#anyway i will still try to pull for sunday (if i lose the 50/50 then i can wait for his rerun)

[121231212i]

No more 7 rest days 💔

[seventh-district]

it’s the last Sunday before Sunday’s banner ends so i suppose it’s about time for me to finally boot up HSR and pull him home… wish me luck

[engagemachine]

"You're so gentle," she tells me. They all say it. I hear it from my patients every time I take their arm to wrap the blood pressure cuff around it, or when I place my stethoscope on their belly, or when I rub circles into their back when I've helped them sit up on the side of the bed for the first time in three days. Sometimes they cry, because it's the first tender touch they've felt since they've been in the hospital. It's very humbling and at the same time very concerning -- why has no one else offered this tenderness to you? Why am I always the first?

But I don't feel gentle. Not when a pair of ribs are cracking beneath my hands as I'm doing chest compressions on a Covid patient who's stopped breathing--the second time I've administered CPR on a Covid patient in two days. I don't feel gentle when I'm wrestling with a patient and begging for them to keep their oxygen mask on. When I have to hold them down and hold them still so my coworker can draw a blood sample. I don't feel gentle when I'm inserting a nasogastric tube down someone's nose, then throat, and into their belly while they're gagging around the tube and their arms are flailing. And I don't feel gentle when I'm washing a sacral wound with bleach and they're crying because it hurts. I don't feel gentle when I have to shout, beg, and plead for patients to listen, when I tell patients they're going to die if they don't keep their oxygen mask on. I don't feel gentle when I have to place a patient in restraints, or when I call a family member and tell them that their loved one's condition hasn't improved. I don't feel gentle when a patient tells me they can't breathe, they can't breathe, I can't breathe, and I'm yelling for coworkers to call the doctor while I'm cycling through different oxygen masks and trying to administer medication to slow their respirations and calm their anxiety.

I'm writing this because I feel like I've been living a little bit behind a veneer on here, although I know deep down that's not really true; I have always wanted my blog to feel like a positive space for anyone and everyone, including myself. I come here to have fun and destress and that's why you usually don't see me reblogging content having to do with politics or global news. I think it's possible to create a healthy space where one does talk about those things and spreads awareness for important causes, but for me, Tumblr is where I come when I need to escape the harsh realities of real life. This is my platform where I can indulge in my fictional proclivities and interests, where I can appreciate art, photography, beautiful writing, my favorite films, music, and cute animals. That's what this space is about. I also have loved meeting new people and getting to know my readers and making new friends and chatting about my stories. That's why I'm here and I thank you all so, so much for indulging me in my passions and for encouraging my writing the way that you have: it has helped me weather the current storm of stress I am feeling in more ways than I could possibly convey.

But I have to be very honest with you all about how much I've been struggling lately, as I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point and I'm somewhat at a loss for how to handle it.

Since September of last year, I've been on an accelerated track to finish the degree I'm working towards, which is a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. I've been a nurse for four years, but I graduated from a two-year nursing program versus a four-year program because I wanted to get into the field earlier than some of my peers, which has been great. Anyway, my school counselor/mentor and I agreed that I could obtain my BSN in a year if I really pushed myself. The program I'm in is self-paced, which has been both a blessing and a curse. Most of my classes I have finished in about three to four weeks. Other classes, like biochemistry, took substantially longer, about seven or eight weeks, if I remember correctly. All of the classes have relied on my ability to self-teach, as there are no scheduled lectures to attend, only assigned readings and videos to watch, if you choose to do so. Fast forward to the end of May, when I went to visit some family, and, upon my return home, really started to lose some of my motivation to complete my classes. I was meant to finish my program in August (this month) but agreed with my mentor that I would take a short break and put my last three classes on hold so that I could resume the program in September. I've enjoyed approximately a month off from school, but "enjoyed" is a term I use loosely here as I was also picking up extra shifts at work because we've been so short staffed and losing nurses left and right.

Which brings me to the main cause of my stress. This pandemic has completely changed the landscape for how I administer care to my patients, and the stress of the care itself has been so utterly overwhelming at times I can hardly bear it. I broke down in tears at work on Sunday morning, shortly after 4:30 am, right there at the the nurse's station, and was sobbing so hard that my supervisor had to pull me away so that I could have some privacy. I wish I could tell you that I sobbed harder than I have in a long time--but I had sobbed at work with that same intensity just four weeks prior, only, I had been alone at the time. It's becoming a trend--I either cry at work or I cry at home--because the stress of this job has become unbearable.

I wish--I desperately wish--I could convey to you the seriousness of Covid. I think so much of the world has already decided to move on from it because they're so tired of having to deal with it and, quite simply, are ready to return to normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore and when--or if--we'll ever be able to return to it. And that has caused me a fair amount of stress and anxiety in and of itself. I miss traveling so much and I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I haven't seen one of my best friends since the fall of 2018 for this reason, which kills me.

I've seen so much death. Transferred so many patients to the PCU and ICU. Frantically chased patients' oxygen saturation, trying to keep them from circling the drain. Being responsible for six or seven human lives at one time is a stress you cannot fathom unless you have done it yourself. I have cried with a patient, a young woman, who had lost her husband to Covid only hours before in the ER, a young woman who was now faced with battling Covid herself but also planning the funeral of her high school sweetheart from her hospital bed. I have wheeled a patient to the ICU so that he could say one final goodbye to his wife--married for over 50 years--before they pulled the plug and removed her from the ventilator. I have raced down the hallway with my patient on BIPAP, pushing his bed to the ICU and praying that he doesn't stop breathing on the way there. I've had to console crying family members over the phone who are worried about their loved ones, not to mention my crying coworkers who are as overwhelmed as I am. These are just a handful of experiences from the past month alone. There are so many more.

The discomfort of my job has become secondary. I expect, now, to be wearing an N95 for a full twelve or thirteen-hour shift because there isn't time to take it off. Not having a chance to pee or go to the bathroom during that time. Not drinking any water until I'm in my car and taking off my mask and finally taking a deep breath.

On a more personal note, I am continuing to lose weight and it's so discouraging. In high school I used to wear a size 2 or 4. Now, depending on the brand, I wear a double 00. My hair is falling out because of my stress. I haven't slept during the night in... I don't even know how long. I'm constantly tired. Exhaustion hits me like a great tidal wave and I am powerless to stop it. I expect now to crash during the middle of the day on my couch, only to wake up at 11pm and be wide awake for the rest of the night, and, if not wide awake, then in an out of nightmares and sleep paralysis. I have thought about leaving my job, but the idea of job hunting during a pandemic, and while I'm in school... it just makes me feel even more stressed.

I need a break, but it feels like there's nowhere to go to escape. I fantasize about some great adventure, going somewhere I've never been, but I also really miss my family and I'm scared to go home to visit.

This post doesn't really have a conclusive ending. I'm just exhausted and overwhelmed. Any prayers/thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

[wikiangela-fanfics]

50 ways to kiss you: 11. In joy

This one turned out a little angsty haha

But I genuinely love this drabble so much, like, I have no idea why, but out of everything in this series I wrote up until now, this one's probably my favorite :D (even though the more I read it, the more stupid it seems, but whatever, I like it XD)

Actually I wrote it just a few days ago, because the one I had written for chapter 11 seemed to fit better later on, so I just moved it lol

Also, I'm gonna try to post more regulary, like once a week (probably on Sundays) but we'll see how it works out hah 

Ao3

masterpost

Enjoy♥

***

He was angry. Which wasn’t anything new, really. And he was grieving. Which also wasn’t new, with the way they lose everyone all the time. But this was a thousand times worse than usual. Because it was Cas, and it was final. There was no bringing him back. Hell, who knew if there would even be anywhere to bring him back to? Would they still be alive even mere moments from now? Chuck could kill them any second, and honestly, Dean couldn’t care less. He might have cared about the world and the people, but was there even a point, since they were Thanos-snapped out of existence anyway? Well, they needed to bring them back somehow, and then save the world… but did they really? He felt like giving up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell that Cas was wrong. That he’s not the good, caring man Cas thinks him to be. He wanted Cas to take it all back, including those three damn words that took him away from Dean. He needed Cas back. And if he couldn’t have him, he didn’t want to live in a world without his angel.

But then somehow, thanks to Jack, they won. They defeated Chuck and the world went back to the way it was. With one exception. And Dean wanted to die.

That is, until they did get Cas back, somehow. And before, if Dean had let himself hope that he would have ever seen Cas again, he had planned on telling him everything that was on his mind, planned on a huge argument, on shouting at Cas about how stupid it had been and that he should’ve never ever had sacrificed himself for Dean, because he’s not worth it. But when he saw him, in the flesh, right in front of him, all the anger disappeared. 

He felt overjoyed. He looked at the person, the angel, in front of him, the stupid everpresent trenchcoat, the bright, blue eyes, messy dark hair… just him. Just as he always was, as if nothing’s changed. And he took Dean’s breath away.

“Cas.” was all he could say. Or rather whisper. With his voice breaking. He felt tears coming, and he did not care at all.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiled at him nervously. And just then Dean was really hit with the weight of Cas’ words, before he was taken. But he suddenly didn’t hate them anymore. He realized that he never did. He wanted to hate them, but he didn’t. He cherished every single word, repeating the scene in his head countless times, wondering what he would do if they had time. And now he could finally do something, and he couldn’t move. He just stared.

Somehow, they were alone. He didn’t know exactly why and how, he really hasn’t been paying attention to many things these days, they weren’t important. Only Cas was. And Dean had just been grieving him, and now he was just… there.

“You’re here.” Dean took a step closer, but there was still a distance between them. “You’re really here.” he repeated, taking a few more steps. He stopped in front of him and reached out his hand. He put it on Cas’ shoulder slowly, carefully, as if Cas was about to disappear at any moment. He needed to make sure he was real. 

“I am.” Cas said with a fond expression. “I’m back.”

“Thank fuck.” suddenly Dean, overcome with emotion, just pulled Cas in for a hug. “You son of a bitch, never leave me again.” he said, voice muffled by Cas’ shoulder. He didn’t care that he was being vulnerable and sappy. He was too happy that his angel was back. 

“I won’t.” Cas sighed, visibly relaxing. He probably wasn’t sure of how their reunion would look like, with Cas’ confession still hanging between them, unmentioned, unreciprocated. 

Dean felt a huge smile tugging on his lips. His Cas was back. 

He pulled away, moving his hands so that now he was cradling Cas’ face. His bright smile caused Cas to grin back at him. For a while, he just looked at Cas. And then, in a moment of pure happiness, he kissed him. He stopped overthinking, or even thinking at all, almost blinded by the joy of getting Cas back.

Cas made a surprised sound, but kissed him back with the same enthusiasm. The kiss was quite slow and gentle, but at the same time quite intense. Cas’ lips on his felt so good, he caught himself thinking that he should’ve done this years ago. He could’ve had this kind of happiness for years. And it took Cas dying, which was supposed to be permanent this time, for him to finally let himself be honest with himself about his feelings. He was an idiot.

“I love you, too.” he whispered into Cas’ lips. He actually did not intend on saying it, it just slipped out of his lips, and for a moment he felt nervous. But then Cas deepened the kiss, with more passion, and Dean felt at peace. He felt gleeful and blissful, and just so fantastic, he felt like he could explode from all that joy. 

He got his biggest win yet. They were really free, and they got Cas back. He got Cas back.

Things were going to be different now. Good different. Happy. And for the first time maybe ever, he could not wait for the future.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be added or removed ☺)

@gayestpirate @multi-fandom-dark-lord @very-anxious-ottter 

[phoenixyfriend]

The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss​, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil...  She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.

[carnalpleasure]

Sleepy Bunny

Just a lil self indulgent Jim x Reader I've been working on💕 I was originally writing this with Michael, but after rewatching TTOPV last night, I haven't been able to get Jim out of my mind. And I think this story works so much better with him anyway. Based on personal experience. TW.

Summary: Reader wakes up in the hospital recovering from a suicide attempt where she meets Jim, who's recovering from the overdose that was supposed to kill him.

Warnings: suicide mention, drug mention, hospitalization, 51/50, needles

You know that feeling when you wake up from a nap, and you’re more tired than when you went to sleep? That was how you felt waking up this morning.

You slowly pried your eyes open and peered around the room. You weren’t completely sure, but the whole layout seemed different.

The lamp was to the left before. There wasn’t a window there. Wasn’t the door on the other side of the room?

Your eyes were still struggling to focus when one of the nurses walked in. “Look who finally woke up,” she said flatly. She was carrying two trays of food. It smelled like burgers and fries... the smell of food made your stomach turn.

She handed one tray to the boy in the bed beside you with a gentle, “there ya go, honey.” You rolled over and pulled the blanket up, hoping to avoid the nurse altogether and go back to sleep. You closed your eyes tight and prayed she’d go away as her soft soled footsteps on the linoleum floor crept closer.

“You have to eat now. You haven’t eaten in days,” the nurse scolded you from behind. She didn’t sound concerned or compassionate, she just sounded cranky and cruel. Why is she so mad at me?

You turned back to look at the nurse over your shoulder, glaring right back at her. “I just ate last night. Leave me alone,” you replied weakly before turning away from both of them again.

“That wasn’t yesterday,” she huffed. “You slept through yesterday. You’ve been asleep since Friday night.” You quickly sat up in shock and turned around to look back at her. You searched your mind, looking for any detail you could remember from the vague memories you had lying around.

“You have to eat or they won’t take you,” the nurse’s bitchy voice interrupted and threw your whole train of thought off course.

You looked confused. “Who-?“ you started, but she cut you off again. “Eat. I’ll be back in 30 minutes for the trays,” she snapped. Then she turned to exit the room, but not before giving one last genuine smile to the boy in the next bed.

You pushed the tray away and sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest and balling up. There was an awkward silence in the room now. You were too ashamed to look at the other patient.

You didn’t know why he was here, but it couldn’t be more embarrassing than purposely overdosing on your own medication. But his soft, smooth voice broke the silence.

“Their food sucks. Makes me wanna gag too,” he said jokingly. It was meant to help ease your nerves but your embarrassment was growing too fast. Oh my god, do I look nauseous? I feel sick. Be cool, bitch. Be cool.

You peaked your head up to look at him and you were met with the sweetest, most sincere smile you’d ever seen. It lit up the room. Yet the moment you first laid eyes on his face, all you could think was, if there is a god, he fucking hates me.

The only thing that could possibly be worse than waking up in a random hospital bed looking like shit?.. That’s right. Waking up in the bed right next to the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, while looking like shit.

“What day is it?” was all you could think to say back. A yawn escaped your lips. You rubbed your eyes and wiped away the dried mascara. Everything felt foggy. Your thoughts, your vision, your memory. But you could see his face glowing bright as day.

He sat up in his bed and turned to face you, crossing his legs and pulling the sheet over his lap. “It’s Sunday. So you’ve been asleep for..” he glanced up at the clock on the wall and then back at you, “..about 34 hours? You opened your eyes a couple times but.. you were pretty out of it.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. It’s a strange feeling losing an entire day of your life just like that. But it feels even stranger when it finally starts coming back to you.

“Motherfuckers..” you cursed under your breath as the memories played back in your head like a reel of film. A single tear formed in the corner of your eye and then strolled leisurely down your cheek.

You saw it as if you were hovering over your body, watching from above as two nurses held you down by your arms. You were lying flat on your stomach with your shorts pulled down while each of the nurses stuck a needle in your ass to sedate you because you wouldn’t stop crying. They said they needed to calm you down, not knock you out cold..

The boy in the matching gown stayed silent, giving you time to process. Unlike the nurses, his face did seem full of concern and compassion. He looked at you the way you looked at lost puppies on the street. Like he wanted to rescue you.. or at least give you a big hug and hold you for a while.

“This isn’t the same room,” you said, unsure of whether you were talking to him or to yourself. But he answered anyway. “No, you were across the hall when you first came in,” he nodded towards the doorway. He could see how out of it you still were and he wanted to protect you so bad.

“You put up quite a fight,” he gave a short laugh and you thought he was just teasing until flashbacks of you cussing out the hospital staff and shoving the security guard off you started to resurface.

You threw your hands over your face to hide the humiliation and fell backwards on the bed. You wanted to hide from him and everyone else. But he just sat patiently, studying your every reaction.

He’d spent the last couple days watching you sleep, wondering what you were like on a normal day outside of here, what made you laugh, what kind of music you were into.. everything about you was a mystery to him. But like the sad kinds of mysteries that go forever unsolved. That have people mourning and reminiscing still a hundred years later. She seemed like she wanted to take all her secrets with her to the grave.

More than anything, he wondered what could’ve happened to this girl to make her dread being alive so much. It was tragic to think about. But it actually took his mind off his own problems, and for that he was grateful.

Thinking about her distracted him from all of his dad’s bullshit stories, and his mom’s constant compulsive drama, and his sister’s quiet sadness that never seemed to go away. It distracted him from his constant urge to get high. For as long as he’d been around her, that longing to escape was replaced with a longing to be loved.

“I’m glad you’re awake now,” his soft, syrupy voice spoke up and pulled you from your thoughts into a warm embrace. He paused for a moment and you heard him digging around in the drawer on the other side of his bed. Then he sat back on the edge of his bed criss cross. “Now I have someone to play cards with,” he announced cheerfully.

You pulled your hands off your face and looked over at him. You couldn’t help but break into laughter at the sight of him holding up his deck of cards and smiling at you like a little kid who just made a new friend on the playground. Something about him was so innocent and gentle. The way he looked at you like a boy with a schoolyard crush made your heart melt.

“I only know how to play Go Fish,” you admitted shyly. His smile seemed to brighten after you said that, his excitement growing evident on his face. “That’s my favorite game,” he said with a wink as he slid the cards out of the box and began shuffling. They had pictures of pin-up girls in bikinis on the back.

You turned to face him and crossed your legs too, mirroring his position on the bed. The two of you took turns calling out numbers and passing cards back and forth. You were shy at first but the tension quickly melted away. His calm demeanor relaxed you beyond what you thought was capable.

Every once in a while you’d catch him peeking over his cards at you, stealing glimpses of your face when he thought you were too busy looking at your cards to notice.

Each time he’d quickly avert his gaze, hiding behind his cards until his cheeks stopped burning red.

And each time, it made you feel like a kid with an innocent crush again. Back when you thought true love was just holding hands with someone at nap time.

About halfway into the game, you finally got up the courage to ask the question that’d been floating around in the front of your mind. It hurt your heart to think about, but that’s why you had to know. Your mind would just keep coming up with sick scenarios to taunt you with unless you found out for yourself.

“Why are you in here?” you asked nervously, searching his face for his first reaction.

His eyes looked up to meet yours and he sighed. He looked like he’d been waiting for this question. “Overdosed on my mom’s percs,” he said with a soft laugh and a side smile. He tried to shrug it off like it was nothing serious. Like it didn’t scare him.

You recognized it right away. He was downplaying it so you wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He was used to hiding his pain and pretending his problems didn’t matter because he had other people’s problems to take care of. He didn’t want to burden you.

“On accident?” you asked gently. It was hard for him to talk about, but he could see how much you cared by the look in your eyes. He nodded.

The serene smile that graced his face had slowly faded away. His eyes avoided yours and a look of shame seemed to take over. “Yeah. Stupid, I know,” he forced a fake laugh, trying again to play it down.

“I felt so good, I just kept taking more. I just wanted to feel..better.” His voice was low and quiet, just barely above a whisper. He spoke as if he didn’t even want to hear what he had to say.

You wanted to say something to cheer him up, or to at least alleviate some of his shame. But the bitchy nurse from before came barging back in through the door. She was back to collect the trays and to her dismay they were both still untouched.

“James?” she scoffed, picking up the first full plate of food and looking at him disapprovingly.

“What.. now you’re not eating either?” she scowled. He clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything and kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on you.

She came for your plate next but she didn’t take it away. Instead she shoved it towards you again and waved a stern finger at you. “You, Y/N, you still need to eat. If you won’t eat, they won’t take you anywhere. And I don’t have room to keep you here.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you finally snapped back impatiently. You groaned and put down your cards, side eyeing her. You didn’t give a fuck about what she had to say. She’d been nothing but rude to you ever since you were brought to the emergency room and placed in her care.

She sighed dramatically in exasperation, wanting you to know just how irritated she was before answering. “You’re only here on a 72 hour hold. Then you’re being transferred to a mental health facility for a psychiatric evaluation. I explained all of this to you when you blah blah blah blah-“

You tuned her out and quickly turned your attention back to the cards in your hands. Your eyes carefully studied the bikini girl laminated on the back, desperately trying to distract yourself from everything. You couldn’t let yourself break down again. You couldn’t let them see you panic. You didn’t want another shot.

You had been so wrapped up in your little card game with the sweet stranger, you’d almost forgotten where you were and why. Once again, reality came crashing down on you.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too sad to look back at him. You waited until she was gone before finally letting yourself look at him. You could see the worry eating away at him already.

He looked as scared as you felt. At first you thought he was just feeling sorry for you, but it didn’t look like pity. It was more genuine that that. You didn’t want to admit it, but he looked heartbroken to see you go.

It was your turn to break the ice now. “So.. it’s James?” you asked, smiling as his name rolled off your tongue for the first time.

The way you said it made him look up at you like he was seeing God in your eyes. He was captivated by you. His sleeping beauty from the psych ward.

He slowly nodded, still mesmerized. “Yeah well.. I go by Jim” he added nervously. That charming smile returned as he ran his fingers through his wavy brunette hair before letting it fall back in his face.

You stared at him as intently as you could, wanting to savor every last moment you had together. You studied his features like you were cramming for a test, trying desperately to commit the beautiful boy to memory before time ran out.

The freckle on the left side of his face, his baby blue hooded eyes, his pink pillowy lips, the way he ran his hands through his dark tousled waves. You wanted to remember all of it.

You’d only known him a few hours but you already knew in your heart you were going to miss this boy forever.

💕taglist: (lemme know if u wanna be taken off<3) @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-5

TWs: Parental grief, implied death of a child, mention/recount of torture

Sunday night was cold and dark; large, gray clouds hung in the near-black sky, joined by the splatter of shining stars. It was going to rain soon. Even if it did, Jodie Larkin didn’t care. She was busy desperately trying to get a hold of Demetrios. The end of November was in sight, the air far too frigid for one to be outside without a coat, but Jodie was out on her porch in a dress and sandals anyways, too frantic to bother changing out of her Sunday best. She paced back and forward as she held her phone up to her ear, praying the man on the other end of the line would pick up. He didn’t the first time she called, nor the second, nor the third, but she was too worried to give up and leave him alone for the night.

Finally, on the last ring of the fourth call, just when she had begun to lose hope, a familiar, deep voice spoke through the phone’s speakers.

“Hello? Is everything alright, Jodie?” Demetrios asked, his tone softening with worry. It was unusual for her to call several times in a row, especially so late in the evening on a Sunday. It was nearly ten o’clock.

From her porch, Jodie sighed heavily with relief, gently rubbing her temples.

“Hi! Hi, thank god. I’m so sorry to be bothering you. I was just-Oh, god, I think something is wrong. I-when was the last time you saw Elora? She was meant to be here for dinner four hours ago. I tried calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail, and my texts won’t go through, either. I know it’s only been a couple hours, but it’s weird, you know? I’m worried. I thought it was strange when she didn’t text me about her day or anything yesterday, either. She usually does when she goes out and does fun things. So there’s that, and now she just didn’t show up, and it’s worrying me. God, I’m rambling, I-” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s a parental thing, you get it. I just wanted to know the last time you heard from her.”

In his home, Demetrios sat in a leather recliner, his expression slowly becoming troubled as he listened to Jodie’s frantic rambling. His wife, Lucia, sat a few feet away from him on the couch, a blanket tossed over her legs and a book nestled in her lap. She could faintly hear the conversation through Demetrios’ phone, though, and closed her book upon hearing that something was wrong with Elora, setting it to the side as she stood and walked towards him. He motioned for her to hold on, clearing his throat.

“I saw her leaving the bakery Friday night,” he explained calmly. “I offered to drive her home, and she refused, like always. You’ve raised a headstrong girl, Jodie. Look, I’m sure everything is alright. She probably got caught up with friends or nature or a sewing project. I’ll let you know if she doesn’t come into work tomorrow, alright? I’m sure she’s fine. She’s more than likely just making the most out of her last couple months as a teenager and being a delinquent.”

He chuckled, the familiar sound calming Jodie’s nerves. She sighed deeply, nodding to herself. She knew he couldn’t see her; the action was to reassure herself, more than anything.

“You know, you’re probably right. I just...worry about her. She’s my whole family, you know? Just call me as soon as you can in the morning, alright?”

Demetrios sounded sympathetic. He knew, better than anyone, what it was like to lose a child. Only, he knew the pain of losing one forever, not just for a few worrisome hours.

“Of course.”

“Thank you again. I don’t know what we’d do without you. Sorry for being so frazzled. You know how I am.” Jodie chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s normal to worry, Jodie. She’s still your baby even though she’s growing up. You have a good night, okay? Get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, again, for her own reassurance. “Right. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Jodie hung up the phone and headed inside, sighing deeply. She kicked her shoes off and headed into her bedroom, deciding to take Demetrios’ advice and relax. Get some sleep.

This would all just be a funny story in the morning. Elora would come home and she’d scold her and then everything would be okay. She plugged in her phone and rolled over, facing away from it. The house felt scarily empty, the same way it had for months since Elora had moved out. Only tonight, it felt even emptier than normal.

Five text messages were left sent, but not delivered, on her phone.

11/29/18 6:15 PM: You’re late! Hurry up, kiddo, lasagna’s getting cold.

11/29/18 6:42 PM: You okay? Call me.

11/29/18 7:27 PM: Please call me.

11/29/18 8:59 PM: What’s up? Where are you?

11/29/18 9:36 PM: I love you, E. Please call me as soon as you see this. Love you.

“What was that all about?” Lucia asked, her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed with worry. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.

“It was Jodie,” Demetrios explained. “Elora didn’t show up to dinner and her phone’s going to voicemail. She’s worried, but I think she’d probably just sidetracked with something. Or partying. I don’t know. She’s still practically a kid and I gave her a free weekend. She could be getting into all sorts of things.”

Lucia nodded, considering for a moment. “I’m sure she’s fine. I wouldn’t worry until tomorrow. But it’s natural for Jodie to worry, she’s her only baby and she just moved out. We’re both working the morning shift tomorrow. I’ll try to reassure her.”

“You’re an angel, you know what?” Demetrios smiled.

Lucia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, smiling back. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, I love you.”

Demetrios nodded. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

With that, Lucia nodded and walked off.

Eventually, Demetrios joined her in bed, and the pair slept peacefully, curled up with each other in a messy tangle of limbs. Together, just the way they liked it.

~

Somewhere far away, Elora was sleeping, too. Or at least trying to. She couldn’t get comfortable, surrounded by walls of hard ceramic and chains and blood. So much blood. She assumed that today, Sunday, had been the man’s day off, because he’d spent what felt like the whole day with her, only giving her a reprieve after hours of what she could only describe as torture. Her head was still pounding from the night before, but he didn’t seem to care, as he shouted at her again and again about that stupid little aloe plant. He still wanted her to grow it, but she wouldn’t give in. Couldn’t. She needed to be strong. At first, he’d just slap her, then ask again, but after a bright red handprint from repeated impact was clear across her cheek, he moved on, bringing back the pocket knife. He cut her across her arm, again and again, then went back and dug his fingernails into the gashes. She thrashed and cried, but still didn’t give in, for the whole day. Now, though, she almost wished she had. The dull sting in her arm was a constant, bitter reminder of her defiance, and one of the only sensations she had in the dark room. She couldn’t see an inch in front of her face in the darkness, but she could feel the sting. And the throb from her thigh. Constantly.

She stared up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from welling up. She didn’t know why she kept trying to hold them back; they always came and slid down her face, anyways, no matter how hard she tried. Maybe it was just the shred of dignity she had left, begging to be held on to.

It was cold in the bathroom. There were no windows for heat from the sun to seep through, and she wasn’t sure if the apartment even had a formal heating system. If it did, the man wasn’t turning it on. It was cold enough to amplify her misery, but not actually harm her. Probably intentional.

She didn’t actually fall asleep for a long time. She rotated around near-constantly, trying to get somewhat comfortable to absolutely no avail. There was no way to position herself without agitating something. Her aching head, her stinging arm, her sore thigh-one always screamed out in complaint from the way she laid.

When her eyes finally did shut and her breathing became even, it was more of passing out from exhaustion than true sleep.

Still, that night, she dreamed of her mother. Her mind painted a vivid picture of the two of them picking apples at an orchard together, the rows and rows of trees bringing about the most poignant feeling of peace. The breeze was soft, the fall weather still just warm enough to wear her favorite shorts. In the morning, she would wake up with a sad sense of longing, wishing it had been real, but for the moment, she was happy.

~

Demetrios got ready for work just like normal the next morning. He hardly even remembered the conversation he had with Jodie the past night, paying it little mind. He was certain that Elora would come into work like normal, perhaps a little hungover, and he’d be able call her mother and assure her of her safety.

And so he kissed Lucia on the forehead and drove to the bakery, dressed in his usual uniform of khakis, a t-shirt, and an apron that had seen many years of stains. He pulled into the parking lot in his spot, unlocked the front door, and began opening like he always did. He cleaned, prepared ingredients for the day, filled the cases-everything like normal. They didn’t open until 8, and it was still only 7:30 by the time he finished preparing everything for the day. He didn’t worry.

He started watching the window around 7:40. He was sitting behind the register, with a clear view of the parking lot. He was sure he’d see Elora walk through the doors.

Three of his other employees came through the front door between 7:40 and 8:00, smiling and waving obliviously.

But Elora never came. She usually came in right around 7:50, but there was still no sign of her by 8:00 when they opened.

Maybe she was just late. He tried to convince himself of that, but when 9:00 came and he’d been acting so nervously that even the regulars noticed it, he knew he had to call Jodie.

He ducked outside quickly before any employees could question for him, anxiously tapping his foot against the deck. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Jodie, breathing deeply. It was going to hurt to tell her this.

Jodie answered on the second ring, clearly having been waiting for him to call. She stepped out into the hallway, away from all the rooms, praying that Demetrios was calling because Elora just got in a little late and a little disheveled.

She spoke first, hope potent in her voice. “Hello? Is she there?”

Demetrios sucked in a breath. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, but I’ll help you figure it out, alright? Lucia and I will. We care about her, too. You’re family and we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

It felt like a few years of her life force was sucked out of her when she heard the answer. No. Your daughter isn’t here, Jodie, she could be somewhere, anywhere, hurt or dead or worse.

She wanted to break down, she really did, But she had patients to tend to. And so she shoved down the pain, compartmentalized it into a little box and set it to the side to be dealt with later. All she could offer was a tiny squeak of acknowledgment, not wanting to speak too much for fear of bursting into tears right then and there.

She hung up the phone before Demetrios could say anything else. When she turned around, prepared to head back into the ward and continue her rounds, she found that Lucia had followed her out.

Lucia didn’t even have to ask her. Jodie just shook her head. Lucia frowned, then stepped forward, putting a gentle, reassuring hand on her back.

Jodie rested her head on Lucia’s shoulder and sobbed.

“What if no one finds her?” she asked between cries, shaking her head. “It’s not like her. It’s not-no one has seen her since Friday.”

Lucia rubbed her back lightly, shushing her gently. “After our shift, we can go down to the police station and file a report together, okay? It’s gonna be okay, Jodie, I promise.”

The other woman sniffled and held back another sob. Your job, Jodie.

She nodded, her chest heaving with a heavy breath as she leaned into Lucia. Their shift was another nine hours, they were losing time, she was losing time, she was losing her daughter-

She swallowed and nodded.

“Okay.”

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas

[otg2012]

Not Lydia 2.0 | Jackson is tired of keeping his relationship with Stiles a secret and wants to do something about it.

DAY 2 @jacksonwhittemoreweek | Stiles/Jackson | AO3

Stiles's room is usually a mess, so their clothes all over the floor kind of look like they belong there. The faint light from the small lamp on the nightstand illuminates their naked bodies, only partially covered by a sheet.

Stiles is smiling in the afterglow, his head resting on Jackson's chest as Jackson runs his fingers lazily through his hair. It turns out that Jackson's skin on his cheek and his heartbeat under his ear is one of his new favorite positions. Besides, the massage on his scalp feels good as hell; he's so relaxed he's sure he'll fall asleep soon.

"You know, I've been thinking about it..." Jackson breaks the silence.

Stiles hears him but doesn't open his eyes or bother to answer. He'd rather sleep than talk right now.

"I think we should tell them."

That certainly catches Stiles's attention, and he feels even less like talking.

"I know you heard me, say something."

When Stiles doesn't answer or gives any indication that he heard him, Jackson carefully holds Stiles's head up so that he can keep eye contact.

"I don't want to argue." Stiles moves away, lying on his side, left elbow on the bed and chin on his left hand. "Today was perfect." He rests his other hand on Jackson's chest, not feeling like losing contact yet.

"And you think I do?"

"It seems like it." If it sounds a little childish, he couldn't care less.

"Well, I don't. But it's been five months and I'm getting tired of this whole..." Jackson hesitates as he tries to find the best way to describe it.

"Secrecy," he finally says. "Why aren't you? I don't get it," Jackson adds, frowning.

Stiles licks his lips, unsure what to say since he doesn't want to make Jackson mad.

"I just don't see why it's such a big deal. Things are great now." He caresses Jackson's chest with his fingers distractedly. "You just don't wanna shower so often..."

Stiles frowns, "has anybody told you anything?"

"No, they haven't but I'm tired as hell. It's not easy hiding it from them, you know that, especially Derek. And yeah, the way he looks at me sometimes... I think he suspects something. He thinks I'm fucking Isaac for all I know."

Stiles snorts and can't stop the grin that spreads across his face. "You two have been spending a lot of time together lately..."

"I'm helping him with Spanish and history. I deserve a medal or something."

"I know..." Stiles nods. "I'll get you one, I promise." Stiles smiles, amused.

"So anyway, last month you said it was too soon. Let’s wait a month, you said, and if things are still good, we'll tell them. You remember that?"

"I do," Stiles says quietly.

"Good. Well, like you said, things are great now, so why not?" Jackson raises his eyebrows.

"I just don't feel like changing anything." And if it sounds immature, or whatever, he doesn't care at all.

Jackson snorts, shakes his head and mirrors Stiles's position on the bed to look at him.

"Sorry to tell you this, but you're a little late for that," he says, irony evident in his voice. "Everything has fucking changed already. This," Jackson waves his left hand between them, "is just one more thing. Besides, just imagine what being my boyfriend can do for your social life..."

"Oh yeah," Stiles says rolling his eyes dramatically, "how could I forget... you're still the co-captain of the lacrosse team."

"Damn right I am… and don't you ever forget it, Stilinski," Jackson smirks.

"Shut up," Stiles says, playfully hitting Jackson on the shoulder with his right hand.

"Okay, so," Stiles continues, "if you think that... if you wanted to tell them... then, why did you agree with me a month ago?" Because nothing has really changed since then.

"I agreed because believe it or not I'm not stupid." Jackson sighs, "I know what it means. It's not like dating Lydia."

Simple, easy, expected in many ways... Stiles understands it perfectly.

"And you're not Lydia 2.0."

A smirk tweaks the corner of Stiles' mouth, easing into a smile as Jackson continues.

"I'm also coming out to my parents, if you didn't notice... which at this point is not really a problem because nothing could top having told them I'm a wolf, but if I was doing it I wanted to be sure that we had something, y'know? Something real... and now I'm sure."

It's moments like this when Stiles can feel the change more than ever. The difference between this Jackson and the one he used to know. The honesty in his voice and his eyes touches his heart and leaves him speechless for a minute.

"I'm sure too. That's not... that's not the problem."

"Then what?" Jackson raises his eyebrows again.

"I'm not sure how Scott and everybody else is going to react." Somehow, it didn't sound so weak before he said it aloud.

"You mean your father." It is clearly a statement, not a question.

"Well, yeah." It's not like he can try lying to Jackson anyway. "He's not your biggest fan. He knows what you are and after everything that happened, he still thinks that somehow it was your fault that we got kidnapped. He thinks that if I had been with Derek or Scott, they could have fought them and prevented it." Stiles shakes his head, "he's not gonna like it... he might even send me back to Eichen House..." Stiles smirks, even if he tries to hide it.

"I don't care what he thinks. He can hate me all he wants," Jackson says firmly. "Besides, you're his only son... obviously he's gonna be on protective mode. Oh, and let's not forget the restraining order... he's gonna hold that against me forever," Jackson says, chuckling. "Seriously, if I don't care what he thinks, then you shouldn't either. Who knows? Maybe with time he'll come around.”

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Then we agree? Should we tell them tomorrow?"

Stiles knows Jackson has proposed that day because Sunday is pack meeting day.

"Yeah, okay. Tomorrow it is."

Next thing he knows, Stiles is being pushed on his back with superhuman strength and Jackson's body is covering his, his legs being pushed apart so that Jackson can fit between them. Jackson holds his left hand, intertwining their fingers against the mattress while he grabs and pulls Stiles's hair lightly with his other hand.

Suddenly, worrying about his father and everybody else can wait. Besides, they've made the decision together, and Jackson is right. It is time.

As much as he loves sex, kissing Jackson tops everything else. Whenever Jackson is in control, it's forceful and gentle at the same time. Jackson bites Stiles's bottom lip and he feels instantly relaxed and boneless. Stiles makes an unintelligible sound as Jackson slides his teeth along Stiles's jaw. Stiles tilts his head to the side and then Jackson's mouth is on his neck, attacking the skin with his lips, his teeth and tongue. If anything, at least telling people will allow Jackson to give him a hickey whenever he wants, wherever he wants, and Stiles won't complain about it.

Precisely in that moment, somebody rings the doorbell, but Jackson doesn't stop, he's too focused on bruising his neck masterfully, and Stiles thinks that whoever is at the door will leave, but he's obviously wrong because thirty seconds later it is clear that whoever is at the door has no intention to leave.

"Jackson, stop." Stiles grabs Jackson's hair, trying to make him obey. "The door."

Jackson stops but doesn't move away, simply lifts his head to look at Stiles.

"You don't expect me to open it, right?" Jackson asks, tone full of disbelief.

"Fuck!" Stiles suddenly remembers who might be at the porch. "What time is it?"

Jackson simply groans and moves aside, lying next to Stiles.

Stiles grabs his phone where he reads 8:33 pm and everything comes back to him.

"Shit! It's Scott! He was coming over! We changed the day last week... God, I totally forgot, I'm sorry!" Stiles says as he gets up and starts to look for his clothes to put them on.

"Come on! You have to leave!" Stiles says, waving his arms.

"You have to be kidding me!" Jackson says as he gets up and starts to get dressed as well.

"Shut up! He can fucking hear you!"

"You too, jackass," Jackson says in a lower voice just as the doorbell rings again.

Just then there's another sound. A sound which becomes louder and louder as it continues. For a minute Stiles is confused, as he's not sure if it's the doorbell of his house or something else, but just a few seconds later as he opens his eyes it becomes clear that it's not the doorbell. It's the alarm clock of his phone.

Still half asleep, he grabs the phone and stops the alarm.

He sees a 7:50 am over Daniel's smiling face.

[erismerald]

MY NEW ROAD - Chapter 1

» Older Daniel Diaz x reader 

» Warnings: mature, romance, blood, gang                                             

Chapter 2

» So i was hoping i could read something about daniel diaz, at the end of 5 ep, and as i was sick of waiting,  so i decided to write a long short about older daniel diaz, so let's go :)

And there I was, in this moment  i was terrified, I could I feel my blood coming out of my belly, it hurts a lot... I couldn't breathe, or think, to be honest I didn't know what to do... Who is he? Why is he here? For a few seconds i felt my body being lifted up.

" Y/N ? Oh please wake up... ahhh SEAN!!!!"

I recognized this voice, but I just let my eyes close, I felt my body fall asleep.

*A FEW HOURS EARLIER*

So HI!! My name is y/n, im 17 and right now I'm living on my own in Mexico, more property in puerto lobos.

I'm a very simple girl, I grew up in LA with my grandparents, I never met my parents, and during my life, my grandparents never told me about their daughter, they just told me that she had abandoned me when I was Little, and as for my father, they didn't know who she was, so I never really cared about that.

I've been living here for about six weeks,I study in a small americam school, near here. I'm loving living here I never thought, that a dream I had since I was little would come true so soon, I decided to live here, because I love Mexican culture and not to mention that living by the beach never tires anyone, and I still have the privilege of seeing the sunset disappear into the waves...

Since I was a child I was very shy and I don't know how to express myself to others anht this is the reason why I've not be able to make friends in this new school yet, I feel ashamed when they look at me or try to talk to me, it's complicated, however, I've always managed to make some friends in LA, people I talk to almost every single day.

it's already 7 am i think i should be preparing for school but i think laziness has won ahaha, I got up and tried to take as little time as possible, I don't want to be late again or Ms. Lopez will kick me out of her class again.

I was new to that school and it wasn't the first time I was late, which I can say I love sleeping, but I have to work harder to make sure that doesn't happen, and I'm going to start right now haha.

I tried to take as little time as possible, of course that for me it's kind of impossible, because, I still had to take a shower before going, but I think at least I won't be late this time, I look at the clock and OMG is already 7:50 and the classes start at 8:00, ahhhhh how will I get to school in 10... Afff so much effort for nothing, well at least I can still get to the beginning of the first class.

On the way to school, I saw him again... I think his name is Daniel, he's from my class but I never talked to him before, and to be honest, I never had the courage to talk to him, well... not only with him, I think with everyone in general, so far I haven't made any friends, except the lady from the apartment next door, and we only talk on Sundays, because we have the same way when we go to church.

  I think I've been looking at him too long... why do I say that? He's looking at me right now. I can't deny it he's beautiful... he's so mysterious, but from what I've seen of him, at school he's very fun, reserved, but fun.

I felt him staring at me, which made me completely ashamed, and my only option for not having to talk to him was to hit him and not, to look at him as I passed by, even with my back to him his gaze managed to make me feel a huge chill, but it's a good thing that I'm already arriving at school.

For real I didn't know what to tell him anyways.

When i arrived at school i came across Ms.Lopez on the way. And I think it was at this moment that I realized I was completely fucked up, I tried to go unnoticed, but without success.

And when I turned back I only saw her ferocious gaze directed at me.

"Miss l/n shouldn't be in class already. Preferably sitting at your desk waiting for me." - she looked at me with a deadly look on her face

"oh I finally find you y/n, thx for waiting for me, and here you have your Spanish book that you lent me." He looked at me and winked at me, so that I could continue with the theater.

"O-of course I do, Daniel, there's nothing to be thankful for" he stands next to me and takes my hand. And he gave me the book, I felt my heart go off a thousand an hour...When I lifted my face I saw his eyes glued on me, why did he protect me?

"Is that why you were late?" She looked at me and then at Daniel, I felt the anger in her eyes

"yes i decided to wait for daniel" i smiled at her, and i felt daniel put himself behind me

"Vamos, no te enojes con ella, maestra. Sólo fue esta vez (Come on, don't get mad at her, teacher. It was just this time .)" Daniel grabbed my shoulders and spoke, I saw Ms. Lopez calm her eyes and take a deep breath.

"Hum being so, i let you pass your delay this time you two have 5 minutes to introduce you in my class, and miss L/N thank the boy Daniel for helping her " his voice was calm now but his words were cold.

She continued on her way to the classroom, and I hear Daniel laughed

"You're welcome!" daniel said as my body moved, his voice was now hoarse, I sounded hypnotized by the voice of him.

"T-thank you for helping me." I tried to be short and quick in my answer. I was so nervous and idk why.

"let's go to class before Ms. Lopez decides to murder us, because we're late" daniel just went on her way but stopped 3 steps ahead of me.

"will have to pull you?" he laughs softly and throws a half smile, my heart, jumped a beat when i saw that smile.

"Y-yes" I just followed him.... When we arrived in the room each one sat in his seat, but for some reason, Daniel kept looking at me and it made me nervous for the rest of the time.

During the rest of the day, everything went as usual, except for the failed attempt by me to escape Daniel's gaze, I  don't know what he was looking for in me, but I think I managed to make him lose interest for a while. I think.

When I finally rang the exit bell, I was the first to leave for the first time, I didn't want to know anything else, I just wanted to get home and enjoy being alone.

When I walked through the school gate, I took a deep breath and tried to rearrange my ideas, how can something as simple as talking to a person make me so nervous?

I'll speed up the walk and look at the sky and then at the sea at the end of the street to calm myself down. I didn't understand what was going on this day but I just asked it to end quickly. Yeah, to tell you the truth, I've never had a boy look at me for so long, am I getting a crush on him? AHHHHH well  I hope not.

When I was almost at home, I felt a chill on my back and soon I could be able to realized what was happening....

"Are you trying to avoid me?" Not that voice, not again.

I turned slowly and there he was, did he follow me? When I looked at him I felt my face boiling with shame.

"Did the Cat eat your tongue?" he looked at me and laughed, and began to approach me.

I tried to ignore to not have to answer, I really suffered from many anxiety problems and did not know what to do in these situations.

"okay i got you, you don't want to talk to me don't worry" he looked at the floor and his cheerful expression went to sadness

"well see you tomorrow at school" when he was going to turn around and continue on his way i screamed

"WAIT"

He turned to me and smiled... OH God that smile was so sweet

"I thought you weren't gonna answer ahaha."

"I'm not ignoring you, or avoiding you...I'm just too shy to talk" I couldn't face his eyes so I just looked at the ground.

"Are you sure? I didn't want to get into it with Ms Lopez, but I knew if I didn't, she'd kick you out of her class" when I looked up I came across the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

It made me blush, involuntarily, I didn't know what to say.

"thank you...and it's okay, I'd be kicked out if it wasn't for you too, so thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome, I've always seen you being very shy with everyone and you don't seem to be the kind of person who would be late on purpose, well, I won't take up your time. See you tomorrow"

he said with a perverse smile on his face

"Oh and if tomorrow you want company for the school I can wait here for you".

I didn't have time to say anything else I just agreed and entered the building.

When I got home I lay on the couch, looking at the ceiling, trying to see what had happened, I didn't notice it, but I felt my body tired and ended up falling asleep.

"Daniel... Something about him attracted me...'

I opened my eyes very slowly, I looked at the window and it was already dark, I picked up my phone and turned it on, I had 5 unanswered calls from my grandmother, this was strange she didn't call me so often

I dialed her number and called...

"y/n honey is you?"

"yes Grandma, what's going on?  I'm sorry I was so tired that I fell asleep and didn't hear you call".

Without telling me anything else she felt like she was crying, but what happened to make my grandmother cry she hardly ever does, and when I say that she doesn't, it's because it's rare.

"Honey, I have something to tell you... Your mother is looking for you," those words left me unanswered, my mother?

No...

No...

Couldn't be, my mother abandoned me 16 years ago, for me she died... I started crying, that person who abandoned me 16 years ago, now its looking for me why? I had so many questions in my mind, I couldn't talk to anybody, I just need some time.

"honey are there? Y/n?" My grandmother called me...

"I'm sorry Grandma, I need to think a little, I'll call you later."

"darling no-" i hung up on her, i don't like to do this but i need time to process

I got up, grabbed my jacket and went out towards the beachWhen I got there I sat down on the sand, and watched the sea, and the waves coming at me, I didn't want to believe that my mother was looking for me, if she hadn't wanted me in 16 years, she wouldn't want me now.... Now I did not even want her back

At that moment I felt that I was not alone there, I turned around and saw a group of people coming towards me.

I got up quickly and tried to get out of there, but it was too late.

Fear sometimes makes us irrational, and at this moment I did not know what to do, I did not know how to react, I was scared, I felt one of the men grabbing me by the arms, and attached me to his body

"hey you, don't move so much kittens, let's talk"

The second man spoke and stood in front of me, and grabbed my face forcing me to look at him.

"so you're the Diaz little princess aren't you?" I wasn't noticing anything, I just tried to get away but without success, I wonder what would happen to me...

I tried to fight and I tried to let go, but unfortunately I only did worse, he pressed himself behind my back and won't let me go.

"Let's teach that boy a lesson, that's what he and his brother will pay to judge us dumb."

One of them pulled a knife out of his waist and approached me...

"NO PLEASE DON'T"

I started screaming, and crying madly, I was now completely scared.

At that very moment, I felt the blade pierce my skin... I didn't know what to do, I just tried to struggle

But when I turned my head, there he was, out of nowhere, the people around me were thrown away, I felt my body fall into the sand...

And there I was, in this moment  i was terrified, I could I feel my blood coming out of my belly, it hurts a lot... I couldn't breathe, or think, to be honest I didn't know what to do... Who is he? Why is he here? For a few seconds i felt my body being lifted up.

" Y/N ? Oh please wake up... ahhh SEAN!!!!"

I recognized this voice, but I just let my eyes close, I felt my body fall asleep...

But to be honest I felt my body warm, from this moment on, it just got dark.

_______________________________________

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01E05 and SKAM+ Clip 2

I will come back to the rest of the episode 2 clips, as well as episode 3 and 4. I just wanted to get this out of the way before @lightsandlostbells catches me off guard with a Skam España recap again. 😉

CLIP 1: Zaorejas goes international

Hometown: I remember this also coming up in some discussions of og Skam. In Spain, there was a big population shift from the 50s to the 70s where people moved from the small villages they came from, to the cities. Naturally, people kept the ancestral family home and didn’t sell it. So, when Cris is talking about visiting her hometown, it’s more her family’s hometown. She was probably born in Madrid, after the population shift.

Long weekend: the 12th of October fell on a Friday this year, so episode 5 fell on a three-day weekend. The 12th of October is a national holiday in Spain, and yes, it commemorates the anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ first arrival in the Americas. It used to be called Día de la Hispanidad (Hispanic Day), so as to celebrate… Spain’s… Connection to Latin America. Anyway. The name was changed to Fiesta Nacional (National Holiday) in 1987. We also celebrate Constitution Day on the 6th of December, which is similar to July 4 in the US and May 17 in Norway.

Eva was planning on studying Physics and Biology over the weekend. That means she’s on the Science track of Baccalaureate.

Zaorejas: Cris’ family hails from Zaorejas, in the region of Guadalajara. This village has 133 permanent residents as of 2017. If you wanted to do sightseeing, it has the remains of a Roman aqueduct, Roman roads and a Celtiberian archeological site.

Hulio: Hulio is a well known Spanish meme that people I consulted decided should stay, rather than be substituted for a similar meme in English. Read more about Hulio here.

Guiris (tourists): Guiri actually means any non-Spaniard, whether they are actually tourists or staying in Spain for a longer period. You’re more likely to be called guiri if you’re from the US, Canada or north of the Pyrenees. It doesn’t matter whether you’re fluent in Spanish, but it helps not to have an accent (which is, in fact, what keeps Cris and Nora from getting called guiris themselves, lol).

CLIP 2: Good luck on that sex!

Break in August: the 15th of August is a national holiday in Spain, it commemorates the Assumption of Mary. It fell on a Wednesday in 2018, so Jorge and Eva spent a Wednesday through Sunday break together. They apparently managed to evade their parents too.

Casa en la sierra (“mountain house”): Madrid is both a city and a region (or an autonomous community, if you want to read more about this). Lucas’ family originally hails from the northern part of the region of Madrid, which lies atop a mountain range. As Jorge says, you can simply take a regular bus up there, and it’s not too expensive to visit. I actually figured that, if there was a cabin episode, it’d take place at “la sierra,” but I thought they’d take the train.

Se van a cagar con la que vamos a liar (“they’ll shit themselves with how hard we’re bringing it”): the latter half isn’t quite a word-for-word translation, but the meaning is the same. I just wanted to point out another instance of poop-related emphasis.

Waterparties (“wet blanket”): I pointed that out when the clip came out, but Cris is pulling a specific type of English language-related humor that we’re pretty fond of here. She has literally translated the word aguafiestas  as “waterparties.” An aguafiestas is a wet blanket. I thought of subbing it as “manta mojada,” but figured it’d be too much. See more examples of this type of humor here. As English becomes more ubiquitous everywhere, people are given to use English even when there’s a perfectly serviceable Spanish word. Which results in this sort of humor: translating even Spanish words that make no sense in English.

A tomar por culo (“fuck me in the ass”): I mean, I could’ve translated it as “fuck me,” but Cris literally says “in the ass,” so. Basically, when something goes to shit in Spain, you can say it’s gone to take it up the ass. Or you can say it’s gone to shit, too. We’re very anal-oriented as a country.

Coño (“fuck”): “Coño” literally means cunt, but it is used here as “fuck.” I don’t think it comes up through the season, but I will translate it as cunt if it’s ever used to mean a literal pussy.

Que se os dé bien (“hope you two do great at it”): this is pretty much the literal translation. It’s awkward because Cris herself has no idea what to say. It’s not… really a thing we tell someone who announces she’s going to lose her virginity, to say the least lol.

CLIP 3: The sex talk

Taurus: Viri is not actually a Taurus. She shares her birthday with Paris Jackson, 3rd of April, which makes her an Aries. We’re all very confused about this.

Pero ni de coña (“sike”): The literal translation would be, “but, not even as a joke,” which is too long and awkward. I think “sike” is cuter and has the same effect.

Tampoco te pases (“don’t take advantage either”): I haven’t checked other subs, but I think this could be translated either as “don’t go that far (as to pinch me)” or “don’t take advantage (of the situation by pinching me).” Hope the meaning was clear with my choice!

Macho (“Dang”): Macho just means… macho. As per Collins, “You use macho to describe men who are very conscious and proud of their masculinity.” But we often use it as an interjection, like dang, that wouldn’t be considered a swear word. Amira is really good at using these.

Not a culture and translation note, but I’m curious. How many people walked away from this clip with the impression that Nora has admitted to having had sex?  I’ve heard opinions for yes and no.

The Coach x Selena Gomez collection includes many types of apparel and accessories, but not shoes. So I can’t say I’ve seen those shoes, Viri. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  For what it’s worth, unlike other Vildes, I think Viri was actually fucking with them. She couldn’t think of anything that got her horny, so she joked that the Selena Gomez line is just that hot.

CLIP 4: Mr. Coitus Interruptus

No jodas (“Stop that”): Jorge actually says, “don’t fuck around,” as in, don’t wake me up by playing music.

You don’t want to know how many times I had to listen to the song before I could make out that what Lucas was saying before he opens the door is simply, “¿Hola?” Also, I’m pretty sure Lucas’ string of sorries is an homage to Tarjei’s delivery in the og clip. I believe at this point we’ve been made aware that Alejandro Reina likes him some Isak/Even, right?

CLIP 5: Jorge tests my patience with slang    

Abrefácil mis cojones (“Easy-open my balls”): “Cojones” is actually stronger than balls. I’d translate it as bollocks, but that’s British slang, and I want to try and keep to American slang, lest this becomes a total mess of dialects.

It’s been a full season of many, many great Lucas moments, but heaven help me, I still think his sausage craving is one of his finest moments. I even requested that Movistar+ made a gif of it. I am probably the only person using it, but I can’t find it in me to care.

Lucas ha tenido movida con sus padres (“Lucas got into a fight with his parents”): Fight might be too strong. I think “ha tenido movida” is close to “had an argument,” but sometimes we make choices in the name of less characters per line, on a show where everyone wants to talk at top speed, and Jorge wants to speak strictly in slang.

Además, que no se va a cantear. Fijo que nos deja a nuestra bola. (“Besides, he’s not going to be out of line. He’s gonna give us space for sure.”) “Cantearse” means to behave in such a way that you’re calling attention to yourself, being inconvenient, generally being a pain in the ass. “Ir a nuestra bola” is to do our own thing, by ourselves. Presumably, without Lucas “canteándose.”

No tenía ni zorra (“I had no fucking clue”): “Zorra” will come up later in the season again and again and again, and it’d usually mean “slut” or “whore” at its strongest, but again, it’s used here for emphasis. This sentence can also be “no tenía ni zorra idea,” but as Lucas does here, you can omit the word “idea” (idea/clue) and it carries the same meaning.

Nada, tío, ya sabeh, hay un amigo en mí (“No biggie, dude, you know, you’ve got a friend in me”): Not that you’d be able to tell, but Hugo is pulling a Cuban accent when he says this. I believe I’ve mentioned in one of these posts that Spaniards just love talking in other accents and doing voices to be silly.

Fuet: This is fuet. 

CLIP 6: The boy squad channels your uncles at Thanksgiving

Eva is snacking on sunflower seeds. Sunflower seeds are the basic snack to munch on if you’re a Spaniard. You can buy them pre-shelled and coated in different flavors, but by far, the most popular option is to buy them shelled with a coating of salt. You pop them open with your teeth and taste the salt, then eat the seed. Sunflower oil is also the second most popular cooking oil in Spain, right after olive oil, of course.

One of the books in the shelves is a collection of Grimm Brothers tales! There’s no significance to this, I just think it’s cute.

Conversaciones de cuñados sobre fútbol (“Rednecks chatting about football”): I already posted about this when the clip dropped, but I have since learned that the “cuñado” phenomenon most closely resembles Thanksgiving Uncles, as seen in this Onion article: Nation's Uncles Enter Last Stage Of Prep For Thursday's Thanksgiving Debates. Again, football is soccer to you Yanks, but I’ll be damned if I ever refer to it as soccer, even if these subs use American slang.

Te vas a cagar, chaval (“You’re gonna shit yourself, boy”): Lucas gets in on the shitting action! Heartwarming.

CLIP 7: Jorge gets petty

Jorgito: Much like Jorge called Eva “Evita” a few episodes ago, Lucas now calls Jorge “Jorgito.” #JustBroThings

Te voy a reventar (“I’m gonna kick your ass”): I decided to be charitable, but what Hugo tells Lucas is that he’s going to bust [his ass, presumably]. #JustBroThings

I tried Shazaming the song to find out which game they’re supposedly playing, but no luck. Sorry.

CLIP 8: ☹️

Again, I did my best to try and identify the bus Eva takes, because that would tell us where Lucas’ family is from, but the shots are filmed and edited in such a way that you can never get any identifying information. Cockblocked (like Eva and Jorge).

EXTRA CLIP: Amira’s time to shine!

There’s no real reason for Amira to be sitting away from Cris and Nora, by the way, other than they need her to for the random dude to approach her. Just in case you thought there was a CULTURAL reason behind it.

La oreja está muy rica (“The pig’s ear is really tasty”): The server doesn’t actually specify it’s pig’s ear, but that is definitely what he’s talking about. See Wikipedia for more details.

Romeo y Julieto (“Romeo and Juliet”): I kept it as Romeo and Juliet, but Amira very clearly says JulietO, as in, the dude version of Juliet. She’s being sarcastic about she and the Zaorejas random being a love match, and I don’t think there’s any, let’s say, HOMOPHOBIC undertones to the sarcasm, so I didn’t try to go for a dude name, but your mileage may vary here.

Es que es un canteo (“it’s over the top”): “Canteo” comes up again! In this instance, it would mean behaving (wearing a hijab) in such a way that you’re calling attention to yourself.

Pones a huevo que te pregunten cosas (“You’re inviting questions”): I couldn’t come up with a slangy equivalent, but Cris means that Amira is setting herself up to be asked questions. Hope the shorter sentence I picked conveys Cris’ meaning all the same.

Love that the Zaorejas random is credited literally as Chico Zaorejas (Zaorejas boy).

Social media:

Just a note, since it comes up in a previous episode, but I’m doing these out of order. It seems that everyone calls the English teacher “Johnny” (written as Yoni), so as to make the pun “yo ni me ducho, yo ni me peino” (I don’t shower, I don’t comb my hair). I picked Aidan because I thought it would read as “I don’t,” i.e. I don’t shower, I don’t comb my hair, etc.

[dork-empress]

Red Riding Hood

Part of my ‘100 Dragon Prince Aus’ Oneshot Collection

Read Part 1 Here

Read on Ao3

After finding a girl who lived in a candy house, the lost brothers think they've found their doom. But the girl might just be part of her own story all together...

Yup its a fairytale MASHUP! we got Red Riding Hood in addition to Hansel and Gretel. What other story about children lost in the woods can we add to this? I have no idea I wrote until I was out of ideas.

But hey! 50 chapters! we're halfway through the AUS! I wanted to do something special but....I dunno, it was already sequel sunday. This chapter is...a little longer than usual? There you go. Enjoy!

“I said, what are yoo doin, eatin’ my house?!” the woman said, as Callum held up his hands, mouth full of crumbs.

He swallowed as much as he could as quickly as he could, “Please don’t eat us!” he said, accidentally spitting crumbs in her face, no doubt hurting his chances, “We were just hungry, and...and why do you live in a house made out of candy anyway?”

“Thas’ my business,” she told him, “Hey! Little one! Stop it!”

Behind Callum, Ezran was reaching for another handful of frosting, but froze. “Your house tastes, like, so good.”

“I know it does,” she said, “But that doesn’ give you a right to go tearin’ it up and eatin’ it. Besides, you’re gonna get cavities and lose your teeth, then ya won’t be eatin’ anything! Is that what you want?”

Ezran seemed to be strongly considering it. “I mean, I could still eat the frosting without teeth,” he said, looking longingly at the mounds of snowy white sugar.

“Ez,” Callum hissed at him, “Please don’t antagonize the sword-wielding witch!”

“Witch!” The woman said, offended, “I’m no’ a witch! Why would you say somethin’ like that?”

“Uhhhh, you have horns and purple skin and white hair and live in a magical house made out of candy?!” He said

“None of that makes me a witch!” she said, angling the sword at him, “I’m an elf.”

“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” Callum said, feeling awkward, “Do you….do you eat children?”

“Ew, no,” She said, “I eat fruit, there’s tons in the woods.”

“Oh,” he said. “So, the house…?”

“A witch used to live here, but he’s long gone,” she said, her casual tone not matching the SWORD at Callum’s THROAT. “I just like living in the woods, and this was all set up for me.” She shrugged.

Callum nodded. “And the sword?”

“Oh,” it was her turn to say, pulling the sword back from his throat and sheathing it again. Callum released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “Sorry ‘bout that. There are some unsavory folks in this forest sometimes. Girl’s gotta protect herself in a house made of candy, ya know?” Callum held up a thumb’s up, gripping his knees as the threat of sudden death dissipated. “Name’s Rayla. Why don’t you two come inside, we can get you some real food and then send you on your way.”

Just as Rayla was turning to her door, the giant gingerbread house gave an ominous creak. All three swiveled around to the source of the noise.

Through all their talking, the magical toad, Bait, did not stop eating, licking up a storm on a candy cane pole. A load-bearing candy-cane pole.

Callum had just enough time to grab Ezran by the scruff, as Ezran grabbed Bait by the tail, and the group ran as far as they could from the disaster, as the last remnants of the candy can snapped and the house tipped over, graham crackers crumbling, all the candy went down into the dirt.

The sugar settled, and the the three (plus Bait) looked at the disaster. “My home…” Rayla said, “You broke my home!”

“Is it insensitive to ask if I can still eat some of it?” Ezran asked, but Callum elbowed him to keep him quiet.

“We’re so sorry, Rayla,” Callum said, patting her shoulder and ignoring the fact she had tried to kill him a few minutes ago, “We know what it’s like to lose your home. Is there anywhere you can go?”

Rayla sighed, “My Uncle lives on the other side of the woods. I’m sure he’ll take me in.”

Callum and Rayla nodded, “Can we come with you? Once we reach your uncles, maybe we can find a way back to our dad.”

Rayla nodded, going over to the ruins to see what little she could gather. She pulled out two stale loaves of bread (Ezran had the candy thing all packed away, though he needed to be sure to keep it out of Bait’s reach) and a red cape she hooked around her neck. “Don’t want hunters to mistake me for a deer,” she said in explanation, “But stick close to me. I wasn’t kidding when I said the woods were full of monsters.”

Callum and Ezran shivered, both sticking close to Rayla’s heels as they walked along.

They walked about a mile through the quiet stretch of forest, the brush getting thicker, and the bugs around them chirping louder in response to their movement. Rayla walked in front, concentrating hard on keeping their path, even when it got so thin it was indistinguishable from the rest of the brush. Callum kept a hand on Ezran’s shoulder as they walked behind her, to ensure they would not be separated. The only one who was unaffected was Bait, who ate happily out of Ezran’s candy stash.

Another several hundred meters in, Rayla froze, hearing the sound of something moving in the branches. “What is it?” Callum whispered, the woods making him feel oddly exposed.

Rayla’s eyes darted through the trees, cocking her head to the side to listen for the sound again. It had stopped. A normal animal would have kept pressing on, no matter if she was listening or not. This wasn’t a normal animal. “We’re being watched,” she whispered back.

A thud behind them made Callum scream, breaking the silence of the forest. A figure stood behind them, tall and muscular and covered in hair. “Werewolf!” Callum said pointing, “WEREWOLF!”

“I CAN SEE THAT!” Rayla said, pushing the boys back and drawing her sword.

“Those are some tasty treats you’ve got there, elf,” the werewolf said, his voice deep and growling, “Why don’t you just hand those over to me?”

“Stay back, wolf,” Rayla said, raising her swords just a little more threatening, “These are MINE and I’m taking them out of the woods.”

“Why don’t you just give him the candy?!” Callum said, scared. He took Ezran’s bag, pulling Bait out, and threw it over to the wolf. The wolf looked at it, but didn’t move, his eyes going back to Callum. “Oh,” Callum said in understanding, “Oh WE’RE the treats. Got it.” He squeezed Ezran’s shoulder more protectively.

“Come over with me, kids,” the werewolf said, “My name is Corvus, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Ha!” Rayla laughed at him, “Safe with you, that’s a laugh.”

“They’ll be safer with me than some Elf?” Corvus sneered.

“Do we get a say in this?” Ezran asked.

“No,” The werewolf and Rayla said at the same time.

“What, you think you’re their friend?” Corvus said, stepping closer. Rayla stepped back, “They don’t even know who you are, do they?”

Rayla scowled at him, then looked to Callum, who was staring at her curious. “RUN!” Rayla shouted at them, and the boys booked it into the woods, Corvus trying to chase after them, but Rayla keeping him at bay. With a yelp, he fell into a trap left by a hunter, and Rayla ran after the boys, easily keeping up with them.

Corvus struggled for far too long in the hunter’s trap before breaking free. By the time he did, the trio was long gone. He took out a scroll and checked his orders. Yes, those were definitely the children his employer had hired him to find, their caring aunt who had been shocked and apalled to find out what Viren had done to them. She would not like to hear the company they had been keeping. He had to find them again, soon.

[gedzilla]

BIG VENT READER BEWEADER

bullshitting your anxiety-&-ptsd-ridden employee to try and make them quit level 1,000,000 —> my manager

there are two identical serial #s on ur average $20 bill. One was missing because it got ripped off. happens all the goddamn time. i’ve been told multiple times that that is still legal tender. so i accepted it. we did not “lose” that money, and if we did thats not my fucking fault.

in the case of the $100 bill— not i, nor either of my coworkers that i consistently work with every single weekend, were ever told that we do not accept $100’s on the weekend. if that is true that we aren’t supposed to, then you can NOT lay that guilt on me, because i was NEVER told not to take them, unless the customer’s purchase was under $50, which it Was Not. it was fucking $50.93 and i remember it exactly.

also, why the fuck wouldn’t we be allowed to accept them anyway and why is this on weekends? it’s legal fucking good money? do $100’s not count as real money on Saturdays and fucking Sundays????? and how did we fucking lose the money? did a fucking goblin come take it away and slap u on the fucking wrist like “oooh, sowwy sweaty! uwu no big monies on weekends! bye bye, this is mine now!” again, that shit isn’t my fucking fault so stop trying to manipulate me into thinking it is!!!!!

like ‘scuse my fucking language but are you trying to freak me out and make me have a breakdown and quit? cuz you keep pulling nonsensical bullshit like this on me nearly every fucking week now.

[iammarylastar]

3. Back to the U.S.

I’m dead. After I’ve travelled more than half of the world, I’ve finally reached Washington. So much wasted time which had kept me away from Angie, more than 10 fucking months. It already took me forever to heal from my wounds and be able to walk again. Thanks to the help and good care of Mikomi.

Hope. That’s what her name meant. That’s what she gave me. That’s what helped me to stay alive, what gave me the strength to go on, along with the sweet memories of Angie’s face.

Hope is exactly what left me as I put my feet on the ground. Sacred ground of United States of America. The land that bore me. And Angie. Maybe my child if I’m lucky.

I left Mikomi and her dad, on a fishing boat heading to China. Not really, in those times of war, Japanese and Chinese were like cats and dogs. I’m already lucky I landed on that tiny island where Sensei and his people lived like in the 17th century, they even don’t have electricity. They live in their own world, far from the war.

The ship’s master kicked me out on a Chinese island in the middle of nowhere in the East China Sea, then I sailed from tiny islands to tiny islands until I reached China.

I managed to find a cargo ship heading to America. U.S.A. Read on my lips: U.S.A. My Japanese was quite decent, but my Chinese totally non-existent and I I swear when I found out I’d landed in California, I cried my eyes out. Fucking fate.

My original plan was to land somewhere on the East Coast, then ride a train, a bike or a fucking horse to Washington, where I could gather clues to find out what had happened to Angie. Or Jessie. I was even ready to face Gessepp again if he was back in the Mother land and beg him on my knees, even kiss his bloody ass to know where she lived.

I ’d rather ask the War Department which was supposed to have all the slightest information available about that damn war, all the shit about our base included.

I struggled so much to make myself understood on that Chinese pier, unable to even write U.S.A. with current letters, those damn Chinese hieroglyphs still totally unknown to me. My face lightened at the sweet and weird sound, rolling off that Asian’ s tongue:

“America? Yes, there!” OK, he didn’t really say that, but enthusiastically nodded his head, pointing at a big ship. My tired brain was so relieved and happy that it assumed the boat was heading to the East Coast. Fuck. Me.

San Francisco was beautiful though but I didn’t have time for tourism. I had to survive, find a job to have money, clothes and somewhere to sleep. I did dirty jobs, exhausting physical works; I was alternatively a beggar, a cow boy, a farm hand, a thief, whatever I could do to earn my keep. Keep going. Keep walking. Keep dreaming of Angie and my baby. I made my way across the country, heading East by foot, sometimes hitchhiking, sneaking into a freight train when I was lucky. I never rested, I never stopped, until I finally reached Washington.

Now, I’m losing my nerves at the War Dept, South East Asia sector office, biting my lips bloody as the bitch in front of me repeats her shit for the umpteenth time.

“I’m sorry, but it’s classified as…”

“ I don’t give a fuck about classified! I risked my goddamn life in Japan to save your bloody American ass, I’ve travelled the whole country by foot to be here, so just give me the fucking answer I need! Where is She?? ”

She startles as I slam violently my palm on the desk, marking each word I’m barking so I’m sure she fucking gets the point. I’m aware the whole hall turns silent and feel a thousand sets of eyes stabbing my back but I don’t care. I keep staring at her with a murderous glare, leaning half my upper body over the desk, pointing a threatening forefinger to her face.

I’ve wasted a whole week, getting sent from offices to offices, from stupid to haughty or suspicious secretaries, claiming I had no appointment, no military ID, no reason to be here.

Fuck me I have all the reasons to be here. I have one. I lost the love of my life and my survival, the only chance I get to have her back, depends on you, bitch! But all I’ve earned by now are closed doors and mouths.

Oh, I forgot, one smart ass asked me if I was a deserter, another told me that I could be stamped “fit for duty” if I couldn’t submit any evidence of a “serious injury”. I laughed so hard she almost sent me to an insane asylum.

The truth is there’s nothing to be happy about. Angelina McCarthy just doesn’t exist in their files, all that’s Colonel Gessepp related is marked secret. Mac, Louie, Phil and myself are MIA, assumés KIA, end of story.

“Sir, I’m asking you to step back and calm down or I’ll call the security guards.” The frightened bitch barely whispers, swallowing hard. Jesus I wish she would choke on her spit.

Two shadows appear behind my back and I feel defeated, I know that being thrown to jail is not the best option to get Angie back.

“OK…” I drop my head and lean my hands on the desk for a second, waiting for the weakness in my knees and the bile rising in my throat to pass.

“FUCK!” I grip and pull on my hair as I howl in frustration, kicking out the chair I was supposed to sit on.

I told you I’m dead. This is the end of the road. No hope left. I could knock at every single door across the whole country, asking for Angie, looking for her but I’m so tired. I just want to lie down on the ground, curl up like a baby and sleep for the next 50 years.

“CUP! CUUUP!” A scream. A call. A female voice. I turn around to the sound, terrified by what I’m about to face. Who I am about to face. That’s not Angie’s voice, I’m sure of it, though her voice could have changed, by dint of cries.

My sight is still blurry with tears and rage, but a woman is running towards me, calling my name out loud.

I have no choice but let the hysterical stranger jump on me, kiss my face and hug me, her face widened in shock that I was back from the dead. Which I actually am.

“Oh Jesus, Cup, is it really you?” She asks between cries, patting my cheeks and shoulders.

I know that voice. I know those hands. Stop crying on my chest so I can see your face. I gently pull the woman back to study her face. I lost some parts of my life because of the crash, but not her. Debrah.

“Step back guys. It’s OK. He’s with me.” She orders to the guards who surround us, waving her ID card that proved she works here.

“ Cup, what the fuck happened to you? We all thought you were dead.”

“Yeah, I thought it myself. But I survived. But tell me, please Deb, tell me about Angie. Is she safe? Does she live here in America?”

“Come with me. We need to talk. We need a drink. You need to know.” She states, grabbing my hand and dragging me outside.

It was a long talk. A fucking long disaster. I wish I haven’t survive just to hear this. And the dozen of cups of coffee I downed hasn’t helped me to calm my nerves.

“ We all waited for your plane to come back. Everything was ready for the wedding. Angie has been waiting for you in her wedding dress for hours. All eyes scrutinized the skies until dark. Past midnight, we lost hope. It’s been too long. You were supposed to be back around 5, and for the first hours, it was still OK. You never know how long a mission could last. The crowd started to leave but I stayed with her. And Mac and Phil’s girlfriends. Then it was done. The other pilots stated you should be lost, crashed, that at this time the plane was out of gas anyway.”

“ Two engines died, there was no chance to fly back. I don’t know what happened to the others.” I explain.

“ There must be survivors, the lifeboat was found few days later. Empty. I’m sorry Cup.”

As sad as I feel knowing that my bros were likely dead, there’s only one life I want to hear about.

“Gessepp showed up on the tarmac and dismissed everyone, yelling the party was over. He summoned Angie to go home but she didn’t budge. She has stood up there, clung to her bride’s bouquet for 3 days. She never cried.” “ She broke down the morning of the third day, dissolved in tears. Jessica came to bring her home and she has disappeared for weeks. I tried to visit her, despite my fear of the Colonel, but nobody answered at the door. Marla managed to have some news but they were so bad. As expected, she was devastated. She stopped talking, stopped eating and was just waiting to die of grief.”

As Debrah goes on speaking, I feel my chest tightening, my heart crying as bad as my eyes. Angie, my love letting herself starve, willing to die. No. Please no.

“After a month, the doc forced her to the hospital. That’s where they found out… Oh Cup, how could I tell you?” Debrah wipes her tears and grabs my hands.

“She was pregnant, wasn’t she?” I knew it from the beginning, I knew about my baby girl. Oh fuck, a month of starvation and grief should have killed them both.

“Yes, how do you know about that?” I can’t answer but try a shy smile. I felt it. I knew.

“She was so weak but the baby made it. She decided to live for that. To have your baby, so you would be alive somehow. We were just a few in the secret, she made me swear to never tell anyone.”

My face lightens at the news, but Debrah bursts into more tears and tries to speak between sobs and cries.

“ She resumed eating and gained weight back. It was hard without you but she managed to smile, laughed sometimes. She was on her second trimester when… When…”

“What? Fuck Deb, what happened?” I’m losing my mind. I know it’s bad, I know the story will end with my baby… gone but I need to hear it from her mouth.

She covers her face with her palms, leaving mines naked and cold.

“ She started to show and… Gessepp… he found out she was pregnant. He lost his shit and turned furious. It was Sunday, we were having a picnic after the office. He barged in in the meadow next to the church, totally enraged, calling her a whore and all that shit, saying you lied and fucked her before marriage. He was screaming like a damned maniac, and…” Her cries increase and she has to gasp for air before she’s able to speak again.

“He beat her up, Jesus, he couldn’t stop yelling and kicking her belly. Some guys tried to intervene and protect Angie but he threatened them to death, yelling he was a fucking Colonel and that nobody could get in his way without paying the consequences.”

Tell me about it. That’s exactly what he said to me that day he almost killed Angie at the café. And I cowardly stayed still and denied my love for her. I’m biting my lips so hard I taste my own blood.

“He even told the pastor to go fuck himself. He grasped Angie and dragged her through the meadow, leaving all the church members in shock.”

OK. I got it. Stop it there. I don’t want to hear what’s next. My jaws are clenched, my fist balled so tightly my nails are piercing my palms. But she keeps talking.

“The next day, knowing that Gessepp had a meeting with the Defense Staff, we went to his home. Jess opened the door, she’s been beaten up too. We brought them both to the Army hospital, begging the docs to keep them safe from him. But at night, he arrived, enraged like a bull, hit some nurses and tried to choke Angie. It took 3 docs to snatch Angie from his claws and finally a nurse stabbed a hypo in his thigh which knlcked him out for a while.”

Hearing that motherfucker was out comforts me just a bit. I would have given anything to be there and finish him off. But I’m still worried to death about Angie. And Jessie. And little Abi.

“What happened next nearly blow up the whole base. The case got back to the top of Gessepp’s hierarchy. The docs testified, Angie and Jess testified, we all did. Gessepp couldn’t remain unpunished for what he’s done. He got arrested and impeached for his indecent behaviour, ashamed and kicked out of the Corps of the Army. All of us who testified were held incommunicado and offered a job at home, that’s how I ended up in Washington.”

Jesus. I’ve held my breath for too long. I need a break, I need a drink, but above all I need to know more about Angie. I rub my face vigorously, then scratch my beard, giving Debrah some time to gather herself.

“And the baby?” I whisper.

“Cup, honey, I’m so sorry. I don’t know. Angie and Jess left within the week. Back to the States, but nobody knows where exactly, to keep them safe from Gessepp. All I know is that she had to stay in hospital, she suffered bad bleeding… Oh Cup don’t hate me for telling you all that.”

“The military Court suggested Jessica to ask for divorce and the full custody of Abigail, which she accepted. They provided adequate resources for her and Abi, for damages and official apologizes for letting Gessepp act with complete impunity for too long. Me and the girls at the office made false certificates so Angie could benefit widow’s pension, making sure she would be free for rant.”

Jesus all that shit makes me want to puck out.

“Think Cup, think. I’m sure she’s somewhere waiting for you. You guys are made for each other. We became close friends after you… vanished. She talked to me. She loves you Cup, she’ll never stop, baby or not.”

I shake my head no and drop it between my hands. I’m too devastated to think, too tired to keep hope.

Debrah moves to sit next to me and gently grabs my chin and lifts it up to search my gaze.

“Honey, I know what’s like to be crazy about you. I was not the one for you, but Angie is your soulmate. You know it. Promise me to find her.”

I finally look up at her, we dated for a while when she worked in the base. She was pretty disappointed when I broke up for another chick. I now realize what prick I’d been.

“I’m sorry Deb. Sorry if I hurt you.”

“Nah it’s good. I found a good guy to forget you. I got married last year.” She smiles heartily. “ You deserve to be happy. With her. You know her by heart. If you were her, where would you settle down? Did she have any family? Friends? Relatives?”

“No. Nobody. She had just Jessie and Abi. And me.”

Poor me. I’ve never felt so alone. You know, like the entire world thinks you’re dead and you’re not but you have no chance to spread the news. Debrah is basically the only human being who knows about me. And that’s freaking terrifying. My fingers are fidgeting on their own, rubbing circles on the tattoo on my wrist. Mikomi. Hope. I swore I wouldn’t give up, so think Cup, think.

“Did you plan to live somewhere? I’m pretty sure you talked about what you’d want to do when the war ends.”

I stiffen, yes we did talk about it. Our dreams, on our first date.

She wanted to be a teacher. I planned to go back home, to take over the family business. The farm where I grew up.

Fuck me. I jump out of my chair, ready to sprint my final stretch.

I’m back, Alabama.

@captstefanbrandt @kenzieam @tigpooh67 @red-diary @jaicourtneyseyes @dreamersdreamlife @narfea @nickysurfer28 @jojuarez26 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @every-jai @smartieblue22 @@bookgirlsthing @athe-krieger-der-elemente @writingismyhappytime @lunaschild2016 @wolfie-132 @bookwarm85 @knittingmad @serride @pauwa85 @onceinamillionlifetimes @sajess98 @carlos8989 @books-and-sin @pathybo

[gaudeixcc]

Peloton News – ‘Suitable applicants only’

Here’s a thought. Theoretically speaking, which one of the peloton would be best suited to doing the job I do?

Now I know as the current jobholder, you may well think that I’d be in with a pretty good shout, but just because I happening to be holding the ball, doesn’t mean that other riders may actually be temperamentally better suited to the role of chief administration monkey.

JT for example, with his brutal efficiency, lack of human compassion, swift and confident decision-making might indeed argue that he could do what I do, not only better and quicker, but likely with one hand tied behind his back, blindfold and probably whilst still doing his own job of firing subservient German media underlings without missing a single heartbeat (assuming a heart exists of course).

And he probably could.

In a similar vein I’ve often thought that flying a plane (non-carpenter version) is not all it’s cracked up to be.

We all had a go at landing a jumbo in a simulator and managed to pull that off with only limited constant coaching and interfering from Macca. Clemo and I even had a go at landing the space shuttle whilst holidaying in Florida one year. Again, shelling peas.

And as for chief health and safety guru on the nation’s railways, a job which on the surface Dripping seems least-well suited to with his near constant calamitous brushes with death, his very keen eye for leaves and ability to carry a clipboard and wield a pencil may ironically mean suitability is in the ‘duck to water’ realm of comparison.

I was left pondering much of this on the ride last Sunday. And I had time to ponder. Being flung off the back of the excitable peloton freight-train gives one space to consider one’s navel, as well as time to dwell on the questionable moral fabric of one’s fellow riders.

Still, I did manage to hold a couple of wheels on the 55-mile jaunt into the Surrey hills.

For the first group ride of the season, there was much to prove by many.

My own goal was not to be left too far behind too often. Macca on the other hand was clear in his intent. Even though he was on his gravel bike with balloon tyres, a bike made of metal, his clearly stated goal was not to let anyone overtake him unchallenged…..anywhere….at anytime.

My youngest has a new kitten. He teases the kitten with a toy foxtail. The kitten goes absolutely scatty for this thing. Even when sitting placidly on the bottom step of the stairs, a quickly waggle of the foxtail in her line of sight and she jerks into a barely controlled ‘hunt-it-down’ frenzy.

Similarly, whilst chatting at the back of the pack with Macca (who had felt a level of pity for those at the rear of the bus), I was revealing my inner-soul about my childhood trauma. A moment which I was bravely recounting for the first time without crying (my voice was wobbling like a schoolgirl mind) when Dripping overtook us both, a little too closely for a health and safety expert if you ask me.

All empathy disappeared from Macca’s face and the ancient part of the brain responsible for chasing, hunting and killing foxes, shut down all rational thought and he was off leaving me in a wash of angry competitive spittle, balloon tyre disappearing up the road in front of me.

Dripping knew what he was doing. He may as well have gone past and yelling ‘fuck you Macca’, the result would have been the same.

He didn’t yell that. But I also was equally certain that ‘Fuck you Macca’ is exactly what Macca heard.

Anyway, I pulled my emotional self back together and pedalled on.

The Surrey hills were fabulous on Sunday morning. It was cold but bright and there were Pelotons everywhere. Most of which significantly better dressed than ours.

What had prompted my thoughts on job-suitability was the Arrival of Mark on the scene with his yellow safety bib. I expect he was trying to un-nerve Dripping who was on his new S-Works by subconsciously suggesting that he had the moral high-ground when it came to health and safety. It was an interesting look made all the more appealing by his wearing of double-trousers. Clear thought had been given to the temperature and appropriate clothing selected. Impressive caution.

The overarching theme of the day however remained competitive aggression.

The normal course of a professional peloton is to build speed slowly with all team-mates attached. What you rarely see with Team Ineos is the rear-rider overtaking the rest of his own team and gaining a 50-yard lead. What you also rarely see in a coordinated peloton is one of the more senior members then breaking from his own team so as not to let the rear rider (now at the front) take all the glory.

If the rear-rider (now at the front) pulls onto a roundabout with only just enough space to miss the oncoming Nissan Nivaro, then the chasing competitor should do the sensible thing. He should weigh up the options. He should think ‘should I risk near-certain death and follow his wheel so not to concede the lead’ or alternatively he might think ‘should I just let the car go as we will be stopping at traffic lights in exactly 50 yards time’.

After long consideration, Macca flew onto the roundabout chasing Dripping’s foxtail whilst a man in a car literally sat on the horn, his frightened children praying that Daddy didn’t lose his temper with that ‘you-fucking-wanker!!!’ cyclist their father was waving his middle finger at.

RTA had already peeled off gracefully to Reigate so didn’t have to witness any of this buffoonery and so back to chez Hoppo we returned for bacon and sausage butties.

I had finally reached a conclusion. 

So which of our cyclists did I think was best qualified to fly passengers across the Atlantic safely?

Dripping was out of the question as he would choose the wrong plane… he’d likely insist on a Blackbird SR71 as the logical steed for the job assuming the same bike-buying logic of the ‘S-works for the hill works’.

Macca would also be completely out of the question. Seeing one of the other planes take off first would see him have him pulling the throttles back whilst still connected to the passenger onboarding jetty, spilling people and trolleys asunder as he dragged the stairs down the runway so as not let the EasyJet Malaga shuttle be the first one with its wheels up.

Mark, whilst on the surface may be qualified to fly planes, would need to up his game to be more qualified on the visually superficial level. As a passenger if you saw the man with the safety vest welcoming you aboard you would think that the guy who guides the planes in with the old ‘stick-with-a-light-on’ had got ideas above his station.

I was out of the question on account of emotional fragility. The stinging sense of abandonment on Blanks lane implied that if I so much as got a funny look from a passenger I may well get the hump and sit in the cockpit refusing to come out unless the passenger in 7A apologised in person and promised to be nice to me.

This just leave RTA. He rode the perfect ride. The most capable rider who didn’t get involved in any of the competitive nonsense. He rode at the front and back with equal pleasure and humility. A man who in his spare time is coaxing the Mole back out of his nest and into the hills without leaving him wheezing for dead in the gutter.

So there we have it. Macca shouldn’t fly planes and I should man the fuck up. A reasonable conclusion to the first ride of the year.

Go steadily into the Spring my little fuckerinos.

Hoppo

[facesofopioids-blog]

This can be shared! Sunday Story "Coming Home"By: Tonna Marie Clark My name is Tonna, as most of you see I am a moderator here now. I am married to my best friend, my rock, my soul, my everything. We have 2 children. Our oldest is 7 she’s in the 1st grade, and our son is 5 in the kindergarten. My journey began here when the group was just maybe a month or two into it. I’m not the addict, but I’m here to be the voice of my husband whom is in his recovery in prison right now. His sentence is nearing the end as of the end of April. So many worries, emotions, and anxiety. I would like to share with y’all my husbands story. My husband (Eric) was a wonderful kid growing up, but also ornery. His parents split when he was in his early teens. His Father was his best friend, they did everything together, hunting, fishing, you name it. Eric when he got older started doing MMA. Eric would get pain pills for injuries. Eric’s Father was battling throat cancer. One night Eric decided to go to his fight instead of staying with his father. That night was the night his father committed suicide as he had given up battling his cancer. Eric had lost his best friend, he felt guilty because he didn’t stay instead of going to a fight. Losing his father was the fire of starting his addiction. In his early 20's he began snorting and abusing pain pills, which then turned to him using heroin. He had been in and out of prison for many many crimes committed most was from trying to feed his addiction of heroin. His last prison sentence before I had met him was a 5 year sentence. In September of 2015 he had just got released from prison, he home planned to a town close to me because of a buddy he had in prison, and this buddy is how we met. Not knowing Eric from the man and the moon, I had met him in September 2015, for two weeks I kept putting him off, making excuses as to why I couldn’t hang out. Oh, but he wasn’t having it, he wouldn’t go away lol as I say it. So Oct 9th we finally got together. Everything was going great. As I’m one of those that will look up your criminal record, and do better research than the FBI, lol, I found his criminal record. He had lied to me why he was in prison to save himself embarrassment. I tried everything to get rid of him as I didn’t want any more of the “bad boys” in my life. Something about him tho, I was falling in love. Behind my back Eric had started using pain pills. As November and December passed he finally moved in with me. Things was going okay. He wanted to be married and be married now. I kept saying let’s wait till September. He didn’t want that so I fell for it, we married February 23rd 2016. I’m not an addict, I had addicts in and out of my life most of the guys I dated had a drug back ground but they wasn’t using when we was together, so my mind set was, they once was addicted to this certain drug but they are better now. I was all so wrong though. After we married, I found out Eric had relapsed using pain pills. Not only was that something to make me mad at him but I witnessed him snorting them! As we was staying with my mother he got us kicked out. We got an apartment an hour away where we both worked. Using the money that was needed to get plates on my car. Instead he would use a pen and paper and make a new number for each month. Driving the car hot all the time. When we moved, my daughter decided she wanted to stay with grandma. So I allowed her to for her happiness as I felt like a no good mother. My son stayed with us. But shortly he ended up with my mother to as Eric did a total 360 and became a monster! I begged I pleaded, I yelled I screamed, I would say harsh words. But I didn’t move from his side I stayed by his side. He was getting pills from people that we worked with, a place of employment and everyone and including our boss was on drugs. I was like whoa am I the only person. Eric started rubbing off on me as I i would hurt so bad from work I  started taking a pill here and there. Until I found out I was pregnant. I thought being pregnant would make him change his ways. But I was so wrong. Eric had been physical with me before I had found out I was pregnant. He wasn’t the same person anymore. I ended up leaving and coming back once. Then I left again. He came to pick me up for our first ob appointment. We found out the baby had no heart beat, after we had been to Er many times before hand as I kept spotting. Our worlds came crashing. The dr prescribed me 20 pain pills to get through the miscarriage, of course the addict he was and paid for my prescription he took 10 from me. After passing the baby I went back to him, I was mentally emotionally physically exhausted. But he kept doing his pills spending hundreds of dollars a week on pills. Eric found the nerve to get ahold of my sons bio father and send my son to Colorado with him. I let my son go because I had a point to prove to everyone who called me a bad mom and who said that he was better off with his father. I had kept fighting, argue, take his physical attacks ect. One night we had gotten into it I was at my wits end of his abuse so I called police as he left with my car. I had no way of leaving, as my daughter had been spending the weekend with me. My mother and Step father come to the police station to get my daughter and I. As I thought that was the last time, unfortunately it wasn’t as he would manipulate me, make me feel guilty, all them things that mentally and emotionally I was drained already. I went back. On his way to work he got pulled over we the cops had been waiting to get him over the domestic. He went to jail. He bonded out. Shortly he quit his job as he was on parole and was trying to avoid his parole officer. One morning I was chatting with his mom as I would talk to her about him and what he was doing. That morning I caught him snorting pills in a picture, I sent it to his mom. Thinking him going to jail would be the end of his addiction he would sober up and be done. Was I all so wrong as she had called the cops and let them know where he was as he had a warrant, I let them in. He went to jail for a week. He got out. He kept begging me to drive him to St. Louis to pick up 50 dollars supposedly he had borrowed this dope dealer he was supposedly getting pills from when he would have me driving him to St. Louis. I instantly knew what was up and said no I wasn’t driving him. He kept on and on and on so I finally said fine! Thinking he was getting pills anyways. Eric started taking loans out using his last pay stub when he quit his job, so many loans. At one point Eric was trying to cover us his own addiction with trying to get me hooked on something, at that time in my life I was dead inside... I tried cocaine for the 1st time, then meth! He had me doing both at same time. The come down was so God awful. He made me drive on an expired plate 4 hours away coming down I felt like I was having a heart attack the whole way as my chest was so tight and I felt like I was about to die. Supposedly this buddy of his was gonna hook him up with pills.. didn’t happen the dude ripped him off, but he got Xanax. I took one and fell asleep for a few hours before we had to be out of the motel. As time went on my husbands pill problem, as pills was hard to find, turned to heroin. St. Louis drives started, I knew instantly the 1st time he used the heroin via needle. I hadn’t known before then. Track marks I literally cried myself to sleep that night. I told him he had a week to quit or I was leaving! He didn’t. I left in August to his own distraction. He would call me every other day, I laid in bed for a month bawling, feeling so dead inside. Then one week I hadn’t heard from him, I called his mom and said mom we need to send out a missing person report, she says why... I said mom I haven’t heard from him in a week, what if he’s dead! She said he called me from jail last night in Illinois! A weight lifted off my shoulders! Finally he was gonna be going to prison. I at least knew my husband was alive though. As one night I sat down to write him a letter it was going to be my last words to him as I was mentally and emotionally gone. When I say gone I was so dead inside. But the letter ended up going the opposite way of what I was planning, telling him he had this chance to change for himself. That I would love him and he knows my belief in divorce. I’m head strong and fight for what I want until I have no fight left in me. As I was dead inside I started soul searching, I didn’t know who I was anymore, I also knew I had to educate myself on addiction. Well that’s how I ended up here! I’ve learned so many things so much about addiction. I read these stories of voices of parents losing children, kids losing parents, people in recovery and ones looking for recovery. I have prayed to God as long as I’ve been here asking him to lead me in the right direction, asking to be put on the path I belong, yet my husband is still my one and only, Gods not sent me away from him but pushed me to learn and support addiction. Today his words are only words until he is home to prove himself and his change.  We are nearing his home date of next month. He’s been in prison since November but was in jail before that in September. This September he will have 2 years clean. As his out date nears I have so much anxiety, worry, and excitement. Not only is he lucky to have my second chance, he is lucky to have my kids second chance. Thanks for taking the time to read Eric’s story.

[athyrabunlord]

Yoshiko and Mari 50

“Why does anyone have to be naked?” [Prompt List]

A/N: I looked at the two chars and then at the prompt and laughed for a solid 10 seconds. Anyway, I tried to not make it crack. Tried.Words: 867italics = Mari’s Engrish

“So? How are you feeling?”

“P-Purified…”

Yoshiko sprawls across the couch, which by the way has the softest cushions ever. It’s as if she’s sinking into marshmallow of utter goodness and, to think, she just had a bunch of actual marshmallow dipped in rich chocolate too! It must be a fallen angel’s instinctual attraction to such heavenly attributes.

No, Yohane, you must not be tempted, stay strong!

She tries to get up, but her body is still on strike and she flops back down onto the couch with a half-hearted sigh.

“You really live like this everyday, Mari?”

She peers up at the older girl, who grins down at her playfully. “Of course~ Well, I did tweak a teensy bit to make this the most fantastic experience ever but yes, this is a slice of my life!”

Yoshiko chuckles feebly, unable to comprehend just how wealthy her fellow Aqours member is. After the first ever visit to the amazing Hotel Ohara, Yoshiko had asked if she could come again. The enigmatic blonde happily set aside a Sunday so her ‘precious angelic kouhai’ could experience how she lives her life for one whole day.

So far, everything feels like something from the movies - a milk bath in the morning; a fancy breakfast buffet; a tour around the Hotel’s various 5-star facilities; an incredible spa treatment that almost made the fallen angel ascend to Nirvana; a quick trip to the Diving Shop to greet (read: harass) Kanan (which Yoshiko finds to be unnecessary) that ends with Kanan peeling Mari off of her chest; a mouthwatering lunch service at the penthouse with the perfect view of the sea; a phone call to chat with (read: harass) Dia (again Yoshiko finds this quite unnecessary) that ends abruptly with Dia shouting; and now, a luxurious afternoon tea in Mari’s own private suite.

Yoshiko feels so very spoiled.

“Okay, come on, let’s stick to the schedule~” Mari claps her hands and beckons for the younger girl to follow. “It’s time for a shower!”

“Huh?” Yoshiko says intelligently, having rolled off the couch and crawled a few paces before she manages to get up.

“I always take a shower in the afternoon~ Tada! I’ve even prepared the strawberry-scented lotion in case you don’t like my lemon one.” Mari spreads her arms wide at the sparkly-clean chamber that has various nozzles coming from different directions.

Yoshiko gapes behind the proud girl. Honestly, the whole place is overkill for something as simple as a shower. It looks like a combination of a (very, very fancy) car wash and full-body scan equipment (that has aesthetic decorations of course).

“You… really take a shower like this? Everyday?” Yoshiko has to rub her eyes to ensure she isn’t imagining things.

“Well, I use a different one but I’d come here whenever I feel like it!” Grinning, Mari turns to Yoshiko and begins to pull off the latter’s clothes.

“Yeeeek!!! What do you think you’re doing?!” Yoshiko hugs herself and hastily scrambles out of reach.

Mari tilts her head. “Undressing you duh?” She then proceeds to strip herself.

“Hey hey hey! Stop, stop it now!”

Mari gives her an exasperated look, as if she is the weird one. “What’s wrong? We’re taking a shower, aren’t we? Hurry up, take off your clothes already. Chop chop.”

“Why does anyone have to get naked?!”

Mari blinks. “You take a shower with your clothes on?”

“NO! But you, this-”

“Hmm, it’s kinda cold today… see my goosebumps?”

Yoshiko lets out a string of incoherent whatever, covering her eyes just as Mari takes a step towards her to show her arm, clad in only her undies.

“Stop! Halt! Stay where you are- eck, stop trying to pull off my dress- aaahhh you’re too close!”

With her hands occupied in wrestling for the control of her clothes, nothing blocks her gaze from wandering all over the older girl’s voluptuous body. Uh-huh, nice curves all around, smooth skin, and very endowed-

Screeching again, Yoshiko clenches her eyes shut and is distinctly aware of hot blood rushing to her face.

“Why are you so bothered by this?” Mari’s voice is sweet, and just a bit smug. “We’ve seen each other countless times in the changing room-”

“That was different! We change clothes, not strip naked!” Shit, she’s losing strength. Any minute, the dress would slip away from her grasp and Mari would easily pull it over her head…

“Well, we’re getting naked for a reason. Like I said, people don’t shower with their clothes on, do they?”

“I know that! But people don’t shower together either!”

“Why not? The more the merrier~”

“Argh, you’re impossible!”

“Seriously, what’s the big deal? What’s wrong with us simply taking a shower in our birthday suits?”

“Because I’m goddamn gay that’s why!!!”

With her ears boiling, Yoshiko shrieks out her bottled frustration at the abrasive blonde. Her words echo in the spacious chamber, and the ensuing silence unnerves her enough that she dares to open her eyes.

“What a coincidence,” Mari’s smile now has a sultry curve to it, her purring voice sending a rather pleasant tingle down Yoshiko’s spine. “So am I.”