#east boston open houses

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 9

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Boston Municipal Courthouse

Janice’s POV

“Mama, I’m ok,” Roman said as I sat there in disbelief as they took Tia out of the courtroom. “Son something ain’t right…..Why did they sentence her today? Why she got a short sentence, weren’t we all watching the same video because she needs to be up under the jail.”

“The Judge said it was because of the plea deal, her clean record and just wanting this over for everyone,” he said looking at Kara who seemed to be struggling with the verdict and I don’t blame her.

“Son something in the milk ain’t clean…..Regardless of the verdict he should have rescheduled a date for sentencing. That would have given him time to give a more suitable sentence for crime because that wasn’t it,” I said as Roman hugged me.

“Ma, can we just leave, I’m ready to get outta Boston,” he said as I sighed giving him a hug seeing Jey heading over.

“Aye, you ok auntie?” he asked as Roman moved and I gave him a hug. “Yes, baby I am, just can’t believe what happened in here today.”

“Neither can but we’re all bout to go leave and get some rest. We’re flying out tomorrow but planning to hit up the 16 East Bar and Grill in Pensacola on Sunday before we head back out on the road,” Jey said smiling at me.

“You’re inviting us?” Roman asked in shock as Jey sighed. “I’m still mad as hell at you, but I can’t help but be thankful you were there with Kara. You risked your life to save her and Trin…That what family do.”

“I love them both…I always will, it ain’t nothing to thank me for.”

“Well, the option is open, we’ll probably get there about 7. Trin reserved the patio, so we ain’t gotta worry about people,” Jey said as I smiled.

Hey, I will take those baby steps in the healing process. I know we will come back together in some shape or form.

“Well, we will meet ya’ll there Sunday,” Roman said as I tried to contain my excitement, praying this was a positive step in the right direction for us.

----

Kara’s House

Kara’s POV

I’m glad we did come back to the house alone and just chilled out. I don’t know how I would have reacted hanging out with my mom, I needed time to decompress. 

“Girl, I love this back yard,” Trin gushed as I smiled wrapping myself up in my blanket.

“Thanks, when I saw the firepit I fell in love,” I said as she nodded roasting her marshmallows.

“I may have to talk Jimmy into getting us one. You know marshmallows are my weakness.” “That’s why I keep them stocked up ma’am,” I said as she smiled brightly at me.

“I know you had a lot of work to make up, did you finish?” Trin asked as I smiled. “I’m finally caught up, it wasn’t easy, but I have two A’s and two high B’s” I said truly proud of how I overcame and turned everything around.

“Yes! You know when you graduate I’mma act a fool…You know this right?” she said making me laugh as I looked at Jey flipping the meat on the grill as Jimmy was telling him some animated story. I loved their relationship so much.

“Have you told Jey?” Trin asked as I smiled at her. “Told him what?”

“Uh, that you love him, duh,” she said as I blushed. “I’ll have you know I told him the night I woke up from surgery.”

“That’s great…So are ya’ll together or what is we doing?”

“I’m scared Trin,” I said honestly as she nodded in understanding. “Do you want to be with Jey?” she asked as I nodded. “Yea, I really do.”

“Then be with him Kara, what’s the problem?.…That man loves and adores you,” she said gently pushing my shoulder.

 “I can see the blogs now having a fucking field day. Imagine their us at family gatherings. Chile, did you hear Kara is here with Joshua like she wasn’t married to Roman.”  I mocked as Trin shrugged her shoulders.

“Girl, fuck them bloggers and keyboard trolls, they don't know you and it ain't they fuckin' business. Plus, you knew Jey before Roman anyway."

"Ok, but like I said, what about the family gatherings. You know they always have parties and cookouts," I said as Trin smiled.

"Fuck their opinions too, but I don’t think it will be a problem, everyone loves you, especially mom and pops. They hate what Roman did and I think you’re overthinking it.”

“So much is going on, I just don’t want to hurt him Trin,” I whispered as she reached over and put her hand on my knee.

“It’s your time to be happy Kara and damn what people think. Life is too short, and you got a second chance at life.”

“I know I got a second chance, but I’m scared of screwing this up,” I said finally voicing my fears.

“Live your life Kara, tomorrow ain’t promised to none of us. You don’t owe anybody anything, ain’t no debts around here,” Trin said as I gave her a hug.

“I know and I love you, girly.  Ugh, I’m so tired of crying,” I sniffed failing to stop my tears.

“I love you too, sis, it’s time for the happy tears now because you deserve it.”

“You really think so?” I asked barely above a whisper as she rubbed my back. “I know so, everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself in this life about to happen and I can’t wait to see witness it.”

“Ya’ll aright over there?” Jimmy asked as Jey turned to look back at us.

“Yea, just two sisters having our daily talk,” I said as Trin laughed.

“Ya’ll know how we get, let us have our moment,” she said as Jimmy shook his head. “Man, what we gon’ do with them two?” Jimmy asked as Jey chuckled handing him a pan so he could take some of the steaks off the grill.

“Love ‘em and let them do their thang,” he chuckled. “Yea, what he said!” Trin yelled as I laughed.

Trin was right it’s my time to put myself first and live my life. Anything or anybody that disrupts my peace from this point forward gotta go, because it’s a new beginning for me, for us all.

-----

Pensacola, FL

A Few Days Later

Janice’s POV

We been home a couple days, and it was my day to pick up Logan. I can’t place it, but I knew something wasn’t right. “Lord, uncover whatever it is because we’ve all been through enough,” I said aloud feeling nauseous pulling into Rebecca and Bill’s driveway.

Knocking on the door and getting no answer, I called and once again no answer. I saw Rebecca’s car and had talked to her ten minutes ago. I was getting irritated now.

“How the hell you gon’ tell me to come over to get Logan and not pick up the phone or answer the door.” I mutter looking under the rug for their spare key.

Opening the door, I looked around and there was no sign of Rebecca in the foyer or living room. I could hear Logan babbling on the baby monitor in the living room, so I knew she was ok.

 “Rebecca!” I called out, no answer. “This how these damn horror movie start, I hope this fool is ok,” I mutter heading towards the kitchen.

“I can’t thank you enough Terry,” I heard Rebecca say as I stopped in my tracks.

Who the hell is Terry?

“Rebecca, this is the last time I’m taking your call. I did this favor for you and Tia, but I don’t want to be tied to the drama. I got too much to lose,” I heard the familiar voice say as she laid the phone on the table.

“Thank you for helping her, she really is anxious to make it right with her sister when she gets out,” Rebecca said grabbing Logan’s formula putting it in her baby bag.

The damn judge….She was the reason for that shit show the other day.

“That’s good and all but I put in a no contact order in the paperwork for a reason. I truly feel she meant what she did and her actions alone warranted life in prison, but I helped you for old time sakes,” he said sounding seemingly disappointed with himself.

“I---We appreciate this so much, she’s going to stay out of trouble when she gets out and we won’t bother you again.”

I was physically ill, this was sick.

“I don’t know what hold your daughter has over you…But if this goes bad, it’s on your head. It would be in her best interest to just leave Kara be,” he said as she shook her head.

“I will handle Kara; she will come around and see Tia was just going through a lot and didn’t mean to hurt her. I just know by the time it’s time for Tia to get out, they will have reconnected, and Kara will be calling you to cancel that no contact order.”

This woman has lost it, like needs to sit on someone’s couch…ASAP. Hearing enough, I quietly retraced my steps finally finding my way back in the entrance of the house pretending I had just arrived.

“Rebecca, I’m here to get Logan!” I said a little louder as I heard her scrambling round the kitchen.

“She’s upstairs, I’ll get her,” she yelled as I shook my head.

I can’t believe she sold out her own daughter to protect the other one that tried to kill her. She and Tia are really one in the same she just masks her dirt.

It seemed like it took forever, but finally she brought Logan downstairs.

“Oh, baby girl I missed you,” I whispered as she placed a dozing Logan in my arms. “I put her formula in the bag, and she’s already had a bottle. She should be asleep before you get back home,” Rebecca said as I smiled at my little light.

That’s what she was to us, no matter how she was conceived, our little light.

“You can pick her up at Roman’s on Thursday. I’ll leave you to your nana break and see you tomorrow at dinner,” I said grabbing Logan’s diaper bag quickly wanting to get the hell outta dodge.

“Ok, we’ll see you then and enjoy her,” she said giving Logan a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, we will,” I said making my way out of the house, thankful she didn’t follow me out. After strapping logan in her car seat I rushed to get back in the car to call Trin but got no answer, then I remembered she had a signing to do today.

“Hey sweetie, I forgot you had a signing, and I know ya’ll gotta help out Josh tonight. I’ll just see you tomorrow at dinner. You and Jonathon be safe, love ya’ll.”

I guess I’m on my own with this one, but I know one thing, Kara will know about the shady shit her mama did and I’mma make Rebecca tells her if it’s the last thing I do.

-----

Pensacola, FL

Jey’s House

Kayla’s POV

Getting out of the shower I felt refreshed as I dried off. Looking at myself in the mirror I felt different.. Today was amazing, we had our balcony picnic date. It was simple, beautiful, and was everything.  Pizza, wine, and some of my favorite snacks had been on the menu.

The ocean serving as our backdrop and music as the waves crashed upon the shore due to a storm heading our way. We even went on a walk on the beach and watched the sunset before we got rained out. Hence the shower I just took.

I still hadn’t told Jey how I felt but today just solidified it even more. I was deeply in love with this man.

“You ok in there Kara?” Jey asked knocking on the door as I smiled.

“Yea, I’m good I’ll be out in a second,” I said dressing my wound. Thank God it’s finally healing and not hurting as much.  Slipping on one of Jey’s shirts, I cut off the lights as I headed back into the bedroom, frowning when I didn’t see him.

“Jey-”

“I’m out here on the balcony, wait I’mma come get you,” he said as I smiled at the thought of going back out there.

“What have you done now?” I asked as he smiled clad only in a pair of shorts. “This is part two of your balcony picnic date, Ma,” he whispered offering me his hand as I anxiously took it.

“Aww it’s so pretty….Wait where did all this come from?” I gasped as he led me back out on the balcony. “Told you I wasn’t done yet, do you like it?”

“I love it but how did you do it? We been out here all day and I know I ain’t seen no bed out here earlier.” I said as he laughed.

“A couple of lil birdies did it when we went for a walk on the beach. This is your new study area for when you come to visit.” he said as I blushed looking at the bed on the balcony surrounded by pillows and the beautiful string lights above it.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” I said as he smiled, laying down beckoning me to him with his finger.

“Come on down here, Ma, I owe you a movie.” Not needing to be told twice, I climbed in bed and got comfortable in his arms.

“You know, I’ve always loved staying here.  I could fall asleep out here just listening to the ocean, and now you done put a bed out here. You know it’s a wrap right, I may never leave,” I sighed, welcoming his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on the hollow of my neck. as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders pulling him closer.

“Maybe that was my plan, kidnap you, and never let you leave,” he said as I relaxed wanting to feel more of him as his hands caressed my bare thighs.

“You can’t kidnap the willing,” I moaned, his fingers feeling so good but I winced slightly as Jey looked at me with worry.

“Are you ok?” He asked as I nodded not wanting him to stop. “Kara, let me can get up, I’on  wanna hurt you,” he said trying to sit up as I grabbed his Cuban link holding him in place.

“I’m fine, don’t you dare move,” I said as he smiled, rolling over on his back wrapping me up in his arms.

“Ok, this is a good compromise too,” I moaned getting comfortable as the pain in my chest subsided. “I know it is, stubborn ass,” Jey chuckled, reaching up to turn off the lights and starting the movie projector.

“What are we watching?” I asked, as he gently pulled one of my legs across his lap before covering us up with a blanket.

“You’ll see,” he whispered stealing a kiss as I squealed hearing the opening credits to Dirty Dancing as he laughed.

“The stuff I do for you, woman.”

“I love this movie!”

“I know, I remembered how excited you was at the hospital that night it came on. Then you got mad and almost made me switch the channel.”

“Hey, I was ready for the love scene, and they cut it… Just plain blasphemous, but I took one for the team because one simply doesn’t change the channel when Patrick Swayze is blessing your TV screen.” I said as he raised his eyebrow at me.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he joked as we settled in to watch the movie under the stars.

See Jey knew my love languages and I loved that. He knew what mattered, it wasn’t diamonds and pearls, or even money. It was spending quality time, it was physical touch, and creating memories with the ones you love. Jey’s love languages were a mixture of my mine. He loved to please and do for those he loved.

 He made sure every day to tell and show you how much you mean to him, and he only wanted the same in return and rightfully so.

“I’m glad you had fun and loved everything,” he said pulling me closer.

“I really did, and I hope you know I don’t just be hugged up with just anybody now,” I said as he looked down at me with a smile, catching on to what I was saying.

“Well, I don’t just do balcony picnics dates for just anybody either.” His lips close to mine as my heart pounded loudly against my chest.

“I have to warn you, I only do things like this with my man,” I whispered, as our lips finally meeting in a short, deep passionate kiss.

“And I only do things like this with my lady.” he moaned as our lips found each other once again as our kisses becoming more passionate by the second.

“For us,” Jey moaned against my lips as I whimpered against him.

“For us.”

“You sure?” He rasped pulling back slightly, watching me closely through low hooded eyes.

“I’m sure…I’ve never been sure of anything in my life,” I said as Jey caressed my face.

 “Forever my lady,” he whispered as his lips descended upon mine as I felt like I was flying. We were finally here at last and it felt so good. Breaking our kiss to catch our breaths.

“Ma, we can wait…I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Jey moaned, his beautiful brown eyes growing darker as I moved his hand slowly down to the hem of my shirt.

“You won’t, I trust you,” I gasped as his resolve crumbling taking me in a searing kiss, only releasing me from his grasp to remove my shirt.

“Your so beautiful, he whispered in awe as I blushed under his powerful serenading gaze.

Like a moth to a flame, I craved his touch and trembled with anticipation as he towered over me. The pain in my chest a distant memory, laying on my back as Jey took his time exploring my body.

His powerful hands grasping mine, bringing them to his chest as I felt his heart racing.

“I want you to feel what you do to me,” he said licking his lips as I groaned, biting my lower lip as he thrusted my hips against his dick that was straining against his shorts begging for release.

His hands controlling every sensual buck of my hips against his dick as it continued to grow longer and harder.

“Mmm, I feel it,” I gasped, his lips capturing mine in an earth-shattering kiss as my hands anxiously helped him remove his shorts.

“Not yet aulelei,” he moaned grabbing my hands gently pining them to the bed. His kisses moved to my neck, my heart racing as he caressed my breasts, being careful of my bandage.

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes, please,” I pleaded entangling my fingers in his hair as he gently suckled at my breasts taking his time with each one giving them equal attention holding my gaze as I fought back a moan.

“Mm, you sensitive huh,” he whispered with a smirk as I blushed. His lips lovingly kissing and nibbling down my body, teasingly as I fought to get ahold of myself but I was gone…

“Jey, don’t stop,” I gasped, my body trembling in anticipation of what was next to come.

 His eyes darkening as kissed the top of my mound gazing up at me with low eyes licking his lips as he descended lower. “I don’t plan too,” he whispered as I purred in appreciation.

Jey’s POV

Damn, I’m drunk…Drunk in love her intoxicating sent as I kissed the plush beautiful lips between her thighs, as Kara’s legs began to quiver.

“P- Please, Jey,” Kara as I groaned as I felt my dick get even harder.

"Fuck, all this for me aulelei? Tell me?” I moaned as her eyes met mine.

“Yes! Mmm, you know it is,” Kara gasped as I flattened my tongue and gently licked her slit, unable to stop the moan that rasped from my lips as the first drop of her sweet nectar coated my tongue.

“Mmm, I knew you’d taste like honey…. You done fucked around and created a monster, Ma,” I moaned, snatching her hips to my mouth as I swirled my tongue against her clit, commencing to drown in her.

“Jey, shit!” Kara gasped down at me in shock as I smirked.  The beautiful catch in her throat as I pleased her had me on demon time. I needed more…Much more and only she could give me what I wanted.

 “I- Mmm-” Kara moaned, trying to push my head away as I Ignored her plea intertwining our hands together, moving my tongue faster against her wet hot center.

“Stop runnin’, cause’ you deserve dis nut…..You understand me?”

Kara nodded, unable to speak. “Tell me you understand aulelei ?”

“I-I understand,” Kara whimpered as I moaned “Ain’t no stoppin’ Kara….Ain’t no stoppin’ till you nut in my mouth like a good girl,” I breathed against her pussy before going back to the task at hand.

“Fuck!..Oouu Josh, shit!” She moaned, her trembling legs over my shoulder as she sat up slightly panting in disbelief.

“Yea, you wit a real one now, moan my name baby. Damn, you makin’ my dick even harder just thinkin’ bout you nuttin’ in my mouth,” I confessed, knowing my words were encouraging her to get what she wanted…What we both needed.

“Mmm, I need it so bad,” Kara moaned moving her hips against my tongue. “Mmhm, so do I baby…. Dat’s it, you doin’ so good”

“Joshjoshjosh Mmhm!”

“Mmhm, get what’s yours. Fuck, you look so sexy chasin’ yo’ nut,” I moaned as she bit her lower lip, gripping the back of my head riding my face.

 “Babe! Kara exclaimed as she exploded in my mouth. Her beautiful face and the swivel of her hips as she rode out her orgasm were a thing of beauty.

I couldn’t get enough of her as I greedily drank her essence with a hearty moan as she writhed on the bed trying to catch her breath.  

Yea, I did dat…Fuck, I wanna keep her this way forever.

Crawling up her body, her flush face welcomed me as she grasped my Cuban link kissing me with urgency as I groaned nipping at her bottom lip.

“Mmm, you taste yourself?….You taste good, don’t you?” I groaned as Kara whimpered against my lips. Her trembling hand, reaching down between us grabbing my dick placing the tip at her entrance as I moaned trying to control myself.

“Mmm, tell me what you need,” I moaned, Kara pulling me closing whispering three words that made ignited an even deeper fire within me. “You inside me,” she gasped breathlessly as I  gave in, her tight warmth surrounding me, welcoming me home.

“Shit, Kara,” I groaned trying to take my time knowing she was still hurt, but she was making it hard. I wanted to sink inside her and get lost.  

“It’s ok,” she moaned, pulling me closer. A collective gasp of undeniable pleasure from us both filled the air as I filled her to the hilt.  

Kara’s POV

The sweat gathered at his brow as he’s trying to maintain his composure slowly beginning to thrust inside me as I craved more. “Mmm, faster.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jey moaned as I nodded not particularly caring, he felt so good, and I wanted him closer but I knew him.

“Your not,” I gasped as he gripped my hips gently once again surging forward as we both groaned at the sensation.

“I’mma take my time….Make love to you,” Jey whispered burying his head in the hollow of my neck, tilting his weight on his elbows, thrusting at a new angle that rendered me whimpering mess as he showered my neck with kisses.

“Damn, found my first spot,” he groaned as I began meeting his thrusts, feeling the pressure building with each caress, every lick and thrust we got lost in each other.

Something was different, this wasn’t sex like it was all those months ago on Roman’s bus.  This was different, we were making love and it felt so good.

With each swivel of his hips, he went deeper and deeper, our lips meeting in a familiar dance as our tongues sensually stroked each other.

The smell of rain and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore made the moment even more special.

Each second, body to body, skin to skin we climbed higher and higher together as Jey carefully rolled onto his back, shifting me onto my side, trying to take some pressure off of my chest but never stopping his gently thrusts.

A strangled moan escaped my lips at the new position as Jey wrapped one arm around my chest, the other placing one of my leg over his as I trembled in his arms.

“It’s just us…. Stop being shy, ma,” he rasped against my ear thrusting at a steadier pace.

“Mmm, you feel so good. I need it so bad, Josh!” I cried as he growled nipping at my neck as tears sprang to my eyes from the immense pleasure.

“I know baby, me too, I need you to cum for me…You gon’ give me what I want, ain’t you?”

“Yes! I’m close, don’t stop,” my desperate cries silenced as he grasped my throat bringing my mouth to his in a scorching kiss, as I writhed in need against him.  His other hand to toying with my clit.

“You gon’ cum for me, like a good girl?” Jey asked already knowing the answer, his thrusts and breathing more uneven as I pulsed around him.

“Mmm,Yes.”

“Louder, Ma.”

“Yes! I’mma cum like a good girl, I promise,” I cried unashamed. He was dickin’ my ass down and it felt so damn good.

“Yea…Let it go, Ma. Damn, you so feel good,” he murmured against my lips.

“Josh! Fuck!” I cried coming undone in his arms. “Mmm, fuck yea look at you cummin’ just for me,” Jey praised pulling out, rubbing his dick against my clit.  “Mmm, put it back in,” I begged truly drunk on him at this point, and I wanted all he had to give.

Jey’s POV

“Uh huh, I know baby, dat pussy quivering. You need some more of dis dick don’t you?” I groaned turned on as fuck as Kara reached down, moving my hand, grasping my dick rubbing against her clit before sliding the tip back inside her.

“Take what you want, I’m yours.”

 “I want more,” Kara purred guiding my dick back inside her as we both gasped as we became one again….

“Fuck, yea…Put dat dick back in for daddy and get you another nut I moaned as we moved against each other in sync.

 “I- I want you to cum now.” Kara whimpered against me as I felt a her tight pussy swallowing my dick like a champ. Fuck, I wasn’t gon’ last too much longer.

 “Hold on, we both gon’ get this next nut together,” I groaned on a mission thrusting harder. “Josh- Wh-”

“Just breathe, ma…Let it take over, I promise its gon’ feel so good,” I whispered nibbling on her ear as I felt her relax. “Baby….Baby…Mm, Josh,” Kara gasped.

“Yea..I’m right here Kara, I got you.”

“What are you doing to me?” Kara groaned trying to hide her face but I refused to let her. Grabbing her chin, making her look at me.

“I’ll tell you what I’m doin’…..I’m makin’ love to the woman I love,” I declared, continuing to get lost inside her.

“I love you,” Kara moaned as our lips met in a sloppy kiss as she took my hand and placed it on her clit, and guiding my hand in a figure eight motion as she began steadily throwing her ass back on my dick to match my deep hard thrust.

“Shit! I love you more. …Now be my good girl, and cum for me…Fuck you doin’ so good, ma,” I moaned.

“Jey! Mmm, fuck!” Kara screamed as I felt her pulsing around my dick.

“Uh huh, I know it baby, I feel it.”

“Cum with me.”

 “Can I cum inside you?” I groaned thrusting harder praying she would say yes. “Yes, I want you too Josh,” she whimpered as her head fell back against my shoulder in shock as she fell over the cliff of extasy, taking me with her as I groaned in triumph holding her trembling body against mine as I came and stilled inside her.

The sounds of the rain hitting the roof, along with our heavy breathing filled the night air. Neither one of us said anything for a few minutes, too stunned to speak.

 “Damn, that was insane,” I whispered, finally somewhat regaining my composure as Kara rolled onto her back still trying to catch her breath.

“Best balcony picnic date ever,” Kara said with a relaxed smile as I gently kissed her lips.

“No regrets,” I whispered as Kara caressed my beard. “No regrets.”

------

Roman's House

Janice's POV

"Mama, I can't believe he posted this," Roman said as I leaned over his shoulder to look at his phone.

"Aww that was nice Joshua did that for Kara," I said as Roman rolled his eyes.

Mama-"

"What it's very sweet."

"What about the blanket hanging off the bed mama? He's being messy, in so many words sayin' he slept with Kara," Roman said as I frowned at him.

"Roman they could have been cuddling watching movies for all we know, but in the end, it isn't your business what Kara does."

"I know, but can people give me time to deal with what I lost? I lost my wife and now she's with my cousin." Roman said slightly raising his voice.

"Roman, Kara isn't going to put her life on hold to make you feel better. I had something to tell you, but I see you aren't in the right frame of mind to hear it right now." I said choosing to not pass on the new information I found out at Rebecca's today. He'll find out tomorrow like everyone else.

"No I'm not in a good head space, but I will be when I get some air," Roman said as I got up and stood by the kitchen door.

"No you ain't because you're going to end up at Josh's and I'm not letting you do that to Kara or yourself," I said putting my foot down.

"I just need some air, mama, please move," Roman pleaded as I refused to move.

"The last time you went out to get some air you ended up in Boston and could have got yourself killed, so no I ain't moving."I cried. Roman was at his breaking point, but he needed to get all this shit out. He was holding too much in.

"What do you want from me?!" Roman yelled as I pulled him into my arms giving him a much needed hug as his arms tightened around me.

"I want you to let it go, baby...Let that guilt go and free yourself, it's almost been a year." I said trying to get through to him.

"I lost her and I can't fix it," Roman said his voice breaking as rubbed his back. "Some things aren't meant to be fixed Roman...We just own up to our mistakes and take it one day at a time," I said as he pulled away wiping his tears.

"I know I gotta let her go, mama. My mind tells me that every day but my heart ain't caught up yet," Roman said sitting back down and looking at his phone.

"It will...Just give yourself time," I said as we heard Logan cry over the baby monitor.

"I got her, you went the last time," Roman said going to check on Logan leaving his phone on the table.

Picking it up I looked at Josh's post and smiled.

"Gon' head Joshua," I muttered truly happy that Kara was moving on and being loved how she deserved to be.

The thought of tomorrow suddenly crept back into my mind. I hated to disrupt the dinner tomorrow but I couldn't let this betrayal stay hidden.

Kara needed to know there was more than one enemy she needed protection from. I just never in my wildest dreams thought it would be her own mother.

Tomorrow Rebecca is coming clean or i'mma do it myself.

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justarheaslut

[moncharrow]

the red line (+ ai audios)

a/n: this one is inspired by the song cherry by rina sawayama. that drives me wack every time i hear it. rina u are a genius. requests still open :) i hope this is reminiscent of a first love/first girl crush. i sure projected here LMAO

-content/warnings: 4k words, kinda loser! ellie x loser! reader (pining pining pining), fem reader, lots of awkward flirting, reader has slight anxiety/overthinks, reader's first gay relationship, fleeting mentions of drug use/creepy dudes/homophobia

Moving from your small Midwestern town to the East Coast was a whirlwind of culture shock and nerves. The people in your town were tooth-achingly sweet, while East Coast people were straightforward enough to induce whiplash. The air seemed smog-clogged compared to the untouched crispness of a rural day, occasionally choking when you open your window in the morning and making the mistake of inhaling too deeply. But while the honeyed grass fields and clear cerulean skies of Wisconsin would always hold a fond place in your heart, its fresh air couldn’t compare to the refreshing feeling of a big city. Sure, people in your hometown were nice, but there was always an underlying threat of conformity- the asphyxiation of green grass lawns, American flags, and fishing trips was finally released when you entered Boston, your new home. 

You’d only been here a few days, moving into your apartment and getting to know the neighborhood, so there’d been no time to explore the broader city. At least, that was the excuse you’d use. A couple friends had called and urged you to take photos for them, saying that they were trapped at home and you were the only one who’d escaped the town. You’d type a short lol come with, but you needed to settle at your own pace. This was why, on the fifth day, you’d decided to traverse across the entire city to find a music store called “The Boston Beat” that caught your eye on Yelp. 4.3 stars, a fair selection of mainstream records and indie music, and a pride flag in the window, which was a welcome change of pace. You had a day plan.

You’d marched up to the light rail station, bought a card, and charged it with a day pass, unready to commit to the investment of a monthly pass. While not experienced with subway prices, 90 bucks seemed insane. You’d see if it was a worthy investment depending on the experience you’d have today. 

It was a hot August day- waves of heat warped your vision when radiating off the dark cement, metal fixtures stinging your hands when touched. The inside of the station was no better, muggy and dank. You found a strange comfort in it, the city becoming more human by the minute. You were surprised at how intuitive the subway had been so far, and you were gaining confidence with every step. Maybe you are cut out for this city shit. You step up to the entrance. Moment of truth. You swipe and arrogantly attempt to walk through, only to run into the locked turnstile. You had never been so immediately humbled. Well, fuck.

Swipe again. The card reader’s red light doesn’t falter. Swipe again. Still nothing. Swipe, swipe, swipe. The hell? You wiggle the turnstile, face heating as people start to group behind you. Fuckfuckfuckfuck- 

“Fucking… go… swipe through, shitass card.” You mutter, already emotionally drained from the eyes on you. Someone side-eyes you as they enter the stall next to you with ease, and you give them an apologetic, wide-eyed smile. I’m never leaving the house again, you think. You move to shove at the turnstile again, assuming that if you did nothing differently, the result would change. And you were… right?

“Fuck yeah! I’m so good.” You congratulate yourself for figuring it out, and you hear a low chuckle behind you. A tattooed arm holds a scraped and folded, worn-to-hell Charlie card. The slim fingers holding it are calloused but well-manicured, nimbly swiping the card again to let themselves through. You look up to see who pitied you enough to grant you entrance, and you’re surprised to see a pretty girl with auburn hair pulled up in a half-up-half-down do. Little pieces stick out of the sides, ends curling up and down wildly, short choppy hair framing her slender neck. Her face is wholly amused, lips curving into a small smirk and freckles shifting across her nose she smiles at you. She’s already incredibly attractive, but her eyes- God. Green and intense, reminding you of the duckweed coating the ponds at home. Like a Pollock of greens, browns, and flecks of yellow, her eyes meet yours as she holds up her card in two fingers, waving it in front of her face. She has a well-loved hair tie on her wrist. 

“Go through before it locks.” She chides. Your cheeks heat and you nervously laugh before pushing through. Beads of sweat stick to your face and neck, but you’re not sure if it’s from the summer heat or the embarrassment. The girl meets you on the other side and you fidget with the front edge of your tank top.

“Uhm, thanks for that. Was beginning to think I’d entered purgatory with all those people behind me.” You awkwardly joke, rifling through your bag. “I have cash, I can pay you for that-”

“Y’ don’t need to, it’s like two bucks. I’m a starving college student but I’m not that strapped for cash.” She glances at your jittering body, looking you directly into your eyes for the second time. Does she want to give you a heart attack? “You new or something? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You groan in response. “It’s that obvious?” The pretty stranger laughs.

“Not really. Maybe I’m more observant than most. Don’t sweat it, newbie, these stations are fucked up. It probably wasn’t your fault.”

“You sure?”

“Ah, you’re right- on second thought, maybe the MTA just hates you specifically.” She jokes, and you laugh. You’re straggling near the entrance, swaying around as you make small talk with her. 

“I wouldn’t put it past them, I’m shit with directions. They probably want to keep me off the trains at all costs.” You joke right back at her, and she chuckles again. Her laugh is pretty. Her smile is pretty. It’s a little cocky, but somehow in a chill way. Anyway, you figure it suits her. 

“Well, if you’re that bad, tell me where you’re going. Maybe I can help.” She offers. You tell her about The Boston Beat on the other side of the city, and her eyes twinkle. “Yo, no kidding. I work there. I’m off today, but I totally know where that is. It’s along the red line, here.” She leads you over to a scratched mess of a sign and points to where you can faintly make out a red path. “We’re here, you wanna get-” she stretches her arm out, “here.” She tells you which stop to get off at.

You thank her profusely and say goodbye. You head left towards the rail she told you to take, and to your mortification, she goes the same direction. Saying bye when she’s going the same way, stupid. You walk a little faster when you notice this, attempting to awkwardly force more space between the two of you. It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m just being silly- she doesn’t care! She’s not thinking about it! I’m just overthinking it.

Ellie, strolling behind you, actually is thinking about it. She watches as you speed-walk away, juxtaposing the way she casually strolls to lean against a support beam. Something about how you fidget and stutter was weirdly charming. Huh. She keeps staring.

You can tell someone’s watching you, but you assume that, as usual, it’s a gross old man. Your eyes come up, scanning the platform suspiciously for whichever creep you’ll have to tell off, but you make eye contact, again, with the pretty girl from earlier. Why was there so much eye contact? It was so nerve-wracking, but also… so exhilarating. The moment your eyes meet hers, she smiles, eyes crinkling. You immediately avert your gaze, breath catching.

A beat passes. You take your phone out and scroll the home screen for a minute. Open the compass app. Open the stocks app. Wow, how interesting. She’s probably not looking now, right? You sneak a glance, and she’s still looking. You don’t know if she stares out of disdain or curiosity. Thankfully, the speakers tell you to step away from the edge of the platform, alerting you of the oncoming vehicle. My saving grace, you think. You bounce on your heels as the subway train pulls up, and you take one last look at the girl. She’s looking away. Strands of brown hair move in the train’s wind, falling out of her bun, her side profile looking perfect in a somehow rugged way. Her oversized army green jacket folds and bends as she tucks her hair back and pulls her headphones on to block out the world. You find yourself wondering what she’s listening to. Maybe dad rock or riotgrrl.

You step into the car in front of you, feeling a strange ache deep within you that you can’t quite explain. Oh well. 

By the end of the day, the pretty girl from the subway station is out of your mind. You’ll never see her again, so there’s no point in mulling over it. You enjoyed your day of exploration, and Boston has left a very favorable impression so far. Today felt like self-care. Maybe you’ll do this next week, too.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You’re working 2 part-time jobs to make ends meet. The first is a morning shift at a millennial coffee shop with eggshell walls, exposed brick, wood accents, and Hobby Lobby cursive signs saying “Don’t talk to me til’ I’ve had my espresso”. It pays decently, mostly because it’s busy as hell, but you’re getting tired of making a “grande”. You don’t have grandes, you’re not Starbucks. The second job is at a tour service. You’re always bored and you hate being surrounded by American history merch, but at least you’re in A/C. The coffee shop is just a block from your apartment, so it’s not much of a walk. The tour is 4 stops away on the subway.

Months go by. It’s October. Every Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you take the red line to your second job. And every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you see her. The handsome girl with the generous subway card. 

Sometimes, you’re in the same car. You’ll glance up from your phone every so often, eyes raking over her. Everything about her tells a story. She always has a Jansport backpack and dirty black Converse. She dresses pretty masculine. Every Thursday, she carries a guitar with deep red paint and lacquer peeling off in chips, crumbling onto the floor. You wonder if she plays well. She argues on the phone with someone named Joel, but their conversations end in stubbornly grumbled “love you”s every time. Often, she wears that dark green jacket you met her in. You’ve been able to examine it a little more: it has some grease stains and says “Joel” on the front. Whoever he is to her, he’s probably some kind of mechanic. She’s always a little more tired than the day before. Sometimes you lay in bed and wonder if you’re some kind of creepy stalker. If you’re obsessed. No, you reason, she just looks cool. 

Across the train tracks, Ellie lies in bed, looking at the flags and banners on her ceiling, and she wonders the same thing. Is it weird that I’m disappointed when I don’t see her? Is it strange that I recognize her wardrobe? Your clothes tell a lot about you. You weren’t very confident when you talked to her, but by the manner in which you dressed, you had a good understanding of who you were, and even if you were slightly unconventional in some ways, you had no problem with showing your authentic self. That was something Ellie admired. You always had this… look in your eyes. Somehow hopeful and content, even though you were just riding on a dirty, shaky train to a dead-end job. It reminded Ellie of when she was a kid and had that same expression in Joel’s old pictures. You always had the same bracelet on. She wonders what it means to you, if it was a gift from someone you love.

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you. If you happen to make eye contact, it’s not unwelcome. You give her a smile and a small wave, and she offers a tight-lipped grin. One time, she awkwardly pretended to tip an invisible hat and immediately cringed at herself. She scrunched up her face and muttered “Why would I do that?���, swearing at herself. It was cute. You laughed a little, and she smiled, flustered. Apart from the few interactions you’d daydream about as you went through your monotone days, you hadn’t talked to the girl again. 

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

In an effort to stop being such a hopeless, pining loser, you downloaded Tinder to go on some casual dates. You’d gone on two, both girls being alright, but having no particular connection. But this last girl seemed relatively cool. Her name was Cat, and you’d opened with some line asking how many people made pussy jokes about her name. She’d responded well, and the two of you scheduled a date for 10 on a Sunday night. 

So why was it 11, and she still wasn’t showing? You’d ordered your red wine, then ordered water, then another wine, and there was no Cat to be found. The waiter would come around every so often and ask if you needed anything. There was an underlying tone of pity. The longer you sat alone, the more judging eyes you felt on you- after all, who sits alone at a table with two place settings? The waiter probably should’ve kicked you out a while ago, you think, wallowing in your emotions. 

You paid the bill and left after the staff offered a free slice of pie. That had sent you over the edge, tears pricking at your eyes as you thankfully wove your hands around. “That’s really so sweet, thank you guys so much, I’m okay, I really am, but I really appreciate this. You don’t know how much that means.” The rambling certainly didn’t help your appearance, but you really were grateful.

With a to-go box and an overreactive text to Cat, you left the restaurant, dragging the roses you’d brought for the date. You drudge to the red line, and you overthink as you wait for the train. The thoughts are entirely unreasonable, and you know this, but you let yourself have it—a little self-deprecation, as a treat.

The train is mostly empty, save for someone huddled in the corner. You’ve got quite a way to go to get home, and the first few stops feel torturously slow. About a quarter way through your ride-of-shame, someone boards the train. You avert your eyes as they do, not wanting to draw attention to how goddamn pathetic you feel. From the corner of your eye, you see them approach. The fuck? Am I gonna get stabbed? 

But you recognize those shabby Converse and the worn bottom of a guitar case. You look up to see the girl you’d been trying to get over, looking absolutely radiant in the disgustingly unflattering yellow light of the train. You follow her movements as she sits down right next to you, feeling absolutely entranced. Your gaze glances over her cute nose, the silver jewelry on her ear, and how two of her nails are cut too close to the flesh while the others are grown out. She clears her throat.

“So… you okay?” Her voice is a little hoarse, and it sounds like she’s been talking all day. She’s probably tired. You don’t usually see her on Sundays, so you wonder why she’s out. Her eyes are dark and tinted a little purple on the under-eye, but she stares at you like she genuinely wants to listen.

You realize you’ve been staring long enough to make it weird. “Um- yeah, I just- yeah. I’m good.” You throw up a pathetic thumbs-up. Jesus. That was… awful.

She smiles. “Say it again, but mean it this time.” You laugh a little.

“I look like I was mugged, huh?”

“No. You look nice. A little sad though. So what happened?” 

“I got stood up. It’s alright though, I wasn’t that into her.”

“Was she a dry texter or some kind of weirdo?” She says, and you chuckle.

As you lament to her about the no-show-Tinder-date, she listens intently, leaning forward as she nods along. Every so often she scoffs as you describe Cat, as if this stranger is your best friend spilling drama with you. It’s easy to talk to her when she acts so familiar with you.

“You fucking kidding? You bought her flowers and shit and offered to pay and she still didn’t show up?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s bullshit. You sound like the ideal date, honestly. Her loss.” Ellie cringes again. Could she have come on any stronger? Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like you mind, chuckling a little.

“I don’t know about all that, but thanks.” It’s quiet for a little, not awkward, but both of you can tell the other wants to keep talking. You decide to take the first leap. Maybe the fact that your subway girl is here is a sign from the universe. “So, I don’t usually see you on Sundays. Got your guitar with you. You do something fun?” You berate yourself internally- you know when you see her? Stalker, much?

She bashfully tells you that she went to an open mic in a Cambridge bar. “It was a little weird since I’m new to having an audience n’ all. I usually bring my guitar to work to practice, but that’s it.”

Your face lights up excitedly. “Hey, that’s so cool! I bet you did great.” Ellie holds in a smile, lips twitching upward as she tries to deflect the compliment.

“I guess I was okay. A little stiff, maybe.” You playfully hit her arm. She freezes for a second and looks down at where you touched her. Wow.

“Come on, don’t be so humble. You write your own stuff?”

“Yeah. Uh, I do.”

“You mind showing me?” Ellie startles. Of all the things she’d expected from tonight, she didn’t expect a late-night serenade. She places the guitar on her thigh, slipping it under her right arm. As she begins to play a song, you feel a weird shift in the air. Your face falls from its playful expression and you take the chance to admire her, from the dips and divets in her face to the artful spattering of freckles across her cheeks, to the scars along her arms and hands. You see her pretty tattoo again. It’s not perfect up close, but it’s more personal and charming. The ink is slightly faded and bleeds in the thinner areas. It looks like it covers a scar. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she focuses on hitting all the right notes, desperately wanting to impress you. 

As she finishes the song, she looks up at you, wide-eyed and vulnerable. You smile that bright smile at her again, and Ellie feels validated. Her chest is warm and her fingers are tingling- her body feels absolutely electrified. “You’re really skilled. That was amazing.”

Ellie shifts, subconsciously scooting closer to you as she does. Your thighs touch together and it feels right. It feels comfortable. “Thanks. Was that kinda cheesy or…?”

“How do you mean?”

“Was this a late-night guitar serenade?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh.

“Mhm. Definitely. This some kind of meet-cute?” Ellie’s eyes crinkle again in the corners when you say this. You notice she doesn’t laugh a lot. She notices that you do. That’s charming, the two of you think.

“I don’t know. Is it working?” Her expression gets a little more serious. 

Your face experiences a flush of hot, then cold, as you feel yourself becoming embarrassed at how forward she is.” Yeah. It is.” You admit. She just nods, smiling.

“Cool.” It’s silent for a few beats again. “Cool cool cool.”

“...So, uh, I never got your name, actually.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. I’ve just been calling you cute train girl. I’m Ellie.” Her hand slips into yours as you tell her your name. She’s a little clammy, but you are too. It’s awkward and a very weak handshake, but it’s incredibly important to the two of you.

“So uh-”

“Do you-” You both start to speak at the same time, and you chuckle and motion for her to speak first.

“Would you- and feel free to say no, like, I don’t wanna pressure you- but would you maybe want to go out with me? As a- as a make-up date of sorts?”

You grin like it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Ellie feels like a 17-year-old experiencing her first love because of how goddamn giddy she is. “I’d love that. I just- I don’t know about going out this late.” Ellie’s face falls a bit, and you feel like you kicked a puppy. You move quickly to defend what you said. “If you wanted to have the date now…” You pick the roses up from your side. A few have brown bruises from wilting, but you hand them to Ellie, who enjoys the gesture nevertheless.

“You’re corny.” She grins.

“You played the guitar for me. So, I guess you are too.” 

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

Ellie plays a few song covers for you. You give a few requests that she knows, and she peppers in a Weezer song and smiles like it’s the funniest thing ever. You play along, weirdly charmed. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The moment is far from perfect- the train jolts violently, the crisp fall air bites at your nose, and you and Ellie are both quite tired. But it’s a really, really nice moment. You know you’ll dream about it tonight.

Your stop comes first, and you reluctantly warn her that you’ll have to leave. Ellie asks for your number, and you happily give it to her. Her wallpaper is a picture of her and her friends, in which she is mid-eye roll. You smile a bit at it and put your contact name as “Cute Train Girl”. When you get your phone back, you see she’s put a dinosaur emoji next to her name. The speaker announces your station as the train rolls to a stop. Ellie stands up before you, taking your hand and helping you up.

“Would you maybe wanna do this again sometime? Not the ‘getting stood up and being on the gross train’ part, but like, a date. An actual date. Not one with someone doing k in the corner of a subway car?” You glance over at said man. Yeah, a real date sounds good.

“I’d love to. Just text me about it, yeah?”

Ellie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You say goodbye and step out of the train car, and right as the train announces to be clear of the closing doors, a foot jams into it, and the door bounces back open. “Fuck, ow,” Ellie mutters. She runs out of the train and turns you to face her. “Don’t go yet. I just- I need to kiss you. I have for a while now.” She admits, and you fluster. She smiles at your reaction. “Don’t get too flattered.” She teases. 

You grin and bite your lip as she tilts your chin up. As your lips make contact, you realize that this is what you’ve been waiting for for months. There’s a sense of deja vu, like you’ve been experiencing this exact moment every night, and now that it’s finally happening, it barely feels real, but the feeling of Ellie’s lips against yours grounds you to the moment. You want to memorize the feeling of her adoration. 

You allow yourself to get lost in her touch, appreciating how lucky you were to get stood up.  If Cat wasn’t a no-show, you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to get to know Ellie. You wouldn’t have been able to explore this feeling with her. 

But most importantly, thank God for the red line and your incompetence with the card swiper.

[artbyblastweave]

Which Fallout game would you recommend to someone who's played none of them?

Depends on how you like to spend your time. Discounting a couple wild-swing-and-miss games that are only dubiously canon, Fallout games can be roughly grouped into the West Coast games- a trilogy composed of Fallout, Fallout 2, and Fallout: New Vegas- and the Bethesda-headed East Coast Games, consisting of Fallout 3, Fallout 4, and Fallout 76 (the last of which is a multiplayer game-as-service that I don't own a machine powerful enough to play. I hear mixed things.)

The east coast games lean heavily into Bethesda's house style- big, lovingly-crafted open worlds, a heavy focus on exploration and environmental storytelling, satisfying dungeon-crawl-based loot loops, and so on. They aren't well written and from 4 onward they aren't terribly deep RPGs. In particular I can recommend 4 as a fun romp that's quite accessible from a gameplay perspective but a really bad showing of what the rest of the series is about thematically- a lot was lost in a push for mass market appeal. If you liked Skyrim there's a good chance you'd like Fallout 4, except I'd argue wholeheartedly that Skyrim had worldbuilding as a priority to a much greater extent than 4 even at its nadir. It's set in Boston, if that sweetens the pot at all. It did for me.

By contrast the west coast fallout games are in fact actively well-written and invite engagement from a lit-crit perspective. There are themes and shit. Of the west coast trilogy I'd recommend Fallout: New Vegas (and I'd recommend it above Fallout 4), in no small part because It's the only one of the three created in a 3d engine (the first two are top-down isometric) and it strikes a decent balance between the open-world go-anywhere philosophy of an elder scrolls game and the meaningful-choices-they-thought-of-everything RPG sensibilities. The only minor downside is that It's an indirect sequel/finale in regard to the first two games, which means there's a significant number of callbacks, returning characters, and returning factions that are rendered slightly more legible by having played the first two games. But not much more legible- you get the gist of everyone's deal just by playing and talking to everyone. There's also a decent amount of jank on numerous fronts because it was basically commissioned as a spinoff game in under 18 months but taking that mulligan into account it sort of becomes even better, pound for pound. Play this if you liked Disco Elysium and want to play a game that's significantly less heavy than that on all fronts but also lets you be a cowboy and get in shootouts with Fascist roman larpers and robots and shit. Play it even if that doesn't sound good. Play it. Play Fallout: New Vegas. Play it

[haggishlyhagging]

On March 9, 1977, Francine Hughes returned from business college to her Dansville, Michigan, home and put a frozen dinner in the oven for her husband, James. He didn't like it. Francine, he said, should be at home preparing meals for him, not running off to school. He beat her up, as he had done many times before; and to drive home his point he tore up her schoolbooks and term papers and forced her to burn them in the trash barrel. Twelve-year-old Christy Hughes called the police, who came to the house long enough to calm James down but declined, as they had many times before, to arrest him. They left James, tired from beating Francine, asleep in his bedroom. Determined to "just drive away," Francine piled the children into the family car. "Let's not come back this time, Mommy," they said. She carried a gasoline can to the bedroom, poured the contents around the bed where James lay asleep, backed out of the room, and set a match to it The rust of flame sucked the door shut.

Francine Hughes drove immediately to the Ingham County sheriffs office, crying hysterically, "I did it. I did it." She was charged with first-degree murder.

Dansville adjoins East Lansing, home of Michigan State University and consequently of many social-action groups. Within two months feminists and other interested people in the Lansing area had formed the Francine Hughes Defense Committee to raise money and public awareness for her defense. They were careful to say that they neither advocated nor condoned murder, but they held that women confronted with violence have a right to defend themselves. They argued that "Francine Hughes—and many other women facing similar charges—should be free from the threat of punishment," for Francine Hughes was a battered woman.

At the time wife-beating was a growing feminist issue, following close on the heels of feminist attacks upon rape, a crime it resembles in many ways. Both rape and wife-beating are crimes of violence against women. Both are widespread, underreported, trivialized, and inadequately punished by the legal system. Both are acts of terrorism intended to keep all women in their place through intimidation. In fact, rape is often part of wife abuse, though so far only a few states acknowledge even the possibility of rape within marriage. The chief difference between the two crimes is that while the victim of nonmarital rape must live with a terrifying memory, the abused wife lives with her assailant. Rapists are, in Susan Brownmiller's phrase, the "shock troops" of male supremacy. Wife-beaters are the home guard.

American feminists took up the issue of wife-beating when they learned in 1971 of the work of Erin Pizzey, founder of Chiswick Women's Aid, the first shelter house in England exclusively for battered women and their children. Rainbow Retreat, the first American shelter for abused families of alcoholics opened in Phoenix, Arizona, on November 1, 1973; and in St. Paul, Minnesota, Women's Advocates, a collective that began with a phone service in 1972, opened Women's House to battered women and their children in October 1974. Rainbow Retreat, during its first two and a half years, sheltered more than six hundred women and children. In St. Paul the five-bedroom Women's House sheltered twenty-two women and fifteen children during its first month of operation; less than a year later Women's Advocates were negotiating to buy a second house. Across the country the shelter movement spread to Pasadena, San Francisco, Seattle, Boise, Albuquerque, Pittsburgh, Ann Arbor, Boston, New York. To open a shelter was to fill it beyond capacity almost overnight. Suddenly it seemed that battered women were everywhere.

While activists opened shelters, researchers and writers set about documenting the problem of wife-beating or, as it came to be called more euphemistically in the academic literature, "domestic violence." The records showed that 60 percent of night calls in Atlanta concerned domestic disputes. In Fairfax County, Virginia, one of the nation's wealthiest counties, police received 4,073 disturbance calls in 1974. During ten months in 1975-76 the Dade County Florida Citizens Dispute Settlement Center handled nearly 1,000 wife-beating cases. Seventy percent of all assault cases received in the emergency room at hospitals in Boston and Omaha were women who had been attacked in their homes. Eighty percent of divorce cases in Wayne County, Michigan, involved charges of abuse. Ninety-nine percent of female Legal Aid clients in Milwaukee were abused by men.

The FBI guessed that a million women each year—women of every race and social class—would be victims of wife-beating. Journalists Roger Langley and Richard C. Levy put the figure at more than 28 million. Some said that one in four women married to or cohabiting with a man would become a victim; others said one in three. In some areas the incidence seemed even greater. In California the experts said one of every two women would be beaten. And in Omaha, the Mayor's Commission on the Status of Women estimated that 95 percent of women would be abused at some time. There scarcely seemed need of additional evidence, so the same statistics began to turn up in every new account, but repetitious as they were, they showed all too clearly that wife-beating is a social problem of astounding dimensions.

-Ann Jones, Women Who Kill

[cariantha]

A Chance Encounter (3/3)

Book: Open Heart (Pre-Series) Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Category: Fluff Word count: 1.3K Series Summary: Ten years before meeting at Edenbrook, Ethan and Sawyer have a chance encounter during spring break.

Chapter Summary: Almost two years after moving to Boston and meeting Ethan Ramsey, Sawyer realizes her spring break dream guy and current boyfriend are the same person.

Part One | Part Two

Part Three: The Realization 

March 2024 - Boston, Massachusetts

“Okay, okay! Truce!” Sawyer surrendered with breathless laughter. She and Ethan, and most of the surfaces in the room, were dripping wet in the aftermath of their impromptu water fight at the kitchen sink.

Ethan playfully swatted her bottom with a dish towel before he started mopping up the countertop. “Hey!” she jumped with a laugh. “You started it, mister.”

“Uh-uh. You did when you gagged at my recipe idea.”

“Sorry, not sorry. But it was a terrible idea. Who puts raisins in pasta? Who puts raisins in anything? Gross,” she shivered in disgust. Changing the subject, “Hey, speaking of terrible things… did you hear about all those spring breakers who ended up in the E.R. last night?”

“I did. I saw it on the news as well. It’s a miracle no one drowned. Fifty people crammed onto a pontoon boat… what a bunch of drunken idiots,” Ethan commented and shook his head.

“So, I take it you never did anything crazy or reckless on your spring breaks?” She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. “Did you even go on any spring break trips?”

“Once.” 

Nearly a year and a half since meeting in the lobby of Edenbook, Sawyer still hadn’t remembered their encounter over a decade ago. And Ethan didn’t want to tell her. He wanted her to realize on her own and was still hopeful she would. Something would eventually jog her memory and he wanted to witness the moment she finally connected the dots. The more senior doctor had always been fascinated with how his protege’s mind worked, how an everyday random thought became the key to unlocking a medical mystery. He wondered if it would be like that when she finally remembered. But then again, Sawyer didn’t even know there was a mystery to be solved, so maybe not. 

“Once what?” Sawyer asked, walking to the dining table to collect the wine glasses, “Once you were reckless or once–” She cut herself off as her foot slipped out from under her. “Whoa!” she yelped, clipping her elbow on a metal cabinet handle as she fell on her rump. “Owww,” she whimpered, cradling her throbbing funny bone. 

“Shit! Are you okay?” Ethan rushed to her side and crouched down. He peeled Sawyer’s hand away from her elbow and saw red. “Come here.” Scooping her into his arms, he stood and gently deposited her on top of the kitchen island. Reaching for a roll of paper towels, he tore a couple off. “Here, keep pressure on it. I’ll be right back.” A minute later he returned with a first aid kit. 

Needing a distraction from the throbbing pain, Sawyer watched him sort through the kit. “Tell me more about your spring break. I can’t quite picture you partying on the beach in Florida. Isn’t that where all the east coasters go?” 

“It was during med school,” he answered. “Tobias’ stepdad had a house at the beach, right on the water. We spent a few days there with a couple of other buddies from school. It wasn’t anything wild like the scene in Florida… pretty upscale… but Tobias did throw a big party while we were there.” Having gathered the needed supplies, he lifted the paper towels and examined the gash on her elbow. “What about you? Let me guess… Mexico? Lake Havasu? Vegas?”

She shook her head as she also assessed her injury. “I was on scholarship. I couldn’t afford to go anywhere. But sophomore year, my roommate invited me to go with her to New York. She was a nanny for a super-rich family from L.A. They let her bring a friend since she was giving up her spring break to travel with them.” 

Standing between her legs, Ethan cleaned the wound. When Sawyer turned her head and flinched from the sting of the antiseptic, he leaned down and blew on her elbow. 

Sawyer snapped her head back to him. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, memories of her time in the Hamptons with a handsome young stranger came rushing back. The stranger who traveled with three friends and whose roommate had a wealthy stepfather who owned a house on the water. A medical student at John Hopkins. A coffee snob with eyes the same color as the ocean.

“You– You didn’t say where you went for spring break,” she commented quietly.

Ethan stepped away to dispose of the bloody gauze and paper towels. His back was to her when he answered. “The Hamptons.”

When he turned around, he saw the realization dawning in her glassy eyes. 

Sawyer stared back at him for a moment. "Moondoggie?" she asked softly, her throat suddenly tight as she swallowed her choked-up tears.

Ethan smiled as he returned to the counter and rummaged through the first aid kit for the right size bandage. 

“You’re… it was… it was you?" she stammered, putting the puzzle pieces together. As he applied ointment to her wound, her mind wandered to the countless times he had lovingly kissed and caressed the barely there scar on her thigh. "Why haven't you ever said anything?" 

"It was complicated. You were an intern. I was an attending. Cracking that door open would have made it even harder to keep things professional.” 

"When exactly did you realize?" she wondered. 

"In the waiting room of the E.R. The moment I saw and called you over to help,” he admitted, tearing the wrapping away from the bandaid. 

“But you acted like you didn’t know me.” 

“I recognized you immediately. How could I ever forget these bewitching green eyes?” he said, his knuckles caressing her cheek. “I just didn’t know your name.”  

She held her tongue as he concentrated on placing the butterfly bandage just right. When he was done, Sawyer slugged him. 

“Ow! What was that for?” he moaned, rubbing his shoulder.

“We met. We had this incredible connection. Had a magical night together. And thennn, we meet again ten years later, unable to resist each other, and you still don’t believe in soulmates?!” 

Ethan shrugged. “You know I believe in science, not star charts. There’s a perfectly logical explanation–”

Sawyer shook her head and cut him off before he bored her to death with scientific reasoning. “Ethan… I can’t believe this… you were my… my–”

“Spring break hook-up?” he tried to finish for her.

“No… well yes, but you were my– my first.” 

He stopped what he was doing and looked her in the eyes. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, clearly it was not very memorable,” he poked fun at himself as he started to move away and clean up.

Sawyer quickly grabbed his shirt and tugged him back. “Are you kidding?! I’ve never forgotten that night, Ethan. I never forgot how you made me feel,” she told him, wrapping her hands around his wrists to keep him close. “You know, the first time I saw a picture of you, I thought you looked like him. The guy I met on spring break. It was always at the back of my mind, but I figured it was just wishful thinking...” She trailed off, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “It's probably why I didn't recognize you as my medical hero when we saved that woman's life. Seeing you again short-circuited my brain," she chuckled. Locking eyes with him, her tone became more serious. "That guy from the beach was my dream guy. I’ve never forgotten him and I compared everyone who came after to him.”

“Is that so?” he asked in a near whisper, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yes.” Sawyer shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember right away. I suppose once I started to get to know you… once I found the real thing… I didn’t need to hold onto the memory of the dream guy anymore.” She locked her legs around his waist and her arms around his torso, drawing him as close as possible.  

“I see,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Well, maybe if I play my cards right, I can be your first and your last.”

“Take me to the bedroom, Moondoggie,” she smiled. “You can be my first, last, and right now.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn @midnightmelodiz

[sixhours]

Chapter 2 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Boston QZ March 2024

You were one of the lucky ones.

After the initial outbreak and the chaos that followed, you were protected, ushered into a covered military caravan and housed in relative safety. You were only a resident, but your medical experience made you valuable. Most doctors had been infected in the early hours.

Most of them hadn’t run.

If you had been anyone else, you think you would have been shot. Instead, the military sent you to the quarantine zone in Boston, and you were drafted into FEDRA without ever having signed your name on the line.

Your cowardice in the face of danger was your saving grace, and you will never let yourself forget it.

You’re six years into the pandemic when you’re summoned to the colonel’s office for a special request. FEDRA wants you to travel to a sparsely populated territory outside the QZ and embed yourself there, do threat assessments, and send the intel back to your higher-ups. They frame it as an outreach program for recruitment and a means to get ahead of terrorist threats, but you understand the unspoken implications.

They want you to be a spy.

You protest, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. You know they aren’t offering you a choice.

You train for combat and survival. You learn how to shoot, how to run, how to fight, and how to hide. And then FEDRA packs you up and sends you off into the wilderness of what used to be Pennsylvania, joining a small outpost east of Pittsburgh. There are no terrorist threats to be found, only starving, freezing civilians, hordes of infected, and so much desperation.

You return, six months older and with only a few bruises, so they send you out again. And again. And again.

As it turns out, you make a good soldier. You don’t ask what FEDRA does with the information you find, and they don’t tell you.

On your fourth mission, you come back with more than bruises. The burgh of Everglade, forty miles north of a ruined Jacksonville, Florida, wasn’t as welcoming as you would have hoped. You’d been savagely beaten and sent back to Boston, less weapons and supplies, a walking warning.

Don’t fuck with us, FEDRA.

But there’s a hard seed of grit in you that felt fair was fair, that you deserved whatever punishment you got. You sutured your gashes, reset your broken nose, and took your next assignment.

~*~

By the time Joel Miller and Ellie Williams are staggering across the Jackson threshold for the second time, in the spring of 2024, you’re opening the door of your Boston QZ apartment to a man in weathered FEDRA fatigues.

“Hey,” he says, barely meeting your eyes. ���Waller wants to see you.”

“When?”

“0800 hours.”

“Fine,” you say. He doesn’t respond, lingering in the doorway until you’re forced to ask, “Anything else?”

He ducks his head. “Got any plans tonight?”

“I do if you have the money.”

Unsurprisingly, FEDRA doesn’t pay well–doctor, spy, or shit-shoveler. But you’ve found other ways to get by.

The man– a boy, really , you think–reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled stack of ration cards. You take your time counting them before pocketing the payment and stepping aside to let him enter.

His hands are on you before you can finish closing the door, greedy and wanting. You let him push you up against the wall, tipping your head to give him access to your neck, already tuning out his gasps and moans and clumsy thrusts.

~*~

Afterward, he’s panting on your mattress, and you’re fumbling on the nightstand for a lighter.

“You know those things’ll kill you,” he mumbles.

“Fascinating,” you respond dryly, finding the lighter and putting the cigarette to your lips. You allow yourself one long, slow inhale. You hold the smoky air in your lungs as long as you can, savoring that first and only hit, before tamping the cigarette out and rolling it up in a piece of foil for later. “You can go.”

You feel his hand slide over your ass and you flinch away, standing and gathering your clothes from the floor.

“C’mon, baby. I gave you extra.”

“Yeah, and you shorted me five last time. Go.”

He growls. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You ignore this, slipping a clean-enough tank top over your head, pulling on your jeans, and heading for the kitchen. You’re putting a kettle of water on the hot plate when you hear the metallic snick of a blade behind you.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

You tense, listening, waiting, until you feel the hint of a blade at the side of your throat.

“How about you suck me off next time and we’ll call it even,” he whispers, breath hot in your ear.

You dive to one side, wrapping the man’s arm with your own, knocking the knife away. It skitters across the floor, lost under the radiator. Your left hand grips the man’s wrist and pulls it back as you slam your right hand into his shoulder, forcing him down against the counter. You twist his arm until you imagine you can hear the tendons creaking.

The man screams in pain and surprise. “Whoa no shit I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m fucking sorry don’t–”

You slam your full body weight against him and twist his arm back and up with a sharp snap , his wrist giving under your practiced hands. Another scream, this one feral, as you release the man’s arm.

“You broke my fucking wrist you fucking cunt!”

“Fuck off or I’ll break the other one,” you pant, shoving him toward the door.

“You’ll fucking hang for this!”

“Yeah?” you spit. “You say one word and I’ll make sure your dick never touches another girl in this QZ because it’ll be sitting in a jar on my fucking desk.”

He sneers, but there’s no threat in it. He slouches backward with an angry sob, cradling his broken hand and fumbling with the door, all the while trying to keep his eyes trained on you.

You lock the door behind him and slide the deadbolt home with unnecessary force. 

Fuck.

~*~

Colonel Waller doesn’t look up at you when you enter his office, his greeting just a single word.

“Wyoming.”

You frown. You’ve never been west of Ohio.

“We lost an asset in Utah. Fireflies.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. ‘Shit’ is about the shape of it,” he sighs, finally looking up from his paperwork. “We had someone in KC but they’ve gone radio silent. We assume the worst.”

“So…I take it the target’s in Wyoming?”

He nods. “We suspect several Fireflies are holed up in a town called Jackson. It’s big,” he continues, sliding you a sheaf of folded maps across the desk. “Our scouts…haven’t made out so well.”

“How many came back?”

He looks at you blankly.

None.

“We need to know how many warm bodies, how much firepower, do they have patrols and when, are they collaborating with anyone else in the area. We need–”

“I got it,” you say, pocketing the map, an aching exhaustion deep in your gut. “When?”

“There’s a supply run headed west tomorrow. You’ll camp with them until KC, then make your way in on foot. We expect radio contact every six weeks; if we don’t hear anything by then–”

“You’ll assume I’m dead,” you finish.

He interlocks his fingers. “Any questions?”

You shake your head.

He nods and goes back to his work. “Dismissed.”

[copperbadge]

“Breaking into a cemetery”? Sam, dish the tea, please! (And not into Boston Harbour, either). What sort of sightseeing exigency required burglarizing the marble orchard? And how did you evade the gendarmes? This sounds a bit “Leverage”. (Or something a young Steve Rogers might pull.)

Looking back, I'm gonna say like 70% was me being young and stupid and 30% was probably ADHD-fueled impulsivity.

Copp's Hill Burial Ground sits on the flat top of Copp's Hill, with walls all the way around and entrances on opposite sides. The other two sides have houses butted up against the cemetery on one, and a tall wall with a long drop down to the street on the other. Signs posted outside of it say that it opens at sunrise and closes at dusk.

When I got there, which was early but well after sunrise, the main entrance was still locked. I walked around, looking for another one, and on the opposing side (the Charter Street entrance) the gate was also locked, but the wall is very low and so is the fencing. If you look at it on Google Streetview you can see that for a reasonably athletic person it would be fairly easy to get up on the wall and vault the fence.

I thought, well, it's supposed to be open, so probably I won't get into trouble if I climb in. Ah, youth.

So I did, and I had a very nice time; I didn't disturb or vandalize anything, obviously, I just walked around and looked for the gravestones I'd wanted to find (Prince Hall, the Mathers, etc). I still have photos I took that day:

[ID: A scanned film-camera photo of a cemetery, looking east towards the water, the sun barely touching the tops of the trees; the gravestones are laid out in irregular lines, cut through with brick-paved paths.]

Anyway, I spent a lovely hour or so amongst the stones, and then I happened to look up as a large SUV drove past the west entrance. It slowed down and I felt like it was...looking at me, very clearly visible as the only person in the cemetery. So I started strolling back towards the east entrance. Sure enough, not long after, a police car pulled up to the west entrance, lights going, and I took off running.

I cleared the fence pretty much in a single leap and darted down Charter Street, ducking into an alley where I pulled my coat off and stuffed it in my messenger bag, figuring that would make me harder to identify. The messenger bag converted to a backpack so I did that as well, pulling out the straps and shouldering it. I then strolled Incredibly Casually down the next cross-street to the Old North Church, which was open, and ducked inside just as the cop car rolled past again. I settled down in one of the high-walled pews for about half an hour, just to be safe, and I didn't hear the sirens come past again. It's quite a pretty little church anyway and I had a book, so it wasn't a hardship.

Should I have broken into the cemetery? While it was laughably easy and I had good intentions, probably not. But nobody was harmed, so while it's not a good example to set it's still a fun story to tell, especially in person (I do hand gestures).

[surftrips]

SNOW ON THE BEACH

OBX WRITING WEEK DAY 2 — MEET CUTE W/ JOHN B. 

word count: 1158

summary: after y/n's flight is delayed, she ends up stranded in a cafe in kildare, rescued by a golden-haired boy.

a/n: my first time writing for john b. and i had so much fun! it's been so hot where i am so i am yearning for winter and cozy vibes in case you can't tell haha

Y/N’s flight to Boston had been delayed at the Kildare Airport, out of all places. And out of all the reasons, it was because of an impending snow storm. Who even knew that it snowed in North Carolina? She couldn’t believe her luck, she was supposed to be going home to visit her family for winter break and now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere. 

She supposed the Outer Banks would’ve been beautiful any other time of the year, but it was December and there was no one left but her and the locals. With an indefinite layover, she decided to leave the airport and head into town. Y/N was in desperate need of caffeine. 

After hailing a taxi and asking to be taken to the nearest cafe, she lugged her carry-on and suitcase into the store before realizing that she had no place to stay. She knew no one in the area and she was sure all the hotel rooms for the night would have been booked by now. 

Groaning, she ordered a hot caramel latte and slumped into a seat by the window. Y/N shot her mom a quick text about her flight being delayed, not in the mood to call her and explain the whole situation. Next, she pulled open her laptop and started looking into a cheap AirBnb or motel nearby. 

In the middle of doing so, she was interrupted by a voice behind her.

“Hey, you’re not from around here,” he said. 

She turned around to see who it was. Her initial guardedness went away when she saw that the boy was around her age. “Is that a question or a statement?” she replied.

Smiling, he said, “I’m pretty confident it’s a fact. I’ve never seen you around here before.” 

“Don’t you get a lot of tourists?” 

“Not many as pretty as you are.” 

Y/N found herself blushing despite how ridiculous this situation was. “I’m just passing by,” she muttered out, unsure of how to respond to his straightforwardness. 

“Really? You didn’t plan on vacationing in the Outer Banks in the dead of winter?” 

She laughed, the ice having been broken, and decided that it was probably safe to introduce herself to this (admittedly) cute stranger. 

“Haha, no, not really. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“My friends call me John B. Y/N, what’s your story?”

“Well, my flight here was awful, thanks for asking. Then I found out my connection to Boston was delayed because of a New England storm or something and now I’m stuck here indefinitely,” she sighed.

“Shit, sorry to hear that. You must be really unlucky because it never snows around here.” 

“You’re really helping me feel better John B.” 

“Sorry,” he scratched his head. “How can I help?” 

“Seriously? You want to help me?”

“Yeah, sure. Got nothing better to do.” 

“Well, unless you have a place where I can crash I don’t think you can help me very much.” 

With that, the boy’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do happen to have a place for you to stay.” 

“Oh, I-I was sorta joking you really don’t have to do that.” 

“It’s no big deal, my friends crash there all the time. My dad’s not home that much and even if he was, he wouldn’t mind.” 

Y/N was starting to wonder what the catch was, sure the boy looked nice and like he meant well, but at the end of the day, this was a stranger. He could be luring her back to his house and she would never be seen again. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he started again. 

“What?”

“You can trust me. Look, it’s a small town, everyone knows me. I’ll even invite all my friends over so you can feel safe. Two of them are girls.” 

Y/N really wanted to say yes. She had been silently begging all day for a miracle and this was the closest thing to it at the moment. 

Sighing, she gave in. “Okay, fine. How far away do you live?” 

“Like ten minutes that way,” he pointed east from the store. “We can get there in the Twinkie.” 

“The what?” 

He led her outside where he had parked his van, infamously named the Twinkie. John B. carried her suitcase into the back while she held onto her carry-on. 

“And this thing is safe?”

“Yes, she is safe to ride in. My friends and I have been through a lot worse than a minor storm with her.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said, still not convinced. “Hey, what time do you think it’s going to snow anyway?” 

“Who knows if it even will? My buddy Pope said it probably won’t get cold enough.” 

What was supposed to be a short ride back to his house ended up becoming a very elaborate tour of the town. It started with John B. pointing out a few of his friend’s houses, then the The Wreck where his friend Kiara worked, the high school they all went to, and finally, they ended up at the beach. 

Y/N had to admit, it was a nice beach. Even in the dead of December, the sand looked clean and the sparkling ocean had not yet frozen over. As John B. admired the landscape, she used this time to get a good look at him. His golden brunette hair, the blue bandana around his neck, the slight hint of a smile on his face as he looked out into the water. She couldn’t decide what was more beautiful to her at that moment, the boy or the sea. 

“Oh my god,” his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

“What? What?” 

Wordlessly, he fumbled open his side of the door and raced outside. 

“John B? Where are you going?” she called out after him. 

“I can’t believe it,” he said, in awe.

“Can’t believe what—” Y/N stopped in her tracks. There, in front of them, and above and behind, were small white flecks. They could’ve been lights, or fireflies, but she knew they weren’t. He knew it too, even though he had only seen it a few times in his life. 

“It’s snowing,” he said, incredulously. 

“Oh my god, it is!” Y/N had grown up with the seasons, had felt the wrath of a New England blizzard ten times over, but this, this was something magical. 

“Is this what it feels like? It’s like a scene from a movie,” he was smiling like a little kid now, reaching to grab a pocketful before the flakes melted in his hand. 

“This is so weird.” 

“But beautiful,” he looked over at her then, taking in the moment. Her smile was like she just won a contest, and she found no need to hide it anymore. 

John B. pulled his arms around Y/N, wrapping her in his embrace. They stayed like that watching the snow come down, silently.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us - Part 4

A/N: read part 1 ! read part 2 ! read part 3 ! Taglist: @midgetpottermills @casssiopeia @flyingmushroomss @amethystwonders11 @hiphopdancer101universe @kiszkawagnerwhore @littleshadow17 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @alm0501 @ch4rcuterie @lodeddiperrodrick @amandalove1355

Warnings: dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 3011 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

---

You arrived at the checkpoint well before midnight, thanks to a bright moon and no interruptions. The group had moved easily through the overgrown, bombed out streets of Boston. You didn’t know Boston, had only visited once before the outbreak, but Marlene and Damian had a map they consulted frequently. The checkpoint you were headed to wasn’t their usual rendezvous spot, and the route they used was clearly less traveled. After heading east for a few miles, they’d swung to the south, moving into what had been a working class neighborhood, when there had been such a thing. The houses were small, close together, and more battered than some of the other areas you passed through. 

You and the Fireflies plunged deep into the maze-like neighborhood until you were dizzy. You were glad that neither Damian nor Marlene had trouble with directions. 

After about the third hour of shuffling through the leaf-littered streets in silence, Marlene held up a fist. In unison, your group stopped where you were and dropped to your knees, flicking off your flashlights, eyes glued on the dark shape that was Marlene. You waited, your breath suddenly sounding as loud as a gong. You noticed a soft light flickering up ahead. A mirror, you realized, flicking back and forth in front of a flashlight to bend the beam in your direction. A code.

You were close to Marlene, immediately behind her right shoulder. You watched her eyes drink in the flicks of the mirrored light, piecing together the coded message. She was smart and shrewd, cold and ruthless. You liked her.

She rose quickly from her crouch, her posture relaxed. The rest of you followed suit, albeit a bit less eagerly without having received whatever message she’d seen. A whistle broke the dark quiet up ahead.

“Let’s go.” You followed Marlene and Damian forward towards a building you vaguely recognized as an old gas station at the end of the cross street you were on. A dead traffic light hung low on its wire a few feet off the cracked pavement in the center of the intersection directly in front of the gas station. 

As your group crossed into the parking lot of the gas station, figures started to appear, materializing from the darkness. The Fireflies had a network of smugglers and couriers spread out in the open territories between the major QZ’s. You’d met some of them before. They were strange in a way you could only imagine living in a hostile wasteland would make someone. Jumpy, paranoid, and brutal. Whether they’d chosen to live outside the QZ’s or that’s simply where fate had put them after the outbreak, it was clear that the window of opportunity to integrate them into a QZ society had long passed.

You didn’t recognize any of the faces in this crew. That didn’t seem unusual. Marlene told you that most of the open map crews she had contact with were too mobile to run into twice in a row. They didn’t stay in once place long enough to have repeat visits.

A huge man with a ghastly scar slashed across his face approached you, thrusting a full tankard of water into your hands. You nodded in thanks, avoiding looking at his disfigured face as you took a greedy sip. The harsh glow of the flashlights made him look like something out of a nightmare. 

Some of the crew greeted your group by name. The leader - an older, wiry-thin man with a faded baseball cap - exchanged a few curt words with Marlene before gesturing all of you to follow them into the gas station. Your instincts rattled in protest, causing you to hesitate a half beat. Something about that gas station set your teeth on edge. 

You fell in with the others, shuffling through the jammed open doors of the station. The shelves that had once been lined with bags of nuts, chewing gum, travel-size hygiene products, and road maps had been shoved to one side of the station. The walk-in freezer door was open towards the back corner, and you could see the warm glow of electric lights. You thought you could hear the low rumble of a small generator back there.

“Wait here.” Marlene’s orders were final. Everyone - even Damian - came to an uneasy loitering stop in the cleared out station. Marlene followed the pipe-cleaner thin man with the baseball cap towards the walk-in freezer, their voices low and inaudible. 

“Who is this person we’re meeting?” Steve asked, to no one in particular once Marlene was out of earshot. 

“Some kid.” The man with the scar bisecting his face spat rancid tobacco juice on the pavement just outside the station door. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes sweeping back and forth over the empty, dark street. His posture looked casual, but you could see his finger hovering a hair’s breadth off his rifle’s trigger. 

“What do you mean, a kid?” You were surprised to hear your own voice asking the question. 

“She’s a kid. Maybe sixteen, I dunno.” 

“Why’s she so fucking special?” Even Damian sounded uptight. A prickle of unease raked its fingers down your spine.

“I don’t know man, I don’t make the rules around here.” Scar Face sounded less on edge than the rest of you, but it wasn’t much reassurance. A tense quiet settled over the two groups as you all waited. 

You weren’t sure how long you waited, but it was long enough that by the time you heard Marlene’s boots on the concrete floor, you’d been sitting long enough for your ass to go numb. 

“Everyone, this is Ellie. She’s traveling back with us.” Marlene gestured to a short, pale-faced girl who’d walked out of the freezer at Marlene’s side. She wore an expression like she’d just been forced to drink sour milk. 

The wait proved anticlimactic, and you could feel a grumble of resentment begin to collect in your traveling companions as they all sized up the remarkably ordinary-looking girl you’d just traveled a dozen miles into the open city to retrieve. Even you were beginning to resent the lack of information around this girl.

“Same drill going back. No bullshit, no delays.” Marlene shook hands briefly with Baseball Cap before striding out of the gas station and back into the moonlit street. Baseball Cap’s crew followed you out. You saw something like relief in their haggard faces as Ellie fell in step right behind Marlene.

Marlene led the group out the way you came without a backwards glance. You were farther back from her and Damian this time. The mysteriously important teenaged girl with the piss-for-brains expression kept close behind the two leaders; the rest of you followed in loosely organized pairs. Steve was next to you, his eyes boring holes in the back of Ellie’s head. 

“I wonder what I’d need to do to get a goddamned armed escort through the open city,” he mumbled to you at one point. You didn’t reply, although it wasn’t out of disagreement. Your first few runs with Marlene had been to pick up incredibly valuable contraband: rare medicines and first aid supplies, cartridges of ammo, and propane tanks. But even then, with thousands of food credits on the line, you’d never seen Marlene and Damian act so cautiously. Every few blocks or so, they stopped to consult their map, mumbling in low tones as Damian pinched a flashlight between his shoulder and his cheek, tracing a finger over what you assumed could only be a number of alternative routes from your location back to the QZ. Occasionally their conference was brief, but at times it seemed more contentious. Whatever Ellie had - or whoever she was - her value had to be astronomical to warrant such hypervigilance. 

Even as you traced your way back towards the QZ, that gnawing sense of disquiet kept buzzing in the back of your head like a cloud of gnats. You knew the others felt it too. The silence was different this trip. It had a scent of fear to it that hadn’t been there on the first leg. All around you, the moon cast a spectral glow over the decaying city. You didn’t let yourself look too long into the shadows. 

You were halfway back to the QZ, balanced in a crouch on the balls of your feet, when Steve tried to talk to you again. 

“What the fuck is taking so long?” 

He’d been steadily losing what little patience he possessed at each stoppage on the route back. 

“Keep it together, Steve,” you urged him, your voice low and placating. 

“Nah, this is bullshit. The sun’s gonna be up by the time we get back to QZ. And I ain’t spending another day out here for some big wig’s spoiled brat.” 

The running hypothesis that Steve had landed on regarding Ellie’s value was that she was related to someone high up in the QZ, and they’d hired Marlene to fetch and deliver her. It wasn’t a half-bad idea. Something about the girl’s surly attitude made you think otherwise, and you couldn’t begin to fathom how she’d ended up in the Firefly network to begin with, but that information was above your paygrade. 

Steve was practically vibrating out of his boots with anger next to you. The darkness felt claustrophobic around you, the moon drifting in and out of cloud cover. 

After a few moments of tension, you heard Steve spring up next to you. 

“Marlene, Damian, can we get the show on the fucking road here?”

His voice was louder than it should have been. You saw the rest of the group wince at the disruption. 

Marlene ignored him, instead signaling down a narrow alley to the northwest between two ramshackle office buildings, one with a faded awning that read DRUG MART. 

“No fucking way. That’s the opposite goddamn direction of the QZ!” 

Steve’s temper was beginning to wear off the edges of his caution. His voice, while still not at normal volume, was burgeoning on a shout whisper. Silence was important in the open city as the infected were drawn to it. His recklessness only increased the group’s collective unease. 

Damian and Marlene approached him, trying to diffuse his mounting anger. Damian held his hand out, palm down in a conciliatory gesture.

“This is the route we’re taking. Shortcut.”

For all your resentment at Steve for threatening detection from the infected, you didn’t buy Damian’s lie for a minute. 

“Bullshit. I’m not going that way.”

Steve was digging his heels in. You saw the surly teenager shoot him a dark glare. The rest of the group shifted restlessly, casting worried glances over your shoulders as the pressure mounted between Steve and Damian.

“This is the way we’re all going,” Damian insisted, his voice dropping so low it was almost a growl.

“Fuck that. The rest of you can waffle around out here, risk your necks for a goddamned pimple-faced brat, but not me. I’m heading back. I didn’t sign up for this.”

You heard the unmistakable metallic click of Steve cocking his gun as he lifted the rifle, aiming it squarely at Ellie’s chest. She was a few paces away from him, Merlene and Damian flanking her and a half step ahead. 

Time seemed to slow as the escalating argument slipped sideways into chaos.

You heard the shot rip open the silence before your brain registered that Damian had unholstered the handgun at his hip. Steve wavered on his feet before his knees buckled under him. He fell first to his knees, the rifle in his hand clanking loudly to the pavement as blood trickled from his lips. Steve’s face went white as he slumped forward and went still. 

You breathed through a half second of pure, terrified silence before you heard it. Softly, so quiet at first you didn’t believe it. But then, a few seconds later, there it was again, louder this time.

Click. Click click clickclickclick.

You felt your muscles seize up with adrenaline as your mind launched into hyperspeed. 

The infected.

They burst out of the buildings behind you like a swarm of bees. It was a horde, the largest you’d ever seen. At the front were the clickers, the oldest of the infected, their faces blasted open from the top of their skulls to reveal large, repulsive fungal growths where their brains had once been. They ran on two legs, their distinctive clicking sounds resonating in their rotted-out mouths as they launched towards your group with a speed you could never hope to match. Behind the clickers were the rest of the infected, some of them resembling their human hosts more than others, some running on all fours while others tottered unsteadily on half-rotted legs. You’d never seen so many. Pure, blinding panic rendered you immobile as you gaped at the swarm. 

“RUN!”

Marlene’s scream was enough to break the spell. You scrambled to your legs, unable to make them move fast enough as they slipped on the slightly damp pavement. You careened towards the alley next to the Drug Mart, leaping over Steve’s crumpled body. Damian, Marlene, and Ellie were ahead of you, a few of your group mates behind you. From over your shoulder, you heard a bone-chilling shriek of someone overtaken by the horde. You willed yourself forward, your backpack pounding against your shoulders. 

“SPLIT UP!” 

You burst out of the narrow alley into another suburban street. Instinct pulled you to the right. You let your feet carry you that way, the sounds of the infected roaring in your ears as the horde squeezed through the alley behind you.

Damian and Ellie were in front of you. Damian was dragging the girl by the neck of her hoodie, her legs struggling to keep up with the adult man’s full-out sprint. The sound of footfalls behind you signaled that there were two, maybe three others, running in the same direction. A smattering of gunshots pierced the night. 

You risked a backwards glance over your shoulder. The infected were gaining on you, only a few dozen paces behind you now. They seemed to swallow the street behind you like locusts, climbing over the abandoned vehicles scattered through the neighborhood with ease. 

The street banked upward, the incline causing your lungs to burn like fire. You drove your knees harder, your hands splayed out in front of you as you came perilously close to losing your footing on a sunken manhole cover. You caught your fall on the side of an upended propane truck, the skin on your palm ripping open against the metal of the truck chassis. Gritting through the bolt of pain that shot up through your arm, you used whatever you could grab from the truck to propel yourself back into a sprint, shedding the deadweight of your backpack as you did.  Damian and Ellie remained in front of you, the girl sobbing as Damian hauled her forward, but you were gaining on them. The footfalls of the other group members had dwindled now to one. You heard more gunshots from further in the opposite direction. 

“Y/N, take her!” Damian swung around, firing into the oncoming mob of infected. He thrust the teenager towards you like a sack of potatoes. She lost her footing as you reached her, grabbing her hoodie roughly and doing your best to pick her up. 

Your mind struggled to understand Damian’s instructions. You could see from the wan moonlight that the street ahead of you was rising in a steeper incline. You couldn’t possibly outrun the clickers with that kind of a hill. 

“Take cover! Get out of the street!” Damian was waving you away, off to the side of the road. You followed his instructions, herding Ellie towards an abandoned house. You turned back just in time to see the explosion of the propane tank from the overturned truck shred the darkness. The force of the blast hit you in the back, sending you flying up the rotten steps of the house you were aiming for. You felt a sickening crunch from your ribs as your side connected with the wooden banister at the top of the stairs. Ellie scrambled up the stairs beside you. The door to the house was open, mercifully, and she disappeared inside. Your hands clawed at the splintering wood as you fought to stay conscious. You felt a few fingernails rip off as you dragged your body upright, lurching through the doorway. You grabbed at the door leaning off its bottom hinge, using your weight to close the door as Ellie threw the deadbolt beside you. 

Your breath came hard and jagged as you doubled over in pain, your back still braced on the door of the house. The air inside smelled musty and foul; the windows were boarded over, and the sounds of the street outside were muffled somewhat. You hoped against hope that none of the infected were tracking you; you knew you didn’t have any strength left to run or fight. For a few rapsing breaths, you listened and waited. All you could hear were the crackling sounds of flames and the cacophony of screeching as the infected burned up like kindling. 

You let yourself sink down to your haunches against the door. Ellie was still standing, bracing her hands on her knees against the door. 

Minutes dragged on as the sounds of the street died down outside. You could see orange shadows dancing across the mold-ridden walls in the room to your left, so you knew that the other side of the street was burning. You registered idly that you and Ellie should keep moving and not risk a stray spark catching the wind in an unfavorable direction. But you couldn’t bring yourself to move, exhaustion and terror and pain keeping you grounded to the floor. You weren’t sure how long you waited and listened, but just before you gave in to a mix of sleep and unconsciousness, you saw the faint light of daybreak slant through the boarded up window…

read part 5 **let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters! ty to everyone showing this series so much love!

[mariacallous]

Even as missiles fall on Ukraine and troops brace for a Russian spring offensive from the east, Kyiv is looking west. The U.S. congressional fight over aid to Ukraine, entangled as it is with border policy and presidential politics, has become a matter of survival for 43 million Ukrainians. In more than two years of war, Russian President Vladimir Putin has not broken Ukrainian will. Abandonment by the United States could achieve what Putin never has.

This month, I made a 1300-mile trip around Ukraine as part of a delegation hosted by the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). We visited Kyiv and Odesa as well as Dnipro, Kharkiv, and other places farther east. The situation on the ground is changing, and U.S. political leaders should understand the enormous stakes. Those now debating the fate of assistance to Ukraine are deliberating over the fate of Ukraine itself.

The first thing that strikes a visitor to wartime in Ukraine is how remarkably normal life seems in many areas. Normal, that is, until the signs of war creep in—gradually and then suddenly.

Odesa’s elegantly beautiful theater remains open, and operas and shows go on. (Giuseppe Verdi’s Nabucco and Franco Alfano and Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot played a few days after our visit.) Yet the city was under an air alert as we arrived, and a walk along the seaside promenade revealed coiled barbed wire at each staircase.

In a mostly unheralded success, Ukraine has cleared the Black Sea coast of Russian warships—despite having a tiny navy with no warships of its own—and now exports grain from Odesa at near prewar levels. Ships load grain and skirt the coast as they head west, staying away from Russian predation. Outside the city, soldiers man roadside checkpoints to examine the papers of draft-age men.

In a town that we visited in Kherson Oblast, which suffered under Russian occupation until late 2022, virtually every building was damaged. Missile strikes, mortar fire, and machine guns took a serious toll. Many inhabitants fled the fighting, joining either the 6.5 million Ukrainian refugees outside the country or the 3.7 million displaced inside it. UNHCR and other aid agencies are assisting those who remained and others who have returned. Some never will.

We met one man in the town who stayed through it all. “It’s like you see on TV in America,” he said. “You know when there’s a hurricane and someone says, ‘It’s my home, I’m not leaving?’ That was me.”

The biggest problem, he said, were soldiers from the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics, the puppet governments set up in the regions by Moscow. Often drunk, the soldiers looted houses, hassled people, and carted home everything they could. A local official said that Russian troops had established multiple torture centers during the occupation.

The man’s son, a tall 15-year-old with a grin and the taciturn bearing of a teenage boy, described life before and after the Russians came. Did he miss the way things were before the war? Yes, he said: “Some of my acquaintances have passed away.”

Downtown Dnipro could pass for Vancouver or Boston, with its illuminated streets, pedestrian areas, fine restaurants, and high-end boutiques. Couples dine, families stroll at night, and the stores are stocked. Yet the war wasn’t far away during our visit; an air alert awakened us early in the morning. As our phone alerts went off and air raid sirens sounded, we headed to the shelter. Russia launched more than 60 drones and missiles at Ukraine that day, some of which made it to Kyiv. The attack set a large apartment building on fire in the capital and killed four people. Two days later, we would visit this site, where the rebuilding had already begun.

Kharkiv, Ukraine’s second-largest city, has emerged as an epicenter of recent Russian military activity. Most students there are relegated to online learning, since their schools lack the shelters necessary to protect against air attacks. More than 2,000 children go to class underground in subway stations. We visited one of these subway schools, watching fourth graders solve math problems and work on projects. Play areas took up space at the backs of classrooms. I wish members of the U.S. Congress could see the effects of Russia’s two-year war on the country and witness Ukrainian resilience in the face of relentless attack.

Ukrainians are resilient but not invincible. They see bombed-out buildings, awaken to air alert sirens each night, and feel Moscow’s newfound confidence on the battlefield. They know that last year’s counteroffensive produced few gains, and that Avdiivka’s recent fall marks Russia’s first significant territorial gain since May 2023. Diminishing supplies of ammunition and other Western-provided weapons have made the war more difficult and more costly in terms of Ukrainian lives.

Yet most wish to fight on. Polls show a small but growing number of Ukrainians wishing to trade land for peace, if such an outcome is possible. The majority wish to continue the fight. They watched Putin’s interview with Tucker Carlson and saw the Russian president’s insistence on their country’s historic artificiality. They know, from the atrocities that have occurred in Bucha and elsewhere, what Russian occupation might mean. They see the war as a fight for survival.

Ukrainians also know, however, that they cannot keep it up alone. They quietly observe that European aid (generous though it is) won’t be sufficient, either. In Kyiv, officials follow every twist and turn of the $60 billion earmarked for Ukraine in a proposed supplemental aid package from the United States. It’s a large amount of money, equivalent to roughly 7 percent of the U.S. Defense Department’s annual budget, and combines military, humanitarian, and budget support. Ukraine’s future turns greatly on it.

U.S. missile defense currently protects Ukrainian cities, and officials worry about the violence that Russia will unleash if U.S. interceptors stop arriving. Front-line Ukrainian troops are running out of ammunition, and declining access to military equipment could allow Russia to take more territory. Even factoring in the latest European aid package, Ukrainian officials (and those at the U.S. Treasury Department) project empty government coffers within months, rendering them unable to pay worker salaries or pensions. Their fallback plan is to print more money, fully understanding the disastrous hyperinflation such a move would produce.

In the meantime, U.S. humanitarian aid provides food, shelter, medical care, and other support for a traumatized population that nevertheless wishes to carry on.

Beyond material support, my visit made clear that the psychological effect of global solidarity, especially from the United States, remains vital. In conversations with everyone, from the top of government to citizens living just miles from the front lines, there was one message: Please stay with us—we can’t do this alone. U.S. abandonment would be devastating.

There is a lot of trouble in the world today, some of it far closer to home for Washington than places such as Dnipro, Kharkiv, and Kherson. A poll conducted in February by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs and Ipsos found that a majority of Americans continue to support helping Ukraine, as do majorities in both houses of Congress. Yet two years in, and after billions of aid has already been delivered, Americans might reasonably ask why more, and why now.

Calls to defend the rules-based international order tend to provoke eye-rolling derision these days. So too do descriptions of the United States’ indispensability in the face of global problems. Yet the prohibition against forcible conquest stands at the heart of the postwar global order. Putin’s violation of that taboo—if ultimately successful—would augur a new and more dangerous era. The United States, unfashionable though it may be to observe, is indispensable in resisting it.

Ultimately, Ukraine is fighting a shift from order to the law of the jungle, where the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must. In a world awash with trouble, and with huge demands on U.S. resources, the stakes in Ukraine remain very high—and perhaps unique. The alternative to continued Western support is not an indefinite stalemate or frozen conflict. It is a potential Russian victory.

This is the context in which today’s debate should take place. It’s clear on the ground: Ukrainian will to resist aggression is remarkable, but it remains inextricably linked to U.S. support and solidarity. If the United States abandons Ukraine, then the West may well accomplish the very thing that Putin has thus far found impossible.

[meredith-harper81]

Part Of Your World🫀

Prepping for the Oscars 🏆

Chapter 2:

Pairing: Chris Evans x Elyse Harper

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

‼️More Chapters are uploaded on Wattpad.. link in my bio :)‼️ Elyse Pov

I woke up startled, by a loud ringing.

"Jesus Christ," I open my eyes and adjust to the light coming into the room. I curse myself and remind myself to close the curtains next time I sleep as the sun is coming in hot. I come to my senses and realize my phone is ringing.

As I go to answer, I see it is Dakota, face timing.

"Why are you awake right now?" I say groaning while jumping out of bed and shutting the curtains and running back to the warmth of my bed....

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you... I just didn't make the flight yesterday. I'm still in the East Coast time zone," she says and her voice sounds sick.

"Dakota, don't tell me you're sick," I say with a bit of sadness in my voice.

" I'm sorry babe, the flu hit last week on set and I tried to avoid it but look at me now," she says as she coughs.

Now that I am fully awake. I take a good look at her, and she doesn't look too good.

"That's okay. Take care of yourself. Sebastian is attending and will just have to replace you this weekend...Thanks for that, by the way, I wink at her... Rest. I'll speak to you soon then". I tell her.

"Enjoy and don't stress Elyse and try to have a good time... break a leg and tell Chris I said Hi," she says before she hangs up and I roll my eyes at her.

I decided to stay in bed a little longer since today is supposed to be a relaxing day.

Today's to-do list is a workout and go to the hotel booked for tomorrow.

I eventually ended up falling back asleep.

Soon I wake up on my own accord and check the time. Only to see it's now 12:30 in the afternoon.

I get out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth and make my way downstairs, and make myself something to eat.

As I'm eating some toast, my stomach starts to cramp badly. I think nothing of it and I get a quick workout in.

After I've showered and changed for the day, I head back downstairs and Maria hands me my protein shake and tells me to have a good day.

I get a phone call from Haley, she tells me I'm needed sooner at the hotel. I get in the car, pop a Tylenol and drive myself to the hotel with a raging headache and sore back.

"Great start to this weekend," I mumble to myself.

Chris Pov

I grab my NASA cap and put it on as we are preparing for landing. I thank the flight attendant and the pilot as I'm waiting for my ride to pull into the airstrip.

The flight attendant asks for a picture. I happily take one with him. I tell him to have a good day as a car pulls in. I sit in the back and dial Scott. I let him know I had landed safely and to let Ma know.

" Chris, do not screw this, and all the best man," He says as I roll my eyes and hang up.

I stare out the window and look to see we were approaching traffic.

I check on Google Maps and notice it's going to be a long drive home with all this traffic. LA Traffic sucks, I mumble to myself, now feeling annoyed.

I was hoping I would be able to spend more time in Boston after filming, but I guess after this will have to do.

Finally, after a long two hours, I make my way inside my house.

I go take a quick shower and put on some shorts and a red T-shirt.

As I do so I notice some of Willow's things are still in the closet. I debate about throwing them out.

I end up calling Megan and tell her I've arrived. I also tell her the Willow situation and she tells me she'll handle it by tomorrow if I leave my house keys under the mat.

Megan informs me Ilaria, my stylist, is coming over to drop off my suit for tomorrow. I hang up and she tells me she will see me tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, I give Mackie a call since he will also be in attendance tomorrow, asking him to pop by and we can hang out have some dinner.

Ilaria comes and drops off the suit and tells me what to do with my hair. Plus, she gives me some shoe options.

Mackie agrees and is on his way over as Ilaria leaves. She tells me she is exhausted and had a long day and tomorrow is an even longer day with her newer clients.

She wishes me all the best tomorrow and to call her if there is any problem.

It's now late and Mackie is coming over soon, so start to make dinner. A classic kale salad with some chopped chicken and rice.

I grab two plates and a 6 pack and head to the living room just in time as the bell rings.

I go to greet Mackie, I bring him over to the living room and we turn on a football game and discuss Marvel things and just catch up, and have a few beers.

" So... I hear you are presenting with Elyse Harper tomorrow?" He says as he takes a sip.

"You heard right, my man," I say as I blush a little.

We get to talking and I tell him how at first I didn't know who she was.

"Are you living under a rock, Chris... I mean come on dude, she's gorgeous... how have you not heard or seen her?" He questions.

I shake my head and laugh. "I don't know man, I guess I've been too busy with work, and with my ex," I say with a bit of sadness laced in my voice.

Mackie pats my back, "Well, you're meeting her super soon man," He tells me.I nod and smile.

"Do you think she's dating someone Mackie?... I mean have you seen her...," I say, blushing like a 5-year-old.

"Chris man, I have never seen you blush so hard when talking about someone, but I hate to toot your horn... but... she's never dated anyone... As far as the media knows... She's super private," Mackie says.

I give him a shocked look. " I don't know man maybe, she has never been spotted on TMZ or Dailymail, I guess you will have to wait till tomorrow to find out, and maybe meet Mr. Mystery Man," He says patting my shoulder. I give a small smile.

We finished the 6-pack and our dinner. Mackie helps me clean up and I walk him out. I lock up the house and get ready for bed... As I lie in bed, I smile and am actually excited to attend an event for the first time in ages.

Elyse Pov

I was sitting on the edge of a white hotel bed, staring out into the busy city below me. I so didn't want to be here today, but again I don't have a say in my career and everything is discussed without me... at least we aren't doing a vogue get ready with me tomorrow. Thank god!! I hate doing those.

Suddenly, Haley's cold finger brought me out of my thoughts.

"What's wrong, Elyse?" She asks me.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I tell her.

She tells me the nail tech lady is here to do my nails for tomorrow. Haley also handed me my script for the next day. She tells me good night and she'll see me in the morning.

I smile and greet the nail tech and sit in the chair. I look over my script and see the category and when I'm presenting and the timeline of the show, and thankfully I don't have to sit in the crowd...I am just presenting the 2015 best picture film with Chris.

I'm a little nervous to meet Chris. I've heard so many stories of him being a playboy, or him cheating on his ex. he seems so cocky, and rude being all Mr. America...but nobody knows if that's true... do they.

I always read something about him going back to his old ex-Minka... I remember meeting her at a shoot one time, and I cringed she was so self-centered... I try not to think too much about that, as I will be meeting him tomorrow, and can really know and judge him for myself. I take a deep breath and look back at my lines.

I practice my lines while I get my nails done. I look down and smile as the nail tech paints on this pretty nude color. I thank her after she is done.

I take a hot shower, and as I'm finishing up, I notice my stomach cramps again. I hope I don't start my period, but I already got it this month and I remind myself to make an appointment with an ob-gyn soon ...I didn't even bring anything with me if I do start my period..... I groan and go to bed, hoping this all ends soon.

[blurscolours]

The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea | Prologue

Masterlist

Summary: An attack on Arthur’s imprisoned brother Orm leaves him with no choice but to rely upon you, a friend made due to unfortunate circumstances nearly a decade ago, to provide safe haven while he restores peace to Atlantis. Suddenly tasked with sheltering a sullen former king results in a very different summer vacation than you had originally envisioned, but changes both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Car Breakdown

Word Count: 1503

Amnesty Bay, Maine – Summer 2012

You had been looking forward to this road trip all spring. Time to yourself, to celebrate the start of summer, off exploring the East Coast. You had planned on starting in Maine and working your way south along the coast to Boston. Reality turned out to be quite different.

Your car was by no means new. It had been well loved and well driven for many years before it came into your possession, but you had done the yearly maintenance, oil changes, inspections…None of that mattered now as it sputtered and choked on the side of a winding road overlooking the ocean. With one last shudder it completely stalled, steam ominously hissing from under the hood.

You pulled out your smartphone and sighed at the utter lack of service. Phone technology had grown by leaps and bounds…service coverage had crawled behind. You pulled out your paper map and located yourself in Amnesty Bay, stranded between the town and the lighthouse. You popped the hood, turned on your hazard lights, and grabbed your bag; sliding out of the car to get a better lay of the land.

You determined the lighthouse was definitely closer. You propped the hood open, ostensibly to take a look at the engine…it revealed none of its secrets to you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turned and started up the road to the lighthouse. The walk took roughly twenty minutes, during which not a single car passed you. No bars of cell service appeared on your phone either. It was warm, thankfully, with a nice breeze off the ocean, but you were still grateful to arrive at the backdoor of the lighthouse.

You took a steadying breath and knocked firmly, suddenly realizing there was a possibility that no one was home. Your fears didn’t have time to take hold, however, as almost immediately a man came to the door with a smile.

“Can I help you?” He asked in a Kiwi accent, a tea towel over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up, obviously in the midst of the dishes.

“Hi! I’m very sorry to bother you, my car broke down a ways up the road and I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call for a tow?”

“Absolutely! Come on in, it’s just in the kitchen. I’m Tom by the way, nice to meet you” He stepped out, holding the door with his shoulder and shaking your hand warmly on your way into the house.

You smiled brightly and introduced yourself in return. “I really appreciate it, thank you very much.”

He followed you into the kitchen and pulled down a phonebook, opening it to the towing company. “Definitely call this one, the other is a bit out a lout.” He tapped the number and you nodded firmly. “Tell them to take you to Randy’s by the marina, he won’t overcharge you.”

You laughed warmly and dialed the number. A friendly woman answered the line, and you requested a tow to Randy’s shop, explaining where you’d left your car. She gave you an expected cost and arrival time of the truck before you ended the call.

“She says it will be about an hour, I should start back so I don’t miss them. Thank you again…” You turned to face Tom, who’d gone back to doing his dishes, trailing off as there was suddenly a huge man in the room. He had the fridge open, leaning on the door as he peered in, looking for something.

“Nonsense!” Exclaimed Tom. “We’ll give you a ride back to your car in about an hour, you’ve already had quite the hike. Arthur, why don’t you grab our guest a beverage while you’re in there?”

The man, Arthur, suddenly seemed aware of your presence and turned to look at you, now holding a can of beer. So that had been what he was looking for.

“What’s your poison?” He rasped. “We’ve got beer, soda, lemonade?”

“Oh, uh a soda would be great, I guess. I appreciate all your help.” You didn’t have the wherewithal to refuse the ride, or the drink, from either of them. You took the can from Arthur, and he gestured to the table before taking a seat himself. You sank slowly into the chair, feeling his eyes on you, assessing. Tom’s voice broken the tension, thankfully.

“This is my son, Arthur. He usually has better manners, but he just woke up after all.” He chided warmly.

You introduced yourself to Arthur as well, taking a sip of your soda while he took a long pull of his beer.

“So, what brings you to Amnesty Bay?” Arthur broke the silence. Ah there it was, the questioning was no longer just in his eyes.

“Road trip” You answered lamely, before shaking your head at yourself. “I was ready to explore the East Coast, my car was not apparently.” You smirked ruefully and relaxed a little when he echoed your expression.

Conversation flowed a little more easily after that, his suspicion dissipating. Tom joined you both with the last of the coffee from breakfast. Arthur revealed himself to be less intimidating than his appearance, especially as the beer got lower in the bottle, and the effects of his night before were washed away.

The hour passed before any of you really noticed, the honk of the tow truck in the back yard startling you all. You hurried out to apologize, turning back to the Curry’s and waving in thanks before hopping in the cab with the driver.

The trip back to town was easy, the assessment of your vehicle didn’t take too long, but the news was not good. Several parts needed to be replaced and none were on hand in the shop. It would be at least a week and a fair chunk of change as well.

You agreed to the work and took your suitcase out of the trunk, leaving your keys with Randy. He gave you directions to the local inn where you could stay while you waited for the car to be functional again, but his tone didn’t give you great confidence in the accommodations would you find there. You headed out to find the Inn, passing by Terry’s Sunken Galleon, stopping quickly as you heard a shout from near the door.

“Brokedown Girl!”

You looked back to see Arthur bounding over to you, strongly reminding you of a golden retriever.

“This does not look like your car is ok…” He said as he stepped up beside you. He wasn’t even winded. Tom was bringing up the rear at a much more reasonable pace.

You sighed and shook your head. “A week at least, everything they need is out of town.”

“Oh man that’s rough…” He shook his head.

Tom had gotten close enough to get the gist of the situation. “Well, we’ll just have to make the best of your bad situation.” He clapped Arthur on the back. “Once you get your room at the Inn come meet us a Terry’s and we come up with a plan to save your vacation.”

You blinked, utterly stunned. “I couldn’t impose like that, truly I’ll find something to do.”

Tom shook his head and Arthur slowly followed suit. “We will not hear of it.”

And they meant it. No sooner had you joined them at the bar, getting a rum and coke as it was now afternoon, than they had a whole list of destinations for you to choose from.

The repairs ended up taking two weeks, and your vacation turned out better than you could have ever planned. You also ended up with two lifelong friends. You stayed in touch with letters, emails, texts, and phone calls. The consistency of Arthur’s contact was much less reliable; the man kept jumping in the ocean with his phone in his pocket…

The world changed in 2013 when the long-posed question “Are we alone in the universe?” was answered with a world resounding, violent “No!” Beings from other plants, meta humans, violence, and crime made the world a darker place. Arthur became darker too, more self-destructive as he wrestled with his heritage.

He’d told you everything, the story of his parents, the story of Atlantis, during a 2:00 AM drunk dial. He was sitting on the shore somewhere in Georgia with a bottle of Jack Daniels, face timing you snug in your bed back home. It had been a lot to take in, but you never doubted him.

In 2018, when the ocean regurgitated all of the filth your kind had been polluting with for centuries, you were not surprised. Arthur had implied there might be conflict soon. Since that day, Arthur had been unreachable. Tom confirmed he was alright, but that he was now spending his days in Atlantis, leading his people.

You wondered when you might be able to hear the story from him, but never did you suspect that you would play a role in what was to come.

Read Part One

Masterlist

[nsfwhiphop]

Classic Freestyle - Cam’Ron - Child of the Ghetto - Lyrics - "Karaoke Night"

"Child Of The Ghetto"

Let's do the Eastside one time Metro North, Eastriver, Wilson, Club 99 Jefferson, Charleston, A.K., Jackie Rob, Clinton, Taft, Carver Lakeview, 1990, Wagner, Taihino, Harlem [Verse 1:] I don't care if you a old head, or a young bud I'm not a elevator, I'm no come-up Nor do I go down, do like Brand Nubian, slow down Whole clip, blow pounds Silencers steady, that's no sound Circle ya block ock, merry-go-round Here we go now, I'm the owner You're the pitcher, this block is your mound Buildin' a beast so villians can eat I reside on the west, chilled on the east If I say that I rock, then sayin' is gossip I lived in the Nine, stayed in the projects Scored 35 then I wait for a profit Talk, pull the .9, then I spray up an object Homie, don't confuse me, pardon mine I'm the Harlem World Karlton Hines Get it right nigga [Hook:] A child of the ghetto, nobody explained it to me I'm livin' in scripture, the picture they painted for me Knew that it wasn't, and wasn't the game of degree Rippin', they runnin', the gunnin', they name it from me A child of the ghetto, nobody explained it to me I'm livin' in scripture, the picture they painted for me [Verse 2:] I don't really buy jewelry, I take 'em I don't listen to artists dog, I break 'em I don't really look at movies, I make 'em I'm filet megnione, you a steak 'em Any beef, I'ma open it probably I got some dudes hopin' ya try me I got hoes, sell coke in the lobby I'm rich bitch, sellin' dope is a hobby Beefin' with Cam be heat did they hand me I be in the Lamby, you wit' your family Talkin' gangsta, the church ya visit Your roller bladin', circus, and picnics The underworld, the circuit I live in You keep your biscuit, we'll work her with chickens That's the rules that were laid to me Why you think they call me KFC You don't know me homie [Hook:] A child of the ghetto, nobody explained it to me I'm livin' in scripture, the picture they painted for me Knew that it wasn't, and wasn't the game of degree Rippin', they runnin', the gunnin', they name it from me A child of the ghetto, nobody explained it to me I'm livin' in scripture, the picture they painted for me [Verse 3:] '91 to '96, yeah Harlem was out Grant's tomb brought out of Laguardia house Huh, stand in the lobby, Cam and his posse Steak and cheese sandwich from Heaugies They come to heroin, the biggest of Dons Since Guy and Nicky, Fisher and Barnes Snitched, triggers and bombs hit the alarm I would kick in the door, click on ya moms I fell to the arms, in jail we roasted The bail was there, bail got posted Like, in Boston at 1 point boo The bail it was 1 point 2 Get the money nigga [Hook:] A child of the ghetto, nobody explained it to me I'm livin' in scripture, the picture they painted for me Knew that it wasn't, and wasn't the game of degree Rippin', they runnin', the gunnin', they name it from me A child of the ghetto, nobody explained it to me I'm livin' in scripture, the picture they painted for me

[knowingoverseer]

==>

Once again, for the umpteenth time just this week alone, you emerge from a flooded basement unsuccessful. Your body hurt, your eyes stung, and you were dead tired. Gods, how long has this search taken so far? A month? Two? Probably much more... You lost count whenever you had stashed your Rotom Phone away into your sylledex to keep it from getting soaked; asking the Rotom, Akasha, to keep up your queue. Whenever you do fish that out of your inventory, you'll be able to see, but until then it'd just be disheartening and a distraction. You need to find Serket.

Thankfully she was a mechanoid or else you'd have had to give up hope in this endeavor long ago, but the weight of knowing you'd have long since failed if it was someone else didn't leave you feeling any better about it. Upstairs you momentarily rest on a dilapidated armchair in a collapsed building. There's a strong smell of sea water and mold permeating the residence, among other things, and light filtering through the holes in the ceiling. You reach out your hand and try and focus on your magic. You can get in one more of these damn buildings today, surely, you can push yourself to do one more. The sun is still up, and the people- no, creatures outside still seemed less likely to be outright hostile when it was bright enough to see them coming. You can get one more in... A bright orb of light shines in your palm as you reach for your magic, doing you best to hold it back and focus your search on Serket, find Serket- But alas. Eight separate tendrils of light begin to morph and stretch from the orb, pointing in different directions. It was always like this. Your magic misbehaving here, too powerful but in weird and not always pleasant ways. Your finding spell finding instead every flooded book-filled basement within your area. A grey-spell to change into a violet blood for better searching of said flooded basements giving you almost fandom-esqu features and appendages. Any offensive magic you've cast has been disastrous for both you and the hostile entities that have been roaming this fallen city... On top of that, your space powers seemed to be dampened here almost entirely; and you've had a sneaking suspicion Serket can't be tracked magically. So yeah, it's been a fun time. Unceremoniously you pull yourself up from the old chair, keeping the orb in your hand almost like a compass, and set off toward an opening in the wall, only to trip over the most obvious of your magical augmentation, your tail. To think you wanted one for so long, it's been getting in your way near constantly since you implemented this damn spell! Yeesh! Gods you just want to be DONE WITH THIS ALREADY-!? The orb flickers and flashes, momentarily pointing all together toward one direction, toward where you know the harbor to be, before flickering further and dissipating into eight little trails of light. Alright. One more building. You'll mark this one to know where to come back to start your search in the morning when this obviously ends up fruitless. But for now.... one more house. Your name is Calliope Ohpeee Strider and you've been searching the east side of a long-since fallen Boston for 4 months now in search of your friend Serket. It's about time you found her. @artificialgrievand

[warrenwoodhouse]

Fallout 4: Game of the Year Edition Review (Game Reviews) (Reviews)

Photo and Review by @warrenwoodhouse #warrenwoodhouse

As a returning fan from playing the previous instalments of Fallout 3: Game of the Year Edition and Fallout: New Vegas (which didn’t receive a Game of the Year status), Fallout 4: Game of the Year Edition is one of the many great games that I’ve played and throughly enjoy. I’ve been playing this game for nearly a decade and can tell you that there is still much more that I’ve not explored yet. The DLC Packs included in the Game of the Year Edition take you further into the story with additional storylines supporting existing characters from the main storyline, going to new locations nearby. This large, expansive and vast open world of nearly all of the state of Massachusetts, you can explore downtown Boston and fight against a horde of super large green mutant enemies or visit the historic Old State House to as far as Lexington and Concord, along with Quincy to the far south east and Salem to the far north east, nothing says adventure and action quite like Fallout 4. This game is a great beginners entry into open world first person shooters and exploration games.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 1.18 (before 1970)

474 – Seven-year-old Leo II succeeds his maternal grandfather Leo I as Byzantine emperor. He dies ten months later. 532 – Nika riots in Constantinople fail. 1126 – Emperor Huizong abdicates the Chinese throne in favour of his son Emperor Qinzong. 1486 – King Henry VII of England marries Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV, uniting the House of Lancaster and the House of York. 1562 – Pope Pius IV reopens the Council of Trent for its third and final session. 1586 – The magnitude 7.9 Tenshō earthquake strikes Honshu, Japan, killing 8,000 people and triggering a tsunami. 1670 – Henry Morgan captures Panama. 1701 – Frederick I crowns himself King in Prussia in Königsberg. 1778 – James Cook is the first known European to discover the Hawaiian Islands, which he names the "Sandwich Islands". 1788 – The first elements of the First Fleet carrying 736 convicts from Great Britain to Australia arrive at Botany Bay. 1806 – Jan Willem Janssens surrenders the Dutch Cape Colony to the British. 1866 – Wesley College is established in Melbourne, Australia. 1871 – Wilhelm I of Germany is proclaimed Kaiser Wilhelm in the Hall of Mirrors of the Palace of Versailles (France) towards the end of the Franco-Prussian War. Wilhelm already had the title of German Emperor since the constitution of 1 January 1871, but he had hesitated to accept the title. 1886 – Modern field hockey is born with the formation of The Hockey Association in England. 1896 – An X-ray generating machine is exhibited for the first time by H. L. Smith. 1911 – Eugene B. Ely lands on the deck of the USS Pennsylvania anchored in San Francisco Bay, the first time an aircraft landed on a ship. 1913 – First Balkan War: A Greek flotilla defeats the Ottoman Navy in the Naval Battle of Lemnos, securing the islands of the Northern Aegean Sea for Greece. 1915 – Japan issues the "Twenty-One Demands" to the Republic of China in a bid to increase its power in East Asia. 1919 – World War I: The Paris Peace Conference opens in Versailles, France. 1919 – Ignacy Jan Paderewski becomes Prime Minister of the newly independent Poland. 1941 – World War II: British troops launch a general counter-offensive against Italian East Africa. 1943 – Warsaw Ghetto Uprising: The first uprising of Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto. 1945 – World War II: Liberation of Kraków, Poland by the Red Army. 1958 – Willie O'Ree, the first Black Canadian National Hockey League player, makes his NHL debut with the Boston Bruins. 1960 – Capital Airlines Flight 20 crashes into a farm in Charles City County, Virginia, killing all 50 aboard, the third fatal Capital Airlines crash in as many years. 1967 – Albert DeSalvo, the "Boston Strangler", is convicted of numerous crimes and is sentenced to life imprisonment. 1969 – United Airlines Flight 266 crashes into Santa Monica Bay killing all 32 passengers and six crew members.