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deathonyourtongue · 5 years ago

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Willow Run | Ch. 7

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: Drug use? A/N: Y’ALL ARE THE BEST!!!! CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 |

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“I’m a nice guy, right? I mean I got a place, roof don’t leak none, got food...Hell, I gave it to her good, too. She always moaned like a whore when I gave it to her. She loved it, especially the rough stuff.”

“I mean, you did say you were gon’ kill her.” Wade giggled, inhaling deeply from a bong and momentarily taking his eyes off Travis. His shaggy blond hair was in need of a wash, but from the state of his shirt, it was clear cleanliness wasn’t at the forefront of any of his thoughts.

Tapping on a dying lightbulb that sat next to his recliner, Travis grinned. He took a long drag off his cigarette, swilled it with lukewarm beer, and finally nodded. “Well, that’s ‘cause she disobeyed. She doesn’t have a lot to remember, really. Keep the house clean, keep the food hot, keep her legs spread, keep takin’ ‘er pills. Four things. That’s all she needs to remember, but that seems too hard for ‘er. You tell me Wade. If someone finds it too hard to remember four things, should they really be breathin’?”

“No sir,” Wade laughed, grabbing a handful of pretzels and putting the whole lot in his mouth at once while shaking his head.

“Exactly. And seein’ as how she’s mine, it’s my right to do with ‘er as I please.”

“Can’t argue with that one, boss.”

Standing, Travis made his way to the kitchen, pausing in front of a mirror his fiancee had broken with her face some time ago. Slipped into the frame was a picture, taken years before on a Polaroid. He stroked over the image with his thumb, smiling. Travis could remember the day like it was yesterday. She’d tried to surprise him by bleaching her hair a white-blond with pink streaks. He took a deep breath,trying to keep from getting hard as he remembered how rough he’d given it to her that night after the party at the drag strip. In his experience, blondes were always bimbos, good for one thing and one thing only. He treated her like a blonde that night, then made her dye it back to its original color the next day; it didn’t matter to him that she had a hard time moving her hands up to her head, so long as she got the job done.

His reflection, disfigured among the cracks of glass, made him look more sinister than usual and it suited Travis’ mood. His grin grew as he met his own gaze; tri-colored eyes reminiscent of a broken marble stared back, amplifying the decision he’d already made. Running a hand through his mussed russet hair, he looked over his shoulder at his best friend before opening the fridge and grabbing a fresh beer.

“Wade? What d’you do when a deer runs away from ya out into the bush?”

“Y’hunt it. Why?”

“Well, my dear ran away, Wade. Get your stuff and call the guys. We’re gonna go huntin’.”

Sasha couldn’t help but smile as she read over the second note Sy had left her in as many days. To him, it was probably nothing more than common decency, but to Sasha it was such a tender gesture of affection that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Feeling better than she had in a long time, she slipped out of bed, leaving the puppies to sleep and moved to get ready for the day, intending on finally surprising Sy with the breakfast she’d planned on making the day before. After a quick stop in the bathroom to tie her hair up in a floppy bun, Sasha put on a touch of the makeup she’d bought, slipped into the second outfit she’d tried on, and with new shoes in hand, headed downstairs to start cooking.

Though she hadn’t cooked from scratch a lot in her past, Sasha had always felt it important that a person have one or two recipes that they could make to near-perfection. Her favorite by far was her breakfast burritos and she’d yet to have someone fail to compliment her on them after trying them.

After a quick rummage through Sy’s fridge, she set about making two for him and one for herself, Sasha watching the clock closely, knowing full well she had a limited time frame to get the food to him before his meeting with the buyer. Where Sy sang, Sasha preferred to dance in the kitchen as she cooked, every movement accompanied by a happy little shuffle of her feet, whether or not there was music playing.

Before, she’d have to watch herself, as dancing was looked down on, but now, feeling freer than ever before, she couldn’t help but make her movements a little more grandiose. To anyone looking in, she might have looked a little strange, dancing and smiling from ear to ear when there was no music playing, but Sasha couldn’t have cared less. She was happy for the first time in a long time and she wasn’t going to hide it.

With the kitchen cleaned and the dogs all given a bit of bacon for their good behavior, Sasha set off with everything she’d made, the food wrapped in tin foil then gathered in a clean kitchen towel for easier carrying. Along with the thermos of hot coffee and a bottle of water in place of her OJ, Sasha headed off by foot to find Sy, not ready to try her hand at the ATV that sat parked at the back of the house.

Her smile grew as she neared the barn, hearing an upbeat country tune playing through speakers she could only assume were hardwired into the building itself. Seeing Wyatt, Sasha put a finger to her lips, silently asking him to stay quiet. The taller man only smiled, shifting his gaze back to a horse he was grooming while discreetly tilting his head to the left, giving away Sy’s location.

She was expecting him to look as he always had when working in the heat; sweaty, a little disheveled, and wearing his beat up baseball cap. What met her eyes however was something closer to the cover of a romance novel, and Sasha was momentarily stunned into stillness.

Wearing a navy and black plaid button-down, tight blue jeans with a black belt, and a far less trodden pair of black, round-toed boots, it was the black Stetson on Sy’s head that made her stomach explode into a million butterflies. Biting her lip, Sasha felt a stirring she couldn’t remember ever feeling for her ex, the realization a startling one that nearly made her drop the thermos.

It took a deep breath to refocus her mind, but once she had, Sasha tiptoed as close to Sy as she dared. With a quick look to Wyatt, who gave her wholehearted approval, Sasha leaned up as far as she could, standing on her tiptoes to try and reach his ear.

“Morning, handsome,” she whispered, echoing his morning note.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Sy jumped a mile, turning and banging his elbow into the stall as he tried to figure out what was going on. Seeing Sasha, his fear instantly turned to elation, and he placed a hand over his heart as he took her in. Even more radiant than she had been the previous morning, Sy could tell she felt a million times better, not just physically, but emotionally. The gleam in her eye said it all, and before he could even register it, Sy was grinning like a fool.

“Morning, mama,” he said with fondness, his voice quiet and sweet as he tipped his hat back enough to kiss her cheek.

Though Sasha was momentarily confused at the formality of the kiss, it only took one look at Wyatt’s raised eyebrows for her to realize why Sy was being a little coy with the PDA. Everything was still new. Blushing a little, she pulled her surprise from behind her back, smiling hopefully up at Syverson.

“I thought I’d make your morning a little easier,” Sasha said, her smile growing as Sy slipped a hand around her waist, guiding her down the aisle towards his office.

Sy’s face showed genuine appreciation as he took a seat in his high back leather chair, pulling Sasha down into his lap so she wouldn’t have to sit on the perpetually hay dust-covered chair.

“You didn’t need to do all this, darlin’. You made coffee and everything. Thank you.” Sy met her eyes, his own gaze making it abundantly clear that he wasn’t used to being treated. Turning her face with his hand, he kissed her deeply now that they were in private, Sy sighing happily when he finally pulled away.

“Been thinkin’ about kissin’ you all morning,” he confessed, Sasha unable to keep the small squeak of happiness from escaping, her head falling to Sy’s broad shoulder as he reached around her to unwrap the kitchen towel.

With the tinfoil off in a hurry, Syverson’s face turned into one of delight as he immediately recognized what she’d made.

“Did you use the chorizo?” He asked, bouncing a little in his seat when Sasha nodded. Laughing softly, Sasha held off on taking her first bite in lieu of watching Sy. While his food always tasted amazing, he usually didn’t have much of a reaction to his own cooking. Now, with someone else’s handiwork in front of him, it was a totally different story.

Sy’s eyes rolled back into his head the moment the first bite touched his tongue, a loud, appreciative moan coming next as he began to chew, followed by more bouncing and a bob of his head that was unmistakably made in time with the music.

“Damn, woman! You could make some serious coin off these! It’s so good! I think you’ve ruined me. Never, ever tell her I said this, but... Even my mom’s isn’t this tasty! Holy shit!”

Blushing profusely, Sasha hid her face deeper into the crook of Sy’s neck, her smile wide as she felt his free hand come up to cup the back of her head. Warm and safe, she almost forgot about her own meal until the baby moved and her stomach growled simultaneously, both Sasha and Sy laughing and the loud interference.

“Might wanna eat quick, mama. The lil’ one’s gettin’ restless,” Sy grinned, his hand slipping under her overalls to rub her belly gently over her shirt. The touch made her heart skip a beat, Sasha still amazed that Sy seemed to have no qualms over the fact that she was pregnant, even now that they’d declared their interest in one another as more than just friends.

Unwrapping her burrito, she took a hearty bite, Sasha glad that her appetite was coming back a little stronger now that she was well away from her previous situation. Still watching Sy, she felt her blush returning as his excitement over the food didn’t waver a bit. It was so opposite of what she was used to, Sasha didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

“Seriously, Sash, I could have these as my last meal and I’d die a happy man.” Giving her a squeeze, he looked up at her and something in his eyes changed.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a little somethin’...” Sy’s voice softened as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Sasha’s lips and knocking her heart into overdrive immediately, with how charming he was.

“Stop,” she whined playfully once they parted, her broad smile making it clear she didn’t actually want him to do anything of the sort. “You’re too cute for your own good, mister,” Sasha added, pressing the button of his nose, her own scrunched up playfully.

“Nuh uh. That’s all you, mama. I’m just the big ‘ol rust bucket that works with horses,” he joked, Sy about to lean in to kiss her again when Wyatt’s soft throat-clearing interrupted them.

“We got about five minutes. He’s all ready to go, trottin’ around the pasture so he’s seen as they drive up. You need my help with anythin’ else or am I good to get back to the trees?” Wyatt asked, trying his hardest not to let his face show how surprised and happy he was for his best friend.

It had been eons since Sy had shown any interest in a woman, and despite only having met her briefly, Wyatt could already see how much of a difference Sasha was making in his former C.O., a difference for the better as far as Wyatt was concerned.

“Nope, I’m all good to go. D’you mind if I share this with Wyatt, darlin’? He hasn't’ eaten yet either and he’s about to go out and break his back.” Looking down at Sy as he asked for permission, Sasha only let the shock of his request flash briefly across her face before nodding quickly. Men never asked her for permission; they usually just took and took and took. Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, Sasha found herself slowly getting off Sy’s lap, mouth parted slightly.

Was it too good to be true? Would he end up being like every other man she’d ever been with? Was this all a dream that would leave her sobbing when she woke?

Managing to keep the smile on her face, she bent down and gave Sy a sweet kiss to his cheek, letting her lips linger just a little longer than was customary.

“I think I’m gonna head back up to the house.” Sasha murmured, stepping backwards while trying to keep her composure. Sy frowned slightly, confusion marring his features.

“You alright, darlin’?” Nodding quickly, Sasha waved the two men goodbye before turning on her heel and heading back towards the house as fast as she could manage.

Hearing the buyer’s truck pulling up as she crested the hill, it was all Sasha could do to keep from running, afraid seeing her might deter Sy’s prospective customer. Inside, the cool air hit her and without anyone watching her, Sasha let her tears spill, elated that she’d found such a wonderful man, but terrified that it was all going to go south like it did any time she had even a modicum of happiness to herself. Overwhelmed with emotion and forgetting all about the hormones coursing through her, Sasha kicked off her shoes before beelining the couch, curling up with Hudson and letting the tears fall silently until sleep overtook her.

Sasha wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt soft lips on her face. Moaning quietly, she braced for the kisses to turn to punches. With her eyes squeezed shut tightly, she was certain she’d feel the familiar wakeup call tear her out of her dream, which would put her right back to everything she’d run away from.

“Travis, I’m up, I promise,” she mumbled, whimpering even as she put her hands up to block whatever violence was coming her way.

When the gentle kisses stopped and all she felt was the circulating air of the AC, Sasha finally opened her eyes, confused; the sight before her put a lump in her throat instantly. Sy sat on the coffee table, back hunched over, his eyes gazing into a spot on the rug. Lips pressed in a tight line, two tear drops clung to his lower lashes, streaming down his face only when he finally looked up, their path cutting through the fine layer of dust on his face before he wiped them away slowly.

“Ah, sweetheart. Wish I could take all your fear, all your pain away,” he whispered, sniffling and wiping a little harder at his eyes when the tears wouldn’t stop.

Sitting up, Sasha found herself at a loss for what to say, her own eyes already red-rimmed from having cried herself to sleep. Looking at Syverson, she couldn’t help but feel the same guilt she’d felt during her first day with him. Only now, she could add making him cry to the list of things she felt responsible for.

“I feel like I’m a burden on you already, nevermind you wanting to take on my pain,” she admitted, her voice small and pinched, Sasha looking anywhere but at Sy.

Opening his arms, it only took a moment before Sy had Sasha in his embrace, holding her as close as he could and letting her fresh tears fall into the crook of his neck. Rocking her back and forth as he stroked her hair caringly, Sy could only think of one response to her words.

“No, not a burden. A joy.”

#henry cavill #syverson x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

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non-sequitura · 4 years ago

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Sequitura’s guide to Kpop if for some reason you want to get into it

(Not recommended, the fandom culture is insane, though there are some nice songs)

These are songs that I really liked on the first listen and continue to like. Some songs take a while to grow on me, like “TT” by Twice. Those aren’t on this list.

They're not my top 100 - those would be too particular to my tastes and I tried to cover a range of musical styles.

* means that the song is a b-side (not the primary promoted song in an album) and thus probably doesn’t have a music video.

Oh My Girl (cheerful group with KILLER catchy melodies) -Windy Day -Dolphin -Coloring Book -Closer -(optional listening) Secret Garden if you really liked Closer -(optional listening) Nonstop if you like catchy dance tunes, but after some of their really good stuff it'll pale in comparison. It's good gateway Oh My Girl, though.

Blackpink (they do a lot of hype songs; cool vocal colors; actually not bad rapping for kpop) -As If It's Your Last -Playing With Fire -Lovesick Girls

f(x) (experimental girl pop) -Rum Pum Pum -Nu Abo

KARA (exhilarating dance tunes) -Step

Brown-Eyed Girls (they've covered pretty much every genre at this point, but boundary-pushing is their main theme) -Kill Bill -(optional listening) Abracadabra (not personally my thing, but the EDM bassline was super fresh at the time and still is) -(optional listening) Warm Hole (really catchy 60s-esque bop)

Taeyeon (former main singer in Girl’s Generation) -4 Seasons -(optional listening) Spark (not the greatest song in the world, but the lead-in to the chorus is great.)

T-ara (ridiculously cheesy dance tunes) -Roly Poly -Sugar Free -(optional listening) Lovey Dovey (if you loved Roly Poly)

Mamamoo (originally jazz, now... something else) -Piano Man -Um Oh Ah Yeah -(optional listening) Woo Hoo (the harmonies will blow your mind) -(optional listening) Decalcomanie (GREAT for early 2000s rock Amy Winehouse-esque fans. I'm only mildly a fan of that style, but even I can admit the vocal pyrotechnics are incredible.) -(optional listening) Pride of 1cm (a rap diss track about each other’s heights) -(optional listening) Girl Crush (HEY YOUUUU)

Spica (sadly short-lived group that was *really* musical; did jazz authentically and well) -You Don’t Love Me

IU (soloist whose style has run the gamut, but she mostly writes her own music, now.) -Eight -The Red Shoes -Blueming -23

AOA (originally a band concept who came back with uh... sexy, which isn’t a genre, but they still have good songs) -Heart Attack -(optional listening) Like a Cat -(optional listening) Elvis

Wonder Girls (retro who came back with a band concept) -Why So Lonely

Sunmi (her stuff can take a while to get under your skin. It’s quite dark under the surface, which I like.) -Heroine -Pporippipam -(optional listening) 24 Hours -(optional viewing) Noir, for the music video mainly

Yubin (former rapper for Wonder Girls) -Lady -Thank U Soooo Much

Girl’s Generation AKA SNSD (one of the original icons. You won’t find a more polished group anywhere.) -Paparazzi -(optional listening) Lion Heart (for those who love the 60s sound)

BoA (original soloist icon. Watch her dance and sing live.) -Mannish Chocolat -(optional listening) Woman

Itzy (currently conquering the “teen rebels” genre) -Wannabe -Don’t Give a What -(optional listening) Icy (it’s divisive, but personally I find the attitude super charming and the instrumental fresh and unique rather than irritating.)

Red Velvet (have some great RnB songs, as well as some lovely summer ones, as well as some “lol wut” ones) -Psycho -You Better Know* -Body Talk* -(optional listening) Russian Roulette (slightly off-kilter pop song and catchy af) -(optional listening) Look* (AMAZING 80s throwback) -(optional listening) Swimming Pool* (one of those super cheesy pop songs that becomes transdescent in the chorus) -(optional listening) Sassy Me* (this song is crazy) -(optional listening) Mr. E* (if you loved You Better Know) -(optional listening) Sunny Side Up* (if you loved Body Talk and Psycho)

2NE1 (one of the first “badass”-themed girl groups.) -I Am the Best -Fire -(optional listening) I Don’t Care (tackling slow/emotional)

Hyuna (a great performer who sells any song she’s in) -Trouble Maker -365 Fresh -Bubble Pop

CLC (they’ve unfortunately probably broken up now. Super talented group who’s bounced from genre to genre trying to get something to stick, leaving bops along the way.) -Pepe -Show* -No

Weki Meki (they’re slowly finding their niche, which is likely to be smooth club stuff) -Crush -(optional listening) Cool (I recommend watching their relay dance/dance practices and giving Lua some attention)

BOL4 (“indie”-ish band; not a big fan of most of their stuff) -Travel (but they did strike addictive gold when they went more rock)

Gfriend (Strings, guitar, and some of the best/most consistent vocalists in kpop right now) -Navillera -Mago

Dreamcatcher (a very unique, metal-influenced sound. Amazing dancing. Probably supported by the most humane company in kpop right now.) -Scream -Over the Sky* -Black or White* -(optional listening) And There Was No One Left* (idk why but this one hits me. It’s so sparse and yet makes you feel so disconcerted.) -(optional listening) Silent Night* (if you like the musical aesthetics of the song “Everytime We Touch”) -(optional listening) Can’t Get You Out of My Mind* (if you liked Silent Night)

Twice (“The Nation’s Girl Group”) -Fancy (kind of the only song of theirs that I adore; ask me for more recs if you really like them.)

Ailee (known as the Beyonce of Korea) -I Will Show You (an unironic “yasss” song) -Heaven (gee, this song is sad but never lets up with the power vocals as well, which I think works better than a straight-up slow ballad)

Loona (I don’t really click with them, but a few songs have hit me first listen) -Voice* (it sounds like a beautiful, brisk skate across a mile-long lake) -New (by Yves – it’s super flowy) -ViViD (by Heejin – I love sassy swing tunes what can I say) -(optional listening) Heart Attack primarily for the music video

EXID (power vocals + brass + hip-hop? I don’t really get it tbh but good singing can sell me anything.) -Ah Yeah

After School (I don’t know this group but this song is a bop. Might be one of my top 20 favorites of all time and I only heard it yesterday.) -Bang!

Sunny Hill (very unique social commentary music) -Pray (warning: one of the most disturbing music videos I’ve ever seen, but definitely worth a watch if you have a strong stomach) -The Grasshopper Song (music video is nicer)

(now we move into territory with guys in it. I personally think male artists in Korea release fewer great songs than female artists, beccause the general trend is to be “dark” or “moody” compared to the more melodic trends in female groups. If you like strong choreography or braggadocio vibes, though, you’ll probably like them better.)

AKMU (singer-songwriter sibling pair and probably my favorite composers in Korea right now.) -Dinosaur -How People Move -(optional listening) Happening (somehow gives coffee shop music a driving rhythm) -(optional listening) Like Ga Na Da (this is a song about the alphabet. It is still insanely catchy.) -(optional listening) Melted (sad ballad)

TXT (this group has other songs, but I don’t like any of them nearly as much.) -Runaway (like the classic boy group sound set on fire. A really nice pre-chorus of all things. Love the guitar.)

Ateez (they might become the next BTS; not sure.) -Wonderland (like... pirate hip hop/rock. Watch with choreography.) -Wave (a surprisingly potent summer song) -(optional listening) Say My Name

Shinee (some of the most talented dudes in kpop) -Lucifer (probably the only kpop song to pull off a one-note chorus well. Sounds like it was produced by people who evolved in a different universe.) -View (super smooth, groovy deep house song.)

Oneus (their good stuff goes hard) -A Song Written Easily -Valkyrie

Stray Kids (don’t know the group; song is great) -Miroh

A.C.E. (one of the only kpop groups doing hardstyle and surprisingly enough, I like it.) -Goblin -Cactus

Seventeen (don’t really know the group; song is great) -Mansae

-1/6/21

#blog #non-sequitura-blog #list #1/6/21 #january 2021 #2021 #longform

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girls-scenarios · 4 years ago

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Surprise Me

Idol: Rina (Weki Meki)

Prompt: Could I request a Weki Meki Rina scenario where Rina and their partner are in a long distance relationship but their partner surprises them with food, movies, cuddles, the whole shebang when Rina returns from promotions one day? Gracias mi amigo!

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: Sorry for being gone for a while, I haven’t been feeling up to writing recently. However, Weki Meki’s comeback is INCREDIBLE. Please go give Oopsy a listen! Lua and Lucy actually got lines for a change and Lua’s hair??? Don’t even get me started. Rina of course looked great with short hair as well. I love everything about this comeback! Anyway, support Weki Meki and I hope you all enjoy!

As much as Rina loved promoting and seeing fans, she had to admit that comebacks were exhausting. The days seemed almost endless and her neck hurt from sleeping in the van in-between her schedules. Worst of all, she hardly had time to talk to you. Being in a long distance relationship was hard enough on its own, but she always felt bad when she didn’t have the time to send more than a few texts a day. It was lonely not being able to at least hear your voice through the phone, and she wondered if you ever felt hurt because she was so busy. She wanted to be there for you no matter what, but promotions just got in the way, and she felt really bad about that.

Whenever she brought it up to you, you would reassure her that you were okay and that you understood her job kept her busy. Still, she couldn’t help missing you and wishing she could talk to you more.

So when her manager told them that they finally had a free evening, Rina was relieved, immediately thinking about calling you as a smile came to her lips.

“Our Rina is so cute when she’s in love,” Doyeon commented, a playful grin on her lips as she nudged the younger girl’s side. “Are you happy to be able to talk to (Y/N) again?”

“Of course I’m happy. It would be weird if I wasn’t excited to be able to talk to the person I’m dating.” A flush covered Rina’s cheeks but she tried to pretend not to be affected by her member’s teasing as she pulled out her phone. Good, it wasn’t too late for a call where you were. On the other side of the room, where Suyeon and Elly were getting ready to leave, came the sounds of hushed whispering, but when Rina looked up they were just picking up their bags. Weird.

“Since you’re going to talk to (Y/N), we’ll give you some distance,” Suyeon said, and Lucy wrinkled her nose playfully.

“Yeah, so we don’t have to deal with hearing your gross conversation.”

“We aren’t gross,” Rina countered, looking around at the others. “Where are you guys going?”

“To eat and then to karaoke,” Yoojung said with a grin.

“So what you mean is that you’re going out to have fun without me.”

“We just thought you would want to spend some alone time with (Y/N), but you can come if you want,” Suyeon said quickly, obviously not wanting to offend the younger girl.

Rina just smiled, shaking her head. As fun as karaoke sounded, she would much rather have time to talk to you. “It’s okay, I’m just joking. I want to talk to (Y/N). I haven’t been able to contact them much and I miss them.”

“Gross,” Lucy repeated, then whined when Lua elbowed her in the side.

“The managers will drop you off first then.” Suyeon picked up her bag as she spoke and smiled. “So, are we ready to go have some fun?”

The chorus of yes’s were almost deafening.

It didn’t take long to get back to the dorms, and although it felt weird being the only one getting out of the car, she bid goodbye to her members and told them to have fun as she closed the door. Humming quietly to herself, she headed up to the dorm, pulling out her phone again and sending a text.

-I’m heading up to the dorm now. No listening ears lol. Do you want me to call you or do you want to call me?

-I’ll call you in just a minute!

At your response, she put her phone back away and walked up to the keypad, yawning as she put in the code. It wasn’t until she opened the door that she noticed something felt weird. Why did it smell like someone had cooked food?

Freezing, she peered into the dark living room just past the entryway. Somehow, it didn’t feel like she was alone. Were the members pranking her? Or was she just going crazy?

She was probably just imagining things. It wasn’t often that she was in the dorm by herself, so seeing it quiet was weird. Shrugging her shoulders, she kicked off her shoes and closed the door behind her with a click.

At the click, the lights in the living room turned on and Rina screamed and almost tripped as a familiar voice yelled “surprise!”

It took a moment for her to recognize the voice, and her heart began to pound even harder, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open as she watched you step around the corner, a big grin on your face. “Did I surprise you?” You asked, your eyes sparkling with mischief, and she let out an airy laugh, like she couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“(Y/N)? But why are you here?” She stumbled away from the door, past the shoe rack and the slippers, and into your waiting arms. You were warm and as she sank into your embrace, she smiled, squeezing you tightly. She wasn’t dreaming. This was really happening.

“I flew in this morning. Sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I asked your managers if I could surprise you and they said you had half of today off, so I worked out a plan with the group to get us alone.” You raised your eyebrows as you looked down at her, a bit sheepish. “You aren’t mad that I scared you, right?”

Laughing, she shook her head and leaned up to give you a quick kiss. “How could I be mad when you’re finally here? I’ve been wanting to see you for so long....”

“Me too. I’ve missed you so much.” You hugged her a bit tighter and she buried her face in your shoulder, breathing in the smell of your perfume. God, how she had missed you. For a while, the two of you just stood, happy to finally be back in each other’s arms and not really needing to talk to understand how you were both feeling.

That was, until Rina’s stomach grumbled and she pulled away, blushing fiercely. You laughed, raising your eyebrows.

“Hungry?” You asked, and she nodded.

“We just came back from schedules so I didn’t have time to eat.”

“Lucky that I got your favorite takeout, then.” Your words sank in and she blinked.

“You did?” It was only then that she remembered the smell of food that had seemed weird at the doorway. “Really?”

“Really. I put it in the microwave to keep it warm. Plus, I have movies and blankets set up on the couch, my arms are just waiting to give you cuddles, and there’s ice cream in the freezer.”

“Wow,” she breathed, a smile stretching across her face as her heart swelled with affection until it felt like her chest might burst open. “I love you so much.” The words didn’t show the full depth of the emotions she was feeling, but the kiss she pressed to your lips did the rest, pulling you in and giving you entry to her world. When you pulled away, you were blushing, your eyes full of so much love that she wanted to melt away.

“I love you too,” you said, tucking her now-short hair behind her ears. “More than you will ever know.”

Of course, her stomach just had to ruin the moment with another growl, making the both of you burst into giggles.

“You know, I can still cuddle with you while you eat. Plus, we have the rest of the night, we might as well eat now,” you said, pulling away and grabbing her hand to steer her into the kitchen. With a laugh and happy flush on her face, she willingly followed, excited to have you all to herself. She’d have to thank her members later.

“Promise I can have as many kisses as I want later?” She asked, braver when it was just the two of you, and you stopped, leaning over to plant another kiss onto her lips.

“Promise. I came all this way to see you, so I’m going to kiss you as much as I can before I leave again.”

#femifics #weki meki #rina #weki meki scenarios #rina scenarios #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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nocoastposts · 5 years ago

Text

Timmy Addiction WIP Parts IV And V (Now Likely A One-Shot For A Series)

(I've reposted part IV since I - gasp - wrote something thematic. I put three bold lines between the two parts. Honestly, I’m really not happy with part V right now. Notes at the bottom.)

(Supplies are endless in the evening / by the morning they’ll be gone)

Late February 2019

Timmy silently slipped off the barstool and made his way toward the exit. He spent the better part of two hours nursing a whiskey and compulsively checking the time. He waited for her and tried to quell his craving with nicotine. It never worked, but at this point, nothing could dull the beast inside him.

Mara texted Timmy around 11:40 telling him she was finishing up with work. She confirmed that she’d replenished today; he smiled and responded that he had as well. He bundled up as he left the bar and began the 15-minute walk to her shabby yet charming studio.

Mara gestured toward her coffee table lazily with one hand, and Timmy placed his own stash next to hers. A small wave of relief came over him as he prepared what they needed.

——————————————————————————————-

(Yeah but me I’m not a gamble / You can count on me to split / But what I tell you in the evening/ By the morning won’t make sense)

Midnight, Late February 2019

Timmy raised his red, blistered knuckles to knock on Mara’s door. She answered with a smile and an eye roll, chiding him for even knocking in the first place. He admitted to himself that Mara’s humble home was his haven, despite never learning her last name.

It’s not that they didn’t care for each other to some extent. They just weren’t lovers nor friends outside of their chemically induced bubble. Neither wanted more or less from the other.

Just a warm body and the orgasmic feeling that stemmed from lazily playing with one another’s hair.

Just soul-bearing conversation and laughs and tears that they’d never remember the next day.

Just another music lover to enjoy the sound of vibration for hours on end.

Just someone to chase the high with.

Just a companion with equal amounts of apathy and detachment.

——————————————————————————————-

(You’re looking skinny like a model / With your eyes all painted black / Just keep going to the bathroom / Only say you’ll be right back / Well it takes one to know one kid / I think you’ve got it bad)

Christmas Eve, 2018

Mara and Timmy met in the same bar he now frequented. They both stood out in the cold, and she asked to borrow his lighter. He nodded, smiled timidly, and handed it over; she gave him a quiet “thank you” in response.

As they smoked in silence, Timmy couldn’t help but see the fishnet stockings peeking out from her oversized leather jacket. He didn’t care either way, but Mara instantly went into fight mode. She was so accustomed to it by now.

“I know what you’re thinking. Yes, my job is legal. No, I won’t suck you off. And my stiletto will blind you with one good hit.“

“Uh-uhm…okay. I mean, I’m gay anyway. It’s just, it’s falling out…” he pointed at the small baggie slipping out of her left stocking. “I figured you’d want to know.” He paused for a beat and added: “especially if it’s that good Mexican brown going around right now.”

Mara locked eyes with Timmy as she cooly appraised him. He did the same, and they seemed to quickly draw the same conclusion. Two kindred spirits, alone on Christmas Eve and chain-smoking under a tattered awning.

“Thanks, kid,” Mara said with another faint smile. She nodded her head toward the entrance and discreetly tucked the baggie into her coat pocket. “Care to take a trip to the bathroom with me?”

Timmy thanked a god he didn’t believe in. Just as he was coming down, this mysterious girl offered him his favorite gift.

‘Merry fucking Christmas to me.’

—————————————————

(And if you promise to stay conscious / I'll try to do the same / Well we might die from that medicine / But we sure killed all the pain)

Mara’s Studio After Midnight, Winter 2019

Timmy and Mara never spoke of the dark possibility that they may not wake up one morning. That was one of many traits that they shared. Both of them were bitter and exhausted from deflecting from their family and sober friends.

So Timmy blocked out the idea of an overdose with the same intense effort he used to forget a certain pair of azure colored eyes. In his mind, both equated some form of inevitable death, anyways.

Despite their silent agreement, Timmy kept naloxone in his bag at all times after his first night at Mara’s studio. He discovered that she kept Narcan in her cramped, dark bathroom. The silent presence of the life-saving drug said more than words ever could.

(What was normal in the evening / By the morning seems insane)

Mornings, Winter 2019

Regret was a ghost that no longer haunted Timmy. Shame didn’t seep in through the blinds along with the sunlight. This was his life now and pretending otherwise was pointless.

Yet he couldn’t ignore the physical reminders that hit him like a freight truck. The cold sweats and shakes he passed off as nerves in public settings. The aches that radiated from head to toe and kept him buried beneath covers.

When Timmy woke up with these pains, he’d sometimes allow himself a moment to second-guess this so-called life. These moments vanished quickly; cravings always trumped the brief clarity.

(And I'm not sure what the trouble was / What started all of this / The reasons all have run away/ But the feeling never did)

Evenings, Winter 2019

In the early stages, Timmy halfheartedly tried Narcotics Anonymous and other programs. When the time came to address the root of his addiction, he knew that moving forward wasn’t an option.

Timmy and Mara both knew better than to ask each other certain questions. Never ask why the habit started. Don’t inquire about the origin of the pain. They wanted to believe that none of it mattered.

Despite not asking questions, both of them volunteered bits and pieces about their misery. Jumbled thoughts poured out naturally during the high.

About broken relationships.

About the wrong kind of touches.

About closed casket funerals.

Timmy locked his sorrows away when he was sober. But his late-night confessions made it clear that he still cared. Still remembered. Still felt something.

(Cause what is simple in the moonlight / By the morning never is / It was simple in the moonlight / Now it's so complicated)

______________________________________________________

So, notes:

I’m not fully satisfied with Part V.

The ‘Timmy Addiction’ WIP isn’t working as a chapter-style fic.

Instead, I’m going to do a series. It’ll likely start with this, and will be followed by finished versions of I, II, and III.

I have more songs in mind for this fic (this one is Lua by Bright Eyes).

I have not set an AU for this and don’t know if I want Timmy and Armie to be celebrities or not. What do you all think?

I’m gonna get this on ao3 soon unless I chicken out.

Feedback welcome!

#WIP #fic WIP #my WIP #work in progress #ao3 #AO3 fanfic #ao3feed #Call Me By Your Name #cmbyn fic #cmbyn fanfic #charmie #charmie fic #timmy chalamet #Timothee Chalamet #armie hammer #armie x timothee #armie x timmy #creative writing

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carmenseeya · 6 years ago

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Kleiosita 8

I’m so sorry I don’t know how to do a read more. But #8, a kiss in secret

Text from: Kleio. "Hey Carmen, girls night out? Lesley and Jem are planning to spend the night with Legolas and I thought giving them space might be good." Carmen stared at the message, surprised by Kleio's wording; it sounded like it would just be them...? She typed out a quick replyText from: Carmensita. "Sure! Want me to invite Daisy?" She waited for the reply patiently. Kleio read the answer, and chewed the inside of her cheek. Her motives for asking Carmen to join her weren't something for more than just them. Text from: Kleio. "Actually... I thought it could just be us. Ever been to California?" Carmen started, her eyebrows raising, and heart skipping a little. Jem heard it and leaned over to kiss her shoulder before going back to studying. Something told her he had an idea of what she just read.Text from: Carmensita. "No...I haven't. Why?" Kleio's answer came in quickly.Text from: Kleio. "There's an entrance in Disneyland and I have connections at one of the restaurants. We can go and watch the fireworks. If you'd like to." Carmen dropped her phone. Kleio was basically asking her on a date. She was dreaming. She had to be. She turned to Jem, "Minha pedra de lua, am I awake?" Jem looked up, grinning, "Yes, you are. I'd accept if I were you." Carmen did a double take, "What are you talking about???" His eyes glinted, "She sent it to the group chat. Lesley and I are both seeing this too." Carmens face fell, and she let out a quiet, strangled scream. But she typed out a quick message in the correct chat.Text to: Kleio "Sure, when should I met you?" Kleio raised an eyebrow, and then realized what she'd done. She sighed at herself, but typed out another message.Text to: Carmen. "Whenever you're done studying. I can get us in any time." Carmen sent a thumbs up emoji. Studying stopped, she only had a little left anyway. She got up from the bed and went to her closet to get ready. Jem sat up and watched her, a smirk on his face. Eventually he helped too, and she was ready to go within the hour. She kissed him before leaving, and sent Kleio a message that she was on the way to the cave. She briefly regretted wearing a sundress on the trek to the cave, but once she got past the one patch of brambles everything was fine. Kleio was waiting at the entrance for Carmen, she had to take a lot of deep breaths to keep calm. The baby had been kicking a lot lately, somehow she thought they could tell what was going on. With her luck they could. She saw Carmen coming and waved to her. Carmen waved back, "Hey Kleio!" Kleio went to Carmen and hugged her, "Hello dear, how are you?" Carmen hugged back, her heart skipping a beat. She hoped Kleio wouldn't hear, "I'm great! thanks for asking me to go with you!" she pulled away just enough to look at her, "How's everything with you? You keep..." she paused and looked at Kleio's energy, "glowing more and more." Kleio smiled broadly, her ears fluttering excitedly, "I'm wonderful! And of course I'd ask you to come." She stepped away and held out her hand for Carmen, "Let's start walking though, we can talk on the way." Carmen blushed a little and took her hand, "Ok... So how far do you think it is?" "Not terribly far, Legolas showed me the shortcuts to each entrance. I cannot do the finger snap thing he and his grandparents can, but this is still good." She nodded, and a few minutes of tense silence followed "Can- Can I ask /how/ you're getting us into Disneyland and a restaurant without...without like, anything?" Kleio grinned, "There's a surprisingly large magic population in California. One of the managers is an old friend of mine." "Huh..." Carmen trailed off into thought, trying not to shake or blush too much more than she already was. Kleio normally kept a certain amount of distance between them, boundaries that were set for both of their benefits. But she felt so...open suddenly. It was weird and unnerving and exciting and so, so confusing. The walked lasted only 20 minutes or so, and soon they were exiting the cave and stepping into the bright California sun. Carmensita blinked, and looked around; they were walking right out into the middle of Sleeping Beauty's Castle. She looked behind them as a door marked "Cast Members Only" swung shut behind them. That was something she'd never seen happen with an entrance before. "Where- How- uh...???" She looked up at Kleio, a million questions in her eyes. Kleio smiled down at her, a dark pair of sunglasses hiding her eyes, although Carmen felt her eyes were glinting with amusement, "According to Inge the park was built around the entrance. Rumor is Walt or someone of his family was from some part of the cave. Not the elf city, I don't think Ailill would ever let that connection be forgotten." She grimaced at saying her fathers name aloud. Carmen nodded, dazed, "It seems like everyone famous has some kind of connection to the cave..." Kleio smirked, and they started walking again, "It does feel like it... and most of them have at least met Legolas." Carmen smirked too, she'd heard more than a few of Nkor's stories, "So...Where to first?" Kleio's smirk turned to a full smile, "Rides first, then shopping? Everything is on me today." Her cheeks turned an awfully dark shade of muted red, "Kleio, are you sure? This place has got to be so expensive!" She waved off the protest, "You're forgetting Jem isn't the only rich person in your life. I rarely use any for myself, let me spoil you. If it makes you feel better we'll get things for each of the others too. There are some things I'd like to pick up for Legolas and the nursery anyway." Carmen bit her bottom lip, but finally nodded, "If you're sure..." "I am. Now let's get started; the lines aren't usually as bad in the middle of the week like this." And thus began a day - they had arrived around 11am in that timezone - of rides and shopping. The Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, Dumbo, almost every ride they could possibly get to - that didn't go too fast or restrain over the stomach - they went on. The only thing avoided like the plague was It's a Small World After All, "That ride makes me strangely nauseous every time." Kleio told Carmensita as they walked by. By the time they made the way back towards the restaurant both women were laden down with bags upon bags of merchandise for themselves and their loved ones. It had been an amazing day, but Kleio had been growing ever more nervous, and Carmen had the strangest feeling like a hole in her chest. They entered the restaurant and walked up to the hostess. Kleio opened her mouth to speak, but before she got a word out an excited voice exclaimed "Sjolag!" Kleio spun around toward the voice, and barely held in a squeal as she hugged the newcomer, "Inge! I't's been so long!" Carmen smiled, and kept her distance. Inge was slightly taller than her, and shorter than Kleio. They had the same eyes as Kleio, although their irises were hazel, instead of Kleios shifting shades. They had red hair with violet undertones trimmed in a neat pixie cut. They looked almost like a redhead Tinker Bell, but thinner with more twitchey movements that were almost impossible to see for how quick they were. After a moment of embracing and pleasantries, Kleio held a hand out to Carmen again, "Inge, this is Carmensita." Inge held a hand out to take Carmens, "Kleio has told me a lot about you, although in a short time. I'd love to talk to you about those plant powers you have some time." Carmen stared, open mouthed and unsure what to say. This persons energy actually physically sparkled as though filled with glitter. A rainbow surrounded them and Carmen was trying to get a read but it was so odd... jittery and happy and powerful. Kleio placed a hand lightly on her back, "Inge is a pixie, reading them is like reading five books at the same time, even by scent." Inge smiled kindly, "Don't worry, I confuse almost everyone at first. But enough talk for now! Archange and Babette have everything planned for you!" she started leading them to a table on the balcony, "And virgin drinks for you both! May as well get all the flavors with all the legality." she turned and winked, "Not to mention the safety for my nibling." Kleio smiled "Thank you for this Inge." "Any time! Though next time don't wait almost a century to get in touch again." Kleio softly rubbed their shoulder "I'm sorry, dear. I had to track you down first. I lost touch with everyone back then, and...well... you know what happened to the others. I didn't know who all was still around." Carmen hunched her shoulder, feeling extra awkward. Kleio rarely spoke of her time captured, and never of the others that were caught with her. Kleio felt that something was off, caught up Carmens hand again, and rubbed small circles on it with her thumb. This served to make Carmen blush even more. They took their seats at the table Inge showed them, and Igne switched into professional mode, "Ok, so like I said everything is already planned out. Kleio, watermelon still your favorite or do you want something else?" Kleio nodded, "Melon is still my favorite." Igne smiled wider, "Alright!" they turned to Carmen "And what's your favorite fruit, my dear?" Carmen glanced at Kleio, confused, but answered easily "Strawberry..." Igne nodded again without writing anything down and disappeared. Carmen's eyebrows were knit, and she asked "Why...?" Kleio smiled, "Most likely for daiquiris. Essentially fruit slushies." Carmen nodded, and for a few minutes they sat in silence. Igne came back soon with their drinks, and disappeared again. They managed small talk about the drinks, and how the day went, but there was a palpable tension in the air. It remained this way through shared crawfish etouffee, but in between courses Carmen worked up the courage to ask "Kleio, why did you really ask me to come today?" Kleio blushed as she sipped her daiquiri. She put the drink down and was silent for a moment, looking at the table somewhere between the two women, "I..." she chewed the inside of her cheek, "Carmensita, do you remember the promise I made you?" Carmen swallowed nervously, it had been years since they talked about this at all, but she couldn't forget. She nodded, unable to bring the words out. Kleio nodded too, "I... thought," she cleared her throat, blushing even more. Her hair moved where her ears twitched under the braids, "It might be time to revisit it. That is, if you still-" "Yes." Carmen blurted out, interrupting. The awkwardness was paused by the arrival of the entrees, crab stuffed catfish with rémoulade and root vegetables. They both picked at their plates, without saying anything for a moment. Kleio looked up, speaking to Carmens hair because her head was bowed slightly over her plate. She was so...small. They were both nervous, but Carmen seemed scared too. Kleio reached out and took her free hand that was sitting by her glass, "I do have feelings for you. I'm still trying to figure them completely out but they are essentially romantic. And a little guilt I think." Carmen looked up from her plate, her fork in her mouth. Staring at their hands, she swallowed a parsnip and asked "Guilt?" "Yes..." she took a deep breath, this was something that had been eating her a little, "Years...age... they mean something different to both of us. I don't remember being 17 in human years, to me that's not quite two. But physically we're not that far apart. It's..." "Confusing." Carmen filled in with a smirk, "Jem and I talk about this sometimes, because of you and Legolas and even Lesley because of the whole technically zombie thing. We're..." she looked down, playing with the rings on her left hand from both Jem and Daisy, "We know how young we are to you. We just... forget about chronological stuff most of the time because neither of you... well...act like dusty old corpses?" She said the last part with a smirk and half a laugh. Kleio laughed too, the tension breaking a bit. She rubbed Carmens hand, "We can take our time with this, if you want. We have time." Carmen nodded again, "We do..." she bit her lip, "'Cause... Jem and I want to call the cave home after we graduate." Kleio opened her mouth to protest and Carmensita knew exactly what point she was about to argue. She spoke so wuickly her words ran together, "We aren't throwing education away. College is still a thing we're both gonna do, and it looks like we'll be able to together. I even have a full ride to UMES but don't tell anyone yet I haven't made it public I want to surprise my family." Kleio closed her mouth and nodded, pacified by that answer, "Alright. So we take our time." Carmen nodded in agreement, "But not on this catfish because it's getting cold." Kleio nodded, and they went back to eating. The small talk was light now, and they discussed plans for the nursery. They had gotten a lot of ornaments from one of the Christmas shops and Carmen had a plan to turn them into a mobile for over the crib. The last course of the meal was a dessert sampler for two. A large tray with beignets, bread pudding, bananas foster, and pralines was placed between them, and Carmens jaw dropped. "Are your friends trying to stuff us for Thanksgiving?" Kleio laughed, and glanced back towards the kitchen. A pair of twins were watching them from the back, only visible because of their glowing eyes. She shook her head and waved, hoping they'd come out and deciding to go back and thank them if they didn't. Kleio turned back to Carmensita and said "Archange and Babette like to show their feelings in their work." She picked up the dish with the bananas foster in it, and held it out to Carmen, "Smell this." Carmen did, it smelled like rum, "They didn't flambe it?" Kleio shook her head with a smile, cupping the dish in her hands and setting fire to it herself, "They left it for me, because they know I don't like not being able to help when I'm not allowed to pay." She put out the fire and set the dish down again, before pointing to each item as she spoke about the different items "Beignets, because I told Igne you love pastry. Pralines for something crunchy and easy to carry if we want to save it for fireworks. Bread pudding because it's a favorite of mine." Carmen followed Kleios hand with her eyes, "It all looks amazing." Kleio picked up a small pitcher that was sat next to the pudding, and poured fresh cream over it, "It tastes even better." She put the pitcher down and picked up a spoon, scooping up some of the bread pudding and holding the spoon handle out to her, "Here, try it." Carmen took it timidly and tried it. It was smooth and creamy and tasted like a cinnamon roll with raisins and cream. Her eyes widened before she swallowed it. When her mouth was clear she said "Whoa." Kleio laughed a little, "And that's why it's my favorite." Carmen smiled, and together they dug in and finished the tray quickly. They finished around the same time the pre-fireworks rush came in, so Carmensita did not get to meet Archange or Babette. They said a quick goodbye to Igne on the way out, and made their way to Main Street to watch the fireworks. The display was brilliant, they watched from right in front of the castle and it kept their heads on swivels. At the end they had to sneak back into the castle so they could get to the cave. It was entirely, believably, hard to be sneaky while loaded down with bags upon bags of things for everyone. But they made it, and slipped inside the cave entrance. They walked in silence to the next chamber, where there was more light, and sat down on the grass for a while. They fangirled over everything they saw in the fireworks together, and after a while of laughter and happiness, they calmed down. "Thank you again for taking me there today, Kleio." Carmen said when she caught her breath. Kleio nodded, "Any time." She leaned over and kissed Carmen on the cheek. Carmensita turned and stared at Kleio. They were so close she could see flecks of gold in Kleios green eyes; the sign they were changing to gold for the summer. She swallowed nervously and automatically glanced down to her lips. The corner of Kleios mouth tugged up a little, and her ears twitched nervously. Carmens eyes had a slight golden tint, her emotions must have been rising. She leaned forward a little more, but stopped herself short, checking herself and not wanting to make Carmen uncomfortable. Carmen had a half second thought of "fuck it all" and closed the distance, kissing Kleio herself. It was short, and light, and quick...at first. Kleios mouth was soft, and Carmen tasted of pralines and strawberries. The kisses became longer, more meaningful, but always gentle, always soft. Eventually they broke apart, and stayed there a moment, their foreheads leaning against the others. A thought occurred to Kleio, and she laughed a little. Carmen opened her eyes, and pulled away a little, "What?" "Jem and Legolas had a bet that we'd be dating by weeks end." Carmen laughed too, "Wanna make them both lose?" Kleio opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow, "How do you mean?" She shrugged, "We could just not tell them yet. Keep it secret while we figure this out." Kleio frowned, but nodded, "I think that isn't a bad idea." Smiling, Carmen stood up and offered Kleio her hand. Kleio took it and stood too. Together they made the rest of the walk back to the tower, and after depositing the bags in the study they both collapsed into the bed. Legolas, Jem, and Lesley were all already sleeping by the time they got home, but cuddling in with them was easy and natural as breathing.

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years ago

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Food, It Turns Out, Has Little to Do With Why I Love to Travel

It’s the people that make a place — but these days, human interaction is hard to come by

I used to love to travel. I’d wander through new cities for days on end, eating and drinking (but mostly eating) in four-seat izakayas, farm-driven pizzerias, southern seafood halls, and boat noodle cafes, talking to locals and walking for miles. Restaurants have always been my joyous entry point to a place and its people. The food, I thought, was what made me love to explore the world.

That slowly fading memory — what it felt like to discover a new city, stomach first — is what excited me about going out on the road again, which I did a couple months ago, driving from Los Angeles to Corsicana, Texas and back, stopping to eat in places like Albuquerque, Amarillo, El Paso, and Phoenix.

Let me be clear: I absolutely would not and do not recommend frivolous travel. In my case, a looming publishing deadline on The Bludso Family Cookbook is what sent me on the long, not-so-winding road to Texas in the midst of a global pandemic, where I would be staying with my longtime friend, mentor, colleague, and big brother Kevin Bludso. Once there, we would be cooking, writing, recipe testing, interviewing, living together, and, in all likelihood, drinking a fair quantity of brown spirits at the end of each night (please, someone get that man a Hennessy sponsorship).

I’ve spent the better part of the last 15 years working in the food industry in one capacity or another. I’ve been a bartender, server, chef, culinary director, restaurant consultant, cookbook author, and food writer. My plan since last year had been to continue writing and consulting on the side, but also to finally open my own restaurant. Nothing extravagant. Something small and intimate. A humble, comforting place of my own — clean and well-lit, a true neighborhood restaurant where people can get to know each other, where the food and the service is unassuming and genuine, something with no desire for expansion or duplication. I consider myself unbelievably lucky that I didn’t open a restaurant right before the pandemic hit.

Instead, I’ve spent the last several months at home, making a quarantine cooking show with my wife called Don’t Panic Pantry. It’s been a good distraction, but I thought a work-related excuse to drive through the American Southwest and its expansive desert would be a cleansing, meditative, soul-resetting break from what I’d begun to think of as perpetual purgatory.

I took every precaution. A nasal-swab COVID test right before I departed. I also hopefully still had antibodies (my wife and I both had COVID-19 way back in March). It was, at the very least, the polite thing to do: Get tested before joining someone in their home for two weeks.

I had planned on driving straight through Arizona from LA, avoiding anything except gas stations until I made it to New Mexico, surviving on a sturdy mix of cold brew and air conditioning to keep me awake. I’d never been to New Mexico before. I’d pored over Instagram photos of chile-drenched Southwestern Mexican food, enchiladas oozing with melted cheese, their red and green chile sauces popping with Instagram photo-editing exposure. My usual pre-trip Google map was loaded with thoroughly researched restaurants along my route. In earlier times, I’d have peppered each map point with essential info like hours of operation and must-order dishes; now, I was looking up intel like outdoor seating, takeout quality, and, most crucially, whether or not a place had managed to stay open at all.

I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger.

I left with a bullish heart. But each stop to fuel up took away a notch of my optimism-fueled excitement and replaced it with caution. Each person in a mask made me a little more depressed; each person without, a little angrier.

Ten hours in and I had made it to New Laguna, New Mexico. I stopped at Laguna Burger, an iconic mini-chain inside of a gas station. It’s a fast-food place to be sure, but according to old photos online there used to be stools set up against the counter, and even a couple of tables and a few chairs. Those are, of course, gone now — pushed to the side of the room and leaving in their place a vacuous emptiness, even for a gas-station dining room. The staff was nice but appropriately wary. I did not partake in the self-serve Kool-Aid pickle jar. I got my food and then sat in my car, emotionally deflated and no longer very excited to eat my first-ever green chile burger — something I had wanted to try for years.

Ordering a burger at a place like this was supposed to be a tiny gateway into the culture and personality of the place, however small that sampling was going to be. There is an emotional atmosphere, a vibe, that’s specific to each and every restaurant, and I had perhaps never been so truly aware that such a thing existed until I noticed it had been zapped entirely from this one. In its place was a blanket of nervous, sad precaution — added to, I’m sure, by my own nervousness.

So I sat in my car with my sack of food, gloomily disappointed even before the first bite. They forgot to salt the fries and it felt oddly appropriate. In this moment, to no fault of the restaurant itself, the food didn’t matter. It couldn’t have. I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger, wanting it to justify a 12-hour drive and to somehow soothe an anxious mind. But the food, it occurred to me, wasn’t what I was after at all.

Later on, in Albuquerque, I picked up a four-pack of beer from Arrow Point Brewing and received the now familiar and appropriate treatment: measured, cautious polite gratitude. It was a transaction, appreciated by both sides, but with a higher degree of precondition from both sides as well. I followed it up with a takeout bag of enchiladas and a taco from the beloved and iconic Duran’s Pharmacy, taking them back to the motel room I checked myself into earlier. It was 5:30 p.m. The enchiladas had sloshed in the bag. I took a bite and understood: It was comforting, but not nearly enough. Like being single and reconnecting with an ex, only to both immediately discover that there’s nothing there anymore — two empty vessels with no connection beyond a memory.

I took a sip of beer and fell asleep for an hour. When I awoke the city had turned dark and I knew there was no point in going anywhere. The world felt dystopian and deflated. I’d left my redundant, loving, comfortable bubble to experience life alone on the road, and all I wished was that I was right back there with my wife and my dog.

When my wife and I had COVID-19, we lost our sense of smell and taste for a bit. It was, as my wife put it, “a joyless existence.” Now I had my taste back, but somehow the joy of eating was still gone.

The enchiladas, in a box, alone, on the floor of my motel, were just enchiladas. Because here’s a thing I’ve come to understand of late: context really does affect flavor. A place, its atmosphere, the people within it, their mood (and ours) genuinely change the way things taste. A restaurant lasagna has to be twice as good as your mother’s — or that one you had on that trip to Italy — for it to remind you of it even a little. A rack of smoked pork ribs will never taste as good on a ceramic plate atop a tablecloth as it does from within a styrofoam box on the hood of your car, downwind from a roadside smoker. I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

So as it turns out, when it comes to my lifelong love of food and travel, the food might not have mattered — not to the degree I thought it did, anyway. Not without everything that goes along with it. The surly bartender in the dark room who fries your chicken behind the bar at Reel M Inn in Portland while a guy two seats down makes fun of you for being from California is a huge part of why that might be my favorite fried chicken in the world. The friend of a friend who abandoned his family (thanks Marc!) to drive a stranger, me, around Toronto for two days and show off the city’s outstanding versions of goat roti (from Mona’s Roti) and bún riêu cua (from Bong Lua) makes me realize that yes, the food is outstanding, but that it’s the people — excited to show off their hometown, its restaurants, and their community — who make travel worthwhile.

Would Tokyo be my favorite eating city in the world if my now-wife and I hadn’t befriended two total strangers in a six-seat dive bar, knocking back cocktails until we both threw up, only to come through to the other side fully bonded over late-night grilled pork skewers with another stranger who gave me his business card and said that he had been eating in this stall for over a decade? What is a bar without a bartender? It’s just, well, being home.

The restaurant business can be both horrible and wonderful. It pays poorly, it requires incredibly long hours, and in many instances, you are going broke while making food for people who complain that it’s too expensive. But it is, as Anthony Bourdain often said, the Pleasure Business. It has always been a place for camaraderie, human connection, and community. Those were the things that made the nearly unbearable parts of our business worthwhile — and that connection, when you can have a genuine one between staff and customer, is what I think everyone really, truly wants out of the transaction. Those things still exist, I suppose, but all at arm’s length, or across an app.

I still eventually want to open my own restaurant. I think. But maybe I just want to open my memory of what it would have been in a different, earlier world. I don’t want to be a dinosaur, yearning for the good old days. But I also don’t want to live in a world where a third-party tech company stands between the restaurant and its customer. I don’t want someone to visit my city and think that a robot delivering them a sandwich is the best that we have to offer. I don’t want to have to download an app to order a cup of fucking coffee. Human connection, it turns out, is essential too, and we need to find a way to make it a part of our essential businesses again.

So what, in the midst of a health and humanitarian catastrophe, can we do? Well, we can decide where we spend our money. We support human connection and small businesses. We pick up takeout with our own hands from the places and the people that we love (safely, responsibly). We know that it is just gauze pressed against an open, oozing knife wound, but we try anyway.

So we travel because we have to, whether for work or as a needed break from monotony, and we reset our expectations, we open ourselves up to receiving that connection, we seek out the places that are adapting and we smile through our masks, and ask each other how we are doing, if only to show that somebody cares.

When I eventually made it to Corsicana, Texas, hoisting a large bag of dried red New Mexico chiles, I was greeted with an engulfing hug by Kevin Bludso; it was the first truly comforting thing that happened on the whole trip. I melted into the arms of my friend. I was back in a bubble, connected to something.

I spent two glorious weeks in that bubble, taking turns doing Peloton workouts and then drinking vegetable smoothies, before recipe-testing dishes like Fried Whole-Body Crappie and Ham Hock Pinto Beans; researching Kevin’s family history and then, true to form, sipping rye (me) and Hennessy (him) before I had to head home. Kevin’s food was outstanding, but it was made all the better by the time spent together cooking it. So when I readied myself to get out on the road again, my expectations had changed. I knew the food alone could only do so much.

This disease has been a reflection and amplifier of all of our weak points — and the restaurant business is certainly no different. This industry was already ripe with flaws. It has been teetering on the brink of a seismic shift for years — COVID-19 just accelerated it, and all the platitudes, Instagram stories, and false optimism won’t fix anything. But there have always been bad restaurants as well as good restaurants. I suppose it’s no different now. Yet it is maybe just a little bit harder to give and to be open to receiving the human connection that makes the whole experience worthwhile.

I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

I hit the road early, and after about 10 and a half hours, fueled by caffeine, Christopher Cross, and Bonnie Raitt — with one depressing pit stop in El Paso at the famed H&H Car Wash, where an old curmudgeon out front insisted I take off my mask before going inside — I arrived in Las Cruces, at La Nueva Casita Café. I called ahead, hoping not to have to wait so I could just grab my food and get back on the road. My guard was still up, but then the woman on the other end of the phone was so charming and kind that I was immediately disarmed. She graciously steered me toward the chile relleno burrito (“it’ll be the easiest one to eat in the car”). A few minutes later I came inside to pick up my food and the two women behind the counter were, frankly, a delight. I paid, and was promptly handed my food and thanked with genuine, casual appreciation for coming in. The burrito was excellent.

Bolstered by the kindness of strangers, I drove another five and a half hours into Phoenix. As a bit of an obsessive pizza maker (I had the tremendous fortune to train with Frank Pinello of Best Pizza in Williamsburg, and also had a hand in helping to open Prime Pizza in Los Angeles), I was here to try the new 18-inch New York-style fusion pie by the great Chris Bianco at their Pane Bianco outpost on Central.

Just as at La Nueva Casita Café, the staff was friendly, genuine, helpful, and kind. In retrospect, it took so little but it meant so much. When I expressed a need for caffeine, they sent me next door to Lux Central for a large iced coffee, where the barista talked to me from a responsible distance, wished me a safe drive, and gave me a free blueberry muffin. Even eaten in my car, Chris’s pizza was truly outstanding — crisp, thin, and pliable, successfully pulling off the New York-modern Neapolitan (ish) fusion that, in lesser hands, turns into an 18-inch bowl of soup.

I drove the last six hours home, finding myself encouraged by these final two restaurant experiences, excited by what the best in our industry are still somehow capable of in spite of everything. It was, frankly, inspirational to find genuine interaction, care, and kindness in this new reality.

It reminds me of my mother, actually. I remember when I was a kid, she would pick up the phone to call a restaurant, or Blockbuster Video, to ask them a question. I would always hear her say something like: “Hi Randy! How are you today?” and I would say, “Mom! Do you know him?” and she would shake her head no. Then she would say, “Oh that’s great to hear, Randy. Hey listen, what time do you close today?” My brother and I used to make fun of her for that — for forcing this connection with someone she had no real relationship with beyond an exchange of services. Now, I plan to do exactly that, whenever and wherever I can.

Noah Galuten is a chef, James Beard Award-nominated cookbook author, and the co-host of Don’t Panic Pantry. Nhung Le is a Vietnamese freelance illustrator based in Brooklyn, NY.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/34Oc66Q https://ift.tt/34RJ8TD

It’s the people that make a place — but these days, human interaction is hard to come by

I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger.

I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

Noah Galuten is a chef, James Beard Award-nominated cookbook author, and the co-host of Don’t Panic Pantry. Nhung Le is a Vietnamese freelance illustrator based in Brooklyn, NY.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/34Oc66Q via Blogger https://ift.tt/314xEef

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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vowel-in-thug · 8 years ago

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So I’m having a pretty chill birthday (because the last two days have been EXHAUSTING) and i want to say thank you again for all the sweet birthday wishes! my 27th year wouldn’t have been half of what it was without this fandom, so it seems like a good time to share something orange and gay :)

anyway, this is again part of a 5 things orange fic i’ve been writing for over a month that has been put on hold due to finale agonies. i’ve also posted one of these five things HERE (which is actually 3 of 5). this is the first one, and it makes sense to post today, because silver also (theoretically) has a birthday and flint tries to make it nice. emphasis on tries.

The mid-morning heat is thick and relentless, and Flint’s standing on a ladder in his grove, feeling the sweat drip down his spine, thinking about how there’s really no relief from this weather, not even in September, when suddenly he remembers Silver telling him he was born in the summertime.

He freezes, arm outstretched towards an orange. He remembers Silver telling him he didn’t know when the exact day was, but he just chose a new summer day each year to mark the occasion.

The autumnal equinox is next week. Summer is over. And Flint hadn’t done anything. Silver hadn’t said anything. Perhaps it was payback for Flint failing to mention his own birthday. Perhaps he’d simply forgotten, too.

Still. Flint should have remembered.

He throws a few more oranges into his barrel before heading back to the house. He barely pays attention to where he’s stepping. He’s thinking.

He hasn’t celebrated anyone’s birthday in years, and he’s never been very good at it. He can’t throw Silver a party. The idea of having anyone else in their home was unthinkable, lest anyone get the idea that they might actually be welcome there. He could maybe arrange something at the tavern, but Lua would have to be involved, and then the whole town would show up, certainly the whole of her church. He doesn’t think Silver would really want a gathering of that size, but Flint knows for certain he’d be unlikely to attend.

Flint likes the private world they’ve carved out for themselves. It’s the only sure thing he’s ever had in his life, the only time something good wasn’t at least partially clouded with underlying fear. Just because he’s become friendlier with his neighbors the last few months doesn’t mean he wants to invite them into his and Silver’s world.

He’s silent, still thinking, as he and Silver head into town. Silver doesn’t question his silence. It happens, sometimes, to the both of them. Bad dreams, dark thoughts, cold reveries will leave them feeling tense and withdrawn all day, going through their daily motions without much thought, too lost in their own heads. Fortunately, this has yet to happen to both of them at the same time, so the other always knows to step back, to be patient, to wait for the sun to set and for them to get back home. Then they’d crawl to each other, leaving the candles unlit, and the one who’d been quiet all day would finally make a noise -- a soft, uncontrollable sigh in the dark.

Except this morning, the only demon that plagued Flint is this: he is terrible at giving gifts.

He likes things to have use, but Silver doesn’t really need anything. He has plenty of clothes and boots, and he doesn’t like hats. His knife is beloved, his guns must be kept locked away, and his sword is rusting in the cellar. He bought himself a mule. His crutch is in relatively good shape, but even so, it’s not like Flint is going to buy Silver a new crutch for his birthday. Perhaps he could whittle him something, like a flute.

Flint dismisses that idea immediately. He can already picture the destruction caused by giving Silver something that made even more noise.

With an internal sigh, he realizes he only has one idea that could work, even though it’s a terrible idea, the most pathetic gift he always, always, falls back on -- a book.

The first time he’d wanted to give Miranda a birthday present, Thomas had been spectacularly unhelpful. The beautiful and lavish things Miranda enjoyed were not the kinds of things he could afford on a Lieutenant’s salary. Thomas suggested something from the heart, which also wasn’t something he had a lot of, even back then. In a desperate act, he’d stopped by a bookshop and begged the owner for a suggested title a woman might enjoy, and he’d bought the first one the shopkeeper offered.

When Miranda read the title aloud, “Of Domestic Duties by William Gouge,” Flint had thought she and Thomas were having a combined fit, they were laughing at him so hard. He remembers blushing heavily, apologizing profusely when he realized what the book was, and sinking to his knees as Miranda hiked up her skirts so he could make it up to her.

So, at least that fallback is still an option for him.

He hurries with his afternoon deliveries, so he might get to the small bookseller in time to actually pay attention to what he’s buying.

No one in St. Augustine can make a living just selling books, and the shop sells a variety of other paper goods, and also acts as the mailing station in town. The selection of books is small, many of them religious, none of them originally by an Englishman. Flint finds nothing. Or rather, plenty he might want to read, but nothing that strikes him as something for Silver.

Silver isn’t really a reader. He reads, certainly, and has read most of Flint’s books by now, but he doesn’t get the same kind of joy Flint does from reading. Already this is a terrible gift.

“Santiago,” Luis, the owner of the shop, says after watching Flint rifle through his collection silently for almost an hour longer than he’d intended. “Please. Let me help you. I’d like to go home sometime tonight.”

Flint is hesitant to trust another bookseller after what happened in London. But Luis has given him recommendations in the past for himself that have proved successful.

“It’s for Juan,” Flint admits. “I’m not sure what he likes. I’ve only ever seen him read my books.”

“So pick something out for yourself,” says Luis reasonably, “and give it to him instead.”

“Then it won’t feel like it’s for him,” says Flint, and then adds, feeling a little exposed, “I -- missed his birthday.”

Luis nods sympathetically, and helps Flint look through the same titles he’d been staring at for ages. Eventually, the sun begins to set, and he’s late for dinner, and it’s not like he’s got a time limit for this because it’s a surprise, but he’s set himself on this course and he’d like to finish it now.

“Have you ever read Queveda?” Luis asks.

Flint hasn’t.

“Take this one,” he says, taking the book from behind his counter, away from the other collection. Flint can see the title Francisco de Queveda in faded gold leaf on the spine. “It’s one of my favorites. Your cousin has a strange humor about him. I think he’ll enjoy it. Go on, now. You’re starting to annoy me.”

Flint thanks him, and pays him, shoving the book into his cart as he heads to the tavern.

Silver is tight-lipped and a little pale, waiting for Flint outside the kitchen. His hands are clenched at his side, and when he sees Flint enter the tavern, his shoulders visibly sag.

“Sorry,” Flint says, a bit breathlessly as he sits at his table. “A wheel on the cart fell off, and I had to stop and fix it.”

Silver knows it’s a lie, and Flint knows he knows, but it’s fine because Flint will tell him the truth later that night when he gives him the book and then he’ll suck him off -- both things he’d much rather do in private.

Silver is still glaring at him, ready to push it, when Lua approaches. “See? He’s not dead. Now will you get back to work? These people have hungry.”

Silver is short with him the rest of the night, no matter how hard Flint tries to convey that everything is fine, there’s nothing to worry about, this is actually a nice thing. Silver has surprised Flint with things before and he’d never suspected a thing, why is this so difficult? At least any notion of backing out and not giving him the stupid gift is out the window. Silver would never let it go now.

When they’re leaving, Silver isn’t even out the door before he starts. “What --”

“Wait,” says Flint. “At home. It’s really not an issue.”

Fuming, Silver mounts his mule and is deadly silent the whole way home. This is a nightmare. This is the worst gift-giving ever.

They’re only a quarter mile from home when Flint gives in. “Fucking fine,” he snarls, stopping in the middle of the road. “I wanted to do this like normal fucking people, but since we are utterly incapable of being anything other than the most dramatic, here.”

He thrusts the book up into Silver’s hands, who has no choice to but to grab it. He can see the anger melting into confusion on Silver’s face in their single lit lantern.

“What is it?”

“A book,” says Flint. “For you.” He grits his teeth. “For your birthday.”

“My what?”

“You said you were born in the summer. It’s almost autumn now. We didn’t celebrate, so.”

Silver says nothing, staring down at the book he’s gripping with both hands. He doesn’t look back at Flint.

“Oh,” is all he says.

It’s a terrible gift, and Flint knows that, so he’s not surprised by the reaction. He just sighs, and continues on his way to the house.

Silver is a pace behind him. Flint glances over his shoulder once, and sees Solomon the mule doing all the work. Silver is still looking at the book.

“I can’t make out the title,” Silver says softly.

“Francisco something. A history,” Flint says, looking back at the road. “Luis’s recommendation. I’ve never read it.”

Silver doesn’t respond.

When they reach the house, Silver dismounts and walks quickly inside, leaving Flint to tie up Solomon and unload his cart. Flint feels a little annoyed now, if only because he’s not sure how to change Silver’s attitude to one that wants to get his cock sucked.

Except when Flint walks inside, Silver already has the fire going, his shoe off, and he’s curled up in Flint’s reading chair, new book opened in his lap.

“Oh,” Flint says. He shifts awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re going to read it now?’

Silver hums. He doesn’t even look up when he says, “Just for a bit.”

Flint fiddles with his fingers. “I was going to….” He trails off, not wanting to just come out and say it, but Silver doesn’t even bother to press him.

After a moment, Flint joins him, sitting down to mend his boots, and then Silver’s, and then a couple shirts, and a belt that he can’t remember who it belongs to, and Silver is immobile the whole time in his chair, except for turning of pages.

Finally, Flint gets up. “I’m going to bed.”

Silver murmurs something inaudible, and Flint is going to let it go, walks by the chair to do just that, but then Silver grabs his hand as he passes. He doesn’t look up from his book, but he lifts Flint’s fingers to his mouth, absently presses a long kiss into his knuckles, and mutters something like, “Sleep well.”

Flint does.

The next morning, though, he’s alone in bed as usual, but when he leaves the bedroom, he finds Silver right where he left him, head still in his book.

It’s not that big of a book.

“What the fuck?” Flint asks, standing in the entryway.

Silver blinks at him. At some point in the night he must have moved, because he’d taken off his shirt and undone his hair. He looks utterly exhausted but he still smiles at Flint. “Good morning.”

“You’ve been reading all night?” Flint asks. “Why on Earth -- “

“I was reading it again,” Silver says, finally shutting the book. It rests on his chest, along with his hands. “Or maybe this is the third time. I can’t recall.”

“Jesus, Silver.” He swiftly removes the book from Silver’s person and holds it away from him, like it might be dangerous. “You realize you weren’t expected to memorize the damn thing before throwing it into another fire, right?”

Silver closes his eyes and smiles widely, but says nothing.

“Come on, get up,” Flint says, grabbing his crutch. “I suppose you liked the book, then?”

“God, no,” says Silver. “It’s awful.”

“What?”

“Well, the first time around was pretty bad.” Silver still has his eyes closed. “The second time around, I started to get the joke, once I’d remembered you saying you hadn’t actually read it before. Do you know what The Swindler is about?”

“The what?” Feeling a horrible, lurking sense of deja vu, Flint opens the book to the title page. It turns out, Francisco de Quevedo is the name of the author.

The full title of the book is, History of the life of the Swindler, called Don Pablos, model for hobos and mirror of misers.

“Oh, no,” says Flint.

“I spent the whole first readthrough,” Silver says, yawning, “trying to figure out what about this tale of a foolish young picaro failing through multiple calamities to become someone worthy, reminded you of me, and it was only when I recalled you saying you hadn’t read it that prevented me from waking you up by throwing it at your sleeping head.”

“I’m sorry,” says Flint. “You know I don’t --”

“I know.” Now he opens his eyes, and they’re tired eyes but not angry ones.

“I had been planning on sucking your cock last night, too, you know,” Flint adds. “But you were too absorbed.”

Silver looks away from him. He’s looking, Flint realizes, at the book again. “No one’s ever given me a birthday present before,” he says.

Flint has these urges sometimes -- strange, alien impulses that strike him as hard and sudden as a kick to the back of the head. He’s only ever felt it a few instances in his life, which may be why it feels so strong and so wild to him: a fierce, overwhelming, powerful sense of protectiveness. He gives into it every time.

He gets Silver standing, propping him up on his crutch. He smooths some of the hair out of his face as an excuse to rest his hand in Silver’s hair. “You’re going to sleep for a few hours while I’m in the grove. I’ll take Solomon to make my morning stops and then double back for you, so you can rest more before work.”

“You won’t have much time,” Silver mutters, drooping against him. At one time in their lives, they’d both been able to stay up for days on end, anger and paranoia and fear keeping them too sharp and too on edge to sleep. Flint knows he’s softened in the years he’d been in St. Augustine, and it thrills him beyond measure to see it happening to Silver, too.

“It’ll take me less time than usual without you there,” Flint points out. “I don’t chat.”

Silver kisses him, cupping his face with two hands. He’s sleep-warm, despite not having any, and his lips move soft and wet against his own. Flint holds his side to keep him steady, his other hand still clutching at his hair and neck to keep himself steady. The sun has finally crested the horizon outside, the rays streaking in through the kitchen window, already heating Flint’s back, and he’s never felt so goddamn comfortable in his entire life.

Then suddenly, the kiss becomes heavier, as though all of Silver’s weight is behind it, but at the same time Silver stills against him, his mouth lax, hands limply falling to Flint’s chest. Flint blinks, pulling back a little, and his suspicions are confirmed when Silver tilts forward with him, lips still on Flint’s. He’d fallen asleep mid-kiss. He even lets out a little snore.

Flint gently pushes Silver back and holds him upright. The movement seems to jolt him awake, and he stares at Flint blearily.

“You don’t really think I’m a swindler, do you?” he asks.

“No.” Again, Flint is struck by that wild impulse, so he kisses Silver softly between the eyes. He feels Silver slump against him like he might drift off again. “Although, I haven’t read the book yet, so I can't say for certain.”

“You can borrow it, if you like,” Silver murmurs, sounding tired but not unhappy. “I have a copy of my own.”

#black sails #silverflint #orange #i'll complete this whole fic (in order!) eventually #i love everyone in this bar

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