to rinse your mouth out. Figured you’d probably be tastin’ death right about now.”

“My savior,” Astarion purred, mocking but not in all truth. He took the glass happily and swished the water in his mouth, the sour taste melting away to something quite refreshing. He spat back into the cup, and Karlach took it like a doting mother.

“I heard you put on quite a show for a Thorm,” Karlach said, as Astarion shifted in the bed, plucking at his shirt and trying to pull it from his damp skin. “Gale said you drank like the lads back in Waterdeep after a good round of debate on… fuck, I forgot the rest.”

Astarion almost laughed. Almost. “Someone had to.”

“But why you?”

She would ask that. Astarion hated that Karlach could read them all. Hated, and loved, loved so fiercely it hurt-

He swallowed that down. That word had no right to be in his life, for any of these people. They didn’t deserve that kind of curse.

“Who else?” he asked, lifting his chin and trying to brush his curls back, as if putting himself back in order. “If you’d been there maybe I’d have let you, but the others? It would have ruined them.”

“Almost sounds like you were worried about us.” Astarion jerked his head to the side, realized the door to the small bedroom had opened. Gale was standing there, for once with an expression Astarion couldn’t read.

And of course he had been. But dammit, they didn’t need to know that. Before he could say anything though, Karlach was standing up, walking over to the door. “I’m gonna go… somewhere,” she said, and Astarion wanted to scream at her that she had better not dare leave right now-

She was gone. And Gale was in the room now, leaning against the closed door, arms folded. Studying him. Astarion frowned. “What?”

“It was awful nice, you taking one for the team, so to speak.”

“Well, you’re all no use to me dead.” Astarion tried to sound detached, but his throat caught. “And of course I would have been the most ideal choice. My stomach is dead anyway.”

“I’d really argue differently.” Gale took a few steps from the door, then stopped, standing awkwardly in the very small room. The lantern was casting oranges and yellows on his skin, as if he was made of gold. Astarion’s dead heart leapt.

He cursed himself inwardly for it.

“You didn’t exactly handle it well.” Gale’s voice was almost teasing.

“I held myself together as long as I needed to!” Astarion yelled, but it only made Gale smile. And gods damn it all, that stupid little smile made Astarion’s own lips quirk. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” Gale asked, inclining his head, quite obviously acting oblivious.

“Smiling!”

“Why?” He reached up, tapped his chin. “Could it be that I’m simply too charming and my smile is infectious?” Astarion bared his fangs, reached behind him for the lumpy pillow on the bed, and chucked it at Gale. It smacked him in the face, and Gale chuckled. He seemed about to throw it back, when the door opened again, and Halsin filled the impossibly small room.

“Ah, he’s awake.” Astarion grasped at the sheets on the bed, the mere sight of the large elf reminding him how easily his arms had wrapped around him. How solid his chest had been, against Astarion’s back.

“Awake and caddy as ever,” Gale said, still holding the pillow as Halsin shut the door. “He seems to think our palettes were all simply too weak to handle whatever Thisobald was dishing out.”

Halsin frowned, and Astarion knew the argument that was coming before the Druid opened his mouth. He was the largest so he should have done it, it would have affected him the least-

“I couldn’t do that to any of you.” Astarion said it without meaning to. The moment he did, he pinched his lips shut, cursing himself for even speaking. He was getting too comfortable around all of them. “I’m dead, what does it matter?”

“I would argue death is but a technicality here,” Gale said, sounding more serious now. “You’re very much alive right now. Sure, you do have a fascinating healing metabolism when properly fed…” Gale trailed off then, and for a moment, the air in the room was heavy with silence.

It seemed both Halsin and Gale had the same realization in that moment, as they stared at Astarion, took in his pallor that was stronger than usual, the dark circles around his eyes. Eyes that were a bit listless, faded.

“Astarion,” Halsin said, his voice timber, sturdy, and yet soft. “When did you last feed?”

Astarion sighed. He reached up, waved his hand dismissively. “The days all bleed together-”

“Astarion.”

“Three days.” He could remember the exact moment, the dying cultist who had bled out so much there wasn’t much left, but gods it had been something. There was nothing living in the Shadowlands, nothing for him to hunt. And the undead had no life to give him. “But it’s no matter. I’m fine as ever.” He tossed the blanket aside, stood up quickly- and before he even realized he was falling, Halsin had taken the few steps to him, caught him and leaned his weight into his broad chest.

“Right,” Gale said, sarcasm thick. “Fine.”

“Fuck off,” Astarion mumbled, before he made a little shocked noise as Halsin lifted him. Halsin settled on the ground, Astarion in his lap, as he leaned his back against the bed.

“Easily fixed,” he said, “I’m here. Drink from me.”

Astarion choked, couldn’t even hide his reaction. The number of times he’d wondered what the Druid would taste like were countless. Nights spent unable to fall into a trance, pushing his face into the thin blankets in his own tent, sinking his fangs into fabric and desperately grinding against his hand, desire to be satiated in so many ways by the other elf driving him to madness.

“I,” Astarion managed, as he heard Gale kneeling down just behind him. His charm was gone, dead on his tongue. He swore he couldn’t even process a thought.

“I won’t see you starve,” Halsin said, as he helped prop Astarion up, until the vampire was straddling his lap. Astarion stared down at him, but Halsin’s eyes were all gentle, honest. It made Astarion sick with wanting, sick with needing.

In his heart, his soul, his gut, he would never believe he deserved to be looked at in such a way.

“I’d offer,” Gale added, “but you’d just end up vomiting again.” Astarion glanced back at him, a dizziness overcoming him. Gods damn them both.

He had no quip prepared. All he could do was lean over, nose at Halsin’s neck. The Druid tilted his head, offered the side of his throat without hesitation, and Astarion trembled. He could hear Halsin’s pulse, swimming in his head, and oh, he was so starved, the hunger inside him gnawing, clawing his gut open with serrated teeth.

He pulled his lips back, sank his fangs into Halsin’s neck.

The moment he did his mind erupted, colors flashing behind his eyes, in his skull. He moaned, couldn’t stop himself, leaning into Halsin more, the first few drops of blood sliding past his fangs, into his mouth. He felt Halsin’s hands on his waist, bracing him, keeping him steady. He didn’t so much as seem to wince.

Astarion pulled his fangs from Halsin’s neck, let his pulse pump a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He swallowed greedily, feeling alive from just the first taste. He rocked against the Druid, hands grasping at Halsin’s shoulders. One of the hands on his waist moved, and suddenly Halsin’s thick fingers were treading in Astarion’s hair, twirling curls around his fingers and pressing his face closer.

“I have you,” he said, so softly Astarion wanted to sob. A choked noise did escape him, something undignified- and the moment it did, Gale’s hand was rubbing along his spine, seeming to not care about the dampness of Astarion’s shirt, from his sweat.

Somewhere in his mind, Astarion felt a frantic scream- his scars. Surely Gale would feel the rigid bits of flesh he had yet to show anyone. Surely he would wonder.

But the voice died, drowned in the calming wave of finally feeding, of Halsin’s warmth, Gale’s reassuring touch. Astarion pushed his tongue against the wound, shivered over the heavy taste of Halsin’s blood. It was what he had once joked he thought Gale would have tasted like. Aged brandy, woody, smokey. Intoxicating.

“Should I stop him?” he heard Gale ask- but his mind was drifting blissfully. It wasn’t until he heard Halsin’s responses that he came back to himself.

“No. I trust him to take only what he needs.”

Something burst in Astarion, something hot melting from his chest, dripping along his ribs. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back how they stung. Halsin had no reason to trust him.

And yet, and yet.

He pulled back, gasped a breath against Halsin’s neck. He felt Halsin’s fingers flex in his hair, against his scalp, and then Halsin pushing him back to his neck. “I’m alright,” he said, as if knowing what Astarion needed to hear.

Gods damn him.

Astarion pressed his mouth to the wound, laved his tongue over it again. This time he felt something, a rumble in Halsin, an almost-shiver. The hand on his waist tightened, held him so firmly, in a way Astarion was guilty of imagining far too many times. Except there was far more skin involved in those fantasies, and every nerve inside Astarion alight as Halsin buried so deeply in him he could plant himself like a sapling.

Astarion rocked his hips again, achingly hard, unable to fight it. He ground against Halsin, just as Gale’s hand on his back moved, and then Gale’s hands were both on his waist, holding him.

He might have thought Astarion was going unsteady. But oh, the thought of Gale’s soft fingers clutching his skin with bruising force was also not an unknown fantasy.-

The vampling pulled back, further this time, another gasped, unneeded breath leaving his lips. Halsin’s hand cradled the base of his skull, the Druid turning those gorgeous eyes on him, smiling so softly.

Astarion wanted to kiss him, crash his mouth against Halsin’s. Wanted Halsin to taste the blood on his tongue, the life he had given Astarion. Astarion wanted to sob into him, wanted to disappear.

He almost did. For a single second his eyes stared too longingly at Halsin’s lips, and he swore he gave himself away. But then there was a warm pressure against his spine, and Gale’s chin resting on his shoulder, his hands still tight on his waist.

“So? Come now, describe how he tastes.”

Astarion swallowed thickly, glanced away. He was growing far too aware of just how aroused he was- and that he could feel Gale’s heart, pounding against his back. Elevated.

He wouldn’t dare dream that what he was feeling might be mirrored in these two.

“Better than his neighboring woodland beasties,” Astarion managed, lifting his chin, trying to come back to himself. Already his mind felt clear, the fatigue that had laced his body leaving him. Whatever last dregs of Thisobald’s brew had managed to invade his system were quickly dying.

Halsin chuckled, his hand leaving Astarion’s hair. “I assume that is a compliment.”

Astarion gave a single, curt nod, still glancing away, unable to meet Halsin’s stare. “I would kill for a bath,” he mumbled, becoming even more aware of the layer of now cooled sweat on his skin.

“You could use one,” Gale teased, and Astarion twisted, dislodging Gale from his shoulder. He shoved the wizard with no force, and Gale grinned at him, stupidly charming and making Astarion want to laugh. “You are getting close to the corpse-smell now.”

“Go to hell.”

“Pick a layer and get me a tour guide. I’ll take notes.” Gale stood up slowly, grimacing as his knees ached over the motion- and Astarion pouted without meaning to. Halsin chuckled, and then before Astarion could do much else, Halsin was pushing him against his shoulder and chest, standing up as if Astarion weighed nothing and hadn’t just drank quite the fill of him.

“You’re both like children,” he said, with no malice or even annoyance in his voice. Astarion didn’t fight the hold- but pointedly did not look at Gale but across the room, away from them both. He was still aroused, and there was no way Halsin hadn’t noticed.

Yet the Druid said nothing at all. He simply set Astarion down gently so he was sitting on the bed, took his chin in his hands and tilted his face carefully, inspecting his eyes, the bit of color that had rushed to his cheeks. “You look much better now.”

In a voice that was soft, Astarion managed, “thank you.” Halsin only kept his smile, wiped a smudge of crimson from the corner of Astarion’s lips. Without much thought Astarion turned, caught the Druid’s thumb in his mouth, rolled his tongue over the digit to clean the blood away.

He heard Halsin’s breath catch. Astarion glanced up, eyes heavy lidded, white lashes hiding most of his irises- and it was a look he had used countless times, but not one he had meant to use on his companions.

Something seemed stoked in Halsin’s eyes, a golden fire brimming in a quiet forest. Yet Halsin pulled back, turned his eyes to Gale. “Let’s give him some time to collect himself.”

Gale furrowed his brow, but after a moment too long of taking in Halsin as well- and gods below, was everyone attracted to the Druid?

Astarion assumed so. Rightfully so.

“Fair enough.” He nodded at Astarion, seemed almost unsure what to do with himself for a moment, before he turned for the door, telling Halsin he’d help him clean his neck up. Astarion watched the door shut, listened to their footsteps leaving him-

Alone. In the near dark, the lantern beginning to die.

His breathing quickened as Astarion ran his tongue along his fangs, still tasted Halsin. He gripped at the bed for a moment, thinking perhaps calm was an option, that he could bring himself down from the delirium he was soaring towards-

Then he threw himself down on the bed, buried his face in the pillow Gale had at some point returned, and desperately clawed at his pants. He barely got his hand in before he was rutting against it and the bed, hips moving as if he was possessed. His cock slid with ease against his palm, slicking precum against his slightly warmed skin. Astarion whined, bit the pillow and pressed his tongue to it, trying to quiet himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, drowned in the memory of Halsin’s taste. The Druid’s hand in his hair. The sheer warmth that radiated from him. But it almost wasn’t enough, not without Gale’s hands on his waist, and then pressed up against his back.

He groaned, stomach knotting. He’d let Gale take him, in Halsin’s lap. Gods, what a sheer joy it would be to have the wizard pressed along his back, heating up his scars, panting desperately in his ear as he drove his cock so far into Astarion that he saw stars. And Halsin there to tell Astarion he was good, so bloody good, taking everything so well-

Astarion gasped, threw himself onto his back and shoved his pants down his hips, taking himself properly in hand. His cock throbbed as he ran his thumb up along the underside, teased the sweet bundle of nerves below his glans. He arched a little, tipped his head back, sighed. Would Halsin let him feed, while Gale took him? Would he take him after? Before?

It didn’t matter, Astarion just wanted to be so lost in them he forgot everything. He became nothing, everything, all and none. He wanted them. Not because he was told to, not because it was some sort of transaction, his charming affection for safety, loyalty.

He wanted them simply because of who they were.

“Hells,” he gasped, thrusting up into his hand, And oh, what would it be like to have Gale’s legs around his waist, to have the man arching beneath him, sobbing in sheer ecstasy. Or Halsin, with his face pressed down into a pillow, Astarion able to see all that muscle along his back and shoulders as the Druid growled and grunted, his heat devouring Astarion whole.

Astarion pulled his hand away as he felt his stomach contracting, his balls tight to the point of aching. He didn’t want to come yet, though, gods no. He wanted to stay lost in this. He dragged just his fingertips down his shaft, back up- teased his slit as precum beaded. He bit his lip, couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually gotten himself off, and gods below, this was good.

He dragged his other hand up his chest, his neck, pooling his shirt awkwardly at his collar bone. His hand continued, dug into his own hair and pulled. The pain on his scalp was sharp but pleasing, and he hissed, his slick fingertips rubbing down his cock again. His hips shifted desperately, his body wanted more, more, more.

His eyes slid shut, and finally unable to take it, he took himself back in hand, firmly stroking quickly. His curls tangled around his own fingers, fingers he wished for Halsin’s, as he bit his lip- a lip he wished as Gale’s.

He came with a strangled cry on his lips, muffled just enough, his body arching, heels digging into the bed. Cum splattered along his pale belly, even dotted his ribs, as he stroked until it hurt. Only then did he go lax, hand falling to his side, as he panted, eyes slitting open to stare up into the dark.

The lantern had gone out.

Astarion felt a pleasant buzzing running through him, his body satiated in multiple ways now. He sighed, let his eyes fall shut, wished he wasn’t alone in the soft-edge bliss that was enveloping him.

And, because fate was never kind to him, there was a knock just as the static reached his fingertips, his toes. He sat up quickly, cursed and wasn’t even sure where to begin to hide the mess he was- but thankfully, the door remained closed.

“Astarion.” Gale’s voice, softer than it had been before. “Listen, if you… Halsin…” the man paused, and content that the door was going to remain shut, Astarion forced himself to smirk, to bring up the cocky bastard he liked to hide behind so well.

“What is it Gale? A tressym got your tongue? Or just the Druid?” Oh, he wished he could see Gale’s cheeks burning.

Gale cleared his throat. “Halsin had Karlach warm up some water. If you… need a hand, he and I are here.”

Color rose to Astarion’s cheeks. There was… something to the offer, some implication that he didn’t dare believe. He said something, not even sure what- but it was enough for Gale to leave.

Astarion took a deep breath, and told himself not to hope. To clean himself up, brush them off, and get back to being the darling charmer he tried so desperately to be. After all, if he allowed himself to think that maybe his desires were returned-

Well, he might start to wish for the warmth of Halsin’s arms, the safety of Gale’s hands. And those were things he was sure were strictly forbidden from the likes of him.

[stra-tek]

WARP CORE DEEP DIVE!

Where it all began. So much so, that they never quite nailed down what anything in engineering was. We know the thing in the middle was a "matter/antimatter integrator" and it had a dilithium crystal in it. But it didn't appear until later on, the floor was originally empty. There were also large transformer-ish things that moved about as the plot demanded. The big thing behind the mesh? That's the pipe cathedral. Maybe it was an impulse engine (as per the old Star Trek Blueprints by Franz Joseph) or perhaps it was part of the warp drive. Originally the idea was that the warp nacelles generated their own power. But that would change soon...

The Animated Series gave us something very similar to the TOS engine room, with the pipe cathedral and one BIG transformer, but instead of the matter/antimatter integrator we got a glass tube with what looked like measurements on it. Maybe it's a proto-warp core a la TMP, especially since it's in a similar spot to Strange New Worlds'. Or maybe it's a coolant pipe like the 2009 movie. Who knows? We also saw inside the "antimatter nacelle" in one episode, which is generally assumed to mean inside one of the warp engines themselves but it's all a bit vague.

The Motion Picture gave us the original Big Blue Lava Lamp, the physical set was 3 stories high but augmented with forced-perspective, in the form of a painting at the bottom of the shaft and a truncated horizontal intermix chamber crewed by children at the end of the main level. The engineering crew on the main deck now wear radiation suits, adding to the idea this big blue thing isn't your friend.

This was also the Big Retcon, making the intermix chamber the power source for the warp nacelles. Every Trek regardless of era would follow this route.

In Wrath of Khan, they'd add a very important side room with dilithium crystals in for Spock to self-sacrifice in. I always found it very amusing this room, where the most important part of the engineering machinery was, was in no way physically connected to the intermix chamber. Nor did it exist in the previous movie.

The Next Generation gave us a pot-bellied stove, with neon segments glowing one-by-one up and down to give the impression of pulses of energy colliding in the middle then being fed to the nacelles. No more radiation suits needed, and the room has a nice carpet. This was also the first time "warp core" was used, a phrase that would retroactively be applied to all the prior ones.

The Enterprise-E and DS9's Defiant would have bigger and smaller warp cores that were variations on the same theme as TNG.

Voyager brought back the classic Motion Picture big blue lava lamp, just without the horizontal tube this time. It does the nifty swirly thing too. Q Junior makes it do club lighting one time.

NX-01 Enterprise is just kind of this big industrial tank with some glowy bits. It's weird that in the classic movies they needed radiation suits to work in engineering, but in the series set 100 years earlier they didn't.

The 2009 reboot filmed engineering in a thinly disguised Budweiser brewery, which made the area look enourmous and extremely complex, but lost all the high tech clean room vibes prior shows had. What in real life were giant brewing tanks housed the intermix chambers which made up the warp core, which were ejected through a hatch in the roof at the end. This look was extremely controversial with some, but personally I loved it.

In Into Darkness the warp core looks like an almighty piece of kit, and that's because they shot on location at the Lawrence Livermore National Ignition Facility. It's a real-life fusion reactor. And then you can climb inside it and it turns out that inside is one very important laser thing, some dilithium crystals you barely see and lots of deadly radiation. At least the self sacrificing happens inside the core itself and not a weird separate side chamber this time. The brewery from the last movie was still there, implying this was all along even if we didn't visit it. But that complicates things because the bits they called the warp core are very different. Perhaps the intermix chambers ejected last movie and core seen here are all part of the same huge warp core system.

Strange New Worlds reboots the original... sort of. They put a vertical intermix chamber in there and instead of a mesh and forced perspective they've got an AR wall with an enourmous array of high tech pipes. But weirdly, the writers guide says the big AR wall with the updated pipe cathedral is the deflector dish machinery not the warp core. I guess the confusion makes it more authentic TOS.

[daughterofcain-67]

{jυsт вεcαυsε ι ℓσvε үσυ}

Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jensen had been busy but one day when he decides to surprise you just because he loves you. Simply meant for those who want to dance in the kitchen with your spouse for no reason, or go on old timey dates together.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: None~ Just a short little one shot with Jensen fluff. Jensen being a reassuring husband. Husband Jensen x Wife Reader.

Jensen had finished up filming a little promo as Soldier Boy for Gen V, the spin-off for The Boys. He was excited to play that role again since he had a lot of fun with the character on The Boys to begin with. It was a matter of days until the promo was released to the public.

Things were going well for him right now. He had even gotten some news that he would be touring around with Jared and the Supernatural cast again for some conventions and he was more than excited for that! He would be leaving in a couple of weeks for that.

But until then, he was staying busy with some other roles or promotions or whatever was going on with the brewery.

This afternoon, however, he finally had some time off. He told you that he was going to be busy all day making some plans and arrangements for going to the upcoming conventions, but he just wanted to surprise you. Especially since he married such a busy little bee.

While he spent his time filming and tending to the bar, you had a career of your own as a costume designer for musical artists and some bands whether its for their music videos or for what they would wear for their concerts. You had worked with Selena Gomez, Carrie Underwood, as well as Amy Lee from Evanescence, just to name a few individuals from some different genres of music.

He knew you had an eye for detail and that was one of the many things he loved about you. Amongst other traits you have of course.

So after his morning errands were done, he stopped by the store to pick up some surprises for you, which lead him to where he was now.

He was carrying in his little surprise when he opened the door to find you cleaning the kitchen listening to some music. When he looked at the tv since that's what you apparently decided to use, he saw that it was some song called 'How to be a Heartbreaker' by Marina and the Diamonds.

It sounded pretty upbeat and he chuckled to himself when he saw you dancing around to the chorus of this song while you were putting something away in the kitchen. He couldn't help the smile that was forming on his face.

You were adorable and he couldn't believe he actually married someone like you. There was never a moment when you couldn't light up his world.

He walked over to you when you didn't have anything in your hands, then he wrapped an arm around you from behind. In his hand was a bouquet of your favorite flowers just because.

"Now who's heart trying to break?" He asked.

You nearly jumped when you felt an arm wrap around you from behind but you smiled when you saw the flowers followed by the familiar voice of your husband.

You looked up at him and saw the grin on his face that made your heart flutter since the first day you met him. People have said that the honeymoon phase doesn't last that long but for you, it was unwavering. Sure there's disagreements and imperfections like any marriage, but you two were able to make it work and that was what mattered the most. You hoped that you two would have a long marriage.

“No one’s. The only heart I have is yours, and I’d like to keep it that way.” You heard Jensen chuckle before he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away you smiled when you looked at the flowers. You took them before you got out of his grasp, “Thank you for these, they’re beautiful! But I thought your day was booked.”

“Well, I said that but I may or may not have bent the truth a little.” Jensen replied while you were looking for a vase. Once you found one you placed the flowers inside and set them on the table.

“You’re free the rest of the day? That’s great! I know you needed some rest from your busy schedule.” You smiled before you walked towards him. He took one of your hands and twirled you around before pulling you into his chest, then he leaned down and kissed your shoulder.

“It is. I know that I’ll be gone for a while with the convention too. I wanted to spend as much time with you as I can, and today worked out perfectly.” You grinned at what he said and you heard the tv change to a slower song. You put on a random playlist on Spotify through your TV so it was a little unpredictable about what songs they’d play since you didn’t look before you clicked.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” He smiled at what you said while he turned you around, placing a hand on your hip while keeping your other hands clasped together.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Dancing with my beautiful bride in our kitchen.” He replied and you snickered as you two started dancing around to whatever the song was. Based off the tune you could hear throughout the house it sounded like it was ‘Two is Better than One’ by Boys Like Girls. Perhaps your Spotify account was favoring some early 2000’s music at the moment.

As the two of you danced, you placed your head on his chest, smiling softly to yourself. It was the moments like these you appreciated most. You knew he was busy, but it was little things like this that let you know Jensen still cared despite his busy schedule.

You remembered the very first time the both of you danced as a married couple on your wedding day. It was truly the happiest day of your life. Your wedding was in the spring and you had an outdoor ceremony. All of your friends and family members were happy for the both of you.

“What are you thinking about, Love?” Jensen asked and you hummed a little.

“Reminiscing about our wedding.” You admitted.

Once the song was over, Jensen looked down at you before he kissed the top of your head. Then he got an idea.

“Why don’t you get dressed in something a little warmer and we’ll go out tonight? It’s supposed to be chilly this evening and I don’t want you getting yourself sick.” He said. You agreed and he watched you go upstairs to your room so you could change.

Once you were dressed in something warmer the two of you left the house so you both could enjoy yourselves. It had been a while since. You had a little date night.

He took you to a nice Italian restaurant where the both of you ate dinner and you had some dessert there. After that, he ended up taking you to a movie. However, tonight was your lucky night!

Jensen had managed to find a drive-in movie theatre. You thought those were practically extinct by now! But it was a sweet surprise nonetheless. You’ve always wanted to go into a drive in theatre and it was surreal that you were finally able to go. You both were even in the iconic ‘67 Impala that Jensen got to keep after Supernatural ended.

Everything felt so perfect.

You and Jensen were unbuckled and you were huddled together. His arm was around your waist and your head was on his shoulder as you both were looking at the screen watching ‘The Wedding Planner’ with Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey.

You knew Jensen wasn’t overly fond of romantic movies, and neither were you necessarily but you did like watching some of J. Lo’s movies every once in a while and you didn’t recall seeing this movie.

“Not even two minutes into the movie and she already reminds me of you.” You could hear Jensen say and you snickered.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“You seem to be a little bit of a perfectionist. A hard worker. Dedicated to your job. But you look much better in those little suits with those pencil skirts than Jennifer does.” He chuckled and you smiled at the last part.

“Well it’s not easy planning and designing what people are going to wear in front of millions, potentially trillions of people.” You reminded and he just grinned as he laid his head down on top of your own as you watched the movie.

You got to the part of the movie where the children’s doctor saved the wedding planner. How a meeting like that happened must’ve been more than random chance. It seemed like fate, then again so did a lot of scripts for romantic movies like this. But of course there was always that problem to make romantic movies a bit more complicated.

“Now that’s in poor taste… if you’re engaged, you shouldn’t go with another girl to the movies or dance with her in the rain. That is a sure fire way to mess with a woman’s heart.” You said.

“Well, they have to have some sort of plot twist for these movies ya know.” He reminded and you grinned and shook your head.

“Yeah I suppose you’re right.”

You two continued to watch the movie and saw that McConaughey’s character saved Lopez���s character not once but twice now. But of course there was always that argument between the two characters to create a little angst.

“I can’t imagine how many weddings she’s seen not work out. This poor bride is going to get her heart broken. She’s got the worst judgement.” You said and he hummed a little.

“Yeah.. the bride and groom seem to be so incredibly different. I get that opposites attract but this a little too much.” He said.

Watching the beginning of this movie you started to wonder about a few things.

“Jensen? Did you ever have doubts if we would work out? I mean, we both have busy schedules… what if one day we’re too busy for each other and what if what everyone says about the honeymoon phase ending and we just fall apart?”

Jensen looked down at you and frowned a little, “Where’s this coming from, Darlin’?”

“I don’t know… I just hear things about couples losing their spark and I don’t want that ever happening to us…”

Jensen shifted and cupped your face so you could look up at him.

“I’ve never had a single doubt about us. Not one.” He reassured as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah you and I have busy careers.. That’s a part of life.”

“But the fact that you’re even concerned about something like that happening, and the fact that you don’t want the spark to leave either means that you’re willing to fight for us if that time ever comes. Sure for some couples the honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever. But how do you think that couples married for over fifty years works out? They don’t let that spark ever fade even if it flickers from time to time.”

You gazed into his eyes and you could see the sincerity behind them. You smiled softly as you lifted your hand and caressed his face as he continued, “You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet the moment you said yes when I proposed to you. And I know that there is nothing you and I can’t do together. Our marriage will last a lifetime. I meant it when I said till death do we part.”

Your smile grew a little bigger when you remembered his vows that day. He looked so handsome standing there at the altar and you remember getting emotional when he said those vows that day.

“You’re right… No matter how busy we get, as long as we always make sure we take that time out for each other, as long as we fight for one another, as long as we love one another, then that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?” You said and he smiled.

“And I’ll love you forever and always.” He promised.

You leaned up and kissed him, and you could feel him smiling into the kiss causing your heart to flutter just like it did the very first time you kissed him.

Needless to say, this was a pretty good date night with your husband. He always knew what to say, and you knew everything he said was truthful. You knew that your marriage would last a life and you’d always be Mrs. Jensen Ackles.

Hey guys! I was just feeling like writing some soft Jensen content. Needed some fluff in my life. Hope this little one shot brightened your day and put a smile on your face! Love you all~

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92

[boeing747]

ive always felt that my calling was to live in different places to travel and see but i really really love prague so much. i love this city. i love this place so much that. all the news of war around the world makes me both grateful to live in peace and afraid because those people living in destruction never predicted it either.

and i simply cannot comprehend it. how could anyone take a step to destroy a city. a place where people live and love and are born and die???? why do that. there is so much meaning and i love it all. the human lives all weaved together into a metropolis, for better or for worse. i love every tram stop and every spiderweb and every underfunded railway station and every dog poop bag dispenser. the man who got out of his car at a red light to ask me if i was okay crying at the crosswalk. the ferry boat operator who is inseparable from his black lab. all my neighbors in my apartment block with their dogs and their cats and children and weed smell and endless drama. the crowded post office and the corner shop owners whose name i dont know but have seen once a week for years. every rushed walk to work trying to navigate past elementary school trips on the sidewalk and tourist groups from god knows where. the old women who glare at you if you take a microsecond longer than is acceptable to notice them and give them your seat. the fact that the southwestern riverside smells like raw pizza dough half the year from the industrial brewery. the teens they hire to stand around and tell people where to go when the metro isn't going. the ukranian man with a tesla who drove me home from work cause we live close together and why not. the bar owners who are too drunk to calculate your total so you gotta spend three minutes doing napkin math. the karaoke nights that i never go to but i know theyre there... the flight schools operating out of small strips in the outskirts and people blocking the road packing their van for their weekend camping trips and the coffee festivals and the opera nights and the outdoor theatres and the riverside "beach" resorts and the concert halls and the fire stations and the doctors outside the clinic smoking cigarettes on break next to the gym receptionists an drug store owners....

[zuliuli]

you're swap au is nice :0

But since Jack, Vos and Sammy were the admins, where is Nurm? And also where would be Harper? Are the old builders also swapped with another group?

(okay that's a lot of questions sorry)

Ooo, I've been thinking about this all morning 🤭. So, my initial plan was to have Nurm take Binta's place along with a few minor changes. I'm still figuring him out.

As for the old builders.... Hadrian, Mevia, and Otto get swapped with Aiden, Maya, and Gill. Harper, on the other hand, gets swapped with Cassie. Here me out on this, since it is a swap AU, it doesn't have to play out exactly like how it does in the game (hence why I made a reuben ender dragon fusion), so my idea was to have Harper, a young loner living a ways away from civilization, working on PAMA in the lush flourishing greens of the crown Mesa. PAMA is more of the small computer we see in Harper's photos of herself when she was younger. Unfortunately, PAMA ends up a cold killing machine due to a few glitches in its programming and goes on a murderous rampage hoping to get its creator out of the world they're stuck in.

Cassie, in this AU, has now taken it upon herself to control the world (after wrongfully being banished). Using her knowledge of brewery, redstone, and her abundance of calico cats, she finds a way to brainwash the many people who end up visiting her in her lonely mansion, waiting to see who shows up with her ticket to world domination.

(A little bonus - I swapped the youtubers with the residents of Sky Island. Might delve into that later)

[lilitcafe]

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Explore a World of Fine Wines

If wine is your passion, you’ll be delighted by the wide array of options at Lilit Cafe. As a trusted beer and wine store in Bethesda, MD, Lilit Cafe offers a handpicked selection of red, white, and sparkling wines from regions across the globe. From the vineyards of Napa Valley to the rolling hills of Tuscany, every bottle in their collection tells a story of quality and craftsmanship.

Whether you’re looking for a robust Cabernet Sauvignon, a refreshing Sauvignon Blanc, or a celebratory Champagne, the wine experts at Lilit Cafe can help guide your selection. They are passionate about pairing the perfect wine with your meal, mood, or special event. And if you’re new to wine or simply curious, their team is happy to share tips on tasting notes, food pairings, and more.

A Unique Cafe Experience

What sets Lilit Cafe apart from other beer and wine stores in Bethesda, MD is its dual identity as both a retailer and a cozy cafe. While you shop for your favorite beer or wine, why not stay and enjoy a freshly prepared meal? Lilit Cafe serves a delectable menu of dishes that pair beautifully with their beverage offerings.

From flavorful appetizers to hearty entrees and indulgent desserts, every bite at Lilit Cafe is crafted with care. Whether you choose to dine in or take your meal to go, their menu features something for everyone, including vegetarian and gluten-free options. Combining great food with an excellent selection of beer and wine, Lilit Cafe transforms every visit into a memorable experience.

Supporting Local and Sustainable Choices

In addition to offering premium beer and wine, Lilit Cafe takes pride in supporting local and sustainable products. Their commitment to the community is evident in their partnerships with local wineries and breweries, ensuring that customers have access to fresh, high-quality options. This dedication to sustainability and local collaboration not only benefits the environment but also supports the vibrant Bethesda community.

Conveniently Located

Lilit Cafe’s central location at 7921 Old Georgetown Rd, Bethesda, MD 20814, United States makes it an accessible and convenient choice for anyone in the area. Whether you’re a resident of Bethesda or just passing through, this inviting store is easy to find and well worth the visit. With ample parking and a warm, welcoming atmosphere, Lilit Cafe ensures that your shopping and dining experience is as stress-free as possible.

Why Choose Lilit Cafe?

If you’re searching for a Beer and Wine Store In Bethesda MD that combines quality, variety, and exceptional service, Lilit Cafe is the perfect choice. Here’s what sets them apart:

Unmatched Selection: From rare craft beers to fine wines from around the world, Lilit Cafe offers an unparalleled variety of beverages.

Expert Guidance: Their knowledgeable team is always ready to help you find the perfect drink for any occasion.

Local Focus: Lilit Cafe proudly supports local breweries and wineries, bringing the best of Maryland to your table.

Exceptional Dining: Enjoy a delicious meal while you shop, creating a one-of-a-kind experience.

Convenience: With its prime location and excellent customer service, Lilit Cafe is designed with your needs in mind.

Visit Lilit Cafe Today

Ready to explore the finest beer and wine store in Bethesda, MD? Head over to 7921 Old Georgetown Rd, Bethesda, MD 20814, United States today and discover why Lilit Cafe is a local favorite. Whether you’re searching for the perfect bottle, enjoying a meal, or both, Lilit Cafe promises an experience that’s both delightful and satisfying.

For more information or to inquire about their offerings, don’t hesitate to call them at +1 3016545454. Lilit Cafe is more than just a store—it’s a destination where great flavors and great moments come together. Visit today and raise a glass to the best beer and wine experience in Bethesda!

[cryptophasia-nabros]

Norway says its moose statue is tallest. What a load of bull, Canada retorts. - The Washington Post

https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2019/01/31/norway-says-its-moose-statue-is-tallest-what-load-bull-canada-retorts/

Not content to let Colbert, an admitted American, compare Mac to a “papier-mâché dog from an abandoned theme park,” Moosehead Breweries (no relation) is donating $25,000 Canadian dollars, or about $19,000, to the cause.

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/mac-moose-tallest-moose-jaw-1.5314141

"I think he looks distinguished," Tourism Moose Jaw's executive director, Jacki L'Heureux-Mason, said Tuesday.

Don't worry, everything ended peacefully. (Ie. Canada won.)

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/moose-truce-twinning-cities-1.5046232

It has been agreed that Mac will reclaim the title as world's tallest moose with alterations that will be paid for with a $25,000 donation from Moosehead Breweries. Meanwhile, the four-year-old statue named Storelgen in Stor-Elvdal, will "forevermore be known as the shiniest and most attractive moose in the world."

Because, clearly, researching this moose conflict is the best use of my time.

[djpain619]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Aleniheim Angel Shares Ready To Rumble

So now my Dwarf Team is finally Fully Finished to my Satisfaction.

Before when I quit painting them they were "good enough" but I wasn't really happy with them. Now after a months long hiatus I was recently hit with the inspiration to finish them. I painted Up the Cheerleaders, Beer Barrels, as well as the Mascot & Fumbble Secret League Positionals. I also went back and touched up all the Linemen and standard Positionals.

So here are the Cheerleaders and the Beer Barrels. The Barrels will be uses as reroll, turn, & Score Counters. The Cheerleaders will be Cheerleaders.

They will also be used as the Crew & Cargo for my Bugman's Carts... which still require Draft Ponies. I also plan to get some crates and write TNT on them, or order some Minecraft Lego TNT blocks or something so I can run them as Mining Carts.

Here are my Linemen, Blitzers, and Slayers. For the Linemen I mainly painted the Cheek Vents and Back of the helmets as well as the Belt Buckle abdominal plate... thing. Then I updated the Backpacks to paint the Gauges, the Vents, and a little Blue Glow on the round part that I like to think is a reactor.

For the Blitzers and Slayers I just painted their Beard Jewelry and their straps red to contrast all the white and the Aleniheim Brewery A on their Back Plate. On the Blitzers I painted red stripes on their Shoulder Pads, and the Slayers Shoulder Pads I painted Half & Half.

I based the Secret League Positionals. This was actually really easy cause I just put them on the old bases for My Totengrad Tyrants Color Guard. The Color Guard has been Drafted as a Full Unit Command & spare Champion for The Old World and are now on Square Bases. So now the Secret League Positionals are on their old hand me down bases.

Speaking of I actually got another sprue of Nobility Team a couple weeks ago. The Linemen & Blitzer have already been assembled and have been added to my Free Company Militia, the Blitzer being the Unit Champion. I even Kitbashed a Sword and Pistol into his hands.

Last Up is the DEATHCOPTER. I really just did the Pilot's eyes and the Beer foam. I also painted the Aleniheim Angel Shares A on the Underside of the DEATHCOPTER's Hull.

[positivexcellence]

hilarieburton: Before the clock strikes 12, I have to highlight my Day 4 pic for creatives that make the world a better place!!! And I have to give so much love and respect this this woman… @danneelackles512 .

Danneel is a dreamer. She can see an old house and turn it into the most hip, bohemian design palace you’ve ever seen. She can see a empty field and envision a brewery. She can see a basic pitch document and know how the entire series should look and feel.  She has impeccable intuition, and has made my life immeasurably better by being the voice of reason and support and unabashed mischief. 

Many many many moons ago (like 12 or 13 years), she and I conceived a movie idea called “Christmas Witches”. I can’t spoil the plot, but it’s FUN. And it’s still a dream of mine that we’ll get to make it together. Tonight felt a little bit like that movie,…just a couple witches, putting good energy out into the world. 🧙‍♀️ Thank you for being by my side Danneel. Thank you for loving me, warts and all. I adore you.  Go support this magic woman by following @familybusinessbeerco and @chaosmachineproductions