#southwest friends don't pick on me

[cultivating-wildflowers]

pain

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[thiswasinevitableid]

Greener Pastures (Vincent/Apollo)

Second place of the "First Rodeo" prompt poll was "Greener Pastures. For those who don't know, Apollo was introduced in this Amnesty Superhero AU. Thank you to @bellafarallones2 for playing in this space on Discord!

He was star of the rodeos but now they rob him blind

It took 18 years of Brahma Bulls and life on the line

To get this spread and decent herd but now he spends his time

Pulling night guard. 

-Stan Rogers, Night Guard

“How many does that make?” Duck stands from where he’s examining the tire tracks at the southern end of the pasture. 

“Seven.” Vincent removes his hat, fanning himself with it, “If they get anymore I’m in serious trouble. The car’s paid off but the house isn’t; I’ve already been to the bank once to explain the situation and they’re not happy.”

His neighbor stands, knees cracking worryingly for a man who’s only 32, “Cops got anythin’?”

“Nothing. I’m small potatoes, Duck, they don’t care about one old rancher losing his herd.” He sighs, “I’ve been on watch every night this week, but there’s too much distance to cover, and they know it. They got the last one out from under me.”

“You want me to help? Might go better with more eye’s on ‘em.”

Vincent considers it. He’s known Duck since he was 16, knows the offer of help isn’t given if it’s not meant. 

But if this goes wrong, his friend doesn’t deserve to be hauled into jail with him. 

“I’ll think about it. I have a plan tonight; if that doesn’t work, I might just take you up that offer.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vincent leaves a pile of windfalls from Duck’s orchard in the southwest corner of his property, and the cows can’t resist, munching happily as Vincent uses the scant oak trees for cover. 

The black R.E.O pulls in silently, lights off. Dulce stomps her feet when the tires stop, but Vincent shushes her softly, petting a flank to keep her calm. 

Two figures, the same size and height, leave the cab, ushering one of his heifers into the back of the truck. He can’t move just yet. He needs the proof. 

As the truck begins pulling away, he pulls his Winchester from the scabbard on the saddle, takes aim, and fires four shots. 

The cattle scatter, panicked, and Dulce nickers, alarmed. There’s two, responding bangs as two tires blow, sending the truck careening side to side before the driver loses control and plows headfirst into an empty drainage ditch. The passenger door  flies open and one figure takes off across the road and into the neighboring field. 

As Dulce trots over to the wreck, he hears another truck coming. The lights from Duck’s pick-up render the whole sight like a scene from a picture show, and the vehicle is barely stopped before the younger man is hopping out. 

“Jesus fuckin christ, Vince, you scared the hell outta me. Thought you’d gone and got shot.”

“I’m alright. I worried the driver might not be. I didn’t aim anywhere near him, but I only got two tires with four shots.”

Duck hops down into the ditch as Vincent shines his flashlight on the door. When it opens, a figure is slumped over the wheel, and his heart climbs up his throat. Then the rustler stirs, groaning, and looks at Duck. His angular face is partially hidden by red glasses, and his pale hair is almost white. 

“Hello.” The thief’s gaze moves from Duck to Vincent, then to the rifle, “Ah. I see. I understand my position is not an ideal one, and my bargaining power low, but I would appreciate it if you did not shoot me.”

Blood is running down his chin; he must have hit his nose in the crash. He looks more like a dazed deer than a threat. 

“Get him into the house and get my cow back to the herd.” Vincent jerks his light in the direction the other man ran, “I’ll deal with that one.”

Duck nods and Vincent turns Dulce into the starlit night. 

The second thief has made it a decent distance, but he’s only heading in the direction of more flat grass and so Vincent does him the courtesy of calling, “You may as well stop now. You won’t outrun me.”

He doesn’t stop, seems to try to sprint, only to fall a moment later. Vincent can hear him cursing the entire time he rides up. 

When he dismounts, the man looks up, unafraid and sneering. 

Vincent puts the barrel against his throat. 

“The safety is on.” 

“I know.” He sighs, “I’m not actually going to shoot you. But I need you to understand the gravity of the situation.”

The grin widens, “Coward.”

“Get up.” Vincent stands back so the man can climb to his feet. He seems unsteady on them, though it’s not until his hands are tied and Dulce is kneeling for him to get on that Vincent understands why; his ankle is sprained, though he’s been walking around on it without wincing this whole time. 

The short walk back to the house is a litany of insults to his weight, age, intelligence, cleanliness, and parentage. Were it any other day, he’d be able to let it roll off him, remind himself that he’s not interested in the opinions of cruel people. 

Were it any other day, he wouldn’t have spent the morning in the bank, staring down the loss of everything he nearly broke his back for. 

The rustler thrashes and twists as Vincent helps him down, clearly trying to make a break for the ditch, or possibly for Vincent’s own truck. By the time they burst through the front door, he’s holding the boy by the scruff. 

Duck is just hanging up the phone, and both he and the other thief jump at the bang of the windowpane on the door. The thief is holding a frozen bag of peas to his forehead, and in the light of the kitchen Vincent can now see he and the man trying to kick his legs out from under him must be twins. 

“Apollo, for heaven’s sake, stop that. Hurting them is not going to do anything but make this hole deeper.”

“I will not be cowed by some fat, old man!” 

“Be quiet.” Vincent turns to Duck, “was that the sheriff?”

“Yep.” Duck leans against the wall, frowning, “but he says he won’t send anyone out to pick ‘em up. When Indrid here gave me their names, that made a little more sense. These are Cold’s boys.” He glares at Apollo, “why they’re stealin from decent folk when their pa owns half the fuckin county is fuckin beyond me.”

“It is a long story. But I did tell you they would not send anyone; you needn’t have troubled with the call.”

“You ain’t exactly proved yourself the honest type.”

Indrid bites his lip, “If our actions have caused a financial burden, perhaps we could work it off?”

“At least one of you has sense, and some manners.” Vincent releases Apollo, but keeps a hand on his shoulder. 

Apollo flicks his blonde hair from his face, then sinks his teeth into the side of Vincent’s hand. 

“God fucking–” he catches himself, doesn’t swing out with his other hand to slap him. Instead he shoves at his shoulder and tries to pull away, tries to pull Apollos hair, but all the man does is bite down harder. 

“Fuck, is he part Gila Monster?” Duck tries to pry Apollo off with limited success

“That is certainly one theory.” Indrid pinches his brothers nose, and after ten seconds of spluttering the other twin finally releases Vincent’s now-bleeding hand. 

“Traitor! We could have run just then if you’d hit this brick with something.” He kicks Duck in the ankle. 

“I am not going back to him.” Indrid says to him with what Vincent is coming to understand as very reasonable fear.

“Coward. Traitorous, useless coward!” Apollo lunges at his brother, but this time Duck is ready with the dog leash from the front door, wrapping it around his wrists and trapping them behind his back.

 Vincent hauls the still-thrashing brat into the spare room, muttering, “I ought to put you over my knee” under his breath as he slams the door and slumps against it in the kitchen. Duck is watching him with concern. 

“I…I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t like to lose my temper.”

“Apollo has that effect on people.” Indrid sits back down as Vincent washes his hand and fetches a bandage from the bathroom. 

“You don’t think he might have rabies, do you?” He’s only half-joking. 

Indrid shakes his head, “It would be nice if it could be explained so simply.” He fiddles with the corner of the now-thawed peas, “I truly am sorry. And I wish I could say that we–or, I suppose, he–will not do it again. But that would be a lie. Father has his reasons for demanding we do such things. Apollo might steer clear of Capra Farms, but he will find someone else’s livelihood to undermine.”

“So, what, we’re just supposed to keep him here like a fuckin lion in a zoo?”

“That may be our best choice. At least for now.”  Vincent looks at Indrid, “Can you bale hay and pick fruit?”

Indrid nods, almost eager. 

“Duck, I suggest you take this Mr. Cold up on his offer. You need more hands than I do. I’ll keep Apollo here with me for now; maybe once he’s calmed down he’ll see reason.”

And if not Vincent thinks I always was good at breaking in horses. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Knowing when to ignore things is a skill. If Apollo can apply it now, he can get himself out of this. He will ignore the pain in the ankle that fat old goat made him bandage himself. He will ignore Indrid’s betrayal. He will ignore the inexplicable surge of heat that came with his captor threatening to put him over his knee. 

He will ignore it. He will bide his time. And then he will take back his car, steal anything and everything of value Vincent Capra owns, and go home. 

Apollo supposes he could use the phone in the kitchen to call the cops to fetch him. But Capra has earned vengeance, and that will take time. 

When the door to his little room, with its small but comfortable bed and shelf of old books, is finally unlocked, he does his best to walk un-hobbled into the kitchen. 

“Good morning.” Vincent does not turn from the stove, where he’s scrambling eggs in the early morning light. 

Apollo says nothing, simply sitting down and pouring himself coffee. 

Vincent turns, setting a plate of toast next to jam and butter, and the bowl of eggs next to a little vase of wildflowers. Apollo realizes he did not, in fact, take the old man's place at the table; there are two settings laid out. 

“I want to apologize for my behavior.” Apollo says with as much sincerity as he can conjure, “my brother had the right idea. I will help around your…farm. To pay back what I owe.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Vincent replies mildly. Then he pauses in buttering his toast, “I’m sorry for how I acted. I doubt you can understand what losing livestock means, but all the same I shouldn’t have threatened you.”

He sets the toast down and Apollo realizes; the old goat is embarrassed.

Pathetic. 

“I hope we might be able to start fresh this morning. I have a few jobs you should be table to do without aggravating your ankle.” He holds out a hand, “do we have a deal?”

Apollo shakes it with his best smile, “We do.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vincent doesn’t trust Apollo any further than he can throw him–which, after that bull bucked him in 73 and hurt his back, isn’t far–but at least the younger man can follow directions. 

He fed the chickens and collected eggs, cleaned dishes and milked the cow Vincent keeps just for that. He also got himself barked at by Quixote before Vincent whistled at the dog to follow him out to the pasture. 

When Vincent sets dinner on the table, the younger man actually thanks him before helping himself to the meatloaf and green beans. 

There’s a clink as Apollo sets the fork down, staring at his plate. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?”

“This being…?” He fills his water glass. 

“The food, old man.”

“I’m not about to let you starve, or make a separate, sad meal just to punish you. So, you eat what I eat.”

“But why does it taste so, so good?”

Apollo seems so perplexed Vincent stifles a laugh. 

“Because that’s how food is supposed to taste. I may not be a rich man, but butter and salt and nice spices are some of life's little joys,”

“Ah.” Apollo says, understanding without grasping his reasoning. 

Vincent assumed Apollo’s life was a luxurious one up until now. Now he wonders if the twins had been like prized stallions, kept too close and penned in for fear of losing their value, greener grass only seen when they were let loose to do their fathers bidding. 

“If you want a real treat, I still have cherry preserves from Duck’s last harvest. Can you check the freezer? There may be some ice cream in there that it would top beautifully.”

Apollo balks at the order a moment, but still stands up and opens the door. When he turns and nods, it’s with a far more genuine smile than the one he gave this morning. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

It takes five days for Apollo’s ankle to take his weight, and once it does Vincent puts him to work more concertedly. He spends all of Saturday fixing a stretch of barbed wire, comes in sore and sunburnt but flops into bed after dinner feeling…oddly pleased with himself. 

Sunday morning finds biscuits and gravy in the kitchen, with Vincent telling him he needs to run into town for some supplies for dinner. Apparently, the older man observes the silly tradition of not working more than needed on Sundays.

When the truck pulls out, Apollo takes a test jog around the house, and looks over his damaged car. Unless he can lure a mechanic out here, he’ll have to take Vincent’s truck when he finally makes his run for it. 

Climbing up the porch steps, he finds Indrid waiting for him with a suitcase. 

“Duck drove me back to the house when I knew father would be gone. I got my things, and a few of yours.” 

“Good. I’m sick of wearing these hideous hand me downs. The pants are all too short and the shirts all too wide.” 

“I was also sent with this” Indrid lifts a basket of cherries, “it turns out Duck’s orchard is prize winning. He also sells hay to half the ranches in the county.”

“I do not care.”

Indrid sighs, “I know.”

“Is he mistreating you?”

“No” His brother looks horrified, “Duck has been wonderful to me. Especially given the circumstances under which we met.”

“Oh. good.” 

“Try not to sound so disappointed.” Indrid steps down, past him.

“I am not. Now go away. Vincent will be back soon and I want to sweep the house before he is.” He ignores how that sounds and wills Indrid to do the same. His brother cocks his head slightly, but says nothing else as he starts back up the road. 

Vincent returns just as Apollo is tossing out the last of the dust and throwing a stick for Quixote to fetch. Dinner is pork chops, apple sauce, and onions cooked brown and sweet. Vincent sips his beer while Apollo sticks to an orange soda. 

After their meal, Apollo is looking for something to read in the main bedroom when he notices the photo on the wall. 

“That’s you.”

“After my first big win on the circuit. Two days later I put most of the prize money into the account that turned into this farm.”

“Ah.” Apollo feels something dangerously close to guilt.

“I do think I cut quite a figure back then.”

“Yes. Though you have only gotten better with age.”

It’s the kind of compliment that soothes the egos of little men who nonetheless have something the Colds need. Only when it’s out does he understand he means it. The Vincent in the picture, dark haired and beaming, dust on his cheeks, is handsome. The man beside him, grey haired, with more weight to him and more lines on his face, is stunning.

Vincent chuckles, accepting the compliment but not believing it.

“I…I was going to sit. On the porch. To watch the fireflies and…and maybe see if I could spot the owl who has been calling. Would you like to join me?” 

Why is it so hard to ask? Why does it seem to take a thousand years for Vincent to answer?

A gentle smile, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apollo is kneeling by the fireplace. It’s snowing outside, and Vincent sits in the chair before him, fully clothed, firelight making him look like a painting, like the statues of great men in the museums Apollo went to as a child. 

The rifle is on his lap and he shifts the barrel out over his knees. Apollo leans forward, taking it into his mouth and sucking. Vincent murmurs that he’s doing well, that he’s so very pretty like this. The gun is not loaded, this he is certain of. Even if it was, he is certain he would not be afraid. It is safe like this, comforting, and as it always does the dream melts into the two of them in the fields, grass green as Vincent takes him into his arms. 

He wakes up to the smell of coffee and toast, the way he has every morning for the last three weeks. Apollo is no fool; he knows what his dream means. Knows that every insistence to himself that he did not like men has been a lie, perhaps even the longest lie of his life. He also knows that his brother was kissing that silly cherry grower by the western fence last night. 

If Indrid, odd and unappealing as he is, can make someone kiss him, surely Apollo can do the same. 

They’re fixing the barn door today; it was knocked off its hinges by a bad summer storm. The chore passes uneventfully, the two of them discussing whether to go into town for a movie on Sunday, when Vincent’s jeans catch on a nail, ripping a hole in the thigh. 

“That was close.” The older man checks to be certain there’s no injury, “thank goodness I wore the thickest pair.”

Apollo nods, eyes on the patch of now-exposed skin. There is a tattoo there. An arm and something green, he thinks. 

Vincent has a tattoo. And if Apollo does not get a full look at it soon, he is certain he will lose his mind.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been hot enough that, were it anyone else but Apollo, Vincent would assume the suggestion of a swim was solely due to the weather. 

But he knows his Apollo. There is always an ulterior motive. 

He scolds himself as they arrive at the swimming hole; Apollo isn’t his. He’s working off a debt, and one day he’ll fly off somewhere new, either by mutual agreement or by stealing everything Vincent owns. 

That option should worry him more, but it’s hard to view Apollo as a threat when the hardened cattle rustler is animatedly talking about the heron they saw on their walk here while trying to get out of his clothes. 

He strips down and climbs into the water as Apollo is distracted by a hawk overhead. When the younger man sees he’s already in, he looks almost annoyed. Vincent does avert his eyes as Apollo tosses his underwear away; he’s swam naked with plenty of friends, but he’s certain Apollo has not done the same. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable. 

That worry evaporates when the blonde stands directly next to him, looking down with an intensity Vincent is trying not to read too much into. 

Then Apollo huffs, grabs his leg, and sends him backwards into the water. 

He twists away and comes up spluttering.

“Hold still!”

“Apollo, what on earth-”

“What part of hold still was unclear, old man?” Apollo grabs for his leg again.

“What are you trying to do?”

“See your tattoo. I need to know what it is of!”

“Asking is preferable to drowning me.” His exasperation is fond as he sets his leg on a rock so Apollo can see the blonde merman inked into his skin. 

“It’s…it’s a man.” Apollo blinks, tilting his head. 

“Yes. He wasn’t cheap, so please don’t insult him.”

“Do you like blondes?” Apollo’s eyes flick to his face, then back to the tattoo.

“It’s been known to happen.” Vincent lowers his leg back down so he’s standing comfortably. 

“Blonde…men?”

“Yes, Apollo.” He says patiently, amused that his clever ranch hand seems so stymied. 

“As in you like men to have sex with? While also being a man?”

“That's generally how it works.” He takes a step forward as Apollo goes stiff and faces him like he’s expecting execution. 

“I think I would like to have sex. With you. Because I have been having dreams that are about your gun. And sucking on it. When it’s not loaded.”

“Oh, my gun is always loaded.” He teases. 

Apollo looks alarmed. 

“That was a sex joke.” He says reassuringly, and hazards putting his arms around Apollo’s waist. 

“Oh. Ha. Ha?”

Were he being charming, being bold, Vincent would fear this was all an act. But the awkward shyness of it all leaves no doubt in his mind as to what the man in his arms is after. 

“You’re an odd little bird, Apollo Cold.” He strokes an angular cheek. 

“And that is a good thing?” Apollo sets his hands on Vincent’s shoulders.

“I certainly like it.” He tilts his chin up,meaning only to offer the invitation, but Apollo is instantly kissing him. It’s painfully, endearingly inexperienced, and the younger man seems to know it. 

“I, I have not done this before. I am sorry if I am bad at it.” He takes Vincent's hand and kisses over the skin still a little pink from the healed bite.

“You’ve picked up plenty of skills on my farm. I think you’ll manage this one.”

Apollo grins, bright and breathtaking as a sunrise, “I may need a bit more practice. Though I would prefer somewhere less damp.”

Vincent climbs from the water and helps Apollo up after him, enjoying the way his cheeks redden when he’s eye level with his cock. Then he fetches the blanket they brought, lays it out in the shade of a tree, and lays down with his lover in the soft, green grass

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Muse || Vaas Montenegro

Warning(s): The Pocky Game, bored Vaas, OC (Liv), Vaas being Vaas, short one-shot.

An unexpected storm blew in from the southwest, hitting the Rook Islands like a freight train. Liv found herself caught in it, hiding in her cage at the outpost like a stray. The wind was so strong that it made the rain feel like needles were pricking her skin. She hugged her body close, but it made no difference. And to make matters worse, Vaas was bored. 

Liv never thought she would see the day. On top of being rather clever and unpredictable, Vaas was also creative, even though his ideas were atrocious. She truly believed that braving the storm, as opposed to braving him, was the smartest option; the lesser of two evils. 

This is why she was distraught when Carlos forced her from the cage and took her to the hut that Vaas was currently shut up in. At the front door, she turned to the pirate, pleading to him with her eyes.

“It's such a beautiful day. Can't I just sit in my cage and enjoy it?” 

Carlos gave her a look of disbelief like she had grown an extra head. 

“You have finally lost your fucking mind.” 

She would lose more than her mind if she was Vaas’ last option for entertainment.

“He's waiting,” Carlos mentioned, motioning toward the hut.

Liv tossed him an angry look, then plodded through the front door. As she turned the corner into the bedroom, she saw Vaas sitting at the desk in front of the laptop, watching Zack Snyder's ‘Dawn of the Dead’; it was either a pirated copy, or he found it in someone's suitcase. While he seemed content with the movie, he was bouncing his leg like a stressed-out parent beneath the desktop. He cut his eyes to her and opened his mouth, but whatever he was in the process of saying was lost as he noticed the state of her person, soaked from head to toe. 

“Were you raised by animals? Go change your fucking clothes. You are getting water on my floor,” Vaas chided. He motioned behind him to a pile of suitcases across the room. Some of them were new. “¿Ya nadie tiene modales (does no one have manners anymore)?”

Liv tightened her jaw. It was not like she wanted to entertain him. She was content with sitting out in the damn storm. Without protesting, she strode over to the suitcases and rummaged through them, choosing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that she could tie off. As she was standing, she noticed a familiar rectangular box amongst the bathroom products. 

“No way,” she uttered, picking it up. “Look what I found.” 

Vaas paused the movie and peeked over his shoulder, having to squint to read the words printed on the front. 

“The fuck is Pocky?”

“It's a snack from Japan, but you can buy them in convenience stores in America,” Liv answered. She looked at the expiration date and grinned in excitement. “Someone must have brought them on the flight over. I love these things. Chocolate is my favorite, but the strawberry sticks are great too.” 

Besides movies, Vaas had never seen her so enthralled in something. He had no idea she liked sweets. He snorted and watched her put them down on the bed, before hurrying into the next room with her arms full of clothes. When she reappeared, she snatched up the pink box and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Do you want one?” She asked as she tore open the lid.

Why the fuck not. Vaas shrugged his shoulders. Taking one from her, he took a tentative bite. It was not bad for a biscuit stick with an artificial coating. 

“This gets you wet, no?” 

Liv felt her face heat up. 

“I don't know what it is about them, but they are like crack.” 

Vaas snorted. 

“My friends and I used to play the Pocky Game with them. Invite a big group and see who would bitch out first,” she added. “It's an innocent game, though it led to a few weird hookups. And there's even a drinking game.” 

Vaas could not imagine what sort of game she was referring to. The name seemed ridiculous enough.

“Show me.”

Liv felt her heart race.

“I don't think you'd like it. I mean…it's a game for teenagers.”

“Fóllame (fuck me). You brought it up,” Vaas pointed out. He switched from the chair to the bed, snatching the box from her. “Show me. Come on.” 

Liv tightened her jaw. Why did she have to mention the game?

“So, you take a stick and put one end in your mouth, and I put the other end in mine. We have to maintain eye contact as we each eat to the middle. If the stick breaks, or one of us bitches out, then we lose. It's a tie if…if we kiss.”

Vaas grinned. “Lady and the Tramp, no?”

Liv nodded. It was exactly like that. She figured the concept of the game would sound childish to Vaas, that he would turn it down, but when he slid a stick from the box and placed the coated end against her lips, her heart raced. 

“Be a good girl, querida (darling). Ábreme (open up for me).” 

She nearly whined. As much as she did not want to anger him, she was nervous. Vaas was in no way a coward. She knew that he would take it to the end and kiss her. But was she ready for that? She was not sure. 

“There are other games we can–”

“Abre tu boca por mí (open your mouth for me).” Interjected Vaas. 

Hesitantly, she did so. Vaas slid the coated end into her mouth, then placed the other end into his mouth. His eyes kept hers as they began to eat the Pocky, but even he could see how nervous she was. Her pale skin was red as though she had sat hours in the sun and her blue eyes were glossy. When their lips came close to touching, he reached up and flicked the stick hard, breaking it. 

Liv sat back in shock. Why did he do that? She took the remaining stick from her mouth and tried to ask him, but Vaas gently squeezed her cheeks, puckering her lips; she reminded him of a Naso Tang.

“First kisses have to be special, no?” He winked, then released her. 

Tossing her a stick, Vaas stood with a grin.

“Like crack, you say.” 

He knew Liv would snap him out of his boredom. She was his muse after all. 

It was later that she learned what Vaas did with the remaining sticks, playing a twisted version of the Pocky Game with a few prisoners who were unfortunate enough to not have buyers. Their partners were not humans, however, but vicious crocodiles and cassowaries. 

Liv was fortunate, she realized, and never whined again about having to entertain Vaas. 

[deadbeandrop]

is lumpus a city boy

y'know i really love asking in that way (there's something cute yet almost mocking about the phrase) but you get me, see, i already have a list of this stuff i've been trying to figure out for everyone

for the record, at the same time i've also been trying to nail down the other factors that come with a family situation there, like, work statuses of the household, wealth, what time frame i'm working from (it's such a nightmare trying to get a job and own a house in comparison rn...) so i'll talk about that a bit too... and there is also the ever present "do you guys know how fucking Expensive it actually is to stay at a summer camp this long???" thing that unfortunately my very specific brain has me thinking about even though it doesn't matter in Cartoon Land and i simply have a Prablem

(i'm also still learning about some of these terms i use because i have no life experience but i hope this still paints a picture here even if it might not be fully correct...?)

so for lumpus specifically we're looking at

- two parents who aren't particularly young when he's born (my friends not too much older than me talk about their 50+ parents and i'm like What???)

- a span of years where it's still easier to make enough money to own a house and be alright on one good source of income (his father works but i'm not sure what his job is yet... maybe he should go work at the nuclear power plant all homer simpson-style and die ☺️ idk)

- a flashback that i'm working off of where things look pretty average over there (i do still have the idea that the house is a hand-me-down from one of their parents on the table though... in general my brain still tilts to working class in a different era but this is subject to change a bit)

- me having already placed a general area in the state that i've been playing in (i've been eyeing sort of the southwest here but i do need to think about it more and the distance from camp further north)

- at least enough money to be sent to camp for the summer (even if he has to scrounge it up over the year, but i've also been thinking of camp kidney already being a bit different/weird on this front)

- and a character where camp being something of an "escape" for him is actually pretty important

so i don't think he's a country boy, but i also definitely haven't been imagining things directly in the city, so i placed him in the middle zone, which means they're either somewhere in suburbs or a little bit outside of that... not overwhelmingly urban but still not too far. i'm only learning today what i might be thinking is usually called the exurbs, maybe...? i don't have a strong sense of reference for a lot of things so a lot of my thinking is based in places where i've lived... and he very likely may not have a super accessible woods to go and frolic in but maybe the issue is just that he has no one to do it with cus he's an only child with no friends growing up LOL

the Main part of the Escape aspect is still on other factors, i.e. he's lonely at home, his parents fight a lot and his dad's an alcoholic and he has a very complicated relationship with them (you know how it goes), he's not the best in school and gets picked on and in trouble a lot there as well, etc.

and i think it's almost helpful to describe everything in contrast to slinkman's family, which in comparison is a bit easier to pin down. his family is more on the side of upper middle class (?) and they have a good sized house with passive income (father's a landlord) to be comfortable with and are actively involved in their community. they do live in the suburbs just because a mix of the of the type of people they are (his father's a city boy but his mother's on the country end) and cus they do have the privilege to do so. they're able to pay for slinkman to go to college/uni and for lumpus to fuck around over there but for slinkman to still feel like he's leeching off of their support too much... and it's almost that feeling to me when i visit an older relative who's got an actual House, and it's a decent size, its always clean, and there's a spare bedroom or two, and they're always busy or off doing something, and it still feels like they have the money to spare on whatever even if they don't really... to me that's still almost the feeling lumpus gets when he stays with slinkman and his parents for a while LOL

so the difference between their situations at least in translation to today is something like this to me:

To me middle class is staying afloat - you make enough money, can save up for a minor goal like a vacation or even a medium goal like a car down payment but you’d probably finance the car rather than purchase it in cash. A minor emergency or car issue won’t break you but it’ll delay other priorities (like vacation would get delayed by a year)

Upper middle class is making enough to support your day to day life and having a decent amount of excess income to where you can save quite a bit while taking a family vacation a couple of times a year (maybe overseas for a couple of weeks a year). You may be working towards saving for a rental property and investing in a 401k, IRA, and maybe even taxable brokerage account. Rainy day fund is fully funded so you won’t have an issue with regular maintenance on your car or needing braces for the kids.

lumpus' family still struggles at times, is probably in debt in some areas, they don't always have the money for what they want and something like camp becomes an exception (there is definitely still the threat of lumpus worrying he won't be able to go to camp if too much comes up...) and slinkman's family is over here with assets and money to spare even if they can't go crazy... but everything also sort of feeds into slinkman's "it's easier to just follow someone else's lead" thing too, like, his dad is like ''son why don't you go to college for (XYZ)'' and slinkman's like ''ok'' because he literally had his only sense of self aspiration crushed barely a couple of years ago and he has no idea what to do with himself and they'll have the money to do so and so he just sort of goes along with it

anyway. yeah. i have a lot of shit locked and loaded at any given time thank you for the quastion 😁

[spotsupstuff]

wait are your OCs in anyway related to canon characters?

i mean like yea? i guess? the Eo group doesn't exist in a vacuum, the canon characters n stories take place in a group southwest from them still (my personal take on them, at least- this all is called The Serotonin Take for a reason). all Iterators are essentially siblings to me (though cuz of the lack of much communication between the groups, those relationships feel more like cousin stuff). the canon chars group has some in-lore historically important people too, like Moon- one of the first Iterators ever built- so the Eo group is well aware of them

the canonical relationships that there are: • Zephyr and Boreas (and other Gen 1s) know and interact with Moon and Nish cuz Gen 1s have a giant global group chat while the comms r workin right. Zephyr and Moon don't like each other much, but could do some teamwork if needed. Boreas is usually quiet so he's mostly unknown- Nish ofc tries to drag him out of his shell by poking him with jokes. Boreas would very much like to punch him. Orion is usually left to mediate and is very business-like since representing the Eo group falls on him what with Zeph's condition and Boreas' lil coward bitchass. Gem is a "friend" of Moon's and while Sporadic attended the chat, people liked her • Euros looks up to Nish VERY veeeery much. boyo thinks the metal veggie is one of the coolest Iterators ever. being the Phone Operator Chief of the Eo group means he can pick up broadcasts from Moon's group even though he's basically the furthest possible from them. like he knows about Potscug cuz of this (Potscug is exclusive Moon's group content) • Sparrows is a fan of Iterators overall n could probably tell u fun facts about any standing-in-her-time ittie while whipping out a pokémon-like card with their picture on it. she, too, is a fan of Nish • aaaand finally: the Seafarer is the one the Artificer had The Pups with. just cuz i find it funny and kinda sweet since Seaf was paralleling her like mad before i even realized n started this whole slug romance thing

[pcttrailsidereader]

small WORLD

I can't seem to ignore a book about the Pacific Crest Trail. I don't see all of them much less read all of them. I was visiting a friend and on the way out the door to go home I noticed he had a book about, you guessed it, the PCT. This particular book is titled 'Walking Home'. We posted an excerpt from it a few weeks back.

As you may have read in the intro to that post or may remember the author, Rick Rogers was not exactly a stranger to me. I had met him a few years ago walking a section in the Mojave. After reading his book I got in touch with him as he just happens to live not far from me in northwest Washington.

We agreed to meet up for (what else?) a walk. The conversation came easily. As we got reacquainted Rick told me he would be leaving for England in a few short days with his teenage son and Rick's non hiking sister to walk the Southwest Coast Path in southwest England. I have walked short portions of that trail and it can be spectacular. My enthusiasm for Rick's next hike was high for many reasons. The first one was my family and I lived in southwest England a while back and we love the area. We also made some very good friends there who we maintain a solid connection with even today.

I offered to put Rick in contact with a couple I know there who have walked the entire Southwest Coast Path and would be perfect resources for him. After I returned home from my walk with Rick I called my friends Duncan and Sandy. I gave them a soft sell..."what would you think...? This person I recently met may contact you...I don't know if he will...If he does, he may need a ride to the start of his walk...what do you think? " True to form Sandy and Duncan were more than agreeable. Over the years we have known each other they have listened to me sharing many PCT stories and read a few too. They were tickled to find themselves in the role of trail angels quite a ways from the PCT. I passed their response back to Rick and let the cards fall wherever they might.

About a week or so later I heard from Duncan. Yes, Rick had contacted them. Yes he and Sandy picked up Rick and his party at the train station and brought them to their house for lunch. Yes they had even made a short stop to grab some last minute supplies in town before heading off to Minehead where they would begin their journey. Amazing but not surprising. This was an example of 'trail magic' at least once removed...

Off Rick, his sister, and son headed west and Duncan and Sandy returned home. In a few weeks they would be heading to Calgary for a summer holiday that would bring them to us in Washington. The connection that came together was a marvel to me. I couldn't wait to hear more about their experience with Rick and his family. But wait! There is more!

Duncan and Sandy came to us via the train from Vancouver BC. I was anxiously awaiting them on the platform as the train pulled in. The first people off the train were a woman with a smallish backpack and a teenager also carrying a backpack. Not an unusual sight around here in the summer especially. Next off were Sandy and Duncan. Duncan was pointing wildly at the two people who just disembarked from the train. I didn't quite understand. "This is Rick's family!" he exclaimed. I couldn't believe it. Rick had continued on the Coast Path as planned and these two had come back home after a few weeks walking via Vancouver as planned. Unplanned was the rendezvous with Sandy and Duncan in the Vancouver train station and the animated conversation on the train south.

The story of me reading Rick's book, our meeting, drafting a potential contact, having the contact more than work out, then meeting up on the train nearly has brought this story full circle. My dear friend Jim Peacock refers to these kind of events as happenstance. Others might call it kismet. While still others might just refer to it all as a form of trail magic. Whatever you call it it is a reminder of how small connections can shrink a big world. Those connections are heartwarming in the least. Heartening for sure while helping me see how small this world really is. Now to complete the circle I am waiting for Rick to return home so he can tell me the rest of the story.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Back to How Rest In Peace Ended

@wdway

With all our talk last week about the possibilities of Maggie, or Daryl and Maggie going back to the farm just brought back that naggingness (totally a word) I had about how RIP ended. I have harped on the one year jump a million times, so I went back and rewatched that part, yet again.

I was also inspired with how we had talked about the short DD's spinoff preview of him coming out of the ocean and then the longer preview of him getting off a boat, how these previews are not necessarily in sequence.

We don't know what episode we'll see these scenes, especially the long preview. We played around with several scenarios of Daryl leaving at the end of RIP. Daryl getting kidnapped and ending up in Paris or if he left, went somewhere else, then came back to the Commonwealth. This was all on my mind as I watched.

My newest speculation is that what we see is not in the right sequence. I'm going to lay it out in a new order. As always we won't know until we know. I will pick up right after the scene of Rosita's death.

Carol: it's a beautiful day to head out. Daryl: yeah. I wish you were coming with me. Carol: I know. But this is gonna be good for you, for me. Daryl: I'm proud of you. No, I am. You took Hornsby's job and you made it your own. Made everything better. For you, for the kids. You'll keep making it better. Carol: You will, too. Daryl: it's not like we're never going to see each other again. Carol: I'm allowed to be a little sad. You are my best friend. Daryl: Come here. (Hugs Carol)

I hope you can make heads or tails as far as the sequence goes. After Rosita's death I think it would actually pick up with Maggie sending for Daryl, Carol, Lydia and Elijah. Maggie speaks to Daryl about finding out what's out there. She's giving him a mission.

I think she gives Lydia and Elijah the mission of letter carriers between the known communities. Something that they have not had before. They’re at the original Hilltop, we know by the water tower. I think she might have told of her own plans of starting another Hilltop, this time going further north. I think Carol has made the decision to stay in the Commonwealth for several reasons, one of them being Ezekiel, also because knowing that that's the only way Daryl would go on his mission.

She also understands that he would never leave the kids unless it was with someone that he totally trusted. She'll watch over the kids. Apparently, no one remembers Carol's history with watching kids, only kidding. Kind of.

You're probably wondering why I put it in this order. The Maggie mission part probably makes sense. The reason I grouped the Maggie scene, Daryl and Carol by the pond, the goodbyes with the kids all tied together because of what Carol is wearing. She has on a long black or very dark coat.

They don't give us very many shots of the others while Maggie is making her pitch to Daryl but when they do walk up you can see that Lydia and Elijah are wearing different clothes, tptb are very sneaky with the subtle changes in the clothes.

Judith's jacket is kind of a brownish red color, and the difference is that the jacket she has on in the Hilltop scene and where she is saying goodbye to Daryl has no hood, whereas her jacket at Commonwealth and at Alexandria has a hood.

Plus, Lydia and Elijah have their mail bags going into Alexandria where Lydia gives FG the package. No bags at Hilltop. The clothes change that really caught my attention was the very well-tailored, very light-colored jacket that Carol has on at Alexandria and then has the long black coat at Hilltop. It was a noticeable contrast between the two.

My speculation is that Daryl heads westward because that's the direction Georgie was headed, and Daryl had talked about New Mexico in s10. He could go southwest through the Carolinas and Georgia. All kinds of routes we could speculate about. At some place (Grady) he finds something that makes him believe that Beth did not die at Grady, she did not turn. That there were experiments.

And somehow he gets a message or something to Carol and she joins him. This part is so up in the air, I have no idea how to work that out, but my theory is that Carol joins him and it's them that has been away for a year. When we see Daryl at Alexandria there's no sign of Carol, there's no mention of Carol in Ezekiel's speech. I think they came back together but we don't see them together as part of tptb misleading us in the belief that only Daryl had been gone.

The first time we see Carol is at Alexandria. She and Daryl looking at the names on the wall.

I remember thinking that Coco, Rosita's little girl looked more than just a year older than when we last saw her. She looks closer to a 2 to 3 year old to me. The year count started not after Rosie died, but probably months later.

I guess why I think this might be important is how it relates to the back and forth storyline of Daryl, Carol parting, coming together, parting again type of storyline from s10 Diverged.

Something else I wanted to share with you guys that occurred to me earlier today, another way Maggie could have gotten the photographs other than going back to the farm. She could have gotten them from her grandmother's beach house. I much prefer the thought of the farmhouse but in reality I had to tell you about the other option.

Also the package that Negan sent to Judith that Lydia and Elijah deliver to her at Alexandria. I wonder if he was already in New Babylon. Since we know that Ginny had come originally from Oceanside I'm thinking that he must have met her there, that's where Annie was probably send originally after the Commonwealth was brought down.

@galadrieljones

I just rewatched this and yo wtf is going on with the outfits

It’s like one minute Carol is wearing that weird gray space suit and then we seen Maggie and apparently there was another time jump?

The first time is when Daryl comes back and Connie greets him. Then they greet Maggie whose like “Time to see what’s out there,” and then Daryl and Carol say goodbye. I don’t think I realized this at first. Also sorry for the incredulity like I feel like I’m seeing this for the first time lol.

Really interesting theory that Carol has not been there, that she was with Daryl.

This is very weird I agree. All of it is perfectly missable but if you look closely all of these things are true. Weirdly, it makes me think about that one episode with all the time jumps and time stamps. The one with Toby and Aaron and Maggie, etc., and the weird scenes and distances that seem impossible. I always wondered if that was teaching us to watch closely for stuff like this but who knows. That episode still doesn’t sit right with me, and also, this series of scenes is also extremely odd.

I like the idea of him going back west, stopping in Georgia, and calling for Carol. Then they return and he has to go east by himself.

Or maybe it’s not east, maybe north, who knows? Also, what is the reason for Carol being unable or unwilling to go with him? Does she want to stay behind for Ezekiel? Does she need to figure something else out on her own without Daryl? She says, “This is gonna be good for you, for me.” Maybe she means, I need to work on my relationship and you need to go get yours. Daryl also says “It’s not like we’re never gonna see each other again.” So maybe they have a plan? Just adding to your speculation.

@wdway

This is all speculation, so spec away, haha. Like I said above, I believe there's several reasons that Carol initially stays behind. First of all Melissa at this point had backed out of France and they didn't know if she would be joining Norman for the second season of DD spin-off, so they left it open. That way they never have to come back and rework it, but if they needed to come back and worked the groundwork is there, story wise. I believe she was staying for Ezekiel but it's also about Carol breaking her pattern of running away and putting down roots. And lastly she's staying for the kids, because Daryl would not leave the kids with just anyone. By the time Carol joins Daryl I think it will be with Ezekiel's blessing and Daryl will be okay with knowing Ezekiel will care for the kids with his life.

I think that the year is from the time Daryl leaves and then returns to the CW. We don't see Daryl's reunion with the kids but we do see his reunion with connie. And we get the impression that people knew where he had been. Which means he wasn't kidnapped and taken to France, at least not yet.

@twdmusicboxmystery

Really love all this, Gals! Great catch on the outfits for the final episode. I’m sure you’re right about the chronological order of things. It’s super interesting that they were showing it to us in the wrong order. Great observations about everything!

[llynwen]

wow! That was such an enlightening and beautiful answer to my question, thank you so very much, and congratulations on graduating soon🎉! I felt that same thrill of recognition seeing the people and their homes on the show, because yes poverty really is the same all over. I live in a blue collar town in northeast America, with forested hills instead of wetlands and logging instead of fishing, but I look at their clothes, at the places they hang out, at the porches and lawns filled with clutter and machine parts nestled between the trees, at the small dark house interiors, and I think "this all could've been filmed down the street from me." It must look depressing to others but I find comfort in the familiarity. We're all just surviving as best we can nestled in the detritus of abandoned industry and reclaiming nature, keeping our lives manageably small with little daily tasks and rewards, and beyond our town limits the land itself infinite as space. I guess that bigness is what sets apart American life, thousands of people go missing in the wilderness every year and it's just taken as a given. There's a whole plane that crashed in a Vermont forest in the 80s which I believe still hasn't been found. One thing not shown onscreen, and I don't mind this since true detective is a horror drama and it wouldn't fit the tone, are the threads of community we maintain—church suppers, family game and movie nights at the library, small town festivals, Christmas tree lightings in the square and such. Life is a patchwork of privation and joy.

One thing I will advise you about if you come here (welcome btw) is picking the state with the best resources for you. Montana is gorgeous but the New England states have the best healthcare, and the east coast in general has the most public transit with our trainlines. If what matters is the job than you can visit anywhere I guess, but outside of the cities you better have a coworker/host with a reliable car willing to drive you around, because otherwise you will be stuck and lonely in the miles between anywhere. We joke about Rust being a passenger princess but bumming rides is a way of life here. Other than that, don't whistle at night in the southwest, always being more money than you think is needed to the store, look up any Indigenous nation near where you stay to maybe visit their cultural center, and have a good time!

hi again! so sorry for taking this long to respond, I've been busy with school and other shit, you know how it is

america is such a fascinating and complex place fr, and the negative aspects of it you mention were never shown in the media i (and may other europeans) consume. we're fed this image of this perfect land of the free american dream you can achieve anything if you work hard enough self made man kind of thing. but I'm glad to hear that you have this community - in my experience, that is not really the case here. i hardly ever talk to my neighbors (occasional good mornings and that about it), i don't go to church, but the people who do also don't really know one another, people only every talk to their family members and friends from places like school and work. i feel like in this aspect we could for sure learn from y'all.

when i do come visit I'm pretty sure it wont be permanent (unless chevy does actually wife me, then who knows). i just want to get a taste of that cowboy life i crave so much. i want to see the national parks (hope i don't go missing) and spend some time in the Space of it all. I am aware of the lack of public transport and i am prepared to drive everywhere, but thank you for the heads up. i also know about tax not being included in prices of stuff - which, what the fuck. that's so stupid. same with tipping - why not just pay workers living wages? I will for sure be taking the time to visit the Indigenous people in the places where I'll be staying. I'm actually writing my master's thesis about the Anishinaabe and Inuit people, and even though my area of focus is canada I'm sure I'll learn a great deal from the Indigenous people of the us as well.

thank you again for talking to me (and for your patience), and I'd really love for you to come off anon, be it in my dm's or under this post. I'd love to talk more about the show in general or just cultural issues. but no pressure!

[casspurrjoybell-31]

The Consort's Will - Chapter 1 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

As dawn approaches, a wisp of promise dances across the horizon.

Tendrils of sunlight spill across the newly fallen snow and welcome in the new day.

Hues of orange and pink press against the silky sky of night.

It's a silent tug of war, the opposing colors grappling with another until Time intervenes with a steady hand.

I stare at the view in awed silence.

So much in this world has changed.

So much beauty, hope and love has been destroyed.

Yet here, in the stillest moments of the breaking dawn, Nature manages to take my breath away.

A wool blanket is placed around my shoulders and I glance up in time to see Brayden taking a seat beside me.

The sun gently falls across his face, caressing it with delicate finesse.

Everything about him is beautiful.

I study his features, high cheek bones beneath haunting eyes.

Each one is chiseled perfection, the flawless molding of an immortal man carved of marble flesh.

His muddy, red eyes meet my gaze.

The color reminds me of our night together and the healing bite marks prickle with heat on the side of my neck.

"You should still be sleeping," Brayden murmurs, breaking our gaze to stare out at Nature's canvas.

"I'm not tired. Besides," I say, clutching the blanket to my chest and nodding to the view.

"When's the last time we got to just sit and watch the sunrise?"

As the question leaves my lips, the answer falls into place without my mental permission.

It deals with an area I'm choosing to ignore, a topic I'm trying to forget.

My shoulders sag.

The familiar ache of longing blooms in my chest as the memory resurfaces.

It was a chilly morning and I remember stuffing my disheveled hair under the hood of my sweater before meeting Brayden beneath the weeping willow at our spot of refuge in the north.

Bright, prickling sunlight splayed across the broken town.

It was a beautiful sight, quickly marred by the news that my human friend, Fiona, was working for the enemy.

It was also the morning I had to leave my best friend behind without saying goodbye.

"Where are we traveling next?" I ask, pushing the sadness and painful memories to the back of my mind.

Brayden reaches behind us to retrieve the map and pen from one of our travel bags.

Every time I take a breath, the cold air pushes past my lips in puffs of crystalized vapor.

I thought it was cold in the north, little did I know that 'north' was only a direction rather than a place.

Now the two of us are about as far north as north can get.

We haven't seen any sight of humans or vampires in weeks.

It feels like we're in a place of our own, completely alone and forgotten.

I huddle into my wool blanket and rest my chin on the middle of my knee.

"We're going to have to travel south again," his deep voice responds.

"But rather than heading due south, we'll head southwest and see if we can pick up anything."

His rich voice sends a shiver down my spine.

It's a voice I hear every day, yet it still manages to send my pulse into overdrive.

He always told me it's because he's a vampire and vampires are created as predators to their prey... humans.

I don't believe it, though.

Even if this man reverted back to being human, I'm fully convinced my reaction would be the same.

"I'd rather keep off the radar as much as possible," Brayden adds, his probing gaze dancing across the map's surface.

I nod in agreement.

The two of us have been traveling for weeks, always choosing the path less traveled.

Granted, we've covered the same amount of ground it would take most humans to cover by foot in months... but the fact that we're still coming up empty-handed is discouraging.

"If it's possible," I venture hesitantly.

"Could we stop in one of the towns to see if I can pick up any more clues?"

Brayden raises a brow.

"As in, another one of your research projects?"

Embarrassment floods my cheeks.

The last time I thought it was a good idea to travel through an abandoned town on a mission for answers, I ended up in the hands of Vultures.

I lean towards Brayden, staring at the map now situated across the tent floor in front of him.

My nostrils flare as his natural scent floods my senses.

It's a smell I've memorized soul deep.

It's the type of scent cologne manufactures would love to get their hands on if they had the chance, a burning mint with natural masculinity weaving through it.

My eyes focus on the areas already marked off in red.

I follow the tentative pen markings for our path moving forward before reaching forward and tapping a small dot on the left.

"There's a university in this town," I say.

"And where there's a university, there's a library. If you could just drop me off for a few minutes I could get my hands on something, anything that might help us find them."

Brayden tilts his chin up and a flicker of emotion passes through his gaze.

I know I'm treading a thin line even broaching the subject.

But the last time I went to the library, I discovered the secret to Brayden's past.

Sure, the library didn't exactly help me reach that conclusion but I know if I could spend some time in another I'd find some clue as to the Secondaries whereabouts.

"It's too dangerous," Brayden responds icily.

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, generously chewing on it to try to keep from arguing.

The two of has have been searching for the mysterious species for weeks.

We haven't found so much as a single clue along the way.

Surely reading and researching would help more than simply looking for them by foot?

"You disagree, human?"

I curl the blanket around me and wring my hands together behind the protection of its warmth.

Each day we don't find the Secondaries is one day that a different group might.

We can't risk having the Secondaries side with the vampires... or the humans for that matter.

"I just... I feel like we're running out of time," I whisper.

"And that if we don't find them soon, it'll be too late."

A muscle tics along Brayden's jaw.

Putting me in danger is something he avoids at all costs.

As romantic as that may seem, the reasons fall terribly short on the chivalrous scale.

Brayden cares about me.

Really, he does.

But at the base of his limited affection is a foundation consisting of an instinctual need to preserve my mortality and my blood.

My blood isn't just that of a normal human, after all.

I have the blood of a Nirv, a rare type of alluring blood that essentially protects and strengthens a vampire's immortality from all earthly beings and destruction.

Since Brayden was the first to claim it, my blood is now his.

And only his.

Should others attempt to drink it, it acts as a poison to their system, tearing apart their immortality within minutes.

I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it myself.

But when a small taste of my blood took down the leader of one of the evilest leaders of the vampire species, it became hard to deny.

Most humans in my position would turn away from their role as consort.

After all, this war centers around the need for humans to shed their roles laid out in the Agreement, freeing themselves of the shackles that bound them to the undead for 29 years of their lives.

Despite what the rules of war might say, I made the choice to remain a willing consort, offering my blood whenever my vampire thirsts for it.

Of course... my intentions to supply Brayden with blood aren't without an ulterior motive either.

Somewhere over the last few months, I've fallen in love.

I didn't expect it to happen.

I'm not sure I even wanted it to happen.

But somehow it did and now all I can do is hold my breath... hoping he doesn't shatter my heart into a million pieces.

"Alright," Brayden agrees, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"I'll give you one hour. After that we are leaving whether you find something or not. Understood?"

I bite back a grin, leaning into his masculine shoulder and secretly wishing he'd wrap his arm around me.

"Deal."

[the-firebird69]

There's a huge amount of rain in Charlotte county and seems to be focused here for quite a while and it has been it's because they take shifts from elsewhere and come out here because their assholes threatening our son so we take tons of ships and tough s*** and you started in fighting like madness cuz we're using and you won't stop no matter what said so we just take it all of it.

-there's a big wave of ships leaving and they're coming out of a hole and it's really about 150 MI South Southwest of Port Charlotte punta Gorda and it's almost empty and it's blowing right at this place I mean directly and doesn't seem to make sense trying to figure out why but we know why. It's not a ship above it's ships going by and they're coming from the East Coast and it started turning around early this morning and decided not to because half the fleet was wiped out and you started going back towards the South and they're managing to go up there because the Mark has not cleared and that's where they're going and for some reason the water pattern and air patterns are going north north east on both sides he says it doesn't make any sense and it does not so we checked again and the ship would have to be too big and they're not here and your ships going north Northeast and chips are going to the north on the East Coast when he says where these ships going and they're not going north Northeast he thinks... Was thinking the armies are dragging air up there and that was happening then he thinks the hole is not plugged and there's something going on with the air and the holes in the North and that's what's happening they don't go through the Earth but they go in and they go out the exhaust ports and it's creating a chimney effect where the hot air is being drawn up there and they have to be plugged it's an emergency and the clones can't seem to do it and they said it's easier to defend if you do and you have to push them back and tell me if heard it and said oh yeah so he's trying to push them back and defend it and he's closing up several of them it has stuff to do with it's a lot of work and they are going gangbusters in a huge robots doing it it's going to take some time until then we have this effect and it's going to cool the Earth a little. There's some pretty big holes there are four that are 500 miles wide and about five that are 600 miles wide and they are howling like the wind so he says when I plug up the exhaust ports that would be easier this smaller and Tommy F doesn't want to and this fleets up there Mac and foreigners and they're trying to get ready to plug it and they can plug pretty pretty quick they have about four of them plugs and it's about 25 big ones and then I'll slow it and you have to do it so you don't lose the atmosphere no so you don't melt the caps but it's going to cool down here and a lot of the hot air leaves it goes up and you need to do that after the lunch but not for this long so it'll be another hour and they'll be plugged. It's a huge deal and very very dangerous and these guys are awful there's a war in space against Tommy f and his black ships are getting hit rapidly and he's going down... In about 25 minutes those small ships will be out of the hole to the South South West and they will stop flooding this area with rain it's not very far away the stream is slowed down which is good it gives you a chance to naturally remove the mist instead of causing lightning and things like that and you notice that tapering off and it'll be shortly it should be clear to go to do laundry and that's how much of a pain is globally but it works for us we're doing other stuff all the time things that Frank Castle Hardcastle get stuck doing for what seems like forever now he's doing this and is having a lot of joy it's really picking you and helping people and it's difficult but it's a joy cuz you're helping your friends and family and he's taught a lot of people. It's going to teach our a son.

The storm should be over shortly as ships are tapering off from informed they're almost done and they'll sound on medium ones they're all over the place and it doesn't cause a mess and surround it's going to be much nicer here and people want to move him and they'll find they can't and they'll get rid of idiots and they'll try and get him money

Thor Freya

Utah and the area is different the ships are pulled out of there but the huge ones not and that's what it's for is a huge ship and they do intend on doing that and most people will be trying and he'll use it to try and figure out how to do it

Hera

I don't want you there but I do see what it is and I see that you didn't plan it and I understand it now and they grab me so I'm looking in Florida around there and I'm looking at tombs and they're a couple of contenders it's very funny and we look kind of similar but I need to get the wrong one and follow through but that would make it messier it's not funny but I don't think it would work and she's my mother now we're going to have a problem here if people make fun of me and they said I'm sorry about that but she looks like a sister that's great

Dee

I'm going to have to help her try and do this and other people too to keep in check her mom and Papa we have to try and fix what's wrong here things are too strange and I understand it's too tempting not to but she wants to be yourself and things are moving along and Trump would Secretary of State and if she gets back to herself well and so he goes oh but she thinks she'll stay in so we think it might work and the surgery might show and for some reason it looks kind of arcane and he's like says it's because she doesn't take care of it and you should be doing it so you started doing it and she said that's what the job is and she said thank you and he said thank you for holding my mom and The Rock says he did a good job she did a good job and they both smile and said good and Friends so what's up. At that point you like getting bigger not much like 6 ft 3 saying oh great my bike doesn't work I can get on and off it and that's fun

And that last sentence was Hera and he was poking in with azog and bulge and d and they're talking about it it's going to work out I think and then I have to have my surgery and it is later cuz that other place is gone can't figure that out anybody huh they ruined it and he looked at it and said okay so it makes sense and nobody will let him hold on to it

Mac

[onthehighwaytomel]

Man...I gotta be honest, it's feeling more and more hopeless and disillusioning to be a working class woman with a not-sterilized(-yet) reproductive system in the U.S.

I'm dreaming about finally getting my first car (that I'd own) this year, and I'll be 31 in the summer. I have more credit card debt than I ever imagined myself having, and there's never enough leftover after bills to make more than the tiniest dent in it. Ever owning property or retiring seems like a pipe dream.

I want to get sterilized because I know I never want children. But that's another major expense (even with costly insurance), and how am I going to take the time off work for it? While at the same time, knowing that I likely have a narrowing window before that too becomes illegal, because the rising Christofascism demands that women be brood mares to make more wage + tax slaves on a dying planet.

And I don't have a long term partner I could combine incomes with, or share a car with, or who could support me while I take care of something not-work-related. And I truly don't believe I'll find such a partner until I move out of the town I live in. (Believe me, I've tried... I'm not the woman these Southwest PA manchildren want as a partner, nor do I want 99% of them.) The very town that I can't afford to leave anytime soon, because moving is expensive, and most other places cost more. Never mind ever getting to a country that actually gives a shit about its non-wealthy citizens. You see my predicament.

I have friends, but I don't really have anyone else I can rely on for anything more substantial than one-off small favors, or true emergencies. It's just me, taking care of me, like it's been for the past 8+ years. Neither of my parents can help financially. I can't even afford the new dresser that I desperately need, because it's either pay at least $200 for a flimsy one from Ikea (whose drawer bottoms will fall out under the weight of my clothes, like what happened to my current one), or try to find a local one for sale cheaper, and then pick it up...in the car that I don't have.

That's not even touching on student loans...these pauses have been a godsend, and I'm still behind.

And despite all this! I'm still pretty damn privileged! And my heart breaks for the trans community, and everyone subject to the onslaught of appalling, violent laws being put forward to state legislatures over the past several months. It just all feels so overwhelming and hopeless sometimes.

I really resent being born in a time where those in charge are, with isolated exceptions, ineffective or parasitic. Being born into such an economically fucked generation. And being born into a country that does not care about you, unless you're a wealthy straight white Christian man.

I have so much to offer, and I don't mind contributing, but in my adult life, it feels like I was never even given a fair chance at anything but subsistence living.

[samanthapsworld]

Virtual Sketchbook 1

Discussion:

Hi everyone! My name is Samantha Palmer and many years ago when I was in High School I won an art contest. The piece of artwork I created now hangs in a museum in Washington, D.C.

                    The artwork I was assigned is called Guernica by Pablo Picasso in 1937.

1. The piece was an anti-war symbol showing all the tragedies of war. This brought the Spanish Civil War to the attention of the world as the artwork made its tour around the world. 

2. Guernica is a Spanish town that was bombed for 2 hours on April 26, 1937, by the Germans. This was an important town because it hosted the Republicans forces that harbored assorted factions. 

3. While the artwork was in New York an antiwar activist defaced by spray painting it with red paint in 1974. It was immediately cleansed so the damage was not permanent. 

4. Picasso refused to allow the Spaniards to have the painting until they Spanish re-established a democratic republic. However, after Picasso's death the Muriel was returned to Spain. 

5. Picasso purposely used the bull and horse because they are two very characters in the Spanish culture. 

When I first saw the artwork, I thought it was very strange. I thought it may have something to do with death right off the bat with there being a man dying right in the middle and someone on holding a dead person on the left side. Now that I have some history on the artwork, I see it a little differently. You can see the pain in it and understand how it shows the destruction of war. The fact that Picasso illustrated the weapons of war as horses, and swords but the bombs that rained from the sky left them helpless. With the person on the right being eaten from his feet up shows the ground going down all around him. It's a dark, gloomy, and painful message. 

2. My shell ring that I look at everyday in my kitchen is an important piece of artwork for me. I have always loved the beach and the ocean, and always want to be close to it. This is my way of having it literally in my own home. I picked up each and every one of those shells here at the beaches of Southwest Florida. The media used is the beautiful shells. I used a Styrofoam ring and hot glue to make the ring. I attached a photo frame hanger on the back with resin. I think my shell ring is beautiful with all its colors and shapes and the beautiful thoughts it creates when looking at it.

3. I am 37 a years old woman, and I was born in Orlando, FL but I was raised in Knoxville, TN. I work at a very busy Dermatology group in southwest Florida. I think that what makes me unique is that I like to keep an open mind to everyone, and I am scared of no one. Often my friend and co-workers tell me that I don't know a stranger.

4. Self Portrait using artist Romare Bearden work as an example.

[dykemind]

@nansheonearth 's location finder post. reblog with your location and read through the considerable notes for anyone in your area. Be willing to stretch.

Send a personals ad to @findlesbians

Make a post looking for women in your area and have a friend post it on your behalf. Women can DM your friend and she can pass them on to you while vetting their blogs. This has worked for a lot of women I know. You can share it with me and I'll boost it.

Meetup.com for lesbian groups tends to attract normies. If there are kweer homophobic events you can still go every now and then and try to pick out normies/radfems from the crowd.

Look for a women's choir in your area. Join your women's rugby, softball, soccer team, even if you suck at sports. Teams will also take social members. Volunteer at places that radical women would go, like the women's shelter. Look for a Reformed Congregation of the Goddess in your area.

Older lesbians are often very radical and very excited to meet young women who feel the same way. Figure out where they congregate.

There are tons of location-specific discords you can join. I mod one for the Southwest US. If you can't find one for your area, make one and advertise it.

Get on your local dating apps and make a profile with dogwhistles. Look out for other women who have similar clues. Limit swiping to 10 or so a day. Be consistent and play the long game.

Go to women's festivals and feminist events and make a point of shouting out and asking around to find women in your area.

You need to be willing to take risks, put in the work, and most of all you need persistence. Be PATIENT. Don't get discouraged at how long it's taking. Don't get discouraged when a lead falls through. I have connected more women than I can count with other women in their area, and the #1 thing that keeps them from connecting is that they simply don't reach out. There are women around you who want radical feminist friends just as bad as you do. Once you find one, the rest are easy. Use your ingenuity and don't take no for an answer. It is possible, and it's worth it.

how does one find radical women to interact with in real life. it really feels like any feminist or gay/bi women’s group is usually very very tra oriented. not asking you to doxx yourself but have you had any luck finding offline radfems?

No luck whatsoever. I tend to find socialising with new people difficult and unpleasant, so I am not often motivated to do it. I am just here talking to myself.

[brain-deadx0]

First Day of School

Part 5 of New Big Brother

Previous - Next Ao3

Summary: Remy and Virgil go back to school.

Warnings: Food, fire, Mitchell from cartoon therapy is in this, brief talk of violence but nothing too serious, let me know of anything I missed.

-

Remy woke to the quiet beeping of an alarm clock.

Great.

He suppressed a groan before rolling over and shutting it off. He was not looking forward to today.

Still, as much as he hated first days, and mornings in general, he pulled himself out of bed to get ready.

He was only partially surprised at this point when he went downstairs to see dad guy happily attempting to sing as he made… pancakes? Something mostly brown in a pan.

"Morning, Remy," dad guy grinned when he noticed him, "Ready for your first day of school?"

"I guess."

Dad guy sent him a sympathetic smile, "Yeah, first day at a new school can be a bit nerve wracking. But hey at least Emile will be there so you'll have a familiar face."

Remy shrugged. He and Emile had gotten to hang out a few times while watching Virgil, and the guy seemed chill enough, but there was no guarantee Emile would acknowledge his existence when they were at school.

"Remy!"

He let out a small grunt as Virgil slammed into him from behind, "Mornin' kid."

"Are you ready for the first day of school?" Virgil asked.

"Ready as I can be. What about you? Excited for the first day?"

"No," Virgil's nose scrunched in distaste, "But my friends family was gone all summer and he promised he'd be back by the first day of school."

"Cool."

"Yeah, his mom is from uh… Dad?"

"Germany," Dad guy reminded him.

"Yeah Germany! So they go there sometimes to see his mom's family. He always stays too long though." Virgil pouted.

"Now kiddo," Dad guy told him, "I know you miss your friend when he's gone but he likes seeing his family. And I know his mom really does too. Remember, she only gets to see her mom and dad and the rest of her family once or twice a year. Kinda like how Grammy and Pop pop only get to visit us once in a while."

"...I guess…" Virgil admitted, "But I'm still glad he's back."

Dad guy smiled, "I know kiddo. And I bet he's excited to see you again too." He said as he ruffled the kids hair, "Now let's get some breakfast."

Remy glanced over at the pan, "Uh… Mr. Sanders."

"Yeah?"

Remy pointed at the black smoke that was quickly starting to fill the kitchen.

"Uh oh!"

Dad guy rushed over to the smoking pan just as it burst into flames. Apparently this wasn't the first time because he just as quickly placed a lid over the top before taking it off the burner. After the fire was out he turned the stove off.

He looked back sheepishly, "Well. Eggos it is then."

…

After the backup breakfast, dad guy herded them out the door and into the car.

"Normally you'll have to take the bus, but we always do drop off and pick up on the first day." Dad guy told them with his signature smile as he glanced at them in the rear view.

"And birthdays!" Virgil added.

"And birthdays." Dad guy confirmed.

The drive to Southwest Side wasn't a long one thankfully and soon they were pulling into the drop off zone.

"Are you okay with me snapping a quick picture for your first day?" Dad guy asked before Remy got out, "It's fine if you don't want me to though." He added.

"Uh… If you want I guess?"

Dad guy smiled as he pulled out his phone, "Ok, just go ahead and hop out. All you gotta do is look back for a second so I can get a picture, okay?"

"Don't forget to smile!" Virgil added.

"Whatever you say, Victor." Remy said as he gave a small salute and climbed out of the car.

After getting a picture, Dad guy gave one last wave before driving away to take Virgil to his school.

'Okay,' Remy thought to himself as he pulled out his class schedule, 'time to figure out where the hell everything is.'

Thankfully dad guy dropped him off a bit early so he had time to theoretically find all the rooms.

"Remy, hey!"

Remy looked up at the familiar voice to see Emile waving and walking towards him, followed by two others, "'Sup."

"Glad I found you!" Emile grinned, "We were all gonna compare our schedules to see if we have classes together. These are a few of my friends."

"'Sup, names Kai, he/him." The first one introduced with a casual peace sign.

"Elliot, they/them." The other chimed in.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Remy, he/him."

"We're still waiting for a few of our other friends, but we'll see them later." Emile explained, "Until then do you want help finding your classes?"

"Sure,"

…

It was a good thing Emile and his friends were able to show Remy around the school that morning because apparently whoever designed Southwest Side happened to be the same person who designed the minotaur's maze. Seriously, who puts classes A1-15 next to classes D16-24?

Thankfully he also shared a few classes with each of them. It was a bit weird having someone save you a seat on the first day but Remy wasn't complaining. Especially when he was almost late to one class because some nut job put class numbers wherever the fuck they felt like.

Seriously, who designed this school?

Thankfully the lunchroom at least was easy to find. Emile and Kai waved him down when he got there before the three of them went to get their food.

"Where's Elliot?" Remy asked.

Kai rolled his eyes, "They went to save us a table with Mitchell."

"Who's Mitchell?"

"He's Elliot's boyfriend." Emile said.

"That's one way of describing him." Kai grumbled.

"Elliot can make their own choices, we're here to help support them." Emile recited.

"Do we have to be happy about it?"

"No."

"Good."

"Going out on a limb here and saying you guys don't like Mitchell?" Remy asked.

"You'll see soon enough." Kai told him as they finally got their lunch and headed for the tables.

It didn't take long to find them sitting at a table with three others. "Hey guys." Elliot smiled when they noticed them.

"You must be Remy." A very smiley person in plaid greeted, "It is so nice to meet you. My name is Sloane, he/him, and this," he pulled the person next to him into a tight side hug, "is my amazing boyfriend Corbin."

"PDA," Corbin chided, though he did have a small smile.

"Oh, right! Sorry." Sloane said as he quickly released his boyfriend and put a couple inches of space between them.

"It's nice to meet you, Remy." Corbin told him as he adjusted his glasses, "Emile's told us a bit about you."

"All good things of course." Emile assured.

"So Remy?" The guy next to Elliot asked, "Is that short for like, Remington or something?"

"Yeah actually," Remy admitted despite himself, "I don't really care for it though. Which is why I go by Remy."

"Oh no worries, no worries. I'm Mitchell by the way. Though call me Mitchie and I'll kick your ass." He grinned.

"Call me Remington I'll kick yours." Remy fired back with a matching grin.

Yeah he was starting to see why Kai and Emile didn't like this guy. His vibes were off and they barely got past introducing themselves.

"Please no butt kicking of any kind." Emile cut in.

"Except in Mario Kart." Kai added.

"Exactly." Emile smiled before jumping on the subject change, "Have you played it before?"

"Once or twice," Remy said, going along with it, "never really got to play many games though. Consoles are expensive."

The other four got up to join the lunch line while Remy, Emile, and Kai continued talking about video games. Admittedly it was mostly Emile and Kai, but to their credit they did try and keep Remy involved so he wasn't gonna fault them for it.

"We should all hang out at some point. I have a ton of games I think you'd be into." Kai told him, "Plus my mom let me set up a gaming room, well it's technically a "media room for everyone," but I'm the one who uses it the most so it's also my gaming room."

"Sounds good."

Overall the day wasn't a total loss. The teachers hadn't quite gotten to the seriously boring lessons yet since it was the first day. That paired with the fact that Emile's friends were pretty chill, other than Elliot's boyfriend, the day actually went by decently fast.

At the end of the day, Remy found himself hanging out with Emile, Kai, Corbin and Sloane in front of the school.

"Do you wanna ride?" Sloan asked when he and Corbin were about to leave, "We're going that way anyway."

"Nah I'm good. I'm getting picked up today." Remy told him.

"Oh ok, just let us know if you ever want or need a ride. We give Emile rides all the time."

"I'll keep that in mind." Remy told them.

As if being summoned by the mention of his existence, Dad guy's blue minivan pulled into the pickup zone.

"Speaking of, there's my ride now. I'll catch you guys tomorrow."

"Sounds good." "Later dude." "See you tomorrow." "Bye Remy!"

Remy quickly made his way to the car, not wanting to keep Dad guy waiting, before hopping in the back.

"Hey Remy, how was your first day?" Dad guy asked as soon as he was buckled in.

"It was fine." Remy shrugged.

"That's good. Did you hang out with Emile? You guys are in the same grade right?"

"Yeah."

"We still have some time before we gotta pick up Virgil. Wanna go get some food? You can pick where." Dad guy offered.

"I don't care. It's up to you." Remy told him, 'God please let this interaction end.'

"Ok, well do you have a preference? Burgers? Tacos? Sandwiches?"

"It's up to you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Dad guy hummed, "Ok well… what about some McDonalds? We can surprise Virgil with a happy meal, and if we're lucky maybe they have some ice cream."

"Okay."

Remy continued staring out the window as they presumably drove to McDonald's on the way to pick up Virgil.

…

They pulled up to the elementary school and saw a hoard of kids on the playground next to the pickup area behind the school. Teachers were running back and forth trying to corral the kids before their parents got there.

They got in the line and eventually reached an adult.

"Hi there," She smiled, "I just need your name and the kids name."

"Patton Sanders for Virgil Sanders."

The woman checked her clipboard before waving them ahead and talking into her radio.

Remy scanned the playground before spotting Virgil and another kid under one of the trees. An aid must've called for them because a moment later both kids were running over to a much more organized line of kids in the pickup zone.

It was a few more minutes before they pulled up to the zone but Virgil and his friend spotted them before the aid had to call them.

"Dad, can Logan come over today?" Virgil asked as soon as they reached the car.

"Sorry, Kiddo, not today. We'd have to ask his parents first. I can call them later though and maybe he can come over this weekend, ok?"

"Awww, ok." Virgil frowned for a moment before noticing Remy in the back seat, "Remy!"

"Sup kid."

"This is my best friend Logan. Logan, this is my new brother Remy." He introduced.

"Salutations," The kid said as he adjusted his glasses, "Virgil has told me a lot about you. It is nice to make your acquaintance, Remy."

"Nice to meet you too, Logan. Virgil was really excited to see you again." Remy told him.

"Alright, Kiddos," Dad guy said after a car honked behind them, "We gotta hurry up now. I'll call Logan's parents later okay?"

"Ok…" "That sounds sufficient." The two said in matching disappointment.

The two quickly said their goodbyes before Logan walked back towards the playground and Virgil climbed into the car seat next to Remy.

"I wish Logan could've come too." Virgil said as they pulled away.

"I know, kiddo." Dad guy told him, "But I have something to cheer you up."

"Really?"

Dad guy reached over to the passenger seat before awkwardly trying to pass the happy meal back without taking his eyes off the road.

Virgil gasped, "McDonalds!" He said before eagerly grabbing for the box.

"So how was your first day of first grade?" Dad guy asked as Virgil happily dug through the box.

"It was okay," Virgil told him, "Logan and me are in the same class again and our teacher seems nice. She even let us pick our own seats so me and Logan get to sit next to each other even!"

"That's great, Kiddo!" Dad guy grinned back at the kid through the mirror, "It's always nice to sit next to friends. Did you do anything special in class today?"

Remy stared out the window as Dad guy drove them back to the house. If he happened to ask the kid a few questions about his day that was no one's business but his own.

[cixthotshit]

A Cup of Rose Americano

Pairing: Bae Jinyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poor Girl/Rich Boy, Coffee Shop/Gangster AU (IDEK how I got here, just go with it)

Summary: There's more than meets the eye with every person, including Bae Jinyoung, the world's finest barista at Personal Barista Cafe

Word count: 4.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With Some Plot, Kissing, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a fluffy Coffee Shop AU but NGL something else has been preoccupying my mind and the world building to this fic kind of went off the rails and transformed into a completely different story. Enjoy this smut, readers! I really want to explore this world a lot more but IDK if I can commit to anything beyond this RN. So please, please enjoy this! Sorry in advance for mistakes! I don't always catch everything when I proofread.

I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

"Really, it'll be a...new coffee experience," Hyeon assured Sandy. She handed Sandy a green card. It felt like an expensive platinum credit card, the card made of metal, feeling heavy and cold in her hand. "All you have to do is fill out a survey after you get your free coffee. Once you make it inside, hand the card over to your barista."

"Aren't you supposed to find actual volunteers?" Sandy asked, looking at the shiny card. The only thing on the card was the name of the new test cafe, PB Cafe.

“Trust me,” Hyeon said with a grin. “You’ve never had coffee like this. This is free, too. You’re going to say no to free coffee? And I swear, this is really me saying it, their coffee is really good.”

“Fine, thanks for the free coffee.”

“Enjoy!” Hyeon turned her back to Sandy, most likely scanning for potential test subjects for her new marketing event. Being her best friend, Sandy was always her first test subject. She didn’t know if Hyeon’s bosses approved of her taking advantage of all the free stuff she was receiving.

Sandy walked over to a shop that was setup at the southwest corner of a 3 story building. The walls were white and the windows were covered by white curtains. “PB Cafe” was written in black on the front door, though there were no door handles. Standing in front of the door, Sandy noticed a black square pad beside the right side of the door. She pressed the green card to the black pad and jumped slightly as the glass door slid open. A short piano tune played, sounding old but familiar, reminding her of old Hollywood movies from the mid-20th Century.

Tentatively, she stepped in. Walking past the white curtains, she found herself inside a small room. At the back end of the room was a small bar with one wooden chair in front of it. It only took her 4 steps to reach the chair, so she pulled it out and sat down. The wall behind the bar slid down to the floor and a broad shouldered man walked out from what looked like a bright white light before the wall slid back up behind him.

Too shocked to react, Sandy set the green card down onto the smooth marble countertop. Her eyes couldn’t leave the face of her barista. He was very handsome and his small grin softened his masculine exterior. Wordlessly, he took the green card and placed it in the front left pocket of his black apron.

“Welcome to Personal Barista Cafe,” he said in a soft, sultry voice. “My name is Bae Jinyoung, your Personal Barista today. How shall I address you?”

“Uh, just call me Sandy, I don’t like formalities much.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. If you don’t like formalities feel free to call me BaeJin or BaeBae.” She gave a soft chuckle and threw her hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up. Such a sultry man telling her to call him something as cute as BaeBae tickled her. “Is this your first drink with PB Cafe?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about this cafe, except that you have good coffee.”

“A Personal Barista will make you a personalized drink,” he explained, pulling out a menu form. “Whatever you order, I will make it in front of you. If you want to know how I prepare your drink, please let me know and I will explain as I go. If you want small talk instead, I enjoy a small conversation as I prepare you a drink. If you want silence, for any reason, please don’t feel pressured to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Can I get an Americano?” she asked, after glancing at the long list of coffee drinks. The menu was simple and elegant, the writings were in cursive but the paper was black and the ink white. She liked the seemingly simple attention to detail. “How long have you been a barista, BaeJin?”

“Almost a year,” he replied. He poured fresh ground coffee into a metal contraption with a long neck. She pressed her lips together as her eyes were fixed on his skilled, large hands. He was using a device to compact the coffee grounds.

“Do you enjoy being a barista?”

“I do. It allows me to be creative. My regular job is stressful.”

He put the coffee grounds into the machine and pressed a few buttons. She watched him place a small white espresso mug under the spout of the machine. He grabbed a large white mug of coffee, and looked at her with a soft grin.

“This is your side hustle?” she asked. PB Cafe seemed like it paid well.

“Most people have more than one job these days,” he replied.

“That’s true,” she replied. “I have a day job and a night job.”

“What are your jobs?”

“I’m interning at a law firm, helping a paralegal out. I’m hoping to get my private investigator’s license soon.”

“You want to be a private investigator?” he asked.

“I want to be a lawyer,” she answered, “but having a private investigator’s license helps me pick up skills. Research is the true gift of being a good lawyer.”

“Research. You must be very smart and hard working.”

“You are sweet,” she said, resting an elbow onto the counter, leaning forward. “I wish my smarts and hard work were enough to give me success. I’m lacking in luck lately.” His eyes drifted away from the espresso machine and looked into her eyes. She felt her cheeks turn hot, realizing she had overshared. It’d been a sad thought, too. “I feel very lucky right now.”

“Sandy, I don’t mean to make assumptions about people but if I were to guess you are someone with expensive tastes,” he said. He pulled out two small brown glass bottles from a drawer. “But, you settle for less.”

“I..” she breathed out.

She should have been insulted, but her barista BaeJin was right. Sandy had always been envious of people who could afford designer things or had the means to go on extravagant vacations, but all of that had always been a dream. The closest she got was free shit from Hyeon. A drink from PB Cafe was likely three times that of a drink from Starbucks, and Sandy could only afford Starbucks for special occasions.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I want to make you a drink in which you will appreciate,” he replied, pulling out a single stemmed pink rose from under the counter, and handed it to her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she accepted it. “Refined, seemingly ostentatious, but simple and hopefully, delicious.”

He poured hot water from a glass kettle into the mug. She felt her cheeks turn hot again as he reached over and plucked a single petal from the rose she held. He tilted a single drop of liquid from one of the brown bottles onto the petal.

“Rose water,” he said to her as he locked eyes with her for a second. He placed the rose petal into the mug, letting it float in the hot water. He poured the espresso into the mug of water, and took a spoon to scoop out the wilted petal, tossing it away before handing the drink to her.

She gave it a sip, and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips. Using a flower as aromatic as a rose was difficult to pull off in cuisine. Oftentimes the rose aroma was too overpowering, reminding one’s nose of perfume instead of food. Baejin’s Rose Americano, though, was the perfect balance of a good cup of coffee elevated with some elegance, refined by the subtlest hint of a rose’s sweet scent. The warm breath she exhaled after a hot sip of Americano filled her senses with flowery comfort.

“This is the most...beautiful cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” she replied, setting the mug down when she was half finished. “It tastes...beautiful.”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile any wider than she already was. He was incredibly cute, grinning in reaction to her compliment. How could a man exude the amount of sensuality like BaeJin yet be so cute that she wanted to squish him like a marshmallow?

“You like it?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied. “I didn’t know a cup of Americano could be improved. Thank you for this cup of coffee. You’re a gifted barista.”

“Thank you. I would love to make you another drink.”

“I’ll try to come back one day,” she said earnestly.

She sipped her drink and glanced at her phone. Thanking her talented, handsome (and cute) barista BaeJin one last time, Sandy finished her drink and sprinted out of the odd, surreal cafe. She had to get ready for work. Smelling the pink rose in her hand, Sandy smiled to herself. Who knew her barista would be the first man to give her a rose?

--

“Diamond! Malibu was accidentally double booked,” Danielle called out into the dressing room. “Can you give a lap dance in the Blue Champagne Room before going home?”

“Wait,” Sandy said, holding the gold hoop earring she’d just taken off her left earlobe, “I’m not going to chase Malibu for the flat fee. The last time I covered for her, not only did her John not tip me but I had to chase her for 4 days before she gave me the cash.”

“I have a hard time chasing her down, too,” Danielle said with a heavy sigh, handing her purple vape pen to Sandy to hold. She dug into her pink and purple Bedazzled fanny pack, and fished out a few bills. She handed a bag of clothing to Sandy. “Let me know if this John is handsy or out of line. He’s a new customer. You have five minutes, babe. Fix your makeup.”

Handing the vape pen back to her boss, Sandy put the cash into her purse before shutting and locking the drawer to her vanity. She put her earring back on and retouched her eye makeup and lipstick. Her locks of hair looked good as she combed her fingers through her hair, looking into the mirror before getting up to change.

Sandy hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a stripper, but during her freshman year in college, she took a class on feminist studies, specifically on sex work. What started out as a learning experience in respecting sex work, and educating herself on the legal struggles of sex workers’ rights, Sandy soon found herself stripping as a means of extra income. She herself was in need of money, and recognized her beauty was valued enough that she could make capital from it.

Having walked out on her dysfunctional family as soon as she turned 18, Sandy had been hustling on her own for years. She was still working towards a career in law, but in the meantime, she was balancing between her day job as an unpaid intern at a shitty law firm and her night job as a stripper at a club called Blue Paradise. Giving lap dances were only nice when she received good tips, but they didn’t happen often enough. All she wanted was a good tip.

Pulling out the outfit Danielle handed to her, she took off her clothes and put on her new outfit. She wore a neon pink G-string bikini bottom with her matching lace bra under a black pencil skirt and a white costume button up office dress shirt. She put on a loose blue tie around her neck, and put on a pair of thick black framed glasses, matching it with her black leather knee high boots. Apparently, this new customer had a librarian kink.

Walking down the hall, toward the other side of the back of the club, she entered the room with the blue door at the end of the hall. The Champagne Rooms, where customers received their private lap dances, were color coded. The Blue Room was where the clients with specific kinks went.

Opening the door, Sandy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked up to see her John seated on the black couch. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow over his body, making it hard for her to make out his face. She blinked, and closed her mouth, realizing that her customer was her barista from PB Cafe, BaeJin. It had been days since she had her cup of Rose Americano.

He was wearing a loosely worn grey sweater with black denim jeans. She didn’t think it was possible but he looked more handsome than she last remembered. Perhaps, with her body so close to his, knowing that he was there for devious reasons, her face flushed and her nipples hardened as heat rushed through her body from head to toe.

“BaeJin!” she said, forgetting her sexy librarian character.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking alarmed. She stood completely still, one hand on the door handle. “You’re a stripper, Sandy?”

“You...you remember me?” He nodded. “Stripping is helping me pay for my law degree.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, pushing her chest forward slightly. “I can give you what you want.”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, crossing his left leg over his right. His eyes left her, and diverted to the ground. Her ego was bruised. Not only did she need the money, but her vanity made her feel upset that he didn’t want a lap dance from her. “I should go.”

“I have to try to keep you here,” she said shyly, pressing her back against the door. “If I don’t, that means I’m not good at my job.”

“How long should we be in here for you to be considered good at your job?” he asked, his eyes returning to meet her gaze.

“You don’t want a lap dance? Am I not cute? My tits too small?”

He gave a chuckle, and looked away when his eyes moved to her chest as she talked.

“You’re very cute,” he replied, “but that’s the problem. As a barista, I don’t date customers. Since you didn’t actually pay for your drink, I thought it’d be OK to ask you out if I ever saw you again. But if I pay for this lap dance, I wouldn’t want to ask you out. It’s not fair for me to proposition you while you’re working.”

“You’ve been thinking hard about me?” Her cheeks felt hot and goosebumps formed on her arms. “Would you accept my invitation if I asked you out after this? I’m actually supposed to be off work by now, but this is my last job tonight. If I don’t give you a lap dance, we didn’t cross any lines, right?”

He nodded, and she gave a nervous chuckle.

“You said that being a barista was your side hustle,” she said, noticing the expensive watch and ring on his left hand. Sex workers had to know street codes to keep themselves safe, and watches and rings were how gang members communicated their loyalties and rankings. “What’s your main job? You said it’s stressful.”

His right hand wrapped around his platinum watch, the case of the watch encrusted with diamonds. The C9 Gang was a wealthy gang with origins in Tokyo, Japan, platinum was their calling card. BaeJin’s gold band emerald ring sat on his middle finger, indicating he was a made man of high rank. Sandy was impressed; BaeJin had acclimated to a high status in a gang at a young age.

“How long have you been working here, Sandy?” he asked in response.

“Diamond,” she answered, her grip remaining firm on the door. “My stage name is Diamond.”

“Sandy...Diamond,” he said with a grin. He stood, and she took a deep inhale of breath as he took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his hand gripped onto her wrist. Her hold on the door handle loosened. “You are the diamond in the rough in Blue Paradise. You still want to invite me out on a date?”

She took a gulp of breath, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes drifted to his mouth. Giving the most gentle nod of her head, she said, “Yes.”

“I drive a blue Ferrari F60 America,” he said as the tip of his nose touched hers.

“I don’t know anything about cars,” she replied, shutting her eyes. His breath was warm, making it hard for her to breathe. He chuckled and she felt his head rest onto her shoulder.

She opened her eyes when she felt a hand touch her chin.

“I drive a blue car,” he said, his eyes drifting down her face to her lips. His thumb ran across her bottom lip gently, sending heat deep into her groin. Her stomach ached at the touch. “It’ll be the most expensive looking car you’ll see when you walk outside.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “I’m a dangerous man, Sandy...Diamond. I have to ask you one more time, do you want to keep talking to me?”

She chewed on the inside of her left cheek nervously, and furrowed her eyebrows. Given how close she was to getting the paid job as a paralegal at Johnston’s &Partners, Sandy was one step closer to her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Would it be ethical to date a gangster?

“Will you take me home or will we be going to your place?” she answered. Life was too short not to take risks.

--

Upon his request, she left work wearing her costume. BaeJin’s description of having the most expensive looking car was accurate. The navy blue car shone brighter than any other car, and the curves of the body created an elegant design to the car. He’d opened the passenger door for her. She realized her skirt barely covered her ass as the cold leather from the seat hit the back of her thighs.

He drove them up a curvy hill to get to his expensive mansion, placed behind a small forest. It sat atop of a mountainous hill, overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. BaeJin was a man of very high rank by the looks of his home. It was large and designed with multiple floor to ceiling windows. Sandy took a soft gulp of air as her mouth felt dry.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said when he led her into his home, the hallway lined with expensively framed paintings. The jade vase that held 3 white lilies beside the coat hanger looked like it was worth more than everything she owned, including the small amount of cash she had in her bank account.

BaeJin’s home aesthetic was minimalist, though each room had a piece of furniture that popped out, like the jade vase in the front entrance. In his bedroom, he had a rose gold encrusted full length mirror sitting at the foot of his bed. It was shameless, but did not surprise her. Their eyes locked as BaeJin sat down at the foot of the bed. Their fingers intertwined when she reached her left hand out to his outstretched right hand.

“I spent a week trying not to think about you,” he said, pulling her easily onto his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. “The closest thing to you was trying to get a stripper to dress up like a sexy librarian.”

“Aren���t you lucky?” she said, squeezing his hand. “You went to Blue Paradise wanting a fantasy. Instead, you left with your fantasy.”

His hand released hers and she felt his hand between her legs, sliding up against her slit. Shutting her eyes she gave a soft moan, surprised at his swift movement.

“You deserve the best in life,” he said into her ear before grazing his teeth gently against her neck. “Don’t ever settle for less.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and firm. His tongue parted her lips and she gave a soft hum. She pushed his tongue out of her mouth, appreciating the taste of floral green tea from him. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to her. He tasted better than the beautiful cup of Rose Americano.

With a clouded head, she helped him pull his sweater off as he aggressively pulled her top off of her, the cheap buttons popping loudly as they flew into the air. Her skirt failed to exist when he ripped the zipper and tore the fabric apart with his bare hands.

“Are you going to rip me apart?” she asked breathlessly when his fingers found their way under her bra, fondling her erect nipple. She gave a soft moan and he grinned as he pinched her sensitive bud.

“I’ll be as hard or soft as you want,” he assured her. The pad of his thumb grazed against her nipple. Her back shivered as a sharp heat rode up her back.

“I like a bit of both,” she said, her cheeks hot. It felt like a dream to have BaeJin telling her he would do as she wanted. “You ruined my skirt.”

“The cheap costume skirt?” he asked, his hand returning to rubbing her slit. “You don’t have to settle, remember?” She shut her eyes, her hand grabbing his arm as two of his fingers pressed against her clit. “I like you best without clothes anyway.” The heat intensified as his fingers moved down lower, moistening her panties with the slick heat coming out of her pussy. Her back shook again as his fingers moved up against her slit, and then back down. “Your voice is lovely.”

She moaned as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers continually creating more heat between her legs. One finger slipped under her panties, pulling the fabric away from her wet cunt. The back of his knuckle pressed against the engorged bud of her clit, and she mewled as he rubbed up and down against her.

“BaeBae,” she could only speak with a shaky breath, “BaeBae, I’m going to come.”

Her hips thrust haphazardly against his knuckle as a small flash of heat washed over her, goosebumps forming up the back of her neck. Her orgasm disappeared as soon as it came and she breathed through her mouth. Her pussy felt wet as her slick heat dripped out of her.

“I was just playing with you,” he said with an amused smile, his eyes locked onto the mess between her legs, including his wet fingers. He spread her juices onto her folds, and moved the pads of his index and middle fingers to draw small circles onto her clit. She mewled, shutting her eyes, as her hips rutted against the motions of his fingers. “But with you this wet, I can fuck you right now.”

“BaeBae,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Wordlessly, she stood as their hands began removing each other’s clothes off. His expensive jewelry remained on as he pulled her back to his front, making her stand between his legs. His hand went between her legs and he massaged the inside of her thigh. She hummed a soft moan, enjoying the way his hand relaxed her muscles.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips kissed her neck. He requested she trust him, and one hand reached down to her right knee and had her stretch her leg out to rest over his. As his other hand went to her left knee, she understood what he was doing. He wanted a full view of her pussy so she sat on his lap with her legs hooked over his.

“Ready to put this to use?” he asked, his hands kneading her hips. His reflection from the mirror was staring at her. She saw the cheeks of her flushed face turn a bright red, and she tilted her head down to look away from the mirror. The blood coursing through her chest up to her head clouded her vision. “Look at us.”

His right hand cupped her face, and she felt his wrist press up against the front of her neck. The pulse from his wrist beat rapidly against the pulse on her neck, and she struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto his from the reflection in the mirror. Hot blood rushed to her groin and her hips jerked forward, out of her control. His left arm wrapped around her waist had her firmly in his hold, so all she could do was wiggle in his lap. Feeling the muscles of his thighs flex under her made her buttocks tighten, her body anticipating his cock.

“If you let me take you raw,” he said softly against her ear, his eyes locked with hers through the reflection of the mirror, “that’ll make you mine.”

His hold on her face was gone as his hand grabbed his cock. He rubbed his hard cock against her slit. She bit her bottom lip as his heat caused more juices to pool out of her cunt. It made her nerves shake, itching her skin in unbearable heat. He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth to breathe loudly.

“I’m yours,” she said clearly. He groaned as he pushed the tip of his cock into her entrance. “Give me everything, BaeJin.” Pleasure blinded her vision as she saw nothing but white and gold flecks of stars. She gave a loud gulp when she felt his hand grip onto her chin again, his wrist pressing against her throat. Her grip on his arms tightened as she held onto him for leverage. His cock pushed in deeper, and the walls of her pussy trembled as heat filled her body in overwhelming waves. “I’m yours.”

His lips were on her neck and when her vision cleared all her eyes could focus was on the way his cock was fucking her pussy. He started with shallow pushes, the rhythm steady as she bounced on his lap. She came and she gave a gentle mewl, blurting out his name as her walls squeezed his cock. A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she saw him shut his eyes tight.

“You’re so easy to please,” he said as he pushed in deep. She gave a loud groan as he pulled out roughly before pushing in fast, going in balls deep. He started a steady, deep rhythm and she cried as she was filled with undiluted pleasure.

“You fuck so good,” she moaned, her hand reaching back to grab his hair. He sucked on her neck, leaving a red mark before he kissed her shoulder. “BaeJin, fuck me. I’m gonna - I’m - I’m gonna come.”

His grip around her waist tightened as he pushed faster into her, and they bent forward together as he came into her in deep pushes. Her fingers dug into his skin as she shut her eyes, taking in the sensation of his hot seed filling up her insides.

“Come,” he panted out heavily as she felt him withdraw from her. She whimpered as she felt his middle finger push into her come-filled cunt. His thumb rubbed up against her clit, making her nerves dance in hot waves. She cried out a soft orgasm as she came again. She breathed heavily as she rested against his body.

“We barely know each other,” she said after a while. She didn’t know how long they sat together, staring at their reflection before she finally spoke.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other,” he said, running a hand up and down her thigh, sending heat up and down her back. “You are mine now.”

He pulled her off his lap, and they laid in bed together. A shiver went down her back as he kissed her shoulder. They were facing each other, her left leg locked between his muscular thighs.

Giving a laugh, she watched him grab her wrist. He kissed the inside of her wrist before kissing the inside of her elbow. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her shoulder. Every kiss sent a vibrating heat under her skin. His mouth sucked on her neck and she grabbed onto the back of his hair as his teeth grazed against her skin. The muscles in her stomach tightened. The world ceased to exist as BaeJin’s embrace consumed her.