#River Grille Grill Parts
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Replacement BBQ kit for Your Grills Including 6 Pack Grill Burners and Heat Plates Fits Compatible Models: Duro 740-3003-BI, North American Outdoors 720-0419, 720-0459, BB10837A, River Grille GR1031-012965, Royal Oak BB10863A, BB10837A Gas Grill Models. BUY TODAY!!
#BBQ Pro 720-266#Duro Repair Kit#Duro Replacement Kit#Grill Burners#Heat Plates#Nexgrill BBQ Parts#North American Outdoors 720-0419#River Grille GR1031-012965#River Grille Grill Parts#Royal Oak BB10863A
0 notes
Text
Smiling Critters incorrect quotes
Dogday: What is the code etomologists use for "I stepped on it, I'm so sorry, it was dark out and the specimen was very small?"
Bubba Bubbaphant: "Impromptu dissection was performed under less-than-optimal lighting conditions."
Catnap: "Impromptu dissection" is an alarming phrase in any context and I thank you for it.
KickinChickin: What’s biologist for "the little f⭐️cker BIT me and I yote it into the undergrowth on reflex?"
Bubba Bubbaphant: "The specimen was removed from the study pool due to abnormal interaction responses."
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Hoppy Hopscotch: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.
KickinChickin: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
Hoppy Hopscotch: Nothing in life is free.
Bobby Bearhug: Love is free.
Bubba Bubbaphant: Knowledge is free.
Craftycorn: Friendship is free.
Dogday: Self-respect is free.
KickinChickin: Everything's free if you don't pay for it.
The Squad: ...
PickyPiggy: Kickin, that's illegal-
Hoppy Hopscotch: No, let him finish!
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Bubba Bubbaphant: Are you tall enough to play basketball though?
Hoppy Hopscotch: Are you calling me short?
Bubba Bubbaphant: I'm calling you vertically challenged.
⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️
KickinChickin: You have Crayons?
Craftycorn: Yes, I have—
KickinChickin: You're— how old are you?
Craftycorn (in tears): YES I AM AN ADULT AND I HAVE CRAYONS, I HAVE A BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN THE CABINET UNDER THE TV BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS SOMETIMES, OKAY? EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS.
🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨🎨
PickyPiggy: *standing at the top of the stairs* What are y'all doing at the bottom of the staircase?
Catnap: I accidentally fell down.
Bubba Bubbaphant: CATNAP PUSHED ME down the stairs because I refuse to pay HIS part of our rent!
Dogday: Catnap bet me fifty bucks that I couldn't reach the bottom of the stairs faster than they did falling down it, so I slide down the banister to get my money.
KickinChickin: I don't know how I got here. One moment, I was sleeping in my bed, three floors up, and then suddenly I was waking up here, just in time to get crushed by Dogday.
💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡
Dogday: I love you.
Catnap: How many people have you said that to?
Dogday: Everyone.
Catnap: What?
Dogday: I told everyone that I love you.
🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙
Craftycorn: Why does Picky always do the laundry so loudly?
Bobby Bearhug: So everyone knows that no one helps her out in the house.
PickyPiggy, in the distance: *slams the washing machine shut*
🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎
PickyPiggy: So Hunny-bunny, how did your first time cooking dinner go?
Hoppy Hopscotch: Pretty good if I do say so myself.
PickyPiggy: Oo! Okay, what are we having?
Hoppy Hopscotch: Alright, so for appetizers, we have a potato.
PickyPiggy: A whole potato?
Hoppy Hopscotch: Yes. And then for the main course, we have grilled cheese sandwiches!
PickyPiggy: These just look like big slabs of black.
Hoppy Hopscotch: Because that's what they are!
Hoppy Hopscotch: And then for desert, we have chocolate.
PickyPiggy: These are just chocolate chips?
Hoppy Hopscotch: They sure are!
Hoppy Hopscotch: And then for drinks, we have toast!
Hoppy Hopscotch: *lifts up a glass of blended toast* Bon appetite!
🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻
KickinChickin: I have a plan.
PickyPiggy: Good! As long as we aren’t breaking the law again, I’m open to hearing it.
KickinChickin: …
PickyPiggy: …
KickinChickin: I no longer have a plan.
🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶
PickyPiggy: why can’t any of y’all ever come up with a plan that doesn’t involve breaking the law?
Bubba Bubbaphant (awkwardly looking over at KickinChickin and Hoppy Hopscotch): Picky…You do realize that three of us have been to prison before, right?
🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤🐤
KickinChickin: Have I ever told you that I love you like the mom I never had?
PickyPiggy: For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am!
KickinChickin: Mean.
🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰
Hoppy Hopscotch: I'm sorry. Please talk to me.
PickyPiggy:
Hoppy Hopscotch: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure?
PickyPiggy: Hmf! 'Sorry' ain’t never gonna bring back my f🍎cking M&Ms.
🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄
Bubba Bubbaphant: What do we think of Dogday?
*pause*
Hoppy Hopscotch: *shrugs* Nice pal.
Bobby Bearhug: I think he’s gay.
🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘
KickinChickin: That was so hot, Bubba.
Bubba Bubbaphant: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.
KickinChickin: I'm so in love with you.
🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱
KickinChickin: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...
Catnap: Only as their rodeo clown.
🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷
#smiling critters#incorrect quotes#some of these are from tumblr#some of these are from a generator#some of these I made up or edited#pickypiggy x hoppy hopscotch#PickyPiggy#dogday x catnap#Dogday#hoppy hopscotch#craftycorn x bobby bearhug#craftycorn#catnap x dogday#catnap#bobby bearhug x crafty corn#bobby bearhug#bubba bubbaphant x kickinchickin#bubba bubbaphant#kickinchickin#gay#lesbian#silly#lgbtq+
341 notes
·
View notes
Text
Franken-Hound Role Reversal AU - Undead Hound Reader and Yan Scientists hoping to create the next step in human evolution only to make the sweetest man-eating puppy instead. Reader being the obedient, hungry pet they are happily devours trespassers while their masters cheer them on from the window. Terrorizes the town thinking they're being helpful by stealing the mailman's bag and bringing it home. Their masters jump to defend their actions, grilling people for harassing a poor defenseless beast that doesn't know any better.....
Also they have a terrible habit of losing track of their limbs
-
Police Officer: I'm here about reports of a rabid animal attacking someone?
Yan Scientist: False reports, officer. Just my sweet pet playing with their food again
[The officer looks over their shoulder and sees an enormous dog-human creature mauling someone three times smaller than it]
Officer: .... have a safe night
-
Yan Neighbor, rubbing their face against reader's palms: Your fur is so soft... I wish I could hold your hands forever
Undead Reader: Oh! If you like my hands that much you can take one with you. I can tell my masters I lost it in the river again [tears the stitching in their non dominant arm and gives it to the neighbor]
Yan Neighbor, sweating: can.... can you feel whatever happens to your body parts when they're detached?
Undead Reader: Sometimes.... why? :)
-
Yan Scientist, pointing at their cheek: kisses?
[The hound tackles their master against the wall - rolling its long tongue over their face and chest]
Yan Scientist, pointing at a test dummy: kisses?
[The hound tackles the mannequin to the ground and tears its head off]
Yan Scientist, petting their ears: Such a good puppy
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere insert#yandere oc#yandere blurb#yandere text#undead reader#hybrid reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
[ID: A plate of light brown bumpy flatbread with blackened spots, surrounded by za'tar and green olives. End ID]
خبز طابون / Khobz taboon (Palestinian flatbread)
Khobz taboon ("taboon bread") is a soft, chewy Palestinian flatbread. It may be eaten with olive oil and za'tar, but it is best known as the base of مسخن (musakhkhan), where it is topped with spiced aromatics and perhaps chicken.
Khobz taboon gets its name from the vessel it is traditionally cooked in—an outdoor, shallow conical oven with an opening at the top and a clay or metal cover to trap heat. Taboons may also have an opening at the side through which the fire can be stoked, especially in the east of Palestine. These ovens were historically made from a mixture of local clay and hay, but have more recently also been constructed from clay treated to be sturdier, or from metal.
A taboon is used by packing flammable material, such as hay, fabric, animal dung, wood, and charcoal, around the outside of the oven and letting it burn overnight; the fire transfers thermal energy to the clay, and to the river stones, sand, glass, or flint stones (صوان, "ṣawwān") that form the base of the oven. The ash is then brushed away, and the flattened dough is placed on the stones or stuck to the walls of the oven to cook. The clay and stones will continue to release thermal energy and cook things throughout the day. The clay and ash give a distinctive flavor to anything cooked inside the taboon, making this method a source of nostalgia for many people who have transitioned to cooking in indoor ovens.
Khobz taboon was traditionally made with whole wheat flour. Most people today use a blend of around two parts white flour to one part whole wheat, or else all white flour; they may even add milk or milk powder to ensure a very soft dough. This recipe uses a blend of flours to combine the nutty flavor of whole wheat dough with the pliancy of white dough. It also begins with an optional pre-ferment to mimic the traditional Palestinian method of including a piece of dough from the previous day's bread into each new batch (like a pâte fermentée) giving a rich and slightly sour flavor to the final bread. It calls for the use of rocks to imitate the bottom of a taboon; the rocks give the khobz its distinctive dimpled texture, and ensure that no interior pocket forms in the bread.
In the years following 2007, the siege Israel had imposed on Gaza caused a shortage of cooking gas that led to a resurgence in the use of taboons. The ovens were used to bake bread and to grill sweet potatoes during the time of their winter harvest. Meanwhile, in the West Bank, Israeli military forces repeatedly destroyed taboon ovens and assaulted villagers who tried to defend them, as Israeli settlers from nearby villages complained about the smoke that the ovens produced. Some of these ovens had been used to bake bread for entire families of 40 or more people. Palestinians continue to build, use, and defend these ovens, despite the fact that Israeli law de facto forbids Palestinians in the West Bank to build anything.
Today, Israel is deliberately targeting and destroying bakeries in refugee camps that had been supplying bread to tens of thousands of people in Gaza, continuing a long campaign of starvation of the Palestinian people.
Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; and donating to Palestine Action's bail fund.
Equipment:
A large, shallow mixing bowl, like a Moroccan qus'a
A large (12"), shallow clay cooking vessel, such as the bottom of a Moroccan tajine (one that is rated for very high temperatures), or a large baking tray
Assorted smooth river rocks of varying sizes, from 1 to 3" in diameter.
Make sure that your rocks have been thoroughly cleaned, and that they do not contain any fissures, cracks, or veins that could contain water (this water, once heated in the oven, could cause the rocks to crack open). Instead of river rocks, I used lava rocks designed for use in a clay tanoor. You just need something to provide thermal mass and give a bumpy texture.
Ingredients:
Makes 3 large breads.
For the pre-ferment:
140g whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp active dry yeast
140g water
You may also use a pâte fermentée that you already have (just adjust the ratio of white to whole wheat flour added later accordingly), or a sourdough starter. The hydration of the starter doesn't matter, since you will be adding water by eye later.
For the bread:
330g bread flour or all-purpose flour
30g whole wheat flour
5g salt
Water
If you skipped the pâte fermentée step, add 170g (rather than 30g) of wheat flour at this stage, as well as 1/2 Tbsp of active dry yeast. I have not tested the recipe this way.
Instructions:
For the pâte fermentée:
1. Mix flour and yeast in a small mixing bowl. Add water and stir to combine. Cover and leave out at room temperature for a day, or in the refrigerator for up to three days. At the end of the rising time, it should be about one and a half times its original size.
For the bread:
This recipe makes a high hydration dough that will need techniques such as slapping and folding to knead effectively.
1. Mix flours and salt in a very large, shallow mixing bowl. Add your pâte fermentée and mix to combine.
2. Add water until the flour comes together into a soft, sticky dough and continue keading. Have a bowl of water on your workstation. Every time the dough starts to stick to your hands or the sides of the bowl, wet your hands and rinse down the side of the bowl with some water. This will gradually add water to the dough.
3. You will notice the dough growing smoother and laxer. At this point, start kneading by repeatedly folding the edges of the dough in towards the center. Do this by occasionally wetting your hands, then running a hand along the side of the bowl and under the edge of the dough to unstick it from the bowl; then fold. You will get stuck less often if you try to touch the dough as lightly and briefly as possible. Every few folds, dimple the surface of the dough all over with your fingertips. You will have been kneading for about 10 minutes at this point.
The dough should become more smooth and less bumpy—you will notice it holding its shape and becoming more stretchy as gluten forms. It should form into a ball when you fold the corners in and hold its shape for a minute, but then gradually expand to take the shape of the bowl. I added about 2 1/2 cups of water total (in dry conditions) during steps 2 and 3.
4. At this point, the dough is wet enough that the slap and fold method is the best way to knead. Wet your hands and again unstick the dough from the sides of the bowl. Hook your hands under the dough and quickly pull it all up into the air; fold the hanging bottom part of the dough under, and plop the dough back down, folding it on top of the part you plopped down earlier. Give the bowl a quarter turn and repeat. Do this continually for another few minutes.
5. When the dough is very smooth and lax, smear some olive oil on the sides of the bowl and under the dough, and pat some oil on top.
6. Cover the bowl and bulk ferment the dough at room temperature for 8 hours, or for 16-24 hours in the fridge. At the end of the rising time, you should see bubbles beginning to form on the surface of the dough.
To shape and bake:
1. Place a layer of rocks at the bottom of a clay cooking vessel or baking sheet. Put the sheet in the top third of the oven and preheat your oven to 550 °F (290 °C), or as hot as it will go.
2. Meanwhile, fold the edges of the risen dough over into the middle a few more times with damp hands. Pinch off a large piece of dough (about the size of two fists), and fold the sides over into the middle to make a neat packet.
3. Drop the packet of dough onto a heavily floured surface, and flip to flour both sides. Pat the dough flat, then throw it back and forth between your hands, catching the edge each time as you spin it through the air, like a pizza crust, to stretch it into a circle about 1/4" (1/2cm) thick with a diameter of about 10" (25cm).
You may also stretch and pat the dough out on a flat surface.
4. Remove the tray from the oven. Flip the dough circle over the back of your hand to transfer it and lay it down over the hot rocks. Re-stretch it into a circle, if necessary.
5. Place the tray back in the oven and cook for 5-7 minutes, until the top of the bread has golden brown spots. Repeat with each piece of dough, leaving the rocks in the oven for a few minutes between each one to allow them to come back up to temperature.
6. (Optional): Hold each flatbread directly over a gas flame for a minute or two to blacken a few spots and mimic the flavor that a wood-fired oven would give to your khobz.
You may also use a method similar to the dhungar technique to smoke your bread. Place each piece of bread one at a time into a large vessel with a closely fitting lid, alongside a small bowl. Light a piece of wood on fire and drop it into the bowl; then cover the vessel with the lid as you allow the wood to smoke for a minute or two.
#note that I do not recommend this recipe to anyone who is not experienced with making bread#I'll have another Palestinian flatbread recipe up soon which will be more beginner-friendly#Palestinian#bread#khobz#flatbread
347 notes
·
View notes
Text
I can't believe that this renovated 1957 home in Enfield, CT is under $1M. 4bds, 4ba, $795K. It has a normal living space and a surprising feature.
Just take a quick look at this side of the house: Casual sunken living room with the original stone fireplace.
Dining area outside the kitchen is probably for formal dining.
There's also a large area for in-kitchen dining. Cute cabinet.
I really like the blue cabinets, but they're just the painted outdated ones. Still, they look good.
Nice renovated bath. Interesting tub.
The secondary bedroom is a good size.
What a cute bath.
There's also a large screened porch. So, it's a pretty normal home.
So, I was definitely not expecting this. Who cares about the rest of the house? This has everything.
At night, you just climb the spiral stairs and go to the bedrooms.
In this corner is a stone family room with a fireplace.
Then, in front of the pool between the family room and kitchen, there's a dining area and doors to the screened-in porch.
Choice of hot tub or pool. Love that bridge.
And, look at how nice the kitchen is. I love the blue cabinets and brick wall. There's even a grill.
This is beautiful. Love the big exhaust hood over the cook top, too.
Cool veggie washing sink in the island.
There's a half bath down here. I like the black toilet and blue bowl sink.
And, then this is the mezzanine. I wouldn't even bother much w/living in the other house part.
Large 2.67 acre lot bordering the Connecticut River.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/7-Riverview-St-Enfield-CT-06082/58133123_zpid/
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rent A BF!
#4 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology, gun violence incredible bilingual usage of slurs | 600 words
previous next series masterlist
25th May, 1996
The distance between two strangers does not decrease just because one is an escort and the other a client. Many a times these two could fuck raw for two hours, but once the pants get back on, they’d rather leave the cash on the table than have their palms touch again.
Insulting each other’s very touchiest points is a far quicker method to get close. It could go either way– you become lifelong enemies (which is quite intimate by itself) or become … rather chill with each other.
Only by the third session, Toji and you have realised that you’re more comfortable with each other than you would’ve expected. Rude and passive-aggressive it might have been, but the mussel-pasta debacle led to you setting a precedent of extremely open honesty with each other:
Toji– “I don't like to be scoffed at. Can’t stand it, makes my hair rise, lose my head. Was gonna stab you with your own silverware for a second there, heh. I'd rather you didn't scoff at me. Or around me, that fine?”
You– “Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hear any talk about my family.”
Toji– “Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I guess. I don’t wanna either.”
You– “Wait, pardon, but did you say you were about to stab m–”
‘Chill’ is fine, Toji tells himself. Chill is the best thing you can be with a woman.
Aside from the obvious exception of his blood-related family, he’s chill with literally the majority of the world’s population. Sure, he used to think that the faggots and the chong-gong Koreans were sketchy, but look at him now, friends with both of them. He’s grown so much that he’d even accept a faggot Korean– he had his suspicions about Shiu, though he never could bring himself to ask.
You’re so chill together, walking around the flea market in Shiori Park, shifting through piles of Chenel scarves and Botega prints. There’s not a lot of customers, but the pretty cherry blossoms waft through the air, sticking to your hair and nose, creating a romance neither Toji nor you are part of. The Sumida river laps by. Songbirds practice for spring.
No, no, something just isn’t sitting right with Toji. This ‘chill’ is different from the ‘chill’ towards the faggots and the Koreans, because this ‘chill’ doesn’t mean ‘apathy’ or ‘casual diregard’. ‘Chill’ for you is nothing more than a blanket covering pesky little other emotions. Unfortunately, Toji is not emotionally mature enough to unlock these.
The weight of this suspiciously stable word, ‘chill’, sets a frown on his brows, a pebble in his shoe. He glares down at the handmade earrings you put up to your ears. He scowls at the candy floss man. He grumbles at the antique tea set hawker.
“Does it bother you?” He surprises himself asking. “Me grumbling about everything?”
You blink. “Do you dislike it so much?”
The boy just shrugs.
“We could just leave, Toji-kun. I’ll come here later by myself. Let’s do something you want to.” You suddenly realise that you have no idea what that would be. He didn’t seem very into thrifting. It made you wonder what exactly he was into. Under the veneer of enthusiasm as fake as the brands here, there didn’t seem to be a topic that he wasn’t nonchalant about. Of course, you understand that this is a business transaction, but aren’t you two still humans who care about each other as humans do? Maybe it’s the age difference. Maybe it’s that he’s a paid whore. It doesn’t matter, because you two were chill.
“How about bowling?” you ask. “Or a grill restaurant?”
“‘Kay.”
You walk towards the exit over a little cobblestone path, turning sharply into a corner to a gun pointing at your face.
previous next series masterlist
a/n: open communication but the person communicating is toji ugh
today also marks the declaration of ceasefire in gaza. this isn't a political take of anything, im happy this came about. it's just that i can't help thinking it all meant nothing at the end. thousands upon thousands of brothers, sisters, mums, dads, granny and granpas died, and for what? everything goes back to how it was. nothing has changed. i don't mean to bring down the mood. maybe im too young and naive. i don't know. i cant shake off the feeling that im guilty of something but i don't know what.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x you#shiu kong#jjk men#jjk fushiguro#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro x reader#gojo satoru#toji zenin#zenin toji x reader#zenin clan#fushiguro toji#toji#fushiguro x you#jjk gojo#geto suguru#suguru geto#satosugu#jjk geto#kento nanami
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Grilled Cheese
In which V and Johnny grill a cheese. 1970 words!
“Grilled cheese.”
This does not pull V from her feed. She ignores the engram, a practice she was getting pretty good at, and scrolls through the net. Silverhand was getting... a bit too familiar in her skull. Lingering where he wasn’t wanted, interjecting nasty comments about, pretty much, everything. Now, he’s lounged out on her mattress just around the corner, one leg hanging off the bed, fingers tapping to some unheard beat against the plastic frame. V turns the K-Techno song up a notch and clicks to the next page on the feed. Oooh, Panam and Mitch will be in town this weekend, good to know.
After a moment, he speaks again. “Think you can manage that?”
Huffing, she pulled away from the net, spinning the chair around, and peered out into the little apartment. “Manage what?”
“A grilled cheese,” Johnny asks again, more to the ceiling, than to her. “Even a gonk like you has a hot plate. Bread’s still a thing in NC?”
That makes her short circuit. Who the hell needed a hot plate anymore? She’d just stocked up the vendor in her apartment, there were sandwiches included in her latest package, why the hell would she need a hot plate? And where the hell would she even keep it? The little apartment in Watson wasn’t outfitted with a counter, let alone a kitchen. “Yeah, it is. But, uh, no. I don’t.”
Johnny leans around the little wall separating them in disbelief, before glitching in and out of existence to dwell mournfully in the doorway to her computer space. “There’s more use to a hot plate than just cooking V. Its an essential part of any grifter’s apartment. What, next you’ll tell me you don’t have a pan either? Feed me any more of that ‘sashimi’ crap and I’ll puke.”
Her mouth goes dry. Sure, some folks in Night City knew how to cook. V would kill for a pot of Mama Wells’ pozole, and the jambalaya that River and his sister had served was preem. But cooking was reserved for those in luxury or for those too impoverished to afford the instant foods that Night City had on offer. V was neither.
Reading her face (and mind), Johnny hung his head, “Sad, V.”
Scowling, she turns back to the screen, “Like you’ve ever cooked a single thing in your fucking life. Probably had your groupies do it. Entitled prick like you probably threw a fit if they got you wheat bread instead of rye.” V says the words like she knows what they mean. Most of the bread Night City had on offer was the foamy tasting white stuff that either went stale immediately after opening or it lasted wayyy past the expiration date making one wonder if the bread had taken on some form of sentients before it was tossed into the bin.
“Maybe,” he admits, disappearing from view, then glitching back so he’s partway between V and her screen, “It came with the lifestyle. But even I could handle myself with something this basic. Bread, a smear of butter and slices of pepperjack and sharp cheddar? Cooked over high heat, till the bread’s charred and cheese is molten like a volcano. Hell, mouth’s drooling just thinking about it.”
And it is. V can't even recall when, if ever, she’d ever had a grilled cheese sandwich, but Johnny sure the hell can. She can almost taste the savory crunch, the stretch of melted cheese on the back of her tongue. Johnny’s mouth turns up at the memory. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”
He shakes his head, grin taking hold, “It's not like I'm even asking for a smoke this time.” Johnny leans against her desk, getting in close and making her optics fragment. “Come on, V. What do you say?”
---
It's raining in Night City when she finally decides to track this down. The electrically charged sky was grey, blotting out holograms that hung in the air and for once the stench of Dogtown didn't reach her nose. On her way back from a gig from Mr. Hands, V spots a pawn shop sporting a slew of old tech. Most of its junk: tape decks, out of date processing units, instruments that needed to be tuned up, but there's a handful of kitchen gadgets. Finding a glass hot plate with the proper hook up wasn’t too hard and there was even a frying pan for a reasonable price. She hits up Tom’s Diner to bum the rest of the supplies. The ingredients are hardly anything but he had several types of cheese on hand, so it’ll have to do.
Shaking the water from her jacket, V shrugs it off, draping it at the entrance of her little apartment, before setting the hot plate up on her coffee table and setting it to medium heat. She then turns to the mirror, stripping off her waterlogged eyeliner before returning to the couch. Johnny was already in his normal spot, one leg crossed over the other, brown eyes hidden behind aviators to hide the judgment in his stare. It didn't work. “Couldn't even spring for the good shit?”
“It's grilled cheese. Not yellowfin tuna,” she fires back, smearing the butter on the almost stale bread. “Now walk me through this.”
“Never had to cook for yourself?” Johnny muses, leaning forward to observe her amature technique of peeling neon orange cheese from the sleeve of plastic.
V scowles at him and plops the bread onto the pan with a sizzle. “If I burn this shit, it’ll be your fault.” At that, Johnny scoots closer so he’s leaning over her shoulder. The engram isn't really there, but the hoops her brain jumps through to make sense of another being residing in it certainly makes him feel real. She can feel the air move to make space for the rockerboy, the brush of his chrome shoulder against hers.
“Put three slices on,” he insists, making her unwrap another. “Now the other one.” Following his instructions, she places the other buttered piece atop the cheese.
“Think I'm good to flip it?”
“Don’t rush it,” Johnny says. It shouldn't be this easy to slip into domesticity with the engram, but it feels natural. Like they fit together. He nods at her, she jiggles the pan, freeing the crisped bread from the non-stick surface then uses a wrist flick to knock the sandwich into the air. It hangs there for a moment and for a split second, a burst of panic shoots through her at the thought that it couldn't complete the turn and come crashing back down into a sloppy, burney mess. But the sandwich lands with a satisfying plop. The cooked side is a crispy golden and cheese is starting to melt out the sides.
“Smells great.”
There's a swell of pride in her chest at his words. “Don’t say anything till I’m done. Could still burn it.”
“It’s better burned. Gives it some flavor. Kicks it up a notch.”
Neither speaks for a moment, she doesn't even bother turning the TV on. Instead opting to observe the bread, just in case it burst into flames. There is a little smoke from the cheese melting but it's not ruined yet. She moved the pan again, making sure it does not stick. V knew very little about cooking, but if this came out alright, maybe it was something she could actually get good at. Using a fork, she lifts to check.
“Well? Does the curtain match the drapes?” He is always so crass.
V makes a face. “That does not even make sense. But, yeah, its done.” She slides the bread onto a paper plate before finally relaxing back. The sandwich is too hot yet and V flicks on the tv. Zoning out. There’s nothing on TV, but it's kind of nice. Just chilling at home, no pressing missions, just waiting on a call from Reed. She curls her legs under her and leans her cheek against the low back of the couch. If Johnny had any real mass to him, she’d be resting against his shoulder. He’s stretched out, one arm slung over the couch, a boot resting on her coffee table as he has a pre-emptive ghost cigarette. There’s no real smoke, but the memory of the nicotine stings her nose.
After a moment, she slides the paper plate closer, testing the heat with her fingers before biting down into the cheap meal. The bread is crunchy, the char covering any staleness, and the cheese has a salty, funky, melty flavor. Not too bad for her first pass. She hums, satisfied.
“Any good?” Johnny presses.
It’ll be a good few minutes before her brain relays the taste to him. She nods, wishing she could just pass him the sandwich. “Not half bad.” She takes another bite, the smell of charred sandwich mixing with the acrid smell of his cigarette. “Ask nicely and maybe I’ll make another some time.” Johnny lets a single laugh resonate in his chest. Damn, she loved that sound. Not that she’d ever tell Johnny that.
Hell, he probably already knew.
V is about half way through the meal and Johnny is done with his cigarette, but the smoke smell continues to hang in the air. If anything, it's getting worse. There's a haze. V glances again at the engram, nope, he hadn't lit up another. So where was---?
Above, the holo screens flash red and an alarm blares through the apartment. “FIRE. IMMEDIATELY EXIT THE APARTMENT. FIRE.” The screens show a dramatized version of her little apartment with directions on how to exit with little anime chickens on fire darting around the edges.
She crushed her palms over her ears, eyes wildly darting around the apartment before landing on the smoldering pan on the still very hot hotplate. The residue of melted cheese and breadcrumbs had transformed into a ball of carbon and smoke, the little plastic fort she’s used in improvised spatula had begun to liquify and seal onto the pan, setting off the oversensitive fire system. “Shit, shit, shit!” Leaping to action, V grabs the pan by the handle, drops it into the bathroom sink and turns on the water. It vaporizes to steam the moment it hits the pan, ruining it, but the water stops it from smoking. If she didn't get this smoke out now, the sprinkler system would trip any second. She punches the button to open the windows and, using the pillow from her bed, she stands on her tiptoes and waves it back and forth, forcing the air to circulate. Johnny’s laughter cuts through the alarms, as he watches her scramble. Scorn zips through her, but she does not have time to express her contempt. The air is moving through the apartment though, and after minutes of waving her arms like a gonk, the alarm finally turns off and her screens return to their stream of content. She drops back onto the couch, groaning and drapes her forearm over her eyes. V sinks low, catching her breath.
“Smooth one, V.”
Before he can add any more to that sentence, she cuts him off with her middle finger. “Not another fucking word, Silverhand.” He keeps his mouth shut and she risks glancing at him. If Johnny didn't look stoic or broody, he was smug. And this is the smuggest she’d ever seen the rockerboy. “What?”
Johnny’s brown eyes go between her and the half eaten grilled cheese on the table. “Gonna finish that?”
V growles, grabs the sandwich and throws it at him. The bread phases right through, probably making a mess of her couch. He flips her off in turn, laughs then glitches away to some spot at the edge of her brain and out of sight.
Asshole.
#johnny silverhand#v cyberpunk#silverv#johnny silverhand x v#cyberpunk 2077#new hyperfixation acquired
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
below is js a thing I’m writing ab graves and fem!reader meetin at a bar in San Antonio
hehe this is so dumb.. also I’m a yapper so this is only part 1: initial meeting (no smut.. yet. freak mode loading)
You had never been to Texas before, having been born and raised in Vegas, but as your Uber from the airport glided through the streets of San Antonio, you started thinking all the flashy desert cities got that same seedy vibe.
You had flown in for a good friend’s wedding taking place here on Tuesday, though today was Thursday- you got excited and came a few days early because you’d never been so far from home before, so this was a good opportunity to do some sightseeing. (It was also nice to get some time off of work and get wasted.)
As you neared downtown, you stared out the window, eyes flitting over crumbling remnants of what once was. Dusty brick buildings, churches, littered construction equipment and blocked off alleys. As your Uber neared your hotel, there were more office buildings and tourist spots in your peripheral vision, but you were distracted by your phone at this point, checking to make sure you were dropped off at the correct location.
You’re quickly dropped at the lobby of the swanky looking joint, and your Uber driver helps you get your suitcase out from his trunk, before hurriedly leaving with a small wave goodbye. You check in with the front desk, grab your room card, and head up the elevator, the lack of cigarette stench a pleasant surprise.
You exit the elevator at the top floor, roaming down the hall until you reach your room. The door lock clicks open as you tap your card to the sensor. You let out an amused whistle as sleek modern themes fill your sight. Your gaze roams over a neat desk under a flat screen tv, a fluffy queen bed, a glass nightstand with a small matching lamp, and a comfy recliner next to the wall to wall window, beautifully overlooking… the back of the hotel next door. You shut the door behind you, setting your suitcase by the bed and shrugging your sweatshirt off before wandering into the bathroom. You’re quick in shoving your pants down and hunching over the toilet to piss with your eyes closed, your body weary from your flight.
Soon enough you’re lounging on the bed, clicking your phone on. It’s 7PM now, so while most of the historical spots you’d seen online were closed, you remember your good friend had told you about a pretty river walk with tons of restaurants and bars, and now that you’re looking at it from your maps app, it’s really not a long walk from your hotel.
You slip out of your bummy airport outfit, take a quick shower, and switch the previous walmart fit for a cute sundress and a cropped long sleeve cover. Your hair was almost dry, but even at this time of night you were certain that that summer Texas air was going to dry it up in seconds, much like the air back home. You do your makeup real nice in the bathroom mirror, that signature look that got all your drinks paid for. Once ready, you quickly grab your purse and leave the hotel, stepping out into the busy night.
You use your maps app to walk from your hotel down towards the river walk. The first thing you see as you approach is the pretty lights, shining over various bridges and stone staircases leading groups down by the water. It was a long ass river, and as you make your descent down a staircase you are welcomed by the long stretches of businesses on each side of it. You walk by the river for a while, taking pictures of the bridges, the restaurants, and a few ducks that waddle past you. Groups of friends and family bustle around you as you venture further down the stretch, doing pretty much the same as you. It’s not until you reach a large bar and grill, with live music inside and out, those beautiful lush blue lights shining all around it, that you really stop in place. One more picture of the view, then you quietly step in for a drink.
It’s pretty busy this time of night, the chatter around the tables and bar almost as loud as the jazz band playing on a stage in the corner. You take a seat at the bar, a couple empty stools to your left, and a large group of friends laughing loudly to your right. You patiently wait for your turn to order, though you knew it would probably take a while for the bartender to get through everyone else.
As you wait, you’re blissfully taking in the sights and sounds around you, watching the jazz band in the corner play as you sway your head a little to the soft music. Throughout this moment, though, you start to feel eyes on you, a gaze that burns through the back of your head, watching your every move, studying you. However, you ignore the feeling, enjoying the music as you tap the back of your foot against your stool and sway.
When the bartender finally reaches you, she smiles down at you, her voice shaking you out of your spaced out gaze towards the jazz band. You turn to meet her eyes as she says, “What can I get for you, my dear?”
You clear your throat, almost forgetting what you wanted before you speak, pointing down at a picture on the menu as you do, “Could I get this margarita, the purple one? Looks so yummy.”
She laughs and nods, putting your order in, “Of course, I’ll have that right out.”
You mouth a ‘thank you’ before pulling out your phone, waiting for your drink. You feel that weird feeling again, this strong feeling that someone’s watching you, hiding amongst the crowds of chattering patrons. You set your phone down to look around, when out of the blue a hand comes to rest on the counter to your left, making you jolt.
When you look up beside you, a tall glass of dirty blonde hair and dark blue peepers is pulling up to the seat right next to you, despite another empty one residing a seat away. You couldn’t be annoyed at the fact he could’ve left a gap, since you had done the same to your counter neighbor on your right. Though as you take a second to look him over, you’re increasingly aware of how fine this man is. He’s got a real nice build, and the way that dress shirt fits over his muscles.. the cowboy hat, boots, and belt to finish.. the lighting of the bar bathing his features in a soft blue.. it has your eyes lingering way too long.
He looks over at you as he takes his seat, silently watching as you space out on him, not even noticing him looking at you in return. His eyes peek at you from the side as he settles, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Your drink, ma’am, enjoy,” the bartender’s soft voice snaps you out of your ogling, and she sets a pretty purple margarita down in front of you. It quickly shifts your attention and makes your mouth water with thirst.
“Sorry, thanks so much,” you mutter and take a sip of the drink as the man next to you laughs. You realize you had been staring at him for almost a minute. The sound of his laugh echoes in your head as your ears redden from embarrassment, having been caught checking out a stranger. You try to ignore him as you sip your margarita- which is amazing by the way- but he draws your attention back towards him with a wave of his hand as he holds back another laugh.
“Hey.. I didn’t come to laugh at ya by the way, I don’t mind the attention.. I watched you walk in earlier and thought I’d try my luck at catchin yours, actually, so I’m pretty damn happy..” his voice is a sweet country drawl that rings through your soul, his striking blue eyes capturing you with a stare that has your thighs clenching.
You folded your hands in your lap as you struggled to maintain eye contact, shaking off your previous embarrassment to answer back. “Ah, I’m flattered, thank you,” you take another sip of your margarita before deciding to continue honestly, “you look good.. I like your outfit.”
“I figured, from the staring, or else I probably got something on my face,” he chuckled as his gaze raked down over your dress, then quickly flickered back up to your face, “you’re gonna make me blush, sweetheart.. you look beautiful, what might you be celebrating tonight?”
You clear your throat, playing with the straw of your drink as you look away, “Ah, I was actually just checking out the river walk, I saw this place and thought it was nice.. and a pretty excuse for some drinks.”
He lets out another chuckle at that, quickly ordering a Lone Star from the draft before he shifts in his seat to face you. “So, you’re not from around here, I’m guessing?”
You nod your head, “Yeah, I’m here for a wedding next week, and I have a few days to explore the town and whatnot. I head back home right after the wedding so I’m trying to make the most of my time here.”
He nods at that, he sees an opening. “I wish you were stayin longer, I’d love to get to know a pretty little thing like you.” The bartender passes his glass to him and he takes a long sip, gaze still stuck on you from over the rim.
You can’t help but smile, he was a real charmer. Though you were used to being hit on, and thoroughly skilled in rejecting unwanted attention, when it came to flirting back you were a lost cause. That dad vibe he had going on was slowly breaking your guard down, however, for better or for worse.
“Oh stop it, you’re making me nervous..,” your smile widens as you bat your eyes at him jokingly, “so, um, you’re local? Born and raised here, then?” You hide behind your marg, taking small sips.
His eyes lower a little as you blink up at him, and he bites his lower lip a little, cheesing. He shifts in his seat, his elbow on the counter as he drinks his beer. “Yup. Was out of town for work for a while, so I’m glad to be back home. Why, you curious ‘bout me?” He flashed you a sly smile, his eyes wrinkling slightly at the corners.
You cross one leg over the other, giving him your full attention now as you play with your straw. A blush sneaks onto your cheeks as you sway a little on your stool. “I guess you could say that… what do you do for work, if I might ask?”
“I’m, uh,” there was a small pause as he thought about how to word this, taking a swig from his drink, “I’m a contractor, of sorts.”
“Oh! That’s cool! I’m sure that pays well, right?” You curse at yourself for being so awkward. You wave politely at the bartender. It’s time for another drink.
“Mm, it’s not bad,” he murmured lowly. The pay was amazing. But he wasn’t exactly keen on talking about work right now. Nor was he able to go into the finer details, as he had just returned from committing war crimes overseas for two months. He ordered another beer, watching you swing your legs and avoid eye contact. “By the way, I don’t think I got your name, darlin’..”
“Oh! Shit, that slipped my mind, I’m sorry,” you tell him your name, “..and you?”
“Call me Phil, hon.”
end of pt 1
hope this was okay for now o(^▽^)o I’ll continue this some other time
#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves#cod mw2#cod modern warfare
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
pretty boy
carmen berzatto x mafia boss reader
excerpt from my full one-shot on ao3
MINORS DNI: violence, carmy cleans up your wounds, AFAB reader, smut, p in v, no protection, cream pie, carmy has to make it fit 😵💫, riding, rushed and desperate, all in his tiny office, set in s1
the week was eventful, you had scars to show it. one of your men had gotten out of line, selling drugs on the side to kids and you had to take action, of course with everyone’s approval. since he was part of your family you would deal with it, the guy didn’t take it well even trying to stab you and missing your scalp but grazing it in the process. in the end you had won, the body disposed of in the river as was custom for disgraced members. your body still ached but it didn’t stop you from visiting the beef the day after.
the cut was stitched up, covered in bandage. the members were laying low following the event, there was going to be a meeting to discuss how it could happen. carmy had noticed that the shop was less busy today, the street still safe but no suited men in sight.
and then he saw you walk in, still beautiful as ever but an unmistakable bandage on your forehead and his stomach flipped. without thinking twice he crossed from behind the counter to where you stood, anxiety bubbling up his throat, burning his insides as he spoke up.
“what happened?” his hands were on his hips, he almost looked angry and for some reason it bothered you. his eyes bore down at you, making you grimace.
“i don’t like lying carmy and you’re not gonna like the answer.” you muttered, eyes looking away. this would be it, he’d think you were too much and too scary and cast you away. carmy took in your dejected expression, combed his fingers through his hair and thought about your words before responding.
“fuck fine, but you’re okay right?” you lifted your head, taking in how crystal eyes scanned your face, his tattooed hand leaving his hip and a finger hovering over where your bandage was.
“yeah i’m okay.” you gave him a small smile and it quelled some of the burning in carmy’s gut. he motioned towards an empty booth, he knew how to get rid of the rest of the feeling. he could take care of you the only way he knew how.
“sit let me grab you something to eat.” before you could argue, he was flying back to the kitchen and you were grateful for the lack of patrons. you felt less guilty in stealing his time. maybe ten minutes had passed before a grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and greens were in front of you. steam rose from the food, aroma rising with it and you felt a surge of hunger. carmy took a seat across from you, setting down a glass of water for you as he did.
“you made this?” you were a little bit stunned, not able to remember the last time someone outside of family cooked for you without being paid for it.
“uh huh, try it.” you dug in, grinning and groaning at the flavors on your tongue and carmy was reeling from your reaction. his anxiety was fading away, instead now his blood rushing, he could hear your gleeful sounds.
“this is seriously so good, did you try some?” he shook his head and you just wouldn’t have that. if the table wasn’t so wide you would’ve fed him yourself but instead passed the plate to him. he cut up a piece of chicken and added mashed potatoes before biting down. you watched the fork enter and unabashedly stared at his fingers, they looked so much larger and thicker around the utensil than yours. and the same fingers were moving to cut more pieces, cutting the green beans into chunks before pushing the plate back to you. you watched in awe as he slowly chewed on his bite, trying to figure out why he had just cut your food up for you. did you look helpless? was this the special treatment he was talking about? surely he didn’t see you as a cute little puppy needing affection and care. you were more than that, you had to prove it. you watched him swallow down and then took a bite of your own.
carmy couldn’t help the twitch in his pants when he noticed you suck on the fork a little bit longer than needed as you slid the utensil between your lips. was he imagining things? you finished your food with as much pleasure at the first few bites, never getting tired of the flavors and textures on your tongue. carmy had been watching you, even passing you water when you hadn’t drank it in a while. as he watched you eat, his anxiety was practically washed away and what was left was his stomach coiling in an entirely different way. you dropped your fork after setting it down and swiping it off the table with your sleeve, both of you ducked under to retrieve. you strained your arm to reach the fork and when you came up your forehead grazed the table corner. it wouldn’t have been an issue if not for your wound. almost instantly two things happened, you winced and clutched your forehead and carmy rounded to your side and kneeled in front of you to check your wound.
“lemme see.” his hand covered yours, your eyes shutting in pain as you moved you hand away. carmy sucked in a breath as he saw blood stain the bandage. “i got first aid in my office come with me.” you nodded, he stood up and offered his hand to you. one hand in his, carmy led you to his office. you clutched the damp bandage against your head using your other hand and tried to ignore the throbbing feeling.
carmy sat you down on his desk, shoving away some papers and angling his desk lamp up at your face. the office space was cluttered and small, you felt so close to carmy as he grabbed the first aid from a drawer and set it next to your thigh. in this office your breath was becoming his and his scent was overwhelming you, a mix of spices, cigarettes, sweat, and aftershave that made your head spin further. he removed your bandage, seeing a pill of blood pooling behind it and quickly soaked it up with a cotton pad, he put antiseptic on a q-tip and cleaned up the skin surrounding the wound before reapplying a clean bandage. carmy did his best not to think about how you got such a cut or why it needed stitches. all he could do was focus on fixing what he could. you watched him work, silent besides the puffs of air, his hair was cascading onto his forehead, his arms tense as he cleaned you up. mostly you couldn’t ignore how his jaw ticked and his brows got more furrowed.
“what are you thinking about?” you murmured almost a whisper, not wanting to disturb his peace.
“the fucker who did this.” he seemed satisfied with his handiwork, pulling back a little, hand still on your cheek as he made sure your wound wasn’t still bleeding through the bandage.
“he got it worse.” you pressed a kiss to the palm of the hand that was tilting your chin up. and carmen berzatto almost lost his remaining marbles at the action. without thinking about it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, careful to not bump his head against yours and you gasped at the feeling. you hadn’t expected him to make a move, fully prepared to do it yourself. his lips were much softer against yours than you expected. the way he moved was careful and sweet but you wanted more. you wound your fingers around his apron tie and tugged it, pulling you closer against him and licking at his lips against you. the action made carmy lose his senses, immediately reacting to you by wedging himself between your legs and pulling you closer by your hips, now filling the small space between you and the edge of the desk. his lips moved much less carefully now, licking into your mouth and memorizing your taste and sounds. the kiss was hot and messy, much more like what you were used to and it made the ache in your head move south. you pulled back for air noticing how he trailed after you pressed kisses to your neck like a seal had been lifted and he could finally do what he wanted. you whined at the feeling, moving back to lift his head to meet your gaze. his eyes looking up at you made your head swim, his glossy lips painting much darker images of similar positions.
“carmy, i need you.” and carmy could hear the banging and yelling in the kitchen behind me, he could smell something burning on a stove. but carmy could also hear your labored breathing combined with his, your swollen lips and your rising chest, and not to mention your intoxicating scent. it wasn’t just your perfume, as he pressed kisses to your neck he couldn’t get enough of you. your taste and your presence was making him want to be selfish, it felt right to stay here with you and it scared him. carmy still would’ve chosen what he did despite the feeling, lifting his apron off and throwing it on the floor nearby.
“fuck it, come here.” he sat down on his office chair, opening his arms for you to climb onto his lap and you took in the sight. muscular legs stretched out in front of him and his tattooed arms beckoning towards him was something you wanted framed. on shaky legs you stood up and straddled his waist, swallowing as you sat down. carmy was watching you with a new determination, looking up as you rested your hands on his shoulders. you were still too far, he needed to feel you fully against him, holding you by the hips and moving you closer, grinding you against his hardening cock in the process. the motion made you stiffen, a small gasp leaving your lips and carmy couldn’t help but lift a hand to your cheek. it was just as soft as he imagined, stroking it with a callused thumb and you pressed your face closer to it. god must have taken his time with you, carmy decided.
unfortunately he had no luxury of time, he was sure richie would come looking for him soon. leaning back in the chair, taking you with him, and clicking the lock of the door. “can i?” he had a finger hooked under your shirt hem. you could feel him, large and throbbing against your core and you nodded furiously as he lifted it off you. you shoved your hands underneath his shirt too, watching him for a nod before you tore it off. carmy seemed to be taking it all in, leaning back again and you weren’t even hiding your ogling. why the fuck did a chef in a deli have abs? you weren’t complaining, not one bit, you could think of a lot of things to do with them. your hands were much less careful than his, not even hesitating as they glided up his taut tanned skin watching his chest rise and fall as your hands returned to his shoulders. he relished in how soft and warm they were, smooth like butter and warming up his skin everywhere they went. carmy was much more patient than you it seemed, you had been practically foaming at the mouth waiting to touch him. but carmy was just in awe.
“you’re driving me crazy.” his voice was gruff and low as he said it, watching you as he undid your bra and slid a rough hand up to your breast. immediately your nipples perked up and carmy licked a long stripe across your right breast, watching your whine as you tilted your head back. his hands felt so rough and large against you, covering you and spreading their warmth. you whined as he bit down, taking his time teasing you. the drag of his teeth against your sensitive buds and his abrasive palm massaging you was grating against your rational thought, your body moving to its own accord as you ground down on him, hips moving desperately. you needed some relief and the hard throb of him against the sensitivity between your legs was enough for now. his free hand found purchase in the dip of your waist and pushed down, halting your movement. he was slightly drunk off your taste and scent so he had to remind himself he couldn’t take his time with you. any minute now the door would be banged on, pulling him back to reality. he unlatched from your skin with a lewd pop and tapped against your hip, unzipping his jeans and you eagerly moved off him. you tugged your own jeans down, eyes not moving from his bulge as it sprung free against his boxers. carmy’s eyes always seemed to be on yours, taking in the emotions there and it felt somehow much more intimate than you standing in front of him topless. he reached towards your hand, pulling you back and out of your thoughts.
“i-i don’t know if it’ll fit.” you’d been thinking it since before when he was biting up your chest, but now with it prodding your clothed clit it felt too big. carmy had to hide his amusement, tried not to think about how all your confidence and eagerness had slipped away.
“do you think you can try? huh?” he brushed a hair back, caressing your cheek and looking at your face for any hesitation. you nodded, lifting up on your knees to push your underwear to the side as carmy sprung himself free. you gasped as his tip pressed up against you, making you clench on air, and looking down didn’t help your growing wetness. he was long and thick, red neglected tip hot and heavy against your skin and you wanted to memorize the veins along the side. the sound of your shallow breath mixed with his, a symphony of anticipation. you wove a hand down, collecting the slick at the tip and coating his length. god he was so long, probably the biggest you’d ever had and you weren’t sure if you could walk out of here on two stable legs.
carmy watched as you swallowed down, eyes on his member and this time he couldn’t hide his smirk. your skin was on fire, it wasn’t like he was any better but he wasn’t unabashedly licking his lips like you had just done. it took all his self control to not just slip up into you when your eyes widened as you looked down. you led him into your entrance, practically dripping onto him and carmy threw his head back. with shaking hands and aching thighs, you slid him against your entrance. he was too thick, his tip catching against your clit as you tried to shove him in. you glared at him like it was somehow his fault and carmy swiped his thumb across your hip in apology. your hands were shaking and your legs ached, but you tried again, tried to relax and pushed him in. instantly the stretch made you gasp, adjusting to the burn between your legs and how fucking stuffed you already felt.
“fuck, so fucking tight.” carmy felt like you were choking him, warm and constrictive. it felt his blood flow was being cut off. you breathed in and out letting yourself get used to the stretch as you lowered down on him, your thighs burning as you concentrated. the ache in your body was pain earlier but now it mixed with the intense pleasure of being beyond filled up. would you ever be able to fuck anyone besides carmen berzatto?
the ache was quelled by the feeling of him twitching inside and you moaned as you nearly bottomed out. carmy watched your eyes flutter closed in concentration, your eyebrows knitted together and your expression wracked by pleasure. his hands were a vice grip around your waist, you’re sure there would be bruises there tomorrow but you didn’t care, you slowly lifted up on him and moved down, his veins dragging against your walls as his tip bumped against the fleshy spot inside you that made you clench on him. if he bottomed out you’re sure you would feel him prod at your heart. you set a slow pace, moving slowly up and down as carmy did his best not to take over. finally when he could tell the burn in your legs was becoming too much he experimentally thrusted up, and your eyes snapped to his face. your pupils were blown out and glazed over in lust and your lips raw from where you’d been biting them to hold back your sounds. carmy wished he could hear them, wished his ears were ringing from how loud you could yell his name, but today wasn’t the day.
so instead he took control, holding your hips in place as he jacked up into you, driving against the spot he knew made you fall slack in his hold. your body twitched and shaked against him, mind going numb as his control slipped and he bottomed out in one sharp thrust. your lip slipped from between your teeth and like you couldn’t help it any more you whined his name. and he didn’t think anyone would fault him for losing the remainder of his sanity.
driving in and out of you with a force that bounced your legs upwards as his tip grazed your cervix, you could feel him everywhere could feel him twitching inside you, his veins, the now slickened hair at the base of his shaft and you could feel yourself pouring down on him, his coated balls slapping against your ass. it was all too much, the way he pressed a kiss to your neck as he dug himself into you, shaping you for him and plugging you so full you couldn’t breathe. he slowed his pace, feeling like he couldn’t hold back much longer and slightly pushed you back, unclasped your hands from around the back of the chair and brought a free hand down between your bodies. his finger found your clit, massaging it as his thrusts became deeper and slower. in this position you felt exposed, your bleary eyes and bruised lips looking down at his blown out pupils and tousled hair. his eyes were always the most expressive part of him, watching you in amazement and pure desire. and then carmy pressed a flat hand against where he was burrowed deep inside, against your stomach and it all became too much, shaking as your orgasm overtook you. you clenched around him, thighs digging into his sides as he continued fucking you through it, his hand massaging your puffy overstimulated clit as you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming his name.
you slumped over him, carmy keeping his hand on your stomach as he reached his own high and pumped you full, throwing his head back and letting you take it. to no surprise his come was slipping down your thighs, already too stuffed full to keep anything in and you groaned at the feeling. the loss and the messiness of it all made you cringe. carmy slipped out of you, moving your underwear so the remainder would stay with you, keep reminding you of him and you tried not to think about the implication. instead you just sat back down, feeling much emptier this time and stared at his fucked out expression. he pressed a kiss to your lips, the meaning now too apparent for you to ignore, it felt like a goodbye kiss. you couldn’t take this much longer, if he didn’t want to see you again you had to leave now.
you moved off on shaky legs, his eyes tracking your movement as you did it, you could still feel his gaze as you turned around to find your clothes. however you didn’t expect him to break the silence, you thought you’d slip away and he’d pretend that it never happened.
“what happened here?” he pressed an outstretched finger to your back, you’d forgotten about the scar there. you probably shouldn’t have shown your back to him, most people you slept with didn’t ask questions like that but you should’ve expected it from him.
“honest answer?” you pulled on your jeans and bra, turning to face him, he’d pulled his boxers up, you masked the disappointment on your face. he nodded slow, a little bit worried what the answer was but still wanting to know all the same, he could guess based on the scar but he wanted to make sure. it was a circular indent, like something had pierced it. he didn’t feel anxious, he just felt this strange anger welling up in him.
“i got shot.” you said it nonchalantly, like it happened to everyone. carmy closed his eyes for a second as if you couldn’t see the flash of emotions on his face and when he opened them he just nodded, doing his best not to freak the fuck out. you were standing in front of him, looking like an angel sent just for him telling him you got shot. he wouldn’t survive you, but then he couldn’t think about just letting you go either.
“the other person?” a smile tugged at your lips, maybe carmen berzatto was different from what you thought.
“got it worse.” he nodded standing and grabbing your shirt from where it had been flung behind him, pulling it over your head as you watched him in amusement. you pushed down the feeling that sprung up from him dressing you, instead focusing on the graze of his fingers on your skin.
“you can ask me more you know?” you could see the questions on the tip of his tongue, his lips pursed like he was physically holding them back. you looped your arms through the shirt as he stood cross armed in front of you. you didn’t have anything to lose so your eyes didn’t leave his tattooed arms, tracing the veins and muscles along them. carmy blushed like a school girl at your actions, like his office didn’t still smell of sex.
“i don’t know if i’ll survive the answers.” he was being honest, his jaw clenched as he ruminated over all the worst case scenarios. his stomach flipping as your eyes found his once again.
“i guess ignorance is bliss,” you didn’t believe that, not really, in your line of work knowing everything possible was the only way to survive.
“you’re safe though right?” carmy realized he was being a little bit ridiculous given the circumstances but you could lie to him, try and convince him that yes you were safe. instead of answering you just looked at him, really looked at him, you tried to memorize the different hues of his eyes and the sharpness of his nose, the marks on his face. the longer you didn’t answer, the longer he felt a cold sweat line his back. he was running out of time, he needed to get back out. “what’s your number?” leaning over he grabbed his phone from his desk, his arm grazing yours. you put it in and handed it back, saving your contact as well.
“just uh tell me you’re okay alright?” it was probably the sweetest anyone’s been to you in a while, earnestly at least, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek nodding and slipping out of his office quietly. carmy did his best to conceal his red face as he got redressed and exited his office, met with yells and questions.
#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto imagine
310 notes
·
View notes
Note
What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?
I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:
"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3
Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.
It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.
All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?
Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.
Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.
Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.
Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."
Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.
Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%
Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#Karlach#gale#gale dekarios#karlach cliffgate#shadowheart#laezel#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#halsin the druid#halsin silverbough
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
CPN : XZ and his love for a “stable” kind of love ( yuguyao sweets part 7 )
i will get to the other interview cuts, but before that, let me clown. i know his sexy hair in all these ygy promo interviews are distracting but this one is too good to miss. the part where he read one of the audience reactions, aside from him showing off the phone case, what the person wrote gets me. why did XZ notice it? aside from the words used, what was the message?
So first, ZZ’s reaction was :
When I saw this comment, my heart was really touched, because I think this is exactly the feeling that "Yuguyao" wants to convey to everyone, that is, we may not have so many lives, and we may not have so much vigor. Love and events, we are all living beings, every choice is precious.
and he only read the final parts and i get why he would like it cause it’s something he would write. lol. we know gege loves to express himself using beautiful words and imagery.
Now here’s the whole comment/reaction post he was pertaining to. ⬇️⬇️⬇️
( rough translation only )
i don't know how other people think so, but for me, the master and apprentice who practiced immortality and studied the law went to the world to help the people. after a tiring day, sat around the bonfire and grilled the fish, the master listened to the little apprentice while describing the scenery of the desert. the young apprentice held her chin and listened to the master speak in a cool voice. The color describes the long river, the sunset, the desert, and the smoke in the book, Dan Qing ink… Eager to get a compliment from the master, eager to take the master to my home and longing to travel all over this vast land with Master, to be with Master. Standing up to see the magnificent scenery and the humanities and customs of various places, this is deeper than any kissing and will make my heart move even more.
It turns out that you have included me in your future life plan, so I am so eager to share what I have seen and heard with you, I want you to experience everything I have experienced, 【Seeing all beings in the world, getting along, Seeing you and me, seeing boundless love in the ordinary, fine water flowing long and delicate….
i hope i’m not the only who thought zz & wyb relationship when i read cause it’s so clear…. i’m crying 😭😭😭
• “went to the world and help the people” - this is a pretty easy connection to them cause both of them are big on charity and helping people in general. it’s a message they both carry with them, being a “celebrity” is not the main reason they do what they do. they take acting seriously, and all the more, their role as public figures seriously. they make sure they bring something good to their audience and help them in that way too. i’m thinking about the recent hs connected to wyb and him paying for scholarships and — this is why xiao zhan fell for him. he saw a really good person that inspires him everyday. how could you not.
• “after a tiring day, sat around the bonfire and grilled the fish, the master listened to the little apprentice while..” - this was the part that got me really thinking about their relationship. it screams domesticity and to those like me who loved all the lrlg / fake rumors sharing glimpses of that part of their lives — then you know what i mean. even when they were on set in 2018 or doing press in 2019, there were a lot of just standing around and waiting but it was never boring because they had each other. I wanna say, those mundane moments were special because they were together. When you read LRLG, the exchanges are about their day-to-day life and lacks the “action” that most fan fiction about them have. I think that’s why lots of turtles love it cause it shows their “reality”. I see XZ agreeing to this because this is what his relationship is like with WYB. He loves the peace and quiet and being in that person’s company — no matter how tired they both are. Please let them have that relaxing camping trip already!!!!!!
• “this is deeper than any kissing and will make my heart move even more.” - i basically rephrased this part but the point of OP is, that scene of them in the first paragraph shows the two characters love each other and it moves her heart more than any kissing scene will. I hope XZ feels the same with the roles he takes and i’m gonna keep an eye out on the frequency of kissing scenes. lol. not that i have any problem with that but if you need multiple smooches to make people believe that girl and boy love each other then you have a big problem. I wanna say that this way of conveying love without explicit action is something GG appreciated in CQL. They both had to be deliberate in their actions to show what’s the true relationship between WWX/LWJ. 🫶🏼
• “It turns out that you have included me in your future life plan, so I am so eager to share what I have seen and heard with you…” - AGAIN. Doesn’t this scream them to you??? How they always message each other during cql shoot and promos??? or even LRLG/Fake rumors, it has the element of telling each other about their day. Even as simple as the weather, or how the moon looks cause i wanna take a picture of it for you. The video. Photos. Voice messages.
• “seeing boundless love in the ordinary”- I think to XZ, there is nothing ordinary when done with love or with the one he loves the most. We joke about them being an old married couple — yibo learning to cook and knit, them buying home appliances, xz folding wyb’s clothes for him — but that’s just it. that’s the kind of love they have now. 🤍
-END.
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
A List of Companies to Boycott, Part 1
The companies on this list were provided by the Halal Kiwi app (boycotting companies with ties to Israel or profiting from the genocide in Palestine) - Part 2, Cosmetics, Clothing, Media, Social Media, & Web Services || Part 3, Homeware, Retail, Petrol/Gas, Cars/Automotive, Travel, Insurance || Part 4, Cleaning & Hygiene, Tech, Medical, Other
Food
Danoe (Activia, Evian, Danimals) Link to their brands: https://www.danonenorthamerica.com/our-brands.html
Mondelez International (Cadbury, Oreo, Sour Patch Kids) Link to their brands: https://www.mondelezinternational.com/our-brands/
Mars Inc (Pedigree, Snickers, Dolmio) Link to their brands: https://www.mars.com/our-brands
Kellogg’s WK Kellogg Co (Frosted Flakes, Corn Flakes) Link to their brands: https://www.wkkellogg.com/our-foods/our-brands Kellanova (Pringles, Poptarts) Link to their brands: https://www.kellanovaus.com/us/en/our-brands.html
Nestle (Beneful, Cheerios, Kit-Kat) Link to their brands: https://www.nestle.com/brands/brandssearchlist Osem (sub brand) (Bamba Puffs) Link to their products: https://www.osem-nestleusa.com/osem-food-brands-and-snacks
PepsiCo (Pepsi, Lays) Link to their brands (click the search function to see all): https://www.pepsico.com/our-brands/creating-smiles/our-products
Yum Brands(KFC, Burger King) Link to their brands: https://www.yum.com/wps/portal/yumbrands/Yumbrands/company/our-brands
Kraft Heinz (Kool-Aid, Heinz, Lunchables) (see Mondelez International for overlap) Link to their brands: https://www.kraftheinzcompany.com/brands.htm
Dine Brands (iHop, Applebees) List of their brands: https://www.dinebrands.com/en
Bloomin Brands (Outback Steak, Bonefish Grill) Link to their brands: https://www.fairr.org/resources/companies-assessed/bloomin-brands/print
Flynn Group (Franchisee Company - see Dine Brands and Yum Brands for overlap) (Wendy’s, Pizza Hut) Link to their brands: https://flynn.com/
Brinker International (Chilis, Maggiano’s Little Italy) Link to their brands: https://www.brinker.com/welcome/brands
Darden Restaurants (Olive Garden, Bahama Breeze) Link to their brands: https://www.darden.com/
Inspire Brands (scroll down to the bottom for full list, see Dine Brands and Flynn Group for overlap) (Arby’s, Baskin Robbin’s) Link to their brands: https://inspirebrands.com/franchising/brand-power/
The J.M Smucker Company (see Inspire Brands for overlap) (Twinkies, Uncrustables, Folgers) Link to their brands: https://www.jmsmucker.com/brands-you-love
CKE Restaurant INC (Carl’s Jr, Hardee’s) Link to their subsidiaries (list is from 2010): https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgar/data/45536/000119312510230334/dex211.htm
GoTo Foods (Cinnabon, Jamba) Link to their brands: https://www.gotofoods.com/about/our-brands/
The Hersheys Company (Jolly Rancher, Twizzlers, Reese’s) Link to their brands: https://www.hersheyland.com/brands
Barcardi Limited (Grey Goose, Bombay Sapphire, Barcadi) Link to their brands: https://www.bacardilimited.com/our-brands/portfolio/
Daily Farmers of America (Dean’s) Link to their brands: https://dfamilk.com/our-products/our-brands
The Kroger Co. (Kroger, PayLess, Ralphs) Link to their businesses (scroll to the bottom to see icons): https://www.thekrogerco.com/about-kroger/our-brand/
Other Food Companies:
Chick fil a Dominos White Castle McDonald’s Dole Food products Papa John’s Chobani yogurts Chipotle Red bull Brands of Dates Bromaja Carmel Agrexo Desert Diamond Delilah Hadiklaim Jordan Plains Jordan River King Solomon Paradise Rapunzel Red Sea Royal Treasure Shams Tamara
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
@schxdenfreude asked: "You look hungry..." Falin presents him with grilled phase spider meat, skewered with peppers and onions, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "... My brother made this. It's really very good. You should eat."
he mechanically accepts the brochette, prepared to fling it into the river after she’s gone ( a piece at a time, maybe; see how high and far he can make them soar from the bank ) — but she doesn’t budge, seemingly set to linger by until she’s seen him take at least one bite. befuddled, burdened, lashes flutter for a split second of debate. “actually—” he scrunches his nose, cautiously returning it. better not to waste this stuff. he withdraws his hand only once certain she has a firm grip. “i’ve already had my… needs met tonight.”
no more hiding, no more conformity. he is what he is. resentment, too, is a part of him. especially when he hears how well they all get on, meals and laughter shared by the fire. it strikes as odd that anyone would consider including him; that she thought slabs of grey mystery meat would benefit one of his nature. perhaps if they were raw, red, dripping. even then, such an offer would really be more hors d'oeuvre than plat principal. “… why not enjoy it on my behalf?” there’s ample space beside him on the fallen log, too, if she’s so inclined. if she isn’t, astarion regains his solitude. and that’s fine.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Irrlicht: Chapter 1
Published on AO3
Authored by AsteraceaeBlue (Helianthus-exilis)
For @miabicicletta with decadent 1980s Dana Scully vibes and love
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Down the dry gullies of the mountain stream
I calmly wend my way
Every river will reach the sea
Every sorrow, too, will reach its grave
~ Franz Schubert
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Martha’s Vineyard, 1983
Saturday, June 25th, 7:15PM
Crimson droplets stained the chipped white porcelain of the sink, turning pink as they were caught up in the swirl of the water cascading from the rusty faucet. She watched the mini whirlpool of color disappear down the drain. It would have been mesmerizing, beautiful even, if she didn’t know exactly what it meant. If it wasn’t so fucking sad. Watching part of her life skip away down the drain, her heart pounded out a rhythm that seemed to match the thud of the bass from the band playing on the other side of the bathroom door. Some local group, busting out covers of Creedence Clearwater and Van Morrison, amongst others.
When the pointillism of blood finally stopped, she reached over to the paper towel dispenser and grabbed a few, running them under the water before pressing the wad to her nose, wiping away the evidence of her frailty. Her hands trembled and the towels were rough and smelled like damp cardboard. She shoved the balled up mess into the garbage can next to the sink and washed her hands. She looked in the mirror; a little pink, like she’d only blown her nose. That’s all anyone else would see or think.
Dana Scully reached behind her back and tightened the strings of the black waitressing apron wrapped around her waist, smoothing out the front and adjusting the black tee shirt with Gill’s Grill, Steak & Seafood printed in white. A giant harpoon underscored the words, driving home the nautical theme, as though every restaurant on the Vineyard didn’t have something to do with boats and fish and shells. She was just happy the dark color hid so much when it came to stains. She redid her ponytail, taming fluffy copper flyaways, pinched her cheeks to pop some color back into them, and turned to push her way out the door.
The sound of the band hit her full force, jolting her back to the present. A small crowd had gathered in front of the stage at the far end of the bar, swaying with pints of beer to “Bad Moon Rising.”
It was about as close as the Transatlantic set got to Woodstock.
When her roommate from Maryland offered to set her up with a summer job on the Vineyard, Dana was hesitant. She pictured a lot of boat shoes and Jackie Kennedy types and wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand it. Luckily, Gill’s had a nice balance of the upper crust and the working man who supplied them with their main courses. The latter tended to be bar flies; fishermen who were after a cold beer at the end of a long day of sun and fighting fishing nets. Having grown up in San Diego Navy housing and Annapolis Harbor, Dana had a soft spot for the salty workers. She felt better with them around.
She caught Erica’s eye from across the dining room as her roommate finished taking drink orders from her table. Waiting by the drink station, Dana fiddled with straws and neatened stacks of soda cups that didn’t need neatening.
Erica walked up to her, grabbing a tray from the pile and loading up cups with Pepsi and water.
“Thanks,” Dana said, helping her fill the drinks.
“Hey, no problem,” Erica assured her. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah. I think I just, um, ate something that didn’t agree with me.”
“Okay,” Erica said, looking at her sideways. “If you need to go back to the house, you can. I can cover you.”
“No, no,” Dana insisted, shaking her head. “I’m fine now.”
“M’kay,” Erica said with a smile. She hoisted the tray of drinks onto one hand and winked. “I got this. You can get their food. I’m predicting cheeseburgers cooked to a hockey puck and fish and chips they’ll think is too fishy.”
Dana smiled and watched her walk back to the table, her blonde perm barely contained in a braid. Bright and athletic, Erica was at Maryland on a volleyball scholarship and majoring in history. She had an inherent discipline that reminded Dana of her father. It was a good presence to have as she navigated the chaos of physics and pre-med. It kept her going in some of her hardest moments, when she was ready to say it was all too much. Erica would be there, waiting to tell her a ridiculous story from practice, or drag her out for a jog, or remind her that college degrees last longer than boyfriends (wink wink). Even if she had no idea what, exactly, Dana was struggling with, she was there to help keep the faith.
Dana took a quick breath and pulled her order pad from her apron pocket.
Sure enough, the fish and chips tasted too fishy.
An hour and a half later, she scraped the uneaten clumps of the dinner into the trash in the bustling kitchen, wondering how anyone could waste so much food. Her parents would never have put up with it, still didn’t put up with it even though three of their four children were grown and out of the house. Granted, the punishment had shifted from smacked bottoms to looks of judgment, but the implications were equally strong - you don’t take basic comforts for granted.
Apparently, her fellow waitress Janie was having the same struggle with her own customers that night. The tall brunette stormed into the kitchen holding a plate brimming with a juicy steak, baked potato, and vegetable medley.
“Sonny!” she fumed, tossing the plate onto the busy window. “Table three claims they asked for medium and they have their panties in a twist that this is not medium. It’s too pink.”
The middle aged line cook who’d been at the helm of Gill’s kitchen for the better part of a decade loomed over the pass-through and looked like he was about to spit onto the dinner. He placed a beefy hand on the edge of the porcelain and spun it around to glare at the steak.
“It’s fucking perfect,” he snarled, chewing on a toothpick that was only a placeholder for the cigarette that was waiting for him on his break. “You wanna ask them to come back here and show me how to cook a fucking medium steak?”
“You want I should do that?” Janie snapped back, hand going to her cocked hip. “Just toss it under the goddamn broiler for thirty seconds, send it to hell, if they burn their mouth they won’t complain anymore.”
Sonny grabbed the edge of the plate and turned towards the line with a look that could murder. She was the only one in the entire place who could talk to Sonny like that and not end up in the dumpster out back. Janie huffed loudly and crossed her arms as she collapsed against the wall.
“I can’t believe I took this job again this year,” she griped, snapping bubble gum between her teeth, talking to no one in particular. Dana listened out of courtesy more than anything as she finished clearing her dishes before adding them to the busser’s tub. “One more year. One more goddamn year and I’ll be done with cosmetology and then I’m done with these idiots.”
Whether she was referring to customers or coworkers, Dana wasn’t sure and she didn’t find out. Erica opened the back door, returning from her garbage run, a smile on her face. She clocked Janie immediately.
“Hey Janie!” she called out, eyebrows raised with a twinkle in her eye. “Spooky’s back!”
“Shit, really?” Janie panicked, suddenly checking her bustline and her hair.
Dana watched her with confusion.
“Who’s Spooky?” she asked.
“Local boy,” Erica told her as she meandered over, leaning on the wall next to Janie. “Janie’s had a crush on him since they were kids. But then, she’s had a crush on every boy on this island since she was a kid.”
Janie elbowed her.
“He’s a fucking catch,” she insisted.
“You just like anyone who comes with a little drama.”
“I don’t care what he comes with, only who,” Janie replied, innuendo dripping from her mouth. She hiked her black suede skirt up a few inches. “Where is he?”
“Where else? Lurking around the field out back with a flashlight.”
Janie hustled towards the backdoor without so much as a thank you.
“Hey, Jesus, at least take some trash out with you!” Erica called after her.
The door slammed shut. Dana looked at Erica.
“Spooky?” she said with a dubious expression.
“Fox Mulder. Can you believe his parents did that to him? I’d just about die if I had to walk around with a name like that.”
“What’s his deal?” Dana asked, unable to stay her curiosity.
“He’s kind of the local intrigue,” Erica said. “Family has money. Dad has some high level government job and there’s always black cars coming and going from the house. He just got back from college - England.”
Dana rolled her eyes. For a traveling Navy brat of a Captain, none of that impressed her all that much.
“That’s it?” she said.
Erica glanced around, looking like she was making sure no one was listening, though it was unnecessary. The kitchen staff couldn't care less about their conversation. She leaned in a little.
“His kid sister was kidnapped when he was, like, thirteen. They never found her.”
Dana’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands tingled and she forced herself to breathe.
“Why, um, why do you call him Spooky?” she asked, desperately trying to sound casual.
Erica smiled.
“Ever seen The Twilight Zone?”
“Ladies, you gonna stand there and chit chat all night or you wanna serve people food at some point?” Sonny yelled from the line, shoving plates into the window. He slammed his palm on the bell. “Pickup!”
------------------------------------------------------------------
Gill’s Grill, 10:23PM
After pocketing decent tips and finishing her side work as the last of the patrons drifted out the door, Dana said goodnight to everyone. She slipped out the side door, heading for her dusty hand-me-down Ford wagon. It was parked in the corner of the lot in front of a stand of bushes and overlooking a coastal meadow that dipped towards the ocean. Dana breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of salt air that she could practically taste, refreshing her mind after the inundation of stuffy kitchen fumes and dining room smoke.
Circling around to the front of her car, she leaned against the hood and rested for a moment, taking the weight off her sneakered feet.
Her legs ached, probably more than they should at the ripe age of nineteen.
Her mother hadn’t wanted her to work that summer. She was so worried about her health, insisting that the best thing for Dana to do was come home and rest between years of study. But Dana knew the financial strain her education was putting on the Captain, and with Charlie coming up right behind her for college she saw no choice other than to roll up her sleeves and earn some money. Besides, she was doing relatively well that summer. She had more energy. She barely knew she was sick most days, until the tingling began in the bridge of her nose.
She stared out into the darkness, the lights from the parking lot providing a curtain of security as she listened to the sound of other workers getting into their cars and leaving for the night, the crickets singing in the grass of the meadow, and the radio playing Motown in the kitchen as the busboys finished their cleanup.
A beam of light caught her eye off in the distance. It bounced along, sweeping this way and that over the meadow, the trees and bushes, moving parallel to the parking lot. She realized it was a flashlight. The person holding it slowed and stopped not fifty feet from her, aiming the light down at a forty-five degree angle towards the ground. Squinting, relieved of the shifting beam of light, she could just make out the shadow of a person standing in the field of summer grass beyond the lot. As her eyes adjusted, the shadow sharpened to reveal a young man, tall and lanky. Brown shaggy hair spilled back as his face tipped up, his serious eyes staring upwards at the stars. The image made her sad in a way she couldn’t articulate. She looked away, feeling as though she’d intruded on an incredibly private moment.
Quietly, she pulled the keys out of her purse and pushed away from the hood of the car, walking towards the driver’s side. She gently opened the door, then paused, her hand stilling on the metal frame. Feeling horribly voyeuristic, she took one last look at the man standing in the dark, gazing upwards with a lost expression. For one fleeting second, she thought about going to him to see if she could help. But help with what? What could she possibly say? She didn’t even know him.
Dana slipped into the worn leather seat and started the car, keeping the headlights off until she’d turned the wagon in the opposite direction of Fox ‘Spooky’ Mulder.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
The guys are sitting around a large table that has a long grill through the middle, with a couple metal plates on some parts that act as griddles. The table seems to be on a rooftop somewhere, but the skyline is blocked by canvas sheets painted to look like a New York City Skyline.
The guys are all dressed in color coded shorts, their masks, and shirts with different graphics on them. Raph = an Aligator Snapping Turtle holding a barbell in its mouth wearing sweatbands, Donnie = Reboot Process Interrupted Current Mood: Murderous, Leo = a turtle covered ing glitter with a unicorn horn on its head, Mikey = I have a Psychology Degree and am Eager to Use It! (Threat).
They were having Yakiniku, with a few other things on the grills and griddles, chatting among eachother, and answering questions from the chat. On one end Mikey was experimenting with 'steam baking' a cake on the griddle.
Shelldon is flying around the area announcing the questions, while River is in stand-by/sleep mode on a box in the back charging. Shelldon is also acting as a speaker playing music as he floats around.
"So we had to send someone to grab some more ingredients, the poor new guy was so confused by the list, so I volunteered to go with him." Mikey says as he checks his experiment, "This guy apparently never went shopping in the marketplace before, and I swear he almost overpaid on ingredients, so many times. Senior Hueso gave us a budget, and I wanted to make sure we stuck to it."
Shelldon swerves around next to Donnie, "Hey Dad, TechnoTurtle, wants to know how you have so many 3D models in such a short amount of time. Got any answers Dude-Dad?"
Donnie was in the middle of eating so it took a minute for them to answer, "Well to be honest, I have planned to make numerous games with 3D models in the past, and then lost interest for various reasons. So I had all the Models saved on a spare memory bank." They pause to take a sip of their drink, "And before we get a question about the many outfits, I left some odd videogame clothes/costume data attached to the models so it's very easy to add new outfits. Think of our Models as videogame avatars instead of VTuber models. Also I don't know what programs others normally use for making VTuber models, Mandarin and I have been using a mix of my programs, and some free to use art programs."
Mikey is seen moving his cake experiment to a counter near the table to cool under a netted cube, "I may have made our original model concepts, and done some minor rigging for them, but once we discovered the mix of programming we use now, yeah definitely better for us. I may love doing art, but making models for VTubing was more complicated than I wanted to deal with." Mikey quickly grabs a few pieces of meat and veggies from the grill with tongs, "Heck, once I told everyone I designed our models, I had to emphasize on my commission page that I don't do models. But I have been making 2D, 2.5D model Assets, with a wide variety of skin tones, and even different species variants." Mikey says with some pride in his voice.
Leo was about to say something, but stopped to stare as Donnie starts to eat a sandwich, he made with grilled meats and veggies, whole. It wasn't an unusual sight for the guys, but it's been a while since he last saw Donnie do this. And that's not to mention the audience who are all very confused and concerned by this.
"I don't know why I'm surprised to see you eat like that Dee, but Wow. I forgot you could-" Leo paused for a sec, "That almost came out very wrong. And not in a way I would want to say."
Sadly some of the audience was able to pick up on the almost innuendo, thankfully they didn't mention it in chat, but they did make memes out of the clip.
Donnie looked at Leo with great offense after finishing his sandwich. "Annoyed Huff. Rude. Dear Brother, you can not fault me for my softshell instincts!" They say with a huff and crossed arms. Their tail seen whipping around behind them.
Raph just lets out a sigh with a shake of his head. "You two are always so chaotic with eachother. But you're my knucklehead brothers." He uses some custom chopsticks to flip the meat he put on the grill before eating it after a few seconds.
The stream goes on with more chatting, and eating, though after a bit of time they're joined by April, Cass, and CJ. With a note that their Dads are on vacation, to get away from some the guys chaotic antics recently.
The chaotic antics in question were not mentioned, much to the audiences great disappointment.
--------------------
Masterpost
This was at least partly my original idea for their 4th of July post, but I decided that the guys would rather just enjoy the festivities instead of streaming the entire time.
And yes Donnie is swallowing the sandwich whole. I just realized how wrong/weird it sounds to describe that hence the 'unspoken innuendo' line.
#VTurtles!#vtuber au#rottmnt au#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt michelangelo#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt leonardo#rottmnt leo#rottmnt raphael#rottmnt raph#rottmnt fanfiction#rise donatello#rise donnie#rise michelangelo#rise mikey#rise leonardo#rise leo#rise raphael#rise raph#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt#tmnt#tmnt 2018#rise tmnt#rise of the tmnt#tmnt rise
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Haunted Altas
Lowe Hotel - Point Pleasant, West Virginia
38° 50.567′ N / 82° 8.331′ W
Haunted hotel in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, a focal point of Mothman sightings and activity in the late 1960s. The Lowe—the biggest landmark in downtown Point Pleasant—has a number of invisible residents who like to get the attention of the living. Guests share their spooky experiences with owners Ruth and Rush Finley and send them photos showing mysterious phenomena.
History
The Lowe opened in 1901 at the corner of 4th and Main, near the site of what some believe to be the first battle of the American Revolutionary War, the Battle of Point Pleasant, fought on October 10, 1774. The land had been given to Andrew Lewis as part of his payment for military service during the French and Indian War (1754-1763).
The hotel was first called the Spencer Hotel, named after a local judge, the Honorable J. S, Spencer. It was owned and operated by two brothers, Homer and Grill Smith. A grand structure, it cost $65,000 to build and boasted "all the modern conveniences." There were 54 rooms on four floors. The sumptuous lobby featured a 30-foot-high ceiling and a stupendous fireplace. The ground floor housed a bank, barber shop, saloon, and wholesale liquor house.
The Lowe was the center of high society and lavish entertainment and in the 1920s was renowned as an elegant dance hall. The stock market crash of 1929 abruptly ended this glittery era, and the Smith brothers were forced to sell. The Homer Lowe, Sr., family bought the hotel in the same year and changed the name.
The Finleys acquired the Lowe in 1990 and began a restoration project that continues. The ground-level shops and services are long gone, but the lobby with its grand fireplace and impressive griffins is still a gathering place for guests. Today, 32 of the original 54 rooms are in use. Ten baths have been added, and some of the rooms have been joined into two-room suites.
Haunting Activity
One of the most commonly reported experiences is an eerie feeling of an unseen presence in halls and rooms. Guests say they feel a presence when they turn a corner in the hallway or come up the grand staircase to the second floor. Room 202 has become known as the "Keel Room," where author John Keel stayed during the first and second Mothman Festivals. Little activity has been reported in the room; in 2003, a photographic anomaly was captured in the room by Tim Frick, who, with his brother John, created the flying Mothman special effects for the annual festival hayrides. Immediately outside in the hallway by room 202, near the landing parlor, people report feeling the presence of a woman.
The third floor is the most active. In room 314, a tall, thin man in a 1930s suit, with a long beard, has appeared in a mirror. The solemn-looking fellow has not been identified, but he bears a strong resemblance to Sid Hatfield of the famous McCoy-Hatfield feuding families fame.
In the third floor three-room suite that overlooks the Ohio River, guests have reported the ghost of Captain Jim, or Jimbo, as he is also known. Jimbo tells guests that he is waiting for "the boat" to arrive. In September 2005, Jimbo drove guests from the room with his boisterous presence. Interestingly, he appeared on the same night that a real passenger barge, the River Explorer, was due to dock at Point Pleasant around midnight, as part of the Mothman Festival. According to Ruth Finley, river boat captains likely stayed at the Lowe; they were known for their drinking.
The fourth floor features the large ballroom where once guests danced nights away. But the haunting action is in an unfinished section of the floor that is used for storage. One of the items stashed away is an old rattan rocking chair that once belonged to Mrs. Lowe, who was blind. Staff have found the chair mysteriously moved around to new spots. On one afternoon, Marcia Finley, the daughter of Ruth and Rush, sneaked up to the attic to smoke a cigarette. While she enjoyed her smoke, she suddenly noticed the rattan chair rocking by itself. Startled and unnerved, Marcia sped downstairs. The experience turned her from a nonbeliever in ghosts to a believer.
Numerous photographic anomalies of unusual light patterns and orbs have been taken by guests at the Lowe. Some appear to have natural explanations, but those that do not raise interesting questions about what really walks the halls of the grand hotel.
Text from The Encyclopedia of Ghosts and Spirits, Third Edition by Rosemary Ellen Guiley (Checkmark Books - 2007)
#Lowe hotel#point pleasant#west virginia#the haunted atlas#haunted locations#ghosts#spirits#apparitions#mothman
6 notes
·
View notes