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nostalgic90s · 2 years

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weird asks that say a lot

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

water bottles cause you don’t have to wash them afterwards

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Ew. No to both

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Mega ew. Hate both

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably as that lil mouthy shit who can’t listen to save her life

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Cans. Easier to toss or hide

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

.......What?

7. earbuds or headphones?

headphones

8. movies or tv shows?

Tv shows. Last longer

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Probably cliche but I like honey suckle (we don’t have that here)

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

...... Does punching count?

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Usually, a breakfast sandwich from the store, or a breakfast burrito. Depends if I get up early

12. name of your favorite playlist?

don’t got no playlists

13. lanyard or key ring?

....keychain?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

SOUR MOTHER FUCKING PATCH

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I guess it was “To Kill a Mockingbird”

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Criss cross apple sauce

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My DC shoes. They last a lifetime

18. ideal weather?

Fall. I like that it’s cold enough to sleep with the window open, but you won’t die (or get frostbite)

19. sleeping position?

I like to curl on my side and hug either pillows or blankets because m’big spoon

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

On my couch?

21. obsession from childhood?

......So many. I can’t name them all. Sesshomaru had my heart?

22. role model?

Johny Depp. Idk.

23. strange habits?

Htf would I know that? Live with me and find out

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst (Yup thanks Stephen Universe)

25. first song you remember hearing?

“Little Bitty” by Alan Jackson (and for the record I hate country but this song played a huge part in my childhood)

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Sip.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Sip.

28. five songs to describe you?

Five??? Jesus. Uh. Fuck. Lemme check my playlist..... Memories by 347aidan. All girls Are the Same by Juice Wrld. The New Great Depression by the Moth & the Flame. Candy by Machine Gun Kelly. And finally Breezeblocks by Alt-J

29. best way to bond with you?

Idk. Over food I guess? Lemme cook you something

30. places that you find sacred?

...... cemetaries?

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

..... Surprise. I don’t wear outfits to do that - buck ass naked is what’s tough

32. top five favorite vines?

Vines confuse me. Whatever was shot in the early 2000′s vibes with me

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Fuck off.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

It’s my money and I want it NOW

35. average time you fall asleep?

.... Depends. Sometimes 10pm. Sometimes 2 or 3 AM.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Can’t recall

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Duffel bag

38. lemonade or tea?

Gimme lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Ew. Neither

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

..... I accidentally lost the class hedgehog

41. last person you texted?

My stupid brother

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

jacket pockets man those are essential AF

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie, hands down

44. favorite scent for soap?

Mmm... not sure. I like the DIAL brands tho

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

....shit. That’s a tough one. .................Fantasy I guess

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Trunks and a sleevless shirt

47. favorite type of cheese?

Commodity

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Huh. Something bitter I guess. Plum?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“Whoever wants music instead of noise, joy instead of pleasure, soul instead of gold, creative work instead of business, passion instead of foolery, finds no home in this trivial world of ours." -Hermann Hesse

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

A toddler struggling to put on a slipper. That shit had me wheezing with laughter xD

51. current stresses?

Me. Work too I guess

52. favorite font?

Times new roman

53. what is the current state of your hands?

tattooed and scared the fuck up (thanks to my sister’s effin cat)

54. what did you learn from your first job?

I hate people.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Thumbelina

56. favorite tradition?

You don’t dump your food at a feast. You have to eat it up, or give it to someone else to eat up, and if not, you have to take it to the hills/mountains and give it back to the spirit (spirits).

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Three?? Jeez. That’s kind of presumptuous. Biggest one: my abusive fucking mom. Second: my shitty fucking family. Third: my alcoholism but I haven’t overcome it yet

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

...... I have no talents

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Wring your panties out bitch and man the fuck up!”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Somebody who dies while saving somebody else ---- I got a big heart. I would do that for those I care for

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

One is for Sorrow. Two is for Mirth. Three is for a Funeral. Four is for a Birth. Five is for Heaven. Six is for Hell. Seven's for the Devil himself.

62. seven characters you relate to?

Nope. Can’t name seven. Lip Gallagher from Shameless is who I relate to

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Don’t go to clubs but if I did, this song would play: Avec Mes Mecs by Humans

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Youtube, of course.

65. any permanent scars?

Oh yeah. I got a shit ton. Especially over my right eye

66. favorite flower(s)?

Tie between amaryllis and paeonia

67. good luck charms?

...... nope

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

black licorice is the devil

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

sun visors can extend

70. left or right handed?

right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

dunno if i have one

72. worst subject?

history omg that shit bored me to death

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

spaghetti and mayonniase

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

Oh geez. Period cramps man. I got a pretty high pain tolerance but cramps fucking destroy me.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Idk. 5 years old maybe? Sooner?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Fries for sure. If it’s made right

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Don’t keep plants. Don’t got a green thumb

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Shit. Um... Sushi. I like food better then coffee 😂

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Neither. fuckin hate those pictures

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

....what?

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Never seen both so...neither?

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

Bof em.Mostly writing on my part

84. podcasts or talk radio?

.....podcasts I think?

84. barbie or polly pocket?

BARBIE bitch.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

.....bof? they’re the same thing, right?

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Neither. No thank you

87. your greatest fear?

Deep. Dark. Water. Gross leeches and worm shit.

88. your greatest wish?

That I can be drunk every day without repercussion

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Man I got like 10 names here that I won’t drop. Family for sure.

90. luckiest mistake?

..... not sure i had one of those

91. boxes or bags?

bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

lamps

93. nicknames?

sully. celi.

94. favorite season?

Fall

95. favorite app on your phone?

facebook or tumblr

96. desktop background?

idk. it generates a random background every time i log in

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

like 5? even remember my old childhood number from 20 years ago. not sure why

98. favorite historical era?

er. nothing about history is my favorite. it was all bullshit

#twas bored #so i answered these #shrug

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butcheranons · 3 years

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Bad Influence

summary: You love Bad more than anything else; well, maybe not as much as The Egg, but he’s up there.

Unbeknownst to you, he hides his true nature with the kindest human eyes you’d ever seen.

word count: 2.8k

A/N: this was once a drabble 👍 👍 (no beta we die like wilbur)

warnings: unprotected sex, somewhat exhibitionism (if you count the egg as a voyeur), overstimulation, breeding kink if you squint, too many pet names.

anatomy: gender neutral

“Bit higher," You raise your hands along with your words, guiding the two men holding the decorative banner. “Perfect.“

“Where do these chairs go?” Turning your head at the new voice, you frown at the state of the furniture.

“What are these?”

“Dinner chairs.”

“They sure don’t like the ones I ordered.”

“What? They’re exactly as you requested, black dining chairs with red cushioning.”

“Red?!” You scoff, “I ordered black iron with crimson cushions! This is cherry! What are we? A picnic?!” You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, no one will notice the difference, just take these we have a lot of work to do.”

Your neck snaps at the sound, raised eyebrows as you hum, expecting him to say something else, but alas, he doubled down.

"I said: Just take em', we have five other deliveries today."

"What?!" There's this little pang of annoyance that sets on your nape, leaving your muscles sore at the thought of having to deal with lazy workers. "I have paid upfront."

He rolls his eyes.

"You insolent little thing..." Gritting your teeth, you look around before stepping forward, "Take these back or you and your bosses will hear from me. I will not let this pass. How dare you?!"

"Man... Why do you have to complicate, it's already paid for, just fuckin' take it."

"Language...!"

You hear a chime from behind and your shoulders relax, turning around there's this heat that creeps up your body when your eyes meet his.

"What's wrong, my little muffin?" His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest and letting his warmth envelop your body. He never failed to surprise you with how warm he was; constantly.

"Oh, sugar bear," You whine, tangling your fingers into his. "This is the end of the world! I asked for black iron with crimson cushioning and look at this disaster!"

He nods, a bit confused, trying to differentiate between the shades, but feeling your upsetness. "Cupcake, why don't you go manage the catering samples while I sort this out? I'm sure you will love the red velvet cake, I sure did!"

A wide smile breaks out on your lips, you give him a kiss on the cheek before running off to the kitchen, nothing but sweet red velvet cake and cherry pies on your mind. Welcomed by the scent of whipped cream and lemonade you're carried by your stomach to the caterer holding the delicacies.

Your tasting is interrupted by the loud banging of metal outside and you consider scolding your lazy workers, but give your attention to the cake samples instead.

You're sampling the chocolate red velvet with cherry frosting when Bad bursts through the doors, wiping his face with the crimson handkerchief you'd gifted him last anniversary. A sweet smile fills your face, "Honeypie, try this one!"

When his eyes meet yours, your heart fills with a sugary coating that seeps through your veins and directly into your brain, "I've had my filling, which one is your favourite?"

Humming, you let your body rest against his, "Mhm... Chocolate is the best, by far... But lemon is so good!"

"You've got a little bit of whipped cream..." His whispers are hot against your lips before he captures them, tongue flicking across the corners and to your cheek.

The heat in your body is noticeable.

"Thanks..."

"Mhm... This one is the best."

You giggle, slapping his chest, "You're so corny–"

"Only for you, my little blueberry muffin."

When the workers leave, the hall is a dazzling ruby tone all over, the vines seem to almost glow in pride, cascading from the ceiling like a blood waterfall. You wade through the floor they carefully polished, carpet over the dining room muffling your steps.

"Oh, it's perfect, honey bun!"

Bad gleams in joy, rushing to your side, admiring you almost as much as he adores the vines. "I was worried they wouldn't make it in time, but it's perfect."

"What about the mechanisms?"

"Ah, yes, Ant did a great job, come, look..." He holds your hand, pulling you through the hallway leading to the the egg. "We'll have them step right here," pointing to a large tile on the ground, he pulls a lever, which quickly raises it about two feet above your head. "And then it's just, wack!" His hands swing around in an attack motion and you smile.

Your heart palpitates at the thoughts of watching the sacrifice, having the best seat. From the raised position, the blood would splatter all over the watchers, a cloud of beautiful crimson falling at their heads.

"Oh...my almond cookie, this is beautiful! The Egg will be so proud!"

Bad chuckles at your praise, letting himself blush. He pulls the lever to lower back the platform as to leave everything in place.

You take a step forward, the heels of your shoes announce your movement. Standing at the centre, you face the egg, an unnatural warmth fills your chest. You pull at your blouse to appease your brain, though you know it wouldn't help. When your eyes meet Bad's, you can see his breath hitch, he makes it out as a cough.

"Join me, sugar bear!" You reach out your arms, eyes reflecting the red of everything around you.

Bad doesn't hesitate to follow your orders, pulling the lever and running across to catch the platform as it rises above the ground. You catch him in your arms, hands gliding across his chest and nape, he shivers under your touch.

"Do you want to give The Egg a show, muffin?'

Your pulse is so fast you believe anyone would be able to hear it, human or not. "Yes..." You nod, voice too breathless for the lack of action. The smile that catches his lips is almost demonic, and your chest craves him. His hands tease at your chest and you melt into his touch, "Please..."

"If you ask so nicely..." His whispers fall deaf in your ears but cut deep into your skin, burrowing in goosebumps along your body. "...Then I can't refuse."

When your lips meet his, it's sweet.

Sweeter than anything else you could ever wish for and you want to get lost in his kisses.

He holds you gently, but below the delicate fingers, there's this firmness that makes your heart stop. You know no one else could ever pry you off his arms and you're not opposed to the idea of being with him, on him 24/7.

Tongue exploring your mouth, you moan, hands occupied with fistfuls of his white dress shirt. You tug at the golden buttons, wanting nothing but to feel his chest on yours, let his body heat consume you and lull you into comfort.

"Do you trust me, muffin?"

You nod, your eyes glazed in lust can barely focus on his at this point. Bad smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead, he inhales your taste, your scent, your everything.

And then, he pushes you off the platform.

You feel the way your heart immediately jumps at the sight of danger, there's this cold that pools in your stomach and runs through your body, lowering your body temperature.

And before you know, you... fall?

But you don't meet the ground.

When you open your eyes, you're met with the under view of Bad's prideful grin. The vines around your arms feel hot, too hot. But they lift you up until you're in his reach again.

"Hi..." You breathe out, your heart still too unsettled to spot pounding in your chest.

You thought you'd die, or at least, get badly injured. Not that you didn't trust him, but maybe he made some errors in his calculations.

But then, again, if he wished for you to fall without the vines this time, you probably would.

And Bad pulls you in his arms, nose brushing against yours and you wonder how would ever doubt your little muffin?

"Did I scare you too much?" He caresses your cheeks, brushing your hair away from your face with so much adoration in his eyes you feel like a deity.

"No... just a little jumpscare."

He chuckles, kissing your nose softly, "Good."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting his body flush against yours and fit you so perfectly. But you know you wish for a little bit more; after so much adrenaline, you feel some little... cravings.

And as if he read your mind, his hands wander your body, reaching for your waist with a little bit more force than usual. His fingers have no difficulty taking care of your belt or pants, he picked them out, anyway.

You let yourself loose in his kisses, your own fingers lost in his hair, pulling around the corners you know he likes a bit too much just so you get to hear his sugary moans. You devour each and every noise that escapes his throat.

Before you know, he’s got you in just your underwear. His lips leave yours for a second to take your hand and spin you around.

You don’t let go of the glisten in his eyes as he looks you up and down, tongue grazing over his lips hungrily. He could eat you up and it’d never be enough. No time with you would ever be enough.

Bad spins you just enough so now you’re facing the egg once again, back pressed tightly to his chest. His breathing bounces off your neck, making you swallow dry, hands nervous down your sides, wanting to touch him and feel him up—

“Look at how pretty you are, my little peanut,” His tongue glides along your cheek to reach your earlobe. “The Egg is so pleased with how beautiful you are... Let’s show your even prettier faces, should we?”

You nod, melting into his arms as his hands graze along your body; from your chest to your waist to your hips. His long fingers play with the band of your underwear, torturing you just so he can have the little whines that escape your throat unconsciously. When you reach behind your shoulder to pull and tangle his hair he chuckles along your skin.

His fingers are on you, skilfully reaching for the most sensitives places of your body. And you arch into his touch, leaving your neck fully exposed for him to nibble and suckle.

Your skin, otherwise perfect, is blemished with the traces of him.

Your lips crash against his, this time, more passionate than ever, all while his fingers don't lose their pace.

You're near your climax, your stomach churning around his fingers but it's worthless coming if it's not on him.

"Bad... Pudding, I need you..." It's a needy half-moan.

"Tell me the magic word, bombon..." His lips graze along your shoulder and you know, you feel it in your back how much he needs you, too. His face is completely flushed, the heat spread across his cheeks only rival your own heat, throbbing and needy.

"Please, baby, please... Give me–.... Please, I need you. Fuck me–"

The lustful smirk that takes over is by far not of his nature but you were his little bad influence.

"Mhmm..." Bad sings along your skin, one hand placed over your stomach and another on your shoulder blades.

He bends you over, the vines quickly tightening their grip over your arms; letting you hang as if you were laying down. While busy with his buckle and pants, he let his eyes fuck you over and over, the way your back looks to him, the faint red glow that touches your skin; You turn your head around and there's this lust, this yearning that grows on your belly.

Because Bad's otherwise kind, honey-brown eyes have now turned a devilish crimson.

His hands are rough when they pull off his pants, soon, coming around his cock, rock-solid and bright red. You wrongly assumed it might have been the redness of the room bouncing off his pale skin. There's a part of your brain that believes he's even bigger than you remembered though you chuck it to the amount of time it has been since your last.

You watch the inhuman amount of precum that drips from his glande and over his fingers, your mouth watering, tongue unconsciously running over your lips. Your reaction makes him chuckle.

Positioning himself at your entrance, his other hand leaves marks across your hips, holding you more firmly than he'd ever had. Not that you were complaining.

The tip goes in effortlessly, leaving behind this stretch that fills every particle of your being and clouds your thoughts with the ache of his cock. You hear him hiss, hands curling around your skin, leaving fingerprints all over. You're sure you will be admiring them tomorrow.

"So tight–" He hisses once again, "So, so tight– Just for me..."

Your eyes are rolling around in their sockets when he finally bottoms out, seemingly infinite in your canal. His fingers drag along your spine, ever so kindly letting you adjust before moving, even if his instincts are begging him otherwise.

When the expansion settles, you're unknowingly rolling your hips toward his, the grip of the vines making it harder to take control. But he lets ouch a soft chuckle, an adoring look sweeps his eyes for a second, so proud of your boldness. You were always a go-getter.

He is painfully slow, taking in every second of it, hitting your walls with a determination that makes you moan out incoherent strings of what you believed were words.

The sounds that erupt from his throat are feral and inhuman by nature, settling in every inch of your bones and activating your flight or flee instincts. You wondered if the third instinct was fuck.

Your chest dips down, the vines now holding your arms above your head while Bad's grip on your hips don't falter, instead, the new angle allowing him to speed up his thrusts; not losing any of the strength. Your brain is filled only by him and how amazing he feels in you.

He moans your name along with praises of how well you're taking him and you wonder just how in the world could he make such a sinful sequence of words sound so heavenly. Alas, you don't give much thought, your brain once again being quickly clouded with his cock and only his cock.

Bad pulls your waist, letting your back meet his chest. This position only heightens every touch of his, you’re so close, so warm, so good...

"The Egg isn't liking how quiet you are, sugar plum..."

You smile, stuck between watching the hypnotic crimson and the eyes of your adoring lover that swallows your moans.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer,

You will show The Egg how good Bad is to you.

"Bad, honey– Uh– I'm–"

"I know, muffin," His whispers are a caress along your ears, lulling you into your release.

You scream his name, the moans bouncing off the spongy walls of the cave and returning to your ears, you feel the way his grip tightens around your hips, the way you're milking him doesn't help how hard he's trying to hold back, prolong his time with you as much as he can.

"You're so good for me, just one more, babycakes..."

Every inch of your skin feels hot to the touch, even more than before. It's like you're on fire and freezing cold at the same time, each part that touches his body is a million times more sensitive. You feel each and every millimetre of his moves, the pleasure echoing around your body in waves.

"I don't know if I can." You shake your head, barely being able to think at this point, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Shh... You can, you're so good for me... So tight... You take me so well."

"Fill me up, pumpkin... Please, fill me up to the brim, let me feel you–", you moan, "–Fill me up so much I'm dripppin'!"

Oh, your Bad was too good for you.

His words are what tip you over the edge, getting him to catch his own climax. His hands don't leave your body, his lips coming to kiss all over your neck and jaw.

You melt into his touch, the vines releasing your arms and legs so you can collapse into him. He catches your body, coming to a sit and letting you sprawl over his chest, your hands reaching out to caress his hair.

"My little naughty cookie, if you spill one drop I'll have to fill you all over again..."

You giggle into his kisses, "Oh, no!" you exclaim sarcastically, giggling in between your words. He laughs, kissing your cheeks and forehead and everywhere he can get his lips on. Because you deserve so much, heavens, you're just perfect and you take him so well and you were made for him–

You feel loved.

You watch the glow of the vines brighten for a second and you both hum knowingly.

The Egg has been fed.

After all, there is a reason why orgasms were called "The little death."

#c: badboyhalo #mcyt smut #k: breeding #k: exhibitionism #k: overstimulation #the egg is packing #canonically besties its packing

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curiositys-cat · 3 years

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Burn Up The Light: Chapter 7

Sandstorm keeps a careful eye on Fireheart these days, though maybe that’s nothing new. Even when she hadn’t wanted to, back in the beginning, she’d always been aware of him and his bright coat, the way his voice cut through crowds, the-- just about everything, really. No matter what he did, he had a way of filling the space.

Maybe that wasn’t accurate. Other cats didn’t seem to notice it, so maybe it was this-- no matter what he did, Fireheart had a way of filling her thoughts.

But she watches him now, because he watches her-- because he knows her, and she’s going to get him right back.

Dustpelt had just scoffed when she’d told him this particular plan. He does that whenever she mentions Fireheart. He’s been doing it a lot lately.

“Fireheart looks off today,” Sandstorm murmurs over the rabbit she and Dustpelt are sharing. She keeps her voice down, but his ears prick in acknowledgment. “Do you think something happened with Cinderpaw?”

Fireheart plods across the out of the medicine cat’s den, coming to a rest at the base of highrock, where a shadow stretches for just a few tail lengths. When he lays down, it’s more of a collapse. Sandstorm frowns.

“Does anything new need to happen?” Dustpelt asks.

“Hm. Maybe not. He looks exhausted, though,” Sandstorm says. “More than normal. And he looks like he hasn’t had a proper groom in a moon.”

“Someone should fix that. Why don’t you go over and share tongues, hm?”

Sandstorm almost chokes on her rabbit. “What?”

“You said he looks ungroomed. Offer to do it for him, if it bothers you so much,” Dustpelt says with a roll of his eyes, and Sandstorm gets the definite feeling that she’s missing something. She’s quick to shake her head and follows the impulse to leap to her feet, legs suddenly jittering with nervous, buzzing energy.

“I’m not doing-- that -- but I can do something else for him.”

“Suit yourself,” Dustpelt says, looking at her with unimpressed half lidded eyes. “Make sure to get a good sniff of him while you’re over there so you can describe how he smells to me again.”

“It was important to the story!”

“Sure was. I’m not saying I was glad when Tigerclaw interrupted to give me dawn patrol, but...”

Sandstorm resists the urge to box him around the ears like she would’ve when they were apprentices-- she’s a warrior now, and she’s got more important things to do than tumble around camp with her best friend, no matter how much she’d like to see his face if she took him down right now. If Bluestar saw, she’d fix Sandstorm with one of those looks .

But. Bluestar isn’t around.

Sandstorm sends herself hurtling at Dustpelt, eyes gleaming with sharp light. They’re laughing before they hit the ground.

Cinderpaw’s accident lays like snow over the clan, the kind that melts during the day and freezes thicker at night, trapping everything beneath it in sickly ice. No one knows what to do. There’s sympathy, of course, and hope, and a sense of relief and heartbreak in equal measure from the nursery, where Frostfur minds Cloudkit with an almost obsessive fervor. She stinks of guilt and grief and a fear that hasn’t gone away since the day Cinderpaw came off the Thunderpath.

In it all, no one else seems to notice how badly Fireheart is doing. Maybe they do, but with all eyes on his apprentice, Fireheart’s pain seems smaller. It is. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurting, and Sandstorm hates seeing the way his steps grow heavier with each passing moon. He’s a creature meant for crowing, not for this slinking half-sleep.

Sandstorm, once she’s brushed herself off, heads over to him, on a warpath to make his life easier. She gets his murmured permission, and then goes to hunt down his old apprentice, and the extra one he seems to have taken on these days with Graystripe’s absences. She’s noticed those too, of course, but that’s none of her business. For now.

Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw meet her at the thorn tunnel. “Are you both ready to head out?”

“Yep! Weather’s great!” Cinderpaw chirps. Sandstorm gives a look at the heavy clouds and shakes her head.

Her brother is more subdued. He always is, but he seems even quieter in the shadow of his lightning crack of a sister. It’s slow going, but Cinderpaw keeps a steady pace, and a steady stream of infectiously good natured commentary as they go.

“I think we should hunt here,” Brackenpaw starts before they’ve gone far, tail twitching nervously.

Sandstorm look at him curiously. “We’re too close to camp. Prey won’t linger this close to cat-scent. Has Graystripe not--?”

“No, he has!” Brackenpaw asserts, a little too quickly. “It’s just that I haven’t been going out as much, and it’s pretty cold, and I guess I just think I don’t want to go too much further.”

“I see.”

“Sandstorm’s too nice to say it, so I will,” Cinderpaw cuts in. “That’s a mouse-brained idea if I ever heard one. Let’s go.” She doesn’t wait for them to reply, pushing off deeper into the woods.

They continue in silence. Cinderpaw no longer seems to want to chat, eyes trained in front of her, jaw set as she pushes the pace. Brackenpaw scrabbles behind, hovering uncomfortably as he goes.

When they arrive at the spot Sandstorm’s picked for hunting, a shaded grove near the Riverclan border, Cinderpaw’s breath is puffing out hard in front of her. Sandstorm makes no comment. Let her be the judge of how hard she wants to push. When someone hurts like that, sometimes exhaustion is the best you can do-- wear yourself to the quick and when the night tries to haunt you, at least you can escape to sleep.

“Yellowfang said you’d be able to collect some herbs for her out here,” Sandstorm offers. “You know what you’re doing?”

“I do,” Cinderpaw says. “Catmint and dock grow in wet, shaded areas like this. I’ll have a sniff around and see what I can find. You two enjoy hunting.” Her eyes flash as she says the last bit, but she turns before Sandstorm can see any more.

“We’ll be nearby.” Sandstorm touches her tail-tip to Cinderpaw’s shoulder before the apprentice starts away. She wishes she could do more, but saying it aloud would be worse. If Cinderpaw doesn’t want to acknowledge that she might need accommodation, she certainly doesn’t want anything that Sandstorm could tell her about grief.

Sandstorm’s heart aches for the apprentice, but she’s smart enough to keep that to herself.

“Shall we hunt?” Sandstorm turns to Brackenpaw.

“Yes!”

A few beats pass. Sandstorm cocks her head when no further response seems forthcoming. “Brackenpaw, can you tell me what prey is around?”

Eyes going wide, Brackenpaw drops his mouth open so far to scent she’s surprised it doesn’t hit the ground. “I think there’s a vole over in the roots there,” he finally says. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Different warriors do things differently, I suppose. I just assumed Graystripe had taught you like my mentor did me.”

“I think he might’ve,” Brackenpaw squeaks. “I just-- I guess I forgot.”

“Why don’t you see what you can do with that vole?” Sandstorm prompts.

She watches him drop into a hunting crouch-- not a bad one, all things considered. But it’s clumsy, and he’s only getting as far as he is on natural talent, not training. She’s not surprised when he overshoots, only barely managing to avoid bonking his head on the tree-trunk.

“When was the last time your mentor took you out hunting, Brackenpaw?” She asks.

“Sorry, I know I jumped too far. I think I could’ve gotten it if I’d been a little more careful.”

“Probably,” Sandstorm agrees. No point in lying to apprentices. “When did Graystripe last take you out here?”

Brackenpaw looks away. “Not that long ago.”

“The half-moon?” The moon will be round in the sky tonight.

He still won’t look at her.

“The day before the last gathering,” he says. “But it was really good! We caught enough prey for all the elders-- and Dappletail said my mice were extra plump!”

“She knows good prey when she sees it.” A full moon since his mentor had last taken him out-- maybe there’d been a patrol or two since then, but it's worse than she’d thought.

“I’ll get the next one,” he says. After a pause. “I’ll try.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Sandstorm says, shaking her head as she tries to drive her wonderings away. Graystripe’s business is his own business, and if Bluestar feels he’s neglecting his warrior duties, that’s for her to say. Sandstorm has a job in this clan, and minding everyone else’s apprentices isn’t it. “Let’s find you something warm to sink your teeth into.”

It’s the middle of leafbare, and there isn’t much to go around to start with. Between Brackenpaw’s earlier attempt and the way her thoughts wind round her head like honey-suckle vines, it’s slim pickings. Brackenpaw does his best, but when all he has to show for his efforts is a half-starved mouse, it’s hard to miss the sag of his shoulders, the shame that slicks down his ears.

“We should find your sister,” Sandstorm meows around her blackbird. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Can we just hunt for a little longer?” Brackenpaw casts a look around, as if prey is just going to wander into his paws. “I’m not ready to head back yet.”

“The prey’s all bolted to their holes.”

“Then we’ll find some more birds! There are always birds, even in leafbare,” Brackenpaw protests. Then, seeing Sandstorm’s unmoved expression, he adds, “please, I can’t head back with just this.”

He scuffs a disdainful paw over his mouse, turning it onto its stomach. It’s barely enough to feed a kit, and they both know it. What an earnest little cat he is, all rushed apologies and open worry. Sandstorm shakes her head, but before she knows it she’s agreeing.

“Fine. We’ll stay for a little while longer, but I want to see you working hard-- we need something more than fluffed fur to show for a whole day’s hunting.”

He nods solemnly, like she’s said something profound rather than muttered an instruction.

“Do you think that you could-- I know that I’ve been an apprentice for a while, but, could you just remind me about hunting?”

“What, in general?” Sandstorm asks, blinking.

“I mean, or just birds, or whatever we find!” Brackenpaw hurries to add.

Stars above. “Yeah, okay.” She drops down into her best hunting crouch and walks him through the basics-- stuff he should’ve had down moons ago, but from the way he’s drinking it in, it seems like at least some of it’s completely new to him.

He copies her, body low to the ground and almost deathly still. He starts padding forwards. His ears angle towards a scuffling that she hadn’t noticed until he’d started towards it. Another mouse maybe. Even if he misses, she’ll commend him for getting wind of it before she had.

His steps are light on the frost-crusted ground, quiet enough that even a mouse won’t notice his approach. He’s a quick learner, despite everything.

Just a tail-length away, one puffed breath between him and his prey, Sandstorm notices him slow. The next trembling paw he puts down slips on an ice-slick leaf, and all at once he’s a scrambling frenzy as he tries to hook the mouse before it manages to retreat. From the way his tail thwaps against the tree, she knows that he’s failed.

“Fox-dung!” Brackenpaw curses. “If I hadn’t slipped --”

“It happens to the best of us,” Sandstorm says.

“But now we’re just taking back this , and everyone’s going to be hungry because I slipped ! It was a stupid mistake!”

Sandstorm takes a step towards him, ready to try and comfort him-- she’s no stranger to a hot-blooded outburst after a bad hunt. “We learn and do better next time. What did we learn there?”

“That I’m a useless hunter,” Brackenpaw spits. “Can’t even catch a mouse.”

“The evidence to the contrary is in a hole with my blackbird.” Sandstorm keeps her tone even. “What else?”

Tail lashing, Brackenpaw looks away in frustrated silence before he finally breaks. “To pay more attention to where I’m putting my paws, I guess,” he says. “But I already knew that. I just forgot, because I’m always forgetting.”

“We learn by doing,” Sandstorm says. “And it seems to me that you haven’t had much practice.”

“Because I’m not good enough for Graystripe to mentor!” Brackenpaw returns, with more fire than she's ever seen in the calm apprentice's eyes. “I’m just-- not good enough.” His voice breaks, softens. “I didn’t understand it at first, but now I know. He doesn’t want to train me because he knows it’s useless. ” There's a lower venom in that hiss, the kind that only the young really feel, self-revulsion big and loud enough to break the banks of a frozen river.

“Brackenpaw,” Sandstorm says.

“I miss going hunting with him,” Brackenpaw continues. “But he’s so busy, so it’s not really surprising that he doesn’t want to make time for it, you know? It’d be okay if I were learning faster from Fireheart, but--”

“Mentors don’t get to choose whether or not they want to train their apprentices, Brackenpaw-- it’s a duty, just like hunting and patrolling. If Graystripe’s not doing that, it’s a reflection on him,” she meets his eyes, “not you.” She knows before she’s finished saying it that it’s useless. Platitudes, no matter how true, are as good here as a twig in a forest fire. They only make it worse.

Brackenpaw snorts. “It’s not his fault his apprentice has three left paws. And Cinderpaw doesn’t want anything to do with me either, and I just-- I don’t know how I’m so bad at everything .”

“I can’t make Graystripe a better mentor, but I can let you know-- you might feel lonely right now, but you’re not alone.” Brackenpaw’s shoulders climb high and tight. “Brackenpaw. Look at me. I mean it.”

Begrudgingly, he meets her gaze, but he breaks it almost immediately.

“If you want to be a good warrior, that’s the first thing that you have to know. No one in a clan stands by themselves. From the day we’re born to the day we die, we’re always just one part of something bigger,” Sandstorm says.

“I know all of that,” Brackenpaw shoots back. “But that doesn’t mean I want to be the weakest part of it! Cinderpaw’s going to be a medicine cat and save lives, and I’m just going to be-- here.” He looks around the empty clearing, to the scrap-pile of prey. “I just want to know what I’m doing wrong .”

Nothing, she wants to say. You’re too young for these mistakes to count. Even with his sister-- and she can see what’s happening there, his overbearing concern coming hard on a cat who wants nothing more than to live freely-- it’s an honest mistake, an easy one, and it’ll all be salvageable when they figure it out.

Instead, she finds herself thinking of Fireheart.

“Fireheart’s done worse than you ever have.”

Brackenpaw snorts again, but he can’t hide the way his ears prick in interest.

“You may be too young to remember it, but I was an apprentice with him,” she says. “And the list of things he got in trouble for-- it goes on. I’m not exaggerating when I say he spent half his apprenticeship picking ticks off of elders-- you can ask Dappletail yourself later.”

“I’m just good at pretending,” Brackenpaw says. “Nobody but Graystripe has noticed how useless I am out here--”

“And what am I? A tree trunk?”

“You’re just being nice,” Brackenpaw shoots back.

“You and your sister-- when did I get nice?" She mutters. "Look, I’m trying to make a point. Fireheart was an awful apprentice. He was always sleeping in late for patrols, and going off wandering in the night doing Starclan knows what-- he talked back to the senior warriors, and he couldn’t catch birds for a moon longer than the rest of us. And Bluestar was his mentor.”

This gives Brackenpaw pause. “Bluestar?” he asks.

“He was a kittypet mess, and she didn’t give up on him. Because she knew that he was a warrior at heart-- that he wanted it.”

“Wanting catches no prey. It doesn’t matter”

Sandstorm flicks him with her tail. “Wanting got Fireheart to a warrior name, and plenty more besides it. He wanted this life so badly that he rebuilt himself around it-- burnt everything that he was down to the ground and grew again from that little wanting root. And for a little while, he was really, truly alone.”

“What did he do?” Brackenpaw

“His best,” Sandstorm said. “That’s all he ever does. I really don’t think it’s anything more than that-- he’s just got a good heart and this infuriating tendency to follow it further than anyone with his head screwed on right would do.”

“Is that-- a good thing?”

“Unfortunately.”

Brackenpaw’s face twists in confusion. Sandstorm changes tack.

“What I’m trying to say is that you just have to keep trying, with all of it. No one knows it better than Fireheart, and it sounds like you’re going to have to learn it well too. You have to figure out what you want, and if the answer really is to be the best warrior you can, you’ll do it. You just have to decide,” she says, tasting Fireheart’s words on her tongue.

“You said he was lonely,” Brackenpaw says. And it’s that part that he cares about more than the rest of it-- he doesn’t just feel useless, he feels abandoned , alone in a way that no clan cat was ever meant to be. Alone in the way that so many felt, with the way that the forest seemed to claw youth out of its apprentices, leave them scarred and grown before the kittenfluff had left them. “But he’s not anymore.”

“I should hope not!” Sandstorm gives a laugh.

“And now he has someone like you,” Brackenpaw murmurs.

Sandstorm’s eyes go wide. “Well-- and Graystripe and Yellowfang and the rest. He has all of us. But--” she gives a hasty lick to her fur, “I suppose he does have me, too.”

And where had all that come from? Why was Fireheart her first idea when she tried to think of a good warrior? Was he that much on her mind?

But how wouldn’t he be? Fireheart’s the brightest star in any sky-- you’d have to be blind not to see it, willfully ignore him, like she had when she was younger. And the way it feels to think about him, too, like catching a rabbit racing across a clearing, exhilarating and all-consuming. Like waking up to thunderclap, jolting into blood pumping wakefulness. Like--

A rustle of the bush at the edge of the glade and Cinderpaw bursts through, crying out around a bundle of dark leaves in her mouth-- but Sandstorm realizes quickly she’s not running away from anything. Instead, she’s herding , a fat vole scuttling just before her paws.

Sandstorm could snap its neck in a single move, but she ignores her rumbling stomach. “Brackenpaw!” she calls.

He freezes, startled for a single suspended heartbeat, and then he snaps into action. Brackenpaw leaps, landing squarely on the creature’s back this time and sinking his teeth into its skin. One solitary squeak and that’s it.

“Thanks, Brackenpaw!" Cinderpaw pips, muffled around her herbs, eyes shining.

“That was great-- you drove it right into my paws,” Brackenpaw says.

A moment of hesitation, and Cinderpaw’s eyes flick over her brother, searching for a trace of insincerity. She doesn’t seem to find it, though, and when she purrs it’s with her whole chest. “I just saw it and thought--”

“Good catch, the two of you!”

Sandstorm starts off towards camp, leaving the siblings to exclaim over their catch without a warrior looming over them. On the way back she thinks of Fireheart-- and the fact that she can’t stop thinking about him.

#wc #warrior cats #warriors fic #sandfire #sandstorm #firestar #cinderpelt #brackenfur

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cheezritsu · 4 years

Text

Kageyama Tobio || Honey Suckling

Kageyama doesn’t seem like the type of person who would have a favorite flower. He probably wouldn’t even know the difference between most of them, and technically, he doesn’t, but what he does have is the memory of an (intellectual) genius.

This flower associates one replays in his mind like a VHS tape, rewinding in static until the scene starts: it’s just before sunset in his backyard, and the cicadas are screaming their two part harmonies in the surrounding forest. A tall wooden fence separates his house from the dense, dark treeline, and growing stubbornly through the splinters are vines of honeysuckle.

He never paid attention to it. Even in the memory, before you had approached it with a confidence Miwa was curious about, he didn’t notice. She had stopped tossing to him, tucking the volleyball under her arm, then approached you.

“What’re you doing?” She bent down with her hands on her knees, watching as you pulled out the stem with a dexterity that was wildly impressive for a six year old, but not to the Kageyamas. Instead, Miwa was taken aback when you gave the stem a harsh suck.

“They’re honeysuckles, you know? They taste super sweet on the inside.” You plucked apart yet another flower, this time handing the delicate little vine out to Kageyama, who looked over your left shoulder. “Try it!”

He holds it carefully in his hand as you pop out another stem for Miwa. He watches as her expression changes to glee. “Whoa, you’re right!” And then she starts picking the little white flowers off a nearby vine. “Tobio, c’mon, try it!”

Kageyama then looks at you, your hands clasped and your face eager. He looks down to the tiny thing between his fingers, and then places it on his tongue. It tastes like he expects grass—very much like dirt and the color green.

“I don’t taste anything.”

Your expression falters, and Kageyama feels guilty for dowsing the gleam in your eye. Miwa tilts her head. “Really? I got some, it tastes sweet.”

Kageyama pulls the stem from his mouth in disdain. “I think this one might have been dried up.”

“You can taste it on me!”

“Eh?”

And then come your lips, pressing every so slightly on the corner of his mouth. Not a proper kiss, of course not; but your tongue pokes at his pursed lips and he jumps back.

You are unfazed; your eyes lit up in a new excitement, rushing your words. “Did you taste it?

Miwa is snickering on your otherside, a whole vine of honeysuckles in her hand. Kageyama glares at her, as much as a five year old knows how to, and she bursts into giggles.

In the heat of late May, the even hotter breeze carries the sickly sweet scent of honeysuckles, and the memory of what Kageyama believes to be his first kiss. And you, the giver of that kiss, stand beside him now, stopped in front of a metal fence.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing his attention. “Check it out.”

Close to the entrance of your shared neighborhood, Kageyama can catch glimpses of the babbling creek through the dense tree line. An abundance of shrubbery and foliage cast a deep shadow onto the sidewalk, and between the reedy bamboo and maple trees is the honeysuckle from his memories. Up close the scent is stifling, but you creep towards it.

“God, I haven’t really seen these in ages,” you say, your fingertips brushing against the tiny flowers. “Do you remember when we used to eat these?”

He nods, watching as sixteen year old you uses your long, painted nails to extract the stem with perfect precision. Once it hits your tongue, you recoil.

“Ew, oh my god,” you sputter, and Kageyama lets out a fond snort. The sound doesn’t go past you.

“It’s a lot grosser than I remember.” You attempt to redeem you stupid actions, but Kageyama is too preoccupied looking at the sheen of your chapstick. He wonders if it’s sweeter than the nectar you’re trying to drink.

“Ohhh, wait,” you say, licking your lips as you place yet another dainty white stem in your mouth. “I think I got a sweet one.”

“Can I try?”

“Sure. I mean, sometimes you get a good one, so don’t be discouraged if—”

Ten years later, Kageyama finally figures out what it tastes like. It’s sweet on your lips, and on your tongue too. It’s vaguely reminiscent of honey, although he’ll admit, he barely knows it over that lip balm of yours.

Your shock is still apparent when he pulls back, watching as he smacks his lips once.

“Oh,” he says, a small smile on his face as he takes in your hanging jaw and wide eyes. “It tastes nice.”

#kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! writing #haikyuu!! kageyama #hq!! kageyama

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adventuresinwonderlust · 4 years

Text

Title: Ace and Min: Part 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader aka “Ace”

Warnings: Fluff, best friends to lovers, angst like a lot, slight crack, slight smut, abusive speak/language, talks of/and abusive behavior, talks of/toxic relationship

Rating: 18 and over

Your phone pings back to back as you load yourself into the taxi. You read over the messages your now ex has sent you. “You will never be anyone without me.” “Are you with that little shit Yoongi? He can’t beat me! He's a whiny little shit!” You choose not to answer as you tell the driver the address in which you were headed. Your phone pings once more. “Answer me bitch! I always knew you guys were more than friends. I see the way he looks at you. You think he can take my place?” Once again you choose not to respond, instead opting to switch the ring to silent. You hadn’t told your best friend of two years, that you had finally broke it off with your cheating jerk of a boyfriend. You didn’t want to damper the mood of your trip. You were surprisingly happy and excited at the thought of leaving your life behind and seeing your friend, even under the circumstances. Yoongi had just moved to Los Angeles six months ago and this has been the longest you two had ever been away from each other. The taxi driver couldn’t get you there any faster. “I’m in the cab and on my way to you.” You text Yoongi with a wink emoji. You didn’t want to think of anything sad or bad, you just wanted to be with the one person you knew understood you and loved you without cause or reason.

You exit the taxi, lugging your belongings with you into the luxury building of your best friends’ new apartment. He had just become more popular in the music producing game and was constantly busy, but you guys always made sure to stay connected. This was your first time visiting him at his new place and he had gushed about how beyond excited he was to be able to take the time off together to enjoy the fruits of his labor. When you booked your flight, he made sure to clear his schedule, he vowed no work and all play. You reread his message regarding the lock code to gain entry to his apartment during your ride up in the elevator. Once on the top floor, the elevator doors opened to reveal a large black door equipped with said keypad. You typed in the numbers, realizing as you did that it was your birthday. You enter the apartment and are greeted by a surprisingly simple and humble set up. You graze your hand across the top of the plush couch you once fawned over in a magazine and breath in the scent of an overgrown honeysuckle plant, making sure not to trample its long vines as you walk past along the corridor, as you make your way to the back of the apartment.

“Honey! I'm home!” You shout playfully down the hall. Suddenly a door opens, and you’re greeted by the wide gummy smile of your bestie! He playfully covers his face with his large, veiny hands but quickly drops them to reveal his smiling face once more. “You look amazing Ace!” He chuckles, opening his arms for a hug. All your emotions hit you at once as you run into his arms, knocking the wind out of him. “Minmin!” You say into his neck, warm tears streaming down your face. You squeeze tighter as a sob suddenly escapes your throat. “Hey, hey,” He rubs your back, “What's wrong? Am I that terrible looking at this time of night?” He jokes. You force a laugh. He takes you by the chin and turns your face to him being sure to pull your curls from your face. He looks you over concernedly. “Seriously, are you ok? Talk to me.” He wipes the tears from your eyes and you quickly hide your face in his neck once more. “I missed you so much! I just didn’t realize how much until I saw you.” You mumble into him. He chuckles while hugging you tightly again. “I’ve missed you too y/n. I don’t know if I'm gonna cry about it, but I did miss you.” He laughs causing you to join in while shoving him away. He continues laughing as he reaches out and grabs your wrist. He pulls you back into his embraced and you take a moment to breath him in. Vanilla and Eucalyptus, the smells of comfort, the smells of Yoongi. “Did you eat? Are you hungry? I didn’t prepare anything, but I do have ramen.” He offers, still rubbing your back. “No, thank you but you can show me around your fancy place, Min.” You say, releasing him now. He nods and waves you to follow him. “Down here is the guest bathroom,” He opens a door at the end of the hall and flicks on the light giving his best Vanna White impression before moving on to the next room, “This is the guestroom, I made it up with the fluffiest blankets and pillows for my esteemed guest.” He laughs. You walk into the room and run your fingers over the crisp white duvet. “Minmin,” You say in a baby voice, “All this for me?” He covers his face shyly. “I know how much you love a comfy bed.” He composes himself to say. You nod and leap back first into the bed becoming instantly engulfed in the plush comforts of your accommodations. “Ahh, don’t mess it up, I worked hard on that set up,” He groans, “Besides the tour isn’t over.” You whine but get up and follow him out of the room. He flicks the lights on in the master bedroom and your jaw drops. It’s twice the size of the guestroom and equipped with its own restroom. “Dammmmnnn Min, this is amazing!” You say in awe. You take a full walk around the room, taking in the four-post bed, television mounted on the wall, and desk set up in the corner. “Come, come.” He quips and you follow him to the next door. He opens to reveal a full studio, with attached booth on the left. To the right sits a plush love seat. You smile at the Knick knacks and tacked up photos of the two of you, you even lean in closer to get a better view. Yoongi, meanwhile, plops down on the couch. “What do you think?” He asks. You stand upright and nod while looking around. “I am so proud of you Min. This, all of this is truly amazing. You've worked so hard. You deserve it. I mean what more could you possibly want right?” You laugh. He blushes and gives a tight smile. “It’s lonely sometimes. It would be nice to share it with someone.” He mumbles. You pout at your friend and hop into his lap. He groans at the closeness. “You could have any girl you want Min. You just need to put yourself out there.” You say, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and shaking him. He shrugs and wraps his arms around your waist. “I don’t want just any girl y/n.” He says. “Well, it's good not to settle you know. Not like me.” You remark. “What does that mean? Did something happen with Che?” He perks up a bit.

You feel your face flush and decide to change the subject quickly. “Oh my gosh, look at these pictures I took of people at the park.” You pull your phone out and start swiping through photos before he can ask any more questions. He scoffs quietly but otherwise looks through your pictures. “These are really good Ace. You should submit them to a magazine.” He encourages while lifting you slightly to adjust his sleepy leg. You attempt to help him by lifting your butt up but end up losing your balance and knocking your head into his. “Ahhh,” He laughs while rubbing his forehead, “You trying to knock me unconscious or what?” You laugh as well apologizing and planting a kiss on his forehead. He smiles slyly and cries out suddenly. “What?” You ask nervously. “It still hurts. Maybe it needs more convincing.” He explains as he puckers his lips and points to the spot you knocked into. You mush his head as you both laugh. “Come on, let’s eat something light and head to bed. I have a lot planned for tomorrow.” He tells you. You whine and curl further into his lap. “Can’t we just stay like this forever?” You whisper. He sighs and begins rubbing your leg. “Not if Che can help it. Now up we go Ace. Don’t be a lazy girl.” He nudges you gently and you rise pouting at him. “Fine, party pooper.” You say as you exit the studio. “You will thank me later.” He tells you, leading you out toward the kitchen. “Where did you get this huge Honey Suckle from?” You comment as you pass by. “I bought it just before you got here and had it delivered. I know you like them. I wanted you to feel at home. I’ll put it out on the terrace once it outgrows its pot.” He points past the living area. “You have a terrace?” You ask wide eyed. He nods in response. You walk over to the curtained windows and reveal the locked doors. You gasp as you unlock and walk out onto the hidden treasure. There are two lounge chairs on the left as well as a grill, table, and four chairs set up on the right. Not to mention the killer view of the city. You cover your mouth at the glittering lights. “People pay millions of dollars for this kind of view in New York Min.” You remark, not even sure if he can hear you from indoors. You look around and marvel at the gorgeous little garden that is set up along the red brick barricade. “Hydrangeas, Lilies, roses, and carnations.” You say aloud. “All your favorites, right? I’ll put the Honey suckle along the wall behind the lounge chairs so they can grow upwards towards the roof. I think the color will really stand out. What do you think?” He smiles wide. “I think you are amazing and way too good to me. I am so blessed to call you my friend.” You smile. His face drops slightly as he swallows hard but nods. “Yeah. Do you wanna eat out here or inside? It’s a nice night.” He asks. “Can we eat out here? I mean the view is amazing.” You turn and point. He nods and heads inside.

He appears again with two bowls of ramen noodles. You both take a seat at the table and begin eating. “So, how’s the east coast?” He asks, cheek full of noodles. “Eh, same ole, same ole. I quit my job at the magazine.” You confess, slurping up noodles as Yoongi chokes on his. He coughs hard, trying to clear his throat, taking a sip of water as he regains his composure. “When? Why? Wha- what happened?” He stumbles over his words. “They were giving me shit work. I want larger pieces. I want to do fine art and fashion shoots; I don’t want to be stuck in the ads section forever. I am worth so much more and I am sick and tired or people not seeing that.” You huff. He gives a tight smile and nods slowly. “I can see that y/n. That’s why you’re my Ace because you’re one of a kind. I mean look, I totally support any decision you make. I just want you to be happy. What does Che think of all this?” He scratches the back of his neck and leans back in his seat. Your bottom lip quivers and you just shrug your shoulders. “Why are you always so concerned with what’s going on with Che? Who cares what Che thinks Min? I am here talking about me and all you care about is Che. Why don’t you go fucking ask him if you’re so concerned,” You hop up out of your seat suddenly, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” You head inside quickly as Yoongi calls out to you. You enter the guestroom and slam the door shut being sure to lock it behind you. Yoongi knocks on the door, “Come on Ace, something is going on, why are you being this way? Please open the door. Talk to me.” He plays with the door handle while you sit on the bed crying softly into a pillow. “Go away please. I need to rest.” You shout. You hear him sigh from the other side of the door and walk off. You take a glance at your phone which you have been avoiding, to find a plethora of messages and missed calls. “Bitch!” “Are you with HIM?” “Fuck you both!?” “It’s not over until I say it is.” “I’m sorry baby please call me back.” “I can’t do this without you. She meant nothing, please forgive me.” “If you keep ignoring me, I’m going to come find you and you’re going to be sorry.” “Answer me!” You cry harder at all the horrible messages until eventually sleep finds you.

“My boss! You slept with my boss? How could you?” You yelled. “You were always so busy with work and I am a man with needs, needs that have to be met y/n! She was there for me when you weren’t.” Che yells back at you. “So, this has been ongoing?” You reply defeated, as the realization sets in. Your boyfriend just sighs. “Let’s not do this ok. Let’s just fix it.” He states. You laugh out loud. “Fix it! FIX IT!” You shout now, “There is no fixing this Che, its no wonder I’ve never been able to progress at my job. That bitch has been holding me back while lying on hers! I am so happy I am leaving. This trip couldn’t come at a better time.” You say heading to your room to grab your things. “Look, about that, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to LA. We have a lot to work on here.” He says as almost a command. You shake your head. “No, not going to happen. I haven’t seen Yoongi in months, I am not cancelling and this, whatever this is, is over Che.” You pull up the handle of your suitcase and walk towards your door. Suddenly, Che yanks you back by your arm. “You’re not leaving.” He shouts. You shove him with all your might. “Get off of me Che. What the hell is wrong with you?” You yell in shock, out of breath. “I’m sorry ok, calm down. I just want to talk and figure things out.” He forces a smile. Your adrenaline is coursing through you. “Ok Che,” You whisper, “Can you grab me a towel so I can put ice on my arm?” You point towards the bathroom. He nods, walking back to the back of the house. As you hear the linen closet open you race out of the door and down the stairs, yelling for a cab once you reach the front of the building. You are taking off down the street by the time Che is on the curb yelling your name.

You jump up from your sleep at the sound of your name echoing through your head. You look around and try to calm your fast beating heart. You’re still at Yoongi’s, you’re safe. You get out of the bed and change out of your clothes into a fluffy hoodie. You lay back down and try looking at your phone only to see its died. You grunt out of bed again to find and attach it to your charger. You turn to the bed but decide you don’t want to be alone tonight. You pad quietly out of your room and into Yoongi’s. Its so dark inside that you’re afraid of bumping your toe. You stretch your arms out in front of you, waving your hands around until you feel the plush of the duvet. You hum happily, pleased with yourself. You climb into the bed and under the covers, reaching over until you feel Yoongi’s soft cool hands. You rub your fingertips over the top of his left hand while you listen to the sounds of his breathing. He rouses suddenly at the feel of your hand on his. “Y/n, are you ok?” He stretches, taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry Min for freaking out on you at dinner. I’ve not felt like myself in a while. It has nothing to do with you.” You whisper, squeezing his hand. He chuckles softly. “It’s ok, I just wish you would tell me what’s going on. I don’t like that you’re keeping secrets. I am always here for you. I would never judge you.” He says. “I’m not, I just, I don’t mean to keep things from you. I just feel so disconnected since you left. Like a part of me left with you.” You confess. “I am always with you Ace. Nothing can change that. A million miles apart but always together.” He whispers, planting a kiss on your head before resting his head atop yours and pulling your body into his. You wrap your arms around him now and listen to the sounds of his heart beating. “Min.” You whisper now. “Hmm.” He responds. You push away from his embrace slightly to face him, his features coming into view even in the dark room. “I love you.” You say. He swallows as his mouth drops open to respond. You lean in and capture his bottom lip in between your lips. He pauses but you quickly engulf his mouth with yours, deepening the kiss by wrapping your arms around his neck. He grabs you around the waist and pulls your hips into his growing erection. You swirl your tongue around his, moaning softly into him. This was magic, you thought, exactly what kissing was meant to be, hot, warm, welcoming. You knew you never wanted to kiss another man after this because no other kiss could be as perfect. Its as if he poured all his love into this kiss. You needed more as you felt your body catch fire and skin goose.

You push him onto his back and straddle him, never breaking this magical kiss. You grind your hips into his hardened member causing him to groan from deep within his chest. He takes your ass into his hands and pushes his hips up into your moistened sex. Was this really going to happen? You wondered now, a sudden flash of guilt hitting you. You finally break from the kiss, both of you completely out of breath. Yoongi quickly attaches his swollen mouth to your neck, still guiding your aching cunt over his throbbing member. You moan unabashedly as he suckles and nibbles his way to your collar bone. He begins to work his way across your collar bone and up the other side of your neck before biting down hard. “Fuck!” You cry out at the intense pleasure that engulfs you. We shouldn’t, you think but still you welcome his mouth on yours as he begins to assault your mouth once more. He leans up now, wrapping one arm around your waist and sliding the other arm up your shirt, wrapping his large hand around one of your full mounds. He squeezes gently before taking ahold of your sensitive nipple and swirling it between his thumb and forefinger. Its been so long since someone has touched you, let alone kissed you this passionately. You wondered exactly when Che lost that passion, when it all became selfish love making, rough. As Yoongi planted kisses along your jaw and ear lobe, you realized just how much you missed passion, how much you missed fire, how much you craved it. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Yoongi whispers in your ear, breaking you away from your thoughts, allowing guilt to creep in again. “What?” You ask him. “I want this so bad but are you sure you want to do this?” He whispers again out of breath. He looks you over in anticipation for your answer. “Fuck,” You cry, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry Min.” You say now. He swallows back the lump growing in his throat at your rejection but shakes his head. “No, no, please don’t be sorry.” He tries to pull you into a hug but you push him away. “I should sleep in the other room. I’m sorry.” You quickly jump off of him and begin to slide off the bed. “No, wait, Ace. Please its ok. I don’t want you to go.” But its too late, you’re already making your way back to the guestroom.

#bts smut #suga x you #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff

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wordsthativelost · 3 years

Text

Stalking Jack

Hey, look what I found on an old flash drive! I guess that counts as “words I’ve lost - and found” I don’t even have a place to post original fic any more. Might as well put it here. I wrote this when I was very depressed. I still think it’s *interesting* if not necessarily *good* CONTENT WARNINGS: suggested child abuse, hints at sexual abuse, suggested violence. -----

"My real mother would never make me do that," you say to me.

All children tell themselves secretly that they have other, better, parents somewhere -- kinder, grander, more exciting -- or so I have heard. I never did, but then I was never one for daydreaming. Not like you. Most children are not brave enough, cruel enough, to speak that story aloud.

You, however, stand before me, your eyes now level with mine, your father's broad jaw jutting forward, and cross wiry arms against a chest that is no longer quite so thin. You repeat, "My real mother would allow me to stay." To hide the trembling, you push your hand through that ragged straw hair with its gleam of sunrise, covering your eyes so I do not see the hurt. O my careless burden, my Jack, your words slice my heart in two, and it falls empty to the dirt floor between us; but no blame spills out, no blame at all.

How can I blame you for denying me, denying this the home I made for you? We are dirty and dark, rough and ramshackle, no place for you, O my shining youth, my shame, all sunlight and softness and the sweet drone of summer bees. Surely you could not have sprung from between these splintered thighs, slipped from this chinked womb.

"Good. Then ask your real mother for food and a fire," I say harshly. Like this hovel, I have no shelter left to offer, and the Spring turning is still many weeks away. "Go and find work, for there is nothing more for you here."

Your eyes, molten gold, flow away from mine. "There's still the cow. I could take her to the knacker's yard."

"What? She is all that I have left from..." I do not finish. I do not think of the time before.

"She is too old. She is useless. She requires feed and water and gives no milk in return."

"She is not yours to sell." This is true. The cow had been a gift to me, a calf then, with eyes as warm and whimsical as a promise of faithfulness and fertility. It is also true that she is now withered and dry. I am still not ready to let her go. "You would kill her to purchase a few more days of idle scribbling?"

At that, your eyes flash. "I am not idle!" You shake your hand at me, still gripping the stick of charcoal you use to etch your fancies on scraps of wood and bark. "You have never understood. You have never cared about what is important to me!"

No, I do not understand you, O my strange one, my changeling child. How you drink tales and eat stories, how you exhaust yourself from your pretend battles and lie spent, bleeding words from a thousand invisible cuts. But still the ice in my chest melts before your fire. "See that you get a good price for her, then," is all I say.

But when you return the next evening, you bring me no cheese for our supper, no wood for our fire. No copper coins to purchase a few more tomorrows. Instead, you show me a fist filled with foolish fancies, and your mouth drips with dreams like poisoned honey. A strange man, you tell me, a man with flaxen hair and the eyes of a lion, met you on the forest path and offered you great things. You traded my cow, my past, for his promises and plans.

I say nothing. You chatter on nonsensically, but I cannot hear you over the howling in my ears and I cannot see you for the darkness in my eyes. I take your folly and fling it out the door, scattering your daydreams like dirt in our yard, and you fall silent, and I think that now the rage in your heart will choke the hunger in your belly.

Maybe this time your stories are true. Maybe you are not my son.

In the morning you are gone. You have followed this stranger's ensnaring lures, I tell myself. Trapped in the clinging vines of your own imaginings, you climb them into the clouds of fairytales, the fog of let's-pretend.

I hope that someone will feed you there.

As for me, I search beneath my pillow for my small bag of precious things: a faded blue ribbon, a crumbled flower wrapped in a yellowing scrap of lace, many tiny ivory teeth that tumble onto my hand, biting into the palm. There is also the ring, the one your father gave me six months before you were born. I use my own teeth to pry out the stone, sparkling topaz, like his eyes, like your eyes. It glitters like the deceitful endings of your magpie daydreams, and I close my fist tightly. The Travelers will come by soon, when the Winter rains end. Perhaps they will trade me supplies and seeds for the empty silver band.

Weeks later, I am digging in my new garden with a stout sharpened stick. You return to me, your golden eyes blazing like the sun reflected in the puddles all around me. Sitting in the doorway, you watch me kneel in the mud, and spin me fantastic tales of a giant's mansion, filled with amazing treasures. No, you did not see the giant, you admit; but you met his woman, a delicate, fragile, timid thing. She pitied you, you say. She fed you, and cosseted you, and hid you when the giant returned, his voice like thunder. The woman told you to run, and you did, ran all the way back to me.

"And look what she gave me!" Your voice cracks like ice with excitement, as you shove a small purse into my hands. "Gold! Jewels! She says that all the giant's fortune shall be mine!"

I look inside, and my eyes see only the dull gleam of brass buttons and bright shining beads. O my besotted fool, my dreamer. When have you ever seen real gold, real jewels, so that you should recognize them? But then, when have I?

I say nothing. Instead I give you hot soup, made from the wild onions and cattails I have gathered near the lake. You eat three bowls' worth, scowling all the while, comparing the meal to the rich scraps from the giant's table. "But you shall eat such food now, shall you not?" you tease me. You insist that you must go back on the morrow, to fetch me more wealth from the giant's store.

When you have left, I pull out my last set of spare sheets. The cotton is soft from many washings, but still not worn through. I boil the cloth with the onion peelings until it is the color of ripe wheat, of new butter, of your father's hair, your hair, shimmering under the smoking tallow-dips as you struggle to soothe your frantic fantasies to lay quivering, flat upon the page. I cut and pin and stitch it into a fine dress, such as an alderman's wife might wear, and sew the buttons you brought me down the front and sleeves. Tomorrow I will bring this into town, and see if I can trade it for an iron trowel.

It is only two weeks later when you return again. I am searching the ground for fallen sticks to burn; although the days are warmer now, it still grows cold at night. "My father!" you shout as you rush to me. "The giant's woman told me of my father!" Your words spray out like stones from beneath a cart wheel. I flinch as they strike me. Your father, you say, your real father, was a great man, a fine lord, a king! Indeed, he was the true owner of the grand house where you have been hiding for so many days. The giant came and slew him, and cast you, his infant heir, away into poverty and filth. Surely, you ask me, it is your duty to reclaim all that should be yours by right?

My duty is to feed you. I grind acorns dug from the beneath the bracken and set to boil for hours. They taste bitter and flat, so I stir in a handful of dried berries and the last of the windfallen apples. You wolf down the porridge and grimace, but then you grin at me, like you are hiding the most delicious secret. "Look at what I brought you from the giant's house this time!" You thrust an odd bundle of carved sticks and wires into my hands, fingers stained brown and purple from cooking. You tell me that this is a harp, that I can hang it in the doorway, and the wind will make it sing with marvelous, magical tunes. You say that it will make me less dull, make my days pass quickly and my sleep more restful.

I say nothing. You are so pleased with yourself and your gift. O my heartless poet, my clown, what need have I now for music? Your father whistled haunting melodies to me once, when I was young and lovely, and I would hum them back to you as you suckled greedily at my breast, to put you to sleep so your father could have his turn. If I want songs I can go listen to the senseless yammerings of the forest birds. My days are too short and my dreams too empty as it is.

When you are gone the next morning, I turn the little device over in my hand, recalling your tales of talismans and triumph with a sour smile. I take the beads you brought me, and string them on my old blue ribbon, wrapping it around and around the delicate wooden frame. A few early jonquils stuck here and there give a festive look. The blacksmith believes me to be a hedge-witch, and has been pressing me to supply him with love charms. Surely he will exchange this pretty bauble for a sharp axe. Who knows, it might even work.

You return to me again, only eight days gone. I am chopping at a dead tree with my new axe, pleased to depend no longer upon finding sticks on the ground. You are running through the trees, pale hair streaming behind you, something clutched against your chest. "The axe! Give me the axe!" you shout, shoving a squirming hissing bundle into my arms. Snatching the axe, you whirl about to face the path to our house.

I look down and see that I am holding a goose. It pecks at me.

"She betrayed me!" you say, voice raw with fury and hurt. The goose? No, the giant's woman. She had assured you that everything in that fine house should be yours. That you should eat at the giant's table. Wear his clothes. Sleep in his bed. She took your hand, you tell me trembling, and brought you to his rooms with silk soft words, promising to uncover his most secret treasure.

O my wounded innocent, my dupe. I hear the axe sing like a harp as it slices through the air, chopping your story into slivers. You asked her instead to take you to the giant's larder. So that you might share his delicacies with me, foraging too long in the dirt and the muck. The giant's woman flushed red and hot and sharp, answering that she'd as soon give you a goose that laid golden eggs as provide a feast for the harlot of the woods.

Your eyes flicker with hot angry flames as you repeat her words. Do you believe that they shall burn me?

When you asked to see this goose, she laughed at you. She pointed to the kitchen gardens, where the chickens wandered foolishly, and she laughed and laughed, and then the giant returned.

Stop thief she shouted, and he lunged for you. You ran, you say, and you ran, and as you ran she grabbed shrieking at the giant, and you ran. In the yard you saw the goose, the golden goose, and you snatched it and you ran. And now the giant is running too, running after you, coming for you. Coming for us. Down the forest path to our little hut. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you cry, "I will protect you," and O my brash brazen boy, my hero, you are weeping and angry and confused and terrifying, and I lift the axe from your hand.

I say something. "Take this wretched bird into the house and shut the door." And I turn and I wait for this giant.

I stand ready, axe held level. I shall chop down that strangling vine you have been climbing. I shall hew it out, root and branch, and no clinging tendril shall remain to claim you. I shall bite deep with my blade until the sap gushes out sticky and wet, and washes away any hidden thorns.

When I come back inside the little house, you sit still and huddled on your bed. Your eyes, your golden eyes, are bright and full of tears and terror, not dark and empty like your father's are now. "You were a great lady once, mother," you whisper to me. "You were a queen in a splendid castle."

I say nothing. But I nod, and hold you close until you fall asleep against me. When your breathing is slow and soft, I go back to my small garden, and finish weeding among the pushing green that reaches already to my knees. Later tonight I will take my axe and strike the goose dead. It would be wiser, I suppose, to keep it for the eggs, but I can render the carcass for the good yellow fat instead. I will make you many dip candles, O my treasure, O my song, O my prince, my son, and they shall burn clean and bright; and you shall scribble out your stories by their golden glow for many months to come.

Besides, goose broth will taste well with these beans.

#fairy tale retelling #jack and the beanstalk #second person narration #dark

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therake-1996-blog · 6 years

Text

Revelation Ch. 7

Chapter 7- Home

The precious baby boy sleeps in my arms, his slender body belying a sturdiness. His legs are long, and covered by a pale blue duvetyn onesie, a fabric I’ve never seen used for baby clothes, but, it’s the Heavens. They probably do use the best fabrics for their babies.

He clutches a slightly worn hand-knitted purple blanket to his chest, his tiny hands in small fists against the soft wool as his little chest rises and falls, rises and falls, in a gentle rhythm. I lift my hand, which is slightly blurred—everything besides the baby is blurred—and run a finger over his fair cheek, marveling at the impossible complexion of his skin. He’s so warm, so soft, but at the same time, I’m aware of how strong he is.

As I stroke his cheek, his long, dark eyelashes flutter, and his mouth twitches as he shifts in my arms.

“Hmm…” He lets out a long sigh, the sound hitting me right in my heart.

He turns his head toward my chest, and lifts his left hand, sticking his thumb into his mouth and suckling, making tiny sounds as he does so. My lips move, forming words, but I don’t hear my voice.

I love you.

As I speak, I brush his thick hair away from his forehead, using my other arm to cradle him closer to my body.

Sweet little baby…I really do love him so, so much.

…

My eyelids lift, revealing a room illuminated by the morning sun. I take a deep breath, one of my hands instinctively fluttering to my belly, still much pronounced between my hips. Wiggle worm twitches, but doesn’t send any thoughts or emotions to my mind; he must be sleeping. I smile to myself.

When I turn my eyes up, I see Zyglavis, laying beside me, his gaze soft as he watches me.

A little embarrassed of being watched while I slept, I smile at him.

“Good morning,”

“Good morning, love,” He replies, his voice low and smooth like silk. My stomach throbs.

He reaches a hand out and traces my lips with the tips of his fingers.

“Were you having a good dream? You were smiling in your sleep,”

I answer him by bashfully looking down.

“Yes...I have good dreams every night, about the baby.”

“Oh? Tell me about them.”

When I look back up at him, I see Zyglavis’ eyes shining brightly, truly fascinated by my dreams about our child. I reach for him, and he pulls me closer, allowing me to cuddle as close as I can to his chest.

“Every night since I found out I’m pregnant, I’ve had dreams about the baby,” I begin softly. “And in them, I see this absolutely perfect little boy. Every night, he’s a little bit bigger, but he’s still so…so sweet and innocent. It’s hard not to fall in love when you look at him.”

“What does he look like?”

I smile, twirling the tassels that hang from the shoulder pads of Zyglavis’ uniform.

“Just like you, Zyglavis, only as a baby. He has these wide, wide iridescent grey eyes that look just like yours, the same soft, dark hair, even the same face.”

His chest rumbles as he chuckles.

“There’s none of you in there?”

I pause for a moment. Hm. I never thought of that, but Zyglavis is right. In all the dreams, the baby I see has no characteristics that come from me…on the outside, anyway.

“Well, that’s okay,” I reply simply.

“It is?” Zyglavis pulls me back a little and looks at me, an eyebrow raised. “You’d be okay with it if our child looked nothing like you?”

I stare at him for a moment, then pull my bottom lip between my teeth and look down, embarrassed. How do I want to word this…?

“Well,” I begin with a breath. “To me…you are the most beautiful thing in the universe, the most perfect. So, if our baby doesn’t take any physical characteristics from me, it wouldn’t bother me so much.”

Zyglavis blinks.

“Oh, you are so silly, Eden.”

He says with a laugh as he places a small kiss on my forehead.

“So, you know why I think it’s a boy, but you never told me why you think it’s a girl.” I say after a moment.

Zyglavis averts his eyes, looking thoughtful.

“Well, sometimes—”

He begins to explain, but is cut off when there’s a knock at the door. We’d been so deep in our own world that we didn’t even hear anyone approach.

“Zyglavis, honey! Is Eden awake?” Lyranna’s lyrical voice comes floating through the solid wood. She sounds excited.

Zyglavis, however, lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, mother.” He calls, sitting up and getting out of bed. “Though I was hoping to do this with just the two of us…”

“What?” I ask, cocking my head as I pull myself into a sitting position.

Zyglavis pauses by the door, and looks back at me, smiling.

“We have a surprise for you.”

…

“I thoroughly wish she’d calm down.”

Zyglavis grumbles to himself as Lyranna swings my arm back and forth in an animated way as we walk in the woods, on the little path we usually take to her home. I giggle.

“I am so excited for you to see this, Eden! Zyglavis and I have spent the last four and a half months working on it and I know you’re just going to love it!”

I give her a look.

“Where are you taking me? This is the way to your house, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, but that not where we’re going today.”

After she answers, she puts a finger to her lips and winks at me. I glance back at Zyglavis, who just shakes his head, an exasperated smile on his face.

I notice the path is much clearer than before; no low hanging branches or fallen trees. The path is clearly visible and easy to walk on.

Did they clear it for me?

A wave of gratefulness comes over me, and I bite my lip to keep from crying. For whatever reason, I feel like I’m going to be doing a lot of that later on.

As we come to the part of the path that slights left toward Lyranna’s estate, I notice that the path actually forks off in two different directions, one to the left, and one to the right. Lyranna lightly pulls on my hand and directs us to the right.

There’s a break in the thick wood and wildflowers begin to litter the area, bright, warm colors surrounding us. Foxgloves, red roses, sunflowers, lilies, honeysuckle, and carnations decorate where the tall trees would be. Pink, white, and orange butterflies dance around with each other and some heavenly bees buzz by us, birds chirping merrily in a stone birdbath off to my right.

And then, something else catches my attention.

A large mansion, almost identical to Lyranna’s, but made from brown stone, green vines curling up the north wall like a lattice. There’s no gate, just a huge, wide open field filled with flowers, the little path leading straight up to the front door.

My mouth drops open.

Lyranna let go of my hand and comes to stand before me, extending her arms out wide.

“Surprise!” She exclaims, her voice little more than a squeal.

“You…a…a house?” I breathe.

I sense Zyglavis come up behind me, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“You said you liked mother’s house, so we drew inspiration from it, but with how warm and open you are, I figured the fields and wildflowers would suit you better than a gate and trees.”

“Not to mention you’ll have a little one running around soon,” Lyranna adds. “They’ll need lots of space to play outside.”

“A house?”

Tears begin streaming down my cheeks, and I clap a hand over my mouth.

“You built a house for me!” I sob, turning into Zyglavis’ chest. He chuckles breathlessly, hugging me tightly and rubbing my back.

“I told you it was going to happen, didn’t I?” He says, his voice soothing.

“You put so much thought into it! It’s so pretty!”

“I told you she’d like it.” Lyranna says, sounding quite pleased.

“Mother.”

From Zyglavis’ chest, I peek back to the mansion that’s mine, mine and Zyglavis’, and a fresh wave of tears flow from my eyes.

I open my mouth to try and tell them how thankful I am, how gorgeous the house is, how much I love them, but all that comes out is a mix of incoherent blabbers and sobs. Zyglavis strokes my hair lovingly.

What’s going on?

The baby, now awake, shifts inside me and asks this question, curious as to why I’m crying like…well, like a baby.

I’m so happy. I answer him in my mind. Daddy and grandma surprised me with a house.

A house? What’s that?

I let out a giggle that sounds something akin to someone squeaking a rubber duck, and send a mental image of our new home to the baby.

That. That’s our home, little one.

I feel his emotions slowly shift from confusion to joy, and he wiggles around excitedly.

Ooh! We’re going to live there? It’s so nice! Thank you, daddy! Thank you, grandma!

I look up to Zyglavis.

“The baby likes it, too.” I whisper. I don’t trust my voice not to sound atrocious.

Smiling tenderly at me, Zyglavis plants a small kiss on my lips while running a hand over my belly. Wiggle worm presses his hands against the wall of my womb and follows his hand.

“Would you like to see the inside?” He asks.

I nod, and Zyglavis takes my hand, leading me up the winding path.

Lyranna claps her hands in front of her giddily.

“Have fun, kids!” She exclaims.

I glance over my shoulder.

“You’re not coming with us?”

Zyglavis grumbles, and I inconspicuously elbow him.

“Oh, no. I know my boundaries, believe it or not, and I believe I know my son well enough to understand the expression on his face right now.”

“I have no idea what you’re taking about.” Zyglavis says, smiling pleasantly. His mother cocks a perfect eyebrow, her mouth turning down on one side.

“Yeah, sure. Play innocent all you’d like, Zyglavis, but you can never fool your mother. Now, Eden,” Turning her attention back to me, Lyranna smiles, lifting her hands up to her neck and removing a chain from it. “This key belongs to you now.”

She hands me an intricately designed brass skeleton key, an emerald sitting in the center of the handle.

“Even the key is pretty,” I breathe. “Do you have one, Zyglavis?”

He responds to my question by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a matching key, only this one has an opal in the center instead of an emerald. I cock my head.

“How come mine has an emerald and yours has an opal?”

“Do you know what your birthstone is, Eden?” Zyglavis asks me. I make a face.

“Birth…stone?” He chuckles.

“Guess not. Eden, your birthday is in May, and the birthstone for May is emerald. I am the god of Libra, and thus, my birthday is appropriately in October. The stone for that month is opal.”

“Why do different months have different stones?” I ask.

“Well, not every person is similar, just like not every month or every stone is,” Lyranna explains. “For example, my son is the embodiment of Libra. He is tactful, alert, neat, attentive, balanced, and loving, among other things. The opal is usually worn to repel evil, and represent hope, creativity, and innocence. For you, you are a Taurus. Taureans are known for being gentle, possessive, placid, stubborn, tolerant, and humble. The emerald symbolizes fertility, rebirth, and love—in fact, ancient Romans went so far as to dedicate your stone to Venus, our very own goddess of love and beauty. The emerald also signifies wisdom, growth, and patience. All of these stones have properties in metaphysical healing. Plus, it’s widely believed that wearing or keeping your birthstone close brings good luck.”

I blink, a little dazed at her explanation.

“Um…wow,” I breathe.

Zyglavis pats my shoulder.

“You got her started, Eden.”

“Oh! Sorry. I did get carried away, didn’t I? Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Go on, look at your house! You’re going to love it, Eden, I know it.”

Smiling radiantly, Lyranna extends her arms and embraces me, squeezing me tightly.

“Thank you so much, Lyranna.” I whisper.

“Of course.” She pulls back and cups my cheek, gazing at me fondly. “You’re making my son the happiest he’s been in a long, long time. I want to make you happy, too.”

She leans forward and places a gentle kiss on my cheek before she turns and begins practically skipping down the trail back toward her own home.

“Let me know!” Is all she says as she leaves.

…

When we walk into the house, the grand entryway absolutely steals my breath away.

It’s decorated with French country pieces, the floor a rich dark mahogany, made from one hundred percent real wood, and the walls covered with a tan, textured wallpaper. The staircase spills toward the front door, the banisters designed very elaborately, the same color as the floor. From what I can see of the upstairs hall, it’s decorated the same way as this room, with a large hutch and a couple deep orange chairs on either side of it right at the top.

Gingerly taking my hand, Zyglavis leads me to the left, into the parlor. There’s a huge fireplace, the flames crackling brightly. On the center of the mantle, there’s a vase of blue and red roses, decorative books on the right and a set of red candles on the left. There’s a large, empty picture frame above the fireplace, and I cock my head.

“Why is that frame empty?”

“That is for us to put a family portrait in once the baby is born.” Zyglavis answers, smiling warmly. “Let’s see the rest of the house.”

He takes me through the dining room, the kitchen, and another, smaller parlor. All the rooms are decorated in shades of soft red, yellow, and gold, as well as ornate porcelain pieces—one of a kind, I’m sure—and heavy linens. It feels like they captured my taste perfectly, and I didn’t even know that I liked this kind of design.

After we finish touring the lower floor, he takes me upstairs and leads me down the west hall to the last room, opening the heavy, dark wooden dark.

“This will be the baby’s room.”

I let out a shaky breath as I take in the large yet somehow cozy nursery, my hands floating to my belly, where little wiggle worm is fluttering curiously.

This room is designed with shades of delicate beige, yellow, and white, a crib made from white metal, the mattress decorated with a simple farmhouse pattern, a thick white blanket hanging over the side of it. Thin white curtains hang over the large window, allowing the sun and the air to come into the room. There’s a little rocking horse by the white dresser and a white chair with a long back on the opposite end of the room, a yellow throw blanket hanging over the back. A matching pillow rests against one of the arms. It’s a perfect room for a boy or a girl.

“Oh, Zyglavis,” I breathe. “It’s so…so…”

“I figured you’d like it.”

He says, tucking some hair behind my ear.

My room? I love it!

“The baby likes it, too.”

I turn my head and smile at him, his face blurry through a fresh wave of tears. He returns my smile and gently kisses me, but after only a few moments, the baby kicks at him, and he pulls away with a laugh.

“That reminds me. You never did get to tell me why you think the baby is a girl.” I say.

“Well,” Zyglavis begins. “Sometimes, I get these…visions. They don’t come with any rhyme or reason; I could be doing paperwork or punishments or just be watching you sleep and suddenly I get a flash in my head. I haven’t seen any defining features besides this,” He reaches out and strokes my hair, smiling softly. “Dark chocolate colored hair, long and wavy, just like yours.”

I stare at him. I didn’t realize how wildly our image of our child differs from one another. Whereas I see a crystal clear image of a perfect little boy, Zyglavis only sees flashes of a little girl, only knows for certain she has my hair?

“Do you…know anything else?” I ask curiously.

He cocks his head thoughtfully.

“She has a very high voice. Very beautiful and hypnotic. In my visions, I can hear her calling out for us or laughing, and sometimes I can see her running. She’s a fast little thing. But other than that, I don’t really know what she looks like.”

As Zyglavis finishes explaining, I turn my gaze back to the peaceful nursery, wondering which one of us is having the accurate visions.

“Eden,”

“Hm?”

“In about three more weeks, you’ll give birth to our baby. Have you thought of any names?”

I start, snapping my head to look at him.

“Names?” I repeat. Oh, no. I had been so caught up in being pregnant and what I’m feeling right in these moments that I completely forgot about actually naming the poor kid. Not to mention…“I…never thought I’d get this far in y life. I’ve never given baby names any thought.” I admit sheepishly.

If I were human, I’d be blushing right now.

Zyglavis looks at me for a moment, then laughs, taking my hand in his.

“Well, let’s talk about that, then.”

…

“My mother’s name was spelled E-V-E-L-I-N-E, pronounced like Evelyn,” I say as we sit in the main parlor. The couches are a deep red and lined with gold, extremely comfortable. “I always liked how it ended in ‘line’…but, other than that, I never really thought about baby names.”

Zyglavis chuckles.

“Well, why don’t we take a heavenly name and mesh it with ‘line’?” I tilt my head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…like, take Erida and combine it with ‘line’ to make Eraline, or, take Nea and make Nealine. There’s a lot of different combinations we can play with.”

As I listen, it hits me that Zyglavis has put lots of time into thinking about a name for our baby. I extend a hand and brush his bangs away from his eyes.

“I love you, Zyglavis,” I tell him. He blinks, a little startled, but smiles at me all the same.

“I love you, too, Eden.”

“So, just how many names have you come up with?”

“Oh…not that many…”

Zyglavis shifts, and I just know if he were capable of it, he’d be blushing right now. I giggle and pat his leg.

“Tell me.”

“Um. I’ve actually picked through quite a few heavenly names that have significant meanings, like Tryfera, which means loving, Ilia, which means sun, Omorfia, which means beauty…but my personal favorite is Avelera. That means new or unique in heavenly terms.”

“Avelera…” I repeat, running my hand over my belly.

“Do you like that name?”

“Yeah…yeah, I like that name a lot. Plus, it’s meaning is very appropriate.”

“Avelera is easy to combine with ‘line’, too. Aveline.”

I suck in a breath when he says the new name. Aveline.

Aveline.

Though I still think I’m having a little Zyglavis Jr., the girl’s name packs quick an emotional punch.

“That’s so beautiful,” I breathe. “Aveline…”

Zyglavis watches me fondly for a moment before he says,

“So what about a boy? Surely you’ve thought about that, at least a little?”

I feel my mouth turn up a little, and I relax back against the back of the couch, gazing up at him from under my eyelashes.

“Actually, I have an idea about that.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hm,” I nod. “Your father is no longer here, and even though I never met him, I want to show him respect. What do you think about naming the baby after your father if he’s a boy?”

Zyglavis’ eyes widen.

“After…my father?” He repeats softly. I nod again. He simply stares as me for a while, a looking of sheer adoration in his eyes, and then he smiles. “You are so sweet, Eden. But do you even know what his name was?”

“Nope. That’s why you tell me.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“His name was Zuben. There’s two stars in the Libra constellation named after him, Zubeneschamali and Zubenelgenubi. That’s how powerful, how influential, he was when he was alive.” Zyglavis’ eyelids lower as he speaks of his father. It’s clear to see just how much he still loves and respects him.

“I love that name,” I say. “I don’t care if his name was Poindexter. If it’s a boy, let’s name him after your father. Zuben.”

Zyglavis smiles warmly at me, and reaches out to stroke my hair.

“Thank you, Eden.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” I reply simply.

In my belly, little Zuben stretches and asks what we’re talking about. Here in our new home, Zyglavis and I sit, talking about our baby, and I find myself wondering what I did to deserve him.

#zyglavis #star crossed myth #star crossed myth fan fiction #otome game #fanfic #voltage inc #voltage fanfic

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kissxng · 6 years

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11/13/17 about me

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? al i think? 2. Are you outgoing or shy? i’m somewhat outgoing but certain situations with lots of people that i don’t know make me feel shy and anxious 3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? my sister and parents for thanksgiving, but also molly and my buffalo girls this week! 4. Are you easy to get along with? sort of... haha 5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? maybe if i were with them, they’re a good person so i’d hope so 6. What kind of people are you attracted to? tall white boys with long hair that like angry music and rough sex, but also snuggling and telling me i’m pretty. commitment issues are a bonus. 7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? no, but i wish i could be 8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? uh jordan and drew 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? not at all 10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? my roommate alesha 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “here’s a pic for proof” showing my parents my midterm grades lol 12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? Daylily-Movements, The Grey-Movements, Crash-You Me at Six, Pull Up n Wreck-Big Sean, and Ric Flair Drip-Offset & Metro boomin

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Only sometimes

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Yes 15. What good thing happened this summer? I did a lot of really cool things with my friends, went to NYC with my best friend Kate, went to warped tour on Long Island, hiked with my family, and smoked a lot of weed with Alyssa and Tori <3 16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Yeah haha 17. Do you think there is life on other planets? It’s possible 18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No omg 19. Do you like bubble baths? Yes 20. Do you like your neighbors? No the bitches that live in the suite next to me are always loud as fuck 21. What are you bad habits? Being LAZY, piling lots of clothes on my desk chair instead of putting them away, not making my bed 22. Where would you like to travel? Amsterdam, Colorado, California, the Grand Canyon and Yosemite National Park, Lake Tahoe 23. Do you have trust issues? Yes it’s very difficult for me to trust people 24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Going to BED 25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My thighs and my stomach 26. What do you do when you wake up? Check my phone and pee 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? In the summer I wish I could tan easier 28. Who are you most comfortable around? my sister 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? no 30. Do you ever want to get married? someday 31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? yes 32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Liam Payne and Zayn Malik LOL 33. Spell your name with your chin. - 34. Do you play sports? What sports? I ski and I used to dance 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV 36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes 37. What do you say during awkward silences? nothing because i am Awkard 38. Describe your dream girl/guy? someone that can enjoy really sweet and simple things in life, but also likes to take risks and do things that push their comfort zone. Someone that is full of love and can love me as intensely as i want to love them. Someone with a creative soul and a logical mind lol. 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? I really like Zara and Urban Outfitters 40. What do you want to do after high school? I’m in college and plan to go to graduate school after 41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? No 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? That i’m either very mad or uncomfortable or in a bad/upset mood 43. Do you smile at strangers? no 44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? outer space, the bottom of the ocean sounds fucking terrifying 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? my alarm 46. What are you paranoid about? never finding love 47. Have you ever been high? yes LOL 48. Have you ever been drunk? uh yes 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? not that i can think of 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? medium blue 51. Ever wished you were someone else? yes 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? i wish i was 20lbs thinner 53. Favourite makeup brand? kat von d b/c her liquid lipsticks 54. Favourite store? urban outfitters 55. Favourite blog? mine 56. Favourite colour? black and purple 57. Favourite food? as of lately i’ve been a slut for a good burrito 58. Last thing you ate? mint chocolate cookies 59. First thing you ate this morning? water and a mint lol 60. Ever won a competition? For what? not that i can recall 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? nope 62. Been arrested? For what? not yet lol, i hope never 63. Ever been in love? no, but i did briefly feel like i was falling in love with someone 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? we got drunk in his dorm room off of cheap shit beer and were holding hands listening to the front bottoms and watching one of their music videos and we just started kissing. it was really nice. 65. Are you hungry right now? no 66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? i don’t have tumblr “friends” 67. Facebook or Twitter? twitter 68. Twitter or Tumblr? twitter 69. Are you watching tv right now? no 70. Names of your bestfriends? Ashley, Vicki, Kate, Alyssa, Tori, Alexis, Alesha, Alex 71. Craving something? What? love 72. What colour are your towels? the towel i’m currently using is pink 72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 3 and a pillow pet 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? yes 74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? over 50 75. Favourite animal? french bulldogs 76. What colour is your underwear? green with limes on it 77. Chocolate or Vanilla? vanilla 78. Favourite ice cream flavour? cherry garcia, ben and jerry’s 79. What colour shirt are you wearing? white 80. What colour pants? none 81. Favourite tv show? shameless or greys anatomy 82. Favourite movie? don’t have one 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? mean girls 1 OG 84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? mean girls 85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? regina 86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? dory 87. First person you talked to today? someone in my first class 88. Last person you talked to today? alesha 89. Name a person you hate? garrett 90. Name a person you love? ashley 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? ellery 92. In a fight with someone? no 93. How many sweatpants do you have? like 5 pairs 94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? prob like 20 or 30 lol 95. Last movie you watched? can’t recall 96. Favourite actress? don’t have one 97. Favourite actor? idk someone hot 98. Do you tan a lot? no 99. Have any pets? no i wish 100. How are you feeling? annoyed 101. Do you type fast? yes 102. Do you regret anything from your past? yes, i do stupid shit 103. Can you spell well? yes i love spelling lol 104. Do you miss anyone from your past? yeah fuck 105. Ever been to a bonfire party? yes! 106. Ever broken someone’s heart? no 107. Have you ever been on a horse? yes when i was little 108. What should you be doing? my OB paper 109. Is something irritating you right now? my throat hurts 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? yes.. 111. Do you have trust issues? yes you already asked me this 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? honestly can’t remember but i think alexis 113. What was your childhood nickname? loooorrnnn 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? yes... 115. Do you play the Wii? yes i fuck w mario kart 116. Are you listening to music right now? yes, ghostface killers by 21 savage 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? no i don’t eat chicken but i used to like it 118. Do you like Chinese food? YES 119. Favourite book? the clique series was pretty dope 120. Are you afraid of the dark? yes.... 121. Are you mean? yeah lol 122. Is cheating ever okay? no 123. Can you keep white shoes clean? for a certain period of time 124. Do you believe in love at first sight? kinda 125. Do you believe in true love? yes 126. Are you currently bored? no 127. What makes you happy? feeling loved and being high 128. Would you change your name? probably not 129. What your zodiac sign? cancer 130. Do you like subway? yes it’s delish 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? i don’t really have a best guy friend but if i did idk what i would do 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? alesha you already asked this 133. Favourite lyrics right now? “you are the rustling of leaves and you are that honey suckle breeze” -movements 134. Can you count to one million? if i really wanted to i could 135. Dumbest lie you ever told? idk when i was like 15 i had cut myself (purposely) on my stomach and my mom saw and i tried to play it off by saying i fell in a bush at my friend lisa’s house but in hindsight i know she didn’t buy that lmao 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? closed always 137. How tall are you? 5′9″ 138. Curly or Straight hair? straight 139. Brunette or Blonde? blonde 140. Summer or Winter? summer 141. Night or Day? night 142. Favourite month? either october or december 143. Are you a vegetarian? yes! i have been for 3.5 years 144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? dark chocolate 145. Tea or Coffee? iced coffee or mint tea 146. Was today a good day? it was okay 147. Mars or Snickers? snickers 148. What’s your favourite quote? HE NEED SOME MILK -vine 149. Do you believe in ghosts? yes, spooky 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? nah im lazy

#about

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sustainableplacemaking-rdev250 · 7 years

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Field Report

1. I visited the lake on 4/1/2017 from 9am-12 noon as a part of a community service project for Good Neighbor Day and I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.

2. The weather was overcast, chilly, and it had just rained the day before.

3. The lake itself is beautiful unfortunately the trees still don’t really have any leaves so that was visually displeasing but the leaves will be back soon. As I mentioned before it had rained the previous day so it was muddy and wet. Frequent goose honks could also be heard.

4. I can’t really put a number on how many people I saw because there were so many, of course there were quite a few more than usual since there were so many of us doing the community service project. I believe about 4 or 5 teams of 10-20 people went to the lake yesterday. My team was in charge of removing honey suckle, a well-known invasive species, another group working near us was in charge of planting trees. People who were at the lake for reasons other than the community service project were engaged in a multitude of activities: fishing, running, walking their dog, bird watching, and riding their bike just to name a few. I also know that ROTC does runs around the lake. Most people who go to the lake go around one or both of the loops of the loops of the lake. One loop had a mile marker at the end that said 1.35 miles the other one did not have a marker that I saw. On average I would say people spend about 30 minutes to an hour at the lake. There are tons of benches to the side of the path that loops around the lake

5. Most people say hi to each other when they pass one another on the path. Other than that most people came to the lake with people they knew before hand and have a chat as they walk, bike, or run around. The community service groups worked great together as teams.

6. I believe the lake was designed to be an aesthetically pleasing outdoor area that provides space for recreational activities. As mentioned in one of my previous posts the lake was built as a thank you to the city for allowing Metro to source gravel and sand from the area where the lake now stands this saved Metro millions. When it was first built the lake also served to cover up or fill in the areas where gravel and sand had been taken

7. I believe the main thing that draws people to the lake is that it along with the other natural areas immediately surrounding it, it is one of a few bastions of nature here in the vast suburbia that is College Park and the I-95 Corridor. It’s also really neat to me because it’s all tucked away and unless someone tells you about it you really wouldn’t expect it where it is.

8. �� For one the place was overrun with honey suckle luckily we were there to help with that. One area that I’d like to improve is the peninsula in the middle of the lake. There’s a little building there with toilets but it’s also clear that the building used to house something else maybe a snack bar or something along those lines but I’ve never seen it used in my time here at UMD. I’d like to improve this building by either utilizing the buildings empty space or if a tenant cannot be found by tearing it down and building composting or some other similar sustainable toilet system in its place as a standalone building. The building as it sits now interrupts the natural aesthetic of the park being made of brick and grey cinder-block material with decorative blue tiles. This could be fixed by planting ivy or some kind of climbing vine on the building allowing it to become natural over time or in the case of the tear down the toilets could be rebuilt with a wooden façade.

Bonus Question:

What’s the craziest thing that occurred during your observation?

A girl found a dead body during the community service event

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kakivino · 5 years

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Great Wines of Italy 2018 Bangkok

Another December, another round of wine scrum. There I was, again, negotiating a capacity crowd of stemware-wielding, purplish teeth-baring oenophiles for my vinous spoils.

To be exact, a staggering 191 premium wines from 98 producers. James Suckling’s Great Wines of Italy 2018 Asia tour was back and bigger than ever.

The bustle of Bangkok was nothing compared with frantic scenes in Hong Kong or Beijing, observed visiting winemakers. That said, no sooner had the door opened things got into full swing.

More wines, less time

Something tells us perhaps the shortened programme — there goes our one-hour head start before people clock out from work — has something to do with cost management. Omission of some big-name labels suggests as much. Then again, it remained a small price to pay for the admission price we paid, in a country where wine spells luxury.

But I digressed. Naturally, the early birds flocked to wherever 100-pointer juice flowed, drained and vanished in record time, leaving a trail of empty Ornellaias or Tignanellos exhibited posthumously to disgruntled latecomers.

However, the sheer number of exciting picks meant there was no time for regret. Something else would come along.

Suffice to say, I was extremely content to have followed the heart rather than the points. Though I barely scratched the surface, my experience was all the more rewarding for when winemakers reciprocated aficionados’ enthusiasm with full attention and spirited exchanges in between pours.

Here’s my far-from-exhaustive fabulous dozen from the walk-around tasting:

Riecine ’14 Toscana Rosso Riecine Visibly limpid, hauntingly weightless. Beautiful mesh of red fruit, violet, white pepper and blood orange, laced with racy acidity and minerality. Smart, trim, nothing in excess. Picture a whispery tête-à-tête with Rooney Mara. Incredibly cerebral, soulful sangiovese in purezza. Some whole bunch, extended skin maceration, élevage in concrete.

Riecine ’15 Toscana Rosso La Gioia More quintessential Chianti Classico: richer, fuller by comparison. Expressive sour cherry and red fruit emerges front and centre, as sweet spice, sandalwood and leather chime in harmoniously. Judicious oak and supple tannins add substance to style with plenty of verve. A classy 100% sangiovese which lives up to its name: true joy in a glass.

The reason these translucent beauties shun the Gran Selezione pedestal, according to the engaging winemaker Alessandro Campatelli, is colour-obsessed red tape no less. To think that the Consorzio would’ve learned a thing or two from past blunders...

Pieropan ’15 Soave Classico Calvarino Heady aromas of pear, apple, grapefruit and spring flowers wow the senses with real piquancy and thrust. Dripping with pristine orchard fruit, chalky minerals and brisk acidity on the sapid palate. Leesy and complex, it closes long with a peculiarly saline, nutty twang. Decidedly scintillating. 70% garganega and 30% trebbiano di soave on volcanic soil, aged sur lie in concrete vats.

Pieropan ’15 Soave Classico La Rocca Harvested late and oaked, this radiant white bears richer concentration and definition, with a tropical (papaya!) twist. Honeyed and minerally, bright acidity lifts the tactile palate as it powers to a flavoursome finish. A peach of a wine, this offers fascinating contrast side by side with Calvarino yet there’s very little to separate them. 100% garganega on chalky clay, aged sur lie in large old casks.

Pietradolce ’14 Etna Rosso Vigna Barbagalli Lady Etna is enigmatic: floral, briary, smoky, with tar and menthol in the bouquet. Concentrated wild berry and slick oak inform the smoldering, youthfully austere palate. Distinctively earthy with pu’er-like finish. Mind the silken yet potent tannins. Has the stuffing, both gravitas and grace not unlike nebbiolo. From century-old, pre-phylloxera vines at contrada Rampante.

Alta Mora ’14 Etna Rosso Guardiola Likewise earthy disposition to this fragrant single contrada. Mineral vein underscores dark fruit, wet clay, tar, florals, pomegranate and Mediterranean herb, all framed by dense noble tannins. Tightly-knit and sleek rather than sinewy, with excellent complexity, line and length. More animated and savoury than Barbagalli. Nebbiolo again pops into mind yet with a personality all its own. A winner from 150-year old vines.

Nittardi ’15 Chianti Classico Casanuova di Nittardi Pure sangiovese from acidity-retaining altitudes at Castellina. Just old tonneaux and some time in concrete. Bright cherry is joined by violet, dark berries and a whiff of good ol’ barnyard. Sappy palate grips and extends with a dusty, spicy kick. Riveting. One-time owner, Renaissance rockstar Michelangelo Buonarroti — hence the artsy label tribute — makes for an excellent conversation piece.

Proprietor Léon Femfert revealed that Rhys, one half of the mischievous Matthews on The Wine Show — and an Emmy-winning actor — downed a glass filled to the brim, presumably in desperate need of inspiration for his label doodling showdown with co-host Goode. Guess what, it did the trick.

Castello di Volpaia ’15 Chianti Classico Gran Selezione Coltassala Red fruit, incense, florals and vanilla leap out of the glass. The extravagant perfume a result of sandy soil at Radda altitudes and 24-month worth of new French oak. Deep sweet cherry luxuriates in milk chocolate in the mouth, rendered a voluptuous spin by said wood. Fresh acidity and firm ripe tannins provide impeccable balance. Freshly-minted Gran Selezione, kind of self-explanatory if you find it a touch modern.

San Polino ’13 Brunello di Montalcino Helichrysum Spellbinding aromatics. Ample acidity and a wall of mouth-coating tannins shape the chiseled architecture which frames black cherry, raspberry, blue flowers, new leather, tobacco and baking spice. Brooding and tight, there is no doubting the latent potential i.e. depth, intensity and vigour. Long ferment, large Slavonian cask aging equal classic brunello par excellence.

It was the Fanti rep Luca Vitiello who pointed me in San Polino direction when I requested his recommendation. Nice lad. Speaking of which, his lithe, fresh-fruited Fanti ’13 Brunello di Montalcino is disarmingly charming, delivering succulent berries and watermelon with lip-smacking immediacy, not that it won’t benefit from some bottle age.

Argentiera ’15 Bolgheri Superiore Ornellaia next-table might have stolen the limelight, but this snazzy overachiever stole the show. Blueberry, blackcurrant, cedar, wood spice and graphite meld seamlesssly with super polished tannins and opulent oak to compose a symphony of decadence. Apparently well-endowed yet supple in its caress. The proverbial iron fist in a velvet glove.

Jermann ’16 Vintage Tunina Venezia Giulia An intriguing blend of chardonnay, sauvignon with autochthonous ribolla gialla, malvasia istriana and picolit. Intense nose and full-bodied palate are handsomely laden with gooseberry, apricot, white blossom and lemon drop in citrusy overtone. Steely acidity balances juicy weight with aplomb, as pithy aftertaste lingers on. Not for nothing does it consistently rank as one of Italy’s top whites.

A winemakers’ vintage

To say barolo is conspicuous by its absence would be an understatement. With 2014s’ bad rap weighing on my mind, this wettest of vintages in recent memory seemed to have put a damper on barolo’s hot streak at first taste. A weaker field and palate fatigue arguably didn’t help.

But hindsight is a beautiful thing, in all probability, so could be some of these ugly ducklings. What this winemakers’ vintage might lack in flesh and bones, it more than makes up for in finesse and sultry appeal, eager to please with minimal cellaring. 2014 might turn out to be nothing more than just a speed bump.

Between the inebriation and camaraderie, the wine-drenched evening was a lot to take in. Evidently, Bangkok embraced vino italiano with gusto — some had one too many, those jovial strangers who egged me on to give the irrepressible Frescobaldi ambassador, Erika Ribaldi a peck on the cheek, to which I respectfully obliged.

Good-natured fun apart, the tasting is always about finding that something which tickles your fancy. I’m constantly told, and often repeat, that to get to the bottom of Italian wines, non basta una vita. — KY

*** This is a sponsored post *** The sixth Asia’s largest Italian wine showcase will return to Grand Hyatt Erawan Hotel on Nov 27. Visit jamessuckling.com/event for tickets or more info. James Suckling is one of the world’s foremost wine critics, having tasted more than 200,000 wines over three decades. A resident of Hong Kong, he lives most of the time on Cathay Pacific flying to the most popular wine regions in the world and tasting the best wines. James organises regularly large premium wine events in Hong Kong, Thailand, the US and Europe. Visit them at jamessuckling.com.

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