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tearfallpixie · 3 months ago

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Trust and Love - Side Chapter: Accidents and Acceptance

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1 @somewhere-diamond @Shilohrosechicken @abiomens @awkwardalex @rumoured-whispers @miss570

“I’m sorry that we have to leave you mama.” Vinny murmured. “You’ll be joining us in a few days though when tour starts. It wont be long.” I hugged Vin tight as a few tears slipped my eyes.

“I just hate being parted from you two.” I sniffled.

“I know. Just a couple of days and you’ll see us again.” I nodded as his thumbs brushed my cheeks to wipe the tears away. “No tears mama. You know I hate it when you cry.” The announcement for Vinny’s flight to board sounded and I started to pull away. “Come on, one kiss.” He teased. “I can’t leave without a proper goodbye.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss me soundly.

“Fly safe. I love you.”

“I love you too mama.” He picked up his bag and kissed the back of my hand before heading to the terminal and disappearing down the hall. I waited until the plane took off before heading back to the car and going back to our empty house. I sighed and hung my keys up as my phone rang. I looked at it to see Ricky was calling me.

“Hi baby, how are you? Vinny’s on the plane.” I greeted him.

“I figured as much. Have you been on twitter?” He said in a stiff voice.

“No, what happened?” I asked slowly.

“I sent you a post. Go look at it.” I pulled the phone away from my head and clicked on the twitter icon. I went to my messages and clicked on the one Ricky sent me only to gasp. It was a tweet tagging Ricky and attached to the tweet was a very clear pic of Vinny and I kissing.

“Fuck. We were out of the way. I thought no one could see us!” I exclaimed. “Ricky, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby girl, its ok.” He chuckled. “I figured something like this was going to happen sooner or later. None of us have been very careful. Now the question is how do we proceed? We should probably tell the fans because judging by the 9 thousand likes and counting on the photo, we can’t just cover this up and ask the person to remove it.” Ricky suggested.

“Can you and Vinny skype me tonight? We can all discuss it together.” Ricky nodded and looked at the time. “Tell him when he lands. He should be with you in two hours. He’s going to feel horrible.”

“I’ll take care of him and we’ll talk tonight. I love you baby girl.” Ricky said.

“I love you too baby.”

Vinny did not handle the news well and apologized to Ricky a thousand times when the guitarist picked him up. Ricky grabbed his arm and had to haul him to the car to get him to leave the airport.

“Vin, it’s ok.” Ricky repeated again. “You deserve to say goodbye to her too when you leave. We’re going to skype her tonight and discuss what we are going to do. It’s not going to be that big of a deal.” They got to the hotel in record time and headed up to their room for the next few days. Ricky picked up his laptop from the bed and set it on the desk, opening skype immediately as Vinny put his stuff away. “Hey, baby girl. Vin’s in the bathroom.” He said when I answered. The drummer popped his head out and waved to the camera.

“Looks like we caused a little bit of drama while I was flying mama.” Vinny snickered.

“Looking at the 21 thousand likes I would say so.” I giggled. “So what do you want to do? I agree with Ricky that we need to be honest with the fans. I’m just worried how they will take it. I’ve already seen hundreds of tweets calling me a whore and a cheater.” I grumbled.

“Baby girl, stop reading them. They will only make things worse.” I sighed and nodded.

“Why don’t you grab my streaming gear and fly out here and we can do an impromptu stream tomorrow to explain everything.” Vinny suggested.

“Everything? Even you two?” I asked in shock.

“It might make things a little easier to swallow knowing that it isn’t just Vinny with you and you with me.” Ricky pondered.

“But the band doesn’t even know about you two.” The only person that had given any indication that they new about Ricky and Vinny’s relationship was Finnick, Vinny’s old roommate.

“Well they are about to find out.” Vinny snickered.

“Are you two prepared for the backlash we are going to get because its inevitable.” Ricky asked. “Between people going to be pissed that she gets both of us and calling her a whore or calling us greedy its going to be bad for a while.”

“As far as I’m concerned, our decisions are all I care about. I married both of you knowing this might be a possibility down the line so I am willing to put up with anything.” I told them.

“Same here. I’m not ever letting some stupid fans get between us.” Vinny confirmed.

“Good. Vinny and I will lay low for a while and we will have Logan pick you up from the airport. Don’t go making out with him too. We have enough chaos to deal with here.” Ricky teased.

“I make no promises. His blond hair is so pretty.” I giggled.

“Good night baby girl.” Ricky rumbled.

“Night you two. I love you.”

“We love you too Mama.” I closed my laptop and went to pack up the necessities for Vinny to stream in my bag. I crawled in my big empty bed and tossed and turned for an hour before I was able to get somewhat comfortable. I wasn’t use to sleeping alone anymore because usually I had at least one of my boys with me.

“Logan.” I walked over to him, and he pulled me into a hug.

“Hey little miss. I thought you weren’t supposed to come out for a few days and then Ricky said there was drama and you needed to come out now. Is everything ok?” He asked. I pulled out my phone and showed him the tweet as I pulled my bag off the baggage claim. “Got it.”

“I thought we were out of sight of people but apparently, I was wrong. We’re doing a big stream announcement this afternoon to explain it to the fans. They currently hate me for hurting their precious Ricky.” I giggled. We started walking out to the parking lot shoulder to shoulder.

“Like they know the ins and outs of his feelings.” He scoffed. “They are lucky you are willing to explain this to them.” I rolled my eyes and agreed with him.

“It will also paint Vin in a bad light if we don’t confront the rumors because he is stealing his best friends wife.” I offered.

“That’s fair. Lets get you back to your boys so you can deal with this.” We loaded up and headed to the hotel where Ricky and Vinny were waiting for me in the lobby. They immediately pulled me into their arms and held me tightly.

“I’ve missed you baby girl.” Ricky murmured. He had been gone for a week before Vinny left so he could visit his family before the tour so I hadn’t seen him for a bit. He pulled me into a kiss and I noticed a flash from the side. We pulled away to see a couple of fans outside the hotel taking pics. “Let them think what they want. It will be cleared up soon.”

“I missed you too Ricky. I don’t like being parted.” I mumbled.

“Next time you two are going to come with me to Washington and I will explain everything to my parents in detail.” They had come to the wedding and they had met me on several occasions but they didn’t know the nature of our relationship with Vinny. They just thought he was our roommate for the time being. We all entered the room and I handed my carry on to Vinny.

“I brought the streaming stuff on the plane with me because I didn’t want it to get damaged under the other luggage.” I explained. He pulled me into a deep kiss.

“You are a fucking angel. Let me set up.” He started setting up and leveling the equipment, so it was balanced and an hour later we were all set up. “Ok Ricky. Attach your computer and pull up twitch. I’ll log in and we can start.” Vinny went to put on some actual clothes seeing as he was still in his sleep shirt and sweats. When he came back he was in his signature cargo pants and baggy shirt. He logged into his account and waved us off to the side so we were out of camera. He kicked on the stream and sat there as he posted it to his social media accounts, allowing people to get on. Ricky clicked the link on his phone and shared it to his as well.

@Rickyolsonx: Hey guys, Vin has a huge announcement in this stream. You should check it out. [link attached]

“Hey guys, I know surprise stream and I’m obviously not in my house right now. It will all be explained here in a bit. I won’t be answering any questions until more people are here.” He said to the growing crowd. Ricky and I watched his phone with a frown as people were saying mean things to him about hurting Ricky and kissing me. I could tell it was bothering him.

“Ricky is advertising my stream? There is a reason for that.” It was a few minutes later when there were easily a thousand people in the stream. “Ok, I think I can start explaining. Look, the photo is not faked. It was real and I did kiss Olive. However, it isn’t what you think.” He looked around at us and jerked his head. We moved into the camera and waved awkwardly. Ricky knelt next to the desk as Vinny pulled me into his lap. I watched as the chat went crazy with hello’s and questions.

“Guys, to clarify, I am very aware of their relationship.” Ricky started out. I noticed Chris in the chat and pointed it out to Vinny and Rick who grinned. “Well it looks like he’ll find out then.”

“I bet the band is watching with him.” Vinny grinned.

ChrisCMotionless: Should I get them?

“Probably. We’re about to drop a bombshell that even you guys don’t know about.” Ricky answered him.

ChrisCMotionless: I’m worried now. Let me get the other boys.

“This just got a whole lot more interesting.” Vinny mumbled. Ricky pulled out his phone and pulled up the camera.

"Update, I'm here in Vinny's stream, we're gonna talk about what's been going on." He turned to show the stream before he ended the video and posted it to his social media.

ChrisCMotionless: Ok they are here.

“Ok, let us explain. Yes I kissed Olive yesterday in the airport. That is because she and I are in a relationship.” Vinny started.

ChrisCMotionless: Oh, big shock.

“Watch it Cerulli or we’ll mute you, asshole.” Ricky snapped playfully.

BeeforV: So you two are dating but shes married to Ricky?

“BeeforV, yes exactly. We are in a poly relationship. Ricky and her have been together for almost two years. I’ve been with her for about a year and few months. But the part that the band doesn’t know about is that-“ Vinny trailed off and part of me thought he was getting cold feet. I looked at him to see him frowning.

“Vin, you ok?” Ricky asked, touching his arm.

“Listen here Brady, you little shit.” Vinny snarled to chat. “I don’t care what your opinion is of our relationship. The only opinion that matters is Ricky’s, Olivia’s and mine. But I will not have you calling her a whore just because you don’t like how we handle our lives. Mods get rid of him and anyone that says anything disrespectful about her, Ricky or me.” He clung to me a little tighter and buried his nose into my neck to help him calm down.

NicholeMotionless: Vinny being protective and all cuddly of Olive is adorable.

Willinmotionless: So what was the other thing you were going to share.

Vin let out a little growl making Ricky chuckle. He stood up and pulled the extra chair up next to us.

“Are you ok to keep going Vin?” Ricky asked softly. Vin shrugged and didn’t make a move to pull away from me. “The other bomb shell we were going to drop was that-“ Ricky took a deep breath, “Vinny and I are also together.” The chat went insane and for a minute none of us could read a single message. I could tell Vinny was peaking at the chat from my neck but otherwise we all stayed quiet. I tried to see if there were any messages from Chris but I couldn’t catch his name.

“Guys, I love Olivia and Vinny with everything in me. If it weren’t for a fan catching their kiss yesterday, you would not know about this. However, I won’t have her or him attacked because of our relationship.” Ricky told the chat.

ChrisCMotionless: You and Vin? That shouldn’t surprise me at all. The entire crew is happy for you three.

I let out a sigh of relief and pointed out the message. I could tell that Vinny relaxed after seeing it too because he started to sit up.

“Thank you, Chris. It means a lot. We’ll come talk to you after the stream.” Vinny said.

“I don’t know what more there is to say. I love you both and that’s what this was about. To just explain the kiss yesterday. No one is cheating on anyone, and we are all happy together. If you can’t support us and our relationship then forget the band. Because I guarantee you, Chris, Justin and Ryan will support these boys to the end of their careers.” I finally spoke.

ChrisCMotionless: Got that fucking right. Their happiness is more important to us than anything.

“We love you guys. And we hope you support us.” Ricky said to the camera.

KitKatCathy: Can we see you kiss before you leave?

“I’m pretty sure you have definitely seen me and Olive kiss before.” Ricky teased before pulling me into a sweet kiss. Vinny shifted until he was sitting a little straighter and pulled me into a kiss too. The chat was spammed with ‘awes’ and people calling us cute.

“I think they’ll get mad if you two don’t amuse them too.” I giggled. Both Ricky and Vinny looked at each other with wide eyes.

“No, I’m sure they don’t-“ The chat spammed with confirmation, halting Vinnys words in his throat.

“The fans want what they want.” Ricky shrugged. I bounced off of the drummer’s lap and moved back to the bed. I could tell they were hesitant, and it made me giggle a little.

“Ricky just kiss your boyfriend already.” I laughed. He glanced back at me before rolling his eyes and grabbing Vinnys neck and pulling them together. The kiss was sweet at first until Vinny’s hands grabbed Rickys shirt and pulled him closer. I glanced down at Rickys phone that we had abandoned on the bed to see the chat losing their shit until it froze and the stream crashed. “Hey you two? You broke stream. Literally.” Vinny and Ricky pulled away from each other and looked at the computer. They both slumped into their seats in shock and stared at it for a few minutes.

“Wow.” Vinny finally uttered. I snuck up behind them.

“By the way, that kiss was hot.” Both of them jumped and looked back at me. I giggled and dashed away as they both tried to leap out of their chairs and grab me. We chased each other around the room for a few minutes until the door opened and Chris walked in. I dashed behind him and grabbed his jacket. “Chris protect me!” I begged.

“Chris.” Ricky said dangerously. “Give us the instigator.”

“Who?” Chris smirked. Justin had gotten up behind me and went to grab my waist, but Chris swung us around and faced him, looping an arm around me to keep me behind him. “Don’t.” He said sharply.

“Right. You don’t like to be touched. I’m so sorry Olive!” Justin freaked out.

“It’s ok. Thank you for stopping him, Chris. Justin, I don’t blame you. It’s easy to forget.” Familiar hands grabbed my waist and pulled me back into a firm chest.

“Think you are funny?” Vinny asked quietly in my ear. He pulled me into a kiss before we all moved to sit around the room. I found myself sitting in-between Ricky and Vinny on the bed as Chris sat on the end of the bed and Justin and Ryan took the chairs.

“So why didn’t you tell us that you two were together? I mean we are pretty accepting.” Chris questioned. Vinny and Ricky looked at each other before looking back at the band.

“We don’t know. We didn’t really think about it. Before we were both dating Liv it was more of just us fooling around and using each other as stress relief.” Vinny explained.

“Then all that shit happened with her ex, we made the decision to move in together and when she wasn’t with us, we still gravitated to each other at night.” Ricky continued. “Our relationship has always been more about Olive than each other. We only started dating each other about a month before we proposed actually.”

“I’m sorry you guys had to come out like this.” Ryan said honestly.

“We talked about it last night. We had a feeling something like this would happen so we aren’t too torn up about it. We just hope the fans are understanding.” Ricky brushed it off.

“The response seemed pretty positive on chat.” Justin offered.

“I guess time will tell. This is going to affect the band though. Our fans might turn, our monthly listeners might drop. We will get hounded from all sides.” Ricky pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter. Do we support them?” Chris asked Ryan and Justin who immediately said yes. “Then whatever happens we handle it together. You three are our family and that’s more important than any fans we will ever have.” Ricky moved to the end of the bed and wrapped Chris in a hug, quickly joined by Justin, Ryan and Vinny. Vinny looked at me and held out his hand.

“They are safe.” He murmured. I grinned and took his hand to be pulled into the hug. These were my family and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. In that moment I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to call mine.

#motionless in white #miw band #vinny mauro #vinny mauro fanfic #trust and love #ricky olson #ricky olson fanfic

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nancypullen · 2 years ago

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Countertop Eve

I’m as excited as a kid at Christmas. We get our countertops tomorrow! After nine months in this house the kitchen will be finished! I spend a big chunk of my time in that room and it will finally feel like mine. I cook a lot, I mean a lot, and I like my work space to be pretty and functional. I don’t think that’s asking too much. These new countertops will stand the test of time. Since we’re on the topic of kitchens and cooking. I have decided that I am part elephant...or maybe panda. They eat tons of veggies and stay plump, and I am living proof that humans can do that too. Most of my snacks and meals are made up of fruits and veggies. This is what my cart typically looks like when I’m shopping -

Top to bottom - a bag of apples, blueberries, bananas, broccoli, green beans, romaine, 2 packages zucchini, carrots, celery, there’s a bag of basmati rice, two pounds of lean ground turkey, chicken breasts, and salmon. Those two cans are extras to go into a big pot of vegetable soup. Did I also cruise down the candy aisle and pick up a bar of dark chocolate with sea salt? Guilty. But that cart usually feeds us for a about a week. It’s not keeping me thin, but it is keeping me healthy. Knock on wood! I guess I’ll have to be content with that. Quick snack - just cukes with a tiny sprinkle of Maldon salt. I love baby cukes and a big bag is usually under three bucks.

Those green beans? I’ll roast a bunch and eat ‘em for lunch. I spritz just a little olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt, and then a few shakes of this black urfa chili. It creates a deep, almost smoky flavor.

I roast them until they’re blistered then I squirt a half tablespoon of garlic aioli (yes, I know I could make my own, but this is soooo easy) into a dish for dipping. I swirl it around to make it look like more - who do I think I’m fooling? It’s delicious. So 45 calories for the aioli and whatever is in that spritz of olive oil. I probably burn 45 calories loading the dishwasher.

Here’s a more fattening veggie dish, but not by much. Slice some zucchini lengthwise, lightly salt it, and leave it to sweat for about 20 minutes. Dab off the water.

Spray a pan with olive oil and plop them in face down until they’re nice and brown.

Turn them over and pop them into a 400 degree oven for a few minutes. While that cooks, grab some fatty and flavorful toppings. I chose reduced-fat feta, red pepper flakes, and my bff, garlic aioli. No, I don’t eat it every day. Only on days when I want to be happy.

A schmear of aioli on the plate is enough.

An extra sprinkle of red pepper flakes doesn’t hurt either. When your zucchini is done (we’re talking just a few minutes, you don’t want it mushy!) plate it and give it a crumble of feta and more flakes.

This was a delicious and filling lunch. Just because I followed it with a square of dark chocolate for dessert doesn’t negate the fact that my lunch was less than 200 calories; 45-ish for the aioli, about the same for the feta, and then the olive oil. One medium zucchini is 33 calories. I probably burned that while cooking it. The feta is a good source of B vitamins, calcium and phosphorus - so it’s almost medicine, right? Like I said, I’m round but very healthy.

That said, it’s time for more water and something yummy for lunch. Dinner tonight is salmon and roasted broccoli. Lunch is probably going to be veggies. Mostly because it’s good for me, but also because my husband can’t stay out of Craft Bakery!!

I think he’s trying to kill me. He went out this morning to take photos and came home with a haul from the bakery. My only real weaknesses there are her quiche and the blackout cookies. This plate doesn’t tempt me. The quiche is roasted potato, caramelized onion, and cheddar and it’s sitting in the frig calling my name. Pray for my salvation.

Me too, Mae, me too. With that in mind I’m going outside in the sunny 46 degree weather to try to clean up that scraggly tree line and pull some ivy off trees. I can’t hear the siren song of the frig out there. I’m thinking of spring and what I want to see when I look out the windows to that back yard. My itty bitty Jane Magnolia has buds, it survived the winter! In a few years I’ll have a pretty pink tree out there. If I want to live to see it I’ll avoid the quiche. My good genetics can only carry me so far. I hope that you’re having a lovely Thursday and can get outside and turn your face to the sun. We’re already seeing longer days and I’m a fan. There are daffodils up all over town and that always puts me in a sunny frame of mind. March up here came in like a lamb, so she may exit like a lion - but her sweeter sister, April, is waiting in the wings. Here comes the sun, folks!

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Sending you love & sunshine! Nancy

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jodilin65 · 21 years ago

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SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2003 On this last day of November, I sit and think about how I am not looking forward to December. It could very well be a pretty shitty month. Why is something doing this to us? Just what is it that wants us out of here so badly, and is it something that’s against us being here, or against anyone being here? Well, if it’s a restless spirit of some kind that may’ve died here many years ago, then the next people will get shit, too. As for our breakage curse (now the fuser on my laser printer’s acting up); that follows us wherever we go, so even if we get out of here before the well breaks again there’ll only be trouble with the next one.

There goes the renters to haul water. Their place looks shitty as usual, but their dog’s been quieter at night. That’s because it’s so cold, so the poor thing’s probably using up all its energy shivering in the cold and has none left over for barking. As soon as the sun comes up it starts up, though. It does its thing when it sets, too.

Anyway, I’ve been a little bummed and anxious with all this uncertainty going on. Tom said not to worry about us ending up homeless and that if worse came to worse, we could get an acre right here in Maricopa and put a piece of shit on it, but I’d hate to have to do that. No, it wouldn’t be Brattleboro, Valleyhead, Estrella Jail, a house in the city or an apartment, but it’d be plenty noisy enough. In a place as open as this where everyone’s dogs are kept outdoors 24/7, the barking would be pretty obnoxious. If we can’t get more land, I really don’t want to have to get any less than what we’ve already got, but as Tom pointed out, if we do, it’d be easier to fence. Maybe even put up a block wall if it’s going to be just an acre.

A part of me is wondering if another reason we may end up being forced out of here is to prevent us from making a lot of money off this place in the future. If that’s the case, then we’re wasting our time trying to make money with websites.

So many questions, never any answers! See, I knew God would replace my old freeloader problems with new ones, but I’d certainly rather this over the array of past problems I’ve had.

Here goes the renters again. I swear we’ve had more traffic on Ralston in just the first year they lived here than in all the time we were here before they arrived. Last night alone, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard them go by 6 different times. They all might not have been coming/going from their place, but I’m sure most of them were. I’m sure it’ll be like this when we move too, and that we’ll be next to rentals with virtual junkyards and tons of people and dogs that are home constantly.

Anyway, Tom checked for me and Walmart sells 25-packs of incense for just 84¢ while they’re $1.75 for a 20-pack at Incense Galore. I’m still going to buy from Incense Galore, though, as they have a huge variety. Walmart incense will be good for in-between orders.

I haven’t worked on my current story, A New Life, a New Love in several days. There’s no hurry. I’ll get to it when I get to it.

I have one thing to look forward to in the midst of all this shit and that’s that tomorrow we’re going to the bookstore. I just hope it exists! We’ll call them first to make sure they haven’t moved so we don’t end up going out for nothing like we did the last time, though we wanted to get pets that day, too. I also hope we can sell some of the stuff we want to sell, too.

Lastly, I hope to get a letter from Mary. That’d cheer me up and take one more worry off my shoulders. I mean, it’s not like her to not respond about my last book, the photo contest and all that’s been going on with us.

There’s now just one mouse left.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2003 Well, I’ll be damned. Netflip actually credited me the rest of the money owed to me which is a total of $23.90. The next step is to get them to send the damn check.

After this year, I don’t think I’ll bother printing out journals anymore. I figure there’s no need to waste paper and ink when I have them on two hard drives, one floppy disk and one CD. It’s not like Tom and I are ever going to “break up” where I’ll need to print copies to take with me.

I skipped my walk yesterday, but am down a pound because I watched my cals yesterday. I had roughly around 1400 and so now I’m 127. The problem is that this is as low as I seem to be able to get, so I won’t count on dropping any more. I can’t even remember the last time I was 125. I know it was over a year ago because it was last New Year’s when I discovered I could no longer lose weight but a few measly pounds. I can pull myself down to 127 from 130, but not to the 100-110 I used to be able to pull myself down to.

I hope I finally hear something from Mary today if Tom stops at the PO, but either way, I should mail her Christmas card off on Monday. That way, if there’s any delay with the increase in mail volume, it will still get to her on time. With Christmas being her favorite holiday, she’s bound to love it.

I don’t know why New Year’s Eve was always my favorite holiday. We never got presents at that time. Perhaps it’s because most of my life was so shitty that each new year presented a ray of hope if only a teeny weenie bit and even if it was usually false hope in the end. Also, it was the only real time I felt “free.” Free from Dureen’s wrath and control. Being able to stay up so late was quite a big thrill, too.

I’m especially looking forward to this new year despite the fact that it’ll be filled with lots of uncertainty. This will be our first year without the welfare bums being a part of our lives since 1996.

Later…

I just walked a mile in 20 minutes and Tom’s out doing one of God’s favorite things he stuck in his cards for him to do – fixing the truck.

What a strenuous workout I had, yet it makes me feel good! It’s easily the equivalent of Mary running up and down the stairs like she says she does. I don’t think you can find a much harder workout than this. I can only manage a few quick scattered spurts of jogging. For the most part, though, I can’t go much faster than 4 MPH on this thing. One really needs to already be in good shape in order to handle this thing.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2003 The renters, who add more and more junk and vehicles to their yard “décor” each month, are back to trashing us again. I see at least a few clumps of their shit towards the back of our land, but it’s okay. We’ll be moving in late February, from what my vibes and logic tell me (to northern Arizona or Nevada). If I’m wrong and we stay, we’ll just fence up and make it harder for their shit to blow over here.

I got a really cool paper sample in the mail today. It’s this super high-gloss paper that makes the pictures you print out look like actual photographs.

I decided to send Paula tons of samples, too. I know she’ll dig them.

I had a bad truck vibe the other day, and sure enough, the water pump blew, so now he’s got to replace it, using the one from the green truck. I’m just so glad we’ve got two vehicles so that when one craps out on us like it does every other day, we can at least use the other one. Anyway, the breakage curse just never ends. It never fucking ends. I don’t know how we’re going to get the time to try to get ahead in life when all we do is get set back over and over and over again.

We talked about it, and we both agree that since we have no respect for our so-called “fellow” human beings what with the way there are so many sick, evil people out there, to take advantage of their stupidity and vulnerability. They’ve taken from us and fucked us over, so why not return the favor? Maybe that’s why God never punishes our perps. Maybe he’s just waiting for us to give them a taste of their own medicine on our own, and so we’re thinking of running some sort of online scam. There are a variety of things we can do that are considered wrong by most, but still legal. I won’t write much more about it till we come up with a more concrete idea, but one idea is to be an online psychic. I’m the real thing, unlike most of the quacks out there, but when I don’t get any vibes, I’ll have to make them up. There’s also the possibility of the popular “get rich” thing where you spend money to work instead of making money from working. There are a lot of desperados out there who believe they can turn the tables eventually and make some of the money they’ve been spending, but meanwhile, they’ll pay to work.

Tom finished my third book and agreed that it’s the best one so far and that I’m getting more and more professional with my writing.

Still nothing from Mary. I’m surprised, too. I mean, I know she’s had her spells where she didn’t write for a week or two, but she’s usually pretty good with feeling what I feel and quickly responding to it when something good or bad comes up. In other words, I thought she’d have been psyched right along with me about the photo contest and quick to say so, as well as eager to send words of encouragement over the well crisis and hard time we’re having. Certainly, my book didn’t scare her to death which I haven’t even heard about yet. Nah, she’s tougher than that. I guess she’s just broke herself and isn’t able to write because if something were wrong, I’d think her aunt would’ve notified me.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2003 Last night’s wake-up call was a round of sonic booms. That’s twice in less than a week that I’ve been woken up in rural Maricopa! I’m so sick of being punished with this house. The question is, though, am I really being punished for living in a luxurious house, by an evil spirit that lurks here, or for leaving the city? Well, I started getting slight moving vibes last night (to northern AZ?), so maybe I’ll find that out soon enough. Unless Tom finds a job that pays tremendously well right off the bat, we’re definitely out of here. I look forward to change. Especially if the changes are good ones or at least going to lead to good ones, but I have my fears about it, too. Will we get stuck in the city during the transition? Will there be more sonic booms where we move to? Will other bad things happen if we move? The unknown can be both frustrating and scary at times. I just wish I had somewhat of a sense of what’s going on! Meanwhile, I’m going to try to stay on days if they’re going to return to flying every day.

Yesterday, in 3 or 4 spurts, I walked 2 miles in 40 minutes. I’m walking further in less time now that I’m getting used to this thing, but because it’s so damn strenuous, I can’t really go faster than a 3- or 4-MPH pace.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2003 Now I’m in the 2000s on Memolink.

My last letter to Mary was returned saying that the word puzzle I sent wasn’t allowed and I’m like fuck this shit with things being sometimes allowed and sometimes not allowed! It doesn’t seem to be a matter of what is/isn’t allowed so much as it seems to be a case of whether or not the receiving officer wishes to okay it. It all depends on the officer. From now on, I’m not sending anything other than letters, journals and drafts. I’m not even sending graphics because, for all I know, the pictures of dolls that were always acceptable may suddenly not be acceptable should they be received by an officer high on control.

Anyway, I still haven’t heard from her, so I don’t know what’s going on. If there’s anything new going on with the case, I don’t know. I never bother to check because I figure she’ll tell me about it herself when something comes up.

I got a letter from Paula yesterday which was nice. I even spoke to her because I wanted to know if the incense stick I sent made it to her in one piece, but she hasn’t been to her box. She has a cold, she says. I told her I’d concentrate on putting a spell on her to make it better and that I’d call back to find out if it worked.

She still wants me to make her CDs of people like Ashanti, Nsync, R. Kelly, Madonna, Mariah Carey, TLC and stuff like that, but like I told her, my burner’s broken and we’re broke, too. I’m also sick of giving to those who won’t give to me. The least she can do, for example, is send me the money to ship her the incense I don’t want when it comes time, though as I told her, she may as well wait till I’ve sampled all the ones I want to sample first.

She mentioned getting settlement money from the bus accident she was involved in, but whether or not she really will, I don’t know.

All I know is that Tom and I wasted yet more money. The money on the mice was a waste since they’re all going to end up dead, and the cages were a waste too, because they’re really not all that great. I like these tubes better, though, cuz they’re smaller and they make climbing easier for the smallest rodents like mice.

Tom’s family really are such shits. Although we’d say no thanks because we’re not social butterflies or big fans of turkey, the decent thing to do would be to call to see how we’re doing, especially since they know we’re having a hard time, then to invite us over for Thanksgiving, offering at least to give us gas money.

I only have 55 incense sticks left because I’ve been burning them like crazy.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2003 So much for the power of prayer. I should know better by now, I swear! I had hoped that God could put aside his hatred momentarily to grant my request for him to lead Tom to a decent job, but as always, he’s going to do what he’s going to do anyway, so why bother asking for help?

The renter’s dog is getting on my nerves on and off throughout the night. Since coming to Arizona I have been so annoyed by other people’s dogs that I don’t think, regardless of where we are or where we stand financially, that I want to bother getting our own dog. I wish someone would start shooting these loose dogs and teach their owners just what’ll happen to them when they let them run loose. I didn’t come out here to Maricopa for this shit or to be woken up as much as I get woken up out here. Tonight’s wake-up call was a huge explosion somewhere. I was close to getting up anyway when it happened at 9 PM, so I wasn’t in that deep of a sleep. Still, I thought it was a dream until Tom confirmed that it was real when I got up. He said he went out and checked things out, but didn’t see anything and that it was probably a transformer that blew, reminding me of the one that blew when we were in Phoenix. Oh yes, I remember it quite well and how the blast blew the mail slot open.

I told Tom I thought we ought to sell the Bowflex or try to anyway, but he said he likes having it around. Why? So he can use it twice a year and I can use it just to stay fat?

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2003 It’s not even midnight yet and it’s already down to 35º. Maricopa really is colder in the winter and hotter in the summer than Phoenix. Even the floors get cool along with our 6” walls! Especially because there’s no cellar or concrete slab for the house to rest on.

I was able to psych $15 on the last Slingo ticket and I’m going to keep on plugging away at it. I’m just sick of God punishing us for every little blessing he does give us. Things were running smoothly for months and now we gotta pay for it. Lovely. Just lovely.

Anyway, we talked about the possibilities of both staying and leaving. We definitely agree that if there was a way we could’ve fucked up when leaving Phoenix, we definitely did. We should never have gotten the well or a big fancy house. The nearly $1000 payments are a real killer. Like I said before, I don’t like the idea of trading this place in for a single-paned, thin-walled, tiny piece of shit, but I’m sick of struggling and I’d like more land and fewer people. Moving here and the way we went about it was definitely a dumb mistake, but we were fated to fail. Again, what would be the point of cursing us with psychotic neighbors if we were only going to know how to escape it 4 years sooner than we did? There was no way God was going to let us stumble onto the fact that we could’ve gotten out as soon as the shit hit the fan, and done so without suffering as much as we did. We didn’t have to spend 4 months in trailers and motels and we didn’t have to lose so much money. But like I said, why curse someone, then show them the way?

Another mistake was these mice because they’re dying off one by one. As Tom pointed out, feeder mice that have been inbred so much tend to be more diseased. If they all die off (there are 4 left) I’m not going to replace them with anything new till we know for sure what’s going on. I’d say we’re going to end up staying for a few more years because I’m getting to like the idea of leaving more and more. Like I said, it’s only the house itself I’ll miss. I’m just glad that for however long we end up here we’re not stuck in a desperate situation like we were before with seemingly no way out.

I’m also not going to miss the waves of foul smells we get in here. Tom can’t smell them as much, but when you’ve been cursed with a nose just as keen as any bloodhound’s, you smell all kinds of shit. Most of the smells are from the septic, but I’d only have to put up with this in the next place too, because there’d be a septic there as well.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2003 There’s a tractor in front again, so maybe they are going to level the second house after all.

It’s not even 8 PM yet it’s cold. It’s in the 40s which means it’ll probably be in the 20s come 5:00! It hadn’t been that cold this year till it got windy early this morning, causing a cold front to surge through.

Well, I guess I’ll go trim my bangs now which need to be trimmed for the third time this month.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2003 Today was Tom’s last day at the proving grounds. He’s going to sign up once again for unemployment, though he hopes to be paid by his next job, whatever that may be before he has a chance to receive unemployment. He’s going to take anything he can get, he said, and I was like, but you just had anything you could get, so why go from one shit job to another? Because he needs to be on nights, he told me, so he can have the days open for interviews. He has a point there. I always did tell him that first shift sucks for a reason. When you work during business hours, that leaves hardly any time for appointments, shopping, etc.

We were talking about the pros and cons of moving. We both agree we don’t want to be forced to sell, but we don’t want to stay either. I hate it when fate or others go and make our decisions for us, yet if moving means moving on to something better, then why not? On the other hand, if the price of moving again is going to be another half a year in jail, then I’d rather stay put. It’s one of those things we won’t know until and if it happens or until I get any vibes, but one thing that’s comforting to know is that we know more now than we did the last time around. A lot more.

I have no vibes either way at this time, but I keep seeing a brown building with an elevator in it, whatever that means. There is one thing I do know and that’s that no, we won’t always be in Arizona for the rest of our lives. Where we’ll end up, beats me.

Since a journal is a place for honesty, then I’ll say that I’m wishing once again that his mom would go belly up. We could really use our inheritance right about now, and of course it’d really put a stop to whatever she may be sending Doe and Art, though they’d just get Mary to pick up where Marge left off to play spy and report with. Well, while I may not be able to put a clamp on Marge and Miss Prefect’s big mouths, I can at least make sure they never get another picture of me, just in case they are exchanging a bit more than Merry Christmases and Happy Chanukahs, and every ounce of my gut instinct says they are too, just like it said that they were paying Kim to keep tabs on me. I doubt they’re paying Marge, though.

What I don’t understand is why my life is so important to Doe and Art. Okay, so I’m their daughter, but at the same time, I’m not their daughter and I haven’t been their daughter for years now and I never will be again, so what’s the point? Just what do they get out of it?

Since there’s never going to be a “judgment day,” which I’ll explain in a minute, I can now write all the therapeutic stories of revenge on the blacks and Mexies I so desire. I always knew deep down there’d never be a judgment day anyway and that Tom was probably just saying there would be to make me feel better, even if he might’ve truly meant it at the time, and I also knew that God would forever protect my perps.

Anyway, judgment day was going to be just what it says; we were going to hunt down as many of my perps down as we could and punish them for trashing my life be it by laser guns or whatever. We wouldn’t have done the same thing for all of them so that a common denominator wouldn’t have stood out like a sore thumb. We would’ve also made sure to leave no evidence and make their tragedies look like accidents. A laser gun burns itself up and would’ve appeared like their house caught fire for no apparent reason. In the end and in reality, revenge, punishment, torture, pain, suffering and ultimately death, will never be mine for these people except for in my fantasies. So much so that a state like Arizona would surely arrest me if they could read and display an eighth of the deadly fantasies I have in regard to these subhuman parasites that God so dearly blesses!

I’m still enjoying my incense. I don’t care about it staining furniture, walls or ceilings, but I worry about it staining the dolls and their clothes in time. I hope it won’t, though. I did online research about it and couldn’t find anything that says it will, but if I see any discolorations appearing around here, I’ll stop using the stuff.

As my writing continues to improve with time, I may one day rewrite the story of my life. I can’t make it any less sad, but I can make it better written.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2003 Just thought I’d jot down some thoughts before I go work some more on my story. Well, I’m filled with a bit of anxiety, stress and trepidation right now, though it’s nothing compared to what the freeloaders put me through. Not even a microscopic fraction. But it’s there, nonetheless. I always knew that once God finally cleansed my life of the freeloaders, He’d replace the problem with a new one. The question is how bad will it get and how long will it last?

I know Tom will ultimately end up making good money again and that we could always find some other place to live. That’s not my main concern. What worries me is us struggling indefinitely and or being forced back to the city that never wanted to let me go. This is the worst state for city living. The houses are too close and the apartment walls are paper thin. It’s way too noisy and chaotic for me. I couldn’t stand to deal with it all over again – the slamming doors, the loud stereos thumping, the screaming kids, the endless ball-bouncing games, the barking dogs, etc.

As of yesterday, I got used to the treadmill again. I could walk on it indefinitely, but not only is more not better, but I also don’t want to walk too much because it’ll just make me hungry and I’ll just end up replacing the calories I burned. If I’m going to stay 30 pounds overweight and not become 40, 50 or even more pounds overweight, I need to do something, but it doesn’t have to be a case of overkill either. I’m only walking 20-30 minutes a day, along with my arm and ab exercises. I’m 127 and I’m determined to stay there. I’ll never be the 100, 105, 110 or even the 115 I’d settle for, but I’m going to fight one last time to keep from comfortably settling into the 130s, then the 140s and so on and so forth. It’s my body, damn it, and I should be the one driving it!

Later…

Wow, I just felt and heard a huge sonic boom. They don’t usually do that at this hour either. I’m glad I was awake when that one hit. See, I worry about that as far as moving further out goes. If they can still fly over a rapidly growing community, even if it’s not that often anymore, then they certainly can fly over Nowhere Land.

I found one of the 7 mice I now have dead and one sick, so that’s not good. Hopefully, the rest will pull through.

Still no mail from Mary, though I decided to send both her and Paula letters. I even enclosed one of the incense sticks I didn’t like in Paula’s letter. Hopefully, it’ll get to her intact. I’ll call to find out at some point.

I was teasing her on the phone the other day and insisting that she’s suffering from “Ricanitis” because of how she likes PRs.

Incense Galore had always been good about answering my questions, but when I asked if the stuff leaves stains or soot over time, I got no response. This makes me think the answer could be yes. The stuff still hasn’t bothered my lungs or nose, but it sometimes irritates my eyes. Last night they felt like I’d been crying.

Michael Jackson’s being charged with child molestation again. This doesn’t surprise me. He’s quite a dedicated little pedophile. However, he has the 4 most important things in his favor and that’s his color, his gender, his fame and his fortune. He’ll get off even though he claims that he had been helping this family for a while and the more generous he was, the more they took advantage of him, so he cut them off and now they’re spiting him.

Tom agrees with me that guilty or not he’ll get off, but he also reminded me of the fact that we’re going through a time where they’re really cracking the whip on crimes against children, which led to a discussion about the cycles and trends society seems to go through. While people’s priorities may fluctuate over time, one thing sadly remains the same and that’s that everybody wants everybody else to be just like them. In other words, they may not be so quick to drug up minors like they were in the past, thinking that some magic pill would solve all their problems, but they’re on a big kick right now to dope up adults with ADD. As Tom pointed out, people are supposed to be different and they just can’t seem to get that through their thick skulls. You simply can’t make people take pills to get them to be carbon copies of one another. I can see drugging or punishing those who hurt other people, but it’s like me and blacks for example. I hate them in general and I’m sure I always will. However, I don’t go around insisting that something be done to make them just like me. I simply do my best to avoid them as much as I can instead.

Having the kind of parents I had, I can truly say that I was definitely a kid in the wrong era. It was perfectly legal to beat your kids on up till around the 90s. My mother could’ve slapped me silly in front of a cop and nothing would’ve happened. Especially in a town like Longmeadow. How I wish someone had cared enough about me to help me! So many people knew what was going on, too. It was no secret. Then again, what difference would it have made? I’d just have ended up in foster homes, funny farms and schools that were even worse sooner than I eventually did.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 2003 Tom was able to get a cheap ash-catcher at Walmart when he did the grocery shopping today, so that’s one less thing to order if I ever order more incense online and if I ever get the $88 I now have.

I guess our new neighbors are spending the night at their old place. There are no lights on over there tonight.

Friday’s going to be his last day at the proving grounds. Once again they tried to pull their bullshit “Oh, but we have a good position opening up real soon” line on him, but he told them that if it didn’t open up by Monday, he was outa there. He’s only taking home $275 a week. Meanwhile, our house payment is something like $900. That leaves shit for food, electricity, plus extras like phone time and internet access.

I still think this struggling is going to go on for many more months. I mean, I just can’t imagine him finding a really good job just like that. It takes years to work your way up to really good pay. Jobs that pay really well from the get-go are few and far between. God wouldn’t be that nice to us anyway, and lead him to a good job right off the bat. Like I said before, though, what’s the point of a good job anyway if things are going to come up to set us back? Any extra money we do have only ends up going to repairs half the time.

I’m just so pissed at God for letting this happen! As if we haven’t been screwed over enough? As if we haven’t struggled enough? Setbacks are almost always a bitch to overcome. It may take no time at all to get set back, but it doesn’t take just a few weeks or a few months to climb back up. It usually takes a lot longer than that. I don’t think things will improve (if we don’t lose the house) till between April and June. I just hope to hell that this is one of those rare cases where I’m wrong. What’s discouraging is that so far the only thing I was wrong about concerning money is when the stocks would sell. I didn’t think they’d sell before ’03, but they did. That’s the only financial screw-up I’ve vibed so far so that track record alone is not encouraging.

So, he got in pretty late today what with having to go all the way out to Casa Grande for groceries, so he ate, spent quality time with me and the lovable family vermin, then off to bed he went.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2003 Of the first incense order, my favorites have turned out to be honey, fruit, obsession, baby powder, joy, escape, watermelon, grape, butter rum, bump & grind, hot love, and sexy. Who knows how long it’ll be before I make another order? There are something like 180 more scents I’d like to try, so I’ll probably sample 90 of them next time, then the other 90.

In a couple of weeks or so we’re going to hope to get Little Fella a friend since rats don’t like living alone. I also hope to sell books, CDs and a couple of old Gloria videos in exchange for books at a place in Mesa.

I’m surprised there hasn’t been any mail from Mary so far this week, but I did get a lot more samples. A few tooth-whitening toothpaste samples and lots of skincare ones. One of the skincare companies sent what almost amounted to a small order. I got 4 little jars and 2 little bottles of stuff. I also got lots of toothpaste coupons as well as all-natural sweetener samples that contain fiber.

Later…

So much for hoping it’d be a while yet before people started moving in in front. Someone’s moving into the house closest to us. I can see lights on over there. That really sucks. That’s all the more noise we’ll have to put up with and dogs that will traipse through here. I just hope it’s nothing more than screaming kids and barking dogs because most of that can only be heard outdoors, but if they turn out to blast either car stereos or indoor stereos with doors and windows open, then we’ll hear the thumping in here with no problem. Same goes for loud motors. I hate it when people sit with loud engines idling or when they gun the damn thing. If they don’t have a dog yet, then I guarantee you they will within a week or two. No one lives out here without dogs and guns except us. I’m just glad they’re not just a few feet away!

I still really like this Delaware mannequin site and the way they add new ones quite often, but I don’t like how they never answered my email when I inquired about availability a few months from now on a particular model named Robin. I know there could be a million logical explanations as to why they haven’t responded, but until I know of any, I always think it’s an incompetence thing.

Later…

I heard car doors and an engine idling and looked out front. The lights are now off over there and there’s a van of some kind leaving the property. Perhaps they’re not all moved in just yet which would explain why I haven’t heard new barking yet. I know they’re more than just a few feet away, but I really hate having a house this close to us. When I envisioned us moving here, hearing car doors and barking as well as being able to see over a dozen houses from ours, was not part of the plan. Well, hopefully, hopefully, they won’t come and go so many times a day and they won’t always be home. The more people are home, the more it seems to stir up the dogs, no doubt because they want to come in and be part of the family. It’s so mean the way so many people don’t pay their dogs any attention. I think it’s wrong to either never allow a dog indoors or never allow them outdoors except to piss and shit.

Anyway, as soon as the dog(s) get over there, I’ll probably have to use the sound machine in my office to drown it out so I can concentrate, and just use the fan for sleeping.

They still haven’t put the other house level with the ground and I doubt they ever will. Of course they just had to level the one with the trees blocking it. Meanwhile, why not keep the one in perfect view in even more perfect view by keeping it elevated?

I asked Tom and he said all we could get for this place right now would be $140,000. With property-splitting becoming such a popular trend, that’d make this place all the more valuable in time as sooner or later there won’t be many 10-acre parcels left. I just hope God lets us decide when to move and doesn’t make up our minds for us, but I know better than to count on him for free will or any other kind of freedom of choice. I almost have to laugh when I hear those who say they “gave their lives to the lord.” Meanwhile, I’m always trying to get mine away from him! I’d really, really prefer it if we could make our own decisions most of the time and not have him, fate or others make them for us!

I was watching a talk show earlier about poor women having kids. I know love is more important than money, but it still bugs me to see women have kids who can’t afford them. All they end up doing is putting the responsibility on others or mooching off the state when they do that. If they have an accident, though birth control used properly should very rarely fail, it’s okay if they’re against abortion, but at least give the poor kid up for adoption or to a friend or relative and don’t have any more till you’re financially set. People just don’t think before they act a lot of the time. I guess we’re only human, though. I’ve done some pretty dumb things myself in life.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2003 I decided to call Paula and use some of these minutes up before they expire. She says they put a long-distance block on her phone and so she can’t call me. She asked about the incense, but again, I’m sick of doing for others who won’t do for me so the incense I don’t like is either going to sit here on a shelf or get thrown out. I’m not going to let her keep taking advantage of my generosity. Besides, we’re too broke right now for me to go sending packages. She says she’ll send a letter and $5 to send it, but I know better. Especially the $5 part.

My quads are sore today, that’s how strenuous this treadmill is. I should give my legs a rest today and work on my arms and abs. I’m down to 127 and I had been bouncing between 129-130 for days. I’m really surprised I’m not well into the 130s yet, but I probably will be sooner or later. People don’t just tend to gain weight upon entering their 30s and that’s it. They also tend to gain in 1- to 10-pound increments throughout their lives every 5-10 years.

A bang of some sort woke me up at 9:30, then again at 12:30, but I was ready to get up then anyway. Still, I’m sick of the periodic wake-up calls, and I’m sick of the renter’s fucking dogs having free rein in this place as well!

I guess it’s two to three. The two things I’d miss if we moved would be this house and having a decent convenience store 13 miles away versus the 20-30 it’d be if we moved. However, I still do like the idea of more land, being further away from civilization, and the extra money.

I’m back to thinking I’d prefer outer fences versus inner ones if we stay. We can still do inner ones, but with outer ones, we could be anywhere on the land we wanted to be and not have to worry about dogs. I know, for example, we’re seldom out by the well, but when we are, I’d want to know no dogs could run up to us.

These surveys have proven to be as much of a waste of time as I figured they’d be. On the rare occasion that I do get an offer for a survey in exchange for points or money, all I get is “Sorry, you don’t qualify for this survey.”

What’s going on with us right now is a prime example of why I totally disagree with those who believe we’re in control of our own destinies. Like Tom chose to spend all those years building himself up to where he was just to have someone come and tear it all down for him? Yeah, right! If that’s what people believe, then they might as well also believe I chose to get fat and to have asthma.

So much of my life has been out of my control, that in a sense, I’m surprised God didn’t make a kid part of my plans because then I’d really have no life I could call my own. I really truly believe that life ends with children and so many mothers have told me so. Not that some of them necessarily mind the trade-off, but once you have kids, your life belongs to them and not you at least till they’re on their own.

How strange it would be to have first thought we would lose the house to the welfare bums, then end up losing it to lack of money. I’m just sick of this up-and-down rollercoaster shit. It’s not fair! Each time we get kicked down I’m more afraid to pull back up because we always, always lose whatever we achieve. I’m sick of this ‘sometimes we have money, sometimes we don’t shit. No matter what we do, we just can’t seem to ever get ahead, and when we do, it’s always temporary.

Later…

I didn’t have the power to work my magic on the last 4 tickets, but it seems I’ve warded off cold number two of Tom’s. The morning should tell us for sure.

I told him about the bangs that woke me up, explaining that each time it was one quick bang. This is why I doubt it was a sonic boom. It didn’t have the rumble a sonic boom has and there was no vibration to go with it. Then he told me he heard bangs this weekend when I was sleeping with the fan on and he went out and checked to find it was coming from one of the farms several miles away.

I’ve got to start either sleeping with the fan on at least medium or a lower-pitched sound on the sound machine. It’s usually the low-pitched sounds that wake me up, so I have to match the pitch with the low rumble of the box fan or certain other sounds.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2003 I did some more research concerning weight loss and exercise, but I really didn’t learn anything new. They talked about how one could be fat and fit at the same time as well as skinny and out of shape. Also, one would probably end up disappointed if they thought exercise alone would cause them to lose weight like I did when we first got the Bowflex, and how cutting calories is most important, but that adding exercise should help with the process. Jogging and very brisk walking for an hour should burn roughly 500 calories. Well, I still don’t think I could lose a pound a week like most people probably could by walking an hour a day and watching my calorie intake, but I am going to walk every day for as long as I can stand. I prefer to break it up into multiple spurts rather than do it all at once, though, as working out for long periods of time tends to make a person quite hungry.

Speaking of hunger, ironically, ever since I first took those appetite suppressants I haven’t been hungry all the time like I used to be. In fact, it’s been a week now since I’ve even taken any.

Anyway, I dragged the treadmill out into the living room so I could walk under the ceiling fan. I hate the damn thing and it really, really kicks your heartbeat up like crazy, but little by little I’ll build up the stamina for it like I’ve done before. I’d still prefer a motorized flat treadmill so I could walk steadily, rather than this thing that makes you feel like you’re climbing up a steep hill with a 40-pound sack on your back, but it’s better than nothing. I can’t jog in place as long as I can walk because my feet end up killing me after a while.

Although I don’t have any bad vibes in particular, I still fear we may end up being forced to sell this place. Not just because something doesn’t want us here, but because something likes me to be stuck in places I don’t want to be in, and cities are one of those places. That could happen in between moving to the next place like it did when we moved from Phoenix, although as Tom pointed out, we know more now than we did then.

On the other hand, I really do like the idea of moving to a bigger piece of land further away from people. The only thing I’d miss would be this house, but I know that in time we could build one just as nice if not nicer.

Tom’s going to be looking for jobs as aggressively as he can, then we’ll weigh the pros and cons of all our options and make a decision then. I mean, if he could get a good job soon enough, then maybe we’ll finally, finally, get the damn fences as well as more olies and stay here for another 5 or more years. I asked Tom what his guess was as to whether or not he thinks we’ll move or stay here and fence up, but he hasn’t got a guess. I think we’ll be here a while yet, but I can’t imagine us getting fences anytime soon. We haven’t yet and he was making great money, so I don’t see why we would ever fence this place, particularly the outer perimeters.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2003 Walter and his son finally came to get their damn rig. Good. Now I don’t have to sleep with the fan on high, which I don’t like to do in the winter as opposed to the sound machine with hopes of it drowning them out but they came after I got up. He left the rig here for a week the last time too because they finished at night and the old junker has no lights.

Typical people, though, not putting their actions where their mouths are. They said they’d haul the metal pipes that were replaced up to the house but didn’t. So like always, we were left to clean up after others. Fortunately, there weren’t too many of them. Tom’s thinking of using them as supports for a carport.

At least I managed to rig one of the two Slingo tickets we got today for $20. I don’t think I’m going to be able to win big for a while, if ever, because we were meant to struggle. What would be the point of God allowing us to win big if he wants to curse us financially like he obviously does? As it is, we’re going to have to use the pennies I’ve been saving up as well as the state quarters we’ve been collecting. It is so, so unfair. Especially at our age and with how hard Tom works.

Imagine how good I could do at psyching winning tickets for others, though, since I’m so good at making money for others. Yes, God definitely sees me as a profit to others. I wouldn’t mind helping a friend like Mary out, though. I mean, why not? If the least I can do is help others, then fine. It’s not like it’d be done at my own expense if she bought scratch tickets and had me try to do my thing. We can try it when she gets out if she wants me to. A lot of people get spooked by the thought of psychics, so I don’t know if she’d want me to try to do it. We’ll see. Unless she’s not meant to have money herself, I really think I could do it.

In other news, my testimonial is now on Incense Galore’s testimonial page. I emailed them and told them I had gotten to like most of the incense and was glad I gave it another chance. Bob, the owner, wrote back saying he was glad to hear it, it meant a lot to him, and could he get me to say something about it for other people with my medical condition? So I provided positive feedback. This ought to get him more business. As I said, I’m a real profit to others, but at least I’m worth something to someone!

I now have $68 that I don’t have.

Tom sealed up the bathroom wall. Once we put joint compound on it, plus the little mini mural, no one will ever know it was cut open.

As for the diet, I never did do it. I figured it’d be pointless to set myself up for failure. I mean, why do something I know I can’t do? Besides, the longer you’re fat, the more you tend to get used to it.

Anyway, I guess I was a real fool to think for even a second that maybe, just maybe, the cock that fired Tom was doing him a favor since he was too nice to put his foot down about all the free work he was doing. Yet he was making more money working for free half the time, as funny as I know that sounds! I always said that something never wanted us here, so this will be a good test to see just how right I am about that one, because if his pay doesn’t increase significantly by February, then we’ll lose the house. He doesn’t think we will, but Tom’s always been an extreme optimist. He always thinks everything will work out. I don’t exactly have any vibes about losing the house myself right now, but it wouldn’t surprise me if we did.

He’s thinking of hooking up with one of the temp agencies to see what they can come up with. That’s how he started at the bank, but the bank cut his pay once he was assigned a permanent position. Either way, he’s probably going to have to quit where he is now to be available for interviews.

When I told Tom just how much I’d miss this house he said we didn’t have to move and that there are other options, but I can’t see any right now. I won’t live here more than a couple more years without fences and plants for privacy and we can’t afford either of those, so I don’t know that staying here will be an option. Besides, as much as I’ll miss this house, I still think we’re a little too close to people. I hear the fucking renter’s dogs barking all night long, and of course those themselves are always hanging out there and it steals my sense of seclusion and peace. I mean, don’t get me wrong; it’s nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the hell we went through in Phoenix, but I still like the idea of our closest neighbors being 20-30 miles away. Then God can stick the always-at-home Mormon family with 20 kids and 10 dogs closest to us and we’ll never know it! As Tom pointed out, most people don’t realize you can make your own electricity and they tend to want to go where there are power lines. I asked him if he thought they’d conveniently figure it out once we moved and come out to join us, but he said it’d be a good 50 years or so before they caught on, and described other things as examples. Things that were possible long before general society realized it, so this is a case where people’s stupidity can be to our advantage. Usually, it’s the other way around because we’re the ones stuck having to pay for stupid people’s mistakes and do the work that they were too stupid to do themselves. I know I may sound conceited, but most people just aren’t like us.

Anyway, Tom says most of the people who buy land in these super remote areas do it as an investment, thinking it’ll make big money down the road.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2003 I could easily walk outside for 20 minutes every day if my schedule and the weather would only permit it. It may not ultimately prevent me from gaining any more weight, but it sure does make me feel good. If I don’t exercise at all I feel like a lazy wimp, so I need to do this to at least stay in shape. I don’t have much privacy what with having to walk to the tune of half a dozen adults yacking and half a dozen kids screaming, but at this distance, it’s no biggie. However, I’d still like to see the day come when our closest neighbors don’t have so many damn people and dogs within their household and are out during the weekdays, but this hasn’t been the case since ’92 and I don’t think it ever will be again.

Since Mary likes word finds and I know how boring jail can be, I took one of my Word Find books and made puzzles for her using the words from it.

I have now sampled all of the incense. Of the 80 scents I got, 15 were bad, 11 were great, and the rest were okay. If I order any more, I’ll get the favorites in bulk quantities. I’m really surprised at the ones that I ended up liking best like the fruity one, for example. It was strong, but not overwhelming and smelled oh so good! Same with the honey.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2003 Today is such a beautiful day, as in shorts and no sleeves. After I fed and petted the cat, I walked for about 15 minutes around the house and the combination of the warm sun and a cool breeze was perfect.

Yesterday, all the pet supplies we ordered arrived. We decided not to send anything back, though my book shopping is going to have to wait. As it is, I have $61 that I don’t have, so to speak. I still hold out the hope that our financial problems will be solved soon enough, but our problems are never short-term. Whenever we’re set back like this it’s usually for months if not years. I know it won’t be years, though, because if we just can’t get ahead and it starts looking like we’re going to lose the house, we’ll just sell it and go on with our plans of more land with a shit trailer and skip the house payments.

Anyway, the cages are really cool, but I don’t know if cleaning them will be that simple. There are a lot of pieces that will need to be taken apart. The one with the glowing wheel isn’t all that impressive, though it’s still a cute cage. It’s just that it doesn’t glow very much, and the cage is very small. The cages are perfect for mice, though.

I also got a slew of beauty samples in the mail and a letter from Bob. He said my jailhouse journals make for good reading, but it’s going slow for him because his eyes are bad.

As is the case with most controlled environments, there are always new rules and changes occurring where he is. The latest one is that they can no longer receive envelopes or stamps, so the 3 envelopes I sent him will go to waste.

I decided not to bother getting the trimmer because I so rarely cut my hair and when I do, I like to cut a few inches. It also needs evening out periodically and the trimmer couldn’t do that.

Later…

Shiny finally got brave enough to enter the house, but he didn’t go very far. I’m sure he’ll go farther and farther each time, and that’s fine with me since he’s declawed and seems to be a gentle, harmless cat, but he’s often filthy with the dirt and weeds he rolls around in. He seems to be getting bigger now that we’re feeding him. His lack of claws would explain why he was so skinny; because he couldn’t kill anything. Anyway, he was in and out a couple of times. Whenever he’d lose his nerve and turn towards the door, I’d let him out so he’d know he’d never be trapped in here. Then, at one point, he saw something outside that I didn’t see and went charging after it. Whatever it was (probably a rabbit) was down towards the utility end of the house and we were in front at the time.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2003 It’s hard to believe it’s the middle of the afternoon. It’s so cloudy and rainy out there that it looks like early morning.

I did it again. Tom got a crossword ticket for him and a Slingo for me and they both won a total of $17! I won lotto points too, and am now up to 1803!

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2003 The well work ended up costing $520. I am so, so mad at God. Utterly furious! How could he let this happen to us? Now’s not the time to be picking on us. Not with his shit job. I can’t stand this regular destruction of our property! I’m so fed up with the fucking setbacks! If he can’t let us get ahead in life, can’t he at least quit kicking us back down? And to let us be kicked down like that at this time is really mean, hateful and compassionless.

Tom said that despite how bad it is being cursed, and he’s always believed there was a curse on him just like I’ve always believed there was one on me, there is some consolation in it. The consolation is knowing he’s not going to be killed in a car wreck or get cancer and die, because what would be the point of killing someone you can’t curse? Something definitely wanted us to live to suffer, though we may not suffer nearly as much as we used to, especially me. I mean sure, paying $520 when we’re broke may be bad enough, but living with Dureen and Art O. was a much greater curse. So was living in the Brattleboro Retreat, Valleyhead, the NHA and Estrella Jail, to say nothing of the nearly 4 years we had to spend living next to the human parasites in Phoenix.

I can relate to what he’s saying, in a sense. There have been times when Tom would be a little late getting home and I’d start getting nervous, reminding myself of how much God hates me and that he’s both capable and cruel enough to take one’s loved ones from them in a heartbeat. Then I think to myself, yes, he hates me. With a passion, too! However, he doesn’t quite hate me that much. Then I see Tom’s car pull in and I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

While we both believe in curses as much as we believe in blessings and the supernatural, we disagree on the cause. Tom thinks he’s cursed just because, but I believe there’s a reason for everything. I don’t know what to think as to why we could be so cursed. Some say we’re being punished for the sins of our forefathers which would be so unfair, though nothing in life is fair anyway. Others say there is such a thing as reincarnation and would suggest that we weren’t very nice people in our past lives and so we’re paying for it in this one.

I don’t know about these theories. I mean, anything’s possible. One thing I do know is that God has a deep hatred toward Jews. That’s been way obvious to me. Why else would he have allowed 6 million of us to be tortured and murdered? No, he definitely likes to pick on the Jews, but why I don’t know. I’m not even Jewish, as far as I’m concerned. Just because my parents were Jewish, doesn’t mean I have to be. I’ve always been as religious as a doorknob and I plan on staying that way, too!

I hate to do it, but I probably am going to put my allowance money towards a little repair fund. We can’t even go 3-6 months without some major breakage, and I want us to be prepared so we won’t have to be so tight when these multi-hundred-dollar repairs are needed.

Walter and his son worked on the well from 9:30 to 7:30. After they left we went to Circle K for some treats because we felt we deserved it. I even got myself a $3 beanbag Gila Monster with bright metallic colors.

On the way there Tom said that he overheard how much Walter pays his son. He gets $2 a link. We have 38 pipes, so that’s $76. I’d say the kid made out really good at our expense. I wasn’t kidding when I said we do a damn good job of making money for others. We’re definitely, definitely a financial asset to anyone but ourselves. If God could’ve spoken to others in regard to me the day I was born, he’d have said, “Use her, abuse her, and make as much money as you can off of her.”

The problem did turn out to be a hole caused by corrosion. It occurred in the very last pipe right above the pump. This pipe was replaced with one of the old plastic ones which aren’t supposed to corrode like metal ones do. So just like the last time, instead of the water being pumped straight up through the pipes, it’d be pumped up out the hole and back down into the ground again. The further down the pipes are, the more susceptible to corrosion they get as there’s more water the further down you go.

These are one of the many catastrophes in life where I’m glad we don’t have kids to make things twice as hard and twice as expensive. I’m also glad, as funny as it may sound, that God isn’t in the habit of answering my prayers. If he had taken Marge when I wanted him to, then who would we run to for money? If this woman doesn’t have empathy enough by now to give us a Christmas bonus this year, she never will.

Tom suggested I try putting a general spell on us and see if it’ll help ward off whatever evil haunts and harasses us, but I doubt I can do that. God’s not going to allow me the powers to do things he doesn’t want done, and again, what would be the point of cursing someone if they’re either dead or able to ward it off?

Sometimes I wonder why we bother to forge ahead when something up there is only going to come and tear down what we’ve achieved. I want so bad to have 5 minutes alone with the cock that fired Tom, but I know that if I ever even so much as thought of fighting back against those who have wronged us, God would punish me all the more, so I’m forced to simply grin and bear it.

Both Tom and I agree that I’m getting better and better at rigging scratch tickets with my mind, but to remove the curse in general? I just can’t imagine being able to do that. Rigging tickets is hard enough as it is because there’s so much I have to mentally alter. I have to rig the call letters/numbers, then the game board part itself, then the barcode where winning tickets are scanned for verification.

I’ve gotten to like some of this incense, though I’m still not sure I’ll ever reorder. Especially not if I’m going to turn my fun money into a repair savings account. As much as I wanted the mannequin, the dolls, the DVD, the trimmer, I know I can do without them. Shopping is fun, but material things aren’t the most important things in life, surviving is. Mary’s stamps are all gone now, so I’ll probably make a point of mailing out just one envelope a week.

I just hope we’re out of here before the next scheduled attack on the well. They’re going after it again in late ’06 or early ’07 and I totally trust my vibes on that one after being right on everything else, including this latest attack which I predicted nearly to the day. On the other hand, this shit will happen to us no matter where we go, and if we go to a place even more remote than this, then that’s all the more reason we’ll have to have a well. We can’t haul water if there’s no one around to get the water from in the first place.

I have to wonder if another possibility I’m cursed like this could be because of the spells I’ve put on those who’ve crossed me or those I care about. But I wasn’t always able to curse others so maybe the reasons for my being cursed fluctuated. Even so, there’s a good possibility that I’ve harmed many people on account of my spells. What goes around really does come around. An example of that is that for years I’d bitch about how my parents were never going to pay for their abuse towards me, but when you think about it, really think about it, you see that they are paying. They lost their daughter forever. For the rest of their lives, they can only wonder about me and hear gossip which they’ll just have to sort through and decide for themselves whether or not what they hear is true. Never again can they know what’s true for real, see me, hear me, etc. I’m forever a memory of theirs. A face in a photograph, a voice on tape, an image on video. That’s all I am. I’m like an intangible entity for them that can never really truly come to life.

Anyway, I really wish I knew what was causing this curse. I kind of think that knowing might be the key to actually doing something about it for a change. Right now all we can do is bitch about it. Still, this is why I constantly analyze the past. We can learn a lot from the past, even if it means we still can’t necessarily change the future. Looking at past curses, like the things that broke and the things I didn’t achieve that I once wanted, helps me to see and recognize any patterns that may be of whatever significance in the end.

A lot of people choose to forget the most depressing, frustrating times in their lives, and that’s all well and good. I’m all for moving on and living for the future. However, I don’t think we should completely forget the bad times because it makes us appreciate the good times all the more. This is why every Wednesday that Maricopa’s supposed to report (I’m sure that will change at some point), I’m thankful I’m not one of the ones who has to report. Every other weekday during the hours of 10 AM-3 PM, I delight in the fact that Scot won’t be stopping by.

The more I think about moving, the more I like the idea, despite the pros and cons I see in it. I don’t like the idea of living in an old dump again, I worry about sonic booms and punishments for moving, but I really like the idea of having no house payments while we build our own castle that we’ll hopefully live happily ever after in till we’re too old to live so far out. I swear, though, if we ever live in the city again it’ll be in a retirement community. I also like the idea of having more land and more spending money. How fun it’d be to have at least $100 a month to play with on top of an unlimited grocery budget!

Later…

It’d be a bizarre sort of karma if Little Buddy’s picture won money. The welfare bums cost us thousands of dollars, yet if it wasn’t for them, there’d be no bottles and this picture wouldn’t exist. I know it’ll never happen, though. Not in a million years. I may win a medal, but that’d be only because I couldn’t do anything with it.

I told Tom I think we should return the cages as soon as we get them and save the money. I can make do just fine with what we’ve got. I still have one Play City cage, 3 tanks, the maze, tubes galore, plus other accessories.

The renters, who were amazingly out of sight and sound all day yesterday, were out burning this evening. They’ve been burning almost every day, though if we had that many people in my household, we’d have to burn that often, too.

I still like to walk outside when it’s too hot for the renters to be out, but I’ve tightened my walking trail. Instead of venturing far out on the sides, I walk around the house, staying pretty close to it. That takes about a minute, that’s how long the house is. So I’d have to circle it 20 times to get 20 minutes of walking put in. Tom recommends walking every other day. That’s what I figured I’d do when my schedule calls for it (I’ll jog indoors when I’m on nights). The question is, do I walk 20 minutes, 30 minutes, 45 minutes or an hour? I guess I’ll just base it on how I feel.

While I was out there, I kept the front and side doors unlocked in case any strays got a little too friendly. It wouldn’t have made sense to open the back door as there are no stairs by it right now. Tom took those stairs and replaced the old, rickety side stairs with them before one of us could fall through and break a leg like I’ve been fearing.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2003 I haven’t written for a few days because I’ve been too pissed off to do so. Let’s just start off by saying that I knew the quick fix on the well was too good to be true. Whatever the problem is this time, I better not find out that this is their fault (the same people that we called out the last time) or else they’re not getting a dime. I told Tom this, too. No more paying for other people’s mistakes. I’ve had enough of that shit. If this is their mistake, then it’s their responsibility to pay for it as well as to correct it.

I’m surprised no nosybodies have come to butt into things as of yet.

I’m just so sick of the setbacks and the breakage!!!!! Why can’t we ever go more than a few months without having to lose time and shell out money to stop and play fix it? I’m seriously considering saving my money and not buying things with it anymore. Too much of our stuff breaks too often and we could really use the money for all these fucking repairs.

Anyway, the well crapped out on us early yesterday morning. The well guy came out late in the afternoon to check it out, thinking the pump had malfunctioned, but Tom was sure it was a short that caused a hole in the pipe. It took two hours to pull up the 760-foot-deep pump. They’re at lunch right now.

The renters just may not be so musicless after all. I can’t swear to it that the music we heard yesterday was theirs and not the middle or furthest rental, but it probably was theirs. We couldn’t hear it inside, but it was annoying while we were out trying to talk to the well guy, Walter. Maybe that’s why they played it; because they saw us standing out there, and if people who like to get other people’s attention see people hanging out and about, then of course they’re gonna make a commotion of some kind. Dan may’ve truly repaired those trucks in which engines he used to gun, but what better way to let the world know you exist? I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he moved. I could tell that anyone who felt the need to get attention that bad where they had to blast their music and gun engines for hours at a time, was a very lonely, isolated person and they needed to be in the city with people.

Anyway, the renters may not be the neighbors from hell like what we had in Phoenix, but they really are annoying at times. Let’s see… they’ve trashed our land, their place is a hell of an eyesore, their dogs are set free to traipse all over our land even though they do have fences in front, and now they’re blasting music. And of course they’re out and about constantly. Another thing that bugs me is the traffic back there. They seem to come and go an awful lot and they don’t just simply do it. They creep in slowly in a vehicle with a loud motor, then they just sit there for a few minutes before turning the damn thing off. I guess the music and extra traffic are connected to whoever the hell they’ve got living in that trailer back there, but it’s really getting old. Their fucking dogs ran up barking to Tom and Walter yesterday when they were out by the well, and while these dogs may’ve been friendly, they’re big scary dogs, too! I’m sick of everyone’s dogs having a free run of our land. See, that’s the problem with so many people out here. They act like they’re the only ones around or like they own the neighborhood. It’s like their land is their land, your land is their land and so is everyone else’s. I just wish they’d settle down, spruce their place up a bit and keep their damn dogs to themselves!

And what about George? He’s got to know it’s illegal for someone to be living in a trailer back there like that. What would it take for him to complain or evict a tenant of his? For them not to pay their rent for a whole year?

Anyway, since we had to stop and play well for the 10th time, the bathroom wall did not get sealed up. He doesn’t like to do much of anything during the week but come home from work, eat dinner by the TV, then do a little computer work before bed, so the wall will have to wait till next weekend.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2003 I was going to return the incense. They even said I could. But then, remembering how bad mice smell as opposed to any other rodent in the world, I decided to keep it. Especially since we got 10 mice today! We’re just not so sure that the small rats we saw will stay small enough for the cages/tubes that should arrive next week, so we got the mice instead. I got 3 Fancy mice and the rest are common mice. They’re all males and all are white, except the Fancies have some grays and tans mixed in. The commons were a little over a buck and the Fancies were 4 bucks, but she let me have them all for the common’s price. If they were all plain white, I’d still be able to tell the Fancies from the commons, as the Fancies are noticeably bigger. I just wish they’d quit fighting!

For now, I have them all set up in one of the old big tanks and the only Play City cage I still have. As always, there’s a Fancy bully in the trio of Fancies. One of them gets picked on pretty badly, but it’s really nothing serious. They won’t kill each other. I hear quite a bit of squeaking, though.

I would still love to have a super jumbo rat, but we can’t seem to find them around here. They do have these giant pouched rats that get up to 17” long, excluding their tails, but they don’t seem to be legal in the US. They’re mainly in Africa.

The only bummer was that the bookstore we went to didn’t exist anymore, so sometime next week we’re going to go to a place in Mesa that says they pay cash for books, tapes, videos, DVDs and CDs. We’ll have about 30 CDs for them, 20 books and 2 Gloria videos.

I love these new Slingo scratch tickets which are a form of bingo. I won $30! I was wrong when I said the most I’d ever won was $25, not just because I won $30 today, but because I also remembered that I won $35 playing bingo in Florida in ’89 on my 24th birthday.

Shiny comes up to me every day now. I’m glad I saved his life like I did. Had I not opened the door when I did, those damn dogs that had him boxed in by the door would’ve killed him for sure.

I’m surprised and glad to have discovered that he’s both neutered and declawed. So he once belonged to someone after all.

I got a letter from Mary yesterday. Now when am I going to hear from Bob? Anyway, Mary said she loves the Red Hot Barbie and that even one of the officers commented on her picture which I had printed on the back of the envelope. She loves the word find puzzles too, so I made her up one with words she requested, plus a few of my own with subjects like animals, recreation, and food and beverages.

I noticed my computer was sounding funny and it smelled like burnt plastic in my office. Well, it turned out that my fan died, so Tom replaced it, along with a new power supply box.

Tomorrow, since there have been no more leaks, fortunately, he’s going to seal up the bathroom wall.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2003 Gosh, I really wish I could get some weight off! 10 pounds, just 10 pounds. I’d gladly settle for just that at this point. I had 3 pairs of long pants that fit, but one’s now too tight and the elastic around the other ancient pair stretched out and broke. So now I have just one pair of winter pants. I’m going to try again to make one last attempt to lose weight, but I just don’t know if I can do it. I haven’t been able to lose weight for 2 or 3 years now. I’m going to try to keep myself on a day schedule for as long as I can and walk outdoors for a half-hour to an hour every day while I limit my calories to about 1200 a day, excluding coffee and gum. The walking should burn anywhere from about 100-350 calories. I wish I could walk outside year-round at any time of day or night, but with no moon, I could never see where I was going and it’d be too dangerous to walk during the summer nights when it was cooler because that’s when the rattlers are most active.

When I’m done with the laundry and exercising, I’m going to run through the final proofreading of my story which is now done. It’s a short story, but I think it came out well even so. It’s quite suspenseful. There’s more murder and less sex in this one, I suppose you could say.

I don’t know if Mary will like it. She strikes me as the type to prefer romance over murder mysteries and suspenseful stories such as I tend to write.

My nose treats came yesterday, but so far they all seem to smell the same. The grape one does sort of smell like what it’s supposed to be, but for the most part, they seem to smell more like smoke, like incense, than anything else. Nonetheless, this glorified cigarette smoke is okay, I guess. It covers any foul odors and I’ll definitely use them all up. I just don’t think I’ll ever make a second order. The things smell better unlit than lit. I guess they are breakable too since they’re such flimsy sticks. That’s why they wrapped them in newspapers.

Now for the best and most shocking news of the day. Little Buddy’s picture, “Hiding Amongst the Bottles,” made the finals in the photo contest!!! This is the picture of him peering up from inside a box of bottles when I was doing community service. I photocopied the letter for Mary, though I don’t know if it’ll make it in to her. If not, I’ll just tell her about it, but anyway, it was cool to see the picture’s title with the copyright symbol and my name along with it. I guess within the next month the judges are going to make their final decisions. One person gets the $1,000 prize while 40 people get a silver medal and 73 get a bronze medal. Then someone gets the annual prize of $10,000.

So my Little Buddy, now dead almost a year, shines on from beyond the grave. How I still miss him so! I remember I cried hysterically when I was around 14 and I lost my first guinea pig, Penny, yet I quickly got over it. Never has a pet touched me so much that I can still shed tears for him a year after his death. Meanwhile, I couldn’t cry for Scuttles, Houdini or Ratsy no matter how hard I tried and I loved those rats dearly. Same goes for Piggy who we had for 4 of the 6 years we lived in the Phoenix house.

I’d be both surprised and not surprised to win a medal because it’s not money. However, I can’t imagine God allowing me to win any of the money prizes. The most I’ve ever won was $25, so $1,000 or more would be quite a jump from that. I’d think it’d count as me making money and that’s an obvious no-no.

Later…

Now I have the vanilla nut burning. Once again, I’d never have guessed that that’s what’s supposed to be burning. It just smells like fancy smoke to me. So far the only one that had a subtle smell of a distinct kind was the grape.

My tight pants are good for walking. That way I know they’re going to stay put. I take the mace with me just in case a big dog decides to get a little too friendly on me, but neither of us has had a problem yet with vicious dogs, so I doubt we ever will. If you go onto a dog’s territory, that’s one thing, but when they come onto yours, it’s another. I counted this time and determined that it took 4 minutes to make a rotation and not 3 which means 15 rounds would equal an hour of walking. Damn, it’d take close to 10 minutes to walk around the land’s perimeters!

Anyway, I’m making one last try to get down to 120 pounds which is just 7 pounds away. You think to yourself – 7 pounds? That’s nothing. But it most certainly is when you have no metabolism and are my age. I’m worlds away from 120, trust me. I may as well be asking to lose 70 pounds and not 7.

In a week or two Tom will be quitting his job. He’s going to have to in order to be available for job interviews for jobs that pay better. At least, like he said, this is the prime time of year for finding jobs, and I did have positive money vibes between November 23rd and December 27th, but I’m not a fortune psychic, so I don’t know if I trust my vibes. I didn’t sense making the finals, that’s for sure! I’m only sensitive to grim happenings, so it seems. That affects people’s health and seeing past events and places I’ve never been to.

Later…

So far the only incense sticks that are okay are strawberry, grape and sexy. I think I really would prefer the perfume bottles, sprays and scented cartridges. That way I can have the smell without the smoke. In fact, I emailed them and asked if I could return what I haven’t used, but I doubt they’ll go for it. I think they’ll only take things back that are damaged.

Meanwhile, I found a small gift set for $19 at Walmart with White Shoulders perfume, body lotion, and some other little bottle of cologne. I hope I can get it in person. That way we can get out of the shipping costs. See, this is why I wish I weren’t a doll collector or was getting more spending money per month. Think of all the new clothes, perfume and other items I could get if I didn’t have to tie up so much of my money with dolls because of how expensive the ones I like are.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2003 Not surprisingly, kids and adults are parading around in back right now, but they’re quiet. Especially since I’m indoors and on the other side of the house. I’m glad they’re quiet, but I still wish there were only one or two childless, dogless adults over there with one or two vehicles that were always parked in front and not at the sides or in back as well. I also wish there wasn’t someone home all the time, too.

I wish I could get up early every morning. At least throughout the cooler months. That way I could do what I did this morning and exercise outdoors. I walked briskly along the front wash, down by Meadow Green, up along the back wash towards next door, then circled around again. I calculated that it takes about 3 minutes for each round, so 10 rounds would make a half-hour of walking.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2003 I’d say that the water pills weren’t affecting my metabolism, after all. I’m not surprised either. I think I’m just nearly 38 years old and that’s what’s affecting it. What’s more of a surprise is how much more energy I’ve had since quitting the vitamins. I never would’ve thought they’d cause such sluggishness if Tom hadn’t mentioned the fact that vitamins do that to him. So I decided to increase my workouts now that I have more energy. I know it won’t cause me to lose weight, but why not make myself even healthier and even more fit? One thing’s for sure and that’s that I may be fat, but I sure am fit! I can jog for quite a long time. I’m going to alternate between jogging and brisk walking for a half-hour a day, plus do my crunches.

Mr. Predictable read more of my story on Sunday. He agrees that the third-person style is better. First person is better for true stories like in Mary’s book.

Speaking of Mary, I got a letter from her a couple of days ago along with drafts. When I wrote back to her I gave her Paula’s address and explained to her that although I think she’s beyond help, maybe she can write about her case. After all, she did say it’d be worth it if she only helped just one person. I told Paula she may write, too. Normally, I don’t buddy mix, but because we don’t all live in the same town, it’s okay, and Paula’s someone I’ll never see again. She’s just a voice on the phone. One I spoke to yesterday. She too, says my haircut makes me look younger.

Mary’s got me confused as to why Jose’s in prison. Or as to which story José told her, that is. I thought he was supposedly in for a murder connected to a drug deal gone bad. I thought the story was something about him witnessing a drug-related murder that he didn’t report, but now he’s supposedly in for killing a man who raped him. Tom and I both are very skeptical about that one. I think he just killed someone, plain and simple. I think he didn’t get what he wanted, he got pissed, and so he killed the dude. He was probably either buying or selling drugs and felt he was being ripped off somehow.

I wonder how Mary can be so damn naïve, but I don��t think it’s so much that she’s naïve as it is that she needs someone to believe in, and again, I don’t have to repeat what kind of man attracts her. It’s a form of masochism, so I read. They seek abusers because they either feel that’s all they deserve or they like the thrill of living on the edge. This is what I think is more Paula and Mary’s case. People like Tammy, on the other hand, seek abuse and misery to be pitied and or to be admired for forbearance.

This Saturday we’re going pet hunting and to the bookstore to hopefully sell some books and CDs and get some new books. Maybe, if I’m extremely lucky, I’ll find the Charlie’s Angels DVD there, but I doubt it.

I can’t wait for my incense! It was shipped on Monday. There’s a slight possibility that it could come today, but I think tomorrow’s more likely. At least it’s not something I have to worry about being broken and they seem to be reliable as far as not misdelivering things.

Not surprisingly, Netflip ripped me off. They keep saying they’ll “look into it,” but never do. And I’m sure they got a little help from above, too. It’s what I get for trying to make money.

I found a definite split end in one of Bailey’s hairs which confirms my suspicions…her hair is human.

We decided that if we were going to move, we might as well hunt for land in one of the states that allow internet gambling. Right now my guess is that we’ll move within the next 5 years to either somewhere in Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico or Texas, probably Nevada.

The renters are being annoying right now. Yeah, it’s that time of year again. Someone back there’s decided to take up Dan’s old job of engine gunning.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2003 Yesterday was a fun day. We each flew one of the Barbie kites. They flew quite well and for quite some time, too. I hooked mine to the well and he hooked his to the house and they flew themselves for a while.

We also both won two different scratch tickets. He won $2 and I won $15.

Tom normally does the grocery shopping early Saturday morning, but since we went out Saturday morning, he did it yesterday morning and we got Shiny some cat food. He sure is skinny.

I asked myself what I wanted more, another really nice doll or a mannequin and the answer is a mannequin. I have other nice dolls, but no mannequin yet, so I decided this is it, I’m going to save up for one for once and for all, but definitely won’t get one from that Bay area place. They’re just too expensive there. There are 3 possibilities - the place in Colorado, the place in Delaware, or the Netherlands. I could save money by getting one with molded hair that Tom could sand down so I could throw a wig over it, but I’d rather not have to do that. I’m hoping the Delaware site will have something by the time I have the money saved up. Their used wigged mannequins are pretty comparable to the Colorado site’s new molded-haired ones (they don’t have any used ones).

I already have $28 saved up, plus the $138 I’ll be getting in Christmas and birthday money. I’ll need about $300, so I need to save up $140 more.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2003 I only slept 5 hours yet woke up feeling as refreshed as ever. I can’t say that quitting the vitamins necessarily makes me need less sleep, but it does give me more energy. I’m sluggish a lot less often.

Two days ago it warmed up enough that I needed to put the AC on for a few hours, but now it’s cool again.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear the renters were Mexican welfare bums. The only thing that reminds me that they’re not is the lack of music, but they sure know a lot of people. I still think they’re Mormons and so they have large families. Anyway, someone’s been living behind them in a trailer similar to what we stayed in for about a week now which is supposed to be illegal unless you’re setting up a house you’re going to move into like our case was, and of course, George won’t complain about it. I haven’t heard or seen them and they’ve done a better job at keeping their trash to themselves, but the place really does look horrible.

However, we did some talking and now I don’t know if we’ll bother planting more things. I think we may be moving sooner than we first thought. They’re offering 160-acre parcels an hour north of Phoenix for $80,000. The idea is to get something like that and an old $20,000 piece of shit to live in while we built our own house. If we did this, we’d have no house payment. All we’d need to really pay for would be food and fun stuff. This would certainly eliminate the stress of having an $8-an-hour job, and we’d be able to put away money and save it for emergencies.

I like the idea of moving more and more, though I’ll probably feel a twinge of sadness when we do like Tom did when we left Phoenix because there are happier memories for me here than there were there. There, he didn’t have bad asthma and the need to struggle to quit smoking like I did. He also wasn’t as affected by next door’s shit as much because he was a heavier sleeper. Lastly, whether or not he was truthful about wanting a kid, he didn’t want one as bad as I once did. Plus, that house was an old dump, and like most guys, I don’t think he cares as much about size, age and appearance as we ladies tend to. Either way, this house isn’t completely untainted. Seems to me I remember a certain black pig tainted this house 4 years ago, along with 11 visits from Scot, to say nothing of the stress the blacks and Mexies caused us.

Surprisingly, my weight’s holding steady. The suppressants really help. I mean, I’m too old to lose weight and I know that, but they seem to be keeping me from gaining any more. Tom and I both agree that the suppressants they sell in the grocery store are pretty comparable to this overpriced stuff I’ve been getting. After all, if it were that much different, then you’d need a prescription for it.

Anyway, yesterday turned out to be rather fun. We were pretty productive, and for once I felt like things were finally starting to get done around here. First we went to Denny’s for breakfast. It was mobbed yet the people were civilized enough. We didn’t have any little kids screaming in our ears or throwing food at us. I got the steak and egg dinner and he got an omelet.

Then we went to Home Depot where he showed and explained to me why the porches shouldn’t cost a fortune or take forever to build. We also browsed through the nursery section and we both agree that 5-gallon plants are a little small for this place, so we’ll probably go with the 15 or higher when we go to get palms and olies. They had some huge queen palms for $149. We didn’t get any outdoor plants, but for just $10, I got an indoor palm! For just $5, I got a cheap black plastic pot with an attached drain pan and I sort of wish I’d gotten all plastic pots. They may not be as nice looking, but they sure are cheaper and they sure do make moving the plants a lot easier, too. However, the ceramic ones do provide more stability for the heavier ones.

Anyway, it’s so cool looking and is nearly 7’ tall. I’m glad I didn’t get the $50 fake one. I was surprised as I didn’t know palms could live indoors. The guy there said they’re good for indoors as well as patios and are slow-growing plants. All the tropical ones seem to grow slowly. I’m surprised it’s a majesty palm. I thought it looked more like a queen or a date palm.

I saw an older big-leaf plant and was like – wow! You mean mine will get that big someday? It was huge! Its leaves were easily comparable to a beach towel. I could cover this big old body of mine with some of the bigger leaves easily. The stems and leaves arched way up over my head. I realize, seeing how slowly mine’s grown in the 6 months I’ve had it, that this plant I saw must’ve been many years old. Like maybe 6 and mine’s probably about 3.

We also picked up 4 60-pound bags of cement to finish putting the posts up with.

The only disappointment was at the pet store. In the past they’ve always had a good selection of various-sized rats, but not this time. All they had were a few jumbos and a pile of albino feeders. We ordered the cages and accessories, but we’ll have to wait and get the rats at another store next weekend.

The best news of all is that we fixed the master bath’s shower leak. Amazingly, Tom found and fixed the problem within minutes of cutting away a couple of panels with a big sharp razor. Our first thought was that we screwed it up when we increased the pressure, but no, as always, it’s someone else’s mess we gotta clean up after. The stupid Mexicans ruptured the plastic pipe with a nail at the factory, so little by little, it’s been leaking ever since. Using a special glue along with a rubber clamp, Tom sealed it up.

The original plan was to wallpaper that bath, but then I came up with a better idea that would cost us a lot less and save Tom a lot of extra work, too. That monster bath is 8x14 and would need 18 rolls of wallpaper which would cost around $200. If we throw a little door-size mural over the area he cut out and is going to patch up so long as it stays dry for a good week or so, then that’d be just $20. I was thinking of a beach scene for in there and horses for the bedroom and retreat doors which would look great from the bed when those doors are shut. There’s a scene with a brown horse staring out of a stall in a barn, then there’s one with a white horse.

As for the very screwed up living room mural – that will get redone too, and so the whole thing will cost about $120. There’s a large garden mural I like for that wall.

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ahockeywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Next Top Model

A/N: I had this idea and ran with it!

Warnings: mentions of sex

Pairing: Joel Farabee x fem!OC

Annalise had been dating Joel for about four months when he suggested bringing her along to a game. She wanted to go but knew that as she had a large online following and she would easily be spotted by someone who knew who she was. So, she opted to watch all the games he had played in so far either at her apartment or in the dressing room of a shoot she was taking part in.

Joel had been experiencing some teasing from the boys in the locker room relating to the fact that he hadn’t even told them her name, let alone that he had a girlfriend. Kevin was the first to put two and two together, Joel was coming to practice happier, leaving after a game earlier and had some scratch marks on his back. Travis and Carter just chirped him for getting laid more than once during a week, but Kevin knew better. It was the way that anyone would react to getting into a relationship. He asked Joel about it privately but he never admitted it. All Joel said was that he was happier at the moment and that was all. There was nothing to speculate about.

“Lads, look at this new photoshoot that some of the models around Philly did,” Carter announced to no one in particular and some of the guys walked over to see what he was showing them. Joel also walked over, even though he had already seen the photos as Annalise was one of the models. Kevin pushed Joel away, telling him to get lost as he already had a girl who was probably waiting at home for him after practice.

Gasps and wide eyes filled the dressing room and suddenly everyone had forgotten about the photoshoot Carter wanted to show everyone. Questions were being flung at the youngster from left, right and centre. Who was she? How old was she? How long had they been together? Was she the reason why it looked like his back had been attacked by a cat? Joel had to laugh at them, all he said about her was that they’d meet her when she was ready, not before.

The boys tried hard to try and accidentally meet her. Lads night at Joel’s? Everyone showed up an hour early, but alas, he was alone in his room. Joel was on a late-night FaceTime with someone? Travis had to accidentally barge into his room, pretending that he thought that Morgan was in there. It didn’t work either, turns out he was talking to his mother, not his girlfriend. Even a peek over his shoulder to see who Joel was texting on the bus didn’t give anything away as he wasn’t even texting her, he was texting one of his college friends. Eventually, the boys had given up and just accepted that he wanted to keep his relationship private to make sure he was comfortable and that they were both in it for the long haul.

“Joel,” Annalise called through his apartment, hoping he was the only one home.

“Yeah, Anna?” Joel replied as he rounded the corner, with a glass of water in his hand. He was shirtless, as he seemed to be every time she visited, and had a pair of his team USA sweats hanging low on his hips. Annalise could see every ridge of his body and could easily get distracted, but she came over for a reason.

“This is gonna sound like a stupid question, I should have just bought one like the other girls,” she groaned as Joel pulled her into a hug and pressed a few kisses to her hairline.

“Should have bought what?” Joel was confused now, what did she need to buy?

“Have you got a spare Farabee jersey I can wear to the game tonight?” She nuzzled her head into his chest, trying to hide the blush forming on her cheeks.

“That’s it?” he asked, not even sure if she could be serious. “If you want one of my jerseys, you don’t even need to ask, I’ve got loads in my wardrobe.” Joel pulled Annalise towards his bedroom and began rummaging through his many clothes. He chucked a few different Flyers jerseys with his name on the back onto his bed and allowed her to choose her favourite one.

“I think,” she started, “the alternate is the one I’m gonna wear tonight.” She emphasised tonight because she didn’t think that he had realised that she would be going to one of his games.

“Wait,” Joel stopped looking through his wardrobe and turned to face his girlfriend. He brought one of his hands up to caress the side of her face as he asked, “you’re coming tonight? Like, to the game?” Annalise nodded in confirmation and Joel picked her up, spinning her around a few times to show his excitement.

“Well, our agency wants us to attend some sports games. And they picked the Flyers game tonight to be our first one,” she explained. Joel couldn’t believe it, his girlfriend was coming to one of his games.

“As long as you meet me after the game, I’ll be happy,” Joel wiggled his eyebrows, clearly suggesting that he wanted the end of the night to go a certain way.

“Farabee, you’ve gotta work hard so you can play hard later,” Annalise chirped back with a wink. “I’ll see you after the game, yeah?” she cocked her head to the side, and Joel nodded. She rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. As she left, Joel sat down on his bed to take in the fact that his actual girlfriend was going to be at the Wells Fargo Center that night.

Joel walked into the dressing room to see Kevin looking over Carter’s shoulder at an Instagram post. Now, Joel wasn’t the most inquisitive person on the planet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to see what they were looking at.

“You know those girls from the other day?” Carter asked. Of course, Joel knew, his girlfriend was one of them. Joel nodded and Carter continued, “they’re here tonight!” Carter almost jumped out of his protective gear with excitement.

“Woah there,” Claude had to calm down his young goaltender as he walked past. “It’s not the first or last time that there are hot girls at a game, keep your head screwed on right and focus on the game.” Joel had to stifle a laugh at their captain’s words, however true they were.

“If you didn’t already have a girl, I’d point out the one wearing your jersey, Beezer,” Kevin explained. “Annalise Cousins, she’s an up and coming model from Philly. But you’ve already got your girl.” Joel had to pretend like the girl they were on about wasn’t his girlfriend. He blocked them out as he got ready and headed out to warm-ups.

Annalise hadn’t been to a hockey game before, so she went down to ice level to try and get a view of Joel. She knew that people would be taking photos of her, especially because of the jersey she was wearing. But she knew she couldn’t distract him too much so she shot him a quick smile and headed up to the box they had reserved for them.

A hattrick. Joel Farabee had scored three goals. Three goals at the first game his girlfriend had come to. How was any other game meant to live up to that? Joel was pulled out of his thoughts to go and do media, however much he hated the media that came with being a hockey player, he knew it was part of his job and that he needed to do it.

Annalise tapped her manicured nails on her jeans as she waited for the Flyers to come out of the dressing room. She really hoped that he would be out soon and as soon as she thought that Kevin Hayes and Carter Hart exited the room. Carter was shocked, why was she waiting outside their dressing room?

“Is Joel almost done?” she asked the two dumbfounded boys.

“Yeah,” Kevin stuttered out, “he should be out any minute now.”

As soon as Joel rounded the corner and Annalise spotted him, she ran towards him. In a split second, she moved from standing in front of him to having her legs and arms wrapped around his waist and neck respectively. Annalise nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck and whispered congratulations to him. He looked over her shoulder to see Kevin and Carter staring with their jaws almost touching the floor.

“Thanks for telling me which one was wearing my jersey,” Joel shot across to his teammates, “not like I helped her pick it out of my wardrobe this morning.”

If it was even possible, their jaws dropped even more.

“Beezer, dating a model?” Kevin asked when he regained his senses.

“What about it,” Annalise replied, still hugging Joel. “He’s doing better than you two are. Now, if you two don’t mind, I am going to celebrate with the first star of the night, preferably in a bed which I won’t leave until lunchtime tomorrow.”

Annalise had jumped out of Joel’s grasp and offered him her hand. Their fingers interlaced as she almost pulled him out of the stadium.

“Wait, Joel’s dating a model?”

#ahockeywrites #joel farabee #flyers86 #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl writing #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #philadephia flyers #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee fic

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tlcwrites · 4 years ago

Text

By A Nose

Submission for Writer Wednesday 5/12

Summary: If you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Or, proof Poe Dameron is a terrible loser.

Word Count: 1528

Tags/Warnings: Poe Dameron x Reader, Modern AU. Implied smut but mostly in passing. Some bad words. Poorly edited because as usual I finished this at like 11 and my kids get up at 5 so I need to go to sleep.

Author’s Note: THREE FICS IN A WEEK WHO AM I?

Okay, so I cannot be the only one who saw the photo for this week's Writer Wednesday (thank you once more for hosting, @autumnleaves1991-blog!) and went the direction I did. If I am the only one, well, just further proof my brain is certifiable. Make sure you comment on when you figure out where this fic takes place.

There will also be an accompanying headcanon coming for this probably tomorrow, because there was SO much material I wanted to use but couldn't make fit. Thank you @paper-n-ashes for brainstorming with me and being the best hype-woman ever.

“AAAAHHHHH.”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“FINN!!” You smack him. “There are small children here!”

But he’s too busy screaming to pay attention.

On the other side of you, Kaydel looks decidedly green. She lets out a pained moan as your vehicle makes a particularly hard turn. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

You pat her knee as you fly through a kitchy town. “Hang in there, honey. It’s almost over.”

The village elder’s well wishes still ringing in your ears, you pull up next to another idling transport. From the driver’s seat, your boyfriend winks at you.

“You’re going down, Dameron!” you holler at him.

He makes the universal ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. “Eat my dust, losers!”

Finn yells back something that has you smacking him again, shooting an apologetic glance to the second row of Poe’s transport, where Snap and Karé are sitting with their daughter Nora. Snap’s hands fly to cover Nora’s ears while Karé laughs heartily.

Next to Poe, Rey holds her thumb and forefinger up to her forehead in an ‘L’ shape. “Second place is the first to lose!”

Before any more trash talking can occur, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye and then both vehicles take off, bursting out of the dark into blinding sunlight.

You both fly over the rusty terrain, neck and neck as you navigate under rocky overpasses and around hairpin turns. From the second row of your car, you can hear Maz lobbing profanities at Chewie in the other ride. He’s yelling back in his native tongue (which you still only understand half of). Beside Maz, Leia and Han are both laughing like kids.

A shriek of joy erupts from you as you fly over a series of hills, the momentary weightlessness thrilling. Finn has both hands in the air, while Kaydel grips the safety handle with white knuckles.

Finally, you come out of a turn to see a sharp drop. You look to Poe, who grins back at you, his vehicle slightly ahead of yours. Damnit, you HATE losing to him. He’s the worst winner.

At the last moment, your ride leaps ahead, crossing under the checkered banner by a nose. The passengers of your car cheer and high-five in victory, while Poe’s passengers groan in good-natured defeat.

As you roll through the red-lit cavern, you laugh as you catch sight of Poe’s face. He’s a terrible winner, but he’s an even worse loser. Even if his loss comes at the hands of an algorithm.

Anthropomorphic cars wave you off as both vehicles enter the unloading zone. On the other side of the platform, Chewie is lifting Rey out of the front seat as she pretends to collapse in agonized failure, her laughter completely destroying the illusion. You accept Finn’s hand as he helps you up, both of you turning to support Kaydel as she crawls out of the car.

A ride attendant watches her warily. “Does she need assistance?” he asks Han.

Han waves him off, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders as Maz and Chewie beeline for the ride photos. “She’ll be fine. No protein spills here.” At the cast member’s astonished look, the charming rogue gives his trademark grin. “Ain’t my first rodeo, kid.” As he and Leia stroll past you towards the exit, he catches your eye and winks. “That, and they haven’t changed the lingo since the 70’s.”

Laughing, you rub Kaydel’s back as Rey swaps places with Finn and helps bracket your green-tinged friend. “Let’s get you some water, yeah?”

Kaydel manages a slight nod, and the three of you make your way towards the exit.

Behind you, you can hear Poe and Finn bickering, as they’re wont to do.

“It’s a ride, dude,” Finn is saying, the exasperation clear in his tone.

“It’s physics, dude,” Poe shoots back. “There’s NO way the car on the outside of the turn would be able to finish first.”

Worst. Loser. Ever.

Your rag-tag alliance eventually makes it out of the exit tunnel. Ben’s waiting across the walkway, those ridiculously long arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the guard rail and steadily ignores whatever Armitage is ranting about.

On the bench next to them, Rose perks up, a smirk crossing her pretty face as she sees Poe’s expression. “Well, I don’t need to ask who won.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” the most-competitive-pilot-in-the-galaxy grumbles back, adjusting his backpack. You help Kaydel to a bench, where she quickly curls up.

Rey rolls her eyes as she forces her way into the circle of Ben’s arms. “It’s not like any of us could have actually controlled the outcome, you noodle.”

“Not without some kind of magic,” Ben intones dryly, resting his chin on his girlfriend’s head.

“How cool would that be, though?” Rey’s getting her Down-The-Wormhole-We-Go eyes. You and Rose exchange a Look™️ as she starts gesturing wildly with her hands. “Like, imagine if you could just look at something like rocks and, like, make them fly. Or make someone do whatever you wanted them to do. OH!” She looks up at Ben with a slightly manic expression. “Lightning bolts from your fingers!!”

Well-used to these kinds of rambles, Ben gently captures her hands and wraps her into a hug that doubles as a straight jacket. “No more SyFy channel before bed.”

Rose slides her arms around her husband as Finn joins her on the bench. “Did you behave?”

Nora, in all her 6-year-old innocence, giggles. “Mr Finn said a whole lot of swear-jar words.” She casts a critical eye on the young man. “You probably said enough you could buy an Elsa doll.” The ‘for me’ is unsaid, but implied.

Karé rapidly turns her laugh into a cough.

Finn glances down at his wife as Rose smacks him upside the head. “Hey! That tractor thing is terrifying. And Maz said WAY more than I did!”

“Age before beauty, Finnigan,” Maz says haughtily, waving off Finn’s ‘m'name’s not Finnigan, damn it’.

Giggling, you tune out the ridiculousness that is your found family and turn your attention to your still-sulking boy toy. “You know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist, “you make that face for long enough and it’ll stick that way.”

He huffs. “This is just how my face looks.”

“Uh huh.” Considering yourself quite the expert in his face, having spent countless hours studying every crease and line until you could have drawn him blindfolded, you call bullshit, but say nothing further.

“It is,” he insists.

“Okay,” you agree.

The King of Sarcasm narrows his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

You widen your eyes innocently. “What thing?”

“That thing where it sounds like you’re agreeing with me but you’re really telling me I’m a dumbass.”

“What?!” You bring your hand to your chest. “Moi?! I would never.”

He huffs again, but you can see the hint of a smirk starting to break though.

“C’mon, First Runner Up,” you tease. “No sulking in Disneyland. Let me buy you a drink at Trader Sam’s, and then we can sneak off to the Haunted Mansion and make out like teenagers in our Doom Buggy.”

He tilts his head, considering it.

“Or-“ You brush an inky curl off his forehead and stand on your toes until your lips are just about caressing his ear and whisper, “-we could get back in line right now and go again.”

Even before you’ve finished speaking, Poe’s grabbing your hand and hauling you back towards the entrance, tossing a “See you jerks later!” as he pulls you under the Radiator Springs Racers sign. Their laughter echos behind you as he leads the way through the mostly empty line (thank goodness for parade lulls).

As you wait in the queue, only a few dozen people stand between Poe and his (re)shot at victory. You see that competitive gleam in his eyes start to come alive again.

“Hey.” You tug on his tee shirt until he looks at you. “If our car doesn’t win, tonight I’ll do That Thing you love.”

“Babe.” The look he gives you is one of pure torture. “You are killing me here.” He really loves to win. But he really, really loves That Thing. “What about when we come in first?”

You shrug demurely. “Then you wear Those Pants™️ tomorrow.”

Hm. Poe’s always been quick to calculate his odds, and this is quickly turning into a win/win situation. If you lose, he gets That Thing. But Those Pants™️ turn you about feral, and when you’re in that kind of mood- let’s just say Poe still has the scars on his shoulders to prove it.

“Are those terms acceptable, Flight Commander Dameron?” You smile sweetly up at him.

His licentious grin says it all. “Hell yeah.”

For the record, your car does lose a second time. And the next morning, Poe hardly has Those Pants over his ass when you’re ripping them back down his legs and shoving him backwards onto the bed.

Oh, yeah, he thinks to himself. This is better than any dumb kid’s ride.

…doesn’t mean he’s not going to ride it as many times as it takes to win.

A/N: I almost titled this “Tell me you have children without saying you have children”. I am so fucking sick of ‘Lining McQueen’. Yay 4-year-olds.

Thank you for reading; likes and reblogs feed my soul.

#writer wednesday #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron #hot space droid dad #my writing #modern au #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #poe dameron fanfic

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spookyceph · 3 years ago

Text

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

#big sis magne #bnha magne #mha magne #magne #shigaraki fic #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #lov fanfiction #lov #league of villains #fic series #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #kurogiri #giran #bnha giran

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wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

Text

Lost in the Lights Ch.18|Brittana

A/N - Just a little something that yall might find some comfort in today so I’ve written a short epilogue. I’m not usually one for fluff, but I figured we might need it. I’ve always considered writing as something I can do to uphold Naya’s legacy because Santana is apart of that legacy and here, she’s always living her best life.

Thinking of you all today 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Once again, Brittany finds herself standing alone in her bedroom surrounded by boxes. It’s a little weird seeing her room looking so bare, but this move doesn’t drudge up the same kind of mournful feelings the last one did. This time there’s excitement, there’s anticipation, there’s –

“Hey B,” Santana gives a little tap at Brittany’s bedroom door. “Need a hand?”

Brittany turns to find Santana giving her that same soft grin she has come to adore. She’s leaned against the door frame, clad in her jean cut-offs and a plain t-shirt, and Brittany’s never been so enamored.

“What?” Santana’s grin widens.

Brittany smirks, “Can’t I check out my hot girlfriend?”

Santana rolls her eyes although her cheeks flush, “Smooth as ever.”

“You know it,” Brittany winks before she goes to zip her suitcase. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve finally finished packing my room. It’s been a super productive afternoon.”

Santana sputters out a laugh as she glances around Brittany’s bedroom. The walls are bare aside from a couple framed pictures Brittany couldn’t find it in herself to take down. The desk by the window is neat and tidy for once too, but what makes Santana stop are the two gold crowns hanging off of one of Brittany’s football trophies.

“Not taking these?”

Brittany turns to find Santana pulling one off and putting it on. She looks just as regal as she did on Prom night and it makes Brittany’s heart feel so full. She can’t help but reminisce at how beautiful Santana looked all done up – she really took her breath away that night.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Brittany teases, “Too bad Quinn will be at Yale. I’m sure she’s going to miss the constant reminder that we won instead of her and Mike.”

“I can still text her,” Santana quips as she takes off the crown and sets it down where she found it. She goes back to looking around the room again, “It doesn’t look like you in here anymore.”

“Yeah,” Brittany sighs as she looks around too. Her eyes settle on Santana and she begins to grin, “But it’ll be so much fun decorating our own place together. It’ll look like the both of us.”

“True,” Santana grins, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither!”

“I can’t believe how fast the year went by,” Santana mentions, “It feels like just yesterday that I was jumping off swings with you.”

“You mean head-butting me?” Brittany jokes.

“That too,” Santana laughs, “And now we’re off to college…together.”

“Not just yet,” Brittany reminds her with a pat to her suitcase.

“That’s right,” Santana nods to it, “That everything?

Brittany looks down and smiles, “Yup!”

Santana eyes the lone bag warily, “You’re only bringing one?”

“We’re only going for two weeks,” Brittany replies with a giggle, “You’d be surprised how much I fit in here. Bikinis don’t take up that much space which is a plus.”

She looks to Santana again hoping to see a smile but instead she finds her worrying her bottom lip. It makes Brittany chuckle as she closes the distance between them. Once she’s close enough, her hands land on Santana’s hips.

“Don’t stress,” She tells her sweetly, “That defeats the purpose of a vacation.”

“I’m not stressed,” Santana shrugs, “I’m just wondering…if I packed a little too much now?”

Brittany only giggles before pressing a kiss to Santana’s lips.

“You’re cute,” She says.

Santana only sighs through her smile, “Can you tell I’m a little nervous?”

“A little?”

Santana pouts, “This is my first big road trip. I didn’t want to forget anything.”

Brittany wraps her arms around Santana, holding her close, “I’m sure you’ve got everything and if not we can always buy stuff. You know Florida does have a mall, right?”

Santana was a little hesitant about joining the Pierce Family on their vacation back down to Florida for Summer break because she didn’t want to intrude on their family time, she’s so considerate like that. Brittany couldn’t imagine spending two whole weeks without her though, even Pete and Whitney begged for Santana to go.

Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to show her around Brittany’s old stomping grounds and most importantly, take her to one of her favorite places. With all of that taken into consideration, Santana couldn’t find it in her to deny Brittany this. She also didn’t mind getting out of Lima for the Summer, beats tanning by the pool alone.

“Babe, this is going to be great,” Brittany says earnestly, “It’s going to be relaxing and we’ll get to spend so much time together doing all kinds of fun things. It’ll be exactly what we need before we have to leave for Columbus, because you know once we get there it’ll be all work. I’ll have to start football training again and you’ll have cheer conditioning.”

“You’re right. Ohio State doesn’t mess around,” Santana nods as she begins smiling again, “This’ll be great. I’ve never been on vacation like this before.”

“Neither,” Brittany grins before grabbing her suitcase again. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of road to cover.”

Brittany and Santana decide to drive Santana’s car down to Florida ahead of Whitney and Pete who are catching a flight a couple days later. They take several pit stops along the way, making sure to snap silly photos by all of the state line signs so Santana can text them to Maribel and Hector to keep them updated on their adventure so far.

It probably takes them twice as long to make the trip, but it’s well worth it when Brittany gets to watch Santana’s eyes brighten as they finally cross the Florida state line.

“It’s so much different than Lima,” Santana says as she stares out the window at all the passing palm trees, their fronds waving hello in the warm breeze as they drive by.

Brittany only glances over with this cheek-bunching grin before she’s back to concentrating on the road ahead.

A while later, they pull up to the rental Whitney organized and this time Brittany’s the one who’s in awe.

“No way!” She exclaims as she triple checks the address her mom gave.

“What is it?” Santana questions.

“I used to point this house out all the time when we lived here,” Brittany tells her, “Pete and I called it the Unicorn House because of the pink shutters and the baby blue door. We always thought it was so cool, the most colorful house on the beach. I had no idea it was a rental!”

Santana smiles, “Well let’s go check it out.”

Relieved to stretch their legs and really start their vacation in the sun, Santana and Brittany make quick work of unloading the car and moving everything inside. Just like Brittany figured, the inside of the house was just as cool as the outside. All modern fixtures, colorful artwork decorating the walls, but the real attention-grabber was the view.

“Wow,” They said in unison as they approached the back sliding doors that led out onto the terrace. It was nothing but white sand and clear blue water.

“Let’s open it,” Brittany says and goes to pull open the glass door. There’s a light breeze and the scent of saltwater. Brittany smiles into it; she can’t believe how much she’s missed this.

Lima’s been great to her, it’s the place she met the most perfect girl ever, but this place will always hold a special spot in her heart too. As she glances to her side at her girlfriend, her smile grows because now she gets to share it with her too.

“What do you say we make a quick run to the shops so we can have breakfast out there?” Brittany suggest with a grin, “We can unpack and stuff later.”

“Sounds awesome,” Santana replies, “When’s your mom and Pete flying in again?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Brittany says as she gives a little tug at Santana’s shirt, “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves until then.”

Santana’s grin widens, “Even better.”

They decide to load up on fresh fruit, because after so many hours of fast food and gas station snacks they are dying for something healthy. Together they walk the aisles hand in hand, stopping every so often to add something to the basket Brittany carries.

It’s not their first trip to the store together, but it feels different this time knowing that it’s just them. Everyone they know is back in Lima, so doing something like grocery shopping together in Florida makes them feel so grown up and independent.

For a second, Brittany wonders if this is what it’ll feel like once they move away together for college. She’s sure the novelty of it all is bound to wear off the more they do it, but for now she leans into the excitement of it. The thought makes her feel giddy inside because she can’t picture herself doing such a routine thing with anyone other than Santana.

“Should we get anything else?” Santana wonders after adding a punnet of blueberries to the basket.

Brittany looks at their haul so far and shakes her head, “Nah. We can just order take out later if we want?”

Santana nods and they make their way to the check out lane.

Back at the rental, Santana’s in the kitchen getting all of their fruits washed and cut up when Brittany reappears clad in her bright pink bikini.

“Okay! Your turn,” She calls out as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Santana does a quick glance up to reply then does a double take when she sees what Brittany has on. Her jaw drops at the sight and she nearly cuts off a finger!

“Woah,” Santana says in time as her eyes rake up Brittany’s tone figure, “I was not prepared.”

“Should I put on a shirt?” Brittany jokes.

“No, no,” Santana’s quick to respond, “No shirts. You can stay just like that.”

Brittany blushes as Santana continues checking her out. It makes her feel warm all over and a little confident too because usually Santana’s the one getting her worked up. It’s a nice change when the tables are turned.

“So, you want to go change and I’ll finish here?” Brittany asks.

Santana’s still staring as Brittany comes closer. She doesn’t even blink until Brittany’s tapping at the bottom of her chin with this smug grin on her face.

“Hmm?” She hums, “What?”

“Do you want to go change now?”

Santana smirks as she pulls Brittany in and pins her against the counter, “It’s not really the first thing on my mind right now.”

“Oh?” Brittany’s grin turns devilish.

Santana bites her bottom lip as she plays with the knot at Brittany’s hip. “The extra football training you’ve been doing is really paying off. Like I’ve always thought you were the hottest girl to ever walk the surface of the Earth, but damn.”

“Go change,” Brittany tells her with a giggle. “We’ll never get to the beach at this rate.”

“Fine by me,” Santana teases as she wraps her arms around Brittany’s waist and starts littering her neck with soft kisses. “Like so fine by me.”

Brittany struggles because having Santana’s lips on her is always kind of like kryptonite, but her desire to experience Santana’s first trip to the beach outweighs spending the rest of the morning wrapped up in bedsheets. Call her crazy, but they’ve got all day to mess around meanwhile the sun’s only out for so long.

“Baby, as good as this feels,” Brittany sighs as she pulls away. She stares down at Santana lovingly, “I really want to take you to the beach first. Just you and me.”

Santana cutely pouts and it has Brittany giggling.

“Come on,” She says with a little pinch at Santana’s side, “I think it’ll be worth it.”

“I think it opens up lots of opportunities to be a tease,” Santana complains jokingly.

“Good thing we won’t be far from here then,” Brittany winks in return.

Once Santana finally got changed, she met Brittany back in the kitchen where the blonde had packed a bag with their breakfast and a couple bottles of water along with their beach towels. Brittany had her sunglasses sitting atop her head, her long blonde hair free from its messy bun from earlier.

“Ready?” She asked excitedly.

Santana only grinned as she reached for Brittany’s hand to hold and together they made their way down the wooden terrace steps until their bare feet met warm sand. Brittany was already headed for the coastline, but Santana stopping held her back. She turned, wondering if Santana forgot something, when she realized it wasn’t that at all.

Santana never felt the feeling of sand between her toes before.

A smile formed on Brittany’s face as she watched Santana wiggle her toes. It was only for a moment, a little excited squeak of a giggle escaping the brunette before she looked up again – ready to go. Brittany only wrapped her arm around Santana’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head as they started to walk again.

Picking the perfect spot was always something Brittany took pretty seriously, but on this section of the beach – any spot was perfect. They were just far enough away from the popular areas so it wasn’t too crowded where they were.

“I’ve never seen water so blue,” Santana admires as she stares at the crashing waves. “Beats the lake in Lima.”

“Definitely,” Brittany chuckles.

They end up laying out their blanket a few yards away from the water so they don’t have to walk very far to get in. While Santana smooths out the blanket, Brittany sets down their bag and starts to pull out their towels and breakfast.

Together, they sit side by side and share from one bowl Santana found in the kitchen. It’s a mix of all the fruit they picked up earlier and with their feet in the sand and the sound of the waves and seagulls in the distance they’ve never felt so at peace.

“Is it true that you have to wait thirty minutes after eating before you can swim?” Brittany wonders aloud. She’s resting back on her elbows, her legs outstretched but she’s still too far away to touch the water.

Santana shrugs, “I have no idea. Probably should though just to be safe.”

“True,” Brittany grins as Santana lies back too.

She’s already starting to tan and Brittany can’t take her eyes off of her. It’s almost like this is too good to be true and she finds herself reaching out to touch just to make sure.

Once their thirty minutes are up, Brittany’s on her feet trying to coax Santana into the water but who knew she’d put up such a fight?

“We didn’t come all this way to just sit in the sand,” Brittany teases as she tugs on Santana’s hand, “Come on.”

“That water is about to be cold as hell. No thank you!”

“Hell isn’t cold, Santana.”

“You know what I mean,” Santana then gets up when she finally breaks out of Brittany’s hold, “Now way I’m getting in.”

“But it’s not even cold,” Brittany replies although she’s not really sure since she hasn’t tested it for herself. “Why are you picking right now to play hard to get?”

“You haven’t seen nothing yet!” Santana jokes before taking off.

Brittany laughs the whole time as Santana ducks and dodges her advances until Brittany’s speed finally does her in. Soon she’s got Santana cradled in her arms bridal-style, carrying her towards the water like she weighs nothing.

“Britt! Brittany! Don’t you dare!” Santana chastises between laughs, “I don’t want to get my hair wet!”

Brittany only stomps her way through the water, “Who goes to the beach and doesn’t want to get their hair wet? That’s silly, San!”

“Me, that’s who!” Santana giggles but she stops putting up a fight and just wraps her arms around Brittany’s shoulders.

Their faces are so close with the way Brittany holds her that their noses brush when the blonde suddenly looks to her. Really, she’s checking if Santana’s actually being serious because if so then she’ll happily take her back to shore but if not it’s fair game. Instead though, she gets sidetracked by the brilliant smile she wears and how beautiful she looks with her hair down.

“I won’t get you wet if that’s really what you want,” Brittany says innocently but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye too.

She’s standing still waist-deep in the water and Santana’s butt is barely touching the surface. Brittany does her best to hop so that the incoming waves don’t splash her which is pretty nice of her with all things considered. She could totally be that person and drop her without a second thought.

“Well, when you say it like that…” Santana starts to smirk.

Brittany lets out a laugh before she leans in for a kiss.

It was meant to be a distraction, but it ended up way steamier than she intended as she slowly sank to her knee so that they both dipped below the surface. She could feel Santana’s teeth sink into her bottom lip from the initial shock of the water temperature but then it was soothed by her tongue gliding over the nip.

“See?” Brittany teases, “Not that cold.”

Santana only rolls her eyes as Brittany adjusts her hold. She goes from cradling Santana to having her straddle her lap instead. It’s a much riskier position than before, but neither of them complain.

As they get acclimated to the water, they slowly move from kissing to playfully splashing at each other as they wade around. They go back and forth like that for awhile until they move back to the shore to get their tan on.

“I’m having slight regrets that we’ll be going to school in Ohio,” Santana mentions awhile later as they lie on their stomachs, “Must be nice living close to a beach.”

Brittany grins, “So you’re liking your first trip then?”

“Baby, I love it,” Santana replies happily and leans over to kiss her cheek, “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Brittany coos before she gets to thinking, “If you love it that much we can always transfer down here? I’m pretty sure there’s a few schools here that would love to poach me. You too.”

“So tempting,” Santana chuckles.

They lie like that for awhile longer before the sun gets to be a little much and they head back to the rental.

It’s one of Brittany’s favorite feelings, that tiredness after spending the day at the beach, and she coaxes Santana into the shower with her to get rid of all the sand and saltwater. Despite finally getting each other this close without any barriers between them, they’re both too tired to actually make any moves.

Instead, they take turns standing underneath the cool water and washing off any residual sand.

Afterwards, they slip into something loose and tumble into bed with a yawn. They don’t even bother getting under the sheets first, their sun-kissed skin still warm from the shower. The just cuddle up to one another and doze off within minutes.

Hours later, Brittany awakes to Santana tracing her finger along the bridge of her nose. She blinks away the last bit of sleepiness and looks around the room, surprised to see it drenched in hues of orange and gold from the setting sun.

“I think you might’ve gotten sunburnt,” Santana mentions softly, “Your cheeks are a little pink.”

Brittany touches them bashfully, “Yeah. They do that after I’m out too long. Doesn’t hurt though, I put on sunscreen before.”

“Okay,” Santana smiles as her hand moves to rest on Brittany’s hip.

The blonde looks to the window, “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

“Shit,” Brittany curses, “I didn’t meant to sleep for that long.”

“It’s okay. You were tired,” Santana replies as she starts circling Brittany’s hipbone, “Hungry?”

There’s a familiar rasp in Santana’s voice and it has Brittany leaning in ever so slightly. She knows that tone, she’s been quite familiar with it since the night she won a championship title with the Titans. It’s come to be a favorite of hers.

“Starving,” Brittany smirks.

Santana bites her lip, “Good.”

“We can order a pizza,” Brittany husks as she slips her thigh between Santana’s, “I know just the place. They’re notorious for taking way too long but the pizza manages to always be hot still.”

“Perfect,” Santana smirks before she’s closing the distance.

The next day, they have a bit of a sleep in due to their…activities carrying on pretty late into the night. Free house to themselves? Of course they couldn’t pass up the opportunity, but they’re well-rested and get up to do a tidy of the house before going to pick up Pete and Whitney from the airport.

Again, Brittany feels that same feeling from the day before when she and Santana were out shopping for breakfast. She can’t help but notice how easy it is for them to fall into such a domestic routine. It makes her feel so grown up, like it was just a couple weeks ago that she was graduating and sure she’s always been pretty independent but it’s different with Santana by her side.

When they get to the airport, they’re only waiting for a little while before Pete’s excitedly waving at them with Whitney trailing behind him. There’s hugs all around when they finally meet before they make their way to baggage claim.

“Did you have fun on the plane ride over?” Santana asks Pete.

“It was okay,” Pete shrugs, “Kind of bumpy but mom let me play games on her phone.”

“Nice,” Santana grins.

“Yup! Did you have fun driving here? Wait, did you guys go to the beach already?” Pete asks as he looks to his sister, “Britt’s cheeks are pink.”

Brittany’s eyes widen, “Uh…”

“We might’ve gone for a little bit,” Santana admits and watches Pete start to frown. He was pretty adamant about them waiting for him but Santana’s quick to recover, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t go again today! You’ll have to check with your mom first.”

Pete’s face fills with a mega-watt smile, so similar to Brittany’s it’s crazy.

“She’ll totally say yes,” He tells Santana, “Mom loves the beach too!”

“Sweet,” Santana grins.

“Alright, we just need to pick up the rental car and we’re out of here,” Whitney says as Brittany follows behind with Pete’s little suitcase.

“You didn’t have to rent a car,” Santana tells her, “I told you I was okay with sharing mine.”

“You’re too kind, honey,” Whitney smiles, “But I’m sure you girls will want to explore the area too.”

Santana just nods as Brittany comes up beside her, their fingers twining so casually.

“Speaking of rentals,” Brittany mentions, “I can’t believe you got the Unicorn House! It’s so cool.”

“We’re staying at the Unicorn House?” Pete asks eagerly. Brittany nods to him and he just about combusts, “No way! That’s the coolest house on the beach!”

“Totally,” Brittany winks, “It’s even cooler inside. Just you wait and see.”

They all head to the rental house and it takes everyone no time at all before they’re making their way out to the beach. Everyone except Whitney who runs to the store for snacks and something to eat for dinner because apparently they can’t have pizza two nights in a row despite Brittany and Pete’s protesting.

Again, it’s nice to just lounge in the sun and cool off in the water whenever they want. Pete’s here too while Whitney’s at the store and Santana watches adoringly as he and Brittany toss their favorite football back and forth.

“Babe! Come play with us,” Brittany calls out to her as she tosses the football to Pete in a perfect spiral.

“Yeah! Come play, Santana!” Pete chimes in.

“I’m fine getting my tan on from here,” Santana answers then starts to smirk at Brittany. The way her muscles tense whenever she throws the ball or how her arms flex, it leaves Santana’s mouth dry, “The view’s not so bad either.”

Brittany lets out a laugh as she readies for Pete to throw the ball back. She’d have to agree about the view though, hers isn’t so bad too with Santana laid out in her maroon bikini on their beach blanket, skin glistening with sweat. She swallows dryly as her thoughts start to wander to the night before.

“Britt!” Pete shouts, “Look out!”

Brittany looks up and catches the football just in time before she’s thumped in the head with it. Good thing her reflexes are as sharp as ever!

“Careful baby,” Santana smirks before she’s rolling onto her stomach to even out her tan.

Brittany only narrows her eyes playfully before she’s throwing another perfect spiral in Pete’s direction.

Once Whitney joins them, Pete goes from playing with Brittany to splashing in the shallow water with their mom. Brittany sits alongside Santana where they both share a bag of chips and watch Pete’s splashes get bigger and bigger.

“You’re so cute with him,” Santana mentions.

Brittany raises her brow, “Speak for yourself.”

Santana lets out a disbelieving laugh, “Right.”

“You are,” Brittany urges with a bump to Santana’s shoulder, “He loves spending time with you. Not as much as I do, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You ever wish you had a younger sibling?” Brittany wonders.

“God, no. Never,” Santana jokes before softening, “But seeing you two kind of makes me second guess it. Then again, Pete’s cool so you’re lucky.”

“True,” Brittany giggles. There’s another pause before Brittany speaks up again in a softer tone, “Thanks for coming out on this trip with us. I know you were a little iffy at first, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Santana replies with this smitten little grin on her face. “We should totally make this an annual thing.”

“Coming back here?”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “It’s like our reset button. No matter how busy or crazy it gets wherever we are, we can always come back here and just – reset. It would be nice.”

Brittany starts to smile. Santana mentioning doing something every year means she anticipates them being together for a really long time which duh but making plans like that in advance makes it all feel a little more real. She always thought her strong feelings might’ve been a little exaggerated since they’re young and love always feels so all-encompassing, but then Santana goes and says something like that.

This love, it’s bigger than she thought. Maybe it’s even one of those forever kinds of love and that kind of thinking makes Brittany happier than ever.

“We can totally do that,” Brittany agrees before she leans in for a chaste kiss. She can feel Santana smiling too against her lips and she’s never felt more complete.

Whatever this upcoming year plans to throw their way, whether it be on the field or in the classroom or even at home, Brittany’s totally ready for it.

Because together, well…anything is still possible.

#Lost in the Lights #LITL #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #fanfics

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awanderingdeal · 4 years ago

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Simply having a wonderful Christmas Time [Part 1]

Merry Christmas to all those folks who celebrate today! This one is dedicated to those of you of who are perhaps not spending Christmas in the way that you would like this year. I hope this brings you a little bit of Joy. Please note that this fic is filled with happy Christmas people so if that is going to make you feel worse then please avoid. I’m hoping to have a Coops instalment up for those who celebrate on the 25th and O’Knutzy on 26th for all those who have boxing day and second Christmas.

CW: CHRISTMAS AND FOOD TALK

Rating: T, there are some sexual implications but I’m pretty happy leaving this at a T. Let me know if you think that needs to change.

And finally, to @lumosinlove. Thank you for creating the sweater weather universe and in particular the fabulous OC’s that feature in this fic. They really have been a light in the darkness of this year.

Anyway, let’s get on with this show.

P.S. Yes, we are just ignoring the fact that hockey players most definitely do not get two weeks off at Christmas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex had bitched for days about spending his Christmas in the heat of Mauritius - he wasn’t supposed to be opening presents in shorts, dammit - but he’d been willing to concede that he may have been wrong from the very moment that he had stepped through the door of their beach front villa.

He was tired and groggy from the day of travel. The recycled air of the plane had made his throat scratchy; he needed a long, hot shower, and he was generally miserable.

“Almost there now, sweetcheeks,” Natalie reassured him as the taxi rounded a corner. “You’re going to love it, I promise.”

The villa was one that Natalie and Kasey had stayed in a few times before, boasting of it’s view and proximity to perfect waves. Right now, Alex didn’t really care about those things. As long as the villa had a comfortable bed and a large shower, he’d be satisfied.

Natalie was right, and soon the three of them were piling out of the car, hauling bags of luggage behind them. They were only there for two weeks but somehow had five large suitcases between them.

“I swear, I’m going to sleep for two days,” Alex grumbled as Kasey keyed in the number to obtain the keys.

“Try and stay awake for a few more hours,” Kasey said. “You’ll feel way better tomorrow for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, jetlag, blah, try to acclimatise to local time, blah -” Alex’s rant was cut short as he stepped through the door. “Wow,” he gasped.

The villa was gorgeous. He’d expected the large expanse of open plan luxury; a haven of polished metal and glass windows that showed panoramic views of white sand meeting a crystal clear sea. What he hadn’t expected was the giant Christmas tree, at least a few feet taller than himself, and the rest of the expertly placed decorations.

“Do you like it?” Kasey asked. Alex saw the glance that he and Natalie shared. They were probably worried, he’d been frozen in place for the last 30 seconds.

Alex nodded, taking a moment to find his words, “It’s incredible. Just like home. Better.”

Everywhere he looked there was something new. A wreath on the wall. Faux furs draped over the seating. A garland that snaked all the way up the spiral staircase.

“Are those?” Alex stepped towards the stockings that hung on the wall. Each one had a name sewn into it. Natalie. Alex. Kasey.

“Yeah,” Natalie nodded. “One for each of us. Lils made those.”

Alex let himself be pulled into Kasey’s arms, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“We know that Christmas with your family is very important to you and we just want you to know that we are incredibly grateful that you decided to spend it with us this year,” Kasey said softly.

“Finn already bailed anyway,” Alex gave a small laugh. He felt Natalie join them and her arms were also there, enclosing Alex between his two favourite people.

“We told them to leave the tree. Thought we could decorate it together?” Natalie told him.

“God, I love you two.” Alex breathed.

That had been ten days ago. Now, a cheesy Christmas movie played on the TV but Alex wasn’t paying it much attention; enjoying the memory and being curled into Kasey’s chest. His fingers played idly with Natalie’s blonde waves as she snored softly in his lap.

It was the perfect end to a perfect day, a delicately balanced mixture of tradition and newness. Alex saw how hard his partners had worked to give him a Christmas day that rivalved those of his memories with his family and Alex couldn’t wait to thank them properly for it tomorrow. For now though, he was content to just bask in the moment.

“Al,” Kasey whispered. “Do you want to head to bed? I’m not really watching this.”

Alex looked up at Kasey, a gentle smile resting on his lips, “Yeah, bed sounds good to me.”

“Shotgun, not waking Natalie up” Kasey laughed.

“No need to wake her up. I’ll carry her,” Alex said. "Besides, she’s not that bad.”

Kasey frowned, “She bit me once.”

“Yeah, and did you clap in her ear like you did to me that time?” Alex replied. “Because if so, then you deserved it.”

“Not my fault you both sleep like the dead.” Kasey mumbled under his breath, switching off the TV and taking their dirty glasses to the sink.

Natalie gave a small grumble as she was picked up, wriggling in Alex’s arms before settling herself into the crook.

“God, she’s so cute.” Alex spoke quietly.

“You both are.” Kasey said with a grin, pressing a kiss first to Natalie’s cheek and then Alex’s. He led them the short distance to the bedroom, pulling the thin sheets on the bed back so that Alex could lie Natalie down.

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” Alex started to walk towards the en-suite but suddenly his phone was vibrating against the bedside table. The noise seemed extraordinarily loud in the quiet room. “Fuck, that’ll be Finn. Get that please, Kase?”

Kasey grabbed the phone and Alex heard a snort as he read the contact name, Fillet O’Fish.

“Hi!” Finn’s voice boomed a few seconds before his face appeared.

“Sssh.” Kasey hissed, rapidly hitting the down volume key.

“Oh, hi, Blizz,” Finn said. “Don’t know why I wasn’t expecting you. You’re naked. Why are you naked? Am I interrupting something? Is Alex naked too? I don’t want to see that.”

Alex plucked the phone from Kasey’s hand with a laugh. “He’s not naked, we’re just getting reading for bed,” Alex replied, panning the camera down and showing Kasey’s plaid pyjama pants to prove his point.

Alex pecked Kasey on the lips, “I’m going to take this to the other room.”

“Alright,” Kasey returned the kiss. “Merry Christmas Finn,” he added, giving the camera a wave.

“Merry Christmas, Kase!” a chorus of replies was heard.

Alex wandered from the bedroom, settling himself into a seat that gave a stunning view of the beach that their villa was sat on.

“Wait, isn’t it only 9 pm there?” Finn asked. “Why are you going to bed already?”

Before Alex could answer, Logan appeared in the frame, leaning over the back of the sofa to wrap his arms around Finn’s neck, “So nosy, Fish. Maybe they tired each other out, eh?”

Finn’s nose wrinkled with a look of disgust, “eww.”

“Nothing like that,” Alex laughed. “Not this evening anyway,” he continued, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Get it, Alex,” Leo teased, flopping himself onto the sofa next to Finn.

“Look at this view,” Alex said, turning the camera so they could see the idyllic scenery in an attempt to change the subject. It only served to trigger a memory from earlier that day, one that he probably shouldn't have been thinking about whilst on the phone with his brother.

Alex sighed happily to himself as he looked down at the watch on his wrist. It looked out of place against his bright blue and pink flamingo shorts, but Alex had received it from Kasey earlier that morning and he refused to take it off.

It was barely 11 am. However, it was Christmas day, so Alex didn't feel even the slightest bit guilty about the cosmopolitan balanced between his fingers, as he waited for Natalie and Kasey to come back from their surf. Alex wasn’t the biggest fan of the water, preferring to stay in the shade of the giant umbrella they had set up despite Natalie’s playful chirping.

Alex had pointed the watch out on his and Kasey’s first date without Natalie. They'd been heading to the aquarium when Alex had spotted it in the window of the jewellers. He'd made the briefest passing comment about how beautiful it was and it made Alex's heart sing that Kasey had remembered.

As if they knew that he was thinking about them, Alex saw the sun bronzed figures of his partners making their way towards him. They looked good; fitted wetsuits showing off their toned bodies and their faces brightened by laughter. Alex loved Kasey’s laugh, people thought it was rare but he just saved it for those that he thought truly deserved it. Apparently, Alex was one of those people now.

“Close your mouth, O’Hara.” Natalie teased, grabbing a towel and piling her hair into it.

“Hmm,” Finn nodded, pulling Alex from the memory too soon. “That is beautiful. I think mine has been better though.” His brother's eyes glanced back towards Logan with a smirk and Alex had a sneaking suspicion that Logan's torso wasn't the only thing that was bare.

"Yeah, you can keep that one for yourself," Alex retorted.

“Hey Haz! Did Kase like his present?” Leo asked.

Alex had enjoyed getting to know his brother’s second boyfriend. He offered a stabilizing presence to Finn and Logan’s chaos and to paraphrase shrek, “he was like an onion, he had layers.” Leo had been Kasey’s secret santa and Alex hated to admit it, but he had done a great job.

“Unfortunately yes,” Alex pretended to glare. “I suppose I have Finn to thank for helping you with that?”

Leo shook his head, “Your mom actually. She was more than willing to send many photos of baby Alex.”

Alex barked out a laugh, “Of course she was.” He couldn’t really be mad. The three of them had spent an age flipping through the scrapbook of his childhood photos, laughing at the annotations that Leo had added in his delicate script.

The alarm on Leo’s phone blared. “Sorry, that’s the timer for the potatoes,” the blond apologised. “I better go and check on them.”

“I can come and help.” Finn said.

Alex saw Leo visibly wince before he replied, "No thank you sweetheart. Y’all stay and talk with your brother.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know what disasters you are causing?”

“You cannot talk, Alexander,” Logan defended. “You nearly burnt your kitchen down making toast.”

Alex didn’t have an argument to that, it was true. He hadn’t been much help with Christmas dinner either.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to do anything?” Alex asked for the thousandth time. Besides setting the table, he really hadn’t done much to help with the meal and he didn’t feel great about it.

“Yes,” Natalie insisted. “We really do not need a trip to the ER today. Just sit down and look pretty.”

He protested a little but did as he was told. He watched Natalie and Kasey work, moving seamlessly around one another. And then Alex was standing again. He went back inside, ignoring his partner's queries. He was only going to be a moment anyway. Alex reappeared with his camera. He may not be able to cook, but he was excellent at photography. He remembered how they had found so much joy in looking at the photos of himself earlier and wanted to document their first Christmas together. Hopefully, in years to come it would bring them similar joy.

He took photo after photo of the meal coming together. Kasey flipping the steaks on the BBQ. Natalie glazing the prawns in sauce. The private glances they shared.

The camera was taken out of his hands and he heard the shutter snap as Natalie fed him pieces of peach.

He beckoned the two of them over and took a few shots of the three of them together, Santa hats perched on their heads, until Natalie was cursing about something burning.

He’d go through the photos later but he doubted there would be many that he wanted to delete.

“Earth to Alex!” Finn shouted and Alex blushed as he realised that they had been trying to get his attention for a little while.

Logan rolled his eyes, “You and Finn make the same stupid faces.”

“Oi!” Alex and Finn exclaimed together.

“C’est Vrai,” Logan chimed.

“I’ll admit to being a hopeless romantic.” Alex shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”

Finn snorted at that, “It’s not my fault that you and Le are so cute.”

“Agreed.” Alex nodded. “Nat and Kase should be less perfect. It’s all their fault really.”

“You’re both disgusting,” Logan groaned, but he was pressing his lips to the bare flesh on the back of Finn's neck, and Alex had known those two long enough to know exactly where that was going.

“On that note, I am going to bed. Have a fantastic Christmas, boys.”

#O'Darwin #Coops #O'Knutzy #Lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast to Coast #Winter holidays #Christmas #Food #ALL FLUFF

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

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Dildos and Hayfever

Harringrove April prompt day 13, Hayfever. Detective Billy Hargrove's had a rough time lately, and Captain Hopper assigns him a partner who'll either make everything worse...or everything better.

“All you need to know is he’s the commissioner’s son,” rang in Billy’s head as he stalked down the hall. Hopper had followed up with “I told him you were fresh out of rehab,” and “I’m sure you can remember enough of the ropes to show him, right, it’s not like he’s gonna be doing the work anyway,” and Billy gritted his teeth, punching the elevator buttons with a vengeance.

The light flickered, worsening the headache that always came on in the spring when all the flowers bloomed, and every tree on every sidewalk in the city shot its rocks off in midair—or when he had to walk into the office of the captain. This morning, to his utmost joy, he’d had both, and he took the opportunity of alone time in the elevator to blow his nose, hard.

Captain Hopper meant well, probably, Billy told himself, and set his shoulders.

He found the right building because of the smoke pouring out half the upper windows, the six fire trucks, and the EMTs coming out with the victims—a nice brownstone, before. Billy looked—somewhat hopelessly—for an elevator, sighed, and hauled himself up seven flights of stairs, sneezing.

Police Commissioner Harrington’s son was interviewing witnesses. Billy’d seen him before—always with his own office, always flirting with whoever worked reception, always with his uniform tailored. How he’d brokered a transfer to Major Crimes was a riddle Billy couldn’t wait to ask about—though if he was absolute dead weight, Hopper would probably come up with another solution to Billy’s bullshit, and kick Harrington back onto a desk somewhere.

Harrington was on an upper landing, listening to a black lady and her husband. They looked in their...seventies, maybe, well-off, both crying, and clutching tabby cats. “I can speak to you later,” he said gently, “—if you’d like to—” but the woman shook her head, grabbing his hand.

“He’s a good boy,” she said, sniffling, “—and you better catch whoever did this. Anyone who could do this. There aren’t many young men ready to haul an old lady’s groceries up nine flights, or open her pickle jars, either. Anything we can tell you—”

The man nodded too, holding her hand, and Harrington crouched, jotting down their story, while Billy showed his ID and ducked under the crime scene tape into the half-gutted apartment. He listened as he pulled the whole crime scene kit on, his gloves, mask, booties, and haircap and all.

It smelled horrible, still thick with greasy smoke that clung to the inside of Billy’s sinuses, and he was grateful for the mask.

The parts of the apartment that hadn’t caught fire were nice—nicer than he could afford, certainly—with art everywhere, photos, paintings...and a floor-to-ceiling, sculptural mobile he couldn’t help thinking looked like a cock. He surveyed the scene—a coffee table with wine glasses for two, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and chocolate dick-shaped marshmallows, in front of a couch with penis-shaped pillows.

There was a spray-painted ‘GOD HATES F—’ on the wall, the last word obscured by char from the fire, but Billy honestly wasn’t sure it was new, given the decor in general, and the adjacent broken glass glued to the wall in a penis shape. He leaned in and sniffed it, and he could still smell the fumes of the paint. He snapped a few pictures of it, for later.

When he backed up to get a wider view, his shoulder thumped into someone. “Sorry,” said Harrington, and then, showing why he’d made detective, “...that huge thing on the ceiling kinda looks like a dick.”

“A lot of things in this apartment do, you’ll find,” said Wheeler, the lead CSI, raising her eyebrows at Billy with a smirk. He tensed, a little, but she just started giving him the report, and he nearly shut his eyes in relief. “Including the weapon.” She waved at a bagged, cement dong sculpture that looked like art deco. “It probably didn’t take any prints,” she said, sighing, “—with a gritty surface like that.” Harrington grimaced, wincing, and touching his head.

“The victim will probably regain consciousness,” Wheeler went on. “He left the windows open all along that side of the apartment,” she pointed, “—and with as windy as it’s been today, it sucked the fire away from him, so he didn’t get much smoke inhalation.”

“What even...robbery?” Harrington asked, then, “Domestic violence?” and she grimaced, clicking around on her tablet.

“From his phone, it looks like a first date. We’re going over it with a fine-tooth comb, though,” she said, frowning at Billy, then down at her tablet. “Since the assailant obviously wanted the crime scene burned to the ground.”

Billy nodded, his eyes watering either from the fumes, or the pollen count. He sneezed inside his mask, and grimaced as it stuck to his face wetly. “Who is the victim?” he asked, sighing, and wrinkling his nose.

“Ishaq Hill,” Harrington put in, glancing between them. “Profession, camboy. Posted photos and videos of himself, pinup style mostly, artsy, sometimes naked. Neighbors don’t think it was stressing him out any, though, he just talked about being single a lot.”

Wheeler raised her eyebrows. “Because of the head trauma, they’re keeping him in a medically induced coma, so we can’t ask him what happened at least until tomorrow. But look,” she said, leaning between them to flick between photos on her tablet. She zoomed in on the victim’s crotch, and Billy automatically shot an alarmed glance at the nearest human, who happened to be Harrington, his brown eyes frowning back.

“Was there evidence of sexual assault?” he asked, and Wheeler shook her head, waving him closer.

“No, no, look,” she said, zooming it in further. “It’s hard to see, but look, the harness. The color, there, against his white vinyl? It’s a leather harness, dyed rainbow tie-dye. The straps are cut—and it’s empty.”

Billy stared at her. “...you’re saying the victim is trans,” he said slowly, making sure he had it right, “—and the attempted murderer stole his dick.”

“What the hell,” Harrington breathed.

She raised her eyebrows, waving her arms in a dramatic shrug. “I have no idea! But go look, there’s another one in the bedroom—” she pointed, and then bent back to sweeping something into a tiny ziploc bag.

In the bedroom, Harrington pointed at the waist-to-hip sculpture of a man, used to demo, apparently, turquoise leather straps similar to the rainbow straps they could make out in the photos. This one had a securely-fitted glass dildo in it with a whole blown-glass coral reef inside. Harrington bent close to stare at the cock made of tiny jellyfish and anemones, while Billy took in the display on the dresser—a whole array of fancy condoms and butt plugs, with decorated stands, and nameplates.

“He must have used this stuff in videos,” Harrington said. “Like, you know, unboxing.”

“I think he probably filmed less taking them out and more more putting them in things,” Billy muttered, as Harrington snickered, and then waved at the small, rhinestoned pastry stand labeled ‘God <3 Fags’. It was empty.

He looked over to see whether Harrington had noticed the empty stand, but he was fiddling with his phone. “...doesn’t look like he had any nasty public messages, or anything,” he said, frowning. “I’ll look through his account when we get back—”

“I’m gonna see where he gets all these dildos,” Billy said, frowning at one with what looked like birthday candles, and ‘Ishaq 23rd’ floating inside. He pulled a drawer open, and found a few boxed vibrators, and a lot of lingerie. “Some of this stuff has to be custom. Maybe they’ll know which one got stolen.”

“Oh,” Harrington said, brightening. “Good idea!”

“You can call around,” Billy told him, and Harrington shot him a sideways glance that made Billy wonder if he was gonna be a shithead about his dad being the commissioner, but he just nodded. He dropped into a chair at a desk out on the floor like any other cop when they got back to the precinct, searching up both Ishaq Hill’s social media, and local sex shops.

Billy went to find coffee and gossip, avoiding the old guard—his father’s friends.

“Steve’s all right,” said Holland, another CSI he thought he could trust, since she was friends with Wheeler. She considered, crossing her arms. “Everybody figures he’ll be bad at the job, so he gets all the desk work, and he’s kind of obnoxious, but he’ll get down and dust vac a bloody trunk, if you need him to.”

Hagen in Vice sneered, and yelled for everyone to come say hey to Neil Hargrove’s son, back from rehab, and Billy turned on his heel and stalked back to his own department, his heart racing.

He returned to hand Harrington a vending machine coffee, and Harrington looked grateful, toasting him in the air as he talked on the phone. “No, ma’am, I’m not trying to make any trouble. No, it’s nothing like—” he groaned, leaning his head against the handset, then sipped his coffee, and hit redial. “Hey, I’m looking to buy custom, handmade dildos. I’ve got a—” he grimaced at the wall, screwed up his face in thought, and then shrugged, glancing at Billy, and grimacing as he sighed. “I’ve got a highschool ring I wanna put in a dildo. Uh, go 2011!” He listened. “Oh, you do? Oh, thanks so much,” he said, writing down a phone number, and mumbling more thank yous.

“What’d you get?” Billy asked.

“Just another store to try,” Steve muttered. He kicked the desk, and rolled a couple feet closer to hand the post-it note to Billy. “They don’t want to talk to me until I want a weird sex toy,” he said, flushing a little, but laughing. “I’ve looked for one with plastic dinosaurs in it, a butt plug with my old glass eye—”

Billy snorted his coffee, coughing as Harrington scrambled up to pat his back.

“I think one time I maybe said moose antlers,” he muttered, counting off on his fingers. “That one must think I’m pretty weird.”

“Not the eyeball one though,” Billy choked out, trying not to die. “The fake eye ass plug store thinks that’s normal as shit.”

“I just mean,” Steve said, blushing, and waving his arms in a vaguely antler-like shape from his head, “—moose antlers wouldn’t probably fit in my ass, you know?”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Billy gasped, wiping his eyes, leaned in to where Harrington had brought up Hill’s social media, and scrolled.

“What’s all this shit about the Westboro Baptist Church?” he asked.

Steve was mumbling and scribbling, and then he hung up. “Oh,” he nodded. “They’ve been spamming ‘God Hates Fags’ on all his sites. He’s been doing a big photoshoot with teasers, kind of...at them? He kept tagging them. It’s gone viral.” He held out his phone, and Billy was treated to a lock screen of their assault victim on his knees, arms out like he was singing, his glittery dick spurting a cartoon rainbow.

“...sorry, that’s not very professional,” Harrington said, grimacing, and yanking it back. “I’ll change it.”

“Did you see this at the crime scene?” Billy asked him, yanking his phone out and showing Harrington the spray-painted ‘GOD HATES F—’ he’d found on the wall.

“Holy shit,” Harrington said. “Eugh, imagine them knowing where you live. Shit, I didn’t even notice that.” He sighed, and Billy kicked his chair, lightly.

“Kinda busy walls in that place,” he pointed out, and Steve shot him a smirk.

“Hargrove!” a familiar voice yelled, and Detective Holloway ran up and gave Billy a hug. “You look so good!” she told him, and then nodded at Harrington, and smiled back at Billy. “We found the guy the date was with on Grindr. They’re bringing him in.”

It was nice to have somebody happy to see him, even if her face made him kinda uncomfortable, knowing she’d been the one to catch him drinking in the supply room after all the—after.

“Make him wait,” Billy said, considering. “I wanna go through the conversations on Grindr. He can work up some nerves first.”

“He’s ex-military,” she said, grimacing. “His CV says his last job was as a ‘fully armed and trained combat specialist’ who did security for diamond mines in war-torn areas. I don’t think you’re gonna make him nervous.”

“Eugh,” Harrington said, making a face. “I can see why that date didn’t go well. He probably dresses like a supervillain.”

Holloway’s look at him was a little withering, and he shut up, turning back to sit at his computer. “Lemme know if you need anything,” she told Billy, frowning into his face, and he pushed her shoulder away, quirking his mouth.

“...I’m okay,” he told her, and she didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t hug him again, at least.

“How are you doing?” Harrington asked, after she’d left, and after swallowing half the cup of coffee in one chipmunk-cheeked slurp. He wiped his mouth, blinking wide brown eyes up at Billy, and Billy groaned.

“Look, about what the captain—”

“I know the story,” Harrington said, tossing back the rest of the coffee like a bathtub drain. Billy reminded himself to make Harrington pee before they got in a car together, like a little kid on a road trip. “My dad’s the commissioner, I know the whole...thing,” he said, grimacing. “You shoulda got a commendation.”

“...he was a dirty cop,” Billy grunted, hunching his shoulders. “It’s our job to make sure—”

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agreed, nodding at his screen, and Billy relaxed a little, out from under the weight of sympathetic eyes. “It’s our job, but not everybody does it. And you knew what it was gonna be like.”

“I did,” Billy said, grimacing. “I thought I did.”

“Hey, they let me into Major Crimes for this,” Harrington laughed, unhappily. “Even if my police work isn’t up to scratch, they won’t try anything on you if I’m standing there.”

Billy watched him, and felt a kind of brotherhood, suddenly, looking at Harrington’s tight smile, and tense shoulders. “...police work’s been okay so far,” he said, and Harrington shot him a startled grin. “I’m gonna go...call the hospital,” Billy told him, suddenly needing to be somewhere else. “Maybe swing by and take a look at our victim.”

“Oh,” Harrington said, nodding.

Billy had a few more pictures of the harness sent over—Wheeler was right about what it was, at least—and then they brought the ex-military Grindr date in. He didn’t look that intimidating, actually—his huge biceps were flexed as he held kleenex over his nose, sneezing so hard every few feet he staggered, and he was wearing a t-shirt with a badly-designed logo for a Queer Youth Charity Marathon.

“Hey,” Harrington whispered, touching his shoulder just before they went inside. “Uh, there’s a lot of hate on there from the Westboro Baptist Church. Like, they were getting specific, said someone doxxed him.”

In the interrogation room, their person of interest sneezed so hard snot dangled from both his nostrils, like a drooly dog. Steve snorted a laugh, and walked off to lean against another detective’s desk—Carol’s, Billy thought.

“Can I bribe you for some of that kleenex?” he asked, leaning in like he was flirting on a movie poster, and Carol laughed out loud, and hit him with it.

“Take it and git,” she said, and Steve ran back, grinning.

“Here we go,” he said, handing one to Billy. “One for you, the rest of the box for him.”

“I didn’t even stay for the whole date,” said Braxton Haglund, 34 years old, dark haired and caucasian, with a tattoo Billy could see peeking from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Haglund blew his nose, again, and the kleenex was so wet it made a noise as he dropped it against the table. “He’d left the windows all open. I walked up so many stairs—” he sneezed, miserably, several times, wadding handfuls of kleenex under his nose, and wiping his eyes.

“God,” he mumbled. “If I didn’t have hayfever, I’d probably still have been there when...whatever happened,” he said, between sneezes. His wide shoulders were hunched despairingly, and even Harrington had a sympathetic grimace. “Dunno if I’d have been much use, though.”

“Did you see anyone as you left?” Billy asked, and Haglund thought, taking deep breaths between blowing his nose.

“...nobody that stood out,” he said. “Some neighbors, maybe. Think I walked into somebody, once, my eyes were watering.”

He hadn’t seen anybody going in, either, so after they let him leave, Billy spent a while scrolling through all the victim’s media accounts. Harrington stayed doggedly on tracking down the dildo maker—Billy nearly felt sorry for him, except it was giving Billy such a good read on what to expect—and he was coming up with a continuous stream of weird sex toys to be in search of. “I’m an author,” he told one. “I want a dildo containing the pen I wrote my first book with.” He jotted down another number, called it, sighed, and tried again. “Uh, I want a dildo full of baby teeth—” he started, and then stopped, frowning at the phone. “They hung up,” he said, sounding betrayed.

“Wouldn’t you?!” Billy asked, smiling despite having to see comment after comment by the Westboro Baptist Church. He found further reasons to hate them, but nothing specifically actionable, so he finally stretched and grabbed his jacket. “I’m done for the day,” he called over the other empty desks.

“Go ahead,” Harrington said, frowning at the screen. “I won’t stay much longer. How the hell hard can this be, really?”

He was there before Billy the next morning, his jaw set, with dark shadows under his eyes. Billy detoured to the coffee machine first, and plonked it down in front of him, and Harington rewarded him with widening eyes, and then a bewildered stare.

“...thanks,” he said softly, then smirked up through a yawn. “Heard back from the arson investigators, and guess what? The fire looks accidental.” He bounced a little in his chair, and Billy wondered whether he was really into murder mysteries, or whether he was just trying to stay awake. “There was a pan on the stove, some kind of chocolate fondue, they think. Just caught fire, and with Ishaq unconscious, nobody turned off the stove.”

“...lucky bastard,” Billy said, grimacing, and Harrington raised his eyebrows.

“You think? Oh, also, guess what—I found her. Our dildo artist. She’s not all that local, but she did send me a few pictures of the dildos she’s made for our guy.”

“Had to track her down eventually,” Billy said, sipping his coffee, and then caught the way Harrington just bit his lips, his jaw tensing.

“Good job,” Billy told him, feeling a little...stupid, like he was praising a dog, but Harrington brightened, smirking up at him again.

Billy studied the printouts, as Harrington spun around on his chair, guzzling down coffee, and explaining his triumph. “She says that photoshoot that had the Westboro Baptist Church up in arms? Upcoming? Get this,” he said, getting up to lean over Billy’s shoulder. “—they’re pissed because our boy was staying at a hotel once with the new leader, Steven Drain. He pretended to be maid service, snuck in, and took the guy’s wedding ring, and made it into a dildo. He describes it as ‘surrounded by rainbow unicorn confetti and delicious queer flesh’. Our victim stole his wedding ring,” Harrington cackled, beaming. “I’m subscribing to his...everything.”

“Lemme see if any of these comments can be traced to Steven Drain,” Billy said, heading off to ask someone to do computer magic. Steve hopped up and came with him, which was kinda weird, but it was nice to walk down a hall without people shoulder-slamming him like he wasn’t there.

“Hate that he has my name,” Steve muttered, as they walked back. “Drain’s got restraining orders for beating up and threatening two young teenagers his daughter talked to, it’s on the public record. We could see what kinda injuries they had,” Harrington said. “...imagine taking down the whole Westboro church.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Billy laughed, dropping into his own chair as Harrington got more coffee, then called around and discovered the assailants had both been right-handed.

“Get this,” he said excitedly, “—Steven Drain is in town. Gay soldier’s wedding, they’re planning to picket it and scream at his widower, you know, their whole thing, but he flew in the night before the assault.”

“We should talk to him,” Billy said, most of his brain on the photos of dildos and butt plugs.

“Can’t we just drop a piano on him?” Steve muttered, and Billy snorted, flicking back through, and trying to figure out what was bugging him about the dildos. There were lots of them, more than Billy’d seen in the victim’s room, and Billy stopped, squinting at his phone screen at one that looked like it was full of tiny antique coins. “...wait,” he muttered. “Where did you say she lived? Dildo lady?”

“Upstate,” Harrington told him, blinking up at him, as he held his pen on the list of neighbors he’d called to ask whether they’d seen anyone that looked like Steven Drain.

“I need to talk to Dildo Lady,” Billy announced, and Harrington blinked at him, then glanced at his screen and back to Billy, waiting. “...we should go talk to her,” Billy amended, and Harrington grinned, grabbing his jacket.

“Should we talk to Drain first?” he asked, “—since he’s local?”

“Let’s wait and see the CSI reports,” Billy told him. “We’ll be on a lot firmer ground if he clipped his nails after he clocked Ishaq Hill upside the head.”

“Hard to believe somebody that loud went down quietly,” Harrington said, nodding. “There’ll probably be hair or something. Even if he doesn’t wake up and tell us. I called this morning—he’s out of danger, it sounds like,” he said, grimacing, and Billy nodded.

“Nice if we can tell him it’s all handled, though,” he said, and Harrington laughed.

“That’s a definite yep.”

Billy led the way to the level where his car was parked, and then stopped.

His car had dead rats on it. He walked closer, and there was a scratch where somebody’d jimmied his window, and tossed more rats inside, and suddenly he longed for a drink.

“Shit,” Harrington said, putting an arm around his shoulders to steer him away, and whipping out his phone. “Yeah, hey—”

“Stop,” Billy hissed, grabbing for it. “You’ll just make it worse, don’t tell your fucking dad—”

“Wheeler,” Harrington said. “Mmm, yeah, you know you said you had some CSI training to do? I’ve got a, uh, little crime scene in the parking garage. Could you get your most annoying rookie to come down and—yeah. Yeah, blue Camaro, license plate PCE 235.” He listened for a long second, and then thanked her again, tucking his phone away.

“...shit,” Billy sighed, as Harrington manhandled him to a different car.

To his relief, Harrington didn’t say anything sympathetic. After a few minutes, driving at a snail’s pace through downtown traffic, he took a breath, and Billy’s hands twitched. “Huh,” Harrington said, glancing down, and then biting his lips in a cartoonishly intent face.

“...jesus, just say whatever it is,” Billy told him, snorting a laugh, and sipping his coffee.

“Sorry your dad is a bastard asshole shithead,” Harrington said, wincing, and Billy choked again, coughing and spluttering coffee down his shirt, but he hadn’t been able to laugh about it before, ever, and it felt good, even if he tried to breathe coffee, and couldn’t stop coughing.

When he could finally draw breath, he sighed contentedly, leaning his head against the window. “...he is, isn’t he,” he said.

“He is, and so are most of the officers he came up from the academy with,” Steve said, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “My dad too. He didn’t—ugh.”

“What?” Billy asked, curious, suddenly, about Steve Harrington, instead of just the commissioner’s son.

“He didn’t want me to transfer,” Harrington muttered. “He said Major Crimes doesn’t need the dead weight. Hopper had to kinda go out on a limb. I fuck up and I’m kicked all the way down to traffic, I think.”

The thought that the commissioner had stepped in to help Billy, Detective Neil Hargrove’s son, had gotten Billy through some long nights in rehab. He drew a long breath, realizing he was even more alone than he’d thought. “...shit,” he said softly. His eyes stung.

“It’s fine,” Harrington said. “Hopper’s got your back. There are enough of us. I’ll lean on Hagen some, I think I can talk him around. It’s good you turned your dad in. You did a good thing, and everybody shit on you for it,” he growled, glancing over. “I’ve got your back. Jesus, man, don’t cry.”

“It’s the pollen,” Billy said thickly.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I have hayfever,” Billy hissed at him, rubbing his face.

The Dildo Lady looked about sixty, Pakistani probably, and wore a hijab. Her name was Faiza Khalol, and she was delighted to tell them about her work.

“Do you have any better pictures of these?” Billy asked her, showing her the one with the coins in it. “Or could you describe them?”

She could, as it turned out—and even better, when she’d asked about them, Hill had given her one, and she handed Billy a tiny silver coin which, after some googling, he thought might be an Athenian drachma.

“Oh,” she whispered, her brows drawing together. “Um, is it valuable?”

“I have no idea,” Billy told her, but flicked to another picture. “But these are, I think.” The clear butt-plug was full of greyish crystals, with a huge one where it would show.

“I didn’t see these in his dresser,” Harrington said, leaning in warmly against him, and Billy annoyed himself by shivering.

“No. These are uncut diamonds, I think.” Faiza and Harrington gasped satisfyingly, and Billy grinned. “Ishaq Hill stole more than a wedding ring, I think. We’ve had the wrong motive.”

“Braxton Haglund guarded diamond mines,” Harrington breathed. “He’d probably recognize them. Did Ishaq post pictures with these?”

“He always put up pictures of my latest work,” Faiza said, covering her mouth in horror. “Do you think…”

“I think we better talk to Braxton Haglund again,” Billy said, reveling in Harrington’s impressed grin.

“You’ve got duthing on be,” Haglund gasped, blowing his nose miserably. “You gan’t brove I saw ‘s pictures. You gan’t brove anything.”

Billy tried to parse that for a long second, and then, for Harrington, who looked bewildered, said, “Oh, that’s not all we have. Have you wondered,” he said, turning to his partner, who grinned back, “—how anyone could come in to Ishaq Hill’s apartment, clonk him from behind with a dick sculpture, then search his apartment, and not notice he’d left chocolate heating on the stove? Chocolate burns fast,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Haglund. “How did you not notice the smell?”

“His hayfever,” Harrington breathed, his eyes widening at Billy as his cheeks flushed, and Haglund slammed his fist on the table, opened his mouth to yell, and then stopped to blow his nose, and sneeze.

“Also while you were waiting,” Billy told Haglind with satisfaction, “—we searched your apartment. The warrant judge was convinced by our diamond-and-hayfever argument, and guess what we found?”

Haglund’s eyes widened in horror, and his back thudded against his chair as Billy shot Harrington a grin, and Harrington smirked back. “Good job framing a hate group for the crime,” Billy said, his grin widening, “—but why were Ishaq Hill’s dildos on the table in your front room?”

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

#Harringrove April #harringrove #Ridiculous #Billy and Steve like each other more than they thought #=D

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It- Prologue: Well F**k Me!

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: The Losers infiltrate a Child Sex Trafficking operation based in the Middle East thanks to their inside woman. New to the team, Stella has never met the men she will be working with going forward, all except for one that is...

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s PLEASE!!!! This also deals with mentions of Child Sex slavery, but no details really.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

A/N: So this is written for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork 's challenge, and our prompt was the photo below. We'd also like to submit this for @jtargaryen18 's 30 Days of Chris challenge. As you will gather form the title, we fully intend this to be a Series as well, which will arrive at some point. Hope you enjoy, let us know what you think!

Happy Birthday Evans, you beautiful bastard!!

The mission was simple, well, on paper. Clay and the rest of his specially selected Black-Ops team were charged with bringing down a child sex trafficking ring being operated by a number of corrupt US and UK Soldiers who were currently stationed in Iraq. His person on the inside had successfully infiltrated the ring following a 6 month period of being undercover and thanks to them they now knew how it was being operated. The kids targeted were orphans, so there was no one there to make a fuss or protect them. They were taken from the streets, refugee camps and then smuggled into Turkey (not Syria as they had originally thought) where they were transported to Hakkari before being auctioned off and handed over to whoever it was that had bought them for the evening, ready for whatever disgusting fate awaited them. This process was repeated several times over a week, before the kids were then disposed of before a fresh new bunch brought in for the next auction in three months time.

It was slick, well organised, and fucking disgusting. But Clay knew he had to keep that disgust at bay, if he had any chance of keeping his cover. Earlier that day Cougar had successfully taken out one of the original players who would be attending the auction, thanks once more to the info their insider had passed on, and Clay had taken his place. He sat in the plush, velvet arm-chair which surrounded a dimly lit stage, a glass of scotch in one hand, cuban in the other. Coupled with his dark suit and open collar white shirt, he looked to be a seamless copy of the the rest of the perverts lounging in equally opulent seats around the circle.

A literal paedophile ring.

"In position..."

Roque spoke into the tiny ear-piece Clay was wearing. He had no microphone, nothing. Wearing anything like that was far too big a risk, but the ear piece as designed by Jensen was far too small for them to have noticed. It meant he could still hear what was going on, and once he gave the signal his team plus the rest of the CIA officers waiting outside would swamp the place. And if a few of the perverts happened to hit a few steps or fists on their way out, no one was going to cry about it.

"We have visual on you Colonel..."

Pooch spoke again "Jensen hacked the CCTV and is now about to cut their comms..."

"Easy as pie..." Jensen muttered "And as I am a genius, they are now officially unable to contact the outside world..."

"If you're a genius then they seriously need to rethink what they call Einstein..." Pooch retorted.

“Shut up Pooch, not my fault you can't even figure out how to work a laptop..."

"Enough!" Roque cut across the banter, Cougar's chuckle hitting Clay's ear as he watched a pretty, slim blonde Woman striding onto stage

. "It's starting. Keep comms clear until further instructions received."

Clay looked at the woman, her black dress was tight leaving little to the imagination. Her hair was pulled back into a high pony-tail and her lips were painted a blood red. Dark eyeshadow adorned her lids and her calculating blue eyes scanned the room, falling on him for a second before she continued looking around, a smile curling across her face. She looked the part of a Gentlemans Club owner. Pristine, perfectly put together, but she was a female pimp- nothing more, nothing less.

"Gentlemen, welcome." she spoke, her soft American accent cutting across the rooms and Clay noted the slight New-England twang she had. "The Auction is about to begin but I must first of all run down a few rules with you. You will find to your right your bidding pads. Should you wish to bid, tap the button. Simply put, highest bidder wins. Once your purchase has been made and the monies have been collected from your specified accounts, you will be invited to meet with your latest acquisition in the specially provided rooms. They are yours to do with as you wish until 9 am tomorrow morning upon which time they will be collected from your rooms and your personal effects will be returned. All we ask is that you do not kill them. It becomes messy and attracts unnecessary attention to the club from the outside."

She turned and barked something in Turkish to someone and a door to the back of the room opened. The woman moved to another smaller plinth at the back of the room as a man dragged a crying girl, that can't have been older than 9 years, dressed in nothing but her underwear onto the circular plinth under the spotlights.

"Fuck..."

Clay heard Pooch's disgusted voice in his ear.

"This is sick."

Jensen muttered.

And it was. But Clay had to remain still, and silent. The play was simple, he put in a few bids and hung back. But at some point, when he was sure they had enough evidence, he would enter a bid of a million. That was the team's cue to move.

He let the first girl go, much as he didn't want to. But seeing her being dragged off the stage was enough to make him decide he was ending it with the second. He couldn't take watching another kid go through that, they had to have enough to bust this wide open, surely.

The next was a small, dark haired boy. He was pulled onto the stage by the burley guard, trembling, his brown eyes wide in fear. The bidding began. 10, 12, 15 thousand... at that point Clay hit his button, submitting his bid of 20. It was beaten, so he entered another and was beaten again.

"Bidding stands now at 40 thousand." the woman spoke. "Any further bids?"

Clay pushed his button "1 million." he spoke clearly. The woman cocked her head to one side, her eyebrow raising but before she could say anything the doors to the back of the room blew off.

Jensen, Cougar, Roque and Pooch flew into the room, flanked by a number of CIA agents and army officers as there was the usual pandemonium associated with a raid. As Jensen sprinted off down a corridor to the left in search of their Offices and computers, Pooch tossed a gun to Clay who joined the fray. He looked up in time to see the woman who had been running the auction sprinting out of the room down another corridor, but before he could say anything Roque was after her.

"You sick, fucking bitch..." Roque mumbled as he sprinted down the winding corridors in the depths of the club almost tripping over her discarded heels as he went. Eventually he caught up with her, just as she raised a gun that she seemed to have produced from nowhere, shooting someone in front of her. Just as the shot rang out, Roque threw himself onto her, taking her down. She struggled a little in his arms, her strength taking him by surprise as they tangled together but eventually his strength won out and he pinned her on his back. His hand reached up to grab the wrist of the arm she held her gun in and he banged it sharply on the floor a few times until she dropped her weapon. He looked at her face for a second, and something flashed in her eyes. Almost relief and she let out a breath.

"I'll come quietly" she said and Roque shook his head.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right here, right now."

"Because you need me." she shrugged "I'm your key to busting this whole thing wide open."

"Get up..." Roque snarled, as he hauled her to her feet, secured her wrists behind her back with his restraints. He looked her up and down and noticed that her dress had ripped slightly, exposing her right thigh flashing the hold-ups and garter straps he was wearing, into which was tucked another pistol. He ripped it from the strap which ran up and over a large, floral tattoo before he spun her round and with the gun jabbed into her back, he pushed her in front of him back the way he had come.

"Can I at least get my shoes?" she asked. Roque looked at her, incredulously, but let her slip the heels back on before they continued, emerging into the large cavernous room containing the stage. The plush velvet chairs now scattered all over the place, shreds of fabric still in the air as they were riddled with bullet holes and Clay was barking orders to someone in an Army uniform who nodded, and started to instruct his men to move out the prisoners they had taken to the waiting vehicles. Pooch and Cougar turned to face him first, before Clay spun round. The woman Roque was holding looked Clay in the eye and arched her eyebrow slightly as she raised her chin in defiance.

"Caught her in the back, she shot one of the other operators." Roque said, his gun nudging her forward another step "Probably to stop him talking."

Clay eyed her for a second, before a wide grin split across his face and he looked at Roque "Let her go, she's one of us."

"What?" Roque blinked, not sure he had heard correctly. Behind Clay Pooch and Cougar exchanged a look.

"I said she's one of us." Clay said, "She's my person on the inside."

Roque paused for a moment, looking at Clay then to the woman who turned to face him, her shoulders shrugging slightly "I told you I was your key to busting this wide open."

Roque uncuffed her and she moved her arms, rubbing her wrists slightly. "Sorry." he said gruffly.

"It's fine, you didn't know..." she said, cocking her head to one side "But can I have my guns back?"

Roque fished in the waistband of his jeans and handed her the two pistols which she slipped back into her suspenders, giving a little moan. " You ruined my dress..."

Pooch and Cougar gave a little snigger each and Roque glared at them both. Clay, however, ignored the 3 of them completely and looked at the woman.

"Did you get him?"

She nodded "Bullet straight through his head. I never miss."

"Through the head?" Pooch looked at her.

"It was a shoot to kill order." she shrugged "So I shot and I killed him."

Cougar tipped his hat slightly in approval as Pooch looked at him, then to Clay, then to Roque. Clay let out a huff of a laugh before he turned to the team.

"This is Stella Stevenson, aka Arty..."

"Like Artrois...that's clever." Pooch chuckled.

Arty grinned at him as Roque looked at Clay "Emma's replacement, right?"

Clay nodded. "She's slightly less volatile..."

Arty raised an eyebrow "Until I'm pushed...although leaving a bomb in someone's car is far too crude for my liking. You wouldn't see me coming, Clay."

Clay snorted "Losers, treat her well. She's like a daughter to me, we go way back."

She smiled, and then looked around before she nodded to a door at the back, gesturing at them to follow her. "Everything you need is on the systems. I buried it as deep as I could to stop them deleting any of it. You got names, dates, transactions..."

"They kept transactions?" Pooch frowned as they walked down towards the offices she was indicating.

"Key blackmail opportunities." Clay took a deep breath.

"Which I daresay we'll uncover as well." she spoke "This goes deep Clay. Deep. And it's not the only one. They're operating out of Syria and Afghanistan too."

"Ok." Clay nodded, "Let's see if Jensen is done retrieving the intel off the systems and then we can-"

"Jensen?" Arty blinked at the mention of the familiar name and Clay turned to her grinning "You son of a bitch..." she laughed, shaking her head.

Roque, Cougar and Pooch exchanged a look.

"What did we miss?" Roque asked as they stopped outside a door.

"You're about to find out..." Clay said, pushing the door open. The 5 of them stepped inside and Clay looked at Jensen who had their back to them and was leaning over a screen, his nose almost touching it. "You get what we need?"

Jensen didn't look up. "I was right, they had an automatic virus in here that can be remote operated but the stuff was buried deep, by someone who wanted to make sure it didn't get wiped, they clearly knew what they were doing..." he mused, and Clay glanced at Arty who raised an eyebrow "Just transferring it back to base now. We got names, dates, transaction history...and there are a few very naughty senators who are gonna be getting their collars felt. Which is better than them getting their balls felt by 12 year olds..."

"Shame you weren't this good at Mario Karts JJ..." Arty spoke and Jensen stilled slightly before he whipped around in his seat.

"Stel?" he spoke, utterly astounded as he stood up, his dark green t-shirt rippling over his chest.

She looked at him for a second "I thought you were in Afghanistan." she cocked her head to one side, taking his appearance in. He hadn't changed a bit in the year or so it had been since she had seen him last. Same cheeky and boyishly handsome face, same spiky blonde hair, same broad shoulders which tapered into a slim waist.

"I thought you were in Iraq." he shot back, eyeing her up and down. She hadn't changed a jot either. Same curvy figure, same long legs and he let out a moan as he saw the guns strapped to her thigh through the rip in her dress.

"Are you wearing suspenders?" His eyes widened before they worked their way up her body.

"Always were observant Jakey." she grinned as his eyes locked onto her own, those crystal blue orbs shining slightly in the light of the room.

"Alright quit perving and for your information she was in Iraq." Clay said, "Under my orders."

"Well..." Jensen nodded, his hands falling to his hips as he looked down at his feet before he glanced back at Stella then Clay "Fuck me."

"Ok, what's this all about? You know each other or something?" Roque asked, gesturing between them with his hand.

Pooch rolled his eyes "Good call Roque, you think?"

"She's my best friend..." Jensen grinned, "All the way through middle and high-school..."

Stella barked out a laugh "So that's what we're calling it now?"

"Ok, best friend with...certain benefits.. if you get my drift." Jensen shrugged, his eyes twinkling cheekily.

A that, Pooch let out a groan whilst Cougar smirked

"Nice..." he said, tipping his hat, speaking for the first time since Arty had met him, a low chuckle escaping his mouth.

Roque blinked and turned to Clay "And you knew about this?"

"I told you, she's like a daughter to me..." Clay shrugged.

Jensen and Arty stood still, not really paying attention, simply looking at one another, until Jensen grinned and threw his arms open "Come here!"

With a grin she threw herself at him and he hugged her tight, arms wrapping around her back as he lifted her off the floor slightly and kissed her cheek "It's good to see you Stel."

"You too Jakey"

********

After an hour or so, Clay signalled to the team that it was time to depart and they headed to the chopper that was waiting to take them out of Turkey and to the UN Base in Damascus where their handler was waiting to talk to them. The man, known only to them as David, took all the information down, told them what was likely to happen over the next few days and informed them that they would be ex-filled back to CIA HQ in DC in the next week or so, for full debrief. They were shown to their quarters for the next few days, which were all private rooms in the officers' lodgings, thank God, and they all retrieved their kit bags from the piles that were waiting for them, Arty's own pack being significantly smaller.

"Hope it's all the right size." Clay nodded towards it. She smiled and took it from him with a thanks..

"Sure it will do...hang on, did you buy me underwear as well?"

He shrugged

"Ok, that's kinda gross..."

"I said I was like your dad..." he arched an eyebrow, "Not that I actually was. The rest of your stuff from the base will be shipped back, most likely waiting for you by the time we exfil."

"Thanks Clay."

The team bid each other goodnight and Arty, once in her room headed straight for a shower. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand, and stepped under with a light groan, scrubbing her body and hair down as if the soap and shampoo would wash away the last 6 months. It wouldn't, of course. Some of the things she had seen and had to do during her stint undercover had been vile, and she knew would stick with her for the rest of her life but she had known that it wouldn't be easy. She needed to compartmentalise, decompress, which was the whole point of the debriefs and psyche evaluation she would be subject to when she got back to DC, just like any agent returning back into the fold after a mission. Arty knew the drill, it wasn't the first undercover op she had been involved in, having been a part of Delta Force for almost 2 years now, but it was the first one during which she had been directly undercover herself following recruitment into the CIA Special Ops Group Ground force. She knew that you never stayed in Special Ops long, it was a short term thing few people were lucky enough to be chosen for and could be cut even shorter if one of the missions left your face too easily recognisable, so Stella was intending to make the most of it even though she knew already it was gruelling.

And then there was Jensen. She had no idea he was working for the CIA but then, why would she? That was the point of Black Ops. Covert. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little upset at how far they actually had drifted since they had last seen each other 12 months ago. When they both went their separate ways after completing the ROTC, they'd promised to stay in touch, and to be fair for the most part over the past 8 years they'd done just that. Phone calls, emails, and then spending any time they could when they both had leave at the same time together, but it had certainly waned over the last year and, well, now she knew why.

Turning off the shower she dried off and dug out the night wear Clay had provided her with. Pleasantly surprised and pleased to find a pair of pale yellow pyjama shorts and matching tank top she shrugged them on before she flicked on the small TV that was attached to the wall, and just as she was about to throw herself on the bed there was a knock on her door. Knowing full well it would only be one person she padded barefoot over the clean, but clinical flooring and opened it.

Jensen leaned against the door frame, barefoot and dressed in a pair of black shorts and a white tank top, his handsome face sporting his trademark grin as he held up a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Me and my friend Jack were just takin' a stroll, thought we'd pop by for a catch up." He watched as she smiled, and stepped back to let him in. His eyes slid up her bare legs to her shorts and over her ass for a second before he shut the door behind him. "Not gonna lie Stel, was kinda hoping you'd still be in that dress and those damned thigh holsters."

"They only come out for special occasions." she quipped, heading over to the small kitchen area at the back of the room and waving 2 mugs. "You want one or we doing it straight from the bottle?"

"Why change the habit of a lifetime?" he snorted, twisting off the cap and taking a mouthful. She crossed towards him and he handed it to her and she took a loud mouthful, swallowing it as it burned her throat a little. "God it's hot when you do that." She shot him a look as he took the bottle from her, placing it down on the side before he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer "Fuck, I missed you Stel."

"What happened to no strings attached?" She looked at him, her hands falling on top of his.

"I still really missed you...not just the sex...but you..." he shrugged. "You know I have..."

"That why we've hardly spoken in 12 months?" she looked at him.

"I emailed..." he frowned, one hand moving to run through his hair "You're the one that went silent 6 months ago."

"I was undercover..."

"You can be under the covers now too..." he grinned and she scoffed, shaking her head.

"Is this really wise if we're gonna be working together?"

"Since when have I ever done anything wise?" he shrugged, pushing his glasses back up his nose slightly.

"You should try it some time..." Stella said, patting his chest. She stepped back out of his hold, grabbed the bottle and took another drink before she walked to the bed and flopped down on it. "Assume the position JJ." she instructed him and he grinned, dropping down besides her and she handed him the bottle. Neither of them spoke for a moment, they fell into a comfortable silence, having been in this situation many times before. Lying side by side, drinking, just being close to one another. Jake took another mouthful of the liquor, stealing a glance at her as she sat besides him, her damp hair pulled into a braid, the spattering of freckles that adorned her nose and cheeks evident following her being fresh from the shower, the trace of her jawline down her throat to the slight swell of cleavage he could see thanks to the neckline of her tank top...

As she made a gesture for the bottle he handed it to her, and she took it, her eyes still fixed on the TV, and she grimaced, nodding towards the screen. Jake followed her gaze as it was cutting to a News flash.

"I said there would be some very nervous senators..." he quipped, as Stella shook her head as the footage of Capitol Hill rolled, the news reporter carrying the story about a number of arrests linked to a suspected Military Raid earlier that day. They both knew, however, that any arrests would have been made hours previously, as soon as the information they had syphone had hit the CIA base. The entire operation was timed to a tee.

"Hope they throw away the key. Sick bastards." she muttered "Honestly Jakey some of the stuff I saw...it was fucking disgusting."

Jake looped an arm round her shoulder and she lay her head against his chest, her arm looping over his stomach as he gave her a squeeze before she sat up again, taking the bottle. She took a large gulp, larger than her previous ones and pulled a face as she swallowed, her throat bobbing and he felt the familiar stirring in his pants. She looked at him for a moment, their eyes locking and his gaze flicked down to her mouth before it moved back up again as he took the bottle off her and blindly reached behind him, placing it on the table besides her bed.

"Wanna fuck?" he asked.

She shrugged "Sure, why not?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth, his lips crashed to hers in a bruising kiss and he smirked against her mouth as she straddled him, his hands falling to her hips as her mouth hungrily worked against his. Their lips molded together in a well known practice, her tongue teasing against his own before she pulled back, gently biting his bottom lip as she went, drawing a groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his eyes flickering open to lock onto hers.

“You know…” Stella sighed, drawing back slightly to cup Jake's face in her fingertips “I'm liking this..." she traced her fingers lightly across his goatee, and he smiled at her as she reached up and took his glasses off, dropping them carelessly next to the bottle of Jack by their side.

“It's supposed to make me look meaner…” he murmured, his lips gently brushing hers as their noses bumped together.

"Doesn't work, especially not with the bleach in your hair." she mumbled as his mouth trailed a path across her jawline and down the length of her neck "You're still that adorably yet slightly dorky 18 year old that took my cherry." "You took mine too Stel." he mumbled and her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"How could I forget?" her voice was nothing more than a whisper as his fingers flexed on her hips, his groin pushing upwards, his hardness pressing into her core through their clothing. "I'm glad to report you got a lot better at it since then..."

"Well, you'd know..." he said, his tongue licking a line back up her throat as his hands grabbed at the bottom of her tank top. She moved to allow him to take it off and Jake looked down at her bare chest as she reciprocated the favour, pulling his top over his head, tossing it to the floor. Raising his head he gently nipped at the base of her neck, his hands sliding up her bare sides, calloused fingers ever so gentle over her ribs as his tongue flicked at her nipple as he took it in his mouth, drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily at the sensation.

God it really had been far too long.

Unable to take it anymore he flipped her over so she was on her back, his body sliding downwards as he dispensed of her shorts and then his own, before he kissed his way back up from her ankle all the way to that thigh tattoo which was ingrained in his memory forever. Well, most of it was anyway...

"This...this is new. " he said gently, his fingers tracing the outline of the large, pink flower that sat at the top, almost in the crease of her hip.

"Go Petunias." she looked at him and he let out a bark of a laugh as she snaked her right leg in between both of his and using a well executed move she threw him on his back drawing a loud huff of surprise from him.

"Jesus Stel, give a guy a warning" he mumbled as she slid over him.

"Where's the fun in that?" she whispered, brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other as his eyes fully closed in pleasure, large hands gripping at her thighs, then her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down, her warmth engulfing him entirely.

"JJ..." she mumbled, her hands falling to his chest as she held herself still "Jakey, look at me...wanna see you." He opened his eyes, locking them onto her own which were half-lidded with desire as she began to move. Her hips rotated as she ground down again, and again, his own rising to meet hers as she did.

"Fuck, Stel..." he sighed, "Still feel so good baby girl..."

She grinned, and bit her lip as her hips moved again, his hands sliding down to grab at her ass as she pushed down harshly, causing him to grunt as she ground down against him, tilting herself forward finding that angle that always got her off. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move slightly faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every roll of her hips, Jensen's eyes which were still locked onto hers grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her onto him, grinding upwards further and deeper.

He sat up suddenly, so they were face to face, the change of angle making her cry out, as he slid his hands moved round her back, pulling her close to him as he kissed and sucked at her neck, biting at that spot beneath her ear whilst he held her still for a moment, gently thrusting upwards, deeply, slowly, savouring the moment. Stella rolled her head back, a louder cry this time tumbling from her lips and he felt her tighten around him, pulsing strongly as her orgasm washed over her and he let out a groan of his own as her head fell forward to his shoulder, her groans soft in his ear.

“Good?” he whispered, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, and without giving her a moment to recover he flipped her onto her back, his hands lacing with hers at the side of her head as he began to thrust into her, his pace harder and faster.

"Jake..." she gasped, as his lips crashed onto hers, swallowing her cries as her nails dug into the back of his hands whilst he thrust into her with deep, powerful strokes. The sweat was beading over his brow as he broke the kiss, his head falling forward slightly as he felt his own relief beginning to creep up on him. He tugged his right hand free, sliding it down between them to rub at her sensitive nub as he pounded into her voraciously and she gave a loud wail her head tipping back into the pillow, her breathing ragged.

"Come on Stel..." he gasped, "Come on baby, give it to me..." And give it she did, her body shook underneath him as her mouth dropped open and she let out a loud noise which bubbled from her throat, as she once more succumbed to the wave of pleasure washing over her. The feel of her clenching around him was enough, and Jensen followed her right over the edge into delirium, his hips stuttering as his thrusts grew sloppy, riding his own orgasm out before he collapsed down on top of her, completely and utterly blissed out. They lay in silence, both struggling to gain control of their breathing in the aftermath, not a sound being made by either of them bar gasps for air as the TV continued to play in the background. Stella gently moved her hands up and down the expanse of muscle on his back, his skin slick to the touch and Jensen laid still, relishing the touch of her fingertips as they danced over his body.

Eventually he raised his head, propping himself up on his elbows as he gave her a lazy grin which she reciprocated. His hands cupped her cheeks, his lips seeking hers out once more for a kiss that was this time soft, gentle, a stark cry from the ardent ones they'd shared before. He pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, gently brushing their noses together before he spoke, his voice slightly raspy from the exertion of the last 15 minutes or so.

"Welcome to The Losers, Stel" he grinned.

#the losers #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #30daysofchris2020 #sweatersanyficchallenge

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im-not-looking-for-forgiveness · 5 years ago

Note

Heyyyy I saw requests are open and I was wondering if you could do something where the reader was an American nurse in the war who saved Tommy’s life, and she finally finds him after many years?? You can make it romantic or platonic between reader and Tommy :) thank you!!

Debt - Thomas Shelby x Reader

A/N: Loooooved this idea 🥺

Taglist: @imagine-richards @hxnky-cat @sweetiekokkiri @captivatedbycillianmurphy @tranquility-or-chaos

*****

Your life as a war nurse had many ups and downs. The war stayed with you, as with all the others who lived through it. They said it was over, but did any of you really believe that when memories still played out in vivid color before you?

There was an upside to the trauma, though. The men you'd help save brought you immeasurable joy and relief. You always told yourself that the ones who lived made it all worth it. It didn't stop you feeling guilty when others died, but you figured that part would never go away. You helped where you could and that had to be enough. Especially when these men thrived. Thomas Shelby was one such example. A photo of him in uniform was on your desk, and you couldn't stop the tears that sprung to your eyes.

He'd been in a bad way when you'd gotten to him. Cold, dehydrated, and in shock. He'd been a clay kicker if you remembered correctly, and only a few men of his team made it out. He was mostly silent as you had treated him, and he did whatever you needed him to. He let you save his life because he already died in the tunnels, but some small part of you hoped that it was for your sake.

"Thomas Shelby." you murmured his name aloud, remembering how clear blue his eyes had been amidst the dirt and grime on his face. The sepia photo didn't capture their hue.

Your roommate and fellow nurse entered the room with a mischievous look on her face, "Aha! It's that man from the war, isn't it? The tunneler you wouldn't shut up about?"

"How did you get this?" you answered, nodding.

She explained, "I'm still friends with one of the girls over there. She wrote me complaining about the gang wars, and how she had to treat one of their leaders. She said she was sworn to secrecy about who he was because there were men after him, but she remembered him from the papers after the war."

"Ah, when he was awarded O.B.E. He's a gang leader now?" you wondered, at a loss for words.

"Apparently. They call themselves the Peaky Blinders." she sat down across from you.

"What does that mean?"

"They cut people, I think." she frowned, and folded her arms.

"Fuck."

You roommate sighed, "Even after me saying that, you're still going to go see him aren't you?"

You gave her an embarrassed smile, "I have to see him. Don't give me that look! You gave me the photo!"

"Fine, you're right. I thought maybe you'd be satisfied with just the photo." she threw up her hands.

"Liar. You're a hopeless romantic, admit it!" you jumped up and hugged her, grateful for the photo between your fingers.

"Oh, whatever."

*****

A week later, and you were walking down the muddy streets of Birmingham. You held the photo in your hands tightly, but trying not to wrinkle it. Anxiety was running rampant inside you, but you'd never been more sure about something before. It had been a mistake to let him leave the infirmary without leaving him a way to contact you, and you felt you had to make it right. You couldn't live your life wondering what if.

"Have you seen this man?" you asked a stranger.

The man nodded gravely, "Try the Garrison, it's a pub up the road. The Peaky Blinders run it, so he's bound to show up some time. Just be careful, miss, they aren't the sort you should hang around."

You thanked him, and carried on. You didn't come all this way to be discouraged by a scared man. Sure, you knew what you were getting into, but Tommy was worth it. Besides, you were fairly certain that the war couldn't be outdone in terms of the trauma inflicted upon you.

Pushing open the ornate doors of the pub, you were immediately surrounded by the din of conversations and glasses clinking. It was a warm sound, a sound of life. A long bar stretched out to your right, and cozy tables and booths were to your left. You spotted a door in the back that probably led to a private room, and another smaller private room near your end of the bar.

You moved the counter when the bartender was close, "Excuse me, do you know where I can find Thomas Shelby?"

"Ah, American? How is it in the States?" a man to your left interjected, clearly drunk if his slurred words were anything to go by.

"It's fine. If you'll excuse me.." you told him, looking to the barkeep for an answer so you could leave sooner. You didn't like the way the drunk man was looking at you.

"Who's asking? I haven't seen him around." the bartender looked quickly away from the photo, and you got the distinct impression that he was lying.

"Tommy?" the drunkard asked, snatching the photo off the counter. He leaned close enough that you could smell the reek of body odor surrounding him. You tried desperately not to gag.

"Hey!" you tried to get the photo back but he kept it out of reach.

"You're looking for Tommy? I know where he is. Oh, don't worry, I won't charge you for it. Come on." he took your photo and slumped off his stool. Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling towards the door.

"Thanks." you said as venomously as you could to the bartender. He had the decency to shrink back a little as you passed.

This was a horrible, horrible idea, but you wanted Tommy. Maybe this drunk man was part of the gang some how? You were told that they hung out there, so you supposed maybe he really did know Tommy's whereabouts.

"He always cuts through here." the man gestured to you, sliding down the extremely narrow alley next to the pub.

You wondered as you tentatively followed, 'Why would Tommy willingly remind himself of the tunnels every day?'' You'd seen how cramped the hole he came out of was. No one you knew would ever go back in there, whether they got claustrophobic or not.

Stopping as you neared the entrance, your tried to decide if you could make it back inside the pub without the man noticing. But that's when you looked up.

The man who had seemed nearly incapacitated by alcohol just moments before was now standing as still as a shadow with a gun aimed at your face. He gestured you forward with his free hand, no shake to it at all.

"What the-?" you began, but he got impatient and yanked you into the alleyway with him.

"Scream and I'll shoot your pretty mouth off." he snarled, shoving you against the wall and the gun to your cheek.

The alleyway was so narrow that you had no room to escape him or the smell that radiated from his body. You did gag this time, unable to stifle it in such close range to the source. He took advantage of the distraction and slid his free hand around your throat.

"Who are you? Some kind of whore? Or better yet, you his girl?" he demanded, squeezing.

"Get off me! I'm not a whore, you jackass!" you rasped out, painfully aware of the metal being pressed into your skin and the lack of air you were receiving.

"Ah, so you are his lover! Well, then, I bet he'll mind if I take you with me." he chuckled, moving the gun your shoulder and shoving you back toward the street.

You inhaled sharply as he released your neck, only to yelp as you stumbled into the street and caught your boot on a rock. You nearly went down, but the man wrenched you back up by your arm. He pressed the gun into your back. This was all happening too fast! Who was he? What did he want with you? Why did he think you were Tommy's lover? More importantly, how were you supposed to get away from him!?

A group of men were headed towards the pub, and recognized the infamous peaky hats that your roommate had warned you about. You couldn't tell if Thomas was among them, but you hoped if they were his men that they'd step up like you hoped he would.

"Get the fuck off me!" you shouted as loud as you dared, hoping your captor wouldn't shoot you for doing so.

To your luck, one of the men said, "Hey, let go of the girl, mate."

"Fuck off! There's nothing to see here!" the man holding you snapped back, tightening his grip on your arm.

"She told you to let go." you heard a familiar cool voice behind you and your captor.

"I knew you'd come out if I laid a hand on her!" the man laughed, releasing you entirely.

You whimpered and scrambled back, rubbing your arm. There was sure to be bruises there tomorrow. Guiltily hoping to see a gun in Tommy's hands, you were shocked to see that his hands weren't even raised! You bit back your terror and continued to watch the scene unfold.

Suddenly, faster than you could see, Tommy swung at the man. The next second, the man was spraying blood and falling to his knees. Thomas swung the cap in his hand twice more, slashing at the perpetrator's face. Then, Tommy kicked the gun out of his hand and one of his men retrieved it.

Peaky Blinders. It made sense now.

"Get the fuck out of here." Tommy snarled to the now wailing man curled up on the gravel. Two of the Blinders hauled your attacker to his feet.

"Wait." you stopped them, finally finding your nerve. You snatched the photo of Tommy from his pocket.

You added to the man, "Those will need stitches. Being a nurse, I would be inclined to do them but you've made me angry. Plus, you stink."

"Y/N?" Tommy started, realizing who you were. He tried half-heartedly to wipe the blood off his hand.

"You saved my life." you tried to smile and calm your still racing heart. It helped that your attacker was being dragged away.

"I'm only standing here today because of you." he said calmly, blue gaze ensnaring yours.

You stepped closer and pressed the photo into his hand, "The same goes to you."

He slid his arm around your waist and held the door to The Garrison open, "Come in and I'll get you a drink. We've got a settled debt to celebrate."

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #request #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder au #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years ago

Text

Lady Wifi (part 1)

Marillion AU

“Come on...”, Marillion whispered into the glowing outline in front of her. “You can do it! You've practiced the entire morning, you've got this!”

“But they're all looking at me!”, her champion - The Magician, an amateur entertainer with stage fright from Mendeleiev's class - whispered back. After failing at a simple trick this morning her brooch had alarmed her of his distress, and since she couldn’t focus until it was resolved she had akumatized him. It was supposed to be quicker than talking to him as Marinette, but her lacking experience with a miraculous showed: she'd had to spend almost half an hour convincing him that letting out his frustration on the Eiffel Tower wouldn’t help him. Now, instead of making Paris' most famous monument disappear, he was trying to impress children at the Trocadero. Not the greatest challenge with his new magical powers, but that wasn’t the point.

“It doesn’t matter.”, she calmed him. “You can’t fail! You are using real magic now, they'll be so amazed they won’t even know you’re nervous.”

“But it won’t be forever! And then I’ll just do regular card tricks, and probably ruin it again.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But in my experience, when you’re feeling scared you're twice as likely to make a mistake! I'm just helping you to get some experience with crowds, so that you'll feel surer next time. Some positive feedback is always good to lift a creative block.”

She always went to her parents when she couldn’t finish a design. Their genuine awe and pride of her abilities never failed to get her back on her feet. But since the Magician didn’t want to call his parents, the job to encourage him fell to her.

“Okay... I... I'll try!”

He stepped forward and took off his cylinder, ready to create a cloud of white butterflies. The kids cooed and awed, and the Magician smiled hesitantly. Marillion gave him a thumbs-up from her hiding place on the roofs.

It went flawless, after that. He made little lights and clouds of colorful smoke, more butterflies and even made himself dis- and reappear a few times. The children were utterly fascinated and their laughter and applause warmed her heart. And her champion's as well: soon the clouds of butterflies were joined by a freshly purified akuma and the Magician transformed back into a carefree, laughing boy.

“See?”, she said to no one. The link to her champion had gone vacant when he had detransformed. With a last smile towards her freed akuma she turned around and vanished with a swirl of her tailcoat.

This had been a great morning after all.

“This is a horrible morning!”, Alya complained to Tikki. Not only had she failed to identify her nemesis via a cutout of Marillion, she had even been caught by Bustier! And Marinette wasn't here to distract her!

“Well, I did tell you to focus on your lessons.”, her cherished but unbearably goody-two-shoes friend replied. “Besides, it’s impossible to recognize the wielder of a miraculous. Your masks are magical, remember?”

“It was worth a try.”, she shrugged. “And hey, its not like you’re the one who has to focus for two hours on the most boring subject there is. Oh! Rose, Juleka! Have you seen Marinette?”

Tikki hurried to hide in her bag while her classmates shook their heads and she moved on.

“Where is that girl?”

“She said she didn’t feel well. Maybe she went home?”

“But she left her bag here!”

Tikki raised an eyebrow - or at least the skin where her eyebrows would be, if she had any.

“Because your friend never forgets anything, right?”

Good point. She loved her BFF, but Marinette sure was a mess.

“I‘ll look at her locker. If she's not there I'll just bring her bag over to her home.”

Any excuse to go by the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie was fine with her. The croissants were incredible, and Tikki barely ate anything except their delicious macarons. In her mind she was already sinking her teeth in the artwork of a pastry when a ruffling sound stopped her. Was that... Chloé?

Indeed. The blonde b... beast was hurriedly packing something into that overly expensive handbag of her, and she looked very keen on not being watched. Alya's eyes narrowed and she hid behind a corner. Suspicious!

Her spying- observing turned out to be worth it. Thanks to her infallible intuition and sixth sense as superhero, she was able to witness it: Chloé Bourgeois, heiress to the mayor of Paris and his empire of hotels, meanest little brat under the sun... pulled a purple mask out of her locker. A butterfly shaped mask. And ribbons that matched Marillion's.

The bell rang and startled Alya out of her stupor. She quickly disappeared into the yard before Chloé - Marillion! - could spot her.

“Did you see that?”, she hissed to her Kwami, still not believing her luck. “Oh my god, Tikki! Did you see that?”

“I... uh, I did? But Alya-“

“This is Perfect, with a capital P!”, she cackled. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell everyone! By tomorrow I'll have thwarted my nemesis AND the school bully. Admit it, I’m the best superhero you ever had, right? It hasn’t even been a week since Stoneheart!”

Tikki struggled to keep up.

“Alya, you know I believe in you and your great potential, but I really doubt that-“

“I'll have to prepare my article for the Ladyblog! This is gonna be the scoop of the century, Tikki!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t rush-“

“This spoiled little brat really thought she'd get away with it, huh? Thought that just 'cause she's pretty in purple I’ll have mercy? Well, think again, Marillion! Now that I know who she really is, I suddenly don’t find her attractive in the slightest!”

“Wait, you think Marillion is attractive? Why didn’t you say anything-“

“I don’t! Not anymore, at least, and even if she weren’t Chloé... She isn’t that pretty. Villainy is not her color. Oh! I gotta remember that line for when I confront her. It could be my new catchphrase.”

“Alya!”, Tikki called out with more volume than should be possible for her tiny body. Immediately her chosen fell quiet. “Alya, please think this through! We don’t have any proof of Chloé being Marillion. And her suit is created by the miraculous! Why would Marillion carry her mask around if she can make it appear with a few magic words?”

Alya scoffed.

“You don’t know her. Chloé has an Ego that thwarts the Eiffel Tower, she'd totally be the type to wear her own merch. Besides, no one ever said supervillains were smart, hm?”

“But Marillion saved Chloé, don’t you remember? When Stoneheart dropped her. They can’t be the same person, we’ve seen them together!”

“Well...” This time Alya actually paused, but soon waved it off. “Don’t you think that’s weird? First Marillion causes her to fall, then she catches her... sounds a little staged to me. She totally did that to deceive us! She's got the means, her miraculous is really op.”

“But-“

“Nah-ah. You can’t apply logic where Chloé - or magic! - is involved. But if you insist on a second opinion, I'll go and tell Nino! Oh, and I'll leave a message for Marinette.”

Tikki sighed deeply as her chosen talked on. She loved Alya with all her heart, but sometimes her creativity expressed itself in ways that weren’t always... productive. This was going to be exhausting.

“Did he just... die?”, Marinette asked, baffled by that utterly random turn of events. What a ridiculous ending!

Nooroo didn’t answer, instead he desperately shoved popcorn into his little mouth.

“Hey, are you crying?”, she gasped and moved to grab the tissues. Stubborn her Kwami shook his head, despite the obvious tears that ran down his little cheek.

“Oh, honey!”, Marinette tried to comfort him. “It's just a movie. They're okay in reality, I promise!”

“'M not shad!”, he insisted, the words muffled by the sugary popcorn in his mouth. “I kno' they're oh-righ.”

He hiccuped and hurried to take the tissue she offered, blowing his nose. His voice a little clearer now, he swallowed and rubbed his eyes.

“It's just that... he wanted to be better, didn’t he? He wanted to be good! And then, when he finally did it, he... he...”

Oh. Maybe this movie had been a bad idea after all.

“He was good now.”, she assured him. “And he was happy! For... a moment.”

Admittedly, that was a weak argument. Gosh, time to distract him.

“Maybe we should watch Pride and Prejudice next? No bad endings, I swear! Plus, the dynamic is really similar and I'm sure you'll adore Keira Knightley!”

Nooroo sniffled and looked up at her.

“Are you sure? It's almost four o’clock in the morning.”

“What?!”

A panicked glance at her phone confirmed Nooroo's statement and she all but hauled herself up the ladder to her bed.

“I’ve got school tomorrow!”, she wailed and frantically tucked herself in. “That means I'll have to get up in three hours! That means I won’t get enough sleep! That means I’ll have bags under my eyes and yawn like a hippo just when Adrien looks at me! Alya is going to think I’m a freak who stays up all night like a vampire! This is a disaster!”

“Uhm... are you sure that's going to happen?”

“With my luck? Definitely.”

Contrary to her fears, she did not wake up dead tired and embarrassed herself in front of everyone. No, she didn’t wake up at all!

Until Nooroo gently nudged her shoulder, that is, to inform her that they had overslept.

“Noooo! No, no, no!”, she all but cried as she shoved her homework into her bag and got dressed. “Damn Disney for making this many movies!”

“Marinette, you lost something!”

Eagerly Nooroo caught the note that had fallen out of her bag and gave it to her.

“It's from Alya!”, she realized and her eyes widened. “What?! She found out who the real Marillion is?”

Her Kwami gasped.

“Oh no!”

“We gotta hurry! Before she tells anyone!”

“I'm telling you, she is Marillion!”, Alya insisted and pointed at Chloé. “So what if I took a measly photo of her locker? She's a supervillain! You have to search her for her miraculous!”

Monsieur Damocles cleared his throat.

“Mademoiselle Césaire, I understand if you feel embarrassed, but that’s no reason to make such accusations. Please don’t aggravate your situation.”

“Aggravate her situation? She broke into my locker!”, Chloé - that little monster - complained. “How can it get worse than that?”

M. Damocles blinked.

“She, uhm, is kind of accusing you of terrorism?”

“What, because she called me Marillion? That’s a compliment, though not one I want to her from the likes of her. But what about my locker?! Suspend her already!”

The headmaster sighed deeply. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with these kids.

“A week of suspension, and now out of my office.”

“WHAT?!”

When Marinette entered the class, she was prepared for betrayed looks and roared accusations. Instead, everything was silent as Bustier wrote something on the blackboard. And Alya was missing.

Nervously she tapped Nino on the shoulder.

“Where is she?”, she whispered and nodded to Alya's vacated seat. Nino shook his head. “She got into a fight with the Principal because she thinks Chloé is Marillion. She's even been suspended!”

“What?!”, she yelled, but she wasn’t the only one. Adrien had been surprised as well.

After Bustier rebuked her for the disruption, Adrien leaned over to Nino as well.

“What do you mean, Chloé is Marillion?”

“That’s what Alya thinks. Crazy, huh? Not that I wouldn’t suspect Chloé of being a supervillain, but... yeah, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“That's horrible!”, Marinette murmured, masking her relief that her secret was safe. Poor Alya! “We've got to do- Ah!”

With no warning a wave of hot red anger crashed into her, searing through her brooch. She barely noticed Madame Bustier sending her to the Principal, she was already on her way out and running towards the bathroom.

“Marinette!”, Nooroo worried as she gasped in air and waited for it to pass. “Oh, this is bad. The closer your bond to a person, the stronger you feel their emotions!”

“Don’t worry about me.”, she said, the pain already receding. “Worry about Alya! She must be so hurt and we've got to help-“

She fell silent all of a sudden. Nooroo paused.

“Marinette? What happened?”

She shook her head, confused.

“It... stopped.”

Her eyes widened.

“I can’t feel her anymore.”

- - -

Any guesses what movie they watched? ;)

#miramu writes #marillion au #ml marinette #ml nooroo #ml alya #ml chloe #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #butterfly!marinette #alyanette #chlonette

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years ago

Text

Before The Dawn Ch.3

A few months passed as Cassie made sure that Tony ate and resembled some sort of human, and in those few months, Diana had graduated from crawling to walking. Tony was fortunately there for the baby's first steps and Cassie could see how proud he was. He encouraged her to walk over the course of the rest of that day, but before that, the man had looked around with a smile. Only for it to fall. Cassie knew he instinctively started looking for Stephen but when he remembered that the sorcerer wasn't there, his mood fell for a little bit before he smiled again and held Diana's hands. The smile didn't reach his eyes after his realization but Cassie was glad he was smiling regardless.

She knew that now they would have to keep an even closer eye on Diana now that she was walking, and to both their amusement, the baby followed Cassie around like a little duckling. Dia was learning more and more words, and it made Cassie really happy when she learned the word "sissy". She was a smart baby and the little girl always showed her pictures in Peter's photo album and pointed everyone out and told her their names. Diana quickly caught on and since Tony was referring to Cassie as "sissy" and "Cassie" whenever he talked to Diana, she learned what to call her.

Now, Cassie could hear Tony giving her a bath as she drew in a blank notepad he had bought for the young girl a few weeks ago, and giggled when she heard splashing. Diana loved bath time and more often than not, by the time she was done, it looked like Tony took one too. He was doing a little better now and paying more attention to them, but Cassie still helped of course. Sometimes she even took a bath with Dia, but without Tony in the bathroom. He trusted Cassie to take care of Diana, but he also made extra sure to keep an ear out in case she called for him or if FRIDAY alerted him to a problem.

"Sissy! Sissy!" Diana screeches and Tony sighs.

"Ouch. Choosing Miss Sass over your old man?" Tony jokes.

"Sissy!" The baby says again and Cassie could hear her tiny glare.

"Alright, alright. Cassie!" Tony calls out.

The little girl giggles again and closes her notebook. "I'm coming!" She responds.

She wasn't going to join Diana in her bath today, but she would at least sit by the tub for her and fortunately it was enough for Diana. Cassie wouldn't have to sit long since Tony probably got her washed up and now she just wanted to play, but it would give Tony time to get Diana her pajamas and a clean diaper. When Cassie left her bedroom and went into Tony's bedroom and the adjoining bathroom, she grinned when Tony turned and she saw that most of the front of his shirt was soaking wet.

"Oh haha, alright. Laugh it up." He huffs and gets up with a groan. "I'm getting too old for this. We might need to make this something you're responsible for."

Cassie shrugs. "Okay."

Tony eyes her for a few moments and then moves past her as she takes his previous spot. "She's just playing now. I'll be right back." He says and then slips out of the bathroom.

While they waited, Cassie played with the bubbles with Diana and she laughed when Cassie pops one near her. It didn't take long for Tony to get back and he handed the diaper and pajamas to Cassie so he could grab a towel and haul the baby out of the tub.

"Alright piccola. Time to get dressed and go to bed." He grunts as he lifts her out and then looks at Cassie. "By the way, did you finish your homework?"

"Yup!" Cassie smiles and follows him over to his bed after pulling the plug in the tub.

"Alright. Good. You can go back to whatever you were doing now." He nods his thanks when she hands the clothes back over, and she goes back to her bedroom.

The world hadn't quite recovered from the snap yet, so for now parents or family members were homeschooling their kids (or any remaining) and Tony set up a program for her. FRIDAY helped him put together a curriculum that was acceptable for Cassie, and on the weekdays he sat down with her for a couple of hours to teach her whatever lessons were scheduled for that day. Then he would leave her to do her work for an hour before asking her to keep an eye on Diana so he could work on his current project.

He was usually only working until around dinner time and they both alternated between cooking. Tony did the more difficult dishes and Cassie was capable of the simpler ones. When Cassie cooked, she put Diana in the playpen in the living room with some toys so she didn't have to worry about her getting into trouble. When Tony did, Cassie continued watching and playing with her until dinner was ready. Whatever homework she had left, Cassie finished it after dinner since Tony was done with his project for the day.

He had made the promise to her that he wouldn't put all the responsibility of housework and watching Diana on her and he was doing a good job of keeping that promise.

Cassie decided to watch a movie in her room before bed and turned it down low when she heard Tony putting Diana in bed. He always spoke softly to her in Italian and then had FRIDAY play a lullaby playlist, and quietly left the room after making sure the monitor was on. Diana always fell asleep without a fuss on bath days...not that she was much of a fussy baby in the first place.

A few moments later, Tony opens the door a little more to check on her. "Movie before bed?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then. We have to tend to the garden tomorrow." He says and Cassie nods.

"I think the blackberries are ready."

"I think so too. Maybe we can have pancakes with blackberry syrup tomorrow. Sound good?" Cassie nods and he starts to close the door behind him. "Goodnight Miss Sass."

==========

Cassie was up bright and early the next morning, even before Diana, to go out and pick the fruits and vegetables that were ripe. Tony showed her when each thing was ready so she knew what to pick and what she knew needed more time to grow. By the time she was done and she carried everything back inside, Tony was putting Diana in her highchair and the baby yawned cutely and rubbed her eyes.

"How many blackberries do we have?" Tony asks and Cassie puts the basket on the counter.

"Is this enough for syrup?"

"I think so." Tony says. "How about you get the pancake batter ready and I'll make the syrup?"

"Okay!"

"Get the princess some cereal puffs before you do will you?"

Cassie nods and grabs the baby cereal puffs from one of the lower cabinets and pours some out on Diana's tray. Dia picks one up and sticks it into her mouth as Cassie puts the container away, and then she starts pulling everything out for pancakes. Breakfast was made as Diana periodically throws a cereal puff in their direction, and they both laugh when one manages to land in the cooling syrup. Tony had just finished it when she threw the puff, and he quickly scoops it out and blows on it. Once he's sure it's cool enough for Diana, he walks over and feeds it to her and then laughs when her eyes get big.

"You like that?" He chuckles when she opens her mouth for more. "Alright. One more." He repeats the process, minus the throwing of the puff, and feeds it to her and she actually makes a satisfied hum.

"She likes blackberries." Cassie smiles and puts the last pancake on the stack and turns off the stove.

"I have a feeling that when she's older, I'm going to find her picking berries straight off the vine with her mouth stained." Tony shakes his head.

"Don't you want her to eat lots of fruit instead of candy or cookies?" Cassie asks. "Daddy said fruit is nature's candy and it's better for you."

"He was right." Tony nods. "Come on. Let's eat."

Cassie carefully carries the plate of pancakes to the table as Tony pours the syrup into a small ceramic pitcher, and then he joins her at the table after pulling Diana's chair closer to the table. The older girl hums happily once she gets her pancakes and pours the syrup on top, and Tony smiles.

"You like it too huh?"

"Can we try different syrups? Like raspberry?" She asks.

Tony nods. "If we have the fruit and there's a recipe, we can try it. Deal?"

"Deal." Cassie nods and shoves another forkful into her mouth.

"Here you go princess." Tony says as he puts some small pieces of pancake on Diana's tray for her to eat. "Thank Sissy for making breakfast."

"Ba!" Diana says around a piece of pancake and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Close enough."

They eat happily until about halfway through when Cassie looks over at Tony.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

Cassie hesitates for a moment. "Can we get a pet?"

"A pet?" Tony asks once he swallows his food. "What kind of pet?"

"I don't know. Maybe like Tibbs? I liked Tibbs." She says softly. "I miss him."

"Yeah...I miss him too kiddo. He was a good lab cat." Tony pokes his fork into more pancake pieces after cutting it. "I don't have to give you the talk about how pets are a big responsibility since you already know and you help take care of Diana…" he pauses to eat his forkful and chews thoughtfully and then swallows. "I'll think about it alright?"

Cassie nods. "Okay."

His answer was honestly better than she expected. She assumed he would say no, especially after bringing up Tibbs, but he said he would think about it. Cassie was a little excited but was careful not to get her hopes up. Even if Tony decided she could only have fish, she would be happy. It would bring a little more life to the cabin and maybe that would help things feel a little more normal. There was only so much she could do with Diana or Tony. Diana was a baby and Tony had different interests, but he did occasionally humor her and watch a Disney movie with her. That was something he was used to.

"What are you working on in the garage?" Cassie asks when they finish breakfast and start cleaning up. She frowns when Tony pauses briefly. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay."

Tony clears his throat and shakes his head. "I...I'm working on a suit. The one I've been meaning to build for Harley." He answers quietly.

"I'm sure he'd like it." She says.

"I think so too. It's going to look a lot like mine, but I think the colors will be blue and silver instead of red and gold."

"What are you going to call it?"

Tony looks at her and then back at the dishes he's rinsing. He didn't answer at first, and she thought maybe she had gone too far with her questions, but then he said:

"I don't know yet. I don't usually name the suits until they're finished. Just in case I have to scrap them." He tells her.

"Oh. That makes sense."

"Bababurrrrr!" Diana announces loudly and slams her hands on her tray. "Sissy!"

Tony laughs. "Can you take her out and play with her while I finish up here?"

Cassie nods and looks over at Diana and giggles when she sees a smear of blackberry syrup at the corner of her mouth. "I should wipe her face first."

"Too bad she can't swim or I'd tell you to just toss her in the lake and be done with it."

Cassie looks up at him and narrows her eyes when she finds a smug grin on his face.

"You're gonna do it when she does learn aren't you?"

"Maybe."

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starcountesseevee · 4 years ago

Text

A Rocket Coincidence (Part 1)

Part 2

Kali was awoken by a soft nuzzle on her cheek by her Umbreon, Rowan, letting her know it was time to get up. She rolled over in her sleeping bag and pulled the top over her head with a groan.

“Just a little longer.” Kali pleaded through the cover as Rowan began pawing at her through the sleeping bag, she had trained it too well. Throwing off the cover Kali glowered at her Umbreon who took a seat next to the extinguished campfire and began cleaning its paw, its job complete. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Kali stretched, taking in the day. It was a warm and hazy dawn which meant it was going to be another sunny summer day. She was grateful for the pleasant weather as all of her nights for the past week had been spent camping outdoors.

Rummaging in her pack Kali pulled out a few raspberries for Rowan to eat while she packed up the campsite, Kali herself would eat later as she was anxious to hit the road. This was going to be her last day of travel and while there was definitely something about traveling Kali loved she was also looking forward to sleeping in a real bed that night.

Her end destination was Silver Town in the Johto Region, which was located at the base of Mount Silver, but today she was going to take a small detour through the ruins of the ancient city of Pokemopolis. The ruins had always seemed interesting to her and while she had passed this way before she had never taken the time to go and explore them. From what she knew the site had been excavated and any artifacts that had been found were safely preserved in museums but there were still some structures you could get to.

“Alright, girl. Time to go.” Her Umbreon sat patiently as Kali gave her a pat on the head before returning it to its pokeball for the day. Hauling her pack over her shoulder Kali set out towards the main road. She had purposefully camped close to the site so the walk there this morning shouldn’t be too long of one. Kali took a breakfast bar out of her pack, listening to the sounds of the forest come alive around her as the sun began rising. It would have been peaceful except for the unmistakably harsh chatter of a flock of nearby Starlys.

The road took her gradually uphill and the forest eventually gave way on her right to just the stone of the hillside. Kali trailed her fingers along the top of what looked to be the remnants of an old stone wall that ran along the road, wondering about the people who built it. Further along on her left she spotted a small sign that said ‘Pokemopolis’, the arrow on it indicating a small path that led down the hillside. The path was rather steep but after a few minutes of walking Kali came to a larger clearing with what appeared to be the foundations of several old buildings. This must be it. A flock of Pidgeys flew off as she approached making it obvious, if the quiet of the forest hadn’t, she was the only one around.

Kali strolled over to the closest ruin, feeling a bit like a tourist as she read over the plaque in front of it. Each site had notes on what the archaeologists thought each area had been used for along with pictures of what artifacts they had found at each spot. She snapped some photos, making a note of what museums the artifacts were housed in to maybe visit one day.

After a good amount of wandering around she had seen what there was to see and found herself back where she started. Pulling out her Pokegear she checked the map just to make sure she was still headed in the right direction and a ping on the screen piqued her interest. Clicking on it zoomed the screen into a Pokestop that was labeled as 'Ancient Shrine'. Sweet. Kali had hoped that there would be one out here she could earn some points at and if she hurried it didn’t look like it would take her that much farther out of the way.

The path that led there took her further down the hillside and even though it was warm out she was glad for her boots as the road became more rocky. She pulled her red hair up into a messy bun to get it off the back of her neck as the mid-morning sun beat down on the rocky hillside making it feel even hotter. Eventually the path took a turn and led along a wide river. Kali could immediately feel a difference in temperature as a cool breeze swept across the water. She rechecked her Pokegear and it showed the Pokestop as just up around the next bend.

The spot itself was obvious when she reached it as the path she was on opened up into a much wider area. The rock of the hillside had been clearly carved into to reveal the ‘Ancient Shrine’. It was a large statue shaped like a bell that sat on a stone altar above a staircase that looked like it led down under the hill but, unfortunately, it was gated off and locked. A plaque in front of the gate had the large Pokestop QR code on it along with a brief explanation of what the shrine was. Kali took out her Pokegear and scanned the code, her Pokegear making a cheerful ding as it registered the new location for her and added 500 coins to her account. She whistled in appreciation, that would certainly get her quite a bit of supplies. A bit of movement near the base of the statue caught her eye and she glanced down to see a small Krabby shuffling along on the stone, clearly wary of Kalysta.

“Aren't you cute.” Kali snapped a picture with her Pokegear as the Krabby began sidestepping towards the water's edge. She moved aside to let it pass and then checked her map again. If she continued down this path it looked like it circled back up the hillside and connected with the main road to Silver Town. Perfect. She considered letting Lyra, her Vaporeon, out for a quick swim but decided against it as she still needed to reach Silver Town before dark. She was about to head forward when she heard the crunch of footsteps from up ahead and a rather large man strolled around the corner. His black outfit emblazoned with a large red “R” on it was an instant giveaway as a Team Rocket member, subtly wasn’t in their vocabulary. He seemed almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him but quickly shook it off.

“This is a bit far out of the way to be traveling.” He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly sizing her up. “If you're thinking of passing by you're going to have to battle me first.”

Kali groaned internally, the last thing she needed right now was another delay. She had figured this was far enough out of the way, with obviously no one around, to make it worth any other Trainers or Team Rocket members setting up for battles. Maybe she should have just stuck to the main road but it was too late now.

“Not interested.” She tried to sound indifferent while taking a few steps forward but he moved into the middle of the path to block it.

“It ain't a request.” He frowned in annoyance.

Kali weighed her options. She could go through with a battle but it was getting much too hot and she still needed to reach the city for the competition tomorrow, preferably with her pokemon at full health. Or she could head back the way she had come from but that would be a hell of a lot of backtracking and might make her late for curfew at the dormitories in Silver Town. Maybe there was another option.

“Look, I'm just trying to get to Silver Town before nightfall.” She tried reasoning. “I don’t have time for a battle.”

“Well I'll just make my win quick then.” He countered, smiling arrogantly.

“So, you're really not going to let me pass?” Kali toyed with the single pokeball clipped to her belt as she strolled closer, stopping a couple feet away from him.

“If you’re headed to Silver Town you’re probably competing in the conference.” He ignored her question. “You can’t tell me you’re afraid of one little match out here.” He was goading her and as much as she hated to admit it, it was working. She felt a flare of anger rise in her chest and took a deep breath.

“I’m not, I just don’t want to waste my time proving I can wipe the floor with you.” She shot back.

“You? Defeat me?” He gave her a dismissive once over before laughing. “Not gonna happen.”

“Like you said, I must be heading to Silver Town for the conference. So I’m clearly strong enough to compete. Which is probably more than you can say.” Two could play this game and it appeared she hit a nerve.

“You Team Trainers think you're all so tough but you're nothing but cowards, and-”

“I am NOT a Team Trainer.” She cut him off, a new spark of anger flaring in her chest.

“You think I didn't notice the Valor pin on your pack?”

As soon as he mentioned the pin her face went dark. “Don't fucking assume things you know nothing about!” Kali didn’t wait for a reaction and instead pushed past him, storming off around the bend as she tried to suppress her anger. She hadn't realized how fast she was walking until she reached the main road. She glanced behind her but the Team Rocket guy was nowhere in sight. Good. She kicked a small rock ahead of her as she continued on, her mood now sour.

Part 2

#cliff pokemon go #Team rocket cliff #pokemon go cliff #team go rocket #team rocket cliff #leader cliff #pokemon go #team rocket #pokemon go fanfiction #team rocket leaders #team go rocket cliff

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years ago

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SkyFire 2: Chapter 19

The Honeymoon: April 2017

Word count: 4.7k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

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The afternoon sun warmed the air as Aurora laid on her back on the beach, a soft breeze blowing in off the water cooling her slightly, the thatched umbrella above her providing some shade. Her eyes were closed behind the sunglasses perched on her nose, her hair fanning out around her head, a yellow bikini covering her and a layer of sweat clinging to her exposed skin. She heard Harry approach, his footsteps shifting the sand and then she felt the water drops falling on her as he stood above her. She cracked open one eye to look up at her husband, a cheeky smirk pulling at his lips as his hair fell over his forehead and he looked down at her laid out on her towel.

“Your getting water all over me,” she muttered.

“Thought you liked when I got you wet,” he replied. He laughed as she blushed. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Harold.”

“Come join me in the water,” he said, ignoring her reproach.

“But I’m so comfy,” Rori replied a small pout on her lips. She let out a loud squeal as Harry suddenly bent forward, scooping her into his arms and carry her down towards the waters edge. “Harry!” she yelled, laughter bubbling in her throat as he raced into the ocean, dunking them both under the surface.

Rori gasped as they resurfaced, water running down her face as her sunglasses sat askew, her hair plastered to her back. Harry was grinning widely as he held her against his chest and silenced her objections by kissing her deeply. Her arms moved to wrap around his neck, her legs around his waist as he deepened the kiss, the Caribbean sun beating down on both of them.

“I can’t believe you just dunked me in the water like a frat boy trying to flirt at a spring break party,” she said once they pulled apart.

“Gosh only been married 3 days and you already don’t wanna spend time with me,” Harry joked. “I feel so unloved.”

“Well I wouldn’t want you feeling unloved,” Rori replied as she tightened her arms around his shoulders and leaned back in to kiss him again. They pulled apart with a laugh when Harry’s stomach rumbled. “How about dinner?” she asked. Harry nodded and began to move them back towards the beach, not allowing her to unwrap herself from his torso. He carried her across the sand, stooping to allow her to pick up her abandoned towel and then continued up towards their little beach front cottage.

Harry finally set Aurora back on her feet once he’d walked through the front door and she headed for the kitchen and started digging through the fridge to throw together something for dinner. “Let me,” Harry said, nudging her aside and pulling items out that he would need. “Pour yourself a drink and put your feet up.”

“Careful now,” Rori chuckled as she did as he suggested, “I might get used to this.”

“Oh, like I don’t cook most nights when we’re home.”

“Ok fair,” Rori laughed. “Maybe we should go into town tomorrow and let someone else do the cooking.”

“I like the sound of that,” Harry agreed while he chopped up veggies for a quick stir-fry.

“I was thinking it might be nice to hike up into the jungle a bit tomorrow,” Rori said as she sipped on her drink and watched him move around the kitchen.

“Maybe we could hike later in the week,” Harry replied. “I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow, but we could definitely go out for dinner after.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Rori said, glaring half-heartedly at him. “What are we doing?”

“Nope, not telling,” Harry grinned. “Just know that you’ll love it. Now instead of badgering me about it, why don’t you go shower and I’ll call you when this is ready.”

“You know I’m sure dinner could wait if you wanted to come join me for that shower,” Rori replied with a grin over her shoulder as she sauntered off towards the bedroom.

“Yeah I’m not that hungry anyway,” Harry said in a rush, already following after her.

xXx

Aurora woke up to Harry packing a backpack by the foot of the bed, the curtains fluttering in a cooling breeze blowing in through the doors leading out onto a patio.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled. She chuckled as her shirtless husband jumped in response to her question.

“Jesus,” he gasped. “You scared the crap out of me, love.”

“Didn’t answer the question, H,” she laughed.

“I’m packing a few things for our surprise,” he said. “Now time to get up and dressed.”

“Yes, Sir,” Rori replied. “Since I don’t know where we’re going, what would you suggest I wear?”

“Bikini under something comfortable,” Harry replied, already throwing her black bikini bottoms at her. She decided on a pair of high waisted denim shorts and peach coloured t-shirt, while harry pulled on a pair of white shorts and a button up Hawaiian shirt.

“Do I need both hands for this surprise?” she asked, gesturing to her prosthetic which she had yet to remove from her suitcase since their arrival days ago.

“Nope,” Harry replied, grinning widely at her growing frustration at his evasive answers. She continued to question where they were going as they climbed into their rental car and he drove them away from the cottage, following the shoreline to a nearby resort. He refused to answer, instead chuckling and leading her down towards the marina and onto a small boat. Aurora smiled brightly as Harry helped her into the boat and then took to the helm to guide them out of the harbour. Rori stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist as they headed onto into calmer waters and followed the coastline.

“You said you wanted to see more of the island since we didn’t really leave the beach much last time we we’re here,” Harry explained. “Thought this could be a fun way to see it.”

“It’s perfect,” Aurora murmured, kissing his shoulder blade before pressing her cheek against his back and watching the water pass by beneath them. “I love you.”

After following the coast for a few hours, Harry anchored the small vessel and then pulled his phone out of pocket to take a photo of his unsuspecting wife. She was standing at the prow of the boat looking at the shore ahead of them in only her denim shorts and bikini top, having taken off her shirt shortly after they had set sail. Her dark hair cascaded down her back and Harry didn’t think he would ever meet anyone more beautiful than her. After taking the photo, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and walked over the join her, resting his hands on her hips and kissing the top of her shoulder.

“Feel like jumping in for a swim?” he asked. Aurora nodded and quickly slipped out of her shorts before diving into the cool, clear water. Harry pulled off his shirt and dived in after her. They swam around the boat for a while before climbing back aboard and pulling out the picnic lunch Harry had packed. Rori giggled when she found a touristy looking captains’ hat towards the back of the boat, presumably left by the previous user of the boat. She returned to Harry’s side with it tucked behind her back before quickly slipping it onto his head and falling into a fit of giggles. He pouted at her for a brief moment before his lips starting twitching and he also started laughing at how ridiculous it was.

Aurora laid out on the deck after they finished lunch, her eyes closed, and her arms spread wide as she basked in the bright sunshine. Harry jumped back in the water and swam around for a bit before Aurora joined him in the water to cool off. Eventually Harry hauled the anchor back on board and headed back to the marina. They returned to the cottage to shower and change and then headed towards one of the nearby towns for dinner.

xXx

The next morning, Rori awoke to texts from Mark and Ella.

◊Mark: Heads up, a fan took a photo of you both at dinner last night and tweeted it so just be aware that the entire world now knows you’re on St Lucia.

◊Ella: TMZ reported on your honeymoon being in St Lucia. I know you were going to wait till you got back to post some pics on Instagram but no need to wait now. SHOW ME HOW AMAZING IT IS!

◊Ella: P.S I love you and I miss you. Coffee catch up when you’re home.

Aurora rolled her eyes, groaning in frustration that they couldn’t even enjoy some privacy on their honeymoon.

“What’s wrong?” Harry muttered; his face still half buried in his pillow.

“Someone took a picture of us at dinner last night and TMZ is running the story.”

“Damn,” he sighed, rolling over to run his hand along her side. “Sorry babe.”

“El wants me to post some of our pics,” Rori said. “Which probably isn’t a bad idea if fans already know where we are. If we give them something that might stop them trying to find us and taking sneaky photos.”

“I can post one of the photos I took of you down on the beach the other day and ask them to give us some privacy. Maybe remind them I’ll be doing promo when we get back, so they’ll see plenty of us over the next few weeks.”

xXx

After spending a few lazy days in the cottage and on the beach out front in somewhat of an attempt to avoid the paparazzi they were sure had arrived on the island, they both decided to go out exploring. Harry packed the hire car while Rori finished getting dressed and lathering on the sun cream and then they drove off to the head of a trail Harry had read about online. It was early in the day, but the heat was already apparent, as it seemed to always be in the Caribbean. Harry, ever the gentleman, had shouldered the bag with their lunches, leaving Aurora only needing to carry a bottle of water. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that was tucked through the back of her baseball cap and her sunglasses were perched on her nose. Occasionally they would pass others on the path, but for the most part they couple were alone as they hiked through the jungle along the beaten path, chatting happily about nothing in particular and laughing often. They stopped a few times along the way to take photos of the scenery and Harry demanded he be allowed to take a photo of Aurora, claiming that her bright blue shirt made her pop out amongst the foliage in a way that needed to be captured on camera. She’d laughed at his insistence but struck a pose, mocking his infamous peace sign. He slapped her lightly on the butt as they headed off down the path again, causing her to jump and let out a shriek. Eventually, after a few hours, the path finally opened up to a pool of water at the base of a beautiful waterfall.

Rori immediately pulled her cap off her head and stripped out of her shirt and denim shorts until she was standing there in only her black bikini. She grinned and winked at Harry when she caught him checking her out, sliding into the water without waiting to see if he was following. Harry quickly dropped his bag to the ground beside the pile of her clothes and tugged his shirt over his head, his yellow trunks hanging low on his hips as he took a few photos and then jumped into the refreshingly cool water with his wife.

They stayed in the water for a while before returning to their bags, where Harry set up a picnic lunch for them. They hiked back towards the car after lunch, Harry’s hand rarely leaving his wife’s as they walked through the jungle.

xXx

A few days after their hike to the waterfall, Aurora suggested they hire some paddle boards and spend the afternoon out on the water. Harry happily agreed, although they both found themselves to be rather terrible at the activity. While Aurora’s prosthetic was waterproof, the transmitter was not and with the high risk of her falling in the water she had decided against wearing it which left paddling to be a very difficult task. Even with both of his hands, Harry had his own troubles attempting to maintain his balance on the board. They both spent most of the time in fits of laughter as Aurora stood on the board, struggling to paddle, while Harry repeatedly fell into the water.

“So maybe paddle boarding isn’t for us,” Rori said when Harry’s head once again broke the surface, his curls clinging to his forehead. She sat down in the centre of her board and laid the paddle down beside her. Harry swam around her for a while before hoisting himself back onto his own board and laid down on his back. She fished her phone from the back pocket of her shorts and took a few photos of him laying shirtless in his tight white shorts.

“Why on earth did you bring your phone with you?” Harry asked, turning his head towards her and squinting against the bright sunshine. “You’re gonna get it wet and wreck it.”

“No, I won’t,” she replied. “It’s the new model and Dad asked me to test out the new waterproofing. Seems like a good time to test it out.” She slid into the water and swam across to the edge of his board, brandishing the now dripping phone as if to prove her point. He rolled his eyes at her and then pushed her head under the water. She popped back above the surface, gasping and sputtering, the look of shock causing Harry to burst out laughing. “You’re dead,” she warned before tipping the board and sending him into the water as well. They splashed around for a while, laughing and having fun. Aurora took a few more photos and even dived down towards the seabed to test out the phone, knowing her dad would have many questions for her when she reported back.

Eventually they grew tired, grabbing their boards and heading back towards the nearby shoreline. She’d had a fun afternoon but was not at all sad to be handing the paddle boards back to attendant at the hire facility. They were good at many things, but paddle boarding was not one of them.

“H?” Aurora asked as they walked along the boardwalk near the marina.

“Yes love?” he replied.

“Can you help me put my hair up please? It’s sticking to my back and it’s getting annoying.”

He smiled softly at her, taking the offered hair tie and quickly collecting her long brunette locks into a high ponytail before twisting it into a messy bun for her.

“Thanks,” she said, offering a kiss before they continued on their walk.

“Your welcome.” Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close to his side as they wandered. “Bit too early for dinner so what do you wanna do for the rest of the afternoon?”

“I’m not sure,” Rori mused. “The resort up the road has a day spa. Maybe we could go get mani-pedi’s.”

“I like the way you think Mrs Styles.”

“I like when you call me Mrs Styles.”

Harry stopped walking, pulling Aurora to a halt as well and kissing her deeply. “I love you so much,” he murmured against her lips.

“Love you too, H,” she replied. “Now how about that spa date?”

He chuckled, slipping his hand into hers and allowing her to tug him up the boardwalk towards the nearby resort. They were seated after not too long of a wait, their feet soaking in the warm, delightfully scented water, while their fingernails were buffed and filed.

“This reminds me of my hens’ day with the girls,” Aurora said while the selected their colours. Both settling on tropical colours; peach for Harry and a soft pink and orange combination for Aurora.

“We should do this more often,” Harry said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes with a contented sigh.

“Because we have so much spare time,” Rori scoffed.

“We can make the time,” Harry replied. “What’s the point of being a global sensation if I can’t treat myself and my wife to a spa day every now and then?”

“Global sensation?” Aurora laughed. “Very humble of you dear.”

“Sorry you’re so right,” Harry replied, his tone mockingly contrite. “International heartthrob better?” He smiled brightly in response to Rori’s giggles, never happier himself than when he was making her laugh.

Once their manicures and pedicures were finished, they headed back to the cottage and Harry set about throwing together dinner, refusing Aurora’s offers to assist and instead banishing her from the kitchen. She rolled her eyes at his familiar demands to get out of his kitchen and went to change out of her bikini into a comfortable summer dress and then settle into the lounge chair out on the patio with a book as the sun slowly set over the water, the sky a beautiful blend of pinks, blues and purples.

Harry startled her out of her novel when he fell into the chair beside her and handed her a plate. She smiled softly at him, thanking him before digging in.

“Tomorrow’s our last full day,” Harry noted while they ate. “Any last things you want to do or places you wanna see?”

“No, I think I’d just like to lounge around here,” Rori answered. “Going to be a while before we have some downtime so it might be nice to do a whole lot of nothing.”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry said, smiling warmly at her as the last rays of light lit up their faces.

xXx

On their last day in St Lucia, they pair went running on the beach at dawn. The peach tones in the sky were beautiful and they both enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the early morning, the only sounds the soft crashing of the nearby waves and their heavy breathing as they ran on the hardpacked sand near the waterline.

They arrived back at the cottage once the sun had fully crested the horizon, already blazing warm in the cloudless blue sky. They showered and ate breakfast and then Aurora headed down to the beach. She laid out in the sun, soaking up the last of the tropical heat before they returned to London the following day, a novel in hand and a wide brim hat on her head. Harry came out to join her once he’d taken care of their breakfast dishes and sat down next to her with his own book. They coexisted on the sand, both absorbed in their novels as the sun continued to climb in the sky. Aurora head inside to throw together a light lunch and returned to sit beside Harry in comfortable silence as they ate.

“Gonna go for a dip to cool off,” Harry said, standing up and brushing the sand from his shorts. “Wanna join me?”

“Might stay here and work on my tan for a little,” Aurora replied. She smiled as she watched him jog down to the water’s edge and wade out into the ocean. She laid back, stretching out under the warm sun, attempting to soak up every ray she could, knowing how busy they would be for the next year with the album launch and tour on the horizon. There would be no time for vacations for quite some time and there would be little to no time like this where just the two of them could be together without interruptions or prying eyes. She loved their lives and their careers but sometimes she missed being a nobody living above a pub that could go about her day without having to worry that her outfit and hair were perfect because someone would take a photo of her and then thousands of people would pick her apart online. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t head down to join Harry in the water before the change in light pulled her out of her daydreaming.

The weather had been so perfect for the majority of their vacation that Aurora was surprised to see the dark clouds quickly rolling in from the ocean. She yelled out to Harry, drawing his attention to the change in weather and he made his way out of the water, the clouds already turning the previously perfect day, dark and gloomy. There was still lingering heat in the air, but the rapid change was causing the humidity to climb and there was a feeling of electricity in the air as the winds picked up and howled along the beach. Harry grabbed his towel from where he’d left it beside her and they both dashed back towards the cottage. They reached the safety of the porch only moments before the rain came bucketing down and they watched as the sea turned grey and churned in the sudden storm.

“Didn’t see that coming,” Harry muttered as he tried to dry off his curls.

“One minute it was beautiful sunshine and then the next thing I knew the clouds were rolling in,” Rori agreed. “Wish it could have held off till we left tomorrow.”

“At least we were already planning to have dinner here,” Harry said. “Would have been a bloody nightmare trying to get into town in this.”

“Seems like it’s perfect weather to curl up with a movie, innit?” Rori asked, already heading towards the small living room.

The movie had barely started when the first flash of lightning lit up the room, quickly followed by a clap of thunder that was so loud it rattled the windows. Harry felt Aurora jump in his arms and then she began shaking. He immediately recognized the beginnings of a panic attack, and while Rori hadn’t experienced one for months, he was an old pro in helping her through them by this point. One of his hands immediately moved to cover one of her ear, attempting to block out the trigger as she pressed herself as close as she could into his chest, blocking the ear that wasn’t covered by his hand. His other hand moved along the length of her spine soothingly as he felt her arms wrap around him, gripping on for dear life and squeezing him tightly as she continued to shake in his arms. He kissed the crown of her head muttering that everything was going to be ok and that she was safe. He knew that she couldn’t hear him, but she’d once told him that when she was pressed so tightly to his chest, she could feel the rumble of his voice and it helped to centre her in her panic. He also focused on exaggerating his breathing, coaxing her to pace her own with his and thankfully, as fast as the storm had rolled in, it continued over the top of them and soon the thunder was fading into the distance. Slowly, about 20 minutes after the first clap of thunder, Harry felt Rori’s arms slacken around him and her trembling body grew still against his. He continued kissing her head and murmuring that she was safe and that he was there and eventually, once he deemed that the thunder was distant enough, he removed his hand from her ear and instead moved it to join the other as her rubbed soothingly along her back.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, catching Harry off guard in the silence that had enveloped the little cottage in the storms wake.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he replied, lifting her chin so that she was looking him in the eye. Her own were puffy and glassy, her cheeks blazing red. “You know I hate when you blame yourself.”

“We were having such a wonderful time and then I ruined it,” she said, her eyes dropping to her lap, unable to look at her husband.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he promised, squeezing her back against him. “You know I love a good cuddle.” She lent her head back against his shoulder, her eyes slipping closed, exhausted by the panic attack. She shivered a little, the passing storm having sucked all the warmth out of the afternoon. “How about a nice warm bath?” Harry suggested, already standing and hoisting her into his arms. “Then we can come back out here and get all cosy and watch the movie over dinner.”

“Yeah I’d really like that,” she yawned, allowing herself to be carried into the bathroom, sitting on the counter as Harry filled the tub and added a lavender bath bomb. She slowly slipped out of her clothes as Harry did the same and they both settled into the hot water. Harry let out a content sigh as she cuddled up against his chest, his legs framing her hips, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you too, H,” Aurora replied, turning her head from where it rested against his shoulder to kiss him. “Don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

xXx

They packed their things the following day and drove the hire car back to the small airport on the other side of the island, arriving back in London the day before the release of Harry’s first single, attempting to shake off their vacation in preparation to jump straight into the press appearances and performances ahead of the album launch in a few weeks’ time.

It was early afternoon by the time that they collected their bags and made their way home to Battersea. Harry took their luggage directly into the laundry, dropping it all on the floor and leaving it for later before returning to the living room where Aurora was collapsed on the sofa. He laid down on top of her, his body pressing hers into the cushions and her soft chuckle was muffled in the fabric beneath her head.

“You good?” she laughed.

Harry hummed in reply, his face smooshed into the space between her shoulder blades. “Just need a minute and then I’ll get up.”

“Mind letting me up while you take that minute?” she asked softly. “Need to start on the laundry before Jeff comes over later. Gonna be a busy day tomorrow.”

“Exactly,” Harry mumbled. “Gonna be nonstop all day so just let me snuggle with ya for a bit.”

“Ok,” Rori chuckled. “At least let me turn over so we can cuddle properly without you smothering me to death ya big oaf.”

“Fine,” Harry relented, rolling onto his side up against the back of the sofa, allowing Rori to turn and wrap herself around his torso. She kissed him tenderly, her right hand trailing along the side of his ribcage and down to rest on his hip bone. “Still can’t believe you’re my wife,” he mumbled. Aurora smiled softly as she felt him falling asleep beside her.

“How lucky am I?” she whispered to herself, kissing him one last time and then rolling out from under his arm to head towards the laundry, leaving him to nap on the sofa. She knew that while she had fallen asleep the moment her head had hit the pillow the previous night, her husband had most likely stayed awake, worrying about her in the wake of her panic attack the previous afternoon. She decided to get what she needed to do finished and leave him to catch up on his rest before the meeting. They were expecting Jeff in a few hours to run through the finalised schedule for the release of Sign of the Times the following day. She set to work on emptying their luggage into the washing machine and then headed into the kitchen to get started on dinner, finally slipping on her prosthetic hand for the first time since the wedding.

This is the end of Part 2.

SkyFire 3: The Styles’ Solo Era

RELIVE PARTS 1 & 2 on AO3

#skyfire fic #skyfire #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #husband harry styles #husband!harry #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #Harry Styles #tony stark #living with ptsd #domestic fluff

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