#maría wine

[girlgenius1111]

luckier than grapes

clearly into one another, neither you nor alexia do anything about it. alexia is convinced to make a move on new years. you're clueless. fluff :)

—

Playing with a team that performed at the caliber that Barcelona did should have been the most intimidating part of the whole moving to a different country thing for you. Somehow, it wasn’t. There were many intimidating things about it; a new language, a new style of play, a tight knit team, high expectations. All of that paled in comparison to the fear the Barcelona captain caused in you. 

You’d played against Alexia before, and she brought an intensity to the pitch that left you breathless. She was an otherworldly presence when she played. All furrowed brows and sharp words thrown at the ref. She was Alexia Putellas, one of the best in the world. She carried herself in a way that made you feel smaller, somehow. Like you were an amateur and she was an expert. Better yet, like you were playing for a high school team and she was… Alexia. Mononymous. 

When you’d joined the team, though, you didn’t meet the overwhelmingly perfect version. You met Alexia, your captain, who was running late because she spilled coffee in the hallway outside her apartment door, and didn’t want to leave it for somehow else to have to clean. She was still striking, still sent butterflies fluttering around your stomach. This time, it wasn’t because she intimated you. It was because when she smiled, one side of her mouth raising slightly higher than the other, you were a goner. 

Alexia was beautiful, anyone could see that. But as you spent the next few months getting to know her, you saw more. Alexia was gentle when she’d help you up after a rough tackle or wake you up on the plane to tell you it was time to get off. She was kind and caring, and fiercely passionate about her friends. You were drawn to her in a way you couldn’t really explain, and miraculously, it seemed she was drawn to you in the same way. 

Chats in the locker room turned into grabbing lunch with her after training. Rides home from matches turned into movie nights where you both passed out on the couch. 

You told yourself it was platonic. What else could it be? The chances that Alexia felt something for you outside of friendship… that just wasn’t possible. In the few months you’d gotten to know her, she’d become your best friend. You weren’t naive to your true feelings, but you were firm that there was no way they were returned. As quickly as you’d fallen for Alexia, you’d convinced yourself you could never have her. That she’d never feel the same way. You were addicted, or maybe you were just hopelessly in love. Either way. You valued your friendship with her too much to put it in jeopardy by confessing your feelings. And if you couldn’t have her as your girlfriend, you’d settle for having her as your best friend. Because any Alexia was better than no Alexia. 

You could pretend her touch didn’t send chills up your spine, or that her laugh didn’t instantly bring a smile to your face. You could pretend that making her smile didn’t feel better than winning all the titles in the world, or that you liked to take her sweatshirts not because they smelled like her but because they were just oversized and comfy. You could pretend. You just didn’t know how long you could pretend for. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, it turned out. 

—

“Alexia, if you don’t invite her, I will and I’ll bother you about it anyway, so you might as well just–”

“Fine! Fine, María. You are so pushy sometimes.” Alexia snapped, her eyes flickering over to where you were chatting with Kika, her frustration with her friend almost evaporating as she watched you laugh. 

“And you are hopelessly in love and I can’t take it anymore. So if I have to be pushy, I’ll be pushy.” 

Alexia didn’t even bother contradicting Mapi. That ship had sailed weeks ago when she’d had too much wine at dinner with her sister and she’d called Mapi half sobbing about how much she liked you. Drunk Alexia was an evil Alexia, she’d decided. Because now Mapi knew and the defender was making her do something about it instead of pining after you from afar. 

She began to walk in your direction, trying to hype herself up and failing miserably. You didn’t like her like that. She was sure, absolutely convinced. There was just… no way. No way on earth or in heaven. But here she was, like an idiot, about to stumble her way through an invite to a New Year’s Eve party because for some reason, her words tended to become all jumbled when she talked to you. 

As soon as you spotted her walking in your direction, whatever conversation you’d been having with Kika promptly fell out of your head. Kika, oddly, seemed to disappear the next second, as if knowing to give you and Alexia a moment to yourselves. Strange. 

“Hola.” Alexia said softly, her hands twitching at her sides as if she wanted to give you a hug or something. 

“Hi.” 

“Um… I have a question.” Alexia said, switching to English so she was sure you’d understand. Her accent made your heart beat faster, as it always did. 

“Shoot.” You replied.

Alexia’s eyebrows knit together, a look of confusion washing over her face. “Shoot? Like a ball?” 

Biting your lip to keep from chuckling you shook your head. “Kind of? It’s a saying. It means ask your question. Go for it.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Alexia nodded, trying to regain her composure. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail it was in, you could see a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and you were completely bewildered at how someone could look so beautiful after several hours of intense exercise. “Vale, you said you would be home for New Years Eve? There is a party, Patri is throwing a party. And I wanted to invite you. So… I am. Inviting you.” 

There were no errors in Alexia’s words, and you couldn’t help but feel that she had rehearsed what she’d just said before. It was a bit awkward, too, but Alexia was always a bit awkward. At least around you. 

“I’d love to come.” You smiled back, pretending you weren’t analyzing every single part of what she’d just said. 

“Good! I.. want you there.” Alexia said quickly, hoping you’d attribute the flush of her cheeks to the heat and the workout. You didn’t even notice it though, too busy staring at her eyes, and how one of them was a bit lighter than the other. 

“I’ll be there then.” 

The two of you smiled at each other, more oblivious than any two people had potentially ever been before. With a few more words exchanged, you headed in for the locker room and Alexia bounded back over to Mapi like an overexcited dog. There was something… different about this. You and Alexia hung out all the time, but the way she’d asked about New Years…as if it meant something. It was several weeks away, though, so you had plenty of time to think about it and figure out what specifically Alexia’s game was here. 

—

And think about it, you did. All through the break. Christmas may not have even occurred and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you could think about was her on New Years. What would she wear? Why had she invited you so… formally? What would she wear? Was this… could it possibly be what you secretly hoped it was? What would you wear?

By the time the 31st came around, you were still just as confused as you’d been before the break. You and Alexia had talked, often, but it didn’t feel different the way her question about the party had. Even when you fell asleep on facetime together on Christmas Eve, it didn’t feel… weighted, like her invitation had. It felt normal, comfortable. Safe. Alexia always felt very safe. 

That was what you focused on, as you got dressed for the party. You forced your brain to stop overthinking, and just reminded yourself of several things. You always felt safe with Alexia. You always had fun with Alexia. There was no way your feelings were requited so there was nothing to be nervous about. You were alarmingly calm, as you walked into Patri’s apartment, a nice bottle of champagne and a bag of grapes in your hand. 

That calmness lasted all of 10 seconds, after which you spotted Alexia in a lace crop top and black jeans and you forgot how to breathe.

—

Alexia was nervous. She didn’t really get nervous, but here she was, watching you walk in through the front door and feeling her pulse quicken rapidly. You were greeted by Patri, hugging her tightly and handing over the things you’d brought, unaware of your captain’s eyes on you. 

“Be cool.” Mapi instructed. “Casual, but confident. Be yourself but don’t–”

“Get away from me before I pour your drink on you.” Alexia mumbled, fixing a smile on her face as she watched you look in her direction, raising your hand in an adorable little wave. She’d thought about how this would go for weeks, since you’d agreed to come to the party. She thought and thought and thought, and somehow, as you walked towards her, she was completely blank on what to say. 

“Hey, you.” You greeted, smiling that soft smile Alexia never really saw you give anyone else. She swallowed hard, forcing her brain to start functioning again. 

“Hi… um. How are you? How was your flight?” 

“God, awful. Delayed and I got moved to a middle seat and I barely slept at all. I’m so exhausted, I almost didn’t come, but I knew you were looking forward to it so I drank some coffee and threw an outfit on and here I am.” 

It was a long winded answer not at all justified by the question, yet you felt that familiar comfort take over as you looked at Alexia, at her soft hair falling to her shoulders and the hazel of her eyes. All she had to do was look at you, and you were talking, telling her every detail of your day. 

“Well, I am glad you came, but I am sorry you are tired. And it does not look like you threw that outfit on. You look… good. Really good.” Alexia blushed, gripping her champagne flute tightly in her hands. 

You blinked, a shy smile spreading across your face. Maybe… maybe you hadn’t misunderstood the undertone of her invitation to this party. The thought barely took hold in your head before it was pushed away. 

“I have to go find Mapi for something. I’ll see you later.” Alexia said suddenly, turning and walking away from you so fast, she was out of sight before you could even process what had happened. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what was going on now. It had seemed like, for a minute.. maybe. But no. She’d rushed away like she couldn’t get away from you fast enough, and you cursed yourself for getting your hopes up, even if it was just for a minute. You had to resign yourself to the fact that Alexia was your friend and nothing more. 

With a deep breath, you turned away from the spot Alexia had vacated, looking around for Pina. You needed a shot. And she’d give you one, surely. 

—

“Ale, breathe.” Mapi insisted, eyes flickering back and forth as Alexia paced the length of Patri’s bedroom, her panic taking over completely at this point. The defender had very aggressively pulled away from the conversation she was in with Ingrid, finding herself in Patri’s bedroom with Alexia before she had a chance to yank her arm back. Alexia, it seemed, was panicking. 

“I told her she looked really good! What was I thinking letting you talk me into this. She doesn’t like me, María, she doesn’t. This is insane, and I’m not doing it.” 

Mapi rolled her eyes. “You better or I’m locking the two of you in this bedroom until you do it.” 

“I can’t kiss her!” Alexia half shouted, throwing her hands up in the air and flopping down onto Patri’s bed. 

Mapi sat on the edge of the bed next to her, an amused smirk pulling at her mouth. “Do you not know how to–”

Alexia removed her hands from her face, her glare intimidating enough that Mapi trailed off without Alexia having to say anything. 

“Look, Ale, it’s a good plan. You kiss her. It’s midnight on New Years, it's what people do.”

“It’s cliche.” 

“But that is what's perfect. You kiss her. She likes it, you’re good. She asks you what the hell you’re doing, you say… Everyone needs a New Year's kiss. It’s tradition.” 

“That’s insane, she isn’t going to buy that!” 

Mapi sighed, frustration bubbling over. “It won’t come to that! She likes you, Ale, she wants you. Just trust me.” 

Alexia inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nervous system down. This wasn’t her. She was Alexia. She was confident and sure of herself, even if you had a magical ability to see right through all that. Alexia had learned a long time ago that if you carried yourself with confidence, you’d become confident.  

She stood with a renewed purpose, taking a few more calming breaths. “Okay.” 

Without another word, she left the room, leaving her best friend sitting on the bed, utterly confused as to what had just happened. Mapi checked her watch. 11:55. She’d find out soon enough what Alexia had decided, she thought. 

— 

When Alexia reappeared, she seemed much calmer. Maybe it was the two shots you’d taken in a row at Pina’s insistence, but she seemed like herself as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and casually steered you to the corner of the room. 

“This is the best spot for the countdown.” She declared, hoping you wouldn’t ask why because she didn’t have a reason other than… everyone would be facing forward, watching the TV, and not looking at the two of you. Luckily, you just nodded your head, looking around the room. It was quite full of people, and you wondered if maybe Patri could set you up with one of her friends. You had to get over this crush, you decided, because it was going to ruin your friendship with Alexia if you didn’t. It was a minute or two to midnight, surely you could find some random girl to kiss. This was Patri’s party after all. 

But Alexia was staring at you, you noticed out of the corner of your eye. You turned to her, seeing that the nervous energy had returned and she was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, one of her feet tapping on the wood floor. 

“I–”

“Are you–?”

Both of you spoke at the same time, laughing slightly as you both gestured for the other to continue. 

“You first.” Alexia insisted with a smile. She was wearing some kind of lip gloss and it was… distracting, to say the least. 

“I… uh.” You shook your head, trying to clear it of thoughts of Alexia’s lips. “Are you okay? You seem nervous?” 

Alexia looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen for a moment before she bobbed her head up and down. “I am fine! Just excited.” 

“If you’re sure.” You looked at her skeptically, briefly reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Anyway, what were you going to say?” 

“Sí, vale.” Alexia nodded, trying to ignore the stares of Mapi and Ingrid and Patri and Pina and Kika and the entire team who were more focused on her than the countdown on the TV. She knew Mapi would open her big mouth and now she had an audience. 

She took another calming breath, letting the attentive look on your face relax her. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, something about liking you or maybe about kissing you, she wasn’t sure, you spoke. 

“Where are your grapes?” You asked, realizing with a jolt that it was a minute to midnight and Alexia was grapeless. 

Alexia froze. “My… what?” 

“Your grapes! The twelve grapes at midnight, under the table in under a minute. Did you forget to bring some? I brought extra, in case anyone forgot theirs, let me go get them–” 

Of course you’d brought grapes for a tradition you didn’t even participate in. It was one of those things that was so thoughtful and so you, Alexia was almost overcome with adoration. She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t pretend any longer. As you turned to rush to the kitchen, knowing you didn’t have much time, Alexia grabbed your hand and spun you back around to face her. 

Your question died in your throat as she cupped your face in her hands and leaned in and kissed you. Kissed you. Alexia kissed you. You were stunned for a moment before your instincts took over and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her body flush into yours. It was the most natural thing in the world, kissing Alexia. Feeling her soft lips on yours, her thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. Feeling her. It was… right. She pulled away, her eyes fluttering open and finding yours, just a few inches away. 

You looked awestruck, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, though she was absolutely sure you’d been kissing her back. Arms still linked together around her neck, you shook your head slightly, as if waking yourself from a daze. 

“You… kissed me.” You murmured. 

“It is New Year's.” Alexia said, biting her lip as she stared at you, waiting for any kind of decisive reaction. 

“It’s not midnight yet.” 

“I could not wait any longer.” 

The voices of the crowd echoed around you, counting down as the clock struck midnight, but all you could do was stare at Alexia in astonishment. You couldn’t really formulate any thought other than… oh my god. 

Words were failing you, so you surged forward, kissing Alexia again. It was even better the second time, if possible. Her arms held you securely against her, and you felt the smile on her face just before she pulled away again. 

“I really like you.” You mumbled, voice barely audible as the countdown ended and everyone cheered, wishing each other a happy new year. 

“I really like you, too.” Alexia replied, pressing her forehead to yours. “I have been wanting to do that for a while.” 

You smiled, too, allowing her to pull you closer. You hugged her tight, pressing your face into her shoulder. You still couldn’t quite believe it. But over Ale’s shoulder, you could see your teammates high-fiving and cheering, and you knew it had nothing to do with the New Year. 

This wasn’t some fever dream. It was real. 

“Your grapes.” You said again, pulling back from the warm hug to look at Alexia. 

She just laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I think kissing you is luckier than grapes.” 

You melted at that, pushing a strand of fading blonde hair away from her face. “Kissing on New Year's… kind of cliche, no?” 

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Before you could decide whether to shut up or not, she was doing it for you. Alexia kissed you again, ignoring the wolf whistles from your teammates. She’d found her new favorite thing. And if she had to make a resolution, it would be to kiss you every second of every day.

You felt the same; if anything could bring you luck in the New Year… it was Alexia. 

—

i wrote this in like two hours i hope it isn't terrible!!!!

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 22 (finale)

Holy shit...now what?

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of unsupportive family members. Thanks again to the Sims for determining the outcome of this pregnancy. Mentions of breast feeding (a fed baby is a happy baby, no matter where it comes from!). Mentions of being in pain and on pain killers (C-section). Hospital setting but it's not too obvious. Mention of drinking wine. Like one swear word. Not proofread (what a surprise). Word count: 4,256 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This is it! The last chapter! Thank you again to everyone who has read, commented, and reblogged any parts of this fic along the way, even when I took a 3 month break. It's been an experience writing this, but I've enjoyed every second of it 😊

Also, the poll figures showed that you mostly thought the twins would be girls!

Part 21 ● Series Masterlist

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the sting in your abdomen from your Caesarean wound and fresh stitches, where the painkillers were starting to wear off.

The second thing you notice is that it’s still dark outside, meaning it’s either very late at night, or very early in the morning.

The third thing you notice is, although it’s dark out, your room is softly illuminated by a small lamp in one corner of the room. You see Santi sat in the chair in the corner, looking down at the bundle in his arms, who was sleeping soundly, the second bundle sleeping equally as soundly in the plastic hospital bassinet by you.

You slowly sit up in your bed, hissing at the pain in your abdomen. You see Santi from the corner of your eye look over at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Do you need me to call for a doctor?” he whispered, still sounding too loud in the quiet room.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay.” Santi nods at you before turning back to the baby in his arms. You watch them for a minute, a fond smile on your face before you ask, “Is she okay?”

Santi gives his own smile before nodding. “She was fussing a little, but she went right back to sleep.”

You nod, looking at your new family.

Your daughters (daughters!) came into the world screaming and kicking. Isabela María, named after Santi’s mother, was born at 7:03pm, weighing 5lbs and 7oz. Her identical sister, Jasmine Terese, followed no more than six minutes later, entering the world at 7:09pm at 6lbs exactly. Dr Montgomery was impressed with their weights and sang your praises as she held them over the partition to show you each time, and they were the most perfect things you had ever seen. You had immediately burst into tears as soon as you saw the two of them.

They both had a head of dark hair, thanks to their daddy, and even as they scrunched their little faces as they cried, you thought they were the most beautiful things to have ever graced your life. Once they were measured and checked over, and wrapped up in some blankets, Dr Montgomery had them brought over to you and Santiago (who had been quietly sobbing to himself, but you’ll pretend you never noticed until the day you died).

The next hour or so was a blur to you as you were stitched up and the twins were taken away to the NICU for monitoring, to see how well they were breathing. With some reassurance from yourself that you would be fine, Santi never left the girls’ sides, keeping a watch over them. You saw him sneak some photos of the girls on his phone, looking like a proud dad.

You were wheeled out of theatre and were heading back to you room where you sent a text message to your friends, explaining that your babies were sent for monitoring. Santi was with them, and if they wanted to wait, they could, but it might be better for them to come back tomorrow. Your friends came to see you anyway, just for a few minutes, where Beth was FaceTiming Gabrielle to keep her in the loop.

As soon as Beth and Courtney saw you, they burst into tears, making their way over to you and enveloping you in a hug, telling you how proud they were of you and how amazing you did. You fought back tears of your own, telling them that you had had girls, which they both somehow cried even harder at, commenting on how you were all convinced you were having boys.

After some more fussing, and Courtney gathering her things, they promised that they’d be back the next day to meet them, and they would bring you some food from home because they knew how terrible hospital food was. You give them a goodbye, telling them to let Santi’s friends know that he wasn’t going to be out for a while, to which Courtney said that Santi had already text his friends to let them know to come back in the morning, and the guys left not that long ago. Knowing them, they’d be back the next day too.

Santi was back within an hour of your friends leaving with Dr Montgomery, wheeling your girls (your girls!) in their bassinets. Dr Montgomery gave you a smile, telling you that your daughters were perfect, that there were no issues, and you would probably be home in the next few days. You thank her profusely, before you and Santi are finally left alone for the first time as a new family. Santi dressed the twins which took longer than it should have (“They’re delicate! Have you seen the size of them!?”), and your heart fluttered in your chest at seeing them in their little outfits, looking soft and cosy.

A breastfeeding consultant was sent to your room to guide you through your first feed with your daughters, who took to it like a duck to water. You wanted to cry with pride, since they were doing so well already, being barely two hours old. You saw Santi look away with a slight blush on his face, causing you to smirk and make a quip about how he’s seen you naked (to which he gave you a look before turning away again, to strip out of his scrubs). He made a comment about going getting his overnight bag from the car, and quickly making his way out.

You felt a little bad that he felt uncomfortable around you still, but it was something you would both just have to work on.

Which brings you to now, where you watch Santi from his place in the armchair, holding Isabela as she slept. You frown at him. “Have you gotten any sleep at all?”

Santi hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not yet.”

“Santi,” you gently chastise. “Put her down and get some sleep.”

He shook his head, looking up at you. “No, I’m fine. Besides, what if she needs me again?”

Oh, be still your beating heart.

“I’m sure she’ll wake us up if she needs anything, and Jasmine,” you say gently.

With a final look at Isabela, Santi gives a sigh before carefully standing and taking her to her bassinet. He stands at the bassinet for a moment, just looking at her before he gently places her down. She made the smallest whimper before settling back to sleep with a big sigh. He slowly moves her bassinet to join Jasmine’s, before stopping and looking down at them both.

Santi doesn’t move immediately, just staring at his daughters, before he finally breaks the silence in the room.

“I can’t believe I almost gave this up,” Santi said quietly, sadly, without looking away from your babies.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy with the weight of Santi's confession. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a mixture of regret and self-doubt as he uttered those words that seemed to hang in the air like a cloud of uncertainty, and you felt your heart break for him.

As you shook your head gently, your eyes met his. “Don't...don't think about that, okay?” you murmured softly, with a mixture of understanding and compassion. “You're here now.”

The silence lingered. Santi's gaze shifted, descending upon the tiny figures nestled in their bassinets, their innocence a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I was in special ops,” he says, his voice tinged with just the smallest hint of disbelief. “And that was less scary than this.”

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, the admission of his innermost fears laid bare before you. With a sympathetic gaze, you say, “Being a new parent isn't something that people just know what to do,” you reassured him gently. “We'll learn as we go, and it's okay to be a little scared.”

As you looked at Isabela and Jasmine, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a beacon of hope amidst his darkness of doubt. “They'll be so happy you stayed,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “They're going to love you, so much.”

Just as much as I love you.

You swallow against the words, knowing now isn’t the right time.

A fragile smile graced Santi's lips at your words, where he gives you a quick glance before his gaze falls back on the sleeping forms of his daughters, the most fragile beings in the entire world. Damn, no-one warned him they’d be so tiny. They were so peaceful and asleep, and they were so small! They were the most fragile things in the world. There was no way he was letting anything happen to them. They had to stay little forever so he could do everything for them.

“I want to be the father they deserve,” he confessed, his voice tinged with a newfound resolve. “To be the man they can look up to.”

“You already are,” you assured him, your words almost stern. He looks up at you, his eyes intense. “I know you’re doubting yourself, but you’ve got a great support system; you have me, Frankie, Will, and God knows Benny is already in love with these two.”

Santi gave a snort of amusement. “He’s gonna cry as soon as he lays his eyes on them.”

You give a small laugh before looking at him again with a soft look on your face. “You know, when you left after saying you didn't want to be involved...it hurt. It hurt more than I can put into words," you began, your tone mix of vulnerability and strength. “I felt abandoned, alone, and completely overwhelmed, but I was determined to do it alone, for our girls.”

Santi tenses, a look of shame overcoming him, but you continue before he could say anything.

“But you came back," you say. “And for that, I'm incredibly grateful. I’m happy that you chose to step up, to be here, to be a father to our kids.” You smile at him, seeing his shoulders relax a touch. “Though I’m still a little pissed that you left, I'm also thankful that you came back. I’m glad that we can navigate this crazy, beautiful mess together.”

Santi give a small chuckle before he reaches out to you, and you reach out to hold his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, for leaving. For making you feel like that, after everything we’d been through to get here,” he said. “I’m going to live with the guilt for the rest of my life, but fuck, knowing I made the right decision to come back was so worth it.”

And in that moment, amidst the commotion of your new reality, you finally felt a sense of unity with Santi, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You don’t know what the future held for the two of you, if you’d ever admit your feelings for him, of if you’ll eventually move on and find someone else, but despite that, you were bound together by the unbreakable bond of parenthood, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

However, in that fleeting moment, amidst the silence of the early morning hours in that hospital room, there was a small feeling of hope, slowly blossoming like a fragile flower.

“Watch her head, Benny.”

“I know how to hold a baby,” said Benny, giving Will a firm look before his expression softened as he looked down at Jasmine, who was sleeping soundly after you had just fed her and Isabela.

Isabela was settled in the arms of Frankie, who was lightly swaying as he grinned at the bickering brothers. Santi had left the room to take a phone call with his sister, Mariana, who had been checking up on him every few hours and was trying to organise a day where she and his other sister, Carmen, could come and visit and meet you and the kids. He was trying to put her off for at least a few weeks, until there was some sort of routine.

After your talk during the very early hours of the morning, Santi had decided to stay at your place, to help with the girls why you recovered, just until you were back on your feet. You’d protested, telling him that he really didn’t have to that, that you’d need him to do that, but he immediately shot you down. You tearily looked at him and thanked him, before Jasmine had started crying, to which Santi had no hesitation in picking her up.

“How you holding up?” Frankie asked you, still swaying Isabela. You weren’t sure if he knew he was doing it or not. “You know, after the whole…”

He goes quiet, nodding his head towards the door where Santi had walked out of. You smiled at him. “I’m doing okay. Glad he pulled his head out of his ass in time.”

Frankie grinned. “Took a bit of a verbal beating from us, after he told us he was leaving. The fucking idiot – oop, sorry.” He pulled a sheepish face as he looked down at Isabela, who had eventually fallen asleep during Frankie’s swaying.

You gave a small laugh of amusement as Benny looks up from Jasmine. “Your girls been yet?”

You shrug at him. “Just Beth. She came this morning with Georgia, they left not long before you got here. Gabs and Courtney are gonna come by later when Courtney’s finished work. Gabs has the kids again.”

Benny seemed to stop for a moment, in thought, before he finally nodded and turned back to Jasmine. You don’t ask him why he asked about your friends, you just assume he was being friendly since he was sat with Beth and Courtney in the waiting room last night.

When Beth had arrived that morning, she’d immediately fawned over your children, bursting into tears at how ‘beautiful they were’, and congratulating you and Santi. She’d even given Santi a hug, then threatened him to never leave you after the first time. He’d admitted he was an idiot, and it wouldn’t happen again. She’d accepted that answer, but still gave you a look as she picked up Jasmine for a cuddle.

After a while, as she and Georgia swapped the twins around, she’d asked about your family, and if you’d told them you’d had the babies. You paused before you eventually shake your head at her, telling her that they hadn’t bothered to respond to your messages or contact you at any point during your pregnancy, so you decided to just…let it go.

Even if it tore you up inside.

At least you weren’t crying about it anymore.

Beth had pulled a face and told them it was their loss anyway, that they’re going to be missing out on knowing the best little girls around. You agreed with her.

Santi made his way back in the room, hanging up his phone. He sighed, before running his hand through his hair. “So my sisters will be arriving next week.”

“Ay, hermano,” said Frankie, smirking. “Grow a backbone.”

Santi wordlessly gave Frankie a gentle swat on the arm, being careful of Isabela, before leaning down to you and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Sorry I was gone so long, corazón, Carmen wouldn’t get off the phone.”

You ignored how your heart leaped at the feel of his lips on you. You weren’t going to think too hard about it, it was just because of the babies, it has nothing to do with you. You’re the mother of his kids, he’s going to be affectionate with you, especially when you had just given birth. He was just being nice. Protective.

Like you said, you weren’t going to think too much about it.

“I’ll get her and Mariana to stay at my place,” he said.

“You don’t have to stay at my place, Santi, really – “

“No, stop fighting me on this, I’m helping out with the girls.” Santi gave you a stern look. “You can barely walk, I’ll stay, it’s fine.”

Frankie gives you an amused look over Santi’s shoulder, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at him. You end up looking back at Santi, before giving a shy smile. “Okay.”

He grins at your relenting. “Thank you. I’m trying to make it up to you for being a dick to you, but you’re being too nice.”

“You weren’t – “

“No, he was,” said Will before you could finish your sentence, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was a dick.”

“The biggest,” agreed Benny, looking away from Jasmine to nod at you.

“Okay, okay,” Santi called, holding his hands up in surrender. “Not in front of my girls, please.”

You watch in amusement as Santi get’s ribbed by his friends, but he gave just as good as he got.

As the banter between Santi and his friends continues, you can't help but feel a warmth in your chest, seeing the camaraderie and genuine connection they share. Despite the teasing and playful jabs, there's an underlying bond that speaks volumes about their friendship. You know that your girls were going to grow up to be the most protected kids in the world.

In that moment, you realize how far you’ve come in the past few months; to an unplanned pregnancy and finding the love of your life (even if he doesn’t know it), and growing yourself as a person (and growing two persons of your own!). As you gaze around the room, your heart swells with gratitude for the connections forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances. How you truly know who your family is, and a part of them are in this very hospital room.

The guys leave after another hour, telling you that they were happy to help you out whenever you needed, before they were herded out the door by Santi, saying you needed rest since your friends were arriving later.

You bask in the suddenly quiet room after Santi closes the door after him. You look at Isabela and Jasmine asleep in their bassinets. Santi soon came back in the room, smiling softly at you before checking over the girls. “You okay?” he eventually asked you, digging around in his bag for a moment.

“Yeah. Tired,” you replied.

“Get some sleep, I can look after them,” said Santi. “But first…”

He pulled out a familiar paper bag from his bag, and a small box. You look at him curiously. “Is that the bag that Frankie bought?”

“After Ikea? It is,” he said, perching himself next to you on the bed. He passed you the bag. “I had these commissioned by Sarah when I found out we were having girls, which was why you couldn’t look at them. Then when we finally decided on names, I had her change them a little.”

You open the bag, pausing before tears fill your eyes. You give him a watery smile before you pull out the two matching, pale pink, and lavender patchwork blankets, decorated with embroidered white and yellow flowers. You run your fingers over the stitching, feeling how soft the blankets were. You look over them before your gaze lands on the bottom corner, where you trace your fingers over their names that had been embroidered in the corners. “Santi, these are gorgeous. I’m scared to use them!”

“Stop, they’re supposed to be used,” he said. “Even if they puke all over them, or other bodily fluids.”

You laugh at that.

“And these,” he said, handing you the box. “Are for you.”

You take the box, which fit in the palm of your hand. You recognised it immediately, and you opened them to see the two charms, in the letters I and J, with a red gemstone in each of them.

“Garnets,” he said.

“January birth stone,” you said, smiling at him as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You laugh at yourself. “I am far too emotional for you to be giving me things like this.”

“Stop, I planned to give these to you, I want to give these things to you,” he said. “I need you to understand that I made a bad judgement and a stupid mistake, and I’ll be trying to make things right for the rest of my life, for you and our girls. You’re important to me.”

You swallow against your tears, but you sob anyway, giving a watery smile. “You’re important to me too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, bringing you into his arms gently.

And you believed him.

“Careful, careful!”

“I am being careful, Santi,” you say, making your way towards your house from his car (his car!).

“I’m going to have to level these flags out, they’re a trip hazard – “

“You will do no such thing, Santiago, not with your knees,” you say to him, raising your eyebrows at him, daring him to challenge you.

He mutters something in Spanish as he carries the car seats containing your girls, who had fallen asleep from the movements of the car, to your front door, where he unlocked it and stepped in.

You had finally been discharged from the hospital, and you were able to go home. It had been a trying afternoon, with lots of tears as you tried to manoeuvre yourself with a C-section wound, and two very needy babies who just wanted to be on you all the time. You had to take a time out getting to the wheelchair, where Santi did his best to calm the girls, and to calm you.

Eventually, you made it out of the hospital and into Santi’s car, where he’d wrestled a little bit with the car seats before finally having the girls secure safely in the back of the car. Once you were settled in, Santi proceeded to drive well under the speed limit on the way back to your house. He glared at anyone who even gave him a funny look for driving so slowly, which made you giggle and make the quip that he could drive a bit quicker.

“No,” he’s said firmly. “You’re delicate, and they’re delicate. I am not driving any faster.”

You followed Santi into your house, where he was taking the girls out of their car seats. Gabrielle had been over to your house that morning, on your request, to arrange your house a little for your arrival. She’d bought some playmats down from the girls’ bedroom, and set up their bassinets in the living room so you didn’t have to tackle the stairs as soon as you got home.

Santi settled your babies in the bassinets before sighing, seemingly glad that everyone was safe and sound. “I’ll go and get our bags from the car, and we can have some dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“Sushi,” you reply with no hesitation.

Santi gives an amused snort before nodding. “Sushi it is.”

“And I might have a teeny tiny glass of wine,” you say, grinning. “Just a small one.” You put your thumb and forefinger together, with just a tiny gap between them.

Santi laughs. “You deserve it.”

He disappeared outside, getting the bags from the car. You gently lower yourself down on your couch, sighing in relief as you get off your feet. Dr Montgomery had prescribed you some painkillers for you C-section for as and when you needed, and you know it’s going to be a tough recovery but with Santi’s help, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

He comes back in the house, laden with bags, before he sets them down by your front door, and closes it. He takes a look around your living room properly, saying, “You’ve made this place pretty nice.”

“I had a lot of time on my hands last week,” you say. “I needed something to do.”

Santi nodded, before his eyes drift over to Jasmine, who started fussing in her bassinet. As you went to stand, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and pushed you back down, before pulling his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. “Here, have a look at what you want to eat, I’ll settle her.”

You take his phone and thank him as he made his way over to Jasmine, cooing at her, asking her what’s wrong as he lifted her from her bassinet. He set about to change her diaper. You scroll through the food app for a moment before your eyes drifted over to him, admiring him without his knowledge.

You felt happy. Content. This wasn’t what you imagined your life would turn out like, and sure, you and Santi did things a little unconventionally, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Everything worked out in the end, even if Santi did have a wobble about becoming a dad, even if your feelings for him will go unsaid and kept to yourself. You were okay with that, as long as he was there for your girls.

You sigh as you smile at the scene before you, of Santi telling Jasmine about his early days in the army, how he met Uncle Frank, and how loved they already were. Even though you did everything backwards with Santi and your girls, you look forward to the next chapter of your life and couldn’t wait to see what it brought.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[wreckmetoji]

Pastries and Peaches

A fic in which your local priest convinces you to help with the Easter bake sale

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/M!Reader

content warning. amab reader, profanity, so much religion, smoking, oral sex, anal sex, daddy kink, creampie, fluff, soft wolfwood STILL makes me weak in the knees

this fic only exists because i was showed the most godawful peach hawaiian shirt at academy sports and my immediate thought was "wolfwood would absolutely wear that". happy easter!

minors DNI

A continuation of Angel Eyes, Cold Heart.

8.3k words

Easter bakesales; the heart of any good God-fearing suburban family. Only they can get you to feel too guilty to say no to their blue-eyed, blonde-haired cookie cutter children trying to sell you Betty Crocker instant brownies made half-assed by trophy stay-at-home wine moms.

You never bothered attending in previous years. You were always the volunteer (read: coerced) kitchen slave working behind the scenes, pumping out ridiculous amounts of chocolate toffee cookies and lemon lavender blondies– something most everyone insisted was far too much of an acquired taste to do well at a church bake sale, but always seemed to sell out first three consecutive years in a row. Eat it, Susan.

This would be your first year actually showing up to the function; Father Wolfwood having managed to convince you quite thoroughly when he had you folded under him begging for more a couple weeks prior. You couldn't find yourself staying mad about it, even if you did initially give him a huff and the cold shoulder over the fact he took advantage of your... somewhat submissive nature in such a vulnerable position. But to be honest; you probably would have done it even if he'd asked you without incentive. Which, in itself, was a bit of a head scratcher for you– after all, why would you willingly surround yourself with the people you so vehemently loathed on the average Sunday? Why would you want to see them both of your free weekend days?

Regardless of how or why, it brought you here; rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you yawned away the last vestiges of blissful unawake, slouched over in a creaky old dining chair. Waking up at six in the morning wasn't new to you working full-time, but somehow it was so much harder on weekends when you knew you could still be curled up under the blankets warmed by another body.

Taking a deep breath, you eased yourself to sit up properly, tired eyes looking across the wooden table and locking onto your beloved priest as he flipped through some papers attached to a clip board– no doubt the preparations list for set-up and who was bringing what and when.

In his tired state, softer around the edges, you always found yourself taking an extra long moment to soak in the strange sense of domesticity that settled around you like rays of golden sun peaking through parts in tree leaves and branches. The lazy grin he would give you upon seeing your usually much more disheveled morning state first thing, the soft kiss he would place to your temple without fail on his way to the coffee maker, paired with the gentle warm of a hand on your hip.

Small things like that made your heart squeeze whenever you managed to experience it. It wasn't often you could stay over with him, but after being there a day or two a week over the course of several months you'd managed to get a good idea of the routine.

"Oh, Jesús, a través del Inmaculado Corazón de María, te ofrezco mis oraciones, trabajo, alegrías, sufrimientos de este día, en unión al Santo Sacrificio de la Misa para el mundo–"

It was the longest standing relationship you've had– let alone the longest standing healthy relationship– and you often found yourself staring at him with perplexed intrigue when things were quiet and intimate between you, when you would simply exist in the same space together. More than a few times had he met your gaze mid contemplation, always tipping his head quizzically at your furrowed brows and pouted lower lip.

And yes, you found yourself even more befuddled by it in moments like these, sat at his shitty little two-seat dining table in the lofted living space of a church, clad in only your boxers and an oversized t-shirt that certainly wasn't your own. Befuddled by exactly what you found so endearing, what made this feel like two pieces of a puzzle locking together as Wolfwood murmured his morning prayers with his forehead in his hand, elbow propped up on the table.

The longest standing healthy relationship you've had also happened to be one kept secret from friends and family– and the entire general public, really. Sensibly. It was something that made you think every now and then, but you knew better than to look a gift in the mouth like that. Maybe not having other people constantly sticking their noses in your business allowed for a healthier personal dynamic, allowed you to look inwards for more introspection instead of having every other person giving you their shit opinion and clouding your judgement. Not like you were ever one to listen to advice you were given by your peers anyways.

"Hey, space cadet," His gruff morning voice catches your ears, not realizing you had temporarily gapped out in place observing the surprising softness that was Wolfwood. You blinked in return, shaking your head and inhaling deep.

"Sorry, still waking up. What did you say?"

"You okay to start setting up the tables outside while I get ready?" He asked, most likely a little slower this time.

Again, you were met with the glaringly obvious truth that despite you not being a motivated person, nor necessarily inclined to help out with anything that had to do with churches that contributed to your lifelong religious trauma; you would do anything for Wolfwood. You didn't even give it a second thought before shrugging, nodding your head while gazing at the disgustingly dark liquid in the mug before you. Wolfwood always said I don't have creamer, you don't need creamer, and you always tried to argue that you don't hate yourself quite enough to drink black coffee on a regular basis. He'd just laugh.

As if sensing the disdain simmering just under the surface, you heard Wolfwood snort, immediately followed by him standing from place and pacing over to the ancient fridge. You quirked a brow, watching him reach down to the lower section of the door, before stepping back over to the table.

The vanilla sweetened creamer thunked down in front of you normally wouldn't be such a big deal, not if you hadn't known the only reason he had it was for you specifically. That blanket of domesticity washed over you once again, heart squeezing and chest feeling tight. It wasn't like you to settle into something so comfortable and be fine with it, not run from the possibility of something steady or stable.

Perhaps that's why he didn't say anything or expect anything, simply sitting back down in his seat with one leg crossed over the other, arm slung over the back of the chair as he continued reading through his list.

"Y'know, the toffee one is better," You murmured teasingly as you cracked the seal and poured a generous amount into your mug. He only scoffed, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

The longest standing, healthiest, most comfortable relationship you've had... and it was with your local small town priest. If God was real, at least he had a sense of humor.

Everything went by much quicker once you'd managed to wake yourself up– blissfully sweetened coffee being a large contributor– so you found yourself slightly less grumpy as you pulled out plastic tables and chairs from the storage room and walked them all the way around the side of the building to set up near the gazebo.

Rolling your sleeves up to your elbows, you turn your wrist to check the time, noting the influx of newest edition mom vans pulling into the gravel church parking lot. Most likely the keener I'm better than you families– grandmas definitely not excluded. The anxiety began to rise in your chest as you glanced towards the church, no sign of Wolfwood in sight.

Setting up the chairs and tables for the bake sale, you didn't mind doing. Having to be the personal greeter, you did mind, since you knew from the bottom of your heart you'd get some kind of out of pocket, backhanded comments from the more... devout personalities.

Deciding to choose your battles this early in the morning wasn't exactly on your agenda, but it's not like you had a choice as a couple of old women your mother surrounded herself with walked up the concrete stairs, immediately greeting you with quizzical looks. You force a tight smile, give a slight wave as you pull the metal legs out on a table and set it down to stand.

"What are you doing here? Where's Father Wolfwood?"

"I'm doing good this morning, thanks for asking, Deborah," You reply, setting up a few chairs behind the table before evening the vinyl tablecloth over the top. It was tacky; a white base covered in peaches with verdant leaves behind them.

Upon glancing up, you could see your snide reply went completely over their heads, only receiving the blank lead-poisoning stare as they awaited expectantly for you to answer their initial questions. With a sigh, you straightened your back, hearing the adjoining cracks in return.

"He's just getting things ready inside, should be out in a bit," You decidedly answer only one of the two questions, considering the other would be much more incriminating and you weren't ready to deal with that amicably.

They nodded, pleased with the answer, before chatting amongst themselves and setting their containers of baked goods down on the tables you had already set up.

At some point the sun started to rise up a little too high, beat down a little too warm, and the growing crowd of nosey church-goers was doing nothing but grating your nerves down to the bone. Arguments of where things would look better, demanding more chairs to be set up, and of course since you were the designated helper assigned by the beloved priest himself, you were to comply with any requests or suggestions. It certainly didn't help when your mother showed up either, commenting on how you could have worn a more formal shirt, or that you were scuffing up your good Sunday shoes. It was ironic, considering you were finally here after years of her harrassing you to attend. You couldn't ever please the woman.

With clenched teeth, you pinch bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, heaving out a slow, even breath as another shrill voice joins the choir of opinions on what they think would be best, only to inevitably result in bickering and disagreements.

"Hey, looks good out here!" A voice you can only recognize as salvation calls out, and your eyes shoot open at the sliver of reprive Wolfwood's presence might give you–

But once your eyes catch the shirt he's wearing, you instantly run a blank.

It's ugly. Hideous, even; the pattern matching the tacky table cloths– a short sleeved button up no doubt meant to be a direct affront on any decent Hawaiian patterned shirt. Too many questions ran through your mind, wondering what in God's name possessed him to wear something so undeniably atrocious in the general public when he could have– no, should have– just worn a black shirt. As any priest should, one would assume.

Then again, Wolfwood wasn't ever one to fit in the mold.

It takes him a bit to make his way over to you, doing his due diligence of addressing the people that came more specifically to win brownie (ha) points with him than to assist in the actual bakesale in a helpful manner.

"Thanks for holdin' down the fort," He says to you, hand coming down to tug at one side of the table cloth you had just laid out to even the coverage.

"These table cloths are hideous. That shirt is hideous."

"Deborah said I look charming."

"Deborah is a fucking liar," You scoff in return, though can't help the amused smirk daring to curl at the corners of your lips as you take in the shirt more closely. It's unbuttoned maybe a bit too low to not be considered scandalous. Even your eyes managed to wander for a moment too long, taking in the barely visible curve of muscle underneath the loose fitting shirt, though it did hug his biceps nicely. "And she's been trying to hop on your dick for months now."

"Ohh, has she?" Wolfwood inquired, eyes wide and brows raised as if he was genuinely surprised by your statement, as if he genuinely hadn't been privy to the many subtle arm touches and playful invitations to join her for a private dinner.

You were going to laugh at his obliviousness, going to mock him, but before you could he was leaning in just a little bit closer, words whispered. "Care for a threesome?"

Asshole. Your nose scrunched, and that shit-eating, mocking grin on his face told you he wasn't as clueless as you had been made to believe.

Lifting an arm, your fingers curl inwards, holding back your usual playful slaps that were reserved for when it was just the two of you. If you'd had just a shred less self awareness you would have ended up throttling him directly in the shoulder, but both you and him knew you were pinned in a position where you were simply left to flounder, cheeks warm and brows furrowed.

"Fuck off, freak," You mutter to him, rolling your eyes and refocusing your attention on setting up clear plastic display cases for the baked goods.His laugh was boisterous, a sound that never failed to make your stomach twist in knots even now months later. The fact he had no fear in expressing how much he enjoyed your presence even to the public was always surprising, and it was something you wish you had the luxury of being able to return.

You didn't miss the subtle lean in, the bump of his shoulder against yours, before he was off to join with the masses in discussion of how everything would be set up, leaving you to your dirty work and heavy lifting.

Not too long after, everyone managed to get settled. You would have been a little more pissed off about the constant back and forth and carrying chairs from the church storage closet to outside when more and more people started showing up, but every time your frustration would bubble up and make your throat tight, you would catch eye of Wolfwood in that fucking disgusting shirt, and it would quickly fizzle away to be replaced with something else. Perhaps fondness wasn't quite the right word, because you're certain fondness wouldn't result in a grimace or a scrunched nose, but maybe something close to that.

Also, you couldn't deny that, as horrible as it was, you wanted nothing more than to tear it off of him. There was at least six hours left to this goddamn bake sale, so you quickly tucked that thought into the back of your mind.

Several hours passed, and since you were such a doting... church-goer, you had also taken the liberty of manning the cash box with your beloved priest. It's not that you would ever mind sitting next to Wolfwood for several hours on end, it was more the fact you were irate, and it was hot, and even though you were fanning yourself with your clipboard it didn't do a damn thing to protect you from the sun beating down directly on your pretty little head.

You were rocked back in your chair, head tossed back behind the back-rest, idly fanning yourself with the otherwise pointless clipboard. Most of the other patrons had taken refuge in the gazebo, seeming content to be shielded from the unforgiving April sun. The thought popped in your mind that nothing was stopping you from joining, but you'd far rather burn the shit out of your face and forearms sitting next to Wolfwood than sit in comfort with a gaggle of passive-aggressive church women.

Peeking an eye open, you peer up at Wolfwood through the corner of your eye only to find he was looking back at you with a self satisfied smirk. You'd like to say you've grown accustomed to his frequent stares and glances, but the attention still made you flush.

"Have I told you how gross that shirt is?" You grumble, trying to get the attention off of your quickly warming face.

"About six times today, yeah," Wolfwood mused in return.

"It makes you looks like a fishing dad."

"Guess I'm in luck, considering your type is older."

You clam up, jaw clenched tight at the observation. He wasn't wrong. He most certainly wasn't wrong. That didn't mean he needed to point it out so shamelessly.

Another scoff, and another muttered comment about ugly fucking shirt had him sitting upright in his chair, reaching for the cash box and idly counting the bills you have collected thus far.

"If you hate it so much, why don't you take it off me?"

Oh, now wasn't that a tempting offer. Surely Wolfwood had little to no idea that your sanity was holding on by a thread anyways, and his comment did nothing but egg you on further. All you did was hum, close your eyes, furrowed brows and tight-lipped scowl adorning your face as you continued to fan yourself.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) for you, your religious companion didn't have the luxury of a clipboard to fan himself. He seemed to be bearing the heat just fine, comparatively, though you did make note of the way he sighed, the free hand that reached up to pop another button on his shirt, the droplet of sweat dripping down his temple.

Jesus fucking Christ, for being a priest he certainly was sin incarnate.

"Put those away before Deborah sees," You grumble, eyes locked onto the peek of sculpted muscle and smattering of tasteful chest hair.

Wolfwood barked a laugh, placing stacked bills back in the cash box and flicking the lock closed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of smokes. Unbecoming of a priest, but it wasn't exactly a sin. "Why, are you worried she's going to steal me? Whisk me away in her two-thousand 'n eight Grand Caravan?"

Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was because you used up a perfectly good Saturday to sit in said broiling heat just because you were head over heels for your local priest, but you didn't respond in your usual snarky tone. Your tone was even, sharp, no-nonsense and matter-of-fact as you spoke, "No. I don't want people getting an eyeful of what's mine."

Wolfwood choked on his inhale, coughing a few times on a pull that was a little too sharp, the statement catching him by surprise. Your gazes lock, and you can see the bewildered expression, the disbelief brimming behind wide eyes.

There had never been a discussion whether or not the two of you were exclusive, never a discussion on exactly what the two of you were doing. It never seemed like the right time, and the answer was more complicated than both of you cared to explore. There had been simple passive implications, each of you going out of your way to show you care in the small ways you could. This was neither simple nor passive, it was a statement.

Never once had he looked like a deer in the headlights, not in the time you've known him, and it only fuelled your disgruntled desire further.

He huffed an amused exhale, shaking his head and smirking after he got his bearings. "Maybe you should go sit under the gazebo, I think this heat is gettin' to you." A dismissive statement that didn't go unnoticed by you, considering you yourself were the master of dismissing his playful remarks and harmless teasing.

You didn't take his advice, staying right where you were despite your growing agitation the longer the day went on. The crowd began to disperse, thankfully deciding that they should help after sitting around all day being the textbook definition of useless.

Every emotion swirling inside of you came to a header as you were folding up the tables and chairs, preparing to lug them back inside to the storage closet so you can go home and take a long cold shower. A few of the chair clips didn't click, a table leg got stuck in the grass, and an insurmountable heap of other tiny inconveniences had you huffing in poorly concealed anger as you leaned over a table, fingertips ghosting over the clip on the other side but unable to reach it. A growl of frustration passed your throat, but before you could yell an obscenity, a body that was far too warm pressed in close behind you, reaching a longer tanned arm out and flicking the plastic latch for you.

"There ya go, short stuff."

Normally, you'd be muttering a quiet thanks, accepting the condescending help with relieved frustration– but you felt the sweat dripping down your back stick to your shirt when he came in close, could feel the heat of Wolfwood's damn near bare chest pressing into your back making it more unbearably hot, and the press of his pelvis into your hip had your mind finally breaking.

When he backed off, you were quick to stand, and judging by the reaction on the priest's face you were probably scowling up a storm. "Help me bring this shit to the storage closet. Now."

The demand was clipped, fingers tugging at the metal supports of a few chairs leaned up against the outer wall of the church and storming off towards the front entrance. You didn't hear Wolfwood following behind, but you were sure he was aware enough of your foul mood to follow through with what was requested of him.

Using a little more force than necessary, you pushed the front door open with your shoulder, stomped your way over to the storage closet, and dumped the handful of chairs onto the hardwood floor with a lack of grace. It was significantly cooler in here, at least, and you hadn't bothered turning the lights on in your rush.

The door opened up behind you, light peeking in before fading away again when it closed. "Hey, are you– where's the damn light switch," Wolfwood sighed, leaning the table he was carrying up against the door to the storage room in favor of palming at the wall, searching for the light.

The sound of Wolfwood's voice added to your irritation, his half voiced question, the fact that he's run this church for over a year and he didn't know where the fucking storage room light switch was–

You didn't think before you turned on your heel, reaching out to grab a fistful of the priest's shirt and giving him a tug. He audibly protested for the briefest of moments before you were pushing your lips up into his with bruising force. He took a half step back, but your grip on his shirt only wound tighter, tugging him back.

It didn't take him long to hum, for a hand to find your waist, for a slow, deliberate pressure pressed in on his end. The way he kissed was surprisingly sweet, tender, and that frustration that had been simmering in the pit of your gut all day finally boiled over. You didn't want sweet, you didn't want tender.

With a low growl of disapproval, you pushed forwards, foregoing any sweetness in favor of parting to clamp your teeth down on the exposed skin of his collarbone in a manner just shy of aggressive. Certainly, you weren't strong nor imposing enough to be able to walk the priest backwards as easily as you did, especially since he had an aversion to not being in control at any given time of intimacy. He was giving you this, allowing you to walk him back into the wall, which was significantly closer than either of you had initially thought. A winded noise came from the depths of his chest when broad shoulders collided with poorly insulated drywall, the resounding thump falling on deaf ears as Wolfwood reeled, elbow hitting the lightswitch.

"Ah– there it is," He breathed, umber brown eyes flitting down to meet your sharp gaze, to watch as your deft fingers impatiently tugged at whatever remaining buttons were still holding his ugly ass slutty fucking shirt together.

"Shit, Jesus," Wolfwood grunted, brows furrowed as he cupped your hands in his own, trying and failing to halt you in your tracks long enough for him to ask exactly what had gotten into you.

Truthfully, you didn't think you could give him a reasonable and coherent answer. Remnants of your epiphany from earlier that morning rang bells in the back of your mind, you were agitated by the heat, by the amount of bullshit and idiots you had dealt with today, and if you had to spend one more second looking at this stupid peach patterned shirt instead of tanned broad muscle you were going to have an aneurysm.

He seemed to get the idea that there was no stopping you as you persisted, slipping your hands out of his grip just to move back and continue working. For some reason, his teasing was more irritating, less endearing than it usually was.

"Y'know I was just teasin' you earlier about takin' this off of–"

"Please shut up."

Your brusque tone caught him off guard, you could tell, but you really couldn't find it in yourself to care when you already felt your erection straining against the tight of your slacks.

But, much as you should have expected, Wolfwood was quick to catch your wrists in a tight grip when you got to the final button, when the shirt fell open to reveal warm tanned skin and the dark trail of hair disappearing into his pants. It didn't matter how many times you got a look at him, you still felt tight in the chest, stomach still twisting in response. With your wrists bound, you couldn't do much past pushing up onto the balls of your feet, creasing your Sunday shoes to crush your lips against his again.

This time, it was more teeth and tongue than lips, and Wolfwood didn't seem to hesitate to give as good as he got. He gave you that, at the very least.

"What's the deal," Wolfwood muttered when he pulled back just out of reach, despite how much you tried to chase him. "Yer bein' a needy brat."

A knee pushed forwards, pressing between your legs and nudging up against your growing problem as if to emphasize his question, further prove his observation. The way you exhaled quick, the way you twitched and leaned forwards seemed to be enough to get you off the hook for now.

"Shit, angel– you're already hard?" His question was rhetorical, meant to mock. You knew this, but even the slightest bit of attention to your growing problem was enough to get you to fold.

Up until now, Wolfwood was never one to shy away from giving you what you needed; certainly not when you were the one to initiate– a rarity in itself. You only ever jumped him once when you were miserable and confused and drunk off your ass. So when you weren't met with the usual urgent touches, fingers digging into your pelvic bone as they shucked down your pants, you were confused. Frustrated. Agitated.

You knew better than anyone that Wolfwood was surprisingly perceptive, so the fact he was standing above you with an awfully smug smirk instead of doing anything set you off completely anew. You scowled up at him, pulled away and scoffed, before grabbing at a chair you had thrown on the floor. Unfolding it, you tossed it back to the floor, the legs rattling as it landed rightside up.

"If you're gonna be fucking useless at least take a seat to make it easier on me," You snapped. His smug expression didn't once falter, and he didn't once move. Asshole.

Lithe fingers reached out, curled around the buckle of his belt, and tugged with a little more force than necessary. Of course, you were of the understanding that Wolfwood wasn't exactly small, so either he stumbled forwards to mock you, or you genuinely caught him by surprise. Your hands dug into the relaxed muscle of his shoulders, pushing down, forcing him to sit on the chair you had so graciously set up for him.

"What's got you so–"

"I said please shut up," You cut in, taking your respective seat directly in his lap, close enough that your clothed erection was brushing up against his stomach and making you jolt.

You lean in, kisses messy and desperate, the stark contrast of your touch making him hum. One hand cupped the side of his neck, thumb brushing over the scratch of stubble on the cut of his jaw, gentle and reverent. The other was fisted in the back of his hair, angling his head back and making him groan into your greedy mouth.

He seemed to get the idea, though continued to do nothing to help. It appeared that was a common theme for him today, let you do all the work while he fucks around. What a piss-off.

With a low, frustrated growl, you inch back on his lap, hands abandoning their respectful positions to work at the buckle of his belt. His own shifted up, loosely landing on the dip of your waist, forearms resting heavy and warm on your thighs. A huffed exhale was breathed through your nose, tongue pushing into his mouth as you struggle for a moment too long. Finally getting it undone, you make an airy noise of satisfaction at feeling his hips raise. At least he wasn't being completely useless.

It took some effort, toes touching the ground and thighs burning as you held yourself up far enough to tug his pants and underwear down just far enough to free his half-hard cock. You sat yourself back in your respective seat, peeling away from the kiss to pull at your own pants. The kiss left you hazy, lips glossy with shared spit, barely parted as you tug at your own belt, undoing your pants and pulling your painfully hard erection free from its confines. You heave a sigh of relief, leaning into him for a moment of respite, a few long seconds of appeasement that helped your boiling anger bubble down to a slow simmer again.

A deep breath in, a shaky exhale out, your hand moved to encircle Wolfwood's cock, fist moving with gentle patience you hadn't harbored five minutes ago. He rewarded the good behavior, a hand leaving your hip to hook a finger under your chin, tip you down, lean his neck forwards and kiss you in the way he knew you loved. It was so easy for him to work you up, so easy for him to lay you open and bare, the way his mouth moved and his tongue curled against yours.

But it just wasn't enough.

Your hand moved quicker, squeezed a little tighter, and once he was hard enough to stand at attention you were scooting up his lap, whining an airy little noise into his open mouth when your hand clasped around the both of you. The simmer in your gut began to bubble again, the warmth of him pressing into you, how slowly he was working you open. You needed more.

"Fuck sake," You grumble when he parts from you to lay a couple slow kisses at the corner of your mouth, trailing to your jaw. Your attitude doesn't seem to go missed, his teeth gently catching on the skin making you suck a breath between your teeth. "Can't you go any faster?"

"You seem to be doin' fine on your own."

Motherfucker.

The sneer, the slight curl at the corner of his lips, his words all set you off again. Your jaw clenched so tight you could hear your molars grind, fingers squeezing tighter around the both of you.

"Fucking ridiculous," You end up huffing out, the anger in your gut churning and melting into arousal, cock twitching as you stood from your place. "I've been doing fucking everything today."

Dropping to your knees, palms laid flat on Wolfwood's inner thighs, you push them apart as you lean in. He raised a brow in intrigue, but was quick to gasp and lurch forwards when pretty pink lips wrapped around him and swallowed him down to the hilt in one single motion.

"Shit! " He choked, hands finding your hair as your throat clenched around him, nose buried in the thick wiry hair sat at the base. Your eyes watered, brows furrowed, and you felt yourself gag once, twice, before pulling off with a gasp.

A strand of spit kept you connected to his cock before dropping to the empty space between you, your lips just as glossy as his length with your gathered saliva.

"I set up your fucking tables for you–" You stand from your place, thumbs hooking in the waistline of your pants and boxers, pushing them to the floor after kicking off your shoes.

"– I sit in eighty degree weather for hours for you–" You clamber back to his lap, fingers encircling the base of his length as you line him up, spit slick tip prodding your tight ring of muscle.

"– I deal with passive-aggressive old women I hate all day for you–" Slowly, you begin to sink down; all the anger and frustration bubbling over and churning with arousal, creating a heady mixture that fogged your head and spread heat through your gut and chest.

"– and now you won't even put in even the slightest bit of minimal effort into fucking helping me here," You sigh out, sinking down to a sit in his lap, sheathing his cock completely in your tight warmth.

Tanned fingers dig into your thighs, cupping just below the swell of your ass as you lift yourself, then sink, then repeat, setting a pace that certainly got your point across. Your own fingers curl into the meat of his shoulders, dull nails sinking into the skin and carving crescent moons in your wake.

"It's too fucking hot out, and your ugly fucking shirt–"

Protests began to die on your tongue the faster you moved, the more your thighs burned, eyes sliding shut as your back arched and your body tensed and shook. It was good, the push, the pull, the fullness helping stoke the fire growing and growing. A part of you had expected the weight of his cock to tamp the fire down, quell the heat, but it only seemed to push you further towards the edge without actually giving you any relief.

Frustrated tears pricked at your eyes the longer you went and the faster you moved, muscles tensing and shaking as you struggled to keep the pace. Every time you felt yourself building up, closing in on the edge, your legs would give out, unintentionally edging yourself to absolute insanity. A pathetic little whimper fell from your lips, indignation and petulance pushing you nearly to tears.

Finally, you gave up, lips parted as you panted softly, breaths shuddered against warm tan skin. Your forehead fell to the space between his shoulder and neck, willing back the distressed sniffle as you sat in the deafening silence of the storage room.

A warm hand shifted up, palming up your thigh, hip, settling low and comforting on the small of your back under your partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Done with your tantrum, brat?" Wolfwood inquired, voice condescending, mocking, a stark contrast to his tender touch. You scoff, but don't have the energy do much else.

"Isn't a fucking tantrum."

"Right, 'n I'm Mother Mary."

You hated whenever he said that, but you couldn't find it in yourself to even be mad anymore. Just frustrated, just distressed, helpless and hopeless with Wolfwood buried balls deep inside of you.

"... yeah, 'm done," You eventually mutter, voice wobbly as you held back tears.

Strong fingers encircled your waist, lifting you a few inches before dropping you back down, testing the waters. You gasp, hands dig into his shoulders, and he does it again, then again. You're complacent, trembling in his grasp, breathless and desperate and needy.

All he gave you was a low hum, broad hands cupping underneath your upper thighs as he began to stand. "Good," Wolfwood said low, walking you over to the nearest surface– a stack of totes filled with craft supplies and miscellaneous fabrics. He set you down on top of them, hands pushing your thighs up, knees into your chest, hips bucking forwards.

"Looks like someone needs a fuckin' attitude adjustment," He mused, not missing the glassy haze in your eyes when he gave a few short thrusts, teasing you with just the tip.

"I don't need a– ah–! "

One hard smack of his hips up into yours silenced you, statements of denial tapering off into a depraved moan as you held onto him, toes curling at the sensation.

Had you been moderately more perceptive, less in your head, you would have seen that Wolfwood was just about at the end of his rope as well. After all, it wasn't just yourself you were edging. He was simply enjoying watching the show more than you hated putting it on.

His lips met yours, messy, teeth clacking together at the force, tongues pressed together. Spit dribbled down your chin, warm and wet and adding to every debauched slap of skin meeting skin, at the unforgiving pace he set to put you in your place.

Sweat trickled down his temple, the room growing hotter by the second. You felt a hand leave your thigh, urging you to part a few scant inches to watch what he was doing. Seeing his hand wrap around the edge of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, you were quick to reach out and clasp your fingers around his wrist.

"Don't– keep it on," You insisted, voice choppy, choked out and breathless between every hard thrust.

"You want me to keep it on? " Wolfwood couldn't help but chuckle low, obviously amused by the fact you were so insistent on looking at something you'd been endlessly bitching about all day.

However, he did nothing but appease you; hand back to your thigh and forcing your knees into your chest, folding you into the wall as the totes below you shook and rattled. You could feel every pull and drag, every ridge and vein as he fucked you with reckless abandon, bullying his cock into you as if it were a punishment. The coil in your gut began to wind tight again, the familiar feeling you've been so desperate for the entire goddamn day–

"Thought it made me look like a fishing dad, huh? Or do you like that? Want me to bend you over 'n call you kiddo? "

There was no build-up. It was fucking shameful how fast you were cumming from the pet name, shameful how much of a mess you were making as spurts of white hot seed splattered against your partially clothed chest, soaking into your button-up. Strangled cries fell from your throat, choked out, heady, and utterly sinful.

Wolfwood's hips stuttered to a halt, a stunned expression on his face at the reaction, at the unannounced premature climax shaking you to the core. It didn't take long for him to recover, hands clenching tighter against warm skin, eyes growing hazy and dark.

"Oh, Christ," He growled, giving you absolutely no respite as he set the pace even harder, pulling you in to meet every buck forward.

One hand moved, his touches becoming more urgent, more desperate, grabbing at the meat of your hip, your waist, before shooting up and cupping your jaw in a vice grip, fingers squeezing your cheeks. He angled you back, fucked you stupid, ignoring your cries of too much and slow down as he leaned into you, noses touching.

"That why you've been such a needy fuckin' brat all day, huh? Not gettin' what you need? Missin' daddy's dick?" He rasped, each word more punched out than the last. Filthy words had you keening, tensing in overwhelm, had him groaning in response. He was absolutely feral, an urgent heat he hasn't unleashed on you in months.

All you could do was whine, brain scrambled from the speed, the force, the orgasm still hazing your brain and clouding your thoughts. Every resounding slap just pushed you deeper, jaw slack as you moaned and whined for him, taking everything you were being given. Your thighs burned from the angle, from the earlier efforts you had put in, and you could feel yourself melting into his grip.

Each warm breath huffed against your lips had you reeling, eyes rolled back into your head as you whimpered and mewled; overstimulated, overwhelmed. Every time you tried to string together enough words to beg, to protest, try to say anything, he would fuck up into you harder. He left no room for you to do much other than take it, love it.

The handle of the storage door clicked, a choir of muffled voices chattering amongst themselves behind the thin wood no doubt trying to find where their beloved priest had run off to. It rattled, catching against the table leaning up against it, handle unable to push down completely. The voices sounded concerned, frustrated. You wanted to tense, wanted to get him to stop, but his thrusts were unabating, only pulling out and pushing in enough that his hips wouldn't smack against the swell of your ass. Though that was only half the issue when you yourself were making a considerable amount of noise.

When you managed to breathe a pathetic little Nick against his lips, he kissed you hard enough that it pushed your head back into the wall. He moaned, you whined, and you could feel his hips stutter. You had fucked him enough times to know he was close. 

Tongues moved in tandem, his fingers digging into your cheeks, into your thigh, clenching and grasping you so hard you thought you might bruise. The voices faded, and you released a breathy moan you didn't know you had been holding into the kiss.

"Gonna cum." Wolfwood parted from your lips with a wet smack, tongue passing over the plush of your lower lip once before muttering, "You gonna be a good boy for me, kiddo? Gonna take it all? "

God, if you could cum again so quick you would have.

You nod quick, head feeling heavy, foggy. "Yeah, 'm gonna take it all, Nick–" 

"Daddy." He corrected, causing your throat to grow tight, your stomach churning. You hadn't really discussed this particular kink with him, but you had certainly fucked into your own hand at the thought of nearly this exact scenario an embarrassing amount of times. It wasn't something you anticipated, the fact that he would be so into this. 

Choking on your words, each thrust into you growing more urgent, quicker in succession, you moan. "Gonna take it all, daddy–"

His hand released your cheeks as he pressed another heated kiss against your lips, palm sliding down to your lower back to tug you into him, force you closer. The totes below rattled and shook in protest, but the tight, tender hold he had on you was more than secure. 

Something you had learned over the months is that Wolfwood was mouthy in bed. He was vocal in the sense that he could talk you through an orgasm like no one better, whisper filthy things into your ear to get you to tumble over the edge faster than you could count; but past the occasional groan and grunt, he didn't make much noise. So when he was breathing into your open mouth, huffing out a depraved moan as his thrusts faltered, poured liquid white heat into you, it had your entire body tensing, committing the sound to memory. It was fucking hot.

Stammered thrusts slowed to a halt, his cock still hard enough to cut diamonds as he poured everything into you. His mouth moved sinfully good, tongue working you open again, leaving you desperate for more despite just draining him for all he was worth. Touches grew more gentle, less dire, calloused fingertips brushing reverent over your skin where bruises were surely going to form in the shape of his hands. Not that it would be the first time.

A few long moments passed of post-orgasmic bliss, kisses melting from messy to soft, before he was pulling back just to press his forehead against yours. 

"Holy shit, kid," Wolfwood chuckled, breathless and exhausted. You weren't fairing much better.

"Yeah," Was all you could rasp in return, eyes glazed over with exhaustion. The day had been too long for you to want to stay conscious after being fucked into oblivion. 

Wolfwood seemed to understand this, umber gaze falling to the cum stains on your shirt. He looked amused, exhaling a quick breath through his nose as he slowly, begrudgingly, pulled his now softening cock from your tight heat. You whine in protest at the immediate loss, at the drip down, milky white decorating the lid of the tote you were rested on. 

"Mm. Can't let you go back out there lookin' like this," He murmured, peppering your cheek and temple with a few gentle pecks. A finger hooked below your chin, tilting you back so he could kiss you one more time, slow, sweet.

His free hand fished into his pants pocket, pulling out an absolute mess of a keyring and rested it in your open palm. "Here. Go take a shower. I'll handle cleanup."

Your legs wobbled when he helped you down to the ground, using the wall as additional support when Wolfwood walked away to fetch your pants and shoes. He brought them back, handing them off with care. Really, you only bothered to slide your underwear and pants on, deciding putting on your shoes was far too much work to simply walk through a corridor and into Wolfwood's living space. 

"Hold up," He called out just as you reached the door, urging you to turn and glance over your shoulder. He already looked cleaned up, for the most part, shirt buttoned up, for the most part, and tucked into his pants. The only tell was his tousled hair, or the wrinkles in his shirt he hadn't bothered to smooth out. 

Strong hands grabbed at the table wedged under the door handle, sliding it out of the way and lifting to lean it up against the adjacent wall. He pulled the door open, peering out and glancing around. The sight brought you deja vu, shooting you back to the first time, the situation that had landed you here in the first place. It looked no different, the glance around before a hand clasped around your wrist, giving you a slight pull to urge you out the door. 

Caught in your head, you stumbled forward before a gentle, yet firm hand locked onto your hip. 

"Hey," Wolfwood whispered low as he leaned down to kiss your temple, the husky timbre of his voice melting you. "You did great today. I appreciate you helping out so much."

It's not that you ever scoffed at his praise, but for some reason this one was a little deeper, a little more tender, and a lot more meaningful. Your chest grew tight, words lodged in your throat, but just like every time he expressed such genuineness towards you, he didn't expect you to say or do anything in return. The warm of his palm pressed a little more firmly into your lower back, guiding you out the door, encouraging your feet to shuffle you down the hall towards the massive wooden door of his living quarters. 

You really only clued in to how well you've come to know both Wolfwood and his ways when you so seamlessly and quickly executed your clean-up. You knew exactly where he kept his towels, knew that he stored the special soap you used in the mirror cabinet because you refused to use his, knew exactly where you needed to pull the shower nozzle to get the perfect temperature. There was that domestic tenderness tugging at your heartstrings again, the familiarity of it all really only making itself prevalent in these moments. Never once did you think you were someone that could fall into a routine with someone, stick around long enough that you could grow so intimate like this.

The sound of the bathroom door opening startled you from your thoughts, blinking up at the ceiling as you sat at the bottom of the tub, staring at white subway tile. You didn't even question it when you heard the rattle of a belt buckle, heard clothes hit the tiled floor below, the peel back of the shower curtain. Didn't once think to question the nudge to your arm, urging you to scoot a little further towards the warm shower stream, allowing a space for him to slot in behind you, to sit with you, to pull you into a gentle embrace. 

However, you did think to question the half-hard erection poking at your lower back when he tugged you into his chest, pressing a few small kisses to your shoulder. You huff an amused noise, tipping your head back to look up at him with an incredulous expression. 

"I didn't even do anything. What's with this?" You inquire, half expecting some smartass response like you usually got. What you got instead was a neutral expression, soft gaze trailing along exposed skin before locking with your own. 

"You don't have to do anything," He murmurs, low and intimate. "I just love you."

Breath caught in your throat, eyes locked. He gave you a beat or two to process it, before he was kissing you with such saccharine reverence you didn't know how you could possibly return it. But, like usual, he didn't expect you to say or do anything in return. 

Love, huh?

Maybe you could get used to love if it was like this. If it was with him.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. —Thich Nhat Hanh Before you became a cloud, you were an ocean, roiled and murmuring like a mouth. You were the shadow of a cloud crossing over a field of tulips. You were the tears of a man who cried into a plaid handkerchief. You were a sky without a hat. Your heart puffed and flowered like sheets drying on a line. And when you were a tree, you listened to trees and the tree things trees told you. You were the wind in the wheels of a red bicycle. You were the spidery María tattooed on the hairless arm of a boy in downtown Houston. You were the rain rolling off the waxy leaves of a magnolia tree. A lock of straw-colored hair wedged between the mottled pages of a Victor Hugo novel. A crescent of soap. A spider the color of a fingernail. The black nets beneath the sea of olive trees. A skein of blue wool. A tea saucer wrapped in newspaper. An empty cracker tin. A bowl of blueberries in heavy cream. White wine in a green-stemmed glass. And when you opened your wings to wind, across the punched-tin sky above a prison courtyard, those condemned to death and those condemned to life watched how smooth and sweet a white cloud glides. 

Sandra Cisneros, “Cloud”

[rustbeltjessie]

[Santa Muerte, I ask you to remember]

Santa Muerte, I ask you to remember the wreckage of the streets. How did I escape it? How did I escape being swept from the gutters, one more marigold, one more skull crushed to confetti, one more guttering candle amongst the rest? All we had was those four rooms, up a flight

of stairs I stumbled on. Too steep, and so often too high to climb. These rooms, when I write myself back to them, refract the light. The way the blue, green, brown glass of emptied bottles of gin, whiskey, wine caught—then shattered—the late afternoon sun in that apartment, every apartment. The way

a crystal hung from a chandelier would, in a once-grand hotel turned flophouse. Dust-coated rainbows breaking across the flaking paint. The light of these remembered rooms, though, is more like the reverse—a chandelier in what was once a flophouse, now remade into a grand hotel. Nostalgia is gentrification.

I inhabit these memories and change them, the same way we changed the landscape of the neighborhoods we lived in. Without meaning to. Just by being there. Now I remember those rooms, those streets, and the people who inhabited them as exquisite, dazzling. Harder to recall the dirt, the lack

of money, the mattress on the floor stained purple with wine and vomit, the candles guttering ’til dawn, ’til wax covered the floor boards. Those rooms were squalid, and I wrecked myself in the pursuit of beauty. Before that, I lived in a different house, wretched in its own way. Crowded as it was with cats and stray

kids, sad queers and young junkies with their black-hole stares. I slept on a mattress there, alone in the hot, stuffy back room; I’d wake early and stare out into the small concrete yard, the black walnut tree dropping green fruit, staining everything brown. The pigeons with their oil-slick heads and beady black eyes; the shimmering

iridescence of the flies, those seraphs of death. When my partner in crime woke, we’d walk to the bodega for 32 oz. cups of cola, which we’d then dump half of. The rest, refilled with cheap Canadian whisky, so caustic and rotgut it stripped the wax coating from the paper. The stove in that house had a gas leak.

Even through the miasma of wax and syrupy whisky I could smell it; the sharp, eggy rot, but no one else seemed to notice, or they were too high, too low to care. It was the next place which was haunted. No gas leak there—our gas shut off a few months after we’d moved in and I too broke

and careless to get it turned back on—but those four rooms were crowded with the dead, restlessly clattering through the kitchen, perching on the edges of our mattress-beds, whispering their forlorn secrets. In those rooms, it was always the Day of the Dead. In spring, when the callery pear bloomed, their scent of tainted semen heavy on the air. In summer,

when the black walnuts cracked open on the streets, leaking, brown and green, their boozy-bitter juglone. And yes, in autumn, when the cold and haunted rooms smelled of dust, votive-wax, and the clingy, vegetal scent of just-carved pumpkins—and when all the neighborhood bakeries were making pan de muerto, the air above the autumn streets was heavy

with sugar, yeast, and orange zest. We were haunted, not only by the restless dead. Haunted by poverty, addiction, our own recklessness. The twisted shapes our longing for beauty hammered us into. We’re all doomed. My partner, my crime, scrawled that on a piece of paper which she hung, facing street-ward, in her bedroom window. And the landlord, who said she agreed,

kept trying to evict us. And the men who sang drunkenly below our window scrawled graffiti on the bricks above the alley. Gringos out. I did not blame them. I was an interloper, my ghost-white self settling there after running from—what was I running from?—the other streets, other rooms which had already finished with me. I was trespassing. Still, I learned to pray in their languages. Lit

novena candles, asked for benedictions from Santa María, Madre de Dios, and you, Gloria sea la Santa Muerte, la bendita muerte. My altar laden with ofrendas—cempazúchitl, cakes and sweetbreads, coffee and whiskey, the favorite food and drinks of our restless dead. We drank. A shot left on the altar, for the ghosts, a shot for us. Another. Offerings for them, for us

because we were dead now, or so the suburban boys said. We drank, whiskey in our coffee, beer from the bodega, spiced rum or gin the northwoods boys brought us as offerings. We drank because we woke twisted, shaking, still running from nine-day benders, we drank. To beauty, to death. How did I escape? Santa Muerte, I left those streets, those rooms, half a life ago. Tonight

they return, slow then sudden; sneak up like the creeper weed the ambulance driver gave us, nothing and nothing then I’m too high to move. I watch them flicker and refract, these shades of the past, these scenes altered by the trespass of memory. The altar of memory. And then the ghosts arrive. They fall

like the robes of a skeletal saint, like confetti from a Day of the Dead parade float; float like squid, like semen, like flower petals. Black walnut, callery pear; they smell of spice, tobacco, a gas leak, the early dark. They descend as flies, pigeons; come on as scrawls of graffiti, as thunder snow, the blued flash of light, the roar, then white. White. They fall and fall and cover it all, the squalid rooms, the wreckage of the streets, my whole wasted life, until everything

is just layers and layers of ghosts.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from Paterson Literary Review #52 (2024)

[deeptrashwitch]

Okay, this snippet is canon, because I wanna see Alicia as an auntie! And we oficially have the first member of the 4th Gen of the family ^^ this one:

(He's 10 but looks like he's older :3)

And now up to the snippet!

All the family was having a good time inside grandpa and grandma's house, just passing the holidays with their usual happiness and chaotic existance. Although, Nicolás was a bit nervous and even Alejandro noticed it, so everyone was confused and a bit worried about him. No one said anything because the eldest Marchant sibling never spoke about his problems if he was pressured, so they gave him his space.

When midnight arrived they all sat around the tree as usual, with all the classics songs blasting on the speakers, chatting with a cup of wine. Once they wished each other a merry christmas, with Elías and Juan David pretended to gag when Alicia and Alejandro kissed, everyone gave away the presents. Mostly were little things, trinkets if you want, but all of it thought in base of their personality.

"Hey, Licia, Alejo" Nicolás called with a shy smile "my gift is for you both, it's kind of a surprise"

"Aww, thanks Nico" Alicia said as they recived the box

"Thanks hermano! Now let's open it" Alejandro murmured, absolutely curious

They opened the box in the middle of an expectant silence, and inside of there were two bracelets, both with a little crow charm. But the real surprise was the card inside as well, it had just a question written on it attached to a little photo of Nicolás and a kid. 'Wanna be my godparents?'

"...Wait" they said in unison, sharing looks before looking at the older one "YOU'LL BE A FATHER?!"

"Surprise-!" Nicolás exclaimed, just to be tackled in a hug by Camila, and the younger twins (Juan David's little sisters), María and Gabriela

"We're having grandchildren?" Andrea muttered, looking at Jack with surprise and then smiling widely "we are having grandchildren!"

"AHAHAHAHA! FUCK YOU DEATH!" Julio screamed and laughed maniacally, pointing to the nocturne sky through the window "I LIVED TO SEE MY GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN!"

"Julio! Enough!" Rosa scolded him, making him sit down again before looking at Nicolás "congrats papito! I'm so happy for you"

"Another one! Another one! Another one!" Elías, August and Juan David were chanting while their parents and uncle were looking at them with worry

"They are as weird as you" José murmured towards Gabriel and Isabel

Everyone was happy and celebrating the new member to come, all while Nicolás was all red in the face, but smiling happily. Then Alicia and Alejandro took him apart to talk, hearing the relieved sigh from the elder brother.

"So? Are you adopting?" Alicia asked with a side smile

"Yes, he's a little boy called Daniel" Nicolás admitted with a soft smile "I met him maybe two years ago, and last year I started all the process to adopt him. To be honest, last month they gave me the yes! So he'll be my son, at mid january if everything goes right"

"I'm an auntie!" Alicia exclaimed, really excited with a giggle

"And I'll be an uncle" Alejandro murmured with a chuckle, then looking at his brother-in-law "do you really want us to be his godparents?"

"Absolutely, I trust you! Also I'm relieved that my son has two spec ops officers as godparents in case something happens" Nicolas joked with a big smile "and we both know that Alicia's boys will treat my boy as one of them"

"That's true, they'll be like that..."

And like that they learned that Daniel Marchant, the first grandchild on the family, is a sweet, intelligent, determined and patient boy. They also knew that Nicolás had been telling Daniel about all of them, and the kid was so admired and happy to have such a big family, even already calling them uncles, aunties and so more. When he gave them the date when his son would arrive home, everyone just started to prepare everything to recieve him.

And when Alicia called her boys to tell them the news, all the soldiers cheered loudly, making Alicia silence the call with a chuckle. At the same time she considered tell Tiala, Kanoa and Aly, so she organized a call with them for a little later before going to celebrate again. Like that the time passed, and in the middle of january, Daniel arrived home with Nicolás and all the family fled to La Haya to meet the new member.

"HE'S ONE OF US!" the grandpa exclaimed, lifting the kid as if he was Simba while Daniel giggled, with a huge smile "HEY WORLD! BEHOLD MY GREAT-GRANDBABY!"

"Dad! Put my grandkid down!" Andrea shouted, running towards him

"...They're really happy, huh?" Camila murmured with a big smile

"Oh, definitely" August said with a chuckle "hey, you think he'll be another soldier or he stays as civilian?"

"I bet for civilian" Gabriela said, raising her hand

"That's something only his dad can tell" Elías reminded them, then looking at his cousin "what do you think, Nico?"

"...Whatever he chooses, I'll be proud of him" Nicolás said with a little smile "but knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised if he became a soldier"

"So he'll be a new member of the club" María joked "but he still need to wait that I join first!"

"Mom, put my nephew back on the floor!" Alicia argued, watching Andrea doing the same as her father "and you bicker grandpa? You're just like him!"

"Got him!" Alejandro exclaimed, carrying the kid as a potato sack when he got him back "let's go, enano"

"Yay! Thanks for the help, uncle Alejo" Daniel said, smiling happily while Alejandro also smiled

[galaxostars]

tagged by @microdamage to share the first ten songs that come up on shuffle on my ‘on repeat’ playlist!

It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World - Seal

Misfit toys - Pusha T

Wildflowers & wine - Marcus King

I didn’t change my number - Billie Eilish

HONEY (ARE U COMING?) - Måneskin

Love is overtaking me - Arthur Russell

The line - Twenty One Pilots

Ma meilleure ennemie - Stromae, Pomme

Fear of the water - SYML

Real life - The Marías

np tags @arviyya @shoopsthereitis @bluedahlia912 @the-invisibility-bloke @transsexualpriest @emlovessid @lilacfiresoul @moonbornjpg

[badbatchposts]

Ask Game

Thanks for the tag @leapingbadger!

Last song: "María va" by Mercedes Sosa. I was on a Latin American folk kick the other day.

Favorite color: Purple (most shades, but I often wear a sort of purple-red wine color)

Last book: I Was a Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham-Jones. It's an ebook and it got auto-returned to the library though, but I'll go back to it when I can!

Last movie: This week I watched Pride and Prejudice (2005), The Empire Strikes Back, and Nosferatu

Last show: Leverage. I started watching because someone I follow on here posts a lot about it and I got curious and it's scratching the procedural itch so that's fun!

Sweet / spicy / savory: I like variety in my life but I'd say savory, maybe just because I've been eating a lot of sweets around the holidays.

Relationship status: Married

Last thing I googled: Danish Agency for Higher Education and Science, weirdly specific haha

Current obsession: Always The Bad Batch

I look forward to telling you: Ask me about Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, my OC Dara, the other OCs I just introduced into Quite Corners, my love for Crosshair and Hunter and their absolute dysfunction, my writing process, etc!

No pressure tags for: @cloneflo99 @ghostymarni

[pretty--but--dead]

➽─What is this?──❥

This blog is for the girls that have an undying love for any of the following:

Lana del Rey

Hozier

Ethel cain

Sufjan Stevens

Mitski

The Neighbourhood

Cigarrettes after sex

Childish gambino

James blake

The Marías

The 1975

Phoebe bridgers

gothic novels

american horror story

sharp objects

dead poets society

horror movies

autumn

forests

red wine

women

witchcraft

moon

nature

reading

writing 

poetry

jazz

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Okay i'm done. Join me if you want to, let's be mutuals.

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 6.24

Holidays

Accla Brewing Day (Ancient Inca)

Araw ng Maynila (a.k.a. Manilla Day; Philippines)

Bannockburn Day (Scotland)

Burning of the Lamps (Sais, Egypt; Ancient Egypt)

Calcio Fiorentino (Florence, Italy)

Carabobo Day (Venezuela)

Cat World Domination Day

Celebration of the Senses Day

Countryman’s Day (Peru)

Day of the Caboclo (Amazonas State, Brazil)

Dia del Indio (a.k.a. Day of the Indian; Latin America)

Discovery Day (Newfoundland and Labrador; Canada)

Dobbs Anniversary Day

Experiment 624 Day (a.k.a. Angel Day; Lilo & Stitch)

Farmer Day (Peru)

Festival of Contagious Magic

Fisherman's Day (Zaire)

Flying Saucer Day

Free RPG Day

French Canadian-American Day

Global Day of Action to Climate & Employment Proof Our Work

Hawaiian Coffee Day

International Day of the Makeup Artist

International Day of Women in Diplomacy

International Fairy Day (a.k.a. Faerie Day)

International Ia Day (Romania)

La Festa Dei Gigli (Festival of the Lilies; Italy)

Lost Handkerchief Day

Manila Day (Philippines)

Melpomene Asteroid Day

Museum Comes To Life Day

National Ageless Day

National Day of Joy

National Holiday of Quebec (Canada)

National Kenneth Day

National Indigenous Day (Peru)

National Le Day

National Midwife Day (Indonesia)

National Parchment Day

National Patch Day

National Pegging Day

National Relationship Equity Day

National Upcycling Day

Quarter Day (England, Ireland & Wales) [2 of 4]

Rosemary Day (French Republic)

Sânziene (Carpathian Mountains, Romania)

St. John’s Wort Day

Stonewall National Monument Day

Summer List Day

Summersgiving

Surfside Remembrance Day (Florida)

Swim a Lap Day

Swing a Kid Day

Think Your Way to Health Day

Tibedetha (a.k.a. Tiber’s Day; Elder Scrolls)

Universal Day of the Romanian Blouse

World Alsace Lovers’ Day

World History Day

World Messi Day

World Senses Day

World UFO Day [& 7.2]

World Young Doctors Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

American Barley Wine Day

National Creamy Pralines Day (a.k.a. National Pralines Day)

National Take Back the Lunch Break Day

Independence & Related Days

City Day (Porto, Portugal)

Constitution Day (Zaire)

Edanzia (Declared; 2018) [unrecognized]

Gishabrun (Declared; 2009) [unrecognized]

4th & Last Monday in June

Hetero Male Monday (Boise, Idaho) [Every Monday in June]

Motivation Monday [Every Monday]

Please Take My Children To Work Day [Last Monday]

Weekly Holidays beginning June 24 (4th Full Week)

Boys & Girls Club Week (thru 6.28) [Mon-Fri of Last Week]

Lost Handkerchief Week (Shamanism)

Festivals Beginning June 24, 2024

APGA Conference (Boston, Massachusetts) [thru 6.27]

HTEC 2024 (Charlotte, North Carolina) [thru 6.27]

INmusic Festival (Zagreb, Croatia) [thru 6.26]

National Insect Week (thru 6.30)

Feast Days

Alfred (Positivist; Saint)

Amitabha Buddha Day (Buddhism)

Ambrose Bierce (Writerism)

Anton LaVey Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Bartholomew of Dunelm (or Farne; Christian; Saint)

The Burning of the Lamps (Ancient Egypt; Everyday Wicca)

Claribelle (Muppetism)

Eleanor Norcross (Artology)

Feast of Parvati )Woien’s Festival; India)

Feast of Rahmat (Baha’i)

Ferdinand Bol (Artology)

Festival of Fata (Ancient Roman Goddess of Fate and Chance)

Fors Fortuna (Ancient Rome)

Fortuna’s Day (Pagan)

International Fairy Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Inti Raymi (Ancient Inca)

Jan Matejko (Artology)

Jean Metzinger (Artology)

Lawrence Block (Writerism)

Margaret Olley (Artology)

María Guadalupe García Zavala (Christian; Saint)

The Martyrs under Nero (Christian; Martyrs)

Midsummer

Mog Ruith (Servant of the Wheel; Celtic Book of Days)

Nativity of Saint John the Baptist (Christian; Saint)

Robert Henri (Artology)

St. John’s Day [and 2nd Day of Midsummer celebrations] (a.k.a. ... 

Bonfires of St. John (Spain)

Enyovden (Bulgaria)

Feast of the Dews (Lithuania)

Inti Raymi (Festival of the Sun, a.k.a. Peasants Day, Peru)

Jaanipäev (Estonia)

Jāņi (Latvia)

Joninės (a.k.a. Saint Jonas' Festival; Lithuania)

Jónsmessa (Iceland)

Macau Day (China)

Midsommardagen (Sweden)

Midsummer Day (England)

Midsummer’s Day (Estonia)

Quarter Day (England)

Saint John the Baptist Day (Andorra)

Saint Jonas' Festival or Joninės (Lithuania)

Sant-Jean-Baptiste Day (Quebec)

Sânziene (western Carpathian Mountains of Romania)

Surinal (North Korea)

Wattah Wattah Festival (Philippines)

Zuni Buffalo, Corn and Comanche Dances (Zuni Native Americans)

Saloua Raouda Choucair (Artology)

Sexual Fantasy Day (Pastafarian)

Simplicius (Christian; Saint)

Sun Festival (Peru)

Zamling Chisang (Universal Prayer Day; Tibetan Deities, esp. Samy Dolde)

Zemlya's Night (Mati-Syra-Zemlya, Slavic Goddess of the Earth)

Orthodox Christian Liturgical Calendar Holidays

Whit Monday [50 days after Orthodox Easter] (Orthodox Christian) a.k.a. ... 

Doua Zi de Rusalii (România)

Holy Spirit Monday

Kataklysmos (Cyprus)

Monday of the Holy Spirit

Pentecost Monday

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [37 of 57]

Premieres

All a Bir-r-r-d (WB LT Cartoon; 1950)

Ape Suzette (The Inspector Cartoon; 1966)

Bewitched (Film; 2005)

The Caine Mutiny (Film; 1954)

Cars 2 (Animated Pixar Film; 2011)

Cat Ballou (Film; 1965)

Catch-22 (Film; 1970)

Chastity (Film; 1969)

A Chinaman’s Chance (Ub Iwerks Cartoon; 1933)

Dangerously in Love, by Beyoncé (Album; 2003)

Elvis (Film; 2022)

4, by Beyoncé (Album; 2011)

Generation Cancellation, by Little Big (Song; 2022)

The Great Milenko, by Insane Clown Posse (Album; 1997)

Happy-Go-Nutty, featuring Screwy Squirrel (Tex Avery MGM Cartoon; 1944)

Hawaiian Vacation (Pixar Toy Story Cartoon; 2011)

Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo (Film; 1977)

Hot Air Races (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1949)

Independence Day: Resurgence (Film; 2016)

The Last Indian (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1938)

The Lion King (Animated Disney Film that ripped off Kimba; 1994)

Little Girl Blue, by Nina Simone (Album; 1958)

The Man from Toronto (Film; 2022)

March of the Penguins (Documentary Film; 2005)

McCabe & Mrs. Miller (Film; 1971)

Mr. Robot (TV Series; 2015)

The Newsroom (TV Series; 2012)

Nuts and Jolts (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1929)

Pink Paradise (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1967)

Scalp Trouble (WB LT Cartoon; 1939)

A Scent of the Matterhorn (WB LT Cartoon; 1961)

A Sleepless Night (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1948)

Sorcerer (Film; 1977)

Spaceballs (Film; 1987)

A Spaniard in the Works, by John Lennon (Book; 1965)

The Spy Swatter (WB LT Cartoon; 1967)

Star Maker, by Olaf Stapledon (Novel; 1937)

Swiss Army Man (Film; 2016)

Symphony No. 5 in D Major, by Ralph Vaughan Williams (Symphony; 1943)

Ten North Frederick, by John O'Hara (Novel; 1955)

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, by John le Carré (Novel; 1974)

Under the Dome (TV Series; 2013)

Undone - The Sweater Song, by Weezer (Song; 1994)

Who Framed Roger Rabbit (Film; 1988)

Who’s Cookie’ Who? (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1946)

The Will to Meaning, by Viktor E. Frankl (Psychology Book; 1969)

Yellowbeard (Film; 1983)

Today’s Name Days

Johannes, Reingard (Austria)

Enio, Yanita, Yanka, Yanko (Bulgaria)

Faust, Ivan, Krsto (Croatia)

Jan (Czech Republic)

Hans (Denmark)

Annes, Ants, Hannes, Hans, Jaan, Jan, Janno, Johan, Johannes, Juhan, Juho, Jukk, Juss, Kanek (Estonia)

Jani, Janne, Johannes, Juha, Juhana, Juhani, Juho, Jukka, Jussi (Finland)

Jean-Baptiste (France)

Johannes, Reingard (Germany)

Giota, Giotis, Panagioula, Panagoula, Panayotis, Panagiotis, Panos, Panousos, Panagis, Panagos, Panagiota, Panayota, Pani, Panikos, Pegie, Pegy, Takis, Tota, Toula, Yiota, Yiotis (Greece)

Iván (Hungary)

Gabriele, Giovanni, Romolo (Italy)

Jānis, Žanis (Latvia)

Eiviltas, Eiviltė, Jonas (Lithuania)

Hans, Johannes, Jon (Norway)

Dan, Danisz, Danuta, Emilia, Jan, Wilhelm (Poland)

Ioan (România)

Ján (Slovakia)

Bautista, Iván, Juan (Spain)

Johannes (Sweden)

Bohuslav, Bohuslava, Boris, Boryslav, Boryslava, Ivan, Jean, Joan, Johanna, John, Slavka, Slavko, Yvonna (Ukraine)

Hans, Giovanna, Giovanni, Ian, Ivan, Jan, Jana, Jean, Jeanette, Jeannette, Johan, John, Johnnie, Johnny, Juan, Juana, Juanita, Sean, Shana, Shane, Shanna, Yancy (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 176 of 2024; 190 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of week 26 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 19 (Ji-Wei)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 18 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 17 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 26 Blue; Fryday [26 of 30]

Julian: 11 June 2024

Moon: 91%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 7 Charlemagne (7th Month) [Alfred]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 1 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 5 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 4 of 31)

Calendar Changes

Feoh (Wealth) [Half-Month 13 of 24; Runic Half-Months] (thru 7.8)

[dsimsdecades]

My dearest María Isabel,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been a while since we heard from you. We miss you all so much and are longing to see you again.

We have enjoyed a few productive seasons here at the farm, which keeps Antonio and the boys busy fulfilling orders for the tavern. Pretty soon, he will broaden further. I wish you could see him; he is thrilled with the business, and it brings me joy to see him so happy and fulfilled. He recently unveiled his latest wine blend for Ángela's birthday. It was delicious; he has outdone himself, and the customers have taken quite a liking to it, keeping us on our toes with a surge in orders. 

Now that Ángela is older, she helps more around the house, although her true passion lies in playing her violin. I wish you could hear her; she plays with such elegance. The house is always brimming with life and energy, with her music and little Andrés Rogelio running about. He's a rambunctious little boy, and he keeps Magdalena and Francisco quite busy. 

The house will soon become livelier, as Magdalena will give birth any day now. Francisco and her are anxiously awaiting to meet their new bundle of joy. I pray all goes well and that she gives birth with no complications this time.

Andrea will also bring forth another child soon. She is radiant; motherhood truly suits her. Please do write to her; I'm positive she would be over the moon to hear from you. Whenever we talk, she never fails to mention how much she misses her beloved big sister.

Meanwhile, Sebastián is lost in a world of dreams these days. Caroline Beaufort has returned to the island after many years away, and he seems quite taken with her. His conversations invariably revolve around her, and while it can be a bit overwhelming, it warms my heart to see him so elated. He plans to invite her to our end-of-season gathering, which promises to be the grandest one yet. I eagerly await the joyous laughter of all my children and grandchildren here at the farm. Yet, it won't be complete without your presence, my love. Please consider visiting us soon. We would all be delighted to see you. 

Please convey my affection to Alejandro and the children.

With all my love and affection,

Your Mamá,

Isabel Sánchez

Beginning | Previous | Next

[devious-little-milkmaiden]

Favorite Albums That I Listened to in 2023

I'm not a huge fan of listening to albums, so I'm actually surprised as to how many I listened to in the past year: though that's mostly because a friend and I started giving each other album recommendations.

Cracker Island Gorillaz, 2023

I was excitedly anticipating this one, though I'm a pretty moderate Gorillaz fan. They had some great collaborations on this one, such as Bootie Brown, Beck, Bad Bunny, and Stevie Nicks! It's not my favorite Gorillaz album but still a pretty solid one.

Favorite songs: "Cracker Island", "Oil", "Skinny Ape", and "Silent Running".

Bella Donna Stevie Nicks, 1981

In contrast to Cracker Island and Gorillaz, I am a huge Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac fan. Bella Donna is Nicks' debut solo album, and I absolutely love how powerful it feels, and the Nicks era that it ushered in.

Favorite songs: "Edge of Seventeen", "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around"

The Kick Inside Kate Bush, 1978

Kate Bush is an artist that I love dearly, though I usually prefer to cherry-pick her songs rather than listening to entire albums of hers, usually because each individual song on her albums vary greatly by tone. I would say that The Kick Inside is one of the few that I do enjoy listening to from beginning-to-end. Some of my absolute favorites of Kate Bush come from this album, and overall, it does have a pretty consistent tone. It's airid, ethereal, comedic and whimsical.

Favorite songs: "The Saxophone Song", "Wuthering Heights" (!!!!!!) "Oh to Be in Love", "L'Amour Looks Something Like You" (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

The Queen is Dead The Smiths, 1986

Very appropriate listen for 2023.

I don't know much about The Smiths lore or what it says about me that I like them or whatever, I just enjoy listening to their music :).

Favorite songs: "I Know It's Over", "Cemetery Gates", "Bigmouth Strikes Again"

Melt My Eyez See Your Future Denzel Curry, 2022

This was one that was recommended to me by a friend based on his personal taste, which is pretty different from mine. I absolutely adore this album's sound. It has a sort of vulnerable charm to it.

Favorite songs: "Walkin", "Mental"

Are You Experienced Jimi Hendrix, 1967

I only started listening to Jimi Hendrix in 2023, and boy have I been missing out. His voice!!! His sound!!!! His guitar!!!!! Him!!!! Absolutely spectacular. This is Exhibit A in music that changes you. I feel like that scene in Elvis where all the girls lose their minds when I listen to this album.

Favorite songs: "Purple Haze", "Manic Depression", "Hey Joe", "Love Or Confusion", "The Wind Cries Mary" (!!!!!!) "Are You Experienced", "Highway Chile"

Hozier Hozier, 2014

I listen to this one and I think, "Yep, this is a Hozier album." Idk how else to describe it. Quintessential Hozier: ethereal, folksy, bee-boppy.

Favorite songs: "Jackie And Wilson", "From Eden", "Someone New", "Sedated", "Work Song" (!!!!!!!!)

Wasteland, Baby! Hozier, 2019

Again, quintessential Hozier, yet a bit more refined, more dark and romantic. Hozier's artistry is aging like wine. Transcendent.

Favorite songs: "Almost (Sweet Music)" (!!!!!) "Movement" (!!!!!) "Would That I", "Sunlight"

Never for Ever Kate Bush, 1980

Kate Bush at her finest. She is my everything. Similar to The Kick Inside, this one is whimsical and comedic, yet it differs with a much heavier weight and increased closeness.

Favorite songs: "Babooshka", "The Wedding List", "Army Dreamers" (!!!!!)

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars David Bowie, 1972

I want this buried with me. My absolute favorite of Bowie's albums. It has a transcendent proximity, a sentence which makes no sense. It feels close and far away at the same time (what I am pretentiously describing is called an echo).

Favorite songs: "Five Years", "Soul Love", "Starman", "It Ain't Easy", "Lady Stardust", "Star", "Ziggy Stardust", "Suffragette City", "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide"

Superclean, Vol. II The Marías, 2018

Another one of my friend's recommendations. This one puts me in a good mood and clears my mind. :)

Favorite songs: All of them.

Unreal Unearth Hozier, 2023

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Favorite songs: "De Selby (Part 2)", "First Time", "Francesca", "I, Carrion (Icarian)", "Who We Are" (RASDHFKASDJGSDKGFGNASJDDSJGAFVLDFEJRGAOLFNVASGNWRG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), "Abstract (Psychopomp)", "Unknown / Nth", "First Light"

Thee Sacred Souls Thee Sacred Souls, 2022

The Greta Van Fleet of soul, taking it back to one of the most recognizable sounds from the genre. They're just so sweet.

Favorite songs: "Lady Love", "Easier Said Than Done", "Future Lover" (I have a t-shirt of theirs with this song's lyrics)

Also, it's not on this album but "Running Away" is ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC AND I CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF IT.

Mozart: Requiem Mozart, Karitta Mattila, Sara Minguardo, Michael Schade, Bryn Terfel, Berliner Philharmoniker

It has the drama. It'll make you feel like you're in a Donna Tartt novel. I have a bit of a hard time sitting through classical albums but this one is endlessly captivating.

Favorite songs: "Requiem, K. 626: I. Introitus. Requiem aeternam", "Requiem, K. 626: III. Sequentia: f. Lacrimosa", "Requiem, K. 626: V. Sanctus"

Final Thoughts: Quite a wide range of genres this year, though I must say I enjoyed stepping out of my usual listening tendencies and exploring some genres I was heavily deprived in.

[primepast]

task   zero  + character introduction.

⌕   . ˚   ⅋.   「   pedro pascal. forty six. cis man. he/him.  」 luca reyes  was recruited as a  captain’s crew  for the libertalia  twenty six years ago  and was given the codename:  dionysus  for their  carefree  but  spiteful  behavior, typical for  the sagittarius. while preparing for a heist they listen to  back in black  by  acdc  and don’t dare to leave without their most trusted item:  engraved pocket knife.

part one: statistics.

basic information:

full name: josé lucas reyes espinoza luca reyes.

nickname(s): lu, whatever insult is being thrown his way.

age: 46.

date of birth: december 2nd, 1976.

place of birth: santiago, chile.

nationality: chilean american.

gender: cis man.

pronouns: he / him.

orientation:  bisexual.

language(s) spoken: fluent in english, spanish & portuguese, familiar with russian, asl, & french.

accent: used to have a slight new yorker accent, not so much anymore.

family ties:

mother: maría espinoza, deceased.

father: juan reyes herrera, deceased.

siblings: has five siblings, three younger and two older.

spouse / partner: widower, currently single.

children: has a daughter named mia, in her mid twenties.

pets: has a ball python snake named ralph.

occupational information:

codename: dionysus.

meaning behind codename: dionysus, the greek god of wine ( also bestower of ecstasy / god of the drama ... fittingly enough ).

position: captain's crew.

skillset: scoped firearms / long range weapons / quick thinking under pressure / expert hand eye coordination / lockpicking / anything that allows him to stay still.

weapon of choice:  prefers a sniper rifle, currently carries a m1903 springfield.

physical appearance:

face claim: pedro pascal.

hair color:  dark brown.

eye color: dark brown.

height: 5'11"

weight: 165 lbs.

build: athletic.

tattoos: has a small clown fish tattoo on his left shoulder for his daughter.

piercings: none.

clothing style: whatever's still in his closet from the past decade, mostly old shirts with the occasional hole or stain and jeans. sometimes wears a leather jacket he found at a thrift store ... he doesn't really have a "style" just if it fits and isn't too fancy... comfortable dad attire.

distinguishing characteristics: salt & pepper hair, dimpled smile, square jawline.

personality:

mbti: estp.

element:  fire.

western zodiac: sagittarius.

chinese zodiac: dragon.

positive traits: carefree, charming, adaptable, perceptive, bold.

negative traits: spiteful, impatient, impulsive, defiant, insensitive.

hobbies: drinking, fishing, woodworking, reading, doing nothing.

character inspiration:  seth gecko ( fdtd ), the ten seconds of screentime dionysus gets in the pj movies, ron swanson ( parks & rec, this is strictly only vibes ), jim hopper ( stranger things but not the cop part acab ).

part two: questionnaire. 

001.  the professor provides every member of libertalia a unique codename that reflects their personality. each codename is derived from various forms of mythology, folklore, or literature. why do you think the professor chose that name for you? do you agree or disagree with his decision? 

the professor has always been an idol of luca's and joining within libertalia's first year is something he looooves to brag about. he was codenamed dionysus and though a bit stumped at first, he realized that the professor must have known about his sticky fingers expensive alcohol bottle collection ... or maybe he just has a sense of humor and was already well aware of luca's drinking problem. there's much more to the name than luca understands - a man of intense passion, both known for his excitable attitude and anger. either way, luca has never really cared to know, especially since he likes to imagine the professor does have a sense of humor... and for that reason, he loves the decision.

002.  gaining an invitation into libertalia isn’t an easy feat. what do you think made you special enough to get handpicked by the professor? 

luca usually chalks it up to being young and lucky enough to be on libertalia's radar early on. he hadn't planned much at the beginning and had been reckless on his heists, going into hiding after a bank robbery went wrong and he was separated from his partners. for whatever reason, he was given a second chance when it seemed like his life was over and for that, he'll always be grateful.

003.  the captain’s crew is the highest position at libertalia. do you desire to graduate to this level? if you’re already a member of the captain’s crew what motivated you to change your position? 

as a current captain's crew member, the position has been on his mind since he learned it was a possibility. he has no desire to be in a true position of leadership like the professor, but luca owes everything to libertalia and his allegiance has only strengthened over the twenty plus years with the group. he used to love joining on adventures but as he's gotten older and faced injury after injury, his focus began to shift to the potential of heist planning - whatever he needed to do to remain useful to the organization. he fears that his intelligence isn't as good as his physical skills but is doing his best to make sure no one notices.

004.  although many members of libertalia don’t know each other’s personal lives, it’s rumored that many members came from suspicious backgrounds. who were you before joining and what was your life like prior?

joining libertalia was an impulsive decision, one made without the knowledge of his wife. she was always in the dark about his thievery and criminal background, some he even completed while they were married. they'd known each other since high school and she only discovered his extracurriculars once he was already in libertalia. luca had grown up having to make his own way in the world and refused to change for anyone, but it cost him the opportunity of having the family he'd always wanted. libertalia was his purpose after that and he's refuses to think about the past anymore.

005.  what was your primary motivation for joining libertalia? was it for the riches or for the thrill of adventure? or is there something else motivating you to continue working for the group? what do you hope to achieve? 

the primary motivation had always been to see what the world had to offer. a simple curiosity of what else there could be and a desire to scratch an itch of thievery. he hadn't expected much, truthfully, as far as profits go - but once the money started showing on paper, that helped too. now that he's lost the other side of the life he had, libertalia has essentially become everything to him and he hopes to help it flourish with the years he has left. he loves the idea of passing on all the wisdom and experience he's learned, a main reason he's apart of the captain's crew.

006.  how would the other members describe you? would you consider yourself to be a team-player or do you prefer to work independently? 

never serious, always joking, mouth never not open. not usually seen without a drink in his hand. he's got a contagious laugh and that can either soften the view some people have toward luca or infuriate them. always loves to be the life of the party and at every single funeral, he's made the "i put the fun in funeral" joke to someone. doesn't know how to read a room very well but he's got the best of intentions. works well with others... but usually gives them a headache at some point.

007.  libertalia is anonymous, therefore necessitates secrecy outside of the group. how do you balance your personal life outside of this, granted you have one? is there a clear separation between libertalia and your personal life? 

luca used to be able to balance everything perfectly within the first few years of libertalia - after his wife discovered he'd been lying about a business trip and knew he couldn't lie to her anymore, it went downhill from there. after a messy separation, luca's personal life became more or less existent. his thirties were spent jumping from mission to mission, becoming almost obsessed with his work until a bad back injury made him replan his future. now he's just focused on remaining valuable.

008.  henry avery’s treasure has been lost since 1695. even with the brightest minds on the case, all leads to find the treasure haven’t turned up. avery’s treasure is the professor’s white whale and after several years of searching, many believe the treasure ceases to exist. do you believe the treasure exists? 

luca is certainly skeptical but leans toward hopeful.

009.  do you trust the professor? do you trust the libertalia? 

yes and yes - with his life.

[lire-casander]

7 and 21

7. A song to drive to

This is the song I usually play when I start my road trip to the beach every single summer. I get to spend a month down by the sea, and this is the first song I always play. It doesn't matter who's with me in the car, and it doesn't matter their preferences lol. I always play this one, get in the mood. Who wouldn't?

You make me Feel something like summertime Top down and nothing but time Radio's on and you by my side Feels something like summertime Like that first slow dance and that first long kiss There ain't nothing baby better then this It's like a beach blanket and a bottle of wine It feels something like summertime

21. A favorite song with a person’s name in the title

Woah this was hard. There are so many, many songs with name sin the title that I wouldn't know where to begin. However, I'll go with a classic, in Spanish, that I'm pretty sure everyone has listened to at least once because hey, it's Ricky Martin! Also, it was the first song I ever listened to that was titled after my own name.

Translation of the lyrics in brackets!

Así es María, blanca como el día (Maria is like that, white as the day) Pero es veneno si te quieres enamorar (But she's poison if you want to fall in love) Así es María tan caliente y fría (Maria is like that, so hot and so cold) Que si te la bebes de seguro te va a matar (If you drink her she'll surely kill you)

send me one of these music asks that are actually quite hard!

[quzq]

Sad Clown - Vundabar

Acetone - Vundabar

Mercy - Sir Chloe

Moonhunter - Echoflesh

Babooshka - Kate Bush

Pearl Diver - Mitski

Ghosting - Mother Mother

Daylight - Bôa

Deeply - Bôa

Moving Out - Vacations

Andromeda - Weyes Blood

Just a Fan - Roar

Ruthless - The Marías

Miss Understood - HYRA

Sad Lullaby - HYRA

1990 - Sexy Pigeon

Karma Police - Radiohead

Nothing’s New - Rio Romeo

Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Abigail - Frankie Cosmos

Conversations with the Moon - grentperez

Clementine - grentperez

Cherry Wine - grentperez

Magnolia - Laufey

Bad Contestant - Matt Maltese

Misery - Matt Maltese

Quick Sand - Jerry Paper

Grey Area - Jerry Paper (feat. Weyes Blood)

Keep Kool - Winona Forever

Wolfcat - Still Woozy

The Ocean - Lemon Demon

Pleaser - Wallows

Sorry for giving you so many, I had to physically stop myself from giving you half my playlist. Also, I don’t know if all of these are on Spotify.

Oh, and please feel free to give me recs as well! I love discovering new music. I like any and all genres

go here and let me know what your short term top artists from spotify (within the last 4 weeks) are in the tags!

[maulenews]

Villa Alegrino obtiene la medalla de oro por el mejor vino campesino del 2024 en destacado concurso internacional Noticias Región del Maule: El cabernet sauvignon 2017 producido por Guido Perucich (82), vitivinicultor de Villa Alegre, fue reconocido con la medalla Gran Oro en los premios Catad'Or Wine Awards 2024, destacándose como el mejor vino campesino entre los vinos y destilados de viñas familiares y campesinas presentados por INDAP en la categoría Catad'or Ancestral, en la que, además, un pisco de Atacama y una sidra de La Araucanía también recibieron distinciones en esta edición.  Guido expresó su satisfacción por el reconocimiento obtenido: “Mi padre llegó desde Croacia. Él estudiaba arquitectura en Trieste, Italia, y a los 20 años un tío lo trajo a trabajar a Chile, ingresando por Punta Arenas, allá por 1900. Desde ahí se vino a Villa Alegre (Linares), donde conoció a mi madre, que pertenecía a una familia de viñateros y conocía muy bien esta tradición”. También relató cómo su familia se asentó en Chile y se dedicó a la viticultura: su padre, Juan Perucich, y la villaalegrina María Elena Navarrete se establecieron en un campo llamado Korčula, donde iniciaron una gran producción de manzanas y continuaron con la viña de uva país, transmitiendo su conocimiento al joven Guido.  Años más tarde, él se independizó y, tras heredar un terreno en el sector de Liucura, comenzó su propia producción de vino. Tras enfrentar dificultades por los bajos precios en el mercado, redujo la viña y se centró en las parras de cabernet sauvignon y carmenere, con solo tres hectáreas de terreno. Gracias al apoyo de INDAP, dio el paso al embotellado, y hoy se muestra satisfecho con su decisión.  “Tradición es mantener lo que crearon nuestros antepasados y tener un cariño especial por el vino. El vino no es llegar y hacerlo; la gente a veces no entiende que hay tanto detalle chico que hay que cuidar para que salgan bien las cosas, partiendo por hacerlo todo con cariño, desde la vendimia, el cuidado de la uva, la selección para los distintos vinos que quieres hacer, y no meterle pura química, como se hace a veces”, señala Perucich, quien aboga por una producción sostenible en el mundo vinícola.     via https://ift.tt/dQNXk6q January 08, 2025 at 08:00PM