#but the chubby ones have half the votes and ended up here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alderaani · 4 years ago

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prison break (echo x reader)

A valentines gift for @just-some-girl-92 as part of the event being run by @starwarsfandomfests! Thanks so much for putting another one of these together @lilhawkeye3, and I really hope you like this Dell! I think credit for white haired Echo goes to @/amiro-art? That was the first place I saw it anyway, and I’ve really liked the headcanon that it’s like that post-techno union ever since!

Based on this prompt: Character A moves in next to Character B. They have conjoined balconies and A's pet/child wanders into B's apartment.

Fives and Echo are both reunited and well in this because everyone gets to be happy on Valentine’s Day and I said so. We don’t need canon on this blog.

The other side of the wall explodes with noise.

It makes you pause, looking up from the knitting trailing over your knees to cock your head towards the opposite apartment. You think you hear the screech of furniture legs being pushed along the floor, then the frantic rumble of several male voices speaking over the top of each other, the clatter and clang of things as they are removed and replaced.

It’s odd. When Tith-Mar lived next door, you used to hear it every time he coughed, or swore at that awful old holodrama he used to watch every Taungsday. As much as you tried to stop yourself you couldn’t help but get invested, and that was almost worse. Out of pride you never put it on your own unit, but that just meant you ended up half pressed against the wall, eventually not even pretending you weren’t listening to Capula and Mont confess their love. It had given you something to talk about, anyway, when you went onto the balcony to water your plants and he went out there to smoke the fancy deathsticks he joked he’d live and die by.

In the year since the war ended and Tith-Mar was finally able to move back out to be with his daughter on Ryloth you’ve never quite gotten used to the quiet. There was a strange comfort in knowing that there was someone on the other side of the wall. Maybe it came from the three years of water shortages and occasional outages - or, notably, the rampage of the Zillo beast, which hadn’t come quite close enough to flatten you in your sleep, but had downed enough of the power grid that you’d been locked in your apartment for five rotations. You miss the soft Rylothi folk music he used to play in the mornings, and you miss seeing him sometimes, blowing smoke up into the brisk Coruscant mornings with his blue lek, faded now in old age, wrapped around his neck like a scarf.

You just miss the comforting assurance of having someone else there. If it wasn’t for the sound of the door going, and the occasional thump of something being moved, you’d hardly know that you had neighbours at all now. It’s almost funny to think back on the furore it caused when the Republic bought the apartment for GAR resettlement. It led to the only neighbourhood meeting the building has ever had, and you’ve been very glad for that fact after discovering that a solid faction of your fellow citizens are bigots. It’s something you knew, objectively, but witnessing it from the people you personally rub shoulders with was a harder pill to swallow than having to watch some of the anti-clone protests on the holonews. You’ve not tried to remember the more colourful misconceptions about clone troopers aired by prim soft-handed mid-levellers as they sat in a lobby you can remember the Coruscant Guard clearing rubble from with nothing but their hands. However, you do very vividly remember someone from two floors up asking you if you’d ‘really feel safe’ living next to ‘those walking warmongers’, being young and living on your own. You’d shut that down, of course, and the resulting vote had passed in favour.

You’d honestly half expected the troopers to reject the place after that, and you wouldn’t have blamed them either.

Everyone had known the day they moved in, had pretended not to watch as a GAR issue speeder loaded with two armoured figures and a meagre quantity of possessions had pulled up on the walkway and made their way cautiously inside. You’d thought about introducing yourself, knocking or something, but concluded in the end that they didn’t need anyone else ogling them. You’d figured that there would be plenty of time for that later...and now here you are, a whole year on, and that glimpse is just about the closest you’ve ever gotten to them. You think they still spend a lot of time off-planet, helping with the reconstruction missions the now-voluntary GAR conducts throughout the Mid and Outer Rims. You hadn’t even been sure that they were home at the moment, actually.

There’s no doubting it now, as the frantic thumps and raised voices continue. Through your balcony door, cracked open to catch some of the soft breeze the weather engineers have scheduled today, you can make out a little of what their voices are saying, one frantic and forceful, the other softer, but no less worried.

“ - kriffing hell, can’t believe we’ve lost...Rex will have our heads…”

“...can’t have gotten far...can’t even walk!”

“ - already checked the fresher, Echo!”

“It can’t hurt to check twice...knew we shouldn’t have…”

You bite your lip, turning round while debating whether you should offer your help. Then you freeze. The baby on the other side of your caf table freezes too, chubby hand poised to grab the cookie you’d been saving for later. They’re standing on legs that wobble a bit, and there’s a glint of steely determination in the dark eyes that fix on your face.

“Hello,” you say a little weakly, realising very abruptly what the troopers must have lost.

The kid appraises you for a moment longer, brow furrowed and intent. There’s a huge amount of judgement there for such a small face, those focused eyes taking you in for several very long seconds. Then they huff, and very deliberately turn their attention back to the cookie. You smother an incredulous laugh.

“Not impressed, huh?” You say, carefully setting your knitting aside and uncovering your legs. “Can’t say I blame you, I prefer cookies too.”

The baby doesn’t dignify this with any attention, instead making a soft crowing noise as their little fingers strike victory and retract with the cookie firmly in grasp. When they immediately move to cram it into their mouth you burst into action, leaning across the caf table to swipe it. Just those mere seconds of contact have made it slightly damp.

The baby’s face scrunches in outrage, and they let go of the table edge, sinking down onto their padded bottom with a sharp, high noise of annoyance. They don’t cry, but the frown is something spectacular.

“Sorry, kid.” You force yourself the rest of the way up, keeping a hold on the cookie with one hand. Can kids this young even eat solid foods yet? Do they have any allergies? You don’t have any siblings, so the last time you were around a baby was when you were one. For all this one’s bravado, they look awfully breakable. “I’ll hang on to this for now, yeah?”

You don’t think that they’re old enough to understand what you’re saying, but the huff the baby lets out feels extremely pointed. You stare down at them on your rug.

“Don’t suppose you could give me any pointers on how to hold you?”

It turns out babies are wriggly. You put the cookie down long enough to hoist the kid into your arms and attempt to manoeuvre their little arms and legs so that they’re not jabbing into your vital organs, but at the sight of the food being placed far away, the kid lets out a piercing noise, right into your ear, and attempts to kamikaze their way back to it. A body that two seconds ago was ramrod solid and deliberately unwieldy is suddenly boneless and impossible to hold onto. Your brain goes empty of everything but wrestling with several pounds of struggling infant.

You end up on the floor, eventually, but at least both of you are in one piece. You’re breathing heavily. The kid’s face is thunderous. It’s very cute, but you can’t wait to give it back and appreciate that from a distance. Somehow, you manage to settle them onto your hip.

“What the f - heck was that for?” You ask, purely to make yourself feel better. Even if the kid could answer you, you get the feeling they simply wouldn’t. “Was it because I put the biscuit down?”

The kid makes a huffing noise. You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. The baby’s dark, just-curling hair is soft against the skin of your upper arm, and their weight is warm and solid against your side.

“I’m not taking it away from you. I’m gonna let you have it, just need to make sure it’s safe for womp-rats first. And return you before those poor guys tear their place apart, okay?”

You re-collect the cookie and struggle back to your feet, looking towards the open balcony. Visions flash through your mind of the baby pulling that boneless trick out there, with nothing but spacelanes separating them from the ground 50 stories below, and...no. You’re not even vaguely risking that. The front door is definitely the better option, but somehow more daunting, as you stand before the neighbouring apartment with your heart in your throat.

The second you knock, the frantic voices inside cut off abruptly, and then you hear the mad scramble that ensues to reach the door. It wooshes open, and suddenly you’re face to face with your neighbours for the first time.

They’re less identical than you’d expected. Maybe that’s a stupid thought, but it’s the first one that stumbles, half formed and dazed, into the open void your brain has just become. The second, very unhelpful follow up, is that they’re also much prettier than you’d expected. Not that you’d necessarily expected anything, but - you’ve never seen one of the clones without their helmets before. The Corrie Guard, back during the war, had made a point of never taking them off as far as you’d ever seen. That was apparently a crying shame. One of them has thick, dark curly hair, a tidy goatee, and a tattoo on his forehead. The other’s hair is a sharp, startling white, interrupted by metal nodes of some sort. Some sort of post-war medical adaptation, you assume. He’s slightly leaner all over, his eyes a little larger in his face. But the way both of them sag against the door frame is exactly the same.

“Thank the fucking force,” The dark haired one breathes, clutching at his chest.

The other trooper elbows him sharply in the ribs. “Fives.”

“She’s ten months old, Echo. She’s not gonna repeat it.”

“She just escaped from our apartment after General Skywalker swore up and down she’s not mobile yet. It’s gonna be her first word just to spite us.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself and flush a little when all attention snaps back to you.

“That I can believe,” you force yourself to say. “Hi. I think I found something of yours.”

You hold out your armful of infant and - you presume Fives is his name - reaches out to take her, groaning in relief.

“Thank you,” he says, fervent, taking a moment to bury his face into the child’s hair. She puts a determined thumb into her mouth and stares at your hand, still clutching the cookie. The trooper turns her in his arms and holds her up at eye level. “You are a menace, Leia. I thought we were gonna have to call in a search.”

It’s nice to have a name for that little displeased face. Leia regards the trooper for a moment before sticking her hand into his face. His eyes are impossibly warm as he pretends to gobble her fingers, and it is, quite frankly, cute as fuck. He turns his attention back to you, but just as he opens his mouth, the sound of a comm going off somewhere behind them cuts through the moment.

“That’ll be the General,” The white-haired trooper laughs. “You better take her and show him, before he raises down half of Coruscant trying to get here.”

Fives nods, flashing another blinding grin at you, before he and Leia are gone. The trooper you’re left with blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Well,” he says, his mouth crooking into a wry smile. “That was exciting.”

He sticks his hand out, and when you take it, his palm is rough and his grip firm. You give him your name without thinking about it, staring into the kind, golden depths of his eyes. They crinkle at the corners when he grins.

“I’m Echo. And - I know Fives already said it, but seriously, thank you. Where the shab did you find her?”

“Trying to steal biscuits from my caf table,” you say, laughing openly when Echo drops his face back into his hand and groans with embarrassment. “I think she got in through the balcony door.”

“Force, we didn’t even think of that. What a first impression, you must think we’re idiots.”

You shake your head, enamoured by the faint colour you can see rising in his cheeks. He brings his metal hand up to his face and presses the cool prosthetic against his skin.

“Not at all. You should have seen the look she gave me when I found her, she knows she’s in charge.”

Echo smiles bashfully. “It’s the first time we’ve ever won the lot to babysit the twins, our Company would have crucified us if we’d lost her.”

“Then I’m very glad to have provided a rescue.”

There’s a short silence as you fidget with your sleeves, strange anticipation churning in your gut. There’s no reason to keep standing here now that the pleasantries are done with, the baby exchanged, but...some part of you resists it, almost looking for an excuse to stay. He and Fives are the first new friendly faces you’ve met in a long time, soothing a sting you didn’t know was there.

“I - um -,” Echo begins suddenly, shifting a little. The colour in his face deepens. “I really like your plants. I’ve always meant to say something. We keep trying to guess what they are.”

“Oh!” Your heart turns over in your chest and you wouldn’t be able to stop the smile bursting onto your face if you tried. Those damn things are so hard to keep alive through the unpredictable engineered weather. You don’t think you’re particularly house proud, but you do preen a little that he’s noticed. “Thank you, I, um, I water them every morning. I could...go through them with you one day? If you like?”

Echo’s head dips an assent. “I’d really like that.”

You linger a moment longer, a pleased thrill still lingering in your belly, but there’s no putting it off now. “I suppose I should let you go. But...please knock if you need anything.”

Echo smiles. “Hopefully not in pursuit of any more babies.”

You’re just about to turn away when you remember the cookie in your hand, slightly smushed now. “Oh! Can you give this to Leia? I wanted to make sure she could eat them, first, but I promised. Seemed only fair, since she went to all that trouble.”

Echo huffs, his expression softening, taking the cookie with careful hands. “I’ll make sure her highness gets it.”

Then you go back to your quiet apartment, somehow deflated when faced with the monotony of your knitting and your music. You hear a few more sounds from the other side of the wall, faint laughter, perhaps a child squealing, and find your curiosity has not been sated at all.

It’s a wonderful surprise, then, when two days later on a clear, sunlit morning, you slide open your balcony door to water the plants and find Echo waiting, his face tipped up to the brightening sky. There is a packet of cookies resting on the duracrete by his feet, and two steaming mugs of caf on the railing by his elbow.

It feels like something special...It feels like a beginning.

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @battletales @bad-batch-of-fics @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @dom-i-nic //

#arc trooper echo #echo #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x reader #echo x you #arc trooper fives #fives #the clone wars #star wars #the clone wars fic #alderwrites

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lastbluetardis · 4 years ago

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Chemical Reaction (19/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~7400 words, teen

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked hard, thinking his exhaustion had caught up with him. No, the blonde woman on his porch had to be the night-shift nurse who lived across the street—she often liked to indulge in late-night baking on her nights off, and there were times she would come to James for an ingredient she was missing, or to give him a small sampling of her confectionery creations.

(He had the sudden, jarring, embarrassing realization that she may have been flirting with him the whole time… Is that why she hasn’t come around in months?)

“Rose,” he said again when blinking stupidly for at least ten seconds didn’t transform Rose into anyone else.

“Hi,” she said quietly. She looked exhausted; there were prominent shadows beneath her eyes and her shoulders drooped like a heavy weight sat upon them.

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, and her face fell. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize you had company. I’ll just…” She thumbed behind herself to the dark road. How did she get here? “Sorry.”

Before he could protest, Jack clapped James on the shoulder and announced, “No, no. I was getting ready to head out. Come on, get in out of the cold.”

Jack pressed a smacking kiss to James’s cheek, then muttered, “Talk to her,” into his ear. He then stepped forward and gave Rose a loose hug and kiss on the cheek before he walked to his vehicle that was parked on the side of the street.

They turned to watch Jack start his car and drive off into the night. James looked at Rose, then at the squarish plastic Tupperware container she held. She was absently flicking her thumb nail across the tab on the lid.

“What’ve you got there?” he asked, nodding to the container.

Rose chewed on her bottom lip and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Well. We’ve been playing a game all month, haven’t we? Time to celebrate.”

She popped the lid off the container and handed it to him. In it were half a dozen large, muffin-sized chocolate cupcakes, frosted in vanilla icing and decorated with pink and yellow star sprinkles. The words “Happy Birthday” were written in small, neat, glossy red letters across each cupcake. His stomach sank.

“It… it’s your birthday?” he croaked. Of course—of fucking course—today had been her birthday.

Rose nodded. “I… I didn’t want to let my entire birthday pass without spending some time with my favorite person.”

James nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hope you had fun.”

Rose raised an incredulous eyebrow, and the penny dropped.

“Me?” he squeaked, the knot in his chest loosening.

“Yes you, you numpty. Just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. Do you not love me anymore because we fought?”

James’s knees weakened at the ‘l’ word. He took a step towards her, the arm not holding the cupcakes extended. Her face softened and she stepped into his proffered embrace. Her body was warm and solid against him. Heat prickled behind his eyes as he wrapped his arms as tightly around her as he could without upending the Tupperware container.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry. I…”

“Can we not do this on the front porch?” she asked, voice muffled. “S’cold.”

James was loath to let go of her, but he had to agree the night was getting frigid, especially for him, with his bare feet and thin pajama bottoms and t-shirt. With a sigh, he gave her a final squeeze and dropped his arms from around her waist, then stepped back to usher her into his home.

She toed off her shoes by the front door, and he could already predict her questions when she angled her head towards the hallway. “Did you paint something?”

James scratched the back of his neck. “Er. Yeah. Started repainting my bedroom.”

A small, sad smile tugged at the side of Rose’s mouth. “Needed something to keep your mind busy?”

“Something like that,” he admitted.

A more genuine smile crossed her face as she gestured to the Tupperware container he was holding. “Y’know, stress baking would've been cheaper.”

James blinked, then gaped down at the cupcakes he was holding. The font of the words was perfect cursive, the spread of the icing uniform and even. He blurted, “You made these?”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” she drawled. “Yes, I made them. Well. Elsa helped. She came over to my flat this afternoon. Bit of a girl’s night. Had pizza and wine, then made cupcakes. She’s actually really good at decorating; she’s got this whole set of frosting tips to make fancy designs. She did the lettering.”

“They look lovely. Very professional,” he said. He jutted his head to his kitchen, motioning for her to follow. She did, her quiet, shuffling footsteps falling into rhythm with his.

Rather than go into the kitchen, Rose peeled off to the living room, where Merry and Pippin were lounging on the sofa together, half-asleep. James watched her squat down in front of the cats and give them a bit of love before she returned to him.

“Should Jack have driven himself home?”

James glanced at Rose and saw her pointing to the kitchen table, where the mostly-empty bottle of wine sat. It had a few mouthfuls left.

“It was only half-full when we started,” James answered, picking up the bottle and hurriedly drinking the last of the wine. “This was from last weekend, when you and I… Anyway, he had one glass. I drank most of it. He should be fine.”

“Tell him to let us know when he gets home safely,�� Rose said.

James snapped off a lazy salute then sent Jack a text, passing along Rose’s request. He set the Tupperware container of cupcakes on the counter before grabbing two clean bowls from the dishwasher he hadn’t bothered to empty.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t,” Rose said with a grimace. “I already had one after they came out of the oven. Plus pizza. M’gonna puff up like a balloon.”

She pinched her waist, and James frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flamed pink and she dropped her hand limply to her side.

“I had a huge, greasy burger and chips for dinner. D’you think I’m gonna puff up like a balloon?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, no. But you’re…” She let her sentence dangle as she waved her hand vaguely up and down his body.

“And you’re…” He mirrored her gesture. “Rose, I find you absolutely beautiful, and you losing or gaining weight won’t change my opinion. Not that my opinion should matter. If you don’t want a cupcake, or if you’re not hungry, that’s fine. And again, not that you need my approval.”

Rose sighed and twisted her hands in front of herself before she turned away from him and rooted in his freezer for ice cream he always made sure to have on hand.

“I had a minor eating disorder as a teen,” Rose said quietly, pulling out the ice cream and shutting the freezer. “Nothing too serious. I was obsessed with my weight, and was really careful with what I ate. I counted and logged calories. I grew out of it when I realized watching what I ate made me feel even worse about myself. Of course I still tried to eat healthy and to eat reasonably-sized portions, but I stopped being so strict with it. I obviously started putting on some weight, nothing too drastic, but Jimmy would often tease me and tell me to lay off the chips or whatever, because rock stars don’t date chubby girls.”

James’s ears were ringing with rage and heartbreak, and he was furious with himself for everything he had accused Rose of last night regarding Jimmy.

“Rose, I…”

“As I said, I’m fine now and I don’t really care about my weight or body image as much,” Rose interrupted, setting the ice cream on the counter in front of him. “But sometimes those thoughts pop up without me realizing it. Like they did just now.”

Unsure of how to respond, James instead took a cupcake out of the Tupperware container, unwrapped the paper from the bottom, and set it into the bowl. “Did I… did I say something wrong?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually. You told me your opinion, but didn’t shove it in my face or try to force me to believe you. And like I said, I don’t often realize when I’m having these thoughts.”

He nodded and forced his lips into some semblance of a smile that he hoped looked supportive. He then returned his gaze to the bowl and the ice cream she’d retrieved.

“D’you want to share this with me?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl with a spoon.

Rose nodded. He scooped several large dollops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl then he went to his junk drawer. It overflowed with a random assortment of objects: scissors, several different types of batteries, notepads, pens, pencils, a ruler, a screwdriver, tape, glue, Band-Aids, rubber bands, paper clips, binder clips, thumbtacks, toothpicks, a ball of twine, a condom, a tampon, and so many other things James didn't remember throwing into the drawer.

He dug through the mishmash of objects until he found a small, half-empty box of birthday candles and a matchbook. He took out four candles and brought them and the matches over to where Rose stood at the counter.

“I would try to shove twenty-two of them into the cupcake, but firstly I don’t have twenty-two candles, and secondly, I’m pretty sure I would end up pulverizing the poor cupcake into a pile of crumbs. So use your imagination; two and two equates to twenty-two.”

He shoved two of the candles side by side into the left side of the cupcake, right before the H and B in “Happy Birthday”. The other two, he stuck into the right side of the cupcake, behind both Ys. Striking the match, he ignored the shaking in his hands as he lit the candles. He then promptly blew out the match and dropped it into the water-filled wine glass in the sink to let it stop smoking. However, Rose must have seen the tremor in his hands, because she reached over and threaded their fingers together.

“I don’t like fire,” he admitted. “For obvious reasons.”

“You didn’t have to light the candles then,” Rose said gently.

“Pfff. It’s your birthday. Can’t have a birthday without blowing out some candles. How else will you get a free wish?”

Rose cracked a small smile and squeezed his fingers. She leaned forward as though she were about to blow out her candles. James cried, “Wait!”

She pulled back with a start.

“It’s your twenty-second birthday. I would think you would remember how this goes by now,” he drawled. He then sucked in a deep breath and began to sing. “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Ro-ooose. Happy Birthday to youuuuu.”

She was grinning by the end of it, especially when he intentionally sang off-key for the sole purpose of making her smile. He’d made her cry too much in the last twenty-four hours; a smile from her was a welcome sight.

“Right. Those candles are all charged up with birthday magic. Now you can make a wish and blow,” he said, bowing and gesturing to her cupcake.

Rolling her eyes at him, Rose closed her eyes and paused for about five seconds, before she blew out a short breath, extinguishing the candles with ease. He applauded her effort, then yanked the candles out of the cupcake and extended two of them to her. They licked off the cake crumbs and icing—cream cheese, he noted with delight—then dropped them into the trash.

“Let’s eat this before all the ice cream melts,” James said, gesturing to the table. “Want anything to drink? More wine?”

“Just water.”

He grabbed two glasses from the dishwasher and filled them with water from the pitcher in the fridge before plopping down at the table beside Rose. He noticed his phone had a new text notification; Jack had replied, letting him know he was home. James relayed the news to Rose, then gestured for her to take the first bite of her birthday cupcake.

For several long minutes, they sat silently together, trading off bites of cupcake and ice cream until the bowl was empty.

“That was very good,” he praised, swiping his finger through the melted mess of ice cream and chocolate crumbs on the bottom of the bowl and licking the digit clean.

“Thanks. Elsa loves to bake but doesn't get the chance to do it as often as she likes because she lives in the dorms on campus.” Rose ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass. “When I invited her over to my flat, she said stress baking was a requirement. She didn’t know it was my birthday until we started decorating the cupcakes.”

“Do you have an aversion to people knowing it’s your birthday?”

She snorted. “No. But it just… it didn’t feel right to celebrate. Not when we’d…” She trailed off with a shrug. “All month I’d been looking forward to finally telling you it was my birthday. It didn’t feel right to tell anyone about my birthday if I couldn’t tell you.”

“I really buggered your birthday,” he sighed, chest tightening.

“Nah.” She pursed her lips. “Okay, well, yeah. But it wasn’t just you. I didn’t help. I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate my birthday today, so I kept it to myself. Anyways. Elsa knocked a bit of sense into me this afternoon. Helped put some things into better perspective.”

“I’m glad you have a friend like that to share things with,” he said.

Rose hummed in agreement. “She also called me out for being an idiot.”

James snorted. “Jack did much the same for me.” He paused, fidgeting uncomfortably for a few seconds before he blurted, “I am so sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry for snooping through your mail and reading that letter, and I’m so sorry for jumping to a conclusion that was absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry for accusing you of not trusting me. I’m sorry I twisted the situation and your words and actions to put the blame all on you. I’m sorry I let my own insecurities warp my perceptions of you and our relationship, and I’m so, so sorry for ever insinuating that you would want to go back to Jimmy.”

Rose was dead silent. When James chanced a peek over at her, he was horrified to see tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and they fell down her cheeks.

Sniffling, she wiped at them and whispered, “That really hurt. I thought I had told you enough about Jimmy to show you he wasn’t a nice person to be in a relationship with. And I thought…”

“You did,” James interrupted fervently. “You did Rose. You were absolutely correct in saying I had selective memory. You told me more about him than I realized. I was too caught up in my own head last night to remember everything you’d said. I’m so sorry about that.”

Rose waved him off. “Forget Jimmy for a minute. Even if he wasn’t a wanker… It hurt that you would think I would be tempted into a new relationship with someone else when we’ve been so happy together. At least, I’ve been happy.”

“I’ve been happy, too,” James said. He covered her hand with his. “I swear, Rose. I’ve been so happy with you.”

He wished he had better answers for her. He wished he could explain what had triggered him last night, explain how his brain had disregarded nearly seven months of a friendship and four months of a relationship stronger than he’d ever had before. Why had he thought Rose would be tempted by an ex-boyfriend who had treated her so horribly? Why did he have the anxiety that Rose would see through his facade and realize he wasn’t as exciting as she’d thought? Why was he so fearful she would leave?

Because everyone leaves.

The realization crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave, pushing his head beneath the water until he could barely breathe. He was drowning, fighting a losing battle against the current, about to be swept away into the sea when he was thrown a lifeline.

Rose squeezed his fingers hard, grounding him, pulling him back to the moment. His chest was tight and tears blurred his vision.

Everyone leaves.

His mother, who had thought it more prudent to attend to their dogs rather than get herself to safety with her husband and son.

His father, who had rescued him from their burning house only to leave him on the street to go back inside. James hadn’t been enough to keep his dad by his side, and so he had lost two parents that night.

His aunt, who had never wanted kids, had never expected to have kids. She pulled long hours and travelled incessantly, chasing big news stories while James pretended he was fine with being alone, while silently wishing his dad had never saved him from their house. He knew without a doubt that, if his aunt could do it all over again, if she knew then what she knew now, she never would have agreed to be his godmother when he was born. He loved his aunt, and knew his aunt loved him, but he wasn’t so naïve as to be ignorant of the fact that he had upheaved his aunt’s life, and not entirely for the better.

The friends he had left behind in the UK and never heard from again after he and his aunt moved to America. People he had known since childhood who hadn’t bothered putting in the effort to stay in touch, despite claiming they would.

His previous partners, many of whom finding ways to end their brief relationship after realizing he didn’t want to have sex with them. Time after time, he had to listen to them say it was fine that they weren’t being physically intimate—with an unspoken yet dangling between them—only to listen to them make up excuses for why they were ending the relationship. Granted, he had broken off a relationship himself a few times, but over half the time, his partner had been the one to end it.

Over and over, people came and people went, and at the heart of it, James was hardly more than a spectre, unable to be seen or heard as his heart was left broken. And yet when Rose had joined him, had taken his hand and made promises and vows that nobody ever had before, he had jumped at the first opportunity to assume she would leave him, too.

Chair legs scraped across the floor a moment before a warm, familiar arm wrapped around his waist. He turned into Rose and rested his cheek on her shoulder, breathing in her scent, the subtle tones of amber and citrus, of warmth and love and home.

Something deep in his chest cracked open, releasing the floodgates. For the past nine and a half years, he had been drifting, trying to make sense of how he could feel so alone when he was surrounded by people, able to make new friends and acquaintances at the drop of a hat. Yet there was always that disconnect, making him feel more like an outsider looking in. Like everyone else was aware of the punchline of a joke while he was left clueless.

Until Rose. With Rose it had been natural. Effortless. It was though his world had shifted into perfect focus, and at the heart of it was her. She had reminded him of what it felt like to belong, to feel perfectly at home with another person. And though he was desperate not to lose her and what they had together, part of him was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yet in doing so, he had let his anxiety take control and had hurt Rose badly enough that he had nearly caused her to do exactly what he had been terrified of.

James’s shoulders shook as he wept quietly into Rose’s neck, dampening the collar of her shirt. She didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she held him closer, rubbing her hand up and down the length of his spine as he sobbed and gasped for breath.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry for everything, Rose.”

Haltingly, through the juddering tears that cracked his voice, he explained his revelation to her. He hoped he didn’t sound like he was making excuses for himself, but he genuinely wanted her to understand the conclusion his big, stupid brain had come to.

“I let my fears take over,” he said, voice raw from crying and talking. “I didn’t realize what they were. And I didn’t realize how loud they’d gotten.”

“I understand,” Rose said quietly. “Believe me. I understand. Is there anything I can do to help you quiet them?”

James rubbed his hand beneath his clogged, stuffy nose and grimaced when it came away wet. He pulled away from Rose and stood, moving to the sink to wash his hands, then to grab a handful of tissues. He blotted his eyes then blew his nose before he sank into his seat beside her again.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I know this is a me problem, not a you problem. You’ve been wonderful, Rose. You and me… our relationship… it has all been wonderful. I don’t know why I was so quick to let ten minutes of screaming insecurities make me forget about half a year of loving you.”

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek, contemplating. “If ever there’s a time those voices are getting too loud, I’d like you to tell me. Though I know sometimes they can go unnoticed. But if you realize you’re getting stuck in your head, let me know and I’ll try to help you out of it.”

James flashed her a grateful smile. “Same for you. If there’s ever a time I can help you with whatever’s on your mind…”

Rose sighed. “I need to get better about that. I’ve realized I have a bad habit of telling myself I will deal with something later, but later never actually comes.” She sucked in a big breath and blew it out again. “I’m sorry you saw that letter from Jimmy. Yeah, you were a bit of a twat for reading it and reacting like you did. But I’m sorry you were blindsided like that, and that I ignored how it made you feel. And I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t trust you. I’m sorry I made you self-conscious for everything you’ve shared with me and that you feel like I don’t share enough with you.” She let out a sad little laugh that twisted his heart. “This is going to sound lame, but I honestly didn’t realize I wasn’t being as open with you as I thought I was. It feels like you know me better than anyone ever has, so I didn’t think to change anything. But now that I know how you feel, I want to work to be better at that.”

James shook his head and covered her hand. “No, Rose. I got caught up in my own head and in my frustration. You’ve shared more with me than I wanted to admit last night.” Jack’s words clanged around in his head. “I shouldn’t have expected the exact same level of sharing from you as I am comfortable with giving.”

“That’s not fair. I am comfortable with you…”

James cringed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not accusing you of anything, Rose. Merely stating a fact. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or upset, I swear. I want you to be comfortable talking with me, and forcing you to talk about things you aren’t comfortable with is counterproductive.”

“Thing is, I was always going to tell you everything about Jimmy,” Rose sighed. “When he first texted me, it sent me into a blind panic and I sorta… shut down. I wanted to take the time I needed to get into a better place before sharing it with you. But I guess I didn’t realize how long it was since he first texted me.”

James stayed silent, letting her get her thoughts together. He twined their fingers together, happy to be able to sit and touch her like this, when for many long, heartbreaking hours in the wee hours of that morning, he had been sure that he would never be able to do so again. Her hand fit perfectly in his, and he knew that he would do whatever it took to make their relationship whole again, to make sure he could hold her hand for the rest of their lives.

When Rose began speaking, he gave her his full attention and tried to keep his emotions in check. He listened to her explain how Jimmy had texted her out of the blue, having gotten her number from a “mutual friend”.

“M’still not sure who gave it to him,” Rose said with a sigh. “He never told me and none of my friends claim to have done it.”

James listened to her describe the early conversations she’d had with Jimmy, from telling him that she needed time, to working through her anxiety with the help of Elsa and a counselor, to coming to the decision to let Jimmy say his piece.

“He was very important to me at one time. He was the love of my life. He was my everything. He will always be important and special because I genuinely loved him, and like it or not, my experiences with him shaped me into the person I am today. I don’t love him anymore, and frankly don’t miss him or want what we used to have, but if this would help him and me move on, I really wanted to let him say what he needed to say.

“He apologized to me, and it wasn’t even a terrible apology. Though he did make it sound like we both were at fault, but you know what, it was better than I was expecting, so I sorta took it as a win. I figured we were done, but then he wanted to know if he could repay me for all the debts he’d left me with. I can’t remember if I told you before, but he stopped paying his part of the rent at the end of our relationship. I got so behind on those payments because I had other bills to focus on that by the time I moved out, I was six months behind.

“I refused Jimmy’s offer. Told him everything was paid off and he didn’t owe me anything.” Rose sniffled and smiled ruefully, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You know my money insecurities. I couldn’t stand the thought that he might use this as a way to control me again. So I shut him down.”

“Good for you,” James murmured, his first words in a while. “You don’t have to go on. It’s okay.”

But Rose shook her head. “I want you to know all of this. I want to come to you when—as Elsa puts it—shit ties up my brain. And my brain has been in knots for over a month. I want to be better with being okay about my thoughts sometimes getting tangled; I realized if I waited until my brain was calm to tell you everything, I would never tell you anything. I don’t want secrets between us, and I’m frustrated with myself that I unwittingly kept secrets from you. I can’t promise I will tell you immediately when something is on my mind, but I will make more of an effort to be more open with you. I wish I’d told you all of this sooner, but I can’t go back and change how I handled this, so let me tell you all of this now.”

James nodded and brought their clasped hands to his lips for a soft kiss.

“After I told Jimmy I didn’t want his money, I thought we were done. I didn’t hear from him for a few days, but then I got a text from him, a selfie with some of our old friends. A harmless group photo. Then he started sharing news from home. Or he would send me playlists. Stupid, innocent stuff we used to. He has really good taste in music and I’m always happy to have new songs or artists to listen to.

“We started chatting a little more regularly. Not daily, but a few times a week. A few messages at a time. He shared updates about his life, told me about going to drug and alcohol meetings, financial counseling, and so on. I told him about America and school. I didn’t tell him about you, though. It’s stupid, and I should have because I don’t think Jimmy realizes I’m not single, but you’re mine.” The word sent a thrill up James’s spine, and he couldn’t help but kiss her knuckles again. “You’re mine and I didn’t want to share you with him. I didn’t want anything of Jimmy to touch you. And I wasn’t trying to lead him on or anything. Or keep him a secret from you. But all of a sudden it’s been five weeks since he first texted.

“Then he sent me that letter. It came two days ago. I cried when I got it. I never gave him my address, so I panicked that he had somehow stalked me and found me, that he would be waiting at the university for me. And I was just… so defeated. I thought maybe he’d changed. Grown up or something. Stupidly, I thought maybe we could eventually be friends. But the only thing he wanted was for me to get back together with him.”

Rose’s tears dripped down her cheeks and her breathing hitched. James wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. She willingly leaned into him and sniffled quietly for a long moment.

“Did you really think that was a love letter?” Rose croaked.

“Pardon?”

“What Jimmy wrote to me. Did you think it read like a love letter?”

James sucked on the inside of his lower lip. He tried to remember the content of the letter, but his memories were all tainted with the pain of their argument.

“I don’t remember enough of it,” he confessed. “I’m sorry.”

Rose lifted her bum off of her chair, reaching into her back pocket to pull out a piece of paper that had been folded into eighths.

“Here,” she said, giving it to him.

Tentatively, he took it. Rose pulled herself out of his embrace and grabbed a tissue from the crumpled pile he had brought over.

As he reread the letter, his stomach twisted into knots when he picked out several words and phrases.

I’ve found a piece of myself…

I’m not complete…

I hate the person I am without you…

…happiest of my life…

…nothing more I’ve wanted…

…(our life?)…

You make me feel like I can do anything…

I love how I feel when I’m with you…

I was scared about how much I needed you…

…something I always knew would be there for me…

I know I can make it work this time…

…enjoy your time there, while you can…

…we can work harder together to make us work…

I will do whatever it takes to make this work…

Over and over, James read the letter, his mind picking up more of the tone and the sheer selfishness in it. Everything Jimmy said was about him, about how he needed Rose, without giving a thought about whether Rose wanted or needed him. He plainly admitted to taking her for granted, and still, after all this time, he acted as though he and Rose were equally at fault for how their relationship had ended.

How must it have sounded to Rose, for him to go off on her about the letter?

“Oh, Rose,” James breathed, “I’m so sorry. God, I was a twat, wasn’t I?”

She let out a watery giggle. “Yeah, a bit.”

“Can I ask…? How did Jimmy find your address? I mean. Do you even know how he found it?”

Rose’s eyes welled with tears again, even as she scoffed. “My mum.”

“Your… mum?” That had not been what James had expected. “But… why?”

Rose shook her head. “Apparently Jimmy went ‘round the estate. Found my mum and told her we’d been chatting. Said he wanted to send me money to help cover the bills I’d paid. He said exactly the right thing—when I moved back home, my mum kept telling me over and over that Jimmy should cough up the money to cover his half of the flat and the expenses that had built up.

“A couple weeks ago, my mum asked me if I’d been chatting with Jimmy. When I said yes, I guess she assumed I knew Jimmy wanted to repay me but I was being unreasonable.” Rose’s face crumpled. “I know my mum didn’t know how badly Jimmy had treated me, and that's my fault for not telling her. But what if he’d been a murderous stalker? What if he’d physically or sexually abused me? What if he used that information and showed up alone at my flat one night and broke in and…?”

She coughed out a wracking sob and buried her face in her hands. James nearly began crying at the sight of her distress. “How dare my mum give out my address like that? I never thought she’d do something like that. My mum called to wish me a happy birthday and I told her a little bit about why you and I were fighting, and she told me she was the one who gave Jimmy my address. I got so angry with her, and she was gettin’ angry with me. I’ve spent the day crying ‘cos I was fighting with my two favorite people.”

James tossed the letter onto the table and wrapped his arms around Rose, holding her tightly to his chest. He had never been angrier with another person than he was right now with Jackie Tyler. Well. Jackie Tyler and Jimmy bloody Stone. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rose. I’m sorry.”

“Joke’s on Mum, though; Jimmy didn’t send a single quid with that letter.” Rose sniffled and scrubbed her hands across her eyes. “I hate this. I wish I’d blocked Jimmy from the start, I wish I’d told you when he texted, I wish I’d told my mum not to talk to Jimmy. I wish I’d handled everything differently, and I wish I hadn’t gotten so upset with you last night. I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry for it all.”

James tightened his hold around her, burying his face into her neck while she wept into his. “You have every right to handle situations however you think is best. I should have had more faith and trust in you and in our relationship. I was unreasonable. But I forgive you, love. Of course I forgive you. I love you. I love you more than you can imagine, and I’m so sorry I doubted it last night.”

Rose began crying harder into his shoulder. Her breaths came out in harsh gasps as she managed to reply, “I love you too. I’m sorry for putting the doubt in your head… when you asked if I was breaking up with you and I said I didn’t know. God, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean it at all. I got scared too, same as you, and my brain sort of shut down because it couldn’t stop thinking of everything Jimmy had said or done in the past, and twisting it to look like what you were saying and doing. That’s something I need to work on because that’s insulting for me to imply that you’re anything like him, but I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed you out, and I’m so sorry.”

James merely held her tighter, his heart breaking at her agony, yet filling with more love for her than he’d ever felt before.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, Rose,” he murmured into her hair. “The strongest. You’ve overcome so much, and you’re working to make yourself the best version of yourself that you can be, and that’s so admirable. I am here to listen to anything you want to tell me, but I am okay with not knowing everything. I trust your judgement, and I know you’ll tell me what you want me to know.”

He continued speaking quietly, a combination of reassurances, affirmations, and words of love. She shed more tears than he’d ever seen her shed, and he shed just as many. He was exhausted and overwhelmed, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a very long time tangled with Rose.

When her tears finally dried, he pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head before sitting back in his chair. He grabbed a tissue for himself and passed one to her; they noisily blew their noses and wiped their eyes.

“Well. Wasn’t that cathartic?” he said cheerfully, holding his hand out for her tissue to throw in the rubbish bin.

She chuckled. Though her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were splotchy, he didn’t think there was a more beautiful person in the world than her.

He washed his hands after throwing away their used tissues, then he grabbed a few more, just in case. His nose was still a bit runny, and he was sure Rose’s had to be too. He plopped into his chair with a groan.

“First fight,” he mused. “Can tick that one off the list, I suppose.”

“Was it everything you expected it to be?” she drawled, rolling her eyes.

“Admittedly it was a lot more painful than I thought,” he said. “But now we can go back to how we were, right?”

Rose paused. In the silence, his heart sank into his stomach.

“I don’t know if we should,” she said carefully, and his lungs were suddenly out of air. Her eyes widened. “No, not like you’re thinking. It’s just… everything we fought about, everything we talked about, it changed us. It changed our relationship. Not in a bad way, but it’s different now. We’re more aware of some things that we weren’t before. I don’t want to go backwards with you. I want us to go forward. Together.”

James nodded, shoulders slumping in relief. He slid his hand across the table, slipping it beneath Rose’s so her palm rested against the back of his hand. He splayed his fingers, letting hers fall between the gaps. She curled her fingers around his hand.

“You’re right,” he said, caressing his thumb along the side of her pinkie. “Absolutely, you’re right. Guess this means the honeymoon period is over?”

“Probably.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Hopefully we’re not over the horny hump though.”

“You’re never gonna let me forget that I said that, are you?” he whined, grimacing.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ as he often did. “It was such a dorky thing to call it.”

He pouted. “You never complained about my dorkiness before.”

“I love your dorkiness. Doesn’t mean I won’t tease you about it though.” Her smile slipped until her face turned solemn. “I’m really glad we talked this out, James.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Me too.”

“Any time Jimmy and I had an argument, we never did this. We’d shout at each other, curse at each other, and then ignore each other and not speak for a day or so. Then we’d have angry make up sex and pretend everything was fine in the morning. I don’t want to ever do that again. I want to communicate with you and to compromise with you, then grow with you.

“Staying in love is a choice, and it takes work. It shouldn’t be hard, but it’s not easy either. We need to choose to stay in love, decide that our relationship is worth making an effort for. I want to wake up every day and choose you, to choose us, and I want to put in the work because I wanna enjoy the payoff. Because being in love with you, James… it’s the best I’ve ever felt. You make me feel like I can do anything, like pass a stupid chemistry class or tell my stupid ex-boyfriend to fuck off. I love the way you make me feel. I love feeling like I’m home whenever I’m with you. And though this home we’re building with each other might have a leaky roof every now and then, I wanna fix it with you.”

James’s eyes were burning again. How was anything even left in his tear ducts? “Oh, Rose. You make me feel the same way. And I feel so inadequate because you just waxed romantic poetry at me, but my brain has stopped working. But please know I love you with every cell in my body, and I want to keep loving you with every cell, all the way down to each little organelle contained within, every day for the rest of our long and beautiful life together.”

Rose grinned at him and leaned over to press a light kiss to his lips. They tingled at the contact, and he wanted to pull her close to kiss her again.

“You’re such a science geek,” she said.

“Well. I’ve already shown you I’m rather fabulous with many types of chemistry and anatomy,” he drawled, flashing her an over-the-top wink as he clicked his tongue lewdly.

She burst into a fit of laughter that he echoed, feeling at peace for the first time in twenty-four hours. The exhaustion of all those hours suddenly overwhelmed him. His laughter morphed into a yawn, which spread to Rose.

“I’m knackered,” he announced unnecessarily. “Will you come to bed with me? My bedroom’s a disaster, but the guest bed is made.”

Rose nodded and stood up from the kitchen table. She took their bowl to the sink and rinsed it out before leaving it there for them to clean properly in the morning. She then flicked off the light on top of the stove before she followed him through the rest of the house, locking up and turning lights off as they went.

“Can I see what you’ve done to your room?” Rose asked.

“Sure,” he said, continuing down the hall rather than peeling off into the guest room. When he got to his closed door, he warned, “It’s a mess.”

They were hit with the stench of paint fumes as soon as he opened the bedroom door. He flicked on the light, and the room was bathed in the yellow glow of his lamps.

“Love the color,” Rose said.

“Yeah?” he asked, pleased with himself that, even in his miserable, depressive state of trying to not think about Rose, he had managed to pick a color she would like.

“Mhm.”

“I have to put on the second coat. I’ll probably do that tomorrow—I’m not really feeling like going to my classes, so I’ll probably ditch ‘em again.”

“You rebel,” she teased. “If you want some help, I don’t have anything important going on tomorrow. And I don’t work this weekend. We can take a few days to finish up the painting and reorganize your furniture.”

James smiled. “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and tucked her face against his shoulder. “Besides, it’ll go faster with two.”

Leaning down, James brushed a kiss to her crown then rested his cheek in her hair. “Faster with two. Better with two.” He gave her waist a tight squeeze as he kissed her again. “Better with you.”

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #romance #hurt/comfort #angst #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

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legolaslovely · 5 years ago

Text

Little One

A/N: Because maybe you need some Daddy!Thorin. Thank you for reading and voting! Next will be the Mitchell story and then the Kili story!

Pairing: Thorin x Reader

Word Count: 1,369

Warnings: fluff, babies, allusion to smut/light light smut

Summary: After seeing his wife, (Y/N), taking care of some dwarflings, Thorin wants to make his dreams of having a family a reality.

Thorin searched the royal chambers for you, calling your name. He had spent the last half hour searching the mountain for you, visiting all the usual places and coming up empty. Closing the door behind himself and stepping out into the corridors, he mumbled to himself. “Where in Mahal’s name is my wife?”

A tiny dam holding a tray of fruit scooted around him. “My King, Queen (Y/N) had been taking care of the dwarflings in the fields this afternoon. Mistress Maya took ill.”

He hummed. “Is it serious?”

She bowed again. “No, my King. But it left her unable to take charge of the care today.”

“Thank you.”

She curtsied but before she could disappear, he reached for a plump peach on the tray. “May I take one of these?”

The dam bowed again, almost spilling the lot. “Of course, my King. I was just bringing them to your chambers.”

He thanked her and opened the heavy door for her before making his way to the fields under the mountain. He tossed the soft peach in his hand and then stuck it in his pocket.

The moment he stepped into the sun, he saw you down the hill. Your hip was stuck out, supporting a baby he knew to be about six months old. The chubby dwarfling was bouncing happily in your arms, yanking on your long hair though you took no notice of it. Thorin laughed to himself. You were surrounded by children waiting to be picked up by their parents, but he could hear your pleasant, soaring laughter from his place by the mountain.

He took a few hastened steps forward when he heard one of the older dwarflings cry. He paused and watched as the boy ran to you, clutching your skirts and hugging your legs. “(Y/N)- Queen (Y/N), Naîn won’t let me play with the horse.”

You reached down and lifted his chin, cupping his face in your delicate hand. “Baron, darling, you need to take turns.”

“But when will it be my turn?” he asked.

You spun, setting the baby gently in a basket placed securely on a bench under the shady protection of a large tree. “It will be your turn as soon as... we catch your brother!”

You took Baron’s hand and chased after his brother, just missing him when you grabbed at him a few times. Thorin chuckled when he heard your laughter when one of the boys hid behind your skirts. Your cheeks glowed with the exertion and the fun you were having. It was only interrupted when the boys’ father stepped into the field to take them home.

“We don’t want to leave (Y/N)!” They cried, almost tearing your clothes with their grip.

“That’s Queen (Y/N), fellas,” their father said with an apologetic smile.

You knelt on the grass and accepted their breathing taking hugs. “Will we see you tomorrow?” one of them asked.

“If you’re good maybe I will come to help Maya.” You placed a kiss on each of their foreheads and pushed them off towards their father who waved and bowed.

You had no time to watch them leave as the last dwarfling of the day began to cry in his basket. The moment your face appeared above him, his cries transformed into giggles. It was the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. You picked him up and set him on your hip, kissing his chubby, pink cheeks. You spoke to him, shaking your head, making of fool of yourself to whoever was nearby. But you’d do anything to keep the little baby laughing.

He was pulling on your hair and reaching for your circlet when you saw Thorin out of the corner of your eye. You turned the baby to him and gasped. “Who is this? Hm? Who’s come to see you?”

Thorin let the baby take hold of his finger. “I didn’t know you’d be out here today,” he said to you.

“I left a note on the desk. You didn’t see?”

“No.”

You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were glued to the baby who was sending him a lopsided, toothless grin. His voice lilted and he repeated himself to the bundle in your arms. “No, I did not see. I did not!”

You breathed out a laugh and he straightened. “How many were under your care today?”

“Eleven. With Sahsa’s help.” You thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

“You must be exhausted.”

You hummed, handing him the baby despite his protests. The little one, on the other hand, was delighted at being passed to the king. A bigger crown to stare at. He tangled his tiny fingers in Thorin’s hair and pulled. “That hurts, little one,” he chided.

You untangled your husband and smoothed your skirts, finally getting a look at the stains near your feet. You winced.

“Here,” Thorin said, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a peach and handed it to you. “I thought you’d be hungry after being out here all day.”

You took it, twirled it in your fingers, and took a bite. You spoke with a mouth full. “And I’m always hungry mid-afternoon.”

“And you’re always hungry mid-afternoon.”

You licked the sweet juice from your lips and kissed him. “Thank you.”

Thorin sat on the bench next to you as you ate your treat and told you of his day. Three meetings turned into four and he still wasn’t satisfied with the ending decisions. He could only keep the baby busy for so long before tiny hands were reaching out for you. You took him and bounced him on your knees.

“You work too hard and think too much, my love,” you said to him.

“You’ve worked much harder than me today,” he said, drawing circles into your back with his fingers.

The baby’s mother came too soon. You passed the little bundle to her and watched them walk away with a sad smile on your face. As if he could read your mind, Thorin wrapped his arm tightly around you, kissed your forehead and led you back into the mountain.

“Isn’t it a little early to retire?” you asked when Thorin took you back to your chambers.

“Who said we’re retiring?” he asked.

You squinted your eyes in suspicion and watched as he closed the door and discarded his robes. You slowly took your circlet off your head and placed it carefully in its place over the mirror. Then you were being pulled to the bed. You landed on your back and looked at Thorin with wide eyes as he hovered above you. You only got a glace of him before he dove to your neck but you saw his eyes had darkened from when you last looked at him. “What’s this? It’s the middle of the day, Thorin!” You squealed as he kneaded and pulled at your bottom beneath your skirts.

He growled into your skin. “I want you now.”

Your laugh turned into a soft moan as he placed open mouthed kisses below your ear. You closed your eyes, reveling in his touch and whimpered when his soft warmth left you. He was above you again.

“I want a little one. Of our own,” he said.

Your eyes blew wide. “Now?”

“Now.” He kissed your lips tenderly. “We’ve always talked of it and now I think we’re ready. Am I wrong in thinking it’s what you want as well?”

“No, you’re not wrong. I-I’m just surprised.”

“After seeing you today, I can’t wait any longer.” He kissed you again and you felt him laugh. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, my dear.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “And you a wonderful father.”

He chuckled and dove back to your neck. His touch grew more urgent and possessive. “And now we know you can handle eleven…”

You yanked on his hair and pulled him back. “We are not having eleven children, Thorin.”

“We will have as many as I can put inside you.” He tore your skirts.

“Hey!” But you couldn’t help your giggle.

“They’re already ruined, my love. I will have new ones made for you tomorrow. It’s going to be a long night.”

New taglist: message me if you want to join! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235

Tagging those who voted for this! @c-s-stars @teagarages @deepestfirefun

And tagging those may like this! If you don’t want to be tagged, don’t hesitate to let me know! @fizzyxcustard @alae-megallen @luna-xial @xxbyimm

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virginpornstar · 4 years ago

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What I Learned From All Of My Hookups In 2020

I knew 2020 would be less slutty than 2017-2019 due to the fact I wasn’t living in ATL. I still had plans to travel monthly, discover new cities and new men, and be a slut everywhere I go. Covid-19 ruined that. So 2020 was far less slutty than I had anticipated, but I still had a lot of fun this year. We have to roll with the punches, and readjust our plans when the plague strikes. I still learned a lot about myself and my sexual interests with each new penis that entered my body. Here’s what I learned from all of my hookups i n 2020!

1. GUYS THAT DELETE AND CONSTANTY REMAKE NEW DATING APP PROFILES HAVE MENTAL ISSUES

Hooking up with New Castle started off fun, but then he kept acting weird. I asked him why he’d always delete his Grindr profile then make a new one every other week, then he’d go off on me for asking why. I did realize he’d make profiles advertising himself as a top, then ones as vers, then others as a bottom. A clear sign the man didn’t even know what he wants. We had some good times until he started acting crazy, and then randomly blocking men when I couldn’t hookup.

2. GUYS TREAT ME DIFFERENTLY NOW THAT I’VE LIVED IN ATL

Left Tackle and I had been hooking up off and on since 2016. Yet suddenly in 2020 he wanted to start acting differently, like he’s too good for me. Um what? He also acted grossed out and disgusted after following all my ATL sexual adventures, and I think he started to think I was tainted after reading about me hooking up with a poz guy while on vacation. Oh well. Fuck buddies aren’t meant to last forever. I will not have a guy treating me like he’s too good for me, when in fact I’ve always been too good for him.

3. I NEED TO STOP HOOKING UP THE NIGHT BEFORE VACATION

I noticed a pattern of when I’m supposed to have a slutty vacation weekend I end up hooking up the night before I leave. Which either makes me dickmatized and not horny on the trip, or I get my hole ripped and then I can’t even fully enjoy hooking up while away. I’m still gonna fuck, just not as much or as enjoyably if I hadn’t gotten fucked the night before. I still enjoyed my encounter with Big D, even if he did rip me.

4. I CAN’T STAND VIRGOS

Philly Jawn and I had been following each other online and flirting here and there for years. Then when I was staying the weekend in Philly he and I finally made up. it started off well at first, and we even fucked, only for him to act distant and start ghosting me afterwards. Fuck that nigga. I can’t stand Virgo men since they always do this distant shit, and are terrible communicators. If you’re not interested then say so. Don’t waste my fucking time.

5. FORT LAUDERDALE WAS MORE FUN THAN MIAMI

Miami was my last vacation before Covid-19 plagued the earth. It’s also the last time I flew anywhere. I was so excited to hookup with all these hot Miami men, yet somehow Fort Lauderdale was way better than Miami. The bathhouse was definitely far superior in Fort Lauderdale than Miami at least, and I had way more fun hooking up with guys there than the bathhouse in Miami.

6. MIAMI IS TO LATINO GAYS WHAT ATL IS TO BLACK GAYS

I hooked up with so many latino men in Miami/Fort Lauderdale. They are the dominant population. It made me nostalgic for my younger years. I didn’t really get with many latinos in ATL, since black men rule that city. I had many latino lovers in the past, so it made me a little nostalgic. Sometimes a latin lover is all you need to give you great vacation sex.

7. I’M STILL NOT POZ FRIENDLY BUT MAKING PROGRESS

Miami has long been the biggest HiV hot spot in America. Their infection rates are far worse than Atlanta. So it did seem a bit fitting to hookup with a poz guy for the first time while in the HIV capital. When in Rome...granted I only hooked up with him because he was the only cute guy at the bathhouse at the time. If there was anyone more appealing, I wouldn’t have settled for a poz guy. I also wasn’t comfortable enough to do anal, but it’s still progress to have hooked up with a poz guy without penetration.

8. THE PHILLY BATHHOUSE WAS MORE FUN THAN I EXPECTED

I love checking out the bathhouses in every city I travel to. I didn’t have high expectations for the Philly bathhouse since I knew there wasn’t going to be a pool or hot tub, and those are my favorrite amenities at bathhouses. Yet surprisingly the Philly bathhouse was poppin, and I went on a Wednesday afternoon. It was very diverse, and although I didn’t fuck anyone, I still had a good time.

9. IT’S FUN TOPPING SOMEONE’S DAD

I always thought it was hot hooking up with a dick that’s created life. I hooked up with this DL divorced father of 2, he was young and around my age, but still hot knowing he had kids. I topped him, and then he became my plug. I do miss the weed provided more than I miss him.

10. I DON’T MISS THE BUMS IN THE SOUTH

My northern hookups have come bearing gifts. Weed, money, etc...I don’t miss the bums in Atlanta always begging for handouts. Asking for money, transportation, asking for shit. I’ve had so many guys give me shit without even asking like my DL Latino lover. Maybe I should remain in the north, although ATL keeps calling my name.

11. WHITE MEN LOVE BLOWJOBS

One thing I miss about Atlanta is the men there loved to fuck. Being in the suburbs with mostly old white men and DL guys I’ve realized most of them just want head. I used to be oral only, until I got on PrEP and lost a relationship to never wanting to fuck. So now I love to fuck, but keep encountering guys, like Mushroom Man, where all they want to do is get their dick sucked. Sorry, oral only isn’t enough for me to have a good time.

12. SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO CATFISH A GUY TO GET THE DICK THAT GHOSTED YOU

Chubby Chaster and I spent hours talking one night on Grindr, then he started ignoring me the next day. Oh hell no! I will not be ignored. I got into the whole anonymous profile thing briefly after my friend encouraged me, and weirdly so many guys are into that. I did end up getting Chubby Chaser to come over, and I kenw as soon as he saw me he must’ve been pissed to realize it was me. Oh well. I still made him cum.

13. WAY TOO MANY DL BOTTOMS IN THE SUBURBS

When I think of DL guys, at least the ones that turn me on, I think of guys with girlfriends/wives that are masc men you’d never be able to tell fuck guys on the DL. They’re also tops. Yet somehow all the DL guys with wives/girlfriends/baby mamas where I am now seem to all be bottoms. WTF! How can you fuck your girlfriend’s pussy, but somehow can’t use your dick to fuck a guy’s ass? Yet you want to let guys fuck you in the ass? That’s not fun for me. I top like once or twice a year, yet hooked up with so many DL bottoms this year.

14. I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR OTHER PEOPLE’S TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS

Gorilla and I have hooked up off and on for years. He’s a Scorpio too, and we never get along. Yet the sex is good. He’s been in an off/on relationshp for years, and seems to only hit me up whenever they’re off. Yet we fucked, then suddenly he started being distant afterwards, and then posting his man on social media. Ugh. I can’t stand that shit. I’ve been in that shit where I fuck new guys whenever my ex and I were off, and then when we’re on again ignore the new guys. I hate that cycle, and it’s not fair to the new people I got involved with. So I hate getting involved in that cycle in other people’s relationships since I wanted consistent dick.

15. NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU’LL MEET YOUR FUTURE SUGAR DADDY

I kinda only hooked up with Gasolina because i’d not had dick in months. I was a little desperate. I wasn’t that attracted to his pics, but he had a big dick, and I’m glad we did end up hooking up. Since he turned into my sugar daddy and I had many fun times this summer with him.

16. INVITING OVER A THIRD CAN SALVAGE A TERRIBLE HOOKUP

Panty Man got on my damn nerves. We rented a hotel together for the night, even though we barely knew each other and had only texted/talked on a dating app before. I knew as soon as we began talking, this wasn’t going to work, but I didn’t feel like leaving since I paid for half. I invited over New Castle, and then things turned into a threesome. They didn’t touch each other, but both fucked me. I had a good time, because I invited over another guy. I wouldn’t recommend inviting over a third to salvage terrible sex with your boyfriend, but it works for random hookups.

17. I LIKE CORRUPTING GOOD BOYS

I knew Rocky and I didn’t have any long term potential. He lived too far for me, and his health issues were something I don’t think I could deal with. But we still had some nice times together. He was such a good church boy so I had fun getting him to drink, try edibles, and even wanted him to try poppers. I love introducing men to new things.

18. I DON’T THINK I’LL EVER DATE A WHITE MAN AGAIN

It’s crazy to think I wasn’t even really attracted to black men until 4 years ago, and now I don’t see myself getting serious with any man that isn’t black. Farmer J was the last white boy I went out with/hooked up with, and he will hopefully be the last for the foreseeable future. I’ve had great encounters with white men before, but I never came close to an actual relationship with a white guy. Now after the ignorant comments Farmer J said, and it’s a lot of the ignorance that comes with dating a white man that is attracted to black people, but knows nothing about black people. His offensive comments that he never would’ve realized are offensive, and his voting history were a complete deal breaker for me. Completely reminded me why once you go black, you never go back.

19. GUYS ACT SKEPTICAL ABOUT FILMING YOUR SEXUAL ENCOUNTERS THEN GET SUPER INTO ONCE THE CAMERA IS ON

I saw The Reverend again for the first time in 4 years. I wanted to record more content for my OnlyFans. I knew he’d be skeptical due to the nature of his career, but I have masks and know what I’m doing. I’m surprised how into he got when the camera was on. I always turn my tops into the director since I’m too high on poppers to worry about angles, but it was a fun time. We got some really good footage for my channel.

20. A RANDOM HOOKUP CAN LEAD TO A RELATIONSHIP

Before BMore Bae entered my life I wasn’t looking for love. I had just launched my OnlyFans, wanted to record content, make money, enjoy life, save up before moving to ATL, and then boom. He comes over, he’s cuter than expected, and I caught feelings. I caught feelings fast. It’s been an roller coaster, but it’s so true. Love enters your life when you least expect it. I’m so glad it did. We’ve already made so many beautiful memories together, and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.

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isrustandstardust · 4 years ago

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1: Full name: Selena.

2: Zodiac sign: Scorpio.

3: 3 Fears: Abandonment. Not being good enough. Being lied to.

4: 3 things I love: Bones. Corpses. Books.

5: 4 turns on: Intelligence. Perversions. Sarcasm. Violence.

6: 4 turns off: Stupidity. Ignorance. Lack of hygiene. High pitched voices.

7: My best friend: Is the best bitch ever.

8: Sexual orientation: Bisex.

9: My best first date: A dinner and a walk by the lake.

10: How tall am I: 165 cm.

11: What do I miss: Woland, sometimes.

12: What time were I born: 3.45 a.m.

13: Favourite color: Teal.

14: Do I have a crush: Yup.

15: Favourite quote: So it goes.

16: Favourite place: Como.

17: Favourite food: Red meat, raw.

18: Do I use sarcasm: Way too much.

19: What am I listening to right now: I’m watching ‘my 600lb life’ on tv.

20: First thing I notice in new person: If he looks me in the eyes or not.

21: Shoe size: 38/39.

22: Eye color: Reddish brown.

23: Hair color: Chocolate.

24: Favourite style of clothing: Urban/edgy/grunge.

25: Ever done a prank call? When I was little.

26: What colour of underwear I'm wearing now? Black.

27: Meaning behind my URL: It’s a Nabokov’s quote.

28: Favourite movies: The Fountain, In the mood for love, Bin Jip, The pillow book, Only lovers left alive, Stoker.

29: Favourite song: Too hard to say.

30: Favourite band: Same. Maybe Tool.

31: How I feel right now: Relaxed.

32: Someone I love: My hubby.

33: My current relationship status: Happily married.

34: My relationship with my parents: No relationship with my mother, a distant one with my father.

35: Favourite holiday: Christmas.

36: Tattoos and piercing I have: 15 tattoos, no piercings atm.

37: Tattoos and piercing I want: I want to do some surfaces again and I want to ink both my arms. Full sleeves.

38: The reason I joined Tumblr: I wanted a safe space to write.

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? No, we just have no relationship whatsoever.

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? When my husband is on tour.

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? Yup.

42: When did I last hold hands? A few hours ago.

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? 20 minutes.

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days? Nope, I don’t need it.

45: Where am I right now? On the couch.

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? My husband, my friends.

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? Way too loud!

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? No. I live by myself since I was 18.

49: Am I excited for anything? In a few days I’ll begin renovating my home!

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? Sure.

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? Daily.

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? Today.

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? That could be a problem.

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? No, I’m very careful when it comes to trust people.

55: What is something I disliked about today? My stomach aching like crazy.

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? I’d love to have a chat with Jodorowsky.

57: What do I think about most? Work, work, work.

58: What’s my strangest talent? I can fit my whole fist in my mouth.

59: Do I have any strange phobias? Deep water, strange fishes.

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Behind, I’m a director, not an actress.

61: What was the last lie I told? I’m not hungry.

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Texting.

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? I believe in aliens, I’m fairly sure that something similar to ghost actually exist.

64: Do I believe in magic? Kinda.

65: Do I believe in luck? Yup.

66: What's the weather like right now? Fucking cold.

67: What was the last book I've read? A criminology book.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? A lot.

69: Do I have any nicknames? MissFortune, Sally.

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had? Never had one.

71: Do I spend money or save it? Save it. I know what it means to have nothing. At all. I don’t want to find myself in that situation ever again.

72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge? Nope.

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me? Nope. I don’t like pink very much.

74: Favourite animal? Snakes, moths.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? Still working.

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? I know his name is Woland.

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? Do you realize - the flaming lips.

78: How can you win my heart? Be kind, be honest.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? I don’t want a tombstone, I want to be cremated.

80: What is my favorite word? Weltschmerz.

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr. No idea tbh.

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? Read a book, study something, stop being stupid.

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? Nope.

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? Mind control.

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? When was the last time you ate?

86: What is my current desktop picture? Mass Effect’s reapers attacking earth.

87: Had sex? Two days ago.

88: Bought condoms? A few years ago.

89: Gotten pregnant? Never.

90: Failed a class? Never.

91: Kissed a boy? A man. A few minutes ago.

92: Kissed a girl? Cannot recall.

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? Yup.

94: Had job? Of course.

95: Left the house without my wallet? Maybe.

96: Bullied someone on the internet? Nope, been bullied tho.

97: Had sex in public? Yep.

98: Played on a sports team? Nope.

99: Smoked weed? Yes.

100: Did drugs? Three times.

101: Smoked cigarettes? Yup.

102: Drank alcohol? Of course.

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? Nope, been vegan for a year but my health went to hell.

104: Been overweight? I was a little chubby when I was little.

105: Been underweight? Almost all my adult life.

106: Been to a wedding? Sure.

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? Daily.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? Yup. I love binge watching things.

109: Been outside my home country? Sure.

110: Gotten my heart broken? Once.

111: Been to a professional sports game? No.

112: Broken a bone? Never.

113: Cut myself? I self harmed for years. Been clean for the past four and a half.

114: Been to prom? No.

115: Been in airplane? Yup.

116: Fly by helicopter? No, but I’d love to.

117: What concerts have I been to? Slayeeeeeeer! This is the first that comes to mind.

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? Of course.

119: Learned another language? Yup.

120: Wore make up? Daily.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? Nope.

122: Had oral sex? Sure.

123: Dyed my hair? The last time I went blonde for my wedding, almost three years ago.

124: Voted in a presidential election? I voted, here in Italy, for every election.

125: Rode in an ambulance? Sadly, yes.

126: Had a surgery? Nope.

127: Met someone famous? More or less.

128: Stalked someone on a social network? A few times.

129: Peed outside? Yup.

130: Been fishing? I actually enjoy it a lot.

131: Helped with charity? Not that I recall.

132: Been rejected by a crush? Not in a while.

133: Broken a mirror? Nope.

134: What do I want for birthday? Being spoiled.

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names? One. Nero if he’s a boy, Alya if she’s a girl.

136: Was I named after anyone? After a book character.

137: Do I like my handwriting? It’s not bad.

138: What was my favourite toy as a child? I didn’t have one. Maybe my art supplies.

139: Favourite Tv Show? Atm: Supersized vs Superskinny.

140: Where do I want to live when older? Iceland.

141: Play any musical instrument? I’m learning to play drums.

142: One of my scars, how did I get it? Almost all my scars are from self harming.

143: Favourite pizza toping? Cheeeeeeeeeese!

144: Am I afraid of the dark? Nope. I feel at home in it.

145: Am I afraid of heights? A lot.

146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? Doing something bad, surely.

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? Sometimes.

148: What I'm really bad at: Bowling.

149: What my greatest achievments are: I earn my own living since I was 18.

150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me: That I should never been born, I guess.

151: What I'd do if I won in a lottery: Sell my house and go live abroad.

152: What do I like about myself: My willpower.

153: My closest Tumblr friend: I don’t have one.

154: Something I fantasise about: My future.

155: Any question I’d like: I have no preferences, ask away.

#survey #about me #meet the artist

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uas-art · 5 years ago

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Title: The Pandering Country Western Star

Summary: Craig is a closeted country star. Tweek is an internet famous singer who's been out since middle school. when Craig’s ex outs him to a magazine, can Tweek be of any help to Craig in his time of need?

Ships: Creek, Revin, mentioned Stendy, past Cramos

Rating: T

Other: This was a cathartic story to deal with my coworkers being assholes :)

~~~~~~~~

Craig tipped back his head, downing the last of his drink.

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. "So, it's been fifteen minutes. Are you finally going to tell me what happened?"

Craig signaled the bartender for another Coke. He wanted to get absolutely wasted and completely forget the betrayal, but he couldn't risk that he might do something that would drag his reputation down worse than it already would be next week.

"Thomas." Craig fished out a twenty from his wallet and handed it to the bartender. "Just keep bringing whatever drinks you have cold and around until that runs out." He instructed the bartender, who then looked at her regular, Stan.

Stan just shrugged. "What's left over can pay off my tab, I guess."

She nodded and left the men to their own devices.

Stan sipped his Sprite. "What about Thomas? You two break up?"

Craig stirred the ice in his glass. "We are now." He groaned, shoulders slumping forward. "Stan, my career is over. He told a magazine."

Stan choked on his drink. He beat his chest and earned a look from the bartender. He waved her concerns off with his hand.

"'Told'? 'Told' like..." Stan lowered his voice, "like he told a magazine you're gay?"

Craig nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Not just any magazine. Fucking 'Country And Western Life' —the biggest country music magazine. I am boned."

Stan made a sound of understanding, reaching out to pat Craig's back. Stan was in the unique position of having some empathy for Craig's situation. His music career was ruined by gossipy journalism digging too deep into his personal life as well, though, Stan's career hadn't nearly made it as big as Craig's.

His band had one single make it to number one on the top forty charts, and that was mainly because it was in a low budget action spoof that was an unexpected box office success.

Craig had one song make it to number two, and three others make it into the top ten on the country charts. A collaboration he did with another, older star, made it to number one and held the spot for nearly three weeks.

Stan's fall from grace was not nearly as big of a crash and burn as Craig's would be.

"I don't understand why he'd do this." Craig shook his head. "I thought we had something special. Fucking wrong there, I guess."

"What did your manager say?" Stan asked.

Craig raised a shoulder in a shrug. "Red said she'd leave it up to me. I could deny it, but since I don't know what Thomas brought to 'Country And Western Life', I might end up making myself look like a fool. Or I could just come out myself before it publishes and take the thunder from them, but then..." He shuddered.

"You'd have to deal with a legion of homophobic ex-fans throwing Bible verses at you and saying you're doing it to pander to gay people and trying to be some SJW?" Stan finished.

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose my fan base."

"Well, I can tell you from experience, stepping out of the limelight and settling into a nice domestic life isn't terrible." Stan unlocked his phone and began to turn it towards Craig, but he raised his hand to stop him.

"I don't want to see pictures of your partner and kids." Craig rolled his eyes.

Stan huffed in offence but put his phone in his pocket. "Honestly, Craig? I think you're worrying too much. It's twenty-nineteen. Not as many people as you're expecting will care that your gay. A vocal few, sure, but even if some people are against queer people, they'll ignore it for the sake of your music and work. It'll only be a big deal if you make it one."

He raised his glass slightly. "Or that's what happened when Wendyl and I came out. We still have to block some assholes who spam our accounts sometimes, but once the first 'outrage' died down, we actually got more fans. I don't know if I'm good representation for people, but I think Wendyl is, at least." He smiled fondly at the thought of his partner.

Even though he made a snort at Stan, he was glad that they were happy together. When they were just college roommates, Craig was sure he and Wendyl wouldn't actually make it past the first few dates. Somehow they did though.

That was more than Craig could say about his relationship. He honestly thought Thomas might be the one. He'd occasionally even brought up the idea of a secret wedding, usually as a joke, to test the waters. Thomas never answered him seriously, but he never said he would be against it. The tabloids would have a field day if he started wearing a wedding ring.

Not that that mattered anymore...

Craig set his straw down to drink the coke from the glass. He let a chunk of ice fall into his mouth and crunched down hard on it.

"The difference between you and Wendyl and me is you and Wendyl were retired from your music days. No one talks about 'Moop' anymore. 'Craig Tucker' is a household name," Craig pointed out. "You weren't making hard rock for the radio. You two are activists for animals. One of those lends itself well to a non-binary person and their bisexual husband — and it's not the first one."

Stan rolled his eyes. "That sounded like an insult, but you're feeling like shit so I'll let it slide." He sucked a breath through his teeth. "Craig, dude, I really wish I could help you out here, but...I don't know. I don't think your career is over. You're overreacting. You can still make money as a country star. It'll be rough as hell these next few months, but if you just keep on keeping on, it'll be fine. Show everyone you accept yourself for you and don't care what anyone else thinks."

"Besides, " He rolled his wrist as he spoke, "someone will do something else, have an affair, use a slur in an interview, die, and everyone will move on. It's the music industry. They have the attention span of a gnat."

Craig grunted, burying his face in his arms. Why did he think Stan would actually be able to help him? A country star being gay was a totally different ballpark than a rock star going on a drunken stupor in his underwear through New York.

"So you vote for going out on Twitter and telling everyone myself then? Is that what I'm hearing?" Craig asked as he peeked up to stare past Stan towards the stage.

The folk band finished their set and bowed to the applauding crowd. From the little bits Craig had paid attention too, the folk band wasn't that bad, but the violinist and guitarist needed to work on their harmonies together. They clashed more often than not, fighting each other for the melody with their volume and drowning out the other members.

Stan shrugged. "I guess. At least it's from your mouth and not your ex's."

A single singer with a guitar came on stage now. He was handsome: soft blond hair, round face, a little chubby. Half of him screamed 'country singer', the other half...didn't. He had on a green-gray striped western shirt, brown vest, and a worn cowboy hat above the hips. On the other hand, below the hips, he had on beat up, dirty Converse sneakers and washed out skinny jeans with intentional holes in the knees.

Craig sat up a little to stare at the singer. He whistled quietly.

"Guess if everyone is going to know, it doesn't matter if I stare, does it? Damn." Craig nodded to himself. "He's a mess, but...damn."

Stan followed his gaze to the stage as the singer introduced himself as 'Tweek'. He didn't have the accent Craig was used to hearing from country singers.

"Oh, him? He's a nice guy, actually. Little too anxious, but ok voice nonetheless," Stan told him. "He must want to do country covers tonight. Usually, he wears a normal button up, but not when he sings Conway Twitty and Johnny Cash."

"He ever covered any of my songs?" Craig questioned.

"Yes and no," Stan smirked, "he rarely does any modern country songs. Not unless he really likes them, but I've heard him sing 'You Never Even Called Me By My Name' before."

Craig mock punched Stan in the arm, making him spill part of his Sprite. Stan glared at him before reaching for a napkin to mop up the mess.

Tweek nodded to a man sitting next to the stage to hit play on a recording. The opening piano began as he strummed, tapping his foot. He took a breath and began to sing.

"The bar was empty. I was sweeping up the floor."

Even hearing only the first line, Craig could tell this man had none of the twang that gave the song some of its charm. His voice also didn't go quite as low as Brad Paisley's did naturally, either. He was about to mention this to Stan when Tweek sang the next line, and Craig froze.

"That's when he walked in. I said, 'I'm sorry but we're closed."

"He changed the pronouns," Craig muttered to himself. Stan smirked again at him before shushing Craig with a finger to his lips.

After that, Craig listened more closely. All throughout the entirety of 'We Danced', Tweek kept changing the pronouns from 'she' to 'he'. He even, albeit somewhat clumsily, changed a few other words and phrases as well ('purse' to 'wallet' and 'diamond ring' to 'golden band') confirming that he was singing this song about a man.

"He's not bad," Stan leaned back to speak, "don't you think?"

"Yeah, I mean," Craig shook himself, but it didn't do as much as he hoped, "it's ok. He's ok. He's singing a bit lower than I think he can comfortably do, but he holds the notes nicely and...yeah. He's ok."

Stan chuckled, giving Craig a knowing smile that Craig ignored, instead focusing on Tweek. The crowd clapped when Tweek finished his song before he started up another. Through his entire set, he changed the songs the same way.

After Tweek finished his last cover of 'As She's Walking Away'--'As He's Walking Away'? Craig wasn't sure--he thanked the audience, "Um, thank you, everyone. Have a good night and be safe getting home. Call a cab if you need it." He waved and headed off the stage.

Craig started to get out of his chair before he could help himself. Stan put a hand on his stomach.

"Do you want to meet him?" Stan asked, his eyes glittering.

"W-what?" Craig blinked. He straightened up and quickly took his seat. He sat in the corner of the bar to avoid being identified for a reason.

"Do you want to meet him?" He repeated. "I know Tweek. I can introduce you if you'd like."

Craig narrowed his eyes. "Was this planned, Marsh? Did Red set this up?"

"Happy accident." Stan laughed, jumping from his seat. "Come on, Tweek usually cools down after being on stage out back with his friend, manager, person, Jimmy."

Craig raised an eyebrow but stood anyway to follow Stan out.

~~~~

Tweek and another man sat on the tailgate of a pickup truck that needed a new paint job, new tires, and a new passenger side window. Tweek raised a beer to whatever his friend said with a grin.

"Hey! Tweek, Jimmy! Hey!" Stan waved his arm. "Good show, Tweek."

"Thanks, but it wasn't that good." Tweek took a sip of his beer. "It went ok. I think I sped up a few songs and choruses. Not that that's fully my fault. I was going to sing a different set, but Jimmy brought the wrong CD." He sent a glare at Jimmy, who looked away embarrassed.

"I think it went over w-w-w-well," Jimmy told him matter-of-factly. "Besides, you don’t have 'The M-M-Miss-Missip...' The Squirrel Church Song down yet anyway."

"'Squirrel Church Song'?" Craig stepped around Stan and the two on the tailgate took notice of him for the first time. "You don't mean that Ray Stevens' song, do you?"

Tweek nodded, looking him over as he tried to figure out where he'd seen Craig before.

"Yeah, The Mississippi Squirrel Revival.'" Snapping his fingers to the beat, he sang, "The day the squirrel went berserk in the First Self-Righteous Church--"

"In that sleepy little town of Pascagoula," Craig joined in. Jimmy's eyes grew wide as he made the connection between Craig's voice and his face. His mouth fell open.

With shared grins, the two singers finished the chorus, "It was a fight for survival, that broke out in revival! They were jumpin' pews and shouting 'Hallelujah'!"

Jimmy put his hand on Tweek's arm. "Tweek, that--"

"I know, Jimmy, I know." Tweek rolled his eyes. "I don't have the voice for anything too gospel. Let me have my fun, dude. I'm not on stage."

"No, Tweek, do you know who this is?" He jabbed a finger at Craig. "That C-Cr-Cra-Craig Fucking Tucker!"

Tweek let out a strangled 'WHAT?!' and dropped his beer can. Stan frowned and leaned down, making sure to set it beside Tweek. If Tweek hadn't started yammering on, Stan would have told them to recycle the can when they were done.

"I sang a fucking comedy song with a music star?" Tweek gasped. "Fuck! A professional musician heard me sing on stage? When I was singing a set I hadn’t really practiced!?" His eyes went wide and he stared down at the holes in his knees then groaned, slumping down. " While wearing skinny jeans and a cowboy shirt...!"

Jimmy laughed nervously, waving his hands in front of Tweek.

"He's usually much better than this. It's the beer. I swear." Jimmy forced a smile that Craig could tell was fake. It was the same one Red used when she had to give an answer to a bullshit question to save face.

Stan set a hand on Tweek's shoulder. "Sorry. Should have texted you first before bringing him out, but Craig really enjoyed your show. He wanted to meet you."

"'Meet me'?" Tweek squeaked. "Why?"

Craig shrugged. "Just because." He gestured. "Can I take a seat? Do you mind?"

Jimmy lifted himself up and moved over, exposing a pair of crutches behind him in the bed that Craig hadn't noticed before. Craig sat between them, leaving Stan to use the wheel to hoist himself up and sit in the bed. He accidentally kicked the crutches when he spread his legs out.

"Hey, watch it!" Jimmy scolded. "T-those are new, thank you very much."

"Sorry, Jimmy."

Tweek made a high pitched noise then coughed into his hand. "So, what's a big star like you doing in a bar like this?"

"Is that a pick up line?" Stan asked coyly, making Tweek picked up the empty can and mockingly toss it at him. It missed by a mile and bounced against the metal bed with a clang.

"Stan was a big star before he was an everyday, boring family man." Craig smirked at the glare Stan gave him. "We're friends. I wanted to visit him for the night while I was around."

"Oh, right, Moop. I forget someti..." Tweek trailed off when he realized just how offensive his comment sounded. "Well, that's nice of you to stay in touch with your friend."

"Don't know if I'd go as far as 'friend'..." Stan grumbled, taking out his phone.

They chatted for the next hour or so and Craig learned a lot about Tweek and Jimmy. Jimmy hosted an internet show where he brought what he believed to be up and coming talent on to showcase their skills. Tweek, being his good friend, was the first guest he brought on (or, as Tweek put it 'tricked into a recorded video chat').

Tweek himself had his own channel where he posted covers of whatever song caught his fancy. Just a quick, discrete skim of the YouTube channel confirmed it to Craig. Tweek really did post a little of everything: country, classical, Broadway musicals, folk, rock.

Craig wondered if he was still trying to find his niche or not, and Tweek replied with a shrug.

"My therapist told me to do what makes me happy, and different types of music make me happy," Tweek explained.

"You know what would make me happy? A drink." Jimmy twisted around for his crutches. "Anyone else?"

"I'm good." Tweek shook his head.

Stan opened his mouth to decline when Craig tapped his leg. He flicked his eyes towards Tweek then moved his head a little.

Stan understood, thankfully, and stood up in the bed.

"Craig put tetwenty n on my tab, so I'm getting another Sprite. All drinks are on me whether you want a can or not." He leaped over the side and landed with a stumble on the ground. Quickly correcting himself, he dusted off his pants as if he hadn't nearly landed on his nose.

Tweak looked from Craig than to Jimmy and Stan as they walked away. He chewed his lip and began to stand, calling to wait for him, when Craig cleared his throat.

"May I ask you a personal question?" Craig said quickly, trapping Tweek in a social protocol net.

Tweek twiddled his thumbs together. "Sure. I guess."

"When you sang, you changed the songs. They sounded like you were singing to a man." Craig rested his chin in his palm. "Why is that?"

Tweek's face twisted into an angry, sour expression.

"Because I'm gay and I don't want to sing about girls. I want to sing about men." Tweek's voice came out low and warning. "I'm not making money off my covers or hurting people. It's fine."

Craig recoiled with a frown. "I never said it wasn't."

Tweek eyed his expression a second then frowned himself.

"Sorry. Most of the time when someone asks me that, it's directly followed by how ‘I should be ashamed of myself'." He rolled his eyes.

"Ashamed? For being gay? That's bullshit. It's nothing to be ashamed about." He sounded like a hypocritical anti-bullying program. Realizing this, he quickly added, "or should you be ashamed for singing country without a twang?" He saturated his voice with a deep southern accent on the last word, earning a smile from Tweek.

"Both, actually." Tweek snickered. "I've made some people pretty upset that I can't sing in an accent I don't have. People really like to give me shit for things I can't help."

Craig chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. Red was calling him.

"Oh, um, one minute, " Craig held up his finger, "and I'll be right back."

He took a few steps away from the truck before answering.

"Yes, cousin dearest?" Craig answered in a deadpan. "Any more news about my toppled career?"

"Depends. Have you decided what you're going to do?" Red asked from the other end of the line. "Are you going to see how the article turns out or are you going to out yourself?"

Craig hummed a minute. Red said the chance that they wouldn't run the article without the part where Thomas outed him was slim to none. That was too good of information for them to just sit on and never profit from.

"I think I'll tell my fans myself." Craig turned over his shoulder to look at the truck. Stan and Jimmy returned with cans in hand. Jimmy tossed one to Tweek, but he missed and it went under the truck.

"The magazine hits the shelves next week. If you're going to do it, you'll need to do it soon," Red advised. "Livestream, maybe. Or a series of heartfelt tweets. Make sure you mention something about God making you gay. That'll work in your favor."

Craig nodded, realized Red couldn't see him, then replied, "Got it."

"I'll start calling around. There will be plenty of news outlets who want to get the inside scoop on this. Tell me when you're planning on posting it. We need you to look in as best of a light as possible. See you, cuz."

She hung up before he could reply.

When he returned to the truck, Stan's legs stuck out from under it as he searched for the missing can. Tweek crouched beside him, holding his phone light out as Jimmy sipped his beer.

"I could just p-p-p-pull the truck forward, you know," Jimmy offered.

"No, I've nearly got it." Stan wriggled forward. "Ah-ha!" There was a thudding, then a dented can bounced out from under the truck. Tweek tried to grab it, only to fall forward into the dirt.

Craig stooped down and plucked the can up. He winced and held it away from himself. Opening the beer would shower everyone around after all the shaking it had endured. He wasn’t risking it.

Stan's head popped up, dusty and a mess, before he hauled himself up onto the tailgate. Craig handed the beer to Jimmy, who, thankfully, had enough sense not to open it.

"Stan, I need to go." Craig shook his phone for emphasis. "Red has a game plan for...what's going to happen."

"Oh, does she?" Stan patted his hair out. "I'd offer to take you to get Wendyl's help if you want it, but I'm driving these knuckleheads home."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "We're fine. Tweek is sober as a saint."

"He had a beer when we walked out," Stan countered.

"He spilled half of it."

"Half a beer is still a beer!" Stan snapped. "You're not drunk driving on my watch."

Craig stepped forward. "I'll drive Tweek home if he wants."

Only after the suggestion left his mouth did he realize how strange that must have sounded. Craig barely knew Tweek from Adam. What reason did he have to offer to help Tweek when he already said he had something else to do?

Tweek took a step back. "I rode with Jimmy here. I can squeeze in or I'll sit in the bed. It's fine. Thank you though."

"No, really, let me take you home. I'm a good driver, I swear."

"No, I'll ride with Stan. He knows the way there already."

"Please?"

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. "He said no, dude. Let it d-drop."

Craig swallowed nervously. "Ok, I guess I have to get used to saying this but listen..."

It was hard to breathe suddenly. His face felt hot. His hands were sweating.

"Yes?" Tweek frowned.

"Listen, I, uh, I..." He hissed a breath out. "My ex-boyfriend outed me to a very popular magazine that is going to out me to the public in a week. My manager suggested I steal some of the magazine's thunder by coming out as gay myself. I would like someone with a little more expertise in this subject than I have to offer suggestions on how I should go about doing this bullshit."

Tweek's mouth hung open, as did Jimmy's. Stan picked up his Sprite can and took a long drink.

"Breathe, Craig. Don't pass out, now. You'll get used to saying it after a little while." He raised his Sprite to him. "Be brave, brother."

Craig ignored him, but did take a deep breath and force his lungs to expand.

"Well? If you don't want to, it doesn't matter that much." Craig tensed despite himself.

Tweek chewed his lower lip. "I, um, do you want my number? I have work tomorrow, so I do need to get home and sleep tonight. We can talk after work, if you want?"

Craig relaxed. "Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, man."

Stan snorted to himself and shook his head at his drink. Craig resisted the urge to flip him off again as he pulled up a new contact. He and Tweek then exchanged phones.

For a brief moment, Craig wanted to add a heart to the end of his name as the contact, but he shook off the thought as silly and inappropriate. He wasn't going to rebound with a random guy at a bar to get back at Thomas. At least, not until he read the article or got a call back.

Though Red told him not to get his hopes up, he still held onto the dream that Thomas hadn't betrayed him and they could work through this together.

Handing Tweek back his phone, Craig pocketed his.

"I do need to go, too, actually." He said with a thumb jab over his shoulder. "I'll text you tomorrow?"

Tweek nodded but didn't speak. He stared at Craig for a second too long before averting his eyes.

Craig smiled to himself and turned to leave, suddenly feeling a little better about his future.

~~~~

Tweek panicked, pacing circles around his living room.

Stan planned this. That fucker had to. Him or Wendyl. Both of them encouraged him to "settle down" every other time they saw him, and last night Stan just so happens to introduce him to an available, handsome, music star who wants Tweek's advice?

There was no way that was all coincidence!

Tweek fretted about this meeting all day, ever since Craig texted him that morning asking when he could come by.

Why did he agree to this? Tweek had been out since he was a teenager! He hadn't had to hide that he was gay from anyone since becoming semi internet famous.

Jimmy featured him in his LGBTQ creators to follow video last June for fuck's sake! Tweek wasn't able to help Craig with this!

Someone knocked, tearing Tweek from his thoughts.

Vowing that the next time he went to visit Stan, he would slip Stan's children an excessive amount of sugary treats, Tweek dragged his feet to the door.

Craig looked the epitome of a modern country star: striped button up with the first three buttons undone, sleeves rolled up, jeans from a brand that Tweek knew he could never afford, a wooden cross hanging from a leather cord around his neck, and even a cowboy hat.

He had deep bags under his hazel eyes, which Tweek refused to look at for too long. He didn't want to risk being caught admiring the flecks of gold-brown in his iris.

"Hey," Tweek stepped aside and allowed him in, "Craig. How are you?"

"Tired." Craig rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "My cousin woke me at five in the morning to talk about ideas for telling my fans I'm gay." He reached into his chest pocket to produce a folded sheet of lined paper. "Here's what we got."

Tweek took it but didn't open it. With a wave of his hand, he led Craig through his kitchen. Kiwi, Tweek's bird, raised his head from cleaning his feathers. He twittered at Tweek, walking across the table towards him. Tweek took the bird in his hand. He stroked his feathers as he returned him to his cage in the living room.

"Take a seat," Tweek said before he whistled at Kiwi. Kiwi chirped back then fluttered to sit on a high perch and preen himself in a mirror.

Craig slid onto the couch while Tweek went to his desk chair on the other side of the coffee table.

"Is that bird yours?" Craig eyed Kiwi.

"Yeah. That's Kiwi. My grandma couldn't keep her parrot when she moved, so my parents said I would take her. So I got her budgie, but budgies do better in pairs, so I bought Kiwi to go with my grandma's parrot--oh, her name was Apples. Get it? Apple and Kiwi? She was more yellow than Kiwi is, but," Tweek realized he was babbling and quickly finished his ramble, "Apples passed away last month, so it's just Kiwi now. I'm getting another budgie in a month or two, though. Do you have a pet?"

Craig perked up, some of his tiredness fading. He took his wallet from his pocket. Like a proud father, he flipped it open to reveal a picture of three guinea pigs: a long-haired brown one, a cream colored one with a stripe, and a black and white one.

"This is Petunia," He pointed to the long-haired one. "This is Astro." He moved his finger to the black and white one, "And finally Stripe the Sixth." He tapped the cream colored one.

"‘Sixth'?" Tweek echoed. "What happened to one through five?"

Craig closed his wallet. "Got into the Easter basket, Mom stepped on him, my friend's dog, old age, and old age," he counted off. "I've been keeping them as pets since I was five."

"Anything else?" Tweek sat, setting the paper Craig gave him on the table top.

"What, do you want me to name off pet names for forty head of cattle or a horse?" Craig chuckled and Tweek turned his full attention to his feet. "It's fine, Tweek. I don't own hooved animals."

"Oh, really?" Tweek swallowed. They should change the topic before Tweek made himself look like a complete fool. "We should get started now."

"Sure, if you're ready." Craig pointed to the paper. "Like I said, we spent all morning on it, but you should look over it and make sure we didn't leave anything out."

Tweek didn't touch the paper. "Do the people close to you know? Your parents? Siblings? Best friends?"

Craig blinked in surprise. "Y-yeah? Of course. I told my sister and friends in high school, and I told my parents in college. They know. Why does that matter?"

"Would you want to find out someone you thought trusted you didn't trust you enough to tell you something like they're gay?"

Craig thought on that a moment. "I guess not," He said.

Contented, Tweek finally unfolded the paper. Craig leaned closer, pushing his hat back a little, as he watched Tweek read.

The paper was...something. Tweek couldn't decide what. At times it really did feel heartfelt, but, at times, it also sounded like a celebrity's forced apology.

After reading it once, Tweek stood up and went to his desk. He returned a moment later with a pad of paper and a pencil. As Craig watched him with his eyebrows raised, Tweek organized the parts by level of sincerity.

When he finished, he spun the pad towards Craig and tapped the column with the least sincere sounding parts.

"Can you cut these?"

Craig furrowed his brow as he looked over the lines.

"But, those are important." Craig shook his head. "If I don't mention I'm sorry for hiding it from my fans, they'll get upset and feel betrayed."

"Are you sorry?"

"Yes," Craig replied automatically, robotically. Tweek fixed him with a probing look.

"They're not the ones hiding part of their lives. Their lives aren’t being judged for nothing. You don't owe them an apology," Tweek smiled softly at Craig. "Actually, a lot of these lines here are about your fans. I think only this one about working to make a better future and honest music with them sounds genuine."

Craig pursed his lips. He took a breath and blew it out. The breath whistled through his teeth.

"Why does it have to sound genuine?"

"Because if not, it sounds pandering." Tweek quipped, ripping the organized lines from the pad. As he began to rewrite the speech from scratch, Craig took off his hat and looked down into it with a serious expression on his face.

When he finished, Tweek pushed the pad over. "What do you think of that?"

Craig placed his hat back on, then skimmed the speech. He furrowed his brows and looked up.

"This is good. Really good."

Tweek shrugged, trying to hide the pride he felt.

"Is this how you came out? Did you say these things?" Craig wanted to know, taking a picture of the new script with his phone.

Tweek shook his head. "No. I just blurted it out during dinner one night. Mom and Dad were talking about road work messing their morning drive up and I just shouted ‘I'm gay!' when my dad took a breath. I wanted to tell them for a while, but I could never find the right time." A chuckle and he went on, "Mom said she always kind of knew. Dad said ‘that's nice.' They went right back on talking about the road work."

Craig snorted a laugh. "Really? Your parents sound very chill about it." A sigh. "I hope my fans will be, too."

Tweek reached over and put a hand on Craig's shoulder. "I'm sure they will be. If not, it's not your problem they're homophobes." He squeezed. "Things are really different from a decade ago. Not nearly as many people as you expect will give you flack for kissing boys."

Craig looked up at Tweek's smiling face and returned the expression. He set his hat beside him and pointed towards Kiwi's cage.

"Do you think I could get a better look at your bird? I need a break from all this already, and I do like small animals."

Tweek nodded and promptly jumped to his feet to retrieve Kiwi.

~~~~

Petunia napped on Craig's stomach while Stripe the Sixth munched on hey beside his head. Astro settled himself against Craig's ankle for a snooze.

Red looked over her cousin with a sigh. Her husband, Kevin, tried to peek around her shoulder. Like Craig, Red was taller than average, so Kevin had to step to the side to get a clear view of Craig on the floor of his pet pen.

"Craig, get up."

"Can't. Babies are sleeping." Craig muttered, keeping his own eyes shut. "Just tell me what you think of Tweek's revisions."

Red glanced at the paper in her hand then back up.

"I liked them," Kevin proclaimed. "They sound more...real than what you two had."

"‘Pandering' to the fans is what Tweek said," Craig smiled to himself, "and he wasn't wrong."

"I still think we should focus more on the ‘God made you gay’ bit. I found some verses we could use." Red tapped against her phone.

"I don't want to read Bible verses, Red." Craig slowly opened his eyes. Careful of Petunia, he picked up Stripe the Sixth and held him over his face. Tapping their noses together, Craig went on, "I actually really like how it is now. Short, to the point. It's perfect for me."

Red sighed through her nose before stepping over the low fence. She sat down next to Craig with her legs crossed before plucking Petunia from his stomach to pet in her lap. Petunia looked around after being woken up, pipped once, then snuggled back down into Red's lap.

"I just don't want this to blow up in your face. You've come so far, Craig. I don't want you remembered as ‘that country singer who came out gay and never broke the top twenty again.'"

Craig set Stripe on his chest, scratching the pig's back. He knew that Red was worried. This industry was quick to blow something small out of proportion, destroy someone's life, then move on like it never happened.

"It'll be fine," Craig reassured.

Kevin stepped into the pen now. He bent down and stroked Astro's back. "If you're honest with everyone, I think people will appreciate that," He said. "People like sincerity."

Craig hummed, slowly sitting up.

"Had me my script. I want to read over it again."

He didn't need to read it over. After leaving Tweek's yesterday, he'd been practicing it repeatedly until he could say it it verbatim without looking.

In truth, he just liked Tweek's handwriting. It was a little shaky, but loopy and fun to follow along with his eyes. Craig wondered if he could convince Tweek to write a song with him after the tenth read over, if just so he could read a little more of his handwriting.

He'd listen to some of Tweek's original songs on his channel the night before. They all had a definite show tune quality to them, but Craig figured they could mix their styles. That would be refreshing, to say the least.

He paused a moment, the smile he let on his face falling, to ask, "Red, have you heard any more from Thomas? He still isn't answering my calls."

Red shook her head. "No, nothing else. I'm sorry."

"No, if he wants to hide, then I don't care," Craig grumbled.

He didn't have much more to tell him anyway. The morning before he went to go see Tweek, he'd left Thomas a voicemail telling him they were over. Even if Thomas did gather up his balls enough to call him back, Craig wasn't sure he'd even answer.

Astro woke up and climbed on Kevin's legs as Kevin asked, "Do you have a date for this? The magazine publishes in less than a week."

"Tomorrow," Red answered before Craig opened his mouth. "This happens tomorrow. A live stream, I think, would be best. Butter them up with your guinea pigs," she held up Petunia, "then break the news."

Sitting up, Craig held Stripe to his chest. "Yeah, I guess that'll work." He stood, stretching his back until it popped. "Come on, Stripe, let's go practice while Aunty Red and Uncle Kevin set up my living room and make everything as down-homey as possible."

Red's head snapped up. "We never agreed to that!"

"Oh no, I can't hear you. I'm out of the room. I'm so far away now," Craig deadpanned, keeping his voice at the same level as he left to go practice.

~~~~~

AN: Chapter 2

#sp creek #fanfiction #tweek tweak #craig tucker #stan marsh #jimmy valmer #sp red #kevin stoley #revin #multichapter #I did like ZERO rresearch on how music insdustry works. That wasn't the point of this fic to be accurate

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lady-divine-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Klaine one-shot - “The Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt Disaster” (Rated PG)

Kurt wants his daughter's first Easter to be a quiet, family only affair. But Rachel has other ideas ... ones more commensurate with their status as members of the New York elite ... (2387 words)

Notes: So, like many of the Daddy Klaine one-shots I write, in this one, Mercedes was their surrogate. Plus, Rachel has a baby, but I couldn't decide who I wanted the father to be, so I just left him out. He exists somewhere. You pick who you like best. xD

Read on AO3.

“So? What do you think?” Rachel sings, glancing over her shoulder as she leads her best friend towards the swankiest gathering of New York’s elite that he’s ever seen in his life … which is saying something considering he works at Vogue, his husband headlines on Broadway, his best friend has a Tony, and his baby’s mama is signed with the same label as Beyonce. But as far as being a member of said “New York’s elite” is concerned, it’ll always feel new to him.

And overwhelming.

Which is one of the reasons why he wishes she would have chosen something a bit more low key. But Rachel wouldn’t be Rachel if she didn’t turn every last thing they did into an event.

“What do I think?” Kurt asks as they step onto the grass and walk over to a roped off area. From what he can see, it’s roughly about the size of two football fields end to end, which Kurt finds astounding since half of the children here look barely old enough to walk yet. “It’s grass, Rach. Which we could have found at any old park in our neighborhood.”

“Yes, but in your neighborhood, you might not get the chance to rub elbows with Sarah Jessica Parker!” Rachel points to a crowd in the distance where Mrs. Parker herself stands amid a cluster of other notable women, talking and laughing over heaven knows what.

“Yes, we would,” Blaine interjects, switching Tracy from one hip to the other. “She shops at the organic food market a block away from our penthouse.”

“Not today, she doesn’t,” Rachel says forcefully. “Today, she’s here. Anybody who’s anybody is here. And so are we.”

“What are the rules?” Kurt asks, searching for a sign, a poster, a handout, or something. “Is there a time limit? Are the kids separated by athletic ability? Or age?” He certainly hopes they’re separated by age. He’s not a huge fan of celebrating religious-based holidays, but seeing as this was the one day he could get his whole New York family together, he leapt on it. He was hoping to constrict their revelry to family members only, so if they can find their own section of the park to conduct their business without having to socialize, even with the elite, that would suit him fine.

“You’re making this too complicated,” Rachel scolds, setting her son down in the grass. Blaine follows, sitting Tracy across from him so the two toddlers can play.

“Yeah,” Mercedes agrees. “It’s just an Easter egg hunt, Kurt. My church used to hold one every year.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t do churches. And tromping through the grass in search of hard boiled eggs isn’t the way my father and I spent Easter.”

“How did you spend Easter?” Mercedes asks, realizing that after knowing Kurt for over a decade and carrying his child, she has no clue.

“The way many a well-rounded, musical theater inclined child did. I watched Brigadoon on AMC.”

“Same,” Rachel says, raising her hand. “But when I got pregnant, I decided that I was going to eschew the boundaries of religion and participate in all traditional, family-friendly events. In fact, I firmly believe that we, especially, have a responsibility to do so.”

“How’s that?” Blaine pets Tracy’s hair as he watches his daughter grab handfuls of grass in her chubby fists and pull them from the dirt with all her might.

“It’s expected of us to be seen out and about with other parents of our social stature. This is the environment our children will be raised in,” she says, gesturing around them to the steadily increasing number of well-dressed, obviously wealthy parents and children. “It’s necessary to acclimate them to it now so it’ll be easier for them to handle the pressure of inevitable competition when they themselves rise to stardom.”

“Uh …” Mercedes says as she, Kurt, and Blaine stare at Rachel straightening the bowtie her barely year-and-a-half old son keeps trying to tear off his neck.

“Wow,” Kurt says, mouth agape. “I … don’t know how to respond to any of that.”

“A simple you’re absolutely right, Rachel. I agree with you 100% would suffice.”

“Not the direction I was thinking of going,” Kurt says, sharing a look with his giggling husband, “but okay.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Come on, guys! Why don’t we try to enjoy ourselves? It’s a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I think the Easter bunny just arrived!”

Kurt, Blaine, and Mercedes take a gander at the festivities around them heralding the soon-to-be start of the egg hunt. Indeed, the Easter bunny had arrived. But this was not your average, human-sized, department store cottontail dressed in a pastel vest and straw top hat, carrying a basket of colorful, candy-filled plastic eggs. This Easter bunny is easily seven feet tall, dressed in what could only be described as a vintage suit of aubergine brocade with matching purple top hat; a tall, white plume tucked inside the olive green hat band; a gold monocle over his left eye; carrying a hand-carved mahogany walking stick in one hand, and a Moses basket in the other, filled to bursting with eggs, jelly beans, foil-wrapped chocolates, and trinkets and tidbits that catch the light and twinkle like gemstones. He’s surrounded by an entourage of handlers, each wearing an outfit to complement the bunny’s own and carrying baskets of the same treats to hand out to the kids. The bunny and his team walk the perimeter of the field, and a parade forms behind him – adorable little boys and girls bedecked in their Sunday best, dresses and suits that Kurt saw advertised in Vogue for close to four figures. But some of them are dressed in honest to God athletic wear.

Those boys and girls look downright intimidating.

“I don’t know,” Blaine says, eyeing five children dressed in matching track suits and running shoes. “Some of the people here look awfully competitive.”

“Of course they are! The prizes here are outstanding! Last year, they hid a $10,000 Tiffany engagement ring in one of the eggs!”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up so far, they disappear somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. “Really?”

“At my church, all we got were goldfish crackers and bite size Snickers bars,” Mercedes says.

“Not here,” Rachel says proudly, as if she had a hand in organizing the thing. “They go all out - luxury vacations, spa packages, theater tickets … but don’t worry. The emphasis here is on fun.”

“Do they know that?” Kurt asks, motioning with his chin towards a nearby family dressed entirely in Under Armour from The Rock’s latest collection – mother, father, and their five-year-old daughter staring down Tracy like a lion stares down an easy meal.

Under Armour – proud sponsor of Easter and good-natured family fun, Kurt thinks spitefully.

Suddenly, their attentions are directed upward by the sound of a helicopter arriving, circling the area above their heads.

“Okay, why is that here?” Blaine asks. It’d be easy to assume it’s paparazzi, but there isn’t supposed to be any here. That’s part of the appeal. There are guards posted everywhere to ensure the privacy of the families participating. But they can’t be everywhere at once. It’s possible one or two might get through.

“It’s here to drop more eggs from above! Those are the ones people really go for. Some of them are made out of solid gold!” Rachel explains, nearly drooling after the words solid gold.

“What the---? That’s insane!” Kurt envisions something the size of a chicken egg made of gold plummeting from the sky and smacking him on the head. That would definitely leave a dent in his skull, at the very least.

Could he survive that impact?

“Ouch!” Blaine covers Tracy’s head protectively while keeping an eye on the sky.

“Isn’t this a little excessive?” Mercedes asks. “I mean, I have the money to go to whatever spa I want. That’s one of the perks of being famous.”

“Yeah.” Kurt joins his husband and daughter, hovering over them in an effort to protect them both. “And what 18-month-old needs a Tiffany engagement ring anyway? This sounds like it was put together more for the parents than the kids. Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“No!” Rachel pleads. “Just … give it a few minutes! Please? An hour at the most? I promise we’ll have fun! I’ve been looking forward to this Easter egg hunt ever since I found out I was pregnant!”

Kurt shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know, Rach …”

“It’s the kids’ first Easter egg hunt, Kurt! Don’t you want it to be memorable?”

“Yeah, but because we had a good time! Not because someone went to the hospital with a concussion!”

“Look - we’re at a big, private park! There’s a playground and a lake not too far from here! If you don’t like the Easter egg hunt, we can go over there and let the kids play. But can we give this a try first? Please?”

Kurt looks for help from a worried Blaine, still covering Tracy’s head, to a skeptical Mercedes, and sighs. Their expressions scream they don’t approve, but they’re not going to object vocally without hearing what he has to say first. Why does he always end up with the deciding vote? He doesn’t want to be the one who’ll get the silent treatment if this all goes wrong.

Of course, he doesn’t want to listen to three weeks of Rachel’s gloating if this turns out to be the best afternoon they’ve ever had.

In the end, it’s all about the kids, and the two of them, playing in the grass without a care in the world, seem to be enjoying themselves.

They’re already here. They drove for hours to get here. And it is a stunning location. They can stick it out for a while, collect a few eggs, dodge the helicopter, grab some punch and cookies over at the refreshment table, and then retire to the playground. It’ll be fine. It might even be fun.

If anything, the pictures will be precious.

“Alright,” he says. “We’ll give it an hour.”

“Yay!” Rachel says, clapping her hands with glee the same way she did back in high school.

It kind of puts a sour taste in Kurt’s mouth.

“But after that …”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Lads and lasses! Step right up to the starting line! The 53rd Annual Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt is about to begin!”

“Starting line?” Blaine repeats. “What … what starting line?”

Kurt looks around in confusion. Starting line? He doesn’t remember seeing anything marked starting line. There was only the rope and …

Uh oh …

While they’d been discussing staying or going, they hadn’t noticed that the parade of kids and parents following the Easter bunny had circled round and stopped about a hundred feet away … right where the rope Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, and Rachel passed to get in had been set up. There they stood – a mob of adults and children lined up in starting positions, brows furrowed in deep concentration, ready to charge, like a re-enactment of The Hunger Games if the eccentrically dressed inhabitants of the Capitol City were the ones on the attack.

Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, and Rachel didn’t know.

Nobody told them.

Nobody warned them.

Nobody seemed to care that they were sitting in the grass, dead center, in the way.

“On your marks …”

“Wha---what’s going on?” Rachel asks, comical in her inability to get the hint.

“… get set …”

“Uh, this isn’t good,” Mercedes says.

Kurt springs to his feet, gearing up to drag the lot of them off the field before the announcer can get to Go!

But he never does.

And not because he’s waiting for them to vacate the field. (Who knows if the man even sees them?) But because the start of the hunt is proclaimed by a gun shot.

The sharp pop hits the air.

After that, the roar of hundreds of feet hitting the ground, along with the frantic screaming of children, is deafening. At the same time, the helicopter above releases its bounty. Plastic eggs rain down around them, exploding on contact, spreading chocolate shrapnel within a foot of where they land. One hits Kurt on the top of his head.

“Ow! God!” he wails, rubbing an already forming bump with his fingers. He doesn’t know what the heck was inside that thing, but his head begins to throb.

No way is he going to stay there if something made of solid gold is headed his way.

“Oh hell no!” Mercedes yells, helping Rachel get her son off the ground. He chirps and squeals, laughing as egg after egg hits the grass, one barely missing his soft little head.

“Run!” Kurt says, pulling his husband to his feet and getting pelted by another plastic egg in the process. He sees this one where it lands, spraying jelly beans left and right, and he starts laughing - a distant and mortifying memory of being assaulted by pee balloons as a bullied teen in the stressed-filled atmosphere of high school tickling him with the irony of growing into an uber-successful man who was now being pummeled by candy in the equally stress-filled atmosphere of this elitist event.

“Kurt!” Blaine cries, plucking Tracy out of the grass. He covers her head with his jacket and bolts, leaving Kurt behind in a mad dash for their car. “Kurt! Hurry up!”

Kurt runs to catch up. Three steps in, a featureless gold blur hits the ground hard, and his foot gets caught in the hole it makes. He falls to his knees, laughing hysterically. “Raise our daughter well, Blaine!” he chokes out over the howl of the raging onslaught. “And remember, I always loved you!”

Blaine turns to see his husband, red-faced with laughter, swallowed by the crowd, and despite being concerned for his safety, he can’t help laughing, too, at the ridiculousness of it all. He knows that in a few minutes the crowd will pass, and Kurt will emerge the way he always does – dignified, triumphant, and probably with one of those golden eggs Rachel was fiending over. “You’re a good man, Kurt! You shall be avenged!”

#klaine faniction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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geminimoonbeamx · 7 years ago

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Sweet Tooth: Part One

A/N: Okay so I’m happy you guys seemed to like this idea as much as I do. Let’s see where this takes us. In the movie I don’t think they ever mention Lance’s hometown, but I’ve always freaking LOVED Oregon and I figured he might as well be from one of the prettiest places in the country. Oh and in this story Lance isn’t a pedophile who fucks his gymnasts okurrr?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: This story is going to have some very colorful language, this is Lance Tucker after all.

Summary: Lance Tucker has come back to his hometown with his ego bruised and his look on life more tainted then ever. When he runs into Y/N; a vibrant plus size woman he went to high school with at her bakery ‘Cake Faced’, he leaves the shop with the taste of sugar on his lips and a hunger that has nothing to do with the cupcakes

💘💘💘💘💘

Everything’s too green.

He’s still trying to re-acclimate his eyes, his corneas still tender to the vivid shades. There was no colors like this back in LA; where he had happened to spend the last decade or so of his life. He missed the blur, the sea of muted tones and bright lights that came with living in the big city.

That taste- the bitter one at the back of his throat that he had become accustomed to over the last couple months returns and he swallows it, just as he slams on his breaks. His body jerks forward violently and he snaps back to reality, his reality. Where he’s back in his old town, the shitty one where’d he’d grown up.

Hillsboro Oregon.

He was currently in the middle of main street, out to run errands for his mother. Like some kind of high school, warped other dimensionally nightmare come to life.

“Learn to drive” some asshole shoots at him from their car, the one that he’d cut off when he was stuck in his head and he jumps on the opportunity to bitch at someone other then himself.

“Go fuck yourself, cocksucker!” He bellows at the unnamed, practically un-faced man out of the window of his Audi and it’s sad, but its a relief.

Lance Tucker is once again stricken by the shit show that his life had become.

He pulls into a parking space in front of the grocery store, the stone building one of many little mom and pop owned stores in the square and sits in the car for a moment, just a moment of self loathing and pity before he adjusts his Ray-Ban sunglasses in the rearview mirror and sets off to put a dent in the list his mom had sent him off with.

Nothings really changed in this town. How sad is that? Everything’s just as he remembered it from growing up, yeah, gentrification is real and there’s a Starbucks and a Target now but not on main street. No, on main street it’s still the little stores that have been there forever. The Wilsons still owned the Pharmacy, the Karsbougs surprisingly still had their little photo studio. Huh, he thought at that. Who still wanted to get their pictures taken with some outdated 90’s back drop?

Fucking small towns.

Lance hated them. He hated them when he had, had to go recruiting and he hated them now.

Even if they did have a bit of a shrine for him here. His pictures; the one of him back when he was a teenager with him and his metals.

Gold and Silver.

At least someone had the decency to remember, to show case what he’d worked so damn hard for all those years ago.

Worked hard for what? a little, snarky voice in his head hisses at him. To end up living in the apartment above his childhood’s home garage?

Fucking bullshit is what it is.

He could kill Zach. Zach, one of the assistant coaches who just HAD to go dipping his dick into the girls. Underage girls- and who just HAD to knock up Maggie Townsend. Little bitch. He should have let Hope keep her.

He’s nearly halfway through his list, and is on his way to the hardware store when something catches his eye, sends his head turning. He cant seem to walk by it, the little shop that seems to draw his attention.

It looks so…different then everything else. Maybe it’s just because he’s never seen it before? And he thought he’d seen everything this town had to offer. A bakery? When had this popped up. He’d been here last Christmas and he could have sworn this was still the Martinez’s Liquor store…

‘Cake Faced’ the bold sign reads. In the window their showcasing their ‘Spring time Florals’.

He figures, he might as well. But really it’s like his feet operate of their own accord.

The shop is modern looking, sharp crisp lines and yet it has a warm, homey air about it. It’s also the fullest place he’d been in all day, people littering the small space.

Total hipster bullshit, he shakes his head a little bit as his eyes scan over the brightly lit impressive array of different baked goods. From macaroons to cinnamon rolls that look so lush it’s almost ridiculous.

“Hi” One of the workers behind the counter doesn’t seem overly friendly. He’s a little bit flamboyant with his bleached hair and monotone voice but he looks familiar…

“I think I went to school with your brother” Lance decides “Shane right?”

“Yeah, like it says on the name tag” Shane gives him a near sarcastic look, flicking said name tag “You seein anything you might want to sample?”

Lance chuckles at the man. He’d fit right in in LA.

“Um, to be honest kid I’m a little overwhelmed here” the 42 varieties of cupcakes glare at him dauntingly. He’s definatly holding up the line.

“I’ll grab this one, Shane” a sparkling voice breaks his thought process as you appear, seemingly, out of nowhere.

Shane cocks one eyebrow before reaching for the next waiting costumer.

It doesn’t take Lance long to recognize you at all. You’re different- yeah. Your hairs lighter and you look older, more put together then you had in highschool. Mature, maybe? Prettier, definatley. Your big e/c eyes framed by incredibly long lashes are still the same though. Your dimpled smile and chubby cheeks are still there too.

“Look what the cat dragged in” you start, your arms are folded over your chest but the look on your eyes is friendly.

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart”

You scoff at that “What can I get you, Lance?”

He’s honesty surprised to see you working at some random bakery. Hadn’t you always been like really smart? Voted most likely to end up in the Times?

“Surprise me. What’s good here?” He notes at you challengingly over the counter and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Same Tucker.

“Well I’m incredibly biased so I think everything is good, but-” you crouch down to get a spoonful of cupcake “these are new”

You hand him the mini spoon and he sticks it into his mouth, his blue eyes not leaving yours as his plush lips close around the untensil.

You chuckle when they bulge a little bit.

“Damn that’s good” Lance moans at the bursting flavors in his mouth.

Lavender lemon cheesecake. Just about the last flavor he would have chosen himself, but it leaves his mouth watering.

“Thanks” you shrug proudly. He says he’ll take four of them and you start to box them up for him. Trying to ignore his gaze on you as you do so.

“You make those?”

“Well not that batch but it’s my recipe so you could say that”

“Really?”

“Really” you verify and half of his mouth pulls up. He remembers you being a smart ass.

“So what? Do you work here?” Lance wonders as you go to ring him out and you give him a half stupid look as he hands you his card.

“I mean obviously you do- you just don’t have a uniform on so I was just- uh” you laugh at his ramblings, or maybe it’s at the fact that he’s trying so hard not to look like he’s rambling.

“You know not having to wear a uniform is just one of the many perks of being your own boss” you inform him as you place the sage green box in a bag and hand it over to him.

“Wait- you own this place?” Lance puts two and two together. Manager? Maybe, he’d would’ve guessed but owner?

“Yup. For almost two years now” your so factual with him, in his memories you were…warmer. You and your big circle of friends and your social nature. He still recalled the people waiting outside of the classroom for you when the bell would ring. The two of you had even been friends, hadn’t you?

“Damn. Look at'chu” Lance whistles and you quirk your mouth, trying to keep your grin in check.

“Hey Y/N” your interrupted by by Max, one of the girls who works for you. She has questions about inventory that’s coming in. Lance watches you with amused, curious eyes as you play the role of boss bitch flawlessly.

He can’t help but think it’s hot, if he’s being perfectly honest.

“Welp, duty calls. Have a good rest of your day and enjoy your cupcakes” you have a buisness to run, and you’d spent too much time on him already.

“I most definatley will. You have a good one, too” Lance takes the bag and turns to leave, he doesn’t care. He reminds himself of that. But why were you so cold to him? And on that note, why had you never accepted his friend requests?

“Hey Lance?”

He turns at the sound of your call, his face a little confused.

“Welcome home”

His broad grin and little quirk of his eyeballs before he exits the store makes you sigh through your nose. He doesn’t hear that though.

He leaves the shop, lips sweet and buzzing with curiosity.

———————

@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @zombiewerewolfqueen @spookyscaryscully @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @maximum-effort-minimum-life

Okay guys this is short and sweet. Pretty much an intro, but I had to pump something out for you guys today. Happy Samhain, my fellow tumblarians😂💛🎃

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tuckerxreader #plus size reader #Lance Tucker x plus size reader #the bronze #Bucky Barnes #chase collins #sebastian stan

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katherineschileanlitblog · 4 years ago

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10 Interesting Fiction Books

Curfew by Jose Donoso

“Donoso’s engrossing novel spans 24 hours in the stifling and oppressive political atmosphere of 1985 Santiago under General Augusto Pinochet’s military regime.

A leftwing singer returns after 13 years of exile in Paris. His fame now faded and his politics softened, Mañungo Vera is no longer the revolutionary he once was. His visit coincides with the death of Matilde Neruda, widow of the Nobel prize-winning poet and icon of the Chilean left, Pablo Neruda.

Vera is reacquainted with old friends and comrades as they prepare for the funeral. But, caught out by the curfew, he is forced to spend an eventful night on the streets with his former lover, during which they have a dangerous run-in with her suspected torturer.

Donoso paints a harrowing picture of life under the repressive regime, and shows how negotiating its daily horrors damages both individuals and society. He also shines a harsh light on the left, as factions squabble and jockey for advantage from the funeral.

This intense, introspective tale reflects the political and spiritual decay of the nation, after more than a decade of dictatorship.” (Khaneka, P. 2015, April 9. The best books on Chile: start your reading here. 2020, September 27.)

The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende

“Allende’s classic, hugely successful family saga is a masterwork of magic-realism. Fusing the personal with the political and fact with fantasy, it tells Chile’s recent history through several generations of the Trueba family, ending with a savage military coup that leads to the death of a president.

The principal protagonist, Esteban Trueba, is used to getting his own way – in his family (as an irascible patriarch), on his farm (as a wealthy landowner), and in the country (as a rightwing senator): “The day we can’t get our hands on the ballot boxes before the vote is counted, we’re done for.”

When a socialist candidate finally wins the presidential election, Trueba backs a coup. But in the ferocious denouement that follows, he finds himself sidelined as brutality and terror spiral under the newly installed military regime.

The novel celebrates the spirit and resilience of the Trueba women, which shine through the political tumult and family turbulence in this clever, witty and stunningly assured debut.

Allende’s father was a cousin of President Salvador Allende, who was overthrown and died during a military coup in 1973. In 1975, the author fled to Venezuela, and later moved to the US. She has said the book is an “attempt to recreate the country I had lost, the family I had lost”. (Khaneka, P. 2015, April 9. The best books on Chile: start your reading here. 2020, September 27.)

Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende

“Orphaned at birth, Eliza Sommers is raised in the British colony of Valparaíso, Chile, by the well-intentioned Victorian spinster Miss Rose and her more rigid brother Jeremy. Just as she meets and falls in love with the wildly inappropriate Joaquín Andieta, a lowly clerk who works for Jeremy, gold is discovered in the hills of northern California. By 1849, Chileans of every stripe have fallen prey to feverish dreams of wealth. Joaquín takes off for San Francisco to seek his fortune, and Eliza, pregnant with his child, decides to follow him.

As Eliza embarks on her perilous journey north in the hold of a ship and arrives in the rough-and-tumble world of San Francisco, she must navigate a society dominated by greedy men. But Eliza soon catches on with the help of her natural spirit and a good friend, the Chinese doctor Tao Chi’en. What began as a search for love ends up as the conquest of personal freedom.

A marvel of storytelling, Daughter of Fortune confirms once again Isabel Allende's extraordinary gift for fiction and her place as one of the world's leading writers” (Amazon)

The Savage Detective by Roberto Bolano

“In this dazzling novel, the book that established his international reputation, Roberto Bolaño tells the story of two modern-day Quixotes--the last survivors of an underground literary movement, perhaps of literature itself--on a tragicomic quest through a darkening, entropic universe: our own. The Savage Detectives is an exuberant, raunchy, wildly inventive, and ambitious novel from one of the greatest Latin American authors of our age.” (Amazon)

By Night in Chile by Roberto Bolano

“As through a crack in the wall, By Night in Chile's single night-long rant provides a terrifying, clandestine view of the strange bedfellows of Church and State in Chile. This wild, eerily compact novel―Roberto Bolano's first work available in English―recounts the tale of a poor boy who wanted to be a poet, but ends up a half-hearted Jesuit priest and a conservative literary critic, a sort of lap dog to the rich and powerful cultural elite, in whose villas he encounters Pablo Neruda and Ernst Junger. Father Urrutia is offered a tour of Europe by agents of Opus Dei (to study "the disintegration of the churches," a journey into realms of the surreal); and ensnared by this plum, he is next assigned―after the destruction of Allende―the secret, never-to-be-disclosed job of teaching Pinochet, at night, all about Marxism, so the junta generals can know their enemy. Soon, searingly, his memories go from bad to worse. Heart-stopping and hypnotic, By Night in Chile marks the American debut of an astonishing writer.” (Amazon)

Distant Star by Roberto Bolano

“The narrator saw that man for the first time in 1971 or 1972, when Allende was still President of Chile. He wrote distant and cautious poems, seduced women, and aroused indefinable mistrust in men. He saw him again after the coup, but at the time he was unaware that this aviator, who wrote Bible verses with the smoke of a WWII plane, and the poet were one, and the same. And so we are told the story of an impostor, of a man of many names, with no other moral than aesthetics, dandy of horror, murderer and photographer of fear, a barbarian artist who took his creations to their last and lethal consequences.” (Amazon)

Ways of Going Home by Alejandro Zambra

“Alejandro Zambra's Ways of Going Home begins with an earthquake, seen through the eyes of an unnamed nine-year-old boy who lives in an undistinguished middle-class housing development in a suburb of Santiago, Chile. When the neighbors camp out overnight, the protagonist gets his first glimpse of Claudia, an older girl who asks him to spy on her uncle Raúl. In the second section, the protagonist is the writer of the story begun in the first section. His father is a man of few words who claims to be apolitical but who quietly sympathized―to what degree, the author isn't sure―with the Pinochet regime. His reflections on the progress of the novel and on his own life―which is strikingly similar to the life of his novel's protagonist―expose the raw suture of fiction and reality.” (Amazon)

The Shadow of What We Were by Luis Sepulveda

“Sepulveda packs more than three decades of Chilean history into this lean and darkly humorous novel. Three aging revolutionaries-Cacho Salinas, Lolo Garmendia, and Lucho Arancibia-reunite to pull off one final, spectacular heist, gathering in a hideout to await the arrival of the Shadow, a legendary Robin Hood-type anarchist. As the comrades with their graying beards, thinning hair, and chubby physiques wait, they revisit the past and ruminate on losses: after Pinochet's coup, Cacho and Lolo fled to Europe, while Lucho, whose brothers were murdered by the regime, stayed and endured torture that has left him brain damaged. Meanwhile, and unbeknownst to the trio, the Shadow lies dead on the sidewalk, struck down by a freak accident. Although the narrator frequently runs away with the story, trailing off into history lessons, Sepulveda maintains a high level of suspense as the police investigate the Shadow's death, and Cacho, Lolo, and Lucho decide whether to go through with their plan, turning their collective sorrows into a celebration of the resilience of the human spirit. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved." (Amazon)

Tengo Miedo Torero by Pedro Lemebel

“This is a love story in Santiago de Chile in 86, the year of the Pinochet attack. A boy from the Manuel Rodriguez Patriotic Front, who is going to participate in the action, lives a sentimental relationship with a gay man who supports him, without knowing-knowing it, in his political plans. But they fail and their relationship ends as well. I am afraid of a bullfighter is the verse of a song that Sara Montiel used to perform. His words suggest, beyond theatricality and melancholy, the recondite interiority of a country that, as defined by the author, sounds very little, it sounds like credit, it does not sound the impossible.” (Amazon)

Frozen in Time: Murder at the Bottom of the World by Theodore Jerome Cohen

“The trail from a major theft at the Banco Central de Chile in Talcahuano following the Great Chilean Earthquake of May 22, 1960 leads to Base Bernardo O'Higgins, a wind- and snow-swept Chilean Army outpost on the North Antarctic Peninsula. When Chilean Army 1SGT Leonardo Rodríguez fails to return from a seal hunt in the waters around the base, two Chilean Navy non-commissioned officers, CWO Raul Lucero and CPO Eduardo Osorio, become LCDR Cristian Barbudo's prime theft and murder suspects. Fearing he will die, Barbudo reveals the identity of his two suspects to visiting scientist Ted Stone, thereby placing Stone's life in jeopardy. But who can Stone trust with this information, if it comes to that, to see justice done? This story is a work of fiction based on real events that took place between 1958 and 1965. It is a tale of greed, betrayal, and murder-one in which the reader is given a window into the frozen world at the bottom of the Earth that few people ever will read about, much less experience. Among other things, it explores why, though seemingly unfair, bad things happen to good people; how the battle between good and evil can change forever even the most innocent person; and most of all, the role deception plays in Nature, Man, and Life.” (Amazon)

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khaotungthanawat · 7 years ago

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Happy Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day! - A Thorki Edition

In the spirit of celebration and appreciation, I just wanted to do a little list of some (not all, otherwise we’d be here for a month, and in no particular order) of my favorite Thorki fics -- old, new and in progress.

Catalyst by @fourletterwordsstartingwithl

The Seidrmaster and the Stormbringer.

Loki and Thor were brought up in two very different worlds; one in the halls of Asgard and her golden city and the second from within the largest frozen forest in all the nine realms. A chance encounter after becoming lost in the great forest becomes the catalyst for change and they suddenly find themselves mere pieces in a chess game, far greater than they ever thought possible.

Thirst and the Water Quest by @darklittlestories

Loki is the Agent of Asgard, Awesomeness, and Asskicking.

His motivations are Absolutely, Totally Pure AF™. Definitely he lives to serve the goodness. But if the affection in Thor's ridiculously beautiful eyes gives him slightly inappropriate feels, that's mere coincidence. And so the sexiest super spy embarks on a quest for the All-Mother and lives for the reward.

if this is hell (then let me stay) by @thorduna

“Where you going?” the driver asks as they pull off and start driving down the dark road.

“I don’t know. Wherever.”

Thor picks Loki up from the side of the road, saving him from the vicious cold. Loki is prepared to pay a lot for it - but not this much.

The Witch’s Room by @amethyst--witch

Thor isn't too fond of New York, even after living there for a few weeks. Still, certain things make it manageable– Steve and Bucky, for one, college friends who happened to have a spare room in their apartment, his new job (even if it is a little stressful), and in particular, his new roommate: Loki, a sardonic college kid with an emphasis on privacy (Thor doesn't really mind– well, not at first, anyway).

Side Projects by @laydee-liesmith (currently on temporary hiatus)

Now, Loki tries to ignore the team of workers who have taken over his back-yard as they embark on a much-needed reno project. But, the one with the long blonde hair and the booming voice has taken a special liking to him. He flirts, he winks; he goes out of his way to tease Loki. Loki finds himself spending more time talking to "Thor" than he would like. He also finds himself blushing around Thor more than he would like. One day, Thor stumbles across Loki doing something he really shouldn't be... and suddenly Thor has decided to make Loki his after-work "project."

Stranger in a Strange Land by @pohjanneito

He was a big bear of a man. His shoulders alone seemed to take the space of two grown men where he was seated on his high stool, leaning against the counter. His long, blond hair was half-hidden under a black fur-felt Stetson, his face covered in thick, bushy bristles.

Loki drew his hand back, and as if sensing his curious gaze, the man turned his head to glance over his shoulder. His blue eyes met Loki's from beneath the rim of his hat, and Loki felt his stomach jolt at the contact.

You’re All I Want, so Bring Me The Dawn by @thisdorkyblogthing

Loki grew up being told that the bond between an omega and an alpha was unbreakable.

Well, that's a lie. A big fat lie.

Lullaby by @radiatorfromspace

Thor is babysitting his younger brother Loki tonight. They have the house to themselves, parents won't be back until 1AM, and Thor looks at Loki the way he should be looking at girls.

At girls his own age.

Friends and Neighbors by @rynfinity

She has a faint accent Odin can’t quite place, except to be certain she’s not from around here. Finnish, maybe. “My oldest is twelve, and my middle son is ten.” Her son’s tiny hands come up to grab at her bracelets. "They like their teachers, but I miss having them around. And I could use their help with the baby.”

“They don’t go to school here, then,” he asks.

“No,” Farbauti says. She gently works her jewelry out of Loki’s shell pink, chubby hands. “They live with their father.”

Only the broken hearts (make you beautiful) by grimmie_me

Thor is a doctor who treats Loki when he's found unconscious on the street after being brutalized by a client. Later Thor can't help but look for Loki in the streets and when he finds him, he becomes a client, though everybody, including Loki, is quite surprised that a man like him doesn't want a better whore to have fun with. Some time later Thor takes Loki away from his occupation and tries his best to give him a normal life, which is hard for a person who's not used to it and doesn't find himself worthy.

mouth full of white lies by @thorkidumpster

"No," Loki insists. "No. I'm not meeting him again. He's got two kids, for fuck's sake! He fucked me into the bed, then called them right as I was leaving to say goodnight!"

"Sounds like..." Sigyn mutters off-hand, flipping through her texts with a pink-painted nail. "That he's looking to be a daddy of three.

crash into me by @raven-brings-light

Thor moves back into his childhood home to take care of Odin in his final months. Putting up with the old man's moods and taking care of his failing body is stressful enough - and then Thor meets Loki.

Loki is the son of Odin's neighbor and he pushes himself into Thor's life with all the dogged determination of youth and the subtlety of an avalanche.

He's the prettiest thing Thor has ever seen. He's also 16.

Thor is fucked.

the ashtray by @curds-writes

There’s a boy in the garden that Thor doesn’t recognise.

facing the vast by needleyecandy

England has just declared war on Napoleon, Naval captains are winning their laurels on a daily basis, and Thor's ship is ordered to the South Seas to seek out a lost scientific vessel. It is an assignment for an old man, but the Admiralty will hear no reason. All hope of glory lost, he takes to sea in a foul temper.

Loki is an artist employed by the naturalist who accompanies HMS Hope on the expedition of rescue and research. He is to make quick and accurate sketches of those plants that catch his employer's eye. For the first time in his life, the rest of his time is his own.

Back home, their paths never would have crossed, but life at sea is different, and their shared journey brings many kinds of discovery.

fimbulwinter by @illwynd

Fimbulwinter, the winter without end, has begun. The people of the village have somehow endured. But then one day, Thor, born at the end of the last summer, meets a stranger in the woods.

Number One Contender for My Heart by @guardianinthesky

Loki has never been into sports, but one day Amora drags him to a pro wrestling event, promising him lots of hot, sweaty guys. He finds himself less than impressed until a particular wrestler named Thor shows up.

cocky boys by @incredifishface

"Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power" (Oscar Wilde)

In which Thor and Loki are the top stars in a studio of online porn, famously hate each other, but by popular vote they get paired to perform together in the Christmas Eve Live Event, and are not happy about it.

Eeee, sorry! This list got long. THERE ARE A LOT OF FICS THAT I LOVE OKAY. And honestly, this list just barely scratches the surface. Anyway.

Thank you to the amazing fanfiction writers that put their blood, sweat and tears (sometimes literally) into creating amazing works for us to read and savor and cry about. You’re fucking amazing, and I hope you really know just how loved and appreciated you are!

Happy Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day!

#thorki #fic recs #long post #happy fanfiction writers appreciation day!

243 notes · View notes

buckyscrystalqueen · 7 years ago

Text

Family Matters: Part 7

Pairings: Chibs x Reader

Warnings: Mention of (canon) character death, swearing, fluff, angst.

Word Count: 4,629

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

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

“Where’d it go?” you asked in a sing-song voice as you looked at Thomas with a shocked face. “Where’s the block?” He looked down at the blanket you had hidden the block under and an adorable scowl crossed his face. He grabbed the blanket in his chubby fist and ripped it back. “There it is!” You cheered. He smiled and bounced up and down as he held on to the couch in your living room for balance. You heard your phone ding as Thomas handed you back the blanket. He put his lips together and made a ‘mmm’ sound as if he were trying to say ‘more.’

“Hang on, baby.” You said as you got up to answer the door quickly. “Let’s see who is visiting us today.” You heard a soft plop followed by the loud scrambling of limbs as he crawled after you as quickly as he could. You pulled open the door and your brow furrowed as Ally Lowen walked up your walkway. “Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.” She smiled as Thomas used your jeans to pull himself up to stand next to you.

“My God, look how big he’s gotten.” She said. Thomas looked at her and his eyes grew wide with panic. He shook his head rapidly and looked up at you, pleadingly as he reached with one hand to be picked up.

“We don’t like strangers right now.” You laughed as you picked him up and put him on your hip; draping his leg over your small 4 months along baby bump. “What’s going on?” She held up a thick folder and gave you a tight lipped smile.

“There’s a couple things but this was dropped off at my office this morning. You need to see it.” You nodded and stepped back into the house to let her in.

“Want anything to drink? Water is the go to option but I have juice, milk, or beer, if you prefer.” She laughed as you closed the door and pointed her in the direction of your toy covered living room.

“No, thanks. I won’t be long.” You both sat down and she sighed. “So a few things happened in the last couple days. First, Tara’s life insurance policy has been paid out to you.” She said as she pulled out a check from the folder in her hand and handed it to you. You blanched as you looked at the $500,000 dollar check in your hand.

“Jesus Christ.” Lowen nodded as Thomas picked up the block off the couch. Knowing his goal was to whack you with it to get your attention back on him, you took it from him; much to the boy's disliking. “Keep talking, I’m listening.” You said as you got up and walked into the kitchen to get a cheese stick to distract the child in your arms before he had a meltdown.

“This next one is a tough one so you may want to sit down for it.” You took a deep breath as you pulled open the cheese stick with your teeth and walked back into the living room. You nodded as you sat down and handed Thomas the snack.

“Alright… just… go.”

“Jax has signed full custody over to you and he’s pushing for you and your husband to sign adoption papers.” Despite knowing it was coming, tears welled in your eyes. He had only come by a handful of times in the two and a half months since Tara had passed away. You nodded as Ally continued. “He also signed over the house, the car, his half of Teller-Morrow and his part of Red Woody and Diosa to you and Filip.” The news hit you like a freight train and you leaned back against the couch. Ally shook her head and gave you a winced smile. “I’m not done.” You groaned as you sat up again. She flipped open the folder and grabbed the top group of papers.

“This morning, Gemma’s lawyer dropped this off. Apparently, she has also signed everything over to you and Filip as well under the same ‘half-goes to Thomas’ condition Tara had. Included is the pay out for Clay’s life insurance to Thomas, her father’s property and assets, their bank accounts and safety deposit boxes. Thomas is also the sole beneficiary of Gemma’s life insurance policy… both worth two million dollars.” Your eyes shot open wide and you froze as she held out the papers to you. You shook your head and opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“What the fuck is going on?” You asked after a minute of silence as you finally took the papers from her.

“I don’t know. I just knew you needed to see this quickly.” You nodded as you looked at the suddenly heavy stack of papers in your hand.

“What else do you have?” You asked as you pointed at the folder. You heard the sound of your garage opening as Lowen shook her head.

“Adoption papers and the legal documents for all of Jax’s property.”

“Blue jay?” Chibs called out as he walked into the kitchen.

“Babe… you need to hear this…” You could hear his pace quicken slightly as he came out into the living room. You grabbed the checks, put them on the stack of papers from Gemma’s lawyer and handed them to him as you nodded at Ally.

“Tara’s life insurance paid out to (Y/N). That’s the check on top. The second check is Clay’s paid out to Thomas alone.” He whistled as he looked at it while she finished her speech. “The papers are from Gemma’s lawyer. Both her and Jax signed over all of their assets to you and (Y/N) including Teller-Morrow.” Chibs head whipped up to look at Lowen. She nodded as she grabbed the second stalk of papers. “Jax is also signing over full custody and pushing for adoption immediately.” Chibs sank down onto the arm of the couch slowly as he looked over at you. Ally’s phone started ringing and she gave you a small smile. “I’ll just be out front while you two talk.”

“Did ye know about this?” He asked you as he put down the papers and took Thomas who was grunting and reaching for him. You shook your head as you picked the papers up.

“I knew about Jax but I did not know about Gemma.” The two of you sat in stunned silence staring at each other as you tried to wrap your heads around what was going on. After a few minutes, you heard the front door open and you turned toward it as Jax walked in.

“Shit… I meant to get here to tell you before Lowen showed up.”

“Jackson… did you know Gemma signed over everything to us as well?” You asked as you held up the papers. “Including her and Clay’s life insurance policy’s and all of her dad’s things?” His brow furrowed as he did a double take.

“Wait, she what?” You nodded as he walked over and took the papers from you.

“Yea. Apparently, Chibs and I now own Teller-Morrow and two extra parts of Diosa and Red Woody. On top of that we just gained a son that is a multi-millionaire and he isn’t even 9 months old yet, five cars, four bank accounts, three houses, a motorcycle and a partridge in a pear tree.”

“Jackie boy… are ye sure that’s what ye want?” Jax nodded as he walked around the couch and sat down where Ally had been few minutes before. It broke your heart to watch Thomas actually shy away from his blood father, hiding himself slightly under Chibs’ arm.

“They called for a Mayhem vote.” Your brow furrowed in confusion as Chibs swore. “I told them the truth. Look, I know where Gemma is. She’s up in Oregon visiting her dad. That means she’s at her dad’s house. The nursing home called Tara’s phone lookin’ for her because she was the key conservator. I’m out one way or another, so I’m gunna handle Gem while you push the Mayhem vote unanimously.” You looked at Chibs as tears filled his eyes.

“No… I won’t…”

“You have to and you know it.” He sighed as he ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t go on without her. I can’t raise him without her. You two are my two closest friends; my only family. Give him the life I can’t. Send him to college like Tara wanted. Run the MC using legitimate businesses. I have been setting this shit up for months for him and for you.” He said as he pointed to his son. You finally realized exactly what he was saying and tears began to fall down your cheeks.

“Jax…” You whispered as you reached out and took his hand. You shook your head but he cut you off before you could say anything.

“I have to. I can’t go on without her. I’m lost without Tara. This is the best thing for everyone here.” He squeezed your hand and put his other one on Chibs’ knee. “Sign the papers. Change his last name to yours. Tell him all about Tara but I want you to promise me that you will not let him see me in a good light. I am a monster; I know it, I accept it. He needs to know that to scare him away from the life. Run TM and SAMCRO as legitimate businesses. Please. I am literally begging you.” You covered your face with your free hand as tears poured from your eyes. You knew there was no talking Jax out of this. He had made up his mind.

“A’right, Jackson.” You pulled Jax toward you as you stood up and he wrapped you in a tight hug as you began to sob.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. You shook your head as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I love you… so much.” He nodded as he kissed your neck; his own tears falling rapidly on your shoulder.

“I love you too, (Y/N). Thank you for everything you have done for me my whole life.” You nodded as you pulled back and cupped his cheeks in your hands.

“I promise y-you… I will raise him as my own. And I will make damn sure that he ends up a doctor or some fancy lawyer for you.” He huffed a laugh as you brushed his tears away with your thumbs. He leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours. The two of you stood there silently for a moment and cried; speaking volumes of things you couldn’t voice.

“Take care of both of them.” He said as he pulled away from you. You nodded and took Thomas… your son as Chibs stood up.

“I won’t promise ‘e will know ye as a monsta… but ‘e will know the good nd the bad that ye did. Let him form ‘is own opinion. I will promise ta raise ‘im out of the club best I can.” Jax nodded as the two men hugged; holding on a little longer than typical before pulling away with loud slaps on the back.

“Sign the adoption papers and the name change now; Lowen has them all ready written up. I gotta go take care of my end. When you’re done here, go have Chapel at Red Woody and do the Mayhem vote honestly. I’ll be back in town tomorrow.” Chibs nodded as Jax looked at the two of you. He tearfully reached for his son, who went willingly. “I love you, Thomas.” He whispered as he kissed the little boys forehead. He lingered for only a moment before handing him back to you. “I’ll send Lowen in.” He headed for the door as your tears started falling once more.

“Jax…” He turned back to look at you with tears in his eyes. You nodded at each other and he turned and walked out the door without another word. Chibs immediately wrapped you and your son in his arms as the two of you stood there and cried; saying silent good-byes to your best friend.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I have to get going soon.” Ally said as she stepped back inside. You nodded as you stepped back and sat down. Chibs cleared his throat and pulled out a pair of reading glasses.

“Jus’ show us where ta sign.”

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

“How the hell did this bitch get anything done in this shit storm?” You slammed the filing cabinet you were looking through closed and growled. “Chucky! Get in here!” You sat down in the desk chair in the Teller-Morrow office as you pulled open the bottom drawer. You tried to lean around your giant stomach as Chucky walked in.

“Yea, boss.” You scowled up at him and shook your head.

“Don’t call me boss. I need two things. 1) A freaking giant ass fan because I am hot and pregnant and really pissy. 2) I need all the incoming invoices for the shop and the club for the last year. We are going digital here because I am not dealing with these damn hunks of metal anymore.” You snapped as you kicked the drawer closed.

“Yes ma’am!” He said as he quickly walked out the door.

“Don’t call me ma’am either!”

“Hey, grouchy.” Chibs said as he leaned against the door frame to your office. You scowled at him.

“Don’t start.” He chuckled as he came into the office.

“Ye need to go ‘ome, love. This ‘eat is makin’ ya miserable.” You rolled your eyes as you went back to looking for the invoices in an attempt to get Teller-Morrow running more efficiently.

“Yea, well we inherited an absolute shit show for a company and someone…” You were cut off as Chibs took a hold of your hands, removed them from the path of the drawer and closed it.

“‘ome, air-conditionin’, ice cream in bed. Le’s go.” You growled despite the fact that his idea sounded absolutely heavenly at that moment.

“I hate rational you right now.” You said as you bent down to grab your bag. You felt a sudden ‘pop’ and a rush between your legs and you sighed. “Oh, you couldn’t fucking wait until I got ice cream in bed could you, you little shit.” You looked up at Chibs and held out your hands. He cocked his eyebrow at you and your face deadpanned. “Water just broke. Want me to just have her here?”

“Jus’ as impatient as ‘er mother.” Chibs chuckled as he took ahold of your hands and pulled you out of the chair.

“Yea, I hope that’s not a sign.” You groaned as you got up right. You stood there for a moment as a contraction gripped your stomach before you scoffed. “Can you find Chucky and tell him to nix the fan and order me a new chair.” Chibs laughed as you grabbed a hold of his arm so he could help you awkwardly down the step.

“Aye. I will let ‘im know, love.” He walked you over to the blue Honda CRV that used to belong to Tara you decided to keep. You got into the passenger seat as a second contraction hit and your growled; twisting Chibs’ leather kutte in your fist as you grit your teeth against the pain.

“OK… really impatient. Can ya get in the fucking car, please?” You released your grip on his kutte as he put your seatbelt on with a chuckle. “I don’t know why you think this is funny. This is not fucking funny, Filip.” He shut the door and jogged around the front of the car still laughing.

“Ye get cute when yer angry, m'love. Can’t ‘elp but laugh… Chucky! Lock up at close; baby’s comin’.” Chucky, with his awkward eBay plastic hands, gave a weird ‘OK’ symbol and looked down at the fan he was carrying.

“Tell him to put that in my office still. I need to get better AC in there.” Chibs laughed and passed on your message before getting in the car as another contraction hit. “God, fuck this sucks.” You said through grit teeth as you tried to maneuver in your seat to find some sort of comfortable position. “You’re getting a vasectomy. I am absolutely never doing this again.”

“Yes, m'love.” He said dismissively as he headed out of the parking lot toward the hospital. The 10 minute drive felt like it took 50 years and your contractions felt like they were nearly right on top of each other. You kept a death grip on the leather of Chibs’ kutte so you didn’t hurt him as he gently rubbed your leg and reminded you to breathe as best as he could. Once you pulled into the ER drop off, Chibs ran in to get a wheelchair.

“She wants out and she wants out, now!” You cried as two nurses rushed out with him. They scrambled to get you inside as your husband rushed to park the car. As they wheeled you down the hall, with Chibs jogging to catch up, you honestly thought you were about to die. “For fucks sake, move faster!”

It felt like an absolute whirlwind. The doctor on call was paged as you were brought into a room. You told both nurses in a vernacular as colorful as your arms that your little girl was coming and both of them told you you had time.

“Do somethin’!” Chibs shouted as he looked at the two women at the door.

“W-w-we’re just students…” The one said. You heard your husband swear as you grabbed his arm.

“Filip, it’s now. It’s right now.” You panted as the need to push became unbearable.

“Shoulda just dun it me self at the shop.” He growled as he ripped his sleeves up, sending the buttons of his shirt flying. “Push when ye need ta, love.” You nodded and pulled your knees back to your chest.

“Wait! You can’t…” The second nursing student said. Her words were cut off by an almost inhuman screech as you pushed with everything you had.

You had dealt with pain before. You had been stabbed twice and broken a few bones as a kid but the pain of child birth surpassed all of those experiences by a long shot. You heard nothing but the blood pounding in your ears; muffling your husband’s words of encouragement, the nervous shrieking of the students and the doctor that arrived just a little too late. White, hot pain ricocheted through your body for a few seconds as you gripped the backs of your thighs so tight, you drew blood. Thankfully, your impatient little girl made your life real easy because after the first long push, you were done.

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day.” The doctor said as Filip wrapped his daughter in his shirt since everyone else in the room was a little too stunned to get him a receiving cloth.

“Do I ‘ave ta finish yer job for ya, too?” He shouted as his daughter’s loud cries filled the room. The man’s face reddened slightly as he grabbed a pair of gloves. You followed the doctor’s instructions with only half your attention. The other half was falling even more in love with your husband as he held his tiny little girl in his arms.

“We have to get her…” the nurse said as she reached for your daughter as the nursing students came over and attempted to clean you up a bit.

“Back. Off. I delivered ‘er; I can clean ‘er up. Bring the shit ‘ere.” The nurse shrank away as Chibs walked over to the bed. “Welcome ta the world, Miss Elizabeth Grace.” He gently laid her across your chest and sat down on the bed next to you. With a smile he gave you a chaste kiss and brushed your sweat dampened hair off your face. “Ye did amazing, love.” You giggled as you looked up at him.

“Me? Baby, you just delivered our daughter in less than twenty minutes.”

“Aye. That’s ‘ow we do parentin’.” You laughed as you looked down at the most beautiful little girl in the world.

“We are pretty bad ass parents. Speaking of… we should probably call Nita and tell her we are gunna be a little late tonight.” Chibs laughed as the nurse brought in a portable scale, some bathing supplies, diapers and blankets. Not two seconds later, Margret Murphy came in. You could tell by the look on her face she was not only stunned but appalled.

“I heard you two are causing quite the fuss in my hospital today.” You shrugged as Chibs took Elizabeth and brought her over to clean her up. “I am so, so sorry…”

“Hey, not your fault. Filip was a medic in the British Army so I got lucky.” She nodded as she waved the nurse out. The woman wrote down the weight and length of your daughter and left the room quickly. Margret looked at your perfect little angel and smiled.

“What’s her name?”

“Elizabeth Grace. ‘er sister, Donna ‘nd Tara’s middle names.” Margret looked up at Chibs with a smile and nodded in approval.

“She would have liked that.” He nodded back as he swaddled his baby girl expertly.

“Aye, they both would’a. We figured we’d honor the woman who brought us together and the woman who lost her life too soon and gave us our son.” Margret nodded with tears in her eyes.

“I’ll let you two have some time. If you need anything at all, call me personally.” She said as she pulled a business card out of her pocket and put it on the table. You thanked her as she took one last look at the baby before leaving.

“OK, gimmie!” You said as you reached for Elizabeth. “You get to make a bunch of phone calls.” He laughed as he passed Elizabeth back to you.

“And this will be a fun story ta tell.”

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

“You are absolutely not carrying me over the threshold.” You said as you stood in front of your new house with newborn Lizzie in your arms. The new house had finally closed when you were in the hospital and Chibs had every member of the MC working around the clock to move everything out of your old house, and the few things you kept from Tara’s and Gemma’s old houses before you sold them into the new, bigger one.

“‘Tis tradition for a new house, love.” Your husband claimed as he held Tommy’s hands while the little boy ran around him in circles. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“You drop us and I will kill you.” Chibs smiled as he grabbed ahold of Tommy and picked him up.

“Listen ta yer mum; thinkin’ I would dare drop ‘er.” He said as he carried the little boy into the house. He handed him off to Lyla, who was inside for the ‘Welcome home’ party before walking back out to you with a smile. “Drop ye on ye head, knock some sense in ta ye, love.” You squealed as he picked you up in his arms, a little awkwardly since you couldn’t hold on to him and carried you inside. You shook your head and laughed as he set you down in the entry way of the house.

“You guys did a great job in here.” You said as you looked around at the guys in the MC. The house was beautiful; 5 bedroom, 4.5 bathrooms, large rooms and a pool with a waterfall slide in the huge fenced in backyard. It was in the same neighborhood as Gemma’s house used to be.

“Aye, they did.” He kissed you on the forehead with a smile. “Welcome ‘ome, m'love.” You smiled as people started coming over to congratulate you on the new house and the newest addition to the SAMCRO family.

“I bet you twenty bucks I can jump from the top of the rocks into the pool with my eyes closed.” You heard Half-Sack say to Kozik. You whipped your head around, mid-sentence as you were talking to Happy and his current fling and scowled.

“You break your damn neck and make my house insurance go up and I will kill you.” Sack smiled as Kozik laughed.

“Oh, it’s on!” Everyone laughed as the two men ran outside and the group followed after them, finally leaving the front hall of your home. No matter how many times you tried to help; setting up food on the long family dinner table that you kept from Gemma, or getting more drinks for the coolers out of the garage, Lyla or one of the many croweaters and Red Woody porn stars would stop you and shoo you away.

“It’s your welcome home house warming party. Enjoy it.” One of the girls finally said as she led you back outside for the hundredth time. “You’re Queen Bee now, after all.” Your brow furrowed at the reality you hadn't really realized yet; despite technically having the unofficial title for almost 7 months since Jax’s suicide. You looked around at the guys of the MC and everyone that was part of the SAMCRO family and nodded.

“Yea… I guess I am…” You sat there for a moment, watching everyone enjoy the pool and the house as Bobby cooked burgers and hot dogs on the grill, thinking about that statement. Not even three years ago, the people that were in your back yard didn’t even know you were back in town. In the past three years, you had lost friends and family. Your world had been turned upside down, chewed up and spit out more times than you could count. There had been jail time and down time, hiding and chaos; blood shed and new blood gained… but somehow your large family had managed to come out on top. Now here you were, the same little girl that just wanted to be a part of something bigger but as the President’s old lady; a seat you never even dreamed of claiming.

“Ye alright love?” You looked up at Chibs as he brushed his pool drenched hair out of his face and wiped the water from his eyes.

“Thinking… I was just called the Queen Bee.” He nodded as he lit a cigarette. You snagged it from him, grateful you could enjoy a smoke again and continued. “It’s weird… I never expected to be at the top; it was never really something I wanted. It’s fun to be in charge but the people we lost to get us here…” He sighed and nodded as he lit himself another cigarette.

“Bitter sweet pill ta swallow.” you nodded as he sat down on the chair next to you. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, watching Ope slide down the slide with Thomas (in his little life jacket) on his lap. You smiled as Ope held him in the air as they plunged into the deep end of the pool. Your son screamed happily and demanded ‘more’ as he reached for anyone to take him down the slide again.

“I hate every thing and everyone we had to lose to get here.” You said as you laid your head on Chibs’ shoulder. “But I am so glad our family made it to the other side safely.” He nodded and put his arm around your shoulder as Tig took Thomas down the slide again.

“Aye. ’Tis all I ever wanted; me family safe.”

Aesthetic by @sorenmarie87

#Chibs x Reader #Family Matters #Family Matters Series

37 notes · View notes

kuriquinn · 7 years ago

Text

Fic Prompt/Request: Team 7 ANBU probation

tictocwynn said:

Can there be a part 3 to that team 7 anbu thing with Kakashi and Manako? Totally loving Manako, and [...]

Masterlist & Disclaimer

Summary: They were the three most feared humans alive...and then they met their match.

Disclaimer: This story utilises characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelisations, comics or short stories is intended by KuriQuinn in any way, shape or form. This fan-oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All plot and Original Characters except for those introduced in the canon books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn. (© KuriQuinn 2016- )

Rating: T

Warning: Mild OOC? They’re characters that grew up differently than the canon, so a little bit of change in personality. There is are OCs in this fic (Manako Inuzuka and Kakashi’s children). Don’t like it, don’t read (but I’ve had pretty positive feedback about them, so your loss).

Canon/Fanon Compliance: AU ‘verse. Sasuke left Konoha, but he came back right away or right after training or something. Team 7 went on to become ANBU

Having been placed on indefinite leave three weeks ago, Team 7 has been desperate to return to active ANBU duty. Matters have progressed enough that inevitably all three of them find themselves back in the Hokage’s office trying to persuade their former teacher to put them back on the ANBU roster.

Kakashi, however, has a caveat—a mission with no room for failure to ensure they were worthy of their positions. Sasuke thinks it’s going to be an assassination or protection detail, but when Kakashi’s—mistress? Lover? Partner?—shows up with two toddlers and an infant, a worse possibility emerges.

“Have you told them yet?” Manako asks, not bothering with a greeting. The grey-haired twins take off, vaulting towards the Hokage’s desk, scattering papers everywhere in their haste to clamber over their father’s knees.

“I was getting there,” Kakashi says impatiently, maneuvering the twins into his lap with practices ease, and turning back to his former students. “There’s a Kage summit in Suna in two weeks.”

“And Tanzaku Town is on the way,” Manako interrupts. “We haven’t had any alone time since Peach Fuzz here was born.” She hefts the infant Obito in her arms. “We’re due a getaway.”

“You mean a sex weekend,” Naruto points out.

“Yeah, that.”

Kakashi stares heavenward. “Whatever happened to subtext in polite company?”

“You read porn in polite company,” Manako reminds him.

The Sixth Hokage sighs and turns his attention to his students.

“If you three want back on active duty, you first have to prove to me you can be responsible adults,” Kakashi lectures, patiently removing one twin’s grasping hands from a paperweight and the other’s foot from his laptop keyboard. “You’ve forgotten the importance of following mission directive and completing your tasks as required, without deviation. You need practice.”

“So, you’re placing the health and safety of your children in our hands?” Sakura questions, uncertain.

“If I had to bet on three people to come out of this alive, I’d bet on my boys,” Manako informs her soberly. “We’ll be back in two days, and if you three elite shinobi can’t handle it, you can always drop them off with Kiba.”

Naruto’s eyes bug out.

The last time Kiba babysat, he took them to Ichiraku and they almost destroyed it!

“No way, we can do this!” Naruto declares, as usual, game for anything. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Two days later, Sasuke wonders if it’s possible to go back in time and kill Naruto before he utters that statement.

“This…is not…a child,” he bites out from beneath clenched teeth, trying to prise his hair out of Obito’s chubby fists. The baby has the long strands clutched in a death grip and is wailing as if someone is torturing him with a hot poker.

Beside him, Sakura makes a choking noise in response to Shinzō—or possibly Kuboshi—who has clambered up her back and clutched her from behind. She thinks it might have been meant for a hug, but from the way he clutches her throat and hangs on for dear life she wonders if he isn’t practicing assassination techniques.

Meanwhile, Naruto chases intently after Kuboshi—though it could be Shinzō—who has somehow managed to divest himself of all of his clothing and his diaper, and is cackling in high pitched, demonic whoops of joy. When the tot continues to evade him, the jinchūriki calls up a shadow clone to head him off—only for the toddler to skid beneath his double’s legs, shrieking in delight.

Eyes still tearing from the death grip Obito has on his scalp, Sasuke darts forward and grabs the little nudist around the middle, depositing him unceremoniously in Naruto’s hands.

“Don’t. Let go. Again,” he growls, his eyes flickering between black and red as returns to the task of separating Obito from his hair. The child is momentarily distracted by the swirling tomoe, and Sasuke ponders the merits of using genjutsu on a baby.

That would probably make him a horrible human being, right?

Behind them, Sakura has gotten a hold of her charge, and grips the little white-haired boy out at arms length, shaking her head in horrified awe.

“We are never reproducing,” she croaks with absolute certainty.

Sasuke blinks and glances up from the infant in his arms. “Wait—what?”

“It’s like having three Narutos!” she continues, not hearing him. “Which is horrifying—and possibly illegal. Why were the two most irresponsible and lazy people we know allowed to breed?”

“Forget that—why were they allowed to have twins?” Naruto complains as he tries to maneuver Shinzō—Pretty sure it’s Shinzō this time, he’s the one with the birth mark above his eyebrow, right?—back into a blanket until he can find the little jerk’s clothing.

“It’s like the gods decided to develop a sense of humour or something.”

“I’d just like to know how I ended up with the baby,” Sasuke interjects reasonably.

“Sakura and I took a vote and decided you were the most responsible.”

Sasuke’s eye twitches. “But she’s the one who saves people’s lives for a living.”

“Okay, we figured the baby was the one you were the least likely to set on fire.”

“This is ridiculous,” Sakura sighs. “This is no different from the D-rank missions we got when we were kids. It should not be this hard!”

“We could always bring them to Kiba,” Sasuke reminds them all.

There is a long beat of silence, where the members of Team 7 exchange mildly disturbed looks with the Sixth Hokage’s spawn.

“I have a better idea!” Naruto declares.

“The five most terrifying words ever spoken,” Sasuke deadpans.

“Battle royale!”

There’s another beat of silence.

“I would punch you, but I’m holding a child,” Sakura informs him with cold politeness.

“That is the most idiotic thing you have ever come up with. And you thought it was a good idea to use your stupid harem jutsu on an ancient goddess.”

“No, seriously, guys, it’s genius!” Naruto protests. “We can set them against each other and they’ll distract each other and pass out, and then we’ll only have to take care of the baby, who will go to sleep once he gets tired of yanking out all of Sasuke’s hair. That’s a sacrifice I’m totally willing to make.”

“You are even less responsible than I thought you were,” Sakura grumbles.

“Oi!”

“And Sasuke, you’re being too quiet.”

The last of the Uchiha has an expression of calculation on his face that his teammates have learned either precedes a genius plan of attack or a mad declaration about attempted world domination. Neither one is a good omen.

“The idea does have merit,” he says after a beat, wincing at another sharp tug from Kakashi’s youngest child.

“Sasuke!”

“No, not what the idiot is suggesting,” he dismisses, impatient. “But we could, in theory, try to teach them some basic techniques. I learned Kakuremino when I was about their age. They can practice until they exhaust their chakra and knock themselves out.”

“See? Even Sasuke thinks it’s a good idea!”

“I never said that.”

“You so did!”

“You two agreeing is not the confidence inspiring event you seem to think it is,” Sakura deadpans. “And teaching them to disappear in plain view? That’s not going to make Manako very happy. She’s going to blame us for corrupting her kids.”

“They’re already corrupt. They’re half Inuzuka. Besides, it’s Kakashi’s fault for assigning us this,” Sasuke points out.

“Yeah! He knows better than to leave us unsupervised!”

“Speak for yourself…”

“Besides, if worse comes to worse, we lose one of them, there are still two left, right? They’ll never notice!”

Sakura shoots Naruto a disgusted look. “You’re a horrible person.”

“Tch. Better tell Hyūga to keep her legs shut around him.”

Naruto splutters. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind,” Sakura interrupts, knowing if she doesn’t that a mountain somewhere will suddenly be reduced to ash—babies in hand or not. “Let’s just…see if they have the attention span to learn this stuff, okay? Preferably before Obito makes Sasuke bald.”

Of course she would love him even if he was bald, but she does prefer him with hair. It’s always nice to have something to hold on to.

Naruto sniggers.

As they head toward their customary training ground, Sasuke clears his throat. “Sakura…”

“Yes?”

“What you said before…you didn’t mean it, did you?”

“Mean what?”

“Because you did make me a promise,” he goes on, raising an eyebrow at her meaningfully.

She stares at him uncomprehending for a moment, and then turns red, recalling her comment on the possibility of future children.

“Oh, for goodness sake!”

“Heh-heh,” Naruto turns to confide in Kuboshi—probably got it wrong before, Shinzō is the one without the birthmark—in a conspiratorial voice. “Sounds like someone else is going to be keeping their legs closed—”

WHUMP!

“Ow!”

終わり

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome! I’m only able to keep writing as I do thanks to the encouragement of readers like you, so every bit of support helps!

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#friday fic requests #fanfic prompts/requests #baby hatakes #kakashi/oc #kuriquinn #naruto fanfiction #humour #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake #manako inuzuka #tumblr followers only treats

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 8 years ago

Text

a new haircut for the battles ahead.

I am back from Portland and back in Idaho now. It was a very fun trip, and I feel like a slightly different person now that I am back. It's hard to explain how the trip changed me for certain. It might be the amount of frustration I within me just due to these last few days concerning the Trump cabinet picks and all these frightening executive orders that I am sure won't end any time soon. What really got me was those jailed reporters who only reported on the political unrest in Washington after the inauguration. Every night, Sarah and I would watch the news and speeches and inauguration stuff, and we just felt dumbfounded and shocked. I have nightmares. I am not one to cliche'-ly reference 1984 or Nazi Germany every time something is corrupt, but little moments here and there spark my memory of learning about this stuff in high school. I also feel at the same time, this great hope for the future of America and this positive vision of how unified many of us in the world actually are and how there is a very strong unity all over the world for people who see this positive vision of the future where we might actually overcome many poverty and racism and war and become scientifically advanced enough to maybe, just maybe become a type 2 civilization.

It's this mix of hope and strength at seeing so many people come together for the women's march with so many more to come, mixed with this real fear I constantly carry with me in my chest that won't leave me alone. Many of the people who said 'oh, don't worry. Trump will simmer down once he's in office' have turned out to be dead wrong already. Not that I didn't think that their wasn't corruption before (people should read A People's History Of the United States of America, or maybe 'The Untold History of the United States', or anything by Noam Chomsky to see what I mean on this regard. But this new government that's been sworn in is scary and I even sense that Trump supporters are starting to feel defensive in the reality that they might have been wrong about making America Great Again. It doesn't give me any sense of pleasure to watch these people eat crow. When I look at the long term effects that his policies and deregulation measures are going to have, I feel nothing but bad for everyone.

I also cut my hair short. There is this quote by Morrissey that goes 'if your hair is wrong, everything is wrong'. And I have felt very dissatisfied with my hair for some time. So I cut it off one morning looking myself in the mirror. It was either that, or deal with my naturally frizzy inconsistent crazy hair again that morning after so many others, and I had simply had enough. It's really simple now. I don't mess with it much. I think it looks fine. But I also feel very at home in my hair now. I know that sounds petty, I mean, how could hair make such a big difference right? But it does. It goes very well with this new stage in my life.

I ended up staying an extra week in Portland due to the bad weather. The trains shut down and my ticket was canceled. I got to spend quality time with Townes and Sarah and having that close friendship around me again helped me break out of my shell a bit. For the first time I was able to spend time in Portland as someone who has real prospects of moving there rather than someone who is a tourist there. I have walked up and down Hawthorne well enough to adjust. One thing that I don't know if I can adjust to is the fact that EVERYONE IN PORTLAND IS BEAUTIFUL. At least compared to Idaho. Even the elderly people dress elegantly. They are not afraid to wear unique hats. The older women's dress style really reminds me of the way that elderly women dress in Germany and France. The men are much the same, wearing interesting jackets and hats. And the young people all look very slick. In Idaho, all I have to do is have leggings on and I am immediately the most interesting thing on two legs in a ten block radius but in Portland, if I stand out at all, it is due to how average I am. I am going to have to step it up. I look forward to assimilating with the culture there in a way.

Also, over the past few years I have been incrementally been putting on weight. I had such a run in with my own mental health and eating disorder stuff a few years back that I have been weary of putting myself through that again. Also, I am not interested in anyone or attracted to anyone, and it causes me not to really think about my looks all that much. I would like to be thinner but at the same time, because I have PCOS and therefore have a lot of troubles losing weight that other people do not have, to put myself through that regiment once more seems daunting and depressing. And my reasoning has mostly be that besides, I have stayed active and I do eat healthy foods, so it's not like I am am suffering from malnutrition. I over eat at times and I also can eat junk occasionally, but I haven't really been crazy heavy to the extent that it has caused me to have a serious drop in my living standards. I am much too heavy for what I should be health wise, but I have been able to walk and stuff for the most part.

However, I am getting to this point where I have to start doing something differently. Some of this is fair, and some of it isn't. If I gained a lot more weight in my legs and behind, I probably would not care at all, but I am a very top heavy person, and I have a slightly strange pair of knees. They look nice and all, but I am knock kneed. It's not common and it doesn't really look deformed in the classic way you might describe deformity, but my knees stayed very small and didn't grow as large as other people's legs and my knees go in rather than out causing my legs to kind of move outward. I have big muscular legs and this has helped my knees maintain pretty good, but the weight of having been on my feet for a year and a half, as well as carrying around my upper body slowly gaining weight has put some stress on my legs. Knob knees tend to give out due to their shape. And I can't have that. It's one thing to be a little chubby, but it's quite another to have knee problems. And since the republicans voted against keeping the preexisting condition law in place, since I have a preexisting condition, if I end up needing knee surgery I won't be insurable and it will really suck. So I need to make sure my legs stay alright. I already messed one of them up about seven years ago.

That, and honestly, I find it will be hard for me to find work with conventionally attractive young people around in a town of lovely city people if I do not step it up in the conventional attractiveness department. I know not everything is about looks, but when it comes to asking strangers if they will hire you, and the kinds of job openings that are available to you, it kind of is, unfortunately. I am not a really bubbly person either. I am kind of awkward introverted. I do not hate my own body and I personally don't think that my worth centers around my looks but I know how the world operates. I think I am a pretty in some ways. But I know how the world is. It's really hard to find work if you don't look the way people want you to. It's not fair, but when you are overweight people make all kinds of subconscious decisions about who you are and how you live. They don't know I have a health condition or that I can out work many a skinny young person. They just see a big person and they associate that with being silly, sinister, or stupid. Those are the three archetypes of the overweight person. When in all actuality, I am none of those (well, maybe a bit silly). So I am going to have to go on a diet plan for awhile and stick with it. I don't want to, but if I don't start losing weight I will inevitably gain more, and I feel like in doing so, fairly or unfairly, I will be losing out on all the potential opportunities out there for me, and it will make my struggle that much harder.

I was able to get away from work for awhile from my trip. I took three weeks off. I ran out of paid time off though. And they failed to pay me for the time I did take off. Because the factory is going bankrupt. They don't have the money to pay me. I am feeling sort of concerned. I don't know if I will have enough money to pay my bills let alone save to move, pay off a medical bill, or help Jasmine become independent. I will be signing onto unemployment tomorrow because I have been laid off. The company basically mismanaged money and they are now millions of dollars in debt, but they have no money to pay back that they owe and nobody is buying product. So I am out of a job for now.

All in all though, I don't feel that scared. I know I will be okay. I have always found ways to get things done. It's just a matter of making sacrificing and knowing my limitations. In the mean time, I have decided to become politically active. I live in Lewiston Idaho (for now) I am technically still a Washington resident (Washington is only a mile away across the Snake River and I lived there a year ago). Basically, this town is the center of the Inland Northwest. The town of Moscow is a college town a little ways away, and it's pretty liberal, but for the most part, save Sun Valley and the Moscow area, the whole of this area, Lewiston included is quite conservative. I looked up my representative today, because I am going to start writing people in my government, voicing my concerns by calling and writing and doing whatever I can to be an active participant in politics from the ground up, and I discovered that our representative is pretty much awful.

His name is Raul Labrador. He campaigned with Donald Trump and was almost brought on to be a member of his cabinet even. Even though most of Lewiston is conservative, I don't feel like many of the younger aged people in this community are for Donald Trump. I imagine there are a lot of people who are like I have been, wanting to make a difference but being uncertain of how to do that. I know there are a lot of people who are not happy with Donald Trump but are uncertain of what they can do to make their voices heard. Many people don't actually know that it really does make a difference when you call your senators and representatives on a daily basis. This guy is a serious asshat, this Labrador fellow is and people need to know what this guy stands for. Which is why I am going to make fliers giving this information as well as the information to contact him and I am going to make my rounds and spread them all across town, particularly in the college area. I am also going to post something on Facebook that lets people know who this guy is. Somebody has to stick up for the inland north west.

I remember when I was at the primary election the democratic party members in my local community who hosted the caucus had the podium for awhile, and explained that republicans were kicking democrats ass on a local level all over the country, and people need to get more involved in politics on a local level to balance the power out. Even though I know a lot of people just don't care, I think a lot of people actually would care if they really understood how they could get involved here and there. It always seems like this elusive thing, exclusionary even, city council and local government stuff. It is always at play everywhere you might go, but nobody ever seems to know what is happening or where you find out what is happening. I think that what we have going on now might kick some people to step up their game, or feel the need and frustration required to change our circumstances. So seeing a flier in Lewiston I feel might make a difference. When I move to Portland, in a way I might be happier since I can easily be vegan, and I can be around like minded progressive people, but the truth of the matter is that there needs to be people who shift the balance of power in rural areas or we will not win the electoral vote. In the future, we may do away with the electoral college as well as the delegate system which I think is unnecessary and somewhat corrupt, but it isn't going to happen in the next four years. So in the mean time, people need to get busy in these rural places that have gone to republicans. People need to be reached out to in these places. I feel like a lot of people are simply frustrated and turned against democrat politicians.

To conclude, I haven't been this poor for awhile. I have fifty dollars to my name. It's going to be a tough but interesting stretch of time before me.

So for now, that's what I have going on. That's all for now.

#text

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