#there's probably more stuff i'm forgetting but off the top of my head it's fried rice sushi and chicken shawarma

[folkdances]

what's your favourite food that comes from OUTSIDE of your culture

[vickers-n-lickers]

Moonlit pt. 1

Warning: Contains explicit content and mentions of violence. ((BradxOC, Jill and Chris))

"We're going to see the flowers bloom, right?"

"Yeah, babe… We're gonna go. Delucia is real pretty this time of year," Brad bit back a sob as he held the compress fast against the side of the woman's neck. He didn't dare another look beneath.

The corpse of her attacker was laid out in front of the barricaded doors in a pool of its own filth. Blood and skin glistened between rotting teeth. The S.T.A.R.S. emblem of Brad's knife shined in gold and blood from where he had jabbed it into the zombie's skull.

"I don't think I'm going to make it though..."

"It's going to be okay, Joan. Just stay still. Help is coming."

She was too tired to laugh, fingers slippery in red reached to graze the side of his face. Blood came away as finger paint. "Nobody is coming. Jenna is gone and I'm…" She whimpered, tears glittering in her eyes.

His shaking hand slipped and gripped hers. Soft lips along her beautiful wrist, it took everything in him not to lose it right then and there.

Joan smiled. She smiled the way she always did in the dim light and tangled sheets; face aglow with it reaching clear to those green eyes.

Brad frowned. He frowned the way he had every night since July. Nothing Joan could say to him would ever spare him the guilt or shame. Not even the way she looked at him that moment could spare him.

The city was lost.

Soon she would be gone too.

"Hey Piper, if you're heading out to lunch can you drop this off at the airfield? New guy forgot his flight bag. S.T.A.R.S. is taking off a couple hours."

Swiveling around in her seat, Joan's brows rose high. "I can. Do I really want to?"

Marvin just made a face at the brilliant smile delivered toward him. "Alright then. You fly, I buy. Pick up something from Emma's on the way back, please?"

"Why, Sergeant Branagh that is awfully kind of you. I'll be sure to get the lobster." Badge tucked in a back pocket, the brunette woman slung her coat over a shoulder.

Shoving the bag and money into the woman's hands, he chuckled. "Burgers, Piper. Just burgers and fries. Bring something back for everyone else too. We're gonna be here late tonight."

Outside of the hangar, Joan slung the pack over a shoulder. The sun was in her eyes until she was in the shade of the massive building. Past a door to what stunk like a bathroom, she pushed one of the double doors open to the main hangar floor. The place was empty aside from yellow lines stenciling out a walkway, some grounding points, and one UH-1 loaded onto rollers and hooked up to a tug. Looking around, Joan was confused just where to drop this off.

Her answer came as a door from across the hangar suddenly opened. "Hey! Do you know where the pilot is?"

He was about her height, sporting a yellow jacket and trying to hurry across the clean white floor. "That would be me! Did Marvin send you?" Brad waved, letting out a sigh when the bag was in his hands. "Thank you so much. I'm having the longest week ever."

"I bet. Not like a pilot to forget his helmet and gear." His cologne was pleasant to her on the air so near one another.

Another sigh and Vickers fished out his helmet. "Yeah…"

"It'll get better. I'm Joan by the way." She offered a hand in greeting.

He took it and smiled. "Brad Vickers."

A beer bottle smashed to the floor. "Aw! Look what you did!" Chris said with a sigh, leaving the stage. Forest followed after, their usual boyish behavior resuming.

"Clean it up!" Joan huffed, presented them with a broom and dust pan. She just shook her head as they continued taunting and teasing one another. Spotting a familiar face in the crowd, she left them and the mess behind.

"How did those two graduate?" Joseph asked, wiping tears from his face as he laughed.

"Teacher passed them just to get them out of her hair, probably." Brad replied, sitting up as she approached. "Hi, Joan."

"Hey Brad, I'm surprised you came out tonight. I thought you were flying."

"Yeah, I did." He replied, nodding. Nervous as always.

Joseph looked between the two, shaking his head at Brad. "…C'mon man. She's trying so hard."

Flustered, Brad glared over at him. "What?"

"That sounds like fun." She offered to silence a potential argument, gathering up empty bottles. "Well, I'll see you around." Lips pressing to a thin line the beer bottles went into the trash can as she headed toward the back.

Forest's laughter filled the air as the two returned to the table. "'Oh Brad, I want you. Why can't you say anything that would let me know that you wanted me too?'" Speyer's impression of the woman only made the group laugh more.

"Brad, you just need to get a deeper voice around her. Nothing gets a lady going like a deep voice. Could tell her that you spent half the day in the john and her panties would still fly off." Ken said with a chuckle.

"Brad's balls haven't dropped. Stop taunting him, Ken." Joseph scoffed, finishing his beer. "You'll get there one day, Vickers."

The teasing was too much. Brad stormed off toward the bathroom before anyone could get another jab in.

Vickers doused his face in the sink, letting out a huff as water trickled off him. Drying off, he didn't want to go back out there for another roasting. Not now. Taking a left, he headed out the door poorly illuminated by an exit sign, doused in moonlight as he stepped outside. A familiar stink in the back alley filled his nostrils, the moon swollen full above. It looked pretty, too bad he was pissed off. "Assholes."

"Are they still harassing you?" A voice asked, Joan appearing as the door swung shut. Leather from her jacket clear to her boots, she was a black ink splotch against a brick wall.

Brad tried to play it off with a shrug. "Same as always…" When she took another drag, he cleared his throat. "You know that stuff is illegal, right?"

"Mhm…." Green eyes looked at him sidelong. "So?" She raised a brow when he dared to point at the joint between her fingers.

"You could be arrested for that." His eyes were enormous when she was in his space.

Joan blew smoke and air out, sad ivy eyes meeting his stare. "Is that what you think about when you go home, Brad? Cuffing me?" One last drag taken and she held the air, flicking the roach over the fence.

Alarm streaked across a normally glum face. Not even five minutes after being taunted by the guys here she was… "I- NO! No! I would never-…" His entire form stilled when her lips brushed against his. An eager tongue asking for entry had his jaw slacked, smoke and tongue rolling over the inside of his mouth.

He inhaled all of her, still lost in the moment when she released him from her clutches.

"Because if that's what you're into," Long fingers traced up and down the front of his shirt. "I'm interested." Lips a hair away from his, she spoke softly. "My apartment is just across the street, I have a few hours to kill before closing up…"

Brad blinked, coughing out the smoke from what she had shared, unable to form words let alone anything seductive enough to match. Through the glass where he hid so much of himself, she saw him. He knew that. It made him less tense. So did the pot.

"Wanna come up with me?" Joan never followed any rules but her own now.

He wouldn't have wanted her any other way.

Keys dumped on the table by the door, Joan shed the jacket from her shoulders. It dropped on a stack of old newspapers. She followed him, an arm slunk over his shoulder as they both looked at an article carefully tucked under fruit magnets on the fridge. Joan stared back at them in ink on paper, smiling brightly in her uniform.

"I remember that. You caught the guy who evaded S.T.A.R.S. for months," Brad commented, thumb tracing over the tight script of the headline. The heat of her so close was devouring his attention. Her touch; electric.

"Did I ever tell you what happened when I caught up to him? He tried to grab me from behind in his apartment when I was questioning him. Slung him like a sack of potatoes right through his glass coffee table." She smiled fondly when he chuckled.

"I never heard that part of the story before..."

"Probably had to get stitches in his butt. I don't remember anymore. Want a beer?"

A few more drinks and she was pulling him away from the island in her kitchen.

Holy shit... he's in my bedroom.

His hands went for her hips. She gave him a push onto the bedspread. In the dim light, the brunette's eyes drank him all in.

Leaning forward, Brad hooked a finger along the waist of her pants. It only took seconds for her to be left in nothing but a pair of filigree black panties. An interesting selection, it felt like window shopping. His palm wandered up the sheer fabric as she crawled into his lap and out of the pants puddled on the floor. The pilot was growing anxious under his surface to entice her with his touch. His experience was limited, but he was eager. So eager to play out what ran through his mind a million times when she'd bumped into him.

Teeth nipping at her bottom lip briefly, she couldn't help but imprint it all to memory.

His fingers pushing the fabric of her tank top up until she was tugging it overhead.

The outline of his girth under the material of his slacks.

He looked so untamed in her bed, under her, her fingers tracing his bottom lip.

Her eyes widened as his lips parted and a tongue drug against the pads of her fingers. Those fingers dipped and he sucked. His smile was an easy thing when her fingers retracted, tugging back a little more on one side than the other.

So beautiful.

Him.

Just like that.

She was as high as she'd ever been from the image alone.

His grin faded fast under Joan's gauging stare.

Fingers frisked through his hair, the rock hard girth pressed against her as their mouths fused. She didn't acknowledge it openly; he'd have to show want of his own. Tearing free for air, his mouth and tongue on her collarbone was such a pleasant feeling; it sent a tremble down her spine. She wondered how he would feel rigid against the roof of her mouth as she drug her nails to his belt.

He traced the interior of that annoying fabric she still wore. He barely brushed against the heat of her when his brows jolted. Zipper down, her hand snaked in.

He was thick and hard, and his nostrils flared as she rotated her thumb over the head of his member. There was some pride to be had in watching his eyes dial and desire scribble its name all over his features. His fingers pressured spots white and then staining red as his hands moved again. He couldn't look away. The pace of the stroke, the look on her face… The gentle bounce of her chest from breath and motion. She made him ache in the worst way possible and left him dripping. He hated how she made his member weep all over the skin stretched between her thumb and index finger. He loved it too.

Joan gasped as his wrist flipped, a crooked finger sliding in easily. She visibly shuddered, internally collapsed all around his digit as it slid to the joint before retracting over and over. Even the pad of his thumb rotated over her pearl. Everything in her quaked. She felt his stare even when her eyes where shut. She hated how a second finger sank inside and thrust. She loved it too.

His teeth sank into her side. A tongue bathed over the bruise and perfect mark of his teeth under her ribs. Cool breath made her mewl. He pushed in. Her walls pushed back. He knew she was building fast and fierce. Tongue drug between the mounds of her breasts, he panted hard against her skin.

Her grip on his girth finally released, both of her hands were behind her on his knees. Those fingers of his were about to be the end of her. She shamelessly begged him not to stop, dripping all over his palm. Such a brutal and starved animal she was under sad eyes and a smoky voice.

He could feel her legs trying to close on either side of his own. He spread wider, much stronger than she was.

The brunette was forced to tremble all around him, her hands on his chest. Eyes locked, her face was a flurry of emotions. His name leaving her lips, she cried out from a less than affectionate thrust of fingers. She pushed back against his digits, quivering.

"Cum for me." His voice was a low whisper.

It was too much for her to hold in. She never thought she'd live to see the day those words would escape his throat. It made her clench, entire form seized. Drenching his hand was an understatement, shaking uncontrollably.

Brad's free hand cradled the back of her neck, keeping her steady. "Are you alright?"

Her nod was not very convincing. Fingers drawn out, her panties slid back. Sopping wet, as wobbly as a fawn fresh to the world, she stumbled to her feet. His hand caught her forearm, she never hit the carpet. Eyes lifted to him as she slid the soaked undergarments off.

The crease of his lips parting, the glistening tips of his two fingers responsible for making such a mess, slid past teeth. His tongue lapped along them, heavy lids hovering over his eyes. He watched her watching him.

So carnal, somehow she could believe that this was him. His own veil was lifted, finally crawling out from under his rock. "That good, huh?"

His pearly teeth bit down on those digits until they ached, lips enclosing to suck the remnants off. Her taste was as close to being completely intoxicated as he cared to be. Dumping off his shirt, he wagged a finger for her to join him once more.

In his lap, she was done with hesitations. Hips rolling against him, she left his length slick in her honey. It took a dark and husky voiced confession in her ear before she slid back and then on him. All of him, safe inside, filled her right to the brim. Stretched wide, the brunette had plenty of experience.

Her tongue licking up a bead of sweat near his pectoral made him seize.

His hips met hers, buried so deep, fingers digging trenches, bruising and abusing her skin.

She whimpered, a pained tone echoing out while previously skittering fingers clenched.

He ceased, pulling back. Sat up, his arms encompassed her lithe form, fingers snaking down to her ample bottom. Gentle affections wrote silent apologies along her neck and then her mouth.

She set the pace with a gentle rock of her hips against him. He sunk back onto the bed. Under her wandering mouth he let out his air in a sigh. The slope of his shoulder, her lips drug and half-moon eyes watched his close. He pulsed as she ground down and swirled around, muscles bordering the tension of piano wire. His mouth hung open, something he was unaware of entirely.

Neither of them intended to get lost like this together.  Forehead to forehead, sweat slicked them both. His eyes refuse to tear away, hypnotized by her using him for her own needs. He was so close, and yet so far from his own end.

She could have ridden him like he was her own stallion to whip and spur right across the finish line.

Their roles reversed. Behind her, a hand in her hair, he tugged her head back. Hips bucking, he met her halfway. She was a vice around him, squeezing and pressing. Nose against her neck, he buried as much sound as possible when his end came. She could feel every throb of his release, thighs shaking. Her heartbeat was in her head and he was dripping out of her when he pulled away.

She gazed at him, blinking under sweaty strands of brunette.

Something seared in his chest, heavy and hot. He felt it more for her now than ever. It was an emotion that didn't deserve a name. He closed it away. He couldn't form words, panting heavily. He wanted to. More than badly he wanted to tell her everything that was going through his mind.

What she looked like.

How he saw what it all could be.

Brad looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, a hand gently rising to rest against the side of her face. His mouth found hers without warning.

He kissed her how he should have kissed her so long ago.

She expected him gone before dawn, another notch on a belt.

Dawn came and went. She found herself alone, sighing. 

Figures...

The sudden sound of water running in the bathroom made her heart thump hard.

Flipping the light off, Brad was all bedhead when he crawled back in with her, his nose burying against the hollow of her beautiful neck. He held her like all children hold their favorite toy.

The one that kept monsters away.

She allowed herself to relax after that. Assured of sincerity, she drifted back to sleep.

Metal door swung open, Chris led the way into the back alley. Salt scuffed with his tread, snow everywhere on the ground. "Freeze, pot head!" He pointed a finger at the woman sitting on the trash can next to the door.

Joan's eyes rolled, a middle finger presented. "Blow me, pig." The air around her was permeated with the stench of marijuana. "What's up?" Her voice was strained as she held in her air.

Arms folded, Chris glanced to the woman closing the door to the alley. "Jill hasn't heard the story about why you're the saint everyone at the RPD prays to when Irons is looking to wreck their day."

Jill gave the pony tailed brunette a small wave.

Snickering, Joan waved back. A plume of white smoke escaping her lips, she smiled. "Oh, the story of Joan of Raccoon against the tyranny of Brian the Fat is a tragic tale." She jumped to her feet, the trash can banging against the ground as it spilled open. Somewhere in the dark a dog began barking. "Ah, shit. Oh well, I'll make the bus boy clean that up. So, anyway… It goes like this: I joined the RPD in 1992 as a beat cop. It wasn't a bad gig, I was rising fast. I transferred to the K-9 unit and did pretty well with them. Then it came time again to consider me for promotion."

Chris took a seat on the stoop.

Another long drag taken from her joint, the woman paused. "Irons didn't want women to rise above sergeant, let alone ever becoming a figure with some pull in his police department. Sexist shit thinks women should be barefoot, pregnant, and unable to seek justice for violence. He used to beat on his old lady. There was some talk about him hurting two girls in college but Daddy's money made that all go away." She made a dismissing gesture with her hand. "Enough about that though. About three years ago was when I was being looked at for promotion. He canned it immediately. He did the same to four of my female peers too."

"That's blatantly sexist." Jill stated, pulling at the label lining the neck of her drink.

"Yeah, it is." The Piper girl retorted, hands reaching up to smooth away some unruly locks of brown. "Anyway, we started digging around. It turns out that Chief Irons had his hands in several cookie jars. You know the Cedar district? That crazy fuck was part of the land grab that put a lot of people on the streets. Categorized it as commercial land, Umbrella bought every inch and started throwing up building after building. They brought their own people in from elsewhere, so no new jobs. Crime jumped in Raccoon City, and it was all people just trying to feed their kids with no money to be made. He had the boys in blue loading them up, dumping them off in Stone Ville so the mayor would shut up. All their kids were taken to the orphanage, so who knows what happened to them. Two female prisoners claimed he did something to them… He's a heartless bastard and it's my fault that he's not behind bars."

Breath fogged, Jill finally dared to ask, "What happened?"

"She pissed hot," Chris answered from behind his folded hands. "DA didn't think they could prosecute him when the officer making accusations also happens to be one that was recently fired by Irons for drug abuse."

Piper flicked the remnants of her joint over the fence. Her voice cracked as she spoke, "Umbrella started hiring people as soon as the riots became violent. Everything started going back to normal. The other female officers managed to get promoted eventually. I think the threat of serious consequences for him and Raccoon City was enough to make the man submit." Her hands dug into the pockets of her jeans. "So, if Irons ever tries to talk to you about 'duty' or 'justice'… He's a fucking liar who only wants to control his little 'Pleasantville'." She looked to Jill with a hard expression. "Him, the mayor, all of these big shots…"

"They're all liars. Every last one of the top tier for city officials and in the PD…All of them are cheats and liars." Chris noted softly.

Jill sighed a bit, lifting her beer to her lips.

Joan popped her lips twice before replying. "One isn't." She could almost feel Chris rolling his eyes, and it caused her to snicker. "I know you two haven't ever kissed and made up, Chrissy, but why won't you even try? Sending flowers goes a long way."

"Ain't happening." He climbed up, already retreating inside. "I need to piss. Have fun this weekend in Delucia meeting Brad's parents, Joan."

The sun was bright on the morning of July 25th. Joan's feet were kicked up along the open door of her old red Sunliner. Alanis Morissette was on the radio, telling her what she ought to know while she filed at an uneven edge of a nail. The drone of a helicopter high overhead had the woman poking her head out from under the canvas top. "About damn time, Brad." File dumped in her purse, she killed the engine and headed up toward the RPD.

It was another forty minutes before a familiar yellow vest caught her eye through the windows. "Good morning! Did you guys…?" Her brows quirked as Chris and Barry stormed past her. Jill and Rebecca could have used some buckets for all of the tears they were shedding as they ducked past the woman as well.

Was Becca covered in blood?

Frowning, she looked back to Brad. "Did something happen?" A million thoughts ran through her mind. Only one helicopter came back.

Another crash? Oh no…

"Where's everyone else?"

The pilot worried at the stitching along his flight bag.

[thekwanderer]

November 30 2019

Today was our last full day in India as we fly out tomorrow morning super early in the morning. One downside to our short trip is that we spent so much time traveling, and it has been wearing on our bodies. First thing at 9 am, we go to the next door spa to get a deep tissue massage. Supposedly we got there a little early, but our shuttle for the airport left at 11, and we didn't want to miss it. They were kind enough to accommodate us before their official open time at 10.

My lady did not hold back. She used her elbows to really get in deep into my muscles and seemed not to notice my sharp intakes of breath. Afterwards, I almost felt sore! I quickly rinsed off the lotion they used to massage, and we quickly booked it back to the hotel. We grabbed our stuff that we mostly packed before we left, and headed down to breakfast. Most of the time, we had gone early to breakfast, but we hit the busiest time and it was hectic. Folks were ordering all sorts of food and even the staff looked like they were scrambling. Bobby lucky found the expediter in the restaurant and was able to quickly wrangle food for us and I chowed down. Checking out was even a little stressful because they was a long line to do so.

As we should have anticipated, the shuttle did not leave at 11 sharp but closer to 11:30. Luckily that gave me time to quickly run off to the restroom although they told me I didn't have time. That's the benefit of arriving early! The ride was probably the best we had in India because we were on a large bus (that could accommodate about 15 people) that couldn't dart in and out as nimbly as a smaller car. Also the seats reclined to 120 degrees and Bobby and I squeezed in a quick nap.

Mercifully, we avoided any hiccups at the airport. Goa is too small to go to the wrong terminal! We checked our bags without the help of fast forward and got through security fine. On the other side, we hunted around for something to eat in the food court. Grabbing a table here is a competitive sport. You have to be wily and quick otherwise someone will undermine you. Debbie had a table stolen from under her nose, but she eventually emerged victorious. Debbie, Richard, and I got KFC and Bobby got a local biriyani rice. The KFC was pretty good and even the regular fried chicken sandwich had a light kick to it. We wandered around the airport to find a postcard to send, but to no avail. We had to board the plane. This flight was much better than the one to Goa. Maybe I'm getting used to India, but I do think that there were fewer people on the plane trying to bend the rules. Two hours flew by.

Once landed, we collected our bags without incident. The beauty of landing in the domestic terminal is that there are fewer folks trying to hustle us - those people are all in the international terminal. On our way to the uber there was someone who tried to help us with our bags even when we found our uber and tried to hold the door open for me. But we learned our lesson, and accepted nothing from this guy. We arrived at the hotel, and even though it was 7 pm, our rooms weren't ready yet. But we are used to it at this point and enjoyed the live music playing in the lobby and people watched. There was a huge and glamorous wedding happening with a lot of foreigners and it was fun watching them walk by in all of their finery. This wedding was much fancier than the one that we attended as the woman had beautifully beaded and bejeweled outfits.

Debbie and Richard had stayed next door to the hotel when we were in Delhi last for the wedding and they knew that it was very hard for Uber's to find this location. Aerocity is a brand new neighborhood and I think that many taxi drivers still don't know how to navigate it. In fact, we found an area called Worldmark which is a large shopping complex via the concierge. The mall wasn't even on the map it's so new. We did some shopping buying snacks to share with folks back home and we wandered around.

We finally decided on this one restaurant that caught Richard's eye because it said it was from the creators of the original butter chicken dish in India. When we peered inside, the front was a lot of Indian patrons even though it was pretty early for dinner. When we asked about putting our name down, they said it was going to be an hour. Deciding that we had time to kill, we put down our names and went to wander a little more as well as drop off the goodies we purchased. On our way back to the hotel, we passed the wedding procession for the groom from the wedding at our hotel. There were drummers and dancers and the groom was on top of a white horse. We stopped for a few minutes because we missed this tradition from Anna's wedding since we were with the bride rather than the groom. It was fun to watch. We quickly drop off our purchases at the hotel and by the time we get back to the mall, it's time for dinner.

The place is called Daryaganj and it was created by the great grandson of the supposed creator of the butter chicken recipe. We decide to take a chance on the name and three of us order the butter chicken. It did live up to the hype. It was delicious where the chicken was tender and you could taste the butter in the sauce. The sauce is a little chunkier than what we're used to, but it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Bobby noticed that there were long strips of ginger as well as peppers to give it a kick. On top of the garlic naan we ordered is heaven. The butter in both the naan and chicken are accentuated so the butter almost tastes like the butter on popcorn. We stuffed ourselves silly, and it was a perfect ending to our time in India.

This trip really tested Bobby and my patience as things went sideways and we had to roll with the punches. It was too short of a time and I wish we had a couple more days in Goa, but I'm so grateful that we had amazing travel companions to watch our back, keep our spirits high, and help smooth out any bumps that we hit along the way. It was a once in a lifetime experience to be a part of an Indian wedding in Delhi and it won't be one that I'll soon forget.