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chocolatecakecas · 4 years ago

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Yeah, Should Have Seen That Coming: Saileen Bachelor Party Ficlet

Congrats to the soon to be Mrs. and Mr. Leahy💚💍!!!

Sam had the brilliant idea to have their bachelorette/bachelor parties on the same night. Two separate parties, at least a week before the wedding to avoid any last minute mishaps (learning from the mistakes of Dean and Cas' party last month). They had thought of everything, Sam even remembered to invite Adam this time. They were each going to have a perfect party with no unforseen issues, because they both deserved a night of fun.

Dean was granted the privilege of being Eileen's best man maid of honor, so he shut down his bar that night, and threw her an absolute rager. He even dragged the stripper pole back out at Eileen's request (though Dean thinks it was a shame Cas wasn't going to be there to use it) and set up a mechanical bull. So of course Cas was chosen to be Sam's best man, and for his party, Sam just wanted a normal, quiet night. Just board games, beer and burgers at the bunker (Crowley was pissed he got stuck at Sam's instead of Eileen's, but Garth was thrilled about the prospect of playing Monopoly). So that's exactly what Cas planned to give him. He makes sure he's got Sam's favorite beer, burgers from the place that makes his favorite vegan burgers, he's taken care of everything. And all Sam has to do is grab the board games from one of the storage rooms.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, considering Sam and Cas are involved?

Everything.

(read the rest under the cut)

They ended up on a hunt before the party even began. Sam had accidentally bumped into a shelf in the storage room, knocking over a cursed object, and then picked it up without thinking("Sam why did y- "It just looked like a piece of wood!" "It's not, its cursed it's called t-" "Well that doesn't help me now, Cas!"). And so it turned out, they unleashed an ancient curse that if they didn't break by midnight, the world would be "shroud in 5 billion years of darkness". But Sam won't let anyone call Eileen or Dean ("I just don't want to ruin her party!" "Sam the world could en-" "Yeah, but that happens all the time. How often do you get to have a bachelorette party?")

So it was up to Sam, Cas, Jack, Crowley, Garth, and Adam (Kevin was already halfway up the steps and on his way to Dean's bar before Sam even finished explaining what happened).

And a lot can go wrong over a few hours, especially if the threat of the end of world is looming over you.

In the past three hours, they managed to successfully tear apart the entire archives looking for lore, had Jack fly them to three different states to wake up three experts on the subject, fought and killed one of Crowley's old nemesis who had an ingredient they needed for a spell, were briefly transported to a different dimension, twice (Jack was able to get them home, but they had to go back because Garth forgot his phone). Then of course they summoned the wrong ancient god, then had to figure out how to kill them, before they eventually summoned the right one needed to break the curse.

At that point, after some encouragement (yelling) from everyone, Sam finally gave in and tried to facetime and text Eileen, finally allowing Cas to call Dean too.

But neither of them answered because Eileen was currently in the middle of an intense drinking contest between Rowena, Mary and Kevin (who arrived 2 hours ago and mentioned nothing about the curse), while Dean (totally sober mind you) learned he was amazing on the stripper pole, as Charlie, Kaia and Claire cheered him on, and Jo along with some of Eileen's hunter friends were trying out the mechanical bull.

So they were on their own, and quickly running out of time.

But unfortunately for them, the three hours of chaos was a complete waste, since they discovered a bit too late that lore was wrong. Because the weapon that was supposed to kill the God was clearly not working since it seemed to be chasing them around just fine, with a giant stake in it's neck. So they hurriedly decided splitting up would be the best course of action, and they scattered in all directions as they ran into the woods(where they had landed when Jack zapped them back) trying to confuse the God.

Which had been a complete mistake ("It can clone itself!" "Yes, thank you Sam, I hadn't noticed").

And currently, Crowley and Garth were both knocked out by some of the God's clones, and Jack was nowhere to be seen, leaving just Sam and Cas to fight with what they had (2 guns, an angel blade, and half a flask of holy water, so nothing)

Now there was only five minutes until midnight and the God had them surrounded, as it threw their useless guns and blades halfway across the forrest.

And only one thought rang through Sam's mind.

"Eileen is gonna kill me if the world ends before the wedding"

"Well if you hadn't touched th-"Cas started

"Thanks Cas, you really know how to make a guy feel better" Sam yelled back, swiflty cutting him off.

He glanced back up to see the God (who's name Sam had already forgotten) inching closer, holding them in place as they were readying themselves to smite them.

Sam took one last look at Cas and the reality of the situation finally set in. This was it.

All Sam wanted was one normal night, but now the world's ending again and he doesn't even know the name of the God ending it.

They were screwed. Now he'll never see Eileen again and they'll nev-

Suddenly a wooden stake was shoved through the back of the God's neck with a crunch, sending them crumbling to the ground. It burst into black flames, disappearing.

And standing above them in a, 6 inch heels, covered in glow stick bracelets, and a bride sash, was a very tipsy Eileen.

She and Dean helped pull them to their feet, and Sam could cry at the sight of her (and he did).

As soon as he was standing, Sam frantically began rambling and signing trying to explain and apologize all in one breath. But Eileen simply took hold of his hands, stopping him in his tracks.

"You were supposed to use sheep's blood, idiot" Eileen signed with a smirk.

Then she grabbed by the shoulders, yanking him down into a deep kiss.

"Wait how did-where did yo-"Sam started as he broke away. He quickly takes in his surroundings spotting Claire and Kaia helping Garth to his feet, Rowena trying to wake Crowley, and Charlie and Jo who are probably trying to convince Adam not to leave. He finds Dean, Cas and Jack off to the side huddled close together, while Dean probably tells his husband how much of a dumbass he is.

"Jack flew to the bar, and we read through your's and Cas' texts. We were able to piece it together from there, and apparently you guys can't read. Maybe leave the hunting to the pros?" Eileen teased, swaying slightly (okay maybe she was a little more than tipsy). Sam tightly wrapped his arms around her, keeping her steady, as a smile grew on his face.

"I don't deserve you" Sam sighs, cupping her cheek.

"Yeah, you don't" Eileen shrugged with a smirk growing on her lips.

"She's right, you really don't" Dean's voice cuts through as he, Cas and Jack make their way over. Cas punches him in the arm with a fond smile.

"Well, that certainly didn't go as I had planned" Cas huffed.

"Yeah, understatement of the year buddy. But when does it ever?" Sam laughs, feeling a bit of relief.

Then Sam has another brilliant idea, smiling as he turns back to Eileen.

"So my party....was ruined by an ancient God. Mind if we crash your's?"

And an hour later, Cas (much to Dean's delight) is now spinning around on the pole while Dean, Charlie and Jo cheers him on. Crowley, Rowena, Garth and Jack (with a shirley temple of course) are seated at the bar, talking about god knows what. Claire, Kaia, Kevin and surprisingly Adam have just returned from the parking lot, giggling a bit too much. And Sam is now seven shots in, messily making out with Eileen in one of the booths. Eventually they pull away, just sitting in a drunken daze as they stare at each other.

God he can't believe she's gonna marry him. He really is the luckiest man in the world.

And before Sam can relay this sentiment, Eileen downs her glass, signs "watch this", and runs to take a turn on the stripper pole to the thrumming bass.

With a laugh he surveys the bar, watching his family drink and laugh without a care in the world. He spots Eileen and Dean by the pole in the center of the room, heads thrown back in laughter, as Cas and Jack cheers them on. So Sam quickly slides out of the booth and makes his way over, plopping down inbetween Jack and Cas, watching his fiancé and brother dance to the beat like idiots. Heart swelling at the sight of his family.

And yeah maybe this isn't the night they had planned, but it was certainly a night they'd never forget.

(Especially since Cas had shirts made that said, "I survived Sam Winchester's bachelor party")

Tag list:

(Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!!💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants @writtendevastation @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog

@rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26 @multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs

@multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs @dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @slipper007 @rainbowsam @winchester-novak

#this is just crack literally its crack i had this little idea and it ran away from me #literally its just crack theres not much substance and its not funny but here you go anyway!!!#i have never written saileen before and like ive said in the past dialogue is NOT my forte so im sorry in advance if this bad #ITS TIME FOR A FUCKING WEDDING #THEYRE SO CUTE AND THEYRE GETTING MARRIED #cas IS sam's best man you literally cannot convince me otherwise #dean would literally go ALL out for eileen's party like literally anything she wanted because THEY are best friends #i just needed a sam and cas chaotic adventure bachelor party so here #the world almost ended because they were idiots and they dont even care asfhjadjagsg #saileen wedding #certified safe sam content #eileen leahy #sammy #saileen #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #saileen ficlet #bec writes #ficlet

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mcnypieces · 5 years ago

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK ( They’re missing out )

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK ( It’s subjective )

Are they underrated? YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO? ( This is... also subjective. )

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

How strictly do you follow canon?

As closely as possible, considering there’s not very much to work with in regards to his canon to begin with. There’s a lot of freedom in picking up any kind of minor canon character. I look mainly to expand on what little is present. I adore fleshing out even the smallest ideas so having something I can comfortably build on is great.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.

Pica is loyal, beyond anything. Strong, well-built, and never wavering. Regardless of the situation, he is always on task, diligent to the last moment and perhaps longer. Devotion and collected functionality make a grand guardian. Always acts as a pillar; a collected foundation of a man centered around dedicated familial values. Being in contact with stone makes him nigh invincible, granting him not only the protective assimilation but the literal stature and appearance of a stone goliath given enough material. Strategic with respectable swordsmanship, constantly protective of what’s important. He’s nice on the eyes, quiet, and a good listener. There’s order and beauty laced within all that cataclysmic chaos just waiting to be found.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).

Distant, stoic, absolutely terrible with expression that isn’t hateful and violent. Pica is very strict, lacking a sense of humor. His voice is extremely disruptive. The smallest remarks set his short fuse alight and it burns on and on until there’s nothing left. That murderous intent settles for very few things, and getting him to open up is a long, grueling process. He’s self-conscious but in an overbearingly cocky way, in that pride often masks everything genuine. He thinks very highly of himself and looks down on other people constantly. He’s uncooperative, constantly wrapped up in solemn business, and heavily against indirect methods. Abrasiveness is a weapon and he uses it without remorse. Stubbornness and general unwillingness to speak with strangers make attempting to converse with him the equivalent of talking to a wall. Pica is impatience, wrath, and apathy tied together with coarse cobblestone.

What inspired you to rp your muse?

As odd as it sounds, I found certain parts of Pica relatable in very specific, personal ways. People never took me seriously when I was upset because I was so small ( sometimes they still don’t dskdsks- ). For awhile when I was younger my voice was really deep and hoarse due to adenoid issues. Speaking in general was hard, because breathing was hard. It made me sound very masculine, especially over any kind of voice-only system. Normally adenoids aren’t an issue at that point because they’re vestigial and tend to essentially be shrunk down to nothing. But something ( probably fighting off infections and never shrinking/bad allergies, nobody knows ) blew mine up and they were blocking 3/4ths of my airway for ages without anyone having any idea what was going on until it got bad enough to the point it was obvious something was wrong. I couldn’t have any stuffed animals in my room because it was legitimately dangerous and a lot of my non hypoallergenic stuff had plastic covers on it. Made me really sad. Eventually they were surgically removed, and it cleared up my breathing and in time my voice was relatively normal. Before then, nothing felt worse to me then than struggling to breathe trying to defend myself in tandem with all the emotional stress it brought on me.

I was always quiet and distant otherwise, and a lot of people thought I was just weird and unapproachable ( unless you wanted a laugh, anyway ). There were days before I made my small group of good friends I’d just spend sitting under the stairwell up against a wall eating lunch by myself. I’m probably one of the few people that listened to Pica talk for the first time and didn’t immediately burst into laughter. I didn’t completely click with him at that point, but watching that one little thing turn into a running gag constantly coming back to undermine everything else that was amazing about him really set my feelings in stone... pun completely intended. I’ve loved him ever since. That inspiration and adoration has only grown with time.

What keeps your inspiration going?

Quite a few things. Aside from the constant love pouring from my being, I love looking at highly detailed stonework. It’s beautiful. Scrolling through rolling mountain landscapes, listening to certain songs, daydreaming in between sentences. I never really lose inspiration for Pica. Something new hits me every day in the most mundane tasks. A lot of it does go unshared, but some of it is personal and other times I simply don’t have the energy or reason. Very well I could be brimming with inspiration for him all day and have nowhere really to put it without excess. Getting opportunities to do so really makes me smile, though. It’s amazing how much being invested in a character will keep your inspiration at an all time high even when you’re having a rough time. Sometimes all it takes is just an extra comment from someone else or an occurrence or some kind of image to put you right back on track. For me, seeing any kind of lovely stonework or abandoned, run down places really sets my inspiration for him in motion.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO ( I would hope so! )

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO ( I’m always thinking of new ones! )

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO ( It’s been awhile, though... )

Do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES!! / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO ( Generally speaking, I try to be! )

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?

Actual criticism, yes. I don’t mind it. At the same time, however, I’m really just here to have a good time ─ as is everybody else. Growing and developing my writing is always a bonus when I’ve the experience here in an environment I’m comfortable with, but critique isn’t exactly something I go hunting for. I’m here to write the characters I love and adore and honestly, sometimes, it’s better to have the freedom to do things as you wish without the worry of receiving it, no matter how well-intended it may be. It’s all chill times and good vibes doing what we enjoy most.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

Absolutely! I love randomly being sent things that keep me thinking with any character. I’m always looking for little intricacies and tidbits to really bring them to life. Sometimes it takes a bit for me to think of something appropriate but I always appreciate the brain candy when it comes to new details! It goes without saying that I’ll happily accept anything that gives reason to my constant, aimless musings related to Pica.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

Yes and no? I always love hearing other ideas on why someone else’s headcanons differ from my own. For all I know it might be enough to change my mind or, at the very least, give me a different perspective on something I’ve never thought about before. I’m always curious about stuff when it relates to a character I love. As long as they’re not rude about it and we’ve talked to the point it’s not out of the blue, it’s okay. On the other hand, it doesn’t really matter if someone disagrees. We all have our own headcanons and it’s very easy to be respectful about them. Despite what has already been said, there’s a high chance I’m going to keep to my own headcanons as they are regardless, because I put a lot of thought and heart into them. Someone disagreeing with them at face value isn’t going to make me up and throw all that work in the trash just like that.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

That’s okay. There are plenty of different ways to interpret a character. People are allowed to like and dislike whatever portrayal they so choose, so long as they’re not bashing anyone outright. I would much prefer that be something that’s kept to oneself, however. It’s very easy to simply ignore something you don’t agree with, and it’s just as easy to be kind about things when expressing your own thoughts in comparison with theirs. Plus, there’s always making your own blog and writing whoever however you please! Someone out there is bound to enjoy whatever portrayal you prefer. ♥

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?

Not personal, certainly, unless it was somehow directed at me personally. It’s very understandable. There’s a lot of potential present for actual progressing development, but on the surface Pica is very dislike-able. It’s very clear his purpose was to act as a stepping stone for another major character’s development and there wasn’t much left beyond that. Of course it’s always a sad thing being hopelessly attached to a character like that but as an avid lover of what are often viewed as very minor, niche characters, it’s something I’m very much used to. Perhaps not intense hate in every case, per se, but underappreciated. It just so happens that Pica is... not exactly a good person, putting it kindly. But that’s just another reason I love him so much as a character.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

Sure! Though chances are I’ve probably already noticed at that point and have been embarrassed about it/fixed it. I’ve probably made many over the years and also not realized it. Most of the time it’s something minor anyway, and a lot of people just naturally read it as it’s supposed to be read. So there’s no trouble!

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?

I’d certainly like to think so! I tend to be very patient and accommodating. I wholeheartedly stand beside the idea that RPing is meant to be fun and enjoyable and not something that causes more stress. People should take their time with things and set their own pace. Being comfortable is part of what makes RP the wonderful hobby that it is. Really that applies to any hobby, but there are many little things that can turn someone away from doing something they love at any given time. There’s nothing that would hurt me more than unintentionally making something someone enjoys a chore for them. I try my best to make sure everyone knows that I’m really just a chill little bun having a good time doting on characters I love. Pica might not be cordial, but I certainly try to be!

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

tagged by. @tenyxshx ─ thank you flamingo nerd ♥ ilu

#♠ // * etc ( pica. )#❥ // * passing bottles off the walls ( games. )#❥ // * ever running on stories of the sea ( long post. )#❥ // * the rabbit stowaway ( ooc. )#|| you knew I'd pick pica you heathen!#as if I'd ever NOT pick him for something like this.#''this won't be that long'' I say as it takes me an entire day to get to it.#sometimes you just get going and then you can't stop.#also this was a nice change of pace! it was fun!#clearly since I went nuts filling it out dskdkdskdks ||

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icecoldflames · 6 years ago

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The Pinnae Flower Chapter 2, Pt. 1

Masterlist

Updates, A Small Headcanon, and a Top Secret Mission

Hallelujah! Raz Keeran, the deity themself, has finally tweeted more about PS! My crops are watered, there’s money in the bank, and the long-awaited summer is here! It’s time to lean back, relax, theorize and post on this blog more often.

On Raz’s Twitter (all authors seem to have Twitter’s, don’t they?), they posted this tweet:

“A little excerpt from PS:

“He had a ball clutched in his right paw. ‘You can’t be serious,’ Kaida grimaced. But then she saw the stone dragon blink ever so slowly. Right before her eyes, the stone fell away to reveal a shimmering red dragon.”

Can I say we called it? Dragons. Kaida. OMG. I am pumped for this final instalment.

Now that we know this is canon (it seems almost surreal), Logan and I have come up with a headcanon. Not a totally big one—but one all the same.

What if the azure flower that grew in PTNE was grown by the dragons and Kaida? I know that most people believe that it was the sprite king (rightly so, since sprites in this universe work with plants).

But then Logan brought my attention to one little part from the ending of PTNE:

“Funny how a war—a war which left many dead and hurt in many more ways than physically—could bring two old friends back together again. Arel looked at Parisa and Parisa looked at Arel. It was odd how such a terrible occurrence could bring back old friendships.

Arel almost didn’t notice the sudden wind, seemingly there one second and gone the next. The only way he knew it was there was that Parisa’s shorn hair blew up in her face.

The silence was just about unbearable and Arel felt words in his mouth, wanting to spill out and be heard. Parisa tucked some hair behind her ear and began fiddling with her grandmother’s ring. Arel immediately relaxed at the sight of such a familiar action.

The words bubbled up and this time Arel let them out. It was in that same moment that Parisa lifted her head and began speaking too.

“I’m so so sorry.”

Arel could feel the air around them thinning. As if the magic words had finally been spoken and the blanket was finally being lifted. He began to take the first steps to cross the short distance between him and his best friend.

It was in that moment that something moved in the grass. It couldn’t have been the wind—the wind had come and gone like that and the clearing was back to it’s motionless self. Arel stopped dead in his tracks and Parisa’s eyes shot down to look as well. She finally looked at ease too.

Arel watched as the grass shifted again. A green stem was breaking through the soil. It was like someone had filmed the growth of a flower and then sped it up to take mere seconds. The stem rose up and up and a bud seemed to materialize from nowhere.

Both Arel and Parisa watched in stunned silence as an azure flower bloomed right before their eyes.

Now, a lot of Pinnies think this is symbolism to Arel and Parisa’s regrowth of friendship, per say—the Pinnae flower being cut symbolizing their fall out and the azure flower their regrowth.

But Logan and I think that that azure flower was not meant for Arel and Parisa. In fact, we think the flower was aimed at King Oberon and Queen Titania. After all, the azure flower was the flower King Oberon used to propose to Queen Titania.

Perhaps this flower wasn’t meant to symbolize Arel and Parisa’s rebirth as friends but to the King and Queen’s reconciliation with each other.

Now, you might ask: why did the flower sprout in between Arel and Parisa if it was meant for the Fairy King and the Sprite Queen?

Well, back in that excerpt, Arel notices a sudden wind. Could that have knocked the magical seed off course? Could the wind have come from a dragon’s wings?

In any case, I cannot wait to read Raz’s next book.

Also, just a note: Logan and I are going on a top secret mission over summer so my posts might be even more sporadic than usual. I hope that we’ll have some tea to spill when we get back.

Thanks for reading my loyal plebeians,

Prince Roman Falco

~~~

Logan felt sick to the stomach. And it wasn’t because the plane was making its descent down. This is wrong, Logan thought to himself. So wrong. But Logan’s pride was stronger than his logic.

Roman, on the other hand, looked absolutely ecstatic. He couldn’t stop moving; fooling with the air conditioner, making repetitive sounds with his hands and feet, and constantly getting up to use the bathroom (it didn’t help that Roman had the window seat and Logan was in the isle).

Logan wished that he could just turn the plane back around and go straight home.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He refused to let Roman get the better of him.

Logan would find Raz to show Roman he could. He’d figure out how to stop Roman from leaking such classified information after the fact.

He gripped the armrest tightly and he wished that his pride and ego weren’t so big. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He supposed, though, that if Raz were to live anywhere, Mayflower Town was an okay place to spend summer vacation along with finding out who Raz actually was.

In the airport, Logan felt a bit better with himself. Roman and him bought some doughnuts in the airport along with coffee before getting in a taxi to pick up their rental car: a red, clunky, Byrne Road.

And then they were off down the highway towards Raz’s maybe, probably, hopefully, hometown.

“And you’re sure this is where Raz lives?” Roman asked from the driver’s seat. He took a sip of his coffee.

Logan turned down the blaring pop song coming out of the radio without looking up from his computer. “Almost positive.”

“And what facts point to here? That Raz actually lives here?” Roman questioned once again.

Logan sighed and clicked a single button on his computer before looking up at his best friend. His stare burned the side of Roman’s head.

“Listen, I’m almost sure Raz lives here. What more do you want?” Logan said, grimacing. He didn’t want to tell Roman about theazureflower. It felt almost too personal to tell.

While they had been at the airport, waiting to board the plane, Logan and Roman had put together another post of “The Prince’s Crown”.

He and Roman had multiple headcanons they put in a shared document online whenever they thought of something. It was just shorthand and had no real sources, but it made thinking of post ideas much easier than thinking of headcannons out of thin air.

Then, all they had to do to make a post was to find some sources from the books and type it up.

Roman huffed. “Do you not have any facts? Honestly, I would have thought you, Logan—“

Logan clenched his jaw and he could feel his blood begin to boil. “This is where Raz lives, Roman.” He snapped. “Why are you suddenly now just questioning everything I say and do?”

“Because you were the one who was so against this whole thing—trying to find Raz and all that.” Roman argued. His knuckles holding the steering wheel were almost white.

“I said I’d help you find him!” Logan exclaimed, his voice loud and brash.

Roman went silent.

Logan dipped his head back to his computer and continued to type, trying to ignore the deafening stillness that had fallen over the vehicle.

They stayed quiet for the entirety of the ride until they passed the sign, welcoming them to Mayflower Town.

It seemed more like grim proof that Logan was doing something terrible than a welcome sign with bright colours and stickers.

“Turn right to go to our hotel,” Logan forced himself to say. But he didn’t look up from his screen. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

Roman followed Logan’s emotionless instructions and kept on following them as Logan kept reading out the directions like a human GPS.

The hotel was three stars. Roman wouldn’t settle for anything less. And even then, he had not wanted to even step foot in less than a four star but Logan had insisted on the three star—saying that the three star was much cheaper and better for a prolonged stay somewhere other than buying an apartment.

It was only a couple floors high and was between a barber shop and a bar. Across, was a cafe titled “Patton-ly Perfect”. Logan almost groaned out loud at the pun.

Roman and Logan signed into the hotel, still an icy barrier between the two. They unpacked in a similar manner.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop across the road.” Logan said suddenly, creating a crack in the ice.

Roman nodded eagerly. “I could go for some caffeine and some pastries right now.”

The ice seemed temporarily thawed and they both walked across the street with tentative conversation—as if they were first meeting and unsure what exactly to say.

Logan walked in, a bell tinkling above, and was hit with two things: the colour blue and the smell of fresh bread and pastries.

The place was quaint and small and reminded Logan of a garden with all kinds of flowers and wood. There was a fish tank in the corner too with goldfish.

“Woah,” Roman breathed next to Logan. “This place is awesome.” He did a 360 and tentatively touched a lily in a flower pot next to him. “This reminds me so much of ‘Fairy Tales and Fantasy Books’.”

A man popped up from behind the counter on the far wall. He had on a smile that seemed to illuminate the whole room. “Welcome!” He exclaimed.

“Uh, hello.” Logan nodded and walked closer to the man.

The man cocked his head to the side before seemingly smiling even brighter—if that was possible. “You two are new.”

“Yeah! We’re here on a vacation!” Roman exclaimed. Then, “this place is super cool.”

“Thanks!” The man said. He took off his apron that said ‘I loaf you dough much’ before going around his counter and holding out his hand to Roman.

They shook hands. “I’m Patton.” The man said. He was still smiling.

“Roman.” Roman nodded. “Nice to meet you.

Patton then went over to Logan and extended his hand. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Logan said. “Logan.”

“Great to see some new faces!” Patton exclaimed. “We don’t often get newcomers, to be honest. What brings you here to our little corner of the USA?”

Logan wanted to say that Mayflower Town was not in the corner of anywhere, but bit his tongue.

Roman glanced over to Logan before looking back at Patton. He shrugged. “Just wanted a change of scenery that wouldn’t be too crowded with buildings and people.”

Patton nodded, genuinely listening. “Ah. Well, you’ve definitely got the right town. This place is absolutely great—“

The bell rang again and another man comes through the door. He was tall, taller than Logan. His hair was mussed and he had on a massive hoodie that seemed a couple sizes too large. He went around Logan, Roman, and Patton and gruffly hopped over the counter.

Logan stared at Patton then back at the strange man who was...breaking and entering in the middle of the day while the owner was inside?

But Patton just smiled even wider and turned around to look at the man. He doesn’t even seem to be bothered. “That’s Virgil. One of the regulars. I make him his coffee and put it separately away in the corner.” He turned around to look at Virgil. “Hi Virgil! Look we’ve got two new visitors!”

“Hey Pat,” Virgil mumbled and he grabbed a black coffee cup and began pouring his coffee into it.

“This is Roman and Logan,” Patton explained, pointing to each one of them.

“Hi.” Is all Virgil said before walking around the counter and settling himself at a corner table with just one chair and a flower pot in the center of the table. In the pot, the flower was obviously fake with clear, mesh-like petals with white veins running through it.

Patton turned back to Logan and Roman. His eyes were dancing and his mouth was upwards into a smile still. “Would you like anything? Pastries? Drinks?”

“What kind of stuff do you have?” Roman asked, walking over to the counter where, to the left, the pastries were behind glass.

Logan saw Berliners, croissants, all kinds of pies, cakes, and even some churros.

He expected Roman to ask for churros—like back home. But Logan is surprised when Roman says, “how ‘bout a piece of lemon meringue pie?”

Patton grins and opens the glass to take out a slice. “I have another regular who comes, Penny, and this is her favourite pie. She comes here to write.” He added in absentmindedly.

It was as if an electric shock went through Roman and Logan because, instantly, they glanced over at each other with wide eyes.

Patton didn’t seem to notice the exchange as he was jabbering on about botanists and his flowers in his cafe. He took a slice of pie and put it on a plate that seems to be made of pottery. “Here you go. What about you Logan? There’s plenty to go around.”

Logan glanced inside the glass before looking up at the menus which were hanging from the ceiling. “I think I’ll have...the blueberry muffin please.”

He then began thinking of ways he could possibly bring up Penny as Patton walked over to the muffin stand. Could she possibly be Raz Keeran?

Roman, on the other hand was not so discreet. As Patton was beginning to walk back to Logan, he blurted out. “So what does Penny write? Stories?”

Logan actually made a sound out loud. Somewhere between a dying whale and an overexcited chimpanzee.

Patton was too preoccupied putting the muffin on a plate and Roman wasn’t paying attention at all. But Virgil, all the way on the other side of the cafe, swivelled his head and glanced over at Logan with a weird expression on his face that he couldn’t read.

Logan’s face immediately went red.

Patton slid over the plate across the counter to Logan while looking at Roman. “Dunno. She comes in here everyday with a computer. She tells me she’s writing something but never tells me what.” He shrugged before smiling once again. “Enjoy your food!”

Roman and Logan found a table for two, in the other corner across from Virgil. They made sure to be as secluded as humanly possible before discussing about Keeran’s identity.

It still made Logan shiver—the thought of finding Keeran when they obviously didn’t want to be found—but the whole mystery was beginning to get to him. It was like he was a real life Sherlock Holmes, solving a mystery.

He hated himself for it yet, he realized with a sinking sense of despair, he wanted to solve this mystery.

Logan had always said he hated hypocrites. And he tried his darned hardest to not be one. But was he a hypocrite now? After all those years telling Roman that finding Keeran was wrong and now he suddenly wanted to do so?

Logan bit a large bite out of his muffin and tried to chew as slow as humanly possible.

What had changed? Why was he so suddenly feeling different about finding Keeran? Was it actually being out in the field instead of being home, Keeran feeling so far out of reach? Or was it that somewhere, deep inside, Logan had always wanted to figure out Keeran’s identity?

Logan swallowed hard. He suddenly felt cold but sweaty and congested in an almost empty cafe.

“It’s Penny.” Roman said before shoving some pie into his mouth. “I didn’t think it would be this obvious. Would’ve thought it would be a tougher case to crack”

Logan didn’t say a word and let Roman babble on and on.

“I mean, this Penny person comes into this cafe and writes something but Patton doesn’t know? Pretty obvious if you ask me.

“I think our best bet is to have a stake out here to figure out who Penny is.” Roman continued. “And then, we’ll need some cold hard proof to show. So maybe a picture of her computer with some unseen scenes from the fifth book or maybe some stuff from the previous books or—“ he paused and looked at Logan as if he only just now realized he was sitting across from him. “What do you think about Penny?”

It took a moment for Logan to snap back into reality—to snap out of the spiral downwards his thoughts were taking. But, soon he processed Roman’s question. “I don’t know. But, you’re right about one thing: I don’t think it’s supposed to be this obvious. Or, this whole thing is going to be a lot harder than we thought.”

“But it totally is Penny,” Roman concluded with his air of importance. “It’s gotta be.”

It doesn’t have to be, Logan thought to himself but didn’t say out loud. He decided that he’d work on this mystery alone. He’d figure out who Raz Keeran really was and not tell Roman. Therefore, the secret wouldn’t be out. Only he’d know. Only Logan. The whole idea kind of excited him.

Logan could trust himself and his self-control to not leak information about Keeran. Roman, on the other hand, was not so reliable.

“Yeah...sure…” Logan nodded, not really paying attention.

Roman took another bite of his pie and when he spoke again crumbs spewed everywhere. “Should we just stay here or explore this town a bit?”

Logan had no intention of finding Raz Keeran on the first day—whether it was Penny or not—so he said “let’s head out.” He grabbed the rest of his muffin and Roman quickly inhaled the rest of his pie.

They quickly paid for their desserts, Virgil eyeing them wearily, before heading out to explore their new surroundings.

~~~

What Roman noticed first was that everyone was so nice.

The florist through the window smiled and waved as they passed. The librarian suggested they come in and borrow some books (Roman had to physically restrain Logan from going inside). The man selling fresh eggs and milk on the side of the road offered them a sample of the milk. The busker at the corner nodded his head in acknowledgement. Every passerby smiled a full toothed smile. Not one of those “I accidentally looked into your eyes so I’m going to give you a closed lipped smile” smile.

“It’s kind of off-putting, to be honest.” Logan muttered when Roman said this to him. “No one can be that nice.”

“Actually, they can.” Roman said. “Why are you always so negative?” He sighed.

“I’m not negative.” Logan said. “I’m a realist.”

“Negative, realist.” Roman said, putting one hand up then the other. “Tomato, tomato.”

Logan’s face scrunched up almost cartoon-like. “What? No. They aren’t the same thing. Being negative is always seeing the negative. Being a realist is using facts. If something is 100% good, then it’s good. Fact. No one can be this happy, though. Another fact.”

Roman sighed over-dramatically. “Whatever. But I love this town. It’s great.”

Logan nodded curtly. “No doubt about that. It’s very quaint and small.”

The words were out of Roman’s mouth before he could stop himself. “I wouldn’t mind living here.”

Logan didn’t make a vocal reaction but Roman noticed how his shoulders stiffened and his hands found his jean pockets.

“I mean,” Roman amended quickly. “It would be fun living here if I had to choose somewhere else other than where we live now.”

Logan didn’t seem to relax much.

Roman was planning on continuing his babbling but a building in the distance caught his eye. “Woah, is that a mansion?” He eagerly pointing in the near distance like a toddler pointing at a brightly coloured candy at the store.

Logan put his hand up to block the sun in his eyes to look to where Roman had pointed.

In the distance a gleaming white building stood tall and proud—like royalty in the midst of peasants. The windows were two-way and Roman could see a part of a parking lot-esque style space peeking out from behind the building.

“Do you think that’s Raz’s place?” Roman breathed in awe.

“That’s not a mansion.” Logan stated, bringing his arm down. He then pointed to the opposite side of the building. “It’s a hospital.”

Roman squinted to where Logan was gesturing and saw a couple of ambulances parked and ready to go if help was needed.

He deflated just slightly. Slightly. “Let’s go!” Roman grabbed at Logan’s wrist and began speed walking towards the hospital.

“Why are we going to a hospital?” Logan asked, wrinkling his nose. “No one’s hurt. We have no need to visit.”

“It’s not just any hospital, Logan.” Roman exclaimed excitedly. “It’s the hospital. It literally looks like a celebrity would live there.”

Logan just looked even more confused than before. “In a hospital?”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it and snapped his jaw shut. “I just wanna see what it’s like.”

They speed-walked down a couple more streets until they were face to face with the gleaming building with so many windows. Roman craned his neck back so his vision could see the top of the hospital. “This place is so epic.”

“It truly is, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice piped up. Roman jumped at the sudden voice that definitely wasn’t Logan’s.

He glanced over to where a woman was seated on a bench a couple of feet away. How come I didn’t notice her before? Had Logan noticed her as soon as she was in his field of vision? Or was Logan just as surprised as he was?

“Oh. Hello.” Roman said, smiling at the woman before looking back up at the hospital. “Yeah, it is gorgeous.”

The woman looked maybe a couple years older than Roman but not by much. Her hair was dyed an ice blonde and her eyes were a bright green. She was wearing a stylish pair of red cat-eye glasses and dangly earrings.

“I was talking to some of the staff inside and apparently every so often they get an anonymous donation with a very ...significant sum.” Her eyebrows raised as she said this and her eyes widened along with them.

“A mysterious donation?” Logan repeated. He had the same facial expression as the woman—completely in rapture. He then seemed to realize something and straightened his spine, schooling his features and extending his arm. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Logan Holmes.”

The woman shook his hand and nodded. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Josephine Keller. But you can call me Jo.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Like Louisa May Alcott’s Josephine March!”

Jo’s eyes lit up and nodded, a smile playing at her lips. “Exactly.”

Roman decided then to introduce himself as well and did a slight bow. “And I’m Roman Falco.”

Jo nodded in Roman’s direction. “Great to meet you to.”

“Do they have any idea who sends the donations? A company? A single person?” Logan then asked Jo, leaning his body in just slightly.

What does this have to do with finding Raz Keeran? Roman asked himself, scrunching up his nose. They were supposed to be on a mission to find Raz, not some weird hospital donor.

Jo shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “No idea. They say the donation comes in cash in an unmarked envelope.”

“Which means the donation must be brought to the hospital personally, not mailed.” Logan stated, rubbing his chin.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Jo exclaimed. “I asked the security there if they ever managed to see who brought the envelope through their cameras but they said that every time was a different person in dark clothes and a hood or hat.”

“And no doubt all of them are not the actual donor.” Logan concluded almost seamlessly with Jo’s previous words. “Could they describe what the latest donor was wearing?”

Jo shook her head once again. “No. Security said they couldn’t disclose that information.”

“Have they ever tried finding the donor?” Logan asked once again.

Roman was starting to get impatient. What was happening? He could barely follow along with the conversation. The two of them seemed to be bouncing off each other and talking at the speed of light.

“No. But they did do an investigation to make sure the money that was being donated to them was legit and not stolen or something along those lines.

“And? What did they find?”

“All the money is good. Not stolen.” Jo concluded.

Logan hmmmed. “Interesting. And are they’re sure the envelope is unmarked?”

“That’s what they said. They didn’t show me the envelope.” Jo replied. She glanced at her red watch and stood up. “Well, it’s been great talking to you, gentlemen. But I have to go. I’m meeting a friend soon.”

Logan shook Jo’s hand once again and as soon as she was out of view, Roman began talking.

“What was that?” Roman exclaimed. “I thought we were trying to find Raz’s identity! Not take on some side mystery about a mysterious donor.” Then, he added in. “And that woman gives me bad vibes.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Jo seems very nice. You probably don’t like her because she’s not like you. Anyway, that’s not the point. Jo gave us some very valuable information.”

“Valuable information?” Roman sputtered incredulously. “From her?”

“Yes.” Logan nodded. “Just think, Roman. If this donor is getting people to bring the envelope here, that means it’s a very likely chance that this donor lives in this town. Besides, the next closest town is an hour away. And if the donor lives here and is able to give away that much money away, they must be very wealthy indeed. And, wouldn’t you think an incredibly famous author of four books, who’s coming out with a fifth, might earn some good money? Especially if they might have written other works under their own name or even another pseudonym.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped on his own accord. “You think Raz Keeran is the mysterious donor?”

Logan nodded curtly. “Yes. But it’s just a thought. It does make sense, however. But we don’t have enough information to be 100% about it.”

“Oh my gosh. Logan, you are brilliant.” Roman breathed.

The tips of Logan’s mouth quirked up. “Thank you. You are also, intelligent too.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Roman asked excitedly.

Logan slid his hands inside his pockets. “We’re going inside the hospital to see if we can get a glimpse of the envelope or someone who can describe it to us. Or, even better, someone who managed to get a glimpse of a face of someone who brought in the envelope.”

The hospital, as much as it looked like a mansion on the outside, was not a mansion on the inside.

However, it was a hospital and a hospital outfitted like a mansion just wasn’t a good idea in the first place.

The walls and ceilings and floors were blindingly bright and white. It had that hospital smell and all the doctors and nurses seemed to be going somewhere.

There was a man behind the front desk, tapping out something on his computer.

“So….how’re we going to find someone who has seen or taken a picture of the envelope or has actually seen the donor?” Roman asked as he followed Logan through the hallways, a couple floors up.

“I’ll figure it out…” Logan muttered under his breath.

Roman’s head shot up. “Wait. You don’t know how? I thought—“

“Um, are you two lost?” A woman poked her head of a doorway.

“No.” Logan replied curtly.

“Unless you have pictures of the envelope that the mysterious donor’s money comes in or have actually seen one of the people who brought it in.” Roman said bluntly. Asking straight up was the better option for this kind of stuff.

Logan’s head swivelled around and it reminded Roman of an owl that could spin its head all the way around. And, if looks could kill, Roman would be dead right now on the floor.

The woman narrowed her eyes at the two of them and looked between Roman and Logan curiously. “And why would you want to know?”

Logan was the first to speak. He schooled his death glare pointed towards Roman and took a couple steps towards the woman. “The same as you. To solve a mystery.”

If jaw’s could hit the floor, the woman’s jaw would have hit the floor and smashed right through the floor down to the other floors and right to the dirt. “Wha—“ she sputtered. “How?”

“If you didn’t know anything you would have probably said straight up that you had no clue about the mysterious donor.” Logan stated pointedly. “Of course, if you wish for us to leave right now, we will acquest.”

“But we would rather you tell us what you know.” Roman added in then shrunk as Logan glared at him.

The woman turned her head side to side down the halls, as if to make sure the coast was clear before ushering them inside.

Inside the small room was an office like space that was probably meant for four more people.

“I’m an intern here.” The woman said as she noticed Logan and Roman glancing around. “I’m Penny.”

Roman’s back immediately straightened and he could see Logan’s eyes quickly light up with recognition.

Penny. Could it be the Penny? The Penny who Patton had told them about who was always writing in his cafe? The Penny who could possibly be Raz Keeran?

Logan was the first to say something. “I’m Logan Holmes.”

“Roman Falco.” Roman added in.

“So, what do you know about the mysterious donor?” Logan asked curiously, walking around the space which wasn’t small but he could definitely see it as small with five people inside.

Penny made her way to a desk which Roman assumed was hers. She bent down to drag a cardboard box out which could have been mistaken as a banker’s box filled with files. “I don’t have much as I haven’t been interning for all that long. However, I have been here long enough to be here when three donations have been delivered.” Penny explained, putting the box on a table and opening the flaps.

She pulled out a piece of paper first and passed it to Logan. “I marked down what day the donation was brought and exactly how much was donated. All the way back to the first one three years years ago.”

Logan skimmed through the calendar. “The donor looks pretty consistent—about one donation every three or four months.” He paused. “Except for this one: it has five months.”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, last year in May. It was also the largest donation to date.”

Logan passed the paper to Roman. The printing was incredibly small and it was almost impossible to read. And he had 20/20 vision. After glancing at all the numbers that seemed to swim before his vision, he placed it next to the box.

The next thing Penny pulled out were three envelopes. And, while they were blank they had a specific bluish hue to them that weren’t like your average envelope.

“These are the envelopes the past three donations came in. According to some of my friends here who have been at the hospital longer, the donation always comes in these blank envelopes.” Penny explained.

“Do you know where they came from?” Roman asked. He had watched enough mystery movies to know that you should always know where clues came from and then ask the shop owner who had bought such things.

“Yeah. From Patton-ly Perfect.” Penny replied. “The owner there sells these specific envelopes.”

Roman could see Logan’s head snap up in surprise. “Really?” He paused. “You don’t think…?” Logan trailed off.

Penny just shook her head. “No. Patton can’t be the donor. I’ve been going to his cafe regularly for a couple of months and he’s no longer a suspect.”

Roman deflated. So Penny couldn’t be Raz Keeran. She couldn’t be looking for the donor if she was the donor herself. How would that make sense?

Logan seemed to come to the same conclusion and glanced over at Roman before speaking to Penny once again. “Do you have any other suspects?”

“Only one.” Penny replied. “This girl who lives down the block from me. She’s a couple years older than me and inherited this large sum of money from her grandmother. Her name is Cherry and I sometimes see her chatting with Patton and a couple of other people there at the cafe. Other than that, that’s all I got.”

Logan nodded. “Well, thank you for your help and time. We really should get going.”

But Roman piped up before Penny could respond. “What does this Cherry look like?” He wanted to know what the newest suspect looked like. Whereas with Patton, they only got Penny’s name and nothing else, he wanted to know this person’s appearance.

Penny began putting her stuff back in the banker’s box. “Well, she’s tall.” She raised her hand above her own head to demonstrate. “And she’s got a messy bob kind of hairstyle. Brunette. And Harry Potter glasses.”

“Harry Potter!” Roman exclaimed. Finally. He understood something. “You’ve read the books?”

“About a million times.” Penny said, her eyes lighting up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman could see Logan roll his eyes. But he decided to ignore it for the time being. “What house are you in? I’m a Gryffindor.”

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years ago

Text

Someday 1/3

With encouragement from @pocmarvelworks and @chaneajoyyy @starsshines-blog and I present are 3 chapter story of Steve Rogers and Black!Reader set in the 1940′s. I like historic fiction, and I want to get into writing it with my own characters. This is a stepping stone. She’d had an idea as well, so we decided to collaborate on this as well. This will contain heavy matters such as racism, segregation, colorism (probably) and probably sexism. I am trying to stay as true to history as I can, and that will mean that sometimes I will edit things after I post them to ensure the highest quality of accuracy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- Segregation, racism, mild violence, harassment.

The world, and the people and things in it,or separated in many ways. Invisible lines create state and country boundaries. Animals from the wild are separated from domesticated animals. You even separate your laundry when you put the colored clothes in one side and the white clothes in the wash.

This is done from preventing the colored clothes from bleeding onto the white clothing and ruining everything. It’s a very necessary and understandable things to do.

You just wish people didn't have that same mindset when it comes to people.

The Year is 1940 and segregation is everywhere. From the schools, to the theatre. To the grocery store to your neighborhoods, you name it. There is a thin and invisible line, but it’s mighty powerful. It separates the black people form the white people.

It's been that way since you were a little girl, and probably before that. It’s a way of life. One that you’re not happy about, bit one that you have (begrudgingly) accepted for now.

You know your role and you're expected place. You go to work. Come home. Make dinner. Spend time with your family and Jeremy Coleman, the man down the street who your momma is just itchin’ to get you to settle down with.

You and your sister, Jane, both decided that you find him attractive. However with ehr being just three years younger than you, your parents first priority is to find you a husband first.

‘’Look, I know you’re smart and kind and sweet I know that, too.’’

This is what your momma tells you every Sunday, as you sit in the kitchen and let her press your hair until it’s silky smooth and straight, the hot comb leaving nothing but straightened, ebony hair once she is done.

‘’It’s just that well, he’s got a nice and steady job. Jeremy Coleman will be able to take care of you.’’

‘I have a steady paying job myself, mother.’’

‘’Yes. As a maid. I don’t want you to be working the same job that I am for the rest of your life.’’

It’s not that your mother looks down on being a maid. No, she raised you and your four siblings to understand that there’s more life than fancy cars, expensive perfumes, flashy clothing and the like. You and your brothers and sister have bene hard workers since the day that you were born. All because your mother and daddy, Althea and Richard Jameson, are both hard workers.

Your daddy is a handyman and carpenter, your mother cleans homes. Your older brother, Jacob, works as a delivery truck driver. Jane is currently a secretary, you clean houses to help pay for those night classes you’ve been meaning to take, and your younger brother, Jeffery, is in fifth grade at the elementary school down the street.

‘’Now don’t start feeling your head with fantasies. Come right down here, back to earth, where you belong.’’

That’s something that our mother is frequently telling you. To Come back to earth, where you belong. Because she is practical and you are her daydreamer child and she doesn't know what she's going to do with you.

You wonder how she's tell if she knew that, on the days that Mrs. Carlson lets you of early, you’re not going back to clean her house. No,,you're going to the jazz club.

That’s here you come alive. That’s where the music and the poetry in words moves through you and you move freely, hips keeping in time as you keep up with the best of them in your dancing.

She'd chase you clear across town so what she’d do.

Because the only way to get back home is to take the bus, and that bus can be dangerous. Especially at night.

However, she doesn’t mind you taking the bus to get the groceries. You ignore dirty looks, pay for the bag’s worth of good, and leave.

You’re casually waiting or the bus when an older, angrier man come to you.

‘’You got no business being around here.’’

‘’Sir, please,’’ you take in his pale skin, his bright brown eyes, ‘’I am just waiting for the bus.’’

He doesn't care. No, he chooses to harass you instead. You looks straight ahead and tighten your hold on your groceries, wondering if you should just walk the five miles home.

‘’Hey, man. Leave her alone.’’

You and the man who has unleashed his verbal attack on you look to see a scrawny-looking boy with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair.

You’re not ashamed to admit that you’ d find him attractive if it weren’t for the circumstances.

Also, he might be dumb, because he deliberately picks a fight with the guy. He tries to defend you and he’s not much taller than you are and it's really just a poor choice all around.

Maybe that's why he ends up knocked to the ground. His nose is bloody and he has a black eye and you definitely can’t get on the bus with him looking like that.

So you take that fresh steak out of the bag.

Have him press it to the eye.

Trek back home, taking an hour to get from the store when it would have taken you only fifteen minutes to get to the bus stop across town and walk the fifteen minutes from there to your home.

Trek back home, angry, sad, hurt, humiliated, and with a fresh steak because you have one to your hero on the sidewalk.

Said hero tracks alongside you, and you try to ignore the glares, whispers,a dn wide=eyed looks from your neighbors as he follows you.

He hasn't spoken a word to you since you insisted (demanded) that he walks home with you so you can fix up that lip of his.

From the way he speeds up so that he’s walking right alongside you, you can tell that he whispers of your neighbors gossiping hurt more than his black eye and busted lip.

You sit him down in a wooden chair in the small kitchen of your home. You press the cold towel to his lip and give him an ice pack for thateye.

You clean it.

Avoid making eye contact with him.

Wonder how you been got yourself into this.

‘’What made you go and fight him?’’

That’s the first word you’ve spoken to him since you left the bus stop, and it startles him.

‘’Beg your pardon?’’

‘’What made you fight him? I can take care of myself,’’ you say calmly, rinsing the bloody towel in the basin of water.

‘’I couldn’t stand by and let him talk to you like that, miss.’’

‘’Nothing I haven't heard before. You’d do wise to stay in your own lane next time.’’

‘’He would’ve done wise to stay in his own lane and not insulted you. He had no right. You were standing there, minding your own business.’’

You stare into his eyes for the first time, and there’s something in here. It’s comparison mixed with determination mixed with something you can’t quite read.

‘’You’re good at this.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ you respond to his compliment, ‘’I’d like to be a nurse someday, but…’’

You let that hang in the air. You know that he knows- the rest of that sentence is definitely implied and well-known. You’re not sure if you want to continue this conversation, after the day you’ve had.

‘’Thank you for helping me,’’ you sigh, dropping the towel in the basin.

‘’No need to thank me,’’ he tells you, and the moment is quiet again, ‘’Just tell me your name.’’

You introduce yourself, finally able to relax your shoulders a beer before trying to continue the conversation, asking im what your name is.

That doesn’t last for too long.

The front door is open and in walks your younger sister, Jane.

‘’Is anyone home?’’

Steve and you are staring at each other with wide eyes. You’re both frozen to the spot, as if winter had suddenly come and you were too flowers with frost bite.

Your sister, Jane enters, coat thrown over her arm and shoes in her hands.

‘’You would not believe th day I’ve had! I had to stop three children from trying to sneak out of the library as if the books aren’t free with a library card, and….’’

She stops.

Gapes.

Looks between you and the young man.

‘’Well, I did not know that we had company,’’ she sticks her hand out for the young man to shake it, ‘’I’m Jane Jameson, her sister.’’

‘’Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, miss.’

Ah so thats hi name.

Jane is looking a toy as she tucks her short hair behind her ears, ready for an explanation.

‘’Stebe saved me and walked me home. Someone at the bus stop decided that it was a perfect day for yelling at me.’’

She shakes her head, no stranger to this scenario. She gets it all of the time, especially on ehr commute to work.

Jane is your best friend. You two have been sharing a room ever since she was born and will continue to do so until one of you moves out. She’s the quiet one to your outgoing personality. But she’s also really smart, really sweet, and really aware. You can see the wheels in her mind turning when you look at her face, and you know she’s on to something good.

Right now she’s trying to figure out why this handsome young man is sitting in your kitchen.

She can’t ponder that much longer because you hear a truck door slam shut, and you both lo at each other in a panic.

‘’He’s got to get out of here. Jacob is here.’’

She rushes to the front door to try to stall Jacob as you usher Steve out the back door. You explain to him as well as you can why he has to leave- ‘’My brother won’t take too kindly to seeing you here.’’

‘’Got a thing against stranger's’’ Steve asks as you rush across your small backyard.

‘’Something like that,’’ you admit, opening the back gate and pointing down the alley, ‘’Just back the way we came and you’ll get to the bus stop. Can't miss it.’’

‘’Thank you. It was nice talking to you.’’

He takes your directions and you silently wish that the small part that is disappointed that he didn’t ask to see you again would just hush up.

That’s not the kind of world you live in. He knows that. You definitely know it.

So you return to your house, still kicking yourself and trying to forget the event of this day.

That night, as you and Jane lay in your bedroom, you try to release the days’ events form your mind to no avail. You toss and you turb, thinking about heros with scrawny arms and blue eyes so deep that they could see right into your mind if they wanted to. You’re sure of it.

Steve lays awake that night, too. Thinking of ebony curls and smooth skin so different from his own and a variety of other things that he knows he can’t tell Bucky about.

He lays awake, wondering if he’ll ever see you again.

It’s not practical. He knows that. You know that. He knows you know that. So why doe he want to believe the opposite and go against what he knows is possible for you two?

That's the last thing that he ponders before he finally drifts off to sleep, images of the day playing in his head.

Maybe it’s the rush he got form helping you or the little bit of dreamer inside of him, but he believes that he’ll see you again.

In fact, he know that he will.

Until then, though, he’s content with waiting for that day.

He'll have to be.

Until that day finally comes along.

DISCLAIMER- I OWN NO MARVEL CHARACTERS, I JUST REALLY LIKE MAKING FANFICTION.

#steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine series #marvel imagine #marvel imagine series #black!reader #black!reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x you

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baileysayswhat · 5 years ago

Text

Well, it’s been a year. Truly. I haven’t blogged in a year! Not since my EPIK return to Korea (wink at y’all English teachers over there) for MinShik & Ara’s wedding.

And here those same people are celebrating their one year anniversary by having their first baby ON THAT DAY. That’s some Gattaca-level skill, I tell ya.

Lots has changed. LAWD. Yes. Grab yourself a low-carb snack because y’all about to get the deets.

Jobs

Two promotions at Grubhub and a sabbatical-turned-bowing-out at Titan Gym ALL IN THIS PAST ONE YEAR.

In January I became a Senior Sales Executive with Grubhub; it was a huge, out-of-the-blue honor and when I asked ‘what’s different than my current job?” my boss replied “Its what you’re already doing with the team, I’m just going to pay you for it.” How cool is that?!

Actual photo of said boss:

Seriously one of my favorite things in my career was in our first ever one on one development meeting last year (right *after* the Korea trip) the first thing I said was “I want you to know I’m in grad school for training and development and that’s what I want to do long term.”

His reply? “OK, let me hook you up with the right person who’s heading up training.” Literally the next week she got me in a classroom training new hires in a session 1x every 2 weeks. MONEY/MOUTH AND ALL THAT. When does that happen?!

And this past April when a new role opened up to become a sales trainer for new hires he recommended and she championed me for the role, which started May 1.

Y’all. I have never felt the Conan mantra of “If you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen” more. I joined Grubhub just to get a sales paycheck and have a regular schedule to pursue my passions and here this place that I thought would be a job I wasn’t going to put my heart into has given me such gifts. Managers that believe in me and CREATE JOBS that I wasn’t even aware of. I’m very blessed.

Now I’m the “Learning Solutions Associate” (ie. Non-Corporate Sales & Account Advisor Trainer) for all employees in those departments for Grubhub Inc. Nationwide. I’ve trained over 75 people in the last 5.5 months. That is bananas to me and I’m so grateful. All that in a year and a half at this company.

Because of that role shift and wrapping up grad school I knew that my time at Titan Gym was coming to a close. I have loved and sweated and bled and cried in that place – sometimes all at once – and I leave with so many good memories and relationships. I felt like I couldn’t be both throwing my heart (and fists) into learning & teaching Krav while also trying to originate a role at Grubhub.

So with a final rooftop drinking session and countless hugs I left (by choice) no longer an instructor at Titan Gym. I’m still a certified Krav Maga Level 1 Instructor through KMA and I know if I’m ever interested in getting back into it that Daniela and Ivo have my back. And if you need a place to kick ass, feel stronger or find mental toughness I will recommend Titan Gym to the moon and back again and again and again.

WHEW.

2. School

Yes, I finished my grad program at University of Wisconsin – Stout and now have my graduate certificate in Instructional Design. I need to frame that fancy piece of paper sometime soon.

3. Comedy

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE LAUGH SQUAD?! Oh man y’all. So last October in the week after I got back from Korea I auditioned for a ComedySportz House Team and was cast into the most perfect circle of weirdos by two insanely talented coaches who happened to have the exact same initials – HMS. So naturally our team name became “Pinafore” after the famous Gilbert & Sullivan comic opera ‘HMS Pinafore.’ I have still never to this day heard any music from it although I did briefly glance through the Wikipedia page.

No, I didn’t realize we were all serving fierce face. Or at least my genre of fierce face. Our team just had our final show on 10/6 and it has been a journey. I feel like I’ve grown with such a great team with depth and tears and joy. I have peed myself a little laughing so hard, which I can admit now that the team is done. I mean, I could have admitted it before but why BOTHER.

Truly I have loved the CSZ House Program; auditions for the next round are in November and I’m excited to see what the next group of people I get to fall in love with looks like!

Other things I’ve been blessed to yuk it up on/with: I got cast into a RIFF Music Improv camp which has had me perform 3x with a stone-cold group of short-form music improvisers that HAVE PIPES, y’all. Some of these people I’ve watched perform for years in music improv and it’s an honor to strap on a Britney mic and make up songs for an audience with them.

I’ve also done 2 seasons of MINt (Music Improv Night) at the Annoyance; such an open space to trying weird and beautiful things with music improv and our voices. If you’re looking for a community to fall in love with, the MINt crew is a good one. 4 teams every 4 months and you get such a wide range of experience, skills and strange, hilarious songs.

There’s been a few one-offs performing with friends’ groups and even a couple shows with some MI people I met in iO’s Music Program as an indie group named “AirBRB.”

I’m moving into a season when I’m not sure when my next show is; it’ll be light this next month, which is kind of a fun thing. I’ll miss it. But I think it’s healthy to have a breather and come back hungry, whenever the next show is. And you never know when someone might text you at 4pm about a show that night at 1030pm and you gotta be ready to make believe with the best!

4. Health

OOOOOHHHH fun. Let’s talk about it! Since last year when I got my Krav Maga instructor cert in July (shoutout to the 3am Protein Squad) I’ve let things slip a bit. And why not?! When you survive that kind of thing you deserve to let yourself chill. But…I didn’t really reign it in. I was doing ok; maintaining some cardio but I knew things needed to step up. I was getting a little burned out on Krav. Here’s my 7am face on the way to teach class:

I let myself write excuses and they added up. Once I was done punching/kicking regularly I did CrossFit for a few months – it was great and ya girl loves heavy weights – but the price was really high. Especially when I could be going out of town to our Phoenix office for work up to once a month, missing a week at a time. It was an expensive habit.

So I jumped back into going to LSAC (Lincoln Square Athletic Club) regularly – it’s been 3 weeks in and I’m kind of loving my schedule:

Mondays – Pole Class at Brass Ring (I KNOW) and it’s so fun. Such an empowering environment and an hour flies by. Its slow but I see progress! And thigh bruises.

Tuesdays – Workout at LSAC (trying to follow the schedule Brian (see Fridays) gave me the week before)

Wednesdays – Volleyball with friends at LPHS – y’all we had a double header last week and I burned 1,448 calories in 1 hour and 55 mins. WE WORKIN’.

Thursdays – Improv Day (aka rest and do some make believe in comedy class)

Fridays – Personal Training with Brian at LSAC

Saturdays – Yoga (at home right now using an Apple TV app but maybe at LSAC in the future)

Sundays – Intro to Olympic Weightlifting with Keith at LSAC (today was the first one; I did a 65lb bar snatch from shins to above my head! 9 times! Y’ALL! SHE BACK!)

Also I started attempting/doing a Keto & intermittent fasting on 10/1; it’s been a little rough but we’re getting into the groove of it. That first week, candidly, sucked. The low carb/Keto flu thing is for real. But now I’m used to it; the 12-8 fasting part is honestly not that hard now. Very manageable. It’s more the carb counting thing of keto that is taking slow (but progressive) shape.

5. The Rest

a. Photography

I know everyone has a camera in their smartphone – I’m doing some photography learning – I bought myself a Canon T6i DSLR last year RIGHT BEFORE starting grad school so I hid it in the closet from myself until school was done in May. I’ve taken some pictures I’m proud of and I’m working my way through a couple Lynda.com (grad school got me a free account) photography courses to learn the camera. I’m a student of it right now for sure but here’s a few photos I’m proud of:

b. Norway

I found out last year that I’m 1/8 Norweigan; that doesn’t sound like ‘a lot’ but honestly I’ve never really thought about it. I generally classify my heritage as ‘SPF 75’ but have always known our family is generally German with some crossover to other classically pale squads (Irish, probably English, other various tribes of roving wild-haired people on/around Hadrian’s wall, etc).

Last year in October someone posted in this Women of Chicago Comedy Facebook group I’m in about a Norwegian TV show that 1. Flies you to Norway and 2. You good-naturedly compete with other Norwegian-Americans to win $50,000. SO I APPLIED OF COURSE and got to ask my mom and grandparents questions over iMessage about my heritage. Apparently one of my great-grandmas was first-generation American, born in the US. Her parents both emigrated from Norway in the early 1900s to Washington State, near Ballard. So…if one of the 8 people that made me is full-blooded Norwegian…then by the power of Punnett Squares or whatever that means I’m 1/8 Norwegian, right?

ANYWAYS I did not get cast but I just realized they’re auditioning again so I’m going to throw ye olde application back in there. 1. Because it sounds fun and 2. Norway is GORGEOUS and 3. I did promise Neal Carlin that I would apply again. He’s gone in Italy doing an insanely cool apprenticeship so the least I can do is fill out info about my LIFE.

Our family doesn’t really do any celebrations of heritage. My great-grandma Harriman (she of the Norwegian blood) made lefse for Christmas, but I never really understood the connection as a kid. She passed when I was in high school and none of us kids ever learned to make it with her. Also, keep your traps shut but my real goal if I get on this show is to learn to make Fattigman cookies and then make them with my Nana for Christmas. KEEP MY SECRETS, INTERNET.

I think there’s a real beauty in appreciating where you came from and knowing you are a part of a legacy of choices – good ones, bad ones, ones that had to be made one way or another – and then choosing how you want your part of the story to be written. Sitting under the Northern lights and walking on glaciers would be a pretty jaw-dropping moment in life; 10/10 I’d be crying frozen little tears of joy. So we’ll see! I’m applying!

c. Travel

I’m going to DC in less than 2 weeks – I’ve never been to DC AND I haven’t seen David Brown in 4+ years in person. That’s bananas to me. I genuinely cannot believe that there’s not some time/space blanket fold that I jumped through because it CAN’T have been four years.

But the internet says it has. So myself, Bekah, Adam & Dana (plus maybe their dog Millie) are all meeting up with David in DC October 25-27 and I could SQUEAL I am so excited.

I went to Ohio in March just to see my loves Xander and Trace and get drag-ified myself. I learned that clip on earrings are the reason beauty = pain and that stick on nails are NOT for me. But I looked great.

d. Experiences

I saw my first Broadway shows in the past year – I don’t know what took me so long! I saw Hello Dolly, Book of Mormon, Hamilton. Les Mis, Falsettos – I WANT TO SING EVERYTHING.

I went to the Shedd Aquarium on Thanksgiving – it was BEAUTIFUL and uncrowded and my ticket was free – cue v v thankful.

I saw Conan O’Brien’s show in Chicago and met Aaron Bleyart, who’s blog(s) I have followed for over TEN YEARS.

Passed my Krav Level 3 student test and Muay Thai Level 2!

Survived the Polar Vortex in Chicago when it was over -20 degrees below zero. This is the *inside* of my windows.

My parents came to Chicago for Father’s Day! The umbrella is my Mom hiding from the camera as all 3 of us eat Chicago Dogs outside the Field Museum. Also, I went to the Field Museum.

I went to Arizona 3 times – February, May & August – for work and to visit family. What a cool, weird mix of colors. I saw the Grand Canyon and cried a little behind my sunglasses as my family pretended to not notice.

I saw a Seattle-based artist, SYML, who’s work I love not once but TWICE. Also saw Dean Lewis at the same concert and fell in love w his new album.

Saw a bajillion improv shows, learned which lipsticks look good on my skin tone and saw so many people I love.

What. A. Year.

More updates, more often, from this face:

A Blog I Pay For and Rarely Update: UPDATED! Well, it's been a year. Truly. I haven't blogged in a year! Not since my EPIK return to Korea (wink at y'all English teachers over there) for MinShik & Ara's wedding.

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kevinsmilleran-blog · 7 years ago

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Hello,

I found your blog.

If my intent was to hurt you or invade your privacy I would not have come clean today ... if I wasn’t getting over you I would not have come clean today ...at the time I found your blog my only intent was to better understand where i stand with you I swear to god... but I found your blog and now I can’t take it back.

Where did I stand. Fuck! it’s the crazy the whiplash I get. one day it’s “Ive been in hospital here’s everything for the last five days” and then two days later it’s all “none of your business.” One day it’s singing blackbird singing in the dead of night at 2am don’t hang up, the next day is “can I hang up now tired? Oh ….none of your business.”

I lied to you when you asked if I found your blog cause I knew you’d never talk to me again, I couldn’t deal with that in that particular moment ... I was going through some shit and still thought maybe as a friend you’d be support… can I deal with that now??? I don’t know, I think so, the truth is I am getting over you I was at the gym last night – big step -- and with each text I sent you on kik as i kept looking at my phone waiting for the d to turn into an r something just kept dying inside and I was deciding I don’t want a life of waiting for the d on kik to turn into an r... I put my phone on the shelf for a while and I felt RELIEF!!! Relief from this thing MY FUCKING PHONE that seems to only exist in a way to make me feel ignored when I’m needy and available when I’m needed.

I just know that each day that went by lying to you made the lie worse. So now you know. I found your blog... I don’t know how to explain this... one thing I noticed about you is there’s EMPOWERED YOU and then VULNERABLE YOU... we are all both weak and strong. well I’m the same exactly!! kinda strong in that moment when you told me you had a blog, but I can’t see it. I nod. Of course I nod. I’m telling you we all should have a private place where we can write private things I’m not lying!!!

and then it’s vulnerable me late at night not knowing where i stand

driving me crazy

why does she want to be with me one night but not tonight

I need to know I need to know I need to know

i ask she says none of my business

I need to know

I get a cryptic text, just a pic, looks cool, then five hours of silence and each minute of each hour just grinds away at my strength, the gears in my brain cranking spinning. What I said about everyone having private space to write private things I MEANT IT, ya coulda hooked me up to a lie detector and when I said private space to write private things is sacred and that lie detector would have frozen over with boredom as the truth spills out into the air…. I meant it but now I need to know.

I NEED TO KNOW

I NEED TO KNOW!!!!

Why has that person who used to text me before going to bed every night, she has stopped. Why is it I could text a Phineas and Ferb “whatcha doin?” one day and it was always my business and now it was always not my business.

I needed to know!!!

I had to know.

Just to move on and get closure I had to FUCKING KNOW.

Bono sings “the best things are easy to destroy” and does he fucking even know how easy.

Now listen. I can fuck up things with booze. But I have to get a job make the money, get in a car go to a store and buy the booze. I can fuck things up in all sorts of ways.

How easy was this?

After about the 100th time my brain was screaming to itself I NEED TO KNOW, here’s how easy it was.

First mistake…. that short story you sent, the one about the kid with the death due date going to die before everyone else he had a bad number

Second mistake…. look that up it’s literally the most popular post on tumblr

Third mistake…. Not even looking for it your avi is literally the first avi at the bottom of the page. Reblog list.

Fourth mistake … click on the link to your tumblr.

Fifth mistake …. The first fucking post on your tumblr is literally a link to a wordpress blog.

Sixth mistake …. You know the rest.

I found your blog.

How long did that take. Less than 4 seconds.

There’s at least a protocol to nuking the world, codes, keys, you can’t even do it alone you need another guy to turn his key at the same time, I guess, I don’t really know. I just know it’s not supposed to be that easy.

It was that fucking easy ... to go get booze I at least have to get in a car and go to a store I DESTROYED EVERYTHING WITH YOU STONE COLD SOBER IN 4 SECONDS OF WEAKNESS WITH THREE TAPS OF MY FINGER ON A FUCKING PHONE WHILE IN MY BED!!!

THAT FUCKING EASY! I FUCKING HATE THE INTERNET!!!!!

I have a friend, a teacher she says if it was that easy she wanted you to find it. Like that guy who hides porn where he knows his wife will find it eventually.

That’s fucking insulting. Go away friend, you’re not a friend. I fucked up. I lacked self control. Disrespected your space. AGAIN. It was the second time!!! I know what I did and I know you don’t play games that way.

None of this is now going to help. maybe you’ll meet a stronger guy in future, I hope you do but if you ever put a guy in relationship purgatory – if you don’t know what I mean by that its this… you break up with him, but you don’t really want that so you’re “broken up” but still doing things… aw fuck it… everything together…. again when you’re “broken up” but still doing things together, don’t send him excerpts from your blog. Don’t send him the tools to find your blog in three clicks ... I think most guys would look, we are all pretty weak I think that’s why we, with our fearful patriarchies, fucked the world up.

Unless you want him to see your blog my advice is don’t even tell him it exists ... if it’s a test to see if he looks for it, it’s a test that I think will rule out a lot of guys who are really pretty amazing in a lot of other ways. Seeking out secrets is in a guys nature the way it’s in the nature of a scorpion to sting and poison a turtle carrying the scorpion across a river. They both DIE.

Maybe I’m wrong and I am just the worst man on earth, and every other dude would have never looked.

But...

I see on your tumblr a joke about someone pointing a knife but not using it ... a bad comparison maybe my point is this: if i was truly despicable (and some guys are) I would have SECRETLY kept looking at your blog for months… So I’m not despicable I’m merely pathetic and lacking the self control when it comes to wanting to know everything about you ... and yeah i do want to know that ... i fucking miss being your cheerleader… DO NOT RULE OUT THE POSSIBILITY THAT I LOOKED AT YOUR BLOG NOT JUST TO FIND OUT WHAT YOU WERE DOING, BUT BECAUSE I FUCKING GET A BIG GIANT SMILE WHEN I HEAR ABOUT HOW COOL YOU ARE!

Purely practical... like it’s even possible I could be a better ex boyfriend if I knew more about you instead of less. Case in point, when it wasn’t a betrayal..... If I’d have found your blog before we broke up ... back then it might have saved the relationship.. I like to think I would have got us both help sooner ... but now it’s just betrayal I guess ...

so some more honesty ... if I told you I would never look at it again I doubt I could make good on that promise ... it’s just yet another way my feelings for you reach beyond boyfriend girlfriend to father daughter ... it’s like I’m thinking well you won’t ever talk to me again but at least I can see youre ok on Facebook or tumblr or something ... so point is if you keep posting to that blog and to this tumblr I’d still look ... long after we have both moved on to someone else .. I could marry some woman and she’d wonder why I’m on some 20 something’s tumblr and be like oh it’s nothing and try to hide it from her ... if i talked to her about you she’d hear in my voice the candle I’d still hold for you...

In that respect there is something about further contact I think we need to finally put in writing and if I could write it in stone i would... I get that as your ex boyfriend you don’t want to appear vulnerable to me.. you already have three dads, you don’t need a 4th but that’s kind of where I’m at here... I don’t think of myself as strictly an ex boyfriend but as a dad who would never not have the time for you ... for instance you know this door would never be closed to you.

Now I know you can take care of yourself I’m just saying in an extreme emergency

more honesty you can block me here but your tumblr is public viewable to anyone not logged into tumblr I assume you know that... more honesty ya know what????

your tumblr IS FUCKING RAD!!! setting aside all the emotions both good and bad if we were total strangers I’d totally follow you ...

I hate the fact that we are exes means I don’t get to be a stranger and go wow that chicks FUCKING AWESOME!

Anyway, i hope you’ll think about this and after the anger of betrayal subsides you might think it’s ok idk I’d like that your tumblr is cool!

This will probably be the last things I get to say for awhile so I started feeling better about being blocked yesterday ... like I said above, the reason why is that it’s probably easier for me being blocked than it is texting you and staring at the phone for hours waiting for a response ... which is what was happening ... blocking me just takes away from me something I already don’t have anyway ... so yeah I’m just like well if I was unblocked how would that make anything better? It wouldn’t.

I don’t know if I can think of any other last worlds ... oh i didn’t throw away anything you gave me ... it’s all packed up in two boxes labeled “amber”... encasing something in amber preserves it somehow ... it’s out of sight and out of mind as much as it can be so I don’t spend my days in tears looking at it, yet our year remains preserved encased in amber like a 99 million year old frog.

One last way I’m weak and pathetic.. I probably would have let you throw your youth away on 50 year old ... or maybe I wouldn’t do that, and this is pretty weird but maybe I did all this fucking up so you wouldn’t throw your youth away on a 50 year old and also not spend much time being too hard on yourself

It’s all my fault we are no longer together.

p.s. to any reader who wants to know what I found when I found her blog, I’m a huge fan of the tv show LOST, so some things never get answered. This isn’t about that, this is about something else. Put it this way, I still really didn’t get the definitive answer or closure I was looking for, all I found was more questions, and I was just DESTROYING EVERYTHING I HELD DEAR IN MY HEART. That’s the only thing that will ever happen when you go looking for THOSE KIND of answers.

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mysteryshelf · 7 years ago

Text

BLOG TOUR - Burn One Down

Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Partners in Crime Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Burn One Down

by Jeffrey A. Cooper

on Tour June 11 – July 13, 2018

Synopsis:

Retiring thief Jack Apple is offered a low-risk, six-figure payout to heist a medical marijuana dispensary from the feisty and impetuous Diane Thomas after Diane steals the robbery plans from her shady ex-husband Alvin, hoping to beat him to the score.

Diane promises to stay out of Jack’s way but she can’t help interfering, forcing them to take hostages inside the dispensary when the robbery is interrupted by law enforcement, inciting a media circus that deteriorates into a full-on urban riot.

To escape, Jack and Diane must negotiate the hostages, their agendas, an army of Sheriff’s deputies, the tenacious local news media, crooked deals, corrupt politicians, rioters, Diane’s shady ex-husband Alvin, and their growing attraction to each other.

This little ditty about Jack and Diane is a fast-paced read that finds a few new wrinkles in a familiar genre. ~ Kirkus Review

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Crime, Heist Published by: Indie Publication Date: June 15, 2018 Number of Pages: 271 ISBN: 978-0‐692‐06952-3 Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

We are all thieves and criminals.

Jack Apple had too much pride to let people look down him because he’d been in prison. Most people were hypocrites. Their own lawbreaking might not extend past trivial offenses like unpaid parking tickets or racing past the posted speed limit, but if right was right and wrong was wrong then Jack Apple was someone who believed that everyone breaks the law at one time or another. People justified their behavior based on their own personal sense of morality just like he did. It wasn’t his fault that he aimed higher than they did. But that part of his life was over. Thievery and criminality were all behind him now. Jack Apple was a changed man.

At least he would be after tonight.

***

Jack swung himself over the top of the twelve-foot stone wall surrounding Leo Dorsey’s home and laid flat across the top for a good look at the property. Leo Dorsey was the owner of Ledo Luxury Automobiles, a limousine and hired car service that fronted for a long list of illegal activities including drug trafficking, gun running, extortion, prostitution and probably about six or seven other things. As a rule, Jack didn’t rob people in the trade out of professional courtesy, but Leo had stolen money from a friend of his, so Jack would let that rule slide on this one. If he really was ditching the trade for good, this was something he needed to take care of first. He planned this job before prison and knew there was a decent chance Leo would have the $80,000 he still needed to open his new business. In the trade, they called that a win-win.

The business Jack wanted to open was a gas station, positioned on the lower right-hand corner of a busy “Y” street traffic pattern that fed into two distinct thoroughfares, and was a popular route for locals to access the freeway. In addition to the pumps, a small retail store sold cigarettes, lottery tickets, energy drinks and lousy coffee. A service area hadn’t been operational since the days when they used real steel for bumpers, but it was a space ripe for expansion. The property had just been listed, and Jack knew it wouldn’t be on the market long. It had everything. What was the old adage?

Location, location, location?

The word came this morning that Jack needed to move on the property. Other parties were sniffing around, ready to make an offer, and there would be no time to raise money.

While Jack had money stashed away from his recent ATM fiasco, there was still a lot of heat on that job, and that money would need to stay buried for a while. He needed a quick score no one could trace, no one would report, and that he could do alone. Hitting Leo Dorsey was perfect. It had to be.

A series of motion detectors captured Jack’s movement and flooded the area with bright white light. Jack jumped down off the wall and hid behind tall landscaped shrubbery, waiting for a response. Instead, an automated voice spoke from a speaker sitting on top of the stone wall, giving Jack a terse warning in both English and Spanish.

“You are trespassing on private property. Security cameras are recording your movements. There is an armed response to all trespassers. Leave this property immediately.”

Jack moved toward Leo’s house and saw a large man in an open window staring into the yard. It looked like Leo, but Jack remembered a slighter man, guessing that this version topped out between three hundred fifty and four hundred pounds. Leo had become very successful since Jack had seen him last, but it did nothing for his disposition. Leo was still a miserable shit.

“Idiots! There’s something wrong with that security system!” Leo shouted at two haggard employees who were clearly showing early signs of PTSD. “Why do the lights go on for no reason? There it goes again! What don’t you simpletons understand? Get it fixed!” The employees looked at each other, certain that Leo was talking about the other one.

“Boss, I…,” one hapless employee pleaded.

“Get away from me,” Leo interrupted. “I’ve had enough stupid for one day. I’m going to bed now. Try not to burn the house down before I wake up. And make sure those dogs go out again, too. I don’t want them shitting all over my floors again.”

“Dogs,” Jack whispered to himself, grimacing. “Why is it always dogs?”

Jack slipped through the garden and climbed up to the veranda outside Leo’s bedroom with a backpack full of safecracking tools while he waited for Leo to finish browbeating his employees and go to sleep. Leo’s nightstand confirmed his notorious longtime habits of pills and a three-finger glass of Scotch was still current, telling Jack that sleep probably wasn’t far away.

Jack stretched out his shoulder. His thirty-five-year-old body was sending him reminders that it wasn’t about to put up with the kind of abuse he’d heaped on it all these years for much longer. While he tried to keep in shape in prison, his long, willowy frame strong from years of street running and urban gymnastics, Jack couldn’t do anything about getting older or the damage that twenty-three hours a day of lockdown did to a body. His guilty conscience chimed in, reminding Jack of everything he had risked: his health, his family, his freedom, his youth. All for money. Things. Shit. When would it be enough? Would it ever be enough?

Doubt. Crippling, stifling doubt. This was why he was getting out. He’d already been arrested and sent to prison once, so he obviously wasn’t the master thief he once thought he was. Could he even make it on his own? Jack always worked with partners and recent history would seem to indicate that he couldn’t work without them. He’d nearly been bested by a 70-year-old hermit and his English bulldog two weeks ago.

It was reasonable to ask that maybe his time in the trade had passed. He heard Leo through an open window, talking in drunk guy loudspeak.

“You think I dunno what you think I dunno but I know what you think I dunno ya know?” Leo enunciated every syllable as an almost empty glass of Scotch dangled from his fingertips, then dropped to the floor without breaking. He stumbled to a large double-door safe adjacent to his changing area, his head foggy from drink and drug. Leo focused on the keypad, entering the combination numbers at a slow, deliberate pace, then he pulled open the door with his right hand. Jack watched Leo through a monocular as he wrote the safe combination in pen on his pant leg, thankful that the tools in his backpack would no longer be necessary. It was nice of Leo to save him all that work. Maybe he’d send him a fruit basket later.

“I’ll be right outside if ya need me, Boss,” Leo’s other employee said, assuring him as he shut the bedroom door behind him. Leo said nothing. He wasn’t assured at all.

“Lock th’ door!” Leo barked with a pronounced slur. He took off his Patek Philippe watch and put it in the safe along with the bankroll from his bathrobe pocket. Leo inspected it all with a listless shake of his head then closed the large double doors, pulling on the handle again to make sure the safe was locked. He turned, his beefy feet squeaking along the marble tile as he stumbled back to his bed and fell face down on the mattress, fast asleep before his head even hit the pillow. His snores were deep and guttural. It was no mistake Leo slept alone.

Jack waited through several minutes of uninterrupted snoring next to a window underneath a security camera aimed at the French doors leading to Leo’s bedroom. He picked the lock as he waited, sliding the window open with little effort and easing himself inside. He looked around, wary of alarms or motion detectors. Once he was confident he could move without disruption, Jack stepped forward and immediately set off a motion detector that turned the overhead lights on and lit the space with lighting dimmed for the evening hours. Jack moved back to the window, ready to bail out. He listened. Nothing. No sound. No movement. No one was coming. It was quiet except for Leo, who was fifteen feet away and snoring like a champ.

“Okay, no more surprises,” Jack whispered.

He moved into the large room with caution, gently walking past the bed straining under Leo’s sleeping body and toward the safe, where he zeroed in on the combination keypad and the numbers he’d scribbled in pen on his pant leg. Forty-two. Eight. Thirty-one. Five. Jack pulled the handle to open the safe door, but the door remained locked.

Maybe I entered the numbers wrong?

No. He wrote the numbers down exactly as Leo entered them. Jack tried the series again, re-entering the numbers one at a time and pulling on the handle, but the safe still would not open. This time the repudiation was accompanied by a message on a small LCD screen: BIOMETRIC ACCESS DENIED. Your BioMetric Identification has been declined for the second time. For your protection, the safe will be locked if additional biometric identification is refused.

Jack looked at the handle. At the top was a thumb pad with a painted-on thumbprint he hadn’t noticed during his previous attempts. The numbers he’d entered were correct. The safe didn’t open because it needed a thumbprint, specifically Leo’s thumbprint, to open the door. Jack wondered what the odds were of chopping Leo’s thumb off without waking him up. He sat, considering his options. Technology sure was making it tough for a fella to earn a living.

***

At close to four hundred pounds, getting Leo to the safe over fifty feet away from the bed was a challenge. Jack rolled Leo over on the bed and was startled to discover Leo’s eyes were wide open despite Leo being in a deep, sound sleep. Jack waved his hand in front of Leo’s face. Leo didn’t blink, and the snoring got even louder once there was no mattress to contain it.

Jack mapped out his strategy. An office chair on wheels, probably for Leo’s shell-shocked employees, would suffice for moving Leo across the marble floor. That part was easy. The challenge would be getting Leo into the office chair. It was like moving a Smart Car by hand.

Jack pushed Leo up off the bed and reached his hands around his barrel chest, clenching his hands together the best he could across Leo’s massive sternum. Jack bent his knees, took a deep breath, then pulled Leo to the edge of the bed. Leo greeted the move with a loud snort, then went back to a steady snore, his drugged eyes still open as wide as the sky.

“Pull him up, right into the chair,” Jack coached himself. He used the same strategy as before, which this time pulled Leo off the bed too fast. His momentum landed Leo right on top of Jack, who howled. Leo, for his part, wasn’t disturbed by the fall at all.

“You know, you’ve really let yourself go, Leo!” Jack wailed before pushing Leo off of him. Jack stood up, grabbed Leo’s arms and leaned back, groaning, using the remainder of his strength to hoist Leo into the office chair, which creaked under the strain. Jack backed away, hoping the chair would hold. It would be a long, slow drag to the safe otherwise.

Jack positioned himself behind the chair but struggled across the marble floor. The chair moved slow but steady, gaining momentum once Jack picked Leo’s legs up and pulled him instead of pushing. After a heroic effort from Jack and especially the chair, Leo was positioned in front of the safe. Jack caught his breath, hoping that he didn’t give himself a hernia.

The lock on the outer bedroom door clicked, and the door opened. Leo’s employees, having heard Jack’s howling, came to investigate. Jack swiveled the office chair toward the door, pushed Leo’s head forward and ducked behind Leo’s mammoth frame. The employees looked around until they saw Leo in the chair, his eyes still wide open, staring at them.

“You okay, Boss? I heard something. Everything all right?”

Leo, who was still sound asleep, said nothing. His snoring sounded like a growl, especially to these two. “Just making sure you’re okay, Boss,” the nervous employee said in his awkward rush to get out of the room.

Jack swung the office chair back around and stood up. He entered the series of numbers on the combination pad, then lifted Leo’s stubby hand and placed it on the handle, so Leo’s thumb pressed down on the biometric sensor. This time the lock on the safe clicked and the doors opened. Inside the safe were three $10,000 stacks of hundred dollar bills and the large roll of money from Leo’s bathrobe, which Jack estimated at around $3,000. He could hock the watch, too. It wasn’t a bad haul, even though it was far less than Jack was expecting.

Isn’t it always less than you’re expecting?

Jack took what there was and left Leo on the overworked office chair in front of the open safe. He went back to the window he entered through and got out as easy as he came in, even taking time to re-lock the window behind him. The motion detector lights clicked on and off as Jack climbed down from the second story veranda. That’s when Leo’s dogs, two female German Shepherds outside to do their evening business, saw Jack and started barking in a frenzy.

“Nope,” Jack said once he saw them at the bottom, waiting for him to come down. “No dogs.” He climbed back up to the veranda, content to find another way. The only people in the house were Leo’s employees who, from the sound of it, weren’t nearly as smart as the dogs. Jack slipped back into Leo’s bedroom, where Leo was still snoring heartily in the office chair that would be lucky to last the night. At the bedroom door, Jack heard voices in the hallway.

“Keep those dogs quiet before they wake him up!” The two employees were in a panic, apparently unaware of how deep and sound Leo slept after his bedtime snack of pills and Scotch. Their panic gave Jack an opportunity to get to a stairwell at the end of the hallway that he hoped would lead him outside. Jack listened first then moved quietly, soft-stepping his way down the stairs, peeking his head over the railing as he went. He saw the two employees at the stairwell door window on the first floor, so Jack slipped down another level to avoid them.

The stairwell emptied Jack into nondescript hallways of white concrete and white tile floors. The stairwell door locked behind him, so Jack had a choice of the single steel door ahead of him or a hallway that led off to the right. As Jack approached the hallway, the two German Shepherds sauntered around another corner from a hallway fifty feet away.

There was a moment of silent recognition. They all stood still, sizing each other up. The dogs looked at Jack, then to each other, then back to Jack. Everyone jumped at the same time. The dogs took off after Jack, who sprang into action, running down the hallway toward the door.

“Why is it always dogs?” Jack screamed.

Jack raced through the door and pushed it closed behind him. He didn’t suppose the dogs were smart enough to follow, but they figured it out, jumping up together to push open the door’s exit bar and continue their pursuit down the long hallway. The dogs, whose nails clicked like icy rain on paws that were slipping and sliding across the waxed hallway, were gaining ground. There were several doors along the hallway that Jack tried to open, but each one was locked. When Jack finally found an unlocked door, he got inside and pulled the door shut behind him, half a second before the snapping jaws of the German Shepherds took a sizeable bite out of him.

“Okay. Big dogs. Very big dogs,” Jack wheezed.

His hands felt around in the dark until Jack found the light switch inside the door frame, revealing the janitor closet that was now his safe refuge. “What did I ever do to a dog?” Jack panted, catching his breath. He opened the door slightly and saw a door leading to the outside thirty feet further down the hallway. “All right. I’ve been in worse situations,” Jack said. His voice activated the dogs, who barked as he shut the door. “I’ve never been food…”

The dogs paced back and forth outside the closet door, waiting for Jack to come out. They heard a sound; a scraping, grinding noise coming from deep inside the janitor’s closet. The dogs cocked their heads to the side, confused. The doorknob moved, and their ears perked up. The pin on the door unlatched, and the dogs sat crouched, ready to strike. When the door opened the dogs rushed in, then stopped all at once. From inside the deep janitor closet came the loud, abrasive growl of a stand-up vacuum cleaner that Jack parried out of the closet after them, and now was using to chase the German Shepherds back down the hallway.

“Ha-HA!” Jack jeered, quick on their heels. The dogs reached the exit door and jumped up against the bar to let themselves outside, but Jack wasn’t letting them off that easy. He went out after them, confident and mocking. “Mess with me, and you know what happens?”

The cord for the vacuum cleaner pulled taut and yanked out of the wall. The pitiful motor on the vacuum cleaner died down with a slow, agonizing, mournful wail. The two German Shepherds stopped to listen, then turned their heads around slow. Jack could swear they were licking their lips.

“Idiot,” Jack said. He jumped for the closing exit door, and the dogs were on top of him. One had Jack’s pant leg while the other held the bottom of Jack’s shirt. The shirt ripped when the dog tried to pull back, sending one German Shepherd onto her back, while the other dog tried getting a better grip on Jack’s pant leg. Loose for the split second he needed, Jack took advantage, getting inside and pulling the door closed, with the vacuum cord preventing the door from closing tight.

“Hey! Stop right there!” Leo’s two employees came through the first exit door and saw Jack pulling the exit door closed on the dogs.

Jack ran away. The employees were quick on his heels until they passed the exit door. The tenacious German Shepherds forced open the door at the exact moment the employees ran past, and the dogs sprang into action, jumping into the hallway and biting the first thing they saw.

“No! Him! Get him!” The first employee said as he was being mauled by the first dog.

“That one, girl! That one! Ow!” The second employee shook his free arm, pointing down the hallway. His other arm was firmly planted in the second German Shepherd’s jaw.

Jack’s only option at this end of the hallway was the window straight ahead of him. He pulled opened the window and looked out, craning his neck in both directions, but this was no time to get particular. Jack hoisted himself up and pushed through the window until momentum took over and he dropped ten feet to the ground. The soil was dry and loose, and Jack hit hard, flat on his back, before sliding down the sloped hill head-first and backward. The drop knocked the wind out of him, but Jack shook off the fall, spit dirt from his mouth, then scaled the twelve foot stone wall and jumped down on the other side. His pursuers knew Jack could still hear them.

“We know what you look like, pal! You’re on camera, dumbass! We’re gonna find you, you sonofabitch! You messed up bad, man, you messed up real bad!”

Jack ran for his life down the hill surrounding Leo’s house but couldn’t tell if the sounds he heard, of rustling trees, branches snapping, or running through fallen leaves was the sound of someone following him or the echo of the noise he was making all on his own. Jack turned his head to see the lead he had on his pursuers, but the night was dark, and it was difficult to see. What wasn’t difficult to see was the tree branch that caught Jack above the sternum when he turned back around, the one that clotheslined him flat to the ground. He slid down a steep, sloping hill, twisting and turning his body to avoid the rocks and tree stumps in his path before launching himself off an even larger, brush-covered hill.

Jack landed at the bottom of the hill next to a roadway, right at the feet of Diane Thomas, who stood next to her car like she’d been waiting there for him all along. Diane was dressed in black jeans and a black leather coat with a torn red t-shirt underneath. Her hair was long, with an easy, natural curl that fell over her flawless soft brown skin. Her necklaces and bracelets were tasteful; piled on but not overdone. Black boots were highlighted with metallic studs that covered the backs to the heels. She looked like trouble. Jack liked trouble.

“Something tells me you’re Jack Apple.” Diane stood in front of an idling muscle car, the headlights creating a silhouette that captivated Jack’s attention through his hazy thinking.

Jack asked, “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” Diane said with a smile. “But you will.”

***

Author Bio:

Jeffrey A. Cooper lives in Los Angeles, CA. His previous novel, “How to Steal a Truck Full of Nickels” was published in 2015. Jeffrey has optioned several feature film scripts and co-created two shows executive produced by Emmy-award winning comedian Louie Anderson.

Jeffrey lives with his wife, daughter, two rescue dogs, a rescue cat and a fish who all get along famously.

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