#This is also the stupidest picture on my phone by a LONG mile

[kenjakunoodles]

By the way I own jogo merch LMAO

I’m so cringe it’s painful sometimes, but also like… so worth it… this isn’t even everything……… aside from this I have a keychain, a figure, and like twoish jogo minifigs that attach to your charger. I almost bought some metal pins but I was worried about bringing them on an international flight,,,,,,,,,,,,,, I’m pathetic but very satisfied

[lovelyirony]

Through flames and oceans (for the fic title)

u know. this was supposed to not go the direction it did. but it did. 

People say they will do a lot for love. They will walk through flames, cross an entire ocean for love.

Bruce tells himself that that’s the stupidest fucking thing people say. He, for one, will not do that. There is also the unspoken reason of that love really isn’t in the cards for him.

Currently, he’s running away from his ex-girlfriend’s dad, General Ross, because he may or may not have done some experimentation and turned into a rage monster, but also revealed some state secrets.

Come on, can you blame him? Cosmo said twenty-year-olds need to accomplish something before they hit thirty. And he’s quite sure he just made the list.

But as for love, he is thinking about it right now because his ex-girlfriend found a very nice girl named Valkyrie, and they’re kind of set to have an engagement party, and “would you please come to the United States to help us celebrate?”

Betty is a wonderful woman, really and truly. And Bruce is okay with how their relationship ended, because it’s not like Bruce could come to family dinner and expect anything besides murder or maybe cold potatoes. And Betty deserved someone far better than him, and from the picture that was sent, it looks like Valkyrie is an amazing catch.

But there is the small matter of making it to the States without getting caught. He is on quite a lot of “no-fly” and “travel restrictive” protocols. This sucks, by the way. He had frequent flier miles saved up and everything.

It sucks, at least, until he remembers Tony’s number and calls it.

(Tony had given him his number, but sometimes he forgets that four and nine are two distinctly different numbers.)

“Brucie, baby! What can I get for you? Don’t worry, the government hasn’t been able to tap my phone calls since I was seventeen and mostly joking about finding out where their secret weapons storage is.”

“Betty’s having her engagement party, and I’m invited. I kind of need a ride home.”

“Where are you located at, right now?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“You lucky son of a bitch, god I miss it there. You having a good time?”

“When I’m avoiding government agents, yes.”

“Hm, well i’m sending a new employee of mine to go and get you. Big guy, probably Swedish.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t presume if someone’s Swedish or not, Bruce. I’m a terrible person, but not that terrible.”

“I...I don’t follow your sense of humor.”

“No one does, that’s why celebrities call me avant garde and ahead of my time.”

“Good to know. What’s your new guy’s name?”

“Thor.”

“Are you...are you fucking with me?”

"Darling, you’d be having a much better time if I was.”

“I don’t like the energy we’re manifesting here,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony snorts. “Okay, hippie. He’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Just stay tight where you are, sugar.”

-

Thor is a gigantic man. He parts crowds like it’s what he was meant to do, and maybe it is. Bruce stares up at him.

“Hello Dr. Banner,” Thor says, smiling gently. “You are Dr. Ross’s friend, right?”

“Um...yeah. I am.”

“Excellent. I’m a friend of Valkyrie’s, is it okay if I go ahead and fly out to the airport nearest their house?”

“Uh, is Tony okay with that?”

“Of course. And we can stop at your house if you need anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have a house. Or an apartment. You would not believe how much the US government hates my credit score.”

Thor chuckles a little bit, leading him back to a nondescript car.

“Right this way.”

-

Thor is cool as a cucumber on the outside, as they’re driving. He’s mindlessly tapping on his phone as Bruce stares out the window.

Inside? Oh, Thor hates Val for this. So much.

so, you didn’t think to send me a picture of dr. banner? just the address?

lmaooooo called it. betty owes me something now. fuckin nerd. just ask him out.

no. we still have to bypass american security

which you are “old hat” at. or did i forget that you nearly almost charmed the pants off of one of the airline people?

we don’t speak of that.

relax. stark’s taking care of it anyway.

The airplane ride home is uneventful, thank god. One of Tony’s jets awaits, and the pilot is very surprised to see a man who ranks number four on America’s Most Wanted List to be there.

“You...you know Tony?”

“And you know what an NDA is,” Tony announces over the intercom. “Bruce, welcome. Mimosas are premade, in stock. Sit back and enjoy the ride! Thor, you do what you gotta do to make sure Bruce stays safe. Enjoy the bridal shower!”

The pilot is a bit apprehensive. But mostly okay. Bruce promises nothing��s going to happen, he’s just going to drink tea and catch up on news about the current state of things.

Bruce gets bored with finding out that things are still terrible, so he talks to Thor.

“So...are your parents just really into Norse mythology, or did they know you’d come out a huge guy who has the potential to probably stop Ragnarok?”

Thor chuckles, the laugh rumbling and deep.

(Okay, that’s hot.)

"My parents’ names were Odin and Frigga. You could say they were traditionalists when it came to my brother and I.”

“You mean...?”

“He embodies the name a bit too well for my taste, but yes.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you about the time we accidentally crashed a fashion week thing...” 

Bruce laughs a lot about that story. Thor’s laugh is majestic, and they sit a little bit closer. 

-

By the time the plane lands, they’re great friends and Thor reaches over Bruce in the baggage area and wow that man has very defined muscles. 

Not that that’s important. No, that’s like. Not important at all. So what if Thor is very well-muscled and maybe this will play into Bruce’s intrusive thoughts/daydream thoughts at later intervals? Does not matter. At all. 

(Oh god the man smells like salty ocean air Bruce has got it so so bad. So Bad.) 

- 

Tony greets them at the landing pad with a wide grin, eyes lighting up. 

“Well, don’t you two make the happy couple,” he teases. Bruce turns red. This does not go unnoticed. 

“Bruce, honestly, you run away from government and my friendship, and this is what gets you--” 

“A bridal shower? To get me home? Yes,” Bruce says, cutting in not-at-all smoothly. “Now, where are Betty and her bride staying at?” 

“Oh, they’re staying at the cutest little bed and breakfast for their bridal shower. Rented out the whole thing--well Pepper did, it was our wedding gift to them, and of course I mean Pep’s wedding gift, because I have something else planned-” 

“Please tell me that you do not have a house bought for them,” Thor says. 

“Complete with a laboratory and gymnasium,” Tony says with a wink. “I’m kidding, they already have a house. I just kind of kicked them out for a week while I remodel their entire kitchen. Val gave me the colors, I was surprised that she has taste.” 

“If she hears you say that, she’ll kick your ass.” 

“Which is why she won’t,” Tony reminds Thor. “Now, let’s get to unpacking. Bruce, I’m getting you some good shampoo, holy shit your hair sucks.” 

“Thank you Tony, I love and value our friendship and our kindness towards each other as well,” Bruce deadpans. 

“Oh come on, you have to look good. It’s your ex’s wedding party!” 

“You make us sound so dramatic,” Bruce says with a snort. “We broke up. Big deal.” 

“You and Betty...?” Thor asks. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. We were dating, and then I pissed off her dad, who happens to be a general. I mean, also the government. But mostly her dad.” 

“Wow.” 

Thor’s type shouldn’t be feral scientist. But it is. 

They’re led inside, and Tony bids them goodbye. 

“Duty calls,” Tony says airily, waving. “Make yourself at home, don’t put coffee grounds down the disposal or I will kick you out. Rogers is still nursing his wounds.” 

“Noted,” Bruce says. 

“I drink tea,” Thor answers. 

Bruce shares a look. 

“You too?” 

“Yeah, I prefer it over coffee most of the time.” 

Bruce smiles. 

“I think we’re going to get along.” 

- 

They have a couple of days until the wedding party, and Thor has never seen New York. Bruce is fairly sure that no one will even see him on the CCTV footage as long as he’s walking next to Thor, so he deems it good enough to go and get a bagel. 

Thor is a very gentle man. That’s a good quality. 

He smiles at a little girl, who is staring, open-mouthed. Even gives her a little wave. Bruce grins. 

“You like kids?” 

“I do. They mostly just want to have fun, want to see what the best of the world is. I think we all need that occasionally.” 

“I’ve never thought of that,” Bruce confesses. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I love watching my cousins,” Thor continues. “The way they grow and figure it all out, it’s rewarding. What about your family?” 

Bruce freezes. 

“Um. I don’t exactly have a family.” 

“Then you’ll just have to meet some of my cousins,” Thor amends, smiling as he sips his drink. “You’d like them.” 

“I’d like that,” Bruce says, grinning. “What’s next on our New York agenda?” 

"I told Loki I’d visit some stores for him and pick up some items he’s been wanting.” 

-

Have you ever seen a sales associate from Chanel be terrified at your presence? No? It’s worth it. 

Bruce is kind of concerned. 

“I...are you...?” 

“My name is Robert, uncanny similarities,” Bruce responds. “We both were born in Ohio.” 

“Why is it always Ohio,” Thor mutters. “You reckon my brother would want this shoe or that?” 

“Ooh, definitely go with the heel. I think that’s good.”  

“Gotcha.” 

Next shop is Dior. 

This goes a bit out of hand. His whole line about being Robert with Incredible Similarity does not go as planned. 

He and Thor are on a subway, currently running away from some authority figures and calling Tony. 

“I was in the middle of learning drama about high society that I can use in my next romance novel, are you joking?” Tony hisses. 

“You write romance novels?” Thor asks. 

“Now is not the time to question that, I’m in the middle of making sure you get a car to your next stop. How well do you both know what a Chrysler is?” 

“The building, right?” 

“God, I hate you so much,” Tony groans. “No, um...it looks like the wing things that they give army people when they do something that I guess they think is cool.” 

“Oh. Okay. Get in that car?” 

“Yes. It’s gonna be red with silver detailing.”

“Tony, they’re gonna know it’s us.” 

“Believe me, they won’t. Trust me.” 

- 

So as it turns out, it’s not the most ostentatious vehicle. 

Because Tony pulls up in a lifted pick-up truck, painted a sparkling, neon green with bright orange wheels. 

It is the ugliest goddamn thing Bruce has ever seen. Also the most effective. 

Thor nearly shoves Bruce into the car, and they’re sitting too close, and Bruce probably shouldn’t be focusing on the fact that Thor’s hair is now artfully messy, but here he is. Doing that. 

“So, sorry that before the wedding shower we’re being hunted down by the government.” 

“Not the worst thing that I could be doing on a Friday,” Thor says with a shrug. “I think you’re just about the most interesting person I’ve met, Bruce.” 

He smiles at him. Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He can’t tell if it’s because of the eye contact or the fact that they’re in close proximity. Maybe both. 

“You wanna go on a date after all this?” Bruce blurts out. 

He does. And as soon as he says it, he kind of regrets it because they’re in a car with glittery silver interior seats and he’s also in pants that have seen better days, and his hair is a Mess. 

(Also self-esteem issues, but Bruce is used to that so he’s not counting it.) 

“Like, after we get home or when the government gives up on finding you?” 

“I don’t know. Whichever one comes first?” 

“Technically, I think I count as army jurisdiction, and military budget is a fountain of money.” 

“Ah. Then home it is. How do you feel about ordering in?” 

“Mm, sounds good,” Bruce says, grinning. “You’re the best.” 

“Well, I certainly try,” Thor says, grinning right back. “You wanna go to Betty and Val’s shower together?” 

“Yes. Do we have to amend our ‘how-we-met’ story?” 

“Not at all. Valkyrie used to run an underground fight ring. She knows the feeling.” 

“How has that not come up in conversation?” 

“We were kind of preoccupied trying to figure out what a Chrysler car looked like.” 

“Oh, true.” 

- 

At the wedding party, Bruce and Thor are very happy. Betty and Val roll their eyes and laugh as they talk. 

“Leave it to my dad to ruin everything,” Betty gripes. 

“Well he didn’t ruin this party or my meeting Thor,” Bruce defends. “Besides, you know what happens if he steps a foot near you.” 

Betty grins. 

“You serious?” 

“Can’t promise you’ll get your security deposit back, but yes.” 

Betty pulls him into a hug. 

“You’re too sweet to me.” 

“Yeah, tell me that after he steps on the limousine.” 

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Thor says, grinning. “I think Tony has some sort of security feature worked in.” 

“Oh, he does,” Val says. “He’s threatened to pull some of the contracts for safety gear. Won’t go through with it, but Ross can’t touch the wedding. Best gift ever.” 

- 

When the party gets late, Thor and Bruce are sitting out on the porch. Clean-up is happening, and they’re taking a break. Thor thinks that Bruce has never looked more beautiful in a rumpled yellow shirt, soft lights making his face glow. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Thor murmurs, moving a stray curl. 

“Really?” Bruce asks, smiling softly. “I think I’m glad I met you too.” 

- 

Bruce grins behind his door when they make it home. Thor had kissed him on the cheek, and while that wasn’t too big of a deal, it was a big deal to him. 

“See you in the morning, dear,” Thor had told him. 

He was going to be up half the night with that line running through his head. 

- 

A lot of people do a lot of things for love. Bruce still wouldn’t walk through flames, or swim across an entire ocean, but he’s starting to understand. 

[captainchrisfics]

Paps Meet Politics

About: While working on A Starting Point, Chris takes a liking to a particular Congresswoman. Amidst speculation that he’s dating his co-star, she tries not to think too much of it when he asks her to be his plus one to a gala, but a probing reporter clears the air in the end.

Word Count: 6,650

Requested By: @spilledinkindumpster​ - Thank you for your patience and sending this idea my way, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. This fic is also known as the soliloquy of cevans’s eyebrows- Will they be raised in surprise? Dropped in disappointment? Cockeyed with confusion? The drama!

“Thank you for the interview,” Chris said so genuinely it made me feel as if I’d done a whole lot more than sit there and talk about my job. It was easy, I could go on about being a Congresswoman forever with an eager light in my eyes and passion pouring out of my voice. Ever since I was young, when my father was first elected and we got to take the train to D.C. from our home in Brooklyn to visit him on weekends, I wanted to be sat in the same maroon chair behind my own mahogany desk, doing my best to represent and support my community he’d fostered such a deep appreciation for in me. Little did I know Chris Evans of all people would be sitting on the other side someday. 

He reached out to shake my hand, grinning a perfect smile that seemed to be made for the camera. “You’re doing great work here. I’d love to talk about it more sometime,” Chris said with an honest tone that surpassed politeness by a mile. He all but seeped a sincerity I’d come to find was rather rare in this city. 

In actuality, our conversation drifted from my policies about combating climate change to how disgraceful it was that I was a Yankees fan and what brand of squeaky toys he buys his dog since mine manages to tear through everything. Sure, there’d be a hell of a lot of b-roll, but I think we both needed the break. To talk to another person as a person, letting the conversation flow naturally without having to stay on task all the time and genuinely listening to each other, wasn’t something it seemed we got to do often enough. You could tell by the enthusiastic way we gushed over salads at only the mention of breaking for lunch that we’d had enough of the grind, at least for an hour or two. 

He squeezed my hand tight one more time before letting go. “We’re having a small gala for some of A Starting Point’s supporters to raise a little money for the project. I’d really like you to come, if you’re available?” Chris looked up through his dark eyelashes with a sort of puppy enthusiasm in his eyes. 

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a lot of meetings and everything...” I bit my lip as I thought about it a little more, trying to come up with anything to stop the corners of his mouth from turning down any further. “You know what? Why don’t you have your people talk to my people, you know how it goes,” I said sarcastically, driving it home with a roll of my eyes. 

Chris chuckled, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. “You don’t know how many of your colleagues actually mean it when they say things like that. Let’s keep it old-fashioned,” he said, tugging his phone out of his pocket to exchange numbers. I laughed and said that he shouldn’t be so sure as I handed him mine and punched my name into a new contact. 

“Well,” Chris said as he slipped the device back into his pocket without breaking eye contact. He rolled up his button-up’s sleeves to his elbows, resting a hand lazily on his waist, as if he wasn’t straining the clasps around his chest enough for it to make my knees weak. He was about to say something else, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting with bated breath, before the producer rushed over to hurry him on to the next office for another interview. We’d spent so long talking he was behind schedule. 

Chris sighed, his chest caving like a deflated balloon with the release of a breath I didn’t realize he’d bottled up, picking his suit jacket off the back of his chair. “I certainly hope we’ll see each other again soon,” he said with a small smile of apology, the kind that crinkled his eyes closed in the slightest.

“Me too,” I confessed, tucking my hair behind my ears nervously. Chris stood there for a beat or two, looking conflicted as he stood partially turned to the door, but not making any moves. I shifted my weight from my toes to my heels, feeling nervous under his scrutiny. 

He turned to leave, stretching to scratch the back of his neck as he took a few steps before whipping around again, sending the coat in his arms flying. “You, uh, you really mean that?” he asked, shoving a hand in his pocket.

I nodded, a little taken aback by his question. My eyes searched for some sort of answer in his slumped shoulders, raised brows, and the way his eye was half-winking almost in a wince. It was a sharp contrast to his behavior during our banter earlier, like someone sucked the air out of our atmosphere. Chris didn’t elaborate anymore, though. He only nodded back at me like a bobble-headed reflection, taking slow steps out of my office and then, as he picked up speed all at once, he was gone. I fell back into my chair, chest caving as everything left me in a heavy sigh. 

One of the interns entered before the door had even finished swinging shut, clutching salads to her chest as if her life depended on it. With a slack jaw and popped-out eyes, she said all too breathlessly, “That was Chris Evans.”

She passed me my lunch with a shaking hand. “That was awkward,” I shot back with a little bit of a laugh. “I think he asked for my number… for personal purposes?” I admitted, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Although the words felt wrong on my lips and silly to my ears, I wasn’t sure what I was meant to feel in the first place.

The intern took a seat opposite of me, cracking open her own lunch container. “Did you give it to him?” she inquired hesitantly, like she was trying to put her own puzzle together. I confirmed her theory with a shake of my head, but the hum she responded with made me question it. 

“I’d hate to rain on your parade, honest, but I’m pretty sure he’s dating his co-star from that new Netflix movie?” she said, giving me a minute to chew it over while she took a bite of her lunch. “I mean,” she started again, her mouth still full, “obviously no one really knows for sure. It’s just speculation, but…” She shrugged, giving me an apologetic look. 

I waved her off, insisting it was probably for the better anyway. Still, I couldn’t help the way my stomach sank with disappointment. I tossed my lunch to my desk, my appetite suddenly gone.

Next to the abandoned container, my phone buzzed. I picked it up curiously, not really expecting a text from anyone in particular. Next to the green bubble, the notification only read Chris, not that I needed much more of an indication as to who that was. I opened it to see he’d taken a picture for his contact, a bad one from a low angle with his tongue stuck out and crossed eyes.

Hope you’re enjoying lunch. I was thinking about checking that place out on break- What do you recommend?

I smiled as I typed out my usual order. Chris responded immediately, even though I knew he was supposed to be working, telling me that he thought I had good taste.

We texted like that for a week, on and off throughout the day and then almost incessantly at night. About some of the stupidest things, like arguing over whether Dunkin or Starbucks was better with statistics to back us up. Other times Chris would ask what the best part of today was and usually it would be something like reading a really kind email from a constituent, but once I honestly told Chris just hearing from him had made my day. It was easy to talk to him without having to look at those crystal clear blue eyes, feeling like he could see straight into my soul. I spilled it all anyway, feeling the familiar flutter of butterflies in my stomach like I was back in middle school passing notes to a crush.

Chris didn’t seem to have any qualms about telling me anything either. In fact, even the small things, like if he had a particularly good jog with Dodger that morning, I’d hear about it. It was a refreshing change of pace from the way we’d left things in person, returning to the comfortable ease we’d felt sitting across from each other, only this time it was on the other side of a screen.

At the same time, no matter where I went, I couldn’t escape the rumors about Chris and his co-star. Every magazine headline as I checked out at the grocery store, every paparazzi photo when I channel surfed past E! News, even every clickbait article title on Snapchat’s discover page. All of it being a constant reminder that the warm feelings that came to a boil every time my phone buzzed with a new message from the man himself. Some heart-eyed emoji-filled message to a picture of my dinner I’d sent or an update on the book he’d been reading that was so detailed I’d never have to check it out myself. Something that made me fall a little harder and reminded me of how painful it’d be once my bubble bursts simultaneously.

I felt incredibly guilty, continuing to talk to someone else’s partner when I knew I was developing feelings I couldn’t suppress forever, but it was nice to have a friend that wasn’t all the way back home in Brooklyn.

It’d been just over a week since I’d properly seen Chris in person. I knew he was lurking around Congress somewhere, interviewing as many of my colleagues as he could and making every connection possible, but I didn’t get out of my office very often. In fact, it was usually in between committees that I’d see him running down the hall to catch up with someone before their next meeting. Something inside of me, call it my fight or flight response or good old cowardice, always pulled my feet to take me out of his sight, ducking into a bathroom or behind another corridor’s wall. My heart would race until his voice, asking when he could squeeze into someone’s calendar for only half an hour or if they’d be more comfortable chatting over coffee before jumping in front of the camera, faded as he walked away. 

I wasn’t sure exactly why, but seeing Chris in person made me debilitatingly nervous in a way that messaging him never did. It was easy, the manageable way my stomach flip-flopped when the three little dots indicated he was texting me. But when he looked at me, like really looked at me like he was listening to the lilt in my voice as well as the twitching tick in the corner of my eye? Forgetting what I was saying when he scratched his beard contemplatively or loosened his tie? That made me feel like I was about to toss up my last meal. 

At least I thought I was safe within the walls of my own office, but it wasn’t a sanctuary for long. One day, right before lunch, Chris sent me a very odd text. My eyes were downcast, reading over a bill for the second time and trying to highlight the parts I wanted to edit when my phone buzzed. With my break nearing and my brain growing too fuzzy to make much sense of the convoluted document, I caved into the distraction.

Not to be a creep, but green’s definitely your color.

My gaze drifted even further down to the pine-colored pantsuit I’d picked for the day, feeling that tingle in my spine that only watching-eyes could bring. My eyes shot up, searching and failing to find Chris anywhere in my office. Then I caught the twinkle of his mischievous blue eye behind the crack in my door.

“Should’ve seen your face,” he laughed with a wide grin that made his crow’s feet more pronounced as my tense muscles relaxed. I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away as I swore I’d get him back when he least expected it. 

“How’d you know I was even available?” I spluttered, caught totally off guard by his presence. My words were muffled by the marker cap stuck between my teeth, but it didn’t bother Chris who sauntered over to the seat across from me like he owned the place, his plaid blue suit hugging his hips immaculately. He took off his jacket and hung it over his seat as if he’d done in a million times before, revealing a starched white shirt with buttons that strained when he took a seat.

“We talk for this hour every day, figured it was when you scheduled lunch,” Chris retorted with a shrug, taking his tie off and undoing his shirt by a couple buttons to make himself comfortable. “So I brought you something better to chew on than that highlighter.” He dropped a bag from the restaurant I recommended the first time we met onto my desk in between us. 

It dropped from my lips as I ogled I the bag and then Chris again before lunging for it, distributing our meals, drinks, and silverware. Anything to distract myself from the way his forearms flexed as he rolled up his sleeves and placate the burning blush of my cheeks.

We were halfway through lunch, too busy stuffing our faces to talk very much, when I finally broke the silence. My curiosity was eating away at me like it was on break too. “What’s got you in my neck of the woods anyway?”

Chris dropped his salad to the table as he chewed, silently holding a pointer finger up to ask for a minute as he fished around his coat pocket. Letting out a satisfied hum as he found whatever he was looking for, he pulled a white envelope in between his fingers. Chris stretched across the desk toward me and I held my breath as he reached behind my head so I wouldn’t drown in his intoxicating smell, an impossible mix of fresh air and lavish cologne. I averted my eyes to the ceiling, trying to save Chris some modesty by not gawking down his open shirt while he tugged a pen out of my bun. I only caught a glimpse of the course, dark hair smattered across his chest, accentuating the soft curves of his pronounced muscle, but it certainly made me sweat like a sinner in church. It seemed to last an excruciatingly lustful eternity before he leaned back. 

My hair sagged, partially held up by the utensil resting lazily in his hand as he scribbled along the front of the envelope. The tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of Chris’s mouth when he focused and his eyebrows dropped dangerously low as they furrowed.

“There are pens right in front of you,” I pointed out, trying to make sense of what just happened. Chris only shrugged and changed the subject.

“Sorry, I almost forgot,” he said, shoving the pen that’d been in my hair with the others. “I wanted to hand-deliver this to you.” Chris slid the envelope to my side of the desk. He’d written my name in his chicken scratch’s best excuse for cursive, but other than that it was rather plain.

“What’s this?” I asked, giving Chris a cautioned look. He slouched back in his seat, balancing his salad on his knee while shrugging and looking down at his food, pushing cherry tomatoes around his cucumbers as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“If I told you, wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose?” he countered, staring up at me through his long, dark lashes. I only nodded since I didn’t trust my voice too much not to break when he looked at me like that. Like he was the one who was nervous, as if I was the one in dangerously close proximity.

I reached to take the only other thing holding my haphazard bun together, my letter opener, which unraveled my hair completely. As it fell across my shoulders, Chris took a sharp intake of breath, shifting in his seat suspiciously. I eyed him with curiosity as I opened the envelope before focusing on its contents.

“It’s next weekend. I’m sorry it’s last minute, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all week now. You’re an awfully hard person to pin down,” Chris explained as I delicately unfolded my invitation to his gala. “Your receptionist, we’ve gotten to know each other well. She always says you’re in a meeting or a little too busy to be bothered, but… if’m honest, I can’t help feeling a little avoided.”

My gaze lifted to him, seeing how his broad shoulders folded inward like he was about to collapse into an anxious origami of his former self. His hands wrung in his lap and I realized he must’ve been highly strung after all. 

“Nothing like that,” I lied in a soft voice, trying to catch him before he crash-landed. Well, it was partially true. I mean, I was steering clear of Chris, but not for any of the reasons it seemed he suspected. My receptionist, being one of my closest friends in this city, knew the nature of my feelings for Chris and probably decided it’d be in my best interest to put some distance between us. “It’s just been really hectic around here lately. I’ll make up for it at the gala, promise.” I tried to smile encouragingly.

It seemed to connect with Chris as his own stretched across his cheeks. “In that case, well, I was-” Chris stopped to clear his throat, head tilted as if he was trying to put himself together with an internal pep talk. “I was hoping maybe, if you want to, you’d be my plus one?” 

My fork clattered to the tabletop as I stuttered with shock. I felt like a machine missing a piece, something small like a gear, something that made my place in this not make very much sense. I mean, I wasn’t his girlfriend, shouldn’t he be asking her?  It seemed too good to be true, Chris offering to tote around such a public event, in front of the other members of Congress nonetheless, with me on his arm. Matching his tie to my dress, posing for pictures together, walking me to my door with my heels in his hand and his coat around my shoulders after a long night. It just couldn’t be what he meant.

“Only, uh, again it’s only if you want to. Really, I don’t want you to feel any obligation,” Chris started to backtrack, running an anxious hand through his slicked-back hair. “I mean, if you haven’t got other plans already, of course, I thought it might be- I don’t know. Could be fun, is what I’m trying to say.” He started talking with his hands, waving them frantically and nearly knocking my pens over. Chris huffed as he straightened their jar, eyebrows raised as he retracted his hands back to his lap.

“I think it would be too,” I admitted, chewing my bottom lip. Despite my better judgment, I told Chris I’d go. After all, he made it clear it wasn’t a date based on his fevered reaction, trying to clarify his offer to make sure I didn’t misunderstand his intentions. Plus, a night with Chris did really seem like it’d be a nice break from the stressors of my weekdays and the dullness of my days off, especially considering I wanted to make the most of his time here before he had to jet back to L.A. At least for one night, I could indulge in playing a guilty game of pretend.

“That’s just…” Chris sighed, a relieved smile gracing his lips as he collapsed back into his chair. He closed his eyes, allowing a little bit of peace to wash over him with the worst of this conversation being over. “Great. That’s great, thank you. I’ll pick you up at 8,” he said, although it came out more like a question. “God, let’s hope I’ll be better at asking people for money than that,” Chris joked as he laughed through a sigh. 

“And if not,” I said, raising my bottle of iced tea for Chris to cheers, “that’s why you have me.” Chris smiled in thanks as his drink met mine with a gentle tap, a quiet pause ensuing our swig.

“That’s not all you’re good for,” Chris commented, his head tilted as he looked at me. He maintained a crooked grin as he eyed me from across the desk. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a look of admiration.

“You’re right,” I confirmed before taking another bite. ‘Oh, really?’ Chris challenged silently with a raise of his eyebrows. “Mhm,” I mumbled. “I can also stuff enough little appetizers wrapped in napkins to feed a militia into my purse in case the main course sucks.”

That earned a laugh from Chris, the kind that stemmed from the bottom of his belly and nearly caused him to choke on his lunch. His hand rose to the left of his chest as he threw his head back, absolutely relishing in it to the point where it was infectious. I wasn’t even the one who thought it was funny, but I couldn’t help grinning so big it made my cheeks hurt. A part of me I tried to shove down the thought that I could get used to hearing that laugh, the pride pulling it out of Chris brought.

I wished I could’ve bottled up that feeling, the utter confidence I felt in that moment, and taken a shot of it while I waited for Chris that night. Probably would’ve burned less than the liquid courage I’d tried to emulate it. I looked myself over in the hall mirror for the hundredth time as I waited, trying to do anything other than count the seconds he was late by. 

I wore a long tulle dress with one shoulder and a ribbon cinching the smallest part of my waist. It was a shade of green a bit lighter than the suit Chris liked on me and, considering we were going as nothing more than friends, I tried to push the thought of whether or not he’d like this better far out of my mind. Tried, being the operative word.

I stood there, examining myself in the mirror with a cocked head, when a knock out of nowhere startled me. I ran my hand through my hair quickly, trying to break up the curls so it didn’t look I’d tried as hard as I did, before answering the door. “Hi,” I breathed the word, looking Chris up and down. He wore a simple black and white tux with a bowtie, something I wouldn’t have pegged for, but it was a pleasant surprise. 

“You’re…” Chris’s eyes roamed my body from head to toe, taking me in as he held his arms out wide like he was standing before some great sight like the grand canyon instead of me, standing awkwardly and over-dressed for my living room. His cheeks puffed out as his eyes grew wide, meeting my gaze with a wide smile. “Gorgeous,” he concluded, saying it like the word wasn’t enough. Smiling like it wasn’t wide enough. “Tell me again how I got lucky enough to even stand in your shadow?” Chris asked jokingly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I rolled my eyes and stepped out to meet him, closing the door behind me. “Don’t kid yourself, Evans. You’re not one to talk in that suit,” I returned the compliment, hoping it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the firetruck shade of red it felt like my whole face turned in a furious blush.

Chris extended a hand to me, offering to lead me down the steps to his car. I took it, eyes cast down partially to watch my step in these heels, but also because I don’t think I could bear to look him in the eye while I was thinking such unsavory things about the way the jacket hugged his bicep, how perfectly the slim-fitting pants were tailored to his thighs…

“No way,” Chris dismissed my compliment, pulling me from my thoughts. “I look like a penguin.” We reached his car and he held open the passenger door for me, but I hesitated to get in. Instead, I just stared at him with my jaw hovering maybe an inch or two from the asphalt.

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing they’re my favorite animal,” I said as I composed myself, gathering my skirt before sliding into the front seat. Chris shut the door, but leaned against the open window instead of walking to his side. 

“With the way you’re looking at me, there’s a joke in there about some beastiality implications,” he quipped, his tongue-in-cheek humor coupled with the callout catching me completely off guard. I gaped at him for a beat too long before I started stammering, trying to come up with some sort of apology coupled with an excuse. Chris only stood there with this goofy smile as he said, “But I’m certainly too decent to make it.”

“I’m not looking at you in any sort of way,” I told him matter of factly, crossing my arms over my chest and tilting my chin up righteously. The last thing I needed was Chris thinking I was undressing him with my eyes, even if there was a sliver of a fraction of truth to it. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or have him mention something to his girlfriend and raise her suspicions.

“I know, it was just a bad joke,” he reassured me. I relaxed then, until Chris’s hand reached to comfortably to rest over mine as if holding hands was something we did all the time, giving me a gentle squeeze to say it was alright, but then he didn’t let go. I tensed, staring at his hand as if it was a bug that suddenly landed on me instead of an act of affection. Chris didn’t notice, keeping his eyes on the road, until my brain caught up with my racing heart and I pulled away from him.

“What’re you up to, Evans?” I asked, although it sounded a lot more like an accusation. I certainly didn’t plan on being his “other woman” in D.C. while his girlfriend had no clue all the way in California. Chris gave me this glance in between green lights, a confused furrowed brow and pursed lips like he was focusing on figuring out what just happened, that made me nervous I was being hypervigilant.

“Nothing. I’m sorry,” he said smally, adding that he didn’t mean to make me feel uncomfortable under his breath, clearly taken aback by my reaction. It became evident that he hadn’t been trying anything with me, that I really just misinterpreted his intentions by a long shot, so I apologized too.

The rest of the drive was painfully quiet, until we pulled up to the venue. Between Chris’s famous friends and some of the country’s most prominent politicians attending the gala, I should’ve expected the plethora of paparazzi waiting outside, lining the entrance and snapping shots before the car doors even cracked open.

Chris parked and climbed out of his door, asking if I could wait for him to open mine. I nodded, feeling a bit guilty that he needed to ask if I was okay with the simplest gestures now. As if it wasn’t the most achingly awkward drive of our lives, Chris tossed his keys to the valet and helped me out. He stuck his hand in his pocket, but I reached to wrap my arm around his.

Chris’s eyebrows perked up in surprise as his eyes snapped to mine, looking for some sort of assurance that this was alright so I nodded encouragingly, tugging us by our interlocked arms toward the entrance. While we walked through the alley of reporters, all taking pictures with bright flashes and shouting questions as Chris and I drew closer, I felt his muscles tighten as he grew tense. I snaked my arm up his, rubbing his bicep with the hope of helping him relax, but it only fueled the roar of inquiries thrown at us.

One member of the press, an older man who looked like he’d spent far too long in all sorts of seedy establishments, jumped forward with so much force he nearly caused the barricade holding them back to topple. He bumped into Chris, grabbing his attention as his forehead wrinkled with discontent and his lips turned down in a frown. 

Instead of apologizing, the pap took the opportunity to shove a microphone in Chris’s face. “Who’s your date tonight, Mr. Evans?” he asked, voice crackling with years of smoking damage. I turned away from his camera instinctively, only to be met with a barrage of other blinding flashes from the opposite side. “We’ve heard from reliable sources that you’re taken, so who is this girl supposed to be?”

At the mention of his girlfriend, it felt like a rock had dropped off a cliff and plummeted to the pit of my stomach. Of course, everyone else knew he already spoken for, too. The press was never kind, especially to politicians, so I’d gotten used to the tabloids and right-wing sources disparaging comments. However, knowing TMZ and the lot would be picking apart my intense blush, the look in my eyes I couldn’t hide around Chris, the tight grip I held onto him with, it wasn’t something I was prepared for. I didn’t need speculative news to plant any ideas in Chris’s head, or his girlfriend’s for that matter. As badly as I may want it, nothing was going on between us. The rest of the world didn’t need to think there was.

Chris scoffed, muttering that his relationship status wasn’t any of their business. “Especially at a political event, I shouldn’t have to tell you to fact-check your sources. That’s blatantly untrue, her and I haven’t even spoken since that premier months ago,” Chris chided, nearing a snarl. He must’ve been so fed up with those rumors by now, especially if it wasn’t true.

Wait, it wasn’t true?

We took a few steps away, posing for some more pictures from other reporters as we turned our backs to that unbridled pap. “Were you being honest back there, when you said you weren’t dating your co-star, I mean?” I asked Chris, barely in a whisper as I tried to keep the conversation between us. Even just the small bit of hope that I could actually have a chance felt too big for my chest, filling me up until it felt like I was about to burst.

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t have taken you on this date if I was with someone else,” Chris said like it was obvious. We took another couple steps and posed, Chris’s smile appearing much more like a grimace.

“This is a date?” I shot back with so much perplexion it elicited a laugh from Chris, barely able to process the rest of it.

“Mhm, if you’re alright with that,” Chris hummed, staring down at me with an inclined eyebrow and a patient partial smile. He paused to shoot the paparazzi another supposed-to-be smile that made him look more pained than anything. “I’ve been trying to build up the courage to ask you out since we met. Thought this was as good a time as any, considering the free dinner,” he elaborated with wiggling eyebrows, taking a few more steps.

The pictures that came out of that moment are not my best, to say the least. The one where I’m slapping Chris’s shoulder, yelling at him for not being nearly clear enough and ruining what could’ve been a perfectly good hand-holding moment with his ambiguity, looking like I’d smite him if I could was his phone’s home screen for far too long.

“I’m sorry,” he said, although his laughter implied completely otherwise. “I thought you knew. I mean, I did ask you to be my date.” Chris shrugged, shuffling down the carpet a little more. 

I shook my head, still gaping at him with shock. “No,” I emphasized, all but wagging my finger as I scolded him. “You asked me to be your plus one. When I bring a plus one to a wedding, it’s my best friend and our very own bottle of wine. But when I have a date, I bring- I don’t know, condoms instead.” 

“I hate to break it to you,” Chris started, sounding awfully naughty in his endearing sort of way. “But would it be insulting if I said I slipped one of those into my wallet just in case? I’ll give you a hint,” he leaned down, tickling my cheek’s sensitive skin with his beard as he whispered gruffly, “the wine wouldn’t fit.” Chris laughed again when he pulled away, finding my astonishment so funny he utterly guffawed until his eyes squeezed shut and he was nearly doubled over.

“You are unbelievable,” I said, feeling terribly light-headed as if I’d forgotten to breathe, which I probably did. All I managed to do was smile at him with everything I had, my lips and my eyes and my whole soul started beaming.

“Really, though,” Chris said with a sudden seriousness as he caught his breath after his laughter subsided. We turned to face the other half of the press as he took his hand out of his pocket, wrapping it around my waist and tugging me into his side. I think he may have just wanted to speak quietly enough that our conversation remained private amidst the many recording devices. “I just want to be clear this time. You do want to go out with me?” he asked, imploring me to be honest, reassuring me that there was no pressure.

“Only since I met you,” I confessed, feeling like a heavy weight left my chest for the first time in a week. “I really like you. I just- My intern told me something and then it was all over every gossip column. God, it sounds so stupid now, but I really thought you had a girlfriend.”

We posed for a picture where I leaned my head on Chris’s chest, just in the slightest. Now that I could express it, to everyone else, including Chris, I wasn’t going to waste a moment of showing exactly how I felt about him.

Chris chuckled with a rumble that made my head vibrate against his chest, wrapping his arm around my shoulders in a half-hug as he pulled me closer and said, “I’m hoping I will soon.” I looked up at him, not entirely sure how to respond. After all, I’d been hoping- no, dreaming of hearing him say something to that extent for what felt like forever. He winked at me and, for a moment, every shouting reporter and every camera flare ceased to exist.

Then the reporter who’d berated Chris earlier caught up to us, shoving through the length of the barricade to get our attention again. Apparently, he wasn’t satisfied with Chris’s response. “So who’s this new girl, then? Another movie promotion project?” he sneered, reaching as far as he could to get the mic back in Chris’s face. He only rolled his eyes and shuffled down a little farther, hoping we would be left alone. We seemed to be in the clear, almost to the gala’s entrance, when the pap spoke up again. “Maybe another charity case, then? Definitely a downgrade in arm candy!”

Chris stopped dead in his tracks, causing me to fall back to his side when I tried to race forward without letting him go. “Come on,” I urged him. “He just wants a rise out of you. It doesn’t bother me, they’ve said worse. Let’s just head in,” I begged, only wanting to escape the onslaught of reporters and get out of the limelight if only for the night. We could deal with the gossip in the morning, but, right now, Chris didn’t need to cause any more incited trouble.

Instead, Chris didn’t budge toward the door by an inch. I nearly stomped my foot trying to bargain with him, but Chris only gave me this look like he was apologizing for something that hadn’t happened yet. The harsh, angry lines carved into his features that may as well have been sculpted from marble softened and his stone-cold gaze warmed as he looked at me for a split second before his head snapped to the reporter.

“You want a headline?” Chris challenged the reporter. He hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between Chris and I, before nodding eagerly and jutting his microphone further into his face. 

Chris cleared his throat dramatically. “She,” he said, gesturing a lazy hand to me. I smiled and waved awkwardly, entirely unsure of where this was going. “She is my intelligent, beautiful, successful, kind, funny, incredible date,” Chris paused to give me a pointed look, “who is in no way attached to any of my work, charity or otherwise,” he spoke from low in his throat, stopping again to shoot the reporter daggers before turning back to the camera with a dauntingly serious glare, just daring someone to even think any less. 

“She, however, does a lot of amazing work for her city and this country. Amazingly, all on her very own!” Chris’s mouth gaped with mock bewilderment before he started laughing again, unable to take any of this seriously. “Report about that. Now, I’m sure you have plenty of questions,” Chris said, raising his hands in self-defense and shaking his head with a tight-lipped, roguish grin. “Since you guys love using your sources so much, Google New York’s 9th congressional district representative. I’m sure you’ll find that she’s a lot more interesting than calling her ‘arm candy’ implies, although she’s awfully good at that, too.” Chris shot me a wink, his scowl morphing into a smirk. If the mic had been in his hand, I’m sure he would’ve dropped it just for the dramatic flare.

For once, the media seemed to be stunned to silence, allowing us to make our grand escape without interruption. I grabbed Chris by his lapels, for the first time in however long, I could remember completely disregarding the cameras and microphones pointed in my direction. Instead of worrying about my image or what anyone other than myself would think, I was overcome with one desire. 

I pulled him in for a kiss as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then, right under the harsh lights of the red carpet, we melted together. My hands started at his cheeks and then snaked around to the nape of his neck, pressing Chris impossibly closer to me. His rested at the small of my back as he dipped me, bending into the kiss and holding me tight like I was about to vanish into thin air. 

We shared a tender glance when we broke apart before Chris cracked a smile. He jokingly bowed and held his hand out to me as he said, “If that doesn’t prove how I feel about you, I don’t know what will.” I rolled my eyes as I wrapped my hand around his gratefully, hoping with every bit of me after our fingers intertwined that he’d never let go this time.

Tags: @patzammit​ , @thegetawaywriter​ , @coffeebooksandfandom​ , @captainsteveevans​ , @intrepidandabitcrazy​ , @super100012​ , @spilledinkindumpster​ , @torntaltos , @amiquette

[teddyaltman]

Do the odds 🐢

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? i have cereal dry bc milk is gross but i do like cereal as a snack3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? mostly plane tickets or train tickets

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? yes altho i used to be worse7: do you name your plants? i only have one plant and no it has no name but now i feel bad, what should i name my plant???? 9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Y E S always its a running joke at work that i’m always singing to myself 

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends? my mind has gone blank idk 13: what's something that made you smile today? texting15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! “you are taller in space” - this is fuckin me up cos princess leia is sO TINY imagine how small she would be on earth im emotional17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? i actually rly like my hair the colour it is at the moment but i’d prob go darker to try it rather than super blonde again idk19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? no im not organised enough for a journal but i do doodle in my work diary when i finish a to do list21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. i love my backpack that i haggled for in venice it’s blue and white and super comfy and i love it23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? netflix (and cuddling~)25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? i broke into my friends house once by crawling through the kitchen window bc she forgot her house key27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor? bubblegum flavor? idk?29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? dan always squeezes my hand rly tight when he’s happy and i love it when he’s happy31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. i rly like socks, especially when they’re fun socks i hate just black or just white socks!! i like to wear them to bed too otherwise the monsters might get my feet but if its super hot i might not. i don’t always wear socks in the day but i’ll mostly put them on for bed

33: what's your fave pastry? uh idk but i had an amazing vegan donut in dublin it was delicious 35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? i like pens but just like basic bic pens i like to have lots and lots but uh i like looking at stationary in paperchase but i rarely use it37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? i like it clean but it is often messy because i am Terrible39: what color do you wear the most? burgundy! 41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving? i read an anthology (the last one) from the otherworld series when i was in aus and honestly it was great i loved it so much that series means so much to me and it ended so many characters stories in a beautiful way43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? i have no idea tbh45: do you trust your instincts a lot? close my eyes and leap? uh yeah i try to trust my gut!47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? pineapple49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? i don’t rly buy physical cds anymore and i don’t have my own record player so~ i bought ed sheeran’s new songs last night on itunes??51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? marygrace - mr brightside53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? yes, yes, no, yes - i love rocky horror and i wanna see it live, heathers is Great, and pulp fiction is p good!55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point? lmao i am a dramatic person idk i’ve probably done a lot of dumb shit57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? i cba but i could sing it from memory and yes of course59: what's your favorite myth? uhh idk i don’t rly have a fav??? i do like mythology tho esp greek stuff and i read some p cool fantasy books based on myths and metahumans61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received? lmao i don’t even know omg my sister got me condoms once??63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? okay so my DVDs are all alphabetical except disney classics which have their own section, and boxsets are also separate, my books are in cubes and they’re sorted by age, also author and in series when applicable. also there’s a star wars section. i can’t wait to have my own place so i can get proper bookshelves tho tbh65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? my cousin adam! he lives in greece and i didn’t manage to go visit him over christmas when he was home which was sad 67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? a lil gloomy but then i’ll take buddy for a walk and we’ll bounce along together and he always makes me feel better69: what are your favorite board games? trivial pursuit, bezzerwizzer, pointless, articulate, taboo, pictionary, citadels, life ... i love board games71: what's your favorite kind of tea? anything fruity73: what are some of your worst habits? biting my nails, speaking too loud, chewing ice75: tell us about your pets! MY BABIES okay i have two dogs; meg is a black lab and she’s an ol lady now but she’ll always be my angel girl and she got me thru some dark times in high school tbh, okay then my boy - Buddy Boo Rainbow Maurice is his official name (blame my sister) but my lil buddy he’s my saviour honestly, so he’s a beagle cross but we dunno what with and he’s HUGE like a beagle on steroids but with his lil beagle face and floppy ears like goddamn cutest ever tbh he’s such a bundle of joy i love him So muhc. then i have 3 chickens (we used to have 5 RIP) and they’re called Dragon, Jemima and Sue Ellen (yes, she’s mine, yes named after a Dallas char) they’re p chill i read to them sometimes last summer we read the book thief and hp philosophers stone77: pink or yellow lemonade? yellow79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? dan’s mum invited me to spend christmas with them when she found out my family were going away and she made me a special christmas eve present like i was just ~another kid in the family and i went again this year and honestly it’s just the sweetest thing i love them all so much and they’re all so welcoming and wonderful and i don’t deserve such goodness in my life (also shoutout to delani who drove all the way to may and kate’s to surprise me for new years!!!)81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. like the sea when a storm is brewing, but with a hint of steel underneath and the sun is still just visible on the horizon83: what's some of your favorite album art? tswizzle speak now, ed sheeran + ??? idk i use spotify on my phone mostly i don’t look at album art hahah85: do you read comics? what are your faves? sometimes, i like anything about girls tbh87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? The Holiday, Star Wars, The Parent Trap, Rear Window, 17 Again, It’s a Wonderful Life89: are you close to your parents? yes they’re my heroes91: where do you plan on traveling this year? canada! hopefully disneyworld too, and i;d like to see more european cities; lisbon, krakow, berlin!!93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? i either shove my hair in a bun, braid it or wear it down 95: what are your plans for this weekend? hang out with my friends!97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? INTJ, scorpio, gryffindor99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. little miss, ours, truth in your eyes, follow your arrow, sugar we’re going down, a thousand miles, she is the sunlight, cotton eye joe

[jens-notes]

I'm living to 102. And then dying. Like the city of Detroit.

I'm living to 102. And then dying. Like the city of Detroit.

Things are improving.  I’ve never been dead, but I have been close.  If anything, i’m better than ever, which is funny because my ex thinks by trying to strip me of everything, stealing my children to please a psycho he married at random… that i’m laying dead somewhere unable to do anything.

I should hope by now that he understands that I am and always have been one step ahead of him.  I think he’s been trained to believe i’m completely stupid or something but he should know way better.  I have always been legal smart.  That is half the reason I have kept my mouth shut for 2 years.   Sometimes if I rant I say too much.  He’s done so much now that people are telling me I have to speak.  I mean, the stuff they’ve posted on Facebook and their antics at trying to hurt me or keep my kids from me for no reason are hilarious.  It’s clear the outside sees these two trainwrecks with my kids and sees how they behave and all they’ve done wrong and this won’t end well for them.

I get stalked so much by them and I pay no attention to them. I focus on my kids.  My friends focus too much on them and send me screenshots but I for the most part ignore it except when they’ve gone overboard on some posts.  Let me tell you, the posts they have made recently have been seen by law, psychiatrists, ph.d’s, and all have agreed that what they are doing to my children’s minds is awful.  “Mindfucking babies” to quote one doc.

On top of that, they are just really bad at lying.  So bad, it’s being tracked, planned out, and i’ve had Roselou Warren’s family come to me and tell me to get my children away from her.  I knew in 2017 this wicked Filipino woman who has self-image and fat issues (like everyone deals with except some of us don’t go psycho about it)… and in 2017 I had no problem with her when they first met.  One night of the many when he left my children home alone to drive 110 miles to visit her and didn’t return home for my kids… I called my ex and asked him where he was to get them, they had school.  Instead of him answering the phone, this fucked up girl answers the phone and confronts me out of nowhere and I could hear him leading her on in the background. Before this, I had no issues and was happy for him.  Matt and I had a civil relationship despite the fact that I should have had him killed for what went down to cause me to file for divorce.  He had helped me a lot.  However, since he met this woman and took my children away from me, filed court action to strip me of my custody and money, and tried to fake threats against her, both of them posting radical thoughts and accusations that I’m going to hurt these to weirdos, he has turned into a human, not even human, that has no conscious, evil, and well, to put it bluntly… the point I hope he fucking drops dead tomorrow from a stroke or heart attack or gets hit by a truck driven by a cow, thrown, and impaled with a fence post.  It took a lot to bring me to the point that I wish him ill will.

It’s not coming from me though.  It’s going to happen because it’s time for karma to come along and fuck him in the ass.  Just don’t let my kids be around him.  He already lost a court battle in the approx. amount of $8000 in May.  Not from my doing.  Now, they are just perjuring the Florida court system repeatedly.  I know what him and this messed up psycho are doing to throw me off their trail, and it’s not going to work.  I fell for their lies initially because I know my ex better than his own hand, and how he acts and behaves and I had to learn that this was not my ex’s mind running the show.  He is being controlled by this woman, who is way more screwed up than I ever was.  I never came close to the antics she does.  I’d outline my exact strategy here, but i’ve already won phase 1, and he’s not unemployed and poor so i’m going to go to phase 2.  Goal 1 is get my children in my life – which is what law is there for because I have the right to unlimited time with my kids legally.  Goal 2 though is to break him of his will and his bank account.  He can’t fight me when he’s poor.  Either he is in contempt of court, or he’s unemployed and can’t take care of my children.  Fact 1… he’s highly employable and never been without a job longer than 12 days in his life in the USA of 18 years.  He’s only ever lost a job once.  That was the 12 days wayyyy back in like 2006.

What is funny is they started a business first week of June or something called 907 Technology.  September 7, 2017 is when these two fuckups got married and is when they stole my kids from me.  Either way, the documentation provided to the courts in their mandatory disclosures was true, but it wasn’t everything. This will be their strategy. Throw me off, make me think he’s either unemployed or working for his old company. I do believe he got fired.  That’s been a long time coming.  He’s actually a shit hole employee that lies about his resume and lies about what he has done.  He’s just a plain old liar now.  His company’s page and about me at first listed all his former employers as his previous clients.  If that wasn’t funny enough, his IT security consulting business page had a stolen copyrighted image as their logo from a website that specialized in catching people stealing information security. Lol.  For someone as experienced, at least used to be, in coding and web security, was designed using blogger and a very pathetic user interface with Google. At least I do everything fairly genuine and i’m not nearly on paper as experienced.  I have 2 LLC’s and well, frankly, knowing the tax business, I know exactly what he is attempting to do to try and hide income.

He has filed to be of indigent status in Brevard County as of June, stating he is poor. However, at the same time they claimed to be buying a house, or having cars.  All I have to do is have that application challenged.  He is already in contempt of court in Lake County. That’s where I got a judgement of $8k.  This is all a dangerous smoke screen he is putting up that I think like everything else, borders with screwing with me and screwing with the justice system as well.  See he claimed he lost his job in the beginning of June 2018.  Well going from 10K a month in income to $300 a week in unemployment just won’t pay his bills.  He would be so miserable and so far gone and lost everything that just knowing this, I can tell you he’s not unemployed, nor is he actually earning money with a business at this moment here at the end of July 2018.  He was paycheck to paycheck. But he is highly employable nonetheless, resume lies or not.  He’s totally fucked in the mind and stupider than shit, but he knows how to get and hold onto a job.  He’s also desperate.

So desperate for love he found this woman, and both of them were sooo desperate they clinged to each other immediately.  She is young and has no kids, ugly as fuck — more ugly than my fattest ugliest moments, and he’s old and fearful of dying alone.  Old for him is whatever like 45.  He’s so desperate for this love that he’s doing whatever it takes and is by everyone’s account (not mine until more recently) gone off his rocker with the crazies.  His appearance at our May court date was disgusting.  But, like the smoke screen they are putting up, I believe it was planned.  My ex has never seen a scruffy face except once in our marriage many many years ago, where I wanted to see what he looked like with a goatee.  That lasted like a week.  He’s anal about shaving and he showed up to court this one time looking like a homeless unemployed man and not even dressed up hoping that the judge will be tricked into thinking he is just as his appearance was.

When he lost the case, I got images sent to me by my facebook friends showing their crazy posts, which I’m going to share soon, that say, “no matter what, we are so happy, and she will never find love like ours and we always win no matter what just because of that” – not to quote but in the jist of it along with pictures of them eating at a foreign food restaurant crossing their hands with new wedding bands they just bought that day or prior.  It’s like they think i’m watching them so they go out of their way to make sure they say the stupidest shit nobody actually believes.

When her family contacted me after that, it was made known that she is shaming them.  They never cared until she moved close they said. But now her actions are shaming them. They encouraged me to tell my lawyer this… tell my lawyer that, make sure I show him this and that…. etc.  If her family thinks she’s a fucked up crazy and by family, I mean her brother… then in reality it’s way worse because as a 34 year old adult you aren’t showing your family the full picture. They see a sliver of the picture, and it’s bad. The full damage and omg it drives me insane.

Ok well — yeah already spoke too much.  My next actions will be to file a couple of motions now that I fired my lawyer for taking too long.  I was my own lawyer for the last 3 years and got shit done, I hire a lawyer because i’m going through a period of “regaining my strength” and the douchetool spends all of his time on vacation.

I’ll go back to being me. Legally smart and a mother devoted to her children.

Posted by: Jen

Filed under: Beyond 2018, Brevard County, Fighting Rights, General, Matt, The Ex Files

[travelnursebabes]

Day 1: LA -> Yosemite

It took 6.5 hours to get to Yosemite. After 4.5 hours of fairly normal highway driving, the ride really starts to get exciting with a 1-lane street that zigzags back and forth across the mountain range (see more details of the drive at the very end of this post). It looked like a fairytale, driving up to our resort, Rush Creek Lodge. Not only were we ecstatic to have survived the treacherous drive, but the whole vibe of the lodge was spot on— a refreshing woody smell, a fireplace with people roasting marshmallows, and Christmas lights strung over the pool & hot tubs. We dropped our stuff off in the room and headed over to the Rec room and restaurant. Board games & books lined the walls of the game room, and we played a hilarious game of Operation (Annette was a 1st timer & disrupted the peace of the room with her squeals each time she got zapped). Somehow after dinner and 2 glasses of wine each it was still only 8pm and we were tipsy and beyond content. A hot tub dip turned into jumping into the pool & continuing to swim a lap of each of the 4 strokes (pretty sure it looked like we were drowning during the butterfly lap with our limbs flailing). Getting into bed by 10pm was the icing on the cake for a perfect night.

Day 2: Our 1st full day in Yosemite:

At the crack of 6:20am, Annette opened the shades and started nagging me to wake up... clearly someone is excited to start our Yosemite adventure.

We hoped to tag along on an 8-hour guided tour lead by our resort, but we missed the cutoff. It was a bit intimidating taking on the whole park by ourselves, but the recreation desk gave killer recommendations and maps. We grabbed a bite at the one and only lodge restaurant and hit the road for a 45 minute drive into the Yosemite Valley. The roads are windy but it was beautiful the entire way. Mountains, valleys, cliffs, rivers, tunnels... definitely an exciting drive.

Our first stop was “Tunnel View.” Take a wild guess, it was a narrow view looking into the entire valley. Next up was “Bridalveil Fall”. This stop was a .5 mile paved hike up to the 620 foot waterfall, which resembles a veil when the winds blow the water sideways. Our third stop was “Lower Yosemite Falls.” You could definitely see the beauty from this stop from afar. After parking behind a cute little chapel, there’s a huge, beautiful meadow with the waterfall in the backdrop. The hike to the bottom of the waterfall was quick but not totally necessary.

Our stomachs lead us to our next stop— lunch at “The Majestic Yosemite Hotel.” After a bit of a wait we got seated at the ridiculously busy bar. Service was slow but we had front row seats to a one-woman-run bar (for awhile). Soup & salad fueled us up, and as tempting as a Bailey’s coffee or a Hottie Totty was, we didn’t want a nap to follow our lunch break. Our final hike was the most ambitious and rewarding hike we’ve ever done. Also the stupidest thing we’ve ever done... feel free to read on. It begun and ended with “John Muir / Mist Trail.” A somewhat paved, yet steep incline that had us peeling off our many layers as we went up. Definitely kicked our lungs into overdrive and our hearts haven’t needed to beat that hard for quite sometime.

This hike was presented to us as a quick 3mile hike round trip, with a few areas of steep stairs. For this reason, we didn’t even consider that we should prepare for what we were about to endeavor (i.e. the sun sets in 2hours from our start time, 0 phone reception, little phone battery, no food or water, no flashlight). Little did we know that the 1.6 miles of straight up hills only lead us to the bottom of the Vernal Fall Footbridge (and almost killed Annette... “I’m so going to vomit after this”). From here, we began the toughest 0.5mile climb up slippery, never-ending stairs adjacent to the waterfall. The views were breathtaking, but it took some convincing to get Annette to look up past the next step beneath her. Once we reached the top, it was the most beautiful site we’ve ever seen! Even more beautiful than Iceland, so if you want to stay in the states, Yosemite is the place to go.

So here we are: at the very top of Vernal falls (1,000 feet elevation change) at 4:30pm, and we both had <20% phone battery.

We were incredibly grateful that we were recommended an alternative route down, to avoid the steps. At this point we started to pick up the pace, and Annette just about wanted to kill me. We jogged up and up and up, somehow reaching an even higher point which of course gave us an incredible view but also doubts that we were on the right track DOWN! Our race with the sun went surprisingly well even though we were terrified of spraining our ankles or knees with every step.

Inside of Sam’s head: holy shit, we are so stupid. Annette’s dying, I can’t let her think I’m concerned. All I can do is keep a quick pace and encourage her all the way down.... oh crap, the sun is really setting... no one would find us up here for quite sometime. I hope it’s a quick death when the bears get us.

Inside Annette’s head: oh my god, we have no water... I’m breathing so fast. I can barely keep up with Sam. Death by dehydration. What if I start getting weak and cannot keep on going. My ankle hurts! My knees hurt! How am I going to get out of here? Why did Sam continue taking pictures when her phone battery was dying?!

“PEOPLE!!” We’ve never been so excited to see other humans. Especially ones with flashlights. We kept a slow pace to trail behind them. Once we finally got to the bottom we could barely discuss what had just happened. My Fitbit for the day read: 5:30 pm. 23,545 steps. 10.37 miles. 185 flights of stairs.

A 45 minute drive took us back to our lovey resort and Annette went into hibernation for a evening nap.

Day 3: Yosemite -> LA

Surprise, suprise, we woke up with zero desire to hike today. We checked out of our room and picked up the best Yosemite souvenirs— onsesies! (May or may not be our next Christmas card). The first 2 hours of the drive home is a long, narrow, winding mountain road. White-knuckle driving is real!!! I quickly took Annette’s suggestion to drive with 2 hands on the wheel... as opposed to one as I always do. “My left hand has never felt the wheel?! It will throw me off...” JK 2 hands it is. As I squeezed the living daylights out of the wheel, Annette rewarded me with Pringles after surviving the big turns. Annette’s nervous laugh filled the car but we made it!!! 350 miles to go on a flat highway will be a piece of cake. Our end destination for the night is Korea Town to get body massages & scrub!

SCRUB - 30 minutes: Let's just say it was truly something else. You strip naked and lay on a table where HOT water is splashed all over you. A lady in a bathing suit gets out her handy dandy hand sleeve scrubber and begins to scrub your whole body, from neck to toes. More hot water splashes, more position changes, etc. Then you get told that you are very dry, you need coconut oil and butter for massage.  MASSAGE - 60 minutes: Long and hard strokes, with some elbow work, I (Annette) almost thought my scapula was going to dislocate. If you are Sam, then you get straddled by her lady who performs a really deep massage of her lower back. Some pounding of our back and arms, that you would have thought the ladies are competing with each other, whose thuds are the loudest. You heard it all.  With that, you also get an application of a face mask and a scalp massage with an added bonus of a heavily scented eucalyptus (numbing) shampoo, that left our scalps tingling... Sam had images of leaving the facility bald, as I thought I would have green hair, all for the cost of $100. Money well spent. We were in utter disbelief about what had just happened, but excitement and relaxation set in, and we are kicking ourselves for not getting scrubs like this sooner.