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[kaitsawamura]

🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard

PART 1: IN WHICH YOU UNEXPECTEDLY GET THE DEED TO A FARM

❦ STATS ❦ | all other information on this fic including additional warnings can be found on the masterlist

chapter rating: e for everyone, complete fic has an 18+ MDNI rating

chapter warnings: mention of the death of an estranged grandparent (no details)

chapter tags: semi-canon divergent, red thread of fate

chapter word count: 3.2K

This chapter and the rest of this fic are part of this blog's contribution to Fics for Gaza.

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My Dear Little Bug,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place��� my pride and joy: Fox Hollow Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, Little Bug. Good luck.

Love, Grandpa

Honor the family name? What a load of bullshit. There was no family left to honor. You were an only child and your parents had stopped talking to your grandpa on your dad’s side so long ago, you didn’t have any memories of him. Except for a blurry one, so void of detail it was as if it was a dream or a dream of a dream. In that memory, you could recall the thrill of seeing autumn leaves blustering in a flurry across a gravel drive, the creak of an old door, the smell of dirt, coffee, and aftershave. A pair of strong warm arms. That’s about it.

Now, your parents were divorced and the three of you were estranged. You were a singular island floating in a lonely, tumultuous sea. Things had been stressful at work and in your personal life. That must be why you even considered checking your Grandpa’s place out. The southern coast… that was practically out in the boonies. Scratch that, it was in the middle of nowhere. Zuzu City was the closest big town and even that would be small by your adult standards. You didn’t know if you had the gumption to do what it would take to fix the place up.

Still, although you had no idea why your grandfather had chosen you to take over the place most important to him, it would be a welcome distraction. The words in his letter… you were, in fact, in dire need of a change. How this all came to be at the time you needed it most was beyond your understanding. It was better to leave some things to the unknown, even if you did feel a strange pull to this place you’d been to once as a very young child.

You read the letter a final time before glancing at the attached legal papers. Suddenly it seemed as if the space you’d so meticulously curated to be yours was a touch too sterile. The apartment on the expensive side of town. The new, reliable car. The dinner parties, the expensive alcohol. The shiny executive position to go with it. You’d worked hard for it but also had privilege that so many didn’t. You were grateful for it. Even so, you couldn’t ignore that something was missing.

Perhaps long days and even longer nights, clean air, and more sky than infrastructure were the puzzle pieces you hadn’t found yet.

❦ 2 WEEKS LATER ❦

Your apartment was turnkey on the market and already had three solid offers.

In the end, you decided on saving the expense of a rental car, but doing so meant the closest you could get to Stardew Valley was Zuzu City and from there, you had to take a bus. The whole thing felt spectacularly contrived, much to your chagrin. It was spring and while the city was filled with smog, the moment you hit the long highway out of Zuzu towards your new home it was as if the heavens parted to shine a light on your way. Not a single cloud remained in the sky. Well, maybe one little puff that looked way too much like a pastry waaaay out in the distance.

It was a two hour drive on a four lane highway that somehow turned into a two lane without you noticing. For a long while there was nothing but the music playing in your headphones and stretches of field so green and wide open, you could easily get lost in daydreaming. Rolling hills, green grass, and sometimes a fence. Clair de Lune played in your ears and with the surprisingly comfortable position you’d found leaning your head on the window, it didn’t take much for you to drift off.

The bus jolting to a stop is what wakes you on a sharp, snorting breath as your eyes snap open. For a moment, you’re disoriented, unaware of where you are or if you are, in fact, a real person. A headache has begun throbbing at the base of your neck and your mouth is dry. Late afternoon sun streams in the bus window and the driver, a little graying man in a smart blue uniform is standing over you.

“There you are, I was beginning to think I couldn’t wake you. We’ve reached the end of the line. I’ll give you a moment while I open the cargo hold. I have a schedule I have to keep to though!” He says it brightly, smiling as big as can be, the expression crinkling his eyes shut above his rosy cheeks. You nod as he turns and spryly makes his way down the middle of the bus and out the doors.

You do take a moment, but only a small one, to stare out the window. It’s a small bus station, barely even a station at all really. There’s a small awning under a tree that houses an automatic ticket printer. It seems both too modern and too ancient, a monolith, to be here in Stardew Valley. There’s a wooden bench and a cobbled pathway that looks as if at one time there was a lot of foot traffic that has since dwindled. In the distance a wooden fence, fallen into disrepair.

Still, you take a breath and even within the confines of the vehicle, you can taste the crisp freshness in the air. On top of that, there’s green everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, in the wildflowers. In the button-up shirt on the other little old man standing expectantly outside the bus looking in. He’s wearing a brown newsboy cap and overalls, with a golden yellow tie. That must be the mayor. Mayor… Lee? Lemony? Lewis? That’s it, Mayor Lewis.

The mayor had been good friends with your grandfather. He had said as much over the phone when he called to confirm you had gotten the letter and legal papers in the mail. Mail didn’t get lost in Stardew Valley, it was too small but he didn’t known how things worked in the big modern city. He had told you he would meet you to take you to your grandfather’s, well, your farm when you got into town. That was two weeks ago and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you had forgotten that little detail. It was just as well because your fancy cellphone with “unparalleled” service had one little tiny bar; no pulling up Maps here.

Uncertainty roiled in your gut, truly the first bit of apprehension you’d felt since you’d started this process. Maybe this was literally the most foolish thing you’d done in your life, more foolish than breaking into the public pool after hours with your friends your senior year of high school and getting caught by the cops. That had been your last hurrah the summer before you all went to college. Perhaps this was a last hurrah as well. Except, there was no scholarship money waiting in the mail for you this time around. This would be all on you and while you were comfortable with what you had access to for the ball to get rolling, it was different spending your own money than money given to you. Money given to you didn’t count, it wasn’t real.

There was no time like the present. You grabbed your carry on, the one you’d had since high school with the fraying handles and the faded One Direction key chain, and stepped out into the later afternoon. Lewis, who was rocking on his heels with his arms clasped behind him, loosed a beaming smile in your direction. You smiled back, determined to make the most of this first impression.

“Mayor Lewis?” You made it a question even though you were certain it was unnecessary. He nodded enthusiastically and you shook hands. The driver had unloaded your singular suitcase from the hold and gave a mock salute to the two of you as he stepped back in the bus. The doors closed with a wheeze and a loud click before the idling engine was idle no longer and the wheels began rolling the bus back out of town. The mayor broke the amicable silence first.

“You must be exhausted so I’ll walk you straight to the farm and leave you to get settled in! Can I help ya with any of your bags?” You were inclined to let him assist so you handed him your carry on and grabbed your rolling suitcase; a fine film of pollen already collected over its surface. Thank god you’d brought antihistamines. You had an annoying feeling that your allergies would be acting up.

“Uh, Mayor—” he held up a hand.

“Please, call me Lewis. Your grandpa and I were much too close for you to be calling me by a title instead of my Yoba-given name.” Yoba. You hadn’t heard or thought of that name in a very long time. So the mayor was at least somewhat religious, you decided to assume.

“Oh, yes, all right. Lewis it is then. Can I clarify, did you say walk?” Another huge smile broke out across his face, bringing crows feet and laugh lines prominently to the surface. It was humanizing in such a way that you already felt a pang of endearing familiarity towards him. He did remind you vaguely of your grandpa, or what you could remember of him.

“Yes! It’s really not far, just down this dirt road here. I took the liberty of assuming that you would want to stretch your legs a little after that long drive. Your grandpa rode his horse until the very end but I’m sure we could fix ya up with somebody’s old truck if you’d rather use that for transportation from now on.” Your eyebrows shot up your forehead. The mayor must have seen the look of confusion because he rambled on, “Magpie’s a sturdy little gelding, but if he’s too much for you to keep, I’m sure I could help you find him a good home.”

There was so much to consider. You had told Lewis that you planned on fixing the place up but you still hadn’t answered the question that lingered heavily on your mind about what came after that. Did you really plan on uprooting your whole life permanently? Crickets chirped in the hedges lining the pathway. The sun sparkled through the trees as it set in the west. The air smelled heavily of daffodils and lilac. Even without seeing the farm, you already felt a strange pull behind your ribcage, like a string was tied around your heart and was tugging. In what direction, you couldn’t quite tell.

It really didn’t take any time to reach the farm at all. You’d been so wrapped up in further conversation with Lewis that you hadn’t noticed it was a twenty minute walk and sure enough your stiff hips and back welcomed the light exercise. He reminded you that there were a couple chickens that had already been locked up in their coop for the day but as sunny weather was predicted, you’d want to let them out in their run the following morning. The main living structure, a small cabin with a single room and kitchenette, still had utilities running. There was a little toilet room inside as well and a small bathhouse out back for any of your bathing needs. If the pipes groaned when you turned the water on, well, it really wasn’t a problem but if any issues arose from it, he could recommend a handy man to you.

You passed the mailbox and took a mental note that it was one of the first things you’d be fixing; it was leaning so precariously on a rotten wooden post you were surprised it was still standing. When the little cabin came into view as the two of you opened and shut the entrance gate behind you, you felt a tightness begin to unravel in your body. There was an apricot tree hanging over the tiny covered patio. Frogs chirped in the distance from the creek that ran around the far edges of the property. The chicken coop sat close to a bend of that creek next to another west facing entrance. You could also see the overgrown mini forest of trees you had as well as an overabundance of grass and weeds and stone that would need to be cleared.

“Well, here it is, Fox Hollow Farm! I don’t want to overstay my welcome so you let me know if there’s anything you need but otherwise, I’ll let you get settled in for the night.” You assured him as long as there was hot water in that bathhouse and a made bed to collapse into, you think you’d make it through the night. “Good. Robin and I’ll check back in on ya tomorrow morning!” You couldn’t remember exactly who he’d said Robin was but if they were as welcoming as Lewis, it didn’t really matter.

After Lewis had unlocked the cabin and handed you the key, it was very apparent that you weren’t even in the mood for a shower. You waved at him as he left, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. The place smelled dusty already, even though it had only been vacant for three weeks. The wooden floor groaned beneath your feet, but only slightly, as you dropped your duffle bag to the ground and rolled your suitcase just inside the door. You walked to the sink, wiping a hand over the dirty window to look out back. There was a wooden structure with floor to ceiling glass windows making up its four walls. That must be the bathhouse. There was an old coffee maker on the bit of counter space and a singular wooden mug. It was expertly carved and worn down from years of use. You wondered absently if someone local had crafted it.

There was a little basket on the table that was pushed up along the southern wall of the house. You sighed in relief when you realized there was a bag of fresh ground coffee, a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth, a few clean carrots, a block of hard cheese wrapped in beeswax, a stick of butter in the same fabric, an aged roll of salami, six chicken eggs, and a glass mason jar labeled “Fig Jam” in looping cursive. When you opened the fridge there was an even bigger jar full of milk. You had a sandwich on the drive but you couldn’t resist digging straight into the loaf of bread, cracking it open with your fingers and tearing a hunk off to stuff in your mouth.

The outer layer was perfectly crusty while the inside was fluffy and practically melted in your mouth. You couldn’t wait to eat some of it with the butter and jam and cheese and eggs for breakfast.

After a bit more exploring from which you discovered adequate cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and a perfectly made bed with an old soft patchwork quilt, you slipped off your shoes and unpacked pajamas from your suitcase. Sliding into bed here somehow felt a thousand times better than it had in your apartment for months. You fluffed the pillows behind you and pulled out your laptop, choosing not to solve the bed conundrum the first night here. Unsurprisingly there was no internet and your phone was definitely not going to be a good hotspot whatsoever. It was apparent you weren’t going to get any work done.

It was so peculiar; you knew you had been here once but… you really had no memory of the place. You didn’t didn’t think you should feel a kinship to it like you were. There was a small wooden nightstand next to the bed and on it there was an old dog eared copy of The Wizard of Oz. Your own books wouldn’t be here until tomorrow or the day after so you decided to crack it open.

For Jack: We always did love this book, even when we were kids. I saw it the other day on a shelf in a little book store on my trip a few towns over. Hope you like it.

The note scribbled in the inside cover was signed “Lew”. As in Lewis? Your grandpa and Lewis really were old friends then. He must be taking this harder than you would have guessed. You would make sure to invite him over for coffee and offer your condolences. Yes, Jack was your grandfather but you didn’t really know him. The light on the nightstand didn’t provide much light but you flipped to the first page of the book and read:

"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife."

No sooner had you read two pages than your eyes fluttered shut. You tried to keep them open but to no avail so you flipped the light back out and snuggled into the sheets, completely forgetting to turn the white noise on your phone. It had been a necessary portion of your sleep routine for years and years and years.

But tonight, you fell asleep without it, the song of the night filtering in the window you’d left open next to the bed.

Gojo Satoru woke from a deep slumber, sat upright, and squinted his eyes to look about his room. There was nothing out of place. His tower window was open; it always had to be when he slept, except for some days in autumn and for most of the winter season.

He strained to listen, thinking a nocturnal animal must have disturbed his sleep. Again, nothing amiss. He could hear the crickets and the frogs, and in the very far distance, the notes of a mockingbird’s song trilled to him over the cool spring air.

He laid back down, the moonlight shining in the window spilling over his bare chest and illuminating his white hair. If he just breathed slow enough to also slow the sudden rapid beating of his heart, he could go back to sleep. Meditation was something he did often so it didn’t take much. But he couldn’t stop the tugging sensation somewhere behind his ribcage. Strange.

Something had changed in Stardew Valley and he was going to find out what.

This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[sunghoonnsupremacy]

ANTISOCIAL. -l.hs.

previous - now - next

- summary ; when the popular jock starts finding interest in the new girl, hell breaks lose. she eventually gives in and he shows her exactly why he's popular.

- warnings ; eventual smut, rough sex, bondage, degrading, mentions of drugs/alcohol, asshole heeseung.

READ UNDER THE CUT!

smut warning

the day went by in a fast blink, jia thought. she mildly enjoyed her classes but she'd say that's a win since its a totally new environment for her. the girl's mind wondered back to the attractive guy she met earlier. hearing multiple unpleasant rumours about him before her day at the school even started, jia planned to keep her distance but that plan failed the moment she stepped into her literature classroom.

she was currently deciding whether to dress appropriately for a party or to be comfortable. a dress would be nice but she didn't feel like getting slutshamed her first day at arrival.

a mini skirt? tight dress? loose dress? jeans? baggy jeans?

she sighs standing infront her closet door that's wide open.

"I guess a dress will do." she picks out a tight dress thats a bit above her knees, allowing her to bend down without flashing the world. its black and strapless. perfect for the summer. add that with black heels and she'll look like a runway model.

realization hit her like a bus. "where's that paper?" she muttered scrambling around her room looking for the important piece of paper.

"ah there it is!" a smile lightens up her face when she spots it.

she grabs her phone and types in the numbers, immediately texting him.

hey. it's jia.

she was a bit suprised at how fast he texted her back but didn't mind.

- ohhh hey! I was waiting for your text.

yeah i was trying to read the numbers.

- are you sayin' my handwritings messy?

maybe. doesn't matter. so what's the adress?

- 1400 forest lawn drive. see u there 😉

she sighed at his message and puts the adress into the gps, her heels making little to no noise as she walked down the stairs of her apartment and into her car.

the house wasn't far away, just about a ten minute long drive. she stepped out and her eyes wondered around the luxury looking house in awe. "shit he must be rich."

jia arrives at the front door, already seeing people crowding the entrance. she gags in disgust as it is only eight pm and there's couples making out every step she takes.

hence the door being open, she walks in without knocking.

she makes her way through the corridor and into the living room that reeks of alcohol and sweaty bodies. she spots a certain blonde and nods her head at him.

"you made it." heeseung smirks at her, walking over to her. "what, did you think id bail?" jia gives him a sly smile and crosses her arms.

"wouldn't expect that from you... you look really pretty by the way. " he stares at her up and down and doesn't even try to make it discreet.

she can feel arousal pooling around her panties as he looks at her.

"could say the same about you, heeseung." she gives him a smile and starts walking away, not giving him a chance to react.

he hurries trying to catch up to her. "let me show you around! you can meet my friends. " she agrees and follows him into what she assumes is a kitchen

a group of teenage boys huddle around the kitchen island, drinking and laughing about something.

heeseung loudly whistles to get their attention. obviously it worked since it quieted down and their eyes turned to the duo.

jia starts to feel uncomfortable so she pinches at his arm. "right, this is jia. she's new" he smirks at them and a guy with beautiful features comes over to them. he holds out his hand as a greeting.

"im sunghoon. nice to meet you pretty. " he winks at her and she giggles before shaking his hand. "yeah yeah anyway." heeseung moves her closer to him, their hands breaking apart. she stumbles a bit but thanks to heeseungs hands on her waist, she just leans into him, sunghoon glaring at him.

"im jay, this is jake and niki. " a guy with a sharp jawline introduces himself and his friends. jia waves at them with a small wave, her smile making them smile too. "do you want a drink?" sunghoon offers with a grin. she nods and takes it from him, silently thanking him.

"okay you guys have fun me and jia are gonna take a walk around." heeseung intervenes their hands and leads her away from the crowd, leading her upstairs.

"where are we going? " she tries to make way of the people sitting on the stairs, following the host.

"a room. it's more secluded. " he winks at her one more time before opening the door to one massive bedroom. she gasps in astonishment at it. he looks at her and smiles at her eyes sparkling.

"hey i know I already told you but, you look beautiful. " he walks over to her with lust in his eyes, and she looks up at him with doe eyes, resulting in him getting even more hard.

he wraps his hands around her waist and brings her closer to him, their bodies touching. the air is thick, and the only thing that can be heard is the muffled music and their heavy breathing.

his hand moves from her waist up to her face, brushing some hair from it. "can i kiss you? " his eyes dart from hers onto her plump lips.

"yeah." she whispers and leans in to kiss him. their lips connect. his urgency to kiss her gets bigger as he tastes her. his hands go back to her waist as they keep kissing eachother.

his slender fingers squeeze her butt, her light moan entering his mouth as he slips his tongue inside hers. "you *kiss* taste *kiss* so good" he tells her, already obsessed.

she pulls away, needing to breathe. their heavy breathing continues as they smile at eachother. he lightly grabs a hold of her waist and whispers into her ear, "will you let me touch you?"

she bites her lip, her panties drenched at this point. "yes please, i need you. " he groans feeling his pants tighten even more at her tone. "ill make you feel good, i promise. " he slowly starts unzipping her dress, leaving her in nothing but her lacy bra and panties. she quickly takes that off too.

"cmon doll, lay down." she obeys and spreads her legs. "you're fucking dripping. is that all for me? " he runs a finger up and down her slit, making her bite her lip to shush her moans. "all for you, heeseung. " she looks at him with lust in her eyes.

his slender finger moves around her clit faster, connecting his tongue with her hole. she can't suppress the moan that comes out when she feels him eating her out while rubbing her clit.

their foreplay ends rather quickly, jia cumming on his tongue will be a moment he'll never forget.

"im dying to be inside you, doll. " there's that nickname that'll always have an effect on her. she fell to her knees, unzipping his zipper as if her life depended on it. he let out a breath of relief when she removed his tight boxers.

his cock sprung up against his abs leaking pre-cum. she licked her lips at the sight. "can i? " she asked for approval. he nodded his lips, desperate for her soft tongue on his dick.

she started kitty licking the tip, him grabbing her hair in a fistful. she continues sucking him as his grip on her hair gets tighter. he can feel himself get closer to his finish as her mouth does wonders.

"shit, I'm about to cum" he moans out in pleasure and she gives him harsher licks. her hand grips at his base and massages up and down.

he lets out a loud moan as he finishes inside of her warm mouth. jia continues sucking to help him ride out his orgasm until it gets over stimulating.

she licks her lips and stares up at him with doe eyes. "was it good?" she asks. "it was amazing doll, thank you."

she stands up and goes back to kissing his plump lips. the two keep making out until he pushes her back onto the bed, making her fall down and spread her legs obediently.

he grabs his dick into his hands and rubs it along her slit. they both moan at the feeling. he looks at her one more time for consent and she nods desperate.

he pushes in the girl moaning underneath him. he stays still for a bit, making sure it doesn't hurt her.

"you can move now ", she says. she breathes in a deep sigh, feeling his full length inside of her hitting all of her spots so easily.

"oh, fuck-" she moans high pitched when he bottoms out. he lets out a deep groan of pleasure at how tight she was.

"shit doll, you're practically sucking me in" his thrusts get faster as her boobs bounce up and down at the movement of his hips.

he manages to find her g spot in under 5 minutes, resulting in her getting even closer to her orgasm.

"heeseung, I think I'm about to finish." she whimpers feeling a coil in her tummy tighten.

"me too doll, don't worry." he continues groaning in a low voice, feeling himself close to his finish as well.

he latches his lips onto hers as they sensually kiss while they finish together at the same time. they moan to each others mouths as they feel euphoria.

he slowly stops thrusting, pulling away from her lips and staring deeply into her eyes. "that was amazing, doll. " she smiles at him, feeling happy and pleased.

"we should get cleaned up", he pulls out of her, making both of them at the empty feeling.

jia nods at him and slowly sits up, feeling numb in her legs. "shit, I can't feel my legs, how am I supposed to get home? " she panicks looking over at him.

"you can stay over, I don't mind, but now let's get you cleaned up, come on. " he picks her up and walks with her to the bathroom.

they take a shower together, kissing a bit more until they fall asleep in each other's arms, like the romantic duo they are.

sorry for how short the smut part is, but it's my first time writing smut, and I'm not experienced, so I hope you enjoy it.!

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

An Acquired Taste | Jake x FReader

Synopsis: You bring Jake to Long Island's Oyster Fest

Tags: Voyeurism if you squint, with a light dash of angst; Alcohol consumption; Smoking

Words: 9.3K

And thank you to @ursulaismymiddlename who deals with my Jake fixation with nothing but grace.

Link to AO3

There’s not much of a fully formed memory left over from the previous night, except for the little inconsequential detail that it was meant to be an early one. 

It had been a typical Saturday evening shift. Fast-paced, stressful, and with the forever presence of snobby clientele. Though, in the restaurant's defense, most of the work week flowed with a similar rotation. But last night was the first Saturday in years you wouldn’t dare keep track of where the Sunday that followed was a day off, and apparently that translated to being amenable to the notion of getting fucked up.

That wasn’t the plan originally. Originally, you were meant to call it immediately after closing. You didn’t even dare to attempt partaking in shift drinks, simply vanished to the lockers to stuff any dirty laundry in a bag because dammit you’d get an early start to said day off and be able to freely partake in a chore and the event you had taken the day off for in the first place. 

That was until a certain bartender asked if you’d be going to Home Bar, and fuck if he didn’t have a face you could say no to. 

You’re sat next to him now, feeling like a teenager as the pair of you among a crowd of strangers get crammed onto a school bus headed for downtown Oyster Bay. 

“Is someone a little too hungover?” he murmurs into your ear. And maybe it’s not just the bus that makes you feel like an adolescent girl. The seats are too narrow, meant for literal children. And Jake is practically on top of you in the small space.

When you glance up at him, the rim of your sunglasses brush the sharp-edged jut of his cheek and, in your stupor, you try desperately not to stare at his lips. 

You grin reassuringly, even if the chatter surrounding you seems a little too loud at the moment. It’ll get better once you’re let outside and don’t have the odor of pervasive burning rubber and oil combined with the heady scent of him flooding your senses, you’re certain. “I’m fine, came and got you didn’t I?” 

He tilts his head back in appraisal, lips slightly parted as he considers his response. Unlike you, sunglasses don’t cover his eyes, so the striking blue hue of them is a perfect sea struck by sunlight anyone could drown in. 

“Good,” he settles on. Then somewhat reluctantly adds - “Because I uh -” there’s a huffing noise akin to a chuckle that hones your attention more than anything thus far. It’s sheepish, almost. “I’m actually. I’ve been looking. Forward -”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”

You bite your lip to temper the expression growing on your face. “Is - is Jake excited about something?” 

“No,” he says quickly. But his voice is soft, so soft in fact that you can barely hear it over the sliding doors of the bus slamming to a close and the engine revs, beginning its departure from the local train station. Jake shifts in the seat; consequentially pressing you closer to the window and his eyes dart around and he can deny all he wants but it’s weak and you don’t believe him in the slightest. You can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’d gotten out of the city. Away from the restaurant, or had maybe done something he truly enjoyed that goes against the fucking thick facade he dons daily.

But when his gaze seeks out yours once more, it’s almost like he can read your thoughts. Get the gist of your own excitement for him, the hangover actively taking a steady backseat to the fact that you’re treating him to something with such good effect. He visibly relaxes, eyes flitting about your face. 

“Don’t talk.” 

You’ll take that. Perfectly content with spending the ride watching the town pass by through the window with him comfortably pressed against you. A win’s a win.

~

It’s right in the middle of October, and as much as you love living in the city, one of the few things you actually miss about Long Island is witnessing the more flush change in season. Summer weather is a thing of the past, bleeding into the picturesque full bloom of autumn. What was green is now vibrant yellows and luscious reds. When it’s bright and sunny like today, the temperature is just warm enough that one doesn’t need a coat, and then fades into cozy crisp air under the blanket of night. 

IIt’s your favorite time of the year, and just so happens to coincide with Oyster Fest. 

The annual festival practically shuts down the entire town while thousands of people flock in attendance. Traffic is barely more than a halted complete stop, there isn’t a lick of parking for miles, and sidewalks brim with activity as bars, restaurants and shops all remain open for business, and the swarm only thickens once the bus deposits its passengers between a clearing of town parks and baseball fields located directly beside the Bay. 

To the immediate right are typical fair attractions; cheap fried foods and beer, a Ferris Wheel among other classic yet suspiciously rickety rides, including a Funhouse and the Zipper. Scattered snugly among them are grids of carnival game stations and - at this early hour of the afternoon - it is entirely overrun with families and groups of teenagers. 

But straight ahead lies the main attraction. Metal barricades form a path that leads the crowd, and you with Jake in tow, to the cleared out lots ahead. Except it’s not so clear now, quite the opposite. The heads of dozens of booths stick out atop the throngs of people. Each one ran, you know, by various vendors from all over the tri-state area, and each one selling anything from varieties of food, to homemade goods and trinkets. 

The layout is roughly the same as you remember and the medley of aromas make you salivate. Being hungover is a bygone thing and instead, your stomach growls with a not so subtle rumble thanks to opting against breakfast that morning. You pass a knowing look over your shoulder, eyeing Jake with interest, only to find delight in the way he surveys the landscape of food, drink, and the sparkling view of the Long Island Sound posing as a charming backdrop to it all.

“Oysters for days, but I’m assuming you want to hit that first?” 

The hint of a rare, genuine smile is nothing short of chuffed before he’s even looked at you, and when he does, it’s as he draws on a pair of shades.

“Desperately.” 

Maneuvering through the herd of people is no easy feat. It’s all high energy and excitement; even at a distance from across the lot, the voice of a miked up emcee booms from the main stage and an audience roars over an oyster eating or shucking competition. Queues are nearly indistinguishable as you pass through a section dedicated to gumbo and jambalaya, clam chowder and lobster bisque. You almost trip over a leashed dog and instinct makes you reach a hand out behind you, not wanting to get separated, and Jake takes it without question, letting you steer him ahead. 

The soft weight of it feels so natural tucked around yours that it barely becomes a distraction like it might’ve in any other circumstance. Not until you reach the tented area closest to the pier. There’s a swirling assembly line of people waiting to approach it like they would a ride in a theme park and you sidle in once a gap reveals itself. Only then do you fret over having to let his hand go because - well - you don’t particularly want to.

"Uh, hello?"

And just like that, the moment is over. Both of your heads simultaneously turn toward the sound of the annoyed voice and find a group of boys behind you. The one in front gestures vaguely, eyebrows raised as he huffs impatiently.

"There's like, a line going on here? You have to wait in line."

The snappy intrusion was annoying on its own, but now you're fucking hungry and mere moments away from delicious relief; you stiffen at the accusation with a flood of irritation.

"The fuck's it look like we're doing?" you snap back without hesitation. 

Jake snorts at your outburst, but otherwise it appears to be effective as the guy's body language seems to relax.

"Shit, alright. My bad."

You scoff and turn back around to catch up to the pace of the line ahead, and when you stop, Jake presses close enough to your backside that he can lean down to speak subtly along the rim of your ear. 

"You're either very confident, or you just totally cut the line without realizing."

"Hm?" His deep voice makes your skin tingle, a sensation you’ve well practiced to endure over time. "Wait. What?"

"I mean, I don't fuckin' mind. That was kind'a cute. I think you scared him."

"Are you serious-?" 

You chance a glance back, grateful for wearing sunglasses so that you can look around inconspicuously. And sure enough, the line continues much farther back than where you started. Significantly farther.

"Oh my god, I swear I had no idea-"

"Shhh.. Just keep walking," Jake's hands are on your shoulders with a gentle nudge forward, not remotely trying to contain his amusement while you flush with mortification. "We're committing now."

Indeed you are, but quite frankly - and yes, cutting is bad, it's rude, you'd tell anyone off for doing the same - it ultimately works out for the best and with very little regret because a moment later, you're blanketed by the shade of the expansive tent.

Beneath it lie rows of picnic tables, one after the other, and dozens of volunteers flit around in a blur of quick movements as oysters come piling in on trays by the (literal) boatful. They work in practiced motions, cleaning and shucking and plating the morsels, while others working the counters tend to visitors and shuffle around whole wads of cash. 

It's a five for five deal, and the operation is so speedy that before you know it, you've handed over a ten dollar bill and come away with two plates and a lemon slice each. There’s a condiment station just outside the tent’s perimeter, and while Jake walks past it - you know he prefers his oysters straight up - you stop for hot sauce and a dollop of horseradish, some napkins and a fork just in case. 

He meanwhile moseys over to a space out of the way of foot traffic over by the pier, making for quite the sight. And by it, you definitely don’t mean the water. Jake is dressed in his usual attire, a leather jacket and jeans combination. But today he surprised you with a button up-shirt printed with a variety of colors woven into wild patterns that somehow manages to actually work, and it’s up for debate if it’s because of the shirt itself or because it’s him. When you’d arrived at his apartment earlier, you’d done a triple take, unable to recall ever seeing him wear color at all - which of course was received with a smartass remark. 

But the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water casts Jake in a perfect halo as if he’s being showcased. Skin opalescent in its brightness, throat bare to the mild air as he tilts his head back and raises an oyster to his rosy-pink lips. 

You were fucked, but you save face as you approach, content to be happy with how he appears to be enjoying himself while he too balances two plates on one hand.

“They meet your exceptional standards?” you sass.

“Yes,” he states, simple and firm, and you finally take the pleasure of digging into your own. 

With the slice of lemon, you squeeze a healthy trickle of juice over the shells, poke a morsel with a fork to be sure it’s properly shucked, then pick the first one up. Your mouth is already watering by the time it reaches your lips and you knock it back with a gentle slurp. It greets you at once with a flavor both briny and sweet, mingling with the spicy tang of the hot sauce, lemon and horseradish, all wrapped up with a pleasantly refreshing chill that resonates deep within your gullet. 

“Better than the restaurant,” he continues; your mumbled agreement is unintelligible as you rush for seconds. “Better than the Cape, though?” You peer up at him suspiciously, slowly chewing around your next mouthful. He’s starting to reek of mischief and tilts his head in mocking consideration. “I don’t know, can’t make up my mind.” 

“Is someone sounding a little competitive?” 

Jake grins and you’re relieved his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“This is because of the clam chowder, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, bound to have seen the booth.

You mull over a response and suck down another oyster. “I suppose a lobster roll is out of the question?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He suddenly steps closer; you need to crane your neck a little higher to look up at him, and then his hand closes the distance between you. His thumb grazes somewhere below the curve of your lip, swiping at some wayward remnant of lemon juice or briny moisture or who cares what, only to draw it back to his mouth where he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m still hungry.”

~

Not a single coherent thought graces your mind with its presence, and if possible he seems further delighted by this. He lights up with a smile before grabbing your hand, and it’s a struggle to find your footing and keep the rest of your oysters upright when he drags you along. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once some proper food is in your stomachs, it’s decided that splitting up is the best option to cover more ground. Oysters may flow constantly throughout the weekend, but historically it’s not unheard of for other vendors to sell out of supply before the day is over. And as the crowd only peaks as the afternoon goes on, Jake is surprisingly up to task and it is.. Nice.

When it comes to the restaurant, there is no doubt that with the long hours, post-shift late night outings, and occasionally the spaces in between, that those you work with consume the majority of your life. But Jake is.. Different. Admittedly, he’s an asshole, with a wickedly dry sense of humor and a passing dislike for the general public. Things you aren’t necessarily opposed to. Things that, admittedly, you have in common. You like him. He’s an actual friend. It just so happens that sometimes you want him a little bit more than that. 

It is a fact that you are more than content to deal with, even if today makes it more of a challenge. Today is more than the shared cigarette breaks and the moments of hiding out in the walk-in, and it feels a far cry still beyond those late night outings with the rest of the crew. This is proper fucking bonding and perhaps it would be less daunting if Jake didn’t appear to be enjoying it so fucking much.

You take turns holding a place in line while the other will wander off in search of something else, only to reconnect immediately after to split the reward, sharing quite literally, whether it be off the others’ plate or via an outstretched hand. The strategy sees you through to the aforementioned clam chowder (a satisfying win as Jake - who adamantly refused to approve of the creamy soup - wound up stealing the last ounce of it by snatching your wrist to guide the final spoonful toward his greedy mouth), grilled scallops and octopus, steamed mussels, and eventually a lobster roll.

At other times you merely stand aside and watch as Jake schmoozes with vendors. He asks questions with an uncharacteristic interest, oozing enough charm that they inevitably offer up a small sample of something to taste for free. 

The oyster tent remains a frequented spot. The queue has grown; has more than doubled in size since your initial stop, even as it manages to maintain the assembly line pace. Two pints of locally brewed beers are cradled close to your chest as you depart what’s considered the designated alcohol tent. It’s separated from the rest of the festival, an enormous setup that requires a stamp on the wrist to gain entry. Inside is cold beer on tap, a limited selection of Long Island wines, and a projector screen that will air this week’s Sunday night football. The crowd packed inside is far from small.

You bob and weave your way back to where Jake waits, ready to purchase another ten or so oysters (you both lost count after thirty), slipping through a thicket of people so dense that you focus on keeping the drinks upright, and don’t so much as notice the two young women chatting him up - until you’re just a few arms lengths away and come to an abrupt halt.

Well, fuck.

It’s being too used to seeing this type of scene play out that makes you check the time, a part of you wondering if Jake’s about to bail and disappear with the both of them. In your defense, it wouldn’t be the first time; his reputation precedes him and it certainly isn’t unearned. His ability to attract may sometimes seem beyond the point of his own control - you’ve often wondered if it comes with the territory of being a bartender - but he has never been above easily taking what’s thrown his way either.

Their appearances likely mean little to Jake, he’s nondiscriminating that way. But upon second glance, you are all too familiar with their type. One of them is a tall brunette, the other a softball-built-yet-petite blond. Both clad head to toe in yacht club gear: pleated shorts and polo shirts, brown leather boat shoes. Even their headbands practically match in bright elastic shades of pastel. 

They’re North Shore girls. And a guy like Jake tempts in the form of parental rebellion and a potential connect for drugs. Whatever reservations you briefly experience are brushed aside, and now there’s little hesitation as you sidle up beside him, interrupting their conversation with a light nudge against his elbow. 

“Your beer,” you announce, with eyes only for him. 

Jake looks down at you, head cocked with a knowing grin. There’s something soft there too, difficult to see through the sunglasses, but you can sense it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, voice a gentle rumble. He takes the beer and before you know it, his arm is wound across your shoulders and he leans in, ducking down until those rosy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. 

There are few times you find yourself grateful for drunken mishaps of the past, and this split second happens to be one of them. For if you hadn’t kissed Jake prior to this, hadn’t felt the silk of his lips caught in a suspended moment of pleasure, perhaps the effect could melt you to your knees. As it stands, your lashes flutter across the tips of his cheeks. Without bidding, your mouth responds, drifting along the seam of his, and it’s lucky he moves with it even if it’s smugness you sense that drives him. 

For a second you almost manage to forget what’s brought this on, but then there’s that prickling sensation of being watched. By a pair of ogling stares, specifically. You force yourself apart from Jake and clear your throat, grateful your voice is stronger than you could’ve guessed as you survey his current company. “Making friends?”

The girls emit enough dismay at your arrival to stroke an ego, but not without a glare and a roll of their eyes. The brunette crosses her arms under her chest with a drawl of - “We were just talking,” while the blonde ignores you completely, focusing on Jake with an accusatory - “You didn’t mention -”

“My girlfriend,” Jake finishes smoothly, and you resist the urge to balk at him. “She’s showing me around her hometown.” 

“Close enough,” you retort dryly. Your actual hometown is out farther east, a little detail that matters to precisely no one at the moment. Apart from your arrival, your presence is barely acknowledged. The twin glares stay trained on Jake, put out and bitter as they half turn to catch up with the rest of the line. “Maybe we’ll see you around.” 

“That was salty,” you snark once they’re out of earshot. Though not quite out of sight, as you both trail slowly behind them. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He doesn’t outright laugh, but from being nestled against him (his arm has stubbornly stayed in place), you can feel something close to it as he mulls it over.

 “Consider us even.”

You scoff and sputter immediately. “That was one time!” The time in question being at a disco, of all places. A creep had been harping on getting your number and then some. Everyone was too busy dancing to notice except for Jake who - thanks to his antisocial tendencies - was reliably stationed at the bar. He was more than welcoming to your advances, and the strange man left you alone after that. 

“Works pretty fuckin’ well though, huh?”

He’s not wrong, you admit, and relent a little at that. “Fine. I’ll allow it.” And if you feel emboldened by both the title of endearment and the public display of affection, well, you will simply refuse to look at it much more deeply than that… Even if, admittedly, your voice comes out a little flirty when you go on to add - “But if I’m your girlfriend, then that makes this a date and -”

Jake’s pained groan echoes inside his cup as he takes a long pull of beer. 

“And we’re at a festival which means you have to win me a prize at one of those shitty carnival games.” 

He stops short, forcing you to stop with him, and fixes you with a glare. It lasts a breath too long, but you stand your ground, refusing to give under the weight of it, when eventually -

“I fuckin’ rock at shitty carnival games.”

Your face splits with a grin, and a smirk tugs at his. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~

But before any games, there is one last stop that can’t be missed: a lobster dinner for a measly twenty bucks. No such deal would exist anywhere either on Long Island or back in the city, and anyone who deemed themselves a lobster lover would be foolish to pass up on the offer. One that likely wouldn’t last much longer this late in the day.

So when you manage to anxiously outlast the line, you’re grateful once you both walk away with a plate each in hand, and for the last iota of room in your belly that still has an appetite. 

The both of you assume a spot at a picnic table - few and far between, and shared with a trio of friends who occupy the opposite half - with Jake perched on top of it, and you sat on the bench beside his legs. In near silence now as you chow down as if eating hasn’t been the sole productivity of the day. The lobster is perfectly steamed, not dry, an error all too easy to make, and with a half-ear of corn and quarter-pound cup of melted butter as accompaniments.

There is a nagging thought, though. One you’ve been mulling over since parting ways with the two obvious up-to-no-good snobs. You peer up at Jake while you finish chewing, already moving on to cracking open a claw, having an inner debate on whether it’s worth it or not to bother mentioning. Jake is.. Well, private isn’t exactly the correct term. In the time you’ve known him, he can be almost too open with certain topics once you get him talking. But it’s rarely too personal, the deep down nitty gritty. And depending on what mood he’s in, he’ll either shut down completely, or bite your head off.

But the day so far has turned in a direction you hadn’t predicted. It’s gone better, much better than you could’ve hoped for when you first took the plunge in inviting him to come with. And in any case, his mood is as good as you’ve ever seen it. His fingers work the lobster tail apart, lips pursed in concentration, an oily sheen to them from the butter and eventually he pauses to take a few gulps of beer. 

He looks fucking gorgeous and you can’t stand it and fuck it -

“So,” you start, noncommittally at first. And you can only tell he’s listening by the raise of his brows. “I.. can’t help but notice that. Y’know.. You didn’t run off with those girls.” 

There’s little reaction to that. The upraised brows drop, he lets out a small huff before forking a couple of bites into his mouth. “You thought I was what - that I was gonna leave you here? Have a fuckin’ coke bender with them? Get laid?” 

“Oh, I knew it!” you snap a tad overzealous. “Sorry. I fucking knew they wanted drugs. Anyway.”

Jake snorts, unbothered by the outburst. “Yeah, I’ve seen the type. They fuck you for drugs, and then their frat sized boyfriends just happen to show up. Conveniently in time to kick the shit out’a you. Rob you, obviously. I like my asshole where it is, thanks.”

You hum around a mouthful of lobster. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“Or maybe I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,” he sasses back. He takes a bite of his corn on the cob, an act that has no business being attractive and yet -

“People like that over there too, huh?” you ask out of curiosity, and he nods slowly.

“Starting to think this place isn’t too different from the Cape.” 

“Aw, I can see why you miss it so much...” Another thing you have in common; you both happen to share a resounding hatred for where you’re from. The sarcastic remark draws his attention, fixing you with a stare so amused you actually wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, simply to see the sharpness of his blue eyes. 

“And I, uh.. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He speaks slower now, enunciating his words as if it might almost pain him to admit, and eventually he looks away. “I’m actually - enjoying myself. With you. Today. And I don’t feel like pretending.” 

His phrasing sprouts about a dozen or so other questions at once, spurring sudden whiplash in your mind. Interest piques to the point you have to forcibly temper the urge to press him for more, likely to ruin the moment altogether. And in any case, more importantly, lies the admitted sentiment. It's, dare you say, heartwarming. Surprising. 

But you also know that if you acknowledge it aloud, he’ll tell you to fuck off. 

You smile at your plate instead. There’s just the one claw left now. It’s your favorite part, one you would normally savor, except you realize you’ve been slowly picking it apart with your fingers into little tiny unrecognizable pieces, distracted. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you wander off with them anyway. So.”

“Is that right,” Jake asks, and you glance up at him again just to find he casts down an unnaturally bright smile. He’s teasing you. “Feeling jealous?”

“Terribly,” you drawl, but the feigned glare hardly sticks once you can hear him chuckling. “No, I just - I guess I fucking hope that’s not your type, but either way I could tell exactly what they wanted from you. And I didn’t. Want that, I mean.”

“You were protecting me.” Jake muses, and a retort is ready at your teeth that he requires no such protection. But then the fleeting image of a certain tall blond floats to mind like an old bad dream, and you have to stomp it down before it can rise to the surface. Focus instead on quelling the angst that worries at your food. At the more pleasant low timbre of Jake’s voice, not quite done talking. You realize he’s in the middle of a thought you’ve missed the first half of only to catch the tail end. “So why haven’t we?”

“Haven’t what?” you ask cluelessly, in the midst of losing said stress to several healthy swigs of some Long Island pale ale. 

“Why haven’t we had sex?” 

It’s asked so casually, so passive and without hesitation that you choke mid-gulp. There’s a split second of panic, a flashing image of splattering beer all over yourself, and somehow you force yourself to swallow. Nothing more than a few dribbles pass the corners of your lips, and you smear them away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you wheeze.

Jake doesn’t laugh at you, not out loud anyway. But there is a noticeable bounce to his shoulders. “Cool. If that’s the term you prefer. Why haven’t we fucked?” 

The glare you send him this time is real, even if it’s less impactful over the rim of your cup. You chug the rest of its contents to ease away the scratchy rasp in your throat. It’s not like you’ve never discussed sexual things with him before, being friends for a time and well - him being him, it’s sort of inevitable. It’s just never been directed toward you, or rather, the two of you together. To the point where on more than one occasion, you’ve been referred to as the girl he ‘skipped’. Equally frustrating and weirdly resonating inadequacy when you feel -

Nope. Not doing that. You slam the empty cup on the table and take the first normal, deep breath you’ve had in recent minutes.

“You’re not available,” you finally tell him.

“I’m not,” he says, clearly disagreeing. 

“Not in the way I need.”

He hums in consideration. “The way you need… That’s what - emotions? Romantic shit? How stimulating.” 

Also exactly the opposite of how he maneuvers through his own entanglements, and so begs the question how it could possibly pertain to you - if that really is something he’s contemplated before. You cock your head at him, absolutely mystified while he’s predictably nonplussed. He drops his plate next to your empty cup, bare to the bones, before gathering the collective trash, and climbs off the picnic table to toss it away. And when he returns, it’s with an outstretched hand, beckoning.

“Let’s go. We can’t leave until I win you something.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on you as you take it, and once again let him pull you along.

~

As it happens, Jake was not kidding when it came to being good at carnival games. 

It starts at the bottle toss booth, a simple enough concept that when he wins the first round on a single throw, you assume it’s a fluke. But then there’s the second round, and the third, and a fourth for (showing off) good measure - and each time without fail, Jake knocks out every bottle on the first throw. He moves on to balloon darts after that and to your (and the booth operator’s) astonishment, Jake is an image of poise, sipping his beer while popping any balloon he aims at. 

“What.. the fuck?” is all you can say as you watch in awe. Of course, you’ve done miserably; haven’t landed any darts, and you could barely even keep up with the bottle toss. But Jake simply looks pleased with himself, providing no explanation to this hidden corner of his personality. Instead, he peruses over the strung up stuffed animals that make up his winnings.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. When you have a hard time finding your voice to answer, he picks out an oversized teddy bear and shoves it into your arms. And for a moment, he doesn’t quite let go. He blinks down at you and you curse the removal of his sunglasses, something about concentration. The icy blue practically glitters beneath the multicolored flashing lights of festival attractions, and all you can do is stand there, dumbly transfixed. 

A slow smile overtakes him. “Next loser buys the drinks.” 

Another series of wins follow in quick succession. You take turns at a variety of shooter games which, lucky for you, requires slightly less skill. Jake may still get first place, but it’s you who shouts in triumph when you don’t come dead last in a water gun race. 

The classic ring toss is the only obstacle that gives him a challenge. A few dollars spent gets a large bucket of little discs that have technically been made to fit around the mouth of a liter sized bottle, but they never quite stick the landing. Jake insists the strategy is all in how it’s thrown, and though he has his own handful of misfires, eventually he smoothly tosses the rings like he would skipping rocks and lands several back to back. 

It’s impressive enough to warrant some cheers from onlookers; other players who are about as successful as you in their attempts. All the while, Jake’s gloating is a quiet kind; he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, and frankly you’re too astonished to mind.

“You’re like, amazing,” you tell him. 

He straightens immediately like he’s been pinched, and the rosy blemish that suddenly warms his cheeks is all the smug victory you need.

What started simply with just a teddy bear turns into a giraffe with cartoonishly wide plastic eyes. Then a big blue shark with felt teeth, and finally largest of all, a neon green snake with a frilly pink tongue. It's so long, it curls over Jake’s shoulders and still almost brushes the ground while he waits for you to return from the bathroom. 

It’s a sight you have to pause and photograph to memory; notoriously moody, scowling Jake wrangling cute stuffed animals in a chokehold while he smokes a cigarette. You try to keep from laughing but the alcohol in your system does nothing to help. You’re not completely toasted, no, but the buzz in your veins keeps your face flushed, and you cannot stop smiling as you make your way back to him.

The pair of you had lost complete track of time while the afternoon lost itself to twilight, and the Sound now reflects the glowing blues and purples of the sky. Nearby, the school buses are still on their rotation. Families climb on board with their children to depart for things like dinner. Most of the food vendors have closed out for the day, save for the typical carnival fare - soft pretzels, popcorn, corn dogs and such - but the Bay stays thrumming as the crowd shifts into the rowdiness of nightlife activities. 

Jake rolls his eyes when he catches you staring. “Having fun?” 

“Oh, yes,” you emphasize. “Not as much as you, though, huh?” The next bout of laughter becomes an oof! in a gust of air as he thrusts the stuffed animals at you so fast you have to keep from dropping them. Lastly is the snake, even though it suits him. He thoughtfully pulls your hair aside before tucking it around your neck. “S’that some sort’a Cape boy persona you keep locked up in hiding?” Hands full, you pucker your lips at him expectantly. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he admits. He holds the lit cigarette to your mouth and you gratefully pull a drag or two off of it. The tips of his fingers graze your lips, and his eyes flit toward the light touch. “I was.. Kind of a shithead kid back then. In a pack of other shitheads. We’d steal beer, get drunk off a forty. There was the county fair, or the harbor. Turns out I liked throwing things.” 

It’s a rare detail of his adolescence you’ve never heard before, and you’re cradling a stack of stuffed animals. 

“What about you?”

“I sucked.”

“Wasn’t gonna hold that against you. Makes me look better.”

“I, uh, I would try to find out how much funnel cake I could eat before riding the Zipper without throwing up.”

Jake hums with delight, brows almost disappearing into his hairline. “We could go try that right now.” 

“I did actually. Get thrown up on. By my friend. People could see it from the outside, it was - we don’t have to.” 

For the first time today, Jake laughs. It’s boisterous and at a higher pitch than one could expect, and you love it even if it’s caused by the image of you covered in vomit. It makes a small part of you not want the day to end; this pocket of time where it’s just you, and not the stifled air and bull shit drama of the restaurant. But there’s still the trek back to the city, a bus and a train to catch, and at the thought of it small ounce of dread fills your stomach because fuck -

The LIRR is packed. 

You should’ve predicted as much; it’s not only the Long Island residents that need to get home,  but it’s been a minute since you made such a commute, after an event no less, to have considered its capacity. The train has already left the station, streaks through the county with a steady rock and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights, by the time you manage to find a seat after an off-balance weave through train cars - a lone three seater among a sea of loud passengers.

There’s a large group of rowdy boys, college kids from the looks of it, clearly drunk and a fraction of whom are dressed in matching football jerseys. They shout back and forth at each other across the aisles and over the heads of the girls who sit among them. They make a show of snapping at them to quiet down to no avail; ultimately as uninhibited and shrill as the boys are. And music plays from an unknown source, overpowering the volume of the overhead speakers. There’s only one other quiet pair; two women who share a set of earbuds to watch a cellphone streaming from their laps.

Jake props his boot atop the armrest in front of him the moment you both sit down, a force of habit to prevent anyone else from sitting with you. He receives the odd dirty look from stragglers passing by looking for a seat, only to slouch and nestle into your side in petty retaliation. It’s oddly satisfying, like you can hold onto the illusion of being alone with him just a little longer. 

But they keep shuffling through, and a dirty look evolves into an ahem and an eyeroll, and someone even pauses a second too long, and Jake takes it a step further. You were content to feign ignorance, staring out the window while the exchanges played out, but suddenly he’s dragging your arm over his shoulders. He angles toward you, a warm hand slipping around the curve of your thigh, and then his mouth finds the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches as it tucks itself there, trailing feather light kisses along your skin. 

There’s an audible “Oh, whatever,” and receding footsteps and you can feel him smile into your pulse point.  

“Is that totally necessary?” 

“Mhm.” He withdraws but doesn’t go far. Merely tilts his head back, shifting within the circle of your arm until you’re perfectly level with each other. It’s intoxicatingly close; the tip of his straight nose a hair’s breadth away, his eyelashes a dark blur over his cheeks. You can smell him this close. The smokiness of cologne or body wash, and a hint perhaps of something sweet like shampoo. “I don’t wanna share. And your furry little friends weren’t doing the trick.”

“And kissing me was your call to action, huh?” 

He shrugs noncommittally. “Proved effective. Unless they happened to be into watching random strangers fool around. Not that I mind, but -”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” you ask dryly.

“I could be. Open to that.” He licks his lips and you gaze steadily back, trying (with futile effort) not to fluster as he smirks. Acutely aware of the hand on your thigh, how his thumb strokes absentmindedly along the inseam of your jeans, stoking something inside that’s growing harder to ignore. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You scoff, momentarily relieved with the urge to laugh. “If this is about the damn disco again -”

“Actually I was thinking of that time in the walk-in.” 

“.. Ah, yeah. That.” As it turns out, mishaps of the past don’t exclusively refer to isolated incidents. You just refuse to dwell on those moments, knowing they’ll never amount to more than just having fun for Jake. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - your heart skips a beat from simply recalling the memory. But feelings.. Complicate things. 

You’re not going to dwell on that now, either, though. Not when there is little subtlety in the way you both inch closer together. Not when you can feel his breath on your lips. Jake’s head tilts, the bridge of his nose brushes along yours. Attraction thuds in your veins to the point that it’s a chore to find your own voice. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve become one of my bad habits.”

He makes a noise of amusement, closing what minute space is left between you. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” 

“I said - tickets, please.” 

The conductor’s voice jolts you like being snapped out of a trance. It’s a rude awakening - both the intrusion itself, and the jarring transition back into reality. It’s no wonder neither of you heard the first request. Now an actual football is being lobbed around the train car. A chorus of voices sing along to the music blasting, competing with the echoes of multiple conversations occurring at once. Has it been this loud the whole time?

You disentangle from Jake who appears mostly unbothered but for the slightest of sulks as he reorients himself. He pats around his pockets until fishing out two train tickets from his jacket, then hands them over to the conductor. You watch the scene unfold, baffled. It’s quite possibly the most mundane fucking thing that could be happening right now. 

Once the conductor moves on to the next row, you coo sweetly at Jake. “Aw, hon, thanks again for the ticket.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then reassumes the position as if the moment had been merely paused. He reaches for you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck, his thumb teasing along your earlobe, and even if it weren’t for the way his mouth seals seamlessly over yours, you’d still be melting instantly. 

You release a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering closed at the feel of him yielding as the kiss deepens. Jake’s lips part over yours and you open for him immediately, groaning helplessly when he licks into your mouth. The remnants of cheap beer and cigarettes evaporate into something entirely, pleasantly him. The headiness of his spit, the furl of his tongue. It’s dizzying, and arousing. Your surroundings fade back into white noise yet adrenaline surges through your limbs, leaving you to clutch at him desperately. Seeking purchase in the fabric of his shirt, a sleeve of his jacket, anything you can reach, and one can only assume he warms to the notion from the way his body gives.

He surges even further into you, pressing you as far back as you can go without meeting resistance, and just as you worry the twist of your spine to accommodate might grow tiresome, a series of long dragged out squeaks wheezes from the nondescript pile at your backside.

“Not quite the response I was looking for,” Jake murmurs between kisses.  “Gonna make me regret winning those for you, huh?”

“Not on your life,” you retort, voice a breathless thing. You gaze up at him, swallowing hard at the sight of him like this; pupils dilated, darkening the shade of his eyes with dramatic effect when the lights flicker again. You graze your fingertips over his lips, spit-slick and swollen, then smile and try to tease with - “Think I might just name one after you-”

The thought is abruptly cut short when his mouth descends upon yours once more. His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tongue slipping greedily along yours the moment you part for him. Hungrier this time, as if each interruption only makes him more impatient. His hands quickly trade places; one cups the back of your head, keeping you stubbornly in place as he steals the air from your lungs. While the other threads down the scope of your torso, breezes over your hip and maneuvers beneath your legs and - the comfort is an instant relief when he pulls them over his lap. 

It gives him freer reign this way. You arch into his touch as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and he breaks the kiss with gasping breaths. Seeks reprieve in the curve of your jaw. Not remotely dwelling on the wanton display that anyone could simply look over the edge of their seat only to witness him finding the sensitive spot of your throat where his lips pucker and suck, the noises he makes shooting sparks of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“Jake,” you warn through clenched teeth. It’s not so much that you want him to stop - quite the opposite while you try to resist writhing over his lap. It just might make for a small problem while you’re on a fucking train. 

But he makes a disapproving sound, something like a huff in your ear, then sharply nips something fierce around your skin. You lurch despite your efforts, let slip a strangled moan. Then he soothes the mark with the heated drag of his tongue, and you’re melting all over again, whimpering as his breath raises goosebumps along the trail of saliva.

“Just like that.” His voice is breathy, muffled as he kisses his way back up the line of your jaw. “Is that what you like?” 

Fuck, you want him. Little thought is spared on anything but him as his hands never quite stop moving, from grazing your bare rib cage to grabbing your ass. Your needy fingertips card through the black mess of his hair, tearing him back to your mouth, and Jake fulfills. Kissing you hard and slow. Growing bolder as he feels you squirm for any semblance of relief. His touch slips down your belly, curls along the zipper of your jeans. And when his hand sinks between your thighs, the last fleeting, coherent thought you do have is that at least no one will be able to hear a single sound you make. 

~

A transfer at Jamaica and a subway ride later finally sees you back to familiar streets. It's well into the evening now, the cityscape lit up with its typical bright neon glow. It floods the sidewalks while you walk, milling through an altogether different type of crowd as you make way for the restaurant. 

It’s almost inevitable, winding up there every night. Regardless of the complaining, the more-often-than-not haughty guests, Howard managing with his quirks, the restaurant remains a single constant for most of the staff, and even on a rare day off, you still come crawling back to its doorstep. 

The sight of its stoop on the street corner, well lit beneath its overpriced lanterns, makes it almost seem like a typical Sunday. The main difference being that your arrival isn’t usually accompanied by an armful of stuffed animals. Nor do you make a habit of reporting to work while painfully horny. The walk has done you some good in that respect; it feels like you’ve been properly, thoroughly edged. 

The ride on the train took a turn you.. weren’t expecting - though it certainly made for a way to pass the time. It’s as if you can still feel Jake’s lips on yours, still taste a remnant of him. Like the very scent of him has buried itself somewhere deep inside your lungs. The aforementioned makeout sessions do not hold a candle to what has just occurred, as mostly over the clothes as it was. Voyeurism isn’t really your thing, and though you wouldn’t hold it past Jake to be up to task, it was the closest you’ve toed a line in that territory, and you feel - you feel. That cliche spark, that flutter in your chest as powerful as the ache of arousal in your belly.

It wasn’t just the kissing, either. It was the heavy petting, it was the talking in between. Telling Jake about your first broken bone, learning how he split his chin open skateboarding when he was a teenager - still has the scar that’s hidden by the usual scruff of his facial hair. You wonder if he feels it, too. Felt anything at all or if it was just having fun, which, to reaffirm to your current overthinking state of mind, is still okay. 

You chance a glance at him walking beside you, his own expression unreadable as ever as he smokes another cigarette. Just moments ago, his lips were kissed swollen. His pale skin heated with a flush that ran low beneath the collar of his shirt. And now, the only remnant left behind is the muss of his hair.

But the restaurant inches closer. Service is over by now. The both of you could walk inside, join those partaking in shift drinks, wind up at a bar later, then go your separate ways. Or you could.. ask for more. See if there is an ounce of weight to what he brought up earlier. His pace slows short of making it to the entrance, intent to finish his cigarette, and now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, so -” you suddenly remember the stuffed animals cradled in your arm, and for the second time tonight feel a little foolish. But there’s still some liquid courage left in you yet. Some bolstered confidence from the days’ events. 

“So, I know we’ll probably go for drinks and whatnot, but later…” You’re stood between him and the building and Jake steps closer; whether to shield you both from passerby or impose with his body some more is unclear as his gazes sharpens, pinned on you while a plume of smoke cascades from his nostrils, and he raises a questioning brow. God, you are so fucking fucked but you’re smiling and shaking your head as you finish your thought. “Later, maybe you’d wanna come back to my place?” 

There’s the slightest lift to the corner of his lips. His head tilts back in appraisal.

“Okay.” 

You blink rapidly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he enunciates with a little more gumption, appearing amused. Definitely imposing now as he moves even closer until you are nose to chest. “I’d like that. But, uh.. You should know.” He dips his head as if to kiss you again, and quite honestly, you’re not sure if you can remain standing if he does. “I’m unavailable.” 

A snort of laughter erupts from your throat, and even as he leans in, you can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they flutter closed and -

The front door of the restaurant bursts open and the moment is quickly lost to a series of recognizable voices: Ari, Sasha, Heather and Will. Scott with a few guys from the kitchen. All talking a mile a minute as they file down the stairs and swarm over the sidewalk. 

It’s Scott that notices you first. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up. Lookin’ like a bunch’a fuckin’ dorks.” He purposely knocks his shoulder into Jake’s as he strides past, tossing a vague gesture behind him. “C’mon, shitheads, I’m fuckin’ hungry!” 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sasha tugs at the snake and drapes it around himself like a feathered boa before striking a pose. “I’m keeping this one.”

“No fuckin’ way!” you snap, just as Ari plucks the shark from your grasp.

“I thought you were going to an oyster festival,” she drawls, inspecting the toy. “Didn’t think that meant a carnival, too. I’m working my ass off all day..”

“Okay, just don’t drop them please? Jake won them for me.” You immediately regret your choice of words as they come to a complete halt. 

“Jake did what now?” Ari asks, her eyes - along with Sasha’s and Heather’s - flicker up at him in genuine shock. Will merely chuckles as he passes, trailing after Scott and the crew. 

Jake’s face stretches with a dry smile. “Fuck off, Ari.”

“Y’know for someone who doesn’t date, you’re awfully fucking good at it.” 

“Jake? Good at dating? Now that’s one I’ve never heard before.”

So occupied by the current company, you had taken no notice of Simone’s approach. She’s out of her stripes, donned in her well maintained image of class. An expensive knit sweater, pressed pants. Her signature red lipstick is freshly applied, and her long blond locks are left to cascade softly across her shoulders.

She looks you up and down as she draws near, taking in your appearance but not quite meeting your eye before looking coolly at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a date.” 

Her tone is coy enough, but not a single one of you is under the false impression that there isn’t more underlying to what she says. Sasha makes a comment under his breath and Heather quickly jabs an elbow into his side to quiet him.

“They’re just teasing, Simone.” You snatch the shark back from Ari, feeling annoyed. Like you’re being scolded by a school teacher when you haven’t done anything wrong. “It wasn’t a date, we just had -”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” she finishes for you, and when her gaze finally meets yours, it’s like this conversation has somehow escalated into a standoff, and each bystander lights up a cigarette during the tense pause. 

Eventually, Simone flicks her hair. “Impeccable timing, Jake... Walk me home?”

Fuck. You hate the way your stomach plummets at that.

You look up at him, clinging to some notion that he’ll deny her just this once, that he has felt something, that he wants to see the rest of the night through. That he wants - you.

But at the very moment you see his face, you know that’s not happening. For a second, he looks back at you, mouth hanging open around unspoken words. And when Simone calls his name again, you watch him shut down completely. 

“Sure,” he intones.

“Alright, c’mon babygirl.” Sasha grasps you by the arm in effort to tug you away. Follow after Will and Scott who’ve likely made it a couple of blocks down the road by now. 

You falter on the first step as if you’d been glued to the spot, stubbornly staring at Jake, trying desperately to swallow around the sting of disappointment and rejection so it’s not plain for him - or anyone else - to see.

You think you manage to tell Jake ‘goodnight’, but then your back is turned on him and you let Sasha steer you away with the girls.

The three of them link arms with you tucked somewhere in between. It’s apparent you’ve done well steeling yourself; there’s a bounce to their steps as they carry on as before, talking one over the other with no regard to whatever the fuck it was that just occurred. Onward to what you can only hope is a repeat of last night, with little left over to remember come morning.

[lokixcroki]

Delayed gratification

I unlock the door to our apartment feeling like a bus hit me. Twice. No. A truck and a bus. No. A whole train.

I robotically take my coat and shoes of and make my way to the Kitchen.

I can hear Lin cooking. The wonderful smell of seaweed noodles fills my senses and I can feel my mouth watering.

When I enter the kitchen Lin looks up at me and chuckles.

“You look like you need a drink. Ruff day?”

“Yeah…I need more than a drink tho.”

“If your gonna get drunk you’ll have a hangover and-“

Lin cuts herself off when I drop on my knees in front of her.

“Tui and La you are stunning Lin.”

“Wha-“

My hands find her hips and I tug down her sweats. Looping my fingers around her lace briefs I look up at her while pulling them down agonisingly slow. A look of anticipation and confusion painted on her beautiful face.

When her briefs hit the floor atop of her work sweats I focus on my original plan.

I lean forward my hands still on her hips and lick along her sex from her entrance to her clit. She let’s out a gasp, her right hand clutching the wooden spoon she had used to stir the noodles, the left flying to the kitchen island to steady herself.

Smirking I started to suck on her clit causing her to moan loudly.

“Y/n~ please… oh~ the f-food is going to burn.”

“Then you better make sure it doesn’t Love.”

Sliding a finger into her I start to curl my finger and suck harder on her clit.

When I feel her dripping onto my hand I add a second finger and start to build a rhythm of pulling my fingers almost fully out and thrusting them back in immediately after whilst teasing her clit with my tongue.

I reach up with my free hand to turn the stove off so that our food doesn’t burn.

Lin is now a moaning and whimpering mess her hips thrusts to match my fingers getting more erratic. I know she’s close so I pull my fingers fully out of her and stop sucking on her clit. She needs a moment to comprehend what just happened but after a few seconds her brain catches up to her denied orgasm.

“Y/n what the fuck I was so close I-“

I cut her off with a kiss sliding my tongue over her bottom lip asking for entrance.

Fighting for dominance I let her take control until she suddenly breaks our kiss.

“Y/n please continue! I was so close why did you stop?”

“I said I needed more than an alcoholic drink didn’t I?”

Dropping to my knees my mouth finds her clit again sucking on it. After a short but definitely well spent minute I lick a long stripe along her pussy and start to eat her out sliding my tongue inside of her. When her thighs start to tremble and the wooden spoon she was holding falls to the floor I start to rub circles around her clit.

“Y/n please I’m so close! D-don’t stop! Ahh~”

When her knees start to buckle I try my best to hold her up with my free hand while she rides out her orgasm.

After her thighs stop shaking and her breathing has regulated a bit I reach for her hands which are still clutching our kitchen counter and the kitchen island with an iron grip and take them into mine guiding her to sit on the floor and lean against the island.

After Lin is safely sat on our kitchen floor and is not in active danger of falling, I get up to fetch her a Glas of cool water setting it beside her on the floor with a soft clink.

“T-thanks.”

She almost whispers in her slightly gravely post-orgasm-voice. I lean down to Cup her cheeks and capture her lips in a soft kiss.

“Anything for you my Love.”

I head over to the bathroom and wet one of our softer towels with warm water to clean Lin up.

When I return to the Kitchen I’m barely able to catch Lins falling head from hitting the cold granite tiles of our kitchen.

“Darling I would appreciate if you cold stay awake a little longer so I can clean you up and take you to the couch.” I say with a chuckle.

“okay~” Lin responds with a sigh.

After I clean her up I toss the towel in the laundry basket in the laundry room an pick her up bridal stile to carry her to our couch.

By the time I make it to the couch and lay her down she’s fast asleep softly breathing with a serene expression on her face. I kiss her forehead and cover her with a blanket before making my way to the kitchen to finish cooking.

[envyangelic]

꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ CHANGES ☠︎︎⋆♱⋆⁺‧₊ ˚ ꩜

♱ JEFF THE KILLER X READER ♱

WARNING 18+ - THIS CONTENT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE GORE, MURDER, MENTIONS OF CANNIBALISM, MENTIONS OF SA, ATTEMPTED SA, USE/MENTIONS OF DRUGS/ALCOHOL, STALKING, SMUT, AND VULGARITIES. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

part iii of the CHANGES series

MAYBE THIS TIME WONT BE SO BAD. Maybe this time would be different. You’d hope this school would be different. Middle school was rough very rough. You tried to fit in with the other girls and their trendy outfits. But you just couldn’t, boys didn’t look at you and to be honest nobody really knew who you were. So when your dad broke the news about his new job you were pretty happy.

Your older brother on the other hand wasn’t so happy. He aruged about it before finally shrugging it off and dealing with it. He had all his friends at his old school so moving was like a death sentence for his last year of high school. He was finally graduating this year, he already had a lot of his life planned out. He wanted to join the marines when he turned 18 this year.

You and him were as close as siblings could be. Arguing then getting along. You were going into high school at the time and he was gonna be going out of it.

The new school was JHS, some rich high school with a winning football team and three floors. You were so nervous, the whole night before you planned picking out the cutest out and the best hair to match with it. Hoping someone would notice you. You wanted this year to be different.

The day of you wore what you pre planned. Imaging the scenario of everyone wanting to know who that was, who you were! But it didn’t happen the way, you sat by yourself on the stuffy bus. Pushed around in the hallways because you didn’t know where any of the classes were. You sat alone at lunch envying everyone laughing with their tables.

It crushed you, the last period you didn’t try to smile at everyone or anything. You sat alone in the back, at an empty two seat desk. Your eyes tearing up you knew highschool would be the same as middle, alone again.

“Hi is this seat taken?” A feminine voice causes you to perk up and wipe your tears.

“It’s not. I’m new, sorry.” You explained shifting in your chair as she takes a seat next to you. “It’s all okay, you’re new? I really like your hair it’s beautiful.” She cheekily compliments. She was very pretty, a compliment like that from a girl like her made your cheeks light up.

She had the most smooth dark brown skin and long silky black hair that curled at the ends.

“Thanks! You’re really pretty too!” You blurt out while your face flushed. The girl smiles “I’m Cassacina, but all my friends call me Cassi.” She told you her nickname! You grin in your mind “I’m Y/N!”

Maybe this new school would be different. It was gonna be completely different.l

<————————————————————>

The woman hands you the card, she pays her tab and leaves. You wave her out as the bell above the door rings. The guy takes a sip of his beer. You stand behind the counter beginning to clean up the bar before the door bursts and a loud “friend” of yours walks in.

It’s Rosaline, she prances in with her brown hair curled in a red party dress that fits tightly around her waist.

“Pez! My girl, just who I wanted to see!” Her heels tap againist the floor as she takes a seat on the one of the wooden island’s stool. You shrug “What can I pour you?” You ask she pops her glossy lips.

“My usual shots, duh.” You turn around picking up a shot gloss to pour her favorite alcohol, you pour a tear of alcohol into the small glass and fill the rest with water. She won’t tell the difference. Rosaline already looks intoxicated and knowing her she was probably sent home from the local club. You doze away in your thoughts of how she was kicked out. Too much yelling? Or too much puking?

“Hey you! Whatcha drinkin’?” You hear Rosaline yell over to the man drinking. You spin around hoping she doesn’t make any uncomfortable remarks to random man. A few seconds pass before he speaks up in a musky low voice. “Beer.” She drunkly smiles thinking of something else to say.

You quickly grab her attention before she can. “Alright, you get one shot and I’m calling a cab for you.” Rosaline starts to pout. Pressing her face againist the wood islands table in an attempt for you to feel bad for her. You don’t.

“Nooo! I could get a ride home.” She subtly motions towards the beer guy behind her and then takes her shot winking at you. “No, no. Not happening, that’s how you get kidnapped Rosaline.” Shutting down her idea. You start to pick up the phone dialing a Uber. She whines in protest but you don’t listen calling her a Uber.

”Sorry sir.” You yell over to the man who still sips on his beer. He raises his hand in the universal way of saying ‘it’s fine’. Rosaline lays her head on the bar island again as you get a notification from the Uber. You usher her out to the Uber and pay the Uber fine even though you really didn’t have so much money to spare.

You walk back inside and get back to trying to close the bar. The moment you walk back in you’re filled with an uneased tension. You try to ignore the fact it’s just you and this random guy in there. You start to regret letting Elijah go home..

Shrugging it off, you began to sweep the floor and then you start to wipe down the counter as the man stands up. “Ready to pay for your tab?” You put down the sweep and as you make your way to the register preparing it for a transaction.

He creeps up to the bar as your eyes are trained onto the register. It happens in slow motion, you look up from the register into the random’s blue eyes. That familar pair of dull lifeless cruel eyes.. Your chest squeezes itself as if your lungs are gasping like you’re underwater. Your breathing starts to stagger as you realize who is infront of you.

The black around his half lidded eyes, the pale blue eyes, it’s him he takes one finger and pulls down the black surgical mask that covered the mouth of his dreadful face revealing the carved smile. Your eyes widen, your heart starts to beat so fast the world around you becomes so quiet it’s loud ringing in your ears.

“You remember me, doll face? Yeah, yeah you fucking remember me.” He hisses out, your mind screams ‘RUN’, you twist around on your heel and sprint towards the wooden door leading to the back. Your hand pulls onto it whipping it open.

You spin back around catching a glimpse of him advancing, you slam the door shut right in his face. A muffled groan escapes from the other side. The cold rain hits your face as you hold it shut.

Your body falters as your mind tries to think of what to do next. As you hear the door knob behind you turn, your feet dig into the pebble ground and you dash yourself forward.

You spin around the corner seeing your car just feet away. Sweat beads trickle down your forehead, your car is so close.. SLAM

A hand shoves you forwards causing your feet to skid across the wet pebble pavement.

You fall forward right on your face. You don’t have to time recover, you push your body up but a foot forces you back to the ground, your face colliding with the rocks again.

“You think you can run again? Not fucking today.” The man grabs your shoulder and flips over. You swing your arms at him but that causes him to grab a fistful of your hair and slam it onto the ground. The feeling of warm blood heats the back of your head.

Disoriented, he grabs your face and forces you to look at him. “Stop fucking running!” He lifts something up a knife. You let out a yelp but he clasps a hand on your mouth. You shake your head violently, he loses his grip for a second. “Fuck you!” You spit out. His face flushes with anger and his brows furrow.

His hand reaches behind him disappearing for a moment before he wields something in front of your face. A knife.

Your eyes widen as the sharp object nears your throat, you screech out jumbled words and pleas feeling it sit against your throat forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.

You swallow your pride, your hope and your failed attempts of escaping. Completely paralyzed in fear of the knife that lays a few inches into being fully submerged into your throat. Is this what it’s like to die? To be suffocated by your own blood when the knife punctures your life line’s jugular vein. To bleed out alone and begging in the middle of a desolate parking lot. It reminds you of something..

You’re swept away from your fuzzy thoughts. His voice fuels you. “Now you’re scared? Where’d all the spark go? I thought you’d be entertaining.” He whispers close to your face.

You didn’t want to be entertaining. You wanted to stay alive. With both your hands pinned down and a knife close to throat. The only thing you had to left was your legs. You swiftly bring your knee up into his groin causing him to groan out in pain. His grip loosens and it makes a space between your throat his knife.

You use every bit of strength to shove him off you. You dig your hand into the pebbles and thrust yourself of the ground towards. the back door exit.

You hasten inside taking a right and ducking under the opening island counter. You hear his slow foot steps through the back door. Almost as if he’s certain he’ll catch you again.

Running out would reveal your leaving but would also lead you to your car again. You pat down your pockets for your car keys. No.. fuck! They must’ve fell out in the parking lot

The only other option is to hide, you scuttle to the farthest booth sliding under its table. You press your feet close your chest, you pant and respire.

Your heart is beating like drums, a million things run through your mind. You hear his footsteps behind the bar. “Where’d you go, sweetheart? I. Want. To. Talk” emphasizing every last word. You try to control your breath but it staggers. You clasp a hand over your mouth and nose.

”You wanna play hide and seek? We’ll fucking play hide and seek.” You could hear his wet shoes squeak on the hard wood floor. The desire to be invisible increases every second as he searches around the bar. Your ears ring, your heart is in your throat, it ends here

”You and your little friend thinks it’s fun to damage someone else’s house. HUH? What if I smeared YOUR blood all over his house. Maybe I should leave your head in his mail box. I think thats fair..” His thick voice echoes throughout room.

“Are you under here? No? What about here? Am I getter closer? Is your life flashing before eyes?” His footsteps become closer. You could almost hear his disgusting breathing.

His foot appears infront of your booth. You grip your face tighter not trying to escape a single breath. His foot steps move an inch, your heart leaps.

“Found you!” His head ducks under the table making eye contact with you. You try to kick his face it’s no use. He crouches down and swiftly grabs your foot dragging you out of the booths table. “Stop!” You yell out, your pleas become muffled. He slaps his hand across your mouth silencing your screams.

”Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” You try to squirm, flaring your arms hitting his shoulders trying to get him to release you.

Your nails dig into his arms and body but it barely does a thing because of his hoodie protecting his skin.

“Sto-stop!” Every time you yank your head away it lets loose slivers of your voice.

He tries to bring his knife down into your face but you roll your head to left side as the knife knicks your cheek leaving a small slice. You cry out in pain.

His face flashes from anger into a bone chilling smile. “Make that sound again. Show me how much you wanna live.” He whispers into your ear. You could feel his hot breath on your neck. You want to scream but your throat feels so dry.

”Stop! Please stop!” You cry out muted. He releases his hand from your mouth. “What was that? Begging, sweetheart. Are you scared?” He taunts his grip loosening the knife next to you. You could see he was pleased with the fact of you begging for your life. Scared of him.

Your eyebrows scrunch up in anger “Get off of me you fucker!” You angrily yell at him. His hands grip harder on your arms above your head. “What did you say cunt?” His other hand grabs the knife taking it out of the floor. It raises above your head.

“Get off-!” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to wiggle out of his grip. A sharp pain arises on one of your hands and you shriek in pain. He’s slicing your arm. He insanely watches as the blood trickles down your arm. “If you just shut your fucking mouth. You’re ruining it.” He groans “It’s time for you to stop fighting.”

He grabs a fist full of your hair and slams it down your head into the hardwood floor over and over again until the world becomes black and distant.

A/N ->

hi it’s the author here, the up to date changes series is all on my ao3 I’m just transferring all that to here. Also i have no idea how to link the chapters together so if anyone can explain to me how to do that it would be wonderful <333

[callsign-daydream]

Head in the Clouds, Eyes to the Sun - Chapter 3 - Trouble

Chapter Summary: Hallie’s temper gets her into a bit of a mess. (Missed Part 2? Read it here.)

Warnings/Contents: Starred out swearing, alcohol, Hallie gets drunk, General Navy/military inaccuracies, some Hangman X OC, a lot of fluff

Word count: 2212

A/N: Back again! I love this chapter a lot since we get to see a little more of Hallie’s uncool side, Mav not totally throwing her under the bus, and some defrosting between Hangman and Hallie, but most of all, PENNY! I love her just kind of mom-ing these chaotic people. This one is a bit of a long one, but it’s got a lot of fluff at the end for your trouble. Enjoy!

---

Chapter 3: Trouble

--- Saturday’s plans should have been to call her brother. Or go to the beach with Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster. Do some grocery shopping. Video call some Italian friends. Or literally anything else aside from what Hallie actually did.

She’d woken up early, pouted through her bowl of Cocoa Puffs, and paced as she quite literally threw her laundry in the wash. The more she grumbled, the more frustrated she became, until she had her flight suit on and bag in hand and squealed her Jeep into TOPGUN.

“I thought Dagger Squadron was off today?” the guard asked her.

“I have a special training assignment as the newbie,” Hallie lied. “You know Maverick.”

That was plenty to get her in.

She quickly put her things in the locker room and silenced her phone. The last thing she needed was a surprise notification drawing a less trusting guard. Her face was set firm as a statue as she strode to the hangar. Her plan was simple. Acquire a plane, run yesterday’s training exercise, and show Maverick how wrong he was in keeping her grounded. It was a foolproof plan. If she could figure out the logistics of acquiring a plane without getting court-martialed.

Hallie was still puzzling over that small issue when she crashed into her Captain.

It took a grand total of one second for Maverick to register exactly who walked into him, and only half of one second to piece together the reason the blonde Lieutenant was there on a weekend off. He frowned and crossed his arms.

“Daydream,” he said. “I thought I gave you all the day off.”

Hallie swallowed. “You did.”

“Which means there’s not a good reason for me to be bumping into you right now.”

Hallie bit her lip.

“Or for you to be preparing to fly unauthorized.”

It sounded worse when he said it that way.

Maverick sighed. “Do you realize I could technically write you up for this?”

The California heat suddenly felt twenty degrees warmer. It hit Hallie all at once; this could’ve been the end of her Naval career. Phoenix would’ve been disappointed in her. The whole squadron would be. Captain Chip would’ve been.

Her father would’ve been.

Maverick seemed to recognize that she was mentally lecturing herself and didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

“Go home, Lieutenant.”

Hallie swallowed, nodded, and left.

—

“Another.”

Penny sighed as Hallie set down the empty glass on the counter. “Hal, you’ve already emptied two glasses faster than any of the guys around here.”

“Don’t care.”

Hallie rolled her head on the counter. It was cold against her cheek and ear as she looked up. The glass Penny grabbed clinked, strangely audible in the near-vacant bar.

“You’ll care tomorrow morning.” Penny set another Long Island Iced Tea in front of the blonde.

Hallie ignored the warning and set to work. It was her comfort drink, admittedly, and she knew it would take at least two more until she felt any bit of comfort.

“Does it have to do with Mav?” Penny asked.

“I didn’t say that…”

“You’re not exactly subtle, Hal. And it may get loud in here, but it’s my job to see and hear everything.”

Hallie frowned, then sipped some more. It was getting warm. She slipped her dad’s jacket off and set it on the counter, quickly resting her chin on the cold counter again.

Penny studied her visitor for a minute. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Jeep.”

“Nuh uh. I’m not letting you drive home.”

Hallie sat up. “I can drive!”

“No. Call Phoenix or Bob or someone.”

The last thing Hallie wanted to do was talk to any of the Daggers. There were too many questions she didn’t want to answer, and if any of them ever found out about her stunt from the day, she’d hurl herself into the Pacific Ocean.

“If you don’t want to call, you can stay here until they come.” Penny began wiping the counter, confiscating Hallie’s glass in the process.

Hallie whined and began hitting her head on the bar.

“Hey.” Penny lightly tapped Hallie’s shoulder. “Stop that.”

“Can I get another one?” Hallie peeked up.

Penny sighed and shook her head, but began on the drink anyway.

Hallie stared up at the hanging mugs. The sun was hitting them in a way that made them look like little stars in the bar, or at least to Hallie’s current state. Just as the tension in her shoulders was starting to give way, the front door slammed open and in walked none other than Jake Seresin.

Hallie stayed still, hoping to remain unnoticed.

“You’re here early,” Penny greeted him.

“Just here to settle my tab from last night,” he drawled.Hallie’s attempt to turn invisible evidently failed, as he looked over at her, smirked, and then added: “thanks to this lady.”

Penny set the glass in front of Hallie, who immediately took a gulp.

“I thought your callsign was Daydream, not Daydrink,” Jake teased.

Hallie threw a straw at him. He laughed while Penny gave her a stern look. The sternness gave way to a small flicker that held all the foreboding of a grey sky.

“Say, Hangman,” Penny began, “I’ll give you a discount on this bill if you do me a favor.”

Jake leaned on the counter. “Always eager to oblige.”

Hallie stared at her glass to avoid looking at Jake’s posed jeans too long. She shook her head to clear the image, but only succeeded in making herself dizzy. Her fingers gripped at the counter.

“Hal needs a ride home,” Penny said.

Hallie sat up straight. “Do not!”

“So you’re staying here?”

“No…”

“I don’t mind,” Jake said. Hallie could hardly believe her ears. “No need for any discount.”

“I don’t need a ride!”

“You’re not on comms, Dreamgirl. No need to shout.”

Hallie frowned. In her mind, she could make the corners of her lips touch the floorboards, though she wasn’t sure if her displeasure was more for Jake’s or Penny’s benefit.

“I’m not going.”

A few young TOPGUN students walked in, talking low to each other. Hallie bit her lip. It was getting late. The locals and first-years would start coming in first, and her teammates would follow soon after in the second wave of naval personnel. There was also the high likelihood of Maverick himself showing up. For a second, she thought she might spew all of the alcohol in her stomach. Penny gave her a knowing look.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

She stood and the room spun. She grabbed the counter again. A warm hand suddenly took her by the forearm, and it took her a second to realize it was Jake.

“Easy there,” he said.

Hallie pulled away, uttering a choice Italian word. Jake chuckled, apparently not needing a translation for that one.

“Be careful with that one,” Penny said as they left. “I’ll see you two later.”

The sun was giving its last golden effort to deep fry San Diego. Heat emanated off the pavement, and Hallie’s Jeep reflected the light into her eyes. She held up a hand and moved for the vehicle, but only made it two steps before Jake’s hand stopped her once again.

“Would you stop that?” She whined.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Hallie pointed. “Jeep.”

“No way. You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t want to.

“Well, that’s too bad.” He kept his grip firm. “I’m a man of my word, Dreamgirl, and I’m not taking the fall for it when the Navy finds out you got in an accident because of me letting you drive.”

Hallie pouted.

“My truck. Now.”

She looked up and was met not with Hangman or Jake, but with Lieutenant Seresin, naval aviator. His jaw set, mouth straight, eyes slightly squinted in the light. Sweat was beading at his hairline, but he showed no signs of moving anytime soon. She could stand there and stare back all she wanted, but it would take an act of God to sway the man in front of her. It was the attitude that had carried him this far in his career and would propel him further.

“Hal.”

She blinked. He never used that nickname for her.

“I don’t want them asking about me,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Nat and Bob and…if my Jeep’s here…”

Jake released her, seemingly able to puzzle out her meaning and satisfied that she wasn’t going to try running off. He stared off for a minute. Hallie had a good view of his profile. She mentally cursed the alcohol as the cause of her staring a moment too long.

Finally, he held his hand out. “Keys.”

“What?”

“Give me your keys. I’ll drive your Jeep.”

“I can drive…”

The military leader in him returned. “Hallie A-Jones. Give me the keys. Now.”

Another car pulled into the lot full of laughing women. Hallie sighed, fumbled with fishing her keys out of her jacket pocket, and placed them in his palm.

He grinned. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She wondered how much more trouble she’d get into if she punched another Dagger, but Jake was already halfway to the vehicle before she’d made up her mind. She climbed into the passengers side, leather burning into her legs. The warmth made her feel drowsy before Jake started up the SUV and the AC screamed to life.

He jumped. “You should really look into that noise.”

He scanned the vehicle’s various papers, bags, wrappers, and miscellaneous items, and added: “And maybe try a vacuum sometime.”

Hallie stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled, but soon the two were riding back in relative silence, apart from Hallie’s occasional directions. It was almost enjoyable, until Jake evidently couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“So what’s this all about?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Hallie crossed her arms.

Jake nodded. “So it has to do with work.

“I didn’t say…”

“Didn’t have to.”

Hallie reached for the door handle, but he locked the doors before she could grab it. He met her glare with a grin.

“Come on Dreamgirl. Just tell me.”

“Why?”

“It’s something to pass the time while we’re driving. And out of everyone, I’m the least likely to pat your back and give you the sympathetic pep talk I know you’ve been trying to avoid.”

“Yeah, you’ll just put a spoon in my back instead,” Hallie mumbled as she traced mindlessly at the window.

“Spoon? You mean knife?”

“Whatever.”

The rest of the ride to Hallie’s apartment complex was silent. When they parked, she stabbed at her seat belt button several times until it released, then went straight to rattling at the locked door handle incessantly, making a sound like a propeller.

“Stop that,” Jake said. “I’ll come help you. Can’t have you smashing that pretty face in the concrete.”

Hallie pouted as he got out, circled the vehicle, and opened her door.

“You think my face is pretty,” she proclaimed as her one crumb of triumph as he helped her out of the Jeep.

“Or I lied to make you feel better,” he replied.

She glared and stomped towards her apartment. Jake’s footsteps sounded behind her as he ran to catch up. The stairs to the second floor turned out to be a bit of a struggle, but she eventually made her way to her door with the blonde man in tow.

She held out her hand expectantly. “Keys.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that quickly, Dreamgirl.” He shoved the keys in his back pocket, and the look on his face indicated that he was fully aware she wouldn’t dare try retrieving them.

“I’m not letting you in.”

“It’s just until I make sure you’re settled and not going to choke on your own vomit.”

“I’m not that drunk!”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” Another smile.

Hallie once again debated punching him, but acknowledged her aim would be off. She knew when she was beat, though she would absolutely make sure to be vocal about her annoyance. Ten minutes later found her propped up in bed with her shoes off, a glass of water on the nightstand, and Jake standing over her with his hands on his hips.

“Promise you aren’t going fall out of bed and hit your head?” He asked.

Hallie nodded. Her eyelids felt like parachutes drifting ever so slowly down in the wind.

“Alright. Good night, Dreamgirl.” 

With that, he set the keys on the table, eyed her for a moment, and then started out. Hallie watched him for a moment, stunned he wasn’t wrapping up the night with a snide remark or innuendo.

“Hangman,” she called, suddenly feeling a bit of clarity. “Are you walking back?”

“I’ll call an Uber,” he said with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want Phoenix to murder me if she saw me in your car.”

Hallie laughed and settled back down. “Thanks, Hangman.”

He tipped an invisible hat, and Hallie saw his smile one more time before her eyes shut for the night, leaving her to dream herself far away from the problems that might await her on Monday. Somewhere through the fuzz of her alcoholic sleep, she heard the faint reply:

“Anytime, Dreamgirl.”

[hrefna-the-raven]

From one hell to another

First date - tell me more, tell me more - Black velvet dress - Cloudy mornings and sweet bareness - Kiss me, you fool - Waiting in the wings - You're only falling now? - Morning dew and dances - Cannibalypse now - Blood in the water - Silver lining - The Cube

Words: 1708

Summary: Kelvin and Hunter finally made it back but they exchanged one hell for another

Warnings: depression, dark thoughts, alcoholism

Notes: I'm terribly sorry my dear readers but this will be a bumpy and very dark ride...

The first two weeks back in civilization weren't what Kelvin and Hunter expected a rescue to look like. Instead of a warm welcome, they granted Kelvin a week under the care of the military doctors who clearly either lacked the competence or the interest to treat his wounds, before being dragged at least twice a day into the sterile dread of the interrogation room where the provost marshal grilled him for hours. The marshal would spend that time screaming and banging his fists on the metal table the soldier was chained to, demanding information about their time on the cannibal-infested island. Kelvin exchanged the hell of that haunted isle for the elusory privilege of becoming a prisoner, the wounds he caught trying to survive barely treated as all the army cared about were information about what exactly happened that made them loose a whole team of trained elite soldiers on a simple search and rescue mission. His mind was a jumbled mess, torn between the physical pain of the lesion taking it sweet time to heal and the emotional trauma celebrating a constant revival by the threats thrown at him during the interrogations. He tried to recall anything that could satisfy the provost marshal's hunger for information, but he had given everything he had, everything that had helped him and Hunter survive on that island for nearly two weeks. He was left feeling anxious, drowning in the dark waters of seclusion, shadows of the fainting memories of the closeness he shared with you intimately dancing with the nightmares of the mutated horrors that haunted him in the forest. Days turned into weeks, and Kelvin completely lost track of time. He was not allowed to see Hunter, who had been separated from him and placed in a different part of the hospital. They only briefly met twice in the corridor, shouting questions at each other as to what had happened to them before soldiers dragged them apart. The only constant in his life were the interrogations, the screams, and the demands for information he thought he'd already given them a long time ago.

But then, one day, it all came to an abrupt halt, the provost marshal entering Kelvin's room telling him he was free to go now. No further explanation, no apology, not one word about Hunter as Kelvin was released from the hospital, left to fend for himself in a world that now seemed strange to him. His hands crammed his discharge letter from the army in his backpack along with his few belongings at the base. The despair of an unknown future shook him to his core. He lost one month and a half of his life, first by being trapped on a remote island full of unimaginable horrors, then by being held prisoner by his own employer to be thrown out again, loosing his job and still suffering from the brain damage caused by the helicopter crash. His usual sunny and determined self had been shattered by the recent turn of events, leaving behind a broken shadow of himself. His mind had become a constant mess, and his body was stuck in a limbo of pain and numbness as he made his way back to his apartment after a long bus ride from the base. As soon as he closed the door of his apartment behind him, he collapsed on the floor, choking on his tears. It seemed as if he had lost everything in a blink of an eye. His friends had died, he had lost his job, and on top of it all, he had a head injury that needed proper treatment which he wouldn't be able to afford now. He sat there, in the darkness of his dusty apartment, wondering if there was any hope left for him. His life had turned into an abyss of loneliness and despair, and he neither possessed the will nor the tools to climb out of it again. Days passed, and Kelvin found himself lost in his thoughts, not knowing how to move forward, his arms wrapped around himself, his trembling body rocking on the couch in a desperate attempt to find some comfort. The scarce sleep he got was filled to the brim with nightmares which could only be suppressed by excessive amounts of alcohol, while he barely ate any solid food anymore, his body and soul deteriorating further as the agony of his loss consumed him more and more.

Another boring day at the office dragged itself in front of you, the amount of demands you treated seemed in an unfair state of imbalance in comparison with the time crawling by. Your mind wandered towards Kelvin, wondering what he'd been doing and where he was. It had been over two months now since he went on a mission and he hadn't responded to any of your messages and his apartment seemed to remain deserted. You hadn't passed there in a while but growing bitterness persuaded you that it wouldn't have changed by now and that the soldier had probably just been playing with your feelings and discarded you as soon as he could. Suddenly, your sad trail of thoughts was interrupted by uproarious shouting outside your office. You shot up, curiously tiptoeing towards the door as you heard your name in between the rants. Just as your hands reached for the handle, the door flung open and a tall man with a scraggly jet black beard and shaved hair was standing in the door frame, gaping at you with his faded azure eyes, underlined by dark circles. "I need to talk with you about Kelvin", his voice was raspy, a shaky tone as it would crack any moment, "it's urgent, please."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name. Despite the sudden silence, you couldn't shake off your feelings for the soldier and still loved him deeply, even after he had disappeared from your life without a trace all these weeks ago. You were about to give up hope of ever seeing him again, but now this stranger was standing in front of you, demanding your attention to discuss something about the love you missed so much. You force shut down your computer, not caring one bit anymore about the progress of today's work and while the curiosity burned inside of you, you grabbed your purse and coat and followed the stranger outside, heading towards Joe's bar. Whatever this man would tell you about Kelvin, with all that happened up to now, you were sure you'd need a drink to cope with this.

"I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself properly with all the rush", the stranger spoke softly as he sat down next to you, "my name is Rick Smith but the other soldiers called me Hunter."

That peaked your interest immediately, shuffling nervously on your chair as you tried to muster the courage to ask that one question that's been burning on your mind ever since this Richard barged into your office.

"Have you been with Robert on the mission?", you whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

Hunter nodded at you, sipping on his steaming coffee, averting your gaze. He felt a deep uncertainty if he'd be able to handle your hopeful eyes and how that tiny glimmer of hope would vanish as soon as he'd told his tale, ending by the horrible state Kelvin was trapped in now. Hunter recounted how the helicopter had been shot at and he was forced to watch his comrades fall out as the aircraft span down towards the sea. He didn't leave out any details, not caring about the army's threats as this seemed more important, his loyalty belonged to his friend and not an institution that used them as tools and discarded them as soon as they came out broken of a mess said institution sent them into. He continued explaining how, due to the crash, Kelvin had suffered from a traumatic brain injury that cost him his hearing and his memory even though only temporarily for the first days, the horrible and vicious abominations they had to slaughter in order to survive and how they finally escaped only to be locked up by the army, going through nerve grinding interrogations, being thrown out afterwards, leaving them without a job or healthcare.

"Why is Rob not calling me?", your voice was trembling, holding back a sob.

"What happened to us, especially after we escaped...it...it broke him", tears streamed down Hunter's face, "he's locked himself up at home, constantly drinking, barely eating, I can't keep on checking on him, I'm-I'm", the sobs grew louder and uncontainable, "afraid I'll go back some day only to find his corpse. He needs hope, he needs you!"

Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes as you listened to Hunter's words. It was hard to believe that the clumsy gentle soldier you fell in love with, had gone through such horrors and came out broken, thrown away and sinking into the dark abyss of helplessness and possibly shame. Your hands held Hunter's tightly, promising him to look after Kelvin. It was a simple gesture and a humble promise but it brightened Hunter's heart, filling him with a hope and taking off some of the weight off his shoulders and for the first time since he'd returned, he was able to take a deep breath, feeling the spark of life kindling in his chest. It had to get better, after all he and Kelvin had been through, it would end and, as his eyes lingered on yours, recognising that fighting spirit, he knew that all might not end in the worst possible way this time. He left the key's to Kelvin's apartment on the table, pushing them towards you.

"Please don't be angry at him for not calling you, he isn't himself right now. Please don't give him up! I saw the way he treasured the letter you gave him, he kept it safe as if his life depended on it and always talked about coming back to you, so please I beg of you, don't give him up!"

You nodded, taking the keys and left the bar, turning around to flash one last smile at Hunter.

Part 13 - Dazed and confused

SotF masterlist

Here is some silly happy Kelvin in his pink PJs to brighten up the darkness:

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[fullyfundedschorlarships]

Who is Amal Hanna? The American School bus driver who was caught drinking white Claw while driving.

We will be telling you why Amal Hanna, the American School bus driver  who was caught drinking on job  was made to walk free after admitting she did not know white Claw was alcoholic. Who is this school bus driver? The school bus driver is with Long Island school. The name of this driver is Amal Hanna. The female driver is a 60 year old woman. The 60 year old was caught drinking on the job. She…

[elaine-abroad]

Volume 3 Part 2

The first thing I noticed on the island was that it was very green and had a LOT of trees. There were trees everywhere and even stood on either side of the main walkway.

We mostly walked around and visited small galleries/stores. I took a few pictures of the different plant life too.

The fee for this trip made us question what they were using it on, but after seeing the bus, zipline, and lunch provided it made more sense. We went to a restaurant in the park and had Korean bbq.

Afterwards we spotted a sky bike ride. There were actually a lot of ways to get around and view the park such as normal bikes, double seater bikes, three wheeled segways, some sort of bike/cart/tractor that sat like four people, and our sky bike. It didn’t get us around, but we were able to have a leisurely ride above ground.

There were also some interesting animals that lived on the island. We got to see a handful of ostriches in an enclosure. They were huge. There were also a lot of peacocks that didn’t seem afraid of people. And then there was the occasional bunny rabbit that the little kids tried to pet and feed.

Much like the Hangang River, there were a bunch of watersports parks along the stream. We were able to watch people hold onto inflatables as motorboats pulled them across the water. It looked like a whole lot of fun.

It wasn’t long before we had to catch the boat back to the mainland, but of course we had to grab some ice cream. I don’t usually touch strawberry ice cream, but it tasted like these strawberry yogurt bars my mom used to search far and wide for at Costco. I liked it a lot.

Later that night, I made history with myself. After heavy begging from Grace, she convinced Bianca and I to go to a club with her. I’ve never partied at frats or anything like that, so I was a little hesitant but I will not lie – I was a little curious. I also managed to drink a bottle of grapefruit flavored soju (it was miles better than the standard version) as well as some of Bianca’s Rum and Coke. I like Coke so it just tasted like the worst Coke ever. It wasn’t horrible though. I also was very surprised as I didn’t feel anything. I’m wondering if the alcohol percentage just wasn’t high or I inherited it. 

We ended up staying for a very long time, to the point where we had a bit over an hour before the subway system would be up and running again. No one wanted to wait that long so we ended up walking back. Thankfully, we were in Hongdae which is only two stops from Ewha. We still weren’t very happy when we had to walk from the gate next to our dorm to the front gate because it was locked in the early hours of the morning.

Both Bianca and I couldn’t sleep for very long and woke before noon. On our way to a porridge restaurant, we were stopped by a Vietnamese noodle soup restaurant and headed there instead. I was very pleased to have pho, but I definitely think the broth and the overall taste is better back at home.

We stopped by Mega Coffee and each picked up a frappe. I was very happy to have tried this place out because my mint frappe literally tasted like I was drinking mint chocolate chip ice cream, my favorite flavor. I get a mint chocolate chip ice cream cake every year for my birthday so it was nice. 

And lastly, the best part of the day: dinner. Bianca, Zoe, and I went to this Korean stew restaurant and thoroughly enjoyed everything. It was set up so that we had to get our own rice and sides so we could control how much we got. It was genuinely very good and I want to go back.

It’s weird to think that half of my trip is already over, especially since it feels like time is going by both slowly and fast. I’m sure it’s going to be bittersweet as the end nears, but I haven’t really been thinking about that. 

Anyways, come back next week where you get to see and hear about my horrible midterm painting. 

Bye bye

-Elaine

[queenofcandynsoda]

Dystopian Omegaverse AU: Tourism

Tourism

Tourists must wear shades of yellow in order to segregate from the citizens. These shades are khaki, blonde, royal yellow, gold, chartreuse yellow, mellow yellow, and pastel yellow. They wear golden wristbands for security, avoid confusion, make payments, have access to tourist-only areas, and prevent them from entering restricted areas. They must stay in hotels, resorts, and cruise ships. They can visit historical buildings, ruins, brothels, spas, casinos, ranches, shows, city tours, bus tours, restaurants, landmarks, malls, and the Savage Zoos and Menageries. 

Diplomats and foreign leaders wear golden badges that show their nation of origin and bronze wristbands. They are not allowed to wear black to avoid confusion. They live in diplomacy houses, where they have Gamma Minus maids.

They can visit the Golden Center, an area where they see pups training to be in their roles. This is known as the Golden Tour.

Access Hierarchy 

Despite the tourists not being citizens, they are a part of a hierarchy that shows what services they would get, such as access to which restaurants, bars, spas, museums, points of interest, etc.

Silver: Silver-level access can only have group tours, family-friendly events, and standard accommodations. They are not allowed to have heavy alcoholic drinks, go to the Pleasure Halls and Gardens, attend the churches and temples, and visit Savage Zoos. They are allowed to go to certain museums and malls, go to public beaches, visit the Menageries, and use nannies. They can stay in family resorts, cruise ships, and hotels only. They are allowed to meet with Gamma Pluses and Minuses, Beta Minuses and Neutrals. Those who have silver-level access are families, young students, groups, and seniors.

Gold: Gold-level can have stand-alone trips, visits churches and temples, attend the Pleasure Halls, go to special museums, and visiting the Savage Zoos and Golden Center Tours, but in group tours. They can meet with Beta Pluses and Delta Minuses personally. The malls, beaches, bars, restaurants, and resorts are high-end luxury. They can stay in love hotels, casino hotels, ryokan, and hotelships. Gold-level guests are upper middle class, couples, newlyweds honeymoon, college students, low-level business men, and single travelers.

Diamond: Diamond-level can have personal maids, etiquette attendants, and personal drivers. They are allowed to travel but with an instructor. They can only attend the Pleasure Gardens. They can meet with Delta Pluses personally and can stay in condo hotels, boutique hotels, and island resorts. They have special access areas in stadiums and arenas. Diamond-level guests are upper class, celebrities, foreign CEOs, low-level government officials, and other leadership.

Titanium: Titanium-level can have free range travel with an attendant. They are allowed to see the Savage Zoo and Golden Center without a group tour, attend both Pleasure Halls and Gardens. Due to their level, they can meet with Alphas and Omegas personally. They can stay in private diplomacy guest houses. Titanium-level guests are always diplomats, foreign leaders, and ambassadors.

Golden Center Tour

Tourists and Diplomats are taken to an observation facility known as the Golden Center where they have a three hour long tour to see how pups are conditioned and indoctrinated for their roles. There are two tours per day for five days a week. Before the tour, they are given instructions to keep quiet, never tap the glass, which is one-way, and never interact with them when the pups are passing by. Gamma Minuses would give them “golden snacks and drinks”, such as sparkling apple cider, sea salt caramel popcorn, dried fruit, and savory turnovers. Then they are taken to a low-speed vehicle driven by a male Gamma Minus and the Tour guide is a female Beta Minus. They are a couple as their children are a part of the Golden Tour, either in the first or second part.

First Part: Tourists are taken to see a nursery of Gamma Minus, with their respective parents who work in the centers. This conditioning occurs only for an hour per day. In the nursery, they are presented with disorganized items, dirty dishes, and clothes with bad odors. They then get the babies to get close to them before shocking them, causing them to cry. This would cause them to dislike dirtiness and disorganization, leading them to want to so maintain cleanliness and organization.

Second Part: Tourists are taken to see a Beta Minus class where five-year-olds, the minimum age for boarding, are subjected to learning repetitive tasks. If the child goes slightly against repetition, they are shocked. This ensures that they always stay in a repetitive cycle.

Third Part: Tourists walks over a gym consisting of five to six years old Delta Pluses. One section has child-size weights lifts, kettlebells, treadmills, battling ropes, and arc trainers. Another area has a climbing gym, indoor rowers, and exercise bikes. The final section has jump roles, various types of punching bags, an aero trim, and a balancing board. The pups rotate between the sections every hour. Between such, a Gamma Minus would give them electrolyte drinks. This is how Delta Pluses train for high-level physical positions, such as the military. This is also mental training for being the second-in-command for Alphas. This is also Organization Culture as it increases them to be competitive with each other.

Fourth Part: Tourists are taken to see an Omega classroom where the six to seven years old pups learning Ikebana from an older Omega. They also learn mosaic, Oshibana, flower symbolism, dancing, textile arts, paper cutting, paper folding, decorative knots, jewelry making, shrine building, and shadow play. While they avoid complex puzzles and any book that is above a second grade level, they sent their time learning decorative arts for their future Alpha and creating the cultural identity of Sol Fertilis.

Fifth Part: Tourists are looking at a chess room full of seven to eight-year-old Beta Plus pups. They are competing with each other while wearing headphones. They are listening to encouragement from Alpha students. This is meant to encourage them to use their knowledge to care for all of the ranks, cement loyalty to Alphas, and use competition to get better results.

Sixth Part: There is a sleeping room where eight to nine-year-old Beta Neutral sleeps as speakers are telling lessons about how they need to maintain the perfect society by producing consumable media, ensuring the Alphas with good quality work, and creating a balance within the hierarchy. This is Hypnopaedia, meaning sleep lessons. This further reinforces the subconscious desire to maintain the status quo. 

Seventh Part: Tourists are taken to see two rooms. One of them is a study room where nine to ten-year-old Alpha pups are read college-level books and written analyses of them. The second has Alpha pups, having bruises, and sleeping on the laps of Omega pups. This shows the two major roles of the Alphas. The first is to show that they are high-level intellectuals at a young age, the only caste to do so. The second one is to show how they instinctively go to protect Omegas and are willing to fight to maintain society. 

Eighth Part: There is a room where ten to eleven-year-old Gamma Plus pups writing down notes about medical care and preventive medicine. Whenever they hear a bell, which is a low pitch and colored dark purple, the pups come to the Trainer and ask her medical questions. They are conditioned to respond by a “Signal Bell”. Tourists are given light purple, high pitch bells. Whenever they ring it, Gamma Minuses would come in and provide them with drinks and snacks. This is showing that there are different bells for each rank, which is Stimulus Discrimination. 

Ninth Part: There are two sections of eleven to twelve-year-old Delta Minus pups. The male pups surround Alpha and Omega pups, acting like security guards, and observing Beta and Gamma pups, making sure they do their roles. The female pups are learning how to care for young Omega pups, who are wearing Misty Rose. The tour guide explained that Delta Minus are important in ensure safety and health for Alphas and Omegas, which will make them perfect for future spouses and maintain the inheritance tradition.

Tenth Part: For the Finale, the tourists are taken to see a room where pups are put together in different mats, meant to mimic their roles in Sol Fertilis. Trainers are there to shock them if they diverge slightly. 

[nathscalet]

First chapter - A place called home

Please, I wrote this during the pandemic, I was not doing well and didn’t have a beta reader. 🫠🥲

Life has never been easy, but depending on how you see it you can shape it to your will.

You never had anything, so you were bound to be free. However there are limits on what a child can do, at 7 you were forced to enlist in the army to fight the neighboring nation, in a war that lasted so long, people forget the reason, but the hate has already began a cycle that couldn’t be stopped.

People change, but the war turn us into something totally insane, bring out our deepest fears, brings what we hide behind the mask we live in.

Y / n POV

“Another day.”

Leaving the house you rented on this tropical island, that is another hot spot for pirates, sailors or civilians alike.

Leaving home you pass through the streets greeting people, yes yes, you are very popular, you're known as the handywoman and the drunk stripper. That’s a long story involving a certain demon.

Where are you going? well the forest.

It's 4:00 a.m in the morning yes, nothing better than watching the dawn.

Although you could have slept in the forest to avoid those 2 hours of brisk walking.

Watching the sun rise brings positive energies, it rests your mind and soul. And it gives you inspiration for paintings

.

.

.

You fell asleep watching that beautiful nature show, now it's 10:00 am and you stare to look for food in the forest, gathering fruits, seeds and even going to fish in the lake.

You were wearing a bikini, relax, you're crazy but not that crazy.

You ran out of patience for the fish to come to you, so you went to him. And now it's in your stomach, along with potato's nananas, pineapples and a coconut.

Now it's time to have human contact, now it's 2 pm, and you need alcohol after so much food.

You have been on this island for about two and a half year, many who come here ask for your paintings, you are flattered and stressed, since being an artist was supposed to be just another hobby of yours to de-stress and have something to do, now it’s your day job.

You're mostly a bitch when drunk, but when you are sober you are a calm, kind and cheerful person. But beneath all that you are a person who is stressed easy, has insecurities, problems with love, you are a broken woman due your years in the army. You don't talk much about your past, but those that manage to conquer your heart, and you talk through your elbow about the past, and it becomes a gossip of your life. I don’t think many earned that privilege.

Everyone on the island likes you,they love your hugs and pestering and playful harassment (a slap on the butt). Yes, you like to be a little more touchy with people and pet their hair, and they like it. So it's technically not harassment if they like it?

Touristic men and women alike, wanted to have an night with you, too bad you rarely find yourself with desires for sex, and relationships, but you find yourself attracted to people when there is a connection involved. But that doesn’t mean you don’t understand when someone it’s hot.

Due to trauma you suffer from bipolarity constantly. But people like your duality either way.

After spending your time as a lone wolf

You walk to the harbor, where people and merchants at, now you can socialize and drink a cachaça.(cachaça it's a tradicional and strong Brazilian alcohol)

.

.

.

Bar on

It's a beautiful bar, isn't it? The old wood makes an comforting ambience, the polished tables brings a sophisticated aura, and the barmen that looks more like a mafia leader throws everyone under the bus not knowing what to expect from the bar.

Now he is occupied by pirates, but specifically, pirates of the redhead, the emperor.

You walked bouncing through the streets till you reached the bar.

The bar was noisy, more than usual, and much more crowded than usual.

2 hours ago

The redhead's gang just arrived on the island, and they were loving the scenery. And as they ran out of alcohol they went to the closest bar they could find next the harbor. Which by the way was Dyonisus'Bar.

- "Welcome, what do you want?" .- Ragnar the owner of the Bar greeted them

The crew looked at Ragnar indecipherably. Ragnar is 1.95m tall and with a closed face, eye patch, and very muscular physic. He looks like a gang lord, or a pirate definitely not a bar owner

-What a cozy bar.-The first mate commented

-oi boss, give us your best Sake and beer.-Yassop asked .- "And meat, a lot of meat"

~ okay, coming right now ~ While he was sorting out the drinks, the crew was settling in, until it was packed.

.

.

.

-OIII RAGNARRR.-Kalim shouted unceremoniously, bringing the pirates' attention to the young man who had entered.

-oh?Its you Kalim.

- "Where's y / n?" - he said leaning over the counter

-She hasn't arrived yet, lover boy.

-And-and-u don't like to say it like that !! I'm a free man!

"-JAHAAHAHHAAH." - Ragnar LOVES to mess with Kalim and make fun of the crush he has on you, which he refuses to admit.

-So you don't mind her dating, do you? - Ragnar smirked waiting for the brunette's reaction

-WHAT IS SHE DATING? WHO? WHO? OI RAGNAR KOTAETE KUDASAI (ANSWER ME) !!! - he was agitated and red with his stomach wrapped in the possibility of you with someone else

-oi Lover boy, I thought you didn't like her? - Ragnar is having the time of his life

-I AM HER M-BEST FRIEND! WHY AND WHAT WOULD SHE NEEDS MORE WHEN SHE HAVES ME?

-So you want more, don't you? - Ragnar was trying to get a confession out and was close

-I-I'm leaving! WHEN SHE COMES TELL HER THAT I'M LOOKING FOR HER!

The crew was looking at the scene holding on to not laugh too, so as he walked out the door everyone burst into laughter.

- "Your daughter Ragnar?" - a guy with half-blond dread asked half-drunk

-No, but if any of you do something to her I cut your balls .

-Ahahahahahahahah. - the crew laugh. - "Don't worry ... daddy" -Ahahahshzjah

-But what that child was doing here huh? -A certain redhead asked

-Kalim? He always comes here to drink something or just spend time looking at his crush. The girls here love that boy, but he only has eyes for the one particular lady. He's damned because she doesn't care about romance, and doesn't even notice the looks she receives, when she realizes she runs away like a frightened chicken -Sigh-Almost all the men in the city, and the women already wanted to make a move on the girl, but she's so dense. So people admire from afar

"Really? She must be a beauty!"

-She is an exotic beauty, some like her body, others her personality, others are victims of her unintended seduction or her talent.

-What she do? - Immediate asked interested

-She does a little of everything, she doesn’t do it like a master but she reaches a very high level in anything you give her. However the girl is very lazy, all in her time, and she is too calm, but when stressed she can beat up anyone.

-Ehhh? So is she strong? - the redhead asked

-Enough to throw anyone who deserves a beating, they can't last 5 minutes with her. -Ragnar said serving the beer with a smile

You helped Ragnar serve drinks and make drinks, you worked there sometimes when there were a lot of people, or when you needed money or free drinks, you accept drinks as payment.

Now as you were arriving at the bar, and it was packed, but nothing better than meeting new people

-RAGNAAAA-Saann OHAYOOUU! (Good morning)

"Hmm? Y / n, you are late today, brat, what were you doing?"

-I was in the forest.

-what did you get?

-Nothing.

-... Nothing ... Nothing? ... What did you do in the brat forest?

-Inspiration.

-...- Sigh. Taking a drag on his cigarette Ragnar looks at you -Come and help me to serve.

- anything for you Ragna kun ~

You put on a wine red apron to serve the customers.

The bar was more lively than ever, and you were vibing'? Well, you love a break-in party, as long as you don't have to clean up afterwards. Unfortunately you are being paid to serve and clean the bar. But life is a party, and the more they drink the more you can drink afterwards. Stonks📈

-Só You Are the famous Y / n? -Shanks asked curious about the new figure

-😗Yep, that's me

-You look normal.-he Said analyzing you

-did you expected me to be a dragon?🤨

-... Hahahahahaaah-🤣🤣He started laughing

-You are already a dragon y / n.-Ragnar spoke looking at the group laughing

-Eeeennnh !!!! Why??

-With this stomach and metabolism you are a monster.

-OII RAGN-GAR THAT'S MADNESS-LOOK AT THE FACE OF THIS ANGEL! HOW AS YOU CALL IT A MONSTER.-One of the pirates already buzzed with alcohol asked

-DON'T BE TRICKED YOU PUNKS!!!DONT BE DECEIVE BY HER FACE!-Ragnar shouted punching the counter shocking the pirates.-Lucifer was an angel too ... She looks like an angel, but she is a MENACE.

-... IT'S HONOR TO BE COMPARED TO A DRAGON RAGNAR-SAN.-You said gussying.- I love dragons, such beautiful, majestic, strong, independent creatures

-You eat like one, and drink alcohol like a fish in water. You are not human.

-Oya! You drink y / n? -Shanks got interested now

-Of course, a good drink doesn't kill anyone.-You answered promptly

-you have an bottomless stomach and an enormous strength for your height that's creepy.

-OIIII WHAT'S WITH MY HEIGHT?!?!? - You got pissed “YOU WANT TO FIGHT?”

-You are a contradiction! WHO CAN DRINK 10 CACHAÇA(traditional Brazilian alcohol with 48% of álcool) barrels ALONE IN ONE NIGHT ??? WHO HAD GIVEN YOU AN ANGEL FACE IN AN INHUMAN MANLY BODY ???

- IT IS NOT MY FAULT YOU CAN'T DRINK ME UNDER THE TABLE !! WHAT WITH MY FACE ?? HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST IT ?? !!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH BEING A MANLY ?? ARE YOU ANGRY THAT I WON IN THE ARMWRESTLING?!?! - Your foreheads were glued and facing each other to fight, snarling at each other

The pirates watched the interaction of the two bewildered, you both seem ready to advance on each other and y’all seemed so chill moments ago.

-It's normal, this is how they show love, or whatever it is.-Kalim returned to the Bar

"Is it normal for them to fight so much?" Benn asked.

-More or less, they have a fondest for each other but they both have explosive chemistry, they have respect for each other, they get along when they are drunk and that would be the majority of cases. -Sigh-She drinks a lot, and she harms the bars or she starts with her bad habits, and Ragnar is possessed.

-bad habits ?? - The pirates were intrigued

-... better not to know.-Kalim said sighing

-Ne ne Kalim-chan!

-Chan?

-Tell us please !! Don't leave us in the dark, not knowing what it is !!! Pirates with curiosity are-

-COME ON OLD MAN.

-BRING IT ON BRAT.

You went out of the bar to box. Real men solve things using their fist (no they don't , they resolve things with words but for the comedy and plot🙄)

They see a flying outfit, specifically your blouse, showing your very ripped abdomen.

... Simultaneously nosebleeds and 👍 of the pirates and Kalim a little shy but ready to cheer for you.

The pirates went outside to watch the boxing match. The 2 of you moved constantly, jab, straight, crossed, upper, feint.

You were winning, your time in the army didn't went nowhere. And with your extraordinary strength, you were taking care not to destroy Ragnar, but with your constant fighting, you discovered the level of strength to not to kill someone .

Your pride and instinct tell you to never take it easy on your opponents, especially to lose to someone who doesn't come close to your strength, however your years as a traveler you learned many things, and especially with Ragnar, so you let him beat you, or coming close to winning, winning by w.o it's humiliating.

Your fights became playful, making fun of opponents, laughing in their faces, when you were in a good mood or drunk.

You are rarely in a bad mood here so no one on the island has seen you fighting seriously.

But sometimes you fight like a real man, with those whom you have respect and deserve a good fight, as now in boxing, you and Ragnar have been friends for a long time, and you have this taste in common: fighting for pleasure.

...

There was a tie, I think, for lack of judge or forfeit, now y'all are full of bruises, but you can drink with the pirates now.

They were touched by the fight, it's was very macho.😭😭 Fighting between men is exciting... but you are a woman...well you are very macho, very manly (kirishima reference), send an SAIDO CHESTO.(it's an gym anime)

Nene y / n, hic, Ragna san, join my bunch-hic. -A certain redhead asked drunk

-Non non, I don't intend to become outlaw.-Hic

...

This dragged on until night. Around 7:00 pm the pirates were already seeing stars, overturned, thrown, stuffed, stretched.

Most of them didn't get up, there were some exceptions but they weren't sober either.

So you and Ragnar had to drag the "males" out of the bar.

[ireceived-p8250000]

October 27 - November 2, 2013

This week is my week and Regine's too. We have a Halloween party on October 29th, hosted by my Aikido friends, Jonas and Christy, which conveniently falls on my birthday. However, I have a flight the following day.

It's a long weekend, and I booked a trip to Hong Kong with Roxanne because I promised her. I told Mansoor it would just be the two of us.

I'm quite excited about that.

Roxanne and I are sharing luggage. I know she can be annoying, but I plan to top her attitude by being a bigger brat since I'm older. Also, I am her aunt, and I’m paying. So, I let her plan. I think my whole savings will go, but I will receive my salary early.

Mansoor gifted me a travel picture book from Lonely Planet, and I loved it.

October 29, 2013 - Tuesday

I went to the Halloween party in my lace dress, bringing Mansoor along. There was alcohol, but we didn’t drink much. Mansoor wore a suit.

October 30, 2013 - Wednesday

“Hoy, happy birthday!” Jonas and Christy shouted as they sang me a happy birthday. I was flattered. I love my birthday—it's Halloween!

At 3 AM, we were ready to bounce. In the corner, my boyfriend and I were kissing. No tongues yet, just slow and sweet kisses.

I was hammered when I got home and didn’t attend school. Roxanne’s semestral break had started, so we prepared for our trip. My parents were going home to Isabela again, so nobody was in the house.

We started with the bus, both of us nursing headaches.

By 8 PM, we reached the airport.

I received messages from Mansoor that the girls had gifts for me, but he had to tell them I was on vacation.

At midnight, our flight took off to Hong Kong.

I checked my bank account after transferring from PayPal to BPI and it amounted to P50,000.00 This is a big money in this economy. Considering that the expenses incurred was from P20-30K. It's already big.

October 31, 2013 - Thursday

We arrived in Hong Kong and found our hostel, where we had to pay extra. It was fine because I needed to sleep anyway.

After catching up on sleep, Roxanne and I set out to explore the city. We wandered through the bustling streets, marveling at the vibrant atmosphere and neon lights. The energy of Hong Kong was infectious.

We visited Victoria Peak, taking the tram up to enjoy the stunning panoramic view of the city. The skyline was breathtaking, and we took plenty of photos to capture the moment.

In the evening, we explored the Temple Street Night Market, where we shopped for souvenirs and tried some local street food. The market was alive with activity, and we immersed ourselves in the experience.

November 1, 2013 - Friday

We spent the day at Hong Kong Disneyland. The childlike excitement in Roxanne's eyes was contagious. We enjoyed the rides, watched the parades, and met our favorite Disney characters. It was a day filled with joy and laughter, and we both felt like kids again.

The fireworks display at the end of the day was magical, lighting up the sky in a dazzling array of colors. We were exhausted but incredibly happy as we left the park.

November 2, 2013 - Saturday

On our last day, we visited the Tian Tan Buddha on Lantau Island. The serenity of the place was a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city. We climbed the steps to the Buddha and took in the peaceful surroundings.

Afterward, we explored Ngong Ping Village and had a delicious vegetarian meal at the monastery.

In the evening, we returned to the city for some last-minute shopping in Mong Kok. We made sure to buy gifts for our family and friends, and a few treats for ourselves too.

As our trip came to an end, we headed back to the airport, feeling content and a bit sad to leave. The trip had been everything we hoped for and more.

We boarded our flight back home, exhausted but with hearts full of wonderful memories.

[sloshed-cinema]

Fantasy A Gets a Mattress (2022)

Always. Be. Posting. In his endless hustle to become rap king of Seattle (move aside, Sir Mix-A-Lot and Macklemore), days for Fantasy A are filled with posting flyers for his gigs and filming music videos. So long as the bus connections are timely, that is. Or at least that’s the dream. Reality isn’t quite so simple as he’s booted out of his group home by his cult leader narcissist tier landlord, leaving him without so much as a reliable place to sleep. To make matters worse his videographer Asia is starting to think about reigniting her own music career with the help of the cousin she claims to have gotten her start with in the industry years before. This woman, Lil Rude Puss, enjoys success in her career, or at least is idolized by the others in Fantasy A’s circle. The movie jumps between the antics and fortunes of several of these crews, interweaving Fantasy A’s quest for a mattress with Ramon’s endless exploitative hustles and Asia’s aspirations. This is a Seattle gone mad, where basketballs can reverse out of the hoop during Ramon’s game of HORSE with his long-term rival and everyone’s conception of branding is simply sticking images of their face everywhere, be it in a group home or alcohol education course. Convincing someone to follow along in a batshit scheme is as simple as just telling them to do it. Does Fantasy A attain the fame that he wants? Well, it’ll be a long hustle yet to earn that recognition. But everyone in Seattle knows his face, and he does get his mattress. Hell, someone even helps him get it up Capitol Hill over the Lakeview Blvd flyover. Once they finish making a U-turn, at least.

In recent years, Seattle is much changed, from waterfront-altering projects like the demolition of the Alaskan Way Viaduct to smaller, more personal losses of old haunts and shops dotted around a town being torn down for new projects. The city is gentrifying in many parts, whether the people living in these neighborhoods like it or not. In a sense, this is a time capsule of the late 2010s into the early pandemic years. But there’s something about its microbudget DIY ethos that pushes it even farther back into the energy of a Seattle of the 90s or 80s underground heyday. One need simply spray paint a name on the wall in order to make it a place of business, be it a nightclub or a dojo (sorry, Ramojo), and there’s none of the bland gloss that is creeping in throughout town. It’s also a fantasy Seattle created from a patchwork of locations that make the city feel unique. Sometimes you can trace the route of Fantasy A’s journeys even without the trail of sweat he’s told to follow at one point. But other times it jumps about, more seeking visual similarity than trueness to location: our hero teleports from the concrete posts painted with koi in the C-ID to the freeway underpass near Green Lake (not pictured: the drivers whipping off I-5 seemingly intent on murdering any pedestrian on that stretch of Ravenna Blvd). Between this film and Paper Tigers, Smith Tower rises as the symbol of Seattle rather than the typical icon of the Space Needle, shifting the focus south into overlooked and underserved communities.

Overall, this is absurdist comedy, something in the company of a John Waters camp piece or Lonely Island joint with a dash of Gregg Araki and perhaps a smidge of that David Lynch zest. Filth is everywhere, the camera lingering on sweat, blood, or meatball sub goo. It’s chaotic and constantly moving forward. But sometimes proceedings transition into light surrealism in the edit or aesthetic, the camera pushing in on the mouth of Ramon’s adversary like it’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, or Scabby’s microphone bathed in a greenish hue of fantastical possibility. Perhaps there’s a bit of Neil Breen in there too. Fantasy A does astrally project at one point, after all. The movie is patently bonkers with characters uttering non sequiturs at every turn, and figures enter and disappear without rhyme or reason. Entire plot lines are dropped without warning. Almost the entire film was dubbed over in ADR—hell, it worked for the Italian studio system for decades—with some hilariously overcranked performances: several characters sound ripped from either the English dub of an anime or some sort of computer program. But as is the case with subversive, counterculture comedy, there is an edge. It’s important to note that the film is never overtly angry or sad, at least not in a straight-faced way; what’s more important is the implication. Landlords or property managers are sinister figures, egotistical and capricious. On paper they’re goofy and impotent, their eviction notices ridiculous on every level, but they still hold that power over our protagonists without recourse. Facing homelessness, Fantasy A gets a glimpse of the crisis gripping many in the city as accounted by a woman who speaks of streets drinking the blood of those who die needlessly. It’s hilariously off-the-wall and comes out of nowhere, but does acknowledge a crisis much of the public and local government are content to sweep under the rug and ignore. And getting ahead on the music scene is pretty much impossible. Fantasy A has to work “for the exposure” for the controlling club owner Scabby, and even Lil Rude Puss’ clout can’t get more than four people to show up for the big fundraiser concert. She has to ask Fantasy A to help her make change for bus fare. It’s frustrated at the hustle, but never mopey. The image of Lil Rude Puss walking across the street to the bus shelter opposite the club is both hilarious and melancholy in a weird way. It’s locked down in a wide shot and goes on for way too long as she walks away and sits down, small in frame. But as she sits there in her almost fluorescent white suit, alone except for a homeless individual sleeping on the other bench, it’s also a little sad in the gulf between the hope and reality. But the dream can stay alive if you just keep hustling. I would take a bullet for Fantasy A.

THE RULES

SIP

Fantasy A is named.

Someone smiles uncomfortably in front of their own image on a poster.

A Lil Rude Puss poster appears somewhere.

Late bus dramaaaaaa

BIG DRINK

Double exposure of any sort.

The Smith Tower appears in any context.

You just have to in order to cope, it's fair. High art is hard to handle head-on.

[powlowski896]

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The bus party rental company wasn't aware of this fact either and it allowed us to bring 30 guys "on a stag" into the fanciest club in our city at the time. Naturally we only lasted an hour before they figured out we weren't foreign exchange students after all, but at least we had our bus party rental waiting outside for us.