#which i needed to get groceries but didn't think I'd need to get *everything*

[quilleth]

What the fuck do you mean it's only 10:30 am?

[hedgehog-moss]

Ant lovers, this is not the post for you, I'm sorry.

I have a big anthill in the worst location, between my house and the greenhouse, so that the ants are invading me on two different fronts! Over the past two months or so I've tried a lot of methods to make the ants feel unwelcome, from the humane Earth Mother approach to more aggressive ones, but nothing worked. Flooding them with water. Then boiling water. Dish soap. Vinegar. Diatomaceous earth, which usually solves just about every problem. The ants did not care. I tried asking, then suggesting, then bargaining, then insisting, then threatening, then

Sorry, ants. You should have taken my threats seriously.

I meant to wait until everything was fully consumed before extinguishing the fire, but then I realised I was out of dog food (when you buy one of these 20kg bags of kibble you always feel like it'll never run out and then it does in the most unexpected and untimely manner, every time). I had time to pop by the store before it closed, and by this point the fire was just a few embers left at the bottom of the tragic moon crater that used to be a magnificent ant palace. You can see my chickens keeping an eye on it from above:

I fully trust my chickens but still, before I left I went to tell the carpenter working in my barn today that I've been burning an anthill, the fire is almost out but could he glance out the window every now and then while I'm in town, and maybe go and throw a bucket of water if he sees my house engulfed in flames? I'm just going on a quick, half-hour errand.

He agreed, so I left.

I ran into the librarian at the grocery shop, who of course invited me over for a cup of tea. It's genuinely impossible to say no to such offers—I mean, you say no and then you end up at the librarian's house having tea anyway. You'd think the possibility of my house and llamas going up in flames if I don't go home to monitor the embers would be a foolproof excuse to get out of a tea invitation, but there are no excuses. The librarian wanted me to taste the giant cookie she baked and she wanted to talk about something stupid our president said or did recently and I had no choice but to follow her.

But it's okay, the carpenter and the hens are on top of the situation!

Still, I felt antsy (sorry) as I sat in the librarian's kitchen and watched her feed Pandolf cookie crumbs. (She had some crumbs set aside for her own dog, but her dog is tiny and scared of Pandolf so she remained at the other end of the kitchen, intensely interested in the unattainable cookie crumbs, mentally willing Pandolf to disappear from her kitchen, vibrating with despair, the picture of anguish.)

I tried to use Pandolf as a pretext to cut my visit short, but I had zero cooperation from my traitor dog. "We've been gone a while, he probably needs to pee!"

The librarian asked me about the carpentry stuff going on in my barn right now and I didn't want to start a whole new conversation which would inevitably lead to half a dozen anecdotes about construction work, when I'd already had such trouble wrapping up the let's-trash-talk-Macron conversation (it's not that I don't want to trash talk Macron. But my house was burning, maybe.)

I tried to point out again that my house was probably ashes by now and the librarian said serenely, "Well, your carpenter will feel obligated to hurry up and finish the job much faster if you have no house anymore and must move into the barn."

I agreed that there's an upside to everything, but still. I had to go.

Just as I was leaving the librarian's house, I saw the carpenter's car entering town. I waved at him and he stopped and opened the window and told me everything was going well, and I said, "And the fire? It must be out by now."

"What fire?"

He had absolutely not checked the fire. (He was standing next to a noisy machine when I made my request so it's possible he didn't hear me well and figured I was checking on his work and just went "Yeah, all good!") (I'm trying to be fair)

And yes, okay, it was just a few embers at the bottom of a pit with heavy, wet winter earth all around, but I'm a pessimist so I threw Pandolf into my car and drove home at full speed. For some reason what I pictured during this quick, worried drive home was ant payback. A long line of determined ants stretching from their ravaged anthill to my house, each one of them carrying a tiny burning twig. I don't think two chickens would be enough to suppress that.

When I reached my dirt road, I couldn't see my house from afar but could see a plume of smoke in the middle of the woods. It looked pretty small, but still, I was relieved when I got closer and found that the smoke rose from the exact location of the anthill and nowhere else.

I'd taken precautions, like wetting the earth around the pit and choosing a day when some rain was expected in the evening, but a lot of forces conspired to ensure the embers were left unattended, from a forgetful (or confused) carpenter to Pandolf's love of cookie crumbs and the librarian's inescapable friendliness. (She whatsapped me to ask if my house was on fire and I said (jokingly) no, but no thanks to you!! And she was a bit contrite and said, it's Macron :( we spent too long on this topic... And I said no I know, of course I blame Macron and she sent me a handshake emoji)

The ants were not in an avenging mood btw, they were teeming around the crater looking quite defeated, it made me sad. (But I hope they're defeated.) I didn't throw my bucket of water over it straight away because I was a bit fascinated by the inside of the anthill, from up close it looked like the Mines of Moria.

I crouched down next to the ants and we wordlessly watched the last embers slowly die as night fell over the pasture. It was very atmospheric until Pirlouit started braying with absolute fury because it was almost dark and his evening hay was still nowhere to be seen.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Baking Yesteryear. By B. Dylan Hollis. DK, 2023.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: cookbook

Series: N/A

Summary: A decade-by-decade cookbook that highlights the best (and a few of the worst) baking recipes from the 20th century

Friends of baking, are you sick and tired of making the same recipes again and again? Then look no further than this baking blast from the past, as B. Dylan Hollis highlights the most unique tasty treats of yesteryear.

Travel back in time on a delicious decade-by-decade jaunt as Dylan shows you how to bake vintage forgotten greats. With a big pinch of fun and a full cup of humor, you’ll be baking everything from Chocolate Potato Cake from the 1910s to Avocado Pie from the 1960s.

Dylan has baked hundreds of recipes from countless antique cookbooks and selected only the best for this bakebook, sharing the shining stars from each decade. And because some of the recipes Dylan shares on his wildly popular social media channels are spectacular failures, he’s thrown in a few of the most disastrously strange recipes for you to try if you dare.

***Full review below.***

Since this book is non-fiction, my review will be structured a little different from normal.

I've had this book for a while, but I didn't want to post a review before making a few of the recipes myself. I was already a fan of Hollis from his TikToks, so that might introduce some bias into my review - just so you're all aware.

Overall, I found this book to be quirky, easy to follow, and fun. I loved the bright colors and retro-feel to the photo shoots, and I appreciated that almost all of the recipes were accompanied by a picture of the thing you're supposed to be making. I also liked the blurbs written by Hollis himself; they very much felt like his voice, with his characteristic sense of humor balanced by his genuine love for baking and "old things."

Perhaps the most valuable part of this book, however, was the emphasis on lowering barriers to entry. I've read my fair share of baking guides that call for special ingredients or equipment, and there are a lot of recipes out there that are finicky and sure ton dissuade new bakers. Hollis's book, however, emphasizes that most (if not all) of these recipes can be done with basic tools - one does not even need an electric mixer (though it does make some recipes easier). There also aren't many fancy ingredients that aren't readily available at most grocery stores, so that also helps.

I do, however, have some minor criticisms which relate to the usability of this book. For one, the organization makes it rather difficult to find a specific recipe (or even category), particularly if you're like me and don't recall what decade it came from. While organizing the recipes by decade makes sense given the book's premise, it does make it more functionally difficult - you can't flip to the cake section, for example, and browse or put yourself within the general vicinity of the recipe you're looking for. Thus, readers will have to rely on either the TOC or the index a lot more, but this is a minor inconvenience rather than a huge drawback.

I also don't think the majority of the recipes are blow-your-mind good, but honestly, given this book's premise, I don't think that's the worst thing. The recipes are largely taken from sources aimed at home bakers, so you're not going to get professional-level pastries out of them. You will, however, get things that are fun and relatively simple to make, and they taste good enough to me that I'd consider making them multiple times.

TL;DR: Baking Yesteryear is a fine book for fans of Hollis's TikTok, but it goes beyond being mere merch. It not only provides historical recipes that are easy to replicate, but it also does a good job of lowering barriers to entry for new bakers. Experienced bakers might not be overly impressed by the recipes, but engaging with food history is a treat in and of itself, and it's delightful to see someone like Hollis engaging with the past with such enthusiasm and adoration.

[zweiginator]

What if divorced!art gets dragged to a club one weekend by his foundation-buddies and he obviously doesn’t want to but he forces himself and then it turns out that escort!reader is also there with her friends and they see each other outside of «work» for the first time… And her friends doesn’t know about her escorting so maybe they recognize him and maybe she goes to talk to him because her friends says she should «flirt more»🤭 And then ofc he fucks her in the dirty club bathroom

divorced!art upset because he hasn't seen you in weeks. everything has been busy since he hit the ground running with tennis again. practice after practice, signing sponsorship deals, galas and charity fundraising. and you had been busy too. art didn't know this, but you're a student as well. you didn't tell him not because you didn't want to share your life with him, but because it made you feel juvenile. of course, it's university and you're almost finished with your degree after five and a half years instead of the usual four--but you still feel dumb talking about that part of your life with him. for you to bitch about group projects and essays about political science while art is upset about custody battles and petty divorce politics--it feels trivial.

but your friends want to celebrate the semester being freshly over. just a few more summer classes for you and you will finally graduate. you'll finally get to hang up your hat and say goodbye to escorting. to that taboo little secret that's been dragging your eyes into sunken purple holes for the past fourteen months.

and your friends don't know, of course. it's impossible to explain to a group of girls whose parents pay for tuition and books and groceries. gas, clothes and even the designer heels they wear to the club they're standing in right now--that you need to do this. for money. to survive.

no, it isn't ideal. but this is the real fucking world and sex sells.

so they think you're prudish. they've never seen you have a boyfriend or flirt because that's your job every other day of the week. to pretend to be in love. to fuck lonely assholes and pretend to care about their lives. to believe them when they say they aren't a bad husband. that men have needs.

they urge you to flirt with men at the bar. but like always, you're just not interested. and all the men in this shitty tavern-bar-turned-college-club are all the same. middle-aged men who shoved their wedding bands in their back pockets to pick up pussy from a doe-eyed girl in her twenties.

none of them are remotely attractive. and you're thanking your lucky stars that you don't recognize a single one of them.

your friend taps on your shoulder. "there's one hot guy here. you may recognize him. he's kinda famous."

you down the rest of your drink. "oh really? i doubt i'd be interested."

but she points to a man leaning against the bar way off in the corner. sad eyes and salt and pepper hair that was once dirty blond; you've seen his baby pictures. he's tall and in love with you and you with him and you could strangle him right now because he hasn't returned your calls or texts in over five days.

"art donaldson." your other friend sighs. "he's a tennis player and i'd fuck him if i didnt have a boyfriend."

it's then that art turns around. likely feels the eyes of six girls burning into the back of his skull. he's holding a beer bottle and he looks forlorn, his typical woe is me demeanor that makes him so fucking attractive to you. lights up that neanderthal part of your brain that makes you want to fix the unfixable.

and then he smiles. it makes you blush and your friends, not knowing the tendrils of your history together that have now become rooted in the ground beneath you, tell you to go for it.

"he's staring right at you."

you know that. art knows not to make it clear he knows you; it would open up that whole can of worms.

so he waits for you to come to him and you pretend to be nervous which isn't that hard because you are already.

when you get to him, he whispers in your ear.

"they don't know about your job, im assuming?" he wants to wrap his arms around your waist but he refrains.

"they don't. but they know you, and they're very fond of you. they want me to flirt more."

art flags down the bartender. he gets you a gin and tonic, remembering how you liked the one he made for you that first night at his hotel room. you were just trying to make him feel better.

"well im glad im the lucky man." he sits down on a stool and hooks his leg around the stool next to him to bring it closer. he motions for you to sit and your friends are all staring at you but pretending they aren't.

"me too. although i don't know how much you deserve it." you take a sip. "given how you haven't responded to my calls in awhile."

art takes your drink from your hand, sets it down. he rests his hand on your lower back.

"im sorry honey. i haven't been meaning to be an asshole. there's a lot going on with tennis and everything."

you run a hand through his hair. "i get it." you feign a frown. "you just may have to make it up to me." and when you uncross your legs, art can see your thong. he tenses his jaw.

"i do need to make it up to you, don't i?" he takes a swig from his beer. "i'll tell you what." he glances around, at the bathroom door swinging open. "why don't i go to the bathroom to freshen up and you come check on me in a few minutes, yeah?"

he's so close you can smell the beer on his breath. you nod and he goes toward the bathroom.

your friends want to come over and ask you all about it, but then you're knocking on the bathroom door with your special knock. the one that only you and art know.

he pulls you inside, and the bathroom is dingy with a flickering light and graffiti on the walls. drawings of dicks and crude words but art sits on the toilet seat.

"c'mere." he reaches out to you and you go to him. a pavlovian response that makes you so fucking wet to be near him. to be on his lap like you're supposed to be. he kisses you like he missed you because he has. he's not supposed to. his lips trail wet, hot kisses up your throat and he's greedier than usual. dragging your pussy over his throbbing erection. he's only wearing his briefs on his bottom half and you tug at his shirt because you want to see all of him. feel all of him. he does the same to you. panting into your mouth because his cock rests between your folds. nudges against your clit as you grind on him.

"fuckin' ruined pussy for me." he throws his head back and you grab his jaw to kiss him. sloppy and disgusting but you love the taste of him. how your lipstick melds into his saliva. drips down his neck like you're a vampire taking him for everything he fucking has.

"yeah?" you rake your nails down his chest and take his cock out. it's bare against your pussy, your panties pushed to the side.

"nothing turns me on anymore. nothing gets me off. only you. that tight fucking cunt."

he never talks like this. so crude. but you love drawing it out of him. milking those dirty words as you stroke his heavy cock for him. people bang on the bathroom door but neither of you fucking care.

you sink down on him. you do it all at once. you're addicted to how his hips spasm and his eyes roll back and he lets a strangled moan-groan hybrid escape him. he holds onto the flesh of your ass as you fuck him.

the porcelain of the toilet creaks unsteady below you and you're completely on top of him, your feet behind you as you fuck him harder and harder. but he asks for more because he wants you more.

"fuck me--fuck me--" he repeats it over and over. guides you up and down and up and down his cock from base to tip. "your pussy was fucking made for me. i need it, i need it--"

his mouth hangs open and you can't believe he's yours like this. you want him to cum but then again you don't because then he can't be inside you anymore. and that's precisely where you want him.

his jaw is tense and his neck pulses with his heartbeat as he presses his forehead to yours.

"i want you--" a moan. "to hit me. i want you to fucking claim me."

so you smack him, and his arms wrap tight against your waist because he's cumming and he wants it to stay like this forever. but if it can only be a few more minutes, that will do too.

[azyimnothere]

HEEEEEELLLLOOOO GUYS GUYS GUYS!!!! 💙💙💙

How are we doing today? I know that they were doing great

It's pretty much an idealized version of what I think that Velchid selfie turned out like, I'd imagine that those little star cameras aren't all that great in resolution since they have so much going on in them to just be able to fly, do you think they'd be like drones or something? If that's the case I can just imagine how bad the paparazzi are in Mount Rageous, or would those cameras only be red carpet exclusive? Who knows, but either way I tried to make it look like a little shittier photo with a lot of blinga-ding from reflection and lights. I hope you guys like it! It isn't my best work to be honest but it's nice 😅

Oh and I don't know if this is already a thing or not, because I checked everywhere and couldn't really find it, tell me if you know someone who made this thingy first so I don't falsely claim it as mine okay?

So it's one where Orchid becomes a surprise assistant to Velvet and Veneer! (And of course Velchid is sprinkled in...not really sprinkled in, more like there's a full tub of salt)

So here's a little backstory if you want to know :D

As we know, there was mentioning of an assistant in the movie, or I just imagine it, I'm not sure atp it's 3 in the morning.

Anywhezel, so I thought it would be in one of those accidental encounters by chance.

Crimp had a hard day, on the verge of a breakdown every second because siblings became "kinda" overbearing, and with no assistant around to help (because they most likely quit), she had no help around them. There was nobody who was willing to take the job that was licensed for working and helping celebrities that way because of all the horror stories previous assistants shared around. Siblings didn't really care Crimp was alone with them, so they just put all the extra stuff on her.

Crimp knew she needed a bit of help purely to keep her sanity on the line with her, so she decided to take a walk and think about what to do next (after she made sure siblings were in bed of course). She sat on a bench in the nearest neon-colored park and cried, not knowing what else to do, and had to let it out.

But she heard someone approaching, turns out it was a purple haired mount rageon and she looked at Crimp sadly, and asking her what's wrong. That's how Crimp met Orchid!

Orchid was making her way from the grocery store and saw Crimp crying on the bench late at night, Orchid recognised her easily since Crimp was mentioned a few times by the siblings on social media, there were also some photos. Plus, despite being small she was hard to miss.

Crimp explained her situation and told Orchid she couldn't do everything alone anymore, and that no one was willing to take over a bit of the burden since the siblings simply scared everyone off. Which made Orchid feel sorry for her.

But Orchid figured, that she could perhaps help Crimp out, the job at that doughnut shop she worked at just wasn't payed enough for her to move out of her mom's apartment, she wasn't forced to move but craved some independence ever since she turned 18 (which wasn't that long ago).

A good bonus was that she got to work with her favorite duo! despite it probably, being a little challenging.

Orchid gave that proposition to Crimp, which made Crimp a bit sceptical, Orchid was a nice girl and didn't deserve that kind of stress, but Orchid persisted because Crimp didn't deserve all that stress either.

On the end Crimp agreed, it only had to go through the approval of the siblings first.

And as expected, Veneer didn't really mind who was helping Crimp as long as they helped Crimp in the first place, and everything gets done in time.

Velvet on the other hand wasn't all that for it, she remembered Orchid faintly from a memory of a concert, which meant Orchid was a fan, she didn't want some nosy stalker snooping around. But as she inspected further, and listened to what Crimp had to say, she reconsidered it and ended up agreeing, unenthusiastically.

So that's how Orchid is now a busy celebrity assistant for two.

The story is a little basic, but it is solid I think, there will probably be comics about it in the future if you're interested! 💕

Also here's some Ritzneer I didn't post, warning! Boys kissing!!!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Love you lovelies!!!! 💙💙💙💙

[controlmyfeet]

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts. 

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos. 

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year." 

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us." 

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately." 

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out. 

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile. 

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little. 

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room". 

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight. 

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do. 

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude. 

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed." 

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too." 

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"  

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second. 

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

[copperbadge]

I always enjoy writing updates on the royal family in these books, but I am having such fun expanding Simon's character and writing his banter with Ylias. I haven't gotten to write an older character who doesn't start out visibly struggling, and Simon's just kind of a dude who loves romance and enjoys being functionally king of chefs in Fons-Askaz.

Simon and Ylias had what I'm calling a "Ene-meet" over some cheese and the next time she saw him she called him Mr. Ricotta (I may try and make this better -- I'd like some kind of French pun where she basically calls him "white guy" while also calling him some form of cheese) and while they've since mostly buried the hatchet because they have to work together on the Reclamation Day festival, they are both enjoying pretending they're still smarting over it.

"Can you do all this..." Ylias gestured at their lists, "for Reclamation Day and also do the catering? Because I feel like we do throw around at least enough weight to make someone else take that over."

"Hm, there is a lot to supervise. A practical consideration, thank you," he said, absently flipping through his own notes. "I will find someone reliable enough to serve His Majesty but also young enough to still be impressed by the request. Which leaves remaining only the cooking competition."

"Not to complain, but this seems like a really random thing to have at Reclamation Day," Ylias said. "It's not a village fete or something."

"It began as a sort of grudge, years ago," he said. "Two cooks had a dispute; they declared to decide for one or the other on Reclamation Day -- in public, with the public's help in settling the matter. It proved very popular, and of course if there are a dozen people all competing, the results can be sold for funds for charity."

"So we're supposed to set this up, set the theme, and source the judges," Ylias said.

"Set-up is already arranged -- the judging tent is always in the same place. They only have to bring in their example of the challenge recipe and lay it out."

"I guess it's a little on the nose for this year's theme to be like...an Eddie Rambler classic recipe."

He smiled. "We may consider it but also, consider: are you aware of..." his voice dropped. "The Trash Tower?"

She nodded.

"Imagine a tent full of examples of Shivadh twists on the Trash Tower," he said.

"It doesn't look like Dante's inferno, but it doesn't not," she said. "Maybe another thing we want to ask about at the next meeting?"

"I think so. For judges, usually a member of the royal family, but also then someone who knows food, and sometimes a famous person if one can get one."

"Can we?"

"I would as soon not," LeFevre replied, which Ylias couldn't argue with. "I think perhaps for the royals, Princeps Joan would like to judge. Or if her fathers would prefer she does not, Duke Gerald. He would pretend it was his little one judging, give her some of everything to try, pretend he knows what she says. Very funny."

"Want me to tap someone with food chops from the town?" Ylias asked.

"Yes, but speak with me before you ask them, just to be sure."

"Yep, I wouldn't mind a road map to all the faux pas I could make," she muttered.

"Ah, well. I wouldn't let anyone cut you; I've already seen you at your worst and it is frankly somewhat mild," he said.

"I think I'm almost more insulted about being considered mediocre than I am that you won't let it go," she replied.

"We all need time to recover our wounds," he said gravely. "Another few years, perhaps, and I will begin to consider healing."

"Man, I didn't know calling you Mr. Ricotta would devastate you so completely."

He closed the notebook with a snap, smiling.

"And I must somehow go on, and fetch my groceries," he said.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 2/10

Part 3 and 4 are out on my Patreon for Free!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

Ruben's family were not joking when they said that if successful, you'd be hired immediately. You still had your flat in London with all of your belongings, however, that would be taken care of for you since Ruben's family were more than willing to set up a room for you in Ruben's apartment. There you received your own private quarters, with a joint bathroom and everything, not to mention your own walk-in closet.

"I kid you not, it's bigger than my old flat." You squealed into your phone.

"Well, what is he like, your employer?" Your friend Donna asked. She was currently in your apartment in London, collecting the immediate essentials that had to be shipped to you right away.

"Well, you know. He's kind of quiet." You said, having only known Ruben for two days. During these two days his physio, Max, had taken care of everything, only asking you to measure the proper proportion for Ruben's daily dose of Heparin, which was injected to prevent blood clots from forming.

"But he's hot, no?"

"Who, Max?"

"No, the guy you're working for, Ruben?"

"I don't know?" You muttered. Although he was tall and fairly built, there was something about not knowing the color of a man's eyes that didn't sit right with you. "It's the mirror to one's soul, you know."

"I'd rather wanna know the size of his...."

"Donna." You hissed. "Really?"

Her laughter buzzed in your ear. "What, it's the canal of life, you know."

"Ha, ha, very fun..."

"Y/N?"

A knock on the door interrupted you.

"Just a second!" You pressed the phone to your ear as you jumped down from your bed.

"It's Max." 

"Yeah, just a second!"

You said goodbye to Donna and hurried up to close the suitcase that lay open on your floor. You shoved it under the bed along with other scattered items, before making your way over to the bedroom door. Max stood waiting for you in the doorway.

"Hey, I just wanted to say that I'm leaving now."

"Oh, okay,  when will you be back?"

"On Monday?"

"What? But that's in three days."

"Exactly." He nodded. "I work four days and get three days off to see my girls."

"You have a family?" You said, quite disappointed by the fact. Max was really handsome for a forty-two year old.

"Anyway, If you need anything I think Ivan is stopping by tomorrow with some groceries, other than that I wrote down everything that needs to be done during the day, along with some light exercises that you can help Ruben do."

"Me, help Ruben?" You frowned. It took you two days to get comfortable living the easy life. You would've never pursued acting if you had known about being a rich man's nurse.

"Like I said," Max smiled. "If you need anything, call Ivan. He lives twenty minutes away from here."

"Alright, okay. " You nodded, accepting the situation. "Have a good weekend."

"You too."

And just like that a man's life was left in your hands. It was an odd feeling. Not scary, just odd. Nevertheless, you plotted yourself in the living room, just in case Ruben needed you he could call for help and you'd hear him. However, hours passed without a word from him. You weren't concerned at first, considering the fact that Ruben knew how to walk on his own. But after some thought, you decided to knock on his door and see if he needed anything.

"Ruben, It's me."

No answer.

"I thought that maybe I could make you a snack? Would you like that?"

Still no answer.

It hit you, what if he was bleeding out? With the trauma to his brain, perhaps he had developed some internal bleeding and now he was laying in bed, dying on your watch.

"Ruben, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to...." You burst into his room. The first thing that hit you was the breeze from the balcony with its door ajar.

"Oh, no."

Only seeing the traces of Ruben on his bed, you could only assume the worst.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead."

You rushed out onto the balcony, leaning over the railing, expecting to see a body laying flat on the ground. However, there was nothing, not a trace of human remains.

"You're worse than the others, you know that right?"

You gasped, hearing his low chuckle. Turning your head, you spotted Ruben, shirtless, laying on his back, arms tucked behind his neck as he bathed in the sun.

"You're....you're...."

"Not dead?" He said, raising a brow behind his bandaged eyes.

"I'm sorry, I thought...."

"That a guy with injuries like mine should consider killing himself?"

"Yes and no." 

"Yes and no?" He frowned, "Care to elaborate?"

"Not should consider." You said. "But I believe some people would consider...doing it."

"Well, unfortunately I'm still alive."

"I can see that." You muttered.

Ruben sat up, and to your surprise removed the blindfold from his eyes by tugging it down to rest around his neck. He then reached for the bottle of sunscreen on a stool nearby, applying a drop of it on his nose.

"If you're planning on laying in the sun all day, you should probably apply sunscreen to your entire body."

He stopped the motion of putting on sunscreen, shifting his head your way. "I'm Portuguese, I'm pretty sure I can handle a dose of English sun."

"But can you handle a dose of skin cancer?"

He chuckled, eyelids flickering as he did. He seemed tempted to open them, his eyes. And for a moment that thought struck fear within you.

"Was there something you wanted?"

"Pardon?" You had been distracted. Your eyes falling onto the sight of his abs. They were visible even though he was sitting down. Something worth remembering for your next call with Donna.

"Was there something you wanted?" Ruben repeated, snatching you out of your daze. "I mean Max already gave me my shot and I don't need your help swallowing my pills."

"Right." You said. "I guess I just wanted to check on you."

"To see if I was still alive?" He grinned.

"Right." What an asshole, you thought. "Now that that's confirmed, I'll get started on dinner."

"Don't bother." He said, pulling the bandage to cover his eyes again.

"Why not?"

"Well, my mom left us food that should last us all year."

"Oh, okay."

"She's afraid that you can't cook, you know."

"Well I can."

"Yeah, but not as good as her."

"Right."

You left Ruben's room, embarrassed to have entered in the first place. Who does the guy think he is, speaking to you like some kind of servant? You wondered how long you'd be able to put up with it. Not for long you reckoned.

'

Part 3 and 4 are out on my Patreon for Free!

[darkfantasysworld]

This idea popped into my head randomly. Shorter post.

Female reader x demon, pastor (no lines), & pastor's son

TW/CW; Bl00d, religion, and child/infant sacrifice

You snapped out of a daze and looked down at your pussy, it hurt for some reason, that's when you discovered your cross inside with blood on it. You immediately pulled it out and got out of bed, your sheets and blankets had the red substance on them as well. You felt it trickle down your thigh as you cried, you walked into the bathroom and started the water for a bath, using a washcloth to try and clean some of the blood from your body. You got in the tub and cried harder, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were assaulted and with one of your crosses nonetheless, that was the only logical conclusion you could think of. You lived in a small town and were friends with basically everyone so you didn't know who would want to do this. You cleaned up and sat in the bathtub for a few hours, thinking before finally getting out and patting yourself dry. You wrapped a towel around yourself and walked back into your bedroom. You pulled the bloodstained bedding off and carried it to the laundry room then placed it all in the washer and turned it on. You went back to your bedroom, this time with a bowl of warm, soapy water and a brush, both of which you set on the nightstand before getting a bottle of peroxide from your first-aid kit. You walked over and poured some peroxide on the bloodstained mattress, watching it bubble up. You grabbed the brush and wet it before scrubbing the bloodstain and dabbing it with a black towel.

You cleaned everything up, your bed still had a slight stain but you did what you could. You put a baggy hoodie and sweatpants on before leaving the house to get groceries and try to see if anyone was acting different to you. While shopping you saw the town pastor with his son, you had always had a small crush on him and would say hi whenever you saw him but you couldn't shake the feeling that him or his father might have done this to you. You were somewhat out of it as you shopped, your mind kept going back to the bloodied bedding and cross. You walked down each aisle, making sure you got everything you needed and once you were done you went home.

You were putting groceries away when someone knocked on your front door so you opened it. "Hey, how are you? You didn't say 'hi' in the store earlier so I figured I'd check on you." The pastor's son, Noah, spoke, his light brown hair almost looked like honey in the current lighting, his hazel eyes looked into yours with a hint of concern in them. "I'm ok.. I just.." you paused, looking at him before looking at the ground. "I don't think I can talk about it.." you sniffled slightly, your mind flashing back to earlier. "Hey.. I'm here for you.." Noah responded, placing his hand on your cheek. You don't know what happened but you just lost control and fell into his arms, sobbing.

You don't know how or when but when you stopped crying you realized you were on the couch, sitting on Noah's lap while he held you, his fingers tracing small patterns under your shirt and on your skin. You stayed there, enjoying the gentle touch and quiet whispers of "it's ok.." , "I've got you.." , "let it all out.." , and "I'm here.." from Noah. You closed your eyes and relaxed, letting your breathing return to normal as you sniffled. You finally decided to tell him, he's the pastor's son so you trusted him with this information. "A cross..? Inside of you..? Sounds like a possession case my dad worked.." Noah pulled out his phone and you sat there, confused until you heard a ding from his phone. "The demon's name is Voxix, he's a servant of Asmodeus. Voxix likes to… impregnate… virgins by possessing them and… masturbating as he's inside of them…" Noah paused and looked at you. "What?" You asked, confused as to why he paused. "He's almost impossible to exorcize." Noah responded, making you hide your smile. You didn't really believe in that stuff, you found it silly. "I don't think it's a demon's baby, but thanks Noah."

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your stomach grew and you weren't acting like yourself. Your skin became almost gray, your eyes turned almost white with little bits of color still showing, your hair was messy and knotted. You became sick, throwing up quite often, you assumed it was morning sickness, that it would eventually go away but it didn't. You got to know Noah more, he was really sweet throughout the whole pregnancy, almost a little too sweet but you didn't mind. You snapped out of another daze, this time you were restrained with Noah and his father, John by your bed. John was in his robes, throwing holy water on you, it felt like it burned and they began speaking in Latin but you blacked out before you could even slightly understand what their motives were. You opened your eyes but this time you saw a large man in pure darkness, he had black horns that made a vague heart shape, the horns had pink stripes, creating a unique pattern, he had a long black tail with a heart on the tip that looked sharp. The man had dark grey skin, pink eyes, and short black hair with an undercut, he also seemed to have tattoos but they were pink and seemed to have a slight glow. "Ah.. mortal.." The male spoke, walking towards you. You couldn't move, yell, or speak for some reason. "Shh.. you'll be ok.." He said, running his hand through your hair as you felt some sort of pain, you thought maybe it was labor pain but surely you'd be awake for that. "Mm.. it's time.." The male said in an almost seductive tone as he disappeared right before your eyes.

You woke up screaming as your body pushed the baby out, you looked around confused and watched as John threw the baby into a fire, all you got to see was your baby's red skin and some sort of black features. You cried out for your baby when suddenly the male from the darkness walked out of the fire. "Ah.. much better.." The male spoke before looking at John and Noah, you suddenly realized you were in the woods with no one else around. "Thank you, John, for bringing me to this realm." The male said, giving a slight bow to the brown haired pastor. Noah stepped towards you and leaned down, giving your clit a gentle kiss. "You did so well.." Noah whispered in your ear before kissing your neck.

[staticespace]

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL LESBIAN DAY to you my friend!!! 

My name is B. A closeted lesbian who's looking to come out to her family this month. In my almost two years of existence on this blog, I've read different “coming out stories” which has been a whole motivation to me- I hereby set a day in mind, to come out to my family. However things took a turn as my mom who i thought would be free of her ovarian cancer by said date developed a kidney problem just after ovarian cancer- she means the whole world to me and her acceptance is what I yearn for with my coming out. She has always said we should allow her die and has been unmotivated about life until her birthday few weeks ago (sept 11) where a whole lot of people on this app sent their good wishes, drawings, and words of encouragement to her. We turned everything sent into a blanket for her and she's been wrapping herself with the love she received- she wants to live again and fight for the sake of strangers who believed in her(so she said). The medical personnel admits it is the best time to have her surgery (Ureteral Stent Placement surgery) because she has the right mood and mindset. Unfortunately for us, we are 500$ away from getting her surgery, it’s almost a month after her birthday and her fighting spirit is dying- I also can't come out to a dying mother- I need her to be fine before my coming out date(20th Oct). We've created a crowdfunding link for her but we've only raised 160$ of 500$. On this OUR special day, Would you please help not only my mom but my coming out plan by donating whatever you can spare for my mom's surgery? No matter how small, This would go a longer way than you think- please click the link below to support I and my family:

buymeacoffee.com/Plantlover

You can also find more information about her Ovaria cancer/ infected kidney on my pinned post.  Thank you for sticking with us through thick and thin. 

...Honestly, I don't really trust you. The more I think about it, the less I trust you.

🚩International Lesbian Day is October 8th, not the 9th. I received this ask today, October 9th.

🚩I'm not a lesbian, nor have I ever referred to myself as one, but you're quite insistent that I help on, and I quote, "On this OUR special day," which...no. It's not my special day. It's the wrong day and I'm not a lesbian.

🟨The broken English is a little suspicious in this particular situation, considering we know nothing about you except that you're apparently a closeted lesbian and your mother's dying of cancer.

🚩I don't know any real information about you because, despite what you've claimed, you haven't provided any actual, solid evidence that you and your family are facing the things you say you are.

🚩For example of the point above, I feel it would be fairly easy for you to take a picture of a medical bill and censor important identifying details. But you haven't even done that.

🟨According to your archive, you've had your blog since May 2023. Of the 23 posts you made that month, 18 of them were on May 11th, and the remaining 5 were made on the 12th, after which you didn't post anything for 6 months.

After that, you posted 18 times in January 2024, but only on January 11th and January 15th. Then you stopped posting again for several months until May 2024, where you first start posting about your mother's cancer.

So, really, I'm not sure how long you've been on here and can only assume you started up around May 2023. Not a red flag, but a yellow one to me.

🚩🚩🚩Instead of using GoFundMe, which has donation protections, you use Buymeacoffee, which, if it works anything like Kofi, the money then goes to PayPal, which does not have donation protections. There's no donation protection for anyone attempting to give to you for your mother's cancer treatment.

Like, this isn't you asking for money to pay for groceries or something. You're asking for thousands on something that requires immediate attention.

That's not something I'd PayPal about, personally.

🚩In the initial posts you made, you don't put a maximum amount you need. You should already know how much your mother's cancer treatment and cervix removal would cost, even if you only requested an estimate. But you leave the posts open-ended for a long while.

🚩I find it strange that the issues you have with English in the ask you sent me are completely absent from your first posts. Are there different writers for these blog posts?

🚩Looking at your Buymeacoffee, you're currently asking for $500 and have apparently gained $225. Right now, each "plant" a person gives you is worth $5.

Now, Buymeacoffee lets you see how many people have donated and how much, in "coffee," or "plants" in this case, they gave you. However, this information on the page only goes back for the last 90 days.

90 days from today, Wednesday, October 9th, was Thursday, July 11, 2024.

Since this page has been active, according to your blog post, since at least May 3rd, 2024, the count below does not include all donations given to you.

I wasted some time looking back through all the donations and counting up the plants:

1, 10 3, 1, 5, 1, 1, 20, 5, 2, 3, 1, 5, 5, 5, 2, 5, 5, 1, 12, 10, 5, 1, 3, 1, 1, 3, 30, 3, 2, 2, 5, 3, 1, 5, 2, 1, 2, 10, 3, 6, 2, 5, 5, 3, 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 1, 3, 2, 1, 3, 10, 15, 5, 5, 3, 1, 5, 1, 15, 5, 1, 1, 2, 1, 1, 1, 1, 3, 10, 1, 15, 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 1, 1, 3, 20, 5, 1, 3, 5, 2, 1, 3, 3, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 2, 100, 3, 1, 1, 5, 2, 5, 1, 5, 15, 15, 3, 3, 5, 1, 5, 5, 3, 3, 1, 3, 10, 3, 3, 5, 1, 4, 1, 3, 1, 5, 3, 4, 5, 10, 10, 3.

You have been given 136 donations on this page since July 11th, 2024 The sum of all the "plants" given is 667.

667 * 5 = 3335

You have been given at least $3,335 within the last 90 days.

That's not counting the $45 you said your sister got before her account was closed, nor the fact the minimum giving amount was initially $10 before you decreased it to $5, nor the fact the count only accounts for "plants" given between May 3rd and July 10th.

Why does Buymeacoffee only show that you've gotten $225 out of $500? That's likely because, if it functions like Kofi, you can refresh your goals and set new ones despite previous giving.

Is the list of people I saw for the entirety of the current goal in the last 90 days? Do you have other accounts you're receiving donations to with various stories? When does Buymeacoffee count different goal sets?

That's difficult to ascertain, which is why it's not an optimal space for giving someone donations for medical procedures.

First, people gave you money for a cervix removal, then they gave you money to help for kidney treatment, which you instead put toward "a blanket for her" to give your mother "hope," and now you're asking for more money for the kidney situation again.

Why Aren't You Using GoFundMe?

Why Are You Making It Difficult To Trace Information Outside Of What You Say?

...I don't trust you. I really don't.

I have even more red flags (like how you ignored someone's explicit request to not receive any donation asks), but I think I've given enough of them. I won't waste more of my time looking into this.

I cannot guarantee that this is a scam, but I don't recommend anyone else donate to you unless you start providing hard evidence of the things you say you're doing:

⭕Provide photos of medical bills you've paid for using the funds given to you.

⭕Provide photos of your mother's medical estimates.

⭕Send a photo of the blanket, and/or a picture of your mother under the blanket, and/or a photo of the blanket with a piece of paper with your Tumblr name written on it along with a receipt for the blanket/materials to make the blanket. If you photograph your mother, you can censor her face if you so choose.

⭕Leave Buymeacoffee and set up a GoFundMe, which will allow people to more easily monitor what you've been given and where it's going. It will also provide donation protections for the people giving to you.

If anyone else has ideas of reasonable ways for someone to prove their request is legitimate, feel free to add them in the replies or as a reblog.

[highhhfiveee]

to save

(a bonus "to crumble" ficlet | this is to be read after to surrender; the entire collection is here: 🩹) pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: abby needs a savior. you come to the rescue.  wc: 4.2k tags: angst through and through mostly (some light violence, arguing, child neglect ): , drug and alcohol mentions, infertility mentions, angry feelings about a shitty situation [mike you suck]), fluff towards the end with reader and abby (: a/n: so, i hit 1k followers the other day (which thank you so much??? what a nuts accomplishment!!) and i'd decided a while back that this is what i wanted to give you all as a surprise, considering that a lot of you enjoyed the to crumble fics 🥹 this was originally supposed to be longer, but i may do a part 2 just because i didn’t want it to be super long and i wanted to finally put it out cause it's been overdue lmao. enjoy!

you'd been used to silence at night, but now, it was different.

before, the dead of night was peppered with stressful, anxious energy. you'd lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything would manage to stay glued together. you begged yourself to dream instead of think. you'd wanted to be whisked away from the incessant, compulsive thoughts you had about work, home, your relationship; every second you could spend with your eyes closed, turning that silence into a fantasy you could almost taste, was better than being awake and facing your reality.

sleep had been your way to escape the quiet then, but these days, you enjoyed every second of it.

for the first few weeks of being away from mike and abby, you'd been unnerved by the still air of your parent's house. everything was calm and collected and unlike anything you'd experienced in the past two years, and you'd wanted to accept it with open arms, but your body held you back with a bit of apprehension.

everything felt so relaxed, but when would it blow up?

the thought had lingered in the back of your mind as you went about your life---another semester of school went by, and another birthday, grocery store trips, gas station visits, lunches with your parents and friends; soon, you're not thinking of anything going wrong ever again.

you were uncomfortable with peace at first, but now, you realized how invaluable it was. everyone deserved peace, and since you'd gotten yours, you hadn't wanted to let it go.

you were resting in this peace once more, curled up on the living room couch and leisurely clicking through your gradebook when it's shattered down the middle by ...baby one more time.

it was abby's ringtone, the one you'd selected specially for her. it would've filled you with glee, getting a call from your favorite girl, if it weren't for the fact that she never called. she was more comfortable with texts and emails and you respected that. you wanted to make this time in her life as serene as possible, and wrote her back once that phone calls will only be for emergencies then, okay?

it was 10:27 pm, and she should've been asleep, watched by max or whoever mike had hired as her babysitter now. you answer the phone after the second ring, closing your laptop. "is everythi---"

"y/n," she sobs, and suddenly you're fully alert, placing your computer on the couch cushions and shooting to your feet. "can you please come get me?" you don't hesitate to dash to your room and throw on clothes at her distressed tone, keeping your phone between your shoulder and cheek. your heart pounds, the sound wooshing through your skull.

still, you muster up the courage to ask, "abby, what's going on? are you okay, are you hurt? where's max?"

"she got into a-a fight with mike. she didn't come when s-she was supposed to, and mike was u-u-upset that she was gonna make him late for work. they had been yelling at each other so he left, and then max did too. i don't think she t-t-old him." you stop all of your movements at her hiccupping, squeezing your eyes shut.

"she just left you alone at the house?"

"y-yes, and i've been trying to call and text mike but he's n-not picking up."

you'd always known that mike put his phone on Do Not Disturb when he went to work, but that was before. that was when you were the one watching abby at night. you don't understand why he still keeps it on, and why abby's not able to bypass the setting.

"when did he leave?"

"l-like 30 minutes ago. max left like f-five ago."

"how many times did you call him?"

"eight."

you bite at your bottom lip as you fight to hold back tears. your hands ball into fists at the rage that you feel inside, hot and searing and aimed at the two adults that left an eleven-year-old unaccompanied.

"i want you to pack a bag with enough stuff for a couple of weeks, okay? i'm gonna come get you and you're gonna stay with me for a little."

abby's calmed down enough to say, "but isn't your parents' house too small?" without stuttering. it was, but that was irrelevant. in the grand scheme of everything, the amount of space didn't matter. you just wanted abby to be safe.

"doesn't matter, sweet girl. they'll understand, and we'll do all the fun stuff we used to do together. we're gonna do karaoke, and watch movies, a-and we can paint again. don't you miss that?"

you can hear abby nod, and when she sniffles, murmuring, "i miss it a lot," you're like an olympian sprinting to your car, cooing, "lock the front door and wait for me in your room, yeah? everything's going to be okay, abby, i promise."

you're throwing your car into gear like you drive for a living, speeding all the way across town. you'd be fearful for cops if the pure adrenaline of your past hadn't been coursing through your veins; you feel transported back to the days of rushing over to abby's school, sweeping her into your arms as she wailed about mike forgetting her day in and day out.

you were her savior then, and though you loved her beyond words, you'd never wanted to be that. when you'd left, you thought you'd finally shed that title, but here you were again. you'd wrap her up in your arms and she'd see that halo over your head again, thanking you for saving her from the common denominator in both of your problems; the one person that had roped you two back into this pattern.

you still do the wrapping when she runs into your arms in the foyer, of course, holding her so tight that you're afraid you might break her, and as you do, you take in her environment.

the house hadn't been in complete shambles like you'd expected, but it still wasn't anywhere near what it should've been. there were dishes piled in one side of the sink, surrounded by buzzing gnats, and clothes thrown all around the living room. none of them are abby's.

"max's been trying to help me clean, but mike just ruins our progress," abby sits next to her bags on the couch once you let her go, staring up at you with red-rimmed eyes that take you back to the day you left.

"help you clean?" you gripe, glaring at empty, sticky-looking cups and the heap of mail, mostly bills, on the dining table.

"mike..." abby drops her eyes down to her feet, picking a piece of skin off the edge of her thumb. "nothing really changed when you left." she continues on, telling you about how everything had gotten worse in the six months that you'd been gone.

mike had quit his other job and started locking himself in his room again. sometimes, he even forgot to take abby to school after work, despite her shouting and banging against the door to get him to do so.

after her failed attempts, she'd sit in her room all day, falling asleep in her fort after sobbing for hours upon hours, while mike showed up to the pickup lane of her school in the afternoon bleary-eyed and disheveled.

"mr. schmidt, abby was never dropped off."

he'd come back home to find her curled up and snoring under her tent; safe and sound in this strange way that should've disturbed him. it should've made his blood boil, anger directed towards himself when he realized that he'd just dreamtthat he'd taken her to school instead of tangibly doing it. it should've worried him that her school might pick up on that, and get higher powers involved.

with his latest cocktail, an ambien and a beer (or two), however, he felt nothing at all.

once he'd seen abby in her room, he'd closed the door and sent them back into the same cycle he'd created.

max had tried her best to take care of abby, but considering the fact that mike wasn't paying her anything, she couldn't always afford to help abby in the way she wanted and mike hadn't been much help. he'd always leave without a word when she showed up at night, and even when she'd begun taking abby to school in the mornings, he hadn't shown any gratitude. he'd only used it to feel better about his irresponsibility, feeling on top of the world when he dropped by abby's school and she was actually there to be picked up.

max's generosity had allowed mike to wholeheartedly slip back into his previous neglectful autopilot; he saw his duties as guardian done when food was in the fridge, toiletries were in the bathroom, and his sister was enclosed in the house, and that pissed you off to the highest degree.

you understood max's stance with fighting against him, but you wondered why abby had to be hurt in the process. she was just a child, someone that shouldn't have been brought in the middle of a petty squabble between two adults. max should've never left her alone, and you're desperate to chew her out as well.

"i think i might get kicked out of school too," abby solemnly tells you now as you throw her bags into the backseat of your car and buckle her up in the front. "i don't think he can afford it anymore. they pull him aside to talk every time he comes and gets me. 'just give me more time', he always says."

your eyes fill with tears again, and you let them fall. she was only eleven and deserved none of this. you were sure that if you had nothing to live for, you'd kill mike. you felt like there was no remedy for anything he'd done until he was gone, completely separate from you and abby in every way, shape, and form.

an idea that wouldn't land you life in prison formulates in your head, and it's this idea that propels you to freddy's, your hand smoothing down abby's flyaways as you drive with an aching heart.

"stay in here, okay?" you tell her once you've stopped the car in the desolate parking lot of mike's job. "lock the doors behind me."

"y/n, i'm sorry for not telling you anything about what was happening," she seems genuinely disappointed in herself, closing her own teary eyes. a single droplet cascades down her cheek and you caress it, placing a soft, forgiving kiss on her forehead. her emails and texts had made it seem like everything was okay, but you couldn't blame her for putting on a front.

you'd let go from them and she'd understood why. she didn't want to worry you about her and her brother, the brother who'd made you wear a smile while he dragged you through hell. none of that was her fault, but still; she was related to him and felt like a mess, a burden by association. "i didn't tell anyone because i was afraid they would send me away an---"

"it's okay, abby," you purr, opening your car door and sticking your leg out. "soon, you won't have to be afraid anymore. i'll make sure of it."

you remind her of your original instructions and she nods, clicking the electronic lock on the door panel as you march to the dated entrance of the pizzeria. you grit your teeth, bashing your balled fists on the door.

"open the fuck up, mike!" you scream, turning your flaming face towards the security camera as you continue your assault against the building. your hands prickle with the feeling of the solid glass on your skin but you push it aside, pounding as hard as you can. "mike! i swear to fucking god, open this fucking door!"

your throat is nearly raw from shouting for so long, and you begin kicking at the door when it finally swings open, and your feet and hands are connecting with mike's loose frame.

"y/n, what the fuck..." his speech is slurred, and it only angers you further. you don't stop your movements, smacking at his body with a fury you don't think you've ever felt in your entire life.

mike feels nothing of the sort. he barely feels anything, disoriented and numb from the drug-induced nap he'd been taking.

you'd been in his dream; shit, you'd been in them forever, but more so since the two of you had broken up. it felt like a part of his punishment for everything he'd done, though he thought that was the only way he'd ever see you again. he doesn't expect to feel the weight of your small fists beating against his chest, or that he'll have to wrangle his arms around your waist to stop your attack on him. you're still as beautiful as ever, so red-faced and irritated in your favorite sweats, but he knows it doesn't matter. it's just a thought, one that doesn't even work to deflect his attention from your violent efforts. "jesus christ, stop---hitti--"

"get the fuck off me, mike!" you screech, forcefully shoving your hands into the center of his chest. his arms around your waist made you feel dizzy once upon a time, but feeling them now, for any reason, makes you want to throw up, and you're nearly crying as he tightens them around you. "get off!"

"stop trying to beat the shit out of me, then!" he retorts, stumbling back as you push into him once more when he finally drops you. you're both staring at each other, your breaths labored and emotional, and you launch straight into your tirade, jamming a finger in mike's face.

"well, why don't you stop dragging me back into your life! max left abby at home alone and i was the only person who could help her, mike," he opens his mouth to tiredly protest, but you turn your finger into an entire hand, halting his words. "and before you say, 'well, she could've called me', she did. she called you eight times, but you didn't answer. abby would've been home by herself all night because of you and now, i have to be wrapped up in this again. was almost two years not enough?"

mike's slow mind begins to jog with the mention of abby being alone, but he's still slurring, sunken eyes dark in the low lighting of the vacant pizzeria. "y/n..."

"you're taking the ambien again, aren't you?"

he's licking his lips and letting out a deep sigh, his eyes fluttering to the ground. you begin to hiss, "tell me the truth" when he finally mutters, "i need it."

your laugh is sharp and bitter and aimed towards the sky, tears cresting your lash line again. "like you needed it then, too?"

you never thought you'd see mike again, or at least not so soon. it's saddening to you that your reunion is filled with such distress. you couldn't be happy to see him even if you tried, and that thought pricked at your body with the intensity of a million needles.

how pathetic, all that time you'd been together, all that love and affection reduced to anger pulsing in your heart.

"you're so hopeless, mike." the words sting your tongue, filling the air between you with bitter animosity, but both of you know it's not a lie. "i don't understand why you won't change; not even just for abby, or for me, but for yourself. this wasn't what this was supposed to be," you dig your teeth into the plushiness of your bottom lip as you weep on. "we alldeserve better than this. we were supposed to better our lives together."

"yeah, we were, and then you left."

you wrinkle your forehead irritably, snapping, "you don't get to use that against me. you know exactly why i left."

mike stares at you, grinding his molars together with a tight, clenched jaw. "that's also why i'm gonna take full custody of abby."

it's mike's turn to chuckle now, the sound rumbling through his chest and causing him to place his palm on his abdomen. he bends over slightly, rolling through the motions of an exaggerated belly laugh, and you cross your arms over your chest, straightening your posture. "this isn't some kind of joke. i'm serious, mike."

"yeah, okay, y/n." his groggy, nonchalant tone irritates you; it makes it impossible to not think about how he's probably like this at home, hiding away and drugging himself to sleep, ignoring the one person that needs him more than ever.

"you're in no position to take care of her! you get home from work and lock yourself in your room, forget to take your little sister to school, and ignore her calls when you're at work so you can sleep through your entire shift!" you hadn't yelled that intensely since you'd found out mike had cheated on you, and it didn't even feel good. there was nothing rewarding about it, and it made swallowing to soothe your throat more painful. "so i'm taking her far the fuck away from you. she's had it hard enough, and it's me, your aunt, or the state. i refuse for abby to have to grow up in an environment that's not safe for her, and you're going to have to deal with that."

you're giving him a tight smile, holding your shaky hands in surrender as you pace backwards towards the entrance. you shrug your shoulders at mike's expression, pinched and angry and pointed as you begin to push the main doors open.

“yeah, you wanna play mommy to my little sister cause you can’t have kids of your own?”

you freeze in place, painfully furrowing your eyebrows. there's a piercing ache in your stomach, the poke of mike's dig at you spreading to every nerve in your body.

something you'd revealed to him when you two had seriously talked about living together and settling down, all tearful and dreary and apologetic, now used against you like it had the weight of some kind of crime deserving life.

he'd held you that night, kissing your cheeks and comforting you, whispering, "you don't have anything to apologize for, baby. me, you, and abby can be a family."

you hadn't wanted to be some young parent, but you'd loved the idea of a support system and a place that was actuallyhome, the hub of everything family. you'd been raised in that and wanted to continue it, carrying on that closeness in your own time.

so many doctors visits had told you that it wouldn't be possible. you'd worked hard to accept it, and though it pained you every time thoughts of growing old and settling down swirled in your head, mike had helped you truly come to terms with it. "who knows what miracle could happen? even so, family can be created or chosen. we can build our family in so many ways, okay?"

you're back to freddy's as quickly as you drifted, wondering if mike had thought about the same memory as you after he'd let the words foolishly tumble from his mouth. his face reveals little, his hooded eyes looking to the dust-covered information board beside you.

mike was able to play both roles; he could be the sweet, gentle, affectionate type, but recently, if you provoked him in any way, he turned grating and cruel. you didn't understand him anymore. you hadn't in a long time, but in this particular moment, he's completely and totally lost on you.

in the past, he was asking why you hadn't left him, so guilty and ashamed and saying he didn't deserve you, but even after leaving, you'd gotten sucked back in, every single second in his presence a punch to the gut as he showed you exactly what he meant.

you're giving him room to say something, anything, maybe even apologize, but there's just silence that you can't enjoy. something you'd become so fond of begins to drive you up a wall, so you huff despairingly and mutter, “it's for her own good, mike.” before leaving.

accommodating your life for abby hadn't been on your bucket list, but you were surprised at how effortlessly you'd fallen into being her full-time caretaker again. you'd immediately sprung into action, letting abby inhabit your bedroom while you sorted everything out with your parents. they hadn't been overwhelmed with joy about the circumstances, as they'd never cared for mike much, but they don't judge you.

though what you're doing is big, they understand what you're doing it for. someone you'd do anything for, someone that you wanted to protect and nurture. you were willing to put it all on the line for abby's well-being, and they admired you for that.

they'd fortunately helped you get into a small apartment, one close to abby's school, and you'd gotten in contact with abby's aunt, pleading your case for custody to her with a highly-detailed portfolio over brunch.

she wasn't your favorite person, the stick up her ass unbearable at times, but you'd needed her to see you as competent enough to go through with transferring her petition for full responsibility of abby. you'd been nervous at first, but the massive amount of damning evidence and "shit-talking" on mike's behalf had been enough for her to see you as fit, in addition to your "stable, ordinary career".

though she'd been easy to win over, you hadn't expected mike to be as well after your encounter at freddy's. with the way he'd reacted when you broke the news, you'd thought you'd be arguing with him constantly, bickering about how he wasn't in a good enough spot to keep abby in his charge.

only that never happened, and you'd  let out a big sigh when you received signed documents in the mail, relinquishing all of his rights and privileges as abby's guardian. his name wass scribbled across the signature lines in thin, inky strokes, slanted and sloppy.

like everything regarding your connection, it was bittersweet. abby had even expressed the same sentiment when you'd picked her up from her newly-attended after school program. you'd told her aunt about her schooling, and she'd agreed to help pay for most of it considering that abby was in your care now.

"money won't go to waste now. i wanted mike to work for it, the lazy fool. i wasn't gonna let my money go down the drain with him."

you'd simply nodded at her confession, unsure of why all of the adults in abby's life had failed her. not paying for her school because of mike was idiotic to you, but you'd brushed it aside with the thought that she could finally be fully enriched now.

all of the new possibility, for both you and abby, rode on your shoulders, and though you'd been curious as to why you were the one chosen for this responsibility, you'd accepted it with open arms.

"y/n," abby's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you're back to sitting at the small dinette in your new kitchen with her, lo mein weaved around your wooden chopsticks. the noodles slip when you jolt with a soft, "huh". her eyes are wide and inquisitive, and you close your own to recollect yourself. "are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm sorry. just thinking about...things."

"not about shrimp lo mein, i see," abby giggles deviously, reaching her hand into your container to snatch a shrimp. she pops it into her mouth with a hum as you gawk in fake disapproval, getting her back for a piece of her sesame chicken.

"and you're not thinking about sesame chicken, so take that," you retort, the both of you falling into hushed, familiar laughter that makes the rapid change of your life so worth it.

you'd taken a bit of time off from work to deal with constant meetings and court dates, and even though abby had already been staying with you during the entire case, you were now her appointed guardian and it felt unreal.

you'd seen how happy she'd gotten. it was like the old days, when you'd first met; she was so lively and joyous and curious then, and you'd been so thrilled to see that sparkle return to her eye with every trip to the children's museum, morning conversation on the ride to school, and dragged out bedtime story.

you knew that every signature, every eerie government building, every early morning and late night, everything----it had all gone into ensuring that abby had endless moments like that, and ones like the present; eating her favorite chinese food after finishing up homework and bathing, and giggling with you as she was reminded that she'd never have to worry about being taken care of ever again.

you couldn't let anyone down, especially not her. you'd taken the biggest risk to change her life, and in knowing that, savior didn't feel like such a heavy title.

now, it was freeing; to save didn't feel so crushing anymore.

"don't worry about my things," you stretch your arm across the vinyl table for her hand, brushing your thumb across her delicate skin with a warm, loving smile. "all that matters right now is that you're here with me, safe and cared for. that's a thing we can both think about."

(,: didn't think i'd write anything else for this au but they get me every time. how sweet. i hope you all enjoyed! thank you so much again for 1k, i love you all!!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Three

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 410 ~ Jake

Her eyes drifted up from the board. An air of concentration furrowed between her brows and the tip of her tongue which sat delicately at the edge of her teeth.

"Check mate!" She announced, knocking my piece off the board with a look of devilish satisfaction.

"Beginners luck." I replied, sending a hand to my ribcage to rub an ache I suspected would always trouble me from now on.

The snow had fallen in earnest. A blanket of dazzling white covered the ground, powdered flakes falling off the canopy of trees around us made for a spectacle when the sun peeked out from behind clouds. It was the first real beauty I'd taken note of in what felt like a very long time.

"And what if I told you that I was a secret master? That I'd been dumbing down my abilities all this time just so that I didn't demasculate you over a game of chess?" She gloated, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to make my next move.

She reminded me of a sunset. With a touch of copper in her hair and those damned freckles on her nose. She had all the hope of a beautiful end and that it would bring something as equally beautiful in the morning.

"I didn't have you down as a liar." I replied, scanning the board for something that would knock her off her winning streak.

She folded her hands beneath her chin and leaned her elbows onto the edge of the kitchen table. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jake."

I didn't doubt that. But I was sincerely grateful for the things which I had learned over the past few days. She'd carefully guided me around the entire place, shown me how everything worked and where the source of all the power came from. How to maintain all the power sources and what to do in the event of any of them breaking down.

There was a bank of solar panels on the cabin roof, flanked by a couple of small turbines. They were hooked up to a battery which powered the entire place. There was a small out house around the back, a few old generators were sat in there gathering dust in case of an emergency but she assured me the solar and wind provided more than enough for the entire place to run off for another decade.

These were things that I felt as if I should've known. Things that felt fundamental to survival. As if somehow it'd been wrong to live in a house that was attached to a network that relied on manpower to keep going. The foolishness of it.

Even the polytunnels where the vegetables grew made me feel as if I'd been missing the point entirely every time I'd walked into a grocery store. There were chickens kept in a coop, and there were two horses in a small stable on the other side of the trees. Because, apparently, someday the fuel was going to turn bad. She talked at great length about how she had no idea how to get the horses to mate, in the event of their untimely deaths she didn't want be left without transportation.

These were things I hadn't considered. Things which made me feel a little stupid when she pointed them out to me. My eyes widening in slight horror at the sheer expanse of pickled foods and canned goods kept in what she liked to call the "store". It was a small shelter, dug into the ground and covered in mossy earth to the untrained eye. But inside there was every non perishable and medical supply you could think of. Put there by her Grandma, in the event of the government falling to into it's own pit of destruction, or so her Grandma explained it.

The stark realisation that my life had been filled with convenient privilege was not lost upon me. I watched her muck out the horses and feed the chickens, tend to her plants and make sure the store was stocked up making mental notes of each little thing she did. Hoping that when the time came, I'd be able to be of some use to her.

"I know you're not a chess master." I hummed, tipping over her Bishop with my Queen. "Check mate?"

She leaned back in defeat. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to react. The board looked a little chaotic now, with pieces in places I had no idea what to do with. I had minimal knowledge of the game and I suspected she was trying in vain to keep it going.

"You're a dark horse." She ruminated, trying to step over the impasse we'd arrived at. "I can't imagine we'll complete this before sunrise."

What did it matter? Time was our greatest thief. And yet, it was slowly becoming our greatest asset. We had time to sit and play chess, time to sit and read. Time to take walks in the woodland and drive into the empty streets of Roanoke to go in search for supplies.

The world was gently eroding back to nature. Something I'd barely noticed over the passing of the last year. Maybe I'd been so hell bent on finding another living soul that I'd forgotten to take in what was around me. With Amelia, it was starting to feel like I had woken up from a deep and dreamless sleep.

I was about to consider my next move when she shoved the board aside.

"How about that whiskey?" She asked, a flash of mischief in her eyes that I'd never seen before. "You're done with your antibiotics now."

The wind howled outside. Another flurry of snow in the air. The animals were fed and watered. I felt a churn of something deep within, like the stirrings of Christmas morning as a child. Like everything was precisely as it should be.

Everything was ok.

"You might not like me when I'm drunk." I warned, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip out. "I have this terrible penchant for speaking in a British accent."

She grabbed a bottle of something dark from the cupboard beneath the sink. Hooking two small glasses between her fingers from the cupboard above.

"That's the alcohol influencing the broca's area of your brain." She explained, pouring out two generous shots. "The part which perceives speech is impended. Although the accent thing is weird, I'd quite like to hear it."

There was a little curl in her lip as she clinked her glass against mine.

"You're so smart." I told her, "You make me feel like I was just travelling towards a destination with my eyes closed."

Immediately she brushed a dismissive hand through the air. Curling up her legs to sit with them crossed in the little dining chair, nursing her glass as she watched the brown liquid roll around the crystal edges.

"I think we were both entirely different people before." She said warmly, "If we had known what was to come, would we have lived our lives any differently?"

I sank my drink and leaned my hand out for a refill. "My life wasn't ordinary, even back then."

There'd been so many reasons why we hadn't talked like this before. Her initial reluctance had taken time to thaw. The silence we'd become accustomed to seemed so much safer to dwell in.

I was starting to lose count of the days I'd been with her. I was entirely distracted with surviving and being of service to her. Getting myself well enough to pitch in and not be a burden. The way she had given me purpose again made me want to live in this empty world. It made me not want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

"I guess we haven't really touched on that, yet." She replied sheepishly, almost as if she didn't want to go there. "It almost seems irrelevant, doesn't it?"

She sank back another shot. Wincing as the burn slid down the back of her throat. Her nose wrinkled, all those freckles converging. For a moment I could forget that once there'd been another woman in my life.

"We both lost people we loved." I countered, taking the bottle for myself and pouring my glass almost full. "It's not relevant now, but I still miss them. I don't know how to stop missing them."

She didn't say anything for what felt like too long a period of silence. Where usually it was solidly comfortable, I could feel her unease at the presence of the ghosts of those we loved. Their names on the tips of our tongues.

"I don't think we're meant to. I think we're meant to miss them for the rest of our lives. Maybe that's our cross to bear. For whatever this life now brings." She replied, our mutual sadness at that thought evident in the way her eyes glossed over.

I didn't want her to cry. I couldn't bear to see her cry. It made me want to throw all my resolve away and take her into my arms whether she would have me or push me away. It made me want to make a fool of myself.

"I don't think we should play chess anymore." I suggested, "It makes us melancholy."

I clocked the bottle and it was already half empty.

"I don't think it's the chess." She slurred a little, gesturing to the snowy expanse outside. "I don't think I've seen this much snow for this long in my life, ever."

I could feel the heat of the whiskey in my blood as I stood. Taking my time to stroll over to the kitchen window. Trying to make myself appear steadier than I felt.

"Maybe the climate is changing."

Her face remained still. It took me a moment to notice that she wasn't responding. When I chanced a glance over at her, she was chewing the inside of her cheek. Lost in a thought I couldn't follow her into.

"What is it?" I dared to ask.

"They won't be here to see it." She replied quietly, a solitary tear betraying her. "They won't be here to see any more sunrises. Or the way that grass is starting to grow in all the pot holes that were left. And they'll never see the snow on the ground again. I hope..."

She swallowed hard, taking the bottle and foregoing the glass entirely. Swigging it back, like she couldn't stand to measure it out anymore.

"What do you hope?" I asked.

There was a longing there in her face that wasn't there before. Subsequent tears spilling down her red cheeks. Her skin all blotchy from the drink and the roaring fire.

"Wherever they are..." She sobbed. "I hope there's snow."

If we didn't speak their names, how could we honour them? If I was doomed to spend the rest of my life missing them, their names would never be forgotten anyway. They deserved to be spoken. They deserved to be memorialised. If they were dead, we couldn't go to their graves and weep. If they were alive, there were no roads we could find that would lead us to them. Speaking of them was all we had.

"Josh loved snow." I offered, returning to the table as slowly as I could. "We used to get a lot of it in winter where we grew up. Our parents used to make us go out back and chop wood and we'd have these huge bonfires and burn all the crap we didn't need for next summer. When we got a little older, our little brother Sam would have to come with us and we'd make him do all the hard labour. And he'd stand there and complain that it wasn't fair and we'd spin him a yarn about how he used to get to sit in the house all nice and warm while we did it and he wasn't a baby any more. Our sister never had to it, though. Her name was Veronica. She would sometimes come outside and hang out with us, though. She was cool like that."

I hadn't said their names in so long it was like resurrecting them. When I looked up from my faraway gaze, she wasn't crying anymore. There was this look of inherent surprise. Like she hadn't expected me to offload a childhood memory so freely. I could see a glimmer of hope where the tears had once been.

"Josh was your brother?" She ventured.

"Twin." I nodded, "He and I were the eldest. Then Veronica. Then little Sammy."

I probably shouldn't have, but I let her slide the bottle over towards me. Enough left for one more sip. I could feel myself on the fringes of being drunk, I knew one more would tip me over the edge.

"I had two brothers." She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her t-shirt. "I was the middle child. My older brother, Deacon, he was like eight years older than me. I'm not sure my parents planned on having more than one but I guess nothing really goes to plan in life, does it? My little brother, Charlie, he was only two years younger."

Charlie. The little toy chest in my room still had his name carved in it. For her, they weren't just names to be said in remembrance. They were real, solid echoes still bouncing off these walls. I felt this uncontrollable need to close the distance between us. To hold her like I had when she'd screamed in the night.

"It didn't stop us from fighting, though." Her eyes lit up. "Deacon would always have to be the voice of reason, but every now and then he would come down to our level and bicker with us about something until our Dad had to step in. Our Mom was always a little more laid back, I think it was because she was raised here at the cabin. My Dad grew up in Silicon Valley. He had vacations in Europe and country club memberships. My Mom had yearly road trips to Virginia beach in a beaten up Volkswagen my Grandpa drove into the ground. Deacon was the first person in her family to graduate college."

And just like that, the fire went out again.

"So your Dad was rich?" I poked at the embers, hoping to see the spark in her come back.

She shrugged. "His family were. All surgeons and lawyers and ceo's. I think he probably would've lived that textbook rich white guy life if he hadn't met my Mom. She kept him grounded. We were never allowed to exploit our wealth, we had to do volunteer work and give generously to charities. We had to go to college and get our own jobs and careers, there were no hand outs. But I guess you could say we were privileged. But never spoiled. Not when we used to spend summers here, with our Grandparents."

I could have listened to her all night. "What was that like?"

She uncrossed her legs and inspected the empty bottle. Her eyes were half closed, lids fluttering up and down slowly in a drunken haze.

"It was like fucking Disneyland." She smiled, then. "My friends all went off to ski in Aspen or whatever. We got sent here to hunt squirrels with my Grandpa and bake pies with my Grandma. And toast marshmallows on the fire every night. They'd let us go swimming in the lake until sunset, taught us everything we needed to know about living in the woods. And every time we had to go back to California, it always felt like I was stepping back into something I didn't really feel a part of."

She looked up at me from her inspection of the empty bottle. As if she'd forgotten that I was sat there at all.

"What was your life like?" She asked, scuttering off to the cupboard under the sink, falling almost as she slinked off the edge of her chair.

She waved a bottle of red wine at me, her lips flattening into a straight line as she settled on the floor.

"We don't have any wine glasses." She said flatly, "Can't drink wine without a wine glass."

I would have gone to her and picked her up off the ground. Helped her back to her seat, made her laugh if I could. Let her fall asleep on the couch in a delicious drunken heap, wrapped in the blankets she'd left me in when she'd saved my life. But she stumbled to her feet, giggling softly as she realised how quickly the whiskey had gone to her head.

"You need some help, there?" I asked, reaching out my hand for her to take.

"No, I'm good." She lied, "You just tell me your life story while I pour."

She filled our little crystal glasses to the brim, taking care to leave enough space at the top to allow for spillages. All regard for needing a wine glass dissipated.

"I was just a boy with a guitar from Michigan."

She stared at me with those hooded lids. Keeping her drink propped against her mouth, like I was weaving the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.

"Where's your guitar now?"

I hadn't anticipated how much that question would sting. I knew she noticed the way I backed away from it. She reached over the table and placed her palm on my forearm. Her thumb making soft movements against the scar which ran down the centre of my flesh.

"No...not without Josh..." I stammered, "I can't play..."

There was a real sympathy in the way her brows knitted together, squeezing my arm a little in silent comfort. She stayed like that, touching me innocently, as I tried to compel myself to bring together the story of my life. It felt like I was entirely detached from all of my memories somehow. As if recalling it from something I'd watched rather than experienced first hand. Like a fever dream.

One thing I knew for certain. One thing that struck me as the alcohol coursed through my veins. It didn't matter how many thousands of people I had played to. It did matter how many awards I'd won. None of it mattered a damn thing without my brothers. And I'd sworn never to play without them again.

Day 413 ~ Amelia

The rain began that night. Lashing against my bedroom window, forcing the snow to retreat. A part of me was relieved. That the snow would wash away and all the earth beneath it would be able to breathe again. Bringing a renewed hope for the coming spring. But it kept me awake. The deafening pitter patter against the old glass felt as if it was break at any moment. The rattle of the wind like ghosts through the cracks in the old wood.

Jake had been a formidable drinking partner. My head still aching somewhat from a hangover that had lasted three days. I bore no regret from it, though. The whiskey and wine had afforded me a courage I couldn't have found on my own. And the nightmares had been kept at bay too. Sleeping far too deep for any of those demons to penetrate.

My mouth was dry. Frustrated by the noise and the insomnia and the lingering consequences of my booziness I crawled out of bed and slipped into my robe. On soft tiptoes I crept out into the hallway, certain that the wind and rain would shroud my movements. But staying quiet just in case.

Down the hall Jake's bedroom door was ajar. A shard of low, golden light striking the hall in half. I'd expected him to be asleep, coming to know his sleeping habits in the days he'd been here. He was a night owl, often hearing him slip into bed hours after I'd retired. It was almost dawn, but still pitch enough that it felt like the dead of night.

It was in my mind to go downstairs and fetch a glass of water, to mind my business and leave him be. But the soft whimpers that cried out above the din of the wind called out to me. And I crept on silent feet down the hall, moving against all the intricacies of the floor boards I knew would creak and alert him to my presence.

It sounded like he was in pain. The way he'd recovered so quickly had been unusual, part of me had wondered if he'd tried to save face. If, when in private, he'd allowed himself moments to feel the pain of his healing injuries where I couldn't see him. But it wasn't pain.

It was pleasure.

I stood in the crack of his door. Sinful sounds coming from the bed. A rush of blood to my head made me weak at the knees. His hand was moving vigorously beneath the bed sheet. The sound of his voice, like that of a man who had known truly how to love a woman.

I closed my eyes and began to imagine hearing those melodic moans above me. A reminder that I'd long forgotten what it felt like to simply be a woman. In survival mode, there was no allowances for arousal. It had been gone from me, the desire to even touch myself. Every night I'd laid my head down and tried to rest until the sun came up. Never allowing myself to fall into that trap of desire. I was forever alone. There was nothing but grief each time my hand had travelled across my breasts. So I'd abandoned it. All hope that I'd ever feel want again.

Despite my eagerness to uphold his dignity, I couldn't find it within myself to move. Even when he grew too heated under the covers, kicking off his blanket to reveal the line of his body. I held my breath. Took note of the way his chest moved as he breathed harder, his stomach rising and falling. And the way he wrapped his hand around himself. Making gentle strokes that pulled on his shaft, revealing the flex of the muscles in his forearm.

I had no right to see this. I was the worst sort of voyeur. The sort that never made their presence known. If he had known would he have been angry? Humiliated? I couldn't tear my eyes from him. It was wrong, and it troubled me. The way I stood there and allowed the sight to make my core begin to throb. A heavy beat making me wet and swollen.

I stood there until he came into his palm. An agonizing groan signalling the end of his endurance. I watched the white, sticky mess spurt from his tip and spill down his fist. My hand pressed against my mound, not daring to trespass further. Not even underneath the fabric of my pyjama shorts. I was quietly hyperventilating, almost light headed from it as I watched him drag a hand towel down his softening cock and the back of his hand.

And just like that, he flicked off the lamp at his bed side and plunged the room into darkness. And I felt my own shame begin to rise in my cheeks as I stood there peering into the pitch black. Allowing the thunder which gathered overhead to shroud my footsteps as I retreated back up the hall way.

It was still raining when the sun came up. It drenched the daylight in a darkening grey and it didn't really feel as if the sun had come up at all. I busied myself with throwing down some chicken feed into the coop and gathering up some of the eggs which had been laid. I mucked out the horses and let them roam a little while I put down fresh bedding. Trying to keep my mind from returning to the thing I had done that morning.

He was a man who had been alone as long as I had. Clearly with a thirst which begged to be quenched. I was throwing down the bedding far more aggressively than I ever had before, torturing myself with thoughts that were unwelcome.

I didn't want him to kiss me, but why hadn't he tried? I didn't want him to fuck me, but why hadn't he tried? Why hadn't he even hinted at it? Or was his own hand a more preferable means to an end? Did he find me unattractive? Did I find him unattractive?

I cursed him as I shovelled the last of the bedding in, throwing my spade down as it clanged against the stable door. I hated myself for thinking such despicable things. All we had to do was survive. Nothing more. What did it matter if he satisfied himself behind a door I wasn't meant to be standing behind?

"There you are."

I spun on my heels. His hair was dripping, his shirt so wet that I could see right through it. A curious look on his face, like he'd been searching everywhere for me.

"Oh, hey." I replied, as nonchalantly as I could.

He looked into the clearing at the horses milling about, with no regard for the rain. They seemed to be enjoying being out of their confined space. And by all accounts, so did he.

"I woke up and you weren't there." He said, rain dripping off the tip of his nose.

"Yeah, I had stuff to do." I had already done it all, but I tried to make it appear as if I was still busy.

He watched me for a moment, his hair sticking to his collar bone and that stomach of his concaving as he breathed against the drenched shirt.

"Is it terrible that I didn't like it?" He asked, "I've grown fond of seeing you there drinking coffee at the kitchen table every morning."

How had I let this happen? This thing I swore I'd never let happen? How had he become so necessary to me and I to him? When he couldn't even bring himself to kiss me? Was it nothing more than a platonic fondness borne of this unwanted necessity? Was I a replacement for his mother or his sister?

"I've got shit to do, Jake. I'm sorry." I dismissed him, passing him as coldly as I could to fetch the horses in.

He would wonder why my temperature towards him had dropped. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to rid myself of this gnawing churn in my stomach that was forming each and every time I looked at him. Least of all now, when I knew the curve and shape of his cock and how he liked to stroke it so perfectly gently and firmly.

"Amelia..."

He would have one kind word from me.

"Jake, I don't have time for this nonsense." I spat, leading the other horse into shelter. "We're running low on fire wood and I need to do a supply run for toilet paper. There's two of us here now, you understand?"

I'd been initially standoffish and he could forgive me for that. We didn't know each other or our intentions. But it was clear I'd let my guard down somewhat, and I knew the way I spoke to him was a bolt from the blue. He couldn't understand my switch.

"You know I'll do anything to help." He said so apologetically my heart almost broke in two. "I can do more, now. I'm starting to feel stronger every day. And I promise... soon you won't have to do all this stuff on your own. I'll pull my weight. I'm sorry..."

I couldn't bear it. The way he looked at me. A solemn pleading in his eyes as I latched the stable door shut and we stood in the pouring rain staring each other down like a duel at high noon. The rain hit the canopy above so hard it sounded like static when the tv didn't have any signal.

"Why are you staying here, Jake?" I demanded, raising my voice above the crescendo of rain. "What is it for? Are you afraid to be alone again, is that it?"

He blinked at me. Water rushing so hard it even poured off his eyelashes. Torrential and hard, we stood there like statues letting it shower over us like it wasn't even there.

"Of course I'm afraid to be alone again, aren't you?!" He snapped back, drinking rain as he spoke. "But that doesn't mean I'd rather be with anyone else?! I don't want to go back out there and carry on looking, I've found what I was searching for! Don't you get that?!"

Someone to take the edge off his solitude. Nothing more and nothing less. And why should I be anything more to him? I didn't want him crawling under my skin any more than he already had. We would ride out this error in humanity's timeline. Help each other to survive. That was it.

"I don't know." I confessed, " I was fine before. I was doing just fine! And then you came along, literally crashed into my life! Like I needed the distraction? The pull on my resources?!"

I didn't mean it. I could feel myself filled with regret even as the words came out. He was shaking his head, his hair so wet it barely moved. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper somehow. And I knew that I'd hurt him by the way he couldn't seem to get his words out. He could only look at me and feel the knife in his back that I put there despite standing right in front of him.

"If you want me to leave I will leave."

And now because he wanted to. He would leave because I wanted him to. And now I wanted to scream at him and fall into his arms and throw away all my pretence and beg him to kiss me. Beg to know why he hadn't kissed me before. I hated feeling like this, I had never felt like this before. Not for a man, not for anyone. He stole all my resolve and I hated him for it. Hated myself for allowing him the strength to take it.

I could feel the sting of tears begin to spill over my lashes. The salty warmth of them in stark contrast to the cool rain.

"If you stay, you'll only grow to hate me." I sobbed, "You'll see that I'm not capable of letting you in."

"That's not true, Amelia." He replied, taking a bold step forward, reaching out for me before pulling back in case I rejected him. "I've seen your warmth and compassion. You're not cruel. I don't understand where all of this is coming from?"

I backed away. "I can't do this, Jake...I wont do this."

I retreated into the trees. Running through the mud and rain, letting it lash against the backs of my legs. I could scarcely see in front of my eyes, but I knew the way back blind. I could hear him calling out my name, unable to keep up with me. But he pursued me, regardless. With his healing bones, he ran behind me Begging me to stop.

"Amelia! Please!!!" He called, his voice fading out beneath the falling rain. "Stop! Please, don't do this!"

I reached the clearing at the front of the cabin. My body burning from the exertion and my breath caught in my lungs. Before I had chance to regain my composure, I felt his body against mine. Wet and solid. Heaving breaths as he spun me around, forcing me to look at him.

"Don't you run away from me like that again!"

He was furious. A rage the likes of which I'd never known could exist burning in the delicate tremble of his lip. I was too weak to protest.

"If you ever do that again I will always follow you, do you understand me?!" He shook me, hands wrapped around my shoulders as I gazed at the fire in his eyes. "I swear it, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth woman!!!"

Still, he wouldn't kiss me. Just let the rain fall upon us as he held me close. Breathing into my parted lips. Our shared breath turning to vapour in the freezing cold air.

"Because there's no one else to follow?" I said, my mouth desperately close to his.

"No." He replied harshly, turning his head to get a better look at me. "I had a girlfriend before all of this. We lived together in Nashville. She travelled with me when I had to go on tour. We were together for years. Maybe I would have married her, if I'd been given the chance."

"Why are you telling me this?!" I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear about the way he had loved another.

"Because." He swallowed hard, "Even if she came back, even if she appeared to me right now like none of this had ever happened....I would still follow you."

I couldn't feel my fingers, or the tip of my nose. A flash of lightening streaked above, illuminating the darkness on the ground. For a moment his face lit up and I could see the conviction there.

He meant it.

But still, I wouldn't have it. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh, don't I?" He clenched his jaw. "You don't know a damn thing about what I know. You don't get to tell me how I feel. I might be afraid to be alone, but I'll do it if that's what you truly want. I'd leave just make you happy."

Nobody had ever held me like this. So securely. So aggressively soft. Like he could shake the life out of me if he so desired, but wouldn't.

"You wont even kiss me." I replied so pitifully, speaking so quietly a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me over the mounting thunder.

"And have you slap me across the face for taking such a thing?" He replied, almost laughing at me. "Would you have kissed me back if I had? I might not have kissed you yet, but I've imagined it. At night, when I know you're on the other side of that wall. And in the morning when you're sat at that table. I wanted to kiss you the other night when we got drunk and I could have used it as an excuse. Every time you wrinkle that nose and those freckles connect I want to kiss you. When you curl up by the fire to read, I want to kiss you. When I see you going out there to make sure the animals are safe, I want to kiss you. Ok?"

"Ok." I breathed, not an ounce of fight left in me.

He kissed me in the rain. In the storm that was brewing. His lips covered in raindrops and mine in tears. A kiss so desperate, so forcefully full of need I let him wrap his broken body around mine. I let him clutch me to him, whether it would hurt him or not. The heat of his tongue against mine was like the lightening had descended from the sky above and struck me where I stood. The gentle murmur of his whimpers in harmony with mine. I could feel his palm against my cheek, his thumb trespassing a slow stroke across it. I'd never been kissed like this before. Like I was in a black and white movie, my knee bent just a little to keep me from falling. He kissed me like he was starved. With gentle intention, but intensifying pressure as his tongue slipped further into my mouth. Until I was sucking on it, grappling at his shirt to tear it from his flesh.

"Fuck, ahhhh..." I stopped myself. "No, no... we can't..."

He was panting as he pulled away, his lips a little swollen from the pressure of being against mine.

"We don't have to, just don't push me away. Please? Don't do that... Sssshhh, come here..."

My eyes flitted over towards the store. Of all the medical supplies I'd sequestered, none of them included birth control. Something I never would have given any credence to before. But now I was dulled with the thought and the fear of him spilling inside me and putting a baby where there didn't need to be one. Not now.

"No, it's not that..." I clung to him. "I stopped taking my birth control. I didn't think I needed it..."

His face washed over with realisation. "Oh."

His smile was going to lead me down a murky path. I knew it. I would've died for the way he smiled at me in that moment. Like I was the sweetest thing alive.

"Not tonight, then." He whispered, his mouth moving against my ear. "Tonight, we can do other things."

.

.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy

[miyuhpapayuh]

nineteen.

“Oh, this place is gorgeous!” Zora exclaims, as they roll their suitcases inside of their cabin for the week. A much needed vacation.

“Ain't it? It was the third one I came past, had to book it.” Leon says, as they head through the larger than life living room. High ceilings became her favorite thing in an instant.

“Oh, yeah. The fridge, freezer and pantry are already stocked.” He says, stopping at the kitchen. Also another large area.

“How?” She asks, looking toward him.

“I might've taken a separate trip up here, found the closest grocery store— which is an hour out, might I add— and came back to stock it before I came to pick you up.” He says, shrugging like it was nothing.

“You are something else,” she laughs, “ proactive as hell, too!”

“Hey, I'm just making sure we got all we need, right here.” He taps the counter for emphasis, as she laughs again.

“You succeeded, for sure!”

Moving upstairs to the master bedroom, they immediately plop down on the alaskan king bed, laying flat on the clean & cozy comforter.

“Yeah, a week’s worth of sleep in this bed is gonna do me some good!” Leon says, turning his head to look at Zora, who wholeheartedly agrees.

“You and me, both! I might forget I have a job and just stay here.” She laughs, folding her arms behind her head.

“Right?! Stay right here, tucked away with my favorite lady.” He rolls over, her giggles sounding as he lays his weight on her.

Actually sprawling out and getting comfortable, clad in their sweats and sweatshirts, they turn their focus toward the beautiful view through the bay window.

“You think it'll snow?” She asks.

“I'm sure. It's cold as hell out there.” He responds, laying his head on her chest, his eyes following the pattern of clouds in the sky.

“Good. I haven't seen snow since I was a little kid, it seems.”

“Yeah, we get slush, most of the time.”

“Right? Can't drive in it, can't walk on it, can't build a snowman in it,” she goes on, making him laugh. “It's ridiculous. I want the flurries!”

“You'll get ‘em, babe. Count on it.” He assures, closing his eyes as sleep creeps up on him.

“You going to sleep, old man?” She teases.

“Mhm, it's getting me.” He responds. “You stayin’ up?”

“Nah, I'm next.” She admits, stretching her arms above her head, a yawn coming right after.

“Yeah, a good twelve hour drive’ll do that to ya..” He mumbles, a yawn stealing the last half of his sentence.

Mumbling back something just as incoherent, they eventually get quiet and knock out under each other.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Padding through the open space in her fuzzy socks, she moves into the kitchen to open the freezer, then the fridge, laughing to herself as they are indeed, fully stocked.

“He's so cute,” she shakes her head, pulling two waters out before closing it back.

Moving in front of another large window, she sighs in contentment. This week was gonna be fun.

In the midst of her daze, Leon slides up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smiles to herself.

“Hey,” he says, kissing the crown of her head.

“Hey,” she responds, holding up a water bottle, “I was on my way back.. just had to stop and stare for a minute.”

“I wasnt trippin’,” he says, taking the water from her, barely detaching himself from her as he took a swig. “Thought I'd come and see where you were, though. I started missing you.”

She giggles, turning to face him and that toothy smile of his. He leans down to kiss her lips a few times.

“Three minutes is all it takes?”

“Try three seconds! I stayed put so you didn't think I was crazy.” He says, making her laugh again.

“Aw, you were gonna sniff after me like a puppy, huh?” She teases, taking a sip of her own water.

“Unashamed, baby.” He replies, shrugging his shoulders.

“Again, how lucky am I?”

He smirks, pulling her right back into him, his fingers twirling around the ends of her curly ponytail.

“The luckiest is what I am. You're just getting everything you've always deserved.” He says, kissing her nose.

“Don't make me cry, our tears might freeze out here.” She jokes, even though he's already wiping her lone one away.

“Sorry,” he smiles, “but you do deserve it.”

“So do you, babe. Sweetest man in the land.”

“In the whole land??”

“The whole thang, Avery!” She exclaims. “I mean, really.”

Moving further into the living room, they cut the tv on and sit on the spacious couch, pulling the throw blanket over themselves.

“I'm so glad we could take this trip. We definitely needed it.” Leon says, while Zora flips through the channels to find something worth watching.

“Me too. It's been a hectic month, that January.” She playfully scolds.

“Tell me about it! If I had to work another day in that damned warehouse, I woulda quit.”

“Hm. Ever thought about quitting?” She asks, sitting the remote down once she finds some cartoons.

“Yeah, actually. I don't see myself staying there very long.”

“What would you wanna do instead? What's always been something you wanna take up?”

“Photography has always been at the forefront of my mind. Seeing the beauty of the world through a lens is something special. Writing is definitely right behind it. Like, maybe not publish a book, but getting on stage and performing pieces is the coolest.”

She nods, the wheels already turning in her head. “Two really great career choices for you.”

“You think so?” He asks, looking at her now. She nods again.

“You're a beast with the camera and your writing brings me to tears, so yeah! A shoe-in.”

“Glad I have your support, beautiful.” He kisses her forehead.

“Any time, any day.”

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Waking up again, this time lazily sprawled out on the sofa, Zora stretches and looks toward the kitchen, finding Leon, preparing dinner.

Peering over at her for the thousandth time, his smile brightens as he finds her awake. She's rubbing her eyes, the side of her face still pressed to the pillow she's laid on.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he calls out, chuckling as she waves, still too sleepy to verbally respond. Her sighs and grumbles sound as she stirs a bit more.

Staring out the window to the left of the living room, the deep blue, ever-starry sky as it begins to melt into an even deeper blue.

“Sorry,” she finally speaks, “I had no idea I was this sleepy.”

He waves her off. “Don't be. We came out here to relax, babe. Get all the sleep you need and want.”

“Mmkay,” she says, covering herself back up in the blanket, immediately cackling as he stomps over to get her up.

“No right now, Jean!” He laughs, lightly shaking her. “I'm cooking!”

“I'm just playing, you big baby!” She snickers, taking his hand as he leads her toward the island, sitting her atop a stool and kissing her forehead, before heading back to the stove.

“So, what you makin’?” She asks, feeling her stomach rumble from the yummy smell of spices and herbs.

“Decided to make a loaded potato soup.” He says with his back still to her, but she can hear the excitement in his voice.

“Yummy! Do you need me to do anything?”

“Mhm, just sit there and look pretty for me.” He responds, turning around in time for her eye-roll.

“I knew it!” He laughs, turning back to what he's doing. “But you can actually slice this French bread and put it in the oven for me.”

Hopping up, she heads over to the counter to wash her hands, about to look for a knife when he carefully hands her one, another forehead kiss coming her way.

She smiles at the affection, bumping his hip before pulling the bread from its bag, slicing half of it to her liking, the other half to his liking. Sticking them on a baking sheet, she placed a pad of butter on each one before sliding in the oven.

“Wow, that was so much work.” She jokes, making him laugh.

“Stop clowning and taste this,” he says, cupping his hand underneath the spoon he was holding out for her.

As soon as the food hits her taste buds, she nods and closes her eyes. “Leon, I swear to god.”

“It's good, ain't it?” He asks, already nodding and laughing, the sound doubling as she joins in. They share a high-five.

“It's absolutely delicious! Hell, add being a chef to that list, cause wow.” She exclaims before whipping around to retrieve the bread before it burns.

Indulging in the comfort meal, Zora is still singing his praises with every bite, boosting his confidence like no other.

“My big head is gonna be your fault, I just want you to know now.” He laughs.

“That's fine! I ain't ever had food this good— don't tell Pam.” She snickers, taking another sip of her wine.

“I thought first-naming mamas was off limits?” He asks.

“It is, that's why I said don't tell her!” She exclaims, earning another laugh from him.

“Tellin’ her as soon as we get back,” he teases, pulling her glass away to refill it, reveling in the delight on her face.

“I never get to indulge in my wine, so thank you.” She smiles, putting the glass back up to her lips.

“My pleasure.”

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After dinner, Zora decided to take her shower first, slipping into the master bathroom and instantly pouting at the sight of an orange puff and matching rag, her favorite body wash, and her towel already hanging on the rack for her.

“Ugh, he's so cute!” She tipsily giggles, peeling her clothes off and heading into the walk-in shower, singing along to the music that's playing further down the hall.

Wetting her curls underneath the hot, hot water, she sighs blissfully as she scrubs her troubles— read: none— away.

Watching the suds go down the drain, she turns the water off and reaches around for her towel, wrapping it around herself, wringing out her curls before throwing them up in a bun.

Stepping into the slippers he'd also laid out for her, she waltzes back into the room, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed, camera in hand.

“Hey, stand right there!” He excitedly says, pulling the camera back up to his face, snapping a picture of her where she stands. Of course, she posed for it.

“Camera ready, huh?” He chuckles as she crosses the floor to him, laughing at the picture as he holds it up for her to see.

“I look so cheesy,” she snorts, sitting down beside him.

“Cheesin’ hard as hell, baby.” He adds, looking over at her just as she leans in to kiss him. A dazed smile on her face as she pulls away.

“What was that for?” He asks, smiling just like she.

“Cause I love you.” She simply says, making his heart thud in his chest.

“I love you more, sweetheart.” He leans back in for another kiss. Then another, swapping out the camera for the sides of her face as the kisses get a bit deeper.

She giggles against his lips, pulling away a bit breathless as she looks at him, the stars in the night sky not comparing to the ones in both of their eyes.

“Go shower and come back, I got things I wanna do to you.” She softly says, biting her lip as he stands from the bed, hovering over her damp body.

“You have no idea, baby.” He mumbles back, nuzzling his face against hers for a couple seconds, reluctantly pulling away and all but rushing out of the room, because he knew he'd get started, right then and there, if he didn't.

Letting out a breathless laugh, she shakes the chills away and sprints over to her bag, pulling out the white hot babydoll dress. She smirks and holds it up to her smooth, chocolate skin, staring straight ahead at the mirror in the corner of the room.

“Oh, yeah.” She nods, reaching for her sandalwood body lotion and deodorant, lathering herself in the smell-good and pulling the dress on her thick frame, more than pleased with how she looks.

Pulling her semi-dry curls from its bun, she shakes them so they fall over her shoulders, perfectly tousled.

She sits in his spot, grabs his camera, careful not to drop it due to her tipsiness and takes a few pictures for him to find later, before sitting it on the dresser.

After what felt like forever, he returned to the room with a towel covering his waist, his hand rubbing down his face before his eyes landed on the beauty that is Zora.

The air leaves his lungs for a few moments, his lips part to say something, hands twitch slightly as his mouth salivates. His print became more noticeable at the sight before him.

“You like it, don't you?” She asks, her deep, teasing tone making the hairs on his neck stand up.

Still unable to speak, he nods.

His eyes travel from her pretty face to the swell of her breasts, her soft thighs, the gold anklet adorning her left ankle and her pretty olive painted toes. The white lace against her skin is his new favorite thing.

“You.. you look so pretty, baby.” He finally speaks, making her smile and motion for him to come closer, til he's standing before her.

“All for you.” She says, cupping his chin to pull him closer to her lips, sighing at the softness of his kisses. It was his turn to breathlessly pull away.

“Wow… I wanna take a picture, but I think I might drop my camera,” he nervously laughs, shyly rubbing his hands up her thighs.

“It's okay, baby.” She softly assures him, covering his hands with her own. “You want me to take it for you?”

She swore she saw his pupils dilate at such a question, his fingers digging into her flesh now. She smirks, loving the way she makes him crumble.

“I can pose for you, again.” She further teases, walking her fingers up and down his bare, ripped stomach, stopping at the knot in his towel.

The doe-eyed look she's giving him could turn him into a puddle, as he stumbles out a yes.

Standing from the bed, she grabs the camera from the nightstand, luckily still having a conscious enough mind to steady her hands, as she climbs up and sits on her knees, finding the timer setting before sitting it at an angle on the bed.

Staying in her bent position, she quickly flips her hair and arches her back as the flash goes off. His eyes travel right to her bare ass peeking from underneath the short lingerie.

“My god,” he sighs, moving to sit on the ottoman out of the way, feeling all the blood in his head rush south.

“I got the best seat in the house.” He darkly chuckles, waving as she looks back at him.

Moving into her next position, she turns to face him now, hands on her boobs, her lip deeply into and her eyes on him through the lens.

“Stick your fingers in your mouth… mhm, like that.” He grunts, palming his hard dick through the towel that's barely around his waist still.

Sitting through one more pose, he groans out her name, unable to take any more teasing.

She grabs the camera from the bed, turns it off and begins to get off the bed, when he slips it out of her hand and fiddles with it before sitting it down on the nightstand, hovering over her, backing her back up on the bed.

Her heart is thudding in her chest, she leans on her elbows and watches him eye her body like a precious diamond. She never felt so delicate in her life.

Her fingers reach out to undo the barely hanging on tuck of his towel, purring as it reveals his hard and pretty dick.

“Please fuck me.” She moans, lifting a leg to place it on his shoulder. His mouth waters double time at how flexible she is, coupled with how wet she is.

The day she took up yoga as a hobby was worth it, especially if it was gonna lead her to moments like this.

“I got you, princess.” He pulls her other leg up, taps the head against her clit, rubbing against it to make her jerk, her hooded eyes finding his as he slides all the way inside, groaning something terrible.

“Fuuckk!” She moans incredulously, that delicious snug grip tripping both of them up as he begins thrusting into her.

Her breasts bounce underneath the soft material, her nipples peeking through the lace, and he can't help but swirl his tongue around her left, then her right one.

“It's sso good,” she throws her head back, “oh fuck, that's so good baby!”

Deep and fast, right into her spot, making her see stars with every thrust. Her hands reach out for his arms, squeezing for dear life.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he desperately growls into her ear, “fuckin’ smell so good, I ju— just wanna eat you alive.”

Her breath hitches as he bites down on her neck, soothing it with his tongue after. Her body flattens against the bed, her legs still propped up on his shoulders.

“Leon… fuck, baby,” she whines, while he kisses up her ankles, then her chest and neck, his slippery tongue making her squeak out moans.

Overwhelmed in the best ways, she closes her eyes and lays her hands at her head, smiling as his hands find hers, linking them together as he deeply strokes into her.

“I love you,” he says with a kiss to her lips. “I adore you,” next, her left cheek. “Fuckin’ treasure you,” her right cheek. “God, you wreck me…”

She deliriously moans at his confessions against her heated skin, feeling her stomach tingle and curl as her orgasm gets closer to the surface.

“So damn beautiful,” he grumbles into her neck, open mouthed kisses and sucks make her slipperier in between her legs, her ankles lock around his neck, ultimately pulling him closer. His strokes never falter, getting deeper.

“I'm gonna cum all over you,” she gasps, squeezing their hands, their lips just a few centimeters away from each other.

“Cum all over me, baby… let me have it,” he groans, nipping at her quivering bottom lip, “I feel you, baby.. let it out for me.”

Her body spasms as she cries out, flooding his lap and the sheets underneath them, his hips still slamming into hers.

“Oh, b-baby!” She squeals, his lips covering hers to swallow her every breath, consuming her like he desperately wishes.

Releasing her hands, they find her thighs, pulling them down to wrap around his waist as he continues to dip into her ever-wet paradise.

Her whines and gasps hit the back of his throat, his tip pushing right into the spot that's got her leaking down both of their thighs.

Letting her come up for air, she beats against his chest, crying out, “it's too much! Fuck, I'm g-gonna cum again, baby!”

Grabbing her chin, he watches as her eyes flutter back open, landing on his intense gaze.

“There she is,” he smirks, “cum for me, beautiful.”

Her release triggers his own, as they fall into each other, moaning and gasping for air as they rut their hips until they can't anymore.

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The next couple days went by as slow as molasses, much to the couples’ liking. They were having way too much fun doing absolutely nothing but what they wanted.

“I can't remember the last time I was away from my phone this long,” he says, popping another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Same. It's still got a good charge on it from a day ago,” she snorts, snuggling into his side a bit more.

“You alright?” He asks, looking over at her.

“Yeah, just cold.” She softly laughs, tucking her hands in the pocket of her hoodie.

“Want me to turn the heat up?”

“Please?” She asks, snickering as he reaches out his impeccably long arm to the thermostat on the wall above their heads, pushing it up to seventy-eight.

She thanks him, and he kisses her forehead as they turn their attention to the movie. Tonight they were watching monster house. Another favorite of hers, his too.

“These kids were bad as hell,” Leon snorts.

“That's not you and Craig??” She looks between him and the movie, laughing at his shameful nod.

“Yeah, you got me there.” He chuckles. “Who's the girl, then?” He asks, keeping it going.

“Me! Duh!” She scoffs a laugh.

“Oh yeah, they were coupled up near the end, weren't they?”

“Yeah! I mean, they fought over her just about the entire movie, but DJ got his girl.” She nods, popping a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Hm..”

“What?”

“Halloween ideas,” he shrugs. “He's got like a Freddy Kruger thing goin’ on with that black and red sweater but.. I could make it work.”

“You wanna be DJ and Jenny for Halloween??” She gushes, making him decide right then and there.

“The look on your face is too precious for me to say  nothing but yes.” He smiles.

“Aw, this is gonna be so cute!” She squeals, making him laugh and kiss her cheek.

“I gotta find a schoolgirl-esque outfit, now.” She taps her chin, while he smirks to himself.

“Short skirt, huh?” He asks.

“Nope. It's gonna come past my knees.” She answers, snickering at the stale look he gives her.

“I'll cut it.”

“I'll cut you.” She quips.

“You'd cut me, for real??”

“Hm… if you ever cut me off again, yes.” She nods, turning her attention back to the movie.

He sighs, pulling her into his side more. “I won't test it, trust me.”

“Good. I'd hate for you to get dotted up.”

About an hour or so into their movie marathon, a few white specks fall out of the corner of her eye, making Zora turn her head and gasp super hard.

“What? What??” Leon asks, looking around and then in the direction she's facing, relieved to find it snowing outside and not it being an ax murderer standing at the window.

“It's snowing!”

“Aw, look at that. Let's go put our boots on and go outside.” He says, standing up and reaching for her hand, which she quickly takes and they head upstairs to get dressed.

Soon, they're outside in it, bundled up and still shivering but ecstatic at how much snow is actually coming down.

“Wow! It's a literal winter wonderland out here!” She yells, clearly too excited to contain herself. Of course Leon brought his camera out to capture this moment.

“On a scale from one to a million, how happy are you right now?” He asks.

“A jillion and three!” She excitedly jumps, both of them laughing as he snaps her picture.

“Seriously it's been decades since I've seen actual snow! The little kid in me is ready to make a snowman! You down?!”

“Hell yeah!”

Of course their game began with a snowball fight, like the two big kids they are.

“You've got an arm like Elf!” She screams, ducking and laughing as another snowball comes hurling at her face. “Why are you throwing them so fast?!”

Meanwhile, he's having the time of his life, chucking snowballs like a madman. Laughing his ass off at the way her tiny frame keeps popping up and down out of sight.

“Leon!” She screams again, this time, popping him right in the face with her own snowball. It had been the only one to connect so far.

"I did it! Woo-hoo!"

Her victory dance made the ice on his face worth it, as he wiped it away. She was having so much fun and he was soaking it all up.

“You got me!”

“I did! Finally!”

After pelting each other with snow a little more, they moved on to making their snowman. A first for both of them.

“I helped Eryn make one— well, I tried to help her but I got frustrated fast and gave up.” Leon says as they roll the first ball for the base.

“How old were y'all?” She asks out of curiosity.

“Ten or so? Yeah.”

“Avery, you've been impatient all your life?” She cracks, thankful that he laughed.

“Blame my parents, and my stubbornness I suppose.” He shrugs, before nudging her. “I was patient with you, though. Don't that count for something?”

“Absolutely,” she giggles, looking away from him to get herself together.

“But, we're gonna make this snowman!” She says, now looking him back in his eyes. He holds his hands up.

“Yes ma'am!”

Finishing the base was surprisingly easy since they didn't make it gigantic, just big enough. Moving onto the middle ball, however, proved to be a bit more difficult. It kept cracking in the middle.

His irritated grumbles and huffs and puffs of frosted air were all that could be heard, while he tried working through his frustration. Zora placed her gloved hands on top of his, hoping it would calm him down.

“Leon, it's okay. Relax.” She softly speaks.

“I don't know why it's not working,” he chuckles, being far from amused.

“Because why not. It's always the simplest of things that don't always go as planned. But beating the snow isn't gonna turn it into a ball, baby.”

He huffs, again. “I know.”

“I gotta teach you what patience is.”

“I know patience.”

“Yeah, not well enough. Come on.” She says before moving to an area with a bit more snow, beginning to roll a ball out of it.

He saunters over and helps, biting his lip in concentration as they roll the middle and top, thanking god they stuck together perfectly.

“See?! We did it!” She cheers, elated as he slaps her open palm.

“We did! Now we gotta make the face!” He exclaims, excitedly looking around for a stick.

Berries for the eyes, a stick for the arms and nose, and Zora’s scarf completed their snowman, and Leon wasted not a second to take a picture of their masterpiece.

“Awww, he's the cutest snowman ever!” She laughs, pulling her scarf from around it carefully, as they head inside.

“I'm glad we could do that. It was really fun.” He says, locking the patio door behind them, sitting their boots on the mat to dry, as they shed their wet jackets, gloves and hats.

“Yeah, it was. I can't feel my fingers or toes, but I had a great time!” She says, taking a seat on the floor by the fireplace as Leon comes over to get it going.

“Hm.. do we have stuff to make s'mores?” She asks, humming a laugh at the smirk on his face.

“I'll be right back.”

Reaching up to grab the blanket from the couch, she wraps it around herself just as he's coming back with everything they needed.

“You really thought of everything!”

“I told you!”

Sitting the plates down with everything else, he gently peels the blanket from her, pulls her in between his thighs and wraps it around them both.

“Better?” She asks.

“Much.” He answers, kissing her cheek as he leans them forward to put their marshmallows on the sticks, handing one to her as they hold it over the fire.

Moving on to smash it between two graham crackers and rich pieces of hershey's chocolate, they munch on the staple campfire snack in pure contentment.

“I might eat like twelve of these,” she laughs.

“We've got more of everything in the closet, too.” He snorts, “you can live your fat kid dreams, baby.”

“Ugh, I love you!” She yells.

“I know,” he smiles. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“How come you don't talk about your dad?” He asks.

“There's not much to talk about.” She shrugs. “Haven't seen him since I was thirteen. Barely knew of him when he was underneath the same roof we were.”

“Hm.”

“What about yours? I haven't ever heard you say much besides you despising him.”

“Eh, it's a bit more complicated. We weren't always at each other's throats. He just doesn't get me. Don't try to either. It's like nothing I did was good enough.” He shrugs.

“Fathers. What a joke.” She bitterly laughs. “Just promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Don't be that kind of father to our baby.”

“You wanna have my baby, one day?” He asks, laying his head on shoulder, holding her closer.

“Of course I do, babe. Wanna marry you. Grow old. Get on your nerves forever.” She smiles like he can see her.

“Wow. I'll be the best father to our baby. Best husband to you. I promise. No doubt, I wanna marry you.”

“Hell, we could get married right now!” Zora laughs, quickly shaking her head. “It's still too soon for that.”

He laughs and agrees. “Just a bit more time. And, I promise I won't buy one of those stadium rings either. I don't need you fighting me.”

“I taught you well! I can't wait to tell Nique cause if it's one thing we hate, it's those goddamn rings!”

“They're humongous and ugly, yeah. I won't have you out here looking like that.”

“I've got one more question.” He says.

“What is it?”

“When you were teaching me patience out there… is that what love feels like?”

“That would have to be for you to answer, honestly. My answer is yes, but what's yours?” She asks, turning her head to look at him.

“That's the first time I didn't feel ridiculed for being impatient, so yes. You were patient even though I knew I was tapping on your nerves. That's definitely love.”

“I'm glad you feel that way. I've got all the patience and understanding in the world for you.” She says, peering up at him.

"I love you, Jean."

"And, I love you Avery."

They share a sticky kiss, before getting back to munching on their treat.

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“Do we really have to leave today?” She asks, pouting all over again.

“I know, I don't wanna leave either. But we have to. Gotta go back home and make money for our next trip.” He smiles to himself.

“What?” She whips around to look at him, halting her packing. “Next trip? Where are we going?”

“Yes, where are we going?” He repeats, looking over at her now.

“I get to choose??”

“Mhm.” He nods, a smile still on his face.

“Hm. Yeah, we better hurry back cause I wanna go to Bora Bora. That's one of the most romantic places to visit!”

“I'll start looking at hotels— you wanna stay in a hut, don't you?”

“You know me so well!”

“I do, I do.”

“Oooh, a springtime vacation is always on my list! Me and the girls usually take one, but I'm sure all our plans have changed since finding rockheaded boyfriends.” She laughs.

“Rockheaded? What did my head do to you??” He asks, faux hurt.

“Nothing,” she giggles, waltzing over to him to rub the back of his head.

“Ah, now you adding insult to injury!” He laughs, swatting her hand away, which turns into them play-fighting.

A couple slaps to his arms and stomach, before her world turns upside down, literally, as he picks her up and slams her down on the bed, both of them laughing like crazy.

“That's no fair!” She faux whines.

“I'll let you win, one day.” He laughs, leaning down to kiss her lips a couple sweet times.

@thegifstories @blackerthings @sheabuttahwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @miyahmaraj @harmshake @honestpreference @twistedcharismaaa @nayaesworld @nayaxwrites @blowmymbackout @headcannonxgalore @mauvecherie-writes @cecereads209

[bomberqueen17]

holding it down

currently am being held down in the chair by Chita, who was waiting patiently next to my recliner while i was in the other room packing up my clean laundry. I'm going back to the farm today, and need to leave sometime before noon to arrive in time for dinner. The only productive thing I really did this week is that last night I made a Vat of Borscht that i'm going to bring to serve for dinner tonight so my sister doesn't have to cook. anyway. Oop Chita just had enough of absorbing my body heat / qi (we joke that's what she's after, absorbing qi by sitting on people) and has transferred herself to the other chair, where she will sleep for six to ten hours without moving much. Her life is hard.

anyway wittering on behind cut

my dreamwidth crossposter broke so i should figure out how to set up an RSS thingy there, idk how to do that though. i think tumblr did something that broke how they do RSS and that's why the crossposter went down.

I'm trying Vyvanse again, a slightly higher dose. One pill a day, I can do. Yesterday I just felt scattered and ran around not getting things done. I did go double grocery shopping with Dude, and there was a Pokemon Go thing going on so I was catching cyndaquils while wandering through the grocery aisles, and i just-- sometimes I can feel that what I am doing is really bad for my attention span, and I could super feel that this was not helping me at all.

"I need to meditate," I said, sweating, on the ride home in the car. (It has been so hot. It was so hot yesterday. It was 87 and so humid and even with the ac in the car I was just sweating. ugh.)

"So meditate," Dude said, but I don't know how.

I probably should start writing in my journal again. I had been using a like day planner thing, and I was doing pretty poorly at it-- i'd write goals but they were never concretely connected to anything, and mostly I was writing down what I did after I did it, but at least that tied me to reality somewhat. So I should at least go back to that, I stopped the last week at the farm when things were so fucking hectic I didn't do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

I don't know if it helps but doing nothing doesn't help either.

And it's a lie to say I did nothing this past week. I was very off my game, but I did consult two different medical professionals for whatever that's worth, and I did manage to get past a huge writing block that's been deviling me for over a year really.

The horrible heat is supposed to break, which is good timing, because there is no climate control at the farm, and the only air-conditioned room is insufficiently conditioned and so is usually warmer than the surrounding spaces. I would have had a miserable week if I'd been there this past week, when it was over 90F most days and wasn't getting below 75F at night. (It was 81F here this morning at 6am, but it is supposed to rain and the day's high will only be 82. So.)

I did get some sewing done this week, though not as much as I wanted. I did a bunch of laundry. I did not clean the house or make any progress organizing any spaces, which were things I had wanted to do. But the writing, I can't describe how important getting that writing done was for me.

I'm having trouble being confident in my writing currently, a couple of scenes I feel are not emotionally true to what I was trying to say. I did rediscover some old notes though, and I think I've figured out what was bugging me in the Geralt/Emhyr scenes, and what I should work on with them. (I think the background information that Pavetta was an unhinged little gremlin monsterfucker and that was what formed Emhyr's id is really important and I have to work out how to incorporate that into everything going forward.)

I also keep finding myself yearning to write some original stuff. So we'll have to see, if I can get through the backlog of ideas in the Witcher stuff and start winding some of that up (??!!?!?!) then maybe there'd be some time to poke those ideas.

Anyway. Cat tax, here is what Chita looked like as I began this post, being a feline seat belt holding me into this chair:

[image description: small gray cat, head turned and eyes closed, is lying on my green-clad lap and has one paw outstretched toward the camera, touching the gray arm of the chair we're sitting in, holding me in position.]

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 12

The rest of the week was me tending to my farm and working on getting my house looking presentable. For three days, I had woken up to Robin working on the renovations I requested. I finally have a kitchen and bedroom now. My bed's been pushed over to the other room, and I threw my groceries into the fridge, in the cupboards, and on my counter.

A few of my crops were harvestable as well. I got to sell some of those and purchase furniture. There is now a couch and wallpaper to make it feel more cozy and inviting. It's actually pretty spacious now with the renovations complete.

The townsfolk have also really warmed up to me as well. They've sent me plenty of things in the mail to help my career, and also recipes since I now have a kitchen.

I have even tried visiting the mines up in the mountains. It's not fun there. There were so many creepy crawlies that attacked me down there. I didn't think I'd make it out alive. I figured out what the Hat Mouse was talking about as well with the museum. I found things in the rocks I've broken open with my pickaxe that are supposed to go in the museum. I haven't found everything yet, but I found quite a bit.

I haven't seen Haley around town for a bit either. Our paths just haven't crossed like they have been lately. I guess I wouldn't find her going to the mines though. That's probably the last place I'd see her.

When I was up near the mines, I took a little adventure to the train station area and noticed there was some sort of building by it that I hadn't noticed before. That's where I was heading to today since I need a break from all the work I've been doing. There are a lot of places I haven't explored yet and that building is one of them.

The sign above the door of the building says 'Bath' in bold letters with a bunch of writing beneath it. I didn't bother reading, I just walked in. My curiosity got the best of me.

The room I entered felt like a scene from a horror movie. It's dimly lit with two doors directly across from me. Besides a picture of a bathtub between the two doors, there were no other decorations.

I walked up to the two doors to get a closer look. One has a 'W' sign plastered on it while the other has an 'M' one. I tug on the door with the 'W' not expecting it to open, but it does. The force of my tug flings it wide open, nearly knocking me over in the process.

Inside, there is a long row of stalls on the right side, with a small locker area on the left. I toss my bag into one of them and keep walking down a hallway. I pass by a large vanity and shower room, and reach a small change room. There seems to be a set of clothes neatly folded up on one of the stools. Unfortunately, I was unprepared to go swimming and didn't bring a bathing suit. I stripped off my clothes so I could just go in my bra and panties. At the other end of the change room was another door which I assume led to the bath/spa. I push open the door and walk in.

The bath area was unexpectedly, insanely large. Gentle music plays over speakers scattered around the room and steam from the heat of the bath floods the air, giving it a relaxing vibe. There are a few chairs facing the bath area at the front of the room for lounging if taking a dip isn't what you are in the mood for. The side deck of the bath leads all the way around the water area, so I start pacing around, examining the water before getting in. I came to a narrowed area of the bath and walked around the corner that leads to another large water lounging area. It's not as big as the first area though, but still pretty big.

A mess of blonde hair tied up in a claw clip sticks out of the water, along with a pair of bare shoulders with frilly straps wrapping over them. There appears to be a bottle of wine behind her on the bath deck. She hasn't noticed me walking in yet.

"Hey Haley," I call out, making my voice echo against the walls of the bath. Haley screams and flails around to look at me.

"What are you doing here?! You scared me!" she slurs. She is definitely drunk.

"I saw this place when I came in on the train and decided to finally check it out." I responded. I still haven't gotten in the bath yet. Haley doesn't seem to mind because she is aggressively checking me out. The farm work has really toned my body some and I have slight abs now.

"You have such a good looking body..." Haley completely disregarded what I had just said. She is now leaning her head down on her hands on the ledge of the deck, staring up at me with admiration. She holds her hand up to me for me to take. Obediently, I bend over to take her hand and walk down the steps next to her that lead into the water. She doesn't let go of my hand and drags me over to her bottle of wine. "Want some?"

Handing the bottle over without me even answering, I take it out of her hands and open it. There was only about a drop left. I look over to her and raise my eyebrow.

"Oops. It was full when I got here..." she giggles.

I put the bottle back on the ledge and prop my elbows up behind me on the same ledge. I watch Haley dance over to me and put her arms around my neck.

"You know... Alex and I would come here to... you know..." she puts her hands up in front of my face and motions a finger into a hole made by her other fingers, "... you're lucky you didn't catch us doing that."

I made a disgusted face. I hope they clean the water of this place. "I'm sure glad I didn't walk in on that. That is not a sight I'd want to see," I awkwardly say.

"What? You don't want to see all this?" she boldly undoes her bikini and slips her top off. I quickly avert my gaze to the wall.

"Haley, put your top back on. You are drunk," I demand politely, "you will be extremely embarrassed tomorrow by the decisions you are making right now."

"I doubt it," she takes my face in her hands and turns my head so I am looking into her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat of the bath as well as from the alcohol flowing through her. I try really hard to keep my eyes on hers and not look down. "You need to relaaaaxx, that's what this place is for. It's not like you haven't seen boobs before."

"Yeah but-" I begin. Haley puts her finger to my lips before I can finish my sentence.

"Relax. Turn around," she spins me around before I could protest or question her. She takes my shoulders into her hands and starts massaging. Instantly feeling relaxed, I hunch over and lean on the bath deck.

Her soft hands move all over my back and neck. She has traced every prominent muscle on my back, as well as played connect the dots with my freckles. Not only do I have severe goosebumps all over, I have nearly fallen asleep once or twice.

"You really do have such a nice body," she says again as she traces my shoulder blade.

"Are you jealous?" I mumble while giving her a sleepy flex of my bicep. The flex always makes her giggle and blush. Without even seeing her, I can picture her reaction.

"In a way..." her hands travel down my arms causing more goosebumps to arise.

"Just work on a farm. You'll get this body no problem," I sit up and smack my bicep a couple times. "Might take some time since you are so dainty and perfect, but you'd get there."

"So if I work on a farm...I'd get your body?" She questions me with a hint of sing song in her voice.

"I mean yeah that's what I just said," I tease, "you'll be all muscly and ripped in no time. Not sure why you'd want to be-"

"That's not what I meant."

That causes me to whip around with a face of shock. Haley is giving me a little smirk and looking at my lips. Since I am facing her now, she traces along my collarbone.

"I- um-" I'm at a loss for words. Her hand has traveled to just above my chest. When sober Haley finds out what happened, she'd freak. "Listen, I'm not rejecting you, but you are drunk. You won't remember anything you are saying to me and you'll regret everything you even said." I respond softly, taking her by the shoulders and backing her up.

I think Haley has realized what she has said. Her face drops and she kind of stares off into the distance with tears welling up in her eyes. "I- I- didn't... mean that. I'm sorry." She grabs her bikini top, throws it back on, grabs the wine bottle and leaves.

I sink down so the water is just over my shoulders, and put my head in my hands. I remain that way for the rest of the day.

[dinosaurwithablog]

This is Jody. I met her in a thrift store in Brooklyn. She was frantically rummaging through her purse, trying to find more money so she could complete her purchase. Then she started crying, saying that she needed this stuff because she didn't have many clothes. She thought that she, finally, had saved enough money to get some shirts. It was at that time that I asked the salesperson how much she needed to buy the shirts. She said that it came to $20. I couldn't leave Jody standing there crying so I handed the cashier a twenty. The look of shock and joy on both their faces was beautiful. Priceless. Jody said that I didn't have to do that. I told her that I knew that, but it would make my day to buy these things for her. Please don't take that from me. She jumped for joy, hugged me, and thanked me and then proceeded to tell me her story. She's been on a low income housing list for over 10 years. She can barely buy groceries after she pays rent. She was amazed that a complete stranger would do this for her. She was very grateful. She said that it made her believe that things are gonna, finally, start going her way. It's amazing what a positive difference twenty bucks can make in someone's life. 😍 I love doing things like that for people. It makes them happy and makes me happy. Win win. I can't think of a better use for money than to, literally, pay it forward. I hope that this story will motivate others to share whatever they can with people in need. Whether it's money or a hug or just taking the time to listen, the joy and smiles that doing things like that will give to everyone involved is worth sooooooo much more than $20. It's priceless. What a great gift it is to be able to make an impact like that in the world. If we all could do this as often as we can, the world would be a better place in which to live, and we would all feel better living in it. Be kind to each other. True success is so much more than material things. I don't have a lot of money, but I'm one of the richest people in the world because of events like this one. I'll never be financially well off because if i had a lot of money, I'd use the money to pay it forward. I'd feed people, I'd clothe people, I'd get people mental health care and medical care, I'd educate the kids, etc. etc.. I'd give people the help that I've desperately needed in my life that wasn't available to me. It's the right thing to do, and it feels great. I like to do, at least, one nice thing for someone every day. That's my daily goal every day. It's been like that for most of my life. Even when I was homeless. I hope that others will try doing this. It's a great goal, and it's easy to accomplish. I love people. Together, we can make life easier for each other. Give a try. Whaddaya got to lose? You've got everything to gain. We all do. I'm sorry. It's late, and I'm way too chatty. I better go to sleep. 😁😍😊🙏🏼💜💜🤎