#a little manicotti in my life

[facts-i-just-made-up]

how are pastas named?

The naming of pasta's a difficult matter, it isn't just one of your holiday games. You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter when I tell you a pasta has three different names.

Yeah I'm not T.S. Eliot, instead please accept this picture I took of some noodles that sound like the sequel to Mambo No. 5:

[raging-violets]

Fifteen years // Suite Life Series

Summary - November 16 2023. Cody waited fifteen years for this day.

“And we still can’t eat at one of the 8000 Italian restaurants we’ve passed because?” Zack droned, strolling at a leisurely pace compared to Cody’s practical sprint across the cobblestone lined streets of Rome.

For a 31-year-old man who still didn’t work out much more than his yoga stretching allowed, Cody was making ground. What was even more miraculous was that Cody was able to convince Zack to go to Italy with him simply to eat in the restaurant.

Then again, it didn’t take much for Zack to be convinced to do anything Cody asked him to do when money was involved. With Cody moving forward in his career in politics science and Zack enjoying his own lot in life running and owning his own construction company, Cody did sometimes still feel a need to protect Zack from the world. And when Cody said he had the two-person reservation to take Zack on—which surprised Zack as it seemed like something his brother would want to turn into a romantic dinner sort of thing—and would also pay for his tickets because “you owe me” from the last time they were there.

Zack had simply laughed and agreed to the deal before reminding Cody that he could afford everything himself, but it was, “Too late to take it back. And, by the way, I want a first class ticket. My damaged body needs to stretch out.”

“You’re brain damaged, but okay,” Cody replied begrudgingly.

And it wasn’t like things had been bad between them, sure, they got on each other’s nerves since they were born. But having gone into separate careers there weren’t many times Zack and Cody were able to spend a lot of time together so they opted to make it a brother trip, culminating the end of the week in Rome at the restaurant.

And while it had been a good trip, it was clear Cody’s eyes were on the prize.

He pumped his arms in a steady fashion, eyes planted firmly on the line that stretched in front of him. The line he couldn’t wait to stand in. To move forward in. To get inside the best restaurant he’d ever stepped foot in fifteen years before.

But this time, oh this time…

This time he was going to taste it.

He was going to taste the food he’d only dreamed about for as long as he could remember. Where he would finally understand what everyone meant when they said the food was worth it. Not like I don’t already know, Cody’s smile waned slightly as he eyed his brother, who moved to stand in line behind him. I had to watch and listen to Zack talk about this food so long and now it’s my turn.

Cody’s grin was infectious.

Enough so that Zack side-eyed him, leaning away. “Dude, I think you’re taking this a little too seriously. I mean, it’s just foo-“

“—Don’t you finish that sentence!” Cody snapped. He moved along with the line as it went forward. It was moving pretty quickly. A good sign the restaurant was still in good standing, able to get people in and out in an orderly manner. “I’m getting that Manicotti whether you want it or not.”

Zack held up his hands. “I’m just saying…give me a choice between manicotti and cowboy-ghetti and I’m picking the cowboys.”

Cody turned to Zack, holding up his hands as if to strangle his brother, gritting his teeth. But stopped when the line moved forward enough so that they were right up at the front. There was a young man standing behind the host podium holding onto a tablet. He briefly glanced up at Zack and Cody when they arrived before posing his finger over the screen.

“Order number?” He asked.

“Oh…” Cody waved a hand, his lips curling into an almost smug smile. “I have a reservation. Right here!” He pulled out his phone and illuminated the screen. He pointed to the date and time on screen. “See, November 16, 2023. 7:30pm!” He slapped it onto the table in front of him. “So…show us our table my good man.” He patted the man on the shoulder.

The man continued to stare at him. “You don’t have a reservation.” He finally said after a moment, as if silently questioning if Cody were serious.

“I assure you, I do.”

The man took in a breath through his nose. The breath that anyone who worked in customer service would recognize. The breath of ‘This isn’t going to end well’ before he said gently yet firmly, “I assure you, you don’t.”

“Bummer.” Zack arched his back, stretching. “I could really go for a pizza cone…” He trailed off, eyeing his brother when Cody turned a fierce glare his way.

“I’ve been waiting to eat this food for fifteen years, and I’m not going to miss it!” Cody growled through gritted teeth.

Zack waved his hand in front of his face. “Okay, but you clearly missed brushing your teeth this morning.”

“What is going on here?”

Cody’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted Chef Gigi. She had grown older in the last fifteen years, streaks of silver at the temples of her hair, pulled back into a bun. Nevertheless, it was still her. She had the same no-nonsense expression he remembered from his youth. “Chef Gigi! You remember me?”

“Yes, I remember all of the ones that are desperate to get into my restaurant,” she replied. She turned up her nose, looking down at them. “And destroyed my star and my sauce with your…antics!” Her gaze shifted over them. “Why are you causing a line?”

“I-I-I-I’m here for my reservation,” Cody stuttered. He grasped the letter and thrust it towards Gigi. Zack continued to watch with only mild interest. “See? You gave it to me fifteen years ago.”

Gigi looked over the reservation, nodding to herself. “You’re right, I did give you that reservation fifteen years ago.” The smile on Cody’s face was bright enough to illuminate even the darkest cave. But it was then snuffed out when she continued with, “But with the COVID pandemic we were forced to shut down for a while. And despite the loss of our revenue, we found our customers were still coming back and we were making more money from our delivery options and had switched to that. Now you have to place your orders in advance or else you won’t even come close to tasting my food.”

Cody’s jaw dropped. He looked to Zack who scratched the back of his head, not looking too worse for the wear. Completely unbothered, actually. Completely unbothered that Cody’s heart had just been ripped out and stepped on. “B-b-b-but, okay…” He took a deep, calming breath. Yoga was really proving to be helpful in times like this. “We can place an order.”

“That’d be nice.” Gigi nodded.

“Can we place it now?”

“We’re booked up until 2038.” Gigi gestured towards the increasingly disgruntled people behind them. “See the line?” With that, she waved them off and disappeared back into the restaurant.

Cody’s jaw dropped. Eyes widened. Breath hitched. He’d cry if he was able to even muster up the tears. His entire body was frozen, stuck. Memories of that exact same conversation from fifteen years before swirling through his head. The excitement of getting that reminder email of the reservation he’d placed years before. The anticipation on tasting that tangy tomato sauce, the radiant ricotta, the creamy cheese of the--

“Mmm.” Zack’s humming broke Cody’s depression. He slid his hands into the pockets, barely glancing at the stunned expression on his twin’s face. “How do you feel about Mexican?” Cody slowly turned his incredulous glare to his brother. Zack shrugged. “I’m not really feeling Italian.”

THE END

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 10

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 7/31/2023

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives. 

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “Didn’t I run into you the other day at the smoothie place?” 

I woke up the next morning feeling anxious. I decided to start the day off with a workout. It helped calm my nerves and get rid of the excess energy. Afterwards, I jumped in the shower to get ready for the day. I kept the makeup light, added some products to my hair and let it air dry. I had been doing that a lot more. Embracing the curls and fluff that tended to result. 

I spent a little more time cleaning up. The weather was nice today, so I figured we could eat out on the back deck overlooking the pool. That area needed some attention before I considered it to be acceptable. After I was finished with that, it was time to start cooking. I settled on manicotti. It was one of my specialties. As I started pulling out ingredients, Lauren came strolling in the front door with two bottles of wine. She was wearing a blue maxi dress, sandals, and a cute hat. This wasn’t her typical look for a Friday gathering. 

“You look cute.”

“Is it too much? I mean the guy is famous. I didn’t want to look like a bum.”

I laughed at her and assured her it was fine. 

“You look cute too, in a very casual and effortless way. Like you didn’t spend an hour trying to figure it out, but I know you did.” 

I gave her an annoyed look and went back to what I was doing. She started digging for the wine opener. She poured us both a glass as I went over dinner plans. She was excited because it was one of her favorites. 

A few minutes later my phone buzzed on the counter. It was Dieter letting me know he was on his way. I told him the front door was open and to come on in because I was about to be wrist deep in ricotta cheese. I twisted my fluffy curls up in a messy way and stuck a hair chopstick in it to hold it up. It fanned out in a halo around the back of my head. A few wavy strands fell around my face. Then, I got to work measuring ingredients out and started slowly mixing them together with my hand a little at a time. 

I heard the door open a few minutes later. I yelled for Dieter to come to the kitchen. I turned to see him standing in the entryway wearing a white t-shirt with sunglasses stuck in the collar, navy shorts, and flip-flops. His hair was messy and hanging down over his eyes. It was a little longer than it had been in New York I noticed. It had a slight wave to it and suited him. I realized he was holding flowers and my stomach did a little dance. 

He walked over to see what I was doing as I mixed the ricotta cheese filling with my hand, standing extremely close to look over my shoulder. He asked what I was making. I told him and he made a face like he was impressed while shaking his head up and down. Then he gave me a small kiss on the cheek and said he couldn’t wait to try it. He snuck in a comment about my hair looking nice today and I smiled up at him. I could feel Lauren’s eyes on us. He hadn’t noticed her yet. She was at the table chopping and mixing things for the salad, but had stopped when he came in.

I turned to ask her to get the meat out of the refrigerator so we could get it going. Dieter turned, realizing she was there, then paused to stare at her oddly. A line forming between his eyes as his brows knitted together in recognition. 

“Didn’t I run into you the other day at the smoothie place?” 

She stilled, her eyes shooting to mine in panic.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t drink smoothies,” she said stiffly.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said through laughter.   

“You caught us. Yes, I saw you and avoided you. I’m sorry,” I said to him. He laughed.

“I had a feeling something was going on. She wasn’t very smooth about it. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. It’s actually kind of funny looking back on it.” 

He walked over to Lauren, “I can’t believe you didn’t give her up though.” He was laughing as he presented her with a small bouquet of sunflowers. Then he gave her a brief hug and kiss on the cheek. 

“Happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard all the stories,” he said, still smiling, then winked at her. 

She briefly looked dazed. Clearly affected by the charm of Dieter Bravo. He turned to me, motioning toward the four white roses he still held in his hand, indicating they were for me and asked for something to put them in. I thanked him and told Lauren where to find a vase. 

“Interesting choices on the flowers, sir. Care to explain?” Lauren gave him a raised eyebrow. He smiled. 

“Well, you sounded like a ray of sunshine, so I felt like the sunflowers suited you, and the white roses are a personal favorite of mine.” 

“Why four?” Lauren asked. The interrogation was starting. 

“It seemed like a good round number?” he replied with a questioning tone. Lauren stared at him for a minute, gauging his response.  

“I don’t believe you,” she concluded as she handed him a vase. He looked slightly stunned and wasn’t sure how to respond. I rolled my eyes at her and told her to take it easy since he had just walked into the door. 

After he put the flowers in water, he washed his hands, then brought the meat over to the stove. He asked me what he could do to help, and I told him where the pan was so he could start browning the meat while I continued to mix in the other ingredients with my hands. Lauren went back to chopping things for the salad. 

Seeing him in my kitchen cooking was making my mind wander. It was strangely sexy and not something I could really recall ever seeing my ex do. He always expected me to do it all myself. Dieter pulled me out of my thoughts when he asked how long the meat needed to go for and if it was broken up enough. I leaned over to examine it and told him it was good. He took it off the eye and set it to the side to cool as instructed. 

He turned to ask Lauren how her day had gone. He wanted to make sure to include her, which I thought was sweet. He was so effortless when talking with her. I wasn’t sure he ever actually met a stranger. I had a feeling he was like this with everyone. 

They seemed to be getting along well. I stood there waiting and listening with my hands covered in the cheese mixture, occasionally joining the conversation. They were both already making jokes and laughing with each other, which I loved. He seemed like he would fit into our little circle quite nicely.  

After a few minutes, he turned to check the meat, indicating that it was cooled off. I had him drain the grease, then pour the meat into the large mixing bowl I had been working on. He was standing extremely close while doing this. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell his musky scent. I continued mixing as I instructed him on preparing the manicotti noodles, trying not to be too distracted by his proximity.

“I didn’t know I was gonna get a cooking lesson,” he said laughing as he watched the water start to boil. “I can’t cook at all, so this is kind of educational.” 

I looked at him, “Seriously? You don’t know how to cook?”

“I mean, I can do simple things. Nothing like this. It’s kind of fun. Do you all always cook together on Fridays?”

Lauren walked over to put the salad in the refrigerator, then tried to stick her finger in the noodle filling and I smacked her hand away. I turned to answer him.  

“Yes, more times than not we do. Sometimes we order from a restaurant. It depends on how the week has gone.” 

Lauren chimed in, “You should start joining us. We always try to do something fun or relaxing too. We’ve been talking about doing a wine and paint night soon,” she said matter of factly. 

“That sounds like fun, I’d love to do that,” he said as the pot of water started to boil over. 

“Oh shit…” he froze, unsure of what to do. Lauren stepped in to take over the noodle boiling while we both laughed at him. 

Once I had the filling mixed, I scraped it off my hands the best I could, then moved to the sink to wash them. Lauren started laying the noodles out on cookie sheets to cool so we could stuff them. I pulled out 3 large freezer bags, clipped the bottom corner off one side of each of them, then spooned the filling into each. I showed Dieter how to use it like an icing bag to fill the manicotti noodles. The three of us made quick work of it, filling up two pans with stuffed noodles. I covered them with different cheeses and sauce before throwing them in the oven.  

We sat around the table chatting and drinking wine while we waited for the food to finish. Lauren told Dieter about her new age themed art shop and about the classes she teaches there. He seemed really interested in it and asked if he could attend some. She even offered to do a private one just for us so he wouldn’t have to deal with the people that might make it a less than enjoyable experience for him. She also made sure to let him know that she often sells many of my “works of art” in her shop too. I had to roll my eyes at her. She was trying to be a wingman, but really, it was just embarrassing. Of course, it caught his attention, and he started bugging me about seeing some things I had made. I told him I would show him later, hoping he would forget. 

Once the manicotti was done, I pulled it out of the oven to cool off and put the garlic bread loaf in for a few minutes to heat up and melt the cheese and butter. Lauren got a head start on taking things outside. After a few minutes, I pulled the bread out and started to slice it up. I could feel Dieter’s eyes on me. I looked up at him and he seemed deep in thought. He noticed my glances and decided to break the silence. 

“You know, I must say, I never would have guessed you were into cooking fancy meals.”

I glanced up at him again, not sure if I should be offended or not. 

“Why is that so surprising?”

“I don’t know, you just seem so busy, I am surprised you would take the time to do all this extra work.”

“Honestly, it sort of became my escape when I was still married. My ex wouldn’t step foot in the kitchen out of fear he’d be asked to do something. So, I started spending more time there. Just to have some peace and be away from him. He didn’t complain because he still got to reap some benefit from it by eating whatever I came up with.”

“That’s really sad and also his loss. Not sure what he was thinking, I rather enjoy watching you cook…” He smiled as he admitted to his newly discovered hobby. 

“I kind of like you teaching me how to cook too,” he said as he gave me a sly half smile. 

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how to take that. Was he flirting or just making a statement? It was so hard to tell with him sometimes since he had that type of flirty personality anyway. I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled back. 

“Well, I’m happy I can provide entertainment, I guess. Anyway, this Friday thing that Lauren and I do is kind of new. Just something we picked up the last few months as I’ve been trying to get my shit together. A routine is good for me and it’s something to look forward to at the end of the week. We kind of just stuck with it.” 

“I appreciate you letting me join in. I think it might be good for me too. Especially if it teaches me how to cook in the process,” he laughed as he took another drink of wine. 

Lauren came back in to let me know everything outside was ready. We made our plates then went out onto the patio to eat. Dieter absolutely loved the manicotti. Lauren chimed in to say it was her personal favorite meal. 

“Well, since you both love it so much, please take some home with you or else I’ll be eating it for a week.” 

“I will not argue with that offer. Gosh, if you keep feeding me like this, I’m gonna have to do double time at the gym,” Dieter said.    

“Talia has a gym downstairs and I have a key for a reason,” Lauren replied with a laugh.  

“You have a home gym? Damn, I’m kind of jealous. I still go to the local one that my trainer owns,” Dieter said. 

“You can join us weakling girls at any time,” Lauren replied. 

“That might be mildly entertaining,” he said with a laugh and Lauren feigned offense. 

After a couple hours of conversation, Lauren announced that she had to leave because she had to be at the shop early due to the employee with a sick kid being out. I gave her a look. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying force alone time or if it was a legit reason. She said her goodbyes and Dieter gave her a small hug and kiss on the cheek. She returned the gesture and thanked him for the flowers. The smirk she gave me as she was walking out the door said it was a ploy to get us alone. I rolled my eyes at her. 

After she left, Dieter helped me clean up from dinner. He started washing the dishes as I was putting the food away. 

“Oh, seriously, you don’t have to do that,” I said to him. He turned to me.

“I most certainly do. You just fed me and gave me enough leftovers for like three days. I’m washing the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

I suddenly felt a little emotional. I had to fight it back as I looked at him. Every second spent with Dieter made me realize how big of an ass my ex was. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I really needed to stop thinking about that stuff.   

Dieter noticed the shift in my mood. He dried his hands on his shirt and walked over to me, studying my face. His brows knitted together in concern as I continued to give him a blank stare. 

“Where do your thoughts go when that happens?” he asked quietly, touching my cheek. 

“What do you mean?” I asked him, not realizing how obvious my wandering thoughts actually were to the casual observer, or maybe he just sensed it better than most.  

“You just kind of space out and go somewhere else for a second. It’s not that noticeable, but I can tell, your mind is on other things. Did I do something?”

I raised my eyebrows at him, and my breath hitched a little. I looked down.

“No. No, you didn’t do anything. Uhh, sometimes I just…things trigger memories. It can literally be the most random stuff. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to.” 

“What were you thinking just then?” His tone was gentle and caring. 

“I…you don’t want to hear about this stuff.” I tried to turn away, my face strained, but he gently put his hand on my arm to stop me.

“I actually do. If you don’t mind sharing. I wanna be able to help you work through this stuff.” 

I was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and looked at him. Trying to decide how much I wanted to share. I kept my expression neutral. 

“I just had a thought of the few times I had asked Justin to help with the dishes after I made dinner. Some of those times were when I wasn’t feeling well. He called me lazy for not cleaning up my own mess. I know it sounds ridiculous that a small comment like that would mean anything, but eventually all of that added up to breaking me down and making me feel like shit about myself. I think about the things he used to say to me, and it still makes me question everything I do sometimes.” 

Dieter gave me a sympathetic look, but I could also see the anger flash in his eyes. 

“What was the purpose of saying stuff like that to you? What did he gain from it?”

“He’s a narcissist. Mental and psychological abuse is just what they do. It was his way of controlling me. He broke me down then molded me into his perfect little stepford wife. I was expected to always act and look a certain way. He succeeded for a long time until I finally snapped out of it and realized how unhappy I was.” 

“Did he ever physically hurt you?”

“Toward the end… when I started standing up to him, he would shove me around some. He did slap me once when I threatened to leave. I eventually caught him cheating and it was such a fucking relief. I wasn’t even mad. He tried to turn it around and say it was my fault for not taking care of his needs, but it was finally something he couldn’t talk his way out of. I didn’t let that one go. It was my excuse for leaving.”    

Dieter closed the distance between us and wrapped me in a tight hug. I couldn’t help burying my face in his chest and inhaling his scent as he laid his head on mine.

“Thank you for telling me that. It helps me understand you a little better. I’m sorry he treated you that way. No one deserves that,” he said quietly into my hair.

We pulled away from each other and I gave him a small smile. 

“Now, I am going to wash the dishes. No arguments,” he said sternly, then smiled. 

I continued cleaning up as he did the dishes. We worked in comfortable silence until we finished. He eventually spoke up and asked to see the “works of art” that Lauren had mentioned earlier. My shoulders dropped as I gave him an annoyed look. 

“What?” he asked, laughing at me.

“You don’t need to see any of that. There are no works of art. It’s just hobby stuff to keep my mind busy.”

“Awww come on. Pleeeease,” he said as he gave me a sad puppy look. He knew what he was doing. How could anyone deny his big beautiful brown eyes. I pointed at him with a mock disbelieving look.

“Stop that. You’re too good at it,” I said through laughter. He continued to lay it on thick. I rolled my eyes, giving in. I ended up giving him a mini tour of the whole house before we continued downstairs to the basement area where my craft room was. 

My craft room is fairly large. One full wall is made of glass with doors that lead out back to the pool area, which helps with lighting. One wall is lined with floor to ceiling shelving. A large craft table with underneath storage sits in the middle of the room surrounded by large LED floor lamps. There are other smaller workstations lined against the open wall. The space is in constant disarray, but it’s one of my favorite places to be. There are always several projects in progress sitting around the room. 

As soon as we walked in, Dieter was like a kid in a candy store. He walked around looking at everything, asking me all sorts of questions about the supplies and tools. He seemed genuinely interested. Once he got over to the shelf where a lot of the miniatures and figures I had sculpted out of clay were, he stood in silence. Looking at every little detail. My stomach was in knots from nerves as I watched him look over my work. 

He eventually stepped back, and that’s when the painting I had been working on got his attention. It’s one of the first few paintings I have ever done. Just a reproduction of a picture I had found online of an abandoned flower garden. I thought it might be good practice with layering and blending colors. I walked over to him, watching his face as he looked at it in silence. Some type of emotion was playing under the surface, but I couldn’t decipher what it was. He took a deep breath and quickly blinked a few times before turning to me. 

“I love art. Have I told you that?” he asked as he eyed me with a small smile on his face. His eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“No, you haven’t.”

“I love this. You’re really good. You’ll have to paint something for my house, it could use some color.” 

“That is literally like the third painting I’ve ever done. I mean, I paint the figures and stuff, but picture painting is new. Lauren has been teaching me the techniques and tricks. I sit and watch her paint all the time.”

“Well, clearly you have some talent then, because I love it.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I always felt warm and fuzzy when he complimented me. Once he seemed satisfied from looking at every little thing, we moved on to the workout room. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was roomy and had a decent amount of equipment, a mirrored wall, a large tv, and surround sound Bluetooth speakers. There was also a small bathroom with a shower.  

“Dang, I’m just going to start coming over here,” he said as he walked into the room. 

“You’re more than welcome, anytime you want.”

“Seriously, I might. Paparazzi have been hanging out outside my regular place. It’s starting to get on my nerves.” 

I knitted my brows together and shook my head at the absurdity of this information. I walked over to the key hooks beside the door that had access to outside, pulled a key ring off and tossed it to him. He almost didn’t catch it because it took him off guard. He looked down at it, then back at me with a raised eyebrow.

“It goes to this entry door. It has a separate key from the rest of the house. You need the lock code to get in through the other door to the inside of the house,” I said as I motioned to the door we had just come through. 

“So, come use it anytime you want. Even if I’m not here. Also, you can park next to this door if you use the second driveway entrance that goes around to the back and there is a motion sensing camera outside the door. Just FYI.” 

“For real? This is awfully trusting of you,” he said with a small laugh. I shrugged.

“If it saves some of your sanity, I’m willing to help.”   

I will admit, I may have had ulterior motives with this invitation. Watching a sweaty Dieter workout seemed enticing. I did want to help him out though. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to have someone shoving a camera in your face all the time, especially when you may not look your best. 

We called it a night soon after that. As he left, he grabbed his leftovers then gave me a quick side hug and peck on the cheek. 

After he left, I immediately started getting ready for bed. I was tired from the long but pleasant day. As I was settling in for sleep, my phone pinged with a text from Dieter.

DIETER: I had a great time tonight and I enjoyed spending time with you (and Lauren). Thanks for having me over. Sleep well.  

I read his text a few times before responding. I always felt like he had underlying meaning to his words, but then I stopped myself. Surely, I was trying to read too much into them.

ME: I had a great time too. Good night.

Next Chapter Tag List: @rhoorl, @bitchwitch1981

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 6: I Howl

Creative Commons 1.0 Public Domain

Prev - I Howl - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

“in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night” -Howl by Alan Ginsberg

WC: 3318 - Rating: T - CW: swearing -

1980, August 16, Astoria, NYC, US

An express train barrelled down the elevated track outside Remus’ apartment, rattling the windows and the bookcases’ glass doors. It was an effective alarm.

Remus stretched before he opened his eyes, moving carefully so he didn’t jostle… who the fuck was he being careful about? His empty bed? His eyes snapped open and he squinted against the sun that shot right through the big window in his fifth-floor walkup. He’d forgotten to close the blinds again. 

Didn’t matter much. Facing the train tracks, the only view into his apartment would require flying twenty feet above them, and the developer of his building was the only one dumb enough to build so close to the elevated tracks. On the other side was the East River and if some horny ass tourist on the cruise lines wanted to waste their time trying to catch a glimpse of him in the buff as he got out of bed in the morning, more power to them.

Now that he was up, the sun was kinda nice. It was gonna be a scorcher, sure, but the morning was still cool, and he could enjoy the gentle heat coming up over the water.

Entire days can be cool and fresh like this. Golden morning light spreads over a grassy field, brightening the plains and painting color over the mass of dark brown brush and scraggly trees. Rich yellows and greens fill the landscape. And spots of bright white and silver dot the clover patch next to the creek, meandering sheep munching the fresh growth as Virgil keeps watch.

“He’s so proud to have his task,” the raven-haired man next to me murmurs, taking my hand. His skin is soft in my callused hand, but still strong. Lithe with a steady grip.

“Mm-hm,” I nod and raise his hand to my lips for a kiss. He laughs when I tickle his knuckles with my mustache, big baritone bells ringing out. I look up, but before I can meet his eyes, he disappears and I’m left standing alone on a big, wooden porch.

Virgil waves from the clover field and calls out to me, but his words are lost to the wind.      

Shaking his head, Remus’ eyes snapped open. Fucking dream. He watched the shadows from the train tracks shrink for a little while, then his clock radio crackled to life, the DJ announcing the greatest hits of the 60s, 70s, and today and blaring out that new Queen song.

Before he’d even registered what he was doing, Remus had made the bed, diligently fluffing up the pillows and arranging them artfully against the headboard. Frowning, he kicked aside the jeans he’d thrown on the floor last night and shuffled into the bathroom to start a shower. Once the water was hot, he stepped inside and let the spray and the steam melt away the fuzzy remnants of a ranch he’d never seen and a husband he sure as fuck didn’t have.

No more late night t.v. for him.

~

The phone in the lab was already on the fourth ring by the time he got the triple-locked door open. “Hello?” he said, fumbling with the receiver, hoping to catch it before they gave up.

“Good morning, Re!” Ro’s husband cheered over the line. There was a muffled sound, doing little to hide his little sing-song away from the receiver. “Kiddo, finish up your milk, okay? Then Papa will walk you to school.”

“So that’s how you’ve got him growing like a weed,” Remus laughed and took a sip of his coffee. The lab assistant had left a stack of files on his chair, an annoyingly effective habit to get him to approve them when he first got in. He cleared the chair then sat down, opening the top in the stack. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Pattycake?”

“Janus was wondering if you have a preference for dinner tonight. He was thinking manicotti.” The sound of dishes and running water punctuated his words, as did a little kiss. “Have a good day, Kiddo!”

“Uh-huh, Janus wanted to know what I felt like eating?” Remus shook his head, a smile still pulling up his cheeks. He signed the requisition form on the first file then moved to the next. “And this isn’t Ro trying to make sure I show up tonight?”

Patton giggled and spoke away from the phone. “I told you he’d see right through it,” he said. There was another muffled staticy sound and the telltale crick of a phone cord being untangled before his brother’s voice poured over the line.

“Can you blame me for wanting to see my little brother?” Ro muttered in mock offense. “Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time you stood us up.”

“That was one time sixteen years ago!” Remus protested. “You weren’t even married yet!” The silence on the other end told him just how much Ro cared about that technicality. “I’ll be there, I swear…” His voice trailed off as the words single photon wave interference pattern popped out in the third proposal’s abstract. A team wanted to test their theory on wave field probabilities. They just needed to find some funding for a trip to CERN.

“Hel-lo-o? Re?” A tinny version of Ro’s voice came from his lap and he realized he’d dropped the phone receiver as he was reading.

“Yeah, yeah… Ro,” he fumbled to retrieve the receiver and pressed it to his ear, still reading the research proposal. “I’m here, just dropped the phone. Listen, uh, Lo and I have something to check out and then we’ll be by at six.”

“Who?”

“What?” Remus’ head jerked up, the proposal had snagged his attention and didn’t want to let go. “I said I’ll be at your house by six o’clock, wouldn’t miss it.”

“O—okay, great,” Ro said slowly. “See you tonight.”

“Mm-hm, see ya, Ro Bro,” Remus managed to get out before blindly hanging up the phone. It took a few tries but he finally got the receiver set back on the plunger and the blap-blap-blap-blap stopped. Mouth agape, he read the entire proposal, nodding and making little notes in the margins as he went. He moved it to the top of the stack of files he planned to bring before the board that afternoon.

He’d get them their trip to Geneva.

~

Tasha rapped on the open door. “Dr. Prince ? I’m headed out,” she said. “Are you still visiting your brother this evening?”

“Hm?” Remus stopped writing long enough to turn and face her. She tapped her watch. “It’s a quarter to six,” she smiled.

Remus dropped his chalk and dusted off his hands. “Oh fuck, we’re late!” He snagged the chalk before it rolled under his desk and scrawled three more symbols on the board, circling them, then absently stuck the chalk in his pocket and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “You ready, Lo?” he asked, fishing through the bag slung over his shoulder. His hand came up with the keys to his office and a polished gold ring. Remus froze, staring down at his palm.

“Dr. Prince ?” Tasha stepped closer. “Are you…” She looked around the small office. With the rolling chalkboard pulled away from its usual spot against the wall, there was scarcely enough room to move between his desk and his files, nor the stacks of treatises and books on the floor. “Were you meeting with someone?”

He closed his hand around his keys and the ring and pushed in the desk chair, his one concession to the judgement in her gaze. The office was… well, it wasn’t neat by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a known chaos, and Remus could tell you what every stack of books, every collection of journals, every half-smudged calculation that had run off the edge of a page meant. Tasha had long ago stopped nudging him to make it look organized.

He looked around the office now and everything was in the right place, but… his eyes lingered over his big desk set in the corner with the two chairs. Hey, extra place for Tasha to leave files for him.  He’d even remembered to draw the shade on the big window, but that had mostly been to protect his eyes against the glare of the setting sun. 

Everything was in its place. But everything was wrong.

“No,” he said at last, shoving his keys and the ring into his pocket. “Long day, I guess,” he mumbled, fighting to shake off the sense that something was… off. “Would you mind locking up?” He flashed her a crooked grin. “I know you have a key.”

“You don’t actually expect me to let you leave your half-drunk coffees to molder all over your desk, do you?” she laughed, pulling the door closed behind them and locking all three locks. 

“Thank you,” Remus nodded and pushed the stairwell door open. “I’m gonna walk down. Work some muscles besides the one up here,” he tapped his temple and jogged down the steps, his fast shuffle echoing against the cement and cinderblock stairwell.

“Goodnight!” Tasha called after him, her voice abruptly cut off by the closing door. He stopped on the landing between floors and pulled the ring from his pocket to hold up to the caged bulb that cast a harsh glare up and down the stairs. The ring was smooth and warm from his pocket. Too small for his own finger but… He tapped his sternum, thinking. After a moment, he shook away the imagined sense of another ring under his shirt, round and smooth like this one, the metal warm against his skin. 

What the fuck was he doing with this ring? It didn’t look anything like Ro’s and his partners’ rings. Their rings all matched each other, some cutesy little three-strand braid things. This one, though… He knew this ring but…

Shaking his head, he shoved it back in his pocket and dashed down the remaining three flights. Luckily, Ro’s place wasn’t far from the University.

~

“Uncka Re!” Virgil’s little shout was audible through Ro’s apartment door. “I’w get it, I’w get it!” Remus threw his head back and laughed, the cold knot in his stomach unfurling at the sound of the little boy’s exuberance.

“Kiddo, we don’t even know—”

“Yeah, Pattycake, it’s me,” he called from the hall and repeated his knock, three quick and two slow. “Vee knows.” At the sound of the locks disengaging, Remus set down the bag from La Guli’s, crouched and opened his arms wide.

As soon as the door opened, Virgil barreled out from the doorway and flung himself into Remus’ arms. “Uncka Re!” he squeezed his little arms around his neck and Remus stood, lifting Virgil with him. “I was scared I wouldn’t see you tonight.”

“Nothing could keep me away from my favorite nephew!” he promised, raising him up over his head and laughing along with his delighted giggle. “Besides,” he winked at Patton, grinning from the doorway. Remus picked up the brown paper bag he’d set by the door. “Somebody had to bring the cannolis!”

Virgil’s eyes widened and he grinned hopefully at Patton. “Can we, Poppy? Can we have them with dinner?”

“Yeah, Poppy,” Remus joined in, mimicking Virgil’s pleading eyes. “Can we?”

“Just like your brother,” Patton laughed, ushering both Remus and Virgil into the house. “Yes, we’ll have the cannolis tonight—” 

“Yes!” Virgil erupted in a cheer and wiggled out of Remus’ arms and dragged him toward his room. “C’mon, Uncka Re, wet’s p’ay.”

“For dessert!” Patton called after them, shaking his head with another little laugh when Remus’ only response was a grin and a shrug. ~

After dinner, Remus helped Roman clean up while Patton and Janus tag teamed getting the four-year-old bundle of energy ready for bed. He dried while his brother washed, fiddling with the small gold ring in his pocket while he waited for Ro to rinse each dish.

A particularly sudsy one slipped from Ro’s hands and Remus leapt to help catch it. He caught the baking dish before it hit the floor and shattered but the ring fell from his pocket. It rolled across the floor and spun like a top under an empty chair before settling onto the linoleum with a final jingle.

Remus rushed to pick it up. Sitting on the floor, he rubbed the ring between his thumb and forefinger and his eyes suddenly widened. “It’s Lo’s,” he whispered, more to himself than to his brother. 

Leaning against the table leg, he sat on the floor, legs criss-crossed, and fumbled under his shirt before pulling out a thin gold chain that carried a matching band. “I don’t wear mine because I’d always drop it down the sink when I washed the dishes.”

He looked up when Roman joined him, brow furrowed in confusion. And worry. 

“Lo and I had to buy our own pipe wrench because Mr. Singh threatened to make us pay to borrow his every time we had to take apart the sink to get it out.”

“Re, what are you talking about?” He reached for his brother’s hand and there was nothing around his neck. “Hey listen,” Ro began in his reasonable voice. “Why don’t you spend the night?” He pulled Remus to his feet then steered him out of the kitchen and down the hall to the living room. “We’ll have some tea or hot chocolate or whatever you want. I’ll make up the sofa bed and you can have an early night.”

He let himself be led, patting his chest. There wasn’t anything under his shirt. “Maybe… yeah,” he said, sinking down into a chair.

“Jus’ wanna say goodnight!” Virgil’s laugh dopplered down the hall and the rubber-bottomed soles of his fuzzy Spider-Man onesie squeaked as he scampered back to the living room. He climbed onto Remus’ lap and smiled up at him. “Are you staying?” he asked, patting the collar of Remus’ shirt the way his uncle had just a moment ago. He frowned, just a flash, then he looked up again with a sleepy little smile.

“I’m staying,” he said and the little boy’s grin grew. 

He flung both arms around Remus’ neck, little fingers twisted in his shirt, and whispered, “Good.”

Janus’ quiet murmur from the other hall loosened Virgil’s grip on Remus’ shirt. “If you go to sleep early enough you two can even have breakfast together,” he promised. Remus didn’t miss the way Janus caught Ro’s eye as he scooped up the little boy. Ro nodded and moved closer. 

“Poppy’s making french toast tomorrow, too.” Roman ruffled Virgil’s hair and grinned at his little giggle. “See you in the morning, little knight.”

“G’night, Daddy,” Virgil said and rested his head on Janus’ shoulder. The little boy’s race down the hall seemed to have been his last hurrah for the night and he blinked sleepily at Remus. “G’night, Uncka Re.” His sleepy gaze drifted to the spot next to Remus and he frowned again, a soft, worried pout, before curling into Janus’ arms.

“I’ll see you two once this little spider is asleep,” Janus murmured, stroking his head. “I don’t think you’ll have long to wait.” He waggled his fingers and murmured as they moved down the hall. “What story would you like to hear tonight, my little spiderling?”

“The chameyeon, Papa,” his soft voice traveled down the hall.

“Hmm… that’s a good one,” Janus’ low voice purred just before the door clicked shut.

Roman snapped the sheet open and over the pullout mattress. It caught on the side table’s edge and Remus got up to help. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Roman spoke again. “You haven’t sounded like this in a long time, little brother.”

“Yeah.” Remus lifted the mattress to tuck the blanket underneath it.

Roman watched him for another long moment. “What brought this on? You…” He folded the sheet over the top edge of the blanket and glanced up. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“Fuck no!” he hissed. “Of course not.”

“Okay,” Roman reached over the bed and clasped his shoulder. “Okay, I didn’t mean anything by it, just… you know… The last time…”

Ro didn’t need to remind him the first time he drank he’d woken him up screaming the world was wrong and had gone off on a week-long bender. He still didn’t remember most of it. “I don’t fucking drink anymore.”

“I—I know that, Re, I just…” Ro went quiet again, stuffing a pillow into a fresh case. “That was the last time you sounded like this, man.”

“I…” He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “I had a ring, Ro. Not… not just this one.” He closed his fingers around the bit of gold, the hard metal proof he hadn’t imagined it all. Or at least hadn’t imagined the fucking ring. “This other one, though… I—I can’t remember where it came from, it just…”

He closed his eyes and blew out a sharp breath. Probably some one night stand. You really that bad, Re, that you can’t remember who you slept with the night before?

A flash of indignant anger shot through his chest at his own imagined voice and he shook his head. “Re?” Ro’d been watching him. 

He sank down on the side of the pull-out bed, metal frame squeaking with his movement. Ro came over to his side and sat next to him. “What can you remember?” When Remus didn’t answer, Ro squeezed his hand. “I’m your brother, Re, you can talk to me.”

Remus looked up into his brother’s eyes. He wanted to tell him everything. Tell him about the flashes of dreams that didn’t feel like dreams anymore. That fucked up not-quite deja vous when he got to work or took a shower or…. 

The empty arms and the gnawing, gaping hole he woke up to every morning.

“I…” 

Janus walked down the hall and joined them, sitting quietly at his other side. He took his other hand and patted it, eyes full of sympathy.

“I think maybe I’m just overdoing it at work,” he finally said, giving first his brother, then Janus a weak smile. “You know how I get.”

Ro looked at him for a long moment then finally nodded. “Okay, Re.” He squeezed Janus’ hand and they exchanged a little look. “Get some sleep and we can talk more in the morning.” Ro and Janus stood as one and he gave Remus’ hand one more squeeze before slowly releasing his grip.

“Thanks,” he muttered and managed to give them both a smile before peeling back the covers. Patton appeared with a cup of tea and a pair of Ro’s pajama pants and an old Brooklyn College tee shirt. “Can’t believe you still have this, Ro Bro!”

“What can I say?” he winked, a touch of actual humor in his smile. “It’s my color.” Remus held up the shirt and the faded logo morphed into a frosted glass door, Brooklyn College Physics Department. He blinked away the vision. He hadn’t gone to Brooklyn. He’d gone to UAF.

Patton set the cup down on the side table and gave him a half hug. “Go on and get changed so you’re comfortable.” He exchanged another little look with Janus and Ro. “We’ll leave the lamp on so you don’t have to make your way through the dark.”

“Thanks Pattycake.” He stood and smiled at the worry they tried to hide in their eyes. “I’ll be fine, just need a little sleep.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “And I heard the morning might bring French toast?”

“You betcha,” Patton grinned, smile bright. He still didn’t lose the little pinch between his eyebrows, though. “Good night then,” he nodded and walked with Janus down the hall.

Ro lingered and pulled Remus into a hug. “Tomorrow we talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised. “Tomorrow.”

[julietookoff]

February 2023 Tour

So some of the maintenance we did on our 11 year old RV:  replace part of a rotted slide-out floor, paint the yellowed ceiling fixtures, get front seat covers, a new driver’s side window, install a microwave over-the-stove, replace the 2 house batteries, "new" mattress and just scrub and touch-up everything.  We took it to Henkel's RV Sales August 9, knowing it was off-season for RV sales. . . it is still there!  We were hoping it would sell around the time of the big RV show in Tampa, but that's been a few weeks ago. . .  It’s still in good shape; as Shorty said, “Nobody’s got any money now.”

Closing on our house was July 22, 2022.  We found a G.E. dishwasher at an outlet store in Clearwater, a G.E. stove at an estate sale, and fridge, washer and dryer at Lowe's.   By the time we got the mattresses, shower curtains, and things you need to live, our first night in the house was July 29.  We still had to commute to Holiday to finish working on the RV at our tired senior pace.  We decided we're going to die here, because we're too old to move again. . . we were so worn out.  But dang, we're loving it here!

We continued commuting (about 35 miles each way) to see Shorty most weeks; a few times he came up to see us at the house.

The first two things I cooked in the new house were sheet pan chicken/taters/ corn on the cob and chicken parm on the sheet pan.  After 10 years with an RV oven, I had a heuge two-shelfer and two giant sheet pans I had been dying to use.  I had been collecting recipes from Julia Pacheco, my fav You-Tube home cook, for about a year.  To Corny's (and Bob's) delight, I have been cooking up a storm!  I also started a little canning.  I have wanted sodium-free beans for a long time - and the pressure canner takes them from dried, right outta the bag to squishy soft in 40 minutes.

^stuffed Manicotti

Corny watched and I re-watched Breaking Bad on one of the many TVs we've found in storage auctions.  This one came with a guest subscription to Netflix.  We watched "Better Call Saul".  He was Corny's favorite character.  I've always loved Bryan Cranston.  Then we watched all the Jurassic Park movies.

Here's a little tour.  The walls are a very light grey; flooring is grey vinyl:

^This is where I have my oatmeal with Piggie and Poco

Master bed and bath:

Life of Christ cross - all the little boxes were delivered to Shorty's house over the past year and accumulated in storage.  It was like Christmas, opening them all up and displaying them!

Bedroom 1, Den and bath 2:

Poco got a cute little 2' fence surrounding the patio.  Corny doesn't worry so much about him wandering away now.

Backyard visitors:  flock of 6 wild turkeys, pond turtle  

Fledgling woodpecker chatted with me and clung to my leg for several minutes when I went to pick up my bedside dresser.

Without gutters yet, when hurricane Ian headed our way in September, we made two trips to a county park to fill sandbags.  Some young, energetic people took pity on us old, slow-moving, moaning people and helped us haul the heavy bags to the Jeep.  Corny made a few bucks selling flashlights and lanterns he had gotten on clearance months ago, thanks to Ian.

In November I did a big 2-week Georgia county run.  I only got the Jeep stuck once, in mud covered by leaves.  A Lumpkin County Sheriff had me out within minutes.  I have about 1/3 of GA counties to visit:

On Thanksgiving Shorty brought Bob up to the house.  They arrived at 5pm; the turkey finished at 7:30pm.  I made real gravy for the first time in decades.

Corny had some kidney procedures in November, then found himself in the hospital for an infection in December.

Shorty told us on Dec. 1 he was moving "up north".  He heard rumors that Hyundai was hiring contractors to do his job so he promptly took his 3 weeks vacation.  When he went back to see if he was on the schedule, they were like "Who are you?".  He had worked there 10 1/2 years.  We were so glad they did what we couldn't - kick him in the pants so he would get a better job.  The little shit decided to move to Elkhart, Indiana to be able to afford a house of his own.  We miss him - my life has certainly changed.  I would plan all week what to bring him or ask him or tell him.  But we are very happy for him to be out on his own and experiencing real freedom for the first time.  He left for Elkhart Dec. 3 so now we just text.

We didn't have much notice, so Christmas was basically cancelled.  We went to Buffet City on Christmas Eve.   I made 4# of candied pecans to send up north and give to the neighbors and Liam - Shiloh Builders' Number Two.  They are building a house right next door which Chick, the owner of Shiloh, is going to live in part time.  They are using the garage as their office.  

I threw a tapestry over the TV for Christmas.

Corny scored a home run and got me a Kitchen Aid accessory that peels, cores and slices an apple all at the same time!  I made my first apple pie since I was 20-something years old.  I was always too impatient to peel apples.

We continue going to storage auctions.  The latest score was an entire tub of Yu-Gi-Oh and Pokemon cards.  I went through them all to check for the big buck$ cards.  There weren't any.  When I get back from BamaRama (GC9TB1Z) I will list them on Facebook Marketplace for prolly $20/box.  

Life is Godd!

We fit out.

[bishiglomper]

Dinner hurt me and Im not sure why. It was like manicotti but instead of noodles it was wrapped in a strip of breaded zucchini. I had 2 little things with like. Maybe third of a can of spaghetti sauce.

A little bit later my heart started skipping beats and my face got real hot and flushed. Didn't feel good. My bloodsugar was 180. Took it because I always suspected when i suddenly flushed after eating it was because my bloodsugar rose too fast. But i thought dinner was relatively safe... Maybe because there wasnt a protein?

I went to bed and it's 3 hours later. I'm having aura now. The kind where movement lags like life has a low frame rate 😐

like. why

[wineisdivinepdx]

Thanksgiving For My Dad

I think about my dad all the time even more so on Thanksgiving Day. I find myself looking back at his life through the prism of being a father myself. I realize how much I took for granted. Being a dad is not easy. It’s amazing, but incredibly difficult. I now know how much sacrifice it takes to not screw your kids up and provide for them. All of his kids—and we’re all old now— are relatively normal, have amazing families, know what it is to love and be loved. I wish he knew how I felt. I know I never told him.

This might be the Mexican in me talking, but you’re really dead when no one remembers you. When you cease to exist even in the memories of family or friends. My dad was such a character. He could never be forgotten.

The way he dressed, always snazzy. His ability to be great at anything, which required coordination, concentration and dexterity. Deadly on the golf course. As a youth, deadly as an athlete, particularly pitching. In his 20’s he crushed the pool table and cards. He even won a guy’s bar once in poker. And he was the king and I mean king of the side-hustle to make extra money for his family. Maybe I’ll write about that some day?

But it’s his manner of speaking, his turn of phrase or rather mis-turn of phrase that keeps him with us, his family, on a daily basis. This might sound disrespectful, particularly if you did not know him, but Joe G said many words incorrectly. And we all loved him for it. Here are a few:

Denny’s was Danny’s

Harry Potter was Henry Potter

Starbucks was Buckstars

Einstein Bagels was Weinstein’s

Quiznos was Quoz-nose

Manicotti was Monokono

Tofu was Toofu

Pancakes was Pan-a-cakes

Pei Wei was Pee Wee’s

He would even say his friends’ names wrong. He had a good buddy, an Orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Von Rueden. Joe G called him Dr. Van Rueden.

He was also very close friends with a sort of controversial Texas businessman, Jim Bob Moffett. He called him Jim Bob Moppet. That’s okay, I think Jim Bob called my dad Joe Gonzales for a couple of months.

One of my favorite Joe G-isms was when a young presidential candidate visited his country club and he met him. Later that night, he said, “Guess who was at Barton Creek today? ‘Oh Bahama’” Man, that was funny.

We teased my dad a lot and he took it all in great stride. Now as we all think about him, no longer with us, it’s our retelling of these Joe G-isms and our incorporating them into our daily lives that keeps his fun legacy alive.

Thanks again, dad. You’d love these new little boys we’re raising. In fact, we named one after you & the other after Annie’s dad.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Big Fan of Their Food

Jax Teller x F!Reader x Italian Food Puns

A/N: Don’t even ask any questions lol 😂 This is my continuation of the brilliance that @rayslittlekitten began with this drabble! Long story short there was a typo of ‘taglist’ as ‘tagliatelle’ in a conversation that we had, and thus was born Jax TagliaTeller 👨🏼‍🍳🍝 and that is that 🤌✨

GIF by misterhunnam

Note: Credit to @rayslittlekitten for the ‘TagliaTeller’ + ‘affogato’ + ‘bigoli’ + ‘fusilli’ + ‘thyme’ + ‘gouda’ puns, which were first used in her drabble / our conversations! The rest are mine and I am ashamed proud to say that I didn’t even have to google, because my brain apparently inherently consists of a mishmash of my two greatest passions in life: Charlie Hunnam + cheesy noodles 🤡

“Oh, Jax, I’ve got taleggio know… I’m completely and tortelli in love with you.”

“Aw, Y/N, I never focaccia. Even when I was fucking arancini with a latte other women, you were always on my mind.”

“Really? I was all lasagne mind?”

“Yes I promise, Y/N! I’m parmesan you! There are penne of other fish in the sea, orzo they say, but you cannelloni be the one for me.”

“Jax, we gotta… ricotta give this love a chance. I know our last breakup was parsley my fault.”

“Garlic knot at all! Olive it was my fault! But now I swear I’m spaghetti to be a better manicotti. You have no idea how farfallen in love with you I am.”

“I love you unconditalini too! I love you so macchiato I might finally let you treat me to an agnolotti rain dance.”

“What’s an agnolotti rain dance?”

“Don’t act like you don’t gnocchi!”

“We could just start nice and easy… with you bologna me, or me giving you cunnilinguine…” His eager hands wander down toward your bresaola. “I missed these! Buon appetitties!”

“And I missed your bigoli dick!”

“Y/N, marry me please? I wanna get marinara!”

“We’re basilly already married! I’ve always been your old lady fingers. Who needs a marriage license, it’s just an empty piece of pappardelle.”

“You mean pizza pappardelle.”

“Yeah. For old thyme’s sake let’s go get it onion some seedy motel.”

“You mean ziti motel.”

“Let me tell ya—let me tagliaTeller, you affogato stop correcting me!” you snap fussily, fusilli. “You can’t be better at this than I am, the game must be rigged! I mean rigatoni!”

“Quit acting like you’re fed up with me,” he says affectionately, or more like affettuccine. “Or else I’m gonna have to punish you… is that what you’re provoking, I mean provolone me to do?”

“I’m not alfredo you!”

“You better be ‘cause I’m about to punish ya… with a good hard spanakopita.”

Hah, what a fool! He just broke the rules! “You do realize that’s Greek, right?! We had agreed we’re doing Italian tonight…”

He presses his lips to your ear in a hungry snarl, making your toes curl. “Be a gouda little girl, and I’ll taco you all around the pho-king world.”

… Continued in Part 2 (with French food)!

…………………………………

Sooooo I will mercifully spare my whole tag list from being actually tagged in this, but tagging a few lovely people who I hope might get a kick out of such ridiculousness 😅

@rayslittlekitten @flaireandsynch @20david50david @happyhenners @little-diable @band--psycho @alexa-rae-dreamz @innerpaperexpertcloud @thexhostess @withmyteeth @artemisausten

[theunstuffedpepper]

2020 in Review..

I wanted to look back on this crazy year and reflect a bit, so I decided to put together a series of photo collages with some highlights from 2020.

In February, before the world shut down, and before we really were aware of Coronavirus, we took our second trip to the BVIs and chartered a sailboat for the week.

COVID happened, and apparently that means we have zero photos from March, April, or May. I transitioned to working from home on March 16th. I got pregnant in April. I found out I was pregnant in May. That was the biggest turning point of this year, hands down.

In June, B and I celebrated 8 years of marriage and my 32nd birthday. We learned how to make crespelles and manicotti from scratch and went fresh fruit picking. Low key, but lovely.

We did so much hiking. Throughout the summer and into the fall, we hiked so many trails within a state park close to home. It was the perfect way to get out of the house, do something active, and also stay safe re: COVID.

In August, we took a trip to Michigan. We outfitted the van with a lofted queen bed and drove around the entire state, camping and exploring (socially distanced). We saw the Great Lakes for the first time. We saw lots of national parks and explored a cave. We got to visit with some friends who live out there. It was wonderful.

More fresh fruit picking! Anything we did outside the house this year was done outdoors, pretty much. For Labor Day, we took a camping trip with a group of friends. We hiked into the park about 2mi and explored the falls, sat by campfires, read books, swung in hammocks, and enjoyed being in the woods.

I watched my body change this year. A LOT! This year has revolved around growing this tiny human and it’s been surreal and awesome, in the true sense of the word.

As the year came to a close, I have been less able to do things like hiking and have instead turned to crocheting as a hobby. I created an Etsy shop and completed some pretty cool projects.

And, last but not least, this fluffy duo brought me a lot of joy this year. Being home with them every day has been a nice change of pace.

There we have it. 2020 was a wild ride. My life has changed in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve learned a lot about my own strength, what motivates me, what is important to me, and I’ve been often reminded of the importance of friends and family, of human relationships. I’ve found this wonderful little tumblr community. Thank you all for sharing in this year with me, cheering me on, and supporting me. Your kindness and friendship is so very appreciated.

Cheers to a bright, joyful, and healthy 2021!

[neapolitanadonna]

SOUTH ITALY HEADCANONS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

You asked, and I shall deliver. Oh and btw, y’all might hate me for this one but, before I begin, Vargas is not an Italian last name and never has been. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk. 

- His personality was built up from years and years of hard work in his part of the country. He has to be a little rough by nature, or else things that happen in his region would kill him.

 - You think Switzerland is cheap? After years of poverty and hunger in his country, S. Italy has developed a sort of trauma for holding onto things. He needs to eat all the food in his house before he replaces it, and can’t spend more than a certain amount of money each week, god forbid the financial state of his country returns to how it was in the early 1900’s. After spending years of watching his people starve and flee to America, he can’t put himself to take advantage of things other people take for granted. 

- That being said, however, he will spend his money on high end clothes- and he has lots of them. He thinks he was personally robbed from having Milan in his part of the country, since he honestly believes he’s the better dressed between him and his brother (and he is.) Even when he makes trips to the grocery store, he’s always found in a button up shirt and dress pants. 

-He once bought an entire Dolce & Gabbana season, then two years later, did the same thing again. He also claims not to be flashy, but deep down, he likes looking good. 

- His real human name is Lovino Varone. His last name got lost in translation when Spain was occupying his portion of the country, and was switched to Vargas for Spain’s benefit. He won’t respond to Lovino Vargas, even if that’s how most people know him. 

- Though he knows formal Italian, his primary language is Neapolitan, the dialect spoken in Naples. Nobody quite understands him when he’s speaking, hell, his own brother asks him what he’s saying sometimes. He won’t force himself to make his primary language formal Italian, though. It’s just not who he is. 

-Most of his population is elderly, so he’s gotten accustomed to spending time with old men in bars and restaurants outside. Sometimes, you’ll catch him speaking like an old man himself. 

- That being said, his thoughts aren’t all that progressive. Being oppressed in his own country (by the North) he knows what it’s like to have the world turn its back on you, so in the 21st century, he’s definitely tried to become more open minded about his way of thinking. He doesn’t understand much, and sometimes he might say something offensive, but he’s getting there. 

- He says he’s Roman Catholic, but doesn’t really follow through with it as much as he did previously. Yes, he still goes to church on Christmas, Easter, and every other important day in between, but he lost a lot of faith in their practices after word came out about the corruption of priests. 

- He truly believes that honesty is the best policy, no matter what the situation is. This has led him to be unintentionally rude, but you’ll never hear him tell a lie in his life. He says everything how it is, and he’s proud of that. 

-Very, very, very sensitive on the inside. While he poses as a loud mouthed tough guy, it’s very easy to make him cry. He’s gone through so much loss in his life that he thinks that he should stop being sensitive about it by now, but every death and hardship that hits him takes its toll. 

-He hated dogs until he got one. After spending a while at Germany’s house one time in 1995 for some concert that N. Italy wanted to attend, he absolutely fell in love with Germany’s Rottweiler at the time, and has been in love with big dogs since. He’ll pretend that things like cute animals don’t affect him, but the moment he sees a puppy in the streets of Bari it’s all baby voices from there. He has two dogs, A Cane Corso and a Neapolitan Mastiff, named Lupo and Volpe (Wolf and Fox) respectively. 

-His first two dogs, two Rottweilers, Romulus and Remus, are memorialized through pictures all throughout his house in Naples. He’ll never admit that he’s never loved anything more than two German dogs.

 -During World War Two, he stood heavily with resistance groups. His brother stood more alongside Mussolini, and for years after the war, S. Italy refused to talk to him for it. To this day, if anyone even mentions the word “facist”, he’ll offer a loud groan, an eye roll, and you won’t be able to shut him up about it for about twenty minutes. 

-That being said, while his brother was promoting facism, he was in the mafia, and he isn’t very proud of it. Another reason why he’s felt like he’s had to harden his exterior was so he could fit in with those guys, and he never truly felt like he did. He’s done his fair share of drugs, killed his fair share of people, but he’ll always stand to say that at least he’s kept his shit within his own borders, not like those “imperialist pricks.”

- Because of the mass movement of people from his part of the country to The United States for about a century, he finds himself in New York City a lot. He has a lot of culture and stories there that are unique from his own country, and the rest of America. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t think America deserves his culture very much, especially since he can’t pronounce “Manicotti.” 

[demonicus-familia]

Levi had that familiar, almost sickness inducing feeling at the back of her throat the entire night. It welled away within  her as she tried to swallow her plate of pasta puttanesca. She looked up to the woman before her and smiled nervously. 

Connie looked gorgeous in her dress. She was all in white with her hair curled. Her makeup was light and sweet, she was like an angel walking on the ground beside her. 

She loved Connie. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. They were soulmates, bonded by their closeness. She wanted to make everything official, even if just for the sake of Connie's parents.

Her stomach seemed to flip inside of her. She was so nervous, she didn't know what to do. 

How would she manage to bring it up? How would they get on topic? 

God, proposing was so hard! 

Finally, after stating into Connie's beautiful meadow green eyes, she came up with an idea. This would get the ball rolling. 

"Darling, have you ever heard the story surrounding my family?" Levi asked cautiously. She wanted to test the waters before leaping in too deeply.

Connie thought for a second. "Not really, I don't think so. No."

Levi nodded and gulped. "Well there is a tradition in my family," she recited as the box in her pocket weighed her down. "That whenever a new member of the family is brought in, be it through marriage or adoption, we add them to the tree in a colour separate to the rest."

Connie paused in thought for a second before nodding, urging the demon to continue. She sipped some wine from. Her glass and kept her gaze focused entirely upon Levi.

"Anyway, in cases of birth, the colour of the name on the tapestry stays the same, while adoption changes the colour entirely. And I was just wondering…"

"What?" Connie asked, taking a sip from her glass. 

"If you would consider letting me adopt Toby and Lyra into the family."

"Adopting the kids?" Connie asked. "Levi, I love you, but don't you have some kind of pure demon bloodline to maintain or something? I mean, I'm not against you adopting Toby and Lyra, but…" 

"Connie, darling, I want you to know that the Demonica bloodline ended with Amorose Demonica roughly seventeen thousand years ago," Levi put a hand over Connie's. "Amorose adopted her daughters. As did Larenzo, and as did Saphiq. My own great grandmother even adopted her child. Connie, my lineage means nothing to me. Even if I had the Demonica bloodline for several million centuries, I would want to adopt them."

She slid down onto one knee and pulled out the box. "What matters most to me is my family; you, Toby, Stolas, Lyra and Tim. All I want is for you to be my family. So, what do you say?" 

Connie's hand slid up to her mouth, and little tears began to jewel within her eyes as the single greatest syllable escaped her lips.

She said it in a voice no louder than a whisper, but it was the perfect response that Levi had hoped for for months. 

"Yes."

Tagging: @midnight---hollow @cat-vase @menacing-manicotti @princess-sugar-blossom @follycrown

[maresdotes]

quaranmemes for quarantines

Tagged by both @stackcats and @reallyginnyf -- Thanks!

when was the last time you left your home?

Thursday. We’re supposed to be alternating outings by odd/even birth year. Tues/Thurs/Sat are my days I can go out to the shops.

what was the last thing you bought?

Fresh fruit and veg and some other staples.

is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed?

I’m relaxed but also low-key bored.

who are you spending quarantine with?

Me, myself, and I...and the cat.

do you have pets to keep you company?

One cat, who is driving me bonkers.

what are your current responsibilities?

My cat, my job(s), checking in with my elderly neighbor/going on walks with him/making him dinner on occasion.

do you have a room to yourself?

A whole apartment to myself.

are you exercising?

Trying to. I’ve been at home since March 13th; did a workout video three days a week during the first couple of weeks plus go for walks, now I’m just down to walks because I’m running out of steam for the videos. If the weather is good, I have a companion for strolls around the neighborhood on Tues/Thurs with my elderly neighbor across the hall (we’re both even birth years luckily, so we can socially distance together).

town, country, city?

I think it’s considered a small city -- 27,000 people.

how’s your toilet paper supply?

I was on vapors, but managed to score some on my Thursday trip.  It’s even the brand I usually get!

what’s the worst thing that you had to cancel?

My coach had to close her barn to the public since it wasn’t deemed essential so I haven’t had a riding lesson since March 13th. :(

I also miss driving. I’m kind of stuck and can’t even do a “Sunday drive” since Dumplin’ still has his snowshoes on and it’s the wrong kind of rubber for temperatures above 45 F.  Probably won’t be able to get them switched to all seasons until May.

what’s the best thing you’ve had to cancel?

My morning commute -- I’m enjoying sleeping in till 8 then getting ready prior to sitting down at my computer for WFH at 8:30.

who do you miss the most?

The horses.

do you have any new hobbies?

Not a new hobby, but rekindling of old? I’m cooking more since I now have the time and energy to do it.  I made manicotti for the first time ever and I don’t understand why my mother always bitched and complained about making it...

what are you watching the most?

Just got done binge watching Isekai Izakaya: Japanese Food From Another World on Crunchyroll.  Very cute and I loved the little cooking lessons/real-life sampling sessions. I’ve watched random Netflix things too.

are you still going to work?

Yes, I’m WFH though.  Still doing the same stuff I’ve done all along, just from the comfort of my living room.  I have a few big projects I’m supposed to get into, but can’t get motivated to do them.  I also picked up a part-time job doing some consulting work for an old co-worker, so that’s been keeping me extra busy.

what are you out of?

Bathroom cleaner -- I couldn’t find any on the shelves Thursday and I’d like to clean my tub.  If there isn’t any the next voyage, I’ll just pick up white vinegar to mix with some dish detergent to take care of water scale.

have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine?

I had a couple sampler tubs of Overtone that I got before the zombie apocalypse, so I’ve been messing around with that to see what kind of combinations of Golden Brown and Ginger I like.  But I’m out of both now so that’s it for playing. 

I’m tagging: @medinaquirin  @savethewailes @ladyswillmart @friedesgreatscythe and anyone else who wants to play along (sorry if you’ve already done this one and I’m double tagging you).

[hybridfanfiction]

Lost In The Echo - 1

Pairing: Keith x Labrador hybrid Lance

Summary: After his brother went MIA, Keith’s life began to fall apart. He dropped out of high school and got a job, barely doing enough for himself to survive. He’s reached the point where even he is worried about how far he’s fallen into the depths of his depression. After learning about emotional support hybrids, he takes a chance and adopts a Lab hybrid named Lance. 

Word Count: 2567

Requested

The apartment door banged loudly as Keith kicked it closed, not even bothering to lock it since he had nothing for anyone to steal anyway. He tossed his bike helmet onto the couch and slumped into the opposite seat with a relieved sigh. 

Today had been yet another long and tedious day filled with nothingness. He’d even volunteered to work longer at the machine shop and had put in a whole twelve hours just to have something to fill his time. And now he was back in his crappy apartment that was just as empty as he was, save for the overloaded trash can filled with takeout boxes and a sink full of dishes he was never motivated enough to wash. The mess annoyed the hell out of him, sure, but the effort it would take to gather up the remnants of energy he had left to clean seemed impossible. Takashi would kick his ass if he saw this place...

Instead, he stretched out fully on the couch and put some documentary on that he barely paid attention to in order to fill the silence and ordered some dinner off of his favorite app. He figured at some point he should take a shower and get the smell of the shop off of him, but that seemed like too much work at the moment. He lounged on the couch for the full thirty minutes he had to wait for his food, moving only to kick off his shoes. 

When the doorbell rang he sighed wearily, wincing as his bones cracked as he stood. He slowly hobbled to the doorway and cracked it open, intending to simply reach his hand out for the bag and scurry back inside like the antisocial raccoon he was. 

“Special delivery for Gerard Way if he had a mullet and shrunk three inches?” 

Keith scrunched his nose as he realized the amused voice was familiar and poked his head out, widening his eyes as he took in the grinning delivery person. 

“Hunk?”

“Hey man! Long time no see, huh? I saw your name on the order form and couldn’t resist making the delivery myself. You were our last order of the night anyway.” 

Keith pulled the door open all the way and peered up at him. 

“Jesus, did you get even taller? And are those real muscles? Dude.” 

Hunk holds up the bags that looked like they had a lot more than what he actually ordered, flexing shamelessly. 

“I know, right? The last time you saw me was in high school when I was still ninety percent taco, but I’ve been working out for actual fun these days. And you! I took a chance you’d still have the mullet when I made that joke, glad it worked out.” 

Keith rolled his eyes as he ruffled said hair nervously. 

“It just grows that way, you know that.” 

“So you’ve always said. Man, I missed you. A lot of us tried to find you these past few of years, but you seemed to just vanish and don’t even use social media. How are things? Hold up, let me get your food setup here.” 

Hunk just walked right past Keith into his apartment and placed the bags on the coffee table. He muttered to himself as he set out multiple fantastic smelling containers, and Keith took a moment to glance around for anything too shameful while Hunk was distracted. 

He was embarrassed by the stark emptiness of the place, as he only bought the bare essentials, but he knew Hunk was too nice to actually say anything about it. Mostly it was just the trash-filled kitchen and the fact that it was obvious he usually just slept on the couch that had him worried. 

“So you work at Sal’s, huh?” 

“Co-own it actually, along with being the head chef. Except on the weekends when I volunteer at Hybrid Haven with Katie.”

Keith was impressed but wasn’t all that surprised. He’d known Hunk would do well for himself even back in high school. He was just a nice guy all the way to his core and got along with everyone, unlike Keith who liked five living beings and two of them were dogs. 

“So Pidgeotto is still around too, huh?” 

“I forgot about that one,” Hunk snorts and sets the plastic bags off to the side. “Yeah, most of us are still around. Katie and Allura run Hybrid Haven together and Matt left the Army after...that...and is some software genius and built his own company. He tried to explain what it was for, but it went over even my head. And I studied to be an engineer!” 

Keith huffed a laugh and let Hunk pull him onto the couch, accepting the utensils he was handed. 

“What is all this, anyway? I just ordered a meatball sandwich.” 

“I know, but dude, this is my first chance to have you try my professional skills! I’m not going to pass that up. I’ve improved so much in the three years since you last tried something of mine. So I made you a sampler platter of our Italian favorites. Spaghetti alla carbonara, Manicotti, Risotto, Fritto misto, and of course a nice big order of meatballs since that’s what you actually asked for. Oh, and there’s breadsticks. And tiramisu for dessert.” 

“God, everything smells amazing,” Keith moaned as he opened the first container. 

“Good. Eat up, you look like you’re skin and bones.” 

Keith huffed a laugh, then practically shoved what he guessed was the carbonara into his mouth. It was so rich and the noodles perfectly al dente, even with them being delivered. It had been a long time since Keith had actually appreciated food, usually just eating what he felt he could tolerate at the moment so he’d stay alive. But a combination of wanting to please Hunk who was watching his every bite and the knowledge that Hunk’s food was always amazing led to genuine enjoyment of the meal. He eyed the number of containers and wondered if Hunk would expect him to eat it all now or if he’d be able to stretch them out for a few days. 

“You know, now that I’m looking at you, you seem like you’re sick. Is that why you ordered takeout? I should have brought my soup too,” Hunk frowns and lays a massive hand on Keith’s forehead, trying to gauge his temperature. 

“I’m not sick. Just tired. Long day, you know?” 

Hunk didn’t look convinced, his gaze sharpening as he looked Keith up and down deliberately then moved to give his actual apartment the same treatment. Keith felt like an ant under a microscope, knowing that Hunk’s often overlooked brain was seeing everything. 

Hunk sighed and pat Keith on the head like a damn dog as he stood up and headed towards the kitchen. 

“Don’t move a muscle, no matter what. I want you to stay there and eat. I’m beginning to suspect that’s the first decent meal you’ve had in three years.” 

Keith’s shame was almost overwhelming because Hunk was grabbing a garbage bag and collecting the overflowing trash that Keith had merely watched grow into a massive pile. He tried to protest, but a sharp look from Hunk told him it was pointless and he’d continued shoveling food down his throat instead. 

He was midway through the huge foil tin of Manicotti and listening to Hunk hum to himself as he washed Keith’s dishes when the exhaustion finally caught up to him. His belly was full of delicious food and he was comfortable, laying his head back against the couch and promising he was just going to close his eyes for a second because it hurt to keep them open...

The sun was just beginning to filter through his blinds when he woke up. His apartment was silent except for the gentle hum of the dryer, meaning Hunk had even tackled Keith’s toxic pile of dirty laundry and apparently had been here all night doing so. He was ashamed that his old friend had seen what a mess he was these days, but he was touched and humbled that he’d gone out of his way like this. 

Keith stretched and cracked his neck before standing, realizing his body was more rested than it had been in a while. He didn’t know if it was the food or just having another presence in the place that had helped. 

He yawned and padded towards the kitchen, hoping that Hunk had stashed the leftovers in there. He swung the door open and grinned when he spotted the containers, pulling out the meatballs to make a cold sandwich. He could only imagine the shock on Hunk’s face when he’d opened the fridge and found only water and ketchup. 

Keith split open a couple of rolls that Hunk had included with his order and filled them full to bursting with meatballs, suddenly ravenous. He even put them on a plate now that he had some clean dishes. He took a huge bite and chewed happily on his way back to the couch, setting his plate down and searching for the remote and clicking the TV on, pausing as he realized there was a note taped to the front of it. 

He jumped back up and pulled it off, reading as he slumped back into his seat. 

Keith, 

I have to head home before my girlfriend worries too much (her name is Shay! I can’t wait for you to meet her). I am so happy that you ordered from my place today. I know that you are probably all kinds of embarrassed right now, but I seriously missed you. I know it’s probably been hard since Shiro went missing. We all loved him, but you worshipped him. Your brother was one of the greatest people I’ve ever met and I know he’d feel horrible if he came back and saw how much you were hurting. 

I’m sorry for upsetting you if you think I overstepped today, but I’m not sorry I did it. You needed some looking after and I was happy to do it. We’ve all been worried sick about you since you left. Matt says he has nightmares sometimes of Shiro coming back and he has to explain that he lost his little brother. 

I know you like to think it sometimes, but you’re really not alone. If you’d let us back into your life, we’d love to be there. You were never just another high school friend to us, Keith. You are family. Family that we’ve missed terribly. 

As your family, I’m just going to say it. I think you’ve been letting your depression win, bud. The Keith I know is a fighter and right now I think you’re facing your strongest opponent and letting it take over. Please let us help you and be there for you. There’s no shame in asking for help. 

I also have another friend that I’d like you to meet. You know how I said we all work with Hybrid Haven? Allura started a program a few years ago training emotional support hybrids. We mainly adopt them out to military vets dealing with PTSD, but I think it would be a good match for you too. There is one, in particular, I have in mind for you. He’s kinda your polar opposite in a lot of ways, but I think it would be good for you. 

Just head to the Haven if you decide to go through with it and Katie will probably be at the counter. Tell her you’re there for Lance. She’ll probably be so happy to see you she’ll waive the adoption fee...after she says a few choice words to you. You know how she is, don’t take it to heart. She just missed you and she’s kinda like you in that emotions make her angry. 

If you still want to talk to me even after I’ve butted my big head into your business, I’ll write my number under this. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Although I’ll probably cry. Don’t make me cry, Keith. 

-Hunk

Keith snorted as he read the last line, then programmed the number into his phone. When he’d disappeared after Takashi went missing, he hadn’t been in a good place. He’d spent every waking moment trying to convince anyone that would listen that his brother was still alive and needing to be rescued. The Army has brushed him off, telling him they were sorry for his loss and that Takashi had been a good soldier, but there was nothing else to be done. 

Their parents had died when Keith was too young to remember them well and Takashi had raised him after that. He’d been Keith’s entire world and his hero. They’d moved around from base to base until Keith had hit high school and demanded to stay in one school for the entire time. He’d gotten his wish and had stayed there with the same group of friends until he was almost eighteen and a few months away from graduating. Until the soldiers had come to their home holding a flag and a generic letter of condolence. After that, high school had seemed meaningless and he had to find a job to support himself. He’d sold the home they'd been living in, unable to keep up the payments on his own. He’d then started his monotonous life of working at the machine shop and coming home to an empty apartment. 

He hadn’t really meant to ignore his friends from school, they just felt like they didn’t belong to him. They were friends with a different Keith that didn’t exist anymore, one that used to laugh and play. One that hadn’t felt like he was a waste of space just by existing. 

He looked at Hunk’s letter again, raising an eyebrow as he got to the part about the hybrid. He was familiar with the creatures, of course. The military had wolf hybrids and Keith remembered a few fondly from his years as an army brat. He remembered he’d even begged Takashi to adopt one years ago, but they hadn’t been as settled at the time so he’d said no. 

He glanced around his now clean apartment, taking in the clean kitchen and piles of folded clean laundry waiting in baskets. The place was still empty, but it was looking a little more homey after Hunk had his way with it. Keith sighed and let the idea churn in his head. 

He supposed it would be nice to come home to someone, even a hybrid. He’d have a reason to clean up after himself and keep the fridge stocked at the very least. And it would be nice to have Hunk and Pidge around again. 

But first, a shower.

[loneleesoul]

Starker: Party Games Pt. 3

I'd call this a story, this is the first time in a while ive loved what ive written and gotten so deep into a story.

💛💛💛

Peter waits while Ned's mom is in the kitchen to tell him about Tony. His changed demeanor, defending him and that god awful cringey hug-like thing.

Ned is smirking the entire time, the only thought on his mind. "He so likes you Peter."

"What? No! That's insane!" He's shocked at the accusation, never in a million years would he have thought of something like that.

"Listen, he treats you like shit for what- five years, then a traumatizing experience sets him straight and his true love for you blooms out, reaching out for you because he's cared all this time! He-" He runs out of air, fanboying taking over for a second.

"I honestly don't think that Ned, maybe he's just messing with me." Peter shrugs and Ned belches "Maybe it's Maybelline Peter, it's real." He slams his hand on the table.

"Like with children, they bully the ones they like because they don't know how to handle their feelings. Hey, maybe you actually shook him, so now he feels bad for treating you like shit."

"Ned! Will you please stop with your dumb love story theories please! I don't like Stark!" He growls, silencing Ned.

He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. "Maybe he feels bad, but he'll turn back to beating the shit out of me. Maybe he's having a hard time at home, his dad seems like an asshole every time he's at school. I don't know and don't care Ned, sorry but the only thing I worry about is having to explain my injuries to Aunt May."

Ned stares down at his hands as his mom returns with desert. "Peter honey, do you want to bring some of this home for May?" She smiles, obviously hearing the conversation a few seconds ago.

__________

Michelle is right by his side as he arrives at school. "I've got open lunch, as should you and Toe-knee s-dork." She smiles, her iconic lazy grin.

"What's my nickname?" He asks, genuinely curious. "Penis Parker, I didn't come up with that one... Uh, Dickwad, Loser, Bones-"

"That's pretty cool, Bones." Peter shrugs and MJ giggles. "Come on, are you that stupid that you don't get it? No one has ever seen you eat and you are literally skin and bones, skin isn't a good nickname however."

"Excuse me??" Peter shouts, starling MJ. "What? Don't shoot me, Stark came up with that one. Plus, it's true.. you don't eat." She shrugs and Peter is fuming.

"How about you prove S-dork wrong and take us to lunch because you are a loser." MJ grabs onto his arm. "Pleeeease, pretty please with Penis Parker on.. top? Geez that's wrong."

"Fine! I'll prove S-dork wrong! Tell him we are going to lunch." He's too pissed to think of what he's getting into.

"Thanks Petey, I'll drive us." She kisses him on the forehead and rushes away.

He wipes the spittle off, moaning in disgust. Not that MJ was disgusting or anything, it's just that she's more of a criticism friend. One that treats him like shit to improve him.

Boy, was he really that obvious when he didn't eat? He wouldn't say he had an eating disorder or anything, just that he eats when he's hungry.

And he just so happens to not be hungry during the morning or school hours.

Most people scoff at him when he sits at lunch, alone, with no food, looking like his usual loser self.

"How do you stay so skinny Peter?" "Are you starving yourself for attention or something?" "You know, some people are actually starving with no access to food." "Why don't you eat?" "Do you need to talk to the school counselor?" "Peter, we talked about this, you are worrying everyone."

It was all fine, brush it off okay until Stark got involved. Which, he's been getting mad at Stark a lot in the past three days.

After all this time, doesn't Stark deserve it?

__________

He's going to see Peter, holy shit.

Hooooly shit, he's going to screw this up. "That's cool, today?" He asks, voice breaking slightly. "Yeah, meet me by my trash van.. Peter's paying so get some expensive shit." MJ finger guns him and walks away. Tony sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

As long as I don't touch him, look at him or even breathe in his direction, I should be fine.

__________

It doesn't take Peter too long to find MJ's "trash van" she had mentioned a few minutes ago. It was truly a piece of garbage.

The brown paint was peeling, a rust colored metal beneath it. Random stickers and decals were littered all over the vehicle.

And, best of all, there were only two seats.

MJ had the other two rows removed when she went on a spontaneous vacation for three weeks in Louisiana.

"Hey, be glad I got rid of the mattress that was in here. I spilled food all over that disgusting thing. Now you can either sit on Tony up in the front with me, or sit on the floor in the back." She gestures to Tony, who looks ahead ignoring Peter.

Oh, what else was new? What the hell was wrong with him?

"I'll take the floor, thanks." He mutters, swinging open the door and slamming it behind him.

MJ gets in the drivers seat and laughs. "Are you sure you don't want to sit on Stark's lap? I know how uncomfortable the floor is, I haven't had a chance to vacuum the floor in like... months."

Tony audibly sighs, looking down at his hands and Peter rolls his eyes. "I'll manage a two minute drive Michelle."

"Oh I think it's gonna be more than two minutes Pete." She looks at him through the mirror, smiling deviously. "Ever been to that new joint near the public library?"

Peter groans, remembering him and May looking at the high-end luxurious establishment with want. "I can't pay for that!" He exclaims as MJ starts to drive.

"You lost, you agreed to buy us food." MJ taps on Tony's elbow. "This loser has to pay, back me up here."

He takes a deep breath and looks at Peter through the mirror. "You lost fair and square, and as a loser you suck."

Peter glares at him "You swallow."

A spark of suprise in Tony's eyes. "You choke."

"Nope bitch, I could shove an entire cucumber in my mouth and not gag." He retorts and MJ busts out laughing.

He turns red immediately, wanting to take those words back. He could just imagine the rumors now.

But a dark look is now in Tony's eyes, something that Peter has never seen before. Is it a new level of anger? Embarrassment?

He looks away quickly, eyes now glued to the floor. "YOU ARE A FUDGING HOOT PARKER." MJ screams out, shaking from all the laughing.

He can feel Tony's eyes still on him as Michelle speeds to the restaurant. "Are we gonna be back in time for class?" Peter asks worriedly.

"Okay you freaking psycho, you need to take a chill pill, everyone has skipped classes before. You'll survive without English." She gasps in awe at the restaurant. "Beautiful, plus we only have like 20 some minutes until class so we are definitely gonna miss class." She shrugs as she nearly hits a car while parking.

Peter clamours out of the van awkwardly as Tony waits impaitenly behind him, silent unlike usual.

MJ grabs Peter's arm, dragging him to the front. "Get yourself together, you look awful. They'll turn us down if we look poor. Tony is fine." She messes with his hair in attempt to fix it.

Peter looks at Tony and can't help but blush. He did look good.

Tight jeans and t-shirt which both hugged his godlike figure. A baggy letterman jacket hides those chis-

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

Peter shakes his head and sighs. It's best to just pay attention to Michelle's bullshit.

God no.. -he did have a godlike figure, it's undeniable. No wonder he was fucking girls every other night. Those "chisled" arms have beaten the shit out of Peter more times than he could count on seven hands.

What the hell was he doing? This jerkweed had been beating the shit out of him relentlessly for the past like five years. Tearing him down emotionally, mentally and physically without remorse.

"Table for 3?" He asks to the beautiful hostess. She smiles at him with kind eyes. "How old are you?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Stop hitting on this loser and get us a table." Tony cuts in, a grimace on his lips.

Her smile fades, turned to a growl. "There's an age limit in this establishment mister, I'd watch your mouth." She hisses and Michelle pulls Tony back. "Me and the jackass are 22, the angel is 21." She bluffs.

The smile returns "Great, if you will all follow me." She leads them to a booth. Luckily, Michelle seats herself between Peter and Tony. Unluckily, they face each other and Tony tends to stare.

"Guys... please go easy on me, I only have like 30 right now.." He begs. "Fine, what are you having?" Michelle puts down her menu.

"Oh, probably nothing.. I made manicotti in Culinary this morning." It's not exactly the truth. "I'm just getting this out of the way now so you won't bother me about it later." He shrugs, pulling out his wallet. "If I give you the money right now can I just leave?" He pulls out a wad of cash and holds it in front of MJ.

She looks a bit worried. "Seriously? I meant that we all have dinner, in this case lunch, together." There's a hint of hurt in her tone.

He sighs, exasperated. "Look, I'm not like you two where it's cool and okay to be late or skip class. You're right I'm a loser, I can walk back to school. Run to make it on time." He scoots to leave the booth but a waitress arrives.

"Would you all like something to drink?"

MJ puts on a fake smile. "Manhattan please."

What??

"Sazerac, with a little more absinthe if you could." Tony grins, voice smooth like melted butter.

"And you sir?" She turns to him, book in hand. "I.. uh-.. Dr. Pepper?" He feels stupid saying it, but what the hell????

She nods, smirking slightly and walks away. MJ giggles uncontrollably and Tony sighs. "We are not over 21! She didn't even ID us!!! This is wrong!" He accuses.

"Peter, relax for the first time in your life. Haven't you ever had a sip while your parents weren't looking?" MJ raises her eyebrows expectantly.

"First off, I don't have any parents and second, no! I don't drink and neither should you! It's expensive as hell! I bet what y'all just got was over 30 bucks!" He whispers violently.

MJ looks at the menu. "No actually 12.35, so you better check that wallet again."

Tony bites his lip, foot tapping unconsciously under the table. "MJ? Why did you choose such an expensive restaurant when we don't have time and Peter doesn't have the money?" The latter bothers him more.

Peter stares down at his hands, biting his lip. "Tony, lets just have him get drinks now and he can buy us food when we have more time." She waves at the waitress.

She rushes over with her toothy smile. "Yes?" She tries to hard to be like all of the other waitresses. "Something came up and we can only get drinks, is that okay?" MJ sounds polite for once.

She nods and hurries back into the kitchens, a few seconds later the drinks are here.

"Peter, try mine." Michelle waves her drink in his face. "No, we shouldn't be drinking especially when you are driving!" He hisses at her, keeping his voice low.

He hears Tony scoff and the rage just builds inside him. "That's why you should drink this so I can drive." She smirks, pulling the drink up to her lips and sighs. "You are missing out, drink your Dr. Pepper you virgin."

What kind of insult is that?

[builder051]

Hey!

I’ve got to ask for

17

22

23

29

30: how are you feeling, what’s the best thing / thing that’s made you happy this week :)

17-- Just answered

--do you have an emotional support water bottle?

I do, but I don't use it all that often (it's a wide-mouth screw on top, and I'm prone to splash myself in the face with that kind.) My roommate got it for me shortly after I moved in; it has Stitch on it and "Ohana means family." I have a (subtle?) attachment to Stitch, and I have a few belongings that show it, BUT my roommate gave me the water bottle before we unpacked my stuff, so she just telepathically chose the right one for me.

--do you wear jewelry?

Yes, though most of it is multi-use. I have a smart watch, which is favored for its abilities as a heart monitor and pulse ox. The band also holds my medical ID tag. I have a necklace cord that holds the central line on the outside of my shirt (it can get germy if it goes near the abdominal stomas, and nobody wants a port infection.) I also just got a life alert, which is on that cord as well. My only piece of "fancy" jewelry that I wear 24/7 (unless in the OR or the MRI) is a little silver necklace with an inlaid red star and the etching of Bucky's metal arm. Yes, make fun of me if you want to. But Avengers fanfic is literally how I met the love of my life, so it means more than just a fan obsession.

--preferred pasta noodle?

Funny question. My roommate and I often talk/joke about building things with pasta noodles (usually uncooked). It started because there's a parking garage with an exit shaped like a spiral, and it's so nauseating to travel through. We decided we wanted to rebuild it with flat linguine and sturdy manicotti instead of the little swirly noodle engineering nightmare it really is.

But, preferred noodle? Eating-wise? Probably elbow macaroni or mini shells. I prefer my pasta single-layer, if that makes sense, instead of having internal/overlapping bits that stay just a little to al dente no matter how long you cook it.

AHH I forgot #30. What's made me happy this week? We've been kind of re-arranging the house and doing a cleanout of rubbish/extraneous things for donation or trashing. I did my desk yesterday (I'll have to show you guys a pic), and everything is super tidy and in place. I think it looks pretty sharp, even though I have so much stuff to store in that space (all the art supplies for me--3 years of Artsnacks and counting-- and pretty much unlimited art therapy options.)

[wrestlersownmyheart]

Second Chances Ch. 28 (Book 1 In the "Chances" Series) *Samoa Joe X OC*

Pairing: Samoa Joe X Female OC

Summary:

Ella Roberts has led a traumatic life.

She witnessed her parents' murders at the age of eighteen, and narrowly escaped death herself, due to the intervention of Joe Seanoa, a close family friend. After she discovers she was the true target the night her parents were killed, she assumes a new identity and runs away with intentions of protecting her family and loved ones. Years later, she is pursued by a mysterious Ukrainian, and soon finds herself right back in the biggest nightmare of her life. Fate brings her back to Joe, and knowing Ella's still in danger, Joe vows to keep her safe. But can he succeed? Or will the danger that still threatens her freeze any second chance they have at a happily-ever-after?

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.

Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: None this chapter

Chapter 28

Exhausted, Ella entered the den and sat down on the large sofa with some of the take-out pasta she'd had delivered. Recovering from a day full of singing, she forked up a bite of manicotti.

She'd had a last practice for her vocal finals earlier in the afternoon, then her audition for La Traviata was right after the rehearsal. She didn't have a lot of time to get ready for her actual finals performance, but managed to make it in time nonetheless. Her recital went perfectly, and she was sure she'd get a great grade on it.

She'd gotten Miracle home and ordered Italian takeout. She wasn't hungry right away, so she decided to wait a little while to eat. Miracle ate her personal-sized pizza quickly and then headed up to her bedroom to finish up her homework. It was nearing 7:30 by that point, and Ella knew she should make herself eat since she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Taking advantage of the quiet, Ella decided to listen to messages on her voice-mail while she ate.

She heard Viktor Dankevych's voice and rolled her eyes. She no longer felt badly about being rude. There was something about the man that made her skin crawl. She had learned to listen to her instincts, so she was opting to not take his calls. He was being persistent though. He'd called her almost every day since the day they had lunch together.

And that was a couple weeks ago.

She listened to his latest message, and cringed.

"Hello, Claire… I really don't understand why you've not returned my calls. I thought we were going to be friends. I wouldn't normally show up at your house uninvited, but as a friend…I'm concerned. Please call me back. Or I will definitely feel the need to stop by and visit."

Ella groaned. "That definitely sounds like a threat."

Right then, she made up her mind to get a new sim card so she could have a different phone number.

Frustrated, she picked up the TV's remote control to channel surf. Quickly flipping past the cable movie channels, she kept her eye out for a good sitcom or drama to get her mind off Viktor Dankevych.

Suddenly, Joe was on her television screen.

And all thoughts of Viktor fled.

"Joe…" she whispered.

Her eyes were glued to the television as she watched him run down the TNA ramp and to the ring. He tackled Bobby Roode, who was attacking her uncle at that point.

"Uncle Jeff," Ella cried. She knew she should change the channel, but she had missed her husband and uncle so much. She tried hard to not think of them because it hurt so much she feared the pain would kill her.

She sat transfixed, her food completely forgotten. She didn't blink until Joe and Jeff made their way backstage, and Roode sat in the ring looking dazed. Before she realized what she was doing, her cell phone was in her hand again and she was dialing her uncle's number. She covered the mouthpiece as it rang.

I just need to hear his voice, she thought sadly. I have to.

"Hello?"

Ella's eyes welled with tears again, and she reluctantly hung up the phone. Then she was dialing Joe's number. It rang a couple times, and then she heard his voice.

"Hello?"

She gasped through her tears, unable to bring herself to hang up and lose the sound of his voice.

He spoke again, sounding a little annoyed, "Hello? Who is this?"

Then she heard Jeff's voice: "Who is that? I just got a similar phone call."

Oh, no, Ella thought. She immediately hung up. She didn't think about them comparing notes. What if they figure out I'm alive? She groaned, and went to wrap her meal up as leftovers, knowing she couldn't possibly eat anything then.

"God, please don't let my stupidity cause me any grief."

She knew it was too late to worry however. She'd have to cross the bridge when she came to it.

"Mommy?"

Not wanting to risk her daughter seeing Joe on the television should he have another segment, she hastily flipped past the Spike channel and tried to discreetly wipe her tears away.

"What is it, honey," Ella asked, turning to face Miracle.

The little girl walked into the room and sat down by her mother, snuggling against her. She raised her head and looked up at Ella.

"Why are you crying," she asked, worry creasing her forehead.

"Oh, angel girl, it's nothing. Really. I'm just a little sad is all," Ella replied, hugging her daughter tightly.

"You can tell me about it," Miracle said. "You're always there for me when I need to talk."

Ella hesitated a moment. Should I be honest with her, she wondered. It's been ten years since everything happened. Surely, Fournier would have gotten to me by now if he was going to find me at all. She felt horrible for keeping Joe a secret from Miracle. She had the right to know what a wonderful father she would have had. Instead, Ella had lied and told Miracle that her daddy had died, in hopes it would keep the girl from asking questions. But now, Ella realized that Miracle was nearly ten years old. And she needed to know the truth also for her protection. If she warned her about Fournier, it could possibly save her life in the future. She didn't want to keep Miracle in the dark the way her parents had done her.

Taking a deep breath, Ella decided to come clean.

"Okay, Miracle. I'm going to tell you the truth. But I need you to promise me something first. You can't tell anyone—not a soul. This is very serious—a matter of life and death. I don't want to frighten you, but you really do need to know the truth."

Miracle nodded. "Okay, Mom. I promise. I won't say a word to anyone."

Ella avoided her daughter's eyes as she spoke softly. "I've lied to you, Miracle. I'm so sorry, but I have. It was to protect us."

Miracle's black eyes widened in surprise. "Protect us from what, Mom? What did you lie about?"

God, help me to do this without scaring her out of her mind, she prayed. "Before you were born, there was a man—a very bad man—who wanted to hurt me."

"Why," Miracle asked.

"He was just a very sick, angry man, Miracle. He blamed my daddy for something that wasn't his fault, and he wanted to hurt me to get revenge on my dad."

"Was he going to kill you?"

Ella shook her head. "No, it was worse than that. I can't tell you all the details, lo'u alofa, you're too young to hear such horrible things. So just trust me when I say he was evil."

Miracle nodded and waited for Ella to continue.

"He killed my parents—your grandparents, and then he tried to kidnap me. I nearly died, but your daddy saved me." She looked at Miracle to make sure she understood everything. "I'm sorry—I know this is a lot to take in. I'm trying to avoid unnecessary details."

Miracle nodded. "Did…did the bad man kill Daddy?"

"No, baby. He didn't." She paused then and swallowed hard. "My uncle wanted me and your daddy to marry so I'd be better protected. See, the bad man wasn't giving up on kidnapping me."

"Did the cops get him? Who was he?"

"Not that I know of, honey. That's why I'm telling you all of this. His name was Jacques Fournier."

"Did you and Daddy love each other?"

Ella's eyes burned with threatening tears again. "Yes, baby. We loved each other very much. My uncle wanted us to marry mainly for my protection, but your daddy wanted to marry me because he loved me."

"What happened, Mommy," the little girl asked. "You told me Daddy was dead… Is that true?"

Choking back a sob and shaking her head, Ella struggled to continue. "No, Miry. It's not true."

"Where is he then," Miracle asked. Her eyes were filled with tears also.

"I'm not sure. His work causes him to travel a lot." She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Fournier began killing people trying to get to me. And I felt I had no choice but to leave my family behind to protect them. I was afraid I would be the cause of them being murdered. The night I left was mine and your daddy's wedding night. There was an attack made on a family friend and… I just knew then I had to leave." Trying to shorten the complicated details, she moved on in the story. "And that's how I became pregnant with you. Your daddy and I didn't have very long together, but I have the very special memories of how you came into my life." She wiped some tears away and added. "I just hate that you and your daddy can't even know each other."

"But it happened so long ago, Mom," Miracle said softly. A tear dripped down her cheek. "Maybe the cops caught Four…Fournier," she stumbled over the name. "Maybe we could find daddy and be with him now."

Ella shook her head sadly. "No, baby. We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because Fournier may still be looking for me. And because your daddy thinks I'm dead—I faked my death. He doesn't even know about you. If he found out I was alive and that I kept you a secret from him, he would never forgive me."

"But, Mom-"

She was cut off by Ella's hard sob. "I'm so sorry, Miracle. I never wanted any of this to happen. You don't know how badly I wish we could be with Joe-" She gasped, not meaning to give away Joe's name.

"My daddy's name is Joe?"

Ella nodded, fighting more tears. "Yes."

"Mom, please tell me about him. I need to know."

"He… He's just…amazing," Ella started. She tugged Miracle back on the sofa and held her close, stroking her hair as she spoke. "He's handsome, and strong and loyal. He was willing to die for me—and I for him. We were friends ever since we were kids, but I was in love with him from the first moment I saw him."

"Did he love you too?"

"Not in the beginning," Ella actually managed a chuckle. "I bothered him a lot at first because he was ten and I was eight—no boy wanted a little girl pestering him all the time. I followed him around everywhere." Ella smiled at the memories. "I think he hated me for a while, but nonetheless we became friends a few years later."

"Why did he change his mind?"

"I wore him down, I guess," Ella smiled, thinking back on the day their friendship developed. "He injured himself in my uncle's woods, and I… Well… He always boasted about how I saved his life," she blushed at remembering his praise of her. "We went through a rough patch a couple years later. He got a girlfriend and I became jealous. It put a strain on our friendship. We didn't see each other again for about three years."

"What happened then?"

"A lot of things," Ella answered. "It was New Year's Eve…My parents and I were going to my uncle's annual holiday party. It was a beautiful party. I was glad it was formal because—being a typical girl—I loved the chance to dress up. I wore a really pretty purple dress and Joe…" her voice trailed off as she remembered how handsome he looked in his black suit.

"Mom?"

"Sorry," she whispered. "I was just remembering how handsome your father looked." She smiled, and looked down at her daughter. "You have his eyes, you know?"

"Do I," Miracle asked excitedly.

"Yes, you do," Ella chuckled. "The same shape, the same color…black as midnight. You also inherited his hair color." She got back on track with her story, and spoke again. "It was a night I'll never forget—for many reasons. Your daddy fell in love with me that night. It should have been a wonderful evening, but it ended very badly."

"Why?"

"Because that was the night my parents were killed, and I nearly died too," Ella answered. "Joe saved me, but it was almost too late for me. I was in a coma for a couple of weeks. After that, well…everything moved really fast, and the next thing I knew, Joe and I were married."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to stay with him, Mom," Miracle whispered, raising her arms to wrap around Ella's neck. "It's not fair."

"I know, baby," Ella returned the hug. "I'm sorry you didn't get to know him. So sorry," she cried softly.

Miracle reached up and wiped her tears away, "Don't worry, Mommy. You never know, maybe one day we'll get to be with Daddy."

Not wanting to dash her daughter's new found hopes, she smiled softly and nodded. "Maybe."

"Can I see him," Miracle asked. "Do you have a picture of him?"

"I don't," Ella said, "I had to leave behind any photos and things that could have linked me to my family. But…I do have this," she said, reaching up to her neck and unclasping the music note pendant Joe had given her. She then placed the necklace around Miracle's neck and re-clasped it. "Your daddy gave me this shortly before he proposed to me. I bet he'd love for you to wear it now."

"Really," Miracle exclaimed looking down at the necklace. "It's so pretty!"

"And it looks pretty on you," Ella said. "I'm glad you like it."

"I'll never take it off," Miracle said softly. "I promise."

Ella smiled and stood up, heading over to the desk. "While I don't have any pictures of Joe, I do think I can find some online."

"How?"

"Because he's a tad famous now. Are you sure you can keep quiet about this, Miry?"

The girl nodded. "I promise."

Ella quickly pulled up the internet and changed her tool settings so she was in Private Browsing, and turned on her VPN. She went to Google and did a search for "Samoa Joe". In a couple seconds, Joe filled her computer screen.

"That's Daddy," Miracle asked, looking closer. "He's a wrestler?"

"Yes, baby, that's your daddy. And yes, he's a wrestler—a very talented one."

"I do have his eyes!"

"I know. I see him in you every day," Ella smiled, reaching up and brushing Miracle's hair from her forehead. "There's something else I want you to see. Fournier. In case he was to ever show up here, I want you to know what he looks like for your safety." In the next instant, she typed in Fournier's name and pulled up his mug shot. Turning toward Miracle again, she spoke softly. "Baby, if you ever see this man… Run away, okay?"

Miracle nodded distractedly, staring at the man's photo, taking in his features. "His eyes are scary."

"Promise me, Miracle. Promise me. No matter what—promise you will run from this man—even if he's hurting me."

"But, Mom-"

"No buts. You have to do this, Miracle. I couldn't live if something happened to you."

The little girl slumped and looked down at her hands. "Okay. I promise."

"Can you look me in the eye when you say that?"

Miracle lifted her gaze to her mother's. "I promise, Mom. I promise." She paused for a moment and asked, "Mom, can I sleep in your room tonight?"

"Sure, angel girl. Did I frighten you?"

"No, not exactly. I just…don't really want to be alone."

"Okay, baby. Why don't you go watch TV in your room till bedtime? It's only about another hour."

"Okay," Miracle said. She hugged Ella again and then headed for the stairs.

I hope I've done the right thing by telling her. I just felt like she needed to know. If something happened to her because of lack of knowledge, I'd never forgive myself.

She decided to try and clear her head a little before she got ready for bed. The recollection of seeing and hearing Joe—as well as her talk with Miracle—made her want to do something in his honor. Something which would bind the memory of him to her always.

"Maybe design a piece of jewelry. Or maybe even a tattoo…" she thought out loud.

The more she thought of it, the more she liked the ideas, so she grabbed a tablet from her desk drawer, and began sketching out some possibilities.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Jeff glanced at Angel, AJ, Velvet, and Sabin down the hallway from him and Joe. He tried to see if any of them were looking at their cell phones strangely. He felt odd about the phone call he'd accepted moments before, and then when Joe had received the exact same call only seconds later, it had set his nerves on edge.

"Did any of you just get a phone call where the caller didn't answer," he called out.

They all shook their heads and went back to their conversation.

"That's really weird," Joe finally spoke up, and pocketed his phone.

"I know," Jeff agreed. "What are the odds we actually work together on an angle together for a change, and then we both get identical phone calls seconds apart—and right after we get backstage, at that? Not to mention from the same phone number."

Joe nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself.

He had the strangest feeling the calls had to do with Ella. But he didn't want to say anything and upset Jeff further. He thought it sounded preposterous himself. Ella had been dead for ten years. Why would they be receiving calls regarding her? And why would the caller say nothing?

What's the point of calling if they don't say a word, he wondered. Then he grew angry. What is going on? And who did this? Whoever it is, I'll kill them when I find out.

He looked over at Jeff and saw the older man's mental gears turning. He was confused too.

"What do you think's going on," Jeff asked him. "This is too weird to ignore."

Joe thought the same thing. But he didn't want Jeff going through any more than he already had. He had acted for months like he didn't care about anyone or anything, but it wasn't true. He had just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his grief.

"Probably nothing," Joe answered finally, shrugging. "Maybe there's just something going on with the signals around here. Cell phones can be weird like that, ya know."

"True," Jeff said, "But still… Why your phone and my phone—and no one else's?"

"Jeff…don't read too much into this," Joe said, shaking his head. "What do you think? Ella's ghost is trying to reach us? That's crazy enough…but add in the fact she's waited ten years to do it, and it's just nuts."

"I know," Jeff said softly. "It's just-"

"A coincidence, Jeff. It's just a coincidence. Let it go."

With that, Joe walked off and left the wrestling veteran standing by himself.

But oddly, Jeff didn't feel alone. He could have sworn he'd seen the same ray of hope he felt, forming in Joe's eyes as well.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Oww," Ella moaned slightly and gripped the edge of the tattoo parlor's chair she lay on. "Cal… H-how much more is l-left?"

She had slowly begun to regret the decision of getting various tattoos done along her rib cage. She had plans to get four dates tattooed with a symbol above them.

The first tattoo was a small pink outline of a heart, with the date she met Joe for the first time, beneath it. The next was a filled pink heart with the date of her and Joe's wedding. Another was a filled black heart broken down the middle with the date of her "death"—the same day as their wedding—and the day she had to leave Joe and her life had lost all meaning. And the last tattoo was of a pair of hearts—a blue one which symbolized Joe, and a pink one which symbolized Ella—intertwined, with Miracle's birth date below them.

"Not too much more," the middle-aged tattoo artist said softly. "You've done great so far. Hang in there, Claire. It's only hurting more right now because this last heart is right over a rib."

Ella nodded and took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Her phone rang, and Cal handed it to her so she wouldn't have to move very much. She didn't bother looking at the screen because she was expecting a call from Doctor Jennings regarding her grade on her final performances.

"Hello?"

"Finally," she heard Viktor Dankevych exclaim. "Why have you not returned any of my calls?"

Oh, no, Ella inwardly groaned.

"Oh, h-hi, Viktor," she stammered. "Well…I uh…I've been so swamped with school and practices for the opera I'm in. I haven't even really checked my phone for voice mails in ages."

"Oh, I see. Well, maybe we could do lunch and catch up?"

"Well, that's really sweet of you, but—"

"Please? I've really missed seeing you. I thought we had a really great visit at Purple's, and just thought we could do it again."

Ella sighed, not knowing how to deal with his hard-headedness.

Maybe I could use lunch as an opportunity to explain to him that I suspect him of having ulterior motives. Let him know he makes me uncomfortable, but in a kind way.

"O-okay," she said. "I'm busy right now, but maybe we could meet at Purple's at about one?"

"Sounds great," Viktor said, a smile in his voice.

"Okay, see you there. Bye, Viktor."

She disconnected without listening for a goodbye from him and sighed again.

"Man troubles," Cal asked, chuckling.

"More like creepy freak troubles," Ella joked.

"He dangerous?"

"No, I don't think so. He's just…clingy. I'm going to explain to him at lunch that he just makes me a tad uncomfortable and that I think it best if we stopped meeting each other."

"Just be careful, kiddo."

"Oh, I will. Believe me. I'm naturally a very cautious person—right down to owning a gun."

"Smart girl," Cal retorted. "In this day and age, a woman living on her own or with children should have a gun."

"I agree. I have to keep it locked up of course, because I do have a little girl. Even though we've had the "guns are not toys" talk, I think it's okay—but I'd still rather be safe than sorry."

The tattoo artist nodded in agreement and then smiled. "Okay, now for some good news.

"What is it?"

"You're done."

"Yay," Ella giggled and then got up to examine her tattoos in the full-length mirror across the room. "Oh, it's just…just the way I wanted it to look! Thank you, Cal!" She leaped up and hugged the older man. "It's perfect!"

"I'm glad you like it," Cal almost blushed. "If ya need any more tats done, be sure and look me up."

"Definitely," Ella smiled as he began placing a long bandage over the little tattoos. "I promise."

Thanking him again, she paid him, and then hurried from the parlor and to her car.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Reluctantly, Ella pulled into a parking space at the front of Purple's. Sighing, she grabbed her purse and climbed out of the vehicle. Then she headed into the restaurant in search of Viktor.

The hostess stopped her and smiled politely, "May I help you, Miss?"

"Yes, I'm supposed to meet Viktor Dankevych for lunch."

"Oh, yes, I see…Right this way."

Ella was led to the back of the restaurant and seated at a small table at which Viktor sat.

"Claire," he smiled. "So wonderful to see you. Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Ella politely returned his smile. "Just crazy busy."

"Well, I can't wait for your schedule to slow down so we can see each other some," he commented, taking a sip of water. "I really enjoyed our lunch weeks back and have wanted to do it again."

"Yes, about that, Viktor…" Ella started, but the waiter appeared to take their orders, and she was unable to get her dreaded speech out of the way.

"Just a half Greek salad for me, with no onions, and an unsweetened iced tea, please," she rattled off without thinking. Food was honestly the last thing on her mind.

Viktor gave his order as well, and then turned back to Ella when the waiter disappeared. "I'm sorry, what were you saying, Claire?"

Ella took a sip of her water to calm her nerves and gathered her courage.

"I-I don't think…we should meet up anymore."

Thank goodness, I actually managed to tell him, she silently congratulated herself. She dared to meet Viktor's eyes then, and felt horrible.

"Why is that," he asked, a little too nonchalantly.

Ella could have sworn she saw his chin tremble, but then felt silly for even thinking it.

Like he's going to cry because he can't see me anymore, she thought sarcastically.

"Well…b-because," she stammered nervously. Finally she blew out a sigh and started again. "I have strong trust issues after…after something happened in my past. And I have this nagging feeling that you aren't really looking for just friendship, Viktor." She paused, watching his reaction. When he hung his head, she realized she was right. "And that makes me feel as though you have ulterior motives in wanting to be around me."

"It's true…I just want your friendship," he insisted, avoiding her eyes. "I can assure you…I have no ill intentions toward you—nor do I have 'ulterior motives', as you put it."

"Then why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

"Because… The truth is, you remind me…of my—"

"Okay, who had the Greek salad?"

Their waiter appeared suddenly and prevented Viktor from finishing his sentence.

"I had the salad," Ella said, moving her silverware and water glass out of the way to make room for the plate.

The waiter then sat Viktor's plate on the table and made sure they had everything they wanted, then walked away to check on his other tables.

"Who do I remind you of," Ella asked, forking up a small bite of her salad.

"My daughter."

Shocked, Ella managed to swallow the bite of food and then took a sip of her iced tea, "Excuse me?"

"I didn't tell you about her, because it's hard for me to talk about. I'm sure there are things you haven't told me either. We've not known each other long at all, so naturally, we have our secrets. Correct?"

Reluctantly, Ella nodded. "Can you tell me about her now? And why did you cover this up with the "I'm looking for a friend" story?"

"Yes, I can tell you. And the reason I lied about it, was because I thought you'd think I was crazy for my real reason of wanting to be around you. And—just as you did—I worried you may misinterpret my intentions. I thought you'd think I was just trying to seduce you, so I figured if I told you I was after friendship only, you'd be less suspicious of me."

Ella stared at him a moment, judging the sincerity on his face. He had tears in his eyes, as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and glanced back up at her, "I know I lied, and I'm sorry for that. But you can see I'm being truthful about this." He pulled a photo from his wallet and passed it over to her. "That's Genevieve," he said, pointing out a girl in the photo.

Ella looked at the photograph and saw Genevieve standing beside Viktor in the photo, smiling up at him. She could indeed see a strong resemblance between herself and the girl. Genevieve's hair was shorter and lighter, but their faces were all but identical.

"We do look alike," she commented, handing the photo back. "What happened to her?"

"She died. She had a defective heart. She needed surgery—a heart transplant. But she died before she could even find a donor."

"I'm so sorry," Ella said softly. She could understand his mentality then. To see a person that reminded you so much of someone you'd loved and lost… She could only imagine if she saw someone who looked like Joe. She knew there would be no chance whatsoever of her falling for them, but she felt sure she'd want to be around them.

"So you can understand why I feel drawn to you," Viktor asked, placing the photo back in his wallet.

"Yes, I think I do," Ella replied. "We could be twins."

He nodded, "Yes you could. But, it's not just your physical appearance. You have the same mannerisms and habits. You even move with the same grace she had."

"Well, I'm sorry I misjudged you," Ella said. "I just—"

"No need to apologize, Claire," Viktor cut her off. "I realize how my lie could mislead you. I'm the one who's sorry."

"It's alright," Ella insisted. "I understand, really."

"I still hope we can visit each other, but I understand if you don't want to."

Ella felt terrible. It was nearing the holiday season, this man was still pretty new to Seattle, and not only was he lonely, but he also saw his late daughter in her. She'd be very cold-hearted to ignore all that.

"Of course we can visit," she said, and took another bite of salad.

"Wonderful," Viktor smiled. His spirits seemed lifted immediately. "Maybe we could have dinner at one of our houses one day this weekend?"

Taking a sip of iced tea, Ella nodded. "Sure. I could cook something at my house if you'd like."

"Sounds great," Viktor said. "Would you like me to bring some dessert or wine or anything?"

"You could bring a dessert if you'd like," Ella said.

"Great," Viktor smiled. "Happy to."

The two talked through the rest of their meal, making plans for what they'd eat that weekend.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Joe groaned as he woke up, squinting against the sunlight which filtered into his hotel room. He opened his eyes finally and was greeted by a severe throbbing pain behind his eyes and a rolling wave of nausea in his stomach—the all too familiar symptoms of a hangover. As he struggled to turn onto his side, he realized he wasn't clothed. He was somewhat surprised when he saw a young blond woman asleep in bed beside him. However, he wasn't terribly shocked as he'd been resorting to sex a lot the past ten years to bury his pain and turmoil.

Fighting a surge of pain, he tried to remember the night before. He vaguely recalled being at a nightclub. Many of TNA's roster was there as well, but he didn't hang out with them. While he'd had a break-through with Jeff, he was not yet mentally in a place where he could socialize with his co-workers as he had many years prior. Slowly, the recollection of a one-night-stand emerged, and he groaned again.

What am I doing, he thought, rubbing at his eyes. Meaningless onej-night-stands aren't solving anything. It's making things worse. His movement caused the woman beside him to stir and wake. Her eyes opened and fell on Joe instantly. Giggling, she moved closer to him, "G'morning, handsome."

Joe looked at her, shame entering his heart. He nudged her away and tried to sit up in the bed. "It's not such a good morning," he mumbled, covering his face with his hands.

"Awww, you have a headache," the woman asked with fake sympathy, reaching over and ruffling his black hair. "Want me to make it better?"

He raised his head and glared at her, distaste on his face. "I've got to get a grip," he thought out loud, rubbing his temples. "Could you just please leave," he grumbled.

"You mean you don't want to have some more fun," the woman asked suggestively, a smile spreading across her face.

Joe shook his head and then winced, "No, thanks. I think I've had all I can handle."

"Really," the blond teased, once again snuggling up to him.

Joe latched on to her hand and tossed it away from him, "Get dressed and leave!" He got up from the bed then, and headed for the bathroom, as the blond stood and began yanking on her clothing.

"You're a real creep," she yelled through the bathroom door. "I should have hit on AJ Styles instead! I bet he wouldn't have tossed me out of his bed!"

Joe threw the bathroom door open despite the throbbing in his head.

"You're right! Because he'd never have let you in it to begin with," Joe yelled back, hating to say anything positive about the man he'd hated for the past decade. "Now, GET OUT!"

Huffing with pent-up rage, the blond stalked out of the hotel room and slammed the door behind her. Joe shook his head in frustration and then grimaced in pain. His last words were ringing in his head.

No, AJ wouldn't have let her in his bed. But I did. What does that say about me? I'm…classless. I've struck a new low. Jeff was right. I'm dishonoring Ella's memory.

"No more alcohol. And no more one-night-stands," he muttered as he stepped into the shower. "The only woman I want is gone. I have to accept that sex is no substitute for love."

He closed his eyes and let the hot, steamy water soothe some of the pain that throbbed behind his eyes.

I have to get a hold of myself. I'm headed nowhere if I don't.

After his shower, he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and grabbed his cell phone out of the pocket of the jeans he'd discarded earlier. Then, lying down on the bed, Joe went online to research a connection between Ella and the mysterious phone number which had called him and Jeff. He was unable to find such a connection, but he did immediately find the phone number came from Seattle, Washington. Then he began checking to see if there was a connection between Ella and Seattle. He came up empty there as well.

Instinctively, he called the number with his hotel room's phone. After ringing several times, the voicemail picked up. An automated voice spoke, "You have reached the number… 2-0-6-7-6-2-0-5-8-6. To leave a message…"

Immediately, Joe hung up, frustrated that the message didn't reveal the person's name.

He felt ignorant for being so obsessed with the phone number, but he couldn't help feeling suspicious.

He also couldn't help recalling that Ella's body had never been found…