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avastrasposts · 6 months ago

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Big Sky Country - ch. 2

Part two of Cowboy!Frankie and the OFC AIsling meeting as Frankie comes to New York to sort out things with his "maybe ex-girlfriend."

Mature, angsty, some fluff, dark themes.

Series Master List

Warnings contain spoilers and can be found here.

Aisling watched Frankie answer his phone from the corner of her eye as she stacked the clean glasses. Maybe it’s because she’d spent a few minutes talking to him, watching his face change from troubled to smiling, but the way his eyebrows bunched together as he looked at the screen for several long seconds, she knew the call brought him back to the mood he’d walked into the bar with. He pressed the phone to his cheek, eyes hidden under the peak of his cap, as he answered. A few words were exchanged, his shoulders crept up towards his ears, and then he slid off the stool and bent down to grab his duffel bag. He walked to the door without a look back, but at the last moment, he turned and caught Aisling’s eyes, lifting his chin in a small nod goodbye as he pushed the door open with his back. She gave him a quick wave and a smile, before the door closed behind him.

As her shift ended, she grabbed the tray of dirty glasses and brought it to the back of the bar, loading the dishwasher. It roared to life, the old machine rumbling behind her as she got her bag and jacket. It wasn’t a long walk back to her small apartment, stopping at the bodega for a sandwich, before she could finally close the door on the day. Her place was small, a sublet, and not really her own. A room and a bathroom and nothing else, the partially obstructed view of the river the only forgiving feature. It’s also what’s going to force her to move sometime soon, the land value far too great to ignore, and another piece of Brooklyn would transform into luxury condos while people like her moved further out.

People like her. And Frankie. Her mind turned back to the quiet man in the bar, something about him felt familiar. She thinks it’s the way he turned up in New York with only a duffel bag, his life packed into it. She could easily fit the things she cared about into a duffel bag and just leave. If she had somewhere to leave too. Would she have his courage to pick up and travel two days across the country to a new city? She wasn’t sure. This was her city, Brooklyn was where she was born and raised. She’d stayed even when her parents broke up and her mother found a new man in a Long Island suburb that Aisling hated. Both the man and the suburb. She’d stayed with her father in a tiny one bedroom apartment close to the river in Red Hook rather than move out to the big house with a pool.

When her father died, her senior year in high school, she lost her family, and Brooklyn became family instead as she moved from one small semi-legal rental to another. She made some sort of life working in the endless bars, clubs and restaurants, and a new family was formed, made up of the friends who, like her, worked long hours, surviving on tips and bodega sandwiches. Her small world in Brooklyn became a place where people like her looked out for their own. And Frankie felt like one of their own.

She hoped he’d return to the bar, hoped he’d find a job and stay around. He intrigued her, as well as tugged at a deep hidden physical attraction, his soft eyes, broad shoulders and large hands. She could easily imagine how it would feel to have him closer, to have him settle his weight on top of her as she wrapped her arms around those solid shoulders. She didn’t easily fall for anyone, but she didn’t mind finding temporary release with someone and Frankie had all the attributes she craved. She fell back in bed, thinking about the way he’d rubbed his hand over his soft looking curls, the strain of the jeans around his thighs as he picked up the duffel bag, and it made her legs clench together, seeking relief.

In another part of Greenpoint, Frankie was buzzed in through the door of a much nicer building. Eva opened the door as he reached third floor, and let him in.

“You look like shit, Frankie,” she said by way of greeting as he dropped his bag on the floor, “And you smell like the bus.”

“Nice to see you too,” he replied, pulling off his cap and she presented her cheek for him to kiss.

“Take a shower, we can talk after dinner, I bought Korean.”

She left him standing in the small hallway as she disappeared into the kitchen, “I put out a clean towel for you.”

With a sigh he zipped open his bag on the floor, digging out his shower gel and a clean change of clothes. He didn’t know if he’d be sleeping on the couch or not so he didn't take any chances, leaving his bag on the floor of the hallway until he knew where his bed was tonight.

His hair was still damp from the shower when he pushed back the empty take out container and slumped back on the couch a little bit later.

“I thought we’d talk about it,” he said, fighting to keep his voice quiet and calm, “I know timing is bad, but we should at least talk through the options.”

“We can’t raise a baby here, it’s barely big enough for one person, Frankie,” Eva said, waving her hand around the apartment. “And I can’t afford a bigger place in Greenpoint and you’re not even working.”

“I have a job. In Montana. And that could be an option too, I could get a job on a ranch closer to town, we’d be able to afford a much bigger place out there.” He leaned forward, reaching for her hands, needing her to understand that he was serious about this, “I know it won’t be easy, but this is our baby, we can make it work for her, or him.”

“So you want to get me back to that hell hole? I let you trap me there once before, now you want me to go back with a baby!” Eva stood up, ignoring the way he reached for her, his pleading voice as she paced the living room, “I don’t know how you can stand living there, all alone. I would never raise a child there, they’d be a fucking psycho, all isolated, and, I’m sorry Frankie, but surrounded by fucking hillbillies”

“So then we stay here, we can move a bit further out, I’ll find work and we can afford a bigger place. I can fix it up, you know I can, make it the way you want it,” he turned so that he could keep looking at her as she continued her pacing, “It doesn’t have to be Montana, we can move wherever you want, but we can make this work for the baby.”

“You’re so fucking delusional, Francisco,” she stopped in front of him, “we’re not even together any more, we broke up, remember? What makes you think we should raise a child together?”

“Because we were good once, Eva, it was good, wasn’t it? I know I got you to move to Montana and you weren’t happy there, but we could be happy again, maybe here in New York and the baby-”

“You hate New York, Frankie, you couldn’t even stand two months here, nothing’s changed because of the baby.” Her face softened slightly as she shook her head, “You still have your problems, your brain still won’t shut up here, the baby will only make that worse.”

“The baby won’t make it worse,” Frankie protested, “I know I can’t live here, right in the middle of it, but if we move to a quiet area, just a bit further out, then I’d be fine, I know it.” He wasn’t sure at all, but it was all he had, the only alternative to Montana.

She chewed her lip and looked out through the window, the late night city noises drifting in.

“Cariño,” he said, his voice soft now, as he stood up and moved closer to her, “We were good, before Montana, we were even happy there right? In the beginning?” He carefully took her hand in his, stroking his thumb across the soft skin, “we can still be good together.”

Eva turned towards him, his soft brown eyes looking down at her as his fingers wrapped around her hand, “I still love you,” he lied and she sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know, Frankie,” she mumbled and she didn't say ‘I love you’ back.

The unease settled in the pit of his stomach, the lie he told her, her non-response. Maybe he should’ve been relieved, if she didn’t love him then maybe his lie meant less. But he wanted to love her, wanted her to love him back, so that this child could be a second chance for them, another new start.

She let him sleep in her bed at least, let him crawl between the sheets and curl his body around hers. But when he reached for her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, she feigned sleep. Frankie soon rolled over onto his back. He found himself staring at the ceiling while his ‘maybe girlfriend’ faked sleep next to him. As the city continued to move and live outside the bedroom window, she drifted into actual sleep and he fought the urge to leave, his feet itching. But his body could only fight sleep for so long, and in the early hours of the morning, when the traffic dropped to a minimum by Greenpoint standards, he drifted into an uneasy rest.

When he woke up, Eva had already left, the only message a key on the kitchen counter. His body itched in a way it hadn’t since he left Florida, and it drove him out of the apartment. When he walked he could at least focus on just keeping control over his surroundings. He just needed to assess the situation in front of him, and then leave it behind as his long legs moved him past it and onwards. The compass in his head took him around Greenpoint in a big circle, it took several hours and by the time he drew close to the river again his feet were aching, not used to walking for hours on the hard streets.

He found himself on the same street as yesterday, the sign of the bar just a bit further down, and he tried to tell himself it was a coincidence. But he knew his mind had been dwelling too much on the bartender.

Aisling, with the red hair and creamy skin under her shirt, with a smile just for him.

He knew it was ridiculous, because it’s her job, but the way she saw him, read him, and knew what he was when he walked in, it made him feel a connection. And now that draws him back to the bar. Maybe he was just such a pathetic man that he needed to be seen by a pretty woman, wanting her attention, for her to notice him. He scolded himself, took longer strides and kept his head down as he neared the bar.

He wanted to walk past it, determined to go to the apartment, to talk to Eva again. But then he glanced in. And she was behind the bar, smiling at a couple as she put down two beers on the counter in front of them. The woman said something and Aisling laughed, her nose wrinkling as her shoulders shook with giggles.

He stopped, caught in the way she squinted her eyes when she giggled, disappearing as she closed them and leaned forward, holding onto the bar for support as she laughed with her whole body. He swallowed, tried to move his feet again, but she straightened up and pushed her hand through her hair, her cheeks puffing out as she drew a deep breath to control her giggles. She still smiled brightly as she glanced out through the window, maybe sensing his eyes on her. And he tried to move again, but his body only obeyed hers. She lifted her hand in a wave, and before he knew it, he waved back at her as beckoned him inside.

“Hi Frankie,” she called to him as he stepped through the door, as if he’s a regular, someone who belongs. She’s still smiling at him, only looking away briefly to nod at the couple who’ve taken their beers further into the bar.

“Come in, how’s your day?” Aisling asked as he walked over to the same stool as yesterday, the one where he can have a corner behind him.

“It’s alright,” Frankie replied, her smile impossible to not match, and he felt himself lighten as she looked at him, “Been exploring around Greenpoint a bit.”

“Do you like it?” she asked, leaning her hip against the counter. The bar was almost empty, early afternoon and she liked his company. The way he smiled, dark eyes softening as his face crinkled, the deep dimple prominent on his right cheek.

“Honestly?” he replied, “Not at all, I fucking hate the city.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile as he chuckled at her expression, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline at his candid confession.

“What’s wrong with New York? It’s the greatest city in the world.”

“I’m sure it is, but it’s not for me,” he shook his head, “I used to be able to handle cities but now…the noise, it just grates on my ears, makes my skin itch.”

“Montana is different I guess,” she said and he knew he was reading too much into her remembering where he’d come from.

“Yeah, it’s very different. I’m not from there, but I moved out after I left the army, needed a change of scenery,” he said, truncating his story, “And the life out there, it’s easier, at least for me.”

“How so?” she asked, her gaze held on to him when he tried to duck his head, and all he could do was shrug, maintaining contact with her green eyes.

“It’s open, quiet, no crowds, no traffic, just open sky and land going on for miles.”

“I don’t know if I’d feel relieved or scared,” she smiled, “I’ve never really left New York. I can’t imagine being somewhere so open,” she leaned closer to him, tapping her finger on his phone that he’d placed on the bar, “Do you have pictures? I’d love to see it.”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he said, unlocking it and opening his photo folder, “I don’t take a lot of photos but sometimes the sky is just really beautiful, but the photos never do it justice.”

He held up his phone, showing her a picture of his cabin, the mountains dark with the sky burning in bright pinks and orange streaks behind them.

“I took this a week ago, just at sunset,” he said as she took the phone from him, her eyes widening.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” she said, her voice reverent as she studied the photo. The small log cabin drew her in, smoke coming from the chimney, a pick-up truck parked in front and a pile of cut wood next to a chopping block. The scene was domestic, as if Frankie had just stuck the ax to the block and stepped back to snap a picture of the burning sky. It looked like a proper home, like homemade stew on the stove and lazy evenings in the hammock on the porch. She could see him there, kicking the hammock into a swing with one long leg on the porch while the evening closed in.

“Is this your place?” Aisling asked him and he nodded in response.

“Yeah, I work on a ranch and the cabin comes with the job, it’s kinda stuck on the outskirts, the prairie is in front, here,” he swiped his finger across the screen and showed her a second photo, “That’s the view from the porch, just open land.”

She looked at all the space in the photo, just the darkening sky, a few low shrubs and the horizon.

“It’s endless, so much…air,” she whispered and she didn’t know why, it was like seeing where he was from, what a contrast it was, made her want to protect him in this cramped world they’re in now. Keep her voice low so as not to grate on his ears like the rest of the city.

“It makes me feel unrestricted,” Frankie said in a low voice that matched hers, studying her face as she studied the details of the photo. His fingers twitched, he almost reached up and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, it’d fallen over her cheek and she blew a puff of air to shift it, “Makes my mind go quiet and it makes me calm, it’s easier for me to live with myself out there.”

She looked back up at him, their eyes meeting, and he bit his tongue. He’d spilled more than he intended, exposed himself to her, but she just gave him a soft smile.

“So what are you doing here, Frankie? It’s all cramped and noisy, no place for a cowboy.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know to be honest, just looking for a new start maybe,” he lied.

He should tell her about Eva, tell her he has a ‘maybe girlfriend’ that he’s trying to work things out with for the sake of a mistake that they both made and is now waiting to be born. But he doesn’t, he tells himself Aising wouldn’t be interested in his messy personal life, but he knows that’s another lie, she would listen to him.

“I just thought maybe I could make some more money here, go back to Montana and maybe buy my own place,” he shrugged again and she smiled at his plans.

“That sounds like a plan worth going for,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at her colleague who’d just walked in behind the bar, “If you ever go back, let me know, I wanna come visit and see all that open sky.”

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, counting his third lie in just as many minutes.

Aisling thumbed behind her, “My shift is over now, and I know the best place for bodega sandwiches, if you’re hungry?”

Frankie should say no, he knows he should say no and go back to the apartment, maybe Eva is home already. But instead his head nodded, and he heard himself say ‘yeah, that’d be great’.

Aisling gave him a smile that turned his insides warm, and told him she’d be out in a couple of minutes.

She met him by the door to the bar, watching him tug at his cap and give her a small smile as she hooked her arm into his, pulling him down the street.

“Tell me more about Montana, what’s it like to work on a ranch?” she asked, just to get him to talk, to listen to that deep voice of his. He’d been close to her ear at the bar when he told her about the photos, and the timbre of his voice had sent shivers down her spine. Now she held her hand around his solid arm, the warmth of it seeping into her fingertips, as he chuckled and shrugged.

He said there wasn’t much to tell but then kept her entertained all the way to the bodega with a story about how he helped his favorite mare foal out on one of the trails when she went into labor too early.

Aisling glanced up at him as he went deeper into the details, she’d asked, and his brown eyes were suddenly more alive than she’d seen them in the bar, his free hand waving around as he described the newborn’s unsteady gait.

“I didn’t think the foal would make it, but he was fine, just took a bit longer to get to his feet once I’d dried him off properly.”

He smiled down at her, the pride evident in his voice, and before she knew what made her do it, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. He froze for a second, and she panicked, pulling away. But then his hand came up and wrapped around the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her long hair. And he pulled her with him, his back against a wall, making her take a step closer, as he pressed his mouth to hers.

For a few seconds she didn't know what to do, his lips were warm and soft, his mouth slightly open and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. But then he shifted, his arm circled her waist, pulled her closer to his solid body, the buttons of the suede jacket dug into her stomach, and she opened her mouth to him, searching for his tongue. With low groans, they had a first taste, teeth clashing as he ran his tongue along hers. She thought he tasted of burnt coffee and toothpaste but it didn’t really matter because above all else, he kissed her like he was drowning, curling his tall frame around her as he licked into her mouth, fingers digging into the back of her head and heat shot through her body.

It was like his brain had shut down, her lips on his, her body against his, and he moved before he could think. Pulling her with him, closer, getting her closer to his mouth so that he could feel more of her, more of that soft mouth against his rough lips. And she moved with him, letting him hold her tight as she opened her mouth and tasted him. He thought she tasted of grapefruit juice and gum and her hand on his arm clenched, anchored him to her when he sucked on her bottom lip. His head should be buzzing, guilt should be shouting at him, but it shut up, silence filled the windings of his brain as her scent filled his nose and his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She could keep on kissing him, his mouth addictive in the way it felt on hers. But she wanted him to come with her, take him back to her apartment that was just around the corner and make him put that soft mouth on all of her skin. She can feel herself tingling at the thought of having more. So she pulled back a little, reluctantly leaving his lips and opening her eyes to find him already looking at her with a confused expression.

“That was nice,” she mumbled, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth with a smile, relishing the feel of his soft beard under her lips.

He nodded, but his eyebrows were pulled together in a look she couldn't quite place, as he caressed the back of her head, his fingers running through her hair.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said and when she shook her head in confusion he let go of her.

“I kissed you, Frankie, it’s fine, I wanted you to kiss me.”

“No, it’s not that, I’m…just sorry,” he said, moving around her so that she was against the wall, and he could start walking away, but her hand was still on his arm.

And with that he left, long legs quickly carrying him away, almost running, leaving her with kiss swollen lips on the sidewalk like a fool.

“Frankie…?” she asked, the sting of rejection starting to burn inside her chest as he dipped his head, looking at his stupid cowboy boots.

“I’m sorry, the kiss was great, you’re great…I…I,” he floundered, shifting his eyes around the street but not at her, “I’ve got to go, I’ve got to be somewhere.”

Aisling cursed him under her breath, ducking into the bodega next door with her cheeks burning, anger began to bubble up in her chest. By the time she got back to the apartment she was seething.

Fine, whatever, he wasn’t even that cute anyway, she thought to herself, tossed her jacket on the chair and flopped down on the bed, just some random guy who was alright at kissing.

She stared at the ceiling, finding the crack that looked like a cartoon mouse and glared at it. Who was she trying to fool? The kiss was incredible, she could still feel the gentle scratch of his mustache on her top lip and how damp he made her panties. And then he just ducked out and left her turned on and frustrated.

Fuck Frankie Morales.

She rolled over in her bed and buried her face in the pillow, groaning in frustration, giving it a punch for good measure. His stupid face didn’t even flinch, just smiled at her with that dimple deep in his cheek, soft brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. The phantom grip of his arm around her waist, pulling her closer against his chest, was still there. She could feel the way he tugged her in, he’d kissed her back and pulled her in. With a groan she shoved her hand down between her legs, just to get this fucking man out of her head. It wasn’t hard to imagine what his solid body would feel like over her, pressing her down into the mattress and with a whine she bucked her hips. The release came embarrassingly fast, leaving her panting on the bed, but still pissed at Frankie fucking Morales and his stupid curls.

Fuck!

Frankie stalked towards the apartment, an all too familiar guilt creeping through his body. The same feeling he always got when he’d made a mistake, let someone down. He’d never cheated on a girlfriend before, never been that guy. But the feeling was the same as all the other times he’d failed himself and those around him, guilt gnawing and making him recount all the other times he’d fucked up.

His feet itched, and that all too familiar pull for a line of white powder lodged itself in the back of his head. He knew, rationally, it would only make him feel worse, make the guilt all that much worse. But the noise of the city assaulted his senses, worse now that he’d found a temporary reprieve in a kiss with a woman who was almost a stranger to him.

Fuck.

He stopped and turned around, made it five steps back towards where he’d left Aisling, and then he stopped again. Turned back towards the apartment where Eva should be waiting.

Fuck!

He felt the pull between the two, one type of man would go back to Eva, starting a new life with the mother of his unborn child. Another type of man would go back to Aisling and lose himself in her warm body.

With a deep groan he sank down on the stoop of a brownstone, his head in his hands. He could only see the feet of the people walking past him, no one slowing down or stopping to ask why a grown man was groaning with his hands clasped over his capped head. No one gave a fuck.

No one gives a fuck about you, Francisco.

With a deep sigh he pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket and dialed the one person he knew would at least try to help him.

“Hey Herb,” he said as his sponsor picked up.

…

“Yeah, it’s me.”

…

“No, New York is kicking my fucking ass, it’s not good.”

…

By the time he pulled himself up from the stoop, his butt was numb and his legs stiff. But he felt calmer, Herb’s sage, cut the bullshit, advice always seemed to get him off the ledge at least. The rest he had to do himself.

He turned his back on Aisling, pushed her to the back of his mind, and walked with determination towards the apartment. He had a mission to complete, he was here to take responsibility for something he’d done, and he was not about to involve another person in that mess.

He used his key to open the apartment door when he got back, and found Eva flat on her back on the couch with a heat pack over her belly.

“You alright?” he asked her, his eyebrows pulling together in concern as he saw her pale and drawn face.

“Food poisoning,” she mumbled, “I think.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and crouched down next to her, putting his hand on her clammy forehead.

“Can I get you something? Pain meds? Pepto?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“I already took some, I can take more in two hours.”

“Some tea maybe? And I’ll sort dinner, don’t worry about it,” he gave her cheek a small caress but she turned her head away from his hand, towards the couch.

“No, just let me sleep, I’ll be better in the morning,” she muttered, closing her eyes.

“Alright, but I’ll make some Chicken Alfredo, your favorite, just let me know if you want some,” he stood up and pulled his jacket back on, “I’ll go get some groceries, just message me if you need anything, ok?”

Eva didn’t respond, just turned further into the couch and Frankie left. Under the harsh overhead light of the local convenience store he scanned the shelves for saltines, the yellow gatorade and extra ibuprofen, just in case.

She seemed to be sleeping when he returned to the apartment, and he cooked the chicken, trying to keep the noise down. As he sat down on the couch next to her, she stirred and woke up.

“Do you feel like some food?” he asked but she shook her head, “Here, have some crackers, then. It’ll make you feel better,” he held out the packet to her as she yawned. She shrugged and accepted it and he went back to his meal. He ate in silence, one of the reality shows she loved rolling on the tv, and after he’d cleaned up, he passed her another ibuprofen and the bottle of gatorade. She took it without a word and then curled back up, her head away from Frankie.

He leaned back against the couch and pulled off his cap, running a hand through his hair as he tossed it on to the coffee table. There was a memory in his head, about how it used to be when she was sick or had cramps. She’d curl up against him, her head in his lap while he stroked her hair, or gently rubbed her back. Now, not even her feet touched him, and she’d pulled the blanket so high up over her shoulders that he couldn’t even see her face. They had a long way to go, but he won’t bring that up tonight while she’s sick.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, pushing off the blanket and standing up, leaving him sitting on the couch without a backwards glance.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he asked and she shrugged as she left the room.

“Do whatever you want, Frankie.”

She disappeared into the bedroom, and although she didn’t close the door, she only left a crack open. So he stayed on the couch, kicking off his boots and stripping out of his jeans before he pulled the blanket over himself.

But sleep didn’t want to find him tonight either. The street lights cast strange patterns on the walls and he felt his heart rate pick up as sirens howled past on the street below. He twisted his tall body, too tall for the couch, and buried his head in the pillow. Aisling’s face floated up into his mind, smiling up at him, as she leaned in for a kiss. Frankie growled under his breath as the memory of her lips assaulted his restless mind, the way she felt pressed against him, soft lips, soft hair, soft body.

Fuck.

He moaned as his cock twitched, pressed against the couch beneath him, demanding attention. Shoving away the memory of her, he twisted again, picturing Eva under him instead, how she’d felt when they shared a bed back in Montana. But when he closed his eyes again, Aisling’s face was the one he saw, pink mouth open, head thrown back, moaning his name as he fucked himself deep into her.

Fuck!

He twisted again, his cock hard now, pressed against the cotton of his boxers and he pushed his palm against it, relieving some of the tension. It felt too good and he gripped it tighter through the fabric, tugging. Just needed to get this out of his system, get some release, he lied to himself. Pushing down his boxers he gripped his weeping cock with his bare hand, hissing through clenched teeth at the first slow, dry, stroke.

He couldn’t help it, he shouldn’t, but Aisling’s face floated in his mind as he jerked himself off, the image of her smooth skin as she reached up, the feel of her soft breasts against his chest this afternoon, her taste. He groaned into the palm over his mouth as thick ropes of cum splash onto his belly, coating his hand. With a sigh he cleaned himself up, shoving down the guilt that crept up his throat again, listening to Eva’s soft snores from the bedroom.

He twisted again, landing on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. Aisling’s face floated up in his mind and he sighed and accepted it. He’d deal with it in the morning.

Chapter 3

tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier

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nyc-looks · 2 years ago

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Trey, 22

“The pants are Junya Watanabe, the hoodie is Dolce and Gabbana, the jacket is vintage Wilson leather and the shoes are thrifted as well.”

Dec 17, 2022 ∙ Greenpoint

#nyc looks #street style #street snap #street fashion #beacon's closet #thrifted #vintage #style #mens street style #mens outfit #Junya Watanabe #dolce & gabbana #wilson leather

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dimension20npcofalltime · 10 months ago

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Round 1C - Bracket Three [Dimension 20 NPC of All Time]

Zayn Darkshadow vs Dr. Lugash Primjitzski

Propaganda under the cut (Contains major spoilers for Fantasy High Freshman Year

Zayn Darkshadow - He/him

Campaign: Fantasy High

Who is he?

Zayn Darkshadow is a student at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

He's goth. He died tragically. He was manipulated by a cult. He's a cool ghost. He has a pet rat. He's everything Cody walsh wants to be. He changed his name cause his family sucks. I think he deserves a little kiss on the forehead and a hug. And to win.

Can you name a more emo kid around? NO! Zayn showed real character growth through the campaign and was very charming while being secretive and mysterious as well.

Dr. Lugash Primjitzski - He/him

Campaign: The Unsleeping City

Who is he?

Dr. Lugash Primjitzski is a mob doctor in New York City. He lives in Greenpoint and treats Pete the Plug.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

Shot Petes tits off, proud eljibit ally. Became Petes handler when he needed help.

A trans ally and an excellent doctor, even if he works out of a warehouse. He regularly gives real life advice that the PCs (Pete) need to hear and he always takes time to give back to his community. Plus he's built.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 bracket #dimension20npcofalltime #dimension 20 tournament #d20 #fantasy high #the unsleeping city #fantasy high spoilers

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ourladyofomega · 1 year ago

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So, @lysistra was nice enough to tag me to name four albums I’ve been listening to intensively in recent weeks (thank you!). It was a tough decision and I literally lost sleep over this, so everyone please be nice to me or I’ll never do this again.

And they are:

#1: Sweeping Promises: Good Living Is Coming For You. Their debut, Hunger For A Way Out, was an essential Pandemic Autumn jam and I was drawn to it because of the d.i.y.-ethos album cover. I listened to that album the most out of any others that season. Now this came out with very little heads-up and I reached for it immediately, effectively taking me back to those Pandemic feels. They stuck with the same post-punk-driven, Pylon-influenced formula and these ten songs come with a slightly dirty, muddy splash in their production values. There’s a few new tricks that vocalist Lira Mondal has tried out and they show. They’ve also retained that d.i.y. method of creating records throughout all of their projects and their entire discography. Still not enough? There’s the orphaned single “Pain Without A Touch” and their other just-as-awesome project Splitting Image. And look at this CMYK artwork?!

#2: Free Love: Luxury Hits. I’m elated to say that I’m the only one here amongst my mutuals who know about this Scottish electronic duo, and that started with Apero, a record that stamps my move into my current residency. Formerly Happy Meals (because they can’t be bothered naming themselves after cancerous toxicity), this married couple have that magic touch in their sound that no one else has. They have such a special soul that could take you to another world; one that could’ve possibly existed but per chance could be a reality. Luxury Hits contain two personal favorites / footnotes of mine: “Tomorrow Could Be Heaven”, one denoting an Autumn Sunday trip out to Greenpoint, and “Pushing Too Hard”, part of a soundtrack to a colorful and vivid but complicated Summer. The latter is a charmer thanks to Suzanne Rodden’s charismatic vocals, and any release of theirs is super high-resolution, sweet colors, and lush sounds. I still hope to keep Free Love as a personal gem only I can have to myself. Maybe not after you see this.

#3: Kontravoid: Too Deep. Whenever I’m not blasting hardcore music while busting my ass at the gym, I turn to synthwave instead. After hearing the electrically-charged sounds of Kontravoid, I’m becoming more a fan. This all started when Boy Harsher featured Kontra's-“Maskerade” on a one-and-done post and the rest was game over. The original full-length has some severe high-voltage bangers (“Turn Away”, “So It Seems v.2”) and some superior anthems included (“Too Deep”, “Cost Of Life”). If you’re headed for the remix album, go on right to Fractions’ version of “So It Seems”, then tell me that you didn’t lose your shit over it because it’s that crazy.

#4: Black Marble: A Different Arrangement. It’s Summer, and you know what that means: it’s time to reach for the record that one of my fellow dee-jays opened my eyes to. Black Marble gives me a elevated feeling of superiority thanks to not only its art direction but also its frigid beats and moderately warm but lush-as-heaven synth work. Chris Stewart’s project is so good that I saw them twice: one at Brooklyn’s Warsaw opening for Cold Cave, and closing out Sacred Bones’ 15th at Queens’ Knockout Center. Both amazing experiences. Bonus points for its’ Eighties sentiment which reminds me of Dead Or Alive’s “Brand New Lover”, and double that for being the soundtrack of me moving into a new neighborhood.

And…because I can’t settle for four albums, I’ll throw in a bonus:

#5: SpaceGhostPurrp: IntoXXXicated. Holy shit. Talk about a venomous Naga-grade pit-viper of a rap release. This has to be the most exotic bars mixtape I ever heard. If you’re looking for a good drugs, money, and sex record? Well...then here it is! It’s super hot.

This time, I will tag: @sibelin, @charliemonroe, @kate2, @tewzz, @aleprouswitch, @sheisthesisterofnight, @restwaerme, @misterwhirly, @maldoror-est-mort, @sclr, @justmakesuresheeatsthemouse, @chickenshit-conformist, @urban-hieroglyphs, @iamdangerace, @the-land-of-rape-and-honey, @testure-1988, @rivetgoth, @theonlycure, @sweetness-doesnt-touch-my-face and anyone else who wants to play.

#music #hip-hop #rap #synthpop #synthwave #industrial #electronic #d.i.y.#punk

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omegaremix · 10 months ago

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Full Moon Music.

We’ve always featured darkness since our very first broadcast on Omega WUSB. By our fourth show, we came close in completing our first full-fledged darkness set in a more dis-organized era when we were still trying to figure ourselves out. Back then, ‘darkness’ meant any amount of well-known industrial, metal, and electronic acts with an evil, deviant, or negative tinge to it. Think Throbbing Gristle, Clock DVA, Whitehouse, Godflesh, NON, and etcetera. We finally achieved full force during a bonus summer broadcast (#21) and since then things evolved in how we did those shows. We’ve made a point in doing at least one but no more than two of these dark broadcasts per year, usually in the winter as it’s the best weather, and that’s not including the Halloween broadcasts we’ve done. That’s a whole other class in itself.

It wasn’t until November 2017 when I attended Hospital Productions’ 20th anniversary, a night I’ll never forget. It was the culmination of nine months of benefits and stay-at-home recovery from three life-saving shoulder surgeries. It felt so good being in my element in Brooklyn (Greenpoint) with all the industrialists, goth girls, and noise aficionados dressed in black. Ten hours of paying personal tributes to Dominick Fernow and his label made me realize there was more to look forward to. It’s something never experienced on Long Island, and don’t even get me started with what that “culture” consists of.

That event left a lasting impression on me. If the label had its’ magic on me with Cocaine Death, then I was totally mystified with its’ own showcase. Even everything surrounding it - the train rides, playlists, playbacks, the weather - felt significant to me. And then some. The following month, Omega WUSB opened up the winter broadcasting season / year with more Hospital Productions and Sacred Bones music to air. Both of those labels had their 20th and 10th label anniversaries respectively and we loved what they’ve released. Philip Best’s Alien Existence and a shipment of RRRecords’ cassettes and vinyl arrived at the residence; both which made me feel proud of myself. By Year Six, Omega WUSB was more focused in playing darkwave, synthwave, soundscapes, and even witch house. As the colder months progressed, I discovered a Brooklyn goth girl who followed me and liked my posts on the regular. She was that rare person I really identified with and gave me a serious run for my money like no other.

Through all the euphoric ups, heartbreaking downs, and greyscale steadies, the show must go on. The events of Hospital Productions and identification still surround me. They are a reminder of who I am, where I’m from, what I look forward to, and who I associate with. The darkness broadcasts still go strong and we look forward in doing them like you wouldn’t believe. By now, Omega WUSB has been more organized. Of all the different genres we play, we make it a point to do these dedicated darkness sets when the weather’s suitable and as long as the music’s current. Aside from that, we still run dedicated bonus (and even our one-and-only deluxe Leap Day) noise shows and we aim to make all of our other goth rock, black metal, classic industrial, minimal, and other midnight finds when and where applicable. All of our listeners know that organizing at least 15 different genres and making them all fit is a challenge.

This past winter, we aired one broadcast of dark electronics from Avon Terror Corps and the L.I.E.S. label, doom metal, no-tech, and some textural noise. Somehow we fell into the rabbit hole of darkwave, synthwave, minimal, and EBM and we’ve had enough for a great three-hour idea. With WUSB’s ethos of independent radio and our ethos of everything new, current, and relevant, we had a case to go off-the-board.

Here’s what I / we’ve been feeling and experiencing for the past four winters. This soundtrack supplements the pristine spectre of full moons and constellations in the clear frigid black skies, plus all the positive events that still stays with me make for a distinct spell I can call my own. No Wax Trax, no Bauhaus, The Cure, The Cramps, Siouxsie Sioux, or Depeche Mode. No doubt they’re all legends, but not every tracklist or mix has to be that way. Everything found here is current and on a different level. If at any time I need to get myself up, I’ll reach back to this and know I’ll come back to something I can call what’s mine.

Drift.: “Social Front”

Body Of Light: “Let Me Go”

Beta Evers: “Move In My Body Rhythm”

Makina Girgir: “Livides Clartes”

Kontravoid: “10,000 Voices”

La Scaltra: “Rhythm Of Our Dead Hearts”

Vore Aurora: “In Out And Thru”

Void Vision: “Body Says”

Aurat: "Shaitan”

Violet Tremors: “It’s So Good”

Popsimonova: “No Contact”

U.Z.O. / Uho Za Oko: “Medsvetovje”

Colouroid: “Eye Shadow”

Boy Harsher: “Tears”

Crazy P: “The Witness”

Molchat Doma: “Sudno (Boris Ryzhy)”

Hante.: “One More Dance”

Jennifer Touch: “Chemistry”

Minuit Machine: “Don’t Run From The Fire”

Figure Study: “Interaction”

Drift: “Calculations”

Las Eras: “La Esclava”

Gold Zebra: “Invisible Disorder”

Brusque Twins: “What Else Is There To Say?”

Schonwald: “Rays”

Dolina: “Sorrow”

Technoir: “Dying Star (Mesh)”

Sally Dige: “Forget Me”

Drab Majesty: “Cold Souls”

Opale: “Sparkles And Wine”

Boy Harsher: “R.O.V. (New Beat)”

Minimal Kommando / Andreas Ohler: “Minimal Waver”

Linea Aspira: “Hinterland”

Rue Oberkampf: “Tokyo”

Marie Davidson: “Balade Aux USA”

Xeno & Oaklander “Sentinelle”

Aurat: “Pari”

Flesh Of Morning: “Death Becomes Bitter”

White Hex: “Paradise”

Kindest Cuts: “Cold Eyes”

Phosphor: “Another Time”

Girl Pusher: “Where The Fuck Is My Ambulance?”

Debby Friday: “Treason” (f. Lana Del Rabies)

Lana Del Rabies: ”Darcy” (Lav Andula RMX)

NGHTCRWLR: “Firestarter”

Zonal: “System Error” (f. Moor Mother) Wrecked

JK Flesh: “In Your Pit”

Ciarra Black: Stasis

Filmmaker: “The Love Market”

Provoker: “Theme”

Parole E Azioni: “Karaoke Night track #1″

Aurat: “Ilzam”

Essaie Pas: “Danse Sociale”

Drift: “Say It Right”

Deep Red:“Pray For Death”

Ciarra Black: “Dupont Street”

Cabaret Nocturne: “Moon Invaders”

Boy Harsher: “Tears” (Silent Servant RMX)

Kanga: “Going Red”

Promiseland: “Take Down The House”

Lead Into Gold: “Hard Won Decay”

Rosa Damask: Heroes

Zanias: “Follow The Body”

Azar Swan: “Jungle Law”

Canal Street Electronics: “By The River”

Salford Electronics: “Deconstruction”

JK Flesh: “Trinity”

Ron Morelli: “Disappearer”

KVB, The: “In Deep”

White Ring: “Shaken To Sleep”

Pink Turns Blue: “I Coldly Stare Out”

Cabaret Nocturne: “Blind Trust”

Figure Study: “Wait”

Boy Harsher: “L.A.”

Soma Sema: “Artificial Heart”

Natural Assembly: “She Walks In Beauty”

Void Vision: “The Source”

KVB, The: “Afterglow”

John Carpenter: “Vortex” (Uniform RMX)

Emptyset: “Dissolve”

Consumer Electronics: “Co-Opted”

Alan Vega: “Prophecy”

Ninos Du Brasil: “Em Que O Rio Do Mar Se Torna”

Vatican Shadow: “Weapons Inspection”

Molly Nilsson: “A Slice Of Lemon”

Lebanon Hanover: “Babes Of The 80′s” (Tobias Bernstrup RMX)

Urochromes: “Night Bully” (Boy Harsher RMX)

Body Of Light: “Holding You”

Broken English Club: “Channel 83″

White Ring: “Leprosy”

Flesh & Peaki: “Veiled”

Ghxst: “Ride”

Strahinja Arbutina: “You Don’t Need This In Your Life”

Mirrors For Psychic Warfare: “Tomb Puncher”

Ron Morelli: “Golden Oldies”

Azar Swan: “Silent Like A Father”

Boy Harsher: “Face The Fire”

Clay Rendering: “The Pest”

Ron Morelli: “Radar Version”

Vatican Shadow: “Take Vows”

Silent Servant: “The Silent Attractor”

Ninos Du Brasil: “Vagalumes Pirilampos”

Lust For Youth: “Display”

Gary War: “Don’t Go Out Tonight”

Appetite: “Bordeaux Gallow”

Believer/Law: “Foxhole Prayers”

Ciarra Black: “Series Of…”

Silent Servant: “Dissociation”

Vatican Shadow: “Interrogation Mosaic”

Boy Harsher: “Pain”

Contrepoison: “Heartbeat”

Led Er Est: “Scissors”

Molly Nilsson: “I Hope You Die”

KVB, The: “Always Then”

Princess Century: “Crummy Bones”

Natural Assembly “Life Blossoms”

Adult.: “Dance Avoid”

Grun Wasser: “The Deep”

Believer/Law: “Ashes”

Military Position: “Babes Ov Babylon”

Drvg Cvltvre: “Waging A War Against God”

Actress: “Dancing In The Smoke”

Peaches: “Convincing People”

Grimes: “Genesis” (Blvck Ceiling RMX)

Algiers: “Death March” (Prurient RMX)

Rrose: “Surgeon General (Her Insides Laid Bare)”

#omega #music #playlists #mixtapes #synthwave #industrial #ice #darkness #minimal #full moon #personal

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tailing-sun · 10 months ago

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The Transfer Seven (Rainbow High OCs) Bio 4: Pepper Zielinski

COLOUR: Pepper green

YEAR: Second

GENDER: Neutrois

FOCUS: Culinary Arts

STYLE: Retro. Active. Vibrant.

QUOTE: “Let me cook.”

BIO: Growing up in a cramped Polish neighbourhood in New York gave Pepper a deep love and appreciation for home cooking, and watching prime time bake-off shows with their mother after school gave them the inspiration to take what they learned in the kitchen to new heights. Now as the top student of Rainbow High’s small-but-thriving culinary department (and top chef at Rainbow Union), Pepper’s out to prove once and for all that just like fashion, cuisine is an art form all its own, and what the eye sees is just as important as what the tongue tastes. From the perfectly swirled tye-dye frosting on their cupcakes to the subtle spice in every bite of their kielbasa-topped pizzas, no one can deny that Pepper is a true artist in the kitchen—not even Vera.

OTHER:

-They’re a good friend of Kia Hart, bonding over their work at Rainbow Union.

-Their roommate is Magnolia Todd, and naturally they’re quite protective of her.

-They’re sixteen years old and from Greenpoint (ha), Brooklyn, NY.

-Proud of their Polish heritage, they incorporate elements of traditional food into more modern/American dishes (e.g. smoked kielbasa instead of pepperoni as a pizza topping; chruscikis with doughnut frosting and sprinkles).

-Predictably, their favourite food is stuffed bell peppers, prepared the traditional Polish way.

-Their dream job is as a gourmet chef or food stylist.

-They prefer to wear long sleeves to hide their kitchen-related burn scars.

-Though quiet and introverted IRL, they have a very active social media presence, running a food blog where they share their recipes, as well as an Instagram where they post pics of their finished dishes and timelapses of their food styling work.

-Pepper’s personal style is a mix of streetwear and formal, with sporty jerseys over button-down blouses and neckties, and baggy vis-keiesque pants over formal shoes. Patterns on their clothes are all inspired by retro diner decor, and they’ll even accessorize with an apron or cute soda-jerk hat.

-Vera Rougely seems to think of them as her personal set caterer, but Pepper’s true reason for catering her sets is because they feel bad for all the actors and techies she works half to death.

-Renzo frequently invites them and Magnolia for video game hangouts (on the condition that Pepper brings snacks, of course).

-They believe that makeup has no gender, and they prefer sparse but edgy looks in terms of eyeshadow, eyeliner, and lipstick. No false lashes, hair extensions, or acrylic nails for them, though—those would get in the way of their cooking.

#digital art #rainbow high #oc #rainbow high oc #character bio #character bios #bio #transfer seven

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cindysuen · 2 years ago

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🧧🐇 behind the scenes of my watercolor painting “Bunny Dim Sum” for @grumpybert ‘s 8th annual Red Envelope Show at @myplasticheart! Come check out the show at MYPLASTICHEART 40 Greenpoint Ave. Brooklyn, NY 11222 from Jan 28 - Feb 26, 2023. You can even buy the original piece at the show if you’re interested! As well as check out many other red envelopes designs by many other talented artists.

Feauturing some of my favorite dim sum 😋: siu mai 燒賣, custard bun 奶黃飽, egg tarts 蛋撻, soup dumplings 小籠飽, and thousand layered sweet cake 千層糕! What are your favorite dim sum? 😋🥟

#redenvelopeshow2023 #red envelope #cindy suen #illustration #design #kawaii art #bunny #egg tart #custard bun #siu mai #artists on tumblr #food #food porn

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rjzimmerman · 5 months ago

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Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

Every Friday afternoon, the Kingsland Wildflower Green Roof opens its doors to the local community. Tall grass and brightly-colored flowers greet visitors after their four-floor trek to the top of the building—a green oasis in Brooklyn, surrounded on all sides by heavy industrial activity.

Just across the street, the Newtown Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant’s gargantuan “digester eggs” treat millions of gallons of sewage every day.

Despite the visual incongruity of this scene, both the garden and the treatment plant work to stop contaminated water from flowing into the city’s waterways during heavy rainfall.

The rooftop garden sits on a building on Kingsland Avenue owned by the production company Broadway Stages. Two well-tended sections contain a variety of plants and flowers native to the area, like strawberries and camassias. A garden on a lower roof is made up largely of sedum, a small succulent-type plant.

The garden is under the purview of the Newtown Creek Alliance, a local organization that works to improve the environment around the creek, which is a tributary of the East River and forms the border between Brooklyn and Queens.

Seven years ago, the green roof was born of a partnership between the Newtown Creek Alliance, the NYC Bird Alliance, formerly NYC Audubon, Broadway Stages and Alive Structures, a landscaping firm that specializes in roof gardens. The installation was funded by the Greenpoint Community Environmental Fund, a $19.5 million payment to the New York State Department of Conservation (NYSDEC) in a settlement with ExxonMobil over their contamination of Newtown Creek.

In 1979, an investigation by the Department of Conservation found that ExxonMobil, which had historically operated oil refineries and fuel storage spaces along the creek, had spilled an estimated 17 million gallons of oil into the water—one of the largest terrestrial oil spills in the country’s history. Although ExxonMobil has been working for decades to remediate the problem through groundwater treatment, the creek remains an extremely contaminated Superfund site and is still on the National Priorities List of the nation’s most hazardous toxic waste areas.

A former wetland, much of the creek’s natural borders have been reconstructed for industrial operations, like oil refineries and petrochemical plants.

Much of the area surrounding Newtown Creek is located on a 100-year floodplain, which means that every year there is a 1 percent chance of an extreme flood event. Due to the weaknesses in New York’s sewage infrastructure, extreme rainfall constitutes a threat not just to the residents living near Newtown Creek, but also to the biodiversity within the creek and the flora that surrounds it.

#stormwater #New York City #Brooklyn #Kingsland Wildflower Green Roof

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bubblesandgutz · 11 months ago

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Every Record I Own - Day 800: The Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers

There's a bar in Greenpoint, Brooklyn called Moonlight Mile that my husband and I went to all the time back when we lived in New York. It was just a block or two off of the East River, so we would often walk to a nearby park to watch the sun set over Manhattan then head to the bar for a drink or two. It was a mellow neighborhood spot with a well-curated free jukebox. I felt like a bit of a dork for it, but I put on "Moonlight Mile" off of Sticky Fingers pretty much every time I went in there. Maybe it was a bit too on-the-nose, but fuck it... it's exactly the kind of song I wanna listen to with a beer in my hand as the night creeps in.

Like Let It Bleed, I picked up this cheap copy of Sticky Fingers at some point in the '00s because it's considered to be one of the Stones' best albums (if not THE best). And like Let It Bleed, I wasn't all that enamored with it at first. Sure, I knew the hits off the album. "Brown Sugar" is a classic rock staple (and a frequent topic of discussion when it comes to the more problematic aspects of the band) and "Wild Horses" is great (thanks in large part to involvement of Gram Parsons), but there wasn't much else that leapt out at me. It just sounds like the stereotypical sleazy, bluesy sound I associate with '70s classic rock.

But individual songs began to grow on me. First it was "Dead Flowers"---a defiant country tune that drops a very unsubtle heroin reference in the second verse ("I'll be in my basement room / with a needle and a spoon"). Combined with the slavery and sadism references in "Brown Sugar" and the cock bulge on the album cover, I'm surprised Sticky Fingers wasn't the subject of a massive boycott. How was this considered mainstream material back in 1971?

The slow-burn ballad "Moonlight Mile" was the next song to win me over. For years, I'd play "Dead Flowers" and "Moonlight Mile"---the closers to the album---while I was showering in hotel rooms on tour. They were the perfect length and the ideal way to gauge how much time I was taking getting ready in the bathroom while one of my bandmates waited for their turn to shower.

Other songs started luring me in: the primary riff of "Bitch," the dueling guitar line verses and gospel chorus of "Can't You Hear Me Knocking," the wistful soul of "Sway" and "I Got the Blues"... it's as if something else grew on me with every listen.

That might explain why initial reviews of Sticky Fingers were mixed while the album is now considered to be one of the greatest rock records of all time. Stones records aren't immediately rewarding. They're loose and unrefined. They aren't burnished to shine. Instead, they sound like fleeting moments. More than one studio engineer mentioned that the Stones seemed like they were barely a functional band when they were writing and formulating songs together in the studio, and then at some point they would all lock in and magic would happen.

Many years ago, an old band of mine recorded with Jack Endino, the engineer behind a bunch of quintessential grunge albums. Jack didn't care much about fixing our minor flubs. "People still love Rolling Stones albums," he argued, "and those performances were sloppy as hell." His reasoning was that the small imperfections in a song---the slightly flat notes, the fluctuations in tempo, the not-quite-together accents---kept the brain intrigued. Even if the listener isn't 100% aware of the errors, the subconscious keeps trying to make sense of the flaws, and that keeps the music interesting.

There's so much music out there vying for our attention these days, and it could be very easy to give Sticky Fingers a cursory listen and shrug it off. But how many albums somehow manage to get better with every listen? Maybe it's the slop factor. Maybe it's the quality songs glimmering in the dirt like diamonds in the rough.

Whatever it is, I love Sticky Fingers a little more every time I listen to it. And I still throw "Moonlight Mile" on the jukebox when I'm in NYC and visiting my old neighborhood bar in Greenpoint.

#the rolling stones #everyrecordiown

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eccentrickleptomaniac · 1 year ago

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you mentioned having a human au, so how does it generally work? or like a specific character from it you wanna talk about :)

the human au is pretty much completely disconnected from the countryhumans.. the only similarity really is the initials of the human's full names and the countries' usernames.

all countries in this au live (almost) normal lives in new york city. the primary reason i chose the location was due to it's history of being an ethnic melting pot and therefore being a reasonable location where so many different people with different backgrounds could meet up and interact with eachother on a semi-daily basis. i also know a lot the city and it's history which makes the whole thing easier for me to write about.

countries aren't assigned to boroughs like the are to continental cities in the ch world and are instead placed in locations with large populations of the countries' primary ethnicity; i.e poland lives in greenpoint (i almost wrote greenport sorry. she does not live in long island), ussr and his 2 children live in brighton beach, and so on and so forth.

obviously major events like whole wars can't happen (aside from like, street wars and whatever but i don't get into those for my own sake) so major events such as those get scaled down heavily to city-wide crime sprees and whatever. i still try to make events semi-parallel to the ch versions so LOL. some major things do change though. including the fact that italy is not in the picture at all due to being in witness protection lmfao

character's personalities are also different due to the differences in culture between ch and people. like, poland is much kinder in the au due to the fact that she actually had to get a diagnosis for gender dysphoria and due to that kinda also had to work through her personal problems.

the years of the au is probably between the late 90s to now? im not sure the details. however the time period in history in which the au is currently in is.. I'd say around mid-70s or something like that. instead of being actively hostile eg and wg straight up don't know eachother. they don't live near eachother (completely different boroughs actually. wg lives on the upper east side and eg lives in. i already said it but brighton beach. aka the far side of brooklyn) and their schools, while much closer, aren't to the point where. Well they'd actually see eachother a lot. also they'd continue living separate lives instead of reunification.

countries with different cctlds that are still children have their first and middle name be the cctld instead of first and last. also some don't use their cctlds at all.. i use the "eg" acronym instead of "dd". eg's name is elizabeth lol

hope this explains some stuff. feel free to ask questions!

edit: also certain things dont happen or just. are edited severely. some countries while annexed move out of nyc and come back after a few years to represent being un-annexed

#essen talks #ch au

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avastrasposts · 5 months ago

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Big Sky Country - ch. 7

Chapter 7 is here and so let's pick up where we left off; with Aisling dialing Frankie, hoping and praying he'll pick up.

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

He hadn’t heard the first couple of rings, his phone up on the porch while he stacked the last of the fire wood up against the wall. When it finally registered, he hurried back, slightly out of breath as he picked up the phone. The unknown number had stumped him for a second, hardly anyone called him, only Herb if it was an emergency, sometimes one of his old army buddies. He almost didn’t answer, but then, on a whim, he did. And suddenly Aisling’s voice filled his ear as clear as if she was standing next to him on the porch.

She hadn’t faded from his mind, and he didn’t expect her to. He knew his mind too well by now, he knew she’d always be someone he returned to in his thoughts. His ‘what if…’. But it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the first month of being back. Away from New York, away from the noise of the city, and away from the guilt of what he’d done to Eva, his mind calmed down enough for him to sort his thoughts properly.

He knew he would’ve fallen in love with Aisling, probably already had on some level. But he also knew he did the right thing when he left, he couldn’t have stayed. And to try to fix his head by being with her would’ve ended just as badly as it did with Eva. He wasn’t going to place that responsibility on her, to keep his mind quiet. He needed to fix that himself, and then, maybe, he’d be ready for something new.

He missed her though, even though he’d counted that they’d only met six times. And three of those times could hardly be called ideal circumstances. But she was lodged in his mind and he often found himself thinking how he wanted to show her something on the ranch, or out on the trail, a new foal or the spot where he always saw eagles hunting. But she wasn’t here, and he had no way of contacting her. So he kept her in his mind and tried to be content with the little time he’d spent with her.

Until she called.

He recognized her voice the second she answered.

“Hi Frankie, it’s Aisling,” she replied to his ‘Hello?’ “From the bar…in Greenpoint.”

His brain stalled for a second, catching up. He dropped his hand to the railing of the porch for support, and it took him a few seconds to respond. He heard her clear her throat, a nervous intake of breath as she shifted the phone in her hand, the microphone probably brushing against her hair.

Her hair.

Curling around her shoulder in the bed as she slept. Shining like bright copper in the sun at Smorgasbord just before her eyes turned hard as she looked at him and Eva. The thought of it snapped him back to the present.

“Hi… Aisling,” he almost stuttered, “I didn’t know it was your number.”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m sorry to call you out of the blue…I just…”

He heard her exhale and shift on her feet again and the uncertainty in her voice made him want to reach out through phone lines and touch her, to reassure her. He’d been hoping she’d call for months and now she sounded like she didn’t think he’d want to talk to her.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said, “I’ve thought about you.” A lot, too much maybe, all the time, every night you’re on my mind.

“I’m…I’m at the bus stop, outside Big Sky,” she said and something grabbed his heart and forced it up into his throat.

“You’re-you’re…here?” He stuttered out the question, turning and yanking open the door to the cabin, the keys to his truck were just inside the door.

“Yeah, and…and listen, I know, it’s weird, I should’ve called you before, and I know, maybe, if you don’t want to…but….I just…” she trailed off as he thumped down the stairs and took a few long strides to the truck.

“Don’t say anything, I’m on my way,” Frankie rushed out, not wanting her to think for a second that he didn’t want her here. “It’ll take me forty-five minutes to get there, there’s a gas station across the road, you can wait there, just tell George I’m coming to pick you up.”

��I’m already in the gas station,” Aisling said, turning and looking over at the twenty something man who was looking at his phone, “Thank you, Frankie, I…” she stopped, inhaled and listened to his truck rumble to life on the other end, “I know this is totally weird, but I just-”

“Don’t say anything,” Frankie interrupted her again, “I’m glad you came, fucking ecstatic actually, I can’t wait to see you and we can talk on the drive back. Ok?”

She smiled and he heard it in her voice when she replied, “Ok.”

Frankie was grateful for the lack of cops on the road into town, he was over the limit by a lot as he raced towards Big Sky. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, nervous energy running through his system as he tried to sort through his mind the way he’d become accustomed too. He was nervous, he could easily admit that, nervous about seeing Aisling again, about her seeing him here, his tiny cabin, the old truck. What if she took one look at his life here and regretted everything? He’d probably oversold his life in Montana when he’d shown her the photos. He loved it here, but that was him and his fucked up head. What is she, someone who’s so used to the city, going to think about his small life here?

He wiped his hand against his jeans, fuck, I should’ve changed those, his palms sweaty as he started seeing the lights from Big Sky. Nervous, but also so elated, there was a lightness in his heart he hadn’t felt in a long time, even a little hopeful. And happy. Definitely happy, that was the biggest feeling, it sat in his chest like a warm glowing fire as he thought about seeing her again.

Soon.

He pulled into the gas station ten minutes early and killed the engine, reaching for the door handle. But then he saw her through the big window, sitting at the counter, sipping from a take away mug. And he had to stop and take a moment, because she was there, only a few feet away, and he realized he hadn’t really believed it until he saw her. Running a hand through her hair in a gesture he remembered almost too well, curls of copper red pushed back behind her ear, taking another sip from the coffee, and then she looked up and met his eyes.

He pushed open the door of his truck as she slipped off the stool and picked up her bag. If he could’ve picked any spot to meet her again, he wouldn’t have picked halfway across the gas station asphalt at BIg Sky, but that’s where it happened and as far as Frankie was concerned, it was perfect.

He couldn’t fight the smile that took over his face as he walked towards her. Nervous, happy, hopeful, he felt like he floated over the dirty, oil stained ground as she smiled back at him.

“Hi,” he said, and she reached up and touched the peak of his cap, the same Standard Oil Heating cap he’d worn in New York.

“Hi, cowboy,” she replied, the smile widening on her face as she saw the dimple appear on his cheek and the way his soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Frankie said, taking her in, her pale, tired face, the crumpled t-shirt with some stains on the side and hole by the neck, the hair escaping from a haphazard bun. She’d never looked more beautiful to him.

“I’m really sorry for just turning up like this, I should’ve called you sooner but it was kinda a spur of the moment decision and-,” Aisling said, but Frankie shook his head, interrupting her

“Don’t be, I’m happy you’re here, surprised, but really fucking happy.”

She felt her shoulders sink as he held out his hand for her bag and she gave it to him with a small smile. He made her feel a bit better about just turning up, he looked happy, his warm smile made her heart melt and relieved some of the nerves.

“Get in the truck, it’s a bit of a drive back,” he said, opening the door and placing her duffel bag in the back seat before stepping back and gesturing for her to step forward, “And I’m sorry about the mess…” he suddenly ducked down and grabbed a couple of water bottles and an old blanket from the seat, shoving it in the back too. “Not that many people ride in my truck these days,” he shrugged, giving her an apologetic look.

“I don’t mind, Frankie, I’m just relieved you picked up the phone,” Aisling replied and took his offered hand as she stepped up into the truck, “My plan B was to find a motel but seeing the size of this place, I’m not sure there is one?”

“Not one you can walk too,” Frankie chuckled and closed the door, hurrying around to the driver’s side, “You’re lucky I wasn’t out on the trail though, with some guests. I could’ve been well out of reception.”

“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that,” Aisling said as Frankie got in on the other side, “but there were a lot of things I didn’t think about,” she looked over at Frankie, he was twisting the key in the ignition, the old truck, very much what she’d imagined him driving, rumbled to life. The interior smelled like motor oil and hay and the radio turned on to some old rock classics station, the whole thing felt so ridiculously domestic, so ordinary and so…safe.

Suddenly she felt tears well up in her eyes, she was here, and so was he, he’d come to pick her up as if it was no bother and there hadn’t just been three months of total silence between them. She was almost a complete stranger to him, and he to her, and she’d yelled at him, told him how much he’d hurt her, and she hadn’t even said goodbye. Still, after all that, he’d answered when she called, and he’d come, smiling at her across the gas station. The long hours on the bus, the emotions of the past few days, it all overcame her, and she couldn’t stop the tears that started dripping down.

Frankie looked over at Aisling as she sniffed, and she hastily wiped a hand over her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Frankie, just…can we just go?” She looked away from him and out through the window at the dark prairie beyond the gas station and the main road, she could feel his hand on her arm, a gentle squeeze before he pulled back again.

“It’s ok, hermosa, it’s a long fucking journey on that bus, I should know. Let’s get you home, you can have a long, hot shower while I sort dinner,” Frankie put the truck into drive and glanced over at her again, “Just relax, you’re here now.”

He sensed that there were a lot of things that they’d need to talk about, he didn’t know what had made her suddenly get on the bus. But he didn’t care, having her sit next to him in his truck was enough, it felt right. Right in a way that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

They rode back together almost in silence, Frankie pointed out the few things that could still be seen in the gathering darkness.

“If the moon was full, you’d see it, it’s so bright out here, no street lights,” he said, gesturing to the nearby mountain range. In the almost total darkness, with only a sliver of the new moon, Aisling could only vaguely make out the darker ridge against the western sky.

“I’ve never been somewhere where there are no street lights,” she replied, the first thing she’d said since they’d left Big Sky behind and Frankie glanced over at her.

“City slicker,” he smirked and she looked over at him. He was keeping his eyes on the road but his eyes were smiling.

“Sure thing, cowboy,” she teased him, and he chuckled.

“Let me show you something, it’ll either freak you out, or you’ll love it,” he promised, and pulled the truck off the side of the road, killing the engine and the truck was thrown into darkness as Aisling gave him a nervous look.

“No scary animals or creepy crawlies, Frankie,” she said and he chuckled.

“I’ve seen those New York cockroaches, no bug out here comes even close.”

He opened his door and came round to Aisling’s side, helping her step out onto the dusty verge.

“Close your eyes,” he said, “and listen.”

She did as he said, his warm hand still on the small of her back as she listened to the sounds around her. The engine behind her was clicking gently as it cooled down, the metal creaked a little and she could hear Frankie breathe next to her.

She could hear Frankie breathe.

Suddenly the silence was deafening in her ears and she turned and looked at the man standing next to her, smiling as he saw the wonder on her face.

“It’s so quiet I can hear you breathe,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“How does it make you feel?” he asked and she closed her eyes again, listening to the silence. Her heartbeat was a steady rhythm in her head, her own breath moved through her nose with a soft sound, Frankie shifted beside her and his jacket brushed against her hand with a low rustle.

“Quiet,” she whispered, “It makes me feel quiet.”

Frankie smiled and took her hand, “Keep your eyes closed, let me show you something else.”

He led her to the back of the truck and helped her up on the flatbed. Together they laid back, Frankie guided her head down to the metal and then settled next to her.

“Now you can open your eyes,” he whispered, and she blinked them open and gasped at the sight above her. The night sky was glittering, rivaling the Manhattan skyline, bright stars, as many as the grains of sand on a beach, scattered across the black expanse, brighter than she’d ever seen them before. She could sense Frankie’s eyes on her as she tried to take it all in, endless constellations, the faint light of suns millions of lightyears away, planets glimmering in different colors, the white hue of the milky way streaking across the southern sky.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, “I’ve never seen so many stars in the sky before.”

“They’re always there,” Frankie replied in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the silence, “you just don’t see them in the city, it’s not dark enough.”

“Can you show me the constellations?” she asked and he nodded, taking her hand in his and pointing it upwards.

“That’s Ursa Major, the Big Dipper,” Frankie said and moved her hand, tracing the outline of the great bear in the sky. “And Cassiopeia sits just over the Milky Way, and then Andromeda just below the W.” He moved their joined hands again, showing her all the stars he knew, the ones he’d used to navigate, a back up to all the modern tech they’d carried on missions.

“And if you’re lost, just look for that one, the North Star,” he pointed to a bright star, larger than the others, high up in the northern part of the sky, “It’s always to the north, no matter where you are.”

Aisling listened to his voice, not really taking in what he was saying, just looking at the stars and planets as he pointed them out. Her mind was on the moment, resting on the flatbed of Frankie’s truck, his long body stretched out next to hers, so close that their legs touched. It felt a little bit like a dream, he’d been on her mind so much, and now he was here, his warm hand wrapped around her cold fingers, as he moved their arms, the low pitch of his voice wrapping around her mind.

“Am I boring you?” he asked as he noticed her silence, letting their hands rest between them. When she didn’t reply he looked over at her, her closed eyes and parted lips made him smile, she was fast asleep. With a little chuckle he pushed himself up on his side and gently touched her cheek.

“Aisling, wake up,” he whispered, moving the back of his hand over her soft skin and she stirred, blinking awake again.

“I should probably get us back to the cabin,” Frankie smiled at her confused face, “It’ll be cold sleeping in the truck without sleeping bags.”

“I’m sorry,” Aisling mumbled, letting Frankie help her sit back up, “I was listening but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.”

“You’re probably beat after the bus. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t sleep for shit while I was on it. C’mere.”

He held onto her waist as she slid off the flatbed and she looked up at him, her sleepy eyes smiling as he caught her.

“Can we come out here again sometime when I’m not so tired?” she asked, “The sky is amazing and I want to hear more about the constellations.”

“Yeah, of course, we can pack dinner, some sleeping bags and spend the whole night out here if you want to,” Frankie replied, helping her back into his truck, holding onto her hand.

“That sounds amazing, thanks Frankie,” Aisling said and his soft, dark eyes were so gentle in the yellow light of the truck’s cabin, she felt the urge to kiss him. To wrap herself around him again and feel him hold her close to his solid frame. But she held herself back, not sure where they were yet, and Frankie just squeezed her hand before he let it go.

Aisling leaned her head on the window the rest of the way to the cabin, Frankie saw her eyes drifting shut as he glanced over and he had to wake her again when he finally pulled up in front of the house. He grabbed her bag and led her up the stairs, his hand in hers, pushing the door open, the lights were still on inside.

She followed Frankie’s lead and toed off her shoes as she came into the house and let her eyes drift around the space. He moved into the big open room and put her bag on the dark brown leather couch in front of the fireplace that took up a chunk of the back wall. When he turned back to her he wiped his hands down his thighs in a nervous gesture as he looked at the way she was examining the space.

“It’s not much, I know, but it’s just for me, and that’s enough,” he said, “but there’s a guest room, I’ll get the bed made for you, I’ve just kinda been using it as storage, but the bed’s comfy,” he rambled and missed the way she smiled.

“It’s beautiful, Frankie, I love it,” Aisling said, moving over to the big fireplace and running her hand over the rough stone and the dark wood beams behind it. The whole place had a feeling of being lived in, a whole life in the way the old walls were colored by decades of wood smoke, the glass in the windows slightly warped, the floor creaking as she walked over it. And then Frankie’s things spread about, but all in their specific place. A thick, dark red quilt hanging over the arm of the couch, heavy gore-tex boots by the door, an assortment of what she assumed were ‘horse things’ next to them, even a Stetson tossed onto the coffee table.

“Yeah?” Frankie said, “You sure? It’s kinda a mess, I usually don’t have company over,” he fussed over the couch, picking up a t-shirt and some dirty socks from the armrest.

“It looks just like I pictured it from your photo,” she said, turning and smiling at him, “Can we light the fire? I’ve never been in a place with a real fireplace, only those fake decorative ones.”

“Sure, I’ll light it,” Frankie replied, coming over to where she stood next to the fireplace, “Do you want to take a shower while I light it and start dinner? I was just going to heat up some chili Herb’s girlfriend made for me, we can eat in front of the fire if you want.”

“That sounds like the best plan ever, especially the shower part,” Aisling smiled and Frankie smiled in return.

“I’ll show you the guest room and the shower, I’m afraid there’s no ensuite, just the one shared bathroom.”

“Wow, really roughing it, aren’t you, Frankie,” she teased him, following his broad back down the hallway towards the bedrooms, “I should’ve stayed with my ensuite master bathroom on the third floor of my mansion back in Greenpoint.”

“Don’t knock it, that was a great shower,” Frankie chuckled, and then immediately regretted his words. The image of the two of them together in her small shower wasn’t what he needed in his head right now, heat crept up his neck as he tried to steer his mind away from it.

Aisling didn’t reply, her mind had also drifted back to the same place as Frankie, and she swallowed thickly as he opened the door to the guest bedroom.

“Ok, this is you,” Frankie coughed, scratching his head as he looked at what was really his storage space with a critical view, “I…uh…might need to shift some things first, and I should really clean it out…” He winced, the room was full of junk, bits and pieces he thought might come in handy around the ranch or the cabin. He should really store it all in one of the barns down on the ranch, but somehow he’d never gotten round to it. And every surface was covered by dust, the air in the room stale and lacking in oxygen.

“Listen,” he said, turning to Aisling who was standing just behind him, “I’ll sleep in here, or on the couch, you take my bed until I’ve sorted this out. I can’t let you sleep in here.”

Aisling wanted to tell him it was fine, that she couldn’t kick him out of his bed, but the room really was a mess, the bed barely visible under all the knick knacks piled on top.

“I can sleep on the couch, Frankie, and I’ll help you sort this. It’s my fault really, for turning up out of nowhere.”

“Hermosa, you’re not sleeping on my couch,” Frankie replied, sounding almost offended and the endearment slipped out of him before he could stop it, biting his tongue too late. To hide it, he shook his head and pointed to the door opposite, “That’s the bathroom, I’ll get you a towel and then I’ll change the sheets on the bed, no arguments.”

“Frankie…”

“No arguments,” he repeated, hurrying down the hall to his own bedroom before she could object again.

Aisling almost giggled out loud as his flustered face, he was different here, in a good way. Less wary of his surroundings, more comfortable and open, which made sense now that he was back in Montana which seemed to be so important to him. She liked this version of Frankie though, even more than the one she’d seen in Brooklyn. Whatever had haunted him there, it seemed to have stayed in Greenpoint, along with his ex-girlfriend. But they needed to talk about what had happened in New York. She hadn’t wanted to listen to him or his excuses three months ago, but three months of not being able to forget him had changed her mind. Now she wanted to know, to understand, so that they could move forward, if that was what he wanted too.

Aisling sighed, she was really hoping Frankie saw something similar, but she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, dreading what it would bring up for both of them. For now though, she just wanted a shower and some food before crashing in Frankie’s bed. She wasn’t going to fight him for the couch, the bed sounded too tempting after sleeping sitting up for two days straight.

The bathroom was small but cozy, like the rest of the cabin. Frankie knocked on the door and handed her a towel before he showed her how to turn on the old shower. She took longer than she probably should’ve, indulging in some of Frankie’s body wash and letting the hot water pour over her tired, stiff muscles. The shower smelled like him, the way she remembered him smelling when he first leaned over the bar counter and showed her the pictures of the cabin she was now in. On the vanity counter were some of his toiletries, neatly lined up. He’d said the cabin was a mess but she couldn’t see any of it, the towels in the bathroom hung straight on the rail, his toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush and deodorant were in a row on the counter. He even had a pair of slippers parked underneath a terry cloth robe hanging by the door. Not a thing out of place. It made her smile while she dried her hair and changed into clean clothes, she could see his army background in the details. The messy spare bedroom was like his mind, the mess hidden behind the quiet, in control, exterior.

The smell of wood fire and food was starting to drift in from the rest of the cabin and her stomach grumbled as she left the bathroom.

“I hope I left you some hot water,” she told Frankie’s back as she made her way over to the kitchen part of the large open room and he turned around.

“No problem, the tank is pretty big, and you needed it.”

“Are you saying I smelled?” Aisling feigned offense as she stood next to him, looking into the pot he was stirring.

“Absolutely, like an old bus, two thousand miles and the New York subway. Ouch!”

He laughed and grabbed his arm in mock pain when she gave him a light slap for his teasing.

“I think it’s two and half thousand miles,” Aisling replied, “and I feel like every one of them is rolling around in my head.”

“I remember the feeling,” Frankie said and handed her a beer, still cold from the fridge, “Here, grab this, and go sit down. I’ll be right there with dinner.”

Aisling gratefully grabbed the bottle and found a cozy spot on the couch, stretching out and leaning back with a sigh. The fire was crackling, spreading its warmth and she felt drowsy again as she sipped on the beer.

Frankie came over with a tray, two bowls and bread on the side, and sat down next to her.

“The bowl is hot, so be careful,” he said, putting it all down on the coffee table.

“Nice beer,” Aisling said, sitting up straight again as she looked at the label, “is it local?”

“Yeah, small microbrewery in Missoula, Herb and I have been exploring as many local ones as we can get our hands on. And no one charges fourteen fifty for them.”

He glanced over at her, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a cheeky grin as her tired brain caught on to what he meant.

“Fuck off, Frankie,” she mock scowled at him, “that beer was worth fourteen fifty, this one isn’t.”

“I’m offended, as a proud Montana transplant, I’m offended!” Frankie put his hand on his chest and clutched an imaginary string of pearls around his neck in a gesture that made her snort as she scooted closer to the table. He’d loaded the stew with toppings and she gratefully dug into it, relishing proper home made food after so long of bus snacks.

“My compliments to Herb’s girlfriend, that was fucking delicous,” Aisling sighed, putting her bowl down after eating in silence.

“Want some more?” Frankie asked but Aisling shook her head.

“I could eat another three servings I think, but then my body might go into shock,” she replied and leaned back in the corner of the couch with the beer bottle.

Frankie glanced over at her and smiled, she was looking tired and drowsy, leaning her head against the back of the couch and her legs stretched out towards him. While he watched she returned his smile, her features softening before her face cracked in a big yawn.

“Go to bed, Aisling,” he chuckled, patting her leg, “I’ll clean up, and tomorrow I’ll show you the ranch.”

“Ash,” she said, smiling at him as she put her hand over his, “My friends call me ‘Ash’.” She gave his fingers a squeeze and let go, pushing herself off the couch, “And yes, I’ll take that offer of not having to clean up and going to bed instead. Sorry about stealing yours, but you did offer.”

“Catfish,” Frankie said, and he couldn’t help grinning when she looked down at him in confusion, “My friends call me ‘Catfish’, or just ‘Fish’.”

“There must be a story there,” Aisling smiled back at him, “Tell me in the morning, ‘Fish’.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for today.”

Chapter 8

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