#it's going to be freezing temps at night again in less than a week

[romanshomeonwattpad]

pairings — draco/reader | captive au! | “_ _ = Y/N |

word count: 6k 😯

sypnosis: you were a captive in the war, captured by one of the most vicious death eaters. his wife goes on a trip, unable to comfort him as he fails another mission. when he gets drunk..and pays a visit to your room…things take a drastic turn.

warnings: dirty smut at the end, angst, cheating, infidelity, mostly proof read, fingering, oral

authors note: this is based on my fanfic on wattpad, but it’s wayyyyy darker on there so if u f with this or want a part two check out my book cuz i only do one-shots on here whoops. but if lots of ppl want a part 2 then mayb cuz i love this plot. its called dissonant if ur interested ! okok enjoy byee

© elliotsblunt 2022. do not repost, modify, or translate.

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You tapped your nails against the cool chains tightened around your neck—the end being attached to the corner part of the wall. A yawn tore from your lips, arching your back as you sat up from the sheet less mattress. There had been only one blanket, which you used to cover yourself due to it being the freezing temps of winter. A long peasant white gown was your attire on the daily, hair shielded away from your features in a high ponytail.

Being a captive in the Malfoy household hadn’t been as horrible as it sounded. You kept to yourself, always in the room, only reason being here because you were forced to prove Astoria Greengrass company.

She was kind, yes. But she had a horrible spending problem, if you recall correctly from the married couple’s arguments. His voice would boom throughout the manor, but she would just shush him and go on with her night. And on top of that, the only thing she would talk about is herself and her accomplishments. No one could stand her. Which is why you had to be her friend, by force.

As you combed your hair with one Astoria had given you, one of her old ones, you hummed to yourself. It had been purple with white gems glued onto the handle. Placing it onto the wooden desk inside your room, you flinched as a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” you muttered quietly.

Astoria stepped inside with her glossy red heels. A red dress, with puffed short sleeves—wrapped around her thin waist. A red lipstick painted smile curved onto her lips, “Hello, dear,” she sighed, the scent of perfume filling the area. Her large blue eyes flickered to you, “I shall be leaving for a a few days. It’s fashion week in Paris,” she explained, an excited tone laced in her voice.

You faked shock. You could care less. You had to be stuck here, anyways. Away from your family.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” You decided to sweeten it up a bit, grabbing her hands and sending her a tight smile. “Do tell me allll about it when you come back.”

“Of course, dear.” Astoria’s eyes flashed with approval. Pulling her hands away from yours, you spotted her wiping her palms onto her dress whilst nervously laughing. Irritation rumbled in your chest, your smile twitching but staying on your face, “Now—don’t miss me too much. And try to do something with that hair of yours, darling. You’re a woman, embrace it!”

You held back an eye roll as she clapped her hands, “Very well! Au revoir, Janet!”

Janet. The name that she had given you. You didn’t realize how shallow she had been until now. Her hips swayed as the door shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. Her perfume lingered, causing your nose to wrinkle. She treated you like a peasant, not even asking what your real name had been. She didn’t even care.

She probably thought she was better than you. Just because of her high status and designer handbags. And with those snobby remarks of here, how could anyone stand her?

Rain pattered against the window of your room. It was fairly large, your mattress lodged in the corner. A green window pane was used as one of the walls—leaving a refreshing outlook to the room. You sat against it now, hand pressed against the cool glass as you counted the droplets.

The lock clicked to unlock your door. You snapped your head to see someone walking inside. Well,

…falling more like.

The drunken man, who reeked of alcohol, happened to be Draco Malfoy. Your captor. The Mind Reaper.

He infiltrated people’s minds, using their fears to kill and torture them. It was absolutely cruel, but it also meant he had been a very gifted Legilimens. You had never seen his face before, though. Always covered by a red skull mask, unlike now. He hadn’t been covered in blood, and looked the complete opposite of threatening.

His blonde strands fell over his eyes. Red rings around his eyes, his sharp features almost making him look unreal. A black t-shirt tightened around his bulging biceps, probably twice the size of yours. His muscular thighs were hidden by a pair of black jeans, a silver chain glinting beneath the faint torch light.

“Fuck,” he growled, accidentally ripping the door handle off as he used it for leverage to get back onto his feet. You gasped as he tossed it behind him, into the hallway. Narrowing those stormy, baby blue eyes at you. “Well, well, well. Why do I keep a pretty little thing like you locked away in here?”

You gulped. Didn’t he have a wife? Had they fought again? But from the look in his eyes, he wasn’t even thinking about her, studying your figure. He had only interacted with you once, when he had captured you. But he had a mask on, and was also sober. Every since that day, Draco stayed clear from you.

But he now had barged into your room, telling you he wanted you. This mysterious man with protruding muscles and a sadistic smirk had kidnapped you. It turned you on, for some reason. It was shameless. Out of the months you’ve been here, you finally felt excitement. Even if he had been a mass murderer.

But he was a horrible person. You couldn’t betray your moral ground. He had killed thousands of The Order members.

“Would you fancy a drink?” Draco raised a brow, stepping closer to you. Slowly approaching. You licked your lips as your chest rose, “Scratch that. You’re my property—and I order you to have a drink.”

The tension doubled, room shifting to a different energy. It felt like he had been a predator, waving his hand to hold another bottle of whatever he had been drinking. Fire Whiskey printer on the bottle in golden letters. He handed it to you, “Go on.”

Your eyes flew to the bottle, then flickered back to the man before you. His smirk had been sadistic, yet so alluring. His eyes looked expectant.

“I—“

“Go. On.”

He repeated, his smirk fading. Being replaced by a firm look, piercing eyes boring into yours. “If you hate my bitch of a wife as much as I do, you’ll drink with me.”

Without a second thought, your hand shot out and grabbed the bottle. Draco watched with glinting eyes. Whipping your head back, you let the acidic tasting liquid slide down your throat without ease. Coughs followed after.

You heard clapping. “Good girl!”

The praise made your thighs clench. A severe wave of heat sparked into you lower area, keeping your distance between the both of you. “One more for me.”

You wanted to protest. But the way his teeth sunk into his plump bottom lip, with lit up eyes, slightly hooded with something unknown swirling in them. Your chest felt like it had dived off a thirty story building with the look he was currently giving you.

Clearing you throat, you nodded, before taking another swig. This time you kept coughing, Draco taking the drink from you as the alcohol left a sour trail down your throat. Deep, guttural chuckles rumbled from his chest.

“You obey me so well,” he muttered, running a large hand through his strands. “Rather have married you than that cunt. A blood traitor is more tolerable than a pitiful existence like her.”

You didn’t say anything, staring at him with wide eyes. He sloshed around the alcohol in his hand before bringing it back to his lips. His sharp jawline became your view, the sight of him pouring the alcohol down his throat without flinching and then back to smirking at you making you even more turned on. You had never seen someone so..manly.

Perhaps you could seduce him. To convince him to let you leave. It appeared he was extremely keen with you, a hungry look in his eyes. You needed to get back to your family, wondering if they had even been alive. The thought haunted you.

It had only been your father and sister. Your entire life. And you never fought, you weren’t much of a fighter in the war. But your sister was, and when she got injured out on the field—you ran from the bunker underground to help her. Unfortunately, by the time you had gotten to her, a Death Eater got a hold of you. You shouted for her to run, which is what she did.

She ran.

And left you.

You both knew you couldn’t leave your father alone for himself. It was a mutual agreement in the matter of seconds.

Besides, your sister was far more valuable than you. It was for the best. You risked your life for your family, and you would’ve done it again. And again.

“How do you stand her?” Draco questioned, setting the bottle down onto the desk. His fingers swept across the furnace as he titled his head towards you, knitting his brows. “You must be a sweet little thing, huh?”

“I’m not sure if this is appropriate. Madam isn’t here,” you finally spoke up, your words hypocritical to how you actually felt. You couldn’t possibly be a home wrecker. “I think it’d be best—“

Feeling a strong hand grab your throat, all in one moment, you cried out as your back slammed against the wall. Cool, silver fingers that shined under the moonlight melted against your flesh. With bulged eyes, you breathing stuttered as Draco chuckled darkly. His scent of faint cologne and musk wafted up your nostrils.

“You’re so loyal to her. How cute. If only you knew how horrid she speaks of you.”

You blinked at him. “What…kind of things?”

Your voice had came out quiet. Small. Considering his bulky hand was still wrapped around your throat, barely squeezing. His eyes flashed to your lips before meeting yours.

A wolfish smirk crossed his features, “How you’re a no good mute—and she feels sorry for how ugly and poor you appear. She believes her presence gets infected with yours, so she even showers then meditates after your meetings. One time, she even asked me to fetch a new girl to forcefully befriend her. And when I told her you’d most likely be killed…”

His smirk grew.

“..she told me that you could meet her in hell.”

Your jaw clenched at his words.

That…bitch!

You had been nothing but kind to her, and she talks shit to her husband about you? How could anyone tolerate this woman?

An unhealthy amount of rage consumed through you. Your eyes only saw red. You didn’t think she liked you that much, but to talk so crudely about you and not even blink an eye if death was thrown your way. When she had the power to save your life. It made you feel used—pathetic.

Your body slightly shook. The alcohol began to warm your body, a slight buzz growing in the center of your brain. Your vision became more glossy and bright, a pulsing in your lower abdomen growing as Draco looked down at you.

He must’ve been six foot something, your shoulders reaching his abdomen. Slightly hunching so he can be eye level with you, he faked worry, “Oh? You don’t like her very much anymore do you?”

The feeling was growing. Lips inches away from yours, hot breath fanning your face. His throat fell to your cheek.

“You smell divine.”

“That’s not the topic of discussion.”

“But it’s still a topic I’d like to delve into,” he murmered, leaning in to whisper into your ear. Shivers ran down your spine as his smooth voice filled your senses, “Tell me, _ _, are you as innocent as you seem?”

He knew your name.

And his question, it made you tingle.

“How—“ You breathed,

“How do you know my name?”

Another chuckle blessed your ears. Your anger had flooded away, feeling sensitive everywhere. Goosebumps covered your neck as a pair of soft lips gently pecked the side of it. Shutting your eyes, a soft moan played in the room.

His fingers dove back behind your neck, pushing you against him. Draco’s hips dug into yours, a hard bulge rubbing against your core. It caused another moan to slip as he soothed the ache between your legs. Teeth sinking into your skin, your hand flew to his shoulder for support, “Oh!”

And then his lips trailed up your neck, using his other hand to grab your ass. He smacked it before pushing you onto him, being able to feel his chiseled body under his clothes. So much adrenaline. Like if you had pulled away from him, you would get burned.

And you didn’t want to get burned.

Your legs opened for him as he lifted you, your back against the wall once again as he held you in his arms. Your arms wrapped around his neck, grinding against him with whimpers and cries being muffled against his relentless lips as he slammed his against yours.

A hint taste of cigarettes and alcohol was what you tasted. His warm tongue swiped across your bottom lip, before taking a nip. He growled at as you cried out, pulling his strands. He sucked gently on the sore area before shoving his tongue inside.

“Been wanting to do this since I first saw you. That’s why I took you,” he groaned against you. A sharp thrust against your core, his cock deliciously rubbing against you, made your eyes roll back. “You were always going to be mine. Ever since I saw you on that battlefield, _ _. I just had to have you.”

His words should’ve disgusted you. Repulsed you. But they didn’t, they made the wetness grow between your thighs inside your gown. But it did slap you back to reality.

He was married.

And this was wrong.

You couldn’t.

“Stop,” you breathed, opening your eyes. Draco pulled away, narrowing his eyes. Your hands flew to his chest, pushing him away. Your feet landed on the floor as the man furrowed his brows, “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t do this. You’re drunk—“

He stepped away. Without a word. You watched as he swallowed thickly, letting out a sigh before glancing at the window.

“Forgive me. This was a mistake,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t look at you, a stoic expression crossing his features as he cleared his throat and walked out the door. It didn’t close properly, a door knob missing, but you were sure Draco knew you weren’t planning on leaving your room.

Well, that was quick. You were almost bummed he gave up so quickly.

Astoria had been gone for a few days now. You staid in your room, so no, you hadn’t seen Draco either.

You weren’t sure when she was coming back, but whatever had happened between Draco and you must have been a one time thing—because he never came to your room again. The door had been unlocked, the knob never being fixed. Which confused you, because if Draco wanted to he would’ve.

And so, after four days, you decided to explore.

Stepping out horrified you. After being here a few months, you never managed to step outside. There had always been a lock. But now, you were free to do what you pleased. You couldn’t escape, unfortunately, due to their being wards and charms casted around the house.

But exploring was better than nothing.

You were tired of sitting in your room.

And so you wandered. A long black hall, filled with paintings of all sorts. One room was lit at the end, a light illuminating the open door. It smelled of burning wood, realizing a fire place must’ve been left on. It smelled wonderful. Holding up the ends to your white peasant gown, with peering eyes, you carefully made your way to the light.

As you reached closer, your hands slid on the walls. A smooth, non-rough paint was applied on them, a black color. It made the manor look much more creepy at night.

Tilting your head, you craned your neck to peek past the doorframe.

And that’s when you almost gasped.

Covering your other hand on your mouth, your eyes continued to watch as Draco Malfoy pleasured himself on his office chair. As you presumed, a fireplace was in the center wall. A bottle of Fire Whiskey, the one you drank from, was on the desk along with a laptop.

Glasses rested on the desk, discarded and forgotten whilst his large hand tugged at his pink cock. The tip was flushed, blonde patches of curls at the bottom. It looked delicious as pre-cum dribbled out the thick head, peeking out his hand everytime his wrist flicked.

You licked your lips, knowing you were going to touch yourself later to this. Draco’s head had been thrown back, low deep moans passing those parted, plump lips of his. You craved them against your mouth again.

This had been wrong, but you didn’t care. Not at this moment.

And then his moans began to quicken. A white button up with his sleeves rolled up halfway, was now half way unbuttoned as his strands once again fell over his eyes. You noticed his abs, glistened in sweat, begin to clench as he neared his high.

“Fuck, _ _.”

Your name fell from his lips. You couldn’t believe your eyes, cheeks turning pink like his cock as he began to come. White ribbons shot from his head as he tossed his head back, showing off his adams apple. Your core had been drenched at this point, a sticky mixture of your juices moistening your inner thighs.

You wanted to go in there and lick the cum off his tip, hopping onto his cock and making him cum again. His large, strong hands gripping your ass as he guided you with praises in your ear. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat, making you—

“_ _?”

Your eyes snapped open, locking eyes with Draco. He had a small smirk playing on his lips, cum still on his stomach, as you jumped in your spot.

“I’m so—sorry!”

Blurting out the words, you spun around and retreated back to your room. You were never exploring again.

You had been absolutely morrified.

Not only had you walked in on Draco touching himself, you had also touched yourself afterwards. Later that night you shook on your fingers, wishing they were his—guilt consuming your chest. The sight of his cum spurting from the tip, head thrown back as groans left his throat burned your brain.

Another few days had rolled by. Not a knock at the door, until Astoria had returned. You had to remain on good graces with her, otherwise she could have you possibly killed. Just like Draco had mentioned. She held the authority.

So when she came into your room, knocking of course..you began to panic. You didn’t know how to face her, when a couple nights prior you had shamelessly kissed her husband. In this very room. Drunken and sloppy. But it had also been the best kiss you ever had, without a doubt. You could taste his scent on your lips, hands squeezing your as—

“Janet!” She called, “I hope you’re decent. I’m coming in,” she didn’t wait for you to reply. You were standing in front of the door, with wide eyes, and a tight lipped smile. Your cheeks felt like they had been on fire. Astoria’s brows rose, “Darling! How much did you miss me?”

You held back bile. You wanted to slap that smile off her boney features, “Very much so.”

She giggled, clapping her hands. “It was amazing, dear. The flight was a bit long, and I was absolutely fami—“

You zoned out at her words as she began to provide details of her trip you couldn’t care less about. Keeping a simple smile on your lips, you couldn’t help but imagine Draco kissing her. Had they been intimate? Surely not recently if he had been touching himself. And he had said your name, not hers.

You felt your chest swell with pride.

Even with all her makeup, dresses, and fancy perfumes—Draco wanted you. The prisoner who hadn’t touched makeup in ages and wore the same dress everyday. It was washed of course, three times a week by the house elves. You had two of them, the dresses. And as for the house eleves, you never ran into them. They usually left your food at the door but that was about it.

And by the time they dropped off the food, they would apparate away with a crack.

You wondered if what Draco told you what Astoria had said about you was true. But you could believe it, noticing an empty look behind those eyes of hers. It almost seemed eery how invested into herself she was, the more she talked—the worse it became.

No wonder Draco thought she was a cunt.

After a few more minutes, she finished finally. “—but yes—thank you for asking. I had a wonderful time as expected.”

You didn’t ask.

Astoria furrowed her perfectly plucked brows, “Darling…have you bruised your neck?”

Your eyes bulged.

Covering the hickey, you stuttered as cold waves of ice kept washing over you. “I—uh—well, you see Madam, I was looking out the window and slipped like the idiot I am. And my neck, it—crushed into the window ledge.”

That was the worst fucking lie you ever gave.

But for an airhead like Astoria, it worked.

She hummed, “I see. Perhaps we should schedule a screening test for your brain. It appears your growing worse with your words,” she smiled sweetly at you. Your nostrils flared as she patted your shoulder. “Anywho—I shall surprise Draco now. He doesn’t know I’m back yet.”

Biting back a curse, she sent you one more look before shutting the door behind her. And that was when you noticed—

The door still hasn’t been fixed. And she didn’t even notice.

With an angry grunt, you stalked over to the mattress. Lifting it, you uncovered the original bottle Draco had left in here before he had stormed out. You hadn’t drank since, but decided to wash away the anger this devil of a woman kept causing you. How could someone be so—

Ugh!

Throwing your head back, the alcohol burned your lips and throat as it slid down. Staring out the window, you blinked as the world began to grow more clear once again around you.

Everything had been glossy. Shiny. Moving in fast forward. How many shots had you taken?

Five..? Six…?

And everytime you kept thinking about Draco, and those plump pink lips of those—you took another shot. Gagging and coughing out. Until the bottle had finished.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, forehead leaning against the chilled glass. Your core had been pulsing again. Alcohol seemed to make you care less about consequences, and more about what you got in the moment. And currently, you wanted to fuck the shit out of your captor.

Draco Malfoy.

Flashes of his hands running across your figure flickered in your mind. The way his voice spoke your name. Abs drenched in his cum. You wanted to cling onto his large bicep as he slipped his face between your thighs, devouring every inch of you until you turned to ash. To feel his hair between your fingers as your heels dug into his shoulders, begging for his cock.

Tossing the empty bottle onto your mattress, your drunken mind sought to find the blonde. It had been night time, and you didn’t care if Astoria was with him. It would be a plus if the bitch could watch.

Everything wobbled. You kept your hands on the wall as you made your way down to his office. The office door had been closed, so you finally noticed the large wooden platform. It had gold accents in the corners, and noises came from behind it. In your drunken mind, you could’ve sworn they were moans.

And then more.

Pressing your ear to the door, a woman began to cry out, “Yes! Faster!”

Your heart twitched.

Draco had been fucking her.

When he was supposed to be fucking you.

And like a fool, you had finally realized he only missed his wife. He probably had an argument before with her before she went to Paris, and now that she was back, he could have her again. Most likely made up with sex.

You hated that bitch.

But you hated him more.

You were glad you didn’t have sex with him. He had been The Mind Reaper after all. He wasn’t a good, honest person at all. He would kill people with their deepest, darkest thoughts. A man like that couldn’t possibly care about anyone other than himself.

How could you have forgotten?

A knock sounded at your door.

Standing up from looking out the window, you decided to open it. And your mouth almost dropped.

“Draco!”

His eyes slightly widened. Holding a finger to his lips towards you, he grabbed your arm before pulling you out your room. You remained quiet, with a pissed and confused look, as he stepped inside his office down the hall and slammed the door behind the two of you.

Furrowing your brows, you stared at him as he released his grip on your arm. You heard Astoria’s heels click against the wooden floor of the manor, annoyance creeping within you. Draco had on his all black suit, appearing he had just returned from business. “What the hell are you doing? She’ll find us.”

“You don’t leave your room. I didn’t fix the lock on purpose,” he replied with a stern tone, earning a scoff from you. He looked a bit taken aback at your demeanor as you placed your hands on your hips. Draco clenched his jaw, “For your sake, I hope that was a sigh and not an attitude.”

You remained silent, unable to hold his piercing stare. He could crack a glass with one glare. Feeling small beneath him, you simply aimed to spin around and walk away. But when you reached for the knob, his chest slammed into your back. His hand flew to your chest to stop you from falling against the door, pulling you into him as his lips graze your ear, “Why do you keep fighting it? I know you saw me, dove.”

He held amusement in his voice, large hands gently squeezing both of your breasts through your gown. You shook your head, knowing he had just touched that wench just before you. You turned your body to face Draco and pushed him off, him not even stumbling back. His eyes did form into daggers though, sending you a scowl.

“What do you take me for?”

Draco was unamused. His upper lip curled, “I beg your pardon?”

“You like having multiple women, is that it? For different times of the day?” The words held a sour taste in your mouth, stepping back from him. Draco stared at you intently with a blank, firm look. “After saying such horrid things about your wife—I figured you hated her—“

“I do hate her,” Draco hissed.

“Oh really? Was that before or after you fucked her right here in this office?”

“Impossible.”

“Oh? Really? How so?”

“Because—my wife and I haven’t had sex in ten months,” Draco growled, grabbing you by the throat. A gasp tore from your lips as he captured them with his. His taste was sweet and held a hint of whiskey, as well as that familiar sprinkle of cigarettes. It was warm and rough, sending you sparks of arousal down to your core.

He bit your lower lip, smirking down at you. “I’d rather come to my hand thinking of you then lay with my wife—as you can tell. Perhaps you are a stupid girl.”

And then he was back on you. Holding your small face in his huge hands, forcing your lips onto his. Both of your tongues swirling against one another. Your feet felt like they weren’t even on the ground, wrapped in his warmth as he savors your taste.

“Draco!”

He ignored the call of his wife, peppering kisses down your neck. Your hair fell to his strands as he kissed down your gown, handing the bottom to you. You blushed as your fingers gripped the fabric, his eyes falling onto your pussy. He appeared to be an animal, licking his lips and pupils growing dark and wide.

No one had ever been down there before. Not like that.

Seeing a man as powerful as him at his knees, felt absolutely euphoric. Your chest swelled as he looked up at you through his lashes, setting kisses on your hip bones. Your flesh lit on fire as he neared you core, until he pecked your pelvis.

“Shall I feel you come undone on my tongue, dove?”

You could’ve came during that moment. A knock sounded at the door, causing you to flinch. “Draco? Honey?”

He delivered a flat stripe up your pussy, reaching the clit to suck on. Your eyes bulged, and without thinking—a moan fell past your lips.

Radio silence rang on the other side. Draco didn’t seem to care his wife had heard you, more happy to have heard the banging stopped. Your brows furrowed as your fingers dove into his hair, hips leaning into his mouth, “Draco,” you breathed, his warm tongue licking at your bud. “Draco I think she heard us.”

He hummed, grabbing one of the rings on this fingers before letting it fall to the floor. And then slipped it inside—sending you a wink.

“Moan for me. That bitch fucked some bloke in my office, so I want you to fucking scream my name.”

His words were naughty and cold, finger stretching your walls. As it sunk into your dripping pussy, you felt your walls stretch, “Ah! Draco!—“

“THE PRISONER? DRACO! DRACO!”

He chuckled against you, the cool medal of his rings inside your hot pussy feeling absolutely delicious. Plump lips wrapped around your swollen, abused clit. You began to thrust your juices onto him, riding his tongue while his wife continued to bang outside the door. You were surprised she hadn’t broken it down by now, a hint of guilt hitting you. But it fled away quickly as you squealed on his awaiting tongue.

Your tits jiggled as you bounced. He added a second finger, eyes locked on yours, “Just like that! Oh my god—fuck. It feels so good, Draco.”

He smirked, licking your pussy up and down. Astoria screamed, the pounding growing harder. Your eyes almost crossed as he kept licking from your entrance to your clit, repeating the motion. You grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples, as Draco’s hand held your ass to push your pussy onto him.

His other hand was busy fingering you, “You like when I eat this little pussy, dove? It tastes so fucking sweet—I might catch a toothache.”

Your giggle turned into a cry as he added a third finger, stretching you out more. Your eyes squeezed shut, “Draco! I’m gonna—Oh!”

He growled against you.

“Let me taste it, _ _. Fucking let me have it,” it was almost animalistic. Your hands pushed his head away, but he kept a firm grip, ravishing your pussy as he slurped loudly.

His fingers mixed with his tongue sucking on your pulsing clit threw you into your climax, jolting above him as your hips stuttered.

“I’m coming! Draco? I—“

“That’s if. Ignore her, and focus on my tongue.”

And you screamed. If the door had been made of glass, it would have shattered and broke down. Your stomach clenched as you released everything onto his tongue, your orgasm almost knocking you over. If he hadn’t been holding you from behind, you would have. When it slowly began to fade out, Draco tapped your thigh. “Hop on, dove.”

Smirking, you let him pick you up and lead your way to the desk. Astoria had continued to pound on the door, her screams turning to cries. You were surprised she hadn’t stopped. Draco gently laid you on his desk, spreading your legs and sliding between them.

Your bruised lips parted, panting with red cheeks as you observed Draco. His blazer was tossed onto the chair, lifting his black t-shirt to reveal his muscular torso. Every ab was sharp, so sharp you were sure they could cut you. Black ink trained across his entire chest, as well as the back of his neck and hipbones. Your body turned warm as he removed his trousers, revealing his huge cock.

His skin was so fair, as if he hadn’t even been human. Like a doll, absolutely unreal.

You wanted to trace his tattoos, but the ache in your eyes had been urgent. And with the animalistic lust he had been looking at you with, you knew he felt the same.

His soft, yet cold skin pressed against yours as he knelt down to kiss you again. Grabbing your thighs, your behind hung off the desk as he didn’t waste time. Both of you moaned in unison as he his cock stretched inside you for the first time, his head slowly inching inside.

“Fuck,” he growled, watching his cock spear your pussy with stormy eyes. “Cunt so warm and tight.”

Astoria had finally stopped shouting, most likely either left or listening. Whichever it had been—you didn’t care.

Draco was inside you, using his grip on your thighs to fuck your harder. His eyes pierced into yours, a wicked smile hanging off his swollen lips as he watched you cry out ever few seconds. Your hands grabbed his forearm as he continued to plow into you. His cock felt large inside you, almost ripping you apart.

Pleasure began to consume you.

Your mind was hazy.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Yeah, baby? Yeah?”

“Oh,” your eyes crossed as he grabbed your throat, completely fucking you onto him. Your cries and squeals intensified, as well as the burning wave in your pussy. Your body began to shake as he reached deeper inside, almost exploding from ecstasy. Draco kissed your heels as you came down.

And then it slapped you in the face. Your orgasm blindsided you, Draco watching you with hooded eyes as you creamed on his cock. Praising you with how wonderful you looked shivering on top of him, he gave you a kiss before grabbing you. Carrying you to his chair, he sat down as you remained in his lap. Hands still on your ass, he peered up at you with admiration, “Put it in, _ _. Let me tell you come on my dick again.”

Your body jolted as you nodded, eagerly placing your feet on the chair before slipping his head inside. He grabbed your back, holding your hands behind you as he began to thrust up into you, “How’s that baby? Am I fucking you good enough?”

“Yes!” You screamed, clawing at his back as your pussy spasmed from his speed. “Draco! I’m going to come again soon!”

“Sounds like a fucking plan,” he spat while continuing to pound you. He had also been growing close to you—you could tell. His chest began to clench as he held you in his arms, completely ravishing your figure. “I’m going to come too, dove. In this tight fucking pussy.”

“Draco, we aren’t marr—“

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, thumb reaching your clit. Your eyes widened down at him as he smirked wickedly. “Why don’t you just come for me and give me those pretty little moans again?”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Hot flashes shot through you, and if he hadn’t been holding your body against his—you would’ve toppled over onto the ground. His cock rubbed your walls as your orgasm flew you threw the roof, sobbing out against his lips.

He came with a shout, looking down at your push as his brows furrowed. You felt warm cum deep into your pussy as Draco finished inside you.

“Your wife,” you panted, smirking down at him. Your hands landed on his chest as he pecked your breast, sweet dripping down his forehead. “—is a lucky woman.”

[beatricethecat2]

"This is nice," Myka says, sipping her beer while surveying the bar.

"Consuming alcohol in a public house?" Helena asks.

"Yeah," Myka says, eyes angling down as she picks at her label. "Working with Pete...this wasn't a thing I could do much. Then Steve and I had a drink here, and I remembered what it was like. I used to go on my own in DC just to unwind. Feels like a lifetime ago."

“In many ways it was," Helena says, idly stiring the ice left in her drink. "Could you ever have imagined the company you now keep?"

"I don't think so," Myka says, shifting closer to Helena. "But I like it, a lot. Doing this with you feels...normal. Two people, spending time together, not a care in the world."

"You care for nought?" Helena says, fingers tracing a line from Myka's thumb to her wrist where her hand rests on her thigh.

"Ok, one care," Myka says, eyes flicking up to meet Helena's. "Hey, I know that look. We said we'd stay for the band tonight, not just hole up in our room."

"Is there not another band tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but we said we'd stay for this one." Myka slips her hand from Helena's.

"As you wish," Helena says, settling back on her stool, frustration evident in her tone.

"More drinks, ladies?" the bartender says. "The band's about to start."

"I shall need one," Helena grouses.

"Stop being dramatic," Myka snips.

"Fine," Helena snaps. "Bourbon. Neat. Top shelf, please," she instructs the bartender.

"Comin' right up." The bartender steps away to complete the order.

"Oh, we're getting drunk now, are we?" Myka quips.

"When in Rome..."

"I'd actually like to see that, a drunk H.G. Wells," Myka says, poking Helena in the arm.

Helena flinches. "You may very well if you keep behaving as such."

"Seriously though, when's the last time you drank enough to let your guard down, even a little."

"In the company of others? Not in recent memory. And you?"

"Same."

"Here you go," the bartender interrupts, setting the tumbler on a napkin in front of Helena. "Another beer?" she asks Myka.

"You know what? I'll have the same." Myka waves her bottle at Helena's drink.

"Cavalier, Ms. Bering."

"We'll keep each other in check. We deserve to get super tipsy, at least."

"Color me intrigued."

The band strikes its first cord just as Myka's drink arrives. She tugs Helena's arm, and they relocate to a table near the stage.

-----------------

The Adventures of Bering and Wells ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 4 Title: New Orleans: Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Summary: Myka and Helena follow whim rather than duty, driving south, detouring around Washington DC, avoiding a second emotional rabbit hole so early on. After a wi-fi-free week in a cabin, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, they feel ready to tackle urban density again. ("The Rockies are better," Myka declares. "We'll go there, too.) Vowing to stay as touristy as possible, the pair head towards history-filled New Orleans. But far too soon their carefree trip hits a snag and they're in need of Warehouse help.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3

-----------------

***BONUS SCENE***

"Exactly how touristy have you been?" Abigail asks.

"Pretty touristy," Myka answers.

"Practically flâneurs," Helena says, grinning as Myka looks up at her with sparkly eyes.

"Well, that narrows it down," Steve mutters, typing into the keyboard. "Let's start with your hotel. Why'd you pick the carriage house?"

"The lack of adjoining suite and the king-sized bed."

"Helena!" Myka smacks Helena on the arm. "Because it's cute and charming."

"So this ghost isn't listed on their website? Wedding dress woman, Civil War soldier, dancing patio woman?" Steve asks.

"No. And the manager hadn't recognized the description I gave," Helena explains.

"So not all ghosts," Abigail says.

"If seeing them is normal," Myka says.

"Let's say the ones on their website are but H.G.'s isn't," Steve says.

"Are we to assume I've been 'whammied' then?" Helena says.

"You freeze in place. I have to shake you out of it," Myka explains.

"Perhaps I'm studying the phenomenon."

"You're never that still. It's creepy."

"Then I think we should consider it," Abigail says.

"Where else have you been?" Steve asks.

"Um, everywhere?" Myka answers. "That blacksmith's bar you and I went to. And The Gas and Lights Museum--"

"Such memories. So many details wrong," Helena gibes.

"On a carriage ride--"

"Highway robbery! Sixty-five dollars for a turn around the park. And not in the least authentic."

"You said it was nice!"

"I said it was familiar. The sound of it took me back," Helena says.

"I thought you'd like it." Myka leans back and looks up at Helena questioningly.

"I enjoyed the company quite thoroughly," Helena says, laying her hands on Myka's shoulders and grinning down at her fondly.

"Aww," Steve coos.

"Did anything about the carriage ride scream 'lady ghost will now appear at will?" Abigail asks.

"Not to my knowledge," Helena says.

"We also went to the Pharmacy Museum. And on a steamboat ride," Myka adds.

"Not that I'd have stepped foot on that death trap without proof of modern safety precautions. In my day, they exploded frequently," Helena explains.

"Ok...let's start with the Pharmacy Museum," Abigail says as Steve types. "Could this woman have afforded a doctor?"

"She often appears in her Sunday best, but also in, shall we say...less. She didn't strike me as particularly monied."

"Did she look sort of vampire-ish?" Steve asks. "I'm reading that people with consumption were rumored to be vampires due to how the disease aged them."

"I'm familiar with that premise, and no, this woman was not withering away."

"Could she have died on a steamboat?" Abigail asks.

"She doesn't give off that sense. There's a calm about her. She's not in danger."

"Let's try another angle. The neighborhood you're staying in, Storyville, claims to be the birthplace of jazz," Abigail says, reading over Steve's shoulder. "Maybe she's related to that?"

"Myka took me to hear this 'jazz,' and I can't say I was at all impressed."

"I like it. Steve does, too. You really hated it?" Myka asks.

"The bleat of the saxophone evokes vaudeville for me."

"Play her some Charlie Parker. Or John Coltrane. That might change her mind," Steve suggests.

"Does this relate to our ghost?" Abigail presses.

"I don't see a connection," Helena answers. "Her dress is previous to that of jazz, of an age closer to my own."

"Storyville was once a legal bordello district," Steve explains. "The whole neighborhood was shut down in 1917. So maybe she's from then?"

"That makes sense," Myka says.

"Do you see her inside or outside?" Abigail asks.

"Thus far, outside."

"But," Myka protests, "last night, when we were...t-the blindfold, you said 'just in case.'"

"Did that not heighten our activities?"

"That's not the point. I can't believe you--"

"Punish me later, darling--"

"Why don't you two hash this out, and we'll get back to you," Abigail suggests.

"Wait, is this her?" Steve asks.

Steve shares a black and white photo of a woman, seated outdoors, in front of a makeshift white backdrop, her hair styled into a modest, shoulder-length coif. Her linen top, trimmed with lace, hangs off one shoulder, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. Her lipstick, rendered as a middle grey, matches the kohl lining her eyes, giving her a soft, silent movie-era look.

"Hm, possibly."

"Here's another."

Helena leans further over Myka's shoulder, looking closely at the image. "Yes, I believe that is her."

"That's, um, really off the shoulder. Shoulders..." Myka says. "Isn't that kind of racy for the time?"

"Quite tame compared to some. Her expression is unusual, contemplative almost, recalling solemn greek statues rather than the usual fodder meant to titillate men's desires."

"How would you know?"

"One encounters all sorts of materials as a Warehouse agent," Helena says with a smirk.

"As an agent. Uh-huh."

"Listen to this," Steve interrupts, "these prints were made from a stash of glass negatives found locked in a desk drawer years after the photographer died. Many are of Adele, the woman you're seeing, but there are other women, too. They were shot in the 1910s, but these prints were made in the '60s. If there were any original prints, they were never found."

"May I see the images again?"

Steve cycles through and adds a few more, one depicting a roll-down desk with a shrine of photos arranged above, all of women, vignetted portraits and romantic depictions of the female form more typical for the time.

"Not sure if that last one is related. But it says it's by the same photographer."

"Could you send that one over? I'd like to look more closely."

"Sure."

Myka trades places with Helena, and Helena clicks the link. She enlarges the photo and inspects the array of images.

"I vaguely recall flicking through a basket in a shop with ephemera such as this. Perhaps this ghost woman was amongst it, but printed in a manner such as the images depicted here."

"So you're saying the photo in the shop might be a photo from this photo?"

"That is what I'm hypothesizing."

"So when you see her, you freeze like you're her photograph trapped in this photograph."

"Or perhaps I am her, caught in the decisive moment of the image being captured."

"That's really meta," Steve says.

"No matter what, neutralizing that photo should do the trick," Abigail suggests. "Heck, neutralize everything in the basket, just in case."

"Do you remember which shop you were in?" Steve asks.

"My recollection is hazy at best due to the copious amount of drink someone encouraged me to consume the evening previously."

Helena looks at Myka and scowls. Myka looks back, endearingly.

"I don't get hangovers."

"Lucky you," Helena quips.

"I hope you find it soon," Steve says, "because being happy looks good on both of you. You should get back to that."

"Thank you, Steve. And thank you, Abigail, for all your help," Helena says.

"Anytime," Abigail says.

"Have a great trip. Send some postcards!" Steve says.

"What a marvelous idea," Helena replies.

"Isn't flicking through postcards how we got here?" Myka warns.

"Shall you pre-screen everything I touch from now on?"

"Maybe I should--"

"We're hanging up now," Abigail says.

The screen goes blank as Myka and Helena devlove further into playful bickering.

*End Scene*

-TBC-

NOTES: "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" is Cajun French for "Let the good times roll." In season four, Steve and Myka go New Orleans and both say they like jazz, so I'm not making that up. I see Myka as more of fan of popular tunes - Billy Holiday, Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, etc., whereas Steve would know the genre through and through (and try as he might, never gets Claudia quite on board with it all). The photographer is E. J. Bellocq - I was going to incorporate that more, but the politics behind photos I mentioned is...complicated. I want this B&W show to focus on our ladies journey, artifacts are side-plot motivations. But if you're interested, look him up, and I suggest reading both Susan Sontag and Nan Goldin's essays for some clarity on why the images hold the status they do. From the research I've done, his images are plastered all over Storyville businesses, so if you've been there, you've seen at least one. Oh and I had a roommate once who could drink anything and never got a hangover. Some people are lucky like that.

[moss-lyman]

r20ebecca asked for 13/14 and I chose 14 from general :)

“Come back.”

She’s laying on the couch, still in her pajamas from the night before at 3pm and she’s a full box of Oreos deep as she watches old Facts of Life reruns. She’s picked up the phone about 20 times the last hour alone, but she stops herself from calling him every time.

She tried talking to him for weeks and he kept blowing her off. She didn’t do anything wrong, she doesn’t need to feel guilty for quitting. He’s only her boss, she doesn’t owe him anything.

Okay, that’s a lie. She owes him everything, but she can’t stay in that job anymore. It’s only making her angry and she may have been abrupt at quitting, but he wouldn’t listen. She had no choice.

It still hurts that he didn’t call, though.

She looks at the phone again, about to pick it up for the 21st time when a knock at her door startles her. She wraps her afghan around her shoulders and walks to the door, peeking out the peep hole to find Josh himself out in the hallway. She doesn’t open the door right away and he knocks again.

“Come on, Donna. I can see your shadow, I know you’re right there. Let me in.”

“Why?” she asks, still refusing to open the door, and she sees him huff indignantly.

“I need to talk to you. Just open the damn door.”

She rolls her eyes and flicks the lock before walking back to the couch, and Josh barges in.

“What do you want, Josh?”

He walks further into her apartment and looks at the television. “TVLand?”

“What do you want?” she asks again pointedly. “State your business or go home.”

“Go get dressed,” he says, walking to her kitchen and opening the fridge for a water bottle.

“What are you talking about?”

“And hurry,” he says, looking at his watch. “We have less than 2 hours.”

“For what?” She stares at him like he’s grown two heads. “I don’t work for you anymore, remember?”

“Donna,” he says, cocking his head toward her bedroom. “Go get dressed.”

She sits up. “Are you okay? Have you hit your head and you have amnesia or something?” He sets the water on her coffee table before walking around and physically lifting her off the couch. “Josh, I don’t know who you think—“

“Go get dressed. I’ll explain in the cab.” He nudges her to her room, but she digs in her heels.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

“We’re going to Houston.”

“Texas?”

“No, Romania,” he deadpans, giving her a look. “Yes, Texas.”

“What the hell is in Houston?”

“Matt Santos.”

“Congressman Santos? The one not running for another term?”

“Correct,” he says, grabbing her carry-on from her closet and throwing things in it. “Now, get dressed. We have a flight soon.”

“Josh, stop,” she orders, grabbing his arms. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m not going.”

“I know you don’t work for me anymore, Donna. The temp from Hell has made me well aware of that. I’m telling you, you’re going with me.”

“I already have another job.”

He actually laughs at that and Donna’s eyes flash. “Working for Bingo Bob is not a job. It’s a death sentence. He’ll barely make it to the Convention.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Will offered me an opportunity. I’m practically second in command with their campaign.”

“I’m telling you you’re actually second in command with my campaign.”

She freezes. “Santos wants to run?” Josh doesn’t answer her, just shoulders the backpack and heads to the door, but she steps in his way. “Josh.”

“I have a nine point plan, okay? I’ll get him to run.”

Donna is the one to laugh now. “You’re ambushing him.”

“No,” he says before looking at her. “We are ambushing him.”

“Where is this coming from? 24 hours ago, you wanted nothing to do with me, and now you’re offering me a promotion?” He runs his hands through his hair in a way that tells her he’s nervous, not angry, but she doesn’t let up. “Josh.”

“I never said I didn’t want anything to do with you, Donna. I was busy. You knew my schedule.”

“Yes I did, that’s why I made an appointment for myself which you chose to ignore many times.”

He turns around to look at her. “I wasn’t ready to leave the White House,” he says quietly. “I made a commitment to Jed Bartlet and I intended on seeing it through, but then Leo’s telling me to go and you leave and it’s like it’s not even the White House anymore.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m asking you to come back. Go to Houston with me and if it doesn’t work, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She looks at him long and hard, trying to see if he’s lying, but she knows he isn’t. “What do you mean by second in command? I refuse to be your assistant, Josh. I want more than that and if—“

“Not my assistant,” he assures. “You’d be like senior staff to Leo. What I was doing the first campaign.”

“We’re gonna need a speech writer.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

She bites her lip for a moment, but doesn’t have to think very long. “I’m in.” He goes back into high-speed motion, but she stops him. “I have a couple conditions.”

“Name them quickly. We really gotta go.”

She brings her hand up to tick off her fingers. “I will not file or type a single memo, note, press release, or whatever else for you. You’ll do it yourself or hire an assistant. You don’t come to me for the admin garbage. Number two,” she says pointedly when he starts to walk out of her room, “my opinion holds weight.”

“Your opinion always holds weight.”

“Well, this time around, I don’t have to run everything by you first. You’re not my liaison to the Congressman.”

“Anything else?”

“I get a massive salary bump if he runs and we start making money.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” She still won’t budge. “What?”

“You have to shake on it. I need your word, Josh.”

He drops the bag he’s been carrying and stands up straight, reaching his hand out for hers. She grabs it and he looks her right in the eye. “You have my word. If we pull this off, all those conditions will be met. I swear.”

He shakes once and she grins at him before taking her hand back and pushing him out of her room. “Get out of here, I gotta get dressed,” she says and shuts the door on his equally happy face.

[mhdiaries]

Frights, Camera, Action! – Hauntlywood Clawdia Wolf Diary

August 25th

Today I was walking through the streets of Londoom I just wanted to howl and do a little dance because I’m so excited to be here. I didn’t, of course, do the dancing part, since I’m the one with the “clumsy gene” in our family and I didn’t want to fall through an open monster hole cover. It has never bothered me that I’m not as athletic as the rest of the pack, because I think it was pretty apparent even when I was a cub that I was better at writing stories about my brothers’ and sisters’ athletic exploits than participating in them. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind and body may have been in concert but they were not playing the same tune. I remember the last organized soccer game I played: the coach put me in the goal partly because I was tall for my age and partly because he thought that perhaps the prospect of a ball being rocketed toward me might keep my attention. It worked for a bit, until the ball stayed at the other end of the pitch for a while, and a butterfly landed on the net. All of a sudden I became a ferocious were-spider who decided to give the butterfly a reprieve. So I climbed up in the net to shoo it away when I heard my dad yell, “Clawdia, turn around!” A ghoul was on a breakaway, and the only thing between her and me was open pitch and the ball. I tried to turn, and my spikes caught in the net, so I just closed my eyes and leaped toward the front of the goal. Somehow the ball ended up in my claws, and I kept the ghoul from scoring. It was my one and only athletic achievement, so I retired with my legacy in check and got a good story out of it, which, I’m sure, will end up in one of my screamplays some day. 

September 8th

I was sitting in the lecture hall today not really paying attention like I should have been, partly because I was working on a not-for-that-class writing assignment and partly, okay, mostly, because symbolism in ghost-modern, neo-realist goblin cinema is only slightly less painful than rolling in flea-infested wolf’s bane. Honestly, I have no idea what a goblin miner wearing a red hat and pushing an empty ore cart says about the state of modern goblin-kobold relations. I’m sure it is profound and important, but well... it doesn’t matter. What did matter, howere, was that the professor asked a question that he wanted all of us to answer, and I didn’t hear the question. I could have asked him to repeat the question, of course, but then I would have had to acknowledge that I had not been paying attention, and since this particular professor hates that, I knew I was going to have to wing it on the answer. Which made me nervous, which made me look for something to chew on, which meant I wasn’t listening to the other answers, which meant I didn’t have a clue when he got to me. So when he said, “Ms. Wolf?” I said I didn’t think I could add anything to the discussion that had not been more profoundly stated in the answers my classmates had already given. This caused the rest of the class to burst out laughing, to which the professor said, “While I appreciate your humility, your answer leaves us no closer to knowing how many siblings you have.” I was mortalfied, but even more so when he said, “Please do try and pay better attention going forward.” Unlive and learn, Clawdia, unlive and learn. 

September 15th

I’ve been using my iCoffin tablet to do some of my writing lately, and I really like it. I mean, I like the tablet. It’s great for doing video chats, and there are some really cool Londoom based apps that have helped me find my way around the city better. As for the writing part, I still prefer my chewed pen and leghoul pad. It may be old-fashioned, but there’s something about a blank sheet of paper that’s less intimidating than a blank scream with a blinking cursor.

October 1st

The only thing that’s coming down faster than the temperature in Londoom right now is the rain. I’m not sure what the real temp is, but you know it’s cold when a werewolf has to put on her fuzzy wool socks... brrr... fortunately, dad did a good job preparing me for this climate by never allowing to turn the thermostat up past the “I can see my breath” mark during the winter. We would say, “Dad, the house is freezing!” to which he would always reply, “You can either have heat or you can eat.” Followed quickly by, “We’re werewolves, for ghoul’s sake, put on a sweater if you’re cold.” Then we’d all look at mom, who would just shrug her soldiers. It was one of the only things she couldn’t change his mind about. So we’d all just sit snuggled together on the couch watching bad TV, complaining about Howleen’s sharp, unclipped paw nails and making promises about what we’d do when we all moved out and got our own places. I distinctly remember saying that I would turn up the heat so high that it would make Gloom Beach seem like a Yeti cave. So the first time it got cold here, I did just that, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be, until I got my first heating bill. Let’s just say that grocery shopping for the next few weeks gave me a completely different perspective on dad’s old saying. I’m pretty confident that saltines and marmite will never darken the shelves of my cupboard again after having that formerly tasty combination as my only breakfast and lunch option for a fortnight. I’m really missing being able to snuggle up on the couch with my pack of siblings, and I wouldn’t even complain about Howleen’s uncut paw nails... well, maybe not a lot.  

October 6th

I had a great video chat with the fam tonight, and they could not stop talking about Draculaura being chosen as queen of the vampires. They were in complete shock, and I have to admit it was quite a surprise to me as well. The vampires haven’t had a queen since the last chosen one, a young vampire ghoul named Elissabat, disappeared some 400 years ago. What is really curious about this, as if Draculaura being chosen as the new queen right out of the boo wasn’t curious enough, is that Clawdeen told me Draculaura’s choice was confirmed by the Vampire’s Heart. I have actually been doing quite a bit of research on the heart, which is really just a massive jewel with magical properties, for a screamplay I wanted to write about the mystery of the missing queen. There are many scholars that believe the jewel disappeared at the same time the ghoul who would be queen did; so either the scholars are incorrect, or there is more here than meets the eye. I didn’t want to be the one to rain on the funeral though, until I had a little more proof, especially with Clawdeen being so excited about attending the coronation. I did notice that Clawd wasn’t in the room with everyone else, and I’m wondering how he is dealing with this news. 

October 7th

Clawdeen has sent me at least 30 texts and emails since last night detailing the fashions she’s thinking about taking to the coronation. I can see her now running around the room with absolutely every piece of clothing she owns spread out so she can mix and match fashions. She’s probably also been through Draculaura’s closet several times as well. I love her so much and I wish I could be there to make her laugh when she starts getting too serious. She’s so beautiful, though, that whatever she chooses will probably steal the show. I finally got an IM from Clawd asking if we could talk. This wasn’t unusual, since Clawd prefers one-on-one conversation to fighting for face time in a group. When he popped up on the screen he looked terrible, almost like he’d been crying, although it might have just been bad lighting. As usual, Clawd didn’t want to talk about himself and instead wanted to know every little thing I was doing. I finally had to say, “Stop howling around the moon and talk to me, little brother.” So he did. He told me that he didn’t trust the Lord Stoker character that showed up with the Vampire’s Heart claiming it led him to Draculaura. What’s more, neither did Draculaura. They both thought Draculaura would be miserable being queen, but that she would feel honor and duty bound to take the throne. Even so he was trying to be as supportive as possible and went on for a few more minutes about things that were worrying him. When he stopped I said, “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, “She’s my best friend, sis, and I’m about to lose her forever.” Now it was my turn to swallow hard, and then he made an excuse about having to leave for practice and said a hasty goodbye. I’m going to do some more digging into this, because something doesn’t pass the smell test here, and a Wolf’s nose is always right. 

[kingscrown666]

I need some help, guys.

I'm very sorry to have to ask this, and I hoped I never would because I hate to bother people, but I need help

So, here's the thing. Me, my mom, and my aunt had been living in my grandparent's house, here in Michigan. But over the summer, they decided to sell the house since they were only there a few months out of the year

Well, that meant that the three of us had to find another place to live. My aunt found a place she could afford, and it had spare bedrooms, but she wanted to give those to her daughter and grandkids because they'd been separated and she wanted them to all be together again.

So me and my mom had to find somewhere else to live, and the only place we could afford was government housing where the rent is based off of your income. Currently our rent only $14/mo because our income was so low

But that's not what I need help with.

When we first inquired about housing, we asked about their pet policy and they said dogs were allowed as long as they were 80lbs or less. Well, when we came to sign the lease, they suddenly said that no, the weight limit is 20lbs! And my boy weighs a lot more than that. And I had literally no other choices for housing, so I had to give my dog up. It was either live here without my dog, or be homeless with him

So I gave him up. I had to send him back to the place where I'd gotten him in the first place. And I really really did not want him to go back there, but once again, I had no choice. I looked and looked for someone else to take him until I got a job and could get a place of my own, but everybody either couldn't or wouldn't take him

I didn't want him to go back to where I'd gotten him because he was in very poor condition when I got him. He was super skinny, he had bald patches in his fur, his tail was bleeding (it's slightly crooked now, but working properly) and he was very skidish and withdrawn. In the months that I had him he had a complete turnaround. He'd gained a healthy amount of weight, his fur grew back, he healed up, he'd come out if his shell and was playing and I discovered an actual personality in him and he was playing and happy

But now he's right back where he was and he's losing weight again and he's being kept outside again and it's getting cold. I've spoken with the man who has him and he insists that's he feeding my dog every day but

This doesn't look like the midriff of a dog who's being fed everyday. And he's filthy

I went to visit him today, and this was my hand after just a few minutes of petting him

And his water was even worse

When I first got him it was very cold outside. We had a high of -5°F that day, and that night it got down to -13°F

I'm afraid he will still be out there by the time winter sets in again. I don't want that

He was so sad when I left. He was barking and whimpering as I walked away.

You can barely see him all the way back there.

I wish I can take my dog back but I have nowhere to take him. If I bring him back here, to where I'm living now, we would be evicted.

Again, I've spoken with the man who is taking care of him, and he assures me that he's doing the best he can for Jack. And, honestly, I believe him. It's just that his best really isn't good enough. At least not to my standards. He's a really great guy and he does what he can, but he's struggling too

The day I dropped him off I cried more more than I have in years. I didn't even cry that much when I broke my fingers when I was in kindergarten. But Jack is my baby and I love him so much and I need him back, and he needs me!

And here's where I need help. I need to get a place, and soon. Before winter comes again. Once I get a place I can get Jack back again so I can take care of him properly.

The guy had other dogs when I got Jack, one of them died outside in the cold and snow shortly after I got Jack. So I'm really afraid for my dog's life.

And I finally got job (I just started last Tuesday), so I'll be able to take care of him and myself once I start getting regular checks.

I'd been unemployed since December of last year when my temp job ended. It's hard to find a job I can actually do because I crashed my car back in 2009 and injured my back and leg. But luckily I finally found something permanent that's not too strenuous, and the pay's not terrible either

I just need enough to get a place that accepts large dogs and then I can take it from there with the income from my new job

I only need help to get a place as soon as possible so that Jack doesn't freeze, and it's going to take a while to save up enough money to pay for the first months rent, deposit, and pet deposit. And I only worked ~14 hours the first week (I was just training) so my first check is going to be pretty paltry. And time is most definitely an issue. It's October. It's already getting colder.

Please guys. Any amount helps.

My PayPal link is here (message me if it doesn't work. I've never received money through PayPal before, so I'm not exactly sure how this works)

Even if you can't help, please reblog this so others can see it, or maybe tag someone you think can help

I just want my dog back.

(I know this was a really long post, so if you're still here, thank you so much for your time and patience. My thought were a bit scattered, but I organized them as best I could here. So again, thank you)

[tinyshe]

Garden Report 20.10.29

The season if definitely wanting to move towards Winter but I have to question the confused plants in the garden. Part are ready for Winter and the other part thinks maybe it could just be Spring again?! I have two baby plums and the brambles are starting to bloom again!

Bronte, Rossetti and Alcott are now giving us an egg each a day regardless of the colder weather and the shorter daylight. I give them lots of treats and snuggles so maybe they feel obligated.  My last batch of chickens had several Gold Laced Wyndottes and those were laying eggs year round except when they went through a full molt once a year for maybe a week or two. I don’t use artificial light nor heat but we also don’t get much snow. Once they lay, they are getting higher protein lay ration diet and if it is really cold, they will get warm mash in the morning and a high protein snack in the late afternoon to stoke their little internal heaters. I like that they are all laying now because they are easier to catch and cuddle ... even Alcott, Miss flitter - flutter ‘you can’t touch this’ is even more open to me scooping her up. Maybe they just miss me being in the back garden. I can wish :) Bronte still yammers if she sees me in the kitchen making tea and will keep it up if I haven’t been out for a sit. Their coop is less than a stone’s throw from the back stoop so she can see what ever I do at the back end of the house. Makes for some tippy toe dinner preparations in dim light when I want them to roost so I can lock up for the night but if they see me active in the house, its no go. My haiku for this: Hiding from a Hen / A Ninja in the Kitchen / Go to bed feather head!    Well, I tried ... on both parts.

Most of the work has been focused in the front garden, getting it in a presentable state, the topiary and hedges in order and an early winter pruning. So much had gotten so overgrown this year! Lots of rain = lots of growth. Looking forward to getting it primed for maybe a Spring sale. Part of me is very hesitant but I am trying to remember if its to be, God will open doors so there shouldn’t be that fear but trust (I’m a “yeah-but” girl from way back with plan A, B and C raised with lack of trust and sad, wistful hope). Old habits die hard; I just need to put one foot in front of the other (and not beat my head against brick walls).

More trouble with the neighbors but nothing new, they’re just taking it up a notch. I think apartment dwellers have it really tough with this C19 lockdown business and it doesn’t come out in a positive way. Too bad more didn’t have the incentive to garden in some fashion if it was even just for mental therapy. This weekend I hope we can finish getting the lattice panels up. I wish they offered more privacy and a real barricade and not some pseudo  security/ barely a visual obstruction. But this should at least keep the majority of the garbage out of the garden that comes over the fence.

Harvesting all the Asian greens. They are not cut and repeat very readily but I could be impatient since I have lost all track of time. Last of the blackberries today as that after October 31 the rule is no more, as they have been breathed on by the pooka and now considered the pooka’s fruit (as my kids say ‘eat it and ... diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!’). But we have had our fill. They are rather insipid and we are all too lazy to do anything with them but to eat out of hand and even then, I have been known to take the berries to the chickens if the children don’t eat them in a day or two. Most of the herbs are done except for the evergreen and growing rosemary. I still have tons of lemon verbena on the shrub. The single basil plant and the summer savory are going to seed finally so I am hoping to collect those before someone/something devours them. I forgot to move my succulents in the protection zone and the frost took some. I’m strangely fine with that. I normally would be so annoyed with myself but I am trying to take things as they come.

Still no work on the summer house. Getting a wee bit discouraged but I’m being pulled in too many directions to get a grip on starting that project. I am trying to hand it off but no one wants it >;) I do have a friend that has offered to come and help out some but I just have to make the time appear so it can happen. Once the frame / skeleton is up, we can place the new ripple roof, then take out the windows and do rock work slip form one half wall at a time as we “repair” the summer house. I just don’t like cement work in the winter; its a lot more work watching frost/freeze temps and having proper insulation is in place during the curing. Doing half walls on short runs hopefully won’t be a problem.

[riley1cannon]

Superbat Headcanon: Super Bowl Dreams

(that no one, absolutely no one, asked for)

Bruce has been hearing it all year long, ever since the Patriots stomped on the Super Bowl hopes of the Kansas City Chiefs in last year’s playoffs. This year,  Clark has been yammering, would be the Chiefs year. They would make it through the playoffs and onward to Super Bowl 54. He feels it in bones.

Bruce had pointed out, “You do know it’s the Kansas City, Missouri Chiefs, right?”--and felt a brief twinge of concern as Clark’s eyes glowed red. Team sports aren’t his thing these days (and he just doesn’t dwell on memories that sometimes pop up, of long ago summers spent at the ballpark with his parents), but that doesn’t mean he’s never indulged others. Thanks to Alfred, he knows far more about cricket than anyone really needs to. Thanks to assorted children, he’s attended swim meets and soccer matches, and even stepped in to coach a lacrosse game once. (It was for charity. Veronica Vreeland had remembered how he and Harvey had played it at school and volunteered him. She meant well. She remembers Harvey, too.)

So Clark’s devotion to a football team that isn’t even actually based in Kansas doesn’t mystify him. It’s about Jonathan Kent, after all, and the memories Clark made growing up and watching the games with his father. If Jonathan Kent had been devoted to....to mountain unicycling, that would have been Clark’s passion as well. (Bruce will be eternally grateful that Dick had never heard of mountain unicycling.)

And it’s not that Bruce has taken to football himself. It’s just that, if he’s at the farm, or he’s dropped by Clark’s apartment (for entirely legitimate reasons that are not flimsy excuses to spend time with him), or Clark has the game on at Justice League headquarters, there’s not much else he can do except pick up bits and pieces of the game while he’s catching up on some work.

He was there when Patrick Mahomes dislocated a kneecap in a game against the Denver Broncos. Bruce didn’t say anything as Clark fretted about the team’s chances now, but while he only hmm’d and hhn’d in return, he was checking out recovery time from that kind of injury and looking into if the medical division of Wayne Enterprises had anything in the pipeline that could help. As it turned out, Mahomes bounced so fast Bruce never had to intervene. (And he only spent a couple of minutes wondering if Mahomes might be a meta human. It’s only fair; Clark once shared a suspicion that Tom Brady might be an evil cyborg.)

Bruce was also there when the playoffs arrived and the Chiefs and their fans had a bye week to rest up and watch the Wild Card games. Would the Chiefs have to face off against the Patriots again? That had been the number one question on Clark’s mind. Bruce gathered that a rematch, with the Chiefs emerging victorious, especially if it involved Tom Brady getting sacked multiple times, could be desirable. But on the other hand, what if....? He hadn’t been on the edge of his seat, but he had felt some kind of residual exuberance pouring off Clark when the Tennessee Titans soundly trounced New England and removed them from the playoff picture.

He had felt a twinge of concern when the Houston Texans had the Chiefs down 24 to 0 in the second quarter, and then pondered the meta human a bit more when Patrick Mahomes proceeded to lead his team to a comeback for the books, defeating the Texans 54 to 31.

He knew what he had to do then.

Watching the AFC Championship showdown from the comfort of Clark’s apartment or the farm would have suited him fine, but he was the world’s greatest detective for a reason, and he knew Clark would give his eyeteeth--if he could give his eyeteeth--to see it in person. Buying a bank was a piece of cake compared to wrangling last minute tickets, but it had been worth it.

It had been one hundred percent worth it to be sitting on the 50 yard line at Arrowhead Stadium in sub-freezing temps, watching Clark’s face as his team played the biggest game of their season. It hadn’t been a sure thing. Clark had been concerned that if the Titans could take apart New England, if they could discombobulate the Baltimore Ravens, what if they brought that same game to Kansas City? Bruce hadn’t worried. There was no way these football gods Clark spoke of would have the balls to disappoint Superman.

Bruce didn’t know if Clark could cheer himself hoarse. He did know the power of Clark’s grin, as the final seconds ticked off the clock and the Chiefs victory over the Titans was official, could have lit up the Missouri night.

It’s late when their plane takes off, headed back to Gotham. He’ll probably go out on patrol later. Depends on the weather. Neither rain nor sleet nor snow might work for the Post Office, but the older he gets the less enamored Bruce is about going on patrol in a blizzard. Sometimes he thinks he was half-serious about turning it over to Diana.

Then he looks over at Clark, surrounded by a pile of Chiefs souvenirs, including a jersey autographed by Patrick Mahomes,Travis Kelce, and Tyreek Hill, and with a Chiefs beanie pulled down on his head, and he thinks memories of today will be enough to keep him warm through the night.

It’s probably nice and warm in Miami this time of year, he thinks, and only hesitates a moment before sending a text to Alfred. The reply is swift, informing him that tickets have already been acquired, and it’s only a matter of deciding on accommodations. 

Do they need accommodations? Bruce ponders, picturing Clark in the Florida sun, and deciding that yes, yes they do. 

He texts Alfred back to get to work on it and, as the plane makes its way to Gotham, he finds that he is looking forward to the Super Bowl more than he ever could have imagined. 

[littlemisswolfie]

does she know that my destiny lies with her?

AO3

Summary: Trips are made, conversations are had, and truths are revealed.

Two things are decided the next day during breakfast.

One: Darius won’t be rejoining the troupe for shows or missions until after the baby is born. There are a few reasons for this decision. For one, Darius is out of practice after a few months of being away. He needs to get his weight and muscles back to what they used to be for him to be safe. There’s also Kozholok to worry about; the less of a spectacle he makes of himself, the safer he, Yi, and the baby will be.

Two: Darius has to explain himself to Yi’s mother. This is mostly a Wrath decree, because she wants to keep the peace between the troupe and a woman who cooks for them once a week. “Plus,” she says, eyeing Darius’s hand on Yi’s knee, “I don’t think you want your child’s grandmother to hate you, right?”

Cal is obviously in the doghouse with the rest of the troupe members, but no one is openly hostile with him. They mostly just make him do menial tasks, like hand-washing the dishes after breakfast even though they have a dishwasher and Onyx asking him to do her laundry for her. It’s a very sibling-like dynamic, and, thankfully, Cal doesn’t seem too put out by all of it. Yi’s glad; she would hate for Cal to be alienated like that.

She’s not quite ready to forgive him for the things he said, but she doesn’t want him to suffer, either.

*

After breakfast, Yi finally shows Darius the nursery. It’s mostly an excuse to be alone together again, so when Darius is finished poking around, he sits in the rocking chair and pulls her into his lap. “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” he asks her.

“This afternoon,” she says. “At two. Do you want to come with me?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

She cranes her neck to kiss his cheek. “Of course I don’t mind. I’d love for you to come.” Then she laughs and adds, “My doctor keeps pestering me about meeting you, actually. Her name is Dr. Rudy. I think you’ll like her.”

“After, we should go see your mom.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Wrath’s right. I need to clear the air with her before the baby comes.” His hand brushes her stomach again. “I just need to prove I’m going to do right by you.”

“She compared you to my dad,” Yi admits.

He winces. “The one who ran out on you?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Hey.” She cups his face and makes sure he looks at her. “You came back. That means a lot more than words ever could.”

He kisses her sweetly on the lips and they sit there in a comfortable bubble for a while longer. 

*

Dr. Rudy is indeed thrilled to finally meet the father of Yi’s baby. She can tell as soon as she walked into the exam room that Darius is The Boyfriend, because she’s never seen Yi look at her other friends like that. “I’m glad you got back before your little guy decided to make an appearance,” she jokes as she gets the sonogram machine up and running. “Everything’s going just fine. Ms. Cheng is having a perfectly normal, healthy pregnancy.”

Darius smiles and rubs Yi’s hand. “I’m glad.”

The sonogram appears on the machine, and there he is, their baby. Yi hears Darius’s gasp next to her. “Right now,” Dr. Rudy says, “he’s a little over a foot long. That’s a little small for thirty-two weeks, but nothing to be worried about.”

“Holy shit,” Darius says. His eyes are glued to the screen, where he can see their son moving around. 

She turns her head to smile at him. “That’s him,” she says. “That’s our baby.”

Darius squeezes her hand and says nothing, but she’s pretty sure he’s happy about it.

“You’ll be considered full term in five weeks,” Dr. Rudy says. “As long as you avoid too much stress and keep a healthy diet, I can’t see any complications that could arise between now and then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dr. Rudy casts an amused look in Darius’s direction. “I’m guessing you’ll want a sonogram picture.”

Yi laughs. “Yeah, I think so. Right, Darius?”

Darius just nods, and Dr. Rudy shakes her head and prints out the picture.

*

Darius drives them to the shop after her appointment. They have a copy of her most recent sonogram as a peace offering for her mom; Darius never said exactly what happened when he talked to her yesterday, and Yi can only hope her mom isn’t too angry.

They don’t get out of the Jeep as soon as he parks. Instead, he leans over to kiss her and says, “Let me talk to her alone.”

“Are you sure?” Yi asks.

He nods. “Her issue is with me. I won’t make you play mediator.”

“Alright.” She puts one hand over his and squeezes, and she can feel him relax a little at the contact. “I’ll stay in the shop, then. Just don’t take too long, okay? Otherwise I’ll think Mom killed you or something.”

“I think I can handle myself a little better than that.”

“You’ve obviously never met an angry Chinese mom, then.”

*

Yi, like she predicted, has to watch the shop while Darius and her mom talk in the apartment upstairs. Her mom had given him the stink eye when they walked in together but agreed to speak with him privately. So far, Yi can’t hear any shouting from upstairs, so she guesses the conversation is going well.

Some of the regulars are both surprised and thrilled to see her again. “Your mom said you had a bun in the oven,” says Gar, a rugged old man who had drawn a unicorn on her hot pink cast when she was four because she asked for it, “but I didn’t believe her!”

Yi ducks her head and blushes. “Guilty as charged,” she says, rubbing her stomach. “He’s moving around in there. Want to feel?” 

He does, and the baby kicks against his hand rather enthusiastically. Gar laughs. “That’s a strong little guy, huh?”

“Takes after his dad,” Yi says.

“What’s your guy do for a living?” Gar asks. “Your mom never said.”

“He’s a trapeze artist for the Night of Sin circus.” Gar looks skeptical, so she rushes to add, “It pays a lot better than it sounds, I promise. Tickets are over a thousand bucks a pop. We live in a penthouse over a casino. We have plenty of money.”

“I knew you were only with me for my money,” Darius’s voice says, and Yi turns around to see him coming out of the employee’s only door that really just hides the stairs to the apartment. His arms wrap as far around her middle as they can and he drops a kiss on her forehead. 

“Well,” she jokes, “what other good qualities do you have?”

“My dashing good looks, for one.”

“Whatever you say, babe.” Yi turns her head a little to look at Gar again. “Darius, I want to introduce you to Gar. He’s been coming here since I was a kid.”

Darius takes one hand off of Yi and extends it to shake one of Gar’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“So you’re the guy that got our little Yi knocked up?”

Yi knows Gar’s just joking, but Darius doesn’t, and Gar, at almost six feet tall and more muscle than fat, is an intimidating man. Darius winces. “Uh.”

“I haven’t been ‘little Yi’ since I was ten, Gar,” Yi protests.

Gar laughs. “You’re still ‘little Yi’ as long as you can’t reach the top shelf without a footstool.”

“That’s discrimination.”

“That’s facts.” Gar finally smiles at Darius, and Yi feels him relax against her. “It’s good to meet you, kid. How old’re you?”

“Twenty-nine. My birthday is at the end of July.”

“And Yi says you’re a trapeze artist?”

“One of the best.” Darius squeezes Yi’s hip. “I caught Yi out of a freefall the night I met her.”

“Because you singled me out of the crowd as a volunteer,” Yi fires back.

“I knew you’d have the balls if I dared you.”

“She’s always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie,” Gar says, humor evident in his voice. “One time when she was in middle school, she tried strapping fireworks to her bike to see if they would make it go faster.”

Darius lets out a shocked laugh and Yi scowls. “I broke my damn nose,” she says. “You should be more sympathetic to a pregnant woman, Gar.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart! This is the first time you’ve liked a boy well enough to bring him around, and you went and got pregnant before you introduced us! I have a lot of embarrassing stories to catch him up on.”

The employee’s only door opens behind them again, and when Yi looks towards it, she sees her mother emerge. “Please stop harassing my daughter,” she says, voice light like it always is when she jokes with their regulars. “Unless you want me to tell the story of when Yi came to ask you for help with her period and you—”

“Ahhhh, nope! You awful woman, I’ll stop.”

“Good. Now buy what you need and get out, please. I’m closing up early today.”

*

Half an hour later finds Yi, her mom, and Darius all sitting in the living room of the apartment over the shop. Yi knows she should probably tone the PDA down a little around her mom, but she’s been separated from Darius for too long already, so she doesn’t pull away when he tugs her legs up and into his lap so he can rub her feet. She groans in appreciation. “Thanks, babe.”

Darius squeezes her knee with his free hand. “I could tell they were hurting. You kept shifting your weight downstairs.”

“Was I? I didn’t realize.”

“That’s why you have me around.”

Her mom clears her throat, and Yi jumps a little and turns her head to face her. “Oh! Sorry, Mom.”

“I already talked to Darius,” her mom says, crossing her arms, “but I’d like to hear your side of everything. Do you love him?”

That’s the easiest question in the world. “Yes.”

“And does he love you?”

Yi feels Darius stiffen under her, but she doesn’t waver. “Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he shows me with everything he does.” Yi squeezes his hand and feels him relax. “I know Darius like I know myself. He loves me, Mom, never doubt that.”

Her mom regards them both with a critical eye for a moment longer than is really comfortable and sighs. “Alright. I’ll give him a chance. Have you decided what name my grandson will have?”

Yi freezes up because, well, no, they haven’t talked about it, but Darius pipes up with, “I don’t really care about my name. It  has no real meaning to it. I’d like the baby to be a Cheng instead of a Ricci.”

“Are you sure?” Yi asks, a hand falling to her belly.

Darius presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m positive.”

*

When they’re done talking to her mom, she and Darius hop to the next building over to see Nahara.

Yi’s gut twists a little at the thought of seeing the seer again. Their last interaction wasn’t exactly positive, after all. But Wrath insisted. “Your baby is half demon, Yi,” she said. “You need to make sure it’s not going to hurt you.”

So Yi squeezes Darius’s hand and lets him lead her inside.

Nahara takes one look at them and almost combusts. Her hair whips around her like an angry cat’s tail and when she speaks, the air goes still. “Yi Cheng,” she says, “what is your father’s name?”

Yi and Darius both stiffen at the mention of her deadbeat dad, but Yi answers, “Bai. Bai Cheng.”

The crease in Nahara’s brow deepens and her frown widens. “I feared as such.” Suddenly looking very tired, she gestures to the sitting area of her shopfront, inviting them both to sit. Darius pulls Yi into his lap and she leans back against him, confused and worried. Why does Nahara know his name?

Nahara disappears through a door and returns with two cups of tea. The one she hands Yi smells of ginger, which would have been nice back when she was still vomiting every few hours, but she doesn’t say this. “Is something wrong?” she asks instead.

Nahara sighs. “I’ve had a suspicion for a while now,” she says, “and your child and your father have confirmed it.”

Darius tightens his hold on Yi as she shivers at the chilly tone in Nahara’s voice. “What do you mean?” His voice is stern. Protective. 

“It means that Yi is about as human as you are.”

And the world spins.

[wandernkevin]

Last Year’s Misadventure on the Superior Hiking Trail

I sit here today at Trout Creek Camp on the Superior Hiking Trail, every time I come out here people say it will be flowing… yet again! Trout Creek is dry, I’ve never seen any water over there. Anyway, I’m here today on day 0, I never really count the first day because you have to get where you’re going before you head out, I mean I usually spend the night before on the trail then begin the real hiking. So, less than 2 miles today.

This is the most people I’ve ever seen at the Trout Creek Campsite, there is a group of 8 young people here and I see a lot of heavy gear, including, a full-size ceramic coated pot, the thing is HUGE! I ain’t seen one of the things since the last time I went to a group camp for a school trip.

I don’t plan on eating tonight because I ate way too much on the way up here, I knew that’s how it would go so I didn’t pack any food for today. Water on the other hand, well I’m drinking a lot, temperatures are great, nice and cool, but it’s been a while since I’ve been out here. I noticed my water filter is a little tight, hopefully, it doesn’t clog, the problem isn’t the filter, the problem is backflushing a filter with sink water, I’ve heard there’s too much gunk in sink water and it calcifies the filter, user error. Sawyers are getting cheaper these days so I’ll grab another one before my next adventure. Also, they have a fitting so you can backflush with your clean water bottle. I totally have to get one of those, it just makes so much more sense than the plunger.

Once again, I proved the scent proof bags I use for a food bag liner work. Because yet again a chipmunk hopped right passed the bag was laying on the ground. While we are on the subject of food bags, Trout Creek Camp can be a pain to find somewhere to hang your food.

Day 1, Trout Creek Camp to Devil’s Track

I lost the top to my phone mount, so… no cool overlook pictures. I left trout creek this morning and managed to make it to Devil’s Track! I had to descend into the canyon at Devil’s Track at night which seemed sketchy as the edge of the trail was pitch black. I can only assume there’s a cliff there. I’m very interested in seeing what’s out there, I’m staying at the west camp. It seems nice, today was my first ever 20-mile day! The new insoles are working great. Before I wouldn’t even have attempted 20 miles, my feet would start feeling like this after 10. Mission success, I’m not going to bother eating, I took a break at the Pincushion Mountain Trailhead and ate some jerky and banana chips there. Shame, I was looking forward to a hot meal. I managed to gather a liter of water in the dark, I drank half now and I already know I’m going to wake up in the night thirsty so I’ll save the rest for that, perhaps I’ll make the Ramen for breakfast.

Day 2, Let the Misadventure Begin!

I was doing so well, but my sawyer bag ruptured, the sawyer was just too calcified to work right, it too much pressure to filter the water and BAM, the bag separated at the top. It’s just sitting over there taunting me. I have some bad luck with water filters, on the thru-hike, last year, guess what? Yep, the filter failed. So now I have to turn back. Lesson learned, don’t backwash sawyers with tap water. Another lesson also finally learned, bring a backup for water treatment. Boiling does not count! It takes way too long to cover good ground when you have to boil. I’m thinking about iodine, it’s easy, fast and light. But it tastes horrible, I’ve used it before in a 2-week excursion in the Canadian side of Lake of the woods, fortunately, someone had a filter. That was a long time ago, back when the only filters available were like $300+ and clogged pretty fast.

Just remember, with important things like water when you are out in the wilderness, redundancy is key. What would happen if I needed to get off the trail ASAP and boiling was just delaying me? Could become a life-threatening situation pretty quick.

I was able to get off the trail, I hiked back to the Pincushion Trailhead, then through Grand Marais and most of the way to Cascade River State Park along Highway 61 before finally I was able to hitch a ride, two guys in a big truck really helped me out. Also, that was the third time I’ve had to hitchhike, so 3/3 success rate, I have nothing to complain about.

I already ordered a new filter, I’m waiting at base camp until it arrives, then I’ll head back out.

Although I failed to complete my challenge, from the beginning this has been about hiking 20 mile days, which I succeeded. Then completing the North Country Trail hike 100 challenge. So, there will be an update in route but nothing is gonna stop me from getting the 2018 patches. NOTHING.

The Updated Route

The new route is pretty much the same as the old one just shorter as I am running out of time to complete the 100-mile challenge. With my existing 40 miles the below route will total 100.7 miles:

Cascade – Bally creek pond 11.2 (Hike 50 Challenge complete) Bally Creek pond – Devil’s Track 10.5 Devil’s track – Kimball 9 Kimball – Devil’s Track 9 Devil’s Track – cascade 21 (hike 100 challenge complete)

One last push on the way back to cascade doing 21 miles, I know it can be done! I’ll have a nice state park campsite and a shower waiting for me when I get back.

Pre-Hike Again, in Grand Marais, Artists Point, and Cascade River State Park

I stopped in Grand Marais to eat some pizza with a view before heading to the campground. Artists Point is a great place to stop and eat some food from town.

This time I’m staying at the Cascade River State Park Campground, got site #30 non-electric, close to the showers, this is great for a tent, there’s a little spot inset in the back to set up. Also, in case you are wondering, the Cascade River State Park shower facility has always been clean and well maintained every time I’ve been here. It’s a newer facility and I have to say it’s my favorite out of the North Shore State Parks. I do have one problem though, the vending machine in the trail center used to have root beer, now it doesn’t and that is disappointing. I’m already settled in and don’t want to go back into town.

Cascade River State Park to Bally Creek Pond Camp South

I head out around 7 – 8 am, had a smooth start for the most part. The GoPro already died, it just can’t handle 40° nights…

I’m taking a lunch break alongside the cascade river, as you can see from the photo below, it was a nice place to teak a break!

Made it to bally creek pond camp south, I’m staying here for the night. Boy, it’s chilly with the wind blowing out here.

The water at the bally creek campsites comes from the pond, filtered with a sawyer it tastes earthy but clean. The CNOC bottle I got works great! It grabs 2 liters out of the pond real fast. Check out the Cnoc Outdoors Vecto 2L Water Container, 28mm, Orange on Amazon – https://amzn.to/2QOJGkG *.

I still have a breakfast bar, a cliff bar and a Ramen that I can eat today. I had a 400 calorie candy bar for breakfast so I have some extra food for today. I need to wait until at least 6 pm to make the Ramen. I want the warm food in the belly closer to bedtime. I’ll have to wait until then to use the new BRS stove – https://amzn.to/2yiQRui *. I boiled 2 cups at basecamp with it and I was impressed. I’m looking forward to using it the field.

A Rainy Day Back to Devil’s Track West Camp

Sleeping pad has a small leak, had to reinflate several times throughout the morning. I’m not going to be able to find the leak without soapy water, so I’ll just be dealing with it for now. I have the REI flash all season (regular wide), I do like it but people have had some problems with it. I’m hoping this is just a pinhole leak. Otherwise, if I can’t find the leak I’ll return it.

Oh, boy did it rain today! Started around when I left camp and stopped when I got to Devil’s Track West. My poncho did a great job keeping everything dry, it’s heavy but it works so well, I don’t really want to replace it. My hat worked beautifully as well, keeping my head dry from the rain. My shoes are soaked, not much I can do about that. I’m more concerned that the temps for the rest of the hike have lows down to 32° and my sleeping pad is leaking… If I could find the hole I could patch it.

Quite the Superior Hiking Trail Misadventure

I’m at Devil’s Track Camp West, AGAIN. It’s going to be a cold night at 34°, I timed the leak on the sleeping pad. It lasts 19 minutes until my butt hits the cold ground. I put my z-seat under there, that should buy me some time before my core touches the ground. It’ll be cold enough to instantly wake up. At that point, I will reinflate the sleeping pad. It’s too dangerous in these temperatures not having a trustworthy sleeping pad. Once again it’s time to turn around… The sleeping pad completely failed. It’s gonna be a rough night, I miss my x-therm, I should have just got the long version, that would have lasted.

At least the North Country Trail Hike 50 is complete…

Just missed the freeze!

Being out on the trail without a sleeping pad in freezing weather is dangerous, the ground will suck the heat right out of you, leaving you hypothermic. I pushed hard over 20 miles to get back to cascade, gear heavy with water from the rain days prior, boots soaked through, the big freeze incoming, and freezing lake winds the pierce right through your entire being. But I made it back so hey, I call it a success…

So I’m off the trail again, but I still have a reservation at Cascade River State Park Campground for Sunday. I’m going to day hike the remaining 20 miles, 10 on Sunday and 10 on Monday. I’ll still be pushing forward to cover the previous route but I won’t be camping on the trail, I’ll be in the nice warm camper car.

Pincushion Trailhead to Woods Creek Camp and Back

I spent the better part of two weeks trying to cross the bridge over the Devil’s Track river, and finally today there was no gear failure! It’s crazy to think I had gear fail in the same place twice in a row, the filter and the sleeping pad.

The views from this side of the river are spectacular as you can see from the photo of Devil’s Track Canyon and Lake Superior on the horizon. This was taken near the Barrier Falls Overlook, which at first was disappointing because you can’t see Barrier Falls, too many trees in the way. It took some effort to finally get out here given the gear situation but it was still well worth it.

After the hike, I stopped at the Angry Trout Cafe and had a bison tenderloin and it was absolutely delicious, so much that I had to share it here!

Lindskog Rd Trailhead 5 miles Out and Back

Today I was leaving Cascade River State Park to finish the hike and a wolf walked right up to my car! Got about two feet away and slowed down before continuing on up the entrance road. I was so stunned by the unexpected encounter that I couldn’t even grab the camera to shoot some photos. Part of me is disappointed I didn’t grab the camera, but it is more important to capture the memory of an experience in your mind before taking pictures, I’m an adventurer, I don’t consider myself a photographer. My adventure is more important to me that capturing it on film, but it would have been pretty sweet. Back to the hike!

This was a pretty average hike for me to be honest, the trail follows woods creek for a while. I noticed that the water is so much clearer here, I refilled my bottles at Duffree Creek and the water is almost crystal clear with just the slightest brown tinge from tannins in the water, which is common in the forest. The most notable part of this hike was the length of this unobstructed view of Lake Superior from the trail, I don’t believe this is even an “official” overlook, It’s just part of the trail.

Finally, I Finished to NCT Hike 100 Challenge!

This is the second year I have finished the North Country Trail Hike 100, and this year they also had the Hike 50 Challenge which I also completed. I think this is a great program that motivates not just people like me, but everyone to get out there and hike the NCT in their state. Minnesota is fortunate that the Superior Hiking Trail follows this route, not only do you get some nice patches, but you also get great memories and the best views in the entire state.

I’ve been many places in my lifetime and I still stand by my saying that the north shore of Minnesota is the most beautiful and unique place I’ve ever been.

* Affiliate Links

[two-wheeled-therapy]

Spring is coming!  Spring is Coming!!!!!!!!!

It’s not here yet, but it is coming.  That means I will have actual current rides popping in here once again.  I had been looking forward to last weekend’s ride for about a month.  It was something new, something different . . . So when I went to my bike shed on Friday night as snow was falling, I wasn't deterred.  I was excited for Saturday morning, and I only had four miles to ride in the snow so my bike would be outside my front door and ready to go at o-dark-thirty on Saturday.  Once I got her home, I put the cover on, went inside and made sure all my cold weather gear was ready to go.  Saturday’s Temps weren’t supposed to get much above freezing, but I had a mission to run . . . The Rock ‘n Roll Marathon in DC.

After donning my Under Armor Heat Gear, Duluth Trading Company lined Fire House Work Pants, my Gerbing heated liner and Gloves along with the rest of my gear, I fired the bike up in the 28 degree morning air a few ticks after 4:30 AM to head to Arlington to meet the Moto Crew for breakfast.  .We met at Bob and Edith’s Diner, a long time breakfast staple in Arlington.  The four of us enjoyed a good hot breakfast, coffee and I got the run down on what was expected.

Brian (See my Georgia Run from Last Fall) had contacted me about a month ago asking if I was interested in joining the crew.  The responsibilities were to pair up with one of the Marathon’s photographers and ride them around the course so they can get their pictures and video of the race.  Sounded simple enough.  

After breakfast, we headed into DC, got past the Police roadblocks and met up with our marathon contact.  We got our All Access passes and photographer assignments.  I was paired up with Fiona.   After the introductions were made we got ready for the start of the race.

Before getting on the bike, I introduced Fiona to Timmy and told her to let me know if he gets fresh with her.  This obviously was not Fiona's first rodeo.  She took riding on the back of my bike with Timmy in stride and wrote it off as just one of the many characters of a Marathon.

I have to admit it; this was my first rodeo.  Before this, I had visions of zipping alongside the runners with my photographer on board, with the runners but separated from them (by what I don't know).  As soon as we started down Constitution Avenue and Fiona told me to head up the left side of the road, I thought, “But there are runners all the way to the left curb!”  I nodded and followed her instructions and was quickly immersed in the herd of runners.  

As I chugged along at their speed, runners surrounding the bike, I quietly thanked my Blue Knights Safety Directors for their slow roll drills as I rode the clutch in the friction zone and fought to the keep the bike rolling and upright while not hitting any of the runners who were literally less than a foot off each side of the bike.  Fiona was on the back snapping pictures, shooting video and cheering the runners on as my eyes darted back and forth rapidly identifying paths through the maze of runners as she directed me to go through them to get on their right side.  

Once on their right side, we had open space and she told me to run up ahead of the pack we were with.  We headed up and turned towards Memorial Bridge and ran into another curb to curb pack before the Lincoln Memorial.  Friction zone, back brake (Thank God I just replaced them 2 weeks ago), stay off the front brake, keep the bike rolling, don’t hit anyone, find a path . . .  Some runners heard us coming and gave us space.  Others were in their zone or had their tunes up to block external noise as they ran and didn't hear us as I cracked the throttle to try to let them know we were coming.  I kept looking at the near empty sidewalk to our right, but the 8 inch curb kept me away from it, until I saw the curb give way to an access ramp.  I dove the bike onto the ramp and started our way along the sidewalk, which had much fewer runners on it. 

Once on the bridge, Fiona told me to stop.  She got off the bike and disappeared like a Ninja, cameras in hand.  You’d think she would be easy to find: wearing a reflective safety vest, motorcycle helmet, and carrying her cameras, but every time we stopped on the course she would vanish in the crowd to get her shots and magically reappear when she was ready to move to the next spot.

We repeated the process of blazing paths through runners as we wiggled through the course.  I began to use my horn a little, and that became a lot as the day went on.  The further they ran, the more spread out they became, but they also got deeper and deeper into their zones.  Often times despite my horn, cracking the throttle, the blaring tunes Fiona asked me to play on my sound system, and my yelling “ON YOUR RIGHT!”, runners were still startled as a 1,000 pound motorcycle with a ride and passenger whisked past them, sometimes a foot or so away.  I can’t say I blame them for being startled, I probably would have had to change my shorts, but then again I’m done running after 5 miles.

I was amazed at the sights and sounds of this event.  From the runners who dressed up or had their own gimmick, like the guy in the Washington Capital’s jersey who juggled Hockey stick ends throughout the entire course, to the banana man, to people dressed as super heroes, Forest Gump, or whoever the people were awesome!  The sights along the course, Bands set up playing music, impromptu bars set up in people’s yards offering free beer and alcohol to runners (Maybe I should consider running further than 5 miles after all!), the signs held up to encourage runners (My Favorite: “You’re Running Better than Our Government!”), the drum corps, the blue mile honoring our fallen with portraits and flags, and the overall sense of community joining the thousands of spectators to the 17,000 runners all made th is something I definitely want to experience again.  

Like any good rollercoaster, as I was riding I was both exhilarated and asking myself why the hell I ever decided to do this.  But also like any good roller coaster, as I saw the finish line approaching I was disappointed that the experience was soon to be over.  At the finish line, Fiona dismounted and gathered her gear from my trunk.  She and Timmy said their good byes, before she did her Ninja act and vanished into the crowds.  It was over . . .

Brian tells me that he and his crew do 8-12 events like this a year . . . I told him that I am definitely in for another one.  While not a long winding motorcycle ride, it was an experience like no other.  I had my Virb running a lot on the front of the bike and am stitching together a video so you can see the race from a truly unique perspective . . .  Hopefully I will have that done in the next week or so . ..  Stay tuned!

 I have to say that weaving through the mass of runners took me back to riding the Iron Mountain Road with the Buffalo herd outside of Custer State Park in South Dakota.  The difference here is the buffalo knew we were there, weren't wearing earbuds and jamming to tunes, and in many ways were more predictable than the runners.  Both experiences, while nerve racking, were exhilarating and are something I want to do again.  Let’s Ride!

[randxmthxughts]

It will get better, I promise.

AU/Imagine w/Shawn Mendes

Genre: Angst, a little fluff, emotional

Word count: 1890

Request: You could write about Y/N being from another country (say like Australia) and moving overseas to Canada to live with Shawn. And at first she feels really out of place because the seasons are backwards, she has no friends or family there, nothing at the grocery stores are the same etc, and Shawn finds her crying about it one day

Short Description: It’s been hard for you since moving to Canada to live with Shawn. One day he finds you crying about it.

Author’s note: It took me a few days to finish this one, but I’m really happy with the end result. I hope you’ll like it, please reblog so more people can read this one. Also huge thanks to the anonymous person who requested this idea, you rock!

   (the gif has nothing to do with the text, I just like it)

    It was hard. I knew it was going to be. I would lie if I said it was easy to move to another country to live with your boyfriend, who regularly travels to different parts of the world. I would lie if I said that I already made new friends and fitted into Shawn’s company. It was hard to leave my family, friends, work, basically my whole life behind. But I made the decision, and I had to deal with it.

    It was my second month in Canada, and things weren’t quite falling into their places yet. I still felt stressed out about everything that seemed unfamiliar to me. The only person that kept me going through the day and sleep in the night was Shawn. I hated how I became so dependent on him for these past two months, and how lonely I felt in the empty apartment whenever he was working in the other end of the city or flying out to LA to record some new tracks. I felt lonely without him, and to be honest, even though he somehow made every place feel cozy just by his presence, I still wasn’t feeling at home at this new place. Shawn was a distraction, something that I could focus on, leaving behind all of the regrets and the thoughts about my actual home. And he knew that. He noticed me getting sad whenever he had to leave. He noticed all the smiles I faked to my friends or parents through video chats saying that I felt good here. He noticed whenever I lied to his friends about feeling happy when in reality I didn’t. But whenever he tried talking to me about it, I shut him down, reassuring that I’m fine.

    If you’d told me that a simple trip to a grocery shop would be my breaking point, I wouldn’t believe it. It was an afternoon when I realized the fridge was empty. Shawn and I had planned to go grocery shopping this morning but plans suddenly changed when after leaving for the gym he texted me that he was heading out to the studio afterward. To my question when’s the time he’s coming back, he didn’t reply, which basically meant that he was already too into the process of songwriting. He might be coming back in an hour, or he might be coming past midnight.

However, I still had to make myself dinner, and there was nearly nothing to prepare a decent meal. The idea of leaving the house alone still scared me. Putting on one of Shawn’s sweatshirts and black jeans, I couldn’t care less to take a jacket with myself even though the weather in Toronto was freezing. I quickly got out of the apartment, nervously playing with the keys of Shawn’s car; well, it wasn’t Shawn’s car, it was his gift to me for my first month spent in Canada, but I still called it his Shawn always took the driver’s seat.

    I didn’t feel comfortable in the shop. I felt like everyone recognized me, or that they could tell I wasn’t from here, even though probably nobody even cared. I spent about ten minutes in the spaghetti aisle searching for the one I usually buy back at home until it hit me that they probably don’t sell the same brand here. Grabbing a random bag of spaghetti, I moved on with my shopping list, and it took me more than I could have expected, considering that almost everything I was looking for was unfamiliar to me.

    The whole trip home I just felt empty. Walking into the kitchen, the grocery bags tore apart under the weight, letting all of the food inside fall down to the floor. I quickly sat down on the floor, trying to pick up as many products as I could, but all of it was so overwhelming I broke into tears. It wasn’t that the grocery shopping was the reason for my tears. Nor were the shopping bags. For the past few weeks the emotions have been bottling up inside me; every time I would feel down over small things I would keep it to myself, forcing all these negativity to boil up inside me. I couldn’t control my hands, and the food that I picked up earlier on fell to the ground one more time. My vision was not clear because of the tears. I remained on the floor in the kitchen, and let myself cry my heart out, allowing all of the tears to get on my sweatshirt.

    “Babe? You home?” I heard suddenly Shawn’s voice shouting from the corridor.

    While still sobbing, I quickly tried to wipe off my tears with the back of my sleeve, breathing in and out to recover the temp of my breath.

    “Hey” he walks into the kitchen, “Whatcha doin’ on the floor?” he asks carefully, but I don’t dare to turn around, “You need help?”

    A few seconds later he is already picking up the food from the floor, accurately placing it on the table.

    “Don’t mind me, just wanted to sit here for a few seconds” I lie and stand up still not facing him, looking down to hide my face.

    “Is something wrong? If you’re upset over the shopping bags, then it’s nothing. All of the food is fine” Shawn continues, as he walks up to me and stands in front of me.

    He lifts up my head by placing his fingers on my chin, and as soon as he notices the tears on my cheeks, his face becomes full of concern.

    “You’ve been crying?” he cranes his neck, forcing me to gaze up at him, meeting his beautiful hazel eyes.

    “Yeah,” I exhale, “But it’s fine now, I just wanna wash off the tears” I slightly sob, trying to get out of the room, but he grips my arm stating that I shouldn’t move.

    “Why were you crying? Are you hurt?” I can see him growing worried as a new thought hits his head every second.

    “No, I’m fine, I was a little stressed, but it’s fine.” I quickly respond and force myself to smile, but Shawn doesn’t believe it for a second, furrowing his eyebrows.

    “I came back to bring you along to the studio,” Shawn says, his hand gently stroking my arm, “I guess we won’t go there today though.”

    “You can leave without me, it’s fine” I gulp the lump in my throat.

    “Baby, it breaks my heart to see you like this. Tell me, what’s wrong?” he interrupts me barely whispering, and I can feel how tense he was at the moment.

    “It’s nothing,” I shake my head, avoiding his eyes, feeling new tears running down my cheeks.

    “I’m not an idiot. You’ve been telling me “it’s nothing” for the past few weeks. I can see that something is wrong. Do you think I don't notice when you pretend everything is perfect? Or how unhappy you are to talk about your day, the way you lie about your feelings since you moved in?” he pauses and breathes in before continuing, “You didn’t want to move in, did you?” he asks stepping closer to me, studying my face.

    “I did, but it has been stressful” I stutter wiping off the tears, as he clenches his jaw; what he always does whenever he feels nervous.

    “I’m such an idiot,” he breathes out, shaking his head, “I’m so sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner. I’m such an idiot”

    “No, you’re not.”

    “Yes, I am. Babe” he pulls me into a hug, tightly wrapping his arms around my body, and I felt like he needed this hug more than I did.

    “It’s hard” I whisper into his chest, sobbing.

    “I know… I should have known,” he shakes his head again in disappointment, as he buries his nose further into my hair, “It gets better, I promise,” he mumbles, now brushing with his fingers, “I’m so sorry.”

    I don’t speak, as I feel sick to my stomach. I found comfort in Shawn, in this hug, his words. They didn’t change the situation nor the fact that I still wanted to cry my heart out, but he calmed me down.

    “Is it too much for you? Do you want to…” he pulled back examining my face, “do you want to go back home?”

    “No” I quickly say, but he cuts me off.

    “I’d understand if you did. I’d get it” he continues, as I shake my head in disagreement.

    “I just want this to be over” I mumble again, “I can’t wait for this to be over. I didn’t think it would take so long to get used to all of this.”

    “I know it’s hard, I’ve been through this” Shawn says, and he pulls me back, letting his arms quickly examine my body until he finally rests them on my waist, “You know, I’ve been through this.”

    “You did?”

    “Yeah. When I had to leave Toronto for the first time, I went on tour. It has been so hard. I know it’s a little different since I didn’t have to actually move out, but it was still hard to find comfort in a new place. Or to get used to seeing your friends and family through a small screen,” he continues, and I remain silent, fully concentrating on his voice, since I can't see him.

    I tightly squeeze him, trying to pull myself closer to his body, even though that was technically impossible. I hear Shawn’s slight chuckle at my actions, and he brushes my hair lovingly.

    “But then when you’re away for too long, it starts to eat you away. You feel lost, and everything is so fucking overwhelming,” he speaks.

    “I know” I nod.

    “And then when I moved out to this apartment. It was very unusual. I’ve been telling everybody that I loved being on my own, threw some parties in here. But...you wanna know a secret?” he suddenly asks, pulling back to see my reaction.

    “Sure."

    “I’ve never felt like home here until you moved in with me. You kind of completed the picture. Like the last puzzle; you’ve made my life fall into its place. Everything started to make sense. This place, my music,” he says biting his lower lip.

    “Shawn” I cup his cheeks with my palms, feeling a smile spreading on my face, “I have a feeling I’ll feel the same way soon.”

    “I hope you will. You know, it takes time to get used to things as drastic as this. But if it doesn’t change, let me know, okay?” he asks, and I nod, “We can move to another place whenever you say, I can move to your hometown if you want to, I mean-”

    “No need in that” I interrupt him, stroking his cheek, “Thank you for making me feel better. I actually never thought that you felt the same way before.”

    He smiles back, and places a kiss onto my forehead. And even though it would take time to get used to this new environment, I had a better feeling about it. I felt like it will get better. Just the way it did for Shawn.

    “It will get better, I promise” he whispers one more time, reassuring me in new thought settling in my mind.

MASTERLIST

Some of my recent works:

“Are we actually dancing to Charlie on Sunday morning in the gym?” - Shawn is all grumpy so you go to the gym with him and try to lift up his mood by playing some of his songs.

You smell like peaches - Shawn tells you how good you smell while you cuddle up in bed. (blurb)

You don’t wear lipstick because of me? - Shawn finds out that you don’t wear a lipstick because of him while you’re getting ready for a dinner with his team. (blurb)

You’re so clingy right now - You try to do your homework but Shawn keeps making you lose your focus. 

Do I smell jealousy? - Shawn gets jealous and makes a scene when you talk about a movie actor you find attractive.

A Huge Surprise - Shawn has been away for two months and he is forced to choose whether to visit you or his family first.

Have you been reading tweets this whole time? - Shawn and you stay up late to read the tweets after “In My Blood” gets released. 

[canaryatlaw]

alright, it’s a bit past midnight so I should get writing. today was pretty good. I woke up to my alarm at 10:30 which gave me half an hour to make myself presentable from the waist up at least for my Skype interview, lol, which wasn’t too difficult to get done. The interview went pretty well, it was fairly informal because they’re basically a company that gets projects from law firms that are outsourcing and they can submit our resumes for projects and see if we get selected. Most of them are fairly short term but would be a solid work day, and it would be on location in the loop which I think is probably a good thing because even if I had work to do on my laptop I still think being in my apartment alone all day would drive me nuts. So that’s looking positive, he said compensation differs per project but the unlicensed stuff is generally $22-$25 an hour while some of the licensed work (which I could do if it was available) would be more in the $30′s, so that’s good. Didn’t last all that long, but it was good. From there I kinda bummed around a bit before getting ready and heading out to my haircut appointment. It’s been a lot better than the freezing temps from last week, but it was still like 32 today so not exactly warm. I decided my best option to get there was to walk a bit to a bus that goes right by the Ulta, so I did that. I arrived a few minutes early so I browsed the products for a few before heading back to their salon area. I always love seeing my salon person because she’s super great and we always have a great time talking while she's doing my hair, and we had lots to catch up on since I hadn’t been there since July (since I’ve kinda been letting my hair grow out). Today was basically just to make all of it more even because it was a good deal longer in the back than in the front, so we got it more into a traditional bob cut which is generally my preferred hair length so I’m pleased with that. Once we were done I went back to viewing their products because I had a few things written down that I was looking for, so I picked up a concealer from them that’s supposed to be really good and a bottle of lotion because I’m almost out of the stuff the allergist told me to get. So I checked out there, then walked down to the Sephora down the street, because one of the things I was looking for was Sephora brand, so I couldn’t just get it at Ulta. I was looking at eyeliner options and such at Ulta but decided to hold off till I get to Sephora. So once I got there I found the lip stain pencils I had been looking for (I can’t like, do anything lip color that has any scent whatsoever because my body hates me so I can basically only use lip stains) then talked to some employees a bit about finding a black eyeliner that wouldn’t kind of smear down my face as the day goes on and a mascara that was a bit less clumpy than the one I was using. I felt bad because I was coming in and complaining about what were basically their top of the line products (I had been using urban decay eyeliner and better than sex waterproof mascara) but they just kinda laughed at that and said it was really fine, the better than sex mascara is their top seller but if you asked any of the employees in the store for the best one, they probably wouldn’t pick that. But they got me hooked up with some good options that I was able to test (sanitarily, thankfully, they seem to have that down) so I got those along with the two lip stains, and picked up a tiny bottle of hand lotion to keep in my purse from the check out line. Once I was done there I had to walk a bit over to where the nearest Sally’s location is, which happened to be closer to my old job than I thought it was (I could see the building from the front of the store) so I was kinda 😑 about that but oh well. I was looking for the same bleach kit I got there back in like, 2015, the last time I had lightened some streaks in my hair, and after some consultation with the employees I found it fairly easily and got that. At this point it was threatening to ice storm starting within an hour or so, which meant if I took the red line home by the time I would have to make my 20 minute walk home there’s a fair chance I could get stuck walking through an ice storm, which I would definitely like to avoid, so I went ahead and got an $8 uber pool which worked out nicely. There were two other pool people, one of which was loudly on her phone for pretty much all of it, and once she got off the driver started laughing and telling us everything that was going on before we got in the car and it was pretty funny. the uber app again attempted to drop me in the middle of the street where I’d have to jaywalk across a fairly busy road to get home, but I was paying attention to the app and asked to just be dropped off at the corner before that, which they thankfully did, so I appreciated that (at this point I’m like, should I like write to uber about this?? because it’s definitely a safety hazard, like I’d probably be fine but if it’s doing this to other people they could end up in a very bad situation, but idk if it would actually make a difference, sigh). Got home and unpacked all my stuff before going to the couch with my laptop where I finished the rest of the episode about crazy cool homes I had been watching on netflix before switching over to whatever the news was saying and just leaving it on there for a bit. Jess wasn’t planning on coming over because it was supposed to ice storm. but apparently it never actually did....so she came over and we ordered sushi/Japanese food (because we’re literally always on the same page about food lol. She hasn’t been keeping up with The Flash but was two weeks behind on Arrow so we watched last week’s episode before watching last night’s episode which we missed. It was a rather peculiar episode I would say, I don’t know how I feel about the whole documentary format, I didn’t really feel like it added much to the plot (thought I did appreciate seeing at least 30 seconds of my girl Sara on the screen). The plot with William was kinda weird, then of course there was the flash forward at the end regarding the documentary and someone named “Connor” (as in Connor Hawke) which would make a lot more sense as a timeline that it would reasonably be John Diggle Jr. than it did when he supposedly showed up in 2046 and was definitely not pushing 40. Once we finished that we were kinda meh about anything else we had to pay too much attention to because Jess was writing and I had been trying to figure out how to get my podcast mic to work since the other pieces came in today, but unfortunately I’ve been entirely unsuccessful so far, I ordered another piece that some online sources said will solve the problem, so I’m hoping that will work, because I’m pretty much lost as to how to get it to work. So for these reasons we turned on netflix’s Sabrina show which we’ve been casually watching without putting too much commitment into, so we finished the last episode we were on then got about halfway through the next one before the blu ray player started wigging out and not working, so at that point Jess headed home and I switched over to live tv, just in time for the democratic response to the SOTU address, which I was very intentionally not tuning into, but I thought the response was pretty damn good, especially compared to the one the democrats gave after president douche’s last televised speech. From there it led onto news which I let play for a little bit before starting to get ready for bed and hopping in the shower, and now I am here. I am quite tired at this point since I did get to bed awfully late last night and didn’t sleep in all that much, so I would very much like to be asleep as soon as possible, so I’m gonna do that now. Goodnight babes. Stay lovely.

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Clawdia Wolf

I’ll make you a villain if you read my diary.

August 25th

Today I was walking through the streets of Londoom I just wanted to howl and do a little dance because I’m so excited to be here. I didn’t, of course, do the dancing part, since I’m the one with the “clumsy gene” in our family and I didn’t want to fall through an open monster hole cover. It has never bothered me that I’m not as athletic as the rest of the pack, because I think it was pretty apparent even when I was a cub that I was better at writing stories about my brothers’ and sisters’ athletic exploits than participating in them. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind and body may have been in concert but they were not playing the same tune. I remember the last organized soccer game I played: the coach put me in the goal partly because I was tall for my age and partly because he thought that perhaps the prospect of a ball being rocketed toward me might keep my attention. It worked for a bit, until the ball stayed at the other end of the pitch for a while, and a butterfly landed on the net. All of a sudden I became a ferocious were-spider who decided to give the butterfly a reprieve. So I climbed up in the net to shoo it away when I heard my dad yell, “Clawdia, turn around!” A ghoul was on a breakaway, and the only thing between her and me was open pitch and the ball. I tried to turn, and my spikes caught in the net, so I just closed my eyes and leaped toward the front of the goal. Somehow the ball ended up in my claws, and I kept the ghoul from scoring. It was my one and only athletic achievement, so I retired with my legacy in check and got a good story out of it, which, I’m sure, will end up in one of my screamplays some day.

September 8th

I was sitting in the lecture hall today not really paying attention like I should have been, partly because I was working on a not-for-that-class writing assignment and partly, okay, mostly, because symbolism in ghost-modern, neo-realist goblin cinema is only slightly less painful than rolling in flea-infested wolf’s bane. Honestly, I have no idea what a goblin miner wearing a red hat and pushing an empty ore cart says about the state of modern goblin-kobold relations. I’m sure it is profound and important, but well... it doesn’t matter. What did matter, howere, was that the professor asked a question that he wanted all of us to answer, and I didn’t hear the question. I could have asked him to repeat the question, of course, but then I would have had to acknowledge that I had not been paying attention, and since this particular professor hates that, I knew I was going to have to wing it on the answer. Which made me nervous, which made me look for something to chew on, which meant I wasn’t listening to the other answers, which meant I didn’t have a clue when he got to me. So when he said, “Ms. Wolf?” I said I didn’t think I could add anything to the discussion that had not been more profoundly stated in the answers my classmates had already given. This caused the rest of the class to burst out laughing, to which the professor said, “While I appreciate your humility, your answer leaves us no closer to knowing how many siblings you have.” I was mortalfied, but even more so when he said, “Please do try and pay better attention going forward.” Unlive and learn, Clawdia, unlive and learn.

September 15th

I’ve been using my iCoffin tablet to do some of my writing lately, and I really like it. I mean, I like the tablet. It’s great for doing video chats, and there are some really cool Londoom based apps that have helped me find my way around the city better. As for the writing part, I still prefer my chewed pen and leghoul pad. It may be old-fashioned, but there’s something about a blank sheet of paper that’s less intimidating than a blank scream with a blinking cursor.

October 1st

The only thing that’s coming down faster than the temperature in Londoom right now is the rain. I’m not sure what the real temp is, but you know it’s cold when a werewolf has to put on her fuzzy wool socks... brrr... fortunately, dad did a good job preparing me for this climate by never allowing to turn the thermostat up past the “I can see my breath” mark during the winter. We would say, “Dad, the house is freezing!” to which he would always reply, “You can either have heat or you can eat.” Followed quickly by, “We’re werewolves, for ghoul’s sake, put on a sweater if you’re cold.” Then we’d all look at mom, who would just shrug her soldiers. It was one of the only things she couldn’t change his mind about. So we’d all just sit snuggled together on the couch watching bad TV, complaining about Howleen’s sharp, unclipped paw nails and making promises about what we’d do when we all moved out and got our own places. I distinctly remember saying that I would turn up the heat so high that it would make Gloom Beach seem like a Yeti cave. So the first time it got cold here, I did just that, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be, until I got my first heating bill. Let’s just say that grocery shopping for the next few weeks gave me a completely different perspective on dad’s old saying. I’m pretty confident that saltines and marmite will never darken the shelves of my cupboard again after having that formerly tasty combination as my only breakfast and lunch option for a fortnight. I’m really missing being able to snuggle up on the couch with my pack of siblings, and I wouldn’t even complain about Howleen’s uncut paw nails... well, maybe not a lot.  

October 6th

I had a great video chat with the fam tonight, and they could not stop talking about Draculaura being chosen as queen of the vampires. They were in complete shock, and I have to admit it was quite a surprise to me as well. The vampires haven’t had a queen since the last chosen one, a young vampire ghoul named Elissabat, disappeared some 400 years ago. What is really curious about this, as if Draculaura being chosen as the new queen right out of the boo wasn’t curious enough, is that Clawdeen told me Draculaura’s choice was confirmed by the Vampire’s Heart. I have actually been doing quite a bit of research on the heart, which is really just a massive jewel with magical properties, for a screamplay I wanted to write about the mystery of the missing queen. There are many scholars that believe the jewel disappeared at the same time the ghoul who would be queen did; so either the scholars are incorrect, or there is more here than meets the eye. I didn’t want to be the one to rain on the funeral though, until I had a little more proof, especially with Clawdeen being so excited about attending the coronation. I did notice that Clawd wasn’t in the room with everyone else, and I’m wondering how he is dealing with this news.

October 7th

Clawdeen has sent me at least 30 texts and emails since last night detailing the fashions she’s thinking about taking to the coronation. I can see her now running around the room with absolutely every piece of clothing she owns spread out so she can mix and match fashions. She’s probably also been through Draculaura’s closet several times as well. I love her so much and I wish I could be there to make her laugh when she starts getting too serious. She’s so beautiful, though, that whatever she chooses will probably steal the show. I finally got an IM from Clawd asking if we could talk. This wasn’t unusual, since Clawd prefers one-on-one conversation to fighting for face time in a group. When he popped up on the screen he looked terrible, almost like he’d been crying, although it might have just been bad lighting. As usual, Clawd didn’t want to talk about himself and instead wanted to know every little thing I was doing. I finally had to say, “Stop howling around the moon and talk to me, little brother.” So he did. He told me that he didn’t trust the Lord Stoker character that showed up with the Vampire’s Heart claiming it led him to Draculaura. What’s more, neither did Draculaura. They both thought Draculaura would be miserable being queen, but that she would feel honor and duty bound to take the throne. Even so he was trying to be as supportive as possible and went on for a few more minutes about things that were worrying him. When he stopped I said, “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, “She’s my best friend, sis, and I’m about to lose her forever.” Now it was my turn to swallow hard, and then he made an excuse about having to leave for practice and said a hasty goodbye. I’m going to do some more digging into this, because something doesn’t pass the smell test here, and a Wolf’s nose is always right.

[hypnotic-harmonies]

Day 8 - 1.25.19

The past 2 days have been incredible busy. Yesterday, I was stuck in Murfreesboro from around 0700 to about 2100 not including travel times. I was exhausted. Once I finally got home, I made the executive decision to just go to bed instead of posting so I will just chunk in what I remember in this post. 

Day 7: Yesterday was a very long day. I had 6 hours of classes, 5 hours of lab, and had to write my first commutable, working computer program without assistance. It was a long, stressful, 14 hour day. Beyond all that however, I enjoyed myself. I have become pretty good friends with 2 guys that are in my first 2 lectures, John and Carter, and a girl who is in all of my classes except programming, Ava. It’s really nice to have personal interaction with people I actually relate to - even better that it’s people I don’t work with.

I love talking to my long distance friends, but talking through text and snapchat really gets old after awhile, and for some reason I didn’t realize that until recently. I am starting to wonder if it has something to do with why I have such a short temper with some people when I only text with them. Who knows? 

While yesterday wasn’t a generally bad day, my drive to Murfreesboro was less than pleasant. While one I-840, I got trapped behind an ice truck in one lane and a dump truck in the other, both going the same speed, blocking all traffic on the interstate. My car was splattered & berated by salt crystals for 5 miles while a minimum of 40 cars in each lane built up behind the 2 trucks because we couldn’t get around. My car is currently still coated salt and probably will remain that way until I can get around to washing it. Hopefully I will get the chance this Sunday or Monday. Rumor says it should be in the low 50′s and I am simply ready to get out of the sub freezing temps.

Day 8: Today was another very, very long day. After getting home late last night, and getting up with Apollo twice throughout the night, 0545 came quickly. This morning was pretty normal. I got up, got dressed for work, and left for school. I only had two classes this morning so they weren’t too terrible. I had to give a speech in my communications class and didn’t exactly love that, but I didn’t hyperventilate, hold my breath, or pass out in the process so I will take that as a success. After class, I went back to my car and sat for a minute and just got my life together. While I was getting ready to leave, another car went to back into the spot directly behind me and idled into me. I freaked out. Someone had hit my brand new car AGAIN. Thankfully, there was no damage as our bumpers just bounced off each other, but it was enough to freak me off and shift my entire day just slightly off kilter. I went to Chic-fil-a on may way to work around 1030, and managed to make it to work right at 1100. I was supposed to get off at 1600, but got stuck staying to 1700, ran by job number 2 to check this next week’s schedule, ended up having to clock in and help out for an hour and change, then finally made it home around 1930. It wasn’t a bad day, but I am extremely tired. 

Emotionally, I feel kinda all over the place, however, that be heavily due to the exhausted. I believe at least some of it is just because of how hard I have been searching for answers this past week. I spent the first 6 days fighting with Johnathan, then a few days trying to be civil to Jack and fighting with him, and trying to figure out if I need friendship, a relationship, a hookup, or to just be generally alone. I feel overwhelmed and so hollow at the same time.. Maybe soon I will figure out what I need to do in order to grow and thrive, but until then, it is just another day on the same grind.

[krnaturalphoto]

Water Gap 50K

When I decided that along with some of my friends we were going to try to run our first 50k this year we initially only planned to do one. Then during the process of training one of my friends training for our first 50k with me mentioned that there was another 50k later in the year that she was considering doing. That sounded potentially fun and something we could possibly do if we felt like it after our first 50k and we still had any interest in running that distance. Over time the idea of running a second 50k this year just kinda fell by the wayside. After our first 50k we never really discussed it.

Then my other friend who ran our first 50k together this year mentioned to me about one and a half months ago that she was thinking about running the other 50k we had talked about previously. And that is all it took. I was in for a second 50k. And that is how I ended up running the Water Gap 50k from Red Newt Racing. All it takes is that one friend who is a bad influence and you get sucked right into another race.

I did not have a particularly good summer of running leading into training for this race. I had no idea what to expect for this training cycle or race. I had battled a lot of soreness over the summer, but I was ready to add in some miles and see how things went. I basically just ran normally during the week and added one long run in at the end of the week. Because of our condensed training time, we only decided to commit to this about a month and a half out from the race we added two miles to our long run each week with no decreases in mileage along the way, just a constant increase in miles. The only week where there was a decrease in miles was the week before the race where most people would taper and for the taper I rested most of the week and then another tough trail race, the Green Monster Trail Challenge 25k which has over 3000 ft of elevation gain. So not really a restful taper. We don’t really do things by the book around here.

Our goal for this race was to finish the 50k in under six hours. I really had no idea what to expect from this race particularly with the condensed training, but after all our long run results we felt pretty confident that we would be in good shape.

I prefer to run in cooler weather, so I was pretty happy as the race approached and the forecast was showing that it would be cooler than the week before. What I was not prepared for was sleeping in a tent overnight in the nearly freezing cold temperatures and then starting only my second 50k race at those same nearly freezing cold temps. That was a little bit of overkill on the, I hope it is colder than last race, wish-fulfillment. But it was still better than being too hot.

This was a very different type of race for me. The course was relatively flat and relatively straight. I have never run a road marathon before (However it looks like that will change next year.) so running 31 miles on flat straight terrain was new to me. I always feel like the constantly changing course of most trail runs benefit my legs by constantly changing my stride and that keeps my muscles from tightening up, but with this course my stride was mostly the same the whole way. I think the combination of that factor and the cold made my hips especially very tight and uncomfortable for most of the race. Even in the beginning when I should have felt good. There were points during the race where we were wishing we could just do a little climbing, something that anyone who knows me knows I never say. We just wanted to break stride and activate some other muscles. I usually love downhill running and there were some very nice little downhills in the beginning of the course that I enjoyed, but by the second half of the race what downhills there were I couldn’t really enjoy because I was too stiff and tight.

Despite all the challenges of training for and then running this race we were at the half way point and pretty sure that unless something catastrophic happened we would be able to make our time goal. During the second half of the race we spent a lot of time doing mental calculations and figuring out how much time we could afford to give back as we got more tired and the wheels started to come off. We would have to run about seven miles farther than our longest training run so one never really knows how it will go. I also spent our training runs trying to work out a new fuel strategy which I never really figured out and then made some unwise choices for pre-race meals the night before that lead me to completely abandon what I was planning to do for fuel that had worked on my previous 50k. Instead I ran the whole race on gels and tailwind until the last aid station where a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was calling my name. It was the first time I felt like eating any solid food other than M&M’s.

We slowed down significantly in the second half of the race but did succeed in finishing under our time goal at 5 hrs and 47 min.

The course was a really nice course and had the opportunity to be gorgeous, but the freezing temperatures and cloud cover most of the day made it hard to enjoy the scenery.  There were a few burst of sunlight peaking through the clouds to brighten things up, however when you are in the middle of a 50k those only serve to heat you up more than you would like. A lot of the course is run on a nice wide gravel trail with trees on one side and an open field on the other side. Those sections are primarily flat. I really loved the sections of the course when you are running through the woods. Some of those sections were more technical and had more elevation changes to them. The woods, the technical trail, and the elevation changes are all thing s I love in the sport of trail running. There were some nice sections where you run pretty close to the river, which again would have been a little nicer if there wasn’t complete cloud cover. My favorite part of the race was a section where you are in the woods and you drop down across a short but relatively steep decent that is narrow and drops off to both sides and then when you get to the bottom you pull a U-turn and go back the way you came at a completely different elevation level and you enter this section of the woods that is like a small twisty canyon for a second. Its kind of narrow and wooded. When I got to that spot I was just like, wow this is why I do this.

Another aspect of this race that I could not possibly oversell is the fact that myself and two of my friends ran the race and then two more friends crewed us at the race the whole time. I ran the entire race with my friend who talked me into running the race. I have never before run an entire race with someone before, that was a nice experience and if nothing else it makes the concept of a race less stressful. Its more like just another long training run with your friend. I highly recommend that if you are going to run an ultra and can make a weekend with your friends out of it, do it. You will not regret it.

At this race I again tried something a little bit different. I only shot video with my GoPro’s and no photos. I then used my software to extract photos from the video. I am not happy with the results of those photos. The photos did not turn out as well as I would have hoped. After these last two races I will go back to some of my methods I have used in the past. This is what happens when you are always pushing the limits and trying new things. Sometimes things don’t go as well as you would like.

from Water Gap 50K

[weracetogether]

Adventures in SwimRunNC- Race Report (and more) http://ift.tt/2yDLZCa In April the 140.6 Patrick and I were set to race in October was cancelled. A few things came of this-- disappointment and opportunity. Sure we were no longer going to be racing across Delaware but little did we know what exploits were ahead of us. I went looking for something "fun" and "different". A friend had mentioned SwimRun events to us previously. A quick google search lead me to SwimRun NC. I don't recall which race we were driving home from as I sat in the passenger seat and inputted an application to the race.

We waited, we started to run more trails but not overly focused in this area, as we were not sure if we would be racing fall trails. We waited some more, learning to swim with each other in a line or side by side. We waited a little longer, to the point that I figured there would be no new adventure this fall. Then while I was showering one morning Patrick came in the bathroom asking if I knew. Knew what? That we were in if we wanted the spot. A team had dropped and we had a spot to race SwimRun NC. There are no other words to express my thoughts, while I stood there smiling with excitement all I could express was "Oh SHIT!!!!" With an ecstatic heart and worried mind I paid our entry fee and signed our names to the 2017 roster.   Since at this point we had weeks to train we increased our trail running but since the 20 mile swim I had been slacking on swimming Plus every time I wanted to swim the wind was whipping up waves or the jellyfish were in attack mode, so bailing on swims became too easy. Race day was quickly approaching- I knew it had to be getting close based on the scrapes and bruises I had from falling during woods training runs.

Starting out

There were a few things we already knew- the terrain would not be Florida sand and hills, we knew we would be in NC foothills, going up a mountain on rocks; we knew the water would not be our warm salt assisted water, we knew it would be cold but fresh; we knew the weather would be a major factor, but this factor was just another day for us Floridians. We packed up our short cut wetsuits, rope, pressure bandage, shoes, swim paddles and buoy, and courage and headed north to the mountains. As we drove the leaves began to change and so did the weather report. The rains were setting up for after the race as a front brought colder temperatures. No worries, this was after the race. We made the final drive into the mountains and the day brought another change in weather, the rains would happen the night before and morning of the race and the dropping temperatures would happen as we raced. Well, this was suppose to be an adventure, right?

The prerace meeting was encouraging-- look for the yellow and pokadot ribbons and have fun. I do have to say we were a little worried with the conversations of Ironman achievements going on between most of the athletes that not everyone was there to have fun. But we have never been at a race for the benefit of others or to show off our accomplishment list; we were here for the love of the sport and to try something new. Better than the "let's have fun" message was the other bonus for racing- letters written by elementary school students wishing the athlete luck!! Our author even hoped we would bring home the trophy. Only in our hearts!!

Race morning alarms woke us to find it raining outside. We geared up in swimsuits and sweatpants and loaded the remaining gear. I ate my yogurt as Patrick drove up the winding mountain roads, covered in rain and leaves.  At the start site the air temp was in the mid 50's, not bad. The problem was more so that the winds were picking up and the front was pushing in. We chatted with other athletes as we wiggled into wetsuits and stuffed supplies in sleeves. We readied ourselves at the start line and after a few inaudible words (because we were int eh back of the pack) and a quick kiss, the horn sounded and the pack let loose.

 The first stage was four miles up the mountain (with a few downhills). During this trek we would encounter the waterfalls and some climbing opportunities. The one problem we ran into was with all the groups starting at the same time there was a bit of a logjam as people were single-file up the rocks. This was a beautiful start to the race and our first time getting our feet wet in the cold streams running down the mountainside.

The top found us looking out over the lake. The push up the mountain had turned out wetsuits into personal saunas. One would think, "Oh this water is going to feel great." Well the answer is yes and no, both said immediately and at the same time. The water was in the lower 50's. Our warm bodies were instantly cooled, this quick temperature drop made it a challenge to catch my breath for the first few strokes. So there are no buoys (except at the out) in SwimRun. We were navigating blind with matters made worse by fogging goggles. As the cold water rushed out suits we fell into a rhythm. Patrick stopped to clear his goggles a few times and then spotted off me as we moved through the lake. About 2/3rd of the way through we started to see trees in the lake. Let me tell you when you are swimming along seeing nothing and all of a sudden there is a freaking tree under you it is a little freaky!!! And for a Gulf swimmer every algae plumb or piece of grass was for sure a jellyfish!!! We stood up in the muck and made our way to dry land. We ran for a short period and then back in the water for a quick swim. Then we went down the damn and back to the lake entry point, again we went around. This time the cold water was making my hands become pins and needles. There was no warming up between plunges. Patrick again watched me to his right and we fell into sync with each other. The lake trees didn't surprise me this second time around, but their eerie presents gives way to the realization that the cold is real in the lake, freezing items with their summer coverings. This time down the hillside to the damn there were few around us, we were racing the clock to not get stopped short of the mountain climb. For this reason we zipped past the volunteers offering fluids and food, grabbing only what was right in front of us, and leaped over the race mat to start our climb. The hike up Moore's Wall to Moore's Knob (here after known as "the TOP") is a climb of just less than 2 miles. Seems reasonable, except it is comprised of 642 "trail" stairs. See trail stairs are different than normal stairs. If I tell you there are 642 steps, you think "Oh I love the stair master" or"I walk up the stairs each day to work". But trail steps are a different beast. They are uneven in height and length. They are spread out and then close together. They are covered is a light slime from the rain and slippery with mud and small gravel. They don't give at all when your hamstrings cramp from the cold and you miss a centimeter of height you needed to clear the step. As the trees were beginning to thin we could feel the winds increase, noticing now more than before that the temperature was dropping. Clapping, we started to hear clapping! A volunteer stood there cheering us to the top. He was a beautiful site. A little more of a climb and we were there at the top looking over the edge. Even though we were only halfway this was our trophy moment. We stood and watched the hawks fly below us over the tree tops painted with autumn colors. I pushed to the edge as far as Patrick would let me go, after all I was tied to him and there was no net!! The mist and clouds swirled around us and the wind blow the cold air against our faces. Int hat moment the burn faded and the beauty of all that surrounding us filled us with warmth. The TOP the glorious TOP. But as it has been said what goes up, must go down.

The TOP

It was a fleeting moment of warmth. Now the downhill portion began, knowing that at the bottom of the hill we would be greeted again by the cold waters of the mountain lake. The terrain was rocky giving way to roots. Knowing we were halfway we spent much of the downhill laughing at the "trouble" I managed to get us into and telling stories of other times we went looking for waterfalls or exploring wooded trails.We spent much of our time just the two of us, we would pass a team here and there, offering "hellos" and "we got this" remarks. We were good alone in the woods. The trees this time parted to a view of the lake. Swim gear on we dove in. The water rushing into our wetsuits, cooling us and then beginning the hypothermia process again. Somehow this time I had gotten onto the wrong side of Patrick. It was awkward on his left, but my brain could not figure out how to stop an get to the other side of him. Finally he popped up and told me to get over. FIXED!!! We quickly fell into our rhythm. Patrick began to push hard and was pulling away a little; I knew he was in the zone, trying to forget about the cold and push his body to not shiver in the water. My body cooled faster this time and I could feel my hypothermia symptoms of hip pain and my hands pushing against the swim paddles in an attempt to become claws. We popped up at the out again, gathering ourselves. We ran on feet so cold they felt as if we were walking on pebbles in our shoes. Again across the smaller swim and down the damn. This time Patrick informed me that the hypothermia was making him able to see better!!! Yep in that moment I realized between the swims he was not putting back on his glasses. Hew as going down the muddiest, slipperiest, most unsafe section of the course blind, and me in front!!! I assured him that clarity was not a normal symptom of hypothermia; it was more so his brain shutting down and not caring about clarity! What could we do but laugh!! We made it back for the last lake loop. Paddles on and buoys set between our legs we dove back in. By now the air temperature was starting to drop to where our cold arms could feel the cool or the air against the "warmth" of the water. This time Patrick was a little slower out of the water, trying to step carefully onto land. He wasn't use to being so skinny and cold (lol)!!! The little crossing was fast and soon we found ourselves back down the damn. We stopped at the clocking check point to be sure to be marked. Here the race director, Herbert, asked us how we were feeling and rubbed Patrick's arms to help get blood flowing. All the while telling us to untether. Wait, untether? No our team made the choice to be sure we were close enough and to stay tethered through the event. Herbert looked at us in a way that I am not sure if it was disbelief in us having survived making it down the mountain or in questioning again this "sacrificial lamb" race team even being on the race course! Herbert helped us untether, because regardless of the looks intent it was clear he was going to "help us out". Now to be honest we came close to reconnecting on the other side of the road, since hell we made it this far!! Again we laughed down the mountain.

I say we laughed but the cold was taking a toll on me and the downhill was not helping. My hip was tight and painful, making each step feel like a needle going into my bone. To add to the problem my diaphragm was cramped limiting my ability to stand up right or breathe. So there are two things you want to be able to do while racing- make forward motion and breathe! I was failing at both. I had thought a few times during this event that pulling off the course and calling it a day would be an option. This is not normally my mind set in a race but I was hurting, more than in most race. I was slowing our team from forward motion having to slow from the pain then try again and again. I knew I wasn't an easy teammate to be "tied" to in that moment but in the moment I was ready to cry, Patrick turned to me, "We got this" and smiled. I laughed. I was so far from "getting this"in that moment. My body felt like it was failing me; I was angry at myself for not being able to push harder; I was frustrated that I had the thought of giving up; I was scared of disappointing Patrick. I looked around and in the woods, as the leaves danced in the wind above us, I could not have felt more loved. We found a few more volunteers and then saw what we had been waiting for, the entrance into the river. Yes, we had been begging to freeze again because it would be the last time. For me this meant little pressure on my hip and chest. It meant being in my element where I felt comfortable even in the cold. I was in a place I knew I could control.

We entered the river with smiles and foggy goggles (again). As we moved down the river we hit a deep spot where the current was flowing fast, we were on our way. Well, we were until I saw a ripple, hit a rock on the edge and then turned to yell "ROCK" at Patrick just as he pulled a Little Mermaid move, ramping up on the rock with a few choice words! He unbeached (unrocked?) himself and we headed down the shallow river again. Given that Patrick could not see the ripples indicating rocks, I kept yelling, "10 yards, 5 yards, ROCKS!" Oh the fun. We made the turn and saw the exit, moving towards the side and stepping over the last few large rocks, we made it back to land. Up about 20 steps and a 50 yards run to the finish line. Hand in hand we crossed. Patrick bent over after the finish, laughing with his hand on his knees. All I could do was to hug him, smiling, knowing what he just overcame because I had this idea one day. We were soon joined by Herbert with a smile asking, "Was it great?" Yes. Yes, it was great.

All smiles and love

Unpacking at Home :)

Once we had gathered ourselves (very quickly) we made our way to the Jeep to get out of the cold wet clothes. Frozen hands do not make it easy to get a wetsuit off. We heated up the Jeep just to blow warm air out on us. Yep that's right here is the visual- Two people, cold, shivering, laughing, trying to not get stickers in their feet, changing clothes at the back of a Jeep, at some point half stuck in a wetsuit, with the doors open to warm the outside air!!! The air temperature dropped from mid 50's to mid 40's, the winds picked up, the water temperature around 54 degrees; there were 90 teams on the mountain that morning, 83 teams finishing; over 14 miles of running, almost 2 miles of swimming, and over 2000 feet of climb; but all I remember are the laughs. Next year.... Bonus awesomeness with entry fees the group purchased a fire suppression vehicle to help control forest fires.   Photos (the clearly professional and amamzing ones) thanks to Brian Fancher, Richard Hill, and Brian Lefevre. Thank you gentlemen for the beautiful representation of the day. If you can, please help us support the Navy SEAL Foundation. Teresa's Donation Page for Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018 Teresa is actively raising money for the Navy Seal Foundation.  For more information please read this: Supporting the Navy Seal Foundation- Frogman Swim    We've been blogging for a while now. If you enjoyed this one, you may enjoy others. Look though the Blog Archive on the right, for more of our experiences and random thoughts.  Thank you for your ongoing support of our adventures.   Please feel free to share our blog.