｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. May will bring blessings.

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neutral, chap. 2 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary tommy learns a little bit more about your relationship with dream before spending his day with ghostbur, exploring neutral territory and learning of the war that sparked its creation.

warning mentions of war, violence, and injuries

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gif cred belongs to @chillcrafting

“you have a package, y/n!” ghostbur called out just as you placed tommy’s breakfast in front of him. the ghoul’s words went completely ignored by tommy, whose gaze was solely focused on the beautiful stack of pancakes placed in front of him.

y/n smiled to herself. “you can bring it in, bur. i know who it’s from.” she shuffled syrup and butter over to tommy just as ghostbur came in with the fateful package.

tommy was already half way through scarfing down the stack of pancakes when y/n managed to open the package, ghostbur gazing over her shoulder. she took out a note set atop of the contents.

she read aloud, “y/n, i’m sorry i haven’t properly stopped by in a while. my work requires much of my undivided attention right now, which i’m sure you understand. please work your magic for me with the clothes included, and i will be sure to drop by for them and a meal soon. there are a few extra gifts included for you. i hope tommy isn’t burdening you. signed dream.”

“i’m not a burden!” tommy spoke offendedly through a mouthful of pancakes.

“you’re right, tommy,” y/n hummed, handing him a napkin to wipe some syrup off of his chin. “you’re perfect company.” tommy smiled to himself as he finished off his stack of pancakes. y/n sighed to herself, “clay really knows how to ruin a good piece of clothing..”

“so you and dream are close, y/n?” tommy grumbled, picking up his glass of milk.

she shrugged. “as close as you can be with someone you barely see.” she placed his battered clothes to the side, sighing again when she saw the rest of the contents of the box. tommy didn’t realize this, continuing with his questions.

“i remember that he respected your territory when he stepped into it,” he recalled. “he was going to kill me, but then he realized he was in neutral.”

y/n nodded. “when i made claimed this territory as neutral, i made a deal with everyone: i would mend and tailor anything you needed as long as you respected my territory as neutral.” she held up a box of diamonds and a smaller box of netherite to tommy’s view, making his mouth drop open with surprise. y/n held out another napkin to him for the milk that had sputtered out of his open mouth while ghostbur laughed into his hand. “clay is the only one who still tries to pay me.”

“with netherite?!” tommy exclaimed, letting out a surprised laugh.

y/n shrugged, seemingly not phased by the generous gift. “the nether..” she shook her head, placing the valuable materials onto the table, “is not a place i like to go. and most of this will probably be going toward dream’s armor, anyway.” she sighed, placing the gifts back into the box and laying the tattered shirts on top of them. “trust me, he’s still too kind for his own good with these sorts of materials.”

“how much netherite does that man have?” ghostbur scoffed, looking at how much was contained in the box.

“probably quadruple that amount,” y/n chuckled. “he has far too much free time.”

“and he doesn’t even spend it with you,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head with a goofy smile.

“i know!” y/n spoke sarcastically before laughing out. she closed the box and set it under the table. “i’ll deal with that later. do you want any more pancakes, tommy?”

“no, i’m stuffed,” the teen yawned. “but thank you.”

she nodded. “well, then how about ghostbur shows you around the territory today?”

the boys perked up immediately. “really?”

“yeah,” she laughed, taking tommy’s empty plate. “you two can take the day to explore and have fun. go be a kid, kid.”

tommy excitedly looked up to his ghost friend. “fancy a game of ultimate tag?”

“you’re gonna get crushed,” ghostbur laughed before they both ran out of the house, laughing. y/n smiled.

“oh! i should make them lunch..”

...

“how big is this place?” tommy laughed after a few rounds of tag. they had found their way to a pond in a forested area, tommy deciding his knee needed a break after all of their running. 

“it’s bigger than you think,” ghostbur assured, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from the water as they sat along the small shore. “y/n claimed the territory before l’manberg, so there really wasn’t any need for a turf war of any sorts for what she settled.”

“how long has she lived here?” tommy questioned.

ghostbur shrugged. “almost two years, i think. she’s made quite the life for herself since.” more to himself, he muttered, “god, has it really been that long since it happened?”

“since what happened?” tommy asked, leaning closer to his friend with sparkling, curious eyes.

ghostbur sighed, “i’ll admit, i don’t remember too much.. but i know there was a fight. one of the first wars of our time, and it was all over y/n.”

“they were fighting for her?” tommy spoke with confusion. “she’s not an object.”

“very good, tommy,” ghostbur prided, patting his friend on the shoulder. “you’re right, she’s not. that’s why y/n left her original home and sought to create neutral territory; to end the fighting and create a place where peace could reign. in exchange, she’d offer her goods and services.”

“so they were fighting over her for her skills,” tommy understood. ghostbur made a face. “..or not?”

“both sides obviously wanted her skills, but i think y/n tends to neglect the fact that they were all madly in love with her,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head.

tommy raised his eyebrows. “a crime of passion, eh?” he joked, making them both laugh out before he asked, “who was it?”

“let me think,” ghostbur sighed, tapping his chin. “i know one was dream, but the other.. i think it was-”

“boys! lunch is ready when you are!”

tommy turned back to ghostbur. “well? who?”

ghostbur shook his head. “sorry, tommy, i don’t remember that far. that’s as much as i can tell you.”

tommy couldn’t help but fel disappointed, but he knew he couldn’t blame his friend. “that’s alright, ghostbur. let’s go get lunch before y/n comes looking for us.”

...

after lunch and an insistent rematch of tag, ghostbur and tommy made their way to the organized garden area.

“y/n grows anything you can imagine,” ghostbur bragged as tommy marveled as the fluorescent, beautifully natural area. “she’s been to nearly every biome to complete her garden.”

“you can grow cocoa?!” tommy exclaimed when he finally spotted y/n, who was swinging an axe at a low jungle tree.

“y/n found a way,” ghostbur shrugged, guiding tommy over to her. “hey, y/n!”

“hi, boys,” she smiled, plucking off the plant she had loosened from the tree. “was lunch good? im sorry i didn’t stay and chat.”

“it was delicious,” ghostbur complimented, tommy nodding in agreement as his mind drifted back to the mouth watering coleslaw and toasted sandwiches she had prepared.

“that’s good!” she smiled, placing the cocoa plant on the ground. “you boys may want to step back.” they did as told as y/n swung her axe over her head, splitting the cocoa clean in half and revealing the delicious beans inside of it. “voila!”

ghostbur clapped politely. “thank you,” y/n laughed, dropping her axe and picking up the split plant. “would you boys like a sample?”

“sure,” tommy shrugged, stepping forward with ghostbur. he picked out a few beans before popping them into his mouth. breaking through the semi-tough shell, the delicious, dark taste flooded his taste buds and made him nearly moan, as y/n’s food often did. he and ghostbur shared a look of satisfaction before he voiced, “oh, y/n.. they’re perfect.”

“that’s good,” she laughed before nudging her bucket closer to her and scooping the seeds out into it. “how has your day around the territory been?”

“entertaining,” tommy spoke before asking, “how did you get into gardening, y/n?”

y/n gave ghostbur a knowing smile before she answered the younger boy’s question, “i was tired of eating only meat and bread. gardening was a way to expand my diet to more than just carbs and proteins. also, it’s very calming.” they followed when she hiked up her bucket and moved to the next jungle tree.

“is it?” tommy questioned.

she affirmed with a nod. “it’s nice to be able to spend a day tending to things you made. the fruits of your own harvest are the sweetest, they say.” they watched as she knocked down another cocoa plant.

“they are,” tommy nodded solemnly, his mind drifting to a sadder, more familiar place. “that’s why i miss l’manberg.”

y/n was barely surprised by the boy’s open confession. she tossed her axe down again, going to place a hand on tommy’s shoulder. “i know you do, tommy, and i know it’s rough right now. but what we’re playing here is a waiting game; we’re waiting for a safe opportunity to get you home, and in the meantime, i’ll take care of you, kid.”

tommy offered you another nod and a smile. “we?”

y/n gave him a kind grin. “im going to help you as best as i can from where i am. and i know that’s not much from me, but i know that everyone deserves a home that they love. and you can’t get there alone, kid.”

“you’re right about that,” tommy sighed before looking into her kind eyes. “thank you, y/n. your help means a lot.”

she squeezed his shoulder. “of course, tommy. you and ghostbur go explore some more; try to keep your mind on the things you can control.” she picked her axe back up.

tommy looked to the pitying ghoul beside him before looking back to y/n, a new thought fresh in his mind. “can you teach me how to cook?”

y/n grinned as she lifted her axe over her head again. “of course i can, tommy.”

tommy smiled as she cracked open the plant. he looked back to ghostbur. “wanna go for a swim?” the ghost shot him a fearful look. “im kidding! im kidding, let’s go use some pigs for target practice.” they both began to walk off, chatting and giggling before tommy turned and called, “y/n!” she looked up attentively. “what’s for dinner?”

she smiled. “i was thinking ribs!”

tommy’s mouth watered at the thought. “oh my god, i can’t wait to learn how to cook..”

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When Missions Go Right

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x afab!Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: After Frankie makes everyone believe he was killed during a mission, hours later you're still shaken from the reveal that it had been a ruse. You can't stand the idea that he might have never known how you felt about him, so later that evening, you go and check on him.

Tags: SMUT; minimal angst despite the summary lol; unprotected PinV sex (pls wrap it up irl); oral (f receiving); they briefly drink alcohol but are not drunk; swearing

Word count: 6,794 lmfao

A/N: Reader’s nickname is Mosquito- I wanted a nickname and my brain got stuck on this one once I thought of it sorry. It’s explained :)

---

You sit in your hut at your team's temporary camp in the jungle, fidgeting. You don't know why you’re so torn- there’s nothing weird about checking on a teammate after a stressful mission, and you and your boys had done it for each other countless times before. This time is different, though. This time had shaken you more than any other incident, after you thought Frankie had- No. You exhale.

Just thinking of him emerging after the mission that day, appearing when you thought he was lost, causes another swell of emotion to rise in you, hot tears filling your eyes. You clap your hands over your mouth, force yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. Frankie had looked so surprised at everyone's reaction to his reappearance: stunned, relieved tears and a five-person hug that had pulled everyone to the ground in a tangle, with himself at the center. You don't know what he had expected. His impromptu plan hadn't been ideal, sure, but it had made their mission a success, and he was alive.

You smile a little at the memory. The quiet relief on Frankie's face, how soft and vulnerable he looked surrounded by affection, dust and sweat in his hair. Your smile fades at the remembrance of what had happened next. After everyone had untangled and straightened up, Santiago held out Frankie's hat to him, retrieved from where it had fallen during their dogpile. Frankie had secured it on his head, smiling cautiously at his friend. Then Santiago had punched him in the face.

“Don't you ever do that again!” Santi's voice had cracked. In the split second before he turned and strode away, you caught a glimpse of his eyes, turbulent and red-rimmed with emotion. Frankie, holding his jaw, had stared after him in shock. The Miller boys offered reassurance: “He'll be okay, Catfish. You guys are close. He was just upset.”

“We all were,” you added, stepping closer. Frankie's attention had focused on you for the first time since his return. Apprehension in his eyes, guilt and worry clearly visible on his face. You didn't let yourself think about what those dark eyes did to you as you flung yourself at him, hugging him fiercely. It was only partly to hide your face that you buried it in his neck. Santiago’s outburst echoed your own anger at Frankie’s deception, at him making you believe he was dead- but now was not the time to deal with it.

You had made no effort to stop the tears as you breathed in Frankie's scent, muddled with sweat and gunmetal. His arms wrapped around you carefully, one hand cradling the back of your head. Holding each other the way you were, his voice seemed to rumble through you, low and warm. “Hey, Mos. Thought you were gonna punch me too there for a sec.”

Memories flooded through you at the sensation- all the other times the two of you had been this close. Dancing to sultry music in some club, both of you too tired to pretend to mind lying pressed together in a cramped tent-

You exhaled, shoving the memories aside. Now was also not the time for that particular train of thought or its familiar destination.

Pulling back, you gave him a watery smile. “Nah, I think Pope did enough damage.”

You kissed him lightly on the cheek Santiago had just punched. Frankie's eyes were wide when you looked up at him, but you ignored the fluttering in your chest and turned your soft look into a glare. “But you'll get what's coming to you after that stunt.” His bulletproof vest was hard under your finger as you jabbed it into his chest.

You hardly held up the glare for a minute before it cracked, and Frankie chuckled in relief. “Whatever you say, Mosquito. Let's just get out of here.”

Skirting the edge of your team's small camp, you pause to scan for anyone else moving around in the dark. Briefly you find yourself distracted by the brightness of the full moon above, the beauty of the starry sky this far from any major towns. The remote location of this mission was why you were all still in camp tonight, instead of blowing off steam at some local watering hole. Usually some booze was brought along anyway, so you could unwind around the campfire, but you suppose things are a bit tense for that after today. Secretly, you're glad. You don't want to have to compete with everyone else for Frankie's attention tonight.

Now, you blink rapidly to clear the tears from your eyes. Taking a final deep breath, you stand. You had done enough crying since then; it was time for a different kind of release.

Mosquito. Sneaking around in the night like this, you're reminded of your nickname's origins. After a particularly successful mission, Santiago had been raving over your skills of infiltration. “...hitting 'em before they even knew they were there! Bam!” Crowing with laughter, their victory relaxing him as much as the booze.

“Like a mosquito,” Frankie had murmured, just barely peeking out from under the brim of his cap. The bugs had been particularly bad in that region, but the look in Frankie's eyes was anything but. Gleaming with admiration in the dim bar light, a knowing amusement quirking his mouth into a smile-  because Santiago's jaw had dropped. “Mosquito! Yes! ‘Fish, you're a genius!” Before Frankie could stop him, his friend had stolen his hat, ruffled his hair, and planted a kiss on his head with a smack.

You laughed as Frankie snatched his cap back. Santiago lifted his beer and spoke ceremoniously. “From this moment on, you will be known as: Mosquito.”

“Here, here,” Benny and Will had enthused, holding up their own bottles.

You shook your head, but there was no arguing with it. You clinked the neck of your beer with Pope's. “Mosquito it is.” The conversation drifted then, but you had looked at Frankie meaningfully. You lifted your bottle almost imperceptibly in acknowledgment. You're still not sure if the blush on his cheeks was from your appreciation, or Santi's smooch.

A buzzing near your ear reminds you that there are also bugs in your current environment, and that you've been standing here long enough. Certain there is no one around to see, you slip around the side of Frankie's hut to where a camo-patterned blanket hangs as a door. You knock lightly on the wood beside it. “Catfish? It's me,” you call softly. “Can I come in?”

There's a rustle and the sound of a throat clearing. “Yeah.”

You push aside the blanket just enough to step beyond it. It falls back into place behind you with a swish, and you blink as your eyes adjust. Contrary to the cool moonlight falling outside, the hut is lit only by a lantern sitting on the nightstand. In the dim, warm orangish glow, the figure perched on the edge of the bed is a study of shadows. You catch your breath as Frankie lifts his head.

Frankie “Catfish” Morales epitomizes the phrase “it's always the quiet ones”. But what he doesn't say out loud, you can always read in his eyes. Endlessly expressive, occasionally accompanied by an eyebrow raised to varying heights, they never fail to draw you in.

“Hey, ‘Squito. Come to take your shot?”

Your brow furrows. That wasn't what you expected. The guys only called you ‘squito' or ‘skeeter’ when they wanted to needle you. Buying time, you cast your eyes around the small space. A few square feet at the foot of the bed where Frankie had dumped some gear; the single bed that Frankie sits on, three feet in front of you; and the nightstand at the head of the bed, a surprisingly homey feature. On it sits the lantern, Frankie's dog tags, and- ah- a tall bottle filled with golden liquid.

“Only if that's tequila I see,” you reply.

Frankie looks caught off-guard for a beat. Then a huff of laughter escapes him. “Make yourself at home.”

So saying, he pushes himself backwards on the bed, loosely crossing his legs in front him and resting his head against the wall. His eyes drift shut.

You snatch the bottle up with one hand and use the other to maneuver onto the bed next to him, mirroring his position. Consciously, you make sure your knees touch. Despite your earlier anger and whatever Frankie seemed to be thinking now, you want him to know you're here for him. His leg hair prickles against your skin, pleasant and familiar and warm.

"How many have you had?"

"Just two."

“Easy catch-up, then.” You remove the shot glass resting upside down on top of the bottle, fill it up, and knock it back. You can't help but shudder as it goes down, warmth settling in your belly.

You turn your head to find Frankie's eyes open and fixed on you. You swallow reflexively at how close your faces suddenly are, how depthless his eyes look in the lamplight.

“How's the tequila?”

You blink, barely registering his words.

He nods down to the bottle resting on your knee. “It's a new kind.” His low, raspy voice, normally comforting, now feels like it's sliding along your bones, setting them alight and turning them to liquid all at once.

You blink several more times and resist the urge to clear your throat. You glance down at the bottle. The label looks vaguely familiar, but not as much as it would if it were a brand he or Santi normally bought. And you would know; you've drank with them both countless times, enough to know their preferences.

“It's good,” you say. You offer it back to him.

He takes it, moving at a leisurely pace as he unscrews the cap. You watch the deftness of his hands, your gaze traveling up his arms- perhaps not as defined as Santiago's or Benny's, but just as capable of holding you tight. The lantern's glow gleams on his brown skin, the line of his throat as he tips his head back.

Your gaze catches on the strands of hair that drift along his brow. Usually they're tucked beneath his cap, even after-hours- an easy target for teasing amongst the guys. But tonight they're free, and you wonder at how soft they look. If Frankie would let you touch them, the tiny curls at his temple.

One eyebrow raises into your line of sight, interrupting your train of thought, and you realize he's caught you staring. Flushing, you wordlessly take the bottle back from him and sling another shot, before setting it down on the bed next to you.

After a beat of hesitation, you lean your head on his shoulder. “What's wrong, Catfish?”

You can feel him struggling to decide what to say. “Benny and Will caught me by the campfire. Scolded me for pulling such an idiotic stunt. You know the drill.”

“But then they slapped you on the back for it working out so well, right?” That's how their “scoldings” usually went.

“Yeah. Just not until after a solid helping of guilt. And I still haven't spoken to Santiago.”

You sigh. How could he not understand? You reach out and take his right hand in your left, entwining your fingers and pulling them toward you. Both of you happen to be wearing old, standard-issue PT shorts as pajamas; short enough for Frankie's hand to be resting on bare skin where you hold it against your leg.

“Frankie.” He seems reluctant to look you in the eye. “Hey,” you say, softer this time. He lifts his gaze. “It was an idiotic stunt. Brilliant, and it worked, but…” Frankie looks like he's bracing for a blow. “We thought we lost you, Frankie. How could we not be messed up by that?”

For that had been part of what made his plan so risky. Frankie hadn't counted on his team being so upset and distracted by his apparent loss that they could have been caught for real.

Seeming agitated, Frankie runs a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I heard it all earlier.”

You wonder if Benny and Will had mentioned, if they had noticed, just how uprooted you had felt. You and Santiago both; their unflappable teammates, nearly unhinged.

You wait until he looks at you again. All traces of moisture seem to have evaporated from your mouth. “I thought I lost you, Frankie,” you whisper.

He remains still as this realization unfolds, unfurling like a flower in the sun. Revealing in crystal clarity what you had both been carefully stepping around for months. Longer. His eyes rove over your face as if searching for any possibility of a joke, a catch; his breathing quickens as his gaze flickers over the rest of you, taking in your knees pressed together and your hands entwined above them.

He reaches out with his free hand and slowly, delicately cradles your face. His skin is callused where his thumb strokes your cheek. Slowly, as if this was a dream he didn't want to wake from, he dips his head toward you until he is only a breath away.

“That's never gonna happen, Mos.” The words hang in the space between you for a heartbeat, an eternity. Frankie's gaze drops to your mouth for an instant; you feel the glance zip through you with a physical certainty. One of you must lean forward, or both of you- but in the next moment, without any movement you're aware of, your lips meet.

If either of you had been unsure earlier, you weren't now. Frankie kisses you like you're the air he needs to breathe; your free hand clutches a fistful of his t-shirt in an effort to pull him even closer.

His lips are improbably soft compared to his pilots' hands. You lightly run your tongue along them and his mouth opens for you, warm and welcoming. Frankie lets out a muffled groan as he tastes you, his hand shifting back to grip the nape of your neck. A needy sound scrapes the back of your throat at the feeling, the discovery of how much you trust his hands there, and fuck, you realize- you’re in even deeper than you thought.

But as suddenly as it had started, it stops. Frankie pulls back just far enough for the two of you to look at each other. Your ragged breathing mingles in the space between you. A breeze outside ripples the bottom of the blanket-door, the cool air a welcome contrast to your heated skin.

Through the overwhelming desire hazing your thoughts, you realize you're still holding hands. You glance down your lap and laugh a little, easing some of the tension. Squeezing his hand, you look back up at him. He's smiling too, despite the fact that his torso is still twisted toward you, straining to be close to you.

“Are you...okay?” you venture.

“Never better,” he answers, almost absently. He disentangles your hands to rest his flat on your bare thigh, his thumb stroking the skin, and you close your eyes at the touch. That such a small motion could wash through your whole body, make you hollow with want...when you open your eyes again, Frankie is looking at you with such intensity it steals your breath. “I just want to be sure that you're okay. With this. Us.”

Gently holding his hand in place against your thigh, you shift your bottom half so it aligns with the top half of you, facing him. Tentatively, you rest your hands on Frankie's leg so as to still be touching him. “This isn't just about today, you know? What happened today may have...triggered it, but this isn't a new feeling. I want you, Frankie. I care about you.” You look him in the eye at the last sentence, praying you've said the right thing.

But oh, have you- because Frankie looks like he wants to devour you whole. “Fuck,” he growls, and surges into you, his mouth crashing into yours. He wraps an arm around your waist, bending you backward while hauling you against his body, which now kneels over yours.

Instinctively you throw your arms around him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you above the mattress. Heat surges through you at such a blatant demonstration of Frankie's strength, especially as his lips continue to move along your jaw and his teeth tug on your earlobe. “No more words,” he rasps, and that's all the warning you get before he's crawling the rest of the way up the bed, one arm holding you to him the entire time. Your feet scramble to help propel yourself along with him.

You've felt tantalizing brushes of Frankie’s muscles before, and now his every motion introduces the same tortuously brief sensations. When he finally lowers you to the bed his body chases yours, pressing himself into you, and you both groan aloud, finally able to give into the desire to sink into each other.

There's a dull thud and the sound of liquid sloshing as the tequila bottle is knocked off the bed, but Frankie seems to have only one thing on his mind. He is everywhere at once while you writhe beneath him; his teeth sink into your shoulder as he sucks possessive marks there, his hands span your hips and slide up your skin in a way that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you gasp, and he hums, dark and approving, from where his nose is tracing patterns down your belly.

“I like you saying my name, querida.” His breath is hot on your skin as he presses kisses up your ribs, steadily rucking up your shirt. He's probably already guessed that you aren't wearing a bra: you never do when the team is officially off-duty, a question that was once asked and quickly settled the first time it came up, in a camp much like this one.

You spare a thought as to if you should feel self-conscious that you're also not wearing underwear. After spending so much time sweating in jungles, you like to let things breathe when you can. You didn't plan for this to be happening tonight.

But then you imagine Frankie's reaction when he discovers your single bottom layer, and you decide not to worry.

You're lured out of your thoughts by Frankie's voice, coaxing, asking: “Take this off for me, dulzura?”

Barely a glance down at his beseeching eyes has you moving with impossible eagerness. You half sit up to oblige him, thinking that you would do just about anything with him sounding like that. His voice as rough as his hands and just as tangible against your skin, just as capable of inciting the slickness between your thighs.

You pull your shirt over your head, arching your back a little more than strictly necessary for him. Your nipples harden as they're exposed to the air, exposed to him- because Frankie is staring, his lips parting like he's already imagining them being on you.

You give in to the urge to plunge your hands into his hair, running the soft strands between your fingers and then tugging, reminding him that he can do more than imagine. His eyes snap to your face and you have half a second to register their wicked gleam before he's on you. His hands grace your breasts first, callused fingers as capable directing your body as they are his machines. You wonder if it's the tequila or his touch that has your head spinning so- his mouth warms you better than any liquor, and the slide of his tongue on your nipples makes you cry out.

Your hands scrabble at him during his ministrations, determined to wreck him as thoroughly as he’s wrecking you. You roll your hips into his thigh, wedged between your own, but any thoughts beyond repeating that single motion fly out of your head when you feel the hard length of his arousal. You rake your nails down his back- gently at first- but the guttural noise he makes when you do convinces you to do it again, harder. He shudders above you, and when you continue downward to squeeze his ass, he exhales shakily.

“Fuck me, querida.” Frankie sits up, his weight pinning your legs, rendering you unable to  continue tormenting him.

“That’s the idea,” you say cheekily, before your jaw falls slack at the sight of him yanking his shirt over his head by the neck. He chuckles at the look on your face.

“You were saying something, Mosquito?” he quips, bending down to kiss you again. You both gasp at the sensation of your bare skin meeting. His kiss is searing, claiming, and you can’t get enough. How had you not given in to this before now? Every inch of him, every sound he makes, is familiar- you’ve gotten used to catching glimpses of him out in the field; you’ve heard him spill endearments and sweet sounds in your ear on the dance floor after one too many rounds (no matter that neither of you ever brought it up the next morning). But now, with the world tilted sideways and all your senses tuned to him at once- every sensation is utterly new, and you want them all.

You want Frankie to feel them too; you wrap your arms around him, caressing newly exposed skin as he sighs into your mouth. Your hands slip beneath his shorts to stroke the divots of his hip bones, but before you can reach for the maddening hardness between them he stops you, tearing his mouth from yours with a snarl.

“Not yet, dulzura,” he says. You've never seen his eyes so hooded with lust, the meaningful smirk playing on his lips. “Ladies first.”

Fuck, you’ve never been so turned on in your life. You whimper helplessly as his hands and mouth descend to the waistband of your shorts. Just barely coherent, you lift your hips so he can slide them off- and watch the smugness vanish from his expression.

“You’re not wearing- were you?” Frankie looks dumbfounded, his voice hoarse.

You almost laugh. As if you’d had a chance to slip off your panties without him seeing since you arrived? “I wasn’t, no. It’s an occasional habit.” It’s your turn smirk at him, broadly, as his expression immediately goes hazy, imagining the implications of that.

You squirm a little where you lie, your shorts pulled down just enough to reveal your sex. Laying there mostly naked, your bottom half restrained, you can already feel tension coiling in your core. Frankie’s attention focuses again at your movement. Everything feels hypersensitive against your skin: the thin sheets beneath you, Frankie’s knuckles on your thighs where he still grips your shorts. Even his gaze as he drags it down your body, coming to rest on where he’s just exposed.

He tugs your shorts down and over your feet. Sliding his hands back up you slowly, he eases your legs apart, pressing kisses as he goes. Each one warm and deliberate, soft and slightly ticklish from his facial hair. As he reaches the apex of your thighs his tongue traces hot lines toward where you want him- teasing, warning. He breathes your name, and your eyes meet.

You’ve been watching him make his way up your body, enthralled by the sight. You never imagined that sex with Frankie would be like this (to the point that you let yourself imagine sex with Frankie at all)- equal parts silly and smoldering, with an aura of reverence around the whole thing, like neither of you ever dreamed this would really happen. Now he refocuses on what’s closer to him: you, soaked by the evidence of just how much you want him. He circles your entrance with one thumb, testing, and spreads the wetness up to your clit. You gasp and buck your hips as he continues this circuit, back and forth, for several seconds.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan in a higher pitch, an unspoken plea for more.

In the time it takes you to register the satisfied smile and promising glint in his eyes, he’s lowered his head and licked a long, hot line directly up your center. Then he hooks his thumbs into you, spreading you open, and does it again.

“Fuck!” you swear and pant and grip the mattress as Frankie’s tongue works you, like nobody you’ve ever been with. You feel pinned down with the way he holds you open and you love it, like you’re for his pleasure and not the other way around. Like he could do this all night but oh, you’d never last that long. You have to remind yourself not to moan so loud as he sucks on your clit; the thin wooden walls of this hut feel too small for the feeling overtaking you as Frankie licks into you, fucking you with his tongue.

Thin walls, thin walls- “Frankie!” you cry desperately, all the muscles in your body contracting as his mouth brings you to the edge-

“Yes, querida please, let go for me,” he urges, and his rough, low voice combined with his mouth latching back onto you is all it takes for you to come, hips rearing, your body shuddering under him as pleasure pulses through you. With eager, steady strokes of his tongue, Frankie draws out your orgasm like he’s the one who never wants it to end.

As the high gradually passes, you move one hand to rest in his hair. “Stop,” you say weakly. You tug gently, but otherwise don’t move from where you lie with your eyes closed, still catching your breath.

You hear him chuckle; you don’t even want to think about how smug he probably looks. Frankie presses a last kiss to your inner thigh and then crawls up your body, pressing his still-clothed hips into yours.

“Is that all you can take, Mosquito?” he teases.

Instinctively you lift your hips to meet him- and your eyes fly open as his cock lines up with your center. Frankie lets out possibly the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard, a cut-off, huffing groan, and his eyes flutter shut as his face contorts.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, and the feel of his length (because it is a length, you think dizzily) pressing at your entrance, even encased in shorts, jolts you right back to life, thrumming with want. Your lips curve into a smile. “If that’s your reaction while you still have pants on, Catfish, I’m not sure you can take much more,” you drawl.

He grumbles something unintelligible in Spanish, lowering his head to nip at your neck. His hardness slides against you deliberately as you giggle and then gasp. When one large hand grips your hip you whimper, and Frankie’s husky voice sounds in your ear. “Those are the sounds I want to be hearing right now, dulzura.”

His commanding tone makes you flush with need, and you whimper again, wondering how this man could possibly give you so much bliss and still have you aching for more. You tug at his shorts. “Take these off.”

“Oh, you’re giving the orders now, huh?” Frankie raises an eyebrow, but slides off the bed to oblige. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband, and you suddenly find it hard to focus on anything else.

“Well, I can’t let you have all the fun,” you say, your mouth forming the words while all your attention is on his hips, the incremental amounts of skin being revealed as he slowly draws down his shorts.

Your mouth goes dry as the proud length of him springs free, his shorts finally falling to the floor. His cock looks just as long as it felt pressed against you, the tip gleaming with moisture, and you feel yourself clench at the thought of taking him inside you. You run your eyes back up him, following the trail of hair to the dusting over his chest, the span of his shoulders. Lost in your admiration of his beautiful, soft, strong body, you’re almost startled when you hear him speak.

“Like what you see?” Frankie’s gruff voice draws your attention back to his face. You feel a pang of surprise at the trepidation there, and you wonder what that eyebrow means this time. Is he...shy?

A smile fights to bloom on your face, but you hold it back, just for a moment. “Oh, do I,” you purr, shifting smoothly to stand in front of him. The wooden floor beneath your bare feet is rough but not splintery. He watches you move, lust darkening his gaze as he rakes it over you again.

“Francisco Morales,” you say. Your grin flowers fully across your face then, and you try to channel every ounce of suppressed affection you ever felt as you aim it at him.

A shy smile flickers across his face as he absorbs your affection; he has the gall to look almost surprised by it. Your exasperating, wonderful man. Thinking about everything that led you here makes your eyes feel hot again; the idea that he might have been gone without you ever telling him, showing him, what he really means to you.

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, burrowing your face into his chest. Frankie stifles a gasp as your hips press into him, but returns the gesture, understanding. He strokes your hair with one hand.

“It’s okay, querida. I’m here. I’ll always be here,” he vows softly.

You tilt your head up at his declaration, blinking watery eyes. He gently catches your chin and lowers his lips to yours. You sigh-moan into his kiss, letting it melt your worries away, stretching up on your toes to meet it equally. Frankie’s tongue is hot in your mouth as it intensifies; your knees feel weak. Finally you tear away from him with a gasp, breathing heavily.

“You okay, Mos?” Frankie’s hand rests on the back of your neck again. After that kiss, it makes it even more difficult to think clearly, but you’re more okay than you’ve ever been.

“Never better.” With a smile, you echo his words from earlier. Your hands wander down the muscles of his back, coming to settle on his now bare ass. You look at him from under your lashes and bite your lip.

He answers your look with an equally sensual smile, his hands caressing down your spine to mirror your position. Thick fingers massage your rear before gripping firmly, fitting your hips to his. Your eyes flutter shut. Frankie’s body slots against your own perfectly, all its curves and contours molding to yours like pieces of a puzzle box sliding smoothly into place, holding something secret and wonderful within.

All the nerves in your body zero in on the hard length pressed between you. Frankie’s cock burns with heat, and you can feel every ridge and vein where it rasps against your skin.

“Dulzura,” Frankie says, his mustache tickling your ear. “How do you feel about taking this back to the bed?”

You giggle and nod your consent, eyes shining. Frankie groans in relief and bundles you backward. Your back hits the mattress and he climbs atop you, your limbs tangling, kissing and caressing with mounting fervor. Your back arches and a breathy cry scrapes free as his cock drags through your sensitive folds. Frankie lets out a guttural moan at the feeling, clutching at you like he can’t get close enough.

“Frankie...’Fish,” you gasp, through the chaos of your thoughts. You have just enough willpower to pull back and meet his gaze. “Flip us over?”

Desire flares in his eyes. In a blurringly quick move, he spins you, and then you’re atop him, the base of his cock nestled against your sex. Frankie groans again at the sensation, seeming beyond words. He palms your thighs, your breasts. You feel short of breath, consumed by the need sweeping through you.

You wrap your hand around Frankie’s cock, stroking firmly. He makes a choked sound and his hips buck up from the bed.

“Mos,” he grits out. “Please.”

All you can do is nod. Rising up on your knees slightly, you position yourself over him, grasping his cock and running the tip of him through your wetness. Thighs trembling, you line him up at your entrance.

Frankie reaches for your free hand and entwines your fingers, prompting you to look up and meet his gaze. His hand squeezes yours in a wordless question.

Your heart swells, and you feel impossibly fond as you smile at him. Your Frankie. Even as far gone as you both are, he’s checking on you. Making you feel safe. In answer, you lower yourself down onto him.

The effect is swift and immediate. Your moans are loud enough to wake the stars; you forget everything but each other’s pleasure, the absolute euphoric rightness of this feeling.

Then you clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. “Shhh!” you remind him giddily.

Frankie looks utterly gone, his lips parted, awe and adoration on his face. The hair on his forehead is damp with sweat. “Move for me, querida,” he says, and the strained, pleading rasp in his voice shoots heat straight to your core.

You set a steady rhythm on him, your eyes fluttering shut as Frankie’s cock fills you, stretches you so deliciously you can already feel a familiar pressure building. The sinful ease with which he slides in and out of you is a testament to just how wet you are. His fingers stroke and squeeze your flesh in time with his vocal gasps, and when they brush your cheek, you open your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mumble. You’ve always thought Frankie was beautiful, but this…the muscles in his arms flex and pull through your movements. The intensity in his dark eyes as they drink in every inch of you, like he still can’t believe this happening. The restraint he’s showing, letting you set the pace, is evident in the tension you can feel in his body beneath you. It makes you grind your hips down, squeeze him, wanting to push past his cautiousness.

Frankie chokes back a shout at your change in rhythm, throwing his head back and exposing the length of his neck. Immediately you lean down to trace it with your tongue, relishing the taste of salt on his skin. He swears.

He grasps the back of your neck for the third time that night, and you whimper, ecstasy thrilling down your spine. “Please, Frankie,” you breathe, not even knowing what you’re asking for.

“Yes,” he answers roughly. He kisses you and then tugs you back upright. This time he thrusts up into you, hard, and the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the air. You cry out, needy and desperate, and Frankie growls in approval.

“Fuck, yes, Mos. Want to hear you, want you to feel good…” his praise stutters, some of it in Spanish now as his pace quickens.

Only Frankie could make you feel this good, and you make sure he knows it. He grips your hips firmly enough to bruise, but you don’t care; you want it, want him to mark you. Claim you, so there will never be any question about it again. You are his, completely.

“Frankie, my Frankie..” Pleas and praise tumble from your lips.

“Fuck, yeah.” Maybe he likes the idea of being yours, too, because he moans loudly in response. His palm splays against your side, slides across your skin until his thumb presses down on your clit.

Your nerves jolt. Fuck, you’re gonna come. Frankie’s thrusts speed up- had you said that out loud? Your breathing quickens; you can feel the tension rising in you as surely as a cresting wave.

“Mos,” Frankie gasps. “Can I..?” His eyes flicker to where your bodies connect.

You understand his meaning and your eyes widen. “Yes!” And the idea of him spilling himself inside you, the sudden force of his thrusts, the pressure of his thumb- the wave breaks.

Blinding pleasure crashes through you, a roaring in your ears muffling everything else. Distantly you feel yourself shake and keen; your walls pulse around Frankie’s cock, and then a new heat fills you as his hips slam into yours and stay there, buried deep. He groans, long and low in his throat.

There’s a moment of stillness as you both recover, the only sound your heaving breaths. Feeling wobbly, you topple forward, catching yourself with your palms on Frankie’s chest. You let out a soft groan as aftershocks ebb though you, every nerve singing.

“...Mos,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes still closed.

“Mm,” you manage, words still beyond your abilities.

“That was fucking amazing,” he breathes out the words on a sigh. He releases your hips to cover your hands with his. His eyes open. “You’re fucking amazing,” he says with more strength.

You can feel yourself blush. “Frankie...” You duck your head.

“Uh-uh, dulzura,” he scolds. He tips your chin back up. “You know I’ve always thought that about you.” He holds your gaze, his clear-eyed certainty so unlike the careful distance he kept before.

You lean down and press a kiss to his heart before snuggling into him, nose against his neck. He’s still inside you, softening slowly, and you savor the intimacy and connectedness of it. “I know,” you respond. “I’m just sorry I never did anything about it.”

Frankie strokes a soothing hand along your back. The air is close and humid after your exertions, and your skin is faintly damp with sweat. “Nothing to be sorry for. I never did anything either,” he points out.

You chuckle, a bit nervously. “Well, we’ve done something now.”

You can feel his laugh rumble through his chest, comforting, like the reverse of a cat purring on your lap. “No kidding.”

You wait, sensing he has more to say.

“Querida,” he prompts softly. You lift your head to look at him. His hair is a mess, all sweat-damp curls, and though his face is serious, his eyes are as soft as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart squeezes.

“I care about you too. You know our lives are crazy, and dangerous, so I was scared to say anything. Scared you didn’t feel the same. But...I can’t go back to you not knowing. I’m all in, Mos. If you want this, so do I.”

Frankie’s face is open, vulnerable. How could he possibly imagine that you’d want to go back? You shake your head at him. “Well, there’s no way I can top that speech, ‘Fish.” It feels like he’s holding his breath. You level an exasperated, affectionate look at him. “Of course I want this. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Before you’re even done speaking he’s kissing you, his lips and tongue saying what words cannot. As it deepens you shift forward, and Frankie’s cock slips out of you, causing you both to flinch and then laugh. His face crinkles adorably, and the moment makes you indescribably happy- the kind of contentment that comes from realizing you know exactly what you want. And right now, it’s this perfect, effortless bond you have with Frankie.

He gives you a shy smile. You lay your head down on his chest, overcome by a wave of satisfied tiredness. Idly you trace shapes across his abdomen with a finger while you speak. “You know, Catfish, your chest is much comfier than my bed. Mind if just I sleep here?”

He chuckles, and you think hearing Frankie’s laugh through his chest might be your new favorite sound. His arms, still wrapped around you, squeeze you lightly. “Please; stay.” He reaches out and clicks off the lantern. Despite the darkness, you get the feeling that both of you are still thinking, absorbing everything that just happened, but gradually your thoughts lull towards sleep.

Until Frankie’s voice slides through the dark: “I can’t believe you weren’t wearing underwear.”

---

A/N: Thank you for reading!! This is the first fic I’ve ever written, pls be nice. Fun fact, I originally intended for this to be a Frankie x Reader x Santi fic, but then decided I was getting too into the Frankie x Reader feels to do that. HOWEVER, if anyone is interested and even if no one asks lol, I might still write a threesome AU of this scenario

High School AUs

College/University AUs

⭐ A+ fics (imho) | All of the recs

High School AUs

High Scores by popfly ⭐

Kaner is a DDR master, Jonny is ultra-competitive. Bollig just wants to make out with Shawzy.

Dynamical Systems by jezziejay ⭐ - math geek patrick! jock jonny!

Jonny’s plenty smart, but there’s hockey practice just before a double math period every Tuesday and Wednesday morning. He gets to class on time. Physically, he’s there. But his mind is still on the ice. Throw in a kidney infection that keeps him home for two weeks, and Jonny’s struggling. Not failing, but that C is dragging his GPA down, and his mom is making clucking noises. The same noises that mean hockey time is coming up for review.

There’s a note on the student boards advertising tutoring.

promise i'm worthy (to hold in your arms) [One and Only series] - teenage angst and american douchebags ft. ryan kesler

"So come on and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile."

love is a contact sport by hazel, mermaid  ⭐ - high school soulmates!

"And the tragic reality of Patrick's life is that even though they broke up over a year ago, he and Johnny still play beautiful hockey together."

A high school AU, featuring dream-fish, bad movie dates, and a little bit of magic.

Movie Nights or Five Times Jonny Wanted Popcorn (and One Time He Didn’t) by CoffeeKristin

Patrick had only been working at the movie theater a few weeks when a noisy bunch of boys from his high school burst through the doors just before the last showing of Captain America: Civil War and come tumbling into the lobby, whooping it up. He sighed and put down the containers of popcorn he was counting, mentally preparing himself for the asshattery he was likely to endure.

“What can I get you?” he asked the crowd, and true to form, no one was listening so he waited another moment. Finally one of the boys got pushed to the front, stumbling into the counter. “Fuck, Duncs, not so hard,” he said, and oh. That was Jonathan Toews: Captain of the high school soccer team, president of the student council, son of the mayor. Basically, everything Patrick wasn’t.

do it how you want it done ⭐

(very vaguely) grease-inspired high school au.

yeah, i went there.

kissing your honeyed eyes by forochel

The one that's the British boarding school AU.

This Is What A Love Song Sounds Like by fourfreedoms  ⭐ - reunion fic but god the flashbacks! the angst!

When he came out after his freshman year of college his mother said she’d always known, and he’d had to fight down the bizarre wave of paranoia that maybe everybody knew, maybe they’d all just been letting him sweat all those years. It was crazy of course, there was only one person who’d known, who had any idea.Patrick Kane.

Ten years after they fucked around in high school, Patrick and Jonny meet back up at their high school reunion.

roll with it by hazel  ⭐

The one where a bunch of Blackhawks inexplicably go to boarding school, Tazer is the world's meanest DM, and Pat doesn't know why anyone would think cutting the head off a hydra was good idea.

Light Me Up by sahiya - where they both went to Shattuck!

Being serious about hockey always meant Patrick would have to leave home. For a long time he thought it would be for juniors and a billet family. But things don't go as planned, and he finds himself at Shattuck-St. Mary's.

His roommate's name is Jonathan Toews. He can't keep his water bottles on his side of the room, and he's unfortunately, stupidly hot. Because Patrick's life sucks.

boot theory by mentalistecbm - teen angst, break up

Everyone knows that they're broken up.

glory days by liketheroad ⭐ - soulmate, teen angst

He never expected his destiny to involve anything but hockey, never thought it would show up in flip flops, but when Patrick smiles at him across the locker room, quick and surprised, Johnny lets his priorities shift and change without a hint of reluctance or regret.

There's Only Blood Running In My Veins by mikarala - pwp

Patrick and Jonny are making out in Patrick’s bedroom when Jonny says it. “I--I,” he stutters out, in between a moan, “I want you to fuck me.”

Gold Seeking Ends by liveinfury - Flipped AU

“Wanna go on the tire swing with me after?” Jonny asks.

“No,” Patrick answers.

“Oh,” Jonny says, looking deflated. “What about the jungle gym?”

“Nope."

“Um, okay,” Jonny says, shrugging before walking away.Sam giggles some more. “I can’t believe Jonny, the dirt eater, likes you.”Patrick smirks at him. “Everyone likes me.”

(or Patrick and Jonny meet in the second grade. Jonny's instantly smitten, Patrick is...not. Ten years later, things start flipping.)

Keep Calm and Don't Think of Star Wars podfic by exmanhater ⭐ - A Clueless AU

After I once again assure Abby that Johnny and I are not, NOT related (by googling the difference between half-brother and stepbrother because jesus fucking christ am I am the only knowledgeable one around here?), she agrees to help.

but i can write a song 

“We’re not going to be called Jonny and the Patricks,” Jonny says, sounding entirely too put upon  about a name that’s clearly awesome.

[or; the high school band au you probably didn't ask for]

lost in brightness - pat, jon and a crowded train

“You’re gonna get caught one day,” Jonny sighs, herding Pat in front of him as they squeeze onto  the train, the crowd thicker than usual. It’s been raining on and off, fall well and truly taking the city in  its grasp. Jonny’s already looking forward to meeting Pat by his house every morning, red-cheeked  and rugged up, his face barely visible between his toque and scarf.

you're mending what's broken - a stats nerd Patrick story

The guy who sits behind Jonny in AP Stats wants to know how  many shots on goal he had last Tuesday. Or at least, that's how it starts.

A high school AU featuring stats nerd Kaner and his Tragic Hockey  Backstory (TM), without much time or inclination toward actual tragedy. Instead there is  discussion of Corsi. And kissing.

Examine Other Beauties by kiwoa - theater kids!

"I," Jonny says, and he slips his headset up from around his neck to nestle over his ears, "am not an actor."

"Good thing I don't need you to act."

"No."

"Jonny."

"Patrick."

"Please?" Kaner cants forward and tilts his face up to blink at Jonny. In the fluttering light that filters in from the stage, his eyes look unnaturally pale. "Just read the lines, okay? I want to see how well I've memorized them."

Jonny scrubs a hand over his face. The motion knocks his mike askew. "One scene."

A/S/L  ⭐ - 90s teenaged kids meeting on webcam omg

The internet is a dangerous place, or:

Patrick and Jonny meet, lie through their teeth, and fall in love. Mostly that last part.

Actual Prom King Brandon Saad by popfly  ⭐

Patrick might be a little jealous of the new kid.

Sure Brandon is basically the prom king from every feel-good teenage movie Patrick’s sisters have made him watch, but that doesn’t mean Jonny wants that.

Sign it with your heart by tictactoews + podfic by exmanhater  ⭐

Patrick loses a bet and is dared to plant an anonymous love letter into a random locker. It just so happens that the locker belongs to one Jonathan Toews, captain of the school hockey team.Meanwhile, Jonny finds himself in need of a math tutor, and following the advice of his teacher, he asks the new kid, Patrick Kane, for help.

a complicated kindness by liketheroad - young and figuring out d/s  ⭐

Patrick still remembers how scared Sharpy looked, just for a second there. He remembers not understanding why anyone would back away from Johnny when he was like that, why they wouldn’t want to strain closer, pushing to see how much further he’d go.

What Comes Easy by impertinence - summer camp of angst

Kaner's determined to never grow up; Tazer's determined to grow up as quickly as possible. Over eleven years of summer camp, they learn to meet in the middle. Set in stlkrchk's Camp Quaquanantuck universe.

mathletes are totally athletes by ukiyo91, yukonecho

Mathlete Patrick Kane never thought that when he was assigned to tutor hockey jock Jonathan Toews that he would be swept up into a new sport...or into Captain Serious.

Toews was like the guild leader Patrick had always aspired to be in WoW, but more of an asshole.

i'll be the embrace that keeps you warm by longtime_lurker - huddling for warmth

It is like death, but it is not death; lovelier. / Cold, inconvenienced, late, what will you do now / with the gift of your left life?

Clumsy by CoffeeKristin - a short first kiss fic uwu

“Knock it off,” she hissed at him. “He’s looking at you!”

“Who?” Patrick said, his head swiveling around, resulting in Erica smacking him again. “Hey! Quit hitting me!”

“Then quit being an idiot,” she huffed. “Jonny Toews, you dunce. He’s looking over here, and you’re biting on the string of your hoodie like a moron.”

look around once in a while by achilleees

One man’s struggle to take it easy.

Based off of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” but instead of girlfriends and daddy issues, there’s hockey and pining. And daddy issues.

Summer Lovin' by CoffeeKristin - est. relationship insecurities

Patrick's home from summer camp, and Jonny's first on his list of to-do's. Somehow a little actual angst/plot worked it's way in. But mostly it's just porn.

Ninety-Nine Point Three Percent by jimtiberiuskirk - best friends mutually pining

The problem is, is that Patrick is 99.3% sure that Jonny knows all about his giant, embarrassing man-crush on him.

bring it if you really want it by staraflur - harry potter AU

It starts like this:

Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so:

America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesn’t have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. There’s no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800’s, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably can’t control your powers, sport.

(if you're feeling down) i can feel you up by hawkeytime

"Hey," Patrick said appreciatively from behind where Jonny stood, stoic as always, by the side of the pool. "Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you have a sweet ass.”Or: How Patrick Kane spent his summer hitting on the hot lifeguard with the help of some inspired (read: awful) pickup lines.

kiss and tell by hawkeytime 

“Trust me,” Sharpy says, “this will be good for you.”And then, he shoves Jonny into what appears to be a mostly empty coat closet and slams the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck, Sharp!” Jonny calls, pounding at the door which is, of course, locked.

“Enjoy your seven minutes in heaven, Tazer,” Sharpy singsongs.Then, the bare bulb mounted on the ceiling flares to life, illuminating one Patrick Kane.

Fuck.

i know you are (but what am i) by booktubelover7 - always a girl!pat

Pat throws up her arms in celebration after Toews makes a beautiful goal off of Pat’s assist. She crows in celebration as Toews slams into her, shouting in her ear.

Pat’s playing, she’s playing, she’s playing. Not just that, but she’s winning too.When her line gets back to the bench, Pat leans over to speak into Toews’ ear. “Thank you,” she says. Her teammate just turns his head to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.

Love or Torture - a/b/o

Patrick Kane is too short, too Omega, and his heat too delayed for him to play hockey. Jonathan Toews has a plan to bring glory to both of them.

keep buying the stars by medusacascade22- teacher!Jonny 

“Fuck,” Jonny groans. He props his elbows up on his desk and lets his head fall into his hands. It’s going to be a long fucking year.

(or, in which Jonathan Toews is Patrick Kane's teacher, and shit gets real.)

College/Uni AUs

cello suite no. 1 - THIS IS ONE IS A CLASSIC 👌

The first time Jonathan meets Patrick Kane is because he hits him with a lacrosse ball.

In Jonathan's defense, he threw a perfect pass to Seabs, who failed to just reach the one or two feet above his head to catch it.

"Oh shit," Jonathan says when he watched the ball arc across the lawn and whack a blond kid squarely between his shoulder blades.

"Heads up!" he calls belatedly.

this is how we do it series by staraflur ⭐ - frat bros AU!!!

He doesn’t think Zeus is supposed to have a sword, but their Zeus does. So now Jonny does, because of course he’s in charge. He looks, Patrick is drunk enough to acknowledge, far better than anyone has a right to in a grody old Halloween costume that’s probably soaked up the butt sweat of dozens, if not hundreds, of Theta-presidents past. Jonny wears it, Patrick gets the sword. Win-win.

AKA that time there was a frat AU (of course).

This Heart Is Not For Wasting by fourfreedoms - oblivious best friends

Patrick puts his head in his hands. “How could this get any worse?”

“Wait, it’s not like, a big deal is it?” Duncs asks, looking at him and Jonny in turn. “The way you and Jonny are weird about each other? She’s gotta have made her peace with it ages ago.”

A college AU.

love song for love songs by boodreaus  ⭐ - angst, internalized homophobia

“Right,” Jonny says. “Cool.” He seems to hesitate, pausing when Patrick goes for the door handle, and then, right as Patrick’s bracing himself to run for the house, Jonny says, “You should come.”

Patrick turns back at him and is handed a piece of paper. “To our next show, I mean,” Jonny is saying as Patrick examines what turns out to be a flyer, thick black lettering taking up every square inch of space on the brilliant sunshine-colored surface. “It’s tomorrow night, at the showcase. Feel free to say yes or no or whatever. If you don’t know, it’s cool.”

“I’ll,” Patrick starts, and then stops, blinking up at him. Jonny’s just watching him, kind of, elbow resting on the steering wheel. “Maybe,” he finally says, and Jonny smiles.

yet we will make him run - some more angst, except more erudite

Kaner the English Lit major AU.

Sigma Chi series by hatrickane - frat bros hook up and then angst about it

Jonny and Patrick run into each other at a frat party. Patrick proposes a way to pass the time.

Can't Wait by LouLa - first time pwp

Pat's on a hair trigger.

when you flex like that - hookup in a frat party

Johnny isn’t drunk, but he does let Sharpy and a couple of frat-looking guys he doesn’t even know talk him into a contest of shots. It’s Sharpy’s fault — he appeals to the competitive side he knows Johnny can’t let go of at the best of times, and one of the guys, blonde curls, a lazy smirk of a grin, picks up on it pretty fast too.

Hope you don't mind by haroldslouis

“Oh, sorry, man,” the guy says, giving him a quick grin. “Thought you were someone else.” He taps the visor of Patrick’s snapback and just like that, he turns around and disappears into the crowd.Patrick doesn’t know how long he stands there, just looking at the general direction he disappeared in.

or, 5 times Jonny mistook Patrick for someone else + 1 time he definitely didn't

Room 4 Rent

Patrick stares at the ad for a while, clicking back and forth between the Craigslist page and his  fantasy hockey league, chewing on his bottom lip.

3 bedroom apartment near Loyola. One room available, others occupied by two male students.  Shared living room and kitchen. Two bathrooms. Rent split three ways. Email [email protected]  or call 773-639-7812 for more info. No texts please.

are you buying what i'm selling? - frat party buddies

The Sigma Chi Halloween Bash is in a week, Jonny’s holding two tickets, and he has nobody to go with.

He had a somebody to go with, until that somebody decided Jonny’s student athlete life wasn’t worth  hanging around for. Their relationship was already tanking anyway; Jonny’s more upset about  potentially wasting a $40 ticket than that shit ending. Whatever.

Just A Spark by heartstrings  ⭐ - magical realism!

In a desperate attempt to hide his feelings from the object of his affections, Patrick accidentally drinks a love potion that causes the people around him to fall for him. Too bad it seems to work on everyone but Jonny.

do you know who you are? by liveinfury - frat bros

“Sure, Cap. I’ll try to keep it quiet.” Patrick winks at Jonny. “But be honest, you like the noises I make, huh?”

“What? Of course not!" Jonny sputters. "I’m not gay!”

(or where Jonny can't figure out why he feels so uneasy when Patrick brings guys home to their frat house).

The Great Desk Assembly Project - they were roommates

“I’m going to nail some shit,” he says. “Jonny, come watch me nail some shit.”

“We share a room, I don’t need to watch you nail anything else.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Pat says with a laugh in his voice. He reaches back  behind him and punches Jonny in the shoulder for good measure.

No, It's Not A Secret by SimoneClouseau ⭐ - always a girl Jonny 

Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your boyfriend. No way, no way. I think you need a new one.

Jehanne Toews is dating a loser. Sometimes it takes a ridiculous awesome young star on the Blackhawks to see the light.

good form - always a girl Pat!  ⭐ 

“Best head of your life?”

“Yes, he was better than you, you competitive motherfucker.” Hayds says it like it’s a joke, like it’s funny, like it’s not the single most devastating thing a girl could say to Pat.

“A hockey bro gave you the best head of your goddamn life? Am I in the fucking Upside Down?”

“Believe it, baby. Jonathan Toews: hockey bro and magical pussy-eating wizard.”

forever i'll try for you and i by staraflur - always girls Jon and Pat!

It’s extra great—whenever Jo’s losing, she always makes like their running point tally competition isn’t real. Tonight’s true to form: when Trish holds up three fingers and points at herself, then two before pointing at Jo, Jo actually scoffs as she pokes at a couple chicken breasts with the tongs, trying to find the best one.

remedial at love - jonny ‘i'm great at math but the math tutor's really hot so i'm gonna pretend i'm not' toews

There have been a lot of things Kaner’s done that could be considered suspect. He chose the  Backstreet Boys over Nsync for the Kane Dance-Off Championship when he was 15. He opted to go  to Disneyland instead of Disney World for his high school graduation present. He frosted his tips after  coming out in 12th grade because he thought that was like, the obvious thing to do until he realized  this was not, in actuality, the 90s.

But this one. Calling up ‘Jtoews’ and requesting tutelage in math when he was a fucking wiz at math  was -- the most highly suspect of all.

Drink yourself under, fuck yourself over by Mythisea

Jonathan Toews is the sophomore captain of the college hockey team. Patrick Kane recently quit hockey before coming to college.

Jonny thinks Patrick would be perfect on his wing. Patrick would rather be drinking. Jonny does not approve.

Make The Moves Up As I Go by agirlnamedfia - tutor!Jonny with a dash of angst and pining

Patrick has his first Econ 202 class on the second day of the spring semester. It doesn’t exactly go well.

how to make boys-next-door out of assholes series by bessyboo, thisissirius - textfic

Yo man, Sharpy's having a party tonight. You up for it or you gonna be a boring shit and study???

it's only you and me by crystaljules - graduation blues

"We're so fucking stupid."

Overdosed on Confidence by runphoebe ⭐ - fwb, internalized homophobia

“Someone could -,” Jonny starts, breaking off when Patrick ducks down to draw Jonny’s lips against his, kissing him fever-hot and wet and desperate. Jonny’d be embarrassed by how hungrily he responds, but he knows Pat’s into it, moaning unashamedly into Jonny’s mouth when he tightens a hand around Pat’s neck. “Someone could see,” he finally gets out, voice rough, when Patrick pulls back, as if Patrick’s supposed to believe that that’s any sort of protest.

Patrick licks his lips, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of them in that familiar way like when Patrick's got a particularly bad idea on his mind. “Guess you better be quick then, huh?” he says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows at Jonny. Jonny’s a second away from rolling his eyes and asking what he means when Patrick slithers off Jonny’s lap and onto his knees on the floor beneath Jonny’s table and - oh. Oh.

Silence Gives You Space by liveinfury - pining, misunderstandings

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“’Course not,” Patrick says. “I’m just letting you do your own thing.”

“My own thing?”

“Yeah, didn’t want to crowd your space,” Patrick blurts out. Fuck, he didn’t mean to actually say that.“You’re not…”

“Cool.”

tuck you in - getting together

“You sexiled again?" He smirks and stuffs down the fondness that rolls  through him at theway Jonny’s hair is rumpled and a little bit wavy.

Jonny sits up slowly, groaning. “Yeah. Fuck, this is the third time in a week  and a half.”

obvious from the start - radio DJs Pat and Jon!

It’s not like Patrick even likes radio, because he hasn’t really listened to  anything that’s not on his iPod or his Pandora stations in years, but when he notices the red and  white flyer advertising the student radio station on the ground, he picks it up with the  excuse that he’s trying to be environmentally friendly.When he played hockey they told Patrick that he was too small, too short to  be a hockeyplayer; that he’d never make it because of his size. Hockey is, was, his heart  and soul, and he’d put years and years of his life into the one thing he knew he was good  at; threw his very being into the best he could be to prove that he can do it, be the best,  even if he was small.

Patrick supposes maybe he'll find something else that he’s just as good at.

stupid college boys series by 19trash88 - Jonny is the cute guy from Econ class

Patrick’s not one to wax poetic about a penis, but if ever there was a reason to, Jonathan Toews’ cock would be at the top of the list.

Green Light by heartstrings - friends to lovers

Patrick knows two things: he likes sex and he likes Jonny. If Jonny's newly single there's no reason not to combine the two. Right?

Everybody Wants to Touch Some(body Paragraphs) by Kerfluffle  ⭐

Wherein Jonny writes the worst essay ever, and weirdness abounds.

Motivation by somethingnerdythiswaycomes  ⭐ - pwp

Only Jonny could keep working on his LIT-110 paper while Patrick was getting himself off next to him. Fuck, but Patrick loved him so much.

Muse series by by somethingnerdythiswaycomes

So Jonny had applied for every damn job he was qualified for, even the "life model" one TJ goaded him into.So Jonny had received an email the next day asking for his availability to come in for a session.So, as it turned out, it wasn’t some random chick that was going to draw him. It was some random dude.

So "life model" apparently meant "nude model."

You Love Me, I Love You Harder So by leyley09 - overly competitive boys on the hockey team

Patrick circles around him at center ice. “Jonathan, my team is going to kick your team’s ass so hard your parents will be embarrassed without even knowing why.”“I’m gonna give you a lesson in goal scoring you’ll never forget.”“Toews, you couldn’t give me a lesson in long distance spitting. Anything you can do, I can do better.”“Oh yeah?”“I can do anything better than you.”

Jonathan Toews is used to be being the best. He has zero clue what to do with competition.

Especially when the competition is cute.

middle ground by boodreaus - college road trip, friends to lovers

Jonny, Patrick, and an excellent adventure.

Who Knew by themistrollsin

Jonathan and Patrick meet after they're forced to go to a party by their best friends (Adam and Brent respectively).

Night Moves by heartstrings - meetcute

After a series of unfortunate drunk events that lead him from falling into a snowbank to being laughed at by the police, Jonny meets Patrick in an elevator.

Ignite My Fire, Object Of My Desire by ThalassicThedes ⭐- theater boys!!!

A good ol' fashioned College Au in which the college itself is hardly even mentioned. Just... make of this what you will.

absolute beginners by heartstrings, thundersquall

That time Jonny walked into a diner and accidentally got himself a temporary fake boyfriend.

Like A Classic - royalty!Jonny

So: due to a series of complicated and improbable events involving some sort of life debt and signed promise from two generations ago, it was decreed that Patrick had to marry the Crown Prince of Canada.

Captain Oblivious by wantstothrill - royalty!Pat

Why would Jonny care about the American royal family visiting his university? He's Canadian. He hasn't paid any attention to Prince Patrick since he was a teenager. He's more concerned with the very hot guy he's just run into, who's name also happens to be Patrick. What a coincidence.

+

check out the high school AUs tag aaand the college AUs tag @ 1988rebloggedfic!

Session 36 Notes

The session in which I have come to realize that both Selphina’s player and the DM are spelling her nickname Fee instead of Phi. Henceforth, I will be doing the same. Also the session in which we further explore Longview and get to know more people in Rana's home town, help some of them out, get revenge for Harold the alpaca, Stellan gifts Fee with +1 daggers to help protect his sister, and then we head back out on the road for Bouldergap.

@gher-bear​ @aradow​ @telurin​ @epimetala

On this day we continue catching up with various townsfolk of Longview, in particular the ones we meet at The Smiling Dragon tavern/inn.

We get lots of history lessons from the oldest dragonborn ever, tell the story of Perfection (among others), help Jibru the soft-spoken, new-agey orc with her plants (well primarily Rana does this), encourage, Dicho a travelling bard in training on his adventuring break (primarily Diem), and solve the mystery of Shima's missing alpacas.

This involves a revenge one-shot by Fee of the giant owl responsible for killing poor Harold in front of all the other alpacas.

We stop by for one last visit with Rana's mother, Romy, and her brother, Stellan. The latter gives Fee two +1 crafted daggers he made to use in place of her assassin ones she can't be seen with near Bouldergap and Stoneroost.

After that, we're on our way down the road to Bouldergap.

(Read More)

(The Smiling Dragon tavern)

On our way to the tavern, when Diem finds out the name, they rib Rana with a smirk. “The smiling dragon? How sure are you about the tavernkeep?”

Rana ignores them.

It’s probably 2-3pm

The Smiling Dragon has a nice, homey interior and basically looks like the Green Dragon Inn from The Hobbit inside.

The barkeep is behind the bar doing barkeep things.

We see an Aladdin-looking human bard with a lute (Dicho Acaa), a super ancient female dragonborn (Gran Tewafey; one of those ladies who are now just too old to die), and the barkeep-owner, Grismor Fefoki, behind the bar.

Rana knows both the barkeep and elderly dragonborn (no mention of knowing the bard, so I assume not). The elderly dragonborn, Gran, has looked this old ever since Rana’s known her. Rana nods to her as she comes through the door, this person is a fixture of the town and Rana is unsurprised to see her there.

The old dragonborn looks us all over as we enter, but it takes her a second before she goes “Rana? Who are these people with you, come over here, what in tarnation!?”

Rana: Oh hey, Gran…

Diem introduces themself as we approach with a respectful, hopefully charming bow. “I bet you have all the best stories.”

Gran: Finally, a young person who respects their elders - you look a little strange but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and I do have some good stories - people should listen to their elders more!

Rana: We’ll be more than happy to listen - I’m gonna run up and get some food first and then keep you company (Rana practically runs to the bar).

Gran: I was about to leave but yeah I’ll keep you company.

Fee: Ooooh no.

We’re in for having our ears talked off and Diem is loving it, even if it is the somewhat dry material one would expect from schoolhouse history lessons.

In one of the stories, Fee interrupts “Exactly what IS tarnation?”

Gran has a story about this and the etymology too. Her way of speaking is as if she was around for the entire growth of this word lol.

Rana picks up a dessert for Gran.

The barkeep gives Rana a commiserating look (I already got you, I see what’s going on). They gossip about Rana’s niece and niephio’s mischief, namely how Taniel had not so long ago brought home a wild animal, just like auntie Rana used to.

Meanwhile, despite the occasionally dry lesson-style stories, Diem is loving it anyway - sorry ya’ll they’re prompting off this etymology lesson by asking what she knows about all the animals around her speaking draconic.

Gran is definitely of the mindset all of the native animals speaking draconic is the blessing of V’kandis. “We’re a blessed town. Nothing bad ever happens here, no bandits come through, no wild animals attacking, we’re really favored by our god.” This segues into proselytizing and being urged toward the priest before we leave.

Diem is finally less than thrilled by the religious preaching bits and their attention begins to wander to the bard who misunderstands their attention and fumbles his song a little and is painfully self-conscious. He thinks Diem is watching because he missed a chord or some other critique-minded senpai is looking thing. Meanwhile, Diem feels bad for him and can’t wander over or try and encourage him instead because Gran is snapping her fingers at them to pay attention. Diem puts a pin in approaching the bard later to encourage and make it up to him.

All you can drink potions is probably mostly joke potions. Rana orders a round of the local brews including one for Gran.

Gran begins quizzing Rana about her recent travels and how we all met.

Fee: First we had these mighty rats to fight in a tavern much like this one.

Gran: Rats? Why would you just be going off and killing rats, where are you from?

Rana: They’re not the same kinda rats Gran, these ones don’t talk.

Gran: Not from around here, I definitely understand, I definitely knew that.

Rana: I picked up this group in Rethwellian

Gran gives us another once over, her eyes falling on Ixayl'anu now and squints at her “I didn’t realize Rethwellian dragonborn were feathered, I thought that was some kind of headdress but you’re not…?”

Ixayl'anu: No no…

Rana starts stuffing her face to avoid being involved in this topic

Ixayl'anu: Not from Rethwellian. From a little bit farther away than that I think.

Gran perks up: Oh okay, where might that be?

Ixayl'anu: The Seejit (spelling?) Isles?

Gran looks at her like she just said Atlantis: Never met anyone from there before. Is it true that ya’ll have a dragon as an emperor over there?

Ixayl’anu: Yeah

Gran: To each their own

Ixayl’anu: No less weird than animals speaking draconic

They move on as Ixayl'anu asks Gran what she does.

She teaches history.

More conversation I missed.

Rana: We came on a boat in the water, never been on one before have you?

Gran: I’ve seen ‘em but I don’t like ‘em, never been on one.

Rana: Apparently these two have shipwrecked before (she indicates Diem and Ixayl’anu)

Gran: See, that’s why you shouldn’t.

Ixayl’anu: I technically never shipwrecked, my ship made it, I didn’t.

Diem: I mean...yeah, my ship made it too, I just got swept overboard and onto the wild expanse no less.

Gran: That explains why you look the way you do.

Diem: I will try not to take that personally….

We get ship avoiding advice courtesy of Gran.

Rana asks after various rumors in town.

Gran talks about livestock going missing and various other things because Gran knows everything and everyone.

Except one thing, apparently: I’m an old lady how would I know what kind of animal is out there?

Rana: You talk to a lot of people

Gran: That would require them knowing what’s going on. (after some thought) About a week ago Shima mentioned she was missing a few alpacas.

Diem: Any giant mole hills involved?

This question eventually leads to the story of their recent adventure with Diem dropping the word abominations in Perfection and several eyes turn our direction.

Now that all eyes are on Diem, obviously waiting for more, they launch into the Perfection story loud enough for eavesdroppers (21 performance). The bard in training stops to listen as well. He adds a chord every so often but he’s very much entranced as well.

Diem notices and encourages with faint prestidigitation sounds, a smile and a wink which totally shuts the poor guy’s brain down instead.

Jibru Tiklot, an older orc lady claps at the end and afterward asks to make sure there was a noon sun druid there.

Diem says their leader was there (because Edea looks like a definite leader to them).

Jibru: How very fortuitous that you were there then, that’s good to hear. (She’s very soft spoken and new agey).

Now that Jibru has Rana’s attention though, she also wants to know if Rana is staying awhile because she has some things she’d love some help with.

Rana: Oh yeah sure (not missing a beat)

They arrange things in exchange for cookies, Rana presuming again to speak for the whole group without asking first lol.

Rana: What sort of issue am I looking at so I can come prepared?

Oh it’s my <insert jungle plant name I missed>.

They talk about it a little, Rana belatedly asks if that’s okay with us, we’re fine with it. Jibru and Rana arrange to meet after food, drink, and stories.

We learn one of the reasons Rana was inspired to leave Longview in the first place was probably traveller stories from this very tavern.

Fee at some point talks about Miova and taking ships to other areas and such.

Rana talks about how super nice and helpful Fee’s friend Dima is (and Fee’s sister being so nice).

Fee gives her a ‘really?’ sort of look about Dima being nice, looking around to see if anyone appeared to recognize the name.

Also, Fee starts investigating around this establishment regarding use of thieves’ cant (25). She notices there are a lot of intricate carvings in the walls and beams, lots of smiling dragons built into the craftsmanship, there are small symbols on the front of the bar that indicate secret codes. An X with a top and an oval with 3 wavy s lines on the bar (bread symbol). On a side beam there’s also a triangle with a pea in it, spear or arrow on top of pea (people inside will…?). Triangle with the downward sword.

(A conversation about bread)

When they pay, Fee tips extra to Grismor after she’s observed this guy seems to be a cool person who helps people in need out.

Fee, in thieves’ cant while complimenting his bread: We seem to have friends in common

Grismor (while also pretending to talk about bread): Not friends but it pays to know the local players/powers.

Fee (so much lovely bread and your brew was lovely): Yes, I agree. Used to be on the payroll myself, but guess I could call them acquaintances also.

Grismor (thank you kindly stranger, please don’t mind that Diem is totally filling in what our fake conversation was like - mmmm bread - these two can REALLY talk about bread) Sounds like you made the right decision, seem like a good group of people you’re here with now.

Fee (Yes, do you have any other pastries I can sample?): Oh you know Rana

(DM Clarifications about earlier points: When Rana mentioned Dima out loud, Fee had noticed Grismor perked up in a negative sort of way recognizing the name. Fee noticed he had lots of symbols. “Safe resting place” “we offer free food here” “People here will guard you”)

Fee (I am all about bread, simply can’t get enough of it, do you have bread I can take on the road?): Do you have any current business with our mutual acquaintance?

Grismor (Sure, I can pack you up some bread, always love a good bread aficionado): No, I’m happy...more retired at this point

Fee (Excellent, I can smell it all from here, could you add a few sweet breads? Stuffed pastries?): I feel ya. Well if you need anything hypothetically we’ll be going back there eventually, I’ll do you a favor (being charming). (insight check on Grismor’s response: natural one - 3 total)

He kinda looks at her and he pats her cheek (All the bread you like little gnome, I’ll toss in a few free samples for the road). “Anytime you need something, just let me know. This is a great conversation, I feel like it’s been illuminating, but I don’t need anything right now, thanks.”

(He is very happy with her though)

Rana is finishing up the story about Ixayl'anu’s feather theft, occasionally glancing over at Fee and the barkeep being 100% slick and believable about their bread conversation that Diem totally did not make up for them after the fact.

When Fee returns “Man I’m tired.”

Rana: It’s after noon…

Diem: To be fair your sleep was disturbed.

Rana tries to ask about missing livestock.

Ixayl'anu suggests we can go talk to people around town about it instead.

As things are winding down Rana tries to get Jibru’s attention.

Ixayl'anu says she’ll go with, Diem says they’re gonna stick around and talk to the bard. Fee says she’s gonna take a nap.

Rana: Here? In the middle of the crowd?

Grismor: I do actually have a spare bed she can use.

After a brief exchange he insists it’s between friends, don’t worry about it.

Fee goes upstairs to nap in the sort of hold-over room for emergency issues like a friend’s friend is about to sleep in a bush drunk, rather than an official room.

(Off to Jibru’s)

Rana and Ixayl’anu go off with Jibru. She ushers them into a house full of plants and crystals, and new agey homey stuff. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with it. It just doesn’t seem to…(missed words) I moved it into and out of the sun and it doesn’t like that either...can you help?” (among a list of other things she’s tried)

Rana nature checks 10 - the leaves look a little ragged in addition to being sad and droopy, soil is dry, and she knows that it’s a tropical plant, not a desert plant.

Jibru: I mist it every day and I moved it into the house…

The heat is fine, it’s probably drying out though.

So I should water it more, is what you’re saying…?

Rana casts lesser restoration on the plant, starting with that. It still looks a little droopy, but the edges of the leaves fill in a little bit and it gives her two new leaves immediately.

“Oh we need water.” Jibru leaves to go get some. When she gets back: “I knew you could do something with it, it’s already looking so much better.”

Rana: It did seem to have some sort of disease (medicine check of 13 - she notices some fungus gnat infestation crawling out while it’s being watered).

Rana advises her to get someone to sell her some gnat eating lizards for it. In a controlled fashion, she’s going to cast plant growth to invigorate it and all the other nearby plants too.

Jibru’s eyes get big “Oh my gosh…” She was just going to give us cookies but now...she gives Rana a plate of very delicious snicker doodles and an herbalist’s bundle which does some cool things: Rare (These ingredients can be chewed raw for minor effects or, if you are proficient with the ‘herbalism kit’, you can spend 6 hours brewing any number of one type into potions for no extra cost, each bundle has 1d4 ingredients, roll a D6 to determine what each ingredient is:

Witch weed - (raw) water breathing for 5 minutes; (brewed potion) disguise self or water breathing for an hour.

Pepper berries - (raw) resist cold for a minute; (brewed potion) resist any element or fire breath.

Ogre ear - (raw) advantage to your next attack roll; (brewed potion) hill giant strength or potion of growth

Lover’s thorn - (raw) advantage to charisma checks for 1 minute; (brewed potion) philter of love or potion of poison.

Ghostbloom - (raw) false life; (brewed potion) invisibility.

Mother’s rest - (raw) resist disease for an hour; (brewed potion) lesser restoration or greater healing.

Rana does have proficiency and sits in small talk with Jibru, chatting about plants, medicinal herbs, and things like that.

She’s one of the people in town Rana typically gets along well with.

Ultimately they say their goodbyes about an hour heading back to the inn where Diem has spent their time trying to encourage and set the bard there at ease. They roll an 18 persuasion at this, primarily accomplished by admitting they’re not a bard either, just an entertainer. The bard is a little sad about this, but also gets over his senpai noticed me thing enough for conversation. Diem finds out he’s on a little bit of an adventuring gap year.

They finish encouraging his future efforts by complimenting all the things they enjoyed about his current performance and rejoin their friends when they enter.

(Enter Shima)

Back together at the tavern, we take cookies, and a pretty lady named Shima Paravash walks in. She appears to be a human about Rana’s age with tan skin and long silver-white hair. They’re not really friends, but they know each other (she’s more Stellan’s friend).

Shima: Rana, I heard that you were in town...are you busy? Are you gonna be in town long?

Rana: Probably at least until tomorrow, but we have time for stuff - what’s going on?

Shima: We keep alpacas...we’ve had an alpaca or two go missing (nervous)

Rana: We actually just heard about that and were gonna check out what’s going on, don’t want livestock going missing.

Shima takes in her friends (the rest of us): I notice you have friends with you…

Diem introducing themself: Diem, lovely to meet you.

Further introductions are made. Ixayl’anu says her full name.

Rana: Ixie is easier

Diem: She doesn’t particularly like Ixie though, Rana (verbal elbow)

Rana (matter of fact): But Ixie’s just easier.

Ixayl’anu to Shima: I prefer Ixayl’anu, please.

Shima turns back to Rana: We haven’t found any bodies or anything.

Rana: We can check it out now.

Shima looks surprised: Oh yeah we can do it now.

Some conversation missed on the way to Shima’s farm.

Shima: Rana’s mom will buy some fleece from us on occasion (they have alpacas of various colours)

Shima’s family definitely does not own the town (Rana is confused about where that impression came from - and I am not sure who asked in the first place between Fee or Ixie).

Shima hangs out by Rana/closer to her, asking the same questions everyone else has so far.

Rana gives her a more complete answer since she’s friends with Stellan - nothing to cause a panic, but a little about the investigation on weirdness with the meteors. She wants the town to be informed but if she lets the wrong thing slip gossip would make it an apocalypse by morning.

Shima doesn’t take us to the house directly, but instead to the paddock where the ones that went missing were last. “This is where they were, we’ve check the fences, I just went out to feed them and do field rotation and they just weren’t here and nobody stole them, I don’t know what to do…”

Rana asks a question I missed.

Shima: There were only two

The other ones were acting nervous like there was a predator around but we haven’t seen anything…

We find out this happened about 4 days ago. Shima hasn’t heard of anyone else missing livestock around town.

Good perception checks all around (Diem actually got a 17!), Rana got a nat 20 - she hears birds but doesn’t see any. Alpacas in the distance do still appear to be nervous, it’s a nice clear day.

Fee squeaks out to lure a local rat for answers. Side note: For future reference, help Fee remember her rat ring adds 2 to her stealth - nat 20 for total 22 persuasion.

Shima looks like she thinks it’s very strange. As she’s saying she hasn’t seen any small things to question around for awhile now though.

However, as she’s saying that a vole pops up “Well, howdy.”

Fee: Oh hello rodent of the brown.

Vole: I’m a vole.

Fee: We are looking for the missing livestock, do you know where all the livestock went?

Vole: Well I uh don’t really go out from under the ground but I have been hearing a bunch of - I’ve been hearing some loud sounds at night, like a big predator so I didn’t think I should come out at night anyway.

Fee: That’s totally valid, stay safe my friend.

She finds out it’s just recently and not all night, but off and on.

Fee: Do they smell?

He doesn’t know he runs when he hears the noise.

Fee gives him a rat treat (Ixayl'anu has been translating the vole’s words)

Vole: Thanks!

Fee: Thank you Mr. Vole

Vole: Come back any time if you’ve got more of these snacks.

Rana heads toward the alpacas by the end of this exchange. She casts speak with animals to understand the alpaca.

Rana: Hey, I’ve got a question for you?

Their heads all swivel in surprise. The bravest alpaca approaches.

Rana: I hear some things have been happening in the area, do you know why that paddock over there is empty?

They all look at her and start talking over each other saying things like “Are you gonna help us?” and “There’s a monster at night that comes out.” and “Yeah, they ate Harold!”

Rana: That sounds really bad I’d like to make that not happen, do you know where it’s coming from?

The brave alpaca points with its nose toward the iron heights in the hillier direction: “Yeah it’s real quiet and then it suddenly appeared - just lifted him! It was a flying monster the size of a barn with glowing eyes.

Rana: Did it look like the normal big flying birds that come around?

They all look around.

Brave alpaca: I’ve seen little birds? I guess it had feathers?

Rana: You mentioned it had glowing spots?

Alpaca the Brave: The eyes, they were just bright yellow and it was just huge. They confer amongst themselves. It was a big bird.

Rana: I think I know what it might be...is there anything else you want me to do?

Alpaca the Brave: Can you tell them we’d like to be inside at night? In the barn please?

Rana: I will tell them, I have a feeling they won’t have a problem with that ‘cause we wouldn’t want anything to happen to anyone else like it did Harold. We’ll see about getting rid of big bird too.

They all nod like good good

Rana: Thank you very much.

Rana comes back and tells all of us and Shima.

Shima: But we would have seen...do you think it’s a roc?

Rana: All they know is that it was big, it had feathers, and it carried Harold off.

Shima looks confused: Maybe after all this is over I can have you tell me what the alpacas all call each other?

Rana agrees (and notes that she will do so before we leave).

Rana nature checks, knows there’s giant owls and giant eagles - ones she’s seen from a distance before. Giant bird form is thus gifted to her repertoire of shapeshifts.

We talk about spending the night out there to keep watch, help protect Rana’s village.

Rana makes sure we’re okay with that. We talk briefly about our quest, but we were planning on staying one more night anyway.

Shima, talking about sheltering the alpacas: It’s a little tight but if that’s what they want…

Rana: They were adamant about wanting that, and you might wanna tell the others to bring their livestock in for the night too so this thing doesn’t fly past here looking for food.

Shima says she’ll send a bird.

We return to Rana’s home/mother to tell her the plan and pick up our stuff for the night.

(A plan of revenge-camping for poor Harold)

Ixayl'anu is taking the elk with her to use as bait.

Rana convinces her mom to get the sheep inside and camels if they’ll fit.

Rana sets camp up under tree cover in the tiny hut.

Ixayl'anu and Rana swap watch places since Rana’s exhausted from the previous night’s lack of true rest (Ixayl’anu first, Rana with Diem on last watch).

Ixayl’anu’s perception is a 15 - it’s quiet for her watch, she spends a lot of the evening listening to the birds chitter in gossipy draconic, just regular bird talk in draconic though too. Nice little wind background noise. No owls spotted.

Fee’s middle watch perception 9. She’s just a little distracted, she’s confused about why we’re looking for rocks on the ground, why we keep talking about rocks, inspecting the local rocks for movement - it’s probably a desert thing. Something these farmers know that she doesn’t.

Elk has been told to stand watch, still in easy sight, beacon in the field, playing bait, as it were. Elk has passive perception of 10 - gets 14 perception, he snaps his head up a few times.

To Ixayl’anu through the night in their telepathic bond: Can i eat this? Can i eat this? He eventually goes over to talk to the alpacas for a bit: What’re you doing in there? (Ixayl’anu doesn’t get their side of whatever conversation might have happened)

Diem rolls 18 on perception, Rana 16. We still don’t notice what happened until (Ixayl'anu will notice immediately) the elk gives a screaming, bugling cry as it is already being lifted up by a dark shape - we didn’t notice the silent approach.

Rana: Found it!

Ixayl'anu is awake because the elk’s screaming bloody murder in her mind.

It is about 100 yards away.

The elk makes it’s contested strength check at a 22. It takes 1d6 dmg as it falls to the ground (full 6). As it does we hear an angry screech of frustration as the creature whirls back around.

Elk is stunned but Ixayl'anu is calling him back immediately.

Rana casts earthbind immediately: Yellow strips of magical energy loop around the creature. The target must succeed on a Strength saving throw, or its flying speed (if any) is reduced to 0 feet for the spell’s duration. An airborne creature affected by this spell safely descends at 60 feet per round until it reaches the ground or the spell ends.

She tries to identify what this is through the pale yellow glow of magic around it in the distance. She sees this is a giant great horned owl. 23 nature check - generally the ones who come down to hunt livestock only when there’s no other food available or they’re injured/can’t catch normal food in a proper hunt.

Rana: Take it down!

Fee hits the owl for 15 - 7dmg + 17 sneak attack dmg (24 sneak attack dmg). It dies in a poof of feathers, all salvagable parts are still salvageable.

The yellow magic binding it to the ground fades.

We trek over to check it out.

Elk comes up slightly bloodied and wild-eyed.

Ixayl’anu: Oh…don’t worry, it’s over now.

She lightly slaps her elk’s shoulder and casts lay on hands, getting an appreciative emotion back.

Even with our crap investigation roles, this owl is very thin, Harold didn’t do much for it.

Ixayl'anu is doing loops keeping watch, working off excess energy.

We discuss what to do with the rest of the night now, deciding to just keep camping out til morning.

Rana: We don’t need a hut

Diem just gives her a look and summons the hut anyway.

Ixayl'anu is too keyed up and running circles with the elk.

Rana camps out in the grass and fresh air.

Ixayl'anu’s perception is 16 - doesn’t see much.

Rana collects some feathers (11 survival - 5 feathers before she gets frustrated - tougher than she expected)

Rana and Diem talk about why it was starving and if more predators might be on the way.

Ixayl'anu calms down enough to take a good look at the bird (7 lol). She can’t see any obvious signs of broken bones, but she doesn’t see any other hints of anything. Feathers are kinda ragged but it’s late in the year, not sure if that means anything. Can’t tell its age. It was able to fly and lift the elk though.

We move on to talk about the two routes to Bouldergap and on to Stoneroost and how Rana has been there but reminds us you can’t just get in Stoneroost. One just does not simply walk into Stoneroost.

We discuss how unlikely it is this giant owl was a symptom of something more sinister that needs to be immediately checked out as opposed to an isolated incident that's been taken care of. We also discuss whether it would be worth taking Rana's usual path through the mountains instead to both make sure everything's good up there with the wildlife while still making our way to Bouldergap.

With an 8 survival check Rana thinks the travel time between her path through the mountains and taking the road is about the same, if she were on her own. In the process she calls them “my mountains” however, which Diem finds charming.

Diem: ‘My mountains?’ Well now I feel like I have to see them up close - like some of your family I’ve yet to meet.

Rana admits it may actually take us longer since we’re not used to mountain travel like she is. Her path through the mountains may be quicker, but she just doesn’t know about us because alone she’s very adept at mountains.

By way of a not serious answer, Diem alters their appearance to look exactly like her, clothing and all and mimics her voice: I’m very adept at mountains.

Rana: I’ll remind you of that when I’m fishing you out of a crevasse.

We decide to take the main road.

As sun starts to break the family comes out to see the bird and Shima talks to us.

Rana: Got you a present.

Some missed words about whether it’s the culprit.

Rana: It tried to snatch my friend’s elk so I imagine it’s what took your alpaca.

More missed words back and forth about these things being common, coming down to feed on farms when injured, all that jazz and how Shima’s never seen anything like it but Rana thinks it’s perfectly ordinary out there.

Shima: You go up in the mountains though...this could defintely eat a person.

Rana: I’ve never been eaten by one.

Diem: No, we left that up to the quetzalcoatlus *ribbing Rana quietly*

Shima is encouraged to hire somebody or something to make use of the rest of the carcass.

We totally gave Fee the credit but the story is gonna become Rana the giant owl slayer in stories.

We all get a nice breakfast.

(One more visit with mom and Stellan before we go)

We get herded back to Rana’s mom’s place.

We establish than when Diem and Romy were talking cloth/clothes, Diem gave Rana’s mom some of the nice cloth we got in Budelia from our fight with the vampire, Lady Sinnah.

We see Stellan one more time. He pulls Rana aside and hands her a pair of daggers: These are for your gnome friend - better daggers while she can’t use the other ones.

Fee thanks him, and wearing the daggers of a known blacksmith is going to be helpful. It’s also easy to notice they’re dwarvish style in make. There’s lots of teasing about Fee refusing the daggers at first, saying her old standard ones are fine, but I’m not sure if that refusal was actually in character.

On the road to Bouldergap we see a lot of priests of Sunhame for V’kandis. It takes us 2 days on the road to arrive to our next destination.

Grow

Summary: Dean always notices something special about the reader when the are out and decides to show a kinder side of himself.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: language, mostly fluff, a little angst at the end

A/N: One shot by me, Dean just being a really fluffy little bean. There will be mistakes.

Word count: 1732

Dean’s POV-

We were out on a supply run getting somethings before the storm came in the next few days. Sam and I were getting the beer and food while Y/N was off somewhere, and I knew exactly where. I rounded the corner and saw the sign [PLANTS] hanging from the ceiling. I walked over and there she was in a maze of plants that made it look like she was a princess lost in a jungle.

She was lost of course but in her own mind. She walked slowly around the tables with her hand extended feeling the leaves of ever plant she could reach. She stopped suddenly and picked up a small fuzzy looking green plant with deep purple flowers smiled and put it back on the table. I watched as she continued to do this with a big smile on her face as she looked at all the plants. She does this every time we come into a store that has plants, and I watch her every time. 

“What are you looking at?” Sam asked dropping an arm load of food into the cart. He knew damn well about my crush on Y/N and that I was looking at her.

“Shut up!” and with that she heard us and reluctantly came walking over leaving her jungle dream behind.

“We ready to head out?” Y/N asked looking at the now full cart.

“Yup, let’s get out of here.” I said.  We checked out, loaded up baby and headed back to the bunker. Once we got back to the bunker, we all grabbed bags and headed inside.

“Who the hell got spam?” Y/N asked a look of disgust on her face as she was emptying one of the bags.

“I did, why?” I asked her already knowing the answer.

“This stuff is gross, you’re gross.” She stated throwing the can to me.

“Yeah……well..you’re..more..gross” Was apparently the best I could get out of my mouth.

“oh, wow good one there hun.” She said teasingly as she finished putting the last of the supplies away.

“I am going to go take a nap, didn’t get much sleep last night. Call me when dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Yeah okay sweetheart, go get some sleep.” I said and she walked out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

------

She told me she had been having trouble sleeping ever since our last case. It had been a vengeful spirit and the thing took a boy’s life right in front of Y/N. There was nothing she could do, it was too late to help him, now she was seeing him in her dreams every night. She of course felt guilty any of us would have if it would have happened to us. I wanted to help her with whatever she needed but of course she said she was fine. She was always stubborn like that, never asked for help even if she needed it. But of course, I had an idea that wouldn’t fix it but maybe it would help.

I told Sammy to get dinner started because I had forgot somethings at the store and headed back out. Once I got to the store I headed straight for the plants. Y/N always said she wanted to have plants but since the bunker didn’t have any windows she never did. She told me she would need a grow light, so I found a good looking one and put it in the cart. She would also need a watering can and some fertilizer so once I found them, they went in the cart too. Now was the hard part finding the perfect plant, there were so many to choose from. I must have circled the maze of plants ten times before I remembered Y/N looking at a particular plant longer than the rest. I walked over to a decent sized very leafy plant and looked at the tag.

[Boston Fern-Medium light- indoor plant] It read and so it went in the cart as well, I double check to make sure I got everything Y/N had mentioned. But before I left, I grabbed a few of her favorite candies and checked out.

“Dude, dinners almost done you coming?” Sam texted

“Yeah, headed back now.” I texted back

I pulled into the garage and grabbed all the supplies from the trunk before heading into the bunker. I could smell dinner cooking, but I continued to the library.

“What’s with all the stuff?” Sam asked when he found me in the library with everything laid out on one of the long tables.

“Oh, okay your trying to make Y/N feel better, aren’t you?” Sam said with a funny little smile

“No, it’s cute. It’s really nice that you are trying to help her.” He said when I gave him a look.

“I’m not cute. Now be quiet so I can set this up before she wakes up.” I stated before getting back to work.

I cleared off one of the small round tables in the corner of the library and put the fern on top. The grow light had a clamp attached so I hooked it to a bookshelf and pointed it down at the fern. I plugged the grow light in and set it to the second light setting making sure it wasn’t too bright. I cleaned the library table off and put the watering can and fertilizer in the kitchen on one of the shelfs.

“Dinners done do you want me to get Y/N?” Sam asked putting the food on the kitchen table.

“No, I’ll go get her.” I said heading out of the library.

When I found myself in front of Y/N’s door I noticed the light from underneath it, she must already be awake. I knocked on the wooden door and she told me to come in.

“Dinner’s done, did you get some sleep?” I asked a little concerned.

“No, as soon as I closed my eyes Jacob was there again. I think it’s getting worse I feel terrible.” Y/N said I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Hey Y/N, it’s okay please don’t cry.” I walked over to her bed and grabbed her to bring her close to my chest.

“Listen to me okay, I know you don’t want to hear it, but this was not your fault. It’s awful what happened but you did not kill that boy, that thing did and it’s dead it can’t hurt anyone else.” I tried to reassure her knowing that it may not work.

“I know, it just sucks.” She said wiping away some of her fallen tears and I hugged her tighter.

“Let’s go eat and after we do, I want to show you something.” She nodded and we headed to the kitchen she was pressed into my side my arm around her shoulder the whole way there. We ate dinner in mostly silence having just a bit of small talk. Once we finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, I asked Y/N to follow me to the library.

“Why what did you do? Did you break something again?” She teased

“No, I have something to show you.” I said poking her side as we rounded the corner into the library. She let out a small giggle and ran the rest of the way to the library. I followed her and watched as she stopped in the middle of the room looking to the corner.

“What is that?” She asked pointing to the corner when I walked to stand next to her.

“Well sweetheart that’s what they call a plant.” I said knowing the response I would get.

“No shit Dean, how did it get here?” She asked moving to the table.

“Well I saw you eyeing this guy up at the store and figured it was about time you got a plant. You’ve wanted one for as long as you’ve lived in the bunker. So, when you went to take a nap I went back to the store. I got the grow light, a watering can, and some fertilizer. So now you can grow a mini jungle right here in the library.” I said watching her touching its leaves

“But how did you know… I” She stammered over her words.

“Hey, I listen also you mindlessly look at any plant you see when we are out so I kinda put two and two together. I just want you to be happy and if that means buying you a plant then that is what I will do. Also.” I said as I pulled the candy from behind my back and showed her.

“Who are you and what happened to Dean?” She asked and took the candy from my hands putting it on the table.

“How did you know these are my favorite?” She asked her voice lower than before as she pointed to the candy but moved closer to stand in front of me.

“I told you sweetheart I listen.” I said licking my lips and looking down at her. She looked up at me her y/e/c looking into mine. In an instance she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me almost to her lips still looking in my eyes. One second later I was closing the space crashing my lips to hers in a sweet, but passion filled kiss. After what somehow felt like two seconds but also five years, we pulled apart foreheads touching looking into each other’s eyes.

“Thank you for listening and thank you for always being there for me.” She said before moving her arms around my waist and burying her face in my neck.

“You know I’m always here for you sweetheart. But if this is how you act with one plant, I’m going back tomorrow and I’m gonna buy the rest of them.” I said smirking and got the reaction I was hoping for.

“I’m sure you will there lover boy.” She said before pulling me back down for another long kiss.

“Finally! I was getting kinda tired of hearing you both tell me how much you like each other.” Sam stated ruining our moment and startling us both in the process.

“Sammy, I love you but please get out.” Y/N said before pulling me down yet again into another kiss. All I heard was Sam sigh loudly before his bedroom door was slammed shut. Everything else was a blur as I held her tight with no plans on letting go.

1.5k Followers Milestone Drabbles 3/10

I need to cringe! I'd like to request a drabble where Bart decides to only speak in slang and dead memes for a week. He'd probably drive the team insane -Anonymous

Set in between season’s 2 and 3 but probably closer to the end of season 2! Also thank you guys once again for sending in your meme and slang suggestions I’ve never cringed harder when writing a drabble! -Terra

Tags: @ljblve​ @loverbug1123​ @aworldwideapart​ @wallywestie

Want to be added to our tag list? Send us and ask!

Also the easiest way for me to write this was to do a small collection of “mini scenes” in which Bart would use his memes instead of spending hours I didn’t have this week with all my assignments to make it one long story so I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted but this was the way I could push it out faster! Enjoy!

Monday:

           When Tim walked into the Watchtower that morning the last thing he expected was to see Bart, dressed in his Kid Flash uniform lying across a gap between two of the branches in the Watchtowers courtyard. He paused mid-step as he looked at the speedster’s placement, a faint flicker of familiarity pricking at the back of his mind at the rigid posture to Bart’s body. Then it finally dawned on him.

           “Bart… are you… planking?”

           “Fo’ shizzle Tim Drizzle.” Scratch that maybe that was the last thing he expected today.

           “Excuse me?”

           “You’re really harshing my mellow with all those questions, not very radical behavior of you man.”

           He’s sure his eyes were as wide as saucers by now as his mind scrambled to make sense of what he was hearing. He even pinched his arms a few times to make sure he was actually experiencing this right now and it wasn’t just some weird concussion dream.

           “Flash said he spent the whole weekend reading up on slang and memes, he hasn’t stopped speaking and acting like this ever since.” Jaime mumbled, his head resting on his palm from where he sat under a different tree. “I already tried explaining dead memes and dead slang to him, but I don’t think he’s quite grasped it yet.”

           Tim already knew this was going to be a long week.

Tuesday:

           Tim crouched among the underbrush of the jungle, using the thick foliage and natural shadows to conceal himself. The rain was light, but enough to make their stealth mission somewhat miserable with the wet seeping through the seems of their costumes and mud cling to their boots. They had been trudging through this for hours now, and now the end was in sight. There just ahead of them was the plant that had been pushing out a Reach-like drug under a new name. Kaldur had placed Tim in charge, giving him Bart, Jaime, and Vrigil to take it down.

           “Okay.” He whispered, looking over to his gathered team. “We need to do this carefully. Jaime, you and your scarab need to crunch the numbers, what are we looking at in terms of numbers and success percentage if we proceed with plan A?”

           Jaime paused, looking out over the small compound while the scarab did what it needed to do with its sensors. “Scarab says we’re looking at a thirty-two-point three repeating percent chance of success if we just barge through the front door in a full assault.”

           “Okay let’s not do that then. Static you’ll be on point.” Tim started dishing out orders for their plan B strategy when Bart stood up, pulling his red visor down in front of his eyes.

           “This is taking too long, time’s up let’s do this! LEEEEEEROOOYYYYY JENKINSSSSSSS.” Bart had sped off into the plant before any of them could stop him. The sounds of gunfire and shouting erupted from inside.

           “Oh my god we need to go in after him! Move let’s go!” Tim shouted vaulting over his hiding spot and rushing in through the front doors. Jaime and Virgil were thankfully right behind him. Inside they were met with complete chaos, enemies were scattered everywhere spraying gunfire in every which direction they though Bart was. Tim could only grumble as he threw himself into the fight, dodging what he could and taking the guards out one by one.

           Just when they thought they were in the clear, the last of the guards tied up and down for the count, Sportsmaster appeared on the catwalks above them. “I thought I heard the sound of you brats in here. Where’s the rest of your little team? Don’t tell me you’re all that came to shut this place down?” He laughed and jumped over the rails, landing on the concrete in front of them. Tim threw down some smoke pellets and circled around. Jaime and Virgil did their best to keep hitting him from range while Tim did his best to get up close and get a few hits in at crucial points. So far, it wasn’t working out well for them. He didn’t know where Bart was, but they were losing the fight badly, and they really needed his speed.

           With a few lucky hits, Virgil and Jaime were down and out. The small distraction from glancing at his teammates let Sportsmaster land a hit to him that sent him flying back and gasping for the air that had been knocked out of his lungs. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of yellow and red at the crate crane control panel, and one of the cranes lifting up.

           The crate came back around and smacked into Sportsmaster before he could advance on Tim, slapping him into the adjacent wall hard enough to knock him out. Over his shoulder he could hear Bart in the near distance.

           “HE NEEDS SOME MILK.”

           He would deny ever laughing as hard as he did later when he was giving his report on what happened.

Wednesday:

           Tim was speeding after Brick on his cycle, Cassie and Jaime right behind him. It wasn’t often the team ended up in high-speed chases but if Tim were being honest, he liked the change from the usual stealth missions where they had to watch each and every step. Bart had sped off ahead to try and cut off Brick and his thugs’ convoy. They had stolen important weapons tech, and they couldn’t afford to let him escape.

           “KF we’re losing ground where are you!?” Tim shouted into his comm. His motorcycle was fast but not fast enough apparently, especially with the way Brick and his gang were currently swerving through traffic. As much as he liked the change of pace, he did hate it when it was through the middle of a densely populated city.

           “I’m practically right there, just hang on tight for a moment everything will be totally tubular just wait!”

           “Ay mi dios.” Jaime mumbled from above. “You’d think with as fast as he goes, he would have at least caught up to current slang by now.”

           “Tell me about it.” Cassie replied, “I never thought I’d miss him saying ‘crash’ and ‘mode’ as much as I do right now.”

           “Let’s focus guys, please?” Tim called. “Blue can you get a shot at any of their tires yet?”

           Before Jaime could respond, they saw a familiar yellow and red blur cut into the street just ahead of Brick.

           “Damn Daniel, back at it again with the white vans!”

           Clever use, Tim just gave snort as Brick and the rest of his gang, very much driving white vans, had no choice but to suddenly swerve and crash into each other in order to avoid hitting Bart.

Thursday:

           Tim knew Bart was up to something as soon as he saw the shit-eating grin on the young hero’s face. The shaving cream in his hand was also a pretty good clue. With a small glance in the direction Bart was looking he confirmed exactly what was about to happen.

           “Bart if you value your life you will definitely abort exactly what you have planned.” His grin only grew wider.

           “Bart I promise you, as someone who lives with the guy. Don’t.”

           “SMACK CAM” Bart screeched as he used his speed to race forward, outstretching his hand at the last moment and slapping Batman right across the right cheek with the hand that was full of shaving cream.

           “Oh my god that poor dead bastard.” Tim whispered.

           It was dead silent in the Watchtower as everyone held their breath for the Dark Knight’s reaction. For his part he stayed silent as he wiped the shaving cream off his face, completely stoic before he turned to Barry.

           “Say goodbye to your grandson until he’s born Allen.”

           A muffled “YOLO” was the only thing Tim could hear as Bart sped away with Batman hot on his heels.

Friday:

           By now it was safe to say the entire team was sick of Bart’s new slang and meme knowledge. Sure every now and again Bart would have a clever use that would earn a small laugh or two, but for the most part they largely missed their mark prompting a lot of groans and sighs.

           Jaime had even tried bribing Bart with thirty bags of Chicken Wizee’s in order to get him to stop. It hadn’t worked so far. Nothing had, they were stuck in dead meme and dead slang hell until whatever this was had run its course with him.

           That’s why they all cringed as Bart walked up to the group. “What’s up my homeboys and homegirls?”

           “Bart we are literally begging you to stop.” Tim said.

           “No can do, haters gonna hate!”

           “Bart I will literally give you free Chicken Wizee’s for life if you stop.”

           “Lit, but as swag as that sounds, I’ll have to pass. Catch you guys on the flip side!” He called as he walked out of the room.

Saturday:

           “Hey Robin!” Tim just cringed and tried to ignore him, hoping that Bart would leave if he didn’t say anything. From the sympathetic look Cassie gave him, that wasn’t going to be the case. “Robin! Yo Rob! Robster! Robmiester!”

           He just sighed, “Yes Bart?”

           “Something came for you in the mail!”

           In a momentary lapse of judgement, Tim made a fatal error in his next choice of words. “Oh? What came?”

           “DEEZ NUTS.” Bart’s cackles could be heard all over the Watchtower. Tim was going to murder him.

Sunday:

           Once again Tim found himself in the middle of a fight with Cassie, Jaime, Virgil and Bart. This time however, the team had been called to assist the League with another bust this time being a large-scale reproduction of the Reach drink under a new name. Zatanna had been stationed with Tim’s squad for their particular section. Their job was to fight their way and disable of the brewery rooms.

           “Hey Zatanna!”

           “No Bart.”

           “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

           “I know what you want me to do and my answer is still no.”

           He stopped right in front of her, fixing her with his best puppy dog look. “Pleaseeee?”

           She just sighed and turned towards the rest of the team. “Everyone get up off the ground now!” Confused they did as they were told except for Bart who looked like a kid in a candy store being told he could get whatever he wanted. “eht roolf si aval!”

           Oh, that’s what he had wanted. The floor morphed from simple concrete to burning lava right before the team’s very eyes, taking out the robotic guards they had been pinned down by in mere moments. As soon as Zatanna called off the spell, Tim was quick to get his birdarangs ready before the next wave could barge in.

           “Hey Bart.” Tim handed the speedster the birdarangs primed for detonation upon impact. “These bitches empty.”

           Bart looked at him with big hopeful eyes as if he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. With a nod from Tim, he gently took them from his hand, turning towards the vats. “YEET.” Bart put his whole body into the throw, each of the birdarangs hitting their target and detonating the vats in an impressive show.

           “You’re encouraging him now?” Cassie called as they watched the compound explode in the distance.

           “Hey at least this one was current.”

Did you know I'm a dick? ANSWER ALL THE MINECRAFT QUESTIONS

you….. bastard

1. Walk or sprint?

Sprint always. gotta go fast

2. Fav horse pattern?

Tan horse with white nose

3. Tame wolves?

If I have the wolves and bones to do it!

4. Tame ocelots?

YES ARE YOU KIDDING ME

5. Fav parrot color?

Blue

(The rest of the answers are below the cut im not gonna make yall read all these r u kidding me)

6. Fav cat color?

orange

7. Do you kill passive spiders

yea. they still scare me

8. Fav passive mob?

Fish

9. How do you defend your base?

with my own two bare nubs. and sword

10. Fav tree and wood type?

Uhhh jungle tree and birch

11. Do you farm above or under ground?

Depends on the biome im in

12. Favorite flower?

blue orchid

13. Do you spend time outside at night?

Yeah, when i get an iron sword or above

14. Do you sleep every night?

Mostly, when i dont need bones or spiderweb

15. Favorite biome?

Gonna have to be either mountain biome orrr planes biome with sunflowers in em

16. Preferred food scource?

Bread cause wheat is easy to grow and requires less work from the start

17. Do you make cakes or other complicated foods?

Not usually.. i kind of think they’re more for the later game when im not doing other stuff

18. Bow and arrow or sword?

SORD

19. Fav music disc?

Far

20. Do you make and use maps?

Nah

21. Island or mailand?

Depends! I had a really sick house under an island on a multiplayer server once. then some asshole destroyed it for no reason

22. How do you deal with lava? Do you use it in builds?

I only use it for making obsidian

23. Do you build minerails?

no

24. Do you use water in your builds?

Yeah i like to make patters in grass with it or make small moats

25. What architecture style do you build in most?

Industrial

26. Do you make gifs/take screenshots?

Yea if i find something cool i take a screenshot

27. What do use diamond for?

s ord

28. Preferred source of lighting?

torches obv

29. What colour is your bed?

usually just regular white unless i get cyan dye early enough on

30. Do you build furniture in your base?

not often. if i do its because i’m bored and its a final touch

31. Bonus chest or no?

nah

32. Do you keep max health all the time?

yea i try to be

33. Thoughts on the aquatic update?

I like it! Its the reason i started playing vanilla minecraft again

34. Fav tropical fish?

clownfish or tang

35. What sound settings do you mess with? Do you play with subtitles?

I keep most mobs om mute, and i dont play with subtitles personally

36. Do you use banners?

no?

37. Fav hostile mob? least fav?

Fav: Enderman. Least fav: Silverfish

38. Whats your hotbar?

Sord, pick, shovel, torches, food, axe, stack of dirt, bow, compass

39. What level are you in your current world?

lvl 38

40. Creative or survival?

survival

41. Do you like the default paintings? your fav?

I dont like em or hate em, but i only like the skeleton one

42. Has a base of yours burned down?

not yet

43. whats your particle settings?

minimal

44. fav crop?

potatoe

45. Prefer playing alone or on a server?

server

46. Do you trade with villagers often?

no its usually not worth it

47. How often do you die?

not often

48. Fav enchants to use?

flame and smite

49. do you keep an eye on your hunger bar?

yea

50. do you like to use potions?

hell yeah i just hate making them

51. How much time do you spend in the nether?

Almost all of it cause i build my houses out of quartz usually

52. Do you put much emphasis of reaching the End?

not really cause beating the dragon and getting back to the normal world is a hassle anyway. also the end dialogue makes me emotional

53. Preferred mode to play on?

In creative; peaceful, in survival; normal

54. Do you give dolphins blocks to play with?

hell yeah babey!!

55. Mods or no? What mods do you use?

MODS!! I love mods, my favs are Equivalent Exchange and Tinkers’ Construct. Also Tekkit a little

56. How long have you played minecraft?

9 years

57. What edition?

Java or 12.something so i can use my mods that dont update anymore

58. Do you watch minecraft youtubers?

Off and on.

59. Storage setup?

Organized chests; plants, blocks, valuables, etc

60. Fav door/trapdoor?

uhhh dark oak ?

61. Current skin?

Its Xephos. dont @ me

62. do you use elytra?

i never have but they seem cool

63. Fav building block?

Quartz/ smooth quartz

ES Spectre 2.0 Chapter 29

So yesterday was @wanderingcas birthday and she mentioned a few days ago that she wanted me to write a femslash version of her amazing fic, Passing Ships, so I wrote the first half of chapter two :)

Happy birthday, Sam! Love you!

Deanna finally eases off the gas as they enter the school zone and Cas stares almost in awe as the building comes into view. It’s nicer than she expected, almost homey with its white-washed bricks and Victorian windows laced with the not-yet shriveled vines of summer. There’s evidence of a beautiful garden during warmer seasons and an expansive field of grass surrounding the whole property.

It’s like no school Cas has ever seen and she shares her thoughts with Deanna. 

“It’s a Montessori school,” Deanna explains as she parks the car. “Lots of funding, super fancy. I probably wouldn’t even have this job if Sam’s wife’s sister hadn’t taught music here.”

“What do you teach?” Cas asks.

“First grade.”

Cas almost smiles at memories of Claire in first grade, with her blonde pigtails and Barbie backpack.

“Well, see you in seven hours,” Deanna says as she opens the car door 

Cas scrambles out of the passenger door. “I’m coming too.”

Deanna squawks like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “The hell you are.”

“I have to be able to observe you,” Cas says as she trails after the blonde. “There was no point in me coming here with you if I can’t even see you.”

“Then I guess you should just hitch a ride back to… wherever the hell cupids stay.” Deanna waves a noncommittal hand. “Whatever. See ya later!”

She’s just about to open the front door when Cas barks, “Deanna. My orders are to understand what is preventing your soulmate connection. In order to do that, I must be allowed to observe you in your day-to-day activities. This is Heaven’s will and I am going to follow my instructions to the best of my ability, so I am coming into this school.”

Cas can hear Deanna’s strained exhale before the woman turns around, lips pursed. There’s still fight in her eyes but she just closes them and sighs again. “Fine,” she grits and points a finger at Cas. “But you don’t say a word, got it? Nothing about this soulmate bullshit. This is my job, and if you get me fired, Heaven will have hell to pay.”

Cas nods once. “I understand.”

Deanna just rolls her eyes and yanks the door open before impatiently gesturing Cas through.

Deanna is greeted by several people as they navigate the barren halls of the school. Their smiles are easy and a few even pause to offer more than a “hi” and it’s obvious to Cas that Deanna is well-liked. And given the ease in which Deanna laughs and high-fives the kids, Cas can tell Deanna is comfortable here, that she enjoys her coworkers and being in this building. 

She scribbles that in her notebook.

They continue to Deanna’s classroom, which is brightly decorated with posters of literary classics ranging from “The Great Gatsby” to “Anna Karenina.” Masterpieces far beyond the years of her first graders but Cas suspects these are the stories Deanna personally favors. She can imagine a young Deanna searching out these tales in dusty libraries and devouring the words over lunch.

“Okay, you,” Deanna says, gesturing to Cas, “sit here.” She’s moving a chair into the corner of the classroom next to what looks to be a designated reading area with little chairs and beanbags stuffed between baskets of picture books. “Do not move, do not speak.”

Cas takes her seat and she wants to retort but then children start filing in and she shuts her mouth.

“’Morning, Miss Winchester,” a little boy greets.

Deanna turns with a bright smile. “Good morning, Tyler! Rocking some new shoes, I see.”

“These ones light up!”

“No way! You gotta show me!”

The children keep coming and Deanna greets each one individually, occasionally pausing to button a shirt or tying up a girl’s hair when she complains that it’s in her face.

Cas watches this silently, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. But it’s hard to avoid the hyper-observant eyes of six-year-olds. She feels their stares as they find their way to their desks and offers small smiles in return. Some smile back; some frown.

“Miss Winchester, who is that?” a little redhead asks once everyone is in their seats and Deanna is calling for their attention.

Deanna’s smile tightens for a heartbeat as she meets Cas’s eyes. “That’s a great question, Alexa. Class, this is Miss Cas,” she explains cheerfully. “Miss Cas is here to watch me… teach. Say hello, you guys. 

“Hello, Miss Cas,” the class choruses.

“It’s very important that we don’t distract Miss Cas from her job, so keep your eyes up here.”

The first part of the day goes by fairly smooth. There are, of course, a few kids who can’t resist looking back at Cas as Deanna teaches, and Deanna has to call for their attention, which always results in Cas receiving an impatient glance. 

Then it’s time for recess and Deanna wrangles the kids down the hall and out back to the playground. She sits on a bench and tells Cas to do the same.

“You’re a good teacher,” Cas says. “They like listening to you.”

“That’s because they still think I’m the cool teacher,” Deanna laughs.

“The cool teacher?”

“Yeah, because I drive a loud car and wear a leather jacket. Even first graders know what badass is.”

Cas gets the sense that Deanna is half-joking but chooses not to ask. “You like children.”

“Wouldn’t be a teacher if I didn’t.”

“Do you want your own?”

Deanna squints. “Are you a dating app now or something?”

Cas shrugs. “Just asking questions.”

“Mmhmm,” Deanna hums dubiously. “Look, I’m not-”

“Miss Winchester!” a little boy calls. “Tanner won’t share the basketball!”

Deanna rolls her eyes. “Kids.” She gets to her feet and points at Cas. “You don’t move. And no talking!”

But the second Deanna is gone, Cas is swarmed by a group of children.

“Hello,” she says slowly.

“Are you Miss Winchester’s friend?”

“Are you her girlfriend?”

“Do you need to comb your hair? My mommy can help you; she does mine every day.” 

“You’re pretty.”

“Where are you from?” 

Cas tenses, eyes flicking between each child and then to Deanna who has her back to them, arguing with a little boy holding a basketball.

“I am her… acquaintance,” Cas answers after a moment of consideration. “We are not romantically involved. That is a kind offer, but I will manage my hair on my own. Thank you. I am from Heaven.”

The children gasp. “Are you an angel?”

“Yes.”

“Are you Miss Winchester’s guardian angel?”

Cas feels a strange pressure behind her eyes and she’s unable to respond.

“Miss Cas?” the redhead — Alexa — asks. She rests a small hand on Cas’s leg. “Are you okay?”

The gesture reminds her of Claire, the way she would always notice when something was wrong with Cas, usually after Cas had been to Heaven and was reprimanded for acting too “maternal.”

It’s gonna be okay, Cee Cee. You’ll always have me.

“Miss Cas?” 

Cas looks up into the worried eyes of Alexa. She takes a deep breath. “No. Not anymore.”

“Did you quit?”

“No. I was demoted for failing to follow orders.”

“What orders?”

“That is classified information.”

“Can you still fly?” a little boy asks a little too loudly.

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“When I was demoted, I was stripped of most of my grace. I can no longer use my wings.” 

Another gasp, this time outraged. “They took your grace?”

“Does that mean your halo is gone?”

Cas tilts her head. “I don’t have a halo.”

“We can fix it!” Alexa cries. “Come with us, Miss Cas!”

*****

“If I see you standing on the swings again, you’re banned for the rest of the year.”

The boy in front of Deanna bows his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay.” Deanna ruffles his hair. “Now go back to playing. And be safe.”

He takes off and Deanna sighs. What is it with kids always trying to kill themselves?

“Hey, nerd.”

Deanna turns around and casts a tired smile at Charlie. “They still let you outside?”

Charlie scoffs. “They can’t tame me.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Gonna have our last chalk day before the weather gets too cold,” Charlie says, gesturing to the pavement marked with rainbow doodles. “Hey, where’s your shadow?”

“Who?”

“The hot chick that’s been following you around all day! I heard that she’s like observing your class or something?”

Deanna’s stomach twists. “Word travels fast, huh?” 

“It’s an elementary school. Kids don’t keep secrets. So what’s the deal?”

“It’s nothing. Just a student from the community college. They sent her to watch me, so she can, ya know, see what’s it like, ask questions.”

Okay… But if she’s supposed to be learning from you shouldn’t she, like, be with you?”

Deanna gestures over her shoulder. “I left her by the door while I dealt with some kids.”

Charlie looks around Deanna and her brows lift. “Did you teach her to be invisible?”

“Huh?” Deanna spins around and- goddammit! “Shit,” she curses under her breath. “Where did she go?”

“Chill dude. She’s probably just touring the playground.”

“I gotta go find her, Charlie, I, ugh, I’ll talk to you later!”

Deanna takes off past the swings and the jungle gym. She checks the basketball court and the tire swing but can’t find the angel anywhere. And to make things worse, Deanna realizes there’s a good chunk of her students missing too.

“Cas, I swear to God-”

“Wait, Miss Cas, hold still!” 

Deanna’s head snaps around and she follows the voice toward the garden. It’s on the verge of death with the autumn air settling, but there’s still some dahlia and sternbergia that the fourth grade class planted.

Right next to the brightly colored bushes Deanna finds the angel and a fourth of her students. They’re sitting around Cas, a number of them with their hands on the angel’s head and Deanna frowns as she gets closer.

“Hey!” she calls and they all startle. “What’s going on over here?”

Alexa has a gummy smile splitting her face. “We gave Miss Cas her halo back!” she declares and the children move away. 

Cas is sitting there in the grass, long dark hair thrown all around her shoulders and there’s a string of yellow and purple flowers adorning her head. She blinks up at Deanna, blue eyes big and soft and all the air in Deanna’s lungs promptly vanishes. All she can do is stare for a long moment as her students beam.

“Doesn’t she look pretty, Miss Winchester?” Alyssa asks.

“Ugh, yeah, guys,” Deanna croaks, because wow it’s suddenly hard to talk. “G-good job.”

“She looks like a real angel!”

The words strike Deanna like cold water and the trance is broken. Her eyes harden on Cas. “An angel, huh?” Cas looks down to her lap. “Hey, kiddos, why don’t you head up to the doors? It’s almost time for lunch.”

“Okay!”

“Bye Miss Cas!”

“See ya later!”

“Don’t break it again,” Alexa warns before following her fellow students up to the building.

Deanna crosses her arms and Cas hesitates before climbing to her feet. “What happened to not talking?”

“They were asking me questions. It would have been rude to just ignore them,” Cas defends herself. 

“And telling them you were an angel? Was that also for the sake of manners?”

“I don’t like lying.”

It’s hard to take Cas seriously when she’s standing there with a flower crown on her head. She might be millennia years old with infinite knowledge and power but she looks like a living Snapchat filter. Or worse, like she’s going to Coachella. It almost makes Deanna smile.

The bell sounds then and Deanna rolls her eyes. “Okay, come on. We have to get them to lunch and then we are having a talk.” 

Cas opens her mouth as if to argue but settles for sulking as they walk up to meet the kids.

*****

Deanna leads the class single-file back into the school and to the cafeteria. She waits until they’re all in the lunch line before gesturing for Cas to follow her to the teacher’s lounge. She sits at the round table as Deanna fishes out her wallet and feeds a few bills into the vending machine.

She returns a moment later with a bag of chips and a Pop-Tart and Cas can’t help but screw up her nose. “What?” Deanna snaps.

“That is not a nutritiously balanced meal,” Cas says.

“Yeah, well I didn’t have time to pack a decent lunch this morning because a certain angel decided to show up at six a.m. and harass me about my love life,” Deanna deadpans as she opens her Pop-Tart. 

“My intention is not to harass you,” Cas says, her chin tilting up. “I want to help you connect with your soulmate.”

“We agreed on no angel talk. You broke the deal.”

“I agreed to not reveal that I am your cupid,” Cas amends stubbornly. “Which I did not.”

“Cas, now this whole school is going to know I have an angel following me!”

Cas squints. “Is it truly such a bad thing, in human culture, to be associated with an angel?”

Deanna chews and thinks. “It’s not… bad. It’s just- it makes everything more complicated.”

“I am not here to complicate your life, Deanna.”

“Following me around all day is a bit complicating, Cas. Not to mention uncomfortable.” Deanna spreads her hands. “What’s the deal with this observation shit anyway? Like what could you possibly learn from my job that has anything to do with my ability to establish a soulmate bond?”

Cas opens her mouth to respond but doesn’t have a ready answer. Because she’s tired and doesn’t fully understand this process either. But she doubts an “I don’t know” would satisfy Deanna Winchester. “I think it is simply for me to get a better understanding of the kind of person you are.”

Deanna leans back in her chair, unimpressed. “You know what I think? I think this whole soulmate thing is bullshit. I think ‘observing’ me is just your way of making sure I don’t bolt.”

There’s an argument weighing on the tip of Cas’s tongue, one she’s tired of having with this insufferable human, but then Deanna is smiling and its predatory edge gives Cas pause.

“Or maybe it’s just an excuse for you to stare at my ass all day.”

Cas’s brows draw together. “I don’t see how observing your rear-end would help my mission.”

Deanna moves swiftly, stealing the seat next to Cas and spreading out so their thighs are touching. “Isn’t there some sort of physical compatibility component in all this soulmate nonsense? I mean, wouldn’t it make sense to make sure I even have the goods Lisa is looking for?”

It’s almost dizzying having Deanna lean into Cas’s space like this. She gazes into dazzling green eyes that slowly sweep across Cas’s eyes, zeroing in on her lips even as Deanna wets her own. It takes a great amount of will power for Cas to look up. “You’re flirting with me to make me uncomfortable.” 

Deann’s fingers move carefully through Cas’s hair, stroking the angel’s cheek ever so gently as she pushes a few strands out of her face. “Or maybe I’m flirting with you because I think you’re hot.”

But Cas knows better. “You’re using sex to try to scare me away.” 

They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment, Deanna’s hand still hovering near Cas’s face, knees bumping together. Then Deanna sighs and leans back. “Even your mind has a chastity belt.”

Deanna moves back into her chair across the table and Cas tries not to act like her heart is beating out of her chest. “There is nothing I will allow to distract me from my mission.” 

Deanna picks up her Pop-Tart and takes a bite. Her smile is challenging. “We’ll see.”

THIS SIDE OF PARADISE 

by Poom Supanat Chaiyanopakul

The project is a fiction speculated on evolution in traditional ecological knowledge. That local values and wisdom prove to be instrumental for future forest resource and conservation management.

Sarawak state, Borneo island 2078. one of the world’s richest, oldest ecosystem is on the verge of collapsing. Since 1970, Unstoppable deforestation for oil palm production contributed extensive damage to biodiversity, especially to the Dayak native tribal people. Agricultural plantations has covered more than 80% of the Borneo island. Left only the sacred forest that the Dayak preserve since their ancestor.

In regards to the condition, The Iban Dayak or Sea Nomads developed a massive reforestation strategy to return their natural capital as they move and heal the damages place along the path, transforming their rituals, economy, and politics as well as maintain their distinct native culture. 

A new system has been speculated that puts the local communities forward as central actors of future forest management plans.The traditional knowledge in ecology of the Dayaks communities in Borneo island offers an interesting example of the interrelation between agricultural food production, forest management and local culture. Balancing natural production and with human consumption.

The story will be told through the journal of Robert Jelenggai, a journalist and resident of Sarawak state who decided to join the indigenous tribe’s project to share out their story and his personal thoughts.

Notes of Robert Jalenggai

Note #1 The false model of nature

Kuching city 2078

I was publishing my journal on my ecology blog when the news alert snapped me out. It headlines “ After waiting for a century, Dayaks finally get their own land rights and plan to claim the native forest back!”

I read the whole article further

The Government made huge profits from selling off their land to the oil palm industry. One who have protested may have been arrested and imprisoned. Most of them decided to move into the city for better economic and social connection instead of fighting.

Since 2050, the discovery in the toxic-saturated fat in palm oil has gradually  made the world to stop consuming products from the industry.

Gradual unprofitable outcome makes developers started to close down the production and abandoned the land leaving behind an immense waste.

The land was left abandoned and still belongs to the state

However, The Dayak fought over longstanded political disputes and crack the case. Even though they finally get their land back, it  had been destroyed. So They claim to rebuild their community and regrow back their forest land.

Note #2 The Dayaks revolution

I called local environmental NGO to get in contact with the village chief.

The man who answered the phone called himself Mr. Bun. I told him about my interest to write an article about the project - he decided to meet me on that day evening.

At the cafe, a Dayak man appeared wearing his traditional costume. His body was adorned with tattoos. After exchanging our greetings, he gave me this handout and explain about the following planned strategies:

“Transporting along the water bodies, we will move in a certain agricultural territory.

Within 5 years that piece of land will be rejuvenated - the seedlings will be planted before moving to a new plot, allowing natural resilience to function. The  cycle repeats like this within 40 years anticipation”

Concerning building urgency, we created sets of deployable devices made from local materials.”

The rest of is about recovery methods….

we appointed the time and location to meet on the next morning.

Note #3 Outside the city

I was waiting at the port as Mr. Bun appeared with his longboat. The Dayak lives a primitive life in remote regions with only little technology. The village is reachable only by boat. Once he was ready, I hopped on the boat as we sailed offshore.

 The longboat drifted along the water. We passed a 200-year-old village that has recently been burn as a reforesting method

“In our traditional nomadic lifestyle, once the land is fully harvested and exhausted we will burn it before we move on. It is the method most call slash and burn. The layer of ash provides the newly-cleared land with a nutrient-rich layer to help fertilize soil and returning that area a new forest.

We return what we take from nature. This is the rule.”

I started to see the change in landscape - ubiquitous palm forests, familiar yet alienated. It was a large abandoned plantation with a dystopian air. People will never notice unless they come to this other side and see.

After 5 hours of sailing, we arrived at the village.

Note #4 Arriving at the longhouse

The house front oriented eastward, facing the direction of the river.

They build the house platforms over the hexagonal planting pattern of the palm trees. The house stilt on the palm trunk and its spiky stems seems to prevent small animals from entering.  Underneath the platform lies ferns, bamboo shoots, hearts and pits from numerous palms. It might be foraged from the surrounded plantation.

Some new villager just arrived. They are adding their dwelling unit at tailside of the house. The brought the deployable shelter and set it up among the beheaded palm trees. The shelter can be adjusted to the irregularity of the ground. They can decide how much span the arch would go to form up their space. If the family has many member the bigger arch should be implemented.

I saw people hanging around outside the outdoor gallery They are drying rice, pepper, other crops, as well as their clothes. On another corner, people are processing the leaves from lying canopy into palm mesh and thatch for covering their roof

140 Residents of 25  families reside within the community.  Each unit of apartment is semi-detached to one another to form a longhouse pattern.

The house was beautifully ornate hanging with vines and plants

“By tradition we will have The family pillar erected during the longhouse construction. These idea of possession of main family element also transfer to the shelter unit. Apart from the fact that we craft our own boundary as well as decorate it. It is the sense of belonging to the social system.”

Note #5 Utilization in agriculture

The wind was soothing. The air was of a freshness I have never breathed before.Mr. Bun gave me a short tour of the new forest, where I saw some 500 different tree saplings.

We stood on a special tract of land which is reserved for the community to get natural supplies of wood, other wild plants necessary for building houses, boats, coffins and other living purposes.

Mr.Bun says that every Dayaks all have their individual land carved out of the jungle, hidden away, for doing their own jobs.

He brought me to his farm plot to explain about how each thing functioned.

“Listen Rob, we are all disgusted by palm trees but they give us an abundant of resources.”

“This is a small scale utilization of co2 called slash and char.”

“ Here and there, are recyclable biomass sources. We cut the stem out and burn it in the kiln to make biochar. After mixing with the local soil, it will amend and upgrade the properties of the forest ground. This is where magic happens.”

The co2 that escapes will be collected and kept by the collector, which will benefit seedling photosynthesis and can be converted to bioelectricity. That cute little balloon show that there still burn inside.Watch it carefully!“

Instead of releasing co2 into the sky, They captured in the land instead. This way i think we can mitigate global warming quite well.

Hey Rob, you know We aim to plant billion of saplings each cycle and this is how we gonna produce those saplings.

Overthere is the hydroponic seedling nursery supported by energyless ramp water pump, which pumps rainwater from the collector there. Nothing to worry about though, our annual rainfall rate is 80%!”    

after 3 month of monitoring, The seedling will be ready to use in the replanting phase later in October.

We use Drone in Artificial regeneration using aerial dispersing of seeds and machine planting distributing each species specifically on essential forest type.

By that, we will later on have bunch typologies of foraging jungle. Macro-ecosystem.

Note #6 Don’t disturb the sacred place!

That noon , I was assigned to find my own farming plot. I wandered through the forest like before. The air was still breezy, the flowers waved softly.

I walked pass dense group of bamboo with a bush of artificial, decorative flowers. On top, a large totem is erected. As i rushed pass,I found the large pine grove which i thought would be nice for clearing. Using this device, i fall them easily.

When i was about to cut another tree, a man shout from the another side of the grove.

“Stop!! You can’t cut down the tree in sacred forest! Don’t you see totems that mark the entrance of the forest of our parents and ancestor!

I told him sorry and said that i was new here.

“ Among our tribe, ‘sacred forests’ have been preserved since our ancestor‘s time. As us, Dayaks always rely on the existence of the forest, we believed in maintaining balance and harmony with nature.”

Looks like I’ve wandered too far from our village territory.

Back in the longhouse gallery, Mr. Bun told the shaman to give remedial offerings to the god and spirit and said to follow him to do so.

We went back into the forest. It was already dark on the way.. I noticed the light glowed out from between the blades of the palm trees. It’s a huge structure standing tall in the middle of a clearing.

“Do you hear that sound? Rob. It’s the sound of Bornean nature. Borneon  musicians used to play in the dark, when the jungle was at its loudest. The wind chimes was installed on top of the tower to mimic the sounds of nature symphony and rhythm.

It is called the Ranyai tower symbolized the traditional artificial tree called Ranyai tree, the tree of life. Traditionally, it was bearing gifts hanging from its ‘branches’ symbolizing a fruitful harvest.

Here we are also conducting the ceremonial performances during ritual festivals (Gawai)

You wonder how do we live without seeing any energy generator?

Inside the coverage, the gravity-powered generator was installed. The water reservoir on top collects decent amount of rainwater refilled and looped containers that falling down by its mass. It activate the generator which sending energy to the battery at ground.

Also the on top of it lies the space for placing offering which is Banyan berries. Actually, we used it to attract birds into the area increasing the dispersal rate.”

The tower for them is not just a physical structure standing

But rather a medium that connect two pallarell world of cosmos.

And By recreating those ritual and physical world overtime, Their vernacular architecture is not limited to the past but instead is a dynamic process of development.

He then instructed me about Iban spiritual content.

Two superimposed realities categorize our phenomenal experiences. A wide-awake reality of living organism and a dream reality in which the souls, the spirits, and gods interact..

The  ritual performed in reality produces consequences within the phenomenal worlds we evoke.

“ We have a set of customary rules. These rules shape the way cosmologic system would be formed and harmonized. If that harmony was disturbed, we have to make a proper propitiation.

“We return what we take from nature.”

It was already dark when We arrived at the home in evening The sky casted a soft twilight. People hung implements and the family supplies on the ceilings and started to light the fire. It emitted a different shade of color. Taking a good look at it, it’s vinegar that’s in the bulb. They use biochemical substance in vinegar to glow the light without electricity. People say that it was light from spirits that occupy the attic space like we humans live at middle level.

as families return from their fields, the gallery area becomes a common workplace where ceremonial blankets and baskets are woven, wood carved, tools repaired, and families exchange news.

I sleep in Mr.Bun apartment that night. He tied the fabric partition on it was their traditional blankets. There are holes and gap everywhere but it was organized in a pattern. He chat with his neighbor, hands things back and forth.

I never noticed that the room is meant to be porous. I asked him why dont he fix those holes on partition

He said that neighbor will dislike me for fixing the wall.

“Here, the good wall will make bad neighbor.” he explained.

The wall in longhouse are called dog wall separating the gallery and the private apartment. It got its named from the fact its low and open that dog and cats can climb on. This shared wall fostering an uninterrupted sociability from one end to the other.

The rough permeability of the partitions allows flow of both sound and light between all the apartments that together constitute a longhouse. The presence of companions was shown by the glow of their lights as well. If a light is not showing in any apartment, its absence is an immediate source of concern. 

I noticed that the community despite having hierarchy and rank, it seems very egalitarian.

Note #7 The house must have holes

Working stage has passed. It’s only weeks ahead to the time of the gawai dayak!

People start to gather the food rice wine and material for the big festival at the end of working phase. The village will celebrate under their Ranyai tree.

And the celebration started

The space turn into a party floor. People enjoy the lighting and beauty of the culture. We drank our famous rice wine while the adults sharing traditional stories. The dayaks perform their traditional dance along with band harmonizing traditional music with nature

I can see the stars shining. Oh Earth, they’re spinning! They’re dancing…people start to hang foods and light up everything as they celebrate along throughout the whole week!

Festive week has end. It signifies that the cycle was completed. Most of forest ground are now replanted. There are about billion sapling and seedlings dispersed around Miri now.

Mr bun said

“We have one last thing to do the longhouse then we are ready to move on, Rob. “

After we fold the shelter back. We burn the dwelling platform to let the nutrient sink into the ground.

Around the dwelling area, we use the last portion of biochar around land along with pouring mineral salt medium.

“It’s the afterlife of the space. The space will turn into mineral licking site which will attract animal into the area after we left. They will have a bunch of food from the regrowth forest as well as their habitat.

Remember the rule that we have to give back what we take from nature.

I never see the dismantled longhouse before. The spanned arch was folded back into a box-like structure. One family are putting it on their longboat. We watch the house burn pieces by pieces as we sail off the spot to complete another mission of rejuvenation.

Note #8 The Gawai Dayaks

Many season have passed, It’s been 10 years now that i’ve live with the Iban in the forest.  The nomad green revolution spread throughout the island. The forest strat to flourish along the path again.

My article spread to the ngo. Now there are some campaigns to brings about

avoiding the concentric urban expansion.

Government develop the strategy to redistributing urban area out of the crowded city into the forest part.

New generation of people have the potential to reconstruct communities with provided source for sustainable living. The role of hunter and gatherer has returned.

I was sent back to Miri to monitor the ongoing situation in replantation zone.

The sun was starting to set. I was on the watchtower, stand still, looking out to the creamish sky above the huge forest land.

The landscape was just amazing - at this side of paradise.

Conclusion

In this exaggeration of modern-day impact of oil palm industry, a new system has been speculated that puts the local communities forward as central actors of future forest management plans.

The traditional knowledge in ecology of the Dayaks communities in Borneo island offers an interesting example of the interrelation between agricultural food production, forest management and local culture.

Balancing natural production along with human consumption

Religious values and practices attached to the environment, customary system, rules, and beliefs helps establish and sustain the Dayak world as a social system and maintain a harmonious relationship with the community, nature, and the supernatural world.

While addressing trends that are moving forward using regrowth material instead of processed one, It promotes and enhance a sustainable forestry development, generating green jobs, and preserving Borneo’s natural capital.

The redistribution of people and natural resource allowing the reappropriation of the agriculture activities and clean energy supply to be implemented.

Now Growing of megacities shows that we still heading toward dystopia future. You can decide which side(alternatives) is paradise

Embrace the artificiality or belong with nature or balancing both of them.

The Green belt Monster

I was 9 going on 10 when it happened…it was the Spring of 1956. My dad moved the family from Norfolk to San Francisco, my dad was a career Navy man and had gotten a big promotion. As my mother was young and still taking college courses, trying to get her teaching credentials, she could live anywhere in the U.S. and continue her schooling. My parents were good in the sense that I knew they both loved me, but as a grown man reflecting back on it now I believe my parents started too young. They were too wrapped up in eachother and just didn’t think how moderate neglect works on a kids young psyche. My dad is 10 years older than my mom, and at time he was still very much a young man in spirit. He was tall and thin with dark hair, classically handsome. My mom was young and a former beauty queen that gave it all up to have an affair with an older Dashing Naval cadet. As a teenager my Dad told how he and my Mom grew up across the street from eachother. At first my Dad viewed my Mom as just a bratty little girl that always threw rocks at him. But when he came home to visit after being gone for six years, he saw this beautiful girl with sandy blonde hair, green eyes and freckles tending his parents “victory garden”. Her face was flush with color and sweat from digging in the garden, and the most angelic beautiful girl he’d ever seen! My Dad was 28 and my mom 18, so needless to say the age discrepency created a small controversy in that small town. My maternal Grandparents tried to have my Dad arrested and briefly faced jail time and a dishonorable discharge from the Navy, but they were both madly in love and somehow convinced my Grandparents to let my Dad marry my Mom. It helped that at the time in Illinois, 16 was of legal marrying age. Also by the time they decided they were going to get married my Mom was 3 months pregnant with me. But that’s a story for another time! As a kid I was very awkward along with being Painfully shy (a trait I had inherited from my Paternal Grandmother) on top of being an introvert. To combat this my parents forced me into cub scouts, then boy scouts, but it didn’t help. I would just find a corner and work on whatever project I was tasked with. I didn’t make any new friends, but I learned some practical skills that served me well later on down the road. I spent A Lot of time in my room reading and building models of ships and planes. These are both habits that were drilled into me by my parents. If I wasn’t going to make new friends, then “By God you’re gonna be the smartest most skilled weirdo in the class room” my Dad would always say. By the time I had turned 8 I had read almost all of the classics, except for Treasure Island. My Dad had read it as a child and often referred to it as his favorite book. Once it was playing at the theater on base, my Dad took me to see it. We watched 3 times back to back. When we got back to the house my Mom was Furious..at least she acted furious, but she never stayed mad. My Dad had a way of smiling at her that instantly disarmed her, even to this day my Dad at 77 will just look at my Mom when she’s reading him the riot act about one thing or another, he’ll catch her eye and she’ll just melt…she’ll look and him and sigh, then say “Oh you old devil, kiss me and I’ll forgive you”…and my Dad will shuffle over (pretending to be decrepit) take her in his arms and plant a big smooch on her like they were teenagers, much to the disgust to me and my 2 younger siblings…but I digress! Because at the time I was an only child and was too socially awkward to make any real friends I had become quite adept at entertaining myself by coming up with stories as I built the models my Dad had gotten me. After a while I had gotten quite skilled at model building. I’d paint them to look like they has been through extremely rough missions, or fresh out of the factory. Once my Dad had found a model of an F4U Corsair that had been flown by an ace onboard the same ship my dad had served on during the war. I built it for him taking extra special care to paint all the tiny details in, I even painted the inside of the cockpit. It took me two months to build and paint that model! When I finally showed my dad, he was so impressed with it he displayed in his office on base. And when we moved he had it shipped to his new office and paid a guy 25 bucks to make sure it survived the trip. I had written a few of the stories down and hidden them in the pages of all the books I had acquired over the years. But these weren’t just any books! My Mom despite growing up in a small rural town had been an avid reader and collector of fine books. And whenever she would buy me a book, she insisted on buying the hard cover versions. And if she could find them, buy 1st editions. Now with books like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Tarzan, the Jungle Book and Knights of the Round Table and a mother that read them to me and just for the love of them I dreamt of these things Everyday and night, I Always had adventures rolling through my head. But we lived in Norfolk, Virginia on a Naval base. If you’ve never lived in Naval base housing…for a kid, it’s torture. Oh yeah, I could see the harbor from my bedroom window and watch the ships come in and out. But these folks we’re having Real adventures, probably with buddies they had met in basic training. They probably told jokes and played practical jokes on eachother and laughed a lot, chased girls when the got off duty, talked about how they missed they families or their best girl when they were out to see for months on end. These guys fought the Japs in the Pacific, maybe even had to cross the North Atlantic and sweated bullets while waiting for the Nazi’s to sink their boat with a Jerry sub. Went on secret missions in far off seas…these guys had friends, and went on real adventures. Something I never did. There were neighbor kids, a few were even in my age group. But there father’s were jr officers, or non commissioned officers. My Dad was a Liutenenant Commander that had risen through the ranks quickly…it didn’t matter that he’d earned it by fighting his way the Pacific as a Jr. Officer, and distinguished himself during the war. Superior Officers and their awkward shy kids Didn’t fraternize with Jr. Officers and enlisted or their kids. So back to those models I built…my Dad took me to an airfield once to look at some of the old planes he’d flown in the Pacific. I was fascinated, I spent hours in those planes studying every panel, nob, switch, pedal and dial I could reach. Because of my curiosity and fascination my Dad started bringing me home books on them. One day he found me on the roof with an old wooden milk crate, his old goggles and a broken broom stick pretending to fly a corsair shooting down Japs. He had a good laugh, but then demanded I get off the roof. After that he started bringing me home plastic model kits of various aircraft. My first dozen or so came out pretty rough. But I would rush it, just wanting to see the finished product. But from then on I would take my time, making sure to pay close attention to all the small details. After a few months of this I had become quite an accomplished model builder, so much so that I had one 1st prize in a model building contest that was held by the on base after school program for the officers kids. Little did I know my own accomlishment would only serve to further alienate me from the other neighborhood kids. It seemed I could do no right as an 8 year old. So I fell even deeper into my reclusivity, only leaving home to go to school and maybe the occasional movie at the base theater…if my Dad had time. Don’t get me wrong, the kids weren’t physically abusive. I never got beat up. I was just the invisible boy. None of the kids spoke to me at school, and I was too deathly afraid of rejection to approach them. The Playground attendant (otherwise known as “the yard duty”) would talk to me, but she was a 65 year old woman. I was always fascinated when she spoke of what it was like when she was a kid, but there was only so much I could relate to. After I lost interested in what she was talking about, I’d politely excuse myself, hang my head and walk away. One day after school I was walking home from the bus stop when I noticed both my parents were home, which was very unusual because the sun was still high in the sky. At first I thought a family tragedy had struck but I couldn’t imagine what? We hardly ever visited family, and it was only my Dad’s parents that Ever came to visit. When I got in the house my parents sat me down at the dining room table…now that I think about, I think it was the 1st time we had ever sat at the table as a family! The 2nd thing that ran through my mind was maybe my parents were going to take me somewhere for my birthday? I had Always heard about this magical place in Los Angeles California where kids were in charge, and you could go on a tour of a town inhabited by Pirates, or a house full of Ghosts, or you could steal an Indian kayak and paddle your way to an island and meet the Actual Peter Pan and fight Capt. Hook! But alas, this was not to be true… “Hey Calvin, guess what”! My Dad said excitedly. But before I could answer my Mom blurted it out. “You’re Dad got promoted and given a new command. We’re moving to California”! At first I was excited just because my parents were, so I shouted my question… “Are we moving to Disneyland”!!? My Dad looked at me perplexed. If it didn’t have wings or tits, he didn’t pay attention to it. “Uh no…honey, we’re moving to San Francisco! Ya know…where Alcatraz is, and the Golden Gate Bridge….where Dad came home from the Pacific”. My Dad was injured on his way home and was diverted to San Francisco for surgery to save his left leg and to recover. I don’t remember it, as I was only a little over a year old. I just have flashes of large crowds and paper snow flakes that fell continuously for (to a toddlers intellect) what felt like days. I also have memories of my Dad walking with a cane until I started grade school. I asked if we’d still be on base? At this point my father had wandered off to pour himself 3 fingers worth of scotch. My mother explained that we would move into a brand new house built just for us in a neighborhood Just for Navy families. At this news I was crest fallen, I had already figured out that as long as I was surrounded by other Navy kids I was going to be a loner. I tried to fake my enthusiasm for this news, but my mother wasn’t that easily fooled. “Oh sweetheart, it’ll be different there. I promise”! She told me. “I have a present for you” she continued. Reaching into a paper bag she had under her arm she produced a package wrapped in gold wrapping paper with a red bow on it. I could see by its dimensions that it was a book. I was glad for that, I loved books! I tore through the thick paper and saw the deep rich red leather cover of the book. Down the spine and on both the front of the book was the title accompanied by a tall ship with its sails filled with the oceans strong winds embossed in silver was Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. My mother had told me how she had read this hundreds of times as a child. She spoke about it so often I felt like Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins were distant relatives. As disappointed as I was at the previous news, I couldn’t hide my joy at seeing the title. I turned the book over and looked at the back, it was bare except for the illustration of an open treasure chest spilling with loot in the same shiny silver paint that emblazoned the front. Because my parents decided to drive across the country, I got a chance to dive head first into my book. By the time we left Virginia I had finished ¼ of the book. Between sight seeing, falling asleep and various other distractions I finished the book just as we started our last leg of the trip driving through Death Valley. By this time the idea that hidden treasures could be buried in any of the crags, canyons and rock spires in the valley haunted me. I had fantasies of having shoot outs with bandits and pirates trying to steal my gold, sword fights with Spanish marauders or Mexican outlaws hiding behind every rock.  The rest of the trip went quickly for me.  Though I enjoyed seeing the country from the back seat of a family wagon surrounded by my books, drawing pad and various toys I was anxious to get out the car and sleep in my own bed,.  Before we even left my Dad had had all our belongings shipped to our new house, save for our clothes and personal belongings we had packed into our suit cases all our worldly belongings would be waiting for us in our new house.  Once we hit crested the mountains coming out of the desert I was glued to the window. Though Virginia had mountains, I had never seen them. Up to that point I had never seen so many lush green rolling hills or tall trees.  Though we had trees in Virginia, they were not much more than 30 or 40 feet tall.  These pine trees seem to be well over 60 feet tall.  Shrouded in fog with a chill I felt as though I was in the hills where Capt. Billy Bones was drinking his rum to excess at the Admiral Benbow inn and watching for incoming ships from the cliff face.  For the next two hours we worked our way through the smaller communities into our new neighborhood.  In my head I had imagined our new house wouldn’t be much different from our old one…two story turn of the century stripped down, bare essentials Naval housing, where the newest feature to the place would be the 3 foot high chain link fence around the featureless half dead grass yard. If there was one thing I had learned from being a navy brat, it was Not to have high hopes for much of anything!  After we had driven over the Golden Gate Bridge and snaked our way through the streets of Tiburon up into the hills above, my Dad decided to just drive around and see the sights our new neighborhood had to offer before we got to our new home.  Despite the thick damp fog and cool temperatures (I had heard that California was Always warm and dry) I was completely blown away by the natural beauty of the little bay side community.  Once again I felt like a character out of a book on a new adventure…as to what the adventure was I had no idea, and it wasn’t important.  For the 1st time in my short life I felt excited to be somewhere new, I didn’t care if I was painfully shy or awkward or bored or lonely.  Who could be bored or lonely in a town like Tiburon!?  We drove around for another 30 minutes or so until my Mom couldn’t take it anymore, she Had to see our new house…and she had to pee!