#Yard Trucks Market

[lethalchiralium]

The Death of Peace of Mind | Happiness Series

a/n: i love u, have some escapism (also PLEASE roast the shit out of this like you’re in my creative writing class, thank u love u)

warnings: violence, blood

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There’s a stark difference in the snow on the ground in this forest than the snow back home in Maine. When you were little, you used to sit on the stoop of your parents’ house, bundled to the nines and your little hand holding fistfuls of powdery snow. You could look around and see saplings for miles, ready to be chopped and loaded onto a truck that would merrily lead you back to the main city - needles greener than the grass in summer, full of life and dusted with the white snow. Your dad would gently pet your head before sauntering down the steps, getting ready to head to the markets for the day. You waved, snow decorating your hand as you’d watch the old truck hobble down the driveway and disappear into the grown trees.

You used to find the snow beautiful, something to look forward to seeing every year so your mom could decorate for Christmas with the colorful lights you always liked.

All these memories seemed to cling like maggots to rotting flesh, only coming to surface when it finds a new wound to sink its teeth into.

This snow is bitter here, clinging like cigarette smoke to the jacket you snatched from the floor. It danced on your lashes, made its home in your hair, settled softly on your daughter’s head. Your stomach felt like lead, legs ready to give out at any second as you kept going as fast as you could. You used to be able to run efficiently in the snow, but now, you struggled. You ran and dodged low limbs, tried not to tumble down small hills as fear held a tight grasp on your throat.

Lloyd would wake up soon, he would see you gone and raise the alarm. You only had so little time to find some sort of shelter that wasn’t the decrepit cabin you were held in, you had to find a phone that wasn’t busted, you had to just get as far from that fuck as you could. You couldn’t even spend any energy on what almost happened thirty minutes earlier, couldn’t think of anything but hurting your kidnapper; the only strength you had was to make sure Mellie would live. You glanced down at her, her little brown eyes looking up at you with a weak glare that could send you to your knees at home. But this wasn’t home, this was miles from it, and you and your child were only a few hundred yards escaped from death’s door - not under your comforter at home, nursing her high fever. You were desperate for your husband at that moment, begging God with every second breath to bring him to you. He would know what to do, he would take your daughter away from this place.

Snow crackled underneath your feet as you kept going, the brunt of the wind hit your face like a train but you kept going. Your arms were taut around Mellie, keeping the oversized jacket around her whimpering frame. The sky was a light shade of blue, the trees danced beneath its breath, the only shelter you could find was down the mountain. You already felt like you’ve scale half of it, but you were far from close - you coming up to a sloped edge now, your feet slowed so you could peer over the edge. It was steep but you could slide down, there was another ledge, then another stretch of snow covered hills as you descended. You had no idea where you were, but you knew this had to be hell.

Tree after tree, boulder after iced over creek, your exhaustion was catching up but there was no way you would stop. There is no stop. There is no slowing down. There is only your daughter’s escape, even if means you don’t make it out.

Stop it. Winnie and Simon need you too.

What little path you had began to narrow, your fingers felt even colder than before as you came to a split in the road. You went right, knowing any trick you could play now wouldn’t work out because of the damn snow. Breathing harder every second, your vision seemed to fade in and out - Keep going.

The sound of your name being screamed at the top of Lloyd’s lungs felt like a gunshot to the chest.

Every muscle in your body seemed to roar to life, even with the snow slowing you down, you kept pushing on. Mellie whined into your collarbone, your hands burned. There was barely any indication of where the road was, you couldn’t follow the asshole’s car path because they would have been able to catch up quickly. The path was running out of terrain as another edge appeared, this one seemed like a steep drop off. You skidded to a stop, looking to a thick pine tree nearby, looking down at your daughter and making a quick decision to hide her. Ripping off your jacket, you bundled her up, and moved into the tree - digging out a small hole in the small heap of pine needles, you kissed Mellie’s face and sat her there.

There was no way out, you knew that. You would have to fight your way out - the thought clawed at your stomach the same way betrayal felt. Because you were here alone, the promise your husband made left shards of glass in your face and hands.

You will stand your ground if it meant Lloyd couldn’t have your daughter.

“Princess, you need t’sit.”

Simon pushed your frantic body towards the park bench, his guiding hand seemed too warm against your lower back. Sobs kept escaping your lips, even as you were trying desperately to silence them. “I don’t- I don’t know what’s- what’s- happening-“

“Sit.” Following his lead, you found yourself hyperventilating on a park bench after dark with your husband. He tore off his face mask, his hand cupping your cheek to make you look at him. “You feel m’hand, yeah?”

You nodded, a hiccup left your hips before another sob escaped too, your eyes closed as you tried to stop these random tears.

“No, you need to look at me, I can’t help you if you don’t look at me, love.” His voice was calm, a nudge to help you, you opened your eyes with a quickness - lashes fluttering to fight the salty tears. “Good girl. Tell me somethin’ about m’face.”

“Wha-What?”

“Do it.”

You sniffled, trying to take a deeper breath but your chest only seemed to constrict itself. More tears fell as you whispered, “You- You have pretty eyes.”

“Tell me something about m’clothes.”

A glance down, leather jacket, black t-shirt, blue jeans. “Leather jacket.”

“Good girl. How does my hand feel?”

Warm. Comforting. Like if you’d let go, he’d still be there, keeping you afloat. More tears fell. “Like home.”

“What do you hear?”

Dogs howling down the street, the brakes of the tram you two were trying to catch, Simon’s voice.

“You.”

“Good.” His other hand took one of yours, squeezing it. “Doin’ so well f’me. Can you take a deep breath now?”

You followed his command, a sob rattled around your ribcage as you exhaled.

“You can cry, baby, but you need to calm down. Gotta think straight before we get you home, yeah?”

You wondered how Simon would feel, seeing you like this. Back rested on the forest floor, heaving, coughing up blood as your knuckles felt singed by fire - if only it was fire, but it was from beating your father-in-law off of you. The fall down the steep hill onto the plateau hurt a lot more now than it did ten seconds ago, and the man now clambering to get on top of you felt like the bringer of death. Claws made of your bloodied hands, scraping them against his face as he gripped your neck - it seized, pulling up from the snow as you hit and clawed more at him, his hands remained steadfast. Air escaped your body, and no breath could be taken in - panic began to buzz throughout your body as anger fueled it.

Heavy hands that felt like paws, that felt like boulders, that felt like God abandoning you.

Not yet.

You know what to do.

A swift kick from your knee made the bastard wheeze, loosen his grip, and it left only a moment’s notice to grasp the opportunity. You slammed your fist into his nose, feeling the sickening crack before he leaned backwards, you bucked your hips before punching again. He went backwards. Again. He went backwards. Again. He’s on his back. Again. Again. He’s screaming. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

It hasn’t even been twenty minutes since you escaped with Mellie, and now you find yourself pumped full of adrenaline, beating your captor’s face in for even daring to try and take your child.

Your hands felt blood. You couldn’t tell if he was dead yet. Make sure he will be.

Three days you spent in that basement. Two hours you spent carefully laying a plan, and one moment to swing that broken bookshelf into your father-in-law’s skull. And you were choosing to ignore the beating you had received when protecting your baby, the beating both of you took as you tossed each other down a steep hill. Brawling like mountain lions - a mother protecting her cub, the other looking to devour you whole.

A scream of pain escaped your lungs, another punch to the bloody face. Another. Another. Another, until you couldn’t tell the man beneath you was the monster who fucked up your husband.

Another hard punch for Simon.

Another for Mellie.

And five more for yourself.

A laceration on your head began to throb as you could finally feel your hand, turning off of the beaten man and onto your back and into the bloodied snow. Facing the sky felt like freedom, the pain in your hand felt like the flames in your fireplace back home, your ringing ears felt like knives inside your skull - but your heart beat without fail, through the agony, through the rage and fear.

A cough escaped your chest, blood leaving with it as you turned onto your one hand and knees, looking up the steep hill which would lead you back to Mellie. The tree peaked over the crest of the ledge, your hands - through excruciating pain - gripped the mud, snow, and ice as you began to push yourself up.

“Melody, Melody Ivy,” Her name groaned from your broken voice, every handful of ice and push from your foot made your head throb more, your balance growing weaker with every push. “Mama’s comin’, Mama’s on her way, fuck.” Your whining eardrums couldn’t hear her, fear and panic still rampant in your veins, your breathing barely escaping your lips without a wheeze.

What would he do if he saw you now? The thought felt bitter, the anger leaving your throat in decibels, a few more feet and you would have to pull yourself up and over. Hike your foot up, pull yourself up with your broken hand.

He wouldn’t be here. A growl escaped you. He would be here already if he cared, if he knew. Does he know?

Does he know where you are? Does he think you’re safe at home, under your favorite blanket with Winnie asleep on your lap, your show playing on the TV? Does he think König and Roach are standing guard, Laswell talking on her phone at the table?

Does he truly believe that?

Do you?

You didn’t even notice that you had fallen further down the hill to the bottom, past Lloyd’s body, into a bed of snow and ice. The sky, grey like the ashes in your childhood home’s fireplace, blocked the sun and blue sky above. Your hands were numb, spine tingled with every breath, and your chest roared as it expanded. Maybe you lost your footing, or your hand slipped, or God just believed it was funny to let you fall farther from your child. You were going to die here, Mellie too, and it hurt. It blossomed like a rose, decaying your chest with every brush of a petal, the waves washing ashore and flooding your body with angry salt water. Your body would be found here, bones picked clean by mountain lions or foxes, and she would be safe, nestled beside the tree.

There was no peace here. No mornings in snowsuits on the porch, watching Christmas trees be hauled down the lane, squealing because of the fresh snow. No afternoons sitting by the fire with your daughters, watching an animated movie as they both napped on your lap. No evenings with your husband, talking about some meaningless memory as he brushed your hair cautiously. There was only the sky, the blood that came from your head, chest, back, and hand, and the cries of a mother who can’t do more than cry for her child.

[seat-safety-switch]

So-called motorcylists love to shove their beloved bikes away whenever there's a little bit of snow on the road. That's because motorcyclists are famously concerned with their public perception. They don't want to drive around town with wood screws run through their tires, shrieking profanities at stopped traffic before ripping a perfect 12 'o' clocker and driving across the iced-over multi-use-pathway, comfortable in their knowledge that the police will not and can not follow. Or it's because they don't have heated grips, and their handsies get cold.

Heated steering wheels are the single greatest innovation in cars in the last two hundred years. Unfortunately for me, they hadn't been installed into cars of the age I own. In the late 1970s, the newest innovation in steering wheel comfort was "maybe make them a little smaller, for the ladies." Seems like I was cursed to a lifetime of wondering if my thermostat was seized, freezing to death even through many layers of mittens and work gloves while waiting for the tow truck to arrive and clean up the commuters in front of me.

Of course, Plymouth also didn't equip this car with a lot of other modern features. For instance, liquid-cooled active speed laser and radar jamming was not available. Active pursuit drones pre-programmed with a seek-and-destroy order for all speed cameras were not yet on the market, unless you worked for the CIA. And also the good people of China had not figured out how to make $35 45-millimetre ball-bearing turbochargers capable of adding nearly four hundred horsepower to any engine strong enough to keep its guts on the inside when presented with one medium-sized jet engine's worth of boost. I had to add all those things myself.

Easy, right? Run some wires to a heating element on the steering wheel. There's just one complication: steering wheels turn. If I keep spinning the car left and right, eventually the wire will get tangled up and rip itself out, causing an electrical fire. Admittedly, that will also keep my hands warm, but the walk home after is inconvenient.

The original "engineers" who took a whisky-soaked gander at this car before slapping their secretaries on the ass had a solution, though. In every steering wheel, the horn button has the same problem. Unfortunately for me, the horn hasn't worked in this car since 1983, which complicated my attempts to reuse the wiring.

Ultimately, I came up with what a rocket scientist would call "a compromise." A pair of bolt cutters and a map to the local truck-supply warehouse's storage yard soon provided me with a nifty diesel-fired interior heater, a roaring flame that consumes all and produces enough heat to make toast from three feet away. Ratchet-strapped to the place where the passenger seat used to be, it will keep my fingers warm, as well as my feet and every other part of my body. Sure, it's inconvenient having to continually refill it with stolen farm diesel, and I could have run the exhaust pipe out of the cabin a better way than through the rust hole in the floor. Once you get that heated seat feeling, though, you simply can't go back. If you'll excuse me, I need to get going: if I don't get to work in the next five minutes, my boots will melt again.

[theweightofakiteofdreamsingold]

Promise (1) – J. Kiszka

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, virgin reader, teary-eyed Josh, fluff, unprotected sex (almost), oral sex (fem receiving) (almost), language, MINORS DNI

A/N: All these posts circulating about Josh leaning into people’s hands while they held him in Detroit inspired this fic. It’s gonna be some softie, first-time-ever smut with Josh, the V-card thief. 🥹

Bajabule,

-Han

“Is that thunder?” you asked, pausing to listen for the faint grumbling in the distance.

Josh paused to listen as well, his deep brown eyes fixed on the ever-darkening clouds above you. “I think so, but I didn’t see any lightning.”

The wind had started to pick up along the river where you and Josh had been kayaking with Jake, Sam, and Danny. You watched Josh as he paddled over to a big rock that was close to the bank, taking hold of it to still himself against the tugging current of the river. He looked up at the sky again, his brows furrowed in concentration.

After a moment, he paddled back out to you and the rest of the boys. “Looks like whatever this is is moving this way toward us. We should probably head out.”

The boys all muttered in agreement, and you all began to paddle downstream to look for a place to get out of the water. You’d been out on the river for at least half the day, but you were still bummed to have to go. Being with Josh and his brothers always lightened your mood.

You’d been seeing Josh for a few months now, and things seemed to be moving in a good direction. You spent a lot of time with him doing mundane things; going shopping at more farmer’s markets than you’d ever been to, visiting more record shops than you knew existed, and just keeping each other company when you had nothing else to do.

Josh was also a huge film enthusiast, so the two of you spent an abundant amount of time curled up on his couch watching movies of so many genres while Josh shared his thoughts on each one in real-time. You loved hearing him share how his mind worked, and you felt lucky to be able to have a peek at how he processed information. He was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, but it never felt intimidating to you. His brain and his heart ran on the same track, and everything he did and said was coming from a place filled with love.

Josh was tentative and understanding. He was soft. He had moments where you definitely questioned his thought processes, and he could be extremely impulsive and wild, but if the situation ever called for maturity, all of his antics disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N,” Josh called, “you okay?”

Your brain caught up to your surroundings, and you never realized how far behind you’d fallen. You looked around you, and all the boys were a solid ten yards ahead of you.

“Yep, I’m- I’m good,” you called back, hastening the pace of your strides until you made up a little ground. Danny and Sam shared a tandem kayak, while you and the twins each had your own sit-ons, freeing up a set of hands to carry Josh’s kayak while he carried yours. You watched him as he shifted the weight of it over his head as he walked, watching the taut muscles of his arms as he did so.

Once you had all made it to where the cars were parked, the boys began securing everyone’s kayaks and paddles for the trip back home. Just as soon as they started on the first one though, you heard a monotonous rustling of the leaves in the woods around you. As the sound grew louder, you realized that it was rain, and that it was moving in a lot quicker than any of you had anticipated.

When it reached the lot of you, it was falling from the sky in a steady, but extremely heavy downpour. They boys made quick work of the rest of the kayaks, and before you knew it, you were all in your cars waving goodbye to each other behind tinted glass.

You were in Josh’s Jeep truck, shivering in the passenger seat as his hands moved swiftly over the temperature controls, doing his best to warm you up as quickly as he could.

As the shock of the cold rain wore off, you looked over at him and had to fight to keep your jaw from hanging slack. The usually puffy curls of his mullet sat closer to his head now in dripping ringlets. The water from his hair dripped onto his forehead and you watched the droplets make paths down the bridge of his nose to its tip before collecting together and dropping off, only to be caught by the pointed crests of his lips. The rest of his face glistened from being directly hit by the rain outside. You let your eyes travel down his neck which also glistened in what was left of the dim daylight to his shirt that was completely soaked through. You’d never thought anything of the fact that he practically lived in white shirts until now, and you couldn’t say you were disappointed in his color choice. You could see the curves of the muscles in his chest, more prominent now because of the cotton fabric that clung to his chilled skin. You wanted nothing more than to peel off his shirt and run your hands over his body; just to bask in him.

The thoughts running through your mind sent pangs of anxiety straight to your stomach. You’d never felt a yearning this strong for anyone you’d been with, but the fear of what he would say or how he would react to the fact that you were still a virgin overpowered your need for him.

You sat in the passenger side of his truck fighting an internal battle between reality and what you wanted with every fiber of your being. Your mind talked itself in circles the majority of the way back to his house. As he pulled into the driveway, you wondered what sort of thoughts were running through his mind.

At some point on the drive to his house, the rain had stopped, but you didn’t notice until the truck was shifted into park. Josh got out and came around to open your door for you. After he opened it, he paused, a grin spreading across his still-shiny face; his teeth shining in the light of the moon while the darkness hid most of the rest of his features.

“Come on, mama. Let’s get you warm and dry, huh?”

He offered his hand to you, and you took it, following him up the front steps to the door. As soon as the two of you were inside, Josh went on a hunt for towels and washcloths. He emerged from the hall with bath linens in one arm and a sweatshirt and a pair of boxer shorts in the other. His hair had started to dry, but the same couldn’t be said for his clothes.

“Here. I thought you might wanna take a hot shower to warm up, and I can dry your clothes for you if you want.” His brown eyes were sap-sweet and sparkling at you, his lips tilting up and a small smile.

“I’d love that so much,” you said quietly. “You’re the sweetest.” He handed you the towels and clothes, and you padded off to the bathroom.

Once you’d stripped off your wet clothes, you turned the water as hot as it would go, and you stepped inside. The air immediately felt thick from the dense moisture of the scalding water, and you welcomed it into your lungs, letting the water consume you entirely.

You heard the door of the bathroom creak, and you froze, naked and hot, under the shower head. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Josh’s shadow through the thick plastic and second decorative shower curtains. His figure paused for a moment before picking up your pile of wet clothes and leaving the bathroom to toss them in the dryer.

Your heart beat faster the more you thought about the way he paused a moment before. You let your mind drift into what could have happened. He could have waited there. Waiting for you. You could have opened the shower curtain, wordlessly inviting him in. You could have had him right there if you had just done it. Just ripped off the band aid and opened that shower curtain. But you couldn’t. You were scared. Of what, you had no idea.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After your shower, you towel-dried your hair and ran your fingers through it to get out the tangles. You slipped on the sweatshirt and boxer shorts he gave you, feeling apprehensive about not having any underwear while they tumbled in the dryer with the rest of your clothes. A heavy scent of sandalwood and patchouli wafted into your nose and made your chest feel warm. You took a deep breath, pushing your nerves as far down as possible before exiting the bathroom and walking up the hall to find Josh flipping through movies on TV.

“How do you feel?” he asked, “Warmer?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile before plopping yourself down beside him on the couch. He leaned back, one hand resting on the top of your thigh while he looked at you.

You watched his fingertips gently draw circles on your freshly warmed skin while his eyes trailed over your entire body, his lips turning up into another soft grin.

“What?” you asked, a smile spreading across your own lips in return.

His dark eyes flicked up to your face and he huffed a bit of air through his nose before he spoke, “I just really like the way you look in my underwear.”

You both giggled and you replied, “Well I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

He gave your thigh a little squeeze before moving his hand further up your leg. “I mean, there’s always another option,” he said, giving you an exaggerated look.

You rolled your eyes and grinned as he shifted next to you.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he asked, focusing back on your leg.

“Mhm.”

“What were you thinking about on the way home?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you’re usually never quiet like that. I figured something was going on. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You paused, wanting to tell him that your were fine, but the images of him sitting soaking wet beside you in the truck and standing in the bathroom, coupled with figmented images of him between your legs and pressed against your chest flashed through your mind, and you found yourself speaking without realizing what you were saying.

You noticed that your breath felt heavy as you tried to stop the river of words that flowed from your mouth.

“I just want- I- I don’t know how to-.” You stumbled and tripped through fragments of thoughts.

You immediately felt his hands gently holding the sides of your face, his eyes warm and welcoming to you as he spoke, coaxing you to speak through your fear. “Tell me, sweet baby,” he purred, “What do you want?”

You swallowed hard. “You.”

His thumbs swept across the crests of your cheekbones. “You’ve already got me, baby.”

“No. Not- not like that,” you said, your voice moving into a whisper.

His lips sat parted as he processed what you were telling him. After a moment, he spoke. “How come you didn’t say anything before?”

“Because I’m fucking scared,” you said, an unintentional chuckle escaping mid-word.

“Of me?”

“No,” you started, the word a little more exaggerated than you meant for it to be, “not like you’d do something to me, I was just nervous to tell you that-.” You watched his brow furrow as he tilted his head, anxiously waiting for you to finish your sentence. “That I’ve never- I’m-.”

Every single feature of his face softened and you could have sworn you could see a tear or two in his eyes. His hands slid up your cheeks as he rested his thumbs against your temples with his other fingers in your hair, and he pulled you to his mouth in a needy kiss. He completely enveloped your bottom lip, lightly sucking it further into his mouth before he ran his tongue along its edge. His hands slightly tightened in your hair, gently pulling on the roots, making you shift against him, wanting more.

You slipped your arms around his neck and moved to sit in his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. He pulled you closer, taking a hand from your hair and smoothing it over your back as he artfully slipped his tongue between your parted lips. He continued with his tongue until you broke the kiss, pulling back from his mouth and taking a big breath.

His eyes stayed trained on you the entire time as you heaved against him. He leaned back up into you and touched the tip of his nose to yours.

“You’re sure you want this?” he panted, his voice thick and raspy.

“Yes,” you breathed back, your hands resting on the waistband of his sweatpants.

You felt his arms wrap around you and scoop you up, walking you down the hall to the master bedroom.

He carefully sat you on the end of the bed, and you quickly found his waistband again. You could see the bulge in his sweatpants from where his cock was pressed against the thick fabric. You swallowed hard as you hooked your fingers around the band and pulled down, watching the tip of his solid cock hit his lower stomach.

You felt a warm sensation spread between your legs as you marveled at him, noting the pronounced indentations of his hips and the length and girth of his cock. You squeezed your legs together as thoughts of how deep inside you he would be able to reach filled your head, making your pussy throb just by the sight of him. “Fuck,” you muttered, barely audible.

He gingerly tilted your head up to look at him. “What’s wrong, mama?”

“Nothing,” you said, swallowing hard again, “you’re j-just really f-fucking big. What- what do we do if it doesn’t fit?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and but down on it softly, unsuccessfully hiding a smug grin. “It’ll fit. I promise.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, dramatically glancing from his face, down to his cock, and back up again.

His hands reached down and held your hips, swiftly lifting them up, laying you out on your back. You yelped at the quick movement and propped yourself up on your elbows. Josh hooked his fingers into the waistband of the boxer shorts you were wearing, his eyes trained on yours, waiting.

Your eyes widened, not sure of what was happening. He bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach before lifting his head just enough to be able to look up at you. You moaned at the sight of his soft brown eyes looking at you from between your legs; a sight that had been plaguing your mind for some time. He looked even more beautiful doing it in real life than you could have ever imagined.

“Lemme get you ready, mama. Let you cum in my mouth so you can get a taste for it? Hm? Lemme get a taste for you at the same time?” He punctuated his last question with a series of sloppy kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“Oh my God, Josh,” you breathed.

“Can I take that as a ‘yes?’”

“Yes.”

He immediately tugged the boxers down your legs and tossed them into the floor. He stooped down to stand on his knees in front of you, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed again. He gently laid your legs over his shoulders and leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath on your heat. He paused there, his big brown eyes locking with yours again. “Listen close,” he started, “You want me to stop at any time, you stop me, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes wide again.

“Promise me, mama.”

“I promise.”

[babylon-crashing]

the psycho'vac

I.        In a glass case                in the dark                         in an alcove                                in the dark                in a church in Rome,        in Sienna, in Florence,                                bits of saints mummified like the monkey's paw or                        Daniel Dravot's withered head                                                sat in the dark                        waiting for the faithful                                                to pass by, tourists to gawk at, for children of archeologists                to be terrified by.        Outside the Uffitzi                        one could buy postcards                                        fragments of Bosch's                                                        Last Judgement (1504)                                        reaction against sexuality                        that was creeping        back into the faith – every where lusty, fleshy figures                        were being torn apart, swallowed whole by frog-eggs,        tossed into pits of fire and snakes,                                        onto pitchforks and trees of thorn                while the saved, the fleshless,                                desiccated, loosely built creatures                        closed their eyes and lay upon the ground to pray.

II.

It starts while you sit in an outdoor cafe near the great clock in the ex-Lenin Square, forever at 11:45, while swallows who nest in the ruined eaves dart low, dark sickle-flashes, sweeping, skimming. Your notebook is open, pen cast down. You sip at the tiny cup of bitter coffee-sludge (when you are at a friend's house the old tatik takes the finished cup from your hands and reads the ground-stains, having you press your thumb into the hot residue, always with the curious shapes rimming the inside lip.) There is a smell thunder in the air. It starts when you walk down one of the city's mud streets, the rain coming down for four days nonstop. You stand in a crumbled doorway, a truck rumbles past full of cabbage heading for the market, spraying mud and gravel into the air. The wave-like clouds come down off the nearby mountains, things urgent and low to the ground, overwhelming the ruined factories and caved-in apartments, the one-room emergency boxes families of eight or twelve had been living in for the last seven years. It starts as you walk down the street. Under your boots, laying in unmarked graves, thousands of bodies, crushed and buried, their calls bubbling to the surface. Waiting for someone to hear.

III.

After the first baby in the orphanage you work at dies, then the second and finally a third, you go on a walk. It has been lightly snowing. Behind the city lays the broken rail yard. Even though there is no penicillin at the rail yard and none of the doctors who refuse to come to the orphanage to heal "things" as they call your babies will be there, you walk without a hat in the late afternoon gusts. You climb up through an abandoned cab engine, the iron sticking slightly to your gloves, its wooden passenger carriages trapped under a fallen wall. The train - its olive green and chrome and red 1940s Soviet art deco - slightly covered in wet-powder. At your feet, in the lee of the cab engine, dozens of empty hypodermic needles. Beyond the cab, the twisted rail lines; toppled buildings and other ruins; open pits of crude oil sunk in the ground; a whole roundhouse with the roof caved-in. It looks like a temple. Something holy, but you who never believed in the sacred or the holy, who saw ghosts as simply cultural abstractions. When you reach the roundhouse you find nothing inside but rubble and years and years of snow.

IV.

Humor. An US Embassy worker, an American working for a Foreign Aide organization and a Peace Corps Volunteer run into each on the street. Soon an Armenian friend walks by.

"This morning for breakfast," the Armenian said, "I had Frosted Flakes with milk."

"You had Frosted Flakes?" cried the Embassy worker, "How did you get Frosted Flakes in Armenia?"

"Oh, I bought them at the black market store near my house."

"You had milk?" cried the Foreign Aide worker, "How did you get milk?"

"Oh, I mixed the powdered milk with water."

"You had water?" cried the Peace Corps Volunteer, "How did you get water?"

V.

All winter long you were in isolation

watching it grow. You had given up

on the poetry brought in the 40-pound

box from home. You had not spoken

English in over three months, ever since the first

frost coated your pillow – there was no heat

in your hut, the rains turned to ice.

You wore your jacket and thermals and gloves

to bed and gave up on poetry. Reading

a poet writing about wasted sex no less

in San Francisco was a hateful thing.

Reading a poet, in Berkeley, where they

have everything, speculate on her fat

soul was a hateful, too. Under your floor

boards the dead called out your name, until

vodka, Russian water, kept the their

voices at bay. Intolerable, how clear they

came in. All of them complained,

griped, belly-ached in a language

untranslatable until your perception:

It was a cross between Armenian

and Russian that the old women spoke

down in the market.

VI.

It is sad to see these old people one, two, three generations apart from their children. These haughty, thin old people unable to speak of these things anymore, needing always to speak around them, as if at the dinner table to speak with clarity would make the magic happen all over again. To listen to them submerge their magic, to protect their children. There was a woman, nearly a hundred, who lived in a nearby village. As a baby she had escaped the Young Turks' Genocide in 1915, had witnessed the USSR rise and fall and had lost eighteen children and grandchildren in the earthquake. You visit her, she speaks in the ancient language, the old Armenian words, "God has forsaken the Armenians" – and spends her time looking for her god among the graveyards where 50,000 of her people died in 4 minutes in 1988. You will be leaving soon, returning on a 32-hour flight. Numbers. Something is inside you. Parasite. You will be leaving soon, and she has no more use for the living. Her words drop away, become muddled, confused, a lexicon of secrets, you pass by gravestone after gravestone on the way to the surface, thousands of them, until there is no more room for air.

VII.

Of course, you

take it with you.

It grows hideous

inside you, even

after the Peace Corps'

doctors arrived and demanded

that you are Medically

Evacuated -- the ol' Psycho

Vac -- three days before your

twenty seventh birthday, you

take it with you. You have

grown thin now, fleshless,

desiccated. They do not

even let you say good-bye

to your babies, such is the state

they find you in. On the flight

back to DC you sit next to

a woman, Dutch ex-missionary,

who explains that sometimes,

the young men God has sent

to do his bidding go crazy.

They, who fear for the safety

of their souls above all else,

do not know how to take

care of themselves so far from home.

She knows this, she assures you,

she has seen it happen. As

the stewardess pushes the cart

for the evening's meal by your seat

the thing that rests inside you

gurgles once in agreement

and then is still.

][][

Notes.

This is it, my grand attempt back in 2002 to put words to my nightmare.

The poem starts out in Italy because that is where I learned, for the first time, about the religious fever dream that is Hell, when I accidentally saw the LSD-madness of Hieronymus Bosch's art and it blew my little brain at the implications of such a concept. It didn't seem like much of a stretch to link the mummified bodies of Bosch's righteous in that painting with the babies dying under my care.

The, "the one-room emergency boxes," are called "domiks" and are basically railroad boxcars used to house the vast homeless population suddenly needing protection from the cold. Gyumri was never really rebuilt and 30 years later there are families still living in their rusted-out boxes.

[zoesblogsposts]

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[angryschnauzer]

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 7

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Story Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing,   NSFW, 18+, Smut, Fingering, Grinding, Hot Tub Frolics, Handjob, Titty Sucking, Nudity, Blowjob, Oral Sex.  

Chapter 7 Warnings: Graphic descriptions of an abusive relationship, descriptions of domestic violence, description of murder attempt. NSFW, 18+, Smut, Blowjob

Wordcount: 3114

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, 

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 7

Sy's truck crunched over the gravel of his driveway as he pulled into the covered parking spot at the side of his cabin. As he shut the engine off you could hear Akia barking when she recognised the sound of the engine, Sy gently patting your leg;

"She's going to be so excited to see you"

He smiled, but you could see the concern in his eyes. Back at your cottage Tamara had arrived in a tornado of hugs and reassurances, but it'd done little to calm your nerves over the fact your abuser had not only finished his parole and was allowed to leave the state, was hundreds of miles off route for what he said his destination was, and you knew how he'd always insisted on taking the most direct route anywhere he went, even if it meant dangerous roads in bad weather.

The first few spots of rain started to hit the ground and you felt Sy squeeze your thigh;

"As much as i'd like to see that pretty little dress of yours go see through in the rain lets not hang around, once Akia gets wet she stinks the cabin out with wet mutt scent"

Smiling you hopped out, Sy grabbing the bag you'd hastily packed with some clothes and your laptop, the pair of you running quickly to the front door, Sy darting out to the yard to release Akia from her leash before the pair of them ran back under the cover of the porch. The big dog was all wriggles when she saw you, a now familiar face in her life. You petted her and gave her fuss as Sy moved around his cabin, switching lamps on and getting you settled in. He lifted your bag and pointed hooked his thumb to his bedroom;

“I’m gonna put this in here, i’ve cleared a drawer for you to keep your stuff in”

You could feel a lump form in your throat at his gesture, the casual thoughtfulness something you weren't used to in a relationship.

Once he'd dropped your bag he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in his strength and warmth. You felt like the worries of the world slipped away whilst you were in that cocoon of his arms, that the big wide world was just a bad dream. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and pulled back, waiting for you to meet his gaze;

"Dinner and a movie? Or dinner and talk?"

"Dinner and talk"

-

Your meal had been quick and easy, but no less delicious. Sy had made garlic bread from a loaf he'd baked that morning, combined with what Antonio had gifted him from the restaurant; fresh burrata cheese which had been drizzled with delicate honey and sprinkled with chopped pistachio nuts.

With the dishes cleaned away the two of you had curled up together on the couch, your time to explain your past had finally arrived;

"We met in college, James was a Senior when I was a Freshman. I didn't have that much experience with boys so I was flattered that he was interested… turns out he wanted someone he could control. We got married over the Summer between my Junior and Senior years, and when it came to returning for the Fall semester James started to change. He would have my timetable synced with his phone, and if I was more than 2 minutes late getting out of class he would start the mind games and accuse me of cheating. So many times Tamara walked me to his car and wouldn't leave until James accepted that class ran over. That worked fine until she had to have her workplace assignments in the Summer semester and wasn't around campus… that's when the hitting started."

You heard Sy exhale through his nose but didn't look to his face, you weren't ready and still had more to tell;

"James would never hit me when we were in public, he would just act like the perfect husband, but the second the front door to our apartment shut…" you paused, the memory of it causing you to tense; "He would hit me, just the once each time, but he'd use his fist and hit me in my back. The pain was excruciating. He knew exactly where to hit to cause the most prolonged pain, but to make it look like an accidental injury, that i'd fallen on something. There was one time…" your voice started to waiver but you paused and took a deep breath; "I'd gotten a ride home with Tamara as he'd had to work late, but because i'd invited her in for a coffee he was furious as hadn't 'checked' with him in advance. Tam was in the bathroom whilst i was rinsing some dishes in the kitchen, i heard footsteps but thought it was her, only for him to just come up behind me and land a punch in the center of my back. That was the beginning of the end if i'm being honest as Tam walked in whilst my legs were buckling. I'd learnt not to cry, i just compartmentalised and disassociated when it happened by that point"

You finally looked up at Sy and it almost broke your heart. He was blinking away the tears, you hadn't even considered that what you were saying would be difficult for someone who cared about you to hear;

"Sy, it's ok. It's over now"

He let out a very shaky sigh, nodding;

"I know Honey, but I just… I mean, we all have our emotional scars, but you're just so strong now. I'm sorry you went through that"

You reached out for him and he pulled you onto his lap, pressing his forehead to yours and laying a light kiss to the end of your nose to which you looked up at him;

"Do you need a break?"

"A break?"

"Before i tell you the rest"

He paused, before shaking his head;

"No, it's good that we get this all done in one go"

"Tam at that point pulled me aside at school one day, and with the help of our student support made me realise that what was happening wasn't my fault. Her husband was a cop and on his day off, he explained plainly what kind of evidence would be needed for an arrest and conviction, and at that point they helped me set up Nanny cameras"

"So you took that to the cops?"

"Not quite. It was around Thanksgiving and we'd travelled upstate to see his parents. The roads were icy and even after his Dad had said he shouldn't drive after drinking, he still insisted we head home. On a narrow road we spun out going over a bridge and the car ended up in the river below. The car was half submerged and when the cops arrived they found James first and pulled him out, but as they did the car got caught in the current and was washed over a waterfall. James had said there was no-one else in the car…"

"Fuck" Sy's voice was quiet; "How did you…"

"How did they realise I was still in the car? James was still drunk so when he was in the back of the ambulance he let slip that he hadn't been alone. The EMT's radioed back to the cops that were still on scene and they went into the water and pulled me out. They rushed me to the ER in their cruiser as by that point hypothermia had set in"

"You're not angry that they missed you the first time?"

Thinking about Sy's question you considered your thoughts before shaking your head;

"No, it wasn't their fault. It was dark and they'd had verbal confirmation from the driver that no one else was in the vehicle. If anything it increases my anger and hatred for my abuser" you paused; "but that doesn't diminish the feelings of fear i get of him being anywhere near me"

"How did you get away from him in the end?"

"The cops arrested him for driving under the influence whilst he was in hospital. When the statements of the First Responders came in about how he'd lied about me not being in the vehicle they added attempted manslaughter. My emergency contact was Tam so when the hospital called her she brought the evidence from the Nanny cams too. It was enough to get him locked up until trial as no-one posted bail"

Sy was silent for a long time, thinking over what you’d told him and he was absolutely positive that you had held back on a lot of the details, but that didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that you were safe with him and he’d do everything in his power to keep you safe;

“So you haven’t seen him since that night?”

You shook your head;

“I testified via videolink. The city had a great public defender that made sure domestic violence survivors didn’t have to face their abusers in person. Tam testified in person and said that James tried to stare her down the entire time, but she just ignored him. He was sentenced to 4 years but got out after 3 for ‘good behaviour’, however throughout the whole time he sent threatening letters to my old address. The second he was released he was served with the restraining order. He’s not allowed to come within 200ft of me or my property”

“Does he know where you live?”

“I don’t think so, but the fact that he has entered the state has enough to make sure i don’t turn my back to a room at the moment, at least not until i know he’s heading in the opposite direction.”

There was a moment of silence before he pulled you to his chest and you instinctively hooked your nose beneath his chin. Warm hands smoothed over your back, comforting you. You felt like you were in a cocoon, safe and secure where nothing could threaten you or all you’d worked so hard for. With the brush of Sy’s beard on your face you relaxed to the point of slumber, drifting off into a calm and peaceful sleep.

-

When you woke it was dark, the warm embrace of Sy’s arms still around you, but this time you could tell you were in his bed. Twisting onto your side you smiled wearily and fell back into a deep safe sleep.

-

The sound of a shower woke you a second time, soft pale daylight of the early morning hinted at the windows of the cabin. Turning you realised you were alone in the bed, slipping silently out from beneath the covers you had a thought and a smile spread over your face. Quickly locating your bag you pulled a shower cap from your wash bag and pulled it on, before shedding your clothing and stepping into the steamy bathroom.

You could see the outline of Sy’s tall body where the window on the other side of the bath cast a silhouette through the shower curtain. He turned towards the shower and you could tell he had raised his face into the water, so now was your time to strike. Crossing the small room you carefully pulled the far end of the shower curtain and carefully stepped into the old enamel tub. As you pulled the curtain back in place one of the metal rings clinked against the rail, making you freeze, your eyes darting to Sy who still stood with his back to you, his face in the jets of water, and he let out a little chuckle;

“Honey, if you think you can sneak up on me you’ve got another thing comin’”

He turned and grinned at you, watching you watch him as the soapy bubbles trailed down his body. You couldn’t help but to gratuitously look at Sy in all his naked glory. You missed the smirk tug at the corner of his mouth as he watched you watching him, instead your gaze was transfixed upon the slow creep of his hands as he started to softly tug at his dick, watching it start to swell and grow from its already impressive state. Taking a single step forwards closed the space between you, tilting your head as your mouths met for a brutal kiss, whilst your hand moved to join his, wrapping around his hot girth. 

When you pulled away from his lips, Sy let out a small whimper of loss, before watching as you got to your knees, never breaking eye contact. He was hot and heavy in your hand, filling your grasp as you moved your fist up and down. Tentatively you leaned forwards, taking just the tip into your mouth and letting your tongue lave against the smooth red tip.

Sy let out a strangled groan and his knees trembled a little, his hand shooting out to rest against the windowsill whilst the other settled atop your head;

“Baby… please…” he begged quietly.

Staring into those ice blue eyes you opened your mouth and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of marble beneath silk, his hardness growing until your cheeks were filled and your throat was cut off from precious air. With what little room you had left in your mouth you worked your tongue softly against the underside, the thick ridge of muscle that ran the length pulsing under your ministrations.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, grasping him tightly as you moved your head back and forth, letting saliva pool in your mouth and escape from the corners of your lips.

“Oh fuck…” Sy cursed; “That’s so good, get me nice and sloppy, such a good girl”

Sy cupped your cheek, his hand moving back to the top of your head, unsure where to put his hands. Reaching up you grabbed both and pulled them down until they were resting on the back of your head, nodding slightly so he got the message that it was ok.

“Oh god… you’re fucking perfect” he muttered as he started to rock his hips back and forth just a little, fucking your mouth as you relaxed your jaw a little more; “So fucking perfect… look at you with my dick in your mouth, feels so good, that’s it girl, take it deeper”

On a couple of thrusts he got just a fraction too deep and you could feel your eyes start to water, but thankfully your gag reflex behaved itself. You rested your hands on the tops of Sy’s thighs, the muscles tense beneath your touch, and you could tell he was getting close. Slipping one hand between his legs you softly cupped his balls and was rewarded with a guttural groan from above;

“Fuck… do that again and i’m gonna cum down your pretty throat”

Maintaining eye contact you did exactly that, softly cupping and cradling his balls in your palm. You heard him groan as they pulled tight to his body, then the tell tale tremble of cum travelling through his shaft before that salty splash as it hit your tongue. Quickly swallowing he finished on your tongue, pulling free of your mouth as his hand flew to the windowsill and his knees wobbled. His other hand hooked under your arm, helping you to your feet until he could pull you flush to his chest, kissing you fiercely before you pushed him away;

“Sy! I haven’t even brushed my teeth, you’ll be tasting yourself!”

“Nothin’ wrong with that Honey, just a reminder that you were kind enough to do that for me” he let out a contented sigh, before his demeanor immediately changed and he let out a string of ‘OH’s. Quickly spinning around he shut the water off before turning back to you;

“Hot water just ran out… it’s gonna be a while before the tank refills i’m afraid. I know you don’t like cold water…”

With a smile you were thankful for his actions, even in the post orgasmic haze he was probably in;

“No problem”

At that moment a series out loud woof’s and barking came from the other side of the door;

“Uh-oh, need to let Akia out, she only gets like that when she’s gotta ‘go’ go”

-

It didn’t take long until you had dried off what parts of you had gotten wet and dressed in yoga pants and loose t-shirt loaned from Sy, assuring him that you were fine by yourself for the half hour it would take him to walk Akia across the meadow as he did the morning check on the beehives. Setting your laptop up on the small desk in the back of Sy’s bedroom, you plugged your headphones in so you could listen to the morning zoom meeting.

It was 45 minutes later when you glanced at the time in the corner of your screen and you realised that Sy wasn’t back, your stomach grumbled so you decided to seek out some coffee. Switching your wireless headphones to connect to your playlist, you were in your own little world as you wandered into the kitchen, turning the corner only to be greeted by a stranger leaning into the fridge. Shocked blue eyes stared at you from behind floppy dark hair, a youthful attempt at stubble dusted over the stranger’s face. You let out a scream, stumbling back until your hip touched the table as you scrambled for something to protect yourself with, your fingers curling around the handle of the iron skillet Sy had seasoned on the stove the previous night. Holding it up like a baseball bat you yelled;

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

The young man dropped the slice of cooked bacon he had been about to eat, holding his hands up in surrender;

“Okay crazy lady, i could say the same about you”

“I asked first!” you demanded, shaking the pan a little, before suddenly the back door of the cabin opened, Akia running in and making a beeline for the dropped bacon, Sy standing in the doorway as both you and the startled young man faced off in his kitchen.

Crossing the room to you in just a few strides, Sy pulled the skillet from your grasp, trying but failing to contain his amusement;

“Darlin’, i want you to meet Mike, Walter’s kid”

Your eyes went wide;

“This is Walter’s son?”

You looked to the man by the fridge who had now shut the door and was giving Akia ear scratches as she leant against his leg;

“Sure am Sweetcheeks”

Chapter 8 >>>

[trivialbob]

It's not yet noon, and this is already a fantastic day.

On Thursday I pedaled my bicycle downtown to work. When I bike I leave my regular wallet, with its many cards, at home. Instead I put cash, a Visa card and my driver license in a thin plastic case normally used for business cards. It fits my pocket better. If I lose it I don't have as many things to replace.

Somewhere in Minneapolis, on a busy road (with bike lanes) my wallet fell out of my pocket. I had recently been to an ATM, so there was over $100 in there. I felt awful. As soon as I noticed I shut off the Visa via a phone app.

I had my name and phone number on the case. You never know, there can be nice people out there. Using my label maker also makes me happy.

Early this morning, while at the dog park, my phone rang. A guy found my little wallet while he was bicycling and wanted to get it back to me. Quickly I left the park to meet him at a farmers market in Richfield, along the route I pedaled to work on Thursday.

We met up. He handed me the wallet. Everything was there!

I tried to give him some cash. "At least let me pay for your lunch today," I suggested. He refused the offer. He commented that the label with my name and phone number was a fantastic idea. He planned to do the same thing. Had my label maker been in my truck I would have insisted he take it.

When I got home I saw my neighbor spreading black dirt and grass seed in his yard. I asked where he filled his trailer full of dirt. He told me there's a composting facility a few miles from our houses that sells topsoil. It's inexpensive, he added, and they fill truck and trailers for you so you don't need to load it yourself.

Damn! Each year I usually buy ten or so bags of black dirt from a home improvement store. I use the dirt to fill holes one of the dogs dug or various low spots in the yard. Those bags cost $3 to 4 each.

The half yard of soil (it nearly filled my pickup truck bed) was $13. Holy cow, how had I not known about this place all these years?

I'll add some grass seed to the soil and spread it around the yard later today. For now I think I'll treat myself to a nice lunch then take a nap.

[legitalicat]

Get to know Appalachian Sihtric

Collection Masterlist here!

Appalachian Sihtric is getting interviewed for a local newspaper. He has become a pillar in his community, and the people want to know more. These are his real, unedited answers.

If you have any questions you want to ask Appalachian Sihtric, feel free to drop them below or send them in.

Q: You come home after a long day at work. Name three things you're doing first.

Sihtric: Kissing my woman. That is the number one thing. She opens my truck door for me when I get home just for that. And then, I'm probably gonna hop in the shower. It's dirty work I do. And my woman, YN darlin' I love you, she cooks while I'm showerin' so then I get to just relax and eat dinner with her.

Q: What is your favorite meal?

Sihtric: Aw shit, that's hard. I'm a big breakfast person. Love me a good plate of biscuits and gravy. I think otherwise, gotta say chicken and waffles, or French toast if we go to Cracker Barrel, or pot roast. YN's mom makes the best pot roast, especially her Sunday deer pot roast.

Q: What sort of activities do you like to do in your free time?

Sihtric: Keeping YN away from animal auctions, hahahaha. But seriously, I love to go fishin'. I used to go huntin', but YN worries if I go alone and Finan and Osferth can't shut up long enough to get a deer, and Uhtred has enough kids he can't come out.

Q: What would you say is your favorite childhood memory?

Sihtric: Aww man. My favorite thing ever was when my grandparents used to take me to flea markets and yard sales. I'd find so much cool shit, I was like a dragon and would hoard all the little things. It was so much fun, and I still have a couple things. Like a guitar, I got it hanging up in our bedroom, and I made my grandpa sign it for me. He was crazy talented musically and to this day, that thing is my favorite thing I've ever owned.

Q: Last one for now. Where is your favorite place to go with your wife, YN?

Sihtric: This may be the hardest question ever, hahaha. There are no bad places with her. I think the most beautiful times we have together are like, the really mundane stuff. Going to the grocery store and the like. Something that reminds me, shows me, we're working together and building a life and a future together. She gets really happy when I take her to buy video games, too, so anything that gives her that level of joy is always amazing. As far as like, date spots go? Probably Cracker Barrel. It's probably the simplest place I could take her, I know, but gods above. She loves the food, loves the atmosphere. She loves wandering the gift shop, especially around the holidays and they get a bunch of really neat stuff.

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Taglist: @foxyanon @thenameswinter99 @zaldritzosrose @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

If you want added to the taglist, let me know!

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Imagine: Asking your husband Derek to go to the local Fair in town.

It was Hot, Far too Hot to be just June, the sweat rolling off your forehead going into your brow, Was one of MANY! reasons why you Hate Summer. Sure Winter is cold but when you're cold. you can Add an extra layer you can snuggle up with your Hot (Physically And in appearance) Husband. Derek. you met him right after his Baby mama had their Son Eli and she Bailed. Leaving the Quiet little town for the Big City and Derek making a vow once the "true Alpha" left for the city abandoning Beacon Hill. he came back and vowed to never leave. you just moved into town when you bumped into him in the food market. seeing him struggle with a New baby. as he was debating on which baby food he should have. you are a baby expert. Since your old roommate had a baby and you witnessed it ALL! you couldn't help yourself but Help the Single Hot dad with the adorable baby. Years later Eli was now a teenager. and you were Sweating outside pulling weeds in the garden.

you tried pawning off this task to Eli, But he heard "yard work "this morning at breakfast and He bolted. Derek always kindly offered to do it after work since he knew you hated Yard work. you use to love it, it use to be a nice chore, you put music on. make a big pitcher of Lemonade. Four years agoana Ancient God of Harvest came to beacon hill and you were captured and Almost Eaten alive by a Roots of a tree.. you were caught In the garden. So you don't practicallyy Enjoy Doing the Yard work anymore. Not alone at least.

Sitting in the yard on your butt lunged over a flowerbed. you remember When Derek and you moved into the house, the first thing he did after you both painted the house. was put the flowerbed up. His mom use to love her garden back at the Old Hale home. and he said the house wasn't a home without a bunch of prettty flowers. and they calmed him. you loved how the flowers looked but you didn't like How Hot it was.

Derek was in the shop working on a stubborn truck calibrater. Something about a leak or a missing piece. Honestly, when Derek talks to mechanics, you don't listen to you. You watch him and openly drool over him. Even after years of dating and marriage, you are still sometimes stunned at his beauty. Derek openly teases you about it.

The sun was getting hotter, and everyone was at the fair. Eli was there going with a girl he liked.

After pulling all the weeds, cutting the yard, and clearing the clippings. You went inside and took. A cold shower to cool down.

Hearing the front door open and hearing Derek call out for you. You called down saying you be back in a few minutes. Meeting him in the kitchen you sat on the counter freshly cleaned and cooled down as you watched your husband prep dinner.

"Hey Hot stuff." you called out as he chuckled as he looked up atyou, "Hey beautiful- what you want?"

you chuckled gasping touching your heart, "me? what makes you think i want anything." he smiled he's famous lop sided smile before stepping over putting both hands on either side of your legs as he gave you a quick peak on the lips, "because baby I know you- you only call me hot stuff when you want something."

you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into second longer kiss before pulling back, 'well- it just so happens- I wanted to ask you out on a Date. tonight after dinner."

he smiled to that as you spoke, "the fair is in town- and I dont know if you remember but that's the Same fair we met each other- where you threatened to kill me if i didn't turn into a wolf.."

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke, "Seriously? I ended up saving your life that night."

"wait- you tried killing Y/N?"

you both turned seeing Eli as Derek moved away as you nodded your head. slightly bummed that Derek moved away but you turned to Eli as you spoke, "yup- I was one of the first people your dad wanted to turn to make his pack."

"but you aren't a werewolf."

you nodded your head, 'yea- ugh- your dad had a change of heart."

"I just realized how much of a pain and trouble she would cause me and i didn't want to be stuck with her forever."

he went back to fixing up the porkchops as yu chuckled, "Jokes on you Sucker! you married me. Stuck with me forever and beyond now." Derek chuckled as Eli walked off. after that as you spoke, "So? you going to take your favorite girl to the Fair? or am I going without you?"

Derek smiled as he turned looking at you. feeling his heart full. he never thought he would have this.. this perfect slice of heaven. he nodded his head, "i'll take you. but only if you Win me a bear."

you smiled saying deal. as you got off the counter kissing his cheek and helping him with dinner.

[candied-boys]

The Beekeepers' Daughter

Luke Randolph x fem! Reader

Is this what they call a drabble or is it a hc?

Tags: SFW, fluff, country life, honeybees, pregnancy, breeding kink🤤, a lot of kids

Cowboy Luke who shows up at your honey farm one day and buys a crate each of lavender, clover, wild flower, heather, and buckwheat honey.

Cowboy Luke who is silently impressed by the way you insist on helping to carry the boxes of liquid gold out to his truck without breaking a sweat.

Cowboy Luke who pauses loading up his muddy red truck, the same colour as his beautiful hair, and looks at you curiously when you ask if he's going to take it to sell at a market in the city.

Cowboy Luke who grins wide with a sparkle in his lush green eyes and tells you he's gonna eat it all himself and that he reckons you'll be seeing a lot more of him since he just moved into the 500 acre ranch thirty minutes down the road.

Cowboy Luke who chuckles at your flabbergasted expression and confirms that yes, that old cow rustler does indeed have not merely seven but eight sons.

Cowboy Luke who just can't seem to get your pretty eyes, your adorable small town accent, and your honey sweet laugh out of his head when he's napping in the hay loft or riding the range for hours on end.

Cowboy Luke who comes back a month later to buy more honey, but only picks up one jar this time so that he has an excuse to come visit you sooner - this week sooner.

Cowboy Luke who keeps dropping by, saying he's too lazy to drive cattle and muck stalls, but chats you up until you let him help you with loading the hives into your truck and then rides shotgun in your truck to take the bees out to pollinate other farms.

Cowboy Luke who brings fishing gear the next time you take the bees out for a ride together so you got something to do while you wait for the tiny creatures to collect their fill.

Cowboy Luke who cooks you up a mean fried catfish with all the fixings using his catch from earlier after y'all get back to your little house on the farm.

Cowboy Luke who’s impatient for the weather to get a little hotter so he can finally ask you to go down to the lake with him ‘cause he just can't get the image of the sun kissing your bare skin out of his mind lately.

Cowboy Luke who just can't keep his hands off you after he finally makes a move, but you can't resist him either, and a few months of rolling in the hay later…

Cowboy Luke who catches a shooting star for you and puts it on a ring because he wants you and only you forever, shotgun wedding or not.

Cowboy Luke who has a hard time reining in his desire for you as the changes to your body remind him daily that it's his child you carry, always looking at you with those half lidded eyes tainted with lust that he knows you just can't resist.

Cowboy Luke who won't let you lift a finger once the baby is born, doing all the farm work and all the house work and all the baby care because he has an abundance of energy, but more importantly is madly in love with his baby girl who looks just like you.

Cowboy Luke who doesn't have to wait a year to ask for a second like he planned because you have baby fever and want him all the time.

Cowboy Luke who is over the moon when the doctor tells him you're having twins, but is secretly nervous because two boys will be a handful on top of a two year old.

Cowboy Luke who stands on the porch, his arms wrapped around you from behind, as the two of you watch your six kids run around the yard ten years later.

Cowboy Luke who never imagined he'd ever be this happy after everything he went through growing up, but who is grateful for every second of his life since he met you.

[222-justfornow-333]

We don’t have a home anymore, despite the signed contract agreement that made the house ours. We had an attorney that was supposed to halt the eviction, but suddenly disappeared and left us out for the birds. It’s really the landlord’s son who ended our stay at the house. He had the workers stuff our belongings in black garbage bags and toss them out to the street, breaking some things in the process, despite the officer telling me to my face when I was in panic, “We are professionals and will be careful with your items.”

One of the things that blew me away is that my dad (now battling cancer) volunteered as a first responder during our time here, and yet many in the neighborhood stopped by with comments or made fun of us, and what I think I understand is that because they know that we are artists and were always making the exterior of the house look pretty and well kept, they felt high enough to insult or make fun of our situation.

From overnight to the next day, frantically hustling and carrying/dragging our belongings, even bigger than us such as furniture and whatever was left of our stuff into a couple of moving trucks, the landlord’s son also called the cops on us multiple times since we had our “trash” on the property. He did this anyway even after watching us in the direct sun, going without eating, or taking breaks for several hours, desperate to collect our things and bring them off the property to safety in the midst of his request for the Town Garbage to dispose of our belongings. Literal blood, sweat, and tears were shed that day. He destroyed a lot of furniture that I remember taking a few years for my parents to save up for. I will never forget the sound my grand piano made when I watched it be lifted into the air and drop, shattering inside that larger dump truck. We suffered bruises, scratches/cuts (due to anonymous sharp items we couldn’t see in many bags), bug bites, poison ivy, and sunburns. We are even getting sick (such as testing positive for covid) due to going and sleeping at hotels to motels, inns, etc.

In November, the landlord’s son sent workers to remove/destroy our own plants, rare shrubs, self-built wooden planters, and other of our wood framing to “clean up” the yard. He also had them destroy and take down our fence that we built too, which was supposed to enhance my brother’s safety, as he can’t help himself suffering from Asperger’s/autism. The house was poorly constructed, in which my Dad (battling cancer), has been making improvements and repairs to the house throughout the years. The lease shows that we were on a “pay to own” plan, which we've already invested for around 15 years... We paid out of pocket and were very rarely compensated to fix any issues with the house, but kicked out anyway…

At this point, I am not looking to cover the cost to replace what was ruined or lost, but we are running out of resources, going from motels to hotels, while struggling to pay for storage, as well as any other form of shelter.

Unfortunately, we live in a relatively expensive part of New York, and it would be a lot of gas to inspect houses and meet with real estate agents, including bringing our things from the storage units to the new location even if we found a more affordable, well built house in another state. I would especially like my little sister to continue her education here as well, but the market for homes here aren’t in a very sparing range.

Since middle school, it was always my biggest dream and concern to buy a house for my family; in fear that something like this would happen. I have tried so hard to find ways to make it happen, but around where I live, these corporations are either not hiring, or I am believed to be inadequate for the job, even though I applied to many fields I’ve had experience and felt confident in.

I would like to secure a final place for my family. FULLY paid off. No longer needing to worry about the greed and control from heartless and unconcerned landlords, like the many years ago growing up, and now.

Your help and contribution is abundantly appreciated.

-Rachel ( aka MW ) ❤️❤️❤️

[aviatrix-ash]

Here's a lil peek into the world of wrenching on planes:

One of the things that's both unfortunate/fortunate about being a mechanic is most often, you do have to buy your own tools, and it's expensive starting out for a newbie mechanic. Fortunately, it means you personally own everything you need to work & aren't chained down to staying with a shitty company. You can just roll everything you got to the place down the street or start a shop of your own. Also means you're not stuck suffering with the cheapest garbage the penny counters in accounting found on amazon.

But unfortunately, that still means starting out it rough as hell. A new toolbox shadowboxed with even all the basics to start out, even if it's all cheap amazon and Harbour Freight stuff, will easily cost about $2,000+. Not including specialty stuff required for different tasks.

But unfortunately the affordable tools are often made up of cheaper steels wear out or break quick and you're in a rut, luckily harbor freight has a lifetime warranty on all their hand tools and will swap out your broken one for a new one, free no questions asked. Tho you're still in that rut and possibly out of luck if your $1 socket shatters while you're stuck up in the tail of a Boeing 777 grounded at an airport 300 miles from the closest store that closed 4 hours ago. So most mechanics upgrade to the better quality one as they wreck the cheap ones. Now those sockets are $45-50+ a piece. Wrenches too, the one set I got today would have been about $600+ on the snap on truck. 😵‍💫 Mine were 160 tho, and the only type of that wrench shape I could find that was SAE and not metic (the different shapes + ratcheting ends means everything). Guess I'll find out how they hold up in time 🥲

Unfortunately that means the mechanic is left having to invest tens of thousands of dollars into their tools. I've met car and aircraft mechanics who've been in the trade for a very time said they've put well over $100k into their tools and stopped counting long ago.

But yah it's a mess out there. 🥲I doubt/hope I don't get to that point in the future, but I know for sure I'll come close over maybe 5-15+ years as most of my stuff now is flea market/yard sale finds and cheap stuff. And you can claim those things on taxes, but they make it wacky af with how you determine if a tool is meant to last a year or longer. . :'))

[beansnpeets]

I'm vibrating.

I have an appointment booked with my bank for next week to apply for a line of credit so I can use it for a down payment. I'm looking at a house today after work and trying to book a viewing for another one that I REALLY want (fenced yard, greenhouse, literally perfect for me and cheap). Emailed the credit union about talking to someone about a mortgage. Hoping to hear back soon on that.

I really want the greenhouse place like actually so bad. It's been on the market for almost a year, tho, which is suspicious to me, but that's why I wanna go see it and see if there's something you can't tell from the listing.

And also I feel SO bad about doing this to Jon. I really do. Like he's still my friend at the end of all this, and I don't want to hurt him, but I have to do this. I'm a little scared of how he's going to react, but I'm hoping to actually buy the house and move most of my shit as discreetly as I can before I tell him. I'm going to ask my friend that has a trailer if she will help me move my truck that I can't drive. Gonna strip my parts trucks and scrap them. Hopefully that isn't too much of a hassle, but I suspect it will be. But like whatever. It needs to be done.

I feel so guilty for all of this, but I know it has to be done if I am ever gonna be happy.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Amber, my sweet! You know I’m just in my Fall feels 🥺🍂🍁

So… in a happier times how would LO and alpha!steve be preparing for Fall?

And how would Honey and Curtis be preparing for Fall?

As you know, I am always in my fall feels. Like we need to cuddle up on the back deck in a oversized blanket and drink our morning coffee together and admire all the pretty leaves!

In happier times, Steve would be taking Little One exploring in their woods around the lake. His pretty little mate never got to be your wild self. And the Little Wolf is finding all the joy in the way the world is changing. Chasing after leaves, stalking the animals on the move, sleeping curled up in a tight ball next to her Alpha to stay warm. And you, you are finding the joy in letting Steve bundle the two of you up, his arms circled around you while your in his lap, watching the cool nights show you both the brightest stars. The nights of the harvest moon, the whole pack goes racing together, singing their song to the bright moon while the moon lights up the trails for them.

At home Steve is constantly bringing you pretty leaves he comes across while working, or a feather that fluttered off a migrating bird, one time he even preserved a spider web for you just in time for spooky season. When October rolls around, he is helping set up haunted trails and telling spooky stories around a bonfire while making smores.

Steve is sure to bring you into the town to stop at the local coffee shop and get you all the special baked seasonal goods so that you both can sample them, finding your favorites. His so far has been the apple cinnamon rolls and yours has been the pumpkin white chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies.

Curtis, Autumn wasn't his favorite for a while. He doesn't like the cold so much and autumn is starting to get chilly. But once he saw your joy in it, he started to see the beauty in it all. Now he decorates his yard, the two of you and Sophia carving pumpkins to scatter all over the porch. Its always easy to tell which ones are Curtis's cause he makes beautiful intricate masterpieces with his carvings. Although when the best one is picked, its usually Sophia's crooked cat carving that gets prime spot on the porch.

On those nights you're coming home exhausted, trying to get into the swing of the start of school again, Curtis is sure to have dinner made and your favorite fall movies ready to play. What are some of your favorite fall movies and shows?

And you of course will be taken to the last of the farmers markets of the season and then the pumpkin patch. Gotta pick out all the pumpkins to fill up the back of Curtis's truck. He is happy to load each one you point out that you liked.

Then because it's around your anniversary, you two get to recreate those nights. According to Curtis, it was the night you both ran into each other at Paulie's and played pool all night. For you it was the night you two ditched the restaurant and drove out to the middle of nowhere to look at the stars while eating burgers and fries.

Now you two load up the back of the truck with blankets and pillows, just staying the whole night in that field under the stars. Thankfully even as chilly as it is, you two stay warm with each other.

Halloween night is full of fun and mischief. You two handing out candy and teasing one another with later that night. You still have those fake vampire fangs stashed away, everytime Curtis see's them, he gets a smirk on his face, and you know where his mind went.

Autumn for Curtis and Honey is full of fun.

Thank you for such a fun ask! Love ya babes

[alltimefail-sims]

"📩 Simblr question of the day: according to you, what are the most underutilized gameplay features in the sims games you played, dlc included?"

Sharing the SQOTD from @simblr-question-of-the-day. I really liked this question because I'm excited to get more gameplay ideas.

Also, you talked about being busy recently so good luck with everything you are working on!

Yes I have been bit busier lately than I've been in a tick, but that's because I'm trying to be better about working on the book I'm writing!! But please continue to send asks and such, I'm still here and active just posting my own content a bit slower - but I'm still active and lurking about!

As for underutilized gameplay features...

I think the Club feature from Get Together is a really underutilized feature in the Sims. @sojutrait actually has a great guide up on their page that explains how clubs can be used for a more custom, immersive, hands-on gameplay experience.

I also think people don't realize how much fun the sales tables can be: I love doing "yard sales" to get rid of stuff in my sims home (for realistic gameplay), I love creating community lots filled with those sales tables to create a farmer's market/small community festival feel, and I love using them for my free-spirited, rancher, farmer, and homesteader sims specifically so they can sell their goods and rely on that income solely! Also you can create better custom food booths now with Home Chef Hustle and you can build a "food truck" OR like a pop-up ice cream stand at the park, for example. Idk it's just a fun feature to me, and exciting for those who don't think any of the rabbit-hole jobs suit their sim (or for those who want more flexibility in their sims' income without having to buy a whole ass additional community lot business).

The handiness skill as a whole is a gamechanger because of the "upgrade object" feature. The upgrades are actually super helpful and many of them will improve the functionality of the given object, will give custom moodlets, and will even help avoid disaster (fireproofing your dryer in the sims is a must... that shit catches fire if you look at it the wrong way lmaoooo).

The robotics skill is really cool and I love making the servos!! Cute little robot friend/family member and they can help around the house (crucial when you have big families, fun if you're going for a futuristic vibe or eccentric household).

Occults, in my opinion, are an underrated feature of the Sims. I think everyone should add some kind of weird, campy, supernatural shenanigans to their gameplay. Have your sim fall in love with a ghost; have your sim accidentally get bitten by a werewolf or vampire; befriend a mermaid; build a rocket in your backyard and go to space; get abducted and raise an alien; the possibilities are endless! Occults can shake shit up, especially if you're tired of vanilla, realistic gameplay.

FAMILY VACATIONS!!! HONEYMOONS!! FRIEND TRIPS!!! I love taking my sims on vacation and taking photos, making memories, etc. This feature is great too because you can get extended family members to go on vacation with your household and then it'll be a little family reunion (and you'll get moodlets for this as well that are like "The whole family is together" or something like that, it's really cute!). I think because you can literally travel to anywhere at any time without using the vacation feature this becomes really under-utilized, but it's a fun little thing to do!

Custom summer vacation holiday with seasons: depending on your lifespan/how you have your calendar days set up you can make it lasts a few days, a whole week, or even two weeks (so the kids can be off school during that time - I do one week in my saves). I just make the "mandatory events" swimming, grilling, spending time with family, stuff like that! Some days I literally have no mandatory events lol, just a day off school!

Honestly that's all I've got off the top of my head: I use a lot of mods and always have, so it can be hard for me to isolate what is a modded feature and what is just a part of the game itself! I hope one or more of these can help you spice your gameplay up a bit! Thank you for this question as always!!! <3

[fervidusoculi]

@volatilehearted​

Melissa’s father dying came at a shock, but some good came out of it. He’d left behind a little farm up in a forest town in Washington that gave them the perfect excuse to get out of LA. Away from the hectic city that had only become more and more overwhelming in the years following Scott getting bitten and subsequently becoming a true Alpha. So as much as Scott didn’t want to move, they packed up their things and into Scott’s beat up truck, having sold Melissa’s old car.

The farm needed a little bit of work, but the house was sturdy and the roof didn’t leak, so Scott was happy, especially when he could take off the headphones he’d semi-permanently worn since getting bitten. They were close to a Nemeton too, as both Scott and Melissa could feel the instant they crossed the boundary into Beacon Hills. It was relieving, and Scott smiled, looking around the little front yard, at the forest that their house backed.

“Scott, we don’t have any groceries and I have to wait for the moving truck to get here, do you want to go into town and grab us some stuff? I think there’s a farmer’s market going on right now.” Melissa called from the porch, drawing Scott’s attention. “Yeah! Of course! Text me what you want for dinner?” He dug his keys out of his pocket and got in his truck. He’d seen the signs for the farmer’s market as they were driving in, and he was pretty confident he could back track to it.

Cheering a little to himself when he made it to the farmer’s market, Scott got out of his truck and moved into the crowd, pausing to look at a few of the booths as he passed. One of them caught his eye most, intricate wooden chairs; clearly handmade sat out at the front of the stall, and Scott reached out to touch the carvings, gently.