#NOTHING in the desert is easy to farm
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The fact that you cooked 100 of each of their specialties now just has me picturing them cooking their specialties for each other to such an extreme amount that you’re waiting for sigewinne to come and tell them to knock it off cause there’s no room left to store all of them
(I get you probably meant you’re waiting for her release but let’s be honest this sounds like the kind of chaos sigewinne would either resolve within 10 minutes or chaos she would make infinitely worse)
I hope you know ive been cooking and farming ingredients for neuvs specialty (eggs, carrots, and fowl arent available to buy hundreds off and needed to farm manually) ever since his 1st rerun in april 3rd. So yes. It is a very extreme amount of food and effort just for me to see in the food tab that number 100.
If sigewinne comes home to tell them to knock it off itll be appreciated but also she will smile and go 'my turn :)))' and make them all farm with her. So yes i agree its the kind of chaos she would resolve and/or fuel. She did after all canonically pick up bad habits from wrio 👍
#i pray that i dont need to farm for more eggs#i will actually lose my mind#like yall i almost farmed to get 100 of NAHIDAS dish#and you know those stupid aji-nuts are in the desert#NOTHING in the desert is easy to farm#<- day 1 ex cyno main#im gonna lose my mind#lyssten to my rambles
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Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1
Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|
Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader
Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.
Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn
unedited*
At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.
You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.
Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?
And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.
“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”
The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.
It’s a person.
“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.
You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.
You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”
You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?
“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.
“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”
He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”
With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for all of them, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.
While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.
“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.
“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”
“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.
“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”
***
You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.
“You want us to do what?!”
“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.
“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”
“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”
He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”
That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.
And you could use the company.
“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”
One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”
Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”
He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.
When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.
Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility
*Taglist open!
#kpop#bts#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts x reader#kpop smut#bts smut#kim seokjin#park jimin#bts series#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#poly!bts#ot7 x reader#bts ot7#bangtan ot7#poly!bts x reader#hybrid#bts hybrid au#strangers to lovers#eventual romance#eventual smut#rm bts#bts jimin#jk fic#bts fic#poly ot7
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MK1 fanfiction
EDIT: now all chapters will be collected under the title of Cracked mirror of black, cold soul
No one asked for it, but as I did not get enough Bi-Han & Shang Tsung interaction, I was forced to write about them myself. The first part is at least done, we will see if I managed to finish the second. Mainly written as a character study of MK1!Shang Tsung, a bit about his relationship with Damashi, General Shao and potential partnership with Sub-Zero post story-mode.
There was a time when Shang Tsung was nothing more than just a pitiful loser clinging to an even more pathetic life. All he could do to survive was to pretend to be someone else, someone better, wiser; someone worthy of trust, someone people like and listen to. Lying to people was easy. Lying to himself anyone would care if he died came much harder and harder with each passing day.
Then came Damashi and offered him not only power but also kindness, a praise for making progress, be it for fulfilling her plans or for his own growing skills. He would gladly burn the world just to earn her smile, a good word, anything really. She made him for the first time in a long long time feel valued, appreciated, even liked despite who he was under all the polite words and charming smiles.
But that was a lie too. A lie he foolishly fell for, like a stray, hungry dog falls for a kind pat on the head and a little treat before the new owner will kick it for fun.
Shang Tsung was many things but definitely not a dog to be kicked, be it by Liu Kang or his Titan self. If none of the gods cared for him, he wouldn't care for them either. And now, after he ran away from prison and a terrifying storm washed him ashore on a deserted island full of magic secrets to unlock, he had time and means to repay each of his pursuers, to make all the realms if not respect his skills then fear them.
Since Damashi’s - his own Titan self’s - betrayal many days and nights have passed and with each Shang Tsung’s mastery of magic grew stronger, his knowledge deepened, his confidence restored and strengthened. He claimed the island as his new home, the impregnable fortress secured by the most wicked, devilish and brilliant traps he could think about and for the first time in ages, he finally felt like belonging to the right place.
It was as good a life as it could be. Not perfect, as Shang Tsung still needed to figure out how to secure his food supplies before he would tame the wild land, unused for years and maybe the animals lurking in the shadows could be useful too. A domestic cattle would be a great addition for sure, as it was the only type of animal he had any skill to maintain but then again, there was no way he would engage in tedious farming. He had no time nor patience for that kind of work yet he did not want any stranger on his island either. All he could do for now was to eat the catched fishes and some plucked from tree fruits while bringing all the needed ingredients and supplies from a quick trip to the land. Using magic portals was a tricky solution - magic brought unwanted attention and once used, always left some traits to follow but after the last storm he did not feel safe on a boat sailing through the open sea. On the land, he did run into some of his former allies, exchanged important news and some secrets here and there, never truly betraying where he was hiding. The General and his men treated Shang Tsung with suspicion, always demanding more than he offered. On the other hand, he and Quan Chi worked well in the past, but after the last betrayal, Shang Tsung couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone blamed him for his Titan self’s lies, like he was the one lying to them all. The Royal Family wanted his head, the Earthrealm Champions hunted him too. It was a mess, amusing and irritating at the same time.
He was going to deal with that matter too, when the right time came. For now, Shang Tsung enjoyed the new found magic - the power awaiting for those who will dare to reach out for it. A power he didn’t need to share with anyone.
Everything would feel much better though if Sub-Zero didn’t somehow find a way to break into his new home like all the deviously set up traps meant nothing.
Shang Tsung should know something was off the moment he felt coldness creeping into his bones, but in all fairness, it was always cold here. He did not have yet an idea how to heat the interior of an abandoned fortress and as much as he liked to not freeze in his own sleep, luxury like that was not on his priority list. He should be more cautious, more focused on the change in the air about him than walking straight into his own room and then be dumstocked at the sight of Sub-Zero looking through his books as if he had lived here forever and Shang Tsung was the unwanted guest.
“Your security is shitty” was all he got as a greeting. Cold, sharp, uncaring words judging him as an incompetent idiot. The bastard did not even bother to look at him, just kept rummaging through the books like it was the only thing worth this attention.
Shang Tsung wasn’t sure what offended him more - being ignored or watching as his precious belongings were touched without his permission. He liked books way more than he liked people.
In the last few years he killed people for less than that yet he smiled his most charming smile, the gears in his head working fast and furious on how to turn the unpleasant situation for his own advantage. The fact that Sub-Zero allowed him to see himself in the open instead of lurking in the shadows to cut his throat gave Shang Tsung a reason for a bit of optimism. As far as he heard from his former, maybe-still-maybe-not allies, Lin Kuei rejected Liu Kang’s authority and were on their own. It of course did not mean that Sub-Zero was his friend or ally nor that he wouldn't murder Shang Tsung at the end of day, either to reconcile with Fire Lord or to bribe the god to let the Lin Kuei be in peace.
Shang Tsung couldn’t blame Bi-Han for that - in this cruel world, everyone was looking after their own best interest, but the vision of losing his life did not sit well with him at all. He wasn’t afraid of fighting and he did beat down great Champions in the last battle, but out of all opponents, it was Sub-Zero's ice axe that was the closest to beheading him for good.
He did not plan to forget that anytime soon.
“What an unexpected surprise,” he said, all the soft, so sweet smile, velvet voice and sharp eyes analyzing the danger standing before him. “What can I do for you, my friend? Or did you just miss my humble company?”
He teased with feigned innocence because men hated when he said ridiculous stuff like that. Shang Tsung hated it himself, because he knew no one would miss him at all.
“For one, drop the false politeness” came Sub-Zero’s cold reply, a mix of disapproval and command that Shang Tsung was so used to, because this was how people treated him, the real him, all his life. “We are not friends.”
There was a flare of anger in Shang Tsung now, the desire to prove himself the superior, not a pitiful dog anyone could kick and command - but he knew better than to allow this fire to burn inside him. Emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford. Did the man even know how much he provoked the sorcerer with his cold disdain? Shang Tsung had no idea. He heard a lot of stories about Lin Kuei; even in the backwater hole from which he crawled out everyone heard the terrifying tales of Fire Lord’s secret army. Of the ice demons stealthier than shadows and more deadly than night itself and for a long time Shang Tsung did not think of them as living beings from this world.
Still… Sub-Zero was mortal, wasn’t he? A special one no doubt, with control over ice yet he could bleed too. Shang Tsung wondered for a moment what he could find under the fine, cold skin if he ever had a chance to look for the answer. An ice demon, human or hybrid of both?
“But we are still allies, aren’t we?” he asked, still polite and careful, yet walking up to the other man with his typical swagger. Not close enough to be in arm reach, but close enough to show he wasn’t that easily intimidated.
The great military hero of Edenia always looked down on his movements; how he fought, how he gesticulated, how he walked. No self-respecting soldier would walk like some pleased prostitute after a well-paid job, the General said not once nor twice and all Shang Tsung could do then was to smile the brightest smile and thank him, like his disdain was the best praise he heard that day. The only thing they really have in common, beside the desire to take down Sindel’s regime, was being self-made men for both worked hard to be who they were. Yet General came from an old, aristocratic family with even older military tradition and everything that did not fit his narrow-minded idea of the world was treated with hostility and contempt.
Shang Tsung’s skinny body, swagger, shrewdness, curiosity and wordiness unsurprisingly annoyed the great warrior and to say he took no pleasure in that fact would be a blatant lie. Even if it was childish and unproductive pleasure, it amused him to know how little effort he needed to test the patience of such a stern and manly man.
Sub-Zero reminded him a lot of Shao and he suspected it was the soldier thing; the body built for fight and hardship, no-nonse attitude and the way both men moved - with deadly precision and confidence only a person that in fact killed an enemy in battle could muster. Even the way they spoke sounded similar, a barked command that everyone around instinctively wanted to obey, either out of respect or fear.
For that similarity alone, Shang Tsung expected the Lin Kuei Grandmaster to snarl at him some nasty remark about how his Titan self betrayed them all and thus how little he himself was worth of anyone’s trust. Anything to put the sorcerer down even a bit, to remind him what a failure he was.
“That is yet to be seen” was all the Grandmaster said, finally glancing from the book to Shang Tsung.
It was hard to read anything from the man’s face, as half of it was hidden behind that damned Lin Kuei mask. All he could do was to rely on the move of a brew and the incantation of voice, each syllable, a moment of pause. It was a hard task, as the man showed no emotions and spoke so little so far. But the sorcerer knew there was anger, always lurking in each word spoken by Sub-Zero, but also… an excitement at finally being free of Liu Kang’s control. As Damashi foretold.
Shang Tsung couldn’t help but to think there was something much deeper about Damashi's interest in breaking Lin Kuei from Fire Lord than he ever suspected before. Back then the choice sounded logical - every action that would deprive Liu Kang of the advantage was worth taking so he did not question his benefactor. How could he, really? Now though? The truth burned him to the core and he learned the hard way that each of Damashi’s words had a hidden meaning, each action served a different goal than was promised; the victory he was in fact never part of. Yet… even the deepest shade of lie had a grain of truth. He knew that one well, for he lied all his life.
His Titan self for some reason wanted not so much the Lin Kuei itself as the Sub-Zero specifically on his side. Maybe more than Titan Shang Tsung even wanted his own younger self, corrupted by Liu Kang.
The mere thought made him want to curse all gods alike. There was no difference for him between Liu Kang and his Titan-self, as both played him like some pawn, not even an important figure. Just pawn, to hold away from power, to sacrifice it when times would come.
But there was more to it than just jealous anger and the never ending feeling of never being good enough. If Sub-Zero meant so much, if not in the grand scheme of things itself then just for personal satisfaction of Titan, then maybe he could be important to Shang Tsung’s own plans. Allies were hard to come by and these days he could use some, well, not protection really, he was done with living under someone else's wing but he wouldn’t say no to some partnership or at least casual support. The little favor here and there where things were still thick and troublesome to deal on your own. After all, freedom always came at some cost.
Maybe Sub-Zero came to the same conclusion and his unexpected visit was just a reconnaissance. They were more alike than one would think, as similar desires drove them into this madness of Titans. To prove their own might and skills to all those that looked down on them their whole life. But above everything else, to be free and powerful enough to keep that freedom.
To his own surprise, Shang Tsung took comfort in that thought.
If they were meant to stay allies - or as close two stubborn outcasts with grudge against gods could rely on each other, some sacrifices were to be made. Shang Tsung did something he rarely did - he dropped the false politeness under which he hid himself for years.
“How did you find me?” he asked Sub-Zero directly, raising his chin challengingly. He was not afraid of Lin Kuei, just curious.
“You are not as careful as you think you are” Bi-Han answered with no less challenging stare, yet the flick of an amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. Shang Tsung knew the man was smirking under that damned mask and that thought alone made him puff in anger.
The brown eyes shone even more.
Sub-Zero moved from his place, slowly walking from one bookshelf to another. His fingers traced books, never stopping at any particular volume, but always touching the book spines, like there was something interesting in their textures. The man did not pay attention to Shang Tsung and not really to books either. He was studying the room itself. The sorcerer couldn’t place why it bothered him so much but he knew better than to allow Sub-Zero to learn even the most trivial things about himself or his fortress.
Damashi warned him against that the first day when she spoke about Lin Kuei. They are thieves, the mysterious being said, all grace and patience and praise for the unwanted Shang Tsung who drank in her words like the wisdom of gods, who will steal your fortune, life and secrets. Always be on your guard around them, especially around the one named Sub-Zero. If only he was smarter back then, less in need to please his generous benefactor, maybe he could hear in her sweet voice the longing for something, someone, that was not anymore. For the old partnership that was broken and defiled by Liu Kang’s peaceful vision of the world. But he was a fool who thought her yearning was for him alone.
Shang Tsung was done with being played like a fool.
“Who told you about my island?” he demanded, voice still quiet yet no less burning with an old anger. He would get his answers, whatever kindly or by force.
A long sigh escaped Sub-Zero’s lips and frankly it took him out by surprise. Shang Tsung - or rather his Titan self - knew the man was running on frustration for years, but that sounded as a whole new level of annoyance.
“I heard about it from Havik, who heard that from Rain, who heard that from Reiko, who heard that from Shao, who heard about it from Quan Chi. But the whole Sun Do is full of similar gossip.”
For a moment none of them spoke. Shang Tsung stared at Sub-Zero’s impassive, half-hidden face that still somehow emanated his disgust at their maybe-allies-maybe-not-but-definitely-idiots who apparently couldn’t keep a secret to save their own life. The feeling was mutual, because this was the reason why the sorcerer hated working with others. No one apparently could keep their mouth shut down if you didn’t help make that permanently.
He closed eyes and rubbed his forehead, like that could ward off all the bad thoughts assaulting his mind right now. His fingers were cold, too cold for his liking, unpleasantly stiff and numb. He did not like how the mere presence of a cryomancer affected his body, how it made him shiver and weak. He was an Edenian for fuck’s sake, and Edenia did not even know what winter cold was. He did not know that himself, until Damashi led him to a snow-covered fortress and he almost freezed there the first night.
It took him a moment to realize something bad was happening. He couldn’t focus, all his senses dulled, body so clumsy and weak. As if his energy suddenly dropped to zero and fatigue was taking over. A flash of panic crossed his mind, but he was too tired, too cold to even be afraid for his life.
He had no idea how long he remained in the grip of this piercing soul frost. A few seconds? Days? He couldn’t even say. What mattered was that once the control of his senses came back, he was still alive and Sub-Zero gone.
And the fact the bastard stole a few of his precious scrolls and books.
***
The books showed up on his desk a few days later. There was no thank you or sorry about that note, not even the fuck you, loser. Shang Tsung both admired the man's boldness and hated him for it. Still he appreciated the books were returned in a good condition, as there was not a single scratch on any of them, not even a new page crease. He had no idea if that was some sort of weird Lin Kuei’s way to test him, disrespect or Sub-Zero took the books simply because he wanted to read them but he was a bastard with no sense of social politeness to just ask as any normal human being would. Damashi mentioned cryomancers were naturally difficult like that.
Shang Tsung had better things to do than to wonder what the check was wrong with Sub-Zero yet he was too curious for his own sake. Sadly, the titles alone did not say anything useful on the matter and even though he read each book just in case, there was hardly anything worth the time it took to finish them. No grand secrets revealed, no magic or military knowledge, not even historical value. Just some technical nonsense that bore him to death and if Sub-Zero was into stuff like that then no wonder the man lacked any social grace.
The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei so far did not try to kill him and returned the books so Shang Tsung decided to give him the benefit of doubt and so he did not cross out the man from the list of potential allies. It did not stop him however from improving the traps just in case the man decided to return solely to steal again.
***
The scrolls showed up on his desk three days later. Their appearance actually worried Shang Tsung, not just because the trap again turned out to be useless. He was not worried even by the possibility Sub-Zero found some secret entrance he did not know about yet. No, what worried him was the fact he spent the whole morning in his chamber and walked out for like twenty minutes at best and when he returned, the scrolls WERE. THERE.
That actually unnerved him much more than he wanted to admit.
The scrolls turned out to be written in a language Shang Tsung did not even know and the implication that Lin Kuei could read it only added to the feeling of cold unease. There was however a note left on the scrolls; a small paper with only Royal Army searching the coast written in Shang Tsung’s own language.
He was not afraid of empress Mileena’s army but he did appreciate the warning. Of course, the warning could be a fraud, a means to build trust only to betray him. The common sense advised caution yet there was a weird sense of peace within Shang Tsung. A hope or hunch, he did not know, but deep in his heart he felt everything was alright.
All he could do for now was wait to see if Sub-Zero will lead the enemy to his fortress or not. So he waited.
(The fact that another book disappeared with Sub-Zero did not surprise him much. Irritated, yes, but not worried. For some reason he felt everything was like it should be, like some almost forgotten memory of past life came back to him and the sense of deja vu was weirdly comforting.)
#mortal kombat#shang tsung#bi han#sub zero#cienie's fanfiction#and to think i started to write if for the cat propaganda that i did not use yet lol#i'm here for#bi han and shang tsung#relationship colored by various source material#sub zero's love for ancient scrolls full of secret knowledge though in this fic he steals stuff for sektor's project from the mk1 ending#and how he get inside a highly secured places#and don't tell me i'm the only one to think damashi was special person to shang tsung#also lol at how all of the bad guys gossip no one in mk cast know what secret means or what? XD#as for bi han's powers i was inspired by mk book i guess#and it turned out like he changed the ambient temperature unnoticed until it was too late and then get the hell away with books XD
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so with the new version of Dwarf Fortress out on Steam, lots of people are getting into it for the first time. i still don't have this new version (yet) but here's some advice going off my playing the older versions on and off for like the last thirteen years. i'm not going to get into the extreme basics as there are plenty of full guides about that, this is just some personal advice from me:
especially for your first embark, pick a mundane-ass location with plenty of vegetation and trees and normal weather. don't fuck around with deserts or evil or glaciers or savage lands if you don't know what you're doing, you'll get killed by lack of water/the undead/the cold and absolutely nothing growing/giant wild animals, respectively. good-aligned regions are usually okay, if you want at least a little bit of the fantastic in your general vicinity. use the site finder to find a place with trees, vegetation, a river/stream/some other source of running water but NO AQUIFER, and multiple deep and shallow metals. personally my favorite embarks are the borders of forests and mountains, that way you have plenty of shit to mine AND plants to eat/brew, trees to chop down and make stuff with, etc. aquifers CAN be beneficial IF you know what you're doing (essentially they're a source of infinite fresh water if you can harness them, unless you're too close to the ocean and you get a saltwater aquifer, which sucks) but they can just as easily flood your entire fortress if you fuck up in even the slightest. i've been playing this game for over a decade and even i don't know what the fuck to do with aquifers so don't ask me
i personally prefer embarks with shallow soil. soil's super-easy to farm in (you CAN farm on stone but you have to have a way to irrigate it, and that can be a pain in the ass) but IMO most of your dwarves' living and working spaces should be carved out of stone, because soil can't be smoothed and therefore can't be engraved, and dwarves like moving around in smoothed areas and seeing high-quality engravings
your first priority when starting a fort is digging out a shelter for your dwarves. then make spaces for your first few workshops (stoneworking, carpenter, mechanic, and such) so you can get doors installed on your front entrance, and then immediately get your farms up and running. all dwarven crops can be grown indoors and plump helmets are a great choice of staple crop for literally any settlement since they can be eaten, cooked, OR brewed into dwarven wine. outdoor plants have to be grown on outdoor farm plots but they're still great for adding a little variety to your booze stocks and dwarves love that. take note of what kind of trees grow around your fortress, lots of them grow stuff that can be cooked (like walnuts or almonds) or pressed for oil (like olives) or brewed (almost any fruit tree) and you might not want to cut down those apple and pear trees right next to your fort's entrance when you can use them to make cider
NEVER BUILD ANYTHING OUT OF RAW STONE, WOOD, OR METAL. one raw stone can be used to build a single tile of wall or floor, a workshop, counts as one material for a bridge, etc AND is heavy as fuck, slowing down any dwarf carrying it to where it needs to go. FUCK THAT, have your masons cut that shit into BLOCKS. a raw stone will get you anywhere from 1-4 blocks, EACH of which can be used to make anything i mentioned earlier, AND won't weigh down your haulers or builders when they're carrying it. wood and metal can be cut into blocks too, if you need to make walls or floors or what have you out of those. HOWEVER, remember that blocks CAN'T be used in ANY crafting (that includes wooden blocks for burning in forges, making charcoal, etc), so once it's been cut into blocks, it's blocks FOREVER. you're gonna have a shitton of stone around almost any fort so making rock blocks is a good way to train new masons, but i'd only make wood or metal blocks if i needed those specifically
make some mugs early on, your dwarves like drinking out of them more than sticking their heads under the spigot. don't worry about individual bedrooms early on, you can absolutely get away with just sticking a bunch of beds in a big room at the beginning of your fort and digging out rooms later when you're more stable. don't build most workshops out in the open, dig out a room for each one and put in doors you can lock for each one. you'll thank me the first time one of your dwarves goes berserk after failing a strange mood and you can just lock them in there instead of letting them rampage around and beating your other dwarves to death
rock crafts will probably be your main trade good early on. most forts will have stone just laying around, absolutely fucking everywhere, so you might as well put it to use by carving little trinkets out of it and trading it for whatever the caravans bring
break into the caverns ASAP and then IMMEDIATELY seal that shit up. the easiest way to do this is digging an up/down stairway until the game lets you know you've found a cavern, then put a hatch cover on the stairs going immediately down into the cavern and lock it. you're not going to be able to handle hostile cavern creatures early on, but breaking into the caverns releases CAVE MOSS SPORES so ANY underground soil tile can start naturally growing moss or fungus. this is functionally identical to grass, so this means you'll be able to pasture your animals INSIDE, keeping them safe from any wild predators that might come along like wolverines or bears as well as keeping goblin raiding parties from using them for target practice
get a militia going sooner rather than later. a good array of traps and a locked door might keep the first couple bands of goblin invaders away, but larger armies of them are more likely to get through traps and keep you from sending your dwarves outdoors until they get bored and leave. were-beasts are not deterred by either, being capable of avoiding traps AND smashing down doors, and the bad guys only get tougher from there. check your migrants' skills, they always arrive as civilians so the guy with a title of "peasant" who isn't good at ANY labor might actually be pretty skilled with a mace. dwarves with only more esoteric skills like cheesemakers or gem setters are also good candidates for bolstering your military, once they get some training under their belt
IN GENERAL, for military purposes: wood/bone/leather <<<<<<<<<<<<<< silver <<<<<<<<<< copper < bronze < iron < steel < [REDACTED]. some exceptions: silver absolutely sucks for everything EXCEPT blunt weapons, where it suddenly becomes the best material in the game; pure copper is better than bronze for blunt weapons but bronze is better for edged weapons and far better for armor; bronze is only a hair below iron in terms of general military use. your greenest recruits who aren't fit for battle yet might actually benefit from wearing leather armor while they're training so it weighs them down less (at least until they get a few ranks of Armor User), but absolutely all of your actual fighters should be wearing metal helmets. [REDACTED] is the opposite of silver, it's the best metal in the game EXCEPT for blunt weapons which it absolutely sucks ass at. making steel is labor-intensive and time-consuming and requires specific materials and also kind of overkill since only dwarves can make it, but it's by far the best general-purpose military-grade metal you're going to possibly get reasonable quantities of
save metallic crossbow bolts for fights. wooden and bone bolts can't get through most armor but since wild animals aren't known for wearing armor, if you have hunters they will take prey down just fine without metal bolts. likewise, your marksmen should be training with wooden and bone bolts so they're not wasting metal ones on target dummies. yeah this means you'll need to constantly crank out wooden and bone bolts, pretty much
might add to these later if i think of anything else
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we fell in love in october ;; haley x reader
summary: haley has been avoiding you, and you don’t know why.
relationship: haley x female reader
word count: 2.4k
read on ao3!
✧༺♥༻✧
You would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t think Haley was the prettiest girl you had ever seen. With her curly golden locks and sparkling blue eyes, she was easily the star of the valley, and of your heart. When you first moved into the small oceanside town, she’d been nothing short of rude to you. Nothing outwardly mean , necessarily, but every interaction was made up of short remarks and passive-aggressive compliments. “Nice makeup. Wait... Are you even wearing any?” “Don't you get tired of running around on that farm all day, or whatever it is you do? I couldn't stand getting all dirty like that.”
Luckily, you were not one to back down so easily. You were used to mean girls, and you had learned long ago that being sickeningly nice to them usually did the trick. Besides, something about Haley struck you. Was she rude? A little bit. But you could tell there was something else there, something more. Some days you’d see her out taking photos around town, sometimes making her sister model for her.
So you gave her gifts. Coconuts you’d found in the desert, a slice of pink cake, a pretty sunflower from the farm. Each time she seemed surprised, but she softened a little bit more. You felt that you were making progress, albeit slowly. As mean as she was, you wanted to be her friend.
You’d heard around town about the things she and her sister Emily had gone through. They had been on their own for the past two years as their parents “traveled the world.” Apparently, they had never been around much before that anyways. You couldn’t help but feel bad for them. While they were both adults–Haley 21 and Emily 24–it couldn’t be easy to be without your parents for so long. And it wasn’t an excuse for Haley being so mean, but maybe it was an explanation.
You were taking your usual afternoon walk around Pelican Town. It was a brisk fall day, perfect to see all the foliage the seaside town had to offer. You had only been there for a few months, but you only needed a day to fall in love with the area. You were starting to understand why your grandfather loved it so much there.
As you strolled, the leaves crunching under your feet, memories began to flood back to you. Memories of visiting the farm as a child, of jumping in leaf piles and making scarecrows. Thanksgivings hosted in the old farmhouse– they were never large. You had no cousins, so holidays were always just you, your parents, and your grandfather. The attendance may have been small, but the company was good, and he always made enough food for ten times the amount of people that were there.
You wondered if you ever came across any of your now-friends as children. You always stayed on the farm, but perhaps one time you’d seen sisters playing in the town square, a girl reading under a tree, two boys and a girl playing in the river, a girl doing some kind of science project…
As you walked around the area of Marnie’s ranch, you were stopped by the sound of crying. Frowning, you started to approach the noise. As you rounded a tree, you saw the source of the noise: Haley, sitting on the dock by the small pond. Her face was in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. She seemed to be trying to quiet her sobs, but to no avail.
“Haley?” You called. Immediately, she tensed up and the cries stopped. You walked down the length of the dock quickly, wood creaking. Just as you got close, she wiped her eyes and looked up at you. Mascara streaked down her pink cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair was a mess.
“H-Hi,” she said, her voice shaking.
“What’s wrong?” You sat down beside her. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks. Black makeup stained her fingers, and she let out a laugh when she looked down at her hands. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
For a while, you were both quiet. You weren’t going to make her speak, and at the moment it seemed like she didn’t want to. Haley stared at her feet, her breath still shaking as she tried to calm herself down. You knew that feeling too well; when you’re finished crying but you still can’t seem to breathe properly.
You don’t know how long the two of you sat there for, but soon there was a chill in the air. The warm afternoon was fading away. The only sounds were the wind whistling through the trees and squirrels running through the leaves, no doubt stockpiling for the bitter winter ahead. You had to do the same thing this time of year. It was one of the most important things your grandfather always told you he did: fall is the time to prepare for winter. Grow extra wheat for the animals, extra food for yourself so you don’t starve. Save up for some nice heaters for the barn and coop.
Haley shivered beside you. You looked at her, noting the way goosebumps raised on her smooth skin. Without a second thought, you shed your jacket and placed it on her shoulders. She murmured a soft thanks.
“It’s getting dark out,” you noted. This time of year was sad, for it got dark far too early for your liking. If you had to guess, which you were quite good at from time spent outside, it was barely even five o’clock. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
“Yes, sure,” she whispered. One of only three things she had said to you since you arrived. You stood up and offered her your hand. She took it and stood up. You couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked in your jacket. It was a warm one, meant for farming on cold days like this. It was dirty and stained. You’d think Haley would take it off with a, “ugh, gross” , but to your surprise, she pulled it tighter around her.
The short walk to 2 Willow Lane was filled with more silence. Haley didn’t say a word, but she didn’t need to. You knew that she appreciated your presence. She showed it by taking your hand and giving it a light squeeze. When you got to her door, she shed your jacket and handed it back to you.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You breathed.
“Okay.”
You didn’t talk to Haley again for a while after that. Every time you saw her, she seemed to avoid you. At the Spirit’s Eve festival, she stayed close to Alex the whole time, and when you said hi, she only gave you a brief “hey” back. Why she was avoiding you, though, you didn’t know. You sensed it had something to do with that afternoon by the lake and why she was crying.
Fall turned into winter, and the sun began to set even earlier. Darkness fell over Pelican Town by four o’clock, a far cry from the seven o’clock sunset of the summer months. Your livestock stayed inside their respective barns and coops, so you could no longer even wake up to their sound in the mornings. Due to the cold weather, you fell into a routine much more dull than your usual one. Walks around town became few and far between.
Often, you found Haley at the forefront of your mind. You rarely saw her anymore, but that didn’t stop her blue eyes and her laugh like a chime from plaguing your thoughts. You missed her, you’d admit, but there was nothing you could do. She didn’t want to see you, it seemed, so what could you do about it?
You weren’t a fan of the snow, so you had largely been trying to avoid leaving the farm. But you really needed a silo built, so you found yourself trekking up to Robin’s carpentry shop. After placing the order, you figured you might as well just walk through the town. Pelican Town was always pretty, but the lights wrapped around the lampposts made it even prettier this time of year. You moseyed along the walkways, humming softly to yourself as you admired the lights.
Then you saw her. Haley was standing outside of Alex’s house, giggling with him as he tossed his gridball up in the air. He was saying something–knowing him, probably something dumb–and Haley was laughing. Her cheeks were glowing from the cold, and her eyes sparkling with laughter. Your mother always told you that jealousy was a parasite, one that would find its way into your heart and burrow itself there. Now, you knew you had been infected.
You turned on your heel and went back to the farm.
Winter dragged along, but before you knew it it had been a year since you first moved to Pelican Town. On the morning of the first day of spring, you found a note stuck to your door:
Farmer (Y/N),
Come to the community center at 3PM!
Excitement bubbled up in your stomach. You had recently finished renovations on the community center, and you were beyond thrilled that it was going to good use. In the past year, you had seen so many improvements made on the town, entirely thanks to you. Your hard work had not gone to waste, it seemed.
You spent your morning cleaning out the farm, then headed to the community center at three. To your surprise, the lights looked like they were off. You frowned and opened the door, peeking your head in.
“Hello?” You called. As the words left your lips, all the lights turned on. The interior was decorated with various balloons and streamers, and there was a table full of food in the center. On the wall, there was a big banner that said: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!
“Surprise!” Everyone yelled. You laughed in disbelief as you looked around at your friends and neighbors, those you had come to know and love over the past four seasons of your life. Around you, you saw everyone in town. Even Haley, who was currently avoiding all eye contact with you. Your heart sank a little, but it quickly rose up again when Alex ran over to you, hugging you tightly and lifting you in the air.
“Happy anniversary!” He yelled. “Can you believe it’s been a whole year since you moved here?!”
“We wanted to throw you a party to thank you for everything you’ve done for us,” Emily said, having appeared beside you. “You really saved this town.”
Over the next hour or so, you spent time talking to each and every one of your neighbors. Never in your life had you felt more appreciated and loved than in that moment. Everyone thanked you over and over again, but the one person you wanted to see was nowhere to be found.
“Hey, have you seen Haley?” You asked Emily. She was sitting in the little library section, talking and laughing with Caroline, Jodi, and Robin.
“I think I saw her go outside to get some fresh air,” Caroline said. Emily agreed with her, so outside you went. There, sitting on a park bench, was Haley. She was holding a daffodil in her hands, twirling it. Clearly, she was deep in thought.
Quietly, you walked over to the bench and sat beside her. “Hey, Haley.”
“Oh, hey,” she said. She didn’t look up at you. You let out a sigh.
“Why are you avoiding me?” You asked, point-blank. She perked up and, finally, for the first time in months, looked you in the eye.
“I-I’m not avoiding you!” She said quickly.
“Really? Because this is the first time you’ve looked me in the eye since–since that time by the lake in Cindersap Forest,” you said. She didn’t look upset before, but she did now. Haley was never the type to cry in front of people, but tears were filling her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I-I just, I…”
“You can tell me what’s wrong,” you urged. “If I did anything, I want to know.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “I promise.”
“Then what is it?”
For one nostalgic moment, you were both silent. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke. Her voice was shaking, and she had since looked back at the daffodil in her hands.
“I-I’ve always been so confident in myself, and who I am,” she explained. “My whole life, I’ve known who I am. In high school, I was a popular girl. Was I a little mean? Sure, but I think all teenage girls are. I had friends, even boyfriends. I have never once questioned myself until I met you. You’re just so…ugh!”
“You don’t like me?” You asked, heartbroken.
“No! God, no. I don’t not like you. That’s not it at all. I just…” she sighed. “For my entire life, I’ve dated men. But I don’t think I have ever been attracted to them. I’ve never felt about my boyfriends the way I feel about you. And you’re not even…you’re not my girlfriend. I’ve been avoiding you because I’m afraid, (Y/N). I’m afraid of how you make me feel.”
For a moment, it felt like the world stopped spinning. Time slowed to a complete stop. The only people that existed, at that moment, were you and Haley. You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was sit there, mouth open in shock.
“I love you,” she said softly. Tears threatened to spill out onto her cheeks. You cupped her cheek with your hand and, instead of responding, you kissed her. She seemed shocked for a moment, too frozen to reciprocate, but after a minute she melted into it. Her lips tasted like strawberries, and her skin smelled of coconut and jasmine. She was soft, softer than you could have ever imagined, and you realized you loved her back .
You had loved her all along. You loved her soft golden hair and her sparkling blue eyes, you loved her laugh like a chime and all those snide remarks she made to you when you first met. Even though she hadn’t spoken a word to you in two months, you loved her.
You pulled out of the kiss, pressing your forehead against hers.
“I love you too, Haley.”
#haley stardew valley#stardew valley#stardew valley x reader#stardew valley fanfiction#haley sdv x reader#haley stardew valley x reader#haley sdv#bee's fics
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i'm SO bad at making money in stardew valley but i'm SO tempted to get two purple turtles and name them donatello and viola-chan [cries]
i did name mine donatello, and i can confirm that it's SO satisfying. so you have two choices.
one is to take your time, the money will come eventually, etc etc, honk shoo honk shoo
two is to abandon all morals, embrace T H E M A C H I N E, and get your fuckin turtles. i'll give you a few tips based on which skills you like the best so you can gear towards those! i'll rank them in order of most to least efficient in terms of gameplay hours, in my experience. under a cut because i have almost 2k hours in this game And i read the wiki for fun. of course you can do, like, the non coconuts version of these suggestions if you're looking for something more low-key hahaha
farming: this is the biggest money maker hands down. if you have the island unlocked, fill that thing with as much starfruit as you can afford. go to the desert and plant a bunch of oak trees, then tap them so you can get a bunch of oak resin. in the beginning, you can sell as many starfruits as you need (unprocessed) in order to buy up more seeds; otherwise, keep them for processing into wine. start filling up your island farm that isn't farmland with the kegs. fill them up as you make them. sell the wine. you can make hundreds of thousands in a week doing this once you start scaling up and fill the entire farm. you can also do pineapples or ancient seeds which over time will be more profitable since you don't have to buy the seeds, but i find these take a lot longer to get started, so i personally prefer the starfruit. you can also just sell the unprocessed starfruit as it is, and it'll make you coconuts amounts of cash, but it's less efficient than turning it into wine. also, dont worry about aging it. that takes way too long for it to be your sole money maker.
sleeping: on the left side of your island farm, plant a fairy rose. then surround it as much as you can with bee hives. if you do this a couple times, you can get some serious cash by doing literally nothing but passing time.
mining: skull caverns runs where you farm iridium are pretty bog standard in speed runs. first thing to know is that the desert trader will swap jade for staircases on sunday. you'll get a crystalarium out of the community center bundle for the vault; put a jade in it as soon as you can. scale this up as quickly as you can, then get as many staircases as you can. next, you'll want to block pam's door with a chair so she gets to the bus a little more quickly. then have some coffee (or triple shot espresso if you can) on hand, and some luck food (think spicy eel, that sort of thing.) get as many bombs as you can make (or explosive ammo if you can afford it). staircase down as far as you can, then start blowing shit up. don't worry about the enemies. you're here for M O N E Y not glory. salads or gold-star cheese are good foods to keep on hand to keep your health up. magnetism is very important here, so you'll want to have either a magnet ring, a glowstone ring, or an iridium band equipped. come back, smelt all your iridium up, and sell it. you can also do this with radioactive ore when you get there, but it's a lot less reliable than this method. plus you'll get a bunch of other stuff in skull cavern to sell, too.
animals: pigs are the most efficient, though also the most labor-intensive animal. they'll find truffles, and with the farming boost of 40% to artisan goods, it's always profitable to turn them into oil. especially with the new blue grass, it's easy to get to where each pig is finding you several truffles a day. you can also do goats for their cheese and age it in the basement, which is a pretty decent money-maker. ostriches are quite good as well, once you unlock them. i usually have one barn filled with ostriches, and another filled with all the other animals. coop is pretty lackluster in my opinion, best filled with rabbits so you can get lots of feet for gifts.
fishing: so this can actually be a pretty good moneymaker now that 1.6 has buffed it quite a bit. the best way in my opinion is to make some lava eel bait, go to the top of the volcano, fish up lava eels all day, and smoke them. you can make a good chunk of cash this way. also crabpots are very underrated, especially if you have either an ocean of bait makers and the perk to get rid of trash (not my preferred method since i use the trash to get refined quartz), or the perk that makes it so they don't require bait and thus you just collect that good shit every morning. (sidebar, this is a really good way of getting fish for deluxe fertilizer if you're a crafting-type person.) fishponds are.... not great? tbh? so unless you're looking for something very specific (like caviar, the spicy eel drop from lava eels) i don't really bother with them much anymore.
combat: find the new parrot trinket. try to get at least level three if you can, though obvs. the higher the better. pop on some monster musk, go in the mines (best is the dangerous skull cavern mines since that has a 2x monster spawn rate, but if you aren't there yet, i recommend levels 55-70 of the regular mines since those have sprites which are Hella easy to kill, drop coal, and there are a metric shit ton of them), and farm away. this is easier if you use the hammer style (acrobat+artful+3x ruby enchants), as you can abuse the special attack and get massive aoe damage. with the parrot, he picks up a bit of money from time to time, more as his level goes up. you can make some Serious cash doing this. plus selling the drops, things you mine up, etc.
foraging: i..... tried for a long time to think of a good way to make money with foraging. i suppose technically the tree saps would be foraging? and they're.... okay? you could sell wood and hardwood but it's such a waste considering they're so important in crafting. if you're the kind of player who likes to spend all day wandering around the valley looking for forageables, more power to you, but pick one of the passive ways to make money and then have fun doing this. if you want two purple turtles, it's going to take you Years to do it through foraging.
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Hello, I was wondering if I could request Kent x Reader if you don’t mind since you said requests are open? The dynamic being an oblivious farmer who is just very polite and unaware as fuck while Kent is basically just like “I would both kill and die for you” (I apologize I am completely obsessed with him)
I don’t personally feel anything but platonic fondness for the rest of the townies, so this was a really nice challenge. It did take me forever to write because it gave me a lot of trouble and I kept rewriting it, but I eventually landed on this and I’m pretty pleased with it. They’re both dumb, but they figure themselves out by the end. I really hope I did your prompt justice, anon, and that maybe it was worth the wait! Enjoy! <3
2650-ish Words. This is a monster. I don’t like writing infidelity, so you can be sure that there is a hefty amount of canon divergence, even if I don’t mention anything outright. GN!Farmer. This is a little suggestive at certain moments, they flirt quite a bit (Kent does it knowingly, the Farmer does not because they are an oblivious shit), and there’s drinking, but nobody’s drunk. Ah, and there’s cursing, and Kent imagines the Farmer being all roughed up once (nothing explicit), and I use “Yoba” instead of “God.” Yanno. For immersion. I do say “fuck you” to the immersion in favor of using our twelve-month calendar year, though, so. There’s also that. Lmfao
Kent swirls the scotch in his glass, watching the amber liquid slosh around with the ice. It’s Friday night, half-past seven p.m., and the saloon is lively and bright. He’s been people-watching since he arrived, settled alone in his little corner. Marnie and Lewis still haven’t figured out their shit, Robin is attempting to teach Demetrius to dance without stepping on her toes once again, and Elliott is lamenting his writer’s block to Leah at the table over.
Same old, same old.
“Evening. This seat taken?” The Farmer asks, a nearly-empty drink in hand and a knowing grin on their face.
Except for this. This is a relatively new development.
Kent smiles up at them. “You know it isn’t.”
“Just in case.” The Farmer settles down on the stool next to him, the legs of their newly claimed chair screeching terribly against the worn down hardwood of the saloon. His heart tries to leap out of his throat and into their careful, calloused hands, but he swallows it down with another sip of liquor. It burns his throat terribly, but he welcomes the distraction.
“I haven’t seen you at the saloon in a while,” Kent says, his voice rough from the alcohol. They take a sip of their own drink—something deep red and fruity, with a cherry sitting at the bottom of their glass.
“I try to take a little break at least once a week, but last week was hectic as hell.” They sigh, a satisfied smile on their lips as they sit back.
“Yeah? You get a lot of work done on the farm?” Kent asks, openly checking them out as they set their drink down and stretch their arms high over their head. A few months ago he would’ve been more discreet, but now he’s given up entirely on subtlety. The Farmer never notices anyway. The face they make as they stretch has his mouth going dry, and he drinks a too-large sip of his scotch, trying not to make a face about it.
“Before the snow hit, yeah, but now there isn’t really anything for me to do. Winter doesn’t make it easy for crops, so I’ve been collecting other things to sell. Animal products, gems, that sort of thing.” The Farmer settles down, done with their stretching, and Kent silently thanks the universe for giving him a break. “Actually, I was in the desert today. I haven’t been to the skull caverns in a while, so I spent most of the day down there.”
He immediately rescinds his gratitude, and sets his glass down with a sharp thunk.
“You went to the caverns?”
The Farmer nods, shrugging a bit as their mouth twists into a frown. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a great run, if I’m honest. A few gems and geodes. I wanted iridium ore, but there was basically nothing. I only got three nuggets from what was there because I spent so long beating back monsters.”
That last bit has Kent’s blood running backward, and he taps his fingers on the table-top, the beat agitated and quick. “That’s unfortunate.”
The Farmer snorts. “Yeah, tell me about it. I could’ve gotten more done if I just stayed home, honestly. But it’s my fault for going on a bad luck day.”
He doesn’t know what the fuck that means, if he’s honest, and he’s not particularly superstitious himself, but he’s learned not to question them. Except now the thought of the Farmer being overrun by monsters won’t dissipate, and it’s making his stomach turn. He clenches his jaw.
“You should bring me with you next time.”
The Farmer looks up at him, their eyes wide and stunned for only a moment before they’re chuckling into their glass. “Yeah? You wanna be my good luck charm, Kent?”
Yoba, he does.
The Farmer licks their lips clean, and whatever juice Gus mixed up with their alcohol has stained their lips and tongue a ruddy red.
He leans forward, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand, and smiles. “I could be.”
They laugh outright, bright and delighted. Kent absently notices the quick glances they’re receiving from the other patrons. Nosy.
“You know, I was talking with some of the ladies at Caroline’s aerobics class on Tuesday,” the Farmer starts, rolling the stem of their glass between their pinched fingers. Their smile is soft. “They said something interesting about you.”
Kent raises an amused eyebrow. “You gossiping about me, Farmer?”
“It was against my will, I assure you.” They deadpan, and Kent laughs, covering his grin with a wide palm.
“Enlighten me, then: what trivia did they bestow upon you against your will?” Kent asks.
“They said you never smile unless you’re with me,” The Farmer says quickly, rushed out in one breath like they can't say it fast enough. Kent’s eyes widen, and he’s pretty sure there’s steam rising from the top of his head, but the Farmer doesn’t catch any of it because they refuse to look at him. “And that I’m the only one who’s been able to make you laugh, since you came back.”
They were gossiping like roosting hens, the lot of them. Kent sighs heavily, harsh and a little embarrassed. How can they see it, but not the Farmer?
Still…
“They’re wrong, actually.” Kent straightens up, pushing his near empty glass aside.
“Yeah?” The Farmer asks, and Kent doesn’t try to think too hard about why they sound so disappointed, or why they’re fighting back a frown.
“Even before getting drafted, I wasn’t like this.” Kent admits, and he can feel the tips of his ears flushing hotly at what he’s about to confess next. “I’ve never been like this with anyone, actually.”
“Oh.” The Farmer blinks owlishly, their hand stilling on their glass. “Really?”
Kent shakes his head, humming an affirmative. “Just you.”
“So… I’m special?” They ask, and it’s obvious they’re joking, the tilt of their lips just a little too teasing, but he doesn’t care. It’s obvious, and they’ll figure it out for themselves eventually.
“Are you going to the caverns again tomorrow?” Kent asks instead of answering, flagging down Emily for the bill. She notices immediately, and Kent knows it’s because she was staring. Everyone is always fucking staring.
“Um.” The Farmer picks at a loose thread on their shirt, even though there isn’t one. He doesn’t mention it. “Yeah, I was—I was thinking about it, if the day’s luck is good.”
“You don’t need to check if it is.” Kent watches Emily walk out from behind the bar, the bill and a pen in hand. “I’ll be your good luck charm, remember?”
The Farmer opens their mouth to respond, with the prettiest blush on their face, but Emily finally appears at their table, effectively cutting them off.
“Here you are,” Emily says, a curious smile on her face as she hands him the bill.
He sets the bill on the table and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. “Thanks, Emily. How’s business tonight?”
“Fridays are always busy, so it’s going well, I suppose. What about you two? How’s your night so far?” She asks, mischief sparkling in her calculating blue eyes. Even if Kent didn’t know her and Haley were siblings, the way they look at the world would give it away immediately. Haley’s eyes are far more cunning, but still. Two peas in a pod.
Kent places a few heavy coins in the tray, making sure to tip her a few extra than usual, and passes it back. “Great, but we’ve got plans to go into the desert early tomorrow, so we’re gonna head out.”
“Calico Desert?” Emily asks, and Kent is almost surprised she doesn’t push for more info. “My friend Sandy lives over there!”
Ah. That’s why.
“I’ll make sure to say hi to her for you,” The Farmer jumps in, making deliberate eye contact with Emily. The smile on their face is polite, but distracted.
“Would you?” Emily smiles gratefully. “Thanks, Farmer. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” The Farmer’s returning smile is genuine this time, and Kent’s heart thumps heavily against his ribcage. If they make his heart race any more, he’ll have to check in with Harvey for potential bruising.
“Well, you’re all set, so y’all have a good night,” Emily says with a smile, reaching out to pluck their empty glasses off the table.
“You too.” Kent stands up, pushing his chair in and waiting for the Farmer to get up to their feet. “Are you ready to go? Got everything?”
The Farmer nods, and Kent follows them with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as they walk out. He takes one hand out to hold the door for them as they step out into the frigid winter air, and almost immediately his fingers are numb. He’s never been able to handle the cold very well. It’s in his best interest to head home, to get out of it and into some central heating, but…
“Can I walk you home?” Kent asks quietly, after the door swings shut behind them. The Farmer stops short, and he can’t tell if the flush is from the cold or from something else.
“You’re welcome to, but don’t you hate the cold?” The Farmer gestures vaguely at the snowflakes floating around them. “Shouldn’t I be the one walking you home?”
Kent smiles, his chest suddenly light. “Maybe, but your place is farther, and I don’t wanna say goodnight to you just yet.”
“Like my company that much, huh?” The Farmer asks, cocking their head to the side as they slip their hands into their pockets. The collar of their winter jacket pulls against the back of their neck, and Kent steps onto the icy path.
“Let’s get you home, Farmer.” Kent starts walking, expecting them to follow. He smiles at the sound of their boots crunching against the frosted grass and gravel, and starts heading for the farmlands.
“You ignoring my questions on purpose, Kent?” They ask, but he knows it isn’t a question.
“Yep.” He nods. “We’re taking the bus tomorrow morning, right? What time should I meet you there?”
They sigh, playfully irritated, and he grins to himself. “Pam usually gets there at 9, so I should be good to head out at eight-fifty? If that works for you?”
“Eight-fifty it is, then. Anything in particular that you’re looking for down there?”
They sigh, looking up at the cloudy sky as they walk past Marnie’s. “Same thing as today. I really need iridium so I can get Clint to upgrade all of my tools before the new year, and I need my hoe upgraded desperately if I want to make a profit off of strawberries next spring.”
“Thinking that far ahead, huh?” Kent glances at the sketchy caravan beyond the trees next to Cindersap, and purposely puts himself between it and the Farmer.
“Not by much, but I have to if I don’t want to go bankrupt. Strawberries are good for a lot of other stuff, too. I can make jam and wine with them, which are both pretty profitable.”
“Are you going to grow anything else, or just strawberries?”
The Farmer shrugs and unlatches the south gate to their property. “I grow some things year-round in my greenhouse, but I think I’ll only plant strawberries in the fields, since they’re the most profitable.”
“How do you know?” Kent asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t know shit about farming, truthfully.
“I’ve done the math,” they say, pulling a small notebook out of seemingly fucking nowhere. Kent glares at their jacket in confusion. “They’ve got the highest profit ratio, based on how much I drop on them at Pierre’s stand and how often they grow. Strawberry plants fruit every four days once they’re fully grown, so I can get the most out of them if I start them early.”
They hold out their notebook, flipped to a random page with a smattering of bullet points and notes in their handwriting. There’s a silly doodle of a strawberry at the top of the page, and Kent smiles fondly.
“You’ve got this shit down to a science, Farmer. I’m impressed.”
They snort, and their notebook practically dematerializes as they shove it into their jacket, but he doesn’t see a pocket—where on earth do they put it?
“Two years of fucking up and not planning ahead has taught me to think about the future a little more.” They shrug. “We’ll have to see if I can actually pull it off, though; planning ahead won’t mean anything if I can’t get the iridium ore for it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ve still got two months left.”
“Two months goes by pretty quickly, though.” They sigh, and Kent watches as the lampposts in front of their house begin illuminating their face.
He swallows hard and averts his stare. He shrugs, forcing himself to be casual. “Well, between the both of us and a little luck, I think we’ll manage it just fine.”
They hum, and he catches their smile through his peripherals.
“Maybe.” The stairs on the Farmer’s porch creak under their weight as they step up to their front door, and Kent knows he has to say goodnight now, but as they go to pluck their keys out of their pocket, he grabs their wrist.
“I know I’ve been kinda pushy, but I want you to tell me honestly.” Kent knows without a shred of doubt that his fingers are nearly frozen against their skin. They look at him, chin angled down with their sudden height difference. He won’t go up their front steps to even it out, though. That’s a boundary he won’t cross, not unless they ask him to. “Is it really alright that I come with you tomorrow? I don’t want you to force yourself to be okay with it if you don’t actually want me there.”
The Farmer’s lips part, and he sees rather than hears their breath of surprise—a cloud of vapor in front of their face, glowing orange in their porch light.
“Why have you been so pushy?” They ask, and now it’s his turn to get ignored. “Why do you want to come with me so badly?”
Kent lets go of their wrist, and his palm burns. He doesn’t have it in him to lie. “Because I’m scared of what might happen to you if I don’t.”
They’re quiet for a long moment, recognition passing over their face, and Kent loves the fact that pity is never something he’ll have to see along with it. Not with the Farmer.
They walk forward, placing a sturdy hand on the banister as they lean in close. “I have one more question for you, Kent. Answer honestly, and I’ll let you come with me.”
Kent nods stiffly, his eyes flicking everywhere but their own. “I’m great at honesty.”
They hum, and Kent watches, frozen solid as they glance at his lips. “Am I special to you?”
He bites his lip, the back of his neck burning. “Yeah—yes. You are.”
They nod once, and then step away. Kent watches, a sudden panic thickening in his chest.
“Good.”
Wait, 'good?'
The Farmer unlocks their front door, and opens it wide. They turn around before stepping inside, and their smile is giddy. Kent’s panic subsides. He’s imagined rejection more times than he can count, and he’s pretty sure that’s not what it looks like. “I’ll see you at eight-fifty, okay? Don’t be late—I’d hate to have to leave my good-luck charm behind.”
“Cross my heart.” Kent nods, his own smile just as giddy.
They close the door, just a bit. Their eyes twinkle. “Goodnight, Kent.”
“G’night.” He waves, and the cold isn’t nipping at his fingers as much anymore.
When he collapses into bed that night, his skin is flushed and cold, and his heart is thumping erratically in his chest. His smile doesn’t subside, even as he falls asleep.
#stardew valley#sdv#requests#anon#asks#blurbs#kent#kent/reader#sdv kent#sdv farmer#OOF this was a beast to get out#i'm SO sorry it took so long anon i really am#i was rushing a little bit at the end#this weekend is so fucking busy for me and i needed to get this out before i was stolen away#i hope it doesn't mess with the quality too much :/#thank you again#<333
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Ch. 59: Easy
SATURDAY - WINTER 13
As much as Achilles loathed the snow, it had proven to have somehow gifted him a rather peaceful and productive series of days. Though perhaps it was less the snow, and more… Alex. Nothing else—no one else, really—he’d encountered in Stardew had quite managed to calm the rollercoaster of this past year as well as Alex had.
Was he thinking about him? Likely not—the kiss he’d left behind had been, objectively, clearly more jest than anything else. Regardless, Achilles hadn’t allowed idle speculation to distract him from the duties at hand. Holed up in the temperate climate of his well-heated home, he had neglected to shovel his 2 acres of land, opting instead to sit at his desk with a cat in his lap and a pen in his hand. It wasn’t a novel he was writing, however—no, his brain still refused to respond in that regard—but letters. Letters to family, letters to old friends, letters to himself.
But the blinding, glowing sun cutting through his windows early Saturday morning had managed to melt with its golden cheer even his hatred for the cold. And so, shortly after 6am, Achilles threw on a robe and made himself a cup of tea before tottering his stiff joints to the front door. A breath of fresh air couldn’t hurt. Perhaps he’d do some bird watching on the porch or… something.
But it seemed that someone else had had similar ideas.
“What the fuck—god dammit—” This was really getting out of hand—really ought to get a lid for your mugs at this rate, or a thermos… Achilles wiped his sodden sleeve across his porch swing’s wooden plank of an armrest. It did not help, and now his hand was scraped as well as scalded. “Really, Alex we ought to put a bell on you, with this little habit of yours, just loitering around on my porch—you can knock, you know.”
“Oh—geez, I’m sorry, not my fault you’re so jumpy, I’m sorry—I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake—”
“I’m always awake. It’s a real problem.” Achilles clicked his tongue and nodded for Alex to take a seat on the swing before noticing the six inches of snow piled on the cushion. “Come inside. I suppose I’ll have to make myself another cup now, would you like one?”
“Oh. No, I can’t stay long. First day on the new job, wanna get there early… I just wanted to… stop by. Say hi.”
“Oh yes! Mr. Manager.” Achilles glanced to the east where the bus stop lay beyond the borders of Strawberry Farms. Even shielding his eyes, he still had to squint to make out Alex’s halting footsteps breaking up the otherwise untouched snow. “Damn. You trudged through all that just to say hi?”
“Well, in my defense, I expected you to’ve shoveled the path.”
“Yikes. Me? Big mistake—”
“—yeah, I see that now—”
“—I assumed it’d be, I don’t know, a government responsibility. How long does it take snow to melt?”
“Why would the government be shoveling the snow on your farm, Ash?”
“I don’t know, listen, I hail from desert country—”
“Ohhhh, I see, did the government shovel sand out of your driveway in Monstera? Because you might just be getting that mixed up with being rich.”
“Yeah, yeah, all right…” Achilles chucked a halfheartedly constructed snowball that Alex easily dodged. “Now what do you want? Everything okay? What brings you lurking like a gremlin on my porch this early in the morning?”
“No, everything’s fine, I was just… hoping to catch you.”
“Well. You caught me.” Achilles glanced down at his still-wet sleeve. It was too cold for this, and he likely needed a bandage.
Alex bit his lip before reaching into his coat—Yoba, really, it was quite unfair how one could make such a simple, innocent little hand motion look so seductive. He withdrew a pale green envelope and offered it forward. “I, um. I wrote you a letter—”
“Did you steal that from Lewis? I swear he has the same stationary—”
“—I just figured I’d hand deliver it since, you know, you never open your dang mail, you punk.”
“A thing like that! You know, that’s probably the most considerate thing a person has ever done for me this whole year.” With a squirrelly little smile, Achilles slipped his pointer finger smoothly under the envelop flap before catching sight of Alex staring rather alarmingly wide-eyed, as if petrified, at the letter between his hands. “Or… shall I open it later?”
“Oh—um—no, that’s all right, you can go ahead. Actually, no—yes. Later. Actually, you know what, I’ll just read it to you.”
Bemused but chuckling lightly, Achilles offered the envelope back. But Alex only shook his head.
“Man, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m sorry. I’ll just tell you what it says.”
“So… no one’s opening the letter…?”
Alex shook his head again, ran a hand through his hair—a few strands broke loose from whatever gel or product he must’ve used to style it this morning. Being manager demanded a fresh new look, it seemed, but Achilles bit back his smile—didn’t seem appropriate, given that Alex seemed close to hyperventilating on his front porch.
Instead, Achilles pocketed the letter, which seemed to be the main source of Alex’s unusually pale visage, and asked, “Are you… okay…? You sure you don’t… want some… tea?”
And just like that, it was as if a light switch had been flicked. Alex smiled and, cocking his head slightly, chirped, “Would you like to get dinner tonight?
“What?” Achilles took half a second to register the dissonance regarding the degree of joy that had accompanied this rather banal question. He’d been expecting something much more dramatic—Lewis’ last will and testament, perhaps… “Dinner? …Sure. Is any place going to be open, though? With all the snow? Still seems quite deep.”
“Yeah, the government does actually shovel public property, if you must know—”
“All right—”
“I checked with Gus on the way here, the Stardrop’s open. If that works. For you.”
“What time?”
Alex blinked several times before asking, “6:30?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah?”
“…yeah…”
Alex beamed. “Wow! Really? Great! Really great! Um. I’ll see you then!”
Achilles nodded slowly, his wet sleeve forgotten as his brain worked to stymie the confusion currently sweeping his brain as Alex bounded off the porch and nearly half-skipped off the farm. It was quite a few minutes before he retreated back indoors, where he promptly curled himself onto his couch beneath the portrait of two root vegetables and continued to think.
Alex, on the other hand, was halfway through his very first day as Orange Grove Fitness’ new manager before realizing that both the conversation he had spent all night constructing and the letter he had spent all morning writing had been completely devoid of quite a number of choice key words. And right at the end of his lunch break! Head buried atop his new desk, a ham and cheese sandwich scrunched in his fist as his (Achilles’) watch struck 2…
“Oh, you stupid idiot, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Date. How in the heckity heck did you miss the word—”
*****
This was a date.
Surely, Alex had been asking him out on a date.
Now he hadn’t said the word date. But the man wouldn’t have chewed straight through his lip or hiked two miles through half-shoveled snow to hand deliver a hand written note just to ask Achilles to a simple dinner. Right? They’d had dinner a million times, there was definitely something different to this one. Right?
Stay calm, bitch!
The clues were clear—Achilles had written them down in his notebook to better organize his thoughts, and even if he set aside his own feelings, the whole situation was still quite objectively suspect. An ordinary request such as this would not have required such extra-ordinary efforts if the aforementioned ordinary request was, in actuality, an ordinary request. RIGHT?
But it just seemed so… sudden. Surely a near-platonic peck on the nose couldn’t have triggered something to this extent? He had hoped the letter would be more explicit, but it unfortunately hadn’t revealed much either.
Hi Achilles! Hope you enjoyed your first ever snow day. Or snow week, really. How many crosswords did you get done? I bet you made the most of it, but if you didn’t, that’s cool, too.
I know this mihgt seem really sudden, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot these past couple of days, and I would love if you met me in the saloon tonight for dinner. 6:30pm if that works.
Hope to see you then! :-)
Best,
Alex.
He’d have given the man a call to clarify if it hadn’t been his first day on the new job.
Oh, Alex, Alex, Alex…
Achilles was calm. He was always calm, right? He’d just… act normal. Follow Alex’s lead. Yes. This was going to be fine.
But he made sure to clean his room. Just in case.
*****
Alex—well the whole town, really—always claimed he overdressed, so even if this wasn’t a date, the embroidered bomber jacket Achilles had adorned wouldn’t have raised any alarm bells.
It would be best not to get his hopes up, though. Just in case. But as Achilles trudged through the half-shoveled snow to the saloon, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
Emily welcomed him the moment he stepped foot in the saloon, her eyes glittering as she took his arm. Haley, he saw, was coincidentally paying the Stardrop a rare visit today, having claimed a booth to herself despite the crowds and its accompanying damp, musty scent. She pursed her lips when he made eye contact, gave a wily little wiggle of her shoulders—really, quite remarkable how up in his business that button nose of hers could reach. He responded with a venomous grin and a raised middle finger. Incredibly impolite, of course, but he was only returning what she’d given him many a season ago.
Achilles followed Emily down the back hall to where the private rooms lay (So… definitely a date, right?), where they stopped at the very last door.
“Right along in here… oh, and would you look at that, I forgot to bring the menus. You go on in, I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah, all right, Emily…”
As she dashed away, arms held aloft like a ballerina, he took a deep breath, then pushed the door open.
Immediately, Alex, who had been seated at a small table in quite a small private room, jumped to his feet, tripping over the wooden chair as he half-stumbled for the door. “Hey!”
Oh fuck.
Outside of the Flower Festival back in the Spring, Achilles had rarely seen Alex out of activewear and athleisure. The sight of those arms now, tight in the sleeves of a forest green cardigan, would’ve alone been enough to send even Leah’s heart racing, surely. But the lightly patterned, sage button down—well. A man after his own heart.
Alex’s hair was combed back, tidier than he’d ever seen it (though a part of Achilles did miss the casual, semi-messy curls of it all), and as he shut the door behind him, he noticed something more akin to vanilla and cinnamon had replaced Alex’s usual citrus scent.
But Achilles quickly found his breath and shook himself out of his reverie, taking a step forward just as Alex finished picking up the chair he’d sent keeling to the floor.
“Hi—”
“This-was-supposed-to-be-a-date-but-if-you-don’t-want-it-to-be-one-I-completely-understand-I-didn’t-mean-to-ambush-you-I’m-just-really-stupid-just-tell-me-whatever-it-is-you-want.”
But Achilles could only blink, lost in Alex’s rather anxious, wild-eyed stare, eyes greener than ever in the rosy overhead lighting.
Did you hear that right? It is a date—you were right, good for you. Wait. He definitely said date, right? He said it was a date. Confirm? Confirm— “Pardon?”
“Also these are for you. I mean, if you want them.”
Alex half-shoved a cellophaned bouquet into Achilles’ hands. Half a dozen white roses and goldenrod wrapped in a emerald green ribbon. Not Pierre’s work, or even Jojamart’s. No, someone must’ve paid a visit to a Zuzu City florist.
Date?
Yes! Date!
Man, you gotta say something, bitch.
“Oh. Thank you. These are… beautiful. Thanks. Yes. A date. I… assumed.”
Assumed? Assumed? My god, what an arrogant prick you are. Get it together. What’s the matter with you?
He accepted the flowers from Alex, and in a sudden flash of inspiration, let his fingers linger on Alex’s for perhaps one or two seconds longer than necessary as the bouquet was passed between them. The effect was instantaneous—at this apparent affirmation of Achilles’, Alex’s visibly brightened, bounding back to the dinner table and pulling out Achilles’ chair for him.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, scooting the chair forward as Alex hurried to the other end of the table. “I didn’t think people did that anymore. You do this for all the girls or just me?”
“Don’t feel too special, I do that for everyone.”
“Damn. At least tell me I’m prettier than all the other girls you’ve dated.”
“You know I don’t like lying, Ash, don’t make me do it.” Alex grinned, handing him a menu that Emily evidently had not forgotten to leave behind.
“Zero for two. Well, it was worth a try.” God, shut up. He must’ve been more nervous than he realized. Babbling like this. Stupid jokes. Chill out, man. Why are you nervous? You’re never nervous! No reason to be nervous. He asked you out… you have all the power here. Yoba, shut the fuck up! Stop thinking like that! What’s wrong with you? Asshole!
Achilles’ poker face was near to breaking as his self-disgust began to overwhelm his nerves, but he was luckily rescued by Emily, who had returned with a knock at the door. “No violin today, Al?” She shimmied in with her question, ignoring Alex’s groan, and raised her notepad, ready to take their orders.
“I haven’t had Gus play the violin for me in 10 years, Emily, when is that joke ever going to die—”
“Ask him about the violin,” she said, bumping Achilles’ shoulder with her hip. “And the Handbook.”
“Emily—”
“Now just a warning for ya, it’s a bit busy tonight. Seems like lots of folks eager to get out after the storm, but Gus’ll get your order out shortly. Now what can I get for y’all?”
A steak for Alex, linguine with mushroom cream for Achilles—with her usual spritely bow, Emily scampered from the room, leaving Alex still red from whatever merciless ribbing she had dealt him.
“So,” Achilles began, lifting his glass of water. Perhaps a cold drink would wash away his lingering anxieties, though Emily’s return had broken most of the tension for him. “The violin…”
With the defeated air of getting something over with, Alex took a similar swig from his water before launching into a hurried, one-breath explanation. “My grandpa gave me a dating handbook when I turned 13, and yes, I will admit I followed it pretty religiously up through college, so Haley really got to see the worst of it all, and she and Emily have never gotten over it, but hey, in my defense there’s some stuff in there that’s really not half bad, I swear.”
“Like giving your date flowers? And pulling out their chair?”
Alex grimaced.
“Well shit, Al, I’m feeling less and less special by the second.”
Here, Alex seemed to visibly deflate, sinking deeper into the back of his chair until Achilles, rather alarmed by the somewhat uncharacteristic lack of confidence—maybe he’s nervous, too, bitch—rapped his fingers sharply against the table. “I’m just joking, Al. Sorry, I’m being an ass, it’s very… charming.”
That seemed to be enough to pull Alex back to his usual self, and Achilles quickly plowed ahead, making sure to keep his tone light. “But the violin Emily mentioned?”
“Ah. Yes.” Alex rubbed his nose, preparing his next words carefully as if gearing up for the worst. “Well, if you must know… according to the handbook, I’m supposed to start first dates with a little sort of violin serenade from Gus.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“I really wish I was.”
“And you actually… did that.”
“Oh, just a few times. I don’t know man, my only source of dating advice when I moved here was my really old and old fashioned grandpa.”
“Fair enough. I’ll allow it.”
Alex chuckled, and once again took a quick sip from his drink just as Achilles raised his own. A lull in the conversation—but not an uncomfortable one, Achilles thought, as he took the opportunity to casually savor the view from over the rim of his glass. He hadn’t ever really allowed himself to do it before. It had always felt rather intrusive, salacious even, to stare for longer than a beat or so—but surely now, of all times, it was… okay. Right?
Clearly Alex had put in quite a bit of effort tonight, really, it felt wrong not to appreciate it all… anyway, it was hard to ignore those eyes sparkling from across the table, pink lips slightly parted as Alex readied himself to take probably his twentieth sip of water. Achilles could think of just a few other things he’d rather see those lips do, but he dug his thumb into his palm and refocused himself back to the present. You perv, he thought, his own lips twisting to the side as he attempted to hold back a wry grin. Get your mind out of the gutter.
It was Alex who broke the silence, with a tentative observation of his own. “You, um… you look really nice.” His fingers were locked tightly together as they rested atop the table, and through the floorboards, Achilles could feel the faint vibration of what must have been Alex bouncing his foot. “You don’t usually wear black.”
“I do in the Winter, you’ll see. It tricks me into thinking I’m less cold than I am.”
“Ha.”
“You look good, too.” Achilles threw a nod in Alex’s general direction. “Probably should’ve opened with that, I was thinking it when I came in, but I suppose the words didn’t get a chance to make it out of my mouth.”
“Oh!” A blush crept into the man’s cheeks as he glanced towards the floor. “Thank you. I- I wasn’t sure, personally, I told Haley I thought the sweater was too small, you know, but she, uh, she told me to shut up—”
“Always, such a lovely, lovely girl.” Achilles’ eyes followed the well-defined slope of Alex’s bicep. “But she’s right. Don’t worry. It’s perfect.”
“Well, I can’t really raise my arms…”
“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I actually come from a long line of really famous fashion designers, and by long line, I mean just my mother—”
“Man, you don’t know a dang thing about fashion—”
“Fuck, 0/3—I thought this was supposed to be a date, why are you being so mean to me?”
“I’m not—well because—because you’re so calm, why are you always so calm, it’s pissing me off.” With a barking laugh, Alex chucked his napkin across the table as Achilles, rather bewildered by Alex’s uncharacteristically off-base observation, flung his hands instinctively in front of his face.
“It’s incredibly kind of you to ignore the five mental breakdowns you’ve witnessed me have, is doing that part of your grandpa’s handbook, too?” But as Achilles slid the cloth back across the table, he became more serious, and he continued in a somewhat softer tone. “There’s no reason to be nervous, Al, it’s just me. Just think of all the times I’ve humiliated myself in front of you, eh?”
That elicited a small smile, at the very least. But while Achilles’ anxiety had since settled for the most part, it seemed Alex would need more than a weak joke.
“Speaking of nerves though, how was the first day on the new job, Mr. Manager?”
Achilles gave himself a private pat on the back as Alex jumped at the redirection, the apprehension in his eyes rapidly melting as he eagerly shared his new schedule.
What a pro you are! Still got it…
The conversation carried them all through Emily’s return with their appetizers and dishes—and it was only after she left (with a rather unnecessary promise of “leaving them undisturbed”), that Alex’s hands, so animated during his recounting, returned to tightly gripping the glass of his water.
Achilles waited—as Alex would ruefully say—calmly. It was clear he had something to say.
And indeed, Alex cleared his throat with the tiniest cough and, after a quick glance at the door to confirm they were indeed alone, pulled his chair an inch forward.
“Um. Right. Achilles. So. I thought I’d get a private room so we could… talk. I mean, not that we wouldn’t be able to talk if we didn’t have a private room, but it’s loud out there, and it’s what my grandpa’s handbook always said I should do anyway—I don’t know why I just admitted that, I’m sorry. Um, anyway, all that to say—you know, actually, I wrote myself some notes, sorry, give me a second…”
He fumbled with something in the pocket of his chinos as Achilles smothered another smile.
“This really makes me look like a nerd doesn’t it, but I just wanted to make sure I was… clear. About things. And didn’t forget anything, you know, especially after how stupid I was this morning. So if you could, um, maybe listen for a bit?”
Achilles gave a smooth, little nod that managed not to betray the twitch that had returned to his limbs. “For sure. The floor’s all yours.”
Alex grimaced and, taking a deep breath, unfolded a rather wrinkled piece of notebook paper and began to read aloud in a rather toneless, slow and slightly stuttered recitation.
“When we first met, I was instantly drawn to you. And it wasn’t just because I was your number one fan.” He glanced up. “Ha.” Eyes dropped abruptly back down to the page as he continued.
“I think a part of me knew we were destined to be great friends. And I was really happy when we actually did become friends. I had never had a friend like you. You were so smart and cool and you made me feel like I could actually do things with my life. I really liked spending time with you.
“And then during the blizzard, I…” The paper between Alex’s hands began to crinkle as his grip tightened ever so slightly, but he continued to stare, laser focused, on the scribbled words. “Well I started thinking that maybe I liked you as… more than a friend. It was confusing. I kept telling myself, ‘You can’t have these feelings for another guy.’ I mean, I’d never had feeling like this for anyone.
“But I thought about it a lot. Went back and forth a lot trying to decide, I was going crazy, really. And, well. I think I really like you. Like that. And that’s why I wanted to ask you out on a date to—what? Oh. I think I spelled ‘tonight’ wrong. Agh, stupid. Okay, anyway. And that’s why I wanted to ask you out on a date tonight.”
With a bit of a sniff, Alex folded the paper back into quarters and gave Achilles a rather awkward, teeth-baring attempt at a smile. It was the most unflattering he had ever looked, in Achilles’ opinion, and somehow that made it all the better. Alex patted his folded notes and ended with a little nod. “Well. That’s it.”
During the blizzard…
So this had been a much more recent realization than Achilles had originally believed.
Thank Yoba you didn’t make a move earlier.
Had it really just been the kiss on the Mullner’s front porch? It had barely been a kiss—couldn’t have been less romantic if he’d tried. Was that really all it had taken to ignite this? He’d taken barely three days to think this through. Though, then again, he supposed Alex had always been the more impulsive one between them… Not everyone spends a whole week anguishing over pros and cons lists, you dumb bitch.
“What was the turning point?” Achilles asked as Alex shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. “I’m just curious. These past few days, what made you ultimately decide that you… wanted this?”
“Oh. During the storm.” Alex shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized… I don’t know. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would’ve been to have been snowbound with you.”
*****
After it became clear to Alex that Achilles was not going to escape out the back door of the saloon after hearing Alex’s prepared remarks, his usual optimistic countenance quickly returned. By the time the two dug into their dinners, they had managed to roll back into their usual groove, chatting and laughing with familiar ease all through dessert until Emily returned with the check.
“Oh, I’ve got it—”
“Like hell you do—”
“I was the one who asked you out, I should pay—”
“Emily, give me the check or I’m never coming here again—”
“That’s an empty threat if I’ve ever heard one, the only thing you cook yourself is a boiled egg.”
Emily seemed to agree. She hip checked Achilles’s outstretched hand and, with a rather hyena-like cackle, seized Alex’s card before dodging Achilles once again on her way out.
“You know, the Handbook says it’s proper for the man to always pay,” Alex said, snootily tossing his napkin onto his plate with a raised pinkie. “Now I don’t know what that means for us, exactly, but at least let me have this one, will you?”
Achilles rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he craned his neck in search of nothing. “The napkin’s actually supposed to go on the left when you’re finished with your meal, but never mind that. Where’s Gus? Can someone get Gus? I want a violin serenade pronto.”
*****
Haley had disappeared by the time the two emerged from the private room, but Achilles, who had eyes for only one person, didn’t notice her absence. Neither did he notice the thick clumps of snow now falling under the glow of the moon, even as Alex held open for him the Stardrop’s front door and said, “Want to take a walk? It’s not too late, I don’t think.”
“Sure,” Achilles said with a soft smile. The bouquet Alex had gifted him was in one hand, and he tightened his scarf with the other as he stepped out into the cold. “Just a walk, though? Not a run?”
“Oh, you want to run?”
Without waiting for a response, Alex tore down the cobblestone path to the south.
“Fuck—Al, you’re going to slip and break your neck—fucking athletes, I knew I’d sworn them off for a reason—“
But the wind covered his calls and his muttered curses, and he had no choice but to hurtle after Alex, laughing even as he skidded past a bewildered Lewis. He hadn’t jogged in a fat minute—not that he likely would’ve caught up to Alex anyway at his peak back in the Fall—but even despite the cold, he gave a merry chase, sprinting across the bridge until his foot found the soft, squishy crunch of slushy sand. There was snow on the beach. Of course there was—we just had a blizzard, you dolt.
But even so, the strange sight came a surprise. He stopped to take in the cool glow of the snow, a white sheet stretching all the way down to the waves up ahead. It wasn’t deep, but the dampness still managed to seep through his boots.
Luckily, the rest of him was all warmed up now, thanks to their mile race through Pelican Town. Whether that had actually been Alex’s intention, nervous energy, or the man just couldn’t help but exercise whenever given the opportunity, he wasn’t quite sure. Regardless, with a bit of a wheeze, he sidled up next to where Alex (who was infuriatingly not out of breath) stood waiting by Elliott’s cabin. The light was on, casting both arrivers in its mellow beam, but if the writer had noticed their arrival, he took care not to disturb them.
“Can I, um… can I hold your hand?”
“Hmm?” Achilles, who was still slightly bent at the waist catching his breath, glanced rather pitifully up at the green-clad figure above.
“I just… I just figured it’d make the whole thing feel a little bit more like a date,” Alex, slightly red, said with the barest hint of a shrug. “I don’t know, sorry, is that weird? We don’t have to. It’s just that… it’s just kinda felt like we’ve been… hanging out.”
“We are hanging out,” Achilles said, slowly straightening himself up. “I mean, if we break it down, that’s basically what a date is, right?”
“I guess…”
Achilles had never exactly loved the concept of holding hands—he sweat too easily and it threw off his stride—but off of Alex’s blink-and-you-missed-it frown, he weaved his arm through Alex’s and led him towards the boardwalk.
Remember what Elliott said…
Physical touch was never Achilles’ forte. It’s not that he disliked it. Quite the contrary (well, as long as it was in private). It was simply that non-sexual touch didn’t come as naturally to him as it did for others. Often more of an afterthought than something top of mind. But, as Elliott had reminded him, Alex, who greeted his friends with a hug nearly as often as he did a wave, would likely find more validation in something beyond the mere time they were spending together.
“Would you like to sit down?” Alex kicked a clump of snow off the wooden planks and into the water before laying down his coat and chuckling. “Shoot, I really feel like I’m 13. Yoba, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry, I promise, I’ve been on a lot of dates before—”
“Wow, we’ve got a veritable Casanova out here, everyone—”
“All right, that didn’t come out right, you know what I meant. Although I don’t really know what you meant just now—”
“You’re a big baller.”
“Okay, okay, no, I just… look, I just don’t know what to do. With you.”
“A thing like that. You know how to make a boy feel special. What does the Handbook recommend?”
Alex began to tick off his fingers as he huddled slightly closer to Achilles on the boardwalk. “Well we’ve had the dinner. I got you flowers. Pulled out your chair. Paid. Asked if we could hold hands. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but later I’m going to offer to walk you home if you must know.”
“That’s adorable—you’re adorable—has anyone on your numerous dates before ever told you that?”
“Man, I could beat you up.”
“Why are you always threatening to beat me up?”
“Wasn’t it you who once said that every child deserves to get bullied just a little bit or something?”
“Are you calling me a child?”
“Man, I’m just making up for lost time, you don’t seem like someone who got shoved into a locker enough as a kid.”
Despite the confidence in Alex’s quip, Achilles could feel the tension in the tightened muscles of his arm. The small space Alex had left between them had felt purposeful—tentative. Even now, Achilles watched as his hands fluttered from place to place, as if eager for something to hold, but too afraid to commit.
Realizing it would be up to him to reassure a flustered Alex out of his hesitation, Achilles closed the gap, tightening the grip around his bicep and tucking his head onto his shoulder. The whole thing was admittedly rather stiff in its deliberateness, but as he better settled into the crook of Alex’s neck—felt Alex, who seemed to recognized the permission Achilles had silently granted, now reach eagerly for his hand—and inhaled the rich, velvety scent of vanilla, he believed there wasn’t a spot in the world he’d rather be.
Minutes passed, and they listened to the waves crash against the shore.
“Do you think Elliott’ll stay in the valley? If his book gets published?”
“Hmm.” Achilles stirred—shit, had he nearly fallen asleep? Can’t fall asleep in your own damn bed, but everything’s always fine and dandy and soothing out here on this damp ass wood. What’s this boardwalk got on you?
Though maybe it wasn’t the boardwalk’s doing.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’d like to think so. I hope he buys himself a better house at any rate… or at least a second chair…”
“Have you been writing?”
“Mmm. Not in the way you’re asking. Does it count if it’s in my head?”
“I don’t see why not. But hey, I don’t make the rules.”
Achilles sighed and lay slowly down, his back against the boardwalk as he gazed up at the stars. Alex followed, though he chose to lie on his side, one arm beneath his head, the other resting atop Achilles’ chest as his hand continued to grip Achilles’.
“I’ve got an idea. Well, it’s the same idea I had before, if you remember those pages you snooped a look at when you were cleaning my house… I’ve got it pretty much outlined in my head and everything, it’s just… well you know. I want it to mean something. I want it to matter, I want to finally write something… more than all those kid books I wrote when I was younger, those were so simple, so… stupid. I just don’t know why it’s so fucking hard.”
The stars twinkled above them, and Alex thumbed his hand. The soft touch, combined with the steady rhythm of the small movement, slowly sweetened the bitter hollow that seemed to have taken up semi-permanent residence in his chest.
“Sometimes I think we’ve built up this idea that we have to always be, like, fighting for the things that we want. That if something isn’t hard then it must be wrong or, like… I don’t know. Not important.” Alex was tracing letters onto the back of Achilles’ hand now. “But I don’t know, maybe it’s the lazy bum part of me but sometimes—and I promise, I do mean sometimes, not all the time… but sometimes I do think things are easy because they’re the right thing to do.”
Achilles turned his head. In the dark, Alex’s eyes were black, but under the glow of the moon, he could count the snowflakes on every lash.
*****
“Well. Here it comes, drum roll please, everyone: can I walk you home?” Alex gave Achilles a hand as they rose from the boardwalk and didn’t let go as they exited the beach.
“Only if you give me a copy of this Handbook later.”
“I actually wonder if I do have a copy somewhere still… I don’t know, I’ve pretty much got it memorized at this point.”
“Because you’ve gone on so many dates.”
“Yeah, exactly. I was a real Casa—Cassiopeia? What did you say before?”
“Casanova? Wait, did you say Cassiopeia—fairly niche mythological reference—”
“What can I say, I’m full of surprises. Anyway, whatever, I was hot stuff before you got to know me, you know.”
“Man, shut the fuck up, you were hot stuff even while I knew you, remember Abigail’s birthday party…”
The two laughed as they made their way back to Strawberry Farms, taking the slightly longer route through Cindersap Forest, despite the cold and the late hour.
Alex walked him to the porch. The motion sensor lights Achilles had installed nearly a year ago had flickered on the moment they passed the shipping bin, and so they stood awash in the weak fluorescence of a buzzing overhead lamp.
He was lingering—definitely lingering, biting his lip in typical Alex-fashion, his eyes dancing everywhere except Achilles’ face. And after a beat, Achilles—ever impatient—said, “All right, are you going to ask me if you can kiss me now?”
Alex jumped—actually jumped. “Oh.” Between rapid blinks, he managed to stutter, “Do you want me to ask you?”
“I—it was a joke.”
“Do you want me to?”
“It was a joke. You know, with the Handbook. I assumed you were just gearing up for Step 5 or whatever step we’ve reached…”
“Oh. No, I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date. Obviously. Anything sooner is impolite and im… dang, what was the other word… immoral? Is that a word? Yes. Immoral. Obviously.”
“What?” Achilles stepped back, throwing a hand to his forehead in mock shock. “Fuck, so this whole time, my whole life—I’ve just been a slut? Shit, I always knew it—”
Alex laughed, but, to Achilles’ surprise, took a small, shy step forward. “Do you want me to ask you?”
Taking a page from Alex’s book, Achilles found himself biting his own lip as he met Alex’s inscrutable gaze. “I—Yes.”
A pause. And then, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
In one step, Alex closed the remaining foot between them. His hands gripped the back of Achilles’ neck, and with a boldness he had been so hesitant to demonstrate earlier this evening, Alex cupped his face and kissed him.
He tasted like vanilla and he tasted like gold and as Achilles let himself drown in the molten glow of his touch, he found he felt… happy.
But the kiss didn’t last long—barely a second, really, for Alex’s lips had almost instantly parted upon impact in that wide-toothed grin of his, his tongue peeking out per usual—and the two of them quickly dissolved into laughter.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, still half-laughing as he leaned his forehead into Achilles’. “That was… really bad. I swear I’m better than that—”
“Yeah, all that practice being hot stuff and all—”
“Hey, it’s not my fault I was born so dang se—”
“Stay the night.” But through the sleeves of a slightly-damp coat, he felt Alex stiffen, and so Achilles hurried to add, “We don’t have to do anything. I don’t expect anything. We can just talk. I just… I don’t want you to leave just yet.”
Immediately, Alex slackened as a small but earnest smile returned to his face.
“Ok.”
*****
Achilles put on some late night tea as Alex took a seat in the kitchen, Voltaire already snuggled in his lap.
Over the course of the blizzard, Achilles had finally moved the typewriter from where it had been sitting, like a monument to all his shortcomings, untouched upon the table. Not that he’d gotten around to taking it out of the box—it was now sitting underneath his desk, still packaged—but, hey, small steps.
Sitting in the center of the kitchen table now were a dozen white roses and goldenrod blooms in Achilles’ favorite (well, only remaining) vase.
“I can boil you an egg, too, if you’d like,” Achilles said, lips twitching as he slid over a cup of chamomile tea and a tray of strawberry scones he’d purchased from Pierre’s that afternoon.
“Ya know what, that sounds great, but I’m actually good. But thanks.”
It was easy—so easy to just sit here, together. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. It had always been easy with Alex.
They sat across the table from each other. Perhaps if Achilles had remembered Elliott’s advice, had been a little bit more thoughtful of a person, he would’ve moved closer—held Alex’s hand again, maybe bump his knee with his own. But in the moment, he was too drunk on his own happiness to give Alex’s prospective wants the consideration they likely should’ve deserved.
The scones and tea had long disappeared, but the two were eager to use any excuse to prolong the end of the evening—from walking through the schedule for Elliott’s book reading tomorrow to dissecting the latest season of The Bachelor (which neither of them actually watched, yet both were somehow still in the know), it wasn’t until the clock struck midnight that Achilles, in begrudging acknowledgment that any further delays would throw off his finely tuned sleeping schedule, slapped the table and stood.
“Well. I’ve got some extra toothbrushes and some clothes you can borrow, if that works for you. Ready to call it a night?”
*****
What is wrong with you.
It was Alex who was in the shower right now, but it was Achilles’ good mood that seemed to be dripping down the drain.
God, why can’t you just enjoy things, you bastard.
Surely he deserved to be happy, even if just a little bit, right? Yes, surely being happy was allowed. Then why was it now feeling like some sort of… betrayal?
Fuck, who is there even to betray, bitch? Get yourself together. No one wants to date a grump.
He needed to be better. Alex deserved better. Alex, who was like light and like stars. Alex, who was turning out to be everything and more than what he ever had hoped to imagine. He could be better, if this stupid ass mood of his would just go away.
Where did you even come from? Get out and mind your own damn business and let me be happy for once.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the water shutting off—neither did he hear Alex call his name as he stood sourly against the wall of his bedroom, half-dressed, still trying to duke it out with his own brain.
“Achilles? What are you thinking about?”
“Hmm?” He snapped his head towards the voice.
“You’re thinking about something.” Alex had emerged from the bathroom wearing a set of sweatpants and an old t shirt Achilles had found at the back of a drawer. “I can see it on your face, what is it?”
“Mmm.” Achilles massaged the bridge of his nose and set a glass of water down by the nightstand before opening the top drawer to retrieve something small. “Nothing I haven’t already thought pretty much to death.”
Alex cocked his head, a knowing look on his face as he padded around the bed to take a seat behind the desk. “Want to think about it to death with me?”
“I— No.”
“You sure?”
Achilles uncrossed his arm only to cross them again. “I mean, we’re on a date…”
“Sure, but we’re still friends, aren’t we?”
Fuck.
Always with the patience of a saint. He didn’t deserve him—hell, was there anyone on this planet who deserved him? And strangely, with this thought, as quickly as his mood had come did it fade. Maybe it was true that nobody deserved Alex, but for some unbelievable reason Alex wanted him, and he trusted Alex’s judgement, so hey, who was Achilles to deprive him of that?
“It’s fine. Really. Like I told you before, it comes and goes…. Here.” Achilles held out his hand, dropping the item he’d retrieved from his nightstand into Alex’s open palm. “This is yours. Held onto it for awhile there, didn’t I. Sorry about that.”
“Oh! Yes, thank you!” Alex rested his arm across his leg to better clasp the thin leather watch around his wrist. “Wow, I totally forgot—I guess you should probably take yours back, too, here—”
But before he could remove the smart watch, Achilles bent to snatch Alex’s wrist, holding his arm up tightly between them. The sharp movement triggered a rather equally sharp intake of breath from the watch-wearer, but Achilles pretended not to notice, biting back his smirk as he glanced at the steps recorded on the watch face—a higher number than he was used to seeing, that was for sure, even with all his jogs.
“Mmm. Actually. You want to keep it? You’re probably getting more use out of it than I did.”
“Oh no, that’s all right—”
“I’m not sure if this one’s waterproof, though… have you tried swimming with it?”
“Oh. Maybe? I don’t really remember taking it off. Sorry, was that bad?”
“Eh.” Achilles, his fingers still splayed taught around Alex’s wrist, unclasped the watch and chucked it behind him where it fell about a foot short of the nightstand.
“Good aim.”
“I’ll get you a newer one.”
“Achilles, no, stop, man, you don’t have to do that—”
“Shh, no, no, just let me buy you things, what else am I good for?”
But he said the words with a lazy smile, and after running his hand through his hair, bent to retrieve the smart watch from the floor.
When he turned back from the nightstand, he noticed Alex watching him with a curious, wide-eyed innocence quite at odds with the subject of his stare. Mirroring the characteristic tilt of Alex’s own head, Achilles, his lips twitching as he held in a laugh, slowly knelt until he finally caught Alex’s eye.
The man immediately flushed scarlet, shutting his slightly parted mouth with a snap as he turned quickly away from Achilles’ unclothed chest. “Ah—sorry.”
“For what? Making me feel good about myself?” Achilles chuckled, straightening back to full height. “Although you’ve watched me swim a million times, you should know there’s nothing nearly as impressive to look at as what you see in the mirror every damn day—”
“Stop that.” Alex aimed a light kick before jumping up from the chair and joining him by the nightstand. “I think you’re perfect, you know.”
“Aw, Alexander, aren’t you just the swe—”
“Just physically, of course. There’s still some work to do up here.” He tapped Achilles’ forehead.
“All right, bitch—”
But he silenced Achilles with a hand to his chest—except that wasn’t quite it, was it?
Fuck.
He could feel his body heat—or maybe it was his own body that was suddenly beginning to blaze. From anticipation? From impatience? For Alex’s actual hand was hovering just barely a centimeter above his skin.
Dammit, just touch me, Alex.
But before he could speak, Alex, his voice wavering slightly, murmured, “Can I?”
Always so damn polite.
“Yes.”
He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected, but it definitely wasn’t for Alex to reach first for his hand, tracing each of Achilles’ fingers, the lines of his palm, slowly, as if savoring each divot and crease. It was, if he was honest, a little strange, but he said nothing, only breathed, ragged and rough, as Alex’s own fingers traveled up to his wrist, up his forearm, to his bicep where they lightly circled the band tattooed on his skin.
Achilles closed his eyes. Relished the callused touch upon his collarbone that burned even with the lightest brush. Gentle. Everything so gentle.
One hand slipped to his lower back, and Alex’s touch on his bare skin sent a quiver through his body—he felt Alex pull him closer, felt him rest his forehead against his own. His breath was warm, but smelled faintly of peppermint.
Alex’s thumb parted his lips with a tenderness Achilles had never before allowed himself.
“Can I try again?” The whisper tickled his ear and a velvet thrill itched his heart. “I promise it’ll be better this time.”
Achilles nodded.
And yet, despite it being his own ask, Alex’s hesitance seemed to have returned. A delicate, trembling sigh seemed to be serving as the entr’acte before this second at, and so it was Achilles this time who closed the gap.
Perhaps he should’ve been gentle, perhaps he should’ve been polite, but he wanted it and he had wanted it and Alex was here, asking for it—
Utterly helpless, a moth to Alex’s flame. Yet it was Achilles who pulled him in with the hunger of a dying fire and kissed him as if he were oxygen, like he was fuel. Electricity sparked through every vein as his hands raked through still-damp hair, along his neck, his shoulders, muscles taut and tight and touching him back—it was rash and reckless, and surely it was right—
But something nagging at the back of his mind managed to pierce through his desperate desire, and, not without difficulty, Achilles pulled himself away. To give himself a second to better regain control of himself, to give Alex a second to better decide—
Are you sure you want this, too?
He slowed his breathing, let his hands drop from Alex’s hips. Prepared for the worst.
Was I too fast? Too rough? Too much?
For the first time, he found himself unable to meet Alex’s emerald gaze—that precise shade of green had, at some point, become synonymous for safety, so why was he suddenly so afraid?
He could feel Alex watching him, though his own eyes he kept glued to the ground. Achilles had never felt so scrutinized. So small.
Then, a hand on his neck. A finger resting below his ear, a thumb along his jaw. And Achilles was brought back to Spirit’s Eve. The first time Alex had kissed him. Had all been a character for Alex back then, a costume. How far had they come…
Alex slowly lifted his chin and asked in a voice, soft and tentative, “Is… is that what you like?”
“I—what? Yes, wh—Alex, what do you like—”
But Alex cut him off—seized him, kissed him, frenetic and greedy and deep and hard, and Achilles was set aglow. He pushed Alex towards the bed. Shoved him—not unkindly—down atop the duvet, straddled him and lifted his face up to better meet his own. His hands tugged at Alex’s shirt—god, just get that off—he wanted to feel him, more of him, all of him, he was burning, and wanting, and he very nearly got his wish—shirt halfway off, one hand clinging to the bare hollow of his back—until he was shoved unceremoniously off Alex’s lap and onto the floor.
“What the fuck—”
“Shit—sorry—I’m sorry, I—fuck—”
Achilles—ricocheting between irked and concerned—stumbled to his feet, cheeks red, and managed to spit out only one word whilst retrieving the pieces of his pride. “What?”
He took a pause before following Alex’s avoidant gaze down to his lap, where Alex’s hands lay stiffly between his legs.
“Oh.” Achilles wiped some imaginary dust off his hands as he pushed aside any lingering embarrassment. “Don’t apologize. You know, I, in fact, actually have a penis, too. I get it, it happens.” Wow! Great job not being awkward! Fucking idiot. But upon seeing Alex’s continued discomfort, he added in a less lighthearted tone, “I meant what I said earlier, Al, we don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Can—actually, can we talk?”
“Of course. That’s why I invited you over, right? To talk. It was you who seduced me, you wench. Here.” He pinched his nose—can’t you sound normal just once in your life—and tossed Alex an extra pillow after pulling back the sheets. “We can… put that between us if you’d like, just… give me a second…”
Achilles usually slept in just a pair of boxers, but after this most recent turn of events, he thought it best to head to the closet for a t shirt. His instincts were validated upon his return—Alex had indeed set the pillow in the middle of the bed, and was now clutching it like a life line.
He paused, one hand on the corner of the covers. “I— I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I can actually sleep on the couch if you’d like. I’m sorry, I should’ve—”
“No. No, no, no, that’s not it at all, no, it’s, um. It’s something else. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry. It’s… well, it’s me. I’m the problem.”
“Now don’t say that…” Achilles slipped slowly beneath the duvet, taking care not to accidentally touch as he gave both Alex and the pillow quite a wide berth. He lay on his back, as he usually did, hands folded across his chest. “Talk to me, Al. Floor is yours.”
He had left his bedside lamp on—it was a rather dim glow, usually reserved for late night reading or the crossword if he was having particularly bad sleep troubles, but he could still make out Alex’s furrowed brow from atop the pillow between them.
“I… um…” A small sigh. Achilles watched Alex rub his face before turning to face the ceiling, one hand still kneading his forehead. “I, um, well… I don’t think—no. I, um…”
“Do you want me to turn the light off? Will that help?”
“No, it’s fine. Leave it on, I… I want to see you.”
“Man, you’re not even looking at me.”
Alex clicked his tongue and continued to stare at the ceiling, but Achilles caught the corners of his mouth turn up just the slightest bit. “Okay, okay, you got me there…”
“Mmhm.”
“It’s just that… Well. I just…”
This was a mistake. He doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t want you.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Oh.
Achilles waited for further explanation, but Alex seemed somewhat disinclined to say more, (though in the subsequent silence, Achilles could hear the slight scrape of what was likely aggressive teeth gnashing). After waiting a respectable two minutes for an elaboration, Achilles took it upon himself to lightly prod. “Is it because… you’re… bisexual—”
“I don’t think I’m bi.”
“Oh.” Oh. Achilles had masked his surprise quickly, but even so, perhaps it was a good thing Alex wasn’t looking at him. No need to make the guy even more self conscious. “Well. Allow me to be the first person to say there’s nothing wrong with being gay either, if that’s what it is—”
“That’s not it, I don’t— well. No, I wanted to—You see, what happened was—I- I don’t… I…”
Alex’s eyes were now full on closed, his hand rather zealously rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve had sex before. To be clear. Like a lot of sex. Oh god, why’d I say it like that.”
“Ah.” Achilles couldn’t help but wince. “It… it would’ve been all right if you hadn’t… to be clear.”
“I mean, not with a guy.”
He responded smoothly. “Sure. I assumed.”
Another sigh, though this one had the hint of a growl as Alex’s exasperation continued to balloon. “Shit. Shoot. This is—well this is obviously not going how I wanted it to— I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying, I just. I’m nervous. About what you’re going to say, and think, and… I just…”
Fuck, Achilles just wanted to hold him—but the situation was nebulous, and so he instead held his own hands, still resting across his chest, tighter, and kept his voice even. “It’s just me, Al. Like you said earlier, we’re still friends. You can tell me whatever, I’m not going to judge.”
“But you might.”
“I won’t.”
“But you might.”
“Alexander—”
“I just—Well. I’ve never been in love before.”
Finally, Alex turned to face Achilles. He lay on his side, his arms still fiercely wrapped around the pillow, and his face remained troubled—brows knitted, his lower lip drawn between his teeth.
“I was, um, 12, 13 when I moved here. Showed up to middle school smack dab in the middle of term. I was the new kid with a dying mom. Made me interesting, I think. Everyone wanted to be my friend. You know how it is…
“What caught me off guard though, was how many girls wanted to be my friend. Or, I guess, more than my friend, but it was middle school so I mean, how real could a relationship actually be, right…”
It wasn’t hard to imagine a 12 year old Alex—chubbier cheeks, probably, but the same freckles, the same large green eyes and sunny disposition—combine that with a tragic backstory and New Kid Novelty, and it was easy to see why the girls at Meridian Middle School had flocked to him.
“It was… weird. I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand what they wanted from me… or why.
“And I pretty quickly realized, well, everyone was either girl crazy or boy crazy or both. Not just girls. My guy friends, too. Man, that’s all folks spent lunch yapping on about, who had a crush on who and whatever. I just didn’t get it—man, I just wanted to talk about grid ball. I don’t know, it was like that part of puberty just… never hit me, I guess…
“But after awhile, I think I just kind of assumed that everyone felt the way I did, but you just…weren’t supposed to talk about it.
“Like I somehow logic-ed it out in my head that your girlfriend was just your best friend who happened to be a girl. And going on dates and stuff, that was just part of having a girlfriend. Like how when you’re a kid you have play dates, when you have a girlfriend you have, well, just… dates. I mean didn’t you say earlier, a date’s basically just hanging out, right? Especially in middle school. It’s just all part of like this script you were supposed to follow—and I mean, it couldn’t have helped that I literally had a dating handbook from my grandpa that was giving me step by step directions, telling me specific things to do.
“Well anyway… I kept feeling this way, even into high school. People stopped being so boy crazy and girl crazy and whatever then, and I stopped feeling so paranoid, stopped overthinking it.
“And then I dated Haley for two years. Everyone kept telling me to ask her out, so I figured I would. If everyone was saying we’d be perfect together, they must be right, right? She was my first serious relationship.
“And dating her actually made me feel—well, better. Validated? Is validated the right word? I liked hanging out with her, she was already my best friend, but, I don’t know, she never seemed that into me in any sort of fancy romantic way, she never really wanted to make out or hook up or anything all that often, and I thought, okay so maybe all that stuff really is all just an act, just stuff for movies, maybe I was right all along.
“Of course, that all came crashing down after she told me she was gay. She kept going on about ‘attraction’ and how it wasn’t a me problem, that she didn’t feel that way about any guys at all, that it was girls she liked, and I remember just nodding along because, honestly, I was just confused.
“I mean, what even is attraction? I’d never thought about that much, not until she was going on and on about it. But when she was describing it, I realized that there was… something else that I was supposed to be feeling. Something I was missing. But it’s hard, you know, like how do you know what it is you’re missing if you’ve never been able to feel it in the first place?
“You know, side note, funnily enough, after she came out, I actually had a second there where I wondered if maybe I was gay, too. Haley had never had a crush on a guy, I’d never felt that way about a girl—whatever “that way” was supposed to be feel. But I thought about it for a bit and ended up deciding I’d never felt that way about a guy either. And I’d been around a whole lotta guys. Sports camp, swim team… nothing.
“So I figured, well, I went back to square one. Maybe this is just how everyone feels. Maybe I just hadn’t met the right girl, maybe I should just give it some time. Maybe I needed to loosen up. So I just kept going through the motions. Doing what I thought everyone my age was doing.
“I was just so caught up with trying to find or feel or whatever, trying to prove that I was normal. So even though I had a bunch of solid excuses to not care about it all—swimming. Making the Artemics team. My grandparents getting sick—I think a part of me was…. I don’t know. Desperate. To find that feeling that I’d been missing, find that person. So I just kept… you know. Going out on dates. And… other stuff. Just nonstop.”
Alex seemed to be approaching the crux of his story now. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth before turning away again while his hands abandoned the pillow to rest atop his own chest, fingers softly tapping between his rib cage.
“I thought sex was like… you know. Just something you were supposed to do. Like… shaking someone’s hand when you meet them for the first time or… saying thank you when someone opens the door for you. Like it’s just expected you do it. Hold a girl’s hand. Kiss her. Have… sex with her. I didn’t realize people actually wanted… like really wanted to… do these things. Beyond it making the other person happy. Like, I didn’t realize people actually had the… urge to do it. If that makes any sense.
“Like I remember in college, one of my friends, his girlfriend kept cheating on him and I just couldn’t understand why, you know? Like why was it so hard for her not to cheat? Like, what could you possibly be feeling that made you do that, like, what was the reason, why would you sabotage something so easily in your control? And for my friend—why was it so hard, just break up with her already. Like, why stay with someone who… isn’t treating you good?”
There was a small pause, but rather than dwell on darker memories, Alex continued steadily on.
“I know there’s probably more to it, but I guess I just didn’t understand that kind of love. That feeling of… being in love with someone. I had never felt it before. That is…”
Achilles felt Alex stir under the covers, felt him shift his weight as he turned onto his side, peaked his head back above the pillow like a turtle to look at him, a small smile now on his face.“That is, until last week. With you.
“You’re the first person, Ash. And I don’t know why, I don’t know why it’s you—don’t get me wrong, I’m… I’m glad it is.” He laughed, and to Achilles’ surprise, he reached across the pillow for his hand.
“And I see why now it took me so long to even realize there was something wrong with me, that I was missing something, because how could anyone have ever really described to me what this feels like? Attraction. Even now, feeling it now, it’s just… wow. It’s like friends. Like best friend, I don’t know. But… different. And I like it.”
Alex’s tiny sigh of satisfaction sent Achilles heart beating faster, but the rate at which Alex’s remaining hand was tapping against his chest began to quicken as well, and his tone grew more serious.
“But if I’m honest, I… Well. I still feel like a part of me is missing something. In regards to, well… well, just… sex. Like… wanting to have sex.
“I don’t understand why, because I really really like you, I do, and I… well I really liked kissing you. And stuff. And I… well… well normally I spend the time trying not to think about how gross the whole concept of making out with someone kind of is, but for the first time in my life ever, I… I want to do it. Like want to do it. Again. I mean of course, only if you, I don’t know… ever want to do it with me again… Shit. I sound 12, don’t I? Yoba, listen to me, we’ve had one date, you might never want to see me again.”
A rather sheepish smile—Alex ran his free hand through his hair.
“I don’t get it, I don’t get why it feels different, you’d think it’d be the same thing, wanting to be close to someone, wanting to kiss someone, wanting to have sex with them, I don’t know. Wow, I don’t think I’ve said sex as many times in my life as I have just now. What a weird word. Ok, sorry, anyway, I don’t know why I feel one but not the other now. I don’t get it, there’s just… something wrong with me, I don’t know.
“I know this probably doesn’t make much sense, because I’ve hooked up with lots of people before that that I didn’t feel anything for, but I just… because I like you, and because I… do want to be with you, I want to… I don’t know, I want to… want it with you. Like, I want it to feel better, more, I don’t know, purposeful, than all the other times.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that having sex was, like, traumatic or anything in the past—no one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do—I mean, I never wanted to do it, but only in the sense that I never had, like, the urge to do it. I wanted to want it, but every time I did it, it just felt like… I don’t know. A chore. Yeah. It felt like a chore, and honestly, according to a lot of the girls I dated, I was pretty dang bad at it —for reasons that, you know, now make a lot more sense—until I learned how to, you know— actually, we don’t have to get into that—um, well—anyway, back to what I was saying—
“And, I don’t know, I’d stopped hooking up with people by the time I left school. Given up, I guess, just figured there was something wrong with me. And just thinking about sex in general now makes me kind of…anxious. And I don’t want it to feel like that with you, I don’t want to… bring that in there, if that makes sense. I want this to feel… different.
“Shit, wow, I guess all of this to say… super long story just to ask I guess… to just… I guess what I’m asking is if we can… can we take it slow? Is that stupid to ask? Is that, like, super lame? At 25 years old? Or I guess 28 in your case… geez…”
It took a second before Achilles, still digesting everything Alex had shared, realized he’d been asked a question. It was those green eyes—blinking wide-eyed rather expectantly—that jolted him back to the present, and with a small jump, he rushed to respond with something more akin to a squeal, “Not at all!” But worried that his hasty and high-pitched response (ugh) suggested a sentiment something more to the contrary, Achilles hurried to grip Alex’s hand tighter and said more firmly, “We’ll go as slow as you want. Slow as you need.”
The reassurance seemingly failed to land, as Alex turned slightly away. “I… I know sex is… important to a lot of people, and it’s stupid to ask you to wait, it’s not like there’s a good reason—”
“—Al, any reason is a good reason—”
“—and I don’t want you to wait if you don’t want to, I mean like, if you’re someone who likes sex and, well, wants it…” Alex trailed off, but watched Achilles intently as the latter reached slowly over the pillow to brush aside some of the hair that had fallen into his face.
“I mean, I won’t lie, Al. Like, I like having sex.” Achilles snorted, moving his hand down, tracing the line of Alex’s jaw. So smooth… the man shaved religiously, a holdover habit now unlikely to be broken anytime soon with his return to the competitive swimming world. “But I like you more. I think.”
Alex laughed, placing his hand now over Achilles’ to cup his own face.
“No, but in all seriousness, it’s fine. Thank you for telling me this.”
“But are you really sure? You’re fine with waiting? I… I don’t know how long it’ll be. I wish I could give you a timeline, I mean I wish I could say for sure it’ll actually even happen, to be honest, I don’t even know, but then I again I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love, but I see now these are different, and I don’t want to overpromise something that may not ever actually—”
“Al, seriously. It’s fine. I’ll wait forever as long as I’m waiting with you.”
This time, Alex’s smile reached his eyes, igniting that glimmer of mischief. He gave Achilles’ hand a firm, final smack before turning onto his back once again. “Well… forever’s an awfully long time, I think at a certain point I’d just… well, you know.” He made a circle with his left thumb and pointer finger and began to slowly move his right index finger towards it before Achilles whacked his shoulder.
“Boy, I swear to Yoba—”
But Alex cut him off with a surprise kiss on the cheek. There was a careless sweetness to it, and despite the comparative innocence of the gesture, Achilles immediately bloomed pink—but as Alex returned to lying down, letting himself collapse atop the pillow, there was one final furrow still striking his brow.
“I just… are you… disappointed? Achilles?”
“What?”
“I know, I know, you said it’s fine, but I just… I just want to… I don’t know. Are you disappointed? In me? You’ll tell the truth, won’t you?”
Achilles understood. The need to hear a specific set of words—the hunger for honesty alongside the anxious ache for approval. He kept it simple. “I’m not disappointed in you. And you could never disappoint me.”
It was remarkable, the speed at which those words transformed him; like night and day, Alex was now beaming like a sunrise. With a jaunty little wriggle, he pulled the covers up to his chin. “Okay. I’ll stop being sad now. I’ve ruined your sleep schedule enough and you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Elliott’s got a big day tomorrow, I’ve got like, a medium day.” But even so, Achilles leaned over the nightstand to flick off the lamp.
“Medium shmedium… good night, Ash.”
The pillow still rested between them, but Achilles didn’t mind. He knew Alex was there, and he knew now for sure Alex wanted him.
He wasn’t sure how long he spent replaying the evening in his head—perhaps Alex had already fallen asleep, it was, admittedly quite a lot to digest—but nevertheless, at some point Achilles found himself suddenly speaking into the darkness.
“It’s a thing, you know. Asexuality. Aromanticism. There’s a spectrum for both, but it’s all… valid. It’s all… real, for lack of a better word, what you’ve felt and not felt in the past. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
#llnks#stardew alex#stardew fanfic#aspec fanfic#sdv fanfic#alex stardew#sdv alex#sdv oc#asexuality#ace positivity#sorry this was later than usual I am at urgent care lmfao
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Scars and Stitches, Ch. 10: Home
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Series Masterlist | Masterlist
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Summary: Daryl finds a surprise in the woods, then another at camp.
Warnings: nothing notable.
Note: This chapter has a major canon divergence. This is also one of my favorite chapters so, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
=======
"Beloved. Heart of mine. I know you are weary. Forgive me. I cannot let you go." ― Christine Feehan, Dark Lycan
Daryl missed you. Day after day he was out looking for Sophia, motivated by Carol’s tears and the fact that the little girl was going through what he had many years ago. That should have held all his focus.
But it didn’t. He’d gotten used to being with you most of the day, having little chats, sharing meals, riding Merle’s bike, or whiling away the evening in comfortable silence. But now he barely saw you. It wasn’t the same way he’d missed Merle (both times), instead it was like part of him was absent, back on that farm while he searched in the woods. Daryl had cared for others romantically before —usually anyone (man or woman) with a little kindness and a cute smile—but he’d never acted on those feelings. It seemed pretty pointless. He was a no-good drifter, not worth anyone’s time or attention. It also hadn’t helped that Merle would bully Daryl any time he might show the slightest sign of softness or tenderness. Daryl perfected the art of burying any romantic feelings down deep, never to be acknowledged or acted upon.
When it came to sex, Daryl was also hesitant. Aside from that time Merle hired a sex worker to “make him a man,” Daryl had never been physically intimate with anyone. Whether it was his natural shyness or the impersonal nature of his first time, Daryl just wasn’t interested in fucking someone he didn’t genuinely care about. And he didn’t let himself care about anyone because that made life ultimately more painful. It was easier to shut off whatever he was feeling and find other ways to occupy his time.
However, turning off his feelings was harder and harder these days. Merle was gone, and every time Daryl showed someone kindness, especially you, he was met with warmth instead of shame. Then, at the end of a hard day you would hug him and trust him and understand him even when he couldn’t speak. When that happened, he lowered his defenses to let the thought of you—and the thought of having you—inside.
As time went on, the more he wanted from you, and not just easy conversations and soothing silences. Not a day, sometimes not even an hour, went by when he didn’t think about kissing you. And those thoughts always turned into something more. He imagined you naked as he trailed his fingers over every dip and curve, memorizing parts of you that you would only let him see, only let him touch. He imagined relearning your body with his lips, teeth, and tongue; imagined you moaning and writhing beneath him as he made you his, in every way imaginable.
Still, when he realized these thoughts had spiraled out of control, he would force the fantasies deep down, until they sat like a lead weight in his belly. He was not good enough for anyone, and especially not you. It was a practiced refrain, and he’d spent his life perfecting it.
*
While searching for Sophia, Daryl always worked on his own, the way he preferred it. Every day he left at dawn and came back at night. He only talked to Rick enough to review the search grid, get his coordinates for the next day, and grab a bite to eat, before collapsing in his bed.
On the fourth day, even he was feeling a bit hopeless, but then he stumbled upon what appeared to be a deserted hunting camp. It was the sort of place where men would gather on weekends to hunt in the morning and then get high or drink themselves to a stupor at night. The kind of place where him and Merle whiled away many hours when Merle was selling drugs during hunting season.
After checking the perimeter of the small building, Daryl looked in each of the windows. The place was empty as far as he could tell, so he went in. Crossbow loaded and out, he made his way quietly through each room. He found empty beer cans littering every surface, two dead bodies, and one hunting rifle. Then he started checking closets and cabinets.
In the kitchen he opened the door to a broom closet and saw a dirty, frightened little girl with Carol’s eyes staring up at him. Daryl could scarcely believe it. He reached to take Sophia’s hand, but the girl flinched away from him.
He put away his crossbow and squat down. “’member me? I’m Daryl. I’ll take you back to your mom.”
Sophia clutched her doll and glanced around. “Where is everyone else? Where’s my mom? Where’s Rick?”
Daryl for a fleeting moment wondered if he looked too scary for Sophia to trust him. He took a knee. “We found this farm with real nice people. Your mom’s there, so is Rick, Miss Morgan, Carl, everybody.”
Sophia relaxed a little, and said, “Do you promise to keep me safe?”
“I promise, but you’ll have to stick close an’ do what I say, alright?” He held out his hand again.
Sophia nodded and placed her hand in his. They walked a few steps before Sophia swayed on her feet. Daryl sat her down on the kitchen counter and took a water and protein bar from his pack. He’d learned from your trip to rescue Merle and had packed provisions that wouldn’t gross out a little girl.
Once Sophia drank half the bottle and finished the protein bar, they set out again.
==
You were helping Carol with the laundry when Andrea appeared, breathless and smiling.
“Daryl found her!” she announced.
Instantly, both you and Carol dropped everything and followed Andrea. Sophia and Daryl were still two small spots in the distance, but that didn’t stop Carol from going into a full-blown sprint to them. You stayed near the RV, with Andrea and Dale, and watched the happy reunion from there. Carol cried and so did Sophia, and in between hugging her daughter, Carol was hugging Daryl. He stood there like a mannequin, dirt covered and obviously unsure of himself. Eventually, Carol took Sophia’s hand, then Daryl’s, and led all three of them to the RV. To your amazement, Sophia let go of Carol’s hand and ran to hug you. You’d barely interacted with the girl except to read her bedtime stories.
“I’m so proud of you, Sophia,” you told her. “Keeping yourself safe and trusting Daryl to bring you home.”
Sophia let go of you and smiled at you with tired eyes. For a moment you thought of Duane and the last time you hugged him, of leaving him and Morgan, the only thing close to family you’d had in this world.
Carol said, “C’mon, Sophia, Mommy’s going to get you cleaned up, put you in some new clothes, and fix you a good meal.” Sophia waved to you and headed to the camp with her mom.
Dale came down from the lookout spot, and Andrea took his place. He patted Daryl on the back and said, “Well done, son. You’ve earned a rest. You can’t know what this means to everyone. We’re lucky to have you.”
Daryl stared at the ground. “Kid did good out there. Knew she’d be alright.”
Dale looked at you, “Make sure he gets a good rest. He’s earned it.”
“And then some,” you agreed.
Daryl pulled his gaze away from the ground and said, “Goin’ back out to fetch the others. No point in ‘em bein’ out there longer than they hafta be.”
“But Daryl,” you said, reaching a hand to his elbow.
He didn’t flinch, but you saw him tense up at the gesture. You removed your hand immediately.
“’m alright. Best get everyone in one place again.”
You nodded, knowing he wouldn’t rest if there was something he’d set his mind on doing.
==
That night, when Daryl made his way over to his tent, you were already zipped up in your own space. He could see your silhouette as you read a book with light from a lantern.
He was hoping for one of your amazing hugs but decided not to trouble you. So, he went to his own tent. He froze on the spot when he saw Merle’s air mattress in there, all made up with a sleeping bag laid open and a couple of blankets spread on top of it, like a maid had provided him turn down service. This wasn’t right. You needed the mattress more than he did.
Daryl left his tent and stood just outside yours.
“Ya decent?” he asked.
*
“Huh? Oh. Yep,” you answered Daryl, startled from your reading. You were already dressed in a loose tank top and soft cotton shorts, your go-to pajamas lately. You were grateful the tank was a dark color because you’d also shed your bra right after dinner. Underwires weren’t made to be worn at night.
“I’m comin’ in,” he said.
You dog-eared the page you’d been reading and watched as Daryl opened the door to your tent.
He looked down at you for a moment, then said, “C’mere.”
You furrowed your brow. “Something wrong?”
He nodded at the tent door, no further explanation given. You got to your feet, confused, but also knowing Daryl never did anything without purpose.
He followed you out of your tent, zipping it up behind him. You turned to see him carrying your book and the battery-powered lantern in one hand. With his other hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you into his tent.
“What the hell, Daryl?” you said, once you were inside.
“Yer sleepin’ there.” Not waiting for your reaction, he put the book on the mattress and set the lantern on an upside-down crate that was next to the bed.
“I don’t need that mattress anymore,” you explained. “I’m finished with the transfusions. Besides, you’ve been running yourself ragged looking for Sophia then coming home to look after me. You deserve a good sleep more than anyone else.”
“I ain’t lettin’ you sleep on the ground when you don’t have to.”
You were torn between guilt and pleasure at the way he took care of you, but you would not let him do it at his own expense. “Daryl, I have no problem following your lead when we’re out there, but when we’re home, you don’t need to fuss over me. You are sleeping on that mattress, and that’s final.”
Daryl turned and zipped his tent closed. Blocking the doorway, he kicked off his boots, took off his belt, and removed his knife holster from it. Then he stripped off his flannel shirt and dingy tank top, tossing them off to the side. You allowed yourself the swiftest of glances at his bare chest, but then forced yourself to stare at the tent wall. Daryl, moving away from the tent door, placed his knife and holster beside the lantern.
The coast was clear. You said, “I’ll just go back to my—"
Before you could finish that thought, Daryl stalked toward you like a feral beast and scooped you up bridal style. With a yelp, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Without a word, he carried you to the bed and carefully laid you on the center of the mattress. Then, not giving you any chance to move away, he flopped down beside you, flung his arm around your middle, effectively holding you in place. With you on your back and Daryl on his side, his hard body met your soft one, so that your bare arm pressed into the planes of his chest and stomach. You flushed from head to toe. Whatever aesthetic attraction you’d had for him was quickly progressing into something else, something you’d rarely ever felt. You no longer simply wanted to be close to him, but you wanted to touch him, be touched by him.
Daryl chuckled in your ear. “That shut you up.”
No biting retort came to mind as he held you, and you wished you could find some practical reason to leave this bed immediately. You drew a blank.
After a moment you said, “I know I’m heavy. You could have hurt your back. You don’t take enough care of yourself…” you rambled on, lecturing him like a mother hen, trying to hide the racing of your heart and the newly realized desire worming its way through you.
Daryl loosened his arm from around your middle and put his hand on the side of your face. “You ain’t nothin’ I cain’t handle.”
Your belly was suddenly full of butterflies and your heart was in your throat. Lord help you, he was sexy and sweet and charming. His words, his voice, his touch, it all trapped you in a silent fullness until your heart, mind, and body only wanted more of Daryl Dixon
Yes, he had indeed shut you up.
*
Daryl, with all he had, restrained himself from slamming his mouth on yours, putting himself between your legs, and claiming you there and then. He hadn’t expected anything like this happening; he’d just wanted you safe and comfortable. But now, heaven and earth could not move him, neither closer nor farther. He was getting hard, just by having you near and the look in your eyes as you watched him silently. He angled his hips away but kept his upper body close to yours.
Sure, you were heavier than the average person, but it was no extra burden to him, not when you were lush and soft and letting him hold you. He should be grateful enough that you’d let him this close, let him sleep next to you in his truck, in the RV. He would sleep beside you any time you allowed it.
“You are so fucking soft,” he murmured, more to himself than you, but of course you heard him. Your ear was right next to his mouth. Come to think of it, your neck and earlobe seemed to be begging for his lips and tongue. No, he told himself.
“I-I-I’m sorry. I’ve always been this way,” you stammered, and it only made him want you more.
He slid his hand from your face to squeeze your plump shoulder. “It wasn’t a complaint.”
Fuck, what was wrong with him. Controlling his body was one thing, but apparently controlling his words was a different matter. Here he was, blurting out hidden truths like he’d had five shots of whiskey and no common sense. Aside from Merle, you were the closest person in the world to him, and he may not even see his brother again. He needed to be careful not to scare you off or cross any lines that might ruin your friendship.
He removed his hand and found your book on the bed next to him. He handed it to you and said, “Now hush up.” He rolled over, both to hide his erection and keep himself from looking at your sexy body and thinking all the things he’d like to do to it.
You scooted away from him, to the other side of the bed, and he, again, had to resist the urge to drag you back to him.
“Ya good over there?” He said over his shoulder.
“Y-yep. Uh…just going to uh…finish this chapter on CIA interrogation methods.”
Daryl huffed, “Yer already good ‘nough at makin’ people talk to you.”
“It’s a book you gave me, so you only have yourself to blame, Daryl Dixon.”
He snorted, clamping down on his urge to draw you into another conversation just to hear your voice. “Jus’ tell me when to turn off the light.”
“Mmhmm,” you murmured.
*
You were thoroughly distracted from your reading, only turning pages as a matter of ceremony. The man was practically naked next to you, all hard muscle and coiled strength. Heaven help you, but you wanted Daryl Dixon unlike you’d wanted any man in your life. Sex was never something you cared much about, such a distant thought you’d never had any. Hell, if he didn’t have you rethinking that lifelong pattern. But he was your friend, the best one you had. Obviously, if Daryl felt some sort of way about you, he wouldn’t be turning away and pretending you weren’t laying right next to him, your body aflame with want just because he said he liked your softness.
You gave really nice hugs. That’s all he meant.
You turned another page, the words but a blur to your churning mind. This sleeping arrangement was no different than sleeping next to each other in the RV or his truck. You shouldn’t overthink this. Besides, the air was hot—as usual—and it only made sense for Daryl to sleep without a shirt on. You might even have done it if you were him. So, no big deal.
Yep, no big deal at all.
You rolled over to face Daryl but kept your distance as you handed him your book. “I’m finished for the night.”
He took the book and turned off the lantern, and the darkness settled around you.
You started counting to one hundred while breathing slowly to calm yourself.
You felt Daryl also roll over, now facing you, and your eyes started adjusting to the darkness. You could just make out the angles of his face and the shape of him lying next to you.
“Been meaning to talk to you about somethin’,” he rumbled, voice low.
“What’s that?” you whispered.
“Back on the highway…that was rough.”
You realized you had never really talked about what happened, about T-Dog or the walker that almost ate you. You said, “Yeah, it was something we’d never seen before.”
There was a moment of quiet until Daryl said, “Don’t mean the group, I was talkin’ about me. It was rough on me.”
Daryl had done everything in his power to protect both you and T-Dog. “You saved T-Dog’s life. And mine.”
“Nah,” he said. “I left you alone under that jeep, and when that walker came…” he trailed off in an inaudible rasp. You heard him take a few deep breaths. Then in a broken voice he whispered, “Thought I was gonna lose ya.”
Your heart swelled and words were trapped in your throat. Had he been as scared of losing you as you had been of losing him? Daryl had never been this vulnerable before, and you almost felt yourself splitting open, inviting him in.
“You didn’t,” you told him. With your hand you carded your fingers through his hair, then you traced your way from his temple, to his cheekbone, along his jaw and chin, memorizing by touch the face you knew so very well. Then, seizing the bit of courage you had, you placed your hand on his bare chest, over his heart. A moment later, you felt the roughness of his calloused fingers skimming along your hairline, cupping your cheek, and gently rubbing his thumb on your cheekbone. He held you there in the darkness, the only sounds were the distant nightly calls of summer insects and both of you breathing softly.
Your sexual desire was but a whisper compared to the more insistent need to feel close to Daryl the person, not his body. This was frighteningly intimate, and it had you wishing for things you’d rarely wanted. What you were beginning to feel for Daryl was different than friendship or even kinship. At first you thought it was mutual loneliness and daily terror that drew you together. While your friendship may have started that way, it had gradually changed. Now you wanted him. Not just the protection or convenient companionship, but him: his smiles, his thoughtful words, his touch, his scent, his time.
You had no idea how to navigate this, or even if Daryl felt the same, but as he held you so tenderly, you let yourself imagine he did.
Daryl’s hand slowly slipped away, then he placed his hand over the one you’d left on his chest. He threaded his fingers through yours and rested your hands on the bed between you.
He whispered, “Ya good?”
“I’m good,” you told him. You watched the silhouette of his eyelashes flutter closed, felt his body relax, and heard his breathing slow. You watched him for a while, eventually giving in to your fatigue and falling asleep, his hand still holding yours.
======
AN: In case it wasn't clear, Daryl is drunk on sleep deprivation, hence is lapse in self control.
Please feel free to like, reply, reblog; and thank you for reading!
Next Chapter
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#twd#twd fanfic#plus size#plus size reader#plus size fanfic#mdop#minerva writes#dd/xm#scars and stitches
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Not playlist anon (obvious now I guess), but I'm going to jump on the bandwagon and ask you to talk about Little Talks for the game since it's by my favourite band ^^
Oh HECK yes Of Monsters and Men, let’s goooo!
So once again, “Little Talks” is in the playlist more for the overall emotion of the song than for any specific lyrics. There are obviously any number of interpretations you can get out of it—that’s one of the best things about OMAM songs, their artistic ambiguity—but for me, it’s one of those songs that goes into my little list of “this is what it feels like to love somebody with mental illness”.
You may notice that I picked a male cover of the song, rather than just using the original (which is exquisite and has less confusion over that one part in the second verse where the two singers’ voices overlap for one word), because it is meant to be, once again, a conversation between Frodo and Sam. Specifically, I see this as being a sort of snapshot of life in Bag End in that…what, year and a half?…after the Quest had ended and before Frodo left for Valinor. The song is sleepy, it’s tender, it’s melancholy, and it’s deeply unsettling. Whoever the two speakers are, they love each other, but something has gone very wrong in the mind of one of them, and it’s tearing the other one apart.
F: I don’t like walking around this old and empty house
S: So hold my hand, I’ll walk with you, my dear
F: The stairs creak as I sleep, it’s keeping me awake
S: It’s the house telling you to close your eyes
F: Some days I can’t even trust myself
S: It’s killing me to see you this way
For Frodo, Bag End doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s too big. Too empty. Too full of memories of a past life to which he can’t return. He has constant nightmares and frequent insomnia and can’t always be sure of his own mind. Sam offers what he always has—patient, gentle assurances, and sometimes a hand to hold—but it breaks his heart every time.
Both: ‘Cause though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Ships. The Sea. The Sea only ever means one thing. It’s a look ahead to the very end.
F: There’s an old voice in my head that’s holding me back
S: Well tell [him] that I miss our little talks
F: Soon it will be over and buried with our past
S: We used to play outside when we were young, and full of life and full of love
Throughout the book, Frodo has a habit of looking into the future with pessimism: he’s miserable, but at least the misery will all be over and forgotten when he’s dead. Even the past is tarnished by the pain of the present; his happy years in the Shire come back to taunt him, dancing just out of reach, where he can’t grasp them again. But Sam looks on the past with fondness and almost aggressive optimism; in the dreary desert of Mordor, he thought back to when he was young, swimming in the farm pond with Rosie and her brothers, and even here he thinks wistfully about the days when Frodo was free and whole and things were easy.
You’re gone, gone, gone away, I watched you disappear
All that’s left is the ghost of you
Now we’re torn, torn, torn apart, there’s nothing we can do
Just let me go, we’ll meet again soon
What is this story except Sam being forced to watch Frodo slowly deteriorate; of cradling his cold body, when he thinks he’s dead, and then watching him truly die from the mind outward, which is so much worse? Sam is determined to lead a good life in the Shire, but Frodo can’t stay here any longer. He has to leave, or he won’t heal. So after walking a long, long road side by side, they’re now torn apart on the pier of the Grey Havens. “Just let me go,” whispers Frodo. “We’ll meet again soon.”
Now wait, wait, wait for me
Please hang around
I’ll see you when I fall asleep
HEY!
The sudden, raucous crescendo here in the original recording just gets me in the throat every time. It feels like love that hurts—raw, roaring, and desperate—when saying goodbye is like a shard to the chest that’s so close to your heart you can’t remove it without risking even worse damage, so it just stays there, and your skin and muscle close and heal around it, but you’re still carrying it with you ‘til the end of your life; and even though you may go for months or years without noticing it, it still pricks and gives you pain sometimes.
(Did that metaphor end up going a lot further than I thought it would? Yes. Am I running with it regardless? Also yes.)
“Wait, wait, wait for me.” It feels like something Sam would want to shout after the ship as it pulled away, but he shut his mouth and swallowed it into his chest, because Rosie was waiting for him at home and he couldn’t go, not yet.
“Wait, wait, wait for me.” It feels like something Frodo would want to whisper from the stern; please don’t hurry, take your time, but don’t forget me.
“Wait, wait, wait for me.” I read something recently that said mortals aren’t actually made immortal by the trip to Valinor; the land is called Undying because it’s full of elves, not because it can grant immortality. I’m not a smart enough Tolkien person to know if that’s true or not, but if it is, that adds a whole other layer of agony: Bilbo would have likely passed away not long after reaching Valinor. And Frodo? Frodo wasn’t exactly a spring chicken himself. He would have been even older by the time Rosie passed away, and Sam took it into his head to leave Middle Earth. After he had found his healing—and met all the elves he wished to meet and seen all of Valinor he wished to see—what else was there for Frodo to hold on to life for?
What else, except for the vague, wild hope of a reunion?
But until then, Sam lies awake in Bag End, with Rosie at his side, staring at the ceiling. And a motif of this playlist is repeated that first popped its head up in “Dear Fellow Traveler”:
“And I’ll return to my beautiful city
Black skies will change into blue
And though my love is so wise and so pretty
Some nights I’ll still dream of you”
I’ll see you when I fall asleep…
I’ll close my eyes and dream of you, until we meet again.
WORD ASK GAME! (kinda!)
#word ask game#song rec#frodo baggins#samwise gamgee#lord of the rings#lotr#my writing#YES my playlists have repeating motifs based on tiny similarities between the lyrics of various songs#did you think i WOULDN’T overthink it to that degree??#anyway this one is skipping the line and getting posted asap because i got too excited to gush about this LOL#these boys own my brainnnnn
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Mungrove Outlaw and Bounty Hunter AU
Based on the drawings by @pinkkinoko ! Definitely recommend you check them out!
The California sun beat down on Eddie's back as he rode through Northern Mojave desert's Death Valley. The young man tipping his hat in an attempt to hide from the heat. California's autumn was a far cry from the cold Indianan weather he'd been accustomed to. Staring up ahead, he saw nothing but more empty sand dunes. According to the map he'd stolen a town over, the Saratoga Springs was at least another day's trip north from here. Not exactly promising considering the fact his water canteen was a sip away from completely empty.
"We're in a lot of trouble, aren't we Snowmane?" The newly made outlaw asked the horse beneath him. Snowmane was an Appaloosan mare with white and brown spots that covered her whole body. Her mane was a shock of bright white hair that stood out against the endless stretch of tan sand. She let out a tired huff but kept trotting along. "Sorry girl." He apologized, running a hand along the back of her neck. She was just as if not more tired and dehydrated as him. "But we can't go into town. Somebody might recognize us."
The nightmare that become his life started a few months back with the death of a girl in town. Hawkins, Indiana was a small town and living on the edge of it with his uncle on their secluded ranch where they rarely talked to anyone already made them stand out. And not in a good way. They didn't much go to church and the people of the town frowned at the young man who came into town with long hair and a skull belt buckle he'd made himself.
"Satan worshipper."
He recalled the preacher's son slinging that insult at him when he came into the general store one day. Eddie had responded by mocking the boy with sticking his tongue out and making devil horns with his fingers. In hindsight, not the brightest idea. But it made him and the blonde girl on the boy's arm laugh and he thought nothing of it. Then they found that girl's body the next day. Chrissy Cunningham, daughter of one of the town's city council members. They didn't have any proof he did it but immediately the finger was pointed at him. Eddie knew he wouldn't get a fair trial in this town full of backwater hicks so he did what he knew best and ran. As far away from Indiana and everything he'd ever known as possible. Ending up in the middle of bumfuck hot as shit California, praying to a God he didn't particularly believe in that he didn't die of thirst in the middle of this shit hole.
"Dead or Alive," Eddie scoffed as he remembered the wanted poster he'd seen in the last town over. A one thousand dollar reward for whoever brought him in, "think they count skeletons?" He asked Snowmane jokingly to which she snorted. "Yeah, probably not." The young man was distinctly aware of the buzzards that loomed over head, just waiting for them to keel over.
Looking up from his horse, Eddie did a double take when he saw it. Rubbing his eyes to make sure it wasn't some heat induced mirage and blinking. Just off in the distance sat a farm. It wasn't particularly big but as he got closer, Eddie could see the crops growing out of the dusty, arid ground. And more importantly, a well just in front of the barn beside the house.
"Let's hope the owners don't mind us passing through, c'mon girl." Eddie clicked his heel on Snowmane's right flank, signaling for her to move towards the isolated farmhouse. This had been the first greenery he'd seen in quite a while. Getting close enough to see the fields of short grains. "Whoa girl." Another click of good heel signaled the mare to halt. Dismounting the horse and grabbing her reins to slowly lead her over. He didn't see anyone in the fields or moving in the house but just to be sure, Eddie walked around the back of the barn and secured her to one of the posts jutting out from the side of it.
"Easy girl, don't worry." He ran a hand along the front of her snout as she trotted in place. "I'll be back with some water and food. Sure the owner of this place won't miss a little hay."
Despite what the sweat that colored Eddie's back might indicate, it was almost evening and night would be coming soon. And that meant freezing temperatures. If he was lucky, Eddie might even be able to sleep out in the barn without the place's owner noticing. Trying open one of the barn doors as quietly as possible, Eddie glanced around to make sure no one was in there. He was greeted by the sight of hay bails and empty horse stalls. The outlaw breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped in, sliding the door shut behind him. The sound of wood hitting wood was louder than he intended making him jump when he heard the sound of a horse whinnying.
"Shit!" The young man cursed as he looked down to see the final stall. A large buckskin quarter horse was startled by the noise and his presence. "Whoa, hey there. " Eddie approached the horse in an attempt to calm the animal down. This only seemed to make the horse more antsy as it began to buck dangerously close to the stall door. "Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you." Eddie had been decent when it came to training horses but he wasn't his uncle. Sometimes he swore, Wayne could talk to them. Tossing his satchel to the side of a nearby hay bail and opening his arms up in an attempt to seem harmless.
'Gotta open yourself up to the animal. Let em know they can trust you.'
Wayne said when he first started having Eddie train. The words seemed to ring true as the animal before him slowly started to calm down allowing Eddie to let out a sigh of relief. Turning towards the back of the barn, he found the relief short lived as he came nose to nose with a sawed off shotgun pointed in his face.
"Who the hell are you, and why are you on my property?"
The man's voice asked as he glared down at Eddie. The outlaw froze as the man shoved him with the gun and knocked Eddie down into the barn's dirt floor. The figure stood above him got closer while Eddie shuffled back with his hands up in surrender.
"This isn't what it looks like," Eddie tried to defend himself as he scrambled for what to say, "Listen I just got a little lost and-"
"And you happened into my barn?" The man asked, clearly in disbelief. Both he and the outlaw studying each other's features. The man had long curly blonde hair covered by a white hat atop his head. Sharp electric blue eyes glared into the brunette's soul, his pearly whites clenching the lit cigarette between his teeth as he spoke. A hint of recognition crossed the stranger's face and Eddie felt his stomach drop.
"Awful far from here to Indiana, don't you think?" The man asked, stepping closer. Eddie's eyes fell to the guy's black boots covered in some red muck of questionable origin. Eddie's lack of a response prompted the figure to cock the gun. The sound echoing through the barn. "I asked you a question." It was the middle of August yet Eddie felt a chill run down his spine. The man recognized him from the wanted posters.
"Whoa there partner-"
"I ain't your damn partner." The man snapped. Eddie's eyes darted to the satchel sat behind the man and he cursed himself for not keeping the knife in it on him. "I know who you are. Edward "The Banished" Munson. Heard bout what you did to that girl down in Indiana." The finger on the trigger seemed to move in slow motion.
"I didn't do it!" Eddie's hitched as he tried not to scream. "I swear on my mama's grave I didn't do it. I don't know who did but I'm no killer and I-I'm definitely not whatever did that."
He's to scared to move as the man above him seems to contemplate what Eddie said, looking over his panicked face. If Eddie didn't know better, he'd think the guy was getting off on it. The man lowers the gum in his right hand and takes the cigarette he'd been smoking out with his left.
"You're one freaky looking guy, but you're no killer. Ain't got the look." He kneeled down to come face to face with the outlaw and he blew a breath of smoke out in Eddie's face. "But the thing is? There's a pretty penny on your head. Prettier than those fancy rings of yours." The man says as he looks over the silver on Eddie's hands. Only now does Eddie notice how the man's half button shirt hangs open. Allowing him to see the golden hair on his tan chest. "Now the poster I've seen says wanted dead or alive. And they say death does wonders for the crops." Eddie took a deep breath as the man grabbed him by the finger of his shirt and lifted him up. "We've been going through a bit of a dry spell up here and my old peach tree put back could use a pick me up."
The threat hangs in the air like a fruit waiting to be picked.
"So unless you feel like trying something, I suggest you keep in my best graces so I might be tempted to keep you alive. Are we at an understanding, partner?" Eddie nodded vehemently and the man looked him over with the click of his tongue. Tossing his cigarette to the side and stomping it out with the heel of his boot.
"Name's Hargrove by the way. But you can call me Billy. I think we're about to get real close these next few days while you try to convince me not to turn you in."
Eddie's body was stiff as the man let go of the front of his shirt but didn't drop the gun in his hands. For a moment he considered running for his knife but he knew nothing good would come of it. Watching as the man, Billy, walked to the wooden shelves that lined the wall by the barn door. Pulling out a length of rope and coming back over to the outlaw the blonde finally set the gun down as he spoke again.
"Hands behind your back."
"Scuse me?"
"What? You think I'm gonna let you in my house, unchecked?" Billy asked and Eddie frowned but found himself complying. Allowing the larger man to pull his arms tight behind him before he began to loop some rope around Eddie's wrists. Eddie wincing from the rope burn as Billy pulled the loops shut with a tight knot.
"So, you seen pretty experienced with knots." Eddie spoke in a joking manner as he turned around to face the farmer. "I was never much good at this kind of work but you seem to know your way around this kind of thing-" The outlaw was cut off by the other man grabbing the bandana off around his neck and shoving it in the darker haired boy's mouth.
"You talk far too much Munson."
#mungrove#stranger things au#stranger things#cowboy au#yeehaw#eddie munson#billy hargrove#outlaw au#chrissy cunningham#jason carver#fanfiction
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for the ask thing: 10, 21, 24
10. What’s something you're excited for?
I would love to say that I am looking forward for something, but, in the last few days, sadness and apathy have clouded my spirit to a point that I am barely feeling alive.
Being so, the only thing that gives me a very fragile glimpse of hope is the fact that, in a few days, I will be back on my farm. But since I don't like to live there, I guess that this is barely the lesser of two evils.
21. If you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?
«Take it easy, Miguel. Every single day of your life. You are not important, no one is. Nothing matters, and whoever says otherwise is lying. Stress is not only toxic, but also but a farse. Existence is a farse. Being alive is absurd. We are all going to die in the end. We are all going to die alone. We are all going to die exactly as we lived. »
(Is it too obvious that I don’t want to be alive?)
24. what’s something you do to de-stress?
This may sound a bit cliché, but, usually, I for a very long solitary walk, a walk that needs to be as long as humanly possible. To be more effective, I need to walk on the seaside - even better, on a deserted (or, at least, not crowded) beach. Sadly, that is only possible when I am staying on my flat, and I only slept two nights there this year.
The ocean is like a silent adviser. The waves will never judge you or point fingers, but their infinite wisdom feels like a magic balsam to heal all wounds. It was on the seaside, on a summer morning, that I realized that the person I had loved the most in all my life was galaxies away from being the person she made me believe she was for five years, or so.
The ocean - the Atlantic Ocean. I need desperately to talk to him. As usual, with no words being spoken - as usual, with vast amounts of wisdom being exchanged.
(thank you very much, anon - and sorry for the delay)
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Emerald Gem||Chapter Six
Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight|Chapter nine|Chapter ten
Hybrid!OT7 x Fem!Reader
Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.
Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff
Warnings: SUGGESTIVE, some language, harsh themes
Word count: 1.7k
A/N: Tags list is now CLOSED! Thank you guys for loving this pic <3 lots more to come soon!
Unedited
Your dinner was getting cold. For some reason, you couldn’t pick up the fork. Your hands were too busy gripping the table, bewildered by the sight in front of you.
“Are you going to come greet us or just sit there?” Yoon teased, showing that gummy smile you missed so much. The others were behind him, Jimin laid on Taehyung’s back. You could tell they had been through hell and back. Jin could barely stand on his own two feet, leaning on Hobi for support.
“I- what are you guys doing here?” You never thought you would see them again. Now that they’re here in front of you, you don’t know what to say. Even after all that time practicing what to say if they came back.
Im sorry. Please stay. I missed you.
Instead, you asked “Where’s Namjoon?”
The smile on Yoongi’s face quickly turned into a frown, telling you all you needed to know. Maybe you couldn’t do anything to convince him to stay, maybe Joon was just a lost cause- that’s what you tried to convince yourself anyway.
“I’m so sorry-.” You tried to apologize but Jungkook quickly shut it down with a quick embrace. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around your waist you were at ease. But once he pulled away, you yearned for more. It was just a second, but you still craved it nonetheless.
“Don’t apologize when you have nothing to be sorry for. He made his bed. Now he has to lay in it.”
“Speaking of beds”, Jimin interrupted, apparently lucid enough to speak clearly. “May I go to mine? I haven’t had a proper sleep in weeks…”The guys chuckle at Jimin lack of consciousness. It made you smile knowing they could laugh in dire situations. It comforted you, hearing Jimin call the bed his. It was his bed.
This is his home.
***
After eating dinner, everyone went there separate ways. They were probably looking forward to having a nice, cozy bed all to themselves. You laid in bed trying to rest, but your mind wouldn’t allow it. Yes, you were happy to have the six wanted hybrids back home, but every time you thought about Namjoon your stomach turned from worry. Apparently you weren’t the only one.
“Hey Y/n?” The Bunny hybrid stood in front of your bedroom door holding his favorite black and blue pillow.
“Hey Kook”, you leaned against the headboard, getting a better look at him. He looked frazzled, like there was something on his mind. You know that look all too well. “Can’t sleep?”
He nodded, making his way to the unoccupied side of the bed. He laid down next to you, getting as close to you as he could while holding his pillow to his chest.
“Worried about Namjoon”, he whispered into his pillow. “Never been anywhere without him. Im scared…”
You gently removed the pillow from his chest, replacing it with your warmth. Jungkook immediately relaxed in your embrace, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You felt like home- nice and warm. You were familiar to him, someone his could call his. Yes, he had the guys, but he grew up with them so it was different. The bond he built with you was new, and easy.
You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, rubbing his back soothingly. “I know”, you whispered. You of all people know what it’s like to lose someone. You know the feeling of curiosity, the feeling of wondering where your person may be.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find him… I promise.”
You continued to rubbed Kook’s back, soothing him to sleep. There in the darkness, you both laid. It was quiet- serene.
“How did we get so lucky?” He murmured, eyelids fluttering on the brink of sleep. “What did we do to deserve you?”
He fell asleep before you could respond, before you could find the words to answer him. But his question kept you up all night, looking for the right words. How do you tell the person you just met that you’re falling? How do you explain to him that it’s you who was lucky enough to find seven incredibly selfless people.
“You deserve the world”, you whispered, finding comfort in his unconsciousness. “All of you do..”
“I love you. More than you know...”
***
You expected jungkook to be gone when you woke up, but there he was- still laid in your arms. He looked peaceful. Even with the cuts and bruises on his face, he was beautiful. And there it goes again- butterflies in your stomach. It was a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. The feeling was warm and comfortable, but also scary.
But you couldn’t lay in bed all day, admiring all of Jungkook’s features. The farm needed tending to, and breakfast needed to be made. When you went to sit up, a pair of hands quickly pulled you back down.
“Don’t leave yet”, he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
“Kook”, you sighed, pretending to be irritated. “I’ve gotta go cook and feed the animals. You can come help if you want.”
He shook his head, pouting like a sad little kid. “Hobi already tended to the farm and Yoon made everyone breakfast. Now, lay down with me please.”
“Oh” was all you could say. You didn’t have any other excuse. The guys made sure of that. So you let him cuddle you, the way you did him. And for a while, you laid in his arms peacefully.
“You trust me tight?” Kook questioned.
“With my life”.
He scooted closer to you, putting his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel him breathing on you, making you nervous.
“Just trust me, okay?”
You nodded. “O-okay.”
Taking his sweet time, he placed gentle kisses from your neck to your ear. It had you squirming in anticipation, wondering where his lips would move to next.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now”, he breathed by your ear, running a hand up and down your waist. One hand made its way to your breast, messaging it through your night shirt. You gasp at the sudden feeling, giving him room to connect your lips with his. The kiss was soft and gentle, yet it still made you’re mind go blank. “Namjoon would loose his mind if he knew.”
You pushed away immediately after hearing his name. Namjoon, their pack leader. What would he think about the pack maknae comforting you in your bed? Your stomach turned just thinking about it.
“I should probably go check on the others, it’s a little too quiet”, you thought up an excuse, leaving a dumbfounded Jungkook in your bedroom.
***
As you walked down the creeky stairs, the aroma of pancakes and syrup surrounded you. When you entered the living room, four hybrids sitting on the couch devouring their plate.
“Oh! You’re awake!” Hoseok beamed. “Yoon thought we should wait for you to come down, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s okay”, you smiled. The smell of the morning breakfast was making your stomach growl. Jimin scooted to the edge of the couch, making some room for you to sit.
“Here, grab your plate and you can watch with us”, he offered. The Saturday cartoons were on, Tae’s favorite. Tom and Jerry always made him laugh, and don’t even get him started on road runner.
“Sorry, I can’t. Lots of farm work to do. But let’s play a game outside later!”
Jin, lying down on the other side of the couch, pointed a finger at Hoseok. “Hobi already did it! The silos are full and the chicken coops are clean! I fed the animals too!”
The stairs creaked once more. Jungkook, with his doe eyes and fluffy hair, entered the living room. “Good Morning”, he greeted in his raspy morning voice.
You could feel the butterflies again.
“You sure slept well, didn’t you?” Jimin smirked. “You might want to adjust your self, kook. It’s looking right at me.”
He glared at jimin. “What are you ta- Oh shit.”
If Jimin didn’t say anything, you would’ve never noticed, but now you can’t unsee it- the tent in the bunny hybrids pants. The others laughed at him while you blushed feverishly.
“What were you dreaming about kookie?” Tae teased the youngest.
“More like who was he dreaming about?” Hobi joined in. You couldn’t even think straight. Instead of joining in the taunting banter, you decided to quietly grab a seat and try to wipe the red off your face.
But Jungkook wasn’t going to let you get away so easily.
“Blame Y/n! It’s her fault”, He exclaimed with his back turned adjusting himself. Suddenly all eyes shifted to your side of the couch, and you could no longer hide your embarrassment. And with the embarrassment was also shock.
“I- I didn’t! We never-“ You stuttered trying to find the right words. Was there any right way to explain how you made their pack mate hard? Probably not…
“You worry too much”, Kook huffed, slightly irritated. “You’re our family now. I’m as just as close to you as I am my pack. You practically are apart of us now!”
You tugged at the loose string on your shirt, eyes on the floor as if you had just been scolded. “But Namjoon-“
“Joon will come around eventually”, Jin interjected. “He knows where home is. He’ll make his way back to us soon.”
***
The room felt cold, ice cold. And even though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, he already knew where he was.
“No! Please, Not again!” Joon begged, body trembling.
The men in white lab coats laughed. “You’re lucky you still alive. We can keep it that way, too! Just tell me where the others are and no one has to get hurt.”
Namjoon laid on the cold white floors, gripping the metal bars caging him in. If the bars weren’t there, everyone in the room would’ve been dead, by his hand. Just hearing the sinister laugh of the people who hurt his pack made him want to tear them into shreds.
“Fuck you!” He spat. He banged and beat on the cell bars, but It was no use. He couldn’t break them. And now he’s in a situation he cannot escape.
And now he’s silently calling you for help.
Please, he begged. Save me!
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More Garbage Farm thoughts! @2kimi2furious @salamand3rin
... Do we have deluxe scarecrows yet? I don’t think we do, and the only rarecrow I think we might be missing is the one from the Casino — does anybody like gambling?
I seem to recall somebody teaching us about gambling at the town fair one year?
We might also be missing the Dwarf rarecrow, but getting that one should be easy enough
I mentioned wanting to befriend the Wizard — I can only give him so many gifts, but I could also try inviting him to the movies! Anybody wanna go to the movies with me and the Wizard?
It looks like the Wizard likes movie snacks more than most of the movies. This makes it an extremely ineffective way to buy win his friendship, but, it’s better than nothing
But also it looks like the crane game has a bunch of stuff you can’t get elsewhere? so, sure, let’s go for it!
(Note to self: Other soup-proof friendships include Sandy, Krobus, and the Dwarf, I should get on boosting those, too)
Speaking of Krobus, I didn’t know that Dark Sign existed, but now that I do, I must have them. All signs around the farm must be replaced.
Luckily we were planning to do a bunch of reorganizing anyway!
Speaking of reorganizing, we know how to make “mini-obelisks” — we can place a single pair on the farm, and teleport between the two. We should place those!
Maybe one by the houses, and one by the NW↖️-SW↙️ bottleneck? Since I think that’s the point furthest from all the exits?
I take it back about needing Garbage Can Lids before getting more horses (mhorses), because it turns out that children can wear hats! Our garbage babies are woefully unadorned! And, shit, if we’re gonna let our children run around hatless, I guess the horses can, too.
Also sea urchins in fish tanks can wear hats??? We’re gonna need so many garbage can lids
... or maybe that’s what we do with non-garbage hats, just put them on sea urchins? It feels a little sacrilegious to suggest using non-garbage hats for anything, but this seems like a suitably whimsical way to display our collections of hats we’ll never wear
(ugh, the way “sacrilegious” is spelled when compared to “religious” makes me mad. whose fault is this?? probably the french, right?)
It looks like there are ... 93 possible hats? I might have to set up a fish pond for sea urchins, that’s so many sea urchins. (There’s a 94th hat but it requires marrying Emily, so, never mind that) We could set up an entire Big Shed to be a Hat Aquarium
Getting all the hats and the biggest fish tanks (which require Super Endgame stuff we haven’t done yet) would be a monumental task, so we shouldn’t pursue it with any amount of ... urchin-sea :)
Someday I’m gonna spend an entire session on interior design just trying to make my house look nice, you guys’ houses put mine to shame
I recently made glowstone rings for all of us, so I don’t think any of us are using Iridium Bands? I think they just add some damage, so it’s not a high priority, but it’s worth noting on the to-do list as a long-term goal
Note to self: jade can be exchanged with the desert merchant for staircases, we should get some crystalariums set up duplicating jade instead of gathering so much stone
Incidentally I wanna set up my own “museum” collection of all the Minerals and Artifacts as a long-term project, I think I’ve already got a decent start on the minerals and a few artifacts?
Do either of you have any particular thoughts, plans, or ideas? Things you wanna check out? Projects you wanna work on?
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Even More Advice
<< Link to the previous Advice post
So your character has armor!
Amazing, might I comment, I must applaud your tastes a second time, fair reader!
Here's a few tips for your characters with Clanky Bits and their Derivatives:
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Just as previously stated, you must remember what kind of armor or gear you're giving to what kind of character.
The more Cloak-&-Dagger inclined types may prefer little to none in most cases, preferring to be as light and undetectable as feasibly possible. The armor can only be used if they're discovered in the first place, and that rather defeats the purpose of sneaking, wouldn't you think?
Still, if they insist on having protection, it will be light and cover the essentials. Mayhaps belts and thin strips of thick beast leather, enough to protect from glancing slashes or the occasional stray arrow on their escape, but not enough for prolonged engagement.
It will also be easy to replace, so they won't much care for it if it has to be left behind. There will be slight customization if they are especially sentimental, but it is easily discardable for a different set if needed.
A thief will much more prefer to accomplish their objectives quickly, quietly and without being discovered. If they can't do that, they will cut and run at the first sign of trouble before anybody can raise the alarm. If they get discovered in the first place and are placed in a situation where armor is actually required, they aren't worth their salt or coin as a rogue. They will not last toe to toe against a group of guards, who are most likely wearing chainmail, or, even, plate armor.
You won't find a rogue wearing anything like plate or chainmail. Or, at least you won't find any good ones.
Or, say, a character of a more knight-ly inclination, noble and, most importantly, rich!
A knight can afford much better armor and maintenance tools, or somebody with access to those tools. A personal smith, mayhaps.
These types are more inclined to thick metal plate armor, providing good, even amazing. Their armor is well maintained, hard to punch through and covered well. They wear it over chainmail and gambeson, hard to cut through, bolstering their already considerable defenses.
Beware, a knight's armor is certainly not invincible. Try as you might, you cannot cover the entire body in plate. There will always be a gap to slide a dagger through. Even then, most won't need to even pierce in the first place. A hammer or mace can pulverize limbs covered by armor, bending the metal and fracturing bone beneath.
An especially well off knight can afford highly embellished armor fit for a lord, decorated with colorful feather plumes and engraved plates, bright and a loud declaration of presence.
The common soldier knight can at least afford enough to cover the upper torso with a cuirass, pauldrons and gauntlets, covering the rest with chainmail and thick cloth gambeson. They can afford some embellishment, but it's far less than the upstanding favored noble house knight could.
Or, if you're more the ne'er do well rough and tumble type, who doesn't quite want the scoundrelous elegance of the rogue but you still tire of the laws chains, a bandit or highwayman might be more your flow.
A bandit, brigand or a highwayman could literally be anybody.
Deserters, desperate peasants, soldiers, mercenaries, take your pick.
A brigand's armor will totally depend on background and situation.
A desperate peasant, starving and angry from the greedy lord's constant taxing, won't have anything besides the clothes on their back and maybe a stolen farming tool. Whatever armor they get will have to be scavenged or thieved. Scraps of leather, mismatched cast iron plates bent into the desirable shape, an ill fitting stolen cuirass scavenged from the wreckage of a battlefield if they're lucky. Nothing they have will be clean or well maintained, nor will they be sentimental for anything they pick up.
An army or militia deserter will only have whatever gear they had before fleeing, either out of terror & cold feet or anger at a superior. Their armor will be mostly thick cloth and gambeson, chainmail if they're lucky. Their gear will be no cleaner or better maintained than the peasants, and they often will be at the front of the fighting with their heavier chainmail.
A mercenary group could be paid to cross borders and harass trade routes of a rival kingdom, causing internal feuds and unrest in the kingdom and weakening it so another one may swoop in and take it. Their armor will be varied. Some may not prefer armor at all, dressing in baggy colorful and distinctive clothing emblazoned with their signature, while others will be dressed with cuirass and greaves, affording decent armor. A common mercenary could not afford to commission and maintain a full set of plate armor, but they could reasonably take care of a cuirass and limited coverings.
What I am, once again, saying long windedly, is to consider your character's circumstances and situation when you give them armor.
I hope it helped :D
Cheers mates, Bucket, signing off.
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The world is Ending.
The sky is a mirror, broken, reflecting everything that Ever Was and everything that Ever Will Be within shards of Dreams that fall like silver rain and distort the landscape around you as they crash haphazardly to the ground; like glass meteors.
Shattering on impact.
Glittering splinters of impossibility cut your cheek as they fly by, you can taste the bitterness of your future in the pain.
…you shouldn't be here.
Something is wrong.
You've been here before, this place, this street.
A long long time ago.
In a dream.
You aren't supposed to dream.
Between the dead Angel taking up residence in your skull and the half dozen other psychosomagic ailments you have, everyone thought it would be a good idea to just… remove your ability to dream entirely.
Before you, where the End-of-Everything should be standing with Her head wreathed in flame, is Nothing.
Nothing stretching into Always and Forever, a ceaseless gray void-- like the out of bounds parts of old video games.
Patches of writhing black ichor swallow impossible structures, strangling their foundations until they lean dangerously, drunkenly across the deserted street you stand on.
Twitching near-skeletal limbs and disembodied mouths spring forth from places they were never meant to, devouring everything they touch like a cancer, they tug at your feet as you walk.
Something with a Thousand legs tries to crawl up your legs, and you Shudder.
In your hand is a sword
Hammer
Gun
Knife
So much blood
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
A chain hangs around your neck, it's an old and heavy thing carved from the bones of a beast Higher than you.
Where metal would rattle, these bones sing with your every movement.
A wordless song that fills you with dread, creeps into your skull like kudzu and chokes out every thought.
Your feet move without your permission, carrying you towards where the World has died disappeared dissolved.
Become Nothing.
You are scared and alone, but you cannot rest until it is done.
You stand there, teetering on the edge of Nothing, of Oblivion and stare at it with empty eyes.
Your chain has stopped singing, but you find no comfort in the silence.
The fall is sudden and all encompassing.
You don't remember moving or the ground giving way.
You just remember
Falling
And Falling
And Falling
Your chain goes taught.
You expect to die.
But that would be too easy, too KIND.
It's dark where you are now, the void pulsating and bruised.
You lie there, numb, cold, and suddenly sticky in a pile of tiny bodies.
A mountain of hundreds of identical dead rabbits with wide silver eyes, like pleading glass meteors.
You feel sick.
Heads lift themselves from the clammy mass; some whole, some severed.
Some plush and fake, with those same mirrored eyes that reflect your face back at you.
Eerie violin music echoes through the darkness.
At the mountain's peak is a centipede with a gramophone where its head should be.
The audio crackles and pops as the record plays, and the rabbits begin to dance.
One by one they peel themselves from the pile and stand on their hind legs like people. They each take a partner, and politely bow as the gramophone starts to sing.
"On the farm, ev'ry Friday
On the farm, it's rabbit pie day
So ev'ry Friday that ever comes along
I get up early and sing this little song"
A little corpse takes your hand and tugs you to your feet; there is an oozing burlap sack where its head should be, tightly secured by a cartoonishly pink ribbon.
"Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer's gun
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run"
Your dance partner whirls you around at frightening speeds, their tiny claws digging deep into the flesh of your hands and tearing them with the inertia.
Somehow, you can feel yourself smiling.
Lips drawn so far back that they're splitting, blood running hot down your chin as the corners of your mouth crawl up and up to touch the corners of your eyes.
It hurts.
You feel like you're being torn in half as the music speeds up, the gramopede dancing along to its own manic tune.
"Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun
He'll get by without his rabbit pie
So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run"
The dance floor is a blur, a mess of blood and teeth and fur as the rabbits around you tear each other apart with the ferocity of their dancing.
Your partner's arm tears off at the shoulder, you expect gore but see only fluff and frayed stitching. Still, they keep dancing, even as their legs give way and you have to drag them around and around they refuse to stop.
The music gets faster.
"Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer's gun
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run"
And faster.
You watch the other dancers heads snap back, exploding into fabric scraps and glass as they're shot by some unseen hunter.
And yet they still dance.
Bang.
And dance.
Bang.
And dance.
Bang.
And dance.
Bang.
Goes the farmer's gun, until you are the only one.
The music has slowed to a crawl, each line drawn out and distorted as the gramopede lay bleeding amongst the corpses of the dancers.
"Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun
He'll get by without his rabbit pie
So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run"
The last notes trail off into silence, into Nothing.
You watch the remains dissolve into that same black ichor as before, eyes sprouting from the muck like flowers.
The burlap face of your dance partner gazes up at you from a nearby puddle.
You pick it up and put it on.
The bone chain coils tight around your throat, and holds your mask in place.
In the silence.
In the dark.
A voice surrounds you, made of fear and wires and cold that seeps into your little fabric heart.
"Find me."
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