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hailthegodsong · 2 months ago

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HIGH RIFT PLAINS: Chapter 1

Word Count: 10.4k+

𓄀 A/N: Well! Here it is! This first chapter is maybe a little boring for some but I promise the next chapter it picks up with some smut and drama and stuff. I was suuuuuper nervous to post this so I hope you like my rendition of sexy cowboy jake

𓄀 Content Warnings: Mentions of loneliness, petty theft, mentions of deceased family, depictions of prostitution, thats about it folks!

Somewhere in Montana, May 1875

𓄀

The sun hung low in the vast, cloudless sky, casting a burnt orange glow over the rolling plains that reached far into the distance, vanishing softly into the horizon. Jake adjusted his hat, pulling the brim lower to shield his eyes from the glare and his skin from the sun.

His horse, a bay mare named Bessie, moved at a slow, steady pace beneath him, hooves crunching against the dry, dusty trail. The wind was a mere whisper, stirring up occasional flurries of dust, but otherwise, the world around him was eerily still.

He'd been riding for hours, and his hips and legs ached against the steady rhythm of the saddle. In the distance, there was no sign of life and no movement apart from the sway of grass, and it had been like that since he’d set off from the last town.

But Jake liked it that way. He wasn’t in a hurry. There was no reason to be, not out there. As a traveller and a salesman, he was used to days like this, where the journey seemed endless, and towns were few and far between.

He patted the side of his saddlebag, feeling the weight of his goods, pistols, gun parts, tools, and the gun oil that he always managed to sell to the more gullible folk.

“Folks never know what they need 'til you show 'em what they can’t live without,” he muttered under his breath, the words from his father a familiar mantra.

Bessie huffed softly, as if in agreement, her ears twitching at the sound of his voice. Jake gave her a light squeeze with his heels, and she picked up the pace just a little. Somewhere out there was another town, a handful of ranches maybe, people he could talk to and trade with. He knew he was bound to find something soon, even if it was just a place to rest his head for the night.

𓄀

Finally, after what felt like days, but was only a few more eventless hours, Bessie reached a crest in the plains, revealing the faint outlines of buildings in the distance. A town, he realised and his lips curled into a half smile at the sight.

He loosened his grip on the reins, giving Bessie the signal to descend the slope at a leisurely pace, her hooves kicking up large gusting clouds of dust as they neared the town’s edge.

As the beaten track slowly turned into a recognisable gravel road, he looked around, wondering if this town was a quiet, unassuming place, just like all the others he’d passed through.

But that was just how he liked it— a town so small that folks relied on his services to maintain their inventory. He always liked to see how isolation had changed a town, letting them develop their own perks and customs different to the last.

As he neared the main street though, the town slowly came to life. Wooden buildings with sagging porches lined the road, their paint faded and cracked. A blacksmith’s shop clanged with the sound of hammer on iron, while a handful of vendors peddled their goods from stalls.

Women in bonnets hurried along the boardwalks, baskets full of vegetables or cloth, their eyes darting to him for a moment before they returned to their business. Men leaned against posts or sat outside shopfronts, nursing afternoon beers, their conversations fading to murmurs as they watched him pass.

His gaze swept the scene as he took in every detail, watching as the roughened hands of local shopkeepers sorted through their wooden artefacts, neatly setting them up to attract potential buyers.

There was opportunity here, he could tell. These were people who worked hard and needed the things he had to sell. If he played his cards right, he could sell them just about everything he had.

Intrigued, he continued down the trodden path and further into what looked like the farmers markets, perched high on his horse as he peered down at the locals.

Some men sold crops, grain and other farmed materials, while others sold their metal trinkets, varying from fire pokers to long rusted chimney pipes. There were women who held their own stalls too, mostly all selling cloth, bedsheets, and intricately embroidered materials.

One woman though, he noted, was perched by a stall that seemed to be selling just about everything. Wild rags, fresh vegetables, leather riding boots, broad brimmed hats, jars upon jars of milk, and more that he couldn't see past the mess of the stall beside her.

You were speaking to a frequent buyer when he noticed you, giving him the allusion that you didn't know he was there. But you had been watching him since he approached the markets, immediately recognising that he was not from around these parts, and kept a wary eye out for him in suspicion.

He only paused for a moment to eye you and your products, briefly inspecting the variety of jams you had stacked by the floor, but did not linger for too long before he gently tapped Bessies side with his foot, continuing his walk onward.

Once he reached the first saloon he could find, Jake swung off his horse, quick to stretch out the tightness in his thighs, and he stroked away the flies that clung to Bessie's side, her skin twitching at the feeling. He wandered around her, taking her by the reins and eyeing the dirty area down for a hitching rail.

He felt anxious tying her up by the other horses, not yet comfortable enough with the locals to trust that they wouldn’t steal her. He had done his research though, and this state, like many others, outlawed horse stealing as a crime punishable by death. But he was smart enough to know that the law didn't stop many.

Alas, he tied her up reluctantly, just like he always did, muttering a quiet prayer under his breath to keep her safe. He used the knot his father had taught him, one that most people did not know how to undo. Jake knew Bessie was a loyal girl anyway, a loud girl too, and if anyone tried to take her, he would know.

An old man with wild, wiry, white hair and an auburn leather hat over his head sat on the steps outside the saloon, watching him as he left the bay. Jake noted the leather chaps on his thighs, and the orange dust that coated his face from a day of riding. Jake gave him a nod, the kind that was polite but not too familiar, and although recognising his gesture, the older man looked away.

Ignoring the disrespect and returning his attention to the saloon, Jake listened as the tune of a piano filtered out the swinging doors. As he stepped in, he let his senses overwhelm him, glasses clinked in cheers and loud conversation echoed in the acoustics of the room. Further down, men sat perched at the bar, swaying in their drunken haze despite the early hours of the afternoon.

This was the kind of place where the townsmen gathered after a long day to let loose— and to loosen their purse strings in the process. He'd ply his relationships here first, getting to know the men and making a name for himself, and set out into the marketplace in the morrow.

Slipping onto one of the wooden barstools, Jake hailed down the bartender, ordering a whisky neat and sliding the coins over the table, the movements done so often that they had become automatic.

“M’names Raymond,” the man beside him introduced, a slur accompanying his unmistakable accent, “But you can call me Ray.”

He outstretched his dirt covered hand, indicating he'd had a long day on a ranch somewhere, and Jake took it politely, shaking firm.

“Jacob,” he replied, keeping his hat tipped low as he sipped at the drink before him. “S’ nice to meet ‘chu.”

“Likewise. You new to town? I aint seen you ‘round here ‘fore,” he questioned, nursing his beer in his thick hands, thumb swiping at the condensation that had gathered on the glass.

“Yes sir. Only stayin’ for a couple’a months. Here to sell some tools and such,” Jake explained, hoping to get his market into discussion amongst the local men.

“Ah, a nomad then?”

Jake tilted his head at the label, “Of sorts.”

He grunted, “And where’re you finding a pillow to rest your head?” As Jake's gaze travelled high in thought, Ray spoke again, “You know… we’ve got some lovely ladies in town that’d keep you for a night at not too bad a price,” he advised, gesturing to the back corner of the bar.

Jake leaned forward only slightly, peering into the dark corner of the bar, only illuminated by a single kerosene lamp, where a man sat by the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys in a fluid motion.

Ray was clearly not referring to the pianist though, as Jake's eyes assessed the scarcely dressed women who flaunted themselves upon the men who sat nearby.

Jake barked out a laugh, “Careful, you’re sounding much like a procurer.”

But when Jaked looked back at Ray, he found that his eyes were lust taken as the ladies bent over, necks exposed as they threw their heads back in laughter, showing off the deep crevice between their breasts.

Jake ticked his tongue, “Don’t be fooled by women o’ such, Ray,” he patted his back, “They just want their pretty penny by the end of the night.”

Ray turned back to Jake, grunting as he swung back the rest of his beer and shouted at the bartender to pour him another. Jake took his chance, knowing that Ray was on the cusp of being too drunk to be coherent, and drunk enough to fall for the temptations of gullibility.

Maybe it was wrong, immoral, but Jake didn’t care. Everyone knew that the truth only got you so far.

“Say, you have much use for guns, Ray?” Jake asked, leaning slightly closer to him.

“O’course I do. I’m a farmer.”

As Jake opened his mouth to make a proposition, and perhaps his first sale in town, Ray spoke again.

“But I won’t have any need for any if ye’r tryna’ sell me some. Could’n’ afford it. I can barely make my way as is. Hardly made a dollars profit this season,” he explained, and Jake frowned in sympathy. “But I’ll be sure to spread your name, Jacob. No use in the two of us scraping by.”

Jake briefly mourned the loss of the potential customer, but was reassured by his promise. Word of mouth truly was the best form of advertisement.

“Why’s that? Farm and what not’s good out here, aint it?” Jake asked, abandoning his sales approach completely.

“Usually, yes. But some’fin happened last season and none o’ ma crops made it through the summer. Er’one else's did, so I dunno what the shit happened to mine. ‘S turned me into a filthy criminal, it has,” he barked out a laugh, though Jake could tell he was far from happy, only masking the pain and stress of financial struggles beneath his humour and booze.

Filthy criminal? Jake thought, not quite understanding the meaning behind Ray's insinuation, but mostly attributed his incoherency to the alcohol pooling in his gut.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck Raymond, I truly do,” Jake patted his back in sympathy. “Now, where can I find a place to sleep ‘round here? ‘Part from the beds of those fine ladies, ‘course,” Jake asked, smirking.

“Well, this old place ain't just a saloon, it’s a tavern too. S’ got beds upstairs for travellers like yourself,” he explained, and Jake peered up at the ceiling and pursed his lips.

“Should do for a coupl’a nights ‘til I find a place more permanent. I’m hopin’ I can help around a ranch or some’fin like that in exchange for a place to stay,” Jake explained.

“Well I wish you luck too then. Not too many people ‘round these parts would be willin’ to let some cowboy shack up in their place.”

Jake tipped back the rest of his drink and stood from his seat, “Well it’s a good thing I aint a cowboy, then isn't it?” he said with a smirk.

Once Jake had left the saloon and untied Bessie from the wooden post, he settled into her saddle and spent the rest of the day exploring the new town. The leather saddle creaked under him as he adjusted his weight, feeling the familiar comfort of the practice despite the long hours.

As they ambled through the streets, Jake marvelled at the town’s size. It was bigger than any he had come across before. The perimeters stretched out far beyond what he was used to, with sprawling neighbourhoods and a network of roads that hinted at a prosperous community.

He travelled across those dirt paths to explore the ranches nearby, assessing the homes and wealth of the locals. Every market, shop and farm he had come across seemed abundant in supplies, thriving in their economy.

His thoughts turned to his own business, and he hoped that amidst the prosperity, the town might be lacking in gun makers, an opportunity he could potentially exploit. The thought gave him a small thrill, imagining the possibilities if he could tap into a market where his skills were in high demand.

By nightfall, Jake made his way back to the tavern where he had decided to stay. He paid for two nights’ accommodation, hoping that in the morning he might find a more permanent place to rest. The tavern was cosy, with the warm glow of lanterns casting a welcoming light over the wooden interior. Jake felt a sense of satisfaction as he settled in for the night, the day's adventures already weaving their way into his thoughts.

For dinner, he enjoyed a hearty steak served by a small front next door. Afterward, he tended to Bessie, making sure she was settled in a nearby stable with plenty of feed and water. And then he got some well needed rest.

𓄀

The next day, Jake spent his time scouring for customers, hopping off Bessie to speak with men on the streets who looked like the kind he usually struck deals with. The sun was already climbing high in the sky, beating down relentlessly, but Jake didn’t seem to mind. His eyes scanned every passerby with sharp focus, weighing his options. He knew his clientele well, their hardened faces, the way they glanced over their shoulders, or the worn leather of their holsters were often all he needed to know he’d found a potential buyer.

Throughout the day, he managed to score three sales, each one giving him a surge of satisfaction. Most were trades— spare parts, bits of hardware that were hard to come by in areas like this— but he took particular pride in his bartering, always able to coax a better deal out of his customers.

Still, there was one transaction in particular that stuck with him. He’d sold a shiny new Samuel Colt pistol for fourteen dollars, one he’d only bought a week ago for far less. The gleam of the gun had been an easy selling point, its craftsmanship speaking for itself, but Jake’s way with words sealed the deal. The man had been eager to take it, and Jake had walked away with his pockets a little heavier, a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

By the time the sun began to lower, casting long shadows over the street, Jake was feeling good about the day’s success. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, the cool breeze that had begun to stir offering a much needed reprieve from the heat. He patted Bessie’s side, tying her up in a shaded spot near a saloon where she’d be safe, before turning his attention back to the town around him.

The noise picked up increasingly as Jake made his way deeper into the market, the hum of voices and the clang of metal and wood surrounding him. Stalls were bustling with people, haggling over prices and inspecting goods with careful eyes.

He scoffed when he passed one particular booth, its shelves lined with second-hand boots. Everyone knew wearing someone's old boots was a sure way to invite bad luck into your life, and Jake wasn’t about to tempt fate, especially not with something as personal as someone's shoes. They held the miles of another man's journey, the hardships, and the wear. Better to leave those stories to someone else.

As he moved on, something shiny caught his eye. A flash of silver among a sea of worn leather and dusty trinkets. His pace slowed, and his curiosity got the better of him. He neared the stall, his gaze locking onto the object that had drawn his attention: a silver belt buckle, gleaming in the light. The craftsmanship was intricate, far more refined than the other items scattered around it.

Jake reached out, taking the buckle between his fingers, the cool metal sending a slight chill through his skin. He rubbed the front of it with the pad of his thumb, feeling the smooth surface give way to the detailed engravings. The buckle was flat and rectangular, but its simplicity was offset by the fine, almost mesmerising, designs etched into it. Patterns swirled along the edges, delicate and precise, and at its centre, the maker had carved a scene of a horse and rider, frozen in mid gallop.

He looked up at the seller, who was sitting by a table, etching illustrations into pieces of metal by lightly knocking a thin chisel with a hammer.

“Excuse me?” he called out, and the worker paused to look at him.

“What is it, boy?” he asked, and Jake shifted at the name, noting that the man owning the store looked only a mere few years older than he.

“How much for this buckle?” Jake asked, holding the piece up to show him.

The owner squinted at the piece, “Ah, that one goes for two dollars.”

Pricy, Jake thought. “Can you do a dollar fifty?”

The man narrowed his eyes at Jake, “A dollar and three quarters,” he corrected.

“I’ll take it,” Jake decided, shoving his hand deep into the denim of his pockets and retrieving the currency. “Thank you kind sir,” Jake said as he took the buckle, slipping it into the pocket of his jacket.

The man tipped his hat at him, taking the money and returning to his carving work.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Jake's pace quickened when the hardware appliances began to morph into fruits, vegetables and domestic items, as his eyes began to scan the markets in search for one stall in particular.

Women called out to him from where they stood, offering their goods with a flutter of their lashes, and Jake merely smiled and moved on, no longer falling for flirtation as a lure to empty his money belt.

His thumbs hooked into the folds of his pockets as he listened to the lively sounds of chattering and banter. The scent of fresh bread and dried herbs mingled with the tang of leather and livestock, and Jake tried his best to shake away the feeling of comfort and nostalgia this town gave him.

He found your stall easily, the voluminous selection of goods you were selling standing out against every other item being sold in the markets. He approached the stall, this time able to stop and assess your produce, assess you.

But to his confusion, you were nowhere to be seen, and your abundance of inventory seemed to be left completely unattended.

He let his eyes scan over everything you had to sell, from the domestic goods like linens, bed sheets and socks, to the vast amount of produce you were selling. Rich colours of vegetables stood out amongst your market table, paper sacks of lentils below.

As Jake walked around the sides of your shop, he eyed the leather straps and metal horse bits you sold, all seemingly new and handmade. By the back of the stall, baked loaves of bread were perched on wooden slabs, along with jars upon jars of jam. Multi coloured bandanas were strewn along the table cloth around the perimeter of the shop, and Jake's brows shot up in astonishment of your inventory.

Curiously, he looked around the area in search of you, only just remembering what your face looked like from his brief look the day before. He spotted the head of your long hair from beneath and behind the counter. He wearily leaned over in confusion, and found you bare footed and crouched on the dirt, washing tomatoes in a bucket of clear water.

He smirked at the sight and cleared his throat to get your attention, “S’cuse me Ma’am?” he added, gaining your attention from below. You dropped the tomatoes into the bucket of water and stood, meeting your customer at eye level while you smoothed your creased dress with your wet hands.

“How can I help you?” you asked.

Jake grabbed a random kerchief from your table, “How much for a wild rag?” he asked with a smile.

“Ten cents each.”

Surprise graced his features at how cheap you were selling them for. To his dismay, you quickly returned to your work, not sparing him another moment before picking up the tomatoes from the bucket below and bringing them to a wooden workbench where you dried them with a cotton dish rag.

Not used to receiving such little attention, Jake called for you again, his voice carrying hints of nerves and uncertainty.

“When were these harvested?” he asked, lifting up the first vegetable he could see, which happened to be a zucchini.

You merely glanced at him and the vegetable before answering, “‘Bout a week ago.”

Jake frowned as you refocused on your work. He had never been denied the attention of a lady like this, especially not one who was selling to him. He was suddenly a young boy again, fighting for the attention of the prettiest girl in town.

Huffing, he watched as you worked away, consumed by your task and occasionally tucking hair from your fringe behind your ears.

You were a very fair lady, Jake thought, and maybe that was why you didn't care much for his attention. Maybe you were too used to being proposed to by local suitors and were numbed to the repetitive form of flirtations they administered. Or maybe you were already married.

In desperation, he found himself eagerly trying to spot a ring on your finger, even nearly outright asking you of your status as your hands moved too quickly for him to see. He reprimanded himself at the thought, reminding himself of what he was truly here for.

He wasn't here to get distracted, he needed to focus on making money, selling parts, and getting out of town, the weight of his goods replaced by gold.

Deciding it was time to go, and to stop lingering by your store like a pervert, Jake bought two zucchinis and a dark brown wild rag from you, happily sliding his fare across the table in your direction before he made his return to the tavern.

𓄀

The next day, Jake was restless, flying through his meetings with gun buyers in hopes to make connections, but unable to stop thinking about you.

It bothered him so that you paid him close to no mind, and he had found himself tossing and turning all night at the plaguing thought.

Once he deemed his day of work done, he hastily returned to the markets, this time with much more fervour.

Once he made out your silhouette in the distance, again standing by your workbench and wiping vegetables down with a cloth, he straightened his shoulders and fixed his hair. He made sure his hat was on straight and his collar was flat against his chest before slowing his pace to a leisurely walk.

He sauntered up to your station, making brief eye contact with you, and frowning when you paid him no mind, once again.

“Hello, again,” he greeted, a charming smile on his face.

You peered up at him, squinting as the late sun shone from behind him, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” You tried not to smile at the look of offence on his face, of course you remembered him.

He cleared his throat and raised his chin, “Yes I… bought a wild rag and some zucchinis from you yesterday,” he explained, trying to rejog your memory, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as the obscure purchase left his lips.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” you said simply, before leaving him to return to your work of cutting square pieces of fabric to place over your jam lids.

Shaking off the rejection like an annoying fly, he moved around the edge of the table, finding a position closer to you, trying his best to insert himself into your line of sight. His eyes flew over the cabbages you had on this table, and he leant his hip against the wooden slab casually.

“Would you mind not leaning on that? The table is very fragile,” you advised, watching as it shook under the weight of his hip.

He quickly pulled himself off and rubbed the heel of his palm against his brow, “Yes, sorry.” He wiped an invisible layer of dust off the table to keep his hands occupied, sucking in a deep breath.

Jake's resolve was getting worse with every word you spoke to him, giving him mere breadcrumbs as he shamelessly begged for your attention.

“Well uh, you’ve got quite the selection here… you make all this by yourself, or you got someone back home helpin’ you out?” he asked smugly, biting his lip as he awaited a response.

You weren't stupid, and you could tell that this was his attempt at wooing you, first scoping your status to ensure you weren't married before he flirted with you. As if he hadn’t already been doing so.

“No, only me,” you explained, eyes trained on your task as Jake hummed at your response.

Movement caught your eye from behind him, and you glanced up to see a man shovelling tomatoes from your table into a sack, clearly intent on not paying his fare.

“Hey!” you shouted.

Jake turned and spotted the man at the same time you did, who was now spinning on his heel to run, realising he had been caught. Without a moment's hesitation, Jake’s feet sprang into action, and he bolted after the man, kicking up dust as he sprinted through the street.

You watched him go, hearing the faint jingle of his necklaces and other small trinkets bouncing and clattering as he ran. The sight of him giving it everything, all to catch a tomato thief of all things, brought a small laugh to your lips.

It was hard not to find it amusing. This man, with all his intensity, was chasing after someone who’d managed to swipe only a handful of tomatoes. It wasn’t as if it would put you out of business.

You knew it, and he likely did too. Still, something in him wouldn’t let it go.

Jake’s long strides ate up the ground beneath him, his muscles coiled tight as adrenaline surged through his veins. His focus was unbreakable, his eyes locked on the back of the man’s jacket, watching him weave and dart between the townsfolk.

Every step seemed heavier than the last as his boots thudded against the dirt street, dust flying up with every pounding footfall. His breath came through clenched teeth, harsh and rhythmic, fueling his pursuit.

The commotion began to stir the crowd. People exclaimed in surprise as they whizzed by, a blur of frantic energy cutting through the town. Conversations halted, and baskets were dropped as a makeshift path opened up for the chase, townspeople scrambling to get out of the way, nobody wanting to get caught up in the chaos.

The thief, quick as he was, couldn’t shake Jake. His frantic, erratic movements only seemed to fuel Jake's determination.

Jake’s breath came in short bursts, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he closed the distance. His heartbeat drummed in his ears, blocking out everything but the sight of the man just inches ahead of him.

Finally, Jake lunged, his outstretched hand catching the thief’s left shoulder. The impact sent both of them crashing to the ground in a heap, dust rising in a cloud around them.

Jake hit the dirt hard, rolling onto his back with a low grunt, struggling to catch his breath. He lay there for a moment, his thumb pressed into his sternum as he tried to force the air back into his lungs, the wind having been completely knocked out of him.

As his breath finally returned in ragged gasps, he let his hand fall away from his chest, only to grimace at the sight that greeted him. A tomato had been squashed between him and the ground during the fall, leaving a wide, red stain smeared across the front of his white cotton shirt. He sighed, lazily wiping at the mess, chunks of tomato peeling off him and falling onto the ground like sad little remnants of the chase.

The thief, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble, scrambled to his feet, abandoning the sack of stolen goods in his haste. He threw one last look over his shoulder, a mix of disbelief and fear on his face, as if Jake had lost his mind for caring so much about a few tomatoes. Without another word, the thief disappeared into the crowd, vanishing between stalls and onlookers.

Jake groaned as he slowly pushed himself up, dusting off his pants with one hand while the other scooped up the abandoned sack. The orange dirt clung to his clothes, and as much as he tried to wipe it off, it seemed permanent as an attestment to his fall.

His body felt heavy with the effort, each step back toward you a little slower, a little more laboured.

The townspeople, who had been watching the whole affair, now stared at him with a mixture of judgement and curiosity. Jake pressed his lips together into a thin line, the heat rising in his cheeks, but he kept his head high. He tipped his hat at a few of the more bold onlookers, silently daring them to say something. They didn’t.

But all of it, the run, the fall, the ruined shirt, was worth it when he spotted you standing at your stall, watching him with amusement dancing in your eyes, biting your lip to hold back your laughter.

His heart lifted a little despite himself, and he felt a flush creep up his neck as he approached, still clutching the sack. With a sheepish grin, he tipped the small bag of tomatoes onto your table. He hadn’t realised how few there were until that moment. Just two sad-looking tomatoes looked back up at you both.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Well, it would’a been three if one of ‘em hadn’t burst on my shirt,” he joked, glancing down at the red stain spreading across his front.

You giggled at the sight of him, his proud form now covered in tomato juice, and gave him a grateful smile. "Well, thank you for your effort nonetheless. Whether it’s two tomatoes or ten, I sure do appreciate it."

He straightened up a little, puffing out his chest. "Well, it’s poor taste to steal from a lady,” he said proudly, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow at him, folding your arms over your chest. "Oh? But you’d steal from a man, would ya?"

Jake cocked his head to the side, a slow smile spreading across his face as he licked his lips. “Well, I didn’t say that, now did I?”

You bit your cheek to stop from smiling too wide, your intrigue growing with each word he spoke. There was something about this man, with his easy charm and recklessness, that had a way of pulling you in. And you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you wanted to see what else there was to discover beneath that dusty exterior.

“Nightfall is near, so I’m due to close up. If you follow me back to my ranch I can get your shirt cleaned up,” you offered, feeling indebted to him for his efforts.

“And who says I can’t clean it myself?” he challenged, testing your intentions.

“As far as I’m aware, there ain't no running water inside that ol’ tavern,” you rebutted, beginning to pack away your things into baskets and sacks, before placing them onto your wooden supply cart.

“Is that so? And what makes you think I’m staying at the tavern tonight?” he questioned, following you around the edge of the table.

You kept your eyes trained to your produce as you spoke, “Word travels fast ‘round these parts, Jacob.”

Startled, Jake smiled with intrigue. His ears heated at the fact that you knew his name, and something else heated at the sound of you saying it.

“Well, you can call me Jake, if you like. It’s nice to meet you,” he introduced, removing his leather hat and pressing it against his chest politely. You looked up at him with a small smile, and returned the gesture by introducing yourself.

Jake repeated your name, as if to see how the word tasted on his tongue.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he complimented. “I might just take you up on your offer, d’you need a hand packing anything away?” he asked.

“Yes actually, if you could lift the sacks of lentils on the cart, they’re a bit too heavy for me.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as Jake got to work lugging the heavier items onto your cart, leaving you to wrap up everything else in the meantime. With two sets of hands, the pack up was far quicker than expected, and soon you were both walking to retrieve your horses from the hitching rail.

“You have a beautiful mare,” you complimented, watching as he skillfully untied her ropes from the fencepost.

“Thank you, her name is Bessie. She’s a good girl,” he said, giving her a firm pat on her behind. She huffed and leaned her head down and to the side, directly beside his. He began to stroke her nose and she blew through her nose in affection.

“This is Buck,” you said, unlooping his rope and walking him over to Jake, and you stifled a laugh when Buck's hoofs kicked up dirt onto Jake's boots.

Jake took in the sight of him. He was slightly smaller than Bessie, and his red dun coat shone in the last lights of the day.

“He’s gorgeous,” Jake admired. “I like what you’ve done here,” he complimented, waving his hand over the braids you had weaved into his brown mane.

“Thank you,” you replied as you both walked your horses by their ropes away from the hitching rail and back towards your stall, “He is a good boy too, but he can get a bit anxious at times. Calms him down when I play with his hair," you explained.

You attached the rear saddle straps onto the wagon and buckled the belts tightly, tying them in knots for good measure.

“Alright,” you stated, clutching onto the horn of the saddle and slipping your food into the left stirrup. Bracing yourself, you heaved your body up with a groan, swinging your leg over Buck's back and plopping onto the saddle. The leather creaked under your weight, and you adjusted your position, making sure you were secure before giving Buck a gentle nudge.

Jake did the same, but with much more ease and fluidity. His movements were smooth and practised, a stark contrast to your own somewhat awkward effort despite the fact that you rode every day. You attributed your disadvantage to the layers of skirts you wore. He swung up onto his saddle with a natural grace that spoke of a lifetime spent on the horse. Once settled, he followed you as you walked off, your horses’ hooves crunching softly on the packed dirt road.

The ride was mostly silent, a comfortable quiet that stretched between you, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant call of a bird. You could feel Jake’s gaze occasionally shifting toward you from your right, but you kept your gaze forward, focusing on the path ahead. There was something about his attention that made you feel self conscious, though you couldn’t quite place why.

The sun was dipping lower in the sky now, casting a warm, golden light that made the world seem to glow. Your shadows grew longer, stretching out in front of you and bobbing with you as you bounced each step your stallion took. You sighed contentedly, savouring the feeling of the warmth on your back. It was a pleasant end to the day, the kind of simple pleasure that made the long hours worth it.

As you approached the ranch, Jake’s eyes scanned the area, taking in the sights with a careful look. His gaze swept over the landscape, noting the sprawling cropland and the various outbuildings that marked your home. It was clear that he was observing everything with a keen interest, absorbing the surroundings as if they might offer some insight into your life here.

Ahead, he could see your home. A subtle, but respectable building, made mostly out of wood and stone. After your fathers passing, you had decorated its exterior with lush herbs and flowers, often harvesting them to season your meals or add to tea. They took over your windowsills in a flourish, travelling down onto the stone bottom of your home that met the ground, spreading out onto the small garden out front.

Wrapped around you were flat plains of grass, one hundred acres of land to be exact. A quarter of that land had been dedicated to agriculture. Fields of wheat, cotton, corn could be seen in the distance and your cattle munched on the grass beside the fence posts you passed by, watching Jake and his horse curiously.

You had also dedicated your agriculture to vast vegetable gardens, growing freely and mingling amongst one another in a mess of cabbage, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, broccoli, and other vegetables that you couldn't even name, their seeds passed on to you by trusted travellers before.

Beside your home was a small set of stables, enough to house your horse and any visitors you may have. Your pony, the only other horse you owned, aggressively preferred to stay in the fields with the cows, and was prone to bucking if you encouraged it to do otherwise.

A clothing line with skirts, bedsheets and other fabrics hung across the front garen, washed in the sun's afterthoughts, and looking so beautiful amongst the rest of your home.

Although a little run down, Jake thought as he noticed half of your front fence collapsing, your home was beautiful. As you both declined the shallow hill to enter your land, you pointed Jake towards the stables, a place where he could tie up Bessie safely, and where she could munch on some hay with Buck.

You threw a sheet over the trailer of goods you were selling at the markets, keeping it protected from thieving animals in the night, strapping it down with long leather belts for extra security.

Jake was mostly silent as he took in the exterior of your home, and you were too, fearing his judgement and hoping you hadn't left anything too embarrassing out on the clothing line or on your kitchen worktop as you showed Jake the way inside.

Your home glowed in gold, as the sun shone through the windows and onto the wood, turning it a warm orange. You made your way inside, heading straight for the kitchen to fetch a bar of soap and a bucket, but when you turned around you realised that the room was empty.

You wandered back to the front of the house, and found Jake standing warily by the doorway, peering in cautiously.

“You can come in!” you assured, “Just take your boots off, you can leave ‘em by the door.”

Jake smiled at you timidly, his cocky demeanour long gone now that he was under someone else's roof. Slipping his dirt ridden boots off and perching them by the front door as you said, he hesitantly followed you back through the house and into the kitchen. Dried herbs were hung from high wooden cabinets, and their aroma settled his qualms.

As you continued to gather soaps in preparation, Jake looked out from your kitchen window at the ranch, where he could see your cows basking in the sun.

Chickens ran around beside a small coop close to the house, and Jake could hear them clucking amongst the sound of birds singing in the nearby trees. A strong feeling of calm washed over him, warmer than the sun had been on his back earlier, but he was quick to brush it off.

In and out, he repeated in his head, reminding himself not to get too comfortable. He was here to sell his goods, make a couple of bucks and move on.

“Okay, hand over your shirt, I should only be a minute,” you instructed, looking back over at him with a polite smile on your face.

He stared at you wordlessly for a moment, as if processing what you had said, and was only snapped out of his daze when you cleared your throat.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he blurted, his fingers nimble as they made to unbutton his shirt. A task so simple, so mundane, and so repetitive, had somehow never felt harder.

Unknowing of his apparent nerves, you waited patiently until he unbuttoned it all the way, which wasn't far seeing as he only had the bottom few done up anyways. You tried not to stare at his tanned chest as he slipped the material completely off his body.

You took it from his hands and carried it with you as you left the kitchen and walked to the porch, the padding of his feet on the floorboards the only indication that he was following you.

“Please, sit,” you gestured to a wooden chair with white cushions on it, the one you always chose to sit on when you needed to decompress for the day.

You crouched on the ground, and stretched his shirt out before you, assessing where the tomato stain was, amongst the rest of the dirt that had been smeared on it during his fall and submerged the shirt under the soapy water.

You peered up at Jake through your fringe and watched as he sat awkwardly. He was feeling wildly uncomfortable at the impropriety of being alone in the presence of a lady, especially while shirtless.

Jake took off his hat, and rested it on his lap against his front, giving him some reprieve from the feeling of his upper half being completely naked. He watched silently as you scrubbed the spot on his shirt with a bristly wooden tool soaked in water and soap.

Soon, the sun warmed his skin, and he leaned back into the chair, sighing at the softness of the cushions and listening intently to the sloshing sound of soapy water, slowly being overcome by the sound of your gentle voice, humming a simple tune.

Once you were finished, you stood from your spot, and Jake watched you with careful eyes as you stepped off the porch, your bare feet making contact with the soft grass below. You rung the shirt of most of its wetness as you moved toward clothing line. He stared as you rose to the tips of your toes to reach the line, pegging the shirt on neatly so that it didn't crease and was in direct exposure to the last light's of the sun.

“There we go,” you said, wiping your hands on your skirts and returning to Jake on the porch, “Hopefully it dries by nightfall, ‘s a dry day today, not much wetness in the air.”

Jake hummed, “Thank you very much. It’s very kind o’ you, to do that.”

You smiled, “‘Course. Can I fetch you some tea?” you offered and he agreed politely, thanking you again.

Jake stared out at the ranch as you fixed each of you a cup of tea, letting his mind wander to other things, memories of his past escapades.

Never would he have guessed he would end up in a place like this. He was used to sleeping on the floor most nights to find his way, and never found himself being served a cup of tea by a beautiful woman. The same woman who had just washed his clothes for him at that.

“Here ya’ go,” you said, placing his cup into his hands gently, before taking your place in a soft seat beside him, looking out at the same view he had been watching before.

Jake thanked you again and took a sip, brows rising in surprise at the rich flavour, “Can’t say I’ve e’er had this ‘fore. What is it?”

“It’s called wild rose hip tea. One of the local natives gave me a branch of the dried herbs, told me it stops you from gettin’ sick. And I must say, I ain't been sick since I started drinkin’ it,” you explained, sipping the warm liquid and humming at the tangy fruity taste.

He nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out in admiration for your story, “‘S good.”

You both sat in silence for a few beats, listening to your chickens cluck as they wandered freely around your garden.

“So, traveller,” you started, and Jake raised a brow. “How long do you plan to stay here in town?”

He sighed, “Well, I ain't got enough to stay at the inn for another night, so I’m to find a new bed to hold me for a couple’a months as soon as I may.”

“And what about tonight?” you asked in concern.

He smiled, “Guess I’ll just have to find a warm tree to settle under. Bessie’ll keep me company.”

You sat with yourself in deep thought for a few moments. You knew better than to invite a stranger into your home, let alone a dodgy traveller. But from the limited time you had spent with him, you felt no disparity towards his genuinity.

You usually had a good judgement for things like this, and your gut hadn’t turned at the thought of offering him the spare bedroom.

“It gets cold ‘round here at night. I have a spare room you can take for the next while,” you offered. His eyes shot up in surprise at your offer. He shuffled in his seat, his eyes softening for a moment as he glanced toward the house. He shook his head.

"I appreciate the offer, Ma'am, but I can’t impose on you like that. This is your home, your space. I ain’t meant to be in the way."

"You wouldn’t be in the way at all. The house is big enough for the both of us. I’m sure you’ve been travelling for days, you could do with a proper bed."

He looked away, a small smile tugging at his lips, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

"I’m fine out here, really. Don’t need to make no fuss on my account. A man gets used to the sky after a while."

You crossed your arms, feeling the cool night air press against your skin as the sun began to set behind the horizon.

"How about the couch, then? It's comfortable enough, and I won’t bother you."

Jake scratched the back of his neck, shifting again and clearly uneasy with the idea. "Couch still feels too close, Miss. I ain’t one for overstayin’ my welcome, especially not under the roof of a lady."

You sighed softly, realising he was too proud, or maybe too respectful to accept anything that felt too intimate.

"Well, if you’re that set on it, I’ve got a small bed in the barn. It ain’t much, but it’s better than sleeping outside."

You watched him carefully as he took in the sound of your offer, “Part of my fence is collapsing, you could fix it as payment for your stay,” you added, hoping it would sway his decision.

Why you had become so insistent on him staying was beyond you.

Jake’s eyebrows lifted, and you caught the glint of relief in his eyes, though he tried to hide it. "Now that sounds more like it. I reckon I could take you up on that,” he agreed, flashing a charming grin your way.

You nodded, though a small tug of guilt pulled at your chest. The barn got cold at night, nowhere near as warm as the house, but he seemed so determined to keep his distance.

Sensing your discomfort, Jake tried to lessen your woes, "You’ve been more than kind, thank you for all your help. The barn suits me just fine, promise. A roof over my head’s more than I’m used to these days."

You nodded slowly, still feeling a bit uneasy, but you respected his choice nonetheless.

“I can start on your fence first thing in the morrow, I saw it on our way in, so you don’t gotta show me the way.”

You blushed at the thought of him seeing how poorly maintained you had kept your land after your fathers passing, “That bad?”

He cocked his head and clicked his tongue, “I’ve seen worse. Nothing to worry ‘bout Ma’am, I’ll have it sorted for you in no time.”

Jake stood from his seat with a sigh, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops.

“I best tend to Bessie soon, she gets restless when it comes to her dinner,” he laughed lightly, and you stood too.

“Yes, you’re right, Buck’ll be needing some dinner by now too.”

You hopped off the porch and over to the clothing line, taking his shirt and rubbing your fingers over the now white spot that the tomato had stained.

“Only slightly damp by now,” you said, offering his shirt back to him.

He thanked you, expression softening with gratitude as he slipped his shirt back over his body, buttoning the bottom few up.

“You have a lovely home here,” Jake complimented, as you wandered back to the stables, carrying buckets full with a mixture of hay, grain and water.

“Thank you.” A weight in your stomach sunk in at his complement, as you knew your time on this homestead was limited. You shook away the thought quickly, knowing that there was nothing worse than to brood over things that couldn’t be changed.

“I don’t think Bessies had a meal as good as this in a long time,” Jake laughed as you reached your horses, dropping their dinners in front of them.

You took a dandy brush off the wall and got to work grooming Buck as he ate, the rhythmic strokes of the brush calming both him and you. His coat, matted with dust and flecks of dirt, resisted at first, but soon enough, the shine began to return.

Jake, standing a few feet away, patted Bessie’s side affectionately, his rough hands moving over her sleek coat. You couldn't help but be a little envious of the way she had maintained the smoothness of her coat throughout the day, even after the long ride. Unlike Buck, who had somehow managed to collect dust and dirt despite spending most of the day tethered to a hitch, Bessie looked as if she had barely been touched by the elements.

Jake gave Bessie a satisfied nod, his voice low. "She always keeps herself clean, no matter what we get into." His hand lingered on her neck, rubbing circles into the spot where she liked it best. You glanced over, watching how she leaned into his touch, her contented snorts mixing with the soft sounds of the barn.

"You’re lucky," you muttered with a half smile, running the brush over Buck’s side with a little more vigour. "Buck ‘ere’s like a magnet for everything. Dust, mud, you name it. He’ll find it."

Jake chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Maybe he just likes keepin’ you busy."

You laughed, “Seems like it.”

The barn was quiet again, save for the sound of the horses munching on their dinner, the occasional stomp of a hoof or swish of a tail. The smell of hay and leather filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the horses. Darkness had begun to creep in, and you could barely make out Jake's face in the dim light. It felt peaceful here, a small, shared moment of stillness after a long day.

"You got a way with him, though," Jake started again, breaking the silence you had created, glancing over as he leaned against Bessie. "Takes a good hand to get a horse lookin’ as calm as he does now."

You felt a warmth in your chest at the compliment. "Well, he’s a good boy when he wants to be," you replied, scratching Buck’s ears, "Just has a mind of his own sometimes."

He chuckled, but remained mostly quiet.

“So, where have you travelled from, Jacob?” you asked, keeping your voice light, though the question held a deeper curiosity you couldn’t quite shake.

He sighed through his nose, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of miles and years. Before responding, he glanced away, the lines in his face tightening for a moment as though he was trying to remember.

“I wish I could tell you, to be honest. I came east, but I never stay long enough to learn a town's name.” His voice was low, almost distant, like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

A flicker of sadness crept over his soft features, the edges of his usually guarded expression loosening as the words escaped. It was brief, just a moment, but you caught it. A vulnerability that vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

He straightened his posture slightly and shifted his gaze to Bessie. The way he looked at her, you wondered if he found solace in the simplicity of her presence. A horse didn’t ask questions about where you’d been or what you’d lost.

You frowned, your brow creasing as his answer weighed on you more than you expected. “Do you like it like that?”

Your words were gentle but pressing, trying to understand why someone would choose a life of such constant wandering. The thought of never having roots, never knowing the names of the places you passed through, seemed lonely.

He hesitated, his mouth opening slightly as if he had something to say but wasn’t quite ready to speak it. His jaw tightened, and you could see the battle going on inside him, between what he wanted to admit and what he felt he needed to keep to himself. He was quiet for so long that you thought he might not answer at all.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice rougher this time, like gravel shifting underfoot. “Sometimes I think I do.” He paused, his thumb tracing the brim of his hat, still not meeting your eyes. “There's a freedom in it. Never being tied to one place, getting to do whatever the shit I wanna,” he chucked dryly. “ But…” he trailed off, as if unsure whether to finish the thought.

“But?” you prompted softly, taking a step closer, still brushing Bucks coat to maintain a level of casual appearance despite your curiosity.

His gaze flicked to you briefly before he looked away again, back to Bessie. “But sometimes, it’d be nice to stay. To stop wondering where the next road leads, where I’m to end up the next day… where I’m gonna sleep for the night. Even if just for a little while.”

The words hung between you, heavy with the weight of what wasn’t being said. You could see it now, the weariness behind his eyes, the kind that comes from being a man always in motion but never really going anywhere.

It was the kind of tiredness that wasn’t just about lack of sleep. It was the kind that came from being alone, even when surrounded by others.

You wanted to ask him more, to dig deeper into the layers of his past, but something about the way his shoulders tensed told you to hold back. Instead, you gave him a small, understanding smile. “Well, you’ve got a place here for as long as you like, even if you only decide to stay for a little while.”

Jake didn’t say anything right away, but his posture softened just a bit, and for a moment, you thought you saw the corners of his mouth lift, barely, but it was hard to see in the dark. It wasn’t much, but it was something, acknowledgement, maybe even a little gratitude.

“Alright Buck, that’s enough,” you laughed softly as he began licking the inside of the bucket, big teeth nibbling at the wood in search for more.

You lifted the food bucket, earning a frustrated stomp from Buck.

“Oh you big sook, I think you’ll survive.” You patted his neck and opened the stable door to leave.

“I’m going to prepare your bed place in the barn, do you know where to find me once Bessies finished eating?” you asked Jake, who stared at you from across the room in admiration.

“Yes, I believe so. Are you sure you aren’t in any need of help?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll manage. Thank you,” you praised, “Would you like to join me for dinner afterward?” you offered, waiting in anticipation as he thought your request over.

“No, I couldn't possibly take more from you than I already have.”

“What will you do for supper then?”

Jake patted a small satchel he had brought in with him, “Got some leftover travellin’ food right here.”

Unsure if he just preferred spending his time alone, or if he was trying his best to maintain his gentlemanly honour, you respected his wishes, muttering an ‘alright’ and taking one last look at the three of them before stepping out of the stables.

The walk to the barn was cool, and eerie. The moon had taken stark replacement for the sun in the sky, casting your ranch with a dim, cool glow. You took a kerosene lamp and a box of matches alongside fresh bed sheets from inside your home, lighting the lamp while you walked to the barn and setting it on the floor when you arrived.

The barn was a bit worse for wear, no longer housing the family of pigs that it did many years ago, and the silence was unsettling.

Shaking the feeling, you bunched up your skirts and crouched to the floor where a small, thin mattress sat against bales of hay. You looked around in search for something to frame the mattress on, feeling too guilty to let Jake effectively sleep on the floor.

You lumbered wooden crates across the floor of the barn, dragging up tufts of dirt and hay in the process, before you settled it in the corner, throwing the light mattress on top.

Shaking out the folded sheets, you breathed in the smell of clean laundry and tucked them over the bed properly. You wouldn't admit how much you struggled to fit the cover over the feather duvet, almost getting lost in the darkness as your head was consumed by the bedsheets.

Alas, you managed, and tucked the end of the sheets in to keep any warmth from escaping.

You stood back, hands on your hips as you blew a stray piece of hair from your face and took in your work. It would have to make do.

Jake's footsteps fell heavily outside, and you wondered if they were to warn you of his approach, afraid to creep up and scare you in the otherwise silent night.

“Wow,” he appraised, taking in your domestic work as he stepped into the dimly lit area. “This’s far nicer than I was expecting.”

You wondered if he was joking as you looked back at the measly setup, but when you looked back over at him, the look of gratitude in his eyes was unmistakably genuine.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. When you freeze half to death in the night, my couch’ll still be empty if you need it,” you offered, voice soft under your nerves, brewing from his burning gaze.

As you moved to walk past him, he gently stopped you with a soft hand on your arm, the roughness of his skin shocking in contrast to the smoothness of your own.

"Thank you, Ma'am, for your hospitality. I won’t forget your kindness."

“It’s no bother, truly… It um, gets a bit lonely ‘round here too sometimes,” you expressed, rather shyly.

His eyes held empathy for you, unbearing understanding of how you felt. He could only imagine how you struggled, living day by day to come home to an empty home. How you worked endlessly, and for what?

Jake didn't need to say anything to show how he understood, to show how he truly heard you. Instead he nodded, eyes boring into yours in silent communication.

With one last look, you turned and walked in the dark back to the house, hugging your torso in the cold.

You ate supper alone, hoping Jake wasn’t as cold as you felt, and wondering if you would be crossing a line if you returned with heavier blankets to warm him up in the night. Deciding against your pressing thoughts, you washed your dishes and went straight to bed.

Meanwhile, Jake lay awake, munching on the chewy chunk of stale bread he was sure he bought over a month ago. He stared up at the high ceiling in thought, recapping his stay here, which had seemed much different so far from any other town, and it was all because of you.

He rolled over and put out the kerosene lamp, pulling the covers up to his neck and letting the distant sound of your cattle wandering and mooing lull him to sleep.

𓄀

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so-i-did-this-thing · 2 years ago

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The pinned post

With a few exceptions, I am pretty niche with my fandoms.

Expect a lot from AMC's The Terror (season 1), and Channel 5/PBS's All Creatures Great & Small (ACGAS).

Here's some things I'm pretty proud of:

Dragoncon 2023 cosplays | Francis Crozier (coat | goldner tins) | Valery Legasov | Sam Vimes

The Terror stitch projects: Hodge's Papist Aunties monologue | Blanky's Boat Axe monologue | Hickey's final monologue

Grumpy mushroom guy

Nick Valentine 50's clothing WIP | Fallout 4 inspired gladstone bag | Fallout matchbooks

Percy de Rolo cosplay

The sexy sexy Halloween costume costume

Armfish holiday card

Pacific Rim Coloring Book

DragonCon 2024: Mysterious Stranger Cosplay

I'm a middle-aged, married trans man! My "trans stuff" tag has a ton of stuff. It's a mix of moods, from humor to recent news in the US. Since the yoots seem to enjoy seeing older trans folks, I'm 47 -- started T at 33, did the top stuff at 40. This is a good post for comparison pics. Also, the beard timeline. My top surgery diary is here.

Fanfic: I like transing characters for my current fandoms, and my latest (all affirming trans masc stuff) for All Creatures Great & Small can be found here.

If you need to de-stress a little, I have several years of nightly photos of my cats under my “good night” tag. Dexter | Ada | Pidge

My wardrobe: Here's links to where I find most of my clothes. Latest fits.

My house: I recently moved from a 2000 condo into a 1940s cape cod. Decor is a WIP and you can see progress here.

Next cosplay: Siegfried Farnon, All Creatures Great & Small (2020 series) | WIP tag. I'd like to update The Mysterious Stranger, but my latest plans will now take me another year. It'll be worth the wait.

How I'm doing: If you haven't caught up with me in a bit, I fled Florida in late 2023 and now live in New England. So, expect lots of new hiking adventures. I have survived federal job cuts so far.

On Asks: I use my judgment on public/private answers to Asks, but if you have something particularly sensitive because you don't want to be outed or something, just ask for a private reply or go Anon/use a burner account. I try to answer all of them, but I do get overwhelmed sometimes, especially when my ADHD gets bad.

Pet Peeve: Unless I am in cosplay or deliberately evoking a certain vibe, "hey, you look like so-and-so"s are some of the most derailing, annoying, often demoralizing (Villains? HP characters? Really?), and least interesting comments I get. Please stop doing it, especially where I am not OP. I have one main style icon and here he is but even then, I am my own person.

On Blocks: My petty block is people saying I look/dress like Sam Reich. Please learn how to read clothes. I don't watch his show; his wardrobe and mine are nothing alike. Seriously, I don't look like him, I look more like these guys if you really want to comment on a resemblance. Ultimately, the reason for blocking is too many of you are weirdos who tag him into my posts. Knock it off.

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bugs1nmybrain · 1 year ago

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Shigaraki With a Crush on Fem!Reader

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

Notes/Warnings: 18+ themes but no smut, Fem-Reader, White-Haired Shigaraki w/ Long hair (he's 21 in this fic), alcohol use but no one gets drunk, other members of the League make an appearance, Shigaraki is pervy, they play League of Legends cuz I'm just as much of a loser as Shigaraki, story has TWO PARTS in one fic, fluff, not proofread

i will not stop babygirlifying Shigaraki YOU CAN'T STOP ME

Notes about reader: quiet-type, wears flashy alternative clothes and makeup, nerdy (artist, gamer, loves anime & manga), neurodivergent

The PLF was staffed with a multitude of skilled folks, all of different positions. There were those on the front causing trouble, like most of the League. Some people held side-line positions, which is where you come in. You worked as a research, statistic, and data analyst, as well as an undercover intel gatherer. Under Skeptic's duty. More of a down-low kind of role.

You weren't the most talkative, but you were always there at every meeting and event. However, the outfits you wore and the way you did your hair almost completely contrasted with your rather quiet personality. Bold eyeliner, frilly skirts, sexy fishnets. You'd come to meetings and usually have your face buried into a sketchbook, yet whenever you were called on it seemed like you were paying attention perfectly.

Shigaraki kept tabs on most of the PLF members, though not extensively. You, however, always managed to catch his eye. For such a minuscule role in the organization, you seemed to pop up everywhere. It was never hard to spot you.

What truly caught him was when you walked into a meeting wearing a fucking League of Legends shirt. He recalls it perfectly. The way you fwumped down in your chair, always across the table in the same damn chair every time. You carried about five manga books with you and your sketchbook, and a Monster Energy right by you. He paid closer attention at that meeting and picked up on your habits and suddenly he found your voice exciting to listen to. It was a bummer you were so reserved.

With all that damn shit you carried around with you, it was frequent that you'd be stuck in the meeting room a couple minutes after everyone left. Just trying to gather your things.

Tomura noticed you questioning your packing methods as he walked toward the door. He was getting a little irritated just watching you struggle with your bag, trying to get it all to fit. He thought to himself "fuck it" and strolled over to you. You weren't really paying attention as he grabbed one of your books with only two fingers and a thumb, eyeballing your backpack. You packed a lot of shit.

You looked up and you began to freeze. The big boss. You were beyond confused and a tiny bit frightened. You didn't say anything until he looked at you as well.

"Need help?" Tomura asked, gently waving the book in his hand. You took note that he was being careful with it.

"Uh..sure, yes," you stammered.

"You have a lot of stuff. How'd you even get it all up here? Cuz to be honest all this ain't gonna fit."

"I carried it."

He now took note of the headphones around your shoulders. You were funny, he thought.

"Let me take the backpack and you can carry your books."

You paused a moment, confused that he stopped to help you. Especially considering he's, him.

"O-okay."

Tomura took your bag, which typically is a little heavy for you, but less than a breeze for him.

"Where's your room?" Tomura asked.

"Skeptic's wing."

"Oh, right. You're the research girlie."

You were impressed that he knew. You followed him sheepishly. "Girlie." Shigaraki sure did have a smart mouth, judging by the meetings. Once you got down the stairs, Tomura gestured for you to go in front of him.

"Lead the way. I don't know where the hell we're going."

You lead him toward your room of the building. Tomura snuck a look at your ass as you guided him through Skeptic's wing. The fishnets looked nice on you, too. A part of his mind wanted to compare you to a hooker, but he had a feeling that wasn't very progressive of him. He wasn't complaining, though.

"Here."

You two had finally arrived at your bedroom. You opened the door and Shigaraki questioned if it was okay for him to come in, so he sat the backpack down just beyond your door.

"I, uh. Thank you, Shigaraki."

He felt a little excitement in his pants listening to you say his name, especially in such a thankful tone.

"Yea, no prob." He began to step away, no formal goodbye until he stopped, realizing he didn't exactly know your name.

He made steps backwards towards your door.

"You're name..it's Y/N? If I remember right. Sorry. There's a lot of us."

"No worries," you smiled. "Yea, that's me."

"You play League?" He asked, noticing your shirt again.

"Oh! Yea! I mean, I fucki- sorry-language, I suck. But I love playing."

"No shame. I'd carry you," Tomura flirted? He wasn't sure. He eyed you like an excited puppy. "I just don't know any girls who play. Or anyone aside from Spinner, honestly."

"He does?"

"Yea. We, uh..We should play. Tonight?" Tomura felt his face get warm and he knew he had to cut the convo short before he went red.

"Yea!!" You perked up. Excited to make friends, which was very hard for you because of how quiet you were. With Shigaraki, too? Definitely would come in your favor, you figured.

Shigaraki felt himself get flustered at your sudden excitement.

"Do you have a paper and pen?" He asked, figuring you should.

"Yeah hold on," you went to your desk and pulled out a paper and pen and handed them over to him.

Tomura used his thigh to write down his user, and also included his phone number while he was at it, just in case.

"Here. I, uh, I gotta go but you can text me. I'll tell Spinner to be prepared."

"Okay," you beamed. Tomura tried holding back his smile that would've spread right across his face if he didn't.

"Okay. Bye." He turned away and trailed off faster than lightning. For the first time in...wow. For once, he felt like he was experiencing happiness in an objectively good way that didn't involve murdering a whole city. He then wondered if that was gonna be a deal breaker.

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

A couple weeks had passed. You and Tomura were certainly friends up to this point. You played League a bunch (with Spinner, who could tell Shigaraki had the hots for you), but you two had also played other games together. Minecraft and GTA were regulars. He even pestered about Animal Crossing, but you didn't have a Switch! (He was going to change that).

As for in-person? You two sat closer together at meetings. You had even left your designated chair to come join his side. Some of the other higher-ups were starting to question it, but Shigaraki always found ways to write them off.

You made Tomura feel normal. Almost child-like. Like there was someone who only needed him for mutual jokes and fun. You were also a very understanding person and didn't shame him for things that you had every reason to. Of course, he hadn't spilled every bean in his can yet. He couldn't handle sharing all that and then you did not like him the same way he liked you.

"Dude, just ask her out." Dabi sipped from his beer and scowled watching Shigaraki stare at you from across the room. The League threw a party for no good reason. Of course, PLF members were encouraged to come.

"She doesn't have other people to hang out with so she's probably looking for you anyways," Spinner included.

"Don't call her a loner," Shigaraki said spitefully, taking a drink from his glass of whiskey.

"If the shoe fits," Dabi includes.

"She's smart for that. This world is full of posers."

"Not like yourself, right?" Dabi includes.

"I will dump my whiskey on your burn scars. Shut the fuck up."

"Just fucking ask the girl out. She gets all smiley around you anyways. Probably gooey, too."

"Knock it OFF!" Shigaraki rumbles. Though the hypothetical idea of that definitely made him feel pride. "I've like. Never had a friend, who was a girl, that I liked this way."

"You're a virgin, got it," Dabi joked, knowing full well he was risking his life.

"I fucking hate you." Shigaraki sighs and scratches his, neck. He turned his gaze over to you, noticing your fitting black dress with your classic fish nets. He noticed a boob window, too. That was gonna make this harder (ha). He actually appreciated your style a lot. He was always excited to see what you chose to wear whenever there was a meeting, or he knew he was gonna see you somehow. Always full of surprises.

Spinner was right, though. You looked lost. You hung around the bar, bored and stagnant. Shigaraki noticed some guys looking at you, making him feel protective and angry. You looked your head around and then you and his gaze met. He figured it was time to approach you.

He walked up to you at the bar with his whiskey in hand. He sat in the chair next to yours and looked at you with a restrained smirk.

"Hi."

"Hi," you giggled.

"Having a good time?"

"So far I've been bored."

"When did you get here?" Shigaraki says sneaky. He saw you come in twenty minutes ago.

"A bit ago."

"Why didn't you come look for me?"

"I saw you with Spinner and Dabi, actually. I didn't know if you wanted me to hang out with you."

"Are you kidding me?" Shigaraki furrows, but sees you genuine face of worry. "Of course, I want to hang out with you. More than Dabi, I can say that."

"I'm just not as cool as most of the others."

"Girlie, you're out of your mind if you think you're any less cool than these losers. You're uh. You're like the coolest girl I know," he begins to transition into a mumble, though you heard every word.

"You're uh," Tomura's head whipped around when you began speaking. "You're cooler."

"I'll agree with you there. I'm better at games. And murderous ways."

"Yea."

"You're a deviant little devil, though," He chuckles, semi-sarcastically.

"Okay, maybe I am cooler, actually."

"Fuck you," He laughs.

He really couldn't handle it anymore. Not being transparent about how he felt about you. He did the good thing, right? He didn't solicit himself onto you and try the nice guy shit. He also wanted to get to know you better, though. But he felt himself get excited to see you. He'd get sad when you didn't text him for a while. He found himself wanting to comfort you, as well as Shigaraki possibly could. He wanted to touch you, and not even sexually (well, yes sexually). He wanted to feel your hair and how you felt hugging him. Oh, yea. His quirk. He's gotten gloves from the Doctor before, though. He can make it work.

"I knew you were here when you got here," he admits.

"I know. You looked over at me a couple times."

"Oh."

"What took you so long?"

"I..uh-" his mind was screaming. "I was nervous."

"You were nervous? When do you get nervous?"

"Tonight. Right now. I-It's just, I-fuck!" He buried his face in his hands, itching the area on his face he could reach.

"What's wrong?"

"I like you," Tomura muffled in his hands.

You're eyes shot wide open and your heart beat faster than you thought possible.

"Really?" You began to smile wide, though Tomura still couldn't see.

"YeuUP! A lot. Like so much so that..FUUUck."

"Being shy is my job!" You giggled, voice shaking. Shigaraki could hear the tremble in your voice and looked at you, seeing your huge smile and bright eyes.

"Yea, well. You're cute. You did this to me!" He scoffs with a cackle.

"I brought the big boss to his knees, then?"

"Uh-huh. Ya got me."

"I, um.." Tomura turned his head to you while you began to speak. "I like you too."

"You do?"

"Yea. I've been scared to say it. I didn't think you did."

"For a data analyst I figured you'd pick up on it."

"Well. Maybe I did. But I doubted that it was true."

"Well," Tomura turned to face you directly this time. "It's pretty canon, as you'd say."

You chuckled at him and looked at his hands. You reached out and trailed your more delicate hands against his, rubbing the inside of his palm. He looked at you in awe, in slight disbelief of what you were doing.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Tomura asked, slightly shaking.

"Yes." You smiled, his hand now holding yours, with his pinky up. "Please?"

"Yea. I'm the one who asked, silly. And I'll get gloves, okay?"

"Okay. I trust you."

"Thanks. So...is it too early to ask for a kiss?"

You blushed and hid your face in your other hand.

"No. But there's all these people."

"True. Let's get out of here then. My room? I got a huuuuge bed."

"What're your intentions?" You blushed.

He shrugged and smirked. "Whatever you want. I also have like, six gaming consoles and a PC. Mario Kart? Or...Smash? ;)"

"Both?"

"Good choice."

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shiggy #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shiggy x reader

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vantablackdraws · 3 months ago

Note

What got you shipping anbai? I’m new here and they seem cute ^^ /gen

Oh god-

where do I even begin....

TLDR/Short version of it: Friend talked about Guilty Gear, I found out about Baiken, watched Another Story and some arcade mode interactions and song breakdowns and read some comments and it got me wondering "what is going on with these two~", I go on ao3, there is a little over 20 fics. I got really frustrated, made content of them myself, fell further down the rabbit hole, now I'm here.

The long and very rambly version of why I ship them that you can read under the cut if you wanna ↓

Firstly, a few things that I really enjoy about them (to get this out of the way-) is that they contrast and compliment each other really, really well if you think about it. Which I have. A lot.

I know I've said some of these before but like; the Sun and Moon motifs and how it literally shows up in their Overdrives (and Anji's command...grab...thingy(? idk strive terminology) also has a moon briefly appear hmmmmmwhatsupwiththat-), the Butterfly and Flower symbolism associated with them respectively and how in a sense, one helps the other grow, the classic red oni blue oni dynamic, cat and dog, Anji's graceful elegance and calm demeanor to go with Baiken's rugged toughness and fiery temper, blah blah blah the list goes on you get the idea. They're opposites, but they match each other and balance each other out, like yin and yang.

There's also their (strive) songs! Rock Parade is...extremely obvious lmao. I know folks like to joke about it but, dude. Single footstep carries two hearts? The promise he made to her? (Whatever that was I wanna knOW-) It really does feel like more than just a song about a crush he has on her, this man is dedicated. And with Mirror of the World it basically encapsulates Baiken's whole journey, going from someone who's resigned herself to a life of revenge to ultimately breaking out of her self imposed "exile" in the end. Also the line "If I had a comrade, I wonder what I would tell them." and I'm over here yelling "YOU HAVE ONE! HE IS RIGHT THERE-" (I actually think the song is also about Delilah, but still kinda about him too, it's about both of them they're both the comrade how about that)

But to get to the heart of it all (and to also get extremely corny here), there's this sort of earnestness to their relationship that I really admire. Every now and then, there's a pairing that comes around and makes me go Ooga Booga for the better part of a year because it's just got a lot of good stuff to chew on. Angst? Drama? Some form of love that isn't just inherently romantic but something more? I'm eating it up and annoying my friends to death with it. And I think to me that really shows in their XX arcade mode endings, (BOTH of their "canon" ones btw THEY GET TWO ENDINGS TOGETHER) where Anji gives up what he was doing so he can follow Baiken and make sure she's actually living instead of just wandering by herself. This one thing he's been chasing for a while now, probably even his dream job of learning the secrets of the universe (or whatever Asuka was teaching him), and he just gives it up because he can't stand to see someone he loves dedicate her life to something that will inevitably destroy her in the end. "I don't want you to die." I think about this so often it's not even funny.

(And y'know, he also gives her the choice to just get rid of him if she doesn't want him around anymore, and idk about you, but I think that's very sexy of him and also very telling of her that she hasn't done it yet but moving on-)

Delilah ultimately ties it all together because at the end of Another Story, Baiken becomes to Delilah what Anji was to her all those years ago. A friend, a companion, someone to lean on. There's the line "She won't die well unless she finds a better way to live." before May mentions that's what Anji had said about her, and suddenly she gets it now. (I think) It's the final push that gets her to save Delilah from winding up in the same situation she's been stuck in for years and in the end, finally let go of her revenge.

No that does not have to be inherently romantic in the slightest, you can do whatever you want with that information or interpret it however you want and I encourage that, but also it's driving me insane whenever I think about it. He cares about her SO much, even if he has a weird way of showing it. I don't even think I can begin to do it justice trying to describe how it makes me feel but hopefully that can give you (and maybe some other folks who have made it this far hello) some insight into why I like this ship so much.

Also their strive in-game interactions are really flirty.

#Blaaaaagh it feels weird doing what I've done with friends on a Tumblr post #but this deep dive was really nice #I have probably misinterpreted some things here and there but you know what we just roll with it #my (somewhat) unfiltered thoughts in pure text form #they also have a LOT of potential in SO MANY WAYS but until someone else gets around to it I'll just keep on chuggin'#anbai #vantasks #will I delete this later who knows we shall see

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juniebugs · 2 months ago

Text

using batfam characters to explain innate immunity :)

i have an exam in a week so i'm projecting my lack of knowledge onto my comfort characters

aka describing immunology through superheroes because i have an illness no part of my immune system can save.

listen. i don't think there's an audience for this. i don't know why there would be. but i'm studying bioengineering and have a special interest in superheroes.... sooooo.......

OTHER SIMILAR POSTS THAT MIGHT BE USEFUL TO UNDERSTAND MY MADNESS:

for more general immunology definitions to actually understand my nonsense pls go here

for me utilizing marvel characters to describe adaptive immunity pls go here.

just a heads up: i'm using innate = batfam and adaptive = marvel knowledge but they do overlap so just y'know be prepared. this is a lot of text but it should should be scientifically accurate or at least not horribly wrong.

also hindsight tells me the emojis give chatgpt but generative ai is incapable of coming up with the level of insanity finals season gives dw folks this is all genuine madness.

FIRST LAYER OF DEFENSE (INNATE / BATFAMILY)

The first line of defense is the surface barriers, this is like the basic weapons that all the vigilantes would have.

🧍‍♂️SKIN == Batcave

It consists of many layers of closely packed, keratinized cells (mmm stratum corneum my fav) and is very hard for bacteria to get through (batman is the only baddie in the batcave). Skin sheds periodically (we love dust) which removes microbes from the surface. Think of Alfred shooing unwanted guests…. With force if need be.

🦠MUCOUS == Batarangs

mmm mucous love. They both trap the baddies and operate through specialized movements. While the batman clan would be like doing some cool training moves idk that mucous is like

Coughing /sneezing

Or the even more exciting

Swallowing.

Woooo. But the general idea remains. Specialized movements, but very general (all family members would use them).

👩HAIRS == Grappling Lines

I don’t know if you have ever watched the hit antimated film batman: under the red hood but batman is fitting the red hood and uses the grappling line to trap him and he gets out which is how (partially) they figure out the red hood is Jason todd. Lore.

ANYWAY like the grappling lines, hair traps and filters the baddies (microbes). 🚗CILIA == Batmobile

Cilia are hair like microscopic projections on epithelial surface. They wave and propels the movement mucous ejecting or destroying pathogens

Kind how like how the batmobile whips b-man supreme around gotham with his scary equipment and then will bring the baddies to Gordon. Wild stuff here. 🥹TEARS == Smoke Pellets

Have you ever felt emo? Yeah, me too. We were all twelve once. When you cry to my chemical romance– or more specifically to spraying your side-part’s hairspray in your eyes- you are clearing and draining irritants.

Continual doing of this keeps the microbes from settling.

For a batman analogy because im committed to the bit:

Think like the smoke pellets. B-man supreme uses these to let him escape, often taking the baddies with him.

🧫ENZYMES (Lysozyme) == EMP Devices

Bro enzymes are sick. Lets talk about lysozyme. This enzyme breaks down cell walls of certain bacteria and can appear in tears saliva, sweat, and other secretions.

In batman, he has this sick device called a EMP device that breaks down electronics (cell walls) and can be used in conjunction to other methods.

🧼BODILY FLUIDS == Utility Belt

Okay so we’re goopy gooey guys. But this is a strength. Our goop is versatile. Our bodily fluids (mmm) is like batman utility belt. Depending on location, circumstance, or even vigilante the tools may vary but generally their training is similar.

Okay queens we did the first layer of defense and now it’s the second layer of defense.

---------------------------------- SECOND LAYER OF DEFENSE (INNATE / BATFAMILY)

If weapons don’t work its fist to fist, vigilante versus baddie time. Okay so we are starting off with some sexy antimicrobial proteins.

🚨INTERFERONS == GOTHAM PUBLIC

First lets look at interferons. Interferons are like the general gotham population these are small secreted proteins which interfere with viral replication.

Like if a baddie was just chilling on gotham these guys would call up the vigilante homies. Probably like ‘two face is out again and not a new make-up release get your ass over here batman’ and that would be that. 🛰 COMPLEMENT SYSTEM == JUSTICE LEAGUE

The complement system is a collection of >30 plasma proteins that ‘complement’ the antibacterial activity in the body. They are essentially someone you call in when you need a helping hand – like the just league!!! 🤓IRON-BINDING PROTEINS == TIM DRAKE

Timerson drakerson is like iron-binding proteins. He breaks in slow silent and gets the job DONE. He is essentially like a sneaky dude that prevents bacteria (baddies) from growing (hacking into the mainframe *nerd emoji*).

Not featured in their own category is other antimicrobial proteins. Those could be like the police ringing out big bird to kick ass. 😡NATURAL KILLER CELLS == JASON TODD

RED HOOD JASON TODD IS A NATURAL KILLER (NK) CELL THIS IS HOW THIS WHOLE IDEA STARTED.

Okokok natural killer cells prowl. They are looking for cells out of place, lacking inhibition receptors etc. This is like hood prowling crime alley looking over the baddies and seeing if anything is out of place.

He is unique (quirky) and does his own thing. While a part of the innate immune system (batfamily) he is kind of operating by his own direction.

Is a straight forward killer.

Perforin -> breaking in, getting the info he needs

Granzyme -> his guns baybeee pew pew they’re dead.

IFN gamma and TFN alpha are pro-inflammatory cytokines affecting viral infections and are like notes he leaves behind. ominously. idk this might be stretch but roll w it. ⚖️PHAGOCYTOSIS == BATMAN'S PROCESS

Batman has a clear methodology and follows a clear and consistent order. His methods could be compared to phagocytosis if you're gigabrained like me. or mentally ill. idk

1.) CHEMOTAXIS -> cells are chemically stimulated to move to the site of damage or infection. This is like the batsignal. Batman gets called to an area of crime and moves fast. 2.) ADHERENCE -> This is attachment of the phagocyte to the microbe. ORRRR big bat finding the sneaky baddie and locking them downnnnn 3.) INGESTION -> phagocyte forms pseudopods forming the phagosome noming the particles. Aka baddies tied and dragged away for interrogation. 4.) DIGESTION -> Phagosome fuses with a lysosome containing digestive enzyme. PLOT TWIST commissioner Gordon is in on this. Its interrogation time babybeee 5.) KILLING -> batman doesn’t kill, but he does let the law (lysosome) handle things where need be.

there are also a few types of cells that can be phagocytes.

🐦NEUTROPHILS == ROBINS

Neutrophils are the most abundant leukocyte. think about how many robins theres been. so many. Neutrophils become phagocytic they encounter infectious material (brucie wayne, or other trauma in their lives). 1st to move from blood to tissue during inflammation (speedy lil guys). Also a major component of pus. I don’t think I want an analogy for that fact tbhs

Also neutrophils can kick the bucket pretty quick. Cough cough Jason cough cough m 🐦‍⬛MONOCYTES / MACROPHAGES == DICK GRAYSON / NIGHTWING

Okay next up is dick grayson or nightwing/

The first robin, he eventually matured into his own hero name as he got older. Monocytes are circulated in the blood like he does bludhaven awhhhh yeah easy remembering until he gets to the tissues that are inflamed. In the tissues, he matures into macrophages (becomes less silly goofy) and can become who is needed in the moment. New batman for a comic run? Sure np.

So monocytes -> dick grayson, silly goofy, paying attention in case he’s needed.

Macrophages -> nightwing. Ready to lead, fight hard. Ready to take ass and kick names. 🪄BACK TO PHAGOCYTOSIS FOR A PHAT SEC !!!!!

How does the batfamily even know who the baddies (pathogens) are.???

The are using PRRs or pattern recognition receptors to ‘see’ pathogen-associated molecular patterns or PAMPS

Think of it as having the batcomputer (PRR) to collect data (PAMP)

PRR are receptors for common bacterial components. So when it binds to a PAMP (a hit on the system) batman and the family knows to act. Secrete pro-inflammatory cytokins and begin phagocytosis 📌DENDRITIC CELLS == BARBARA GORDON (ORACLE)

Okay last major phagocyte we’re talking about, and one of the most important, are dendritic cells.

Dendritic cells are highly specialized, residents of tissues, and antigen presenting. These link the innate and adaptive immune responses. They use the PRR to recognize and phagocytose pathogens in the tissues.

Barbara was previously batgirl, so has a lot of insights, but has become oracle since her injury. Now she manages the batfamily and tells them where and when to act. (utilizing the batcomputer or PRR).

Travel to lymph nodes to present pathogenic antigens to T cells. OKAY t cells are not technically innate so by my predetermined analogy of innate == batfam // adaptive == marvel this analogy kind falls apart but.

SHE ESSENTIALLY CALLS FOR RECRUITMENTS JUST LIKE INTERDIMENSIONALLY. So then the marvel characters can respond.

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

ROLE PLAY TIME!!!!!!!!! (LET LEARN ABOUT INFLAMMATION & FEVERS)

Oh no!!!! There’s an attack on gotham!!! But gotham is metaphorical so I secretly mean your body. Rip. But not really rip. Because your innate immune system is on their way.

Lets call this response inflammation (oooooo)

Its nonspecific. This crime doesn’t have to be insane for a vigilante to respond. They’re always trying to help. But inflammation is acting as a big fat cry for help (batsignal of sorts).

It tells the vigilantes to deliver the molecules to help, prevent damage from spreading, and prepare the site for repair.

There’s a few main stages it goes through

Initial response!!! 😳

Damaged cells (citizens of gotham) signal that something has gone wrong. This is like a chemical alarm or a bat signal. And mediators are recleased.

PRR and resident macrophages get activated. Akaaaaa bat signal tells bat computer (likely through oracle) to get up and at them. So its go time to release all the vigilantes (cytokines & chemokines)

ALFRED THE LEGEND is the resident mast cells releasing potent inflammatory mediators (responses to the crime)

Contribute a lot but especially to vasodilation & permability of blood vessels aka getting them there asap. Immune cells emigrate by the mediators (alfreds) direction Aka there’s increased vascular diameter, blood flow, they can move fast. Reduction in blood flow velocity -> gotham pauses so they can get through. Increased vascular permability -> all heros get in through any means necessary

They get through the tissue (phagocytosis, chemotaxis -> aka NEEDING a batsignal or a means of identifying where they need to go)

And then clot microvessels -> build up barriers to prevent as much damaged as possible,

First to the scene are the robins (neutrophils) and then monocytes (nightwing, batman, etc)

How did they even get there bro wtf? 🤠

Theres a few different steps to their movement.

1.) ROLLING ADHESION akaaaaa robin has a tracker in the costume and starts running. 2.) TIGHT BINDING aka grappling hooks attaching to building in gothan 3.) EXTRAVASATION / DIAPEDESIS aka cell / vigilante crosses into the rougher neighbourhood where this action is happening. Breaking through so others can follow 4.) MIGRATION the older more experience macrophages (nightwing, batman) recruits the robins and slide through a chemokine gradient.

What does inflammation even look like? 🥵

Gotham has learned to identify when something is going downnnn

1.) redness (rubor) -> the city has cleared out for these guys

2.) heat (calor) -> its getting intense, and you can feel it

3.) swelling (tumor) -> as a response to one crime, other criminals want to act

4.) pain (dolor) -> sometimes citizens get hurt, but their focus prevents crime from spreading in some cases.

from here there's some wonderful skin healing but i'm not tested on it and my notes are long enough sooooo

FEVER == ARKHAM BREAKOUT🤧

Sometimes shit goes down and it needs a bigger response.

A fever is an abnormally high body temperature as a response to invading microganisms.

When Arkham criminals breakout, the batfam becomes more ruthless especially the macrophages (nightwing, batman) instead releasing their pyrogens.

If they can manage themselves then all is okay, and we’ll be okay

If they can’t (i.e. too high of a fever) than it is can be very dangerous and they might go too far. ---------------------------------------------

HOLY SHIT WE'RE DONE INNATE THIS WAS SO INTENSE.

so this means its the end of the batfam except i made babs dendritic cells so she'll be back. which is chill i love her. ANYWAY

if you want to read adaptive immunity marvel info click here. i hope this helps one poor nerd on their bio test. im a provider.

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rappaccini · 2 months ago

Text

sinners thoughts.

k first of all:

movie of the year.

free coogler from reboot remake franchise jail what do you MEAN he's THIS INCREDIBLE and this is the first movie he's ever made based on one of his own ideas

cast 11/10. insane that this is miles caton's first role. so glad michael b jordan is introducing us to his brother, michael a jordan (i'm joking). actually insane how he has different chemistry with every single character, and even with himself. wunmi mosaku and li jun li were incredible. jack o'connell went crazy on that jig wtf was in the water at the skins casting office. oscar for delroy lindo. jayme lawson i know disney live action remakes are evil but please pick up the phone when they call you for tiana. yao did so much with the five seconds of screen time he got. hailee steinfeld reminded me she’s an academy caliber actress free her from franchise jail too please. omar miller steals every scene he's in.

music 11/10. the sammie musical sequence is gonna be one of THE cinematic sequences of the decade. the rocky road to dublin dance number is too fucking fun and just as brilliant but in a subtler way. brilliant exploration of the blues, of the origins and future of black music, of its connections to irish/scottish folk music. tying it in with a robert johnson style deal with the devil? the fucking devil goes down to georgia fiddle too? ludwig goransson you're gonna run out of space to put your oscars soon.

i'm sure someone's gonna do a detailed breakdown of the significance of each song. excited to read it. edit: in the meantime i have these bc i have no impulse control. out of my depth with the blues but sure, i can dissect the white people stuff.

everyone's killing it. the cast. the cinematographer. the composer. coogler got the best possible group of artists together to tell the best version of this story and they brought their fucking a game. love to see it.

fantastic story. love that it takes its time setting up the world before the vampires arrive. this is a period drama, romance, action movie, musical and horror flick all in one. it's even structured like an epic tragedy. this would fuck so hard on the stage. sinners on broadway when.

insane sound design. delta slim’s recounting of his friend’s lynching having the sounds of the attack bleeding in made my jaw drop.

this movie walks so many delicate lines and sticks the landing on everything. it knows exactly when to be subtle and when to tell you what's happening. it’s violent, sexy and full of trauma but never feels exploitative.

love that the movie embraces the genre trappings. it keeps being advertised as Not Like Other Horror Movies but bitch it is. and it knows that. and it's having fun with it. the vampires are harmed by garlic. why? who cares it's fun.

also genuinely hilarious. cornbread and remmick had me cackling with their deliveries. "being kInD tO oNe AnOtHeR" and "shammaeh" keep popping into my head at random. so does that stupid little shuffle the vampires make at the door when they're rejected. these two make this a comedy.

pussy eating being one of the Great Motifs of this movie... mr coogler i will never underestimate your power again.

what a deal by coogler. he gets the rights back in 25 years. he makes an incredible genre movie for a middle budget and he gets full creative control. i hope we get more like this.

my one gripe is that i wish mary and annie got to have a conversation. that would make their final moment together and the history they share so much stronger. my kingdom for a two-minute long convo where they don't mention men.

also that the juke has tons of redshirts chilling in the background after the party ends so its like. oh. there are a dozen other guys here. who we are not acknowledging. as we are testing our Protagonists to see who's a secret vampire. smoke my dude lower the gun you're pointing at pearline and please check the twelve other guys also in this room who didn't eat the garlic and whose comings and goings are a mystery.

... actually now that i think abt it it's kind of odd that mary did gain entry and never walked back in. do the vampires have to ask every time? we could've made that clearer.

and tbh i'm not too into the ~they all feel his pain but he doesn't feel theirs~ thing. it feels very... mcu? i get they needed a convenient excuse to make sure the showdown wasn't so one-sided but they could've found a better solution.

and man. the fucking layers in this script.

we all thought it was 'the vampires are the kkk, and hailee steinfeld's playing a, sigh, "evil snowbunny" who infiltrates the community to help her white friends kill everyone and the moral is that every time black people try to have a good time white people show up to ruin it’ and yes it is About That but the actual nuances of the situation are so much more complex.

the second most surface level reading is Remmick Was Right.

no. Annie Was Right.

the killmonger debate is gonna happen again but dumber because we're talking about a hot scruffy white guy.

and like killmonger the best take is: you can’t divorce the tragedy of this villain from the terrible things he does. the scariest thing about these vampires is that they are so human.

coogler didn't make remmick his favorite antagonist and have jack o'connell deliver THAT performance for you guys not to dig into all the complexities he gave him. you're doing yourselves and this film a disservice if you reduce him to Just The Evil Racist or Just A Misunderstood Puppy Boy I Can Fix.

there's a reason the vampire is literally running for his life, making it day by day as the people he hurt are hot on his heels (the twins), sneaking into white society by lying about what he is to pass as one of them (mary), with a handful of coins in his pocket that are useless anywhere but his homeland (he's got wooden nickels too).

there's also a reason that he turns up to the party with klansmen he insists are ~cool, because they're his friends~ instead of killing those klansmen.

unlike many people though, i'm sexy enough to remember that this is just a movie and that movies are supposed to be fun. so i can meme about the villain, find him hot, AND discuss the complex themes he represents without having to performatively squirm towards the nearest nonwhite person and tell them how sorry i am for having a good time.

speaking of:

i get the ‘if only they all worked together to kill the klan’ conceit but the whole point is they wouldn’t have. remmick wouldn’t protect them altruistically and they would never have trusted him if he had told them from the jump that the kkk are coming. it never would have gone that way. (… and if it had remmick would be getting the white savior treatment the movie is so careful to reject)

all the same it's good that some people are thinking that because that's one of the core themes of the movie.

the center of the sinners onion is a story about a group of marginalized people turning on each other before the actual threat can even arrive. if you wish they had found solidarity, you're a step closer to the only way everyone could have left this story alive.

the "inviting vampires in" metaphor plays with the idea of letting people with bad intentions into your safe space and your community. there are shades of colonization and appropriation metaphors there for sure, and a discussion of how white people who lost their own culture to assimilation try to leech off of black culture to try and get back the feeling of community they lost. but it's something else first.

this movie's about the consequences of racist violence, yes. but it's specifically about the violence people on the margins inflict on each other in the name of surviving within those margins.

(vampire bo walking right past cornbread chowing down on that drunk and telling grace it's not their problem? exactly. that's the entire metaphor in one scene.)

it's about the way people in the margins exclude each other and themselves because they genuinely believe it'll protect everyone when it really just causes further harm. if you're one of the people who thinks mary should've been turned away at the door, i hate to break it to you, but remmick would've gotten you.

it's about how offers of assimilation made out of a genuine desire to help each other succeed don't change the harm that offer will do to the people who accept it— and how even if you do assimilate you never really leave behind who you were and you’re always looking for ways to return.

it’s about how monsters are as human as humans are monstrous

and it's about how people who are already desperate can actually gain a lot from a deal with the devil… but there’s still a better way out that doesn’t involve selling your soul.

the vampires are not right and they do terrible things, but they are not the true evil in this story either. it’s the klan and the shadow of oppression they force everyone to live in.

this is an epic tragedy. if the vampires never got in, the party would have gone until dawn and the klan would have killed everyone in the morning.

if the vampires had turned everyone, the only place to hide from the sunlight together is the juke… which the klan would have invaded anyway. and lets put our thinking caps on, kids: if they saw an integrated, mostly black community of people strong enough to shrug off their bullets and physically overpower them? do you really think the ku klux klan would've said 'our bad' and let them go?

no. they'd have burned the juke down, and the vampires would have no way to escape because the sun’s out. everyone would have died. yes, even bert, joanie and remmick. if anything, bert and joanie would have probably opened the door and tried to invite uncle hogwood in for a bite, or their bigotry would've resurfaced and they would've insisted that they're Not Like Other Vampires, and encouraged the slaughter of the others. they'd have been lucky to live long enough for the choctaw hunters to arrive.

everyone is doomed and all the infighting just guarantees they won't get away or deal with the actual existential threat before it's too late.

the only way to survive was to never go to the party— to never seek community and joy in the face of oppression, which neither the humans or vampires will ever do— in the first place, or to be protected and most of all lucky like sammie.

(... or for the vampire to direct his violence at the actual institutional threat.)

there’s so much gray in a story about blackness and whiteness. love that.

mary and the chows exist between the black-white stratification in clarksdale. they can play both sides of the divide, but are less protected because neither side will completely claim them. this vulnerability is why mary turns first and grace is the chink in the armor that gets the vampires inside. mary is pushed away and the chows pull away and in that distance between them and the black community, bad actors find a way in. yes, don't let just anybody in, but don't let just anyone out either.

remmick is older than chattel slavery or the concept of race that was created to justify it. he comes from a time where the irish were colonized by the same people. he has no trouble seeing through the layers of racist pseudoscience and social hierarchy because he remembers what the world was like before it existed and knows it's bullshit.

he completely believes what he's saying: he does see himself as one of them. he does empathize with their situation, he does want to dance and play with them, he does want to experience sammie's gift and he does want to preserve it forever instead of stamping it out or repressing it. he does want to offer them protection from the kkk. and he has also been hurt by other marginalized people (the vampire hunters from the choctaw nation-- who sent the irish aid during the famine. people who once showed him solidarity, who he probably approached for more of it, are now hunting him).

and it still won't matter! because it's in his nature to want to consume them. he does see himself as an ally, but the fact that he's trying to invade a space that was not built for him after he was told to leave, won't take no for an answer from the people he wants to convert, would rather let the threat that'll kill them all (including him) in a few hours remain to use as leverage to get them to join him, and would rather kill sammie than let him walk away with his gift is proof that he isn't one.

if they let him in, he'll change some of them. but not everyone. some will resist, and are going to be killed. everyone who's changed will keep their personality, but lose their humanity, and his memories are going to pour into them-- theirs won't be gone but they will be changed. he wants sammie's gift so he can conjure his friends. and when they join his coven, they'll spend eternity with two kkk members he also turned whose own original personalities will inevitably return too.

and he may have used his influence to wipe that shit from those people's personalities, but even doing that is proof that he'll suppress any part of a person he turns that he doesn't respect or want.

remmick isn't the klan. he's white liberalism. both suck and both are racist, but there IS a very clear difference. white supremacists genuinely believe their own bullshit. white liberals know white supremacy is a tool and keep it intact because they might want to use it someday.

if remmick really did have their best interests at heart, he'd chill outside, let people leave the party safely, do his little dance, and use his whiteness to do what they can't: kill the klan and guarantee no reciprocal violence will affect the people most vulnerable to it.

like. guys. smoke and stack had the trunk and their training. they weren't helplessly, naively waiting for the klan to come kill them. if smoke was able to decimate them alone and wounded, together they would've done the same and survived the fight.

but they absolutely wouldn't have been able to fend them off for more than maybe one shootout. the movie shows you that they keep making ambitious plans that don't work out, and that they have a ton of loved ones in the community for a reason. the klan would have regrouped and gone after them and anyone who survived.

this story isn't saying 'wall up the culture and never let anyone in.' it's saying that allyship with people from the oppressor class is necessary in dismantling it, but you have to be very careful when dealing with people from that class who offer their assistance, because they very often just want to perpetuate that system.

he's offering assimilation, not cultural annihilation. that's the metaphor. "let me in and i'll give you the tools to survive racist white society by making you a little more able to exist side by side with the people who would have killed you-- but you can only keep what i let you and i'm doing this for my own benefit first. and if you say no, i'm still gonna push it on you."

and he was assimilated himself. he remembers when christianity was used to hurt his people (... remmick isn't an irish name, it's a christian one. it was probably forced on him with his baptism. god that's sad). and if the metaphor holds, he was probably changed against his will by an oppressor too. like the irish in america who immigrated to escape prejudice and whose kids became cops, he realized that white supremacy could be used to benefit him and bought into just enough of it to escape mistreatment (see: how he gets into the kk kouple's house-- by playing into their bigotry; he does it out of desperation... but he is still doing it). and once you assimilate, you aren't an ally to the oppressed anymore. you're sitting on the fence and kicking everyone who tries to destroy it down, or guarding who gets to climb over.

the vampires feed their cultures into a melting pot where communion is replaced with literal consumption. it's metaphorically how european ethnic groups who came to america were swallowed up by the concept of whiteness, which dilutes true culture until all that's left is hate of anyone who isn't white, homogenized christianity, and capitalistic consumption serving as this zombielike replacement for true community.

even then, your identity finds ways to reappear —the vampires reassert their personalities over and over, like mary immediately ruining the plan to get sammie because she wants stack, or remmick's irishness exploding out of him— and the parts of yourself you think you have to get rid of to belong are what’ll actually find you that community. and all you'll ever want is to get back to it.

again rocky road to dublin my god the layers of that scene. it looks like the vampires being fully consumed by remmick’s hivemind but as their voices join the song and the instrumentation starts to add the 808s, the blocking of the scene brings them in with him as equals. they’re creating a new genre of music together as they’re becoming an actual family by relating to shared marginalization and celebrating overcoming it by becoming a vampire coven. ho. ly. fuck. the vampires did the exact same thing the humans did.

and then they immediately blow it by defaulting right back to the racism the way we do at the exact same time the humans start splintering.

naturally mary's the one who goes first because she's the one being thrust into assimilation by society. because she passes white, the black community she grew up with hold her at arm's length because if racist white people see her with them, they could use it as justification for violence against the entire community. (like. what the fuck would've happened when the kkk got there and saw her. would they have realized she's mixed, or assumed she was white and lashed out even more because 'her womanhood has been corrupted.')

and of course she's the first person approached. assimilationists go for the people already close to their ideal, or who have skills they want. mary is the most white-passing person in that building.

of course she's immediately hijacking the plan to get stack instead of sammie. she already made a deal with the devil when she married her husband. she already let go of a lot of herself to do it— and she knows how and when to bring it back and has practiced this for years. why not assimilate again when this time she can live as who she really is without worrying about anyone hurting her for it. even the hivemind might feel comforting, because it's the belonging she's been hungry for all along.

of course she wants to share that power. she's removed the vulnerability that's stopping her and stack from being together. she does believe she's saving him. doesn't change that 'saving him' by giving him a way to assimilate kills and dehumanizes him.

and ultimately they're the vampires who survive. assimilation can help you leave a terrible situation... but you'll leave that situation unable to be a part of the group you left behind, but also unable to fully leave what you’re told to get rid of. it always comes back.

annie? no way she would've survived. she's too entwined with her culture to ever take the vampires' offer and too distant from the ideal to ever be accepted by it. she can't and won't assimilate. she's the opposite of mary.

vampirism as ‘being saved,’ forced assimilation being likened to forced conversion, its biggest opponent being the woman most in tune with rootwork, another layer in the colonization metaphor, another way remmick is replicating harm done to him onto others. even the forced baptism... wow.

sammie escaping All That only to run to another sanctuary from racist violence... and be told by a religious space he thought was safe 'now YOU assimilate into US by getting rid of the source of that community’.... oh the layers. fucking genius.

the intergenerational trauma motif too. smoke and stack are afraid their father passed his violence down to them, and annie demanding smoke break the cycle before he can hold their baby. sammie taking their dad's guitar and using it to make beautiful music. remmick passing the trauma of his assimilation and colonization (and what was probably a forced transformation into a vampire) down to his converts, and mary and stack choosing to let sammie decide to stay human.

like to sum it all up the sinners onion looks like this:

layer 1: racist southern kkk vampires try to invade a black space to destroy the community and steal its culture for themselves.

layer 2: the vampires aren't the kkk, they're offering a way to escape the kkk, and genuinely want to form a community with them where no one will have to suffer or be terrorized by their oppressors again, and where everyone is equal and all their past sins and prejudices can be left behind without judgment. remmick's irish, not southern, and he predates the concept of race so he has no trouble recognizing the sharecroppers as people and he intimately empathizes with their oppression and wants to save them from the fate his people met.

layer 3: the vampires are offering assimilation, which in itself is racist and no true escape from white supremacy. remmick is white liberalism personified: though he assimilated into Whiteness (tm) out of desperation and knows white supremacy is bullshit, he does understand that he can use it to get what he wants, and he'd rather pal around with racists and insist ~they're better now because they're with me~ instead of shunning them. he's so desperate for a culture that he's willing to cannibalize one that isn't his own, and selfish enough to remake it in his image to frame himself as a white savior, which he does because otherwise, he'll have to admit that he's continuing the cycle of oppression.

layer 4: the assimilation the vampires offer doesn't even work, so the destruction of their individuality won't last-- and neither will their 'fellowship' because the klanpires are gonna remember their bigotry real soon. big picture: everyone is fucked. if the vampire never shows up at all, the klan kills the juke partiers in the morning. if the vampire arrives and is denied, they all kill each other before the klan even gets there. if the vampire arrives and is let in, they still all die in the morning when the klan finds them hiding in the juke and burns it down. this is about marginalized people trying to find community and solidarity-- and succeeding for a moment-- before tearing each other to shreds because they can't agree on how to escape a greater oppressor and who's allowed in and out of the circle of protection. it's crabs in a barrel.

layer 5: the only way out was for the vampire to show up, respect that he isn't allowed in, be forthcoming about the klan's plan and offer his help in disposing of them. in other words this is about, broadly, how alliances with people who are advantaged under systems of oppression are necessary in ending them, but are rarely successful. because too many of those people would rather keep the power dynamics intact to hold onto the comfort and status they provide, even if those advantages are tiny and those systems will ultimately kill them too. specifically, this is about why white solidarity keeps failing.

anyway. 1992.

sammie chooses to stay human in every respect. and his survival and success are proof that you can. vampirism/assimilation isn’t necessary to escape that violence. luck, community and your own internal sense of self-worth are. his perspective is the correct one in this story.

mary keeps being drawn to emulate the group who would reject her for her heritage. in 1932 she passes white in a time and place where having one black grandparent would have her ostracized and harmed by the white community she married into out of necessity. in 1992 she's wearing black fashion and openly partnered with a black man in a time where having one black grandparent won't get her hurt... but also wouldn't be considered 'enough to count' anymore. on the one hand, she now lives in a time where no one will hurt her for embracing black culture. on the other, that culture now won't embrace her (... and the white people who would have once tried to kill her if they knew her heritage won't hesitate to claim her now). she's still swimming against the tide.

definitions of race are fluid, and like remmick, she's watching the world's view of her evolve to such an extent that it refuses to recognize what she is and what it has done to her, and is trying to sort her into the category of the people who put her in so much pain that she lost her humanity in the first place. meanwhile her perception of herself has remained the same because the circumstances that that forced her to turn into a vampire is still fresh in her mind. i am so curious about how she feels about that.

and how she feels about being a vampire. stack says he feels trapped by his immortality, but mary doesn't say anything in that final scene except "bye sammie" and she's showing off those fangs to the bartender. she likes it! remmick came to see vampirism as salvation from a life of suffering and she does too.

vampirism took stack's brother from him and robbed him of a life he could've lived where he still got to exist within his community... but mary's situation was different. either she would've died when the klan came in the morning, or gotten on that train and went back to passing white, isolated forever from the people she loves and the culture she was raised in because with her mother gone, she had no familial ties to clarksdale. being a vampire severed stack from their community, but was the only way mary could cling to even a small part of it.

and yet her relationship with stack is still considered interracial, between a white woman and black man, even if the reaction to it has changed. they still can't be together in the daylight.

like yeah sure happy for marystack being together sixty years in the future but i REALLY want to dig into that. is a vampire divorce in their future.

also. mary and stack giving sammie the choice to stay human. many thoughts about the implications about vampire behavior. is this their human selves shining through (was remmick's selfishness reflective of who he was as a mortal man)? is it that they have more self-control when considering turning someone they love and knew from their human lives, than remmick's situation-- turning people he just met and has no emotional attachment to?

... or is it that they have more self-control because they're only sixty years old, and the world hasn't changed so much that they can't recognize it anymore? in which case, since the last link to their human selves is due to die in months tops... what's stopping them from becoming as desperate for community-- as hedonistically selfish and bloodthirsty-- as remmick?

i'd say mary in particular is in the most danger of going that route. she's already starting to live his reality. it took 1600 years for him to get this far gone. in just 60 she's well on her way. good luck babe.

the end theme of how finding those moments of joy, freedom and connection with others makes the horror bearable. wow. the vampires and humans both want this and are both willing to do horrible things to make more of these moments. insane. oh my god.

i'm gonna be thinking about this for ages. this is it. this is The Movie.

(good god all the questionable takes the video essay hive on youtube is gonna have and the fandom war's gonna be so dumb. i think i'm just gonna stay far away from the public discourse on this one.)

anyway rest in piss remmick you would have loved mister brightside

#sinners

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rivendellwatch · 2 months ago

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[Update Spice Week N°1]

Hi peeps! I wanted to take a moment to gently revisit and clarify some of the conversations around content boundaries for the upcoming Spice Week event. I’ve received some thoughtful, passionate feedback on the form so far (thank you!!) and I truly appreciate that folks care enough to share their perspectives.

Because this is meant to be a safe, sexy, and creatively freeing event for everyone who opts in, I want to make sure everything’s crystal clear before we move forward, because this is an important topic.💌

TW: mentions of dark themes who could be triggering to the reader!!

So! Let’s start here:

Me saying "no rape/non-con/abuse" doesn't mean I'm "banning" BDSM.

Kinks and abuse are NOT the same thing. Those are COMPLETELY different things.

🖤 What’s allowed and welcomed? Kink is not only allowed—it’s encouraged! Let me be super clear: if you enjoy writing or reading about dom/sub dynamics, impact play, restraints, degradation (soft or sharp), voice kink, begging, being tied up, calling someone "sir", whatever tickles your fancy—it is more than welcome here. We even have whole prompt wheels with these spicy themes because this event is meant to be unhinged, cathartic, indulgent, and freeing.✨

I want this to be a space where you can explore fantasy, power dynamics, and all the delicious stuff—as long as it's consensual and clearly tagged.

🧷 What’s not allowed? The line I’d like to keep firmly in place is around non-consensual sexual violence, aka:

Rape or true non-con, especially when portrayed without context or as something desirable

Unlabeled abuse or sexual trauma

Anything that might give people a false sense of comfort only to pull the rug out with unexpected content

This is not about kink-shaming. It’s about mutual respect and informed participation.

Some dub-con elements, like sex pollen, magical manipulation, “oops we’re stuck in this horny cave,” etc., can be okay—as long as they’re well-tagged. The same goes for violence in the context of character dynamics (we’re in Middle-earth after all, things get stabby). But stories that center or glorify rape, abuse, or harm without consent or context are just not something I want associated with this space.

🔖 Tagging Matters I’d rather we empower people with thorough tagging, rather than overly policing content. No AO3 “Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings” for this event, please. Be open and clear so folks can choose what they want to read—and what to skip.

✅ Tag your kinks

✅ Tag your dub-con setups (also putting it in the author note could help)

✅ Tag your violence

❌ Don’t submit work that includes non-con, abuse or rape

I trust that we’re all adults here who know the difference between rough consensual kink and non-consensual harm. One is hot. The other is not.

Also, just as a note for everyone—AO3 has built-in systems to help manage content responsibly, including the ability to report works that misuse tags or fail to properly warn for sensitive material.

If something is mislabeled or lacking essential warnings (like non-con not being tagged), readers can flag it through AO3’s support system, and the moderators do take action when necessary. This is part of why I’m emphasizing clear, accurate, and thorough tagging during Spice Week: it helps keep the space safe, enjoyable, and respectful for everyone, no matter their comfort levels or preferences.

I completely understand that for some writers and readers, exploring darker or more morally ambiguous themes—like non-con—can be cathartic, emotionally complex, and creatively fulfilling. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I absolutely respect the value and importance of spaces where those narratives can be explored deeply and safely. This just isn’t quite the space for it.

There are dedicated events, spaces and communities that specialize in those explorations, where expectations are set accordingly and people opt in with full awareness.

In contrast, Spice Week is meant to be a more broadly welcoming space for everyone who enjoys a bit of heat—whether that means slow-burn tension, kinky fun, or absolutely losing your mind over someone’s thighs. And part of that means ensuring folks feel safe and informed engaging with the content, especially when browsing the tag casually or seeing their faves pop up on a prompt.

I want to be transparent too: the majority of responses to the interest form so far expressed a preference for not including non-con, abuse, rape content in the event, even with tagging.

And while I understand that might be frustrating to writers who lean into darker or more intense themes (you are absolutely valid!!), I’m choosing to follow the guidance of what makes most people feel safest and most included for this particular event.

This doesn’t mean your writing isn’t valued or wanted in fandom—it just means this specific week is angled toward spicy, consensual, kink-friendly, fun-chaotic creations with clear boundaries.

Ending Note: To wrap this up, I want to emphasize something really important: me not allowing rape, non-con, and abuse in the context of this event does not mean I’m kink-shaming anyone.

There’s a very big difference between drawing boundaries for safety and shaming people for their tastes. I’m not here to tell people what they can or cannot write in general—I’m just setting clear, respectful limits for this specific space so that it feels comfortable and welcoming to the majority of people participating.

One response implied that disallowing these themes was kink-shaming folks who enjoy BDSM or similar dynamics—and I really want to clear that up: that’s simply not the case.

BDSM, power play, rough sex, praise, degradation, restraints, consensual dub-con setups like sex pollen or aphrodisiacs etc—all of that can absolutely be a part of the event as long as it’s clearly tagged and rooted in mutual consent within the fic. Abuse and kink are not the same thing. Kinks are negotiated and consensual; abuse is a violation.

The line matters, and it’s one I intend to uphold with care and respect for both writers and readers.

I also want to take a moment to say that I deeply believe in the value of writing and reading smut, erotica, and all forms of spicy fiction as something that can be incredibly cathartic, empowering, and healing. For so many of us, these spaces are how we reconnect with our bodies, our autonomy, our confidence, and even our sense of safety—especially after experiences that have taken those things away. Smut isn’t just "fun"—it’s often reclamation, exploration, comfort, or just joy. And that is beautiful.

Because I see writing this way, I also believe that certain themes can be truly disruptive to that healing and autonomy. For this reason, I’ve made the decision that rape, non-con (non-consensual sexual acts), and abuse will not be permitted as themes or content in Spice Week. I know these subjects can also be processed through fiction for some, and I’m not dismissing that as a coping mechanism—but this particular space, for this event, is meant to feel like a haven, a cozy fire-lit tavern where no one has to worry about stumbling into those wounds by accident. For many participants, even reading summaries or tags that reference these topics can break that safe atmosphere.

It’s not about censorship or judgment. It’s about drawing boundaries that reflect the tone and comfort I want to cultivate for this community during this specific week. This is a celebration of enthusiastic, consensual intimacy, and I want everyone who takes part to know they won’t have to brace themselves for something traumatic in the middle of their fun. I know that may be frustrating for some darker fic writers, and I hear and respect that—but I ask that people extend that same respect to those who need this event to remain a soft, safe space, even if it contains smut/spice.

Because I care deeply about the emotional safety, comfort, and joy of everyone participating in this event, Abuse, Rape, and Non-Con will be excluded from Spice Week.

Again, this is not a reflection on anyone’s personal preferences or coping mechanisms—there are many incredible events out there with a darker tone or more open content policy. But here, in this little corner of fandom, we’re creating something warm, spicy, joyful, and safe.

If these guidelines don’t match someone’s creative goals or vibe, that’s totally okay. Everyone has different preferences, and I’m sure there are plenty of other events or spaces where more extreme or cathartic themes can be explored freely. I truly wish everyone the best in finding or creating what feels right for them—and thank you again to everyone who offered thoughtful feedback and helped me shape this into something inclusive, fun, and safe. 💖✨

_ Bucky

#the rings of power #rings of power #trop #trop season 2 #the rings of power season 2 #trop event #the rings of power spoilers #amazon rings of power #lord of the rings #lotr event

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seenoversundown · 10 months ago

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For Death Or Glory : Chapter Fifteen

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (I'll put the gentle stuff first so if you want to skip the smut warnings you can but also please read them if you're worried! Viewer discretion is always advised! 💕) Flirting, Suggestive Language, Sexual Tension runs DEEP, Alcohol/Drinking, sending risque photos / sexting essentially, smoking, & Jake our sweet baby boy being nervous as fuck.

*smut time* including: (oral f/m receiving, mild hand kinks insinuated, fingers in places, fairly rough SEX, literally all our dreams are being insinuated in here folks.)

Word Count: 5k !!

Summary: After using the utmost will power Jake has the night before, Charlotte truly tests his ability to resist his urges the next day while he's working. And well, you can imagine how far he makes it.

Author's Note: THE CANDLE IS AFLAME. LETS GOOOOO!!! I can't wait for you guys to read this one and I especially can't wait to hear your feelings about it! You've been patient with me and I made sure that it was well worth the wait. Enjoy the ride babes! 😘💕

Tear You Apart - She wants Revenge "I want to hold you close, soft breath, beating heart, As I whisper in your ear. "I want to fucking tear you apart."

Nothing in the last eighteen hours has felt real. We laid there talking about whatever came to mind for a while, but she stayed pressed against me the whole time. Alternating between holding my hand or drawing little shapes on my chest as she told me stories.

Getting to wake up with her curled up in my arms, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t just pretend to sleep for a few minutes just to enjoy the way she played with my hair and kissed my face until I finally “woke up.” Staying in bed until Josh left the apartment so we didn’t sell ourselves out. Just quietly talking and sharing lazy kisses for a while, I felt like I was still dreaming.

Coming back into the room, she was wrapped up in one of my shirts, just sitting on my bed and scrolling on her phone.

“I didn’t know friends with benefits meant you stealing my clothes,” I tease.

Her smile is contagious, “what do you think the benefits part means?”

“Oh, is that right?” I ask in a taunting tone as I start getting dressed. Watching her pout as I button my pants, “What’s that for?”

She climbs off the bed quickly, sliding her hands around my waist, “Can you just not look at me when I say this?” The question laced with her giggles.

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” I laugh.

“You’re just sooo..” she quietly but quickly spits out.

My eyebrow raises as she avoids finishing the sentence. Reaching back to grab a shirt from my closet, she’s still clung to me.

She finally squeaks out, “sexy.” Immediately tucking her face into me, I wrap my arms around her as I laugh. She thinks I’m—?

“If I didn’t have to be in the bar, trust me— I wouldn’t ruin your fun.”

She leans back, moving her hands to the same place on my stomach, slowly letting them creep up to my chest, “Starting my day off with a little torture?”

You have no idea.

“I haven’t forgotten about that promise,” I mumble to her. Watching her eyes light up, I tell her, “I’ll make it up to you, but I do need to work for a little bit.”

“Better be good if you’re making me wait even longer.” She taunts.

“Oh, I think you’ll agree it was worth the wait,” I tell her before whispering, “But you have to let go of me if you ever want to find out.” Leaning forward to press my forehead against hers, trying to not laugh at the pout on her face.

“I’m not done yet,” she groans, letting herself fall into me and chuckling to myself as she dramatically goes limp in my arms. We stood there like that for a few minutes; she kept leaving little kisses all over my chest, which further convinced me that I deserved an award for self-control.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After what felt like the longest goodbye, I have never wanted to not be in my bar more than I do today. Time feels like it’s crawling by as I stand here talking to customers at the bar. I’m nodding along to whatever they tell me as Josh mingles amongst the rest of the room. I see my phone light up out of the corner of my eye.

Charlotte: Hi

Me: hello there

Well, at least she can keep me company now. I pour a fresh beer and slide it to the man sitting across from me. I carefully tap on my phone, ..she already replied.

Charlotte: I have a problem..

Me: oh? What’s that?

Charlotte: Can’t stop thinking about how lol good you looked this morning 🤭

I can feel the heat rush to my face; what is she trying to do right now? I stare straight up at the ceiling for a second before replying.

Me: and how can I help you with that?

Charlotte: [sends photo in invisible ink]

Charlotte: I don’t know Jacob, how can you?

I lock my phone faster than the speed of light. I close my eyes, biting the inside of my mouth. I can’t look at that out here. I make eye contact with Josh from across the room, gesturing to the bathroom as he nods quickly.

I may as well have run into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I open her texts, slowly swiping away the invisible ink. There sits a photo of her legs crossed, stretched out in front of her, with dark red lace hugging her hips. Fuck me. Willing away the thoughts racing in my mind, I finally reply.

Me: holy shit- I wish I was there.

After a moment of silence and a handful of deep breaths, I make my way back out to the bar. How am I supposed to do this and not be obvious about it?

Charlotte: Oh, you do?

Me: You have no idea.

I’d do anything to be there, Jesus Christ. I ring up a handful of tabs, sliding the receipts and their cards back to them as they head out and new customers take their places at the bar.

I feel my phone vibrate as I’m taking someone’s order, turning to make it and setting my phone in front of me.

Charlotte: What would you do if you were here?

I about drop the bottle I’m holding when I read it. God, I don’t even know what I’d do. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything with a girl I’d probably panic.

Me: oh honey I wish I could tell you

Sliding their drink to them and grabbing a few empty glasses, anything to fight the demons away at this point. I pull my hair up into a low bun, trying to relieve myself of some of the heat coming off of me.

“Warm?” Josh asks as he’s dropping off a handful of cans and glasses.

Nodding quickly, “Yeah, I don’t know why.” I laugh for a second, definitely not because she’s tormenting me through text or anything.

“You can go outside for a minute if you want; I got it.”

“I may just take you up on that.” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Throwing my phone in my pocket, I grab a cigarette from my office before hustling out back. The crisp, almost winter air hit me, instantly sending a chill through me. I lit the cigarette, only taking one drag from it before pulling my phone out.

Charlotte: tell me Jacob

My hands shake as I go to reply, whether it’s nerves or the cold, who knows? I fumble around, trying to convince myself to just say it to her.

Me: god I just want to taste you

Was that dumb? I don’t know what else to say. I wish I could just BE THERE. Taking another slow drag, I watch the little typing bubble pop up.

Charlotte: [sends photo]

“Fucking hell,” I breathe out.

My head drops back the moment it shows up. Her torso, the dark red lace, so gently cupped her. The glimmer of her nipple piercings caught the light as they’ peaked against the lace on them. She’s beautiful. The way I can see how her body curves and how soft her skin is.

Charlotte: does that mean you’re a ‘ladies first’ kind of man?

Me: first and second, if that’s okay with you

Charlotte: omg jacob?

Charlotte: that’s so hot

My stomach turns with every text; I’m so nervous. She just can’t know about it. The thought of going down on her plagues my mind. The sounds she’d make, the way she’d taste.

Me: i’m sorry you look so fucking good

Me: how am I supposed to just stand behind the bar now?

Taking the last few drags and putting it out, I head back inside. I sipped on the drink I have in my office, and then grab a mint before plopping down in my chair for a minute.

Charlotte: that’s how I felt this morning

Charlotte: you’ve been on my mind all day baby

‘Baby’ plays in my head from the other day. I can feel the blood rushing away from my brain with every flirty text she sends.

Me: what have you been thinking about?

I almost instantly regret asking because I know that the answer is going to be painful. Opening my email and scrolling through it for a moment before her name popped up in my notifications.

Charlotte: How I wish you didn’t need to work today

Charlotte: Just stayed in your bed all day with your hands all over me

Me: yeah? You want that?

You’re at work, you’re at work, you’re at work. The sigh that falls out of me as I fight off every shiver that goes through my body because of her. Finally, getting up and going back out to the bar, letting Josh go hide for a few minutes.

I take a chance to go wander around the tables and booths, talking to some of the regulars who were hidden amongst the crowd. I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh, but I try to ignore it while I get a few drink orders. I grab a few empty cans on my way back to the bar, tossing them into their bin before sliding my phone back out under the bar.

Charlotte: mhmm. Your hands or your mouth, whichever you’d prefer.

Charlotte: Just want you to touch me.

Me: god you’re killing me

Pouring the drinks, but Josh sneaks over to grab them before I can.

“How was your break?” I ask quietly.

“Lovely,” He nods slightly, “How’s your night going?” His eyes dart to my phone and back at me. The warmth spreads through me again, and I just clear my throat quietly.

He grabs my arm before quietly spitting out, “Oh, my sweet little brother, I’m not blind. You’ve been obsessively checking it; what is she saying to you?”

I can’t help but laugh, “I don’t think you want to hear it.” Raising my eyebrows as we look at each other, his grin grows across his face.

“Oh! Well, in that case, there’s a can of WD-40 in the back if you need to loosen up those joints before you see her,” he winks as he tells me, backing away with the drinks, and I flip him off carefully before I point to the table they’re supposed to be going to.

Charlotte: I just know you’d take such good care of me

Me: whatever you wanted

Charlotte: [sends photo]

A small groan escapes as I look at her. In my shirt, she’s peeking over her shoulder into the mirror. She’s definitely holding it up slightly because she’s sat on the counter, her ass perfectly outlined by that god-forsaken lace again. My cock twitches the longer I stare at her.

Me: for me?

My mouth goes dry at the thought of seeing her like that in person; the realization that it could happen was hitting me. I look at the time, 11:58 pm, before locking my phone and tossing it back under the bar.

“You can go if you want,” I tell Josh, leaning into him.

He scans the room, “Are you positive?” A fair amount of the booths and tables have cleared out at this point and there are just a few stragglers aside from the actual bar.

“Very. I can handle the rest of the night. Get out of here while it’s still early..ish,” I tell him, grabbing his shoulder with a light squeeze.

“I will not argue that,” he mutters, “if I’m asleep, love you and goodnight.” He pats my arm a few times as he walks past me.

Charlotte: just you baby 🤭

Me: wish i could kiss you right now

Charlotte: I wish you could do more than that

Me: don’t think I’d be able to control myself

Not a lie. I don’t think I’ve ever felt tension like this in my life. The fact I’m stuck here feels like low-grade torture. I grab a towel and some spray, making my rounds throughout the tables. I try to get some of the cleaning done, hoping it’ll help distract me a little.

My phone vibrates against my leg, and my heart drops, knowing it’s her.

Charlotte: [sends photo]

“Fuck me,” I quietly mutter to myself. She’s sat on her floor, her hands pulling some of my shirt in between her legs, but not enough to fully hide her lingerie. Her hair was messy and draped over her shoulders. A glorious shot of her tits, so gently pressed into each other. The desperate need to kiss my way up her legs grows stronger as I stare at them.

Me: Charlotte.

I wipe the table in front of me slowly so I can give myself a second to chill out before having to turn around.

Charlotte: yes, Jacob?

My self-control is on the floor at this point.

Me: come here

Charlotte: really?

Me: yes please come here.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moment she walked in, it made the last thirty minutes feel like they hadn’t even happened. She finds her usual seat at the bar, letting a smile sneak onto her face when she gets comfortable.

Why am I nervous now?

Bringing over her drink, it’s hard not to notice what she’s wearing. She knows what she’s doing. As I slide it across the bar, I realize that she left the bulk of the shirt unbuttoned and just tucked into her pants carefully.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, timidly grabbing the glass in front of her. Watching how the glass sits on her lip when she drinks, the movement of her throat when she swallows. I hadn’t thought of what I was doing when I told her to come here. This is worse.

“Hi,” I manage to get out, “you look .. nice.” My eyes trailed down her body, trying not to make it too obvious to anybody else, but the moment I noticed that I could see the same bra she had on in the pictures she sent me, my heart stopped. She must have caught me because she leaned forward in her seat a little, making the shirt shift so I had an even clearer shot of it.

I slowly blink as my head shakes, taking a subtle deep breath because I still have forty-five minutes before I can kick everybody out.

“What’s wrong?” she asks coyly.

“I think you know.” Backing away to make sure everybody else at the bar is good, I feel like I have to manually move my eyes away from her. Why didn’t I tell her to get here later? I have to act normal and I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that right now.

Thankfully, for me, around 1:30 am is when most people start to head out, so I spend a few minutes grabbing the tabs for people, taking care of those while I feel her eyes on me the entire time. The customers next to her also want to head out, so I bring over their receipt, leaning into the bar a bit purposefully, letting my shirt fall open a little more where I know she can see it. I glance over at her with my eyebrow cocked as I see her eyes shoot up to meet mine.

“I saw that,” I mumble to her.

The corners of her lips curling up slightly, she whispers back, “Good.”

As time crept by, I wonder to myself why I thought having her here would be the better option. We’ve been having staring contests the entire time, not even saying anything to each other, just from across the bar.

There’s only a few stragglers lingering, so I do one more lap around the tables, making sure to grab anything that was left. But, the moment she’s in my peripheral vision again, my self-control lowers more.

Strolling up behind her, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around her, I rest my hand on the base of her neck.

“You doing okay?” I ask, my hand squeezing the back of her neck gently.

Her head turned a little to try and look at me, “I could be better.” The smile on her face was making me sweat.

“Give me like ten minutes,” I lean in close to her ear, “I’ll make sure of it.” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Following the last customers to the door, I flip off the signs as they make their way out. My heart is pounding as I turn the locks over on the doors. The sudden realization that we’re fully alone washes over me, but the need to feel her touch overrides it.

I turn around to look at her, and she’s already walking over to me. I quickly meet her halfway, my hands pulling her face to me, the desperate need to feel her lips on mine finally relieved as the kiss goes on. Her hands pull on my shirt like she can’t get close enough. Leaning down, I grab the backs of her knees, lifting her up, and her legs wrap around me, never detaching from the kiss. Her hands slide up into my hair as she smiles against my lips.

Walking her back over, I set her on the bar top, my hands on either side of her. Kissing the side of her neck, I can see her breathing getting heavier. Fiddling with the buttons on my shirt, exposing her. The dark red lace against her pale complexion, holy shit, only looking at her for a moment before trailing kisses down her sternum. My hands find their place around her waist, hovering my mouth over her, looking up at her; she’s intently watching me, letting out a tiny whimper.

“Please, Jacob,” she breathes out.

My mouth connects with her instantly; her moan rings through my ears. I slide my hand up, gently pulling the lace away from her, and goosebumps slowly creep in. Letting my thumb graze over her peaked nipple, I press a kiss to her other breast.

Her thighs tense up with every time I swirl my tongue around her. Moving my hands and spreading her thighs so I can stand between them, pulling her to the edge of the bar. She unbuttons her pants, pushing them down, and lifting herself enough to slide them to her thighs for me.

“Well, aren’t you an eager little thing?” I mumble, pulling them off her. “Lay back for me, honey?” She practically fell to her elbows, her eyes locked on me.

Pressing wet kisses down her stomach but stopped as soon as I hit the dainty lace. The nerves of touching her for the first time hit; don’t fuck this up. I run my hands down her thighs, pushing them further apart before teasingly leaving little kisses closer and closer to where she really wants me to be.

“Is this okay?” Looking up at her from between her legs. She lets out a breathy ‘yes’; her eyes look desperate for some sort of touch. I plant a kiss over her covered clit, getting the most delicious moan out of her. I can’t resist from pulling the fabric to the side. She’s soaked already.

One slow lick up her center, and she already dropped her head back. Smiling as I swirl my tongue around her clit, lightly sucking, doing anything to keep the noises coming out of her. She’s so quiet typically, I would have never expected her to be so vocal, but I’m not complaining.

“Oh my god, Jake,” she moans. The sound of my name falling from her lips has me groaning into her. She tastes so sweet; I can’t get enough of her. You would think I was starving with the way my mouth couldn’t stop. Glancing up at her as my tongue laps around her clit, her eyes meeting mine as she lets out another delicious moan. I tease her with my middle finger, just barely touching her, and she jumps at the feeling.

“Please,” she whines, still looking down at me.

“Oh, you want this?” I ask, sliding my middle finger into her and slowly pumping my hand into her, watching her mouth fall open. The wetter she gets, the faster I go. Trying to find just the right spot, needing to make her feel good. Pressing up so slightly as I pull back. The way her mouth opens more; that’s it, sweet girl.

“Oh- oh my god,” she moans out, “more, please. Please, baby.” The name makes my heart flutter and my dick twitch; my ring finger joins in, watching her eyes roll back and pressing up into that special place that makes her want to scream. I pump my fingers into her, listening to her pretty moans as she keeps grabbing the edges of the bar like they’re her lifeline.

“Oh, is that good?”

A slew of ‘oh my gods’ and ‘holy shit’ come from her as I start to play with her clit with my other hand. Rubbing little circles to drive her mad, watching her writhe with pleasure, her back arching off the bar. Fuck me.

“Come for me, honey.”

I can feel her about to break, dipping my head down and swirling around her quickly with my tongue. Her hands tangled themselves in my hair, holding me there. Groaning into her at the feeling and lifting her leg so I can wrap my arm around her, the back of her knee lands over my shoulder as I’m pulling her into me.

“Oh- baby, don’t stop, please, please- oh, oh my GOD,” her volume increases as her orgasm hits her, and she’s pulling my hair as she’s practically riding my face. My name has never sounded better than the way she’s yelling it.

She sits up after a minute, pulling my face to hers and planting a kiss on me.

“Where did you- how- um, so .. yeah, how did you?” She stumbles over her words, and without stopping, she’s unbuttoning my shirt. I laugh as she’s trying to form a coherent thought.

“I told you it would be worth it,” I whisper into her ear, placing a kiss just below it. “But, I‘m not done with you yet,” comes out of me, in almost a growl. Who am I?

Helping her off the bar, she grabs my arms, turning us around and pushing me back into it. Her hands work my belt and button in my jeans as fast as they can as she’s trailing kisses down my neck. Her hand dipping into my boxers; I let out a groan when she wraps her hand around me.

“I need you,” slips out of me as she strokes a few times. She presses her lips to mine, mumbling in between kisses, “Please, fuck me, Jacob.” I can’t stop the moan that comes out after that.

“I don’t have a-,“ I start to whisper when she cuts me off quickly.

“That's okay,” she tells me, kissing underneath my jaw. I grab her arms, already missing the feeling of her hand on me. Walking her backwards, our heated kisses made it hard to walk straight. I slide the shirt off of her and toss it onto a barstool. Reaching a table, I spin her around so her back is against my chest, my hands snaking around her small frame. I reach up, softly rubbing small circles over her nipples until her head falls back onto me.

My right hand crept up, sliding it up her throat until I was holding her jaw. Her mouth opens slightly at the feeling; taking the risk, I lightly rest my finger on her lip. Unprepared for her to immediately tilt her head back up, wrapping her lips around it.

“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. “Can you bend over for me, honey?” Her tongue swirls around it before She leans forward onto the table, pushing her ass into me.

She knows what she’s doing. My hands slide over her. I squat down for just a second, spreading her open and licking a wide stripe up her. I saw the goosebumps on her skin as I kiss her before standing up.

I slide my boxers down far enough for my cock to be free, the relief from being out alone. I pull the lace to the side again, lining myself up with her. Slowly pushing into her, she lets out a loud moan. God, she feels good. I let myself bottom out in her, giving her a second before I move. And myself, to be honest.

“Baaaby,” she lets out. I hold her hips as I start to pull back, slowly thrusting into her. My own moans start falling out as our pace picks up. Looking down as I push into her, my mouth hangs open; the feeling is surreal.

“Feel good?”

She lets out a small ‘yes’ while she arches her back more. The sounds of my hips slapping against her, the way I can feel how wet she is, the feeling as she’s pushing back against my thrusts to feel as full as she can.

“Holy shit, Charlotte.”

She looks back at me through her eyelashes and, with the sweetest voice, tells me, “harder.”

My heart pounds at her words. Without hesitation, I step my left foot up onto the booth, gripping her waist, and start snapping my hips as hard as I can into her. I bite the inside of my lip as her moans get louder while I keep hitting the right spot over and over. Fuck, she feels so good. Watching how she stretches her arms in front of her, her knuckles white with how hard she’s holding her own hand.

I bend down, hovering my lips over her ear when I whisper, “I know you have one more for me, honey.” Her moan was enough of a response for me. My necklace barely grazed the skin between her shoulder blades, and I watched the goosebumps flood her skin. I press a kiss against that same spot before standing back up. I grab her arms, pulling her up so her back is pressed against me. My hand dipped in between her legs, finding her clit that was just screaming for my attention. My fingers quickly start working at it, as her chest is heaving at this point, and I can feel her orgasm about to break. Both of us breathe heavily as she tilts her head back, and I sneak a kiss on her neck, letting out a small ‘mmm’ against her skin.

“Jacob, baby,” she moans.

“Tell me,” I groaned back to her.

“I’m gonna-“ is all she gets out before her jaw goes slack and her eyes are fixed shut.

“Let it out,” I whisper as I pound into her. She's moaning loudly in my ear, pulling my hand away when she starts to get too sensitive. I slow my hips down so she can recover, watching the soft smile settle on her lips. She pulls my arms around her, leaning her head back against me until she shifts slightly, and we both remember that I’m still buried inside her.

“Hun, I’m not gonna last much longer,” I tell her quietly before I press a kiss to her temple. She taps my hip a few times so I’d back up. She drops down and just, with no thought, slides my cock into her mouth. Swirling her tongue around it as she bobs her head up and down the length of it. Using her hands on whatever she can’t comfortably do with her mouth. And god, is she good at it.

The thought of her doing this after she just came on me inches me closer. I glance down to see her looking back up at me, and the visual alone has me two seconds away from finishing.

“I’m so close, don’t stop,” it’s my turn to whimper. She pushes it further into her mouth, she swallows around me and I’m done for. One of my hands found its place on the back of her head, fighting the urge to thrust into her.

“Fuck, Charlotte—“ Practically yelling her name as I release into her throat, her hands working me through it. Swallowing as she stands up, she presses a gentle kiss on my lips. I can’t believe that just happened.

“Well, um,” I mumble, breathing heavily and wrapping my arms around her, “that was..”

“So fucking good.” She giggles, tucking her face into me, mumbling, “You’re so hot.”

My face feels warm when she says it; she thought it was that good? We stand there for a few minutes, just laughing, as she’s curled up in my arms.

“Wanna just sleep here?”

“Only if you’ll carry me up the stairs,” she says with a little smirk, her hands pressed against my chest, “I don’t think my legs could do it right now.”

“You’re gonna give me a complex,” I laugh, kissing her forehead, “get dressed real quick.” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After pretending to be Prince Charming and carrying her up the two flights of stairs, we both immediately crawl into bed. She makes herself comfortable, tugging my arm over her so she can back herself into me and wiggling her ass against my dick.

“Hey now,” I mumble, “don’t start something you’re not gonna finish.”

Her soft laughs fill the room, “Who said I wouldn’t finish it?”

“Charlotte.”

“What, baby?” Her voice taunts me as she slides her hand into mine and arching her back a little. My entire body feels like it’s full of butterflies.

My face tucked into her, I quietly laughed while pressing kisses to the top of her shoulder. If she keeps calling me that, I don’t know how I’m going to ever say no to her. I kiss the side of her neck, pulling her body tight against mine before whispering into her ear, “You’re gonna have to stay quiet this time. Can you do that for me, honey?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Sixteen

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

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