#best grain mill

[bestpickme]

✅ Best Grain Mill for Corn and Fine Flour 2023 || TOP 5 PICKED💥

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?  

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

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@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

You Have a Deal

Author's note; Hey all, this is my first run at publishing my writing, hope someone likes it and let me know what you think! I have done some mild PB plot alterations to fit my story better.

Summary; When the Shelby family is under attack from the Changrettas the youngest sibling, Lillian, makes a deal with a distant business partner to ensure the safety of her loved ones.

Content warnings; mild spoilers.

The air of the afternoon was cold this day. Impenetrable grey covered the sky above Birmingham and pressed an awful feeling into Lillian. Her gaze down at the cobblestone, she made her way through the lively Calver Lane until she reached her destination, Solomon’s Mill. She looked up at the building and thought once again of her reasons for coming. No one had known she was here, and she liked it that way. With her family under siege and fair reasoning long gone from the Shelby family, she decided that it was her who needed to devise a plan. A way out. A way through. She moved through the final steps until she reached the door of the old brick building. Built sometime in the 1820’s she could tell Solomon’s Mill was a long standing business on the outskirts of the city. A staple of Birmingham that lasted through the most disheartening economic conditions. Owned and founded by the Solomon’s family after they immigrated to England. Nothing shook this old place; not guns, not violence, not the bloody communists. Always there and always of interest to the Peaky Blinders. They were cordial, if not cooperative at times. Now, Lillian relied on that mutual respect to hold steady when she pushed open the large barn-style doors. 

The air sweeping from the factory carried the sent of the fresh grain being processed through the large, rusted machinery. The shadows of the quick moving men bustling around danced at her feet as she walked through the threshold and made her way to a small room attached to right wood slat wall. Rapping three times on the fragile wooden frame a younger man looked up from his desk and cocked an eyebrow to Lillian. 

“Ye’,” he said quickly, barely parting his lips to speak. 

Slowly, calmly, with the utmost care to appear collected in her appearance, she spoke, “ I’m here to see Mister Solomons.” 

Eyeing her up and down, the nameless man gradually stood from his seat and addressed her more directly than before. He stood not much taller than the young Shelby. Short curls held close to his head and a tattered apron hung off his thin frame. 

“And what’s yer’ order of business?” he questioned. 

“I believe that to be a private matter.” 

He walked around his desk and Lillian did her best not to release the stern eye contact she held on him since her arrival. A lesson from Tommy she knew well, for when you look into the eyes of another man it is much harder to lie; and much harder to kill. 

“Open the purse.” He spoke flatly, unblinking. 

She dropped the small purse defiantly onto the wood-back chair in front of her. She flipped open the small titanium latch and took a small step back to allow the gaunt man his inspection uninterrupted. He drew a pencil from behind his ear and flicked through her things, like they were dirty. Like they were not worthy to be touched by the human hand. Without a word, he looked once again into the dark eyes of the woman before him and peaked over he shoulder into the doorway leading back to the vast factory floor. 

“Come with me,” he ordered in the same flat tone. 

Picking up her bag, Lillian followed him as he walked quickly out into the large room and maneuvered through the men and machines working in impeccable rhythm. She willed herself to keep pace with the small man, heels echoing through the loud space and causing men to turn their heads both in amusement and strict curiosity. Once her escort reached the back most offices of the mill he cracked open the door and spoke softly in a language Lillian did not recognize. After a few exchanges the man stepped to the motioned for Ms. Shelby to enter the small, dark closet. 

There, Mr. Solomons sat at an old oak desk, leaned far back in his seat with the amusement of a child lingering on his bearded face. 

“Ahhh Lillian,” he spoke loudly, “to what do I owe this enormous pleasure.”

“Mr. Solomons.” A brief pause as Lillian sat herself slowly on the chair paced strangely close to the overbearing desk. “There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you and I preferred them to be in person.” 

“Ah sweetheart, and what might that be. Did the new sweets parlor open up just past Harding, is that it?” He bellowed with laughter and Lillians eyes remained engrained in his skull. She always thought back to the words of her older brother in moments of this gravity. 

“Don’t look away from them - the men who wish to kill you - it only gives them time to make that decision.” 

Once the fitful bits of laughs subsided and the ringing from the old slat walls hushed away, Lillian spoke in the same calm tone she had mastered years earlier. 

“I believe I have something you want.” 

Another astonished chucked escaped the burly man. 

“And what would that be?” 

A cold breeze moved through the room. It never occurred to Lillian why men of such power chose to have a room so small to reside in. When her family had the means, they awarded themselves luxury. But Alfie, he hid away in this small closet. Maybe it made himself feel bigger in some way. 

“Brooklyn.” 

“The fuck you mean ‘Brooklyn’,” 

“Brooklyn. New York. Chicago. Shit maybe Boston by the time we are done.” 

The boss moved up farther in his seat. He readjusted his head to the side, believing that he may have heard the young girl wrong. 

“Love, what the fuck are you on about? Did you brother send you.” 

Almost too quickly she responded, “I came on my own accord.” She didn’t like always falling under the wing of her family; Tommy in particular. While the Shelby name came with certain privileges bestowed upon her at birth, she valued her identity. So long she had relied on Thomas to protect the family. Now, with the looming threat of the Italian’s hanging over like a dark cloud, she was on her final idea to pull her family through to safety. 

“Shelby company limited has taken a special interest in the American liquor market. We feel that it would be in your interest, as well as ours, if we cooperated on this matter. Together, we both have much to gain,” she continued, finally regaining her full composer. 

“Ye’ and why would I want business in America? What’s the fuckin’ catch?” Solomons pressed. 

“The Changretta family has made advances against my family. We are now using this opportunity to move into the American market while they are occupied here. This is a quite unique chance to collaborate with our American acquaintance without the influence of the Italians. With your power, as well as ours, I think that we could quite a fitting sum.” For the first time, Lillian broke her gaze away, reaching into her purse to exhume a cigarette before flashing her eyes back to Alfie. He leaned back in his chair, the creak of the old wood breaking the frigid silence. He gaze slowly moved back and forth over the ceiling while his hands rested behind his head. 

“Power,” he began. “Your power and my power,” almost as if he was explaining the concept to a child. “Where is your brother at, Lillian?” 

“He is attending to other business in Bristol.” Lillian, as a principle, didn’t like lying. But, as a Shelby, it came as naturally as breathing. 

“Where is Arthur?”

“Overseeing the tracks.” A puff of smoke escaped from her lips following her statement. 

“Then who in the fuck sent you?” His anger showed. Frustration. Questioning. He was half expecting one of Tommy’s men to appear from behind the doorframe and put a bullet between his eyes, finally revealing this to be an elaborate set up orchestrated by the young woman before him and her devilish relatives. But the bullet never flew and Lillian sat motionless in his chair waiting to respond. 

“I come as a representative of the Shelby Company Limited with a legitimate proposal for enterprise cooperation.” 

“And why should I trust the lot of you? Bunch of gypsy crooks.”

She sat once again, silent, patient, and held his gaze for just a moment to long. Leaning forward, she put the stiff out in a small crystal bowl on the corner of Mr. Solomon’s desk. She retrieved her handbag from her feet and pulled out a small, white envelope. After tossing it lightly on the desk in front of the bearded man she returned to her natural position in the chair, arms crossed, the Shelby, deadpan expression returning to her features. Alfie pulled his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose from the chair laced around his neck. He collected the envelope and carefully took out the ivory card within. A black handprint stained the cover. Mr. Solomons didn’t need to examine the paper any further and flicked up his eyes to meet Lillian’s once again. 

“Every one of us got one.” 

“I see.”

“If the Shelby family dies, your possibilities of every entering the American market get buried with us. Or burned rather…” she trailed on, looking off to the side, examining the bookshelf behind him. “You know, Gypsy things.” 

Alfie released a deeply held sigh and placed the card down back onto the desk with more care than the original owner did. Somewhere, deep down, he held grace for the young woman before him. He recognized that she was a result of her surroundings. Born into the small, violent hole that is Small Heath as a Shelby and since her birth has survived through the forces of her family and her gritty resilience. He new she wanted out. She loved her family, that was her weakness, but she longed to see the hills of the Netherlands and the cathedrals of Austria and the new bustling cities of America. To do this though, she must survive.

“I would need a more formal manner of proposal, numbers and such,” he explained still keeping that condescending tone. But Lillian already began to sit up straighter in anticipation carful not to let this emotion overtake her. “But tentatively, I believe we can work something out.”

A small smirk graced across her lips as she extended her hand. “Very well, Mr. Solomons, I’ll have my associates reach out to your tomorrow.” With that, she was on her feet, quickly remembering to pick up the dreadful letter she had pulled out moments ago. Carful in her movements she walked slowly out of office and shut the door behind her, leaving Alfie sitting in silence, wondering what he had just agreed to. He held much respect for Thomas and therefor placed some onto his younger counterpart. 

Lillian exited the factory and began down the darkening street until she was able to hail an oncoming cab. 

“Watery Lane, please,” she said quietly to the driver who nodded at her instructions. She was eager to meet with Aunt Polly and tell her of her plan of action knowing the elder Shelby would be much more receptive to this idea. Her only fear was Thomas, but that would have to wait. She just hoped that she had done the right thing. 

[offshoreoilrig]

My new tech startup painWeel is seeking series-A seed funding. We are building a new kind of communal exercise machine, one where you an all your friends can challenge each other to walk in lockstep as you push the spokes of the wheel in perfect synchronicity. Work your upper and lower body, building balanced cardiovascular endurance and strong muscles at the same time, all while chatting with the bros with whom you share a spoke. And the best part: it generates passive energy! That's right, this is the first eco-conscious, fully carbon negative piece of exercise machinery available in all of human history. Generate endless power to mill thousands of tons of grain while getting your steps in, working your biceps, and building community with your fellow barbarian slaves at the same time.

[jubilationsart]

Your ferrets are so cuuute! My girlfriend and I were desperate to get ferrets (I've always wanted them) but then we heard they get sick a lot. Is that true? We could afford the vets bills but I'd just hate to see them suffering a lot.

yall fucked up asking me about ferrets. this is my tip of the iceberg thing i love. no one knows how actually crazy i am about ferrets i'm--

Soooo, yes. Pretty much all ferrets you find in north america are Marshall ferrets. They are mill ferrets and can be recognized by their dot tattoos in their ears. Over bred in facilities and sent out to either labs as test animals or petstores as pets. So they tend to come prone to illness. On top of that a lot of people feed them poor food-- stuff that has indigestible grains/veg/fruit and also don't understand their internal clock and natural light schedules that affect their body's hormones. They can't be in a lit room 24/7, they have to have light thats controlled to simulate day and night hours or covered enclosures during night hours. My partner and I have had a total of 4 Marshall ferrets in the last 13 years. They have all lived past the usual expectancy of 4-6 years. Lemon for example is going on 8 and JUST this year got diagnosed with the common Marshall disease; adrenal disease. Our 2 that passed away years ago lived to 7 but succumbed to cancer and adrenal disease. I do really think that we managed to have healthy lives for them for so long due to our daylight scheduling and raw meat diets for them. Because of that we decided to get ferrets from Europe as they are as far from the Marshal lines as you can get lmao. But on the Eastcoast of the US there are a lot of good ferret breeders with connections to European breeders. So they have healthy ferrets for just a tad more the $$ you'd get from petstores. We learned a lot from them and European breeders on best ways to care for them.

[juustozzi]

the owls and @whieskey's lions are hanging out again - this time in the finnish Lapland!

all photos are taken by me!

pic 1: in Posio, there's a road going between two lakes with just thin strips of beach (or pebble shore) on either side. it's a beautiful rest stop, as the lakes and their shorelines go on far into the horizon.

pic 2: the border between Tornio and Haparanda. yes, that is also the border of Finland and Sweden, you can just stroll over if you feel like it! many locals go to work over the border, and people around there follow the currency rates and go get their groceries, gas etc. on the side the rate favours.

(also note on Mollie's shirt: a flea market find, with a logo for Myllyn Paras, a local company that produces grain products like flour, pasta, and granola. the name translates to "the best of the mill", like y'know, a windmill :-D)

pic 3: Kukkolankoski, the longest free-running rapid in Finland, located in the border river Tornionjoki. the finnish side is mainly a fishing area, where they upkeep an unique and traditional fishing method from the 1200s.

pic 4: in Rovaniemi you can find The Santa Claus Village (don't listen to the rumors, Santa lives in Lapland!) where you can meet the man himself! the village is also crossed by the Arctic Circle - from that point north, there is no sun in winter and no dark in summer!

pic 5: in The Santa Claus Village you can meet reindeer and give them treats! reindeer herding is the traditional livelihood of the sami people in Lapland (and not just in Finland, but the actual Lapland reaches all around the northest part of Europe) and the reindeer roam free in the area, and it's not unusual to see then hanging out close to roads or walk along it. they're usually chill with cars unlike deer and moose, but do keep your eyes extra open when driving in the reindeer herding area!

also a fun fact: I wanted to keep the focus on the lions, but I had to sneak Kopek in one pic; his motif bird is thw regional bird of the area (Peräpohjola) where all the places in the photos are located in!

[terabyteturtle]

🩷 Lili De Rochefort SFW Alphabet 🩷

This will be the last request I'll be filling out for a while, as I have a lot of other writing endeavors that I want to work on for the moment. Hope you all enjoy this!

This was requested by a Wattpad user.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Lili is super affectionate! Whenever she greets you, she always kisses both of your cheeks. At first, you just thought it was a stereotypical French thing, but later on, you learned that it was just because she really liked you. Lili also loves resting her hand on your shoulder, your face, or your own hand, and when you walk together, she’ll hold your hand and stick by your side. She just loves being physically close to you—even the most subtle of gestures fills her with joy. Oh, and if you do something nice for her, expect to be smothered with kisses and wrapped into a bone-crushing hug (Salt is not jealous of you). Lili doesn’t care whether you’re by yourselves or among others; you’re her darling and nothing will change how much affection she gives you.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You know that one preppy, rich girl that’s in every high school dramedy? That’s Lili to a T. As a best friend, she’d gossip to you about everything. From school troubles to new grains in the rumor mill, there isn’t one thing Lili won’t weave into conversation. She’d also want to do everything with you, from going shopping to seeing movies to having the best sleepovers ever. If she’s bored and has nothing to do, she’ll probably video chat with you just to have someone to talk to. When it comes to folks she likes to hang out with, you’re second to none. It’s miraculous that you’ve managed to become friends with her in the first place, given how picky she is. She’s dramatic, overexaggerated, and often pokes fun at you when she feels like it, but she’s incredibly loyal and cares so much about you. Your friendship would probably start at the mall, with her complimenting you (which is rare for her) and giving you style tips in a way that doesn’t sound derogatory for once.

C = Comfort (How do they comfort you? Are they good at it or are they kinda awkward? How do they like to be comforted?)

To comfort you, she’ll hug you, run her fingers through your hair, and softly console you, saying whatever she thinks will make you feel better. When it comes to comforting, it’s kind of a 50/50 shot with Lili. Sometimes, her method works wonders and it seems like she knows exactly what to say. Other times, she’ll accidentally come off as sarcastic, or what she’s saying will sound shallow and rehearsed. In all honesty, Lili doesn’t always know what she’s doing, which can really frustrate her. She likes being in control of the situation, and when she doesn’t know what to do, especially when you’re experiencing emotional turmoil, she panics. Over time, Lili will eventually learn how to feel things out and respond straight from the heart, rather than overthinking and saying what she thinks is best. Now when the roles are reversed, it’s a different story. Lili loves to be pampered, and when she needs comforting, that increases tenfold. Give her whatever she wants, whether it be a snack or a kiss on the cheek, and give her the gushiest compliments you can think of. If she has anything she wants to rant about, listen. Don’t give her advice—just hear her out and be attentive.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Lili hasn’t really thought about settling down, especially since she lives in a million-dollar mansion with a butler to tend to her every whim. She’s never had to cook or clean a day in her life, as she’s always had servants to do it for her. So, if you guys ever settle down together, good luck—Lili barely knows anything. In terms of cooking, she only knows how to bake, and even then, she only does it for rare occasions. If you can cook, that’s great, but if you can’t, then you guys are gonna have to survive off of baked goods until one of you learns how. In terms of cleaning, Lili will probably ask you to do all of it for her, as she doesn’t want to ruin any of her nice clothes with dirt, dust, or cleaning chemicals.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with you, how would they do it?)

If Lili had to break up with you, she’d probably call you over the phone. She wouldn’t want to do it in person out of fear of potentially crying in front of you. While on call, she’ll try keeping her composure the best she can because although it kills her to do this, she doesn’t want to have a dramatic outburst. After all, Lili still has a sense of pride and refuses to let anyone believe they hold power over her in any way. If she doesn’t break it off in a dignified manner, not only will she fear that you’ll think less of her, but she’ll also be frustrated with herself for not having any nobility. Afterward, she’ll remain civil with you, but there’s a strong chance you won’t stay friends.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Lili loves the idea of getting married. Lavish or extravagant events of any kind make her excited enough, but receiving tons of gifts while being the center of attention? She’s completely sold. She’ll want to get married fairly quickly, but her father would rather have her wait until she gets older. Of course, Lili obeys him; as much as she wants to be a bride, she still respects his wishes. A wedding's coming eventually though, so be prepared for it.

G = Gentle (How tender are they, both physically and emotionally?)

With Lili, it depends on how she’s feeling. Typically, she’s sweet and gentle physically, but when she’s super excited about something, she might go a little overboard. Her hugs will be tighter and more forceful, and she’ll go in to kiss you so fast that it almost feels like a slap to the face. Emotionally, it’s the same way. Usually, Lili will be sweet, polite, and approachable, but if she’s feeling angry or stubborn, then things can go south pretty quickly. She’ll get sassy and harsh with her words, often saying things she doesn’t truly mean. Lili doesn’t mess around when someone makes her upset—if that happens, even if you’re the one who angered her, she will not hold back.

H = Hugs n' Cuddles (Do they like hugs/cuddles? What are they like? How often do they happen?)

Lili loves physical affection in every way, shape, and form. For hugs, she’ll always wrap both of her arms around your torso and, depending on your height, place her head in a certain spot. If you’re taller than her, she’ll press her cheek to your chest. If you’re shorter than her, she’ll rest her head on top of yours. When you guys cuddle, Lili will sit beside you and rest her head on your shoulder, making sure your arm is securely around her. Both hugs and cuddles happen very frequently, as you see her almost all the time. She always greets you with a hug, gives you one when she’s excited, or crushes you with one if you do something nice for her. Cuddles happen whenever you guys are just hanging out and chillin’ together.

I = I Love You (How quickly do they tell you they love you?)

She’ll say it within the first month of the relationship. Lili’s really excited about having a lover, as it means she has someone new to help spice up her life. She’s never been interested in anyone romantically for longer than a week, so being in a long-term relationship is a new and unfamiliar experience for her. It’s something that she’s really enthusiastic about exploring, so Lili will want to dive head-first into the relationship as soon as it goes beyond a certain point. Because you’ve been together for more than a few days, it must be true love, right? At least, that’s what it is in her mind. Lili first told you she loved you over a video call one afternoon. You guys were talking to each other, getting ready to meet up for a date, and when it was time to head out, she blew a kiss to you and said “I love you, bye!” in French. You had no idea what it meant, and she refused to tell you just to mess with you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Lili doesn’t get jealous with anyone except for Asuka. She’s very prideful and confident in herself, so she doesn’t really see anyone else as a threat. Asuka is the only exemption from this because, a while ago, she’d proven her strength to Lili by beating her in the fifth King of Iron Fist Tournament. The fighting heiress doesn’t get what you would possibly see in Asuka, but as her rival, she can’t help but have this irrational fear that your heart will suddenly belong to her. Because of this, Lili will try to keep you away from Asuka as much as possible, much to your confusion. Lili would rather die than admit she’s worried about her biggest rival, so you have no idea why she acts so defensive all of a sudden when she’s around. If Lili ever does get jealous (which, for the most part, is super rare), she’s 100% prepared to smack the hell out of whoever’s flirting with you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lili’s kisses are usually on the softer side, except for when she’s super excited about something. They always last for a little while; even when she gives quick pecks, her lips linger for a little longer than they’re supposed to. Since she wears lipstick nearly all the time, her kisses will always leave traces of it behind. She loves kissing you on your cheeks and lips the most. Both spots are nice and soft, and they’re also perfect for leaving spots of lipstick as a friendly little reminder that you’re hers. As for herself, she loves being kissed on the hands and lips, as she feels those places are the most romantic. Lili revels in receiving special treatment, and kisses in those spots make her feel like a queen (even more so than she already does).

L = Little Ones (How are they around children and what are their thoughts on them?)

Lili’s not very patient with children, so she tries to avoid them whenever she can. To her, most children are barbaric and incapable of having manners. She’d rather be around people she deems more civilized. She doesn’t necessarily hate children, but it doesn’t take much for them to get on her nerves. For this reason, and a bunch of others, Lili isn’t interested in having any children. Her father says that she’s still young and might feel differently in the future, but her mind is made up. If you’d like to have kids, then you might be able to convince her to adopt, but she’s pretty adamant about her decision not to have kids of her own.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Rise and shine, you’re probably getting up early. If you’re sleeping over at her house, then you’re getting ready for school together in the morning. When she gets up, Lili always has the perfect Disney Princess-style awakening. She never feels drowsy or tired in the morning, always waking up with a smile on her face. You, on the other hand, are always awoken by Salt aggressively licking your face. Once you’re up and at it, Lili will help you pick your outfits, do your hair, and perform a skincare routine to make your face look like it’s glowing. As for herself, she already has everything laid out the night before, and she’ll straighten her hair even though it’s already straight. If her hair doesn’t look absolutely perfect, she’ll attack it with the straight iron. Afterward, you guys’ll have a lavish breakfast together with a hot cup of rose tea, and then Sebastian will drive you both to school.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?

Nights spent with Lili involve cuddling galore, with Salt almost always by your side. You guys typically watch TV or listen to music together, talking about whatever comes to mind. More often than not, Lili does all of the ranting while you sit there and listen, injecting your own thoughts every now and then. You’ve caught Lili just sitting there, staring at you, on several occasions. It’s very rare for the two of you to stay up late, as you both have school throughout the week. You’ll only attempt staying up late on the weekends, which usually doesn’t last very long as Lili gets tired quickly. Before going to bed, she’ll give you yet another skincare routine to do with her, one that’s entirely different from the morning one. As the relationship continues, she’ll start to expect that you memorize each routine, so make sure all those essential oils stay fresh in your mind.

O = Open (At what point would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or take their time with it?)

Lili is very open with a lot of things, so it wouldn’t take much time for her to start opening up about herself. There’s a lot that she’ll be honest about right off the bat, to the point where it almost feels like an information overload. On the first date, you barely even spoke because Lili had so much to yap about, not just about herself, but about other things as well. However, she does have an image that she likes to keep up, so she’ll withhold any information that she thinks will make her appear weak (up until a certain point, at least). Eventually, she’ll realize that it’s okay to be vulnerable with you, and you won’t judge her or think any less of her. If you did, she’d probably smack the crap out of you.

P = Patience (How patient are they?)

Generally, she's not very patient, especially not with those she dislikes. She's hard to please, and anything not to her liking will fall under the wrath of her sharp tongue. Unfortunately, with you, she’s not much better. Just because you’re her lover does not mean you’re exempt from her snobbish scoldings. If she's impatient or upset with someone, she doesn't care who it is---she's letting them know. The only person Lili has ever shown some semblance of patience to is her father, and even then, she often gets frustrated with him for not letting her fight. You love your girlfriend, but sometimes you can't help but wonder how it feels to have her be patient for once.

Q = Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or kinda forget everything?)

Lili is so self-absorbed that you wouldn’t expect her to remember a lot about you. However, that’s not quite the case. Sure, sometimes she might accidentally mistake something she likes for something you like, but for the most part, Lili remembers your likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests, etc. She might forget some of the minor details, but she will always recall the major ones, and that's what's important.

R = Remember (What is one of the most important moments of your relationship?)

One of the most important moments of your relationship was when you met Asuka for the first time, which happened only a couple days after you started dating. Originally, with the way they were glaring at each other, you thought they were ex-lovers. Upon hearing this, Asuka looked disgusted while Lili just stood there cackling. “Oh please, mon amour, she's my rival,” said Lili. “I'd sell every piece of clothing in my wardrobe before I’d even think of dating her. Besides, I’d never go out with anyone who doesn’t have a sense of fashion.” While making a jab at Asuka, your girlfriend implied that you had a good sense of style. Considering your relationship was still fairly new at the time, that was probably the sweetest thing she'd ever said about you thus far. Lili would obviously go on to give you more compliments as time progressed, but this was the first genuine one you had received from her.

S = Security (How protective are they and how would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Lili is definitely protective over you, and she’s well-aware of it. If someone tries to bother you, she’ll be on the attack, coming up with tailor-made insults in the blink of an eye. In front of you, she’d rather destroy her opponents verbally as opposed to beating them up; she just doesn’t feel comfortable with you witnessing any violence at her hand, even if you’re totally fine with it yourself. Rest assured, though, Lili will always defend you the best she can if the circumstance calls for it. If things get physical, she’ll fight for you without a second thought. When it comes to her own protection, Lili feels safe knowing that you’re there by her side. For example, if she has a nightmare and feels threatened about something, she'll call you and either tell you to come over or tell you to stay on call with her until she falls asleep. Your presence is soothing to her; just knowing that you’re there is enough to make her feel protected.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, etc?)

Because of how rich she is, it wouldn’t take much effort for Lili to do anything. She’s free to spend her money on whatever she wants, no matter how expensive it is. Luckily for you, that also includes dates, anniversaries, and gifts. And to top it all off, Lili doesn’t have to work for any of it because she already has it all at her disposal. So whenever Lili’s planning something for the two of you, expect her to go all out. She’ll book the fanciest of restaurants or the most scenic park reserves not out of necessity, but just because she can. Oh, and don't worry about how you're gonna get there; Sebastian will do all the driving in the Rochefort family limo. And while you sit there in shock and awe, Lili will just act like this is an everyday thing (because for her, it is). When she gives you gifts, they’re always super expensive; you aren’t even sure you should accept them half the time. If there’s something in particular you want, she’ll buy you the most expensive variant of it. It’s her way of showing you how much she values you; she feels her lover should only get the best of the best.

U = Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs?)

Lili has a tendency of being dismissive of everyone's feelings but her own, and no matter what, she always has to get her way. If she doesn’t, she gets very frustrated and lashes out with nasty comments. She always ends up apologizing afterwards, and you know she doesn’t really mean it, but it still hurts.

V = Values (What do they value in a partner?)

Lili values someone she can spend time with. After school, she doesn’t really have much going on, so someone she can hang out with and talk to means a lot to her. She also likes those who’re laid-back and easygoing, as she finds them easier to be around. Lili’s hard to please and she knows it, so someone who goes with the flow and doesn’t mind doing whatever she wants is a must. However, she also needs someone with a backbone who isn’t afraid to stand up for themselves. She might hate it initially, but eventually she’ll realize the error of her ways and thank you for it later. Lili’s so used to just getting what she wants that she rarely gets resistance from anyone, so having someone who will stand up for themselves will teach her some important life lessons.

W = Wedding (How are they on the big day? How do they help plan it out? Are they emotional or stoic?)

Lili is absolutely thrilled on the big day! A huge event that revolves around her? And you get special attention as well? Yes, please. The whole thing is one big treat for her, and she loves every second of it. She’ll plan out everything with the biggest smile on her face, and you won’t have to worry about a thing. She wants the day to be absolutely perfect and will only order top-notch stuff. Every now and then, you’ll have to pitch in your own ideas just to remind her that it isn’t just her wedding. When the day finally comes, and the two of you are standing at the altar, she’s a bucket of joy. She’ll be smiling ear-to-ear, standing proud and proper in the finest silk bridal gown you’ve ever seen. As the officiant delivers their sermons, Lili keeps her composure very well, but on the inside, she’s anxious to just cut to the case and kiss you already.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

She used to hire a photographer to take pictures of her for social media, but why waste money on that now that she has you? You’re taking her photos now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they can't stand, both in a partner and in general?)

As previously established, Lili’s a very picky person, so naturally there are a lot of things about others that she doesn’t like. However, there are three types of people she absolutely can not stand. First of all, Lili has no tolerance for anyone like herself. It’s fine if she can be arrogant, but anyone else who tries to flaunt or flex excessively will irritate her. Secondly, people with sharp tongues and thick skin also annoy her. If she can’t make them feel inferior, then she almost feels as though she’s failed (at what, you can’t really understand). Finally, Lili hates when people don’t practice basic personal hygiene. She just doesn’t understand how people can’t properly take care of themselves. Combine these three things and congratulations, you just created the person Lili hates the most out of everyone on Earth.

Z = Zzz (What are some sleep habits of theirs?)

Oh boy, this girl has a whole set routine laid out that she absolutely has to do every single night. Lili removes all her makeup with all sorts of cleansing water, throwing the makeup pad into her trash can when she’s done, which is filled with used makeup pads from previous nights. Then, she does her skincare routine exactly 30 minutes before she falls asleep. It seems excessive to you, but according to Lili, all of it’s necessary. Afterward, she brushes her hair out, puts in a bunch of straightening serums, and puts it in a loose top-bun that looks perfect every time. Then, before bed, she puts on a fluffy pink sleep mask. On the subject of sleepwear, Lili’s pajama wardrobe is just as large as her regular one, and everything inside is made from the finest silk and satin. Also, her bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever slept on in your life. Lili always sleeps on her back, whether you’re sleeping over or not. She’ll share her bed, but if you want to cuddle during the night, you’re gonna have to turn on to your side. Lili refuses to sleep anywhere but on her back, as she wants to prevent her face from touching anything throughout the night. This is because she doesn’t want to get acne, which is understandable, but she’s overly careful about it. If you really want to cuddle, she’ll put an arm around you, but she won’t move a muscle otherwise.

[theboywithburninghands]

So, this is probably gonna be the last fluff/filler chapter before the final arc is set in motion. So I figured why not scratch the ol’ hurt/comfort itch before things get super serious? @fernstarsblog your tag as always, but I figured I would also tag @dragonwritersblog as well since you’re a connoisseur of hurt/comfort. If you’d rather I untag you, I’d be happy to. Okay, uh, enjoy!

T/W: Era appropriate sexism, withdrawals and drug cravings, implied vomit, past parental abuse

Primum Peccatum Ch. 14: Last Dance with Mary Jane

“Time is a strange thing. It hurtles by us faster than we can see, yet never leaves a single grain of sand within the hourglass unaccounted for. It grinds our souls to dust from excess, yet we crave it oh-so greatly, as there is never enough.” - Connie McGregor, The Iron Rings, pg. 174.

Pomni Shutnyk asserted that this quote best described the following week and a half of her life. The hours slowed to a crawl, and yet the days trundled along at a steady pace. Most of this temporal disconnect could be attributed to what Pomni tasked herself with doing over the days before her wedding. She decided to help Jax through his withdrawals.

Truthfully, she didn’t need to. Altonicus left careful instructions on the tapering process. How much to reduce the dosage of laudanum over each day, how much fluids Jax needed to drink, how often to launder his bedsheets, etc. Jax could have done most of it on his own, as after the “cold turkey” debacle and the proper medications, his symptoms had become somewhat less severe. But having to suffer through that level of constant pain and need entirely on his own was something Pomni would not abide.

She hadn’t much desire to stay at The Shutnyk Estate anyway. Her parents took to ignoring her, especially her father, who shut himself in his office and took his meals at his desk. Her mother issued a few salutations in the mornings and best wishes in the evenings, but apart from that mostly kept to her gardening. Zooble had their duties and thus wasn’t a paragon of conversation either, apart from a few private discussions with Pomni about the day of the wedding.

It seemed to Pomni that The Shutnyk Estate was no longer her home, merely a liminal space where she ate and slept between staying with Jax. Perhaps it had been that way for quite some time, but it was only now that she felt comfortable admitting it.

She took the next morning after Jax’s family visited to bathe at last and then view the manor being built for them on the other side of the island. Her father hired a crew of Telychian workers for construction, as they were known for working quickly and efficiently. At least, her father liked to brag that Telychian men worked quickly and efficiently. The house was still nothing but a skeleton of oak boards by the time she arrived at the property. The workers were milling about, drinking coffee from tins that used to contain beans or fruit preserves. One worker seated on a log spotted her and called out something in Telychian which made the other workers laugh boorishly. They more than likely had no idea that Pomni was not only the future owner, but also the daughter of the man who hired them. But, Pomni didn’t speak Telychian, so she remained unbothered. Soon, the house would be hers to do what she pleased with.

—

Pomni truthfully hadn’t put much thought into how she would help her fiancé through his withdrawals. She was a poor conversationalist, and she didn’t have the stomach to ask her father if she could borrow any of his vinyls. He refused to let her touch them when she was a girl, and, given her recent behavior, probably would be disinclined to lend them to her now. It wasn’t until Pomni glanced down at the cover of the literary journal she borrowed from Kinger that morning that it clicked.

She could read to him.

They both loved books. True, he hadn’t finished Margaret’s Rise, but that was a significant undertaking, even for an experienced reader such as herself. She finished administering Jax’s medicine that morning before sitting at the desk chair.

“Mr. Krolik- …Pardon me. Jax. I’ve gotten a wonderful idea. Would you like for me to read to you? There isn’t much else to occupy our time with. A distraction is just the thing you need, isn’t it?”

Jax massaged his temples, a futile attempt to alleviate some of the pressure in his skull.

“I suppose so… But are you certain you’d enjoy that? Your voice may-”

Pomni interrupted. “Enjoy it? Jax. I’ve waited 25 years to meet someone, anyone to share my love of literature with. My parents were never interested, Mr. Kinger and Ragatha listened but had never read what I wanted to discuss… It would be an honor.”

Jax looked at Pomni. The young woman had her hands clasped together and wore an ear to ear grin, the first time he had ever seen her give a full-on smile. She was… beautiful, when she smiled. Perhaps that was the fever talking. Even still, he couldn’t help but smile wearily right back at her.

“I couldn’t turn down a look of such excitement even if I wanted to. I’d be honored if you read to me, dear.”

Pomni giggled with ebullient glee before she could stop herself. She blushed, covering her mouth and clearing her throat.

“I’m thrilled to hear that answer. Tell me, what would you like to read? There are hundreds of options. The only book I would request we not read is Humidity, as I’ve just finished that one. For a later date, perhaps.”

Jax rested his head on his pillow and thought for a moment. Thinking earnestly was difficult with a brain addled by pressure and a gnawing desire for opium..

“Something quite long and dense. Something that I can really become engrossed in without the prose being too dry. Something…. I can really become lost within.”

And please, opium. Please please PLEASE let him have some opium. He would feel ill for the rest of his life at this rate if he didn’t get opium-

“I have just the thing,” Pomni said excitedly. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t asked, have you read The Ties that Bind by Antoine Goethe?”

“Mmm… no. No I haven’t.” Jax said.

“Oh, you’re in for such a treat! I have a copy in my father’s library. I’ll be just a moment!”

Pomni leapt from her chair and hurried out of the room. Jax chuckled a bit, watching her disappear down the foyer steps. He had hardly seen her react with such enthusiasm to anything. Well, positive enthusiasm.

He laid back on his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. He had already counted the dots and smudges on it. 62. 43 dots, 19 smudges. Allfather save him, did he ever need opium. It would be so much easier to enjoy… anything if he didn’t feel violently ill. He was a wretch without laudanum… Having something to focus on other than his all-consuming need sounded pleasant, however. Even if it would be unsuccessful.

He dreaded the next time that Alton reduced his dosage. Sleep was already nearly impossible with how horrid he felt, and even if he could sleep, he dreamed of opium. Horrific, perverted dreams of opium. A woman, her eyes replaced with crimson red poppy flowers. Brown, psychoactive nectar oozed from the flowers down her cheeks, and she presented him with an entire bouquet of the dripping things, tempting him to drink his fill.

But, if he didn’t receive enough opium, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. No escape from the pain. Hours and hours and hours of nausea and aches, trapped in this cramped little room. He could imagine it now, his eyes red and exhausted but unable to find rest, his brain fizzling from overuse until it popped like a lightbulb and died. Completely alone in the dark.

He heard the front door open and close, and the pitter-patter of feet on the stairs. Pomni returned with a door stopper of a book under her arm.

“Apologies for the delay. This is a rather sizable novel, if you couldn’t tell. Do you need anything before we begin?”

Jax shooed away the single request that his brain screamed for. “No, this should be just fine. Thank you my dear…”

Pomni smiled again. “Then let’s sally forth. I can hardly wait.”

Pomni flicked to the beginning page and cleared her throat.

“‘So. When The Allfather, in his wisdom, created the cascading spheres of existence, he created that of Men last…’”

—

Four days came and went, Pomni reading to Jax for almost 12 hours every day. The Ties that Bind was by no means a short story, and yet they were nearing the end of the novel in a little more than half a week. It helped that Pomni was quite the orator. She spoke quickly yet clearly, seldom fumbling with difficult to pronounce words. She only stopped for meals, explanations, or the occasional long and quiet sip of water.

Jax was a talented listener as well. He only interrupted when he had to leave the room to be sick, and on rare occasions dozed off for an hour or so from the weariness of intense illness. Otherwise, he was attentive and insightful, asking good questions about the novel’s characters, some even Pomni had never thought to ask.

“Do you believe Jeremiah has feelings for Garvey?” he asked two days into the novel.

Pomni looked up from the novel and blinked. “Feelings? I don’t catch your meaning,” Pomni replied.

“Do you believe Jeremiah’s hatred for Garvey is a defense mechanism against the former’s feelings of attraction for the latter?” Jax clarified. “It would make sense. He tries to sabotage Garvey’s relationship with Edelweiss not out of love for the woman, but out of an ill-defined ‘disgust’ for Garvey. It could be a matter of social class, or he could be concealing his true sexuality.”

Pomni felt another smile creep up her lips as she looked back at the text. “That is a unique perspective. Unlikely, but original. I admire it.”

Kinger was more than happy to assist. It had been ages since he had entertained any guests for a significant period of time. In between caring for his insect collection and making sketches of some taxidermied Silurian beetles, he brought his two visitors small meals to curb their appetites and occasionally sat in to listen to Pomni read for a while. There were moments when he jumped in surprise at seeing Pomni return the dishes to the kitchen, but each time Pomni patiently re-explained the situation.

—

On the fifth day after the visit, Pomni received her wedding dress. Bubble somehow managed to haul the dress, which was packed in a sturdy pinewood freight box, up to The Shutnyk Estate’s front stoop. Again, most of Primum Peccatum’s citizens found it tiresome to try and explain how Bubble accomplished such feats.

“Please sign your name here, Mr. Rucksack!” he squealed, holding out a clipboard and pencil to Vladimir with no visible hands.

“That’s ‘Shutnyk,’ sir. Honestly, how do you find anyone’s domicile if you have such trouble remembering a single surname?” Vladimir groused as he signed his name.

“All apologies Mr. Knotwrap! Here’s the tool you’ll need to open the box! PTOOEY!”

Bubble spat an iron prybar onto the stone porch with a loud clattering ring. He then tucked his clipboard into his mailbag and bounced away down the path like a child’s rubber ball.

It took the combined efforts of Vladimir and Zooble to pry the lid of the crate loose, the nails squeaking as they were dragged from the wood. Zooble took the lid and put it in the back garden for kindling. The dress lay in the crate, worn by a sewing mannequin, insulated on all sides with eight inches of straw and wrapped tightly in brown paper. Zooble removed the mannequin from the crate, the headless, handless and legless thing looking like an effigy meant to be sacrificed. With a few swift claw strokes, Zooble removed the paper, and the dress fell free in a plume of feathers.

“Oh… it’s beautiful,” Mirella sighed. “Pomni, won’t you come try on your dress?”

Pomni watched the extraction from the second floor landing, holding onto the banister. She took a quick step back.

“Erm… is that wise? Isn’t there an old wives tale of bad luck occurring if the bride tries on her dress before the wedding?” she replied.

“Oh, hardly, piccola. Come now, let’s see how it looks on you!” Mirella insisted.

“Mother, I really should be…” Pomni began, but trailed off. She wanted to finish her novel with Jax.

“Ms. Shutnyk, respectfully, you should try on your dress. At least to see if it needs any adjusting.” Zooble said.

Pomni opened her mouth to reply, but closed it soon after. Zooble made a fair point, as always.

She decided to change in the dining room. It took 15 minutes, but Pomni eventually figured out how to get herself into the blasted thing. She remembered a passage from one of her novels about getting into a wedding dress, and the strategy that the character adopted worked quite well for her, shockingly enough. She looked at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve dressed now!” Pomni called. At this announcement, her mother hurried into the room as quickly as she could without outright sprinting, Vladimir and Zooble following after. Mirella put her hands to her mouth and gasped.

“Oh, darling…”

The dress was a perfect fit. Shiny white, sleeveless and only reaching her chest. It was patterned with pearl-like, sequential beads of fabric, neatly split into two halves by a white waistband. The bottom half of the dress was decorated with feathers, beginning with a few up at the hip before thickening into a full plumage down at the hem. The frosty paleness of the dress amplified the raven black of her hair, and made her blue eyes glimmer like freshly polished aquamarines.

“Do I look half decent..?” she asked, glancing away from the three pairs of eyes on her. Her skin prickled with itchiness.

“You’re so beautiful. Oh, I could swoon!” Mirella took out her fan and flicked it open, fanning herself rapidly and biting back tears. “Vladimir, look at our little girl! Isn’t she just exquisite?”

Vladimir looked the dress up and down. He must have still been a bit sore about the price, as well as everything that occurred during the Kroliks’ visit. But he managed a smile.

“You look gorgeous, lisichka.” he said. “The spitting image of the ideal Telychian woman.”

“I’m not too certain about the ‘ideal Telychian woman’ bit, but you are stunning in that dress, Ms. Shutnyk,” Zooble said. “We owe Mr. Gummigoo our thanks for such intricate craftsmanship.”

Pomni blushed deeper and kept her gaze fixated on the floor. She was still incensed at her parents for their foolhardiness these weeks, doubtlessly, but… she couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside upon hearing them genuinely call her beautiful. It did make her feel a hint of regret…

“Well… I’m very pleased to hear that. I… I’m rather looking forward to wearing it for the ceremony,” she said. “But I must be going. Jax is expecting me. Today is another milestone in…-”

She paused.

“Well, he was improving last night, and hopefully this morning his symptoms will have further improved. Zooble, you don’t mind putting my dress back on the mannequin, do you? I’m unsure how to go about it…”

“I don’t mind at all, Ms. Shutnyk. Do not forget your book.” Zooble replied.

Pomni peeled herself out of the wedding gown and back into her plain yellow and green sundress. She sighed with relief, her body being able to breath again: She hurried up the stairs to her room, picking up The Ties that Bind as well as a pink faux book box she received for her 16th birthday. It had a small brass lock and key, “for hiding secrets inside,” her mother had told her. The only issue with such a gift was that Pomni had nothing to hide for the past 9 years, until this week.

She took the tiny brass key from her pocketbook and opened the lock, taking out the bottle of laudanum from inside. Alton entrusted her with the responsibility of hiding the narcotic before he left for Blackshell Bay. She swished the liquid about inside the glass bottle. About five drops or so left. She’d need a new bottle in two days. Today was the first reduction of his dosage since he started the tapering process. She hoped he took the news well.

—

“I’m only to receive one drop?’” Jax cried, sitting up in bed.

“That’s correct. Those were Alton’s instructions,” Pomni replied. She set down his sick bucket beside the bed after washing it in the tub.

“I… I don’t believe I’m ready.” Jax said.

“Yes, I know. Will you please open your mouth?” Pomni squeezed the bladder of the tincture dropper, filling it with brown liquid.

Jax did so, Pomni putting a lone drop of laudanum on his tongue. She replaced the dropper and tucked it into her purse.

“…Apologies. That sounded quite cold. I struggle with empathetic language…” she admitted as she placed her purse on the cluttered desk. “What I meant to say is that… I know you’re frightened. I have never felt withdrawals, but I have been ill before. And I can only imagine how dreadful it would be to have the symptoms last this long…”

She picked up her novel and dragged the desk chair to the side of the bed.

“But, you have my word that I won’t leave your bedside without prior notice. I will keep you company for as long as you like. If you’d like for me to stay up all evening with you, then I shall. Insomnia is a symptom of withdrawal, is it not? I am no stranger to reading until the sun comes up. Although I may need to rest my voice as I’ve come dreadfully close to losing it the past few days.”

Pomni looked Jax in the eye and smiled.

“I’m quite fond of you, Jax. Therefore, I’m willing to help you through this.”

She quickly glanced away and itched a spot on her arm, but a trace of a smile remained. Jax felt his face warm up as he smiled right back.

“I’m quite fond of you as well, Pomni. You know, we should consider marriage.”

Pomni squinted and looked at Jax. She caught onto his jest after a few moments and smiled, then laughed. Jax laughed with her. For a few precious seconds, he entirely forgot about opium.

—

Pomni made good on her promise. She remained at Jax’s bedside the entire day, leaving only to use the restroom or to rinse out Jax’s sick bucket. Jax’s symptoms, unsurprisingly, worsened. He developed a high fever of 101 degrees, complete with chills and cold sweats, and his nausea worsened. As such, they needed to close the window to keep any drafts out. Pomni had donned one of Alton’s peppermint oil masks to curb the resultant entrapped odor, occasionally refreshing it to keep from going “scent-blind.”

The morning became the afternoon, which drifted into the evening. Pomni read the last sentence of The Ties that Bind just before sunset, closing the novel and clearing her throat.

“How did you enjoy it?” she rasped. Her voice was largely spent, but she wore an eager smile.

“My dear, it was wonderful. What an ending.” Jax said. “Mr. Goethe really knew how to tie up every loose end. I can’t say I was expecting Garvey to end up being the one to eliminate The Grande Masquerade. I suppose it fits the theme of the class war though, does it not?”

Pomni nodded in agreement. She cleared her throat again and stood. “I shall return in a moment. I’d like to get something for my throat. But I believe it’s time for your laudanum.”

Pomni gave her fiancé another solitary drop of opium. It wouldn’t be enough to stop the symptoms, but it would hopefully decrease their severity. She was going to up his melatonin dosage tonight. While those vitamins could also be habit forming, they were hardly as dangerous as opium… and Jax needed some rest.

She left for a while, returning the laudanum bottle back into her false book at home, obtained several real books from her father’s library and brought them to Jax’s room, and made a pot of coffee in Kinger’s kitchen. She had no need for coffee, as she got plenty of sleep and was gifted (and cursed) with excellent focus. But she planned on staying up as long as Jax was awake tonight. That could be until midnight, or the witching hour, or sunrise. And for that, she would need caffeine. Not only that, but a hot drink on her weary throat would feel excellent. She thought about making Jax a cup as well, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was some kind of stimulant.

She opted for warm milk instead. Although, given her dreadful track record with cooking, she asked Kinger for assistance.

“Why certainly, Ms. Shutnyk! I remember when I used to make you some warm milk when you couldn’t sleep for the winter solstice! I’ll be just a moment!”

Kinger put a saucepan of milk with a spoonful of honey on the stove. Pomni grinned a bit at his enthusiasm. He really was a natural father figure… She always thought it a dreadful shame that he had no children. Perhaps it would have benefited his mental well-being…

Children. Again, she was on the subject of having children. …Later. There were other, more pressing concerns at the moment.

She poured herself some coffee, borrowing some of Kinger’s milk and a few lumps of sugar. After stirring them into the mug, turning the shiny black disk of coffee light brown, she had Kinger pour her some of the warm milk in a separate mug, the older shapeman saving the rest for himself.

“My appreciation as always, Mr. Kinger,” Pomni rasped. “We really don’t deserve your hospitality.”

“Hogwash,” Kinger waved his hand. “I’m honored to assist your fiancé on his journey to self-betterment. Hurry along now before your milk cools or it will no longer be soporific.”

Kinger placed a small, fatherly kiss on Pomni’s forehead before exiting the kitchen with his share of warm milk. Pomni smiled and went upstairs with the two steaming mugs. She’d have to set a few days aside to visit Kinger after the wedding.

Perhaps more than a few. Lovable old fool.

—

Pomni sat at the desk in Jax’s room with an oil lamp for light, reading a wordy narrative poem from one of the anthologies she brought over. She brought two disused and cobwebbed lamps from around the estate into the room, one for her and another for Jax. As she suspected, the warm milk did little to actually help the rabbit fall asleep, but that was why she brought over an abundance of reading material. If he was to be stuck awake through the wee hours of the night, it was just as well he had something to do…

He sat up in bed reading a lean novel at the moment, Superhuman by Dean Rush. A well-written, if rather self-important 150 pages detailing a man’s rejection of the bland and unfeeling social norms of the time. Pomni often joked to herself that if the main character was female, the story would balloon from 150 to 1500 pages with all of the obstacles she would have to endure.

The coffee, unsurprisingly, worked a treat. Pomni quaffed her mug of the brew in a half-hour or so, and her brain was suddenly operating at 120%. She drummed a finger on her thigh rapidly as she read through the epic poem in front of her. She wished she had brought over her pen and some paper so she could do a proper close reading of the poem, but the mosquitos would be rampant at this hour so a trip to her house wasn’t worth the bites.

What was the hour at the moment, she wondered. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. 2:20 AM. Goodness. She hadn’t stayed up this late in years… The last time she could recall was in her teens, when she endeavored to finish the third volume of Berndt Isley’s Sycamore before the fourth volume hit the shelves that December. She succeeded, but the next day was perhaps the only time her teacher ever gave her a demerit for sleeping in class. She didn’t regret it one bit.

There was a flutter and soft thump, Pomni’s ultra-alert face flicking over to the source like a watchdog. Jax had slumped over, the Rush novel sliding off his lap onto the floor. He snored softly. Pomni gave a mildly amused “hmph,” picking up the novel and setting it on the desk. That book quite literally put him to sleep. Jesting aside, she was relieved for her fiancé. At last some respite…

She had no reason to sleep at the moment, as her brain still sparked with energy. But she did need the lavatory, so she excused herself to do so. Upon returning, she found Jax entangled in his bedclothes, eyes closed and mouth strained in a grimace. He gave a weak, far-off mewl of fear.

“Jax…?” Pomni whispered. Her voice had yet to fully return.

Jax laid still a moment before thrashing about, mumbling something.

“Jax, you’re having a nightmare,” Pomni whispered, going over to the side of his bed.

Jax laid still again for almost a full minute, then cocked his head to one side and squinted his eyes. He mumbled again, this time clearly enough to be understood.

“No… father…” He gave another whimper of fear and rolled onto his side, curling his knees to his chest.

Pomni hesitated, and after a few moments of trepidation, placed her hand on his shoulder. It quaked, and sweat dampened his nightshirt. She felt the familiar burning sensation on her hand, like she had placed it on a hot kettle and needed to remove it immediately.

“Jax, it’s me… It’s Pomni, please wake up..!” she whispered. She jostled his shoulder, fighting the urge to pull her hand free.

Jax’s yellow eyes shot open with a gasp, and he scrambled backwards on the bed, pressing himself to the wall.

“FATHER- no, please, I didn’t… …What?” Jax looked around, his mind not fully cogent yet. He glanced all around the room for where Drexl may have hidden, but, seeing only Pomni, he slumped against the wall, breathing unsteadily.

“…I’m afraid you were having a nightmare, Jax.” Pomni whispered. “A shame, you had just fallen asleep…”

“Father… he hasn’t-?” Jax muttered.

“Your father is not here. You’re not in any danger, I promise you…” Pomni whispered.

Jax looked down at himself and nodded. His eyes were bleary and expression flat, but the soft quivering of his ears betrayed his fear.

“Jax…” Pomni began. She suddenly felt an overpowering urge. Perhaps her inhibitions were lowered by the caffeine, or perhaps a latent feeling had at last bloomed within her, but she climbed onto the bed. Jax turned to look at her.

“Miss Pomni…?” he asked.

“Please don’t speak. Just… hush.” Pomni whispered. She knelt on the bed and chewed her thumbnail. “Oh, blazes… 1… 2… 3.”

She hugged him. His rail-thin body jolted at the sudden gesture. Pomni squeezed him, ignoring the muggy warmth of his shirt, as well as the dampness of sweat down his back. She put a cheek to his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat, which surely matched her own. He put a paw on her back in reply.

She wanted so badly to release him, her body pleaded that it stop touching another living, breathing thing. And yet, bafflingly, she wouldn’t have let him go for the world. He didn’t deserve to suffer, especially not on his own.

[warriors-wyrms-writing]

hi everyone! I wrote a story based on @deepwaterwritingprompts and it would mean a lot to me if you could look at it :) A small fire glowed in the distance like a jar of fireflies, sparks flying out in all directions as a pair of shadowy hands warmed over the flames. The traveler limped towards it with cloak pulled close, longing for the idea of a warm place to sleep. As they drew nearer the dark figure became more distinct, with golden skin that gleamed faintly in the firelight and dark hair spilling out from beneath a hood that dropped low over their face. The traveler approached cautiously, hands out to the side in a universal gesture of peace. “Might I partake in your warmth for a night?”

The shrouded head turned towards them, and the voice that emerged from somewhere within the shadows was deep and gravelly. “Sit, then. But I have no food to share.” The traveler sank gratefully onto the hard ground, feeling the warmth of the flames sink into their bones. They unslung their pack and pulled out a smaller cloth bag, withdrawing a slightly bruised apple. The stranger next to them held their own provisions, a small heel of hard bread that they gnawed at, mouth hidden somewhere beneath their hood. It seemed to have black specks embedded within, but the traveler was sure it was merely a trick of the light; for who would willing eat a diseased loaf? The pair ate in silence for a time, until the stranger tucked half their bread back into a small satchel and sat with their head on their hands, staring into the heart of the fire. The traveler noticed for the first time that they sat on some sort of weathered stone, edges run smooth. 

“Why have you come here?”

The traveler shifted. “Just passing through. You?”

“Oh, I live here. Always have.” The way their raspy voice caught in the words hinted at something deeper. 

“Does… does anyone else still live here?”

The stranger leaned forward. “No, they don’t.” Firelight flashed off bared teeth in a grin, feral as it can only be in the night. “You wanna know why?” The traveler flushed and wrapped their cloak tighter as they began.

“A long, long time ago, this was a village. A village of farms… a village with a mill. And every year…”

Every year, the miller would take one grain, a single misshapen grain, from the piles sent by all the farms to be ground, and bury it in a pit of smoldering coals. The villagers thought him crazy, until one year, the stand of a more prosperous farm at the market was manned by a younger child, with skin a light gold, hair the dusky shade of wheat sheaves, and eyes of deep rich amber. The farmers said that she had appeared the same day as their flour, a week after they’d sent it to the miller. She didn’t talk much, but when she did it was soft and breathy, the rustling of wind through grain. A year later, another child showed himself from a neighboring farm, with such similar features that the villagers grew suspicious. And then other farms brought forth their children, all near enough to be twins, and all appeared when they seemed to be around five; and all nearly exactly a year apart.

The children helped on the farms, and it was soon noticed that their mere presence led to a more bountiful harvest. But even these blessed children with their amber eyes could do little to nothing against disease. The grains were swollen and black, and though they tried there was little that could be saved. So the farms picked out the best kernels they could find and sent them to the miller as usual. But some of these were still discolored, and it was one of these that was laid in the bed of embers. And a week later, a child showed up on the steps of a farmhouse.

But they didn’t look like the others who had come to the farm.

This child’s eyes were coal black, with sclera tinted a faint sickly yellow, and gold skin mottled with patches of scaly darkness. Whispers abounded, claiming the child was a curse, a punishment from the heavens, but the farm at which they had arrived was run by a woman who was kindly yet stern and would tolerate none of these rumors around the child she called hers, the child she named Keres. Even if the comb passed easily and swiftly through their sibling’s soft downy hair while theirs grew patchy and was liable to fall out at the slightest tug, they grew up surrounded by a warm and loving environment. Until they were old enough to help with the fields. It was nothing dramatic, but the plots Keres tended produced less than any others, and the grass near their favorite bench outside the mill was perpetually prickly and brown. And yet no disease as bad had struck the fields in the seven years since, and one new sibling had come to their farm. And no one loved Thalia like Keres did. They were rarely seen apart, for even while Keres did their chores, you could see their sister’s bright eyes following every movement. And then one day, she got sick. None of the wheat children had ever been ill before, but Thalia was weak and pale, with dark bruises down her arms. Keres never strayed from their sister’s room. Not for months as she battled the sickness that gave rise to tremors within her. And it was Keres who held her in their arms as her chest fell for a final time.

Thalia’s headstone was carved from wood, lacquered to a rich honey color that matched her eyes, and it sat by the river. It was the first ever carved for a golden child, elaborate and beautiful. Keres stopped working, choosing instead to sit by the mill, to sit by their dead sister. And meanwhile their farm grew prosperous. And the other children of the wheat, the ones who would visit Thalia in her silent entombment and lay wreaths over her grave, began to weaken. They too grew pale and cold, and one by one they succumbed to the sickness, in a row of graves that stretched down the river.

The cloaked stranger paused, and seemed to draw further into themself. The traveler, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the cadence of their voice, lay down on the hard dirt. After all, the night was so cold…

“So many graves. And yet the river flowed…”

With the golden children sick and dying, the town began to suffer. Weevils chewed their way through the barley. Mold grew in the foundations of the houses. And Keres sat alone by their little sister’s tomb. Soon the other people of the town grew ill, and the fields ran wild with no one to tend them. Keres did their best to help, but what can one cursed child do? And Keres was sure now that they were cursed, that this was their fault. Haggard and weakened, the remaining villagers decided to take their sick and leave, find somewhere else. Among these was the woman whom Keres called their mother. And yet the child would not go, blaming themself for all that was going wrong. They had lived in the village for ten years.

And so Keres wandered the village, doing their best to keep it standing. And yet everything around them seemed to decay, and even the moss would grow diseased and fall to dust. The mill had long since fallen down, but Keres haunted it like a dark wraith among the wreckage of the rotten wood. The only thing that grew was mold, the tendrils creeping across the damp and rotting wood. The sun still rose and set like it always had, but Keres no longer went outside to marvel at the colors. They stayed inside, perched on the millstone, sleeping in uneasy fits and starts. And every day they would press their face to a gap in the wood and stare out at the row of bodies buried along the riverbank. My fault, they would think. All my fault. 

They lost track of the days, the months, the years, like a half-dead ghost floating across the ground with no sense of the time that passed, until the first traveler arrived. He had been just passing through, off on some quest or another, and sought shelter in the rundown buildings. Keres didn’t know it, but they hadn’t seen a human being in more than three years.

They tried to help the traveler, gave to him from the tiny stores of food and led him to the most intact buildings. He stayed there for but a night, but they awoke to find him coated in sweat and staring wide-eyed around him, screaming with horror about whatever imaginary terrors tormented him. His seizures ceased quickly, but they were the last movements he made before all his muscles went slack and fell into rigor mortis.

Keres dug his grave with their bare hands, black dirt accumulating beneath their ever-growing nails and knuckles covered in blood. He barely fit, and they planted a sapling over the body. They did the same for the next traveler, and the next, an orderly line of oak across the river from the tombs of the grain children. Their hands grew more callused than they ever had been on the farm, and their tattered clothes, already loose fitting, began to slip off their shoulders. 

Eventually, Keres stopped caring, and that was when the grain came. It grew everywhere but the old farms and the graves, flecked with black and knee-high at first, then up to their waist, until one day it towered over their head. They pulled out the last patchy strands of their hair, and it regrew in a soft black fuzz like the fur of a peach. They took to wearing a hood pulled low to keep their scalp warm. More travelers passed through, and Keres would share the warmth from the fires they built atop the old millstone, but would never give them the bread they made from the flour of the diseased wheat and the acorns of the corpse-trees. Eventually, they began telling their story. After all, they were all dead by morning.

The stranger looked upon the traveler and sighed, pulling down their hood and revealing jutting cheekbones that the firelight cast strange shadows on, giving them a blotchy appearance. The traveler laughed, faint and tired, from where they lay on the hard ground before closing their eyes. “Good story, kid.”

[boabel]

hello i saw your reblog so i’m here to bother you with questions!! do you have any thoughts on district 9/what life was like there during the original trilogy?

YES I DO!!!! im gonna break this down into sections because it's gonna be a LONG post (sorry in advance)

daily life:

district nine is the third poorest district of panem, with each person taking out approximately 4-5 tesserae each year. this means that their living conditions aren't necessarily the best.

most houses tend to be situated close to where jobs are done, with children choosing a trade to work in and eventually moving/building a house to where that trade is located. the main trades are farming, grain transport and mill work. there are other trades, though, inherited from parent to child such as bread making and alcohol production. the houses are very hut-like and are predominately made out of wood, which is quite inconvenient considering that the extreme heat causes fires quite regularly but wood is the cheapest material they can afford.

the food in the poorer part of district nine mainly consists of grain ration (tesserae) and things that are grown/scavenged from the land like wild onions, chives and such and things they trade with peacekeepers/people who live in town which is technically illegal but everyone turns a blind eye to it. though, starving is quite common among the poorer people of district nine. the richer upper-class tends to live in the main (and only) town, where the reaping happens. their diet consists of more expensive things like honey, some forms of meat and bought vegetables/fruits.

hunger games:

i personally headcanon district nine to have four victors (one deceased by the time of the 3rd quarter quell), here are their names:

- anona ryan who won the 20th games (deceased before quarter quell)

- ceres miller who won the 47th games

- angus flaxon who won the 48th games

- thérèse "thea" vaughn who won the 68th games

district nine didn't do the best in the hunger games, but not nearly as bad as some other districts such as twelve, six and eight. children in district nine start their profession at the age of thirteen, but have school trips and lessons to teach them how to farm grain before that.

they excel at scythe and sickle work and occasionally use pitchforks, which could be useful in the hunger games. they also know a vast range of knowledge about the grain they farm, and about food in general which could also come to use. they tend to be physically lean and can carry quite alot due to their profession, but tend to be on the smaller side due to their district being the third poorest.

culture:

district nine is a very musical district, which values bars and taverns and places like the hob for people to perform in. there will always be a singer and multiple dancers on the stage who also know gymnastics. it's more performance-based than say the covey in district twelve. those sorts of things boost morale among citizens of district nine, since their jobs are so rigorous. the love of music tends to come from the mockingjays, which exist in district nine as well as eleven and twelve.

there are also many festivals celebrated in district nine, such as harvest festival and new year. those are mainly celebrated by wearing the best clothes they own, having a day off of school and going to a performance where they honor the harvest.

weddings are also very important, with newlyweds weaving wheat into eachothers hair to signify their bond. there are lots of other rituals like this (similar to the setting the bread on fire in d12) that district nine citizens perform during other holidays such as birthdays or summer festival.

district nine's people tend to wear practical, but subtly colorful clothing during the day when at work, but when they are at home or if they perform they wear colorful skirts/clothing. they tend to make most of their clothing themselves, usually using the crochet technique.

sorry for the long rant, im definitely sure i missed something so i may add on to it later <3

[transactinides]

i'm super bad at cooking and never know where to start because every recipe out there asks for ingredients i simply don't have at home so do you perhaps know what basic ones would be good to stock up on? like eggs and stuff...especially when it comes to spices i have no idea what is okay to use

Haii o/ very honored that you sent me an ask, and ofc I’ll do my best to help! This reply got a bit out of hand so. Long text under the cut. Behold. Feel free to reach out in asks or dms or whatever with any future questions (@ everyone tbh).

Food is, of course, very subjective, so my idea of a perfect list of foods to keep a stock of will not be universal, but I hope this will, at least, give you some ideas if anything. 

First of all, I usually mentally break down my typical weekday recipe into vaguely carbs source - protein source - veggies, buy a couple of options for each category and just switch them around for variety. My standard set is

rice / pasta (usually spaghetti re:shapes) / glass noodles

eggs / chicken / tofu / bacon

random pack of frozen vegetables, bell peppers, eggplants, tomatoes, cucumbers, leafy greens. garlic and onions too

I have an option of making egg fried rice with chopped up bacon and added frozen vegetables one day, then blending the leftover vegetables with bell peppers and tomatoes to use as pasta sauce with chicken and spaghetti the next day, then branching out and making eggplant tofu stir fry with glass noodles, then using whatever eggplant tofu stir fry i had left as rice balls filling and making myself a quick vegetable salad on the side… And all those things are easy to make and don’t need much fussing around. 

Other options to consider would be potatoes (you can roast them with whatever, boil, fry, etc), buckwheat (my wife doesn’t like it otherwise I’d use it more often), kidney beans and chickpeas for your carbs*; fish and meat for your proteins (those are. a bit too expensive for me usually); carrots, cabbage, leeks etc. 

The list looks long, but, again, you just need to pick out a couple of things from each group and throw shit in a pan so to speak. And a lot of them are easily soup-able (boiling water chicken potatoes carrots rice? boom soup. etc), which is another easy base recipe to exploit.

Now to the matter of spices. Salt and pepper are obvious enough, but a good thing to look for are, especially if you are just getting into cooking, spice blends. Something something French Herbs™ something something Taco Seasoning™ something something Seven Spice™ something something Garam Masala™. There’s a lot of different ones, but they are, essentially, a formed flavor profile in themselves, so you don’t need to worry about mixing spices and herbs that might not go well together, and by paying attention to contents you can learn for yourself what individual seasonings are commonly used together.

Also, everyone, hold your judgement real quick and trust me with this, but ooh I always save leftover flavor packets from instant ramen and reuse them in other dishes. Egg fried rice just doesn’t taste right without suspicious red powder courtesy of shin ramen… It’s probably MSG my beloved or something…

While I’m at it, bouillon cubes are handy to have, you can use them for soups, crumble them up in other recipes. Adding one to the water you’re cooking rice in is a great hack at making it more flavourful.

In general, while I do actually have way too much spices (and keep buying more… very excited about my newly acquired dried tarragon…), the ones I’d advise to have for an average person would be:

Salt (ideally both coarse grain and fine grain, but fine grain only serves you just right)

black pepper (both in a mill/grinder and peppercorns), red pepper flakes

paprika, garlic powder, ginger powder

bay leaves, dried oregano, basil, thyme, dill, cinnamon, coriander, cardamon, cumin, turmeric, sumak....

I really got a bit carried away by the end, but. You don't actually need to buy all of them and at the same time, just start with whatever couple of things you'd need for whatever you are cooking and let your collection build up over time, since spices aren't something you need to buy often anyway 👍

Other things I think it’s nice to have in stock in your kitchen would be flour and baking powder, vinegar (distilled vinegar, rice vinegar… I like to have balsamic vinegar too but it’s so expensive it’s ridiculous ngl), soy sauce, cooking oil of your choice (I use sunflower oil, olive oil and sesame oil), panko or breadcrumbs, starch (i have potato starch, cornstarch and tapioka starch, I would suggest just getting cornstarch at first).

* going to clarify here that while beans are often brought up as a source of protein, most are rich in complex carbs, excluding edamame and green beans for example. And since I mostly often cook beans with meat, they check out my daily carbs in my head.

[muire-lo]

I wasn't able to find an image description for Baru's map, so here's one! Feel free to copy, paste, and share.

[ID: A map done in black, sketched outline, featuring mountains, sea, rivers, major cities, and borders between duchies. 

The very north of the map at the top of the page shows a mountain range in a horizontal line across the top of Aurduynn, labelled Wintercrest Mountains. 

South of the mountains is the northern duchies, from left to right Erebog, Lyxaxu, Vultjag, and Oathsfire.

Erebog is rectangular shaped, with a river running from the Wintercrest mountains south into Duchy Nayauru. Baru’s point form note reads, “THE CRONE. Clay. Landlord problems. Probably going to starve.”

Duchy Lyxaxu is also rectangular shaped. Baru’s note reads, “DUKE HIGH STONE. Quarries. Smart man, write back!”

Duchy Vultjag is a thin rectangle, the second smallest duchy. A tributary of the river Vultsniada runs through the duchy, feeding Oathsfire to the east. Baru’s note reads, “DUCHESS OF COMETS. Nice scenery. Utterly unimportant.”

Duchy Oathsfire is rectangular in shape, bordered to the east by the river Inirein which runs south to Welthony, in Unuxekome. Baru’s note reads, “DUKE OF MILLS. Lots of money. River trade. Awful beards.”

The next row of duchies includes Sahaule, Nayauru, Ihuake, and Pinjagata. Next to Pinjagata is the Duchy Unuxekome, which runs fully south to the coast. 

Duchy Sahaule is a thin rectangle. It’s labelled, “THE HORSEBANE. Good soldiers. Client to Nayauru. What’s the name about?”

Duchy Nayauru is rectangular at the top and more round at the bottom. A river flows in from Erebog and ends in many dams. Baru writes, “THE DAM-BUILDER. Reservoirs. Cavalry. Stupid feudal marriage politics.”

Dugy Ihuake is the largest duchy, wide and broad, with Mount Kijune in the north (labelled “climb me!”). It includes a sketch of walled Freetown Haraeod, with one very large building in the centre. Baru’s note reads, “THE CATTLE DUCHESS. Herds. Cavalry. Huge!”

By comparison, Duchy Pinjagata is merely a slice of land, even smaller than Duchy Vultjag. Baru’s note reads, “DUKE OF PHALANXES. Best soldiers. Bad at names. Client to Ihuake.”

The last row of duchies borders the Ashen Sea: Autr, Radaszic, Heingyl, and finally Unuxekome.

Baru’s notes on Duchy Autr reads, “DUKE OF BRINE. Good salt. Large muscles. Client to Nayauru.”

Duchy Radaszic simply contains notes that read, “DUKE OF WELLS. Grain. Olives. Complete moron.” Bordering Radaszic and Heingyl is the city of Treatymont, right on the coast, and it is sketched to show a large walled city with many towers. Notes on Treatymont read, “Apparently Duch Lachta? Best port, federal capital. Naval base. Stay out of northarbor.”

Duchy Heingyl has notes that read, “THE STAG DUKE. Cavalry. Grain. Hates joy.” 

Finally, Duchy Unuxekome, at the bottom east (right) of Aurduynn, bordered by the Ashen Sea to the south and the river Inirein to the east. The south of the duchy is labelled Sieroch floodplain. Baru’s notes read, “THE SEA GROOM. Good seaport. Pirates. Seems pleasant.” Where the river Inirein meets the sea is the city of Welthony, which has many small buildings and one large building with a tower. Baru’s note of the city reads, “Unuxekome’s capital. Second-best port.”

Baru has made notes of the areas outside Aurduynn. 

At the very top of the map, north of the mountains, is a blank area with an arrow pointing up, labelled Stakhi Empire? With a question mark. 

To the west (left), a blank area labelled GRASSLANDS, TAIGA, AND DESERT. Baru’s note reads, “What’s over here? Look it up soon.”

South is the Ashen Sea. Baru’s note reads, “Sail only in summer!” There is an arrow pointing south/down and a note from Baru that reads, “south to Taranoke and Oriati Mbo. south to SOUSWARD and Oriati Mbo.”

East is an arrow pointing east/right. Baru’s note reads, “EAST to AWFUL MARSHLAND and NORTH FALCREST. Completely useless in winter.” 

In the top right of the map is a compass decorated with the silhouette of a cormorant. End ID.]

[giantcypress]

Into the gap

One of the things that resulted from the COVID pandemic was that I wound up teaching the OCIA course for our church (long story). The students got their sacraments at the Easter Vigil Mass, and I decided to make crucifixes for them as a gift. This should be a pretty straightforward project — mill out pieces of wood for the upright and crosspiece portions of the cross, cut a lap joint, glue, finish, and attach the corpus and INRI plaque.

But it is a truism in woodworking that the smaller projects are the hardest to do, because you see every detail. And for this crucifix, there was a detail that bugged me.

On the lower part of the bridle joint to the left, there's a bit of a gap. That's where I went a little off my line. It happens. Structurally, this joint would be fine, but visually this stuck out to me like a sore thumb. The good thing is that this is pretty easy to mitigate.

The way I fix small gaps in joinery like this is to use plane shavings to fill in the void. The first thing is to figure out the best orientation for that shaving. You want the shaving to go with the grain of one of the two parts of the joint. In this case, it would be along the grain of the crosspiece.

Then make some shavings from another piece of wood that's the same species as the piece. (It does occur to me that if you use a contrasting piece of wood for this, you've moved from fixing a gap in a joint to making inlay.)

Japanese planes are well known for their ability to make gossamer-thin shavings less than 0.001" thick. That's not what we want here.

I test fit the shaving until I find the section that fits well, and then trim down the shaving with a pair of scissors.

Then glue up and clamp the joint. I'm a big fan of liquid hide glue overall, but it's especially good in this situation because it makes the shavings slippery enough so that everything fits together. Don't worry that the joint will look like one of Phyllis Diller's outfits. We'll fix that later.

After the glue dries, the joint will look like a mess. Again, don't worry.

Now I use a chisel to get rid of most of the shavings hanging off the joint as well as the dried glue squeeze out, and a plane to bring everything flush. The joint looks much better now.

As it turned out, I was also making a small divider for a container that sits in one of our kitchen drawers, and left a little gap in that joint as well. I used the same technique to fix that, even though it will sit in a drawer, and will never see the light of day, because that's what woodworking has done to me.

For the crucifix, I used shellac and wax for the finish, and attached the corpus and INRI plaque. It turned out pretty nice.

And that's when I noticed that Jesus's head would have covered up that gap anyway. I guess Jesus really does save.

[bbbeternelle]

The warped flooring of the lair and soundconducting walls thereof, to say nothing of the uprights and imposts, were persianly literatured with burst loveletters, telltale stories, stickyback snaps, doubtful eggshells, bouchers, flints, borers, puffers, amygdaloid almonds, rindless raisins, alphybettyformed verbage, vivlical viasses, ompiter dictas, visus umbique, ahems and ahahs, imeffible tries at speech unasyllabled, you owe mes, eyoldhyms, fluefoul smut, fallen lucifers, vestas which had served, showered ornaments, borrowed brogues, reversibles jackets, blackeye lenses, family jars, falsehair shirts, Godforsaken scapulars, neverworn breeches, cutthroat ties, counterfeit franks, best intentions, curried notes, upset latten tintacks, unused mill and stumpling stones, twisted quills, painful digests, magnifying wineglasses, solid objects cast at goblins, once current puns, quashed quotatoes, messes of mottage, unquestionable issue papers, seedy ejaculations, limerick damns, crocodile tears, spilt ink, blasphematory spits, stale shestnuts, schoolgirl’s, young ladies’ milkmaids’, washerwomen’s, shopkeepers’ wives, merry widows’, ex nuns’, vice abbess’s, pro virgins’, super whores’, silent sisters’, Charleys’ aunts’, grandmothers’, mothers’-in-law, fostermothers’, godmothers’ garters, tress clippings from right, lift and cintrum, worms of snot, toothsome pickings, cans of Swiss condensed bilk, highbrow lotions, kisses from the antipodes, presents from pickpockets, borrowed plumes, relaxable handgrips, princess promises, lees of whine, deoxodised carbons, convertible collars, diviliouker doffers, broken wafers, unloosed shoe latchets, crooked strait waistcoats, fresh horrors from Hades, globules of mercury, undeleted glete, glass eyes for an eye, gloss teeth for a tooth, war moans, special sighs, longsufferings of longstanding, ahs ohs ous sis jas jos gias neys thaws sos yeses and yeses and yeses, to which, if one has the stomach to add the breakages, upheavals distortions, inversions of all this chambermade music one stands, given a grain of goodwill, a fair chance of actually seeing the whirling dervish, Tumult, son of Thunder, self exiled in upon his ego a nightlong a shaking betwixtween white or reddr hawrors, noondayterrorised to skin and bone by an ineluctable phantom (may the Shaper have mercery on him!) writing the mystery of himsel in furniture.

James Joyce, Finnegans Wake

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: We Showed The World That We Exist

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC 

Word count: 5.1K

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: Kamaria and Walter play hooky to deal with unforeseen stressors.

Chapter warnings: panic attack (dissociation episode), oral sex (f receiving), finger fucking, therapy session, squirting 

A/N: Time jumps in this chapter. We’re only skipping a couple of days but it may be a little jarring. But Yada is back!! Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Cross-posted on AO3

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Kamaria’s POV

Word has spread like wildfire around the office about me and Walter dating. It didn’t take long at all for news that the grumpy bear of a detective and the new intern are fucking. We actually aren’t even doing that, yet. It’s only been a few days but the rumor mill in the police station is like a damn high school hallway. And I have Nina and Sophie to thank for that.

I swear, no one listens to interns. Like, ever. Unless it is about gossip. And I made friends with the loudest, and the actual kindest, gossipmongers. I know they mean well, they’ve made it clear they are glad that Walter smiles more. I like being the cause of his change of mood, as well.

With everyone aware of our relationship, things are kind of weird. Like, weird around the ex, kind of weird. 

It’s not like Rachel and Walter were super friendly after they decided not to date. Sometimes, and I would never tell Walter this, I feel like he felt for Rachel because she saved his life. A case of transference, perhaps?

But, they at least seemed cordial towards each other. Rachel felt enough of a connection to reach for his hand, the thought still burns in my mind. But Walter and I did have our first kiss after that, so grain of salt, ya know?

Rachel just seems like someone pissed in her oatmeal every time she walks by me. She couldn’t possibly be jealous of me. I don’t get her, honestly. Is it an “if she can’t have him, no one can” thing? Because I wouldn’t have thought she would go for pettiness. Never underestimate a woman on a mission, though. 

Walter and I agree to get to work a bit early so we could hang out in his office until I have to start work. The man may be seen as prickly by most people in the office, but it is like night and day when it comes to me. He can be so thoughtful, and so in tune with my emotions that it can be like he’s reading my mind. Which is both cute and slightly annoying, because I can never hide what I’m feeling. 

Like this morning, for example. My mind has been racing. So many things to think about, from my work to Walter to Rachel to my anxiety about dating openly in the office to what I’m going to choose to talk about in therapy today. And I can’t seem to make it stop or slow down. Which is when I feel a hand on mine. 

I look up to see Walter crouching next to the chair I’m sitting in. I don’t remember sitting down. I barely remember walking into this office.

“There she is,” he says, brushing a hand over my confused brow, “you had me so worried back there.” I notice the fear in his eyes now.

“Sometimes, my anxiety takes over and I just check out,” I mutter, looking around the office, “I remember getting out of my car and kissing you and then nothing until just now.”

“Does this happen a lot?” I hear the tremble in his voice but I don’t mention it.

“Hasn’t happened in months. I can usually sense it before other people can, though. Sort of like a panic attack, but not really because I don’t panic, I just…move? It’s hard to explain,” I ramble on, trying to get my bearings.

“It sounds like your brain is working on autopilot due to stress. I’m no therapist, but I’ve seen how stress can affect people in different ways,” he suggests, holding my hand in his, “I hope I’m not overstepping here, but a new relationship becoming public can be quite stressful. Especially when it’s in a work setting where one person’s ex is also a coworker. It’s no wonder you’re feeling like this.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I can’t deny that it is a lot,” I concede, feeling all sorts of vulnerable.

“You have therapy today around 1, right?” he asks before I nod to confirm, “And where is your therapist’s office?”

“Well, I was going to do it virtually today. But she’s close-ish. Between here and my apartment,” I answer, wondering where this is going.

“I have a suggestion, which you are more than welcome to decline. But, in my head, it sounds like a good id-”

“Baby, you’re babbling,” I laugh, stopping his rant.

“I think you should ask to see your therapist in person. We can take the rest of the day off and I could drive you to the appointment if you’d like,” he urges, “Besides, it’s the weekend. They won’t mind if we skip out a bit early.”

“Skip out early? I didn’t even clock in yet,” I remind him, still thinking about work instead of my mental health. Very typical of me.

“Perfect, then. I still have personal time to use, and you told me you were given some personal time when you signed on, so that covers today. We’ll let your manager know you’re not feeling well on the way out,” he says, moving about his office and collecting his things before realizing I’m yet unmoving, “Fuck! Did I just plan your entire day?”

I smile up at him, adoration in my eyes. “You did, but with the best of intentions,” I comment, standing up from the chair, “You’re right, though. I kinda need the routine of going into the office today and I could use a day off even if it’s only my first week.”

“Look at you, already smiling. I count that as a win,” he hums, reaching for my hand, squeezing as our fingers interlace.

We head out of the station after a short talk with my boss. Tell a man you’re having ‘feminine trouble’ and he all but shoos you out of the building. Thank God for small favors.

Walter heads home after insisting I go home to change clothes and grab whatever I needed to feel comfortable for the rest of the day at his place. Arriving home, I immediately start to pack my overnight bag. I choose to ignore the nagging voice questioning my actions. I might want to stay over or change clothes again for some reason. So, take that, Nag-atha Christie!

I call my therapist’s office and request to come into the office today. I say that my schedule has changed and I would prefer to be seen in the office. The receptionist is super sweet and lets me know she will inform Yada of the change. I hope Yada doesn’t worry. I mean, I’m slightly worried about my little episode earlier but I feel at least a bit better now.

I change into some yoga pants, a loose-fitting top, a hoodie, and some comfy old sneakers. I spot Beary Allen sitting atop my bed and resign to bringing him over to Walter’s house as well. I usually can’t sleep without him so I don’t chastise myself too much for bringing along something for comfort. 

I check my overnight bag to make sure I have everything I need, and some stuff I don’t need but I want to have just in case. And if I reach into my nightstand and grab condoms, then that is my business until it is Walter and I’s business. Not that I plan on doing anything, but I like being prepared for multiple eventualities. In any case, I refuse to let myself feel anything but poised for success. I also refuse to define success, so there’s the end of that.

I hear Walter’s text tone going off in my pocket and pull out my phone.

Walter Marshall: Didn’t change your mind did you, Princess?

Me: Of course not!

Me: I was just making sure I have everything

Me: Including Beary Allen

Me: 😁

Walter Marshall: The…Flash? But like, a bear?

Me: I love that you get exactly what I meant

Me: And you haven’t even met Beary

Walter Marshall: I was right???

Me: You’ll meet him soon

Me: He’s my emotional support animal

Me: I’m leaving now to come to you

You have shared your location.

Me: Now, you can tell where I am at all times

Me: Just as a safety thing

Walter Marshall: Wow ok

Walter Marshall: Thank you for trusting me with this

Me: You’re welcome

Me: Try to act like you didn’t follow my location the entire time I was on my way to your place 😉

Walter Marshall: No promises

I’m already back in my car by the time his text comes through, I know he’s gonna follow me the whole way to his house. It’s honestly adorable. I can tell he misses me when I’m not around. He likes me, and I like him too. It doesn’t take me long to get to his house and he’s standing outside when I park in the driveway.

“You failed to play it cool, Detective,” I laugh, grabbing my overnight bag and Beary from the passenger seat before exiting my car.

“I never promised to play it cool,” he smiles, reaching out to take my overnight bag from me, “Hmm, planning on staying a bit?” 

“I figured it would be best to be prepared,” I propose, clutching onto Beary, secretly glad that Walter didn’t offer to take him as well. No one has ever touched Beary besides me.

“May I address Mr. Allen directly? Or does he only speak with you?” he poses the question completely seriously.

It takes every ounce of my resolve not to melt. “You may address him directly.”

“Mr. Allen, may I call you Beary?” he waits for a response, “I just want you to know I plan on taking care of Kam during her stay here, however long that may be…Yes, of course…I wouldn’t dream of it. So we have an understanding. Shake on it?” He reaches out and shakes Beary’s tiny paw, winking at me as he pulls his hand back. If he’s not careful, I will fall so fucking hard for this man.

Walter takes my hand, kisses it gently, and brings me inside. I start to lean down to remove my shoes, but he stops me and kneels to do it himself.

“You don’t have to-” I start, before being cut off.

“I know I don’t have to, Princess,” he agrees, placing my shoes next to his, “but I want to take care of you today, so allow me to do so, please?”

I open my mouth to protest, but a stern look from Walter makes me rethink that choice and only nod.

“Good girl,” he praises, standing up to hover over me, “I know it must be hard to let someone take care of you, but since I’ve taken on that role, I plan on not having you lift a finger if I can help it. Sorry, not sorry.”

“That’s some Prince Charming shit right there,” I blurt out, there goes my filter flying away in the wind again. Luckily, Walter just laughs at that and kisses my forehead. 

We end up hanging out around his house for a few hours, having far too many snacks and too much coffee. What can I say, we’re both caffeine addicts and snack goblins. The only reason I ignore the voice telling me I’ve had enough snacks is the fact that Walter is hand-feeding me pieces of fruit. He was not kidding about me not lifting a finger. I could get used to this.

Before long, Walter is helping me put my shoes on so that we can head to my therapist appointment. He opens his truck door for me and even buckles me in, shooing my hands away. Holding my hand as he drives, he allows me to pick the music we listen to. When I joke ‘but I thought the driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole’, he has no clue what I’m talking about. I explain it away as a tv show reference, making sure to force him to watch Supernatural with me at some point.

As The Amazing Devil’s ‘Two Minutes’ is ending, we are pulling up to Yada’s office. I don’t even try to reach for my door handle, waiting for Walter to come around to my side of the vehicle. He lifts me out of the truck and I try not to smile too wide at that. Holding my hand as we cross the parking lot, he steps in front of me to open the door, allowing me to walk in first. I check in with the receptionist and we sit in the lobby holding hands again. This man likes to hold my hand, and I am not complaining about it.

I hear Yada’s office door open and she steps out to greet me. She visibly registers my hand intertwined with the man to my left. I stand, pulling Walter up with me by accident. 

“Don’t worry, he’s gonna wait out here. Let’s go,” I sputter, moving past Yada and into the office. I notice Yada isn’t following me when I sit down. I hear introductions being exchanged and silently die inside. Why does it feel like my mom is meeting my boyfriend? Wait, is he my boyfriend? Oh my God, is he my boyfriend?

Yada comes back into the room and sits in her armchair, grabbing her notebook and writing quickly in it before addressing me. “So, let’s address the elephant in the room, or should I say the giraffe in my lobby. That man is tall as hell. And very pretty,” she jabbers on, smiling away at me, “Tell me all about him.”

I go on to tell her we met, or more correctly he saved my life, just before my last therapy appointment. I mention Faye and that we haven’t met yet. I talk about being in almost constant communication since I gave him my number on Monday. We discuss how he likes to take care of me, and that he did so after I told him about the whole Christopher thing. During this, she is taking notes in her book. When I bring up my episode this morning, she looks up at me.

“So, it sounds like Walter was able to ground you during a moment of dissociation. About how long did it last?” she asks.

“For just a few minutes. I remember getting out of my car, but from walking into the station to Walter effectively ‘waking me up’...it’s just like I was watching myself move but I wasn’t totally in control.” I murmur, finding my favorite spot on the rug.

“I see, can you remember this ever happening before?”

“The last time it happened was maybe five or six months ago after I had to quit the job at the prison infirmary. It was just too stressful. And I guess I have been kinda stressed the past couple of days. Everybody at work knows Walter and I are dating thanks to a couple of friends I made. Nina and Sophie are sweet but they have loose lips.”

“Either way, I am glad you made friends,” she smiles, taking a note, “Are there any other stressors besides a new public relationship?” 

“His ex works at the station too. She’s been kinda giving me the stink eye when we pass each other. She hasn’t said or done anything. But like, she obviously still feels something for him,” I admit, rolling my eyes, “But if that chicken thinks she’s getting anywhere near my coop, she has got another thing coming.”

“Calm down, we don’t need you to be unprofessional in the workplace, no matter how she acts toward you,” she reasons, even though I only half-listen, “Does Walter know about Rachel’s behavior?”

“No, because I don’t want to sound like I’m crazy. I feel crazy. She probably just has resting bitch face?” 

“I think you should tell him about the looks she has been giving you. Get his opinion on it before you discount your feelings completely. He might be able to shed some light on her behavior, or even better, he may be able to speak with her on terms she can understand. And that don’t involve you clubbing her like a seal and hiding the body behind the police station. But you didn’t hear that from me. That’s off the record, Your Honor.” she muses, winking at me before taking notes.

I agree to talk to Walter about Rachel and we decide this will be my homework for this week. Not difficult, but still awkward to start speaking about. I mean, how do you tell your significant other that their ex is problematic without seeming territorial or threatened? Rachel doesn’t strike me as the type to try and come in between Walter and me, but I will be keeping my eyes peeled.

“So are you and Walter using protection?” Out of nowhere, Yada hits me with that question.

“Yada! We haven’t even done anything yet? Jesus, woman,” I cover my face, happy again that my espresso skin doesn’t show the heat behind my cheeks.

“Yet being the optimal word. Got it. Well, use protection. You have every right to have sex and every right to protect yourself. So, don’t be coming round here saying ‘we got caught up in the moment’. Because so did Romeo and Juliet and look how that ended,” she deadpans, throwing her hands up.

“Did you just…never mind. We will use protection. When we get to that point. I’m in no rush and I can’t speak for him, but he at least respects my boundaries.”

“He sounds like a good egg. I like him already. He respects boundaries, he’s attractive, he’s got a stable income, and he liiiiiikes you,” she beams, rising from her armchair to go to her desk.

“I’m glad you approve because I like him and it just feels right with him. We connect so easily,” I say, noticing Yada is looking at me and shaking her head, “What now?”

“You are falling for him, girlfriend, don’t you see that?” she commented matter-of-factly. 

“Shut up, no I’m not,” I answer grumpily.

“Alright, but you are,” she states, tilting her head, “There is nothing wrong with that, by the way.”

“I know. I’m just afraid of moving too fast. That’s kind of my way of doing things, and I don’t hate it but I don’t necessarily like it much either.”

“Love it or hate it, it is a part of you. And you either have to learn to thrive despite it, or work toward changing the behavior. But you know this already, Kamaria.”

“You’re right about that, but I still like the option of just complaining about it,” I confess, shrugging my shoulders.

“Either way, it is your choice. You are still scheduled virtually for next week. You have your homework, as well. Anything else you wanna gab about before we end today’s session?”

“Nope,” I say, letting the ‘p’ make a pop sound.

“Well, then I will let you get back to your tall, dark, and handsome fella,” she smiles, getting up to walk me out. We exit her office and she smiles at Walter, addressing him directly. “She has homework and it involves you, so don’t let her forget.” How she gonna do me like that?!

“Thanks, Yada,” I groan.

Walter is enjoying this way too much because he decides it’s best to pat my shoulder while saying, “Don’t you worry, I won’t let her forget.” He just smiles when I give him a glare that rivals the fire of a thousand suns. He probably thinks it’s cute or something. He holds his arm out to let me exit before him and I’m happy for this because then he can’t see me cursing his very existence. I still let him open the door for me. I also let him open the truck door and buckle me in. By the time he gets into the vehicle, I’m reaching over to hold his hand.

“Done being mad at me, then?” he jokes, taking my hand and kissing the back of it.

“Feed me and we’ll see if I can’t be swayed,” I advise, winking at him.

We grab a quick late lunch and head back to his place. I take a nap for a couple of hours and am awoken by the hearty scent of tomato sauce. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on the couch, but I’m waking up in a bedroom underneath a light blanket, Beary tucked into my side. Walter must have moved me in here so I wouldn’t be disturbed. He can be so sweet sometimes, I wonder how long he can keep this up.

I get up from the bed, leaving Beary behind and I walk out to the living room to see Walter hard at work in the kitchen. He doesn’t notice me so I sneak up behind him and goose him. He doesn’t react, as if he knew I was coming.

“What makes you think I didn’t hear you from the moment you opened my bedroom door?” he began, only turning slightly to wink at me before returning to slicing french bread for garlic toast, “I used to be S.W.A.T., Princess, so it takes a lot to get the jump on me.”

“So, you’re say-” 

“That is not an invitation for you to experiment on how to get the upper hand, love,” he stops me before I go down that useless train of thought.

“You got me, I’ll be on my best behavior, Sir,” I laugh, pulling myself up to sit on the counter near him.

“Would you like a piece of bread with some tomato sauce on it, Princess?”

“Yes, please,” I pipe up, excited to taste the aromatic sauce. I watch as he grabs a piece of bread, dipping it into the sauce before blowing on it a bit. He turns off the stove and comes to stand in front of me, placing the bite just out of reach. I look at him, confusion painted on my face.

“Tell me what your homework is and you can have your treat, Princess.”

I debate pouting but I know that won’t get me that saucy bread. “I have to talk to you about Rachel. She’s been weird around me, and it makes me uneasy,” I mumble, suddenly anxious.

“What exactly is she saying or doing?” he asks, allowing me to take a bite of the bread, still holding onto it himself.

“She hasn’t said anything to me, she just gives me this bitchy glare whenever we cross paths,” I speak around the bite of bread I was granted, “Honestly, baby, she freaks me out and I don’t like the idea of having to avoid your ex.”

“You shouldn’t have to actively avoid her,” he holds the last bite of bread out for me and places it in my awaiting mouth, “I’ll talk to her. I don’t want to scare her too much. But I do want her to know you mean a lot to me and if I’m lucky, you’ll be in my life for a long time to come. She needs to suck it up and get used to it.” 

“Fuck, that is so sexy to hear you say,” I disclose, reaching up to cup the back of his head, pulling him into a searing kiss. 

I clench my thighs together as I feel his tongue invade my mouth. Strong hands part my legs so that he can slide in between them. Our clothed sexes line up perfectly and I wrap my legs around his hips. A growl rumbles from his chest to my groin. We part to catch our breath, our foreheads resting together.

“Fuck, will you let me eat your pussy, baby?” he practically moans the question and it lights a fire up under my ass.

“Please, yes,” I gasp, wrapping my arms around his neck before he picks me up off the counter and walks us into his bedroom. He lays me down slowly. Kissing from my lips to my neck, nipping along the way. I gasp inwardly when I feel his hand ghost over my covered heat, my back arching at the touch.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, baby. You just relax and take what you need from me,” he whispers, moving down the bed as he hooks his fingers in my pants. He pulls them down, leaving me in my drenched panties. He kisses the fabric of my underwear before pulling those down as well.

He dives into my sodden snatch, using the flat of his tongue to lick a stripe from my entrance to my swollen nub before kissing it. My hands go from gripping the sheets to weaving through his curls when I feel him start to suck on my button.

“Fuuuuuck, Daddy, just like that,” I mewl, his growl vibrating through my clit. I feel his hands grip my thick thighs, pulling me closer to him as he eats greedily. I look down at him, his eyes are closed and he looks like he is in Heaven feasting on me. As if he could sense my stare, his eyes open and we share a heated mutual gaze. 

While still attending to my nub, he reaches up to my mouth and I suck two of his fingers, getting them nice and wet. When he’s satisfied, he leans back and licks his lips, entering my core with his spit-slicked digits and I cry out at the sensation.

“You’re so fucking tight, hot, and wet baby. Fucking perfect, I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock,” he hummed, working his fingers in and out of me slowly until I arch my back to ride his fingers.

I pull him up to kiss me, tasting myself on his lips. His fingers find my inner bundle of nerves, massaging it as his thumb circles my clit. My breathing picks up as I feel the coil in my depths tightening until it snaps and I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation.

“No, no, no. Look at me when I make you cum,” our eyes lock and I arch off the bed as my orgasm hits me full force. But this one feels different, so much more powerful than ever before. “Fuuuuuuuck, yes! Squirt all over me,” I faintly hear Walter groan those words before I realize my thighs are wet and sloshing noises are bouncing off the walls. Walter looks back up to my face and his pupils are blown wide. “You look so beautiful like this. All fucked out, tears flowing freely.” Did he say tears?

I reach up to my cheeks and feel wetness staining them, my eyes are blurry with unshed moisture. Then the emotion behind it all attacks and I begin to cry fully. I know they are happy tears but I can’t verbalize that to Walter yet and he starts to panic. 

“S’ok…so good…emotional,” I mutter, trying to let him know I’m alright. He seems to understand and nods, going to the attached bathroom and coming back with two towels. I feel wet warmth between my thighs as he cleans me, then dries me off with the other towel. He lays down next to me and covers me with the comforter and I close my eyes in contentment.

He peppers my face with slow kisses, from my eyelids to my nose to my cheeks to my lips. When I open my eyes again, Walter is looking at me with a look that definitely spells out his feelings for me. Instead of putting words to it, we just lay and bask in its radiance. I struggle to keep my eyes open and finally keep them closed.

I feel a kiss placed on my forehead and stir while I hear Walter’s soothing voice in my ears. “You did so good, Angel. Rest as long as you need to, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I awake some time later, and true to his word, Walter is still laying next to me. His soft snores are like music to my ears. I lean up and nuzzle our noses together until he stirs and opens his eyes and smiles down at me.

“Hey, baby,” he gives me a quick peck, “How do you feel?”  

“Well…so far, I feel refreshed. But I haven’t tried to walk yet,” I laugh, “That will be the true test. And I need to pee anyway.” At that, I sit up and stretch my arms over my head. I swing my legs out of the bed and stand up slowly. I take my first step and it’s wobbly as hell.

Walter gets up and helps me to the bathroom, because of course he does. He stays in the bathroom with me to make sure I don’t tip off the toilet or slip into the bathtub. I mean, at this point, I squirted all over his hand so I’m sure he can handle me peeing while he’s in the room. He even jokes that he can’t believe I have any liquids left in me. I playfully swat at him and he only grins at me.

We end up having dinner shortly after, the pasta was spectacular and the garlic toast was perfect. The rest of the night is spent introducing Walter to Supernatural. He likes how funny it is, and I feel obligated to tell him that this is one of the saddest shows to ever grace television screens. Once I say that, he vows to still watch the show because it means so much to me. 

We lay down in his bed for the night, talking about what we want to do this weekend. I mention that it would be nice to do absolutely nothing and just be lazy bums all weekend and he approves. Our weekend is spent finishing the first season of Supernatural and me answering all of Walter’s questions about the show. He is so cute getting all invested in one of my faves. And if we take breaks for him to test how many times he can make me cum in a weekend, then that’s our business.

He won’t allow me to return the favor, however. He says that this is all a part of him taking care of me this weekend. I try not to feel undeserving of so much positive attention, but I’m still a work in progress. And that is just fine for now because he is good at making me forget why I was anxious in the first place. My sweet Walter better count his days, because I am going to rock his world when I finally get the chance.

Chapter 5

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[feedingtheflockministry]

When squeezed, what’s inside comes out…. Life; especially hardships, problems, disappointments, sickness, and pandemics, squeeze us mercilessly at times. What has been pushing you way beyond your coping zone recently? The potential list is endless. Paul’s list in Romans 8 included trouble, suffering, hunger, nakedness, danger, and death! But, if in it all, we’re rooted in Christ, when squeezed by bad things, somehow the fruit of ‘goodness’ (wholesomeness) comes out, despite our circumstances. To be honest, we struggle to see or believe this when we’re going through the mill, yet how could God give us his most precious gift, Jesus, and at the same time want our ultimate harm? It’s absurd! God is constantly at work in those who love him, to bring about our ‘good’ as HE sees it. Can you trust him in that, when everything at times screams the opposite? Of course, we prefer that ‘all things’ does not include ‘bad things’, but it seems suffering and pain are woven into the fabric of life in a broken world. There is no value in the pain itself, but rather what God produces through it. When I lost a job through great injustice, my world caved in, but years later I came to see it was the best thing to happen to me for what God had ahead. It turned out to be a happy release. God desires and promises that he will bring goodness out of the most impossible-looking and painful circumstances we can imagine because he loves us; even failures we’re responsible for. Once we turn back to him, he will redeem and weave something of goodness into our lives. Fruitfulness, goodness, and resurrection grow out of death. Jesus said, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” What pain, difficulty, loss, mistake or suffering do you need to release to God today so that he can transform this ‘dying’ into something of goodness that will bless you and others? Prayer: Father, help me receive the tough, unwanted things that come my way, knowing that nothing will separate me from your love – that you are working something to bring honour to Jesus. Amen.