#how hard it must be to put the silverware with the bundle of other silverware

[wolfaelans]

I'm such a non influencer I cant even influence my family into stacking the dishes properly

[darylsgirl]

You take my breath away - Teaser

A/N - Hey guys! here's a teaser of something I've been working on not sure if i should continue with this, It hasn't got any smut yet but will do if i continue on it. Please please please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Apologies for any mistakes i haven't edited this or read it over!

Love Jen :)

He was the most incredible looking man you had ever seen, Walking through the gates with that possum in his hand, He was definitely a little disheveled, Looked like he was in serious need of a shower but gorgeous nonetheless. Your mouth going dry the moment you saw him, Feeling the now unfamiliar fluttering in your stomach as he walked by you, Not sparing a second glance in your direction.

His eyes alert and suspiciously taking in his surroundings, You watched as he handed his crossbow over, Fingers twitching as it was moved further away from him. Aaron leading them to Deana’s house. Where they will no doubt be being interviewed on camera, Just like all the newcomers were. Just like you had been three months before, Looking over the others in the group seeing their wary eyes the exhaustion showing through the cracks in their demeanor.

Letting out the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding you watched them disappear around the corner. As you were turning to go back into the house you were stopped by Olivia. Rushing from the direction the strangers had gone, a huge basket full of linens in her arms.

“Hey Y/N Are you busy? Any chance you can give me a hand? Deana has asked me to set up the two houses down the street for the new guys” Looking at you with those hopeful puppy dog eyes, She knew there was no way you could say no to her.

“Fineeee, But Jessie’s helping too!” You groaned turning back towards her and down the front steps.

“Thank you Y/N! Jessie’s already there loading some supplies into the cupboards” Her pace was getting faster now, Half running to keep up with her frantic walk you let her continue.

“Could you please start on the beds, That would be a HUGE help. Here take this” Offloading the basket to you she turned back towards the garage that held all of the town's supplies.

“I’m going to grab some more linen, I'll be back in a few!”

Groaning again at the weight of the basket you walked up the steps of the house Olivia had specified. Spotting Jessie in the kitchen immediately.

She laughed at your sour expression “She roped you into this too?” You nodded in reply carrying the basket up the stairs and starting in the first room you came too.

Picking up the first bundle of sheets, Finding a little note attached ‘Single’ Pushing them to one side you picked up the next ‘Double’ Taking the note off and putting it back in the basket you made your way to the bed. Pulling the sheets on and making the bed easily you continued into the other three bedrooms upstairs, Finding one set of double sheets remaining.

Walking down the stairs you passed Jessie again in the Kitchen, Stopping for a moment you took a glass of water from her mumbling your thanks, “Just the basement left! Has she come back yet?”

“Mhmm She left that for you” pointing to a basket of towels. “And she said she’s left the next bunch of sheets and towels in the next house ready”

“And what pray tell is olivia doing while she’s got me sweating like a Whore in Church”

Jessie choked a little on her water trying to suppress her giggle at your words. “Beats me! Tried to ask her, She ran off looking very important” She giggled again.

“Best get on before she finds more jobs for me!” Jessie agreed to grab the towels and put them into each bathroom, Snagging two from her you took it down to the basement with you.

This place was lucky really, There had been a hotel nearby that was just about to open as all hell broke loose that had stacks of linens, Plates and silverware. Enough to fully stock this place for a long time.

It seemed silly to you at first for this to be a huge concern but the longer you stayed here and the more you got used to the little comforting things like the Clean bedding and actual utensils the more important it had started to feel. It made you feel normal, Civilised. Like the world hadn’t just thrown a tantrum. Sure it never lasted very long but the comfort you got from these little things was priceless.

Once you had finished the bed down stairs you and Jessie made your way over to the second house repeating the jobs, Smiling as you left. Hopefully the comfort the little things had on you would also reassure and comfort the new guys. If only just a little. Being out there for so long yourself you knew how hard it would be for them to adapt.

When Aaron had first brought you through the gates you thought you must have died. Everything was so….Normal, The houses all pristine. All happy smiling faces welcoming you to the neighbourhood. It had taken you a week to speak, Sometimes you still weren’t sure if it was real at all, Maybe this is where your consciousness goes when you were walking around as one of those dead but not dead freaks.

Walking back home you spotted Olivia, Saluting her “All done El capitan!” She laughed as you walked by purposely not slowing in case she thought of another job for you.

Sinking back into your couch and grabbing the book you had discarded earlier when the commotion at the gate started, You had been out hunting the day before, Which meant today you could take the next few days easy.

Reading the Hobbit for the millionth time, You easily slipped back into that familiar world, Only stopping when it got too dark to see the words on the page. The next day was much the same head straight back into your book escaping the real world as long as you could. Not realising how long you had been sat there, The sun was low on the horizon when you were pulled from your favourite book.

Opening the door you were greeted by a smiling Aaron. “Hey Y/N I can’t stay gotta get back to Eric, Deana is throwing a welcome party for the new guys, Since you’re our newest person besides them, She is pretty insistent you attend!”

Rolling your eyes “Insistent hm? I think I’ll give it a miss..But thanks for the invite!” Trying to shut the door hoping this conversation was over when the door was stopped on his foot.

“C’mon Y/N a little more socialising won’t kill you! You’ve managed to come out of your shell to me Jessie and now Olivia! A few more wouldn’t hurt right?”

The puppy dog eyes. How did every fucker in here know that was your weak spot.

“Ughhhhh Finee! Only if you're going to be there?” He nodded happily turning and stopping on the steps “See you at 8 wear something pretty” He winked, Taking off before you could change your mind.

Pretty? You weren’t even sure you owned anything that could be classed as pretty. Storming upstairs like a toddler having a tantrum you stripped quickly showering the sweat from yourself before stepping out wrapping the fluffy towel around you.

Walking over to your closet you pulled at the pile of dresses you had haphazardly thrown to the bottom of the closet when you had moved in, Never thinking in this new world there would be a place for pretty dresses.

Separating the sizes you pulled the few that would fit you to one side throwing the rest back in a heap again. Holding them up to your chest you decided on a black figure hugging one with a slit up one side. You guessed this would be kind of functional too. The slit certainly gave you enough room to move if you needed to. Picking up a pair of almost matching wedges you threw them both on the bed. Turning your attention to your hair as you tried to tame it.

It was a shame this new world didn’t include bloody straighteners. Groaning at yourself you couldn’t believe that had just crossed your mind. There were more important things to worry about besides your hair!

Running the brush through it once more, It would do. Your mother certainly would be happy. She loved your naturally wavy curls. You felt the twang in your heart as you remembered her, She had lasted 6 months after the fall before one wrong step sent her into the arms of a walker taking her from you. Rubbing your eyes gently. No you wouldn’t cry, If she was here now she��d be giving you an earful about it, Demanding you enjoy your night and your freedom.

Looking over at the tiny clock on the side 8:15 shit you were late. Pulling the dress over your head and heels on your feet you spared your reflection one last look smoothing the dress down on your stomach nervously. You can do this. It’s only people right?

Slowly descending the stairs and making your way out the door, Your feet dragging as you headed closer to the party. Stopping outside the door, Hearing the laughter from the other side.

Before you knew what you were doing you were spinning back around back up the street when a light fell over you.

“Sneaking away before they can see you huh Y/N?” Giving him a guilty look.

“I tried… Tried and failed. Oh well maybe next time!” You chuckled.

“Oh hey, Daryl right?” Turning and following Aaron’s gase you spotted him again. So the possum guy’s name was Daryl.

Giving him a small smile “I guess those kinda things aren’t for you either?”

Not quite looking at you he gave a non committal grunt.

Deciding to take Aaron’s earlier advice, Taking a deep breath.

“You eaten? I’m making spaghetti if you're hungry?” He shrugged again.

“C’mon, She makes some pretty serious spaghetti” Aaron teased, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Guess I could eat” He mumbled, still looking more at his feet than you. Aaron gave you a wink as he went back inside giving you both a wave before shutting the door.

“C’mon it’s this way. Just down from your house. I guess you could say we’re neighbours” He fell into step with you still staying quiet the entire way. As you opened the front door you looked backwards seeing Daryl looking between your open door and his own house.

“Come in, Food won’t be long!” Holding the door open Daryl finally made his decision, his feet carrying him swiftly up the stairs and inside. Flicking the lights on as you followed him.

“Kitchen’s that way, I’ll get you a drink. Whiskey ok?” He finally looked at you.

“You guys have Whiskey?” A shocked expression crossing his face. “Yeah i found it out there still unopened a while back, I was saving it for a special occasion, But shh don’t tell olivia or she’ll add it to that list of hers!” He gave you a small smile as you poured a glass for each of you passing it to him.

“Make yourself at home! I’ll get this started” He took a seat at the breakfast bar rolling the glass around in his hands whilst you busied yourself in the kitchen pulling out everything you would need and quickly getting it started.

Turning back to the breakfast bar you grabbed the loaf of bread slicing a few pieces and covering them in some oil and wild garlic you had found on your hunt yesterday. Popping them into the oven. He spoke again “Why’s it a special occasion?” He mumbled.

Grinning at him and taking a sip of your whiskey. “It’s not everyday I get to cook my serious spaghetti for just anyone!”

You could see the blush rising in his cheeks as he took a long swig of his whiskey. You leant over to top his glass off, Before turning to the cupboards and grabbing placemats, Plates and cutlery.

“Here let me do that” He tried as he moved towards you.

“Absolutely not! My mother would roll over in her grave if she knew i put a guest to work” Smiling sadly as your mother popped into your head again. Setting the table.

Turning your attention back to your meal you strained the pasta, Popping it into a dish before dishing up the sauce too. Taking them back to the table and returning to the oven to fish the garlic bread out.

Once everything was on the table you both took a seat. Reaching over you served him a large portion popping a few pieces of garlic bread on his plate before serving yourself.

“Dig in” You insisted before turning back to your plate. He watched you take the first few mouthfuls before reaching for his own fork.

After a few minutes of silence you spoke up again “So what do you think of Alexandria?”

“I think it ain’t real”

“I thought that for a long time, Hell I’m still not convinced and I’ve been here 3 months”

“So your not...uh...Not from here. Like the others”

“I’m from out there I guess. Asheville Georgia originally”

His eyes went wide at this “Me too, Sorta. Lived up near the mountains in Georgia”

A huge grin crossing your face “So we’ve always been neighbours then! How strange that we would meet here in DC! We must have been in the same places a thousand times! I used to go hunting in the mountains with my daddy”

He shrugged “Alotta my group from near there, We met in Atlanta……” he trailed off mumbling “Ya wouldn’t have noticed someone like me anyway”

Trying to get him to meet your eyes over the table, “Oh i most definitely would have noticed YOU Daryl”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, the tops of his ears peeking through his shaggy hair going beet red, his face lowered, he turned his attention back to his food.

Realising you had probably gone too far, Afterall you didn’t really know anything about this man, You had only seen him once yesterday morning before tonight, You weren’t even sure if he was single. Or straight for that matter. Trying to ease the awkwardness that had now descended in the room you tried a quick change of conversation.

“How are your group feeling about being here? Did you and your partner manage to sleep okay?” Hoping your not so subtle way of asking him if he were single wouldn’t be too obvious.

“Partner? Rick’s the Cop not me” He grumbled. Okay maybe not as obvious as you first thought.

You shook your head slightly, his obliviousness was strangely endearing, “Sorry no i meant your girlfriend, Wife” When he didn’t reply straight away you figured you must have missed the mark. “Boyfriend?” You questioned.

He snorted at this “I ain’t gay, Aint got no woman either” Not able to contain the gleeful smile on your face. Not that it would matter his eyes were fully trained on his meal as he started devouring it quicker, Reaching for his glass he drained the remaining dregs of the whiskey.

“Oh really? I thought for sure you’d have been snapped up by now!”

The blush returning to his face again he gave you a noncommittal grunt, Waiting a moment you realised he wasn’t going to answer. Not much of a talker. You were probably being too pushy, Small talk was hard to do after seeing the things he no doubt had seen out there, The things that man had probably had to do just as you had, Suppressing the shudder that threatened to run through you as your mind conjured up the images.

Standing quickly you walked back to the kitchen grabbing the bottle and refilling his glass and in turn your own.

Taking a deep gulp of the whiskey and then quickly finishing your own meal in silence, Both finishing your meal at the same time, Daryl raises the plate to his mouth to scrape the last bits of pasta into his mouth.

“Still hungry? There’s plenty more if you would like some more?”

Shaking his head no “ ‘M good.” He grunted. Taking his plate from him and collecting your own you took them into the kitchen dropping them in the sink you turned to retrieve the serving bowls, Almost crashing straight into Daryl, Your hands flinching up and landing on his chest steadying yourself.

He caught the bowl just in time surprisingly before any of the remaining food managed to spill on the floor.

Feeling the blush on your cheeks now as your hands lingered a moment longer than they should have done, Enjoying the firmness of his muscular chest under your fingers.

Dropping your arms to your sides. “I’m sorry! Thank you, Let me take that” Taking the bowl and turning your beetroot red face away from him you found a tupperware box in the cupboard filling it with the leftovers before turning to the sink and washing the dishes.

When you turned back to him he was watching you silently, Studying you it seemed.

Picking your glass back up you motioned to him “Should we finish the bottle or do you have somewhere to be?”

When he made no move to leave you picked up the bottle and motioned towards the living room letting him follow behind you, Taking a seat you finally kicked your uncomfortable heels off, Your feet instantly throbbing grateful to be out of their confines.

Propping your feet up on the coffee table in front of you, You sank back into the plush cushions behind you with a happy groan, Daryl stood awkwardly next to the couch glass hanging from his fingertips gasing at you with a softness in his eyes, The redness rising again in cheeks once he realised you had caught him gazing at you.

Smiling at his warmly “No need to stand on ceremony, Take a seat” Patting the chair next to you from emphasis. “More?” You asked, shaking the bottle at him. Taking it from you he filled his own glass before turning to yours and topping yours up also.

Clearing his throat awkwardly. “So...Are ya people here too?”

Dropping your eyes from him you shook your head sadly “Just me…They’re all gone….” The alcohol was taking over your words as you mumbled “Shouldn’t have been me…” Feeling a tear escape your eye as you thought about the countless lives you had watched taken before their time. People who would have been the greatest asset in this new world...Gone, Some died saving you. For what.. They should have let you die.

Pulling your mind from those thoughts, It didn’t do anyone any good to dwell! Wiping the tear quickly from your cheek grabbing your drink and gulping it down in one.

Turning back to Daryl you shifted a non convincing smile back to your face.

“How about you? Your group seems very close almost like a…”

Finishing your sentence for you “A family…...Ya know i look around and i think about the people that are gone, And the people that are still here and it aint right...Aint fair..But yer gotta keep goin for em”

Smiling at Aaron’s name “Yeah i wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t for him and Eric, They’re good people. Most of the people here are good people. Too innocent to the world as it is yes, But good people..”

After sitting in silence for a few moments when Daryl broke the silence. “Well i should...I should go….They’ll be wonderin where i am”

Standing with him you walked him to the door.

“Thanks. Thanks for the-”

“Your welcome Daryl….Maybe you could come again? It was nice to have company” Smiling you opened the door for him letting him linger on the threshold.

He let out another noncommittal grunt as his eyes lingered on you. Leaning against the doorway you followed his eye line down your body, smirking slightly you swayed your hips watching as his eyes followed your movements.

Darting forward you swiftly kissed his cheek. “Goodnight Daryl” The blush on his face matched yours as he turned and stomped down the steps rushing towards his own house.

Daryl

Holy shit she was perfect.

Good food, Great Whiskey, Perfect body. That dress…. He had never met anyone like her before, She hunted too. But a woman like that would never look twice at a man like him.

A dirty good for nothing redneck asshole, He didn’t even know why she had been so...so nice to him tonight.

Carol was waiting for him at the door. Puckering her lips at him she made a lip smacking noise “Kiss Pookie” She giggled.

“Shut up” He mumbled, heading straight for the stairs to the basement. He needed to be alone for a little while as he processed these thoughts. Locking the door behind him he took a few strides over to the bed and flopped down on it.

In the dark of the room the thoughts became more obvious. Throwing an arm over his face he groaned. From the second he had first seen her standing so beautifully in front of Aaron’s house he had a tightening in his stomach. He couldn’t have said no to her invitation if he tried.

If Merle had seen him tonight, Blushing like a love sick little girl, He would have had a right laugh, It was like he could hear his voice. “Oh Princess, Got a crush? Man up Baby bro, Go get that cooch”

Did she mean it when she asked if he could come again? He shook his head. She couldn’t have, she was just being nice. His mind couldn’t stop thinking of the way she smiled at him, The way her hair fell in front of her eyes when she laughed, The curves of her as she swayed in the doorway…. His pants were tightening at the thought. He would have to take care of that before he could fall asleep.

Imagining his hands were roaming her body he pulled his throbbing member free, He wouldn’t last long as he thought about her hands on him, While his hands roamed up those beautiful milky thighs. That beautiful mouth gasping for him.

God that did it, Groaning he let himself spill into his hand, Grabbing a rag at the side of him he wiped it from himself, Ashamed he turned over throwing an arm over his face before drifting into an undisturbed sleep at the thought of her.

Over the next few weeks he saw a lot more of Y/N, As they were the two best hunters in Alexandria they were often thrown together to head out of the walls.

Even in her half ruined Jeans and Walker splattered Shirt she was still gorgeous. On days like today when they’re outside the walls he noticed how her face changed from the strained smile to a relaxed free look in her eyes.

She was scanning the underbrush now checking the traps they had left the week before. He felt the blush on his cheeks when he realised he had been caught staring again.

“Everything okay?” She asked spinning around in a circle, her body tensing looking for the Danger.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah all good. Anythin in the trap?” Blush rising in his cheeks at being caught staring. After that they headed back to the town in comfortable silence, Walking side by side both carrying the day's hunt, Y/N stopping every few minutes to forage things on the way.

Once back inside the walls, She came with him to his house as they always did now Only stopping to share the hunt with Olivia to share around the town, Y/N spent a lot more time around him and his group. Seeming to slot seamless into their messed up dynamic.

Just like every night she helped Carol prepare the dinner while he retreated to the porch, Cleaning his bow and bolts, The door open letting her musical laugh wash over him as he worked.

He could have listened to her all day, Before long he forgot what he was meant to be doing and just closed his eyes, Head leaning back against the house, Fully relaxed for the first time being in Alexandria.

He groaned inwardly opening his eyes to see who was disturbing his peace.

“Hey…” Rick took a seat next to Daryl on the porch nudging his knee and pointing towards the house.

“Y/N been spending a lot of time here...What’s going on with that?” He asked, giving you a knowing look.

“Why yer asking me?” Daryl huffed. “Shouldn’ yer be askin her”

Rick sighed before giving him another knowing look. “I seen the way you look at her, You sweet on her?”

Daryl wasn’t sure how to respond because of course he was ‘sweet’ on her but there was no changing who he was, A beautiful woman like that could never be interested in him, So there was just no point admitting his feelings to his friend as he knew you would never reciprocate those feelings.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply your beautiful song filled voice broke interrupted at just the right moment. His heart pounding, blush spreading across his face as you smiled at him, He was grateful for the darkness to hide this from you.

As he stood he felt her fingers brush his arm as she gave him an inquisitive look.

Y/N

You felt the electricity hum between you as your fingers found his arm, You had both been taking as many opportunities as possible to get closer to each other, So grateful when you were partnered together to hunt.

@jazzy1118

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@lilythemadqueen

[sirkkasnow]

12 Finer Points Of Damage Control

Ao3 link

07/20/13-07/25/13 Saturday - Thursday

Stan didn’t say anything when he got home, because the slumber party crew had arrived and there were people underfoot everywhere. Clary coordinated dishwashing duties in the kitchen, passing silverware off to Candy and lifting plates out of Grenda’s towel as soon as they were dry. “Did you get dinner?” she asked as he stuck his head warily through the door. “We have leftovers.”

“Uh - I’ll wait until you guys’re done, thanks.” Mabel teetered atop a stepstool to put away glasses. She managed a shameless wink over Clary’s head. Pacifica sat at the kitchen table looking bored and vaguely hostile, fingertips busy flicking across her phone’s screen. “If you got a minute later, Clary, could we have a word?”

“You bet, Stan, I’ll come looking for you.”

There was really no time at all to talk. Clary chased after the four girls like a harried mother goose, hopping over Waddles when necessary. Stan could not believe the amount of chatter they generated - commentary on the guest list, the likely menu, Ford’s relative hotness - he winced at that one.

They spent a good hour in the living room huddled around Mabel’s phone, watching videos and arguing over the party soundtrack. Clary was pushing for classic tunes, forties and fifties stuff. “Lowest common denominator. Everyone can dance to that.”

“My grunkle’s got pretty light feet,” Mabel shot back. “Seventies or bust! Let’s give the old man a chance to strut his stuff!”

“Every time Stan struts his stuff, something gets broken.” Pacifica was leaning in, still looking a little bored but at least engaged. “Which might be fun to watch.”

Stan hovered within earshot for a little while, hoping Clary would pull herself free, but he gave up after one too many intense debates over boy bands. He’d have to wait them out. The cash was burning a hole in his pocket anyway. He stomped off to the old office, flicked on a lamp, cleared a space on the desk and buckled down to work.

He couldn’t really enjoy the whole process with the sense of impending doom winding tight in his chest. The old answering machine’s red light blinked angrily from across the room; he threw stuff at it - Gold Chains For Old Men from last April, a Lil’ Gideon promo t-shirt, a ratty coonskin cap he’d never repurposed - until something stuck and covered it up.

By the time he had the guest list and the cash bundled up and packed away in the safe it was well past midnight. Stan crept through the darkened house, reflexively avoiding all the creakiest spots in the floor. Dipper, he knew, was crashing on the study couch downstairs.

Indistinct girlish voices and the steady thump thump thump of muffled bass were still trickling under the kids’ door. The narrow line of light painted onto the floorboards was dim, at least, so things must be winding down by now. Stan paused and raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it and slunk off towards his own room.

He was on the verge of tucking himself in when he heard the soft creak of hinges down the hall. Cracking his door open a sliver revealed a bare glimpse of Clary tiptoeing out and downstairs in pajamas and kerchief. Eventually she returned with the plastic pitcher and a few old tumblers.

Stan just watched. She glanced over as she made to slip back in, spotting his silhouette against the faint light of his room, and with a tiny conspiratorial smile held a finger to her lips.

He closed the door, flopped flat on his back in bed, and stared at the ceiling that was too far away to actually see until he tumbled unwilling into restless sleep.

Come morning the yammering traffic of teenage girls throwing together a full-on Mabel-style breakfast was too much to bear. There wasn’t a chance in hell of extricating Clary from the chaos, so he headed straight for the museum.

Soos had rigged construction curtains across the space they’d blocked out. The ‘Coming Attraction!’ sign sported a cheerful, toothy, horned-and-winged weasel with wide cartoon eyes, probably Melody’s work.

Stan had argued for scaling the whole production down a little, but Soos had been adamant in his laid-back way. By hook or by crook it was going to be a walkthrough with hidden lighting, surround sound and special effects, whatever that meant.

He spent most of his time slathering black paint over the framework that had already gone in. The blackout shell that would eventually enclose it all would at least cover up any number of construction sins. Positioning marks for lights, showpieces and electronics got chalked in according to the elaborate plans he’d been handed.

Morning tours swung past his sheltered corner and Stan listened in pleased bemusement. There was already a snappy line of patter for the new exhibit. Soos had a gift for this - the style had changed but the appreciative giggling and gasps from his audience were familiar.

After all, Stan had fallen into the role. Soos had aspired to it.

It was easy to lose himself in the work for a couple of hours, but eventually his stomach’s vague grumble and the angle of sunlight through the windows warned him that he had other things to worry about. Soos stuck his head in between curtains and tapped at the framework. “Time for lunch, Mr. Pines! The girls have all gone home and I think Miss Clary’s got sandwiches made up.”

“Yeah, yeah, comin’.” Stan rubbed at a few flecks of black paint on his fingers and emerged squinting into the main room. “Sounds like a nice busy mornin’. Everythin’ all right with plans for the dance thing?”

Soos tugged a notepad out of his jacket. “Oh, yeah, we’re selling a ton of tickets! I guess they all saw your posters. Lots of messages came in last night. Took a while to get through them all before we opened up. And we had a bunch of people asking about dinner tickets?” He flipped a couple of pages while Stan cringed internally. “Yup, about fifteen of those. Couple more calls today, too, and a few people asking at the gift shop.”

“Uh. Yeah. About those. Didja get phone numbers an’ names?”

“Oh, sure. Looked like you settled on eighty-five bucks apiece for those, so that’s what we charged.”

“What you - Soos, did you actually sell them tickets?!”

Soos blinked. “Well, sure! I saw the envelope in the safe and that ticket book, so I figured you and Miss Clary worked something out. It’ll be one big party!”

“Sweet Moses.” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, slapped a hand to his brow, and started to pace. Surely there was still a way to contain the damage. “Okay. Okay, you got contact info, all we gotta do is call people - “

He swung around to look out across the exhibit space, spinning possibilities in his mind - reschedule, shift the venue, anything but issuing refunds. His focus flicked blankly from point to point, then settled on the woman standing with arms folded right behind the Sascrotch.

Ah, fuck.

“Stan,” Clary said gently. “May I have a moment of your time, please.” It wasn’t a question.

Stan held out a hand. Soos laid the notebook in his palm and backed away until he was out of her line of sight.

Clary turned and walked with measured strides through the museum and then the house until she’d arrived at the porch. Stan followed with feet dragging as though they were already encased in concrete.

She set hands to her hips and looked out into the distance - he wasn’t sure if she even saw the trees. As the silence drew out he thumbed through Soos’ notebook and mentally counted up tickets, arriving at a number large enough to make his stomach flip in delight and dread.

“The girls and I came up with a guest list of eighteen people,” Clary said at length. “Am I to understand that we are expecting more, now.”

Stan cleared his throat and launched in. “So, funny thing, I stopped off for a coffee down at Greasy’s an’ Susan’s the one who brought it up, since you’ve been lookin’ to get this whole thing organized for the last couple days, said you asked about cherry pie, good choice by the way - “

Not a word. Her fingers were drumming out a restless rhythm against the khaki of her shorts.

“So yeah. Yeah, people were startin’ to get the wrong idea ‘bout dance party tickets so I thought maybe we’d, y’know, sell some dinner tickets since they’re so hot on it, we’ll make enough - more than enough! - t’offset all the expenses an’ then at least we know who’s comin’, we don’t get a buncha people bustin’ in uninvited - “

“How many?”

He had a good head of steam up and had to fumble around for a second. “Uh - what?”

“How many tickets?” She hadn’t raised her voice but there was an edge in it like the wind of a January blizzard and he nearly shivered.

“Looks like about fifty - “

“Fifty!” Clary barked it out and turned to glare at him full on. Her face was pale, a hard spot of angry pink high in each cheek. “Stan, that’s seventy people. I can’t cook for seventy people out of the house, there is no damn way and the minute money’s involved you need a certified commercial kitchen! How in the hell - “

Stan knew he’d gone red in the face and hell if a direct challenge wasn’t making his temper start to flare a little, too. “Well - well, fine, we have Greasy’s make it all! We shuttle it up an’ make sure we have plenty of paper plates, no problem!”

Clary scoffed. “There is no way you didn’t sell this as a home-cooked meal from your very own resident lawyer.”

Okay, so she wasn’t entirely wrong. “No one’s gonna care about the food. They just wanna meet you - “

“So you’re telling me I make a decent roadside attraction?”

The last syllable rose and broke. She clapped a palm over her mouth. Stan looked at her, his jaw gone slack, a sharp little sting lodged in his chest. Tears of fury or frustration had welled up at the corners of her eyes and one made a break for it as she pulled a shaking breath.

“I need a minute,” she said, rough-edged.

“Clary. C’mon.” He reached out, hoping to lay a hand on her shoulder. She twitched away, then slipped past him with fluid ease, making no contact. In three long strides she’d thrown a leg over her bicycle. One foot found a pedal and she took off at speed down the path that’d eventually get her to town. “Oh, come on!”

Both of the kids clattered out onto the porch, standing to either side of him.

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel looked up to him in wide-eyed concern. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

“She forgot her helmet.” Dipper folded his hands, thumbs twirling awkward loops. “Uh, so the dinner thing got - bigger?”

Stan set a hand to his chin for a long moment, breathing through his fingers to steady himself.

“Yep,” he said. “She’s headin’ out to work on logistics an’ supplies an’ so on. We’ve only got a couple days to pull it all together, yeah?” Stan scraped up a smile and lightly patted Mabel’s hair. “You know how this town is, things get outta hand pretty quick. We’re all gonna have to pitch in, got it?”

Mabel looked on the verge of tears for a moment, then her back straightened and her jaw set in determination. “I don’t know what the heck just happened but we are gonna fix it. Right, Dipper?”

“Right, Mabel! Come on, we’ll go track her down!”

“Kids. No.” He shook his head when they looked up at him in surprise. “She wants peace an’ quiet, she gets peace an’ quiet.” Mabel looked briefly mulish, Dipper troubled, but he put on the stern look and eventually they nodded.

She didn’t reappear that afternoon. Stan did his best to stay busy with piecing the exhibit together, focused more sharply than usual in service of not thinking about anything else. He was genuinely starting to worry along towards dinnertime when his phone chimed with an incoming one-line message, then more in rapidfire sequence.

Rented out Greasy’s kitchen. Add’l food lined up. Updated menu. Pls send guest list when complete. Still need: tables & chairs, linens, serveware. Suggest asking McGucket. Manor might have garden party supplies.

Hesitant, Stan tapped in: You okay?

The reply was near instant. I’m fine. Will see you at dinner.

He’d about finished off the wiring, packing away tools and electrical tape, when Mabel came dashing in out of breath and yanked aside the construction curtain. “She’s back! C’mon, c’mon, you’ve gotta clean up!”

Ford had been on dinner duty that evening, which meant it was heavy on vegetables and light on anything interesting. Dipper and Mabel were buzzing around Clary. She looked freshly scrubbed, maybe a little drawn, tossing together a salad at the counter. Her head came up as Stan entered; she set down the dressing, marched right over and offered her right hand. “I apologize.”

Stan accepted her clasp immediately and squeezed in what he hoped was reassurance. “Hey. Ah, glad you’re all right, real sorry about the inconvenience an’ all.” Grateful though he was to see her, the smile she wore was surface-slight, her eyes cool.

“I’ve run fundraisers before. It’ll all be under control in a day or two.” Clary’s fingers slipped from his and she pivoted to collect the salad bowl. “All right, you lot! War council time! As you know we’re running the biggest party of the summer here at the Shack and I am going to need help from all of you.”

Ford dished up brown rice and poached salmon. Clary laid out the menu, jotted in several additions and got quite serious with Mabel about desserts, settling on ‘Fireworks Krispy Treats: They’ll Light Up Your Mouth!’ in addition to the cherry pies and lemon bars she’d apparently negotiated with Susan.

“You,” Clary said, pointing her pen at Stan. “Logistics. The exhibit and the seating are yours to manage. Remember that at this rate we may have to set up an outdoor dance floor. You,” indicating Ford, “please keep working on my car. I’m going to need both of you early on the morning of this thing to knock out the chicken.”

Stan watched the whole process with trepidation - she was a monster of efficiency and it was a far cry from the laid-back approach she’d been taking for the last couple days. “Yes ma’am.”

“We’ve got less than a week to knock this out of the park.” Clary took up her fork and saluted the table at large. “Let’s make this legendary.” She tucked briskly into her dinner and finished well before everyone else, dropping off her plate at the sink and ducking out of the kitchen before Stan could catch her.

It went like that for the entire following day. Clary disappeared before anyone was awake, communicating only in an endless series of texts. Most of those hit a broadcast group including Stan, Soos, Ford and the kids, friendly if brisk updates on the state of the picnic.

A few of them came only to Stan, and those were ...terse.

Status on tables etc?

Updates to guest count?

Pls keep any receipts for supplies. Will collect them later.

An argument about who was going to pay for what would be coming down the pike soon, he was sure of that.

Got time in the morning? he tapped in.

Working to clean Greasy’s kitchen up to code. Will probably finish tomorrow. A pause, then: Wouldn’t want to poison half the town.

Clary didn’t even make it back for dinner that night. When he went looking for her the next morning she was already gone, and her phone went unanswered. Stan lasted until just before lunchtime before pure frustration drove him to start working his way through local contacts to track her down.

“Greasy's diner - we have food!” That was Susan for sure, sounding slightly manic.

“Heeey, Susan. listen, is Miz Merrick down there? She headed out early this mornin' and I was wonderin' where she landed.”

“Oh, gosh yes!” Susan giggled against the background racket of customers. “You should've seen her. She's been hauling stuff out of that old walk-in fridge that I didn't even know existed! We've got some pretty weird specials for lunch, let me tell ya. She’s helping with the rush while she's stocking up all this stuff for the big picnic - ooooh, it's all going to be delicious! I can't wait!”

Stan squinted. “Wait, what, you're comin'?”

“Oh, sure! She traded me a ticket and got me the ingredients for all those pies!” Her cheerful tone dropped a little into rusty affection. “I can't wait to take a spin around the dance floor with you.” He thought that over, then shuddered faintly to himself.

“So, ah, she free to come to the phone? Guess she's set hers on silent or somethin'.”

“Gimme a minute, sweetie, i'll go check.” The rattle of industrial-grade china and indistinct conversation went on as she left the receiver on the counter, calling out towards the back of the place.

Eventually she wandered back. “Sorry, Stan, she's in the middle of juggling like eight trays of biscuits. Says she'll see you back at the Shack tonight.”

Stan propped himself against the wall and managed not to sigh. “All right, Susan, thanks. Glad she's gettin' out ahead of it all.”

“You bet, sugar. See ya in a couple days!”

He'd been too engrossed to notice company in the hallway, and when he glanced up glumly it was right at Mabel perched on the bottom step with Waddles leaning into her side. Stan jerked upright but she was already shaking a finger at him.

"Don't you give me that look, Grunkle Stan. She's too ‘busy’ - “ Biiiiiig air quotes around that one. “- to talk to you, right?"

“Ah - um - “ He juggled a couple of possible deflections, then shoved the phone in his pocket and looked at her in naked desperation. “I swear this is not what I meant to happen!”

Mabel heaved a theatrical sigh. “All right. This is something I can fix. Clary and I have an appointment with Soos' Abuelita tomorrow morning.” She waggled her eyebrows. “A secret appointment. When we get back at around lunchtime you better be ready to shake your moneymaker, got it?"

“Shake my what now?”

“You two are gonna host this thing, so you better dance. And since the spotlight's gonna be on you, you'd better be good! Everyone will be watching!”

Oh boy. He was probably a dead man walking as it was and this wasn’t gonna help.

“And that means,” Mabel said, cheerfully oblivious, “That you two need to practice. Don't worry. Mabel's on the case and I'll make it happen.” She zapped him with the finger-guns and shoved Waddles aside enough to get to her feet. “I'll let you know where you need to be and when. Make sure you’re tidy, okay?”

‘Where’ turned out to be the old storage room he’d converted to a ramshackle boxing ring, the ropes downed and folded up in a corner. ‘When’ was late morning the following day, and ‘what’ - well. That was answered when Mabel came in, dragging the karaoke machine in her wake. Clary stepped in right after, a bandana at her neck and another binding back her hair, bleach spatters dotting her old t-shirt.

Stan stuffed hands in his pockets and rolled his shoulders back, doing his level best to meet her eyes without a twinge of guilt - because, come on, they were going to make a ton of money on this picnic thing - and found himself mostly failing. He was really starting to hate the polished, faint, impenetrable smile she had for him.

Mabel’s voice was a vague buzz through the tangle of his self-justification but he caught the gist of it - dazzle the rubes, make it look easy, inspire swooning jealousy in the audience. “All right,” she wrapped up, as rah-rah as he’d ever heard her. “Let’s you and him dance!”

Clary pinched her lips, unfolded her arms, and stalked out across the floor to join him.

“So,” Stan said.

“Mmhm.”

“Carved some time out of the schedule?”

“Barely. Your young lady over there makes a good argument.”

This was worse than her trying to punch him. Clary settled into the arch of his arm with professional precision, a frosty six inches of space between them, the six inches his mother had lectured him about a billion years ago and that he’d promptly ignored at the first opportunity to get up close and personal.

Stan maintained that six inches like his life depended on it because maybe it did.

“My waltz is all right. My samba’s shaky. Meet in the middle with foxtrot?” Clary looked up to him with clear, fearless eyes, the faintest of curves drawn along her lips. Her fingers were chapped and rough in his.

“Might as well start off easy. Mabel, whatcha got, pumpkin?”

“Got it!” There must have been some consultation beforehand because what came out of Mabel’s hot-pink speakers was honest-to-god big band music. Stan nearly protested and stifled it when Clary looked at him askance.

“Come on now,” she said sweetly. “We should really start with the lowest common denominator, shouldn’t we? If you would.”

He inhaled, flexed his hand at her waist and rocked back for the first step.

Their first pass around the room was dismal. She obviously had some formal training and he could barely remember what the hell went into a foxtrot, it’d been so long since he had done anything more than improvise on a foxtrot theme. There were a few near misses with her feet before she clicked her tongue and murmured. “Slow, slow, quick quick. I can tell you know this.”

One brassy number blended into the next as they paced and whirled, Mabel razzing them or calling encouragement by turns. “Clary, stop looking at him like you want to stab him! Dance is the language of love! You gotta sell it better than that!”

“Maybe I want to stab him.” Clary glared somewhere off over his left shoulder.

“No you don’t. You want to knock the socks off everyone at this party, right? I know you two can do it.”

Stan gritted his teeth and fought to earn back her trust with the respectful press of his palm, honoring whatever distance between them she wanted. By the third pass the six-inch block of ice had softened a little. “Spin?” he suggested, and at her faint nod he tried some fancier footwork.

They were uncoordinated, discordant, his feet clipping the edges of her sandals, frustration building between them as they lurched and wobbled. Mabel’s face was a worried glint in a corner of his eye. When Clary went off balance she caught herself with the awkward combination of a foot jabbed down out of sequence and his hand tightening at her waist in support.

He couldn’t quite look at her, but he hissed out, low as he could, “This is not gonna work if you can’t trust me a little.”

“Should I trust you?” she breathed back at him in a near-subsonic murmur. Her fingernails pricked at his shoulder.

Stan snorted softly. “Hell, no, you shouldn’t.”

There was a little pfft, pure disbelief, and a direct sidelong look of complete exasperation. The music spun to a stop as they stood interlocked and distant, then finally, mercifully, launched into the next tune. Something in her ramrod spine trembled, then snapped; he felt her make herself relax and sway into his grip.

“Fine,” Clary said dryly. “Honesty I can work with.”

This one was easy, a big swinging number with a nice solid four-square beat, nothing but a framework to whirl around the room to. Stan took it slow at first. She’d stopped fighting him so much, still hesitant but at least responsive to the little nudges that offered guidance, and as they moved he felt the tension in the room dissipating. The next time he signaled a spin she took the cue, pivoting neatly through and landing back in the crook of his arm with a quirked brow.

After a couple minutes he chuckled in surprise. “You’re not terrible at this.”

Her heel came down square on his toe, deliberate, he thought. “I suppose you’re not terrible either.”

Mabel relaxed too, flashing him a hasty thumbs up when Clary was looking elsewhere. The next track she cued up was overtly sappy, loaded with layered strings and lyrics dripping with longing. “Mabel,” snapped Clary. “Next please.”

“Sorry, wrong song!” Mabel wasn’t the least bit repentant but she did skip this one.

Time pressure was sort of a foreign thing for Stan - he had no problem putting his head down and plugging away, but was used to more open-ended projects. Possessed by grim determination, assisted by Soos through a couple of late nights, he got the Dreaming Denizens exhibit up and running in the nick of time.

They’d moved the cannibal pixie village over to hang in the rafters above the disguised darkroom. Melody had rigged a couple ragged little bits of LED-centered tulle mounted on wires to flutter around in the shadows. The effect was surprisingly creepy and convincing once they’d tweaked the lighting in that corner.

The ticketed picnic crowd had swelled to nearly seventy before Stan managed to shut it all down. Fortunately the Northwests had abandoned enough folding tables, chairs and lawn tents to handle twice that, easy, in the cavernous manor basement. At Clary’s direction they’d also hauled out enough stainless steel chafing dishes to serve a small army. Of course, they were serving an army.

“You could do weddings,” Stan mused to Soos as they stacked folding chairs in the lee of the Shack. “Bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, hell, just rent this stuff out. Be a shame to just let it molder in storage.”

“Set up a chapel?” Soos wiped his brow and grinned. “Might be fun, Mr. Pines. There’s still plenty to do around here.”

“I’m retired, y’know that. I’m only willin’ to crank out brilliant new merchandisin’ concepts for free because I like ya, kid.” Stan plucked off Soos’ cap and ruffled his hair before pivoting to haul down the next stack of chairs.

Dance practice with Mabel became an urgent matter for the last couple days before the event. Clary and Stan carved out half an hour at a time between projects. Mabel played all kinds of music at them - big band, BABBA, a smattering of 80s stuff, one or two classical waltzes - and they worked to adapt.

All of it was still professional. Polite. The impulse to pull Clary close for the slower bits was ever-present, but like hell was he going to screw things up any further. At least she was starting to pick up a familiar glow of satisfaction as they got the measure of one another. As partners they were really beginning to click. He regretted on some mercenary level that there wasn’t a contest or something around to game.

Thursday of that week was a whirlwind of setup and anticipation. Tents popped up like mushrooms across the summer-bleached lawn, the entire Shack crew bustling to get it laid out with time to spare. Clary was either helping move tables into place or tapping into her phone with a frown of focus, tracking the thousand things that needed to get done.

By late afternoon they were as close as they were going to get - the audio equipment would go up in the morning. Mabel and Dipper had been hovering around the edges of the fracas in anticipation, and as things slowed, they pounced.

“Clary, c’mon, we need to let the others finish up out here. I’ve got a couple of drink concepts in the kitchen I really need you to check out..” Mabel caught Clary’s hand and tugged, heading for the house. Clary was still thumbing through some checklist as she allowed herself to be hauled along.

Dipper waved frantically from the porch. Stan took the hint and headed off at a trot down the Shack’s long drive. By the time Clary was back outside, sipping warily from a tall glass of some sparkling pink concoction, he was rounding the corner in the purring Fairlane wagon.

Clary shrieked. She managed to fumble her glass down to the ground and dashed over to the car, running hands along the freshly rechromed grill, then flopping over to stretch her arms out along the polished hood. “I can’t believe it! Look at this thing, it’s like brand new!”

Stan killed the engine, hip-checked the door closed and held out the key, the finest of the Mystery Shack’s souvenir keychains dangling from its ring. “Ford an’ McGucket finished up late yesterday. I still want t’go over the insides one last time, but she’s runnin’ like a champ now.”

The first unrestrained smile he’d seen on her all week lit up her features. With great delicacy Clary hooked a finger into the keyring and plucked the key from his grip. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Nothin’ left to do but get through this party and then you’re finally on the road, huh?” Stan hooked thumbs through his belt loops and gave her the best of his showman’s grins, papering over the regret twisting hard in his gut with practiced ease. Her eyes flicked to his.

“We’ve still got a ton of work to do.” Clary reached out with a fist and cautiously nudged him in the shoulder with her knuckles. “I’ve got to go finish up a last round of prep at Greasy’s. You and Ford be ready to go at quarter to six, got it?”

“Got it.”

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“Should I trust you?” You’ve seen midwinter storms friendlier than the icy glint of those eyes.

Of course you can trust me!

We said we’d get the car fixed, we’re getting it fixed!

Honestly? Nope.

[meremennen]

baby talk

*** a bellarke modern au (drabble)  * married bellarke and some #angst ***

Clarke is being an idiot. She knows, she is being an idiot. If anything, talking to Bellamy about this topic should be so easy, considering silent communication has always come naturally to them.

Verbal, not so much.

On the contrary; it took them years not to misunderstand each other “on purpose” and ‘stop being idiots’ as Harper put it.

‘You’re like magnets ... soul magnets. Drawn to each other by this invisible force of mother nature or something. There is nothing you can tell him that would really upset him. And even if it takes a bit of time to understand... You are pretty important to him. He is it for you and you are it for him. He will want to see this through with you.’

She‘s been happily married to Bellamy Blake for almost two years. They have talked about kids and having a kid - maybe a puppy first - eventually. Bellamy is a natural with children and she must admit he looks unfairly attractive (let’s name it: hot) with a little bundle in his arms. When Octavia had her first son, Bellamy happily stepped into the role of the godfather. She never thought baby talk could be attractive, and it’s not like Bellamy was babbling or cooing with baby Sebastian; but the opposite. His entire face lit up, beaming like the goddamn Sun, just holding and watching the baby, his nephew and godson, sleeping or doing mundane things like yawning or flapping his tiny hands.

She was unable to look away.

It wasn’t a conscious or even a heat-of-the-moment decision to want a baby with Bellamy Blake. It kinda crept up on her.

And after Raven got pregnant, with her and Wells’ son, Bellamy and Clarke are half-seriously discussing the possibility of a baby of their own.

They are sitting on the couch, knees brushing against one another, Bellamy aimlessly clicking on random YouTube videos when he brings it up. “I wanna make one of those time-lapse videos.”

“Huh?”

He readjusts the screen to show her. “Here. See? Take a picture of you with your rounding belly every day until the baby is born.”

She honestly doesn’t know how to describe the love she has for this man. He is so warm and caring. He is the best man she knows. He would be a great Dad. She’s just not sure she is ready to be a Mom, yet. The thought scares her.

*

They don’t really talk about it. Not explicitly and not with as many words. But it’s hard to ignore the remarks from Octavia, or Clarke’s parents, in particular mother. (It’s upsetting.)

But, a year after the ‘time-lapse night’ and she feels like - like maybe it is time to revisit the baby thing and try.

She just doesn’t know how to bring it up.

Of course, she could choose the direct, very direct approach and say “I want you to put a baby in me.” (She blushes at the thought.) It’s not wrong, she knows that. He is her husband and they are married, and they have a very satisfying sex life, thank you very much.  And even if they weren’t married, there is no one else on the world (scratch that, the entire universe and beyond) she would rather have or could imagine having a child with.

Then, one night Bellamy comes home from work and at dinner, he casually drops, “My boss asked me when we plan to have a baby.”

She stops chewing.

She is a little upset because it’s not Miss Sidney’s any fucking business. How dare she ask something so private?

She swallows the food, still half-chewed in her mouth and watches her husband, carefully. He is poking at the salad with a fork. Decidedly not looking at her.

And? “What did you say?”

He heaves a sigh.

“Nothing.”

She reaches for her cup and takes a sip of water.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I’m not sure I want to bring a child into this world. ... I’d be too worried about having a daughter and ... I don’t know if I could handle seeing them getting hurt.”

Talk about a punch in the gut.

*

They don’t talk about it.

(But she would be lying to say, she is not a little bit hurt (somewhere illogical, but still) over it. It’s a thought pressing in the back of her mind; and maybe she is overthinking it a lot, but she cannot help feeling worthless.

*

In the end, she breaks.

All it takes is scrolling through her Facebook feed after not having logged in for months. And the next thing she knows is pulling up WhatsApp on her phone. She writes:

I cannot talk about this but also not talk about this so please think about it.

Do you want to ever have kids with me or not?

Because it is stressing me out.  

If it is a no, just let me schedule an appointment with the doctor and then it’s dealt with forever.

He reads her message within the hour and leaves her on read.

She sends, Coward and considers deleting the app.

*

Bellamy comes home late that night. She doesn’t think it is on purpose, particularly because of the unanswered messages - his job is demanding lately. Plus, his boss is away on business, so temporarily, he is the boss. Working later than otherwise is not alarming yet.

She is in the kitchen, just having finished rinsing and putting away the dirty dishes in the dishwasher when the lock to the entrance turns, and she hears his heavy steps thanks to the rubber of the winter shoes.

He gives him a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

“Do I get dinner?”

The plates and silverware are already laid on the table, he has an undisturbed view at them. She could just say something and break her silence. Instead, she nods.

*

At night, she tries to scoot to the edge of the bed. Bellamy narrows his eyes and reaches for her, in an attempt to pull her closer. She doesn’t budge and keeps her distance. They usually sleep tangled together, but with the messages still untouched and lingering like a suffocating shadow between them, her anxiety is wearing her down. And the last thing her stubborn mind remembers is, Bellamy finding the small of her back under the covers, a warm palm a comfortable presence on her skin. And he says, voice so sincere it never seizes to make her feel warmer: “I love you, Clarke.”

She sighs but doesn’t say anything in return.

She loves him too. It’s just not something she can voice right at this moment.

*

The next couple of days are spent in a similar manner. They work, he arrives home after 8 p.m. Once, due to a traffic accident when the trains are delayed. Other times it’s just due to his generally increased workload.

They eat dinner mostly in silence, interrupted only by silly chit chat.

At night, she cuddles her big body pillow, very deliberately not facing him. Regardless, his thumb is rubbing slow circles into her lower back and she lets him. But by morning they end up pressed together, no distance between their bodies. Clarke being the little spoon, Bellamy so close, so very close, practically enveloping her like a blanket, sharing his body heat in full force.

They depart with a small kiss before work. He says he loves her.

*

After the third day, her app is lighting up with a new message:

I’ll try to make it before 8 tonight

We talk? You and I

*

She’s already changed into a pink hoodie and dark blue pants with silver and black stars when she recognizes his footfalls on the stairs.

He is hardly even through the door, still fully clothed in his scarf and heavy coat, when she buries her face into his neck by way of greeting. His skin feels cold from the outside chill of the air.

His hands come up to cup her head with one and pull her closer with the other. She feels his one-day stubble catch in her hair.

“Dinner first?”

She nods. They can do this.

*** *

A/N: All mistakes are mine. 

[mforpaul]

Sonny’s Dad II

Did someone ask for an expansion?

@justmissp About Sonny’s Dad I: This could take some expansion!  Thanks for posting. 

If you insist...

“Look”, Sonny shifted his weight on his chair. “You guys already know that I am seeing someone and… um, I want to talk to you about… this.” Even though the level of excitement rose on the table, obvious by the anticipating smirks that the Carisi women shot to each other not so subtly, the sounds of silverware hitting plates did not lower down.

His son cleared his throat. “First, you should know that it is not a woman.”

On this Sunday evening dinner, moreover the first Sunday of Advent, in Pleasant Plains near Prince’s Bay on Staten Island, the world might as well have ended. Not just that the humming conversations, the resounding gale of laughter and the lurid tinkling of dishes had stopped, even the air flow in the room must have stopped because everyone was holding their breaths. The only thing that indicated that the world was still turning was his son who kept on eating. Sonny didn’t look up, instead he punctured peas on his plate one by one with his fork. Dominick Sr.’s own fork stood still in his hand, half way through the way from the plate to his mouth, a piece of chicken hanging uselessly on it.

“But he is really important to me and uh…”, Sonny continued to talk slowly. As cautious as the words left his mouth, they were not lacking confidence. “I want you to meet him.”

He felt his wife tense next to him. He could not make himself look at her. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her knuckles turning white due to her clenching fist. The color must have left her face. Also out of the corner of his eyes, he realized that his daughters had frozen, probably trying not to look anywhere in particular. He understood, this was one of the rare moments in his life that his daughters were going to shut up and let their father talk.

“What are you saying, son”, the s-sounds rolled sharp off his tongue. It had not been intended. Dominick Sr. imagined it must be his own helplessness disguising itself as strictness, an act he usually couldn’t keep up in this family. His son, Dominick Jr., did not turn his head, but his eyes searched the ones of his father. Good, he could still look him into the eye. A realization that goes both ways.

“I am saying, that I found someone that I love very much and I want to introduce him to my family”, Sonny answered forcedly calm, but his voice gave him away. It was trembling, of fear, nonetheless leaving no doubt for the determination of his son’s words.

“But you cannot be with a man”, Dominick said simply. Or maybe not simple enough because redness flushed all over his son’s face. He observed Sonny’s posture stiffening. While the edge of screaming is the normal volume of conversations in this family, Dominick never used to raise his voice when making a point towards his children. Yet, now he had apparently done so. His daughters had ducked their heads. His granddaughter fixed her eyes on her plate. And his wife next to her didn’t say a word, maybe the worst sign of all.

“I cannot really change how I feel, dad”, Sonny still pushed the words out of his mouth with force, but as calmly as possible. His fingertips turned white at the spot where they held onto the fork. Dominick somehow found it too obvious to point out that their priest would profoundly disagree. Therefore and thus, Dominick was finding no words. As his son had decided to leave the peas on his plate to their own miserable being, there was finally no sound at all in the Carisi house. Dominick could swear to even be able to hear the electric hum of the fridge from the kitchen.

Sonny swallowed very hard. “I don’t know what God wants for us”, he spoke with a husky voice.  “But my take home has always been ‘do unto others’. And I don’t think anybody wants to be told who you could or couldn’t love.” His voice dropped heavily with the last words. As if his son needed to stop himself from talking before the inevitable tears would come floating out of system together with the words.

“Are you…”, Dominick stopped himself before using the word “faggot”. Actually, he had never liked the word and found it particularly unfair when someone used it. No matter if you understand… that or not, it’s not right to insult those people without reason. Nevertheless, Dominick couldn’t think of any other word in this moment. His son who had still locked eyes with him, helped him out.

“It’s not like, I don’t like women”, Sonny said, his fork dropped on his table with a sharp sound. “But there have also been men, sometimes.” If Dominick wasn’t already staring at his son, he would have needed a double-take. Wait, what? He likes women? Dominick didn’t understand that, he did not understand that at all. “I guess, I should have told you guys earlier… that I am bi”, Sonny gave a small, but hysterical laugh. “But I figured, if I end up with a girl, there is no need to upset you guys. So I guess, I was a coward.” He offered a tense smile. That’s when Dominick realized that his son’s hand was shaking. The red burn in his face could easily be interpreted as anger, but Dominick understood in this moment that his son was scared shitless. He didn’t quite see why his son was afraid, but he knew that he was afraid of them, his family, of him, his father.

Dominick also put his fork with the cold chicken on his plate. “How exactly do you think the family… or the church is supposed to react… if you turn up with a man?” This was the wrong question to ask, but Dominick couldn’t help himself. His heart was beating too loud for him to hear his own thoughts.

The air was dangerous. It was as if anytime a spark would appear out of thin air and burst into a fire.

“I was gonna bring him to our dinner on Christmas Eve, I thought”, Sonny bit his lip. The slight tremble of his hands was now impossible for Dominick to ignore.

“And for us it is okay?”, Dominick asked. Sonny swallowed again.

“He is really important to me”, Sonny said helplessly. “You are my family. And… he is also mine. So I want him to be there on Christmas… with us. And I hoped… I was confident, that you would understand.”

“We would understand.” The plain repetition of his son’s words helped nothing in understanding them more.

Sonny shakily took in a deep breath. “I want to bring him home for Christmas.” 

The sentence didn’t just stand in the room with the gravity that it contained.

His wife next to him opened her mouth, but Dominick raised his hand. This simple arrogant gesture prevented her from talking, probably out of total surprise. Because unlike cliché dictated for him, he was the soft parent. He usually left all the speeches and screaming to his wife. But in this situation his wife was about to overreact and he was not.

Seems like his son had made the foolish mistake to fall in love. The confidence talking out of his son’s picture of misery left Dominick no doubt about it. And does he, the father of this chaotic bundle, does he not know about love?

He felt his wife’s stare on him. How can you? She seemed to scream at him. No, dear, this is not the same as finding your children smoking in the backyard or cutting class.

And be sure, Dominick knew he had done his fair share of screwing up his children. He didn’t need to look at his daughters to know that. His eldest daughter had waited too long to finally take on the shame of divorce, not to mention that she had originally quit school to get married too young to that idiot. His second daughter had barely had the time to finish school because she was too busy sleeping through half Staten Island. Bella, her youngest and nicest daughter, had also committed herself to that no-good criminal. And now his son, Dominick Jr…

Dominick Sr. maybe should have worked less, spent less evenings drinking beer in the backyard and probably, he should have helped his wife more with the kids. After all, he had been the one to push for two more after the first two hadn’t turned out to be the bunch of boys he had wanted.

So, yes, Dominick Sr. had done his fair sharing of screwing up his children. But he had always brought them together on this dinner table, every Sunday, every Easter and every Christmas. No matter who had screwed up in what way ever, they had never failed as a family. They had always sat together on this very dinner table. And even though he didn’t like what was happening, he would hold onto that.

He proved to be right, because his son’s eyes lit up with thankfulness and relief when he mumbled his words of approval.

___________________________________________

Of course part of Sonny’s speech about his Catholocism and homosexuality is inspired by this deleted (why?) scene.

And also, this one shot is an add-on for Chapter 9 of my Family Fic on ao3. As this Fanfic is written from Rafael’s point of view, this part doesn’t make it in the story.

[zillyeh]

Storm Season (3/???)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 3545

Content warning: Implications of a less than healthy relationship, baby M*djug

Synopsis: After having worked for Miles for a few solid weeks, an old... friend of Voss' pops up unexpectedly. No not that one, older than that. Well. Yeah actually that one too.

Google Doc

The winter over Delhon snapped hard into the negatives, but that didn’t stop Voss from walking nearly everywhere. The only thing that could possibly do that would be, say, having a car.

Evidently the weather didn’t stop many others either. Bundled up highbloods and lowbloods alike waddled along the sidewalk, hurriedly as possible without breaking their necks on the ice.

Voss, more than anything, wanted to be home. Sure his apartment sucked ass and leaked heat like it was its job, but it was a shit ton better than being outside. He’d be passing by Miles’ cafe on his way, but he didn’t exactly have enough expendable income at the moment to justify it. Yet. God rich people were shit at tipping. Even if he did tend to get better tables.

He had coffee at home, though. He’d be fine. The cigarette between his lips would keep him warm enough.

“Voss?” A familiar voice called from behind him. He almost wasn’t sure he heard right. That couldn’t possibly be… “Hey Voss!”

His footsteps fell heavy behind Voss, catching up to him easily with his longer legs.

“Dosie?” Voss asked incredulously, moving his half done cig between his fingers.

“Hey, long time no see!” Dosiro beamed, adorably bundled up with his teal scarf and dark trenchcoat. He looked almost exactly the same- hard jawed and sharp toothed- though he’d grown something of a beard since Voss last had anything to do with that face.

“H- heh, yeah, wild. Four sweeps now or something? Fleet really eats up your time.”

“Shit, yeah I almost forgot about that- uh, are you just back, or-?”

“Yeah, kinda, been almost a month-” Annoyed trolls hurried past them, both of them having slowed down significantly. “Uh, Dosie, maybe this isn’t the best place to have, like, our reunion-”

“Oh, yeah, right, uh-” Dosiro picked up the pace, putting an overly familiar hand on Voss’ shoulders. “There’s a cafe down the street that I was already- I mean if you’re not busy-”

“Oh I am not busy, believe me.” Voss said, wondering when the hell his luck was going to run dry. “You can take me absolutely wherever.”

Dosiro rushed him to the very same cafe he’d been in with Miles not too long ago. The smell of caffeine and the near volcanic warmth it brought improved Voss' mood almost instantly.

Dosie preferred the table by the window, but furthest from the door. He excitedly threw off his outer layer, still just as curved in all Voss' favorite places- and unwilling to wear anything that wouldn't show it- as Voss remembered him being. Even in his work button up. Voschi was more reluctant to relieve himself of his miserable outer layer. God he needed a new jacket bad, but one even half as nice as Dosiro’s big detective coat would cost money money.

“So, nice to see you again.” Dosiro said, his teal eyes bright with an excitement almost genuine enough to make Voss blush.

“Could say the same about you.” Voss said, a little smile perking up the corners of his mouth. How much of a mess must he look like right now? He sure felt like one, even if his Gilded Palace uniform was the nicest thing he owned. “You look good, D.”

“Aw thanks, Voschi.” Dosiro’s smile was more than infectious.

“Hate to interrupt, gentlemen,” Interrupted a waitress, “But can I get you two something to- Oh it’s you.” The goldblood’s face dropped more than was professional, but immediately picked back up when she remembered who Voss was usually in here with.

“You know you missed me.” Voss said with a cheeky smile. She rolled her eyes.

“Usual, then?” She huffed. One of these nights Voss was going to learn her name. He nodded, then paused.

“I’m good on the muffin.” He said with a shrug.

“You sure?” Dosiro asked, an appraising eyebrow raised. “You look like you could use it.”

“Only if you’re paying for this.” Voss said with a bat of his eyes. Dosiro laughed.

“Of course, I forced you in here, didn’t I?”

“Forced is strong, but not incorrect. Muffin then.”

“Great.” Their waitress said through gritted teeth. “For you?”

“Uh, black coffee is fine. Actually I kind of want a muffin too now that you mention it? Whatever he’s having.”

“Oka-”

“Not whatever he’s having.” Voss said, putting up a hand “You’re still allergic to blueberries, right?”

“I- you remembered- yeah, uh, banana then.” The waitress scribbled that down a little rougher than necessary, and forced a smile at the both of them.

“Be right back.” She said, turning on her heel.

“Come here a lot, huh Voss?” Dosiro teased.

“Been here a few times. Never on my own dime though.”

“Right back into dating then, huh?” His tone was still light, but Voss could sense some coolness behind it. Oh what was that? It couldn’t possibly have been a touch of jealousy, not for Voss’ sake. That was never Dosiro’s thing.

“Something like that.” Voss said airily, rolling one of the cream cups on the table between his fingers. Dosiro seemed to expect some elaboration on that. He didn’t receive it. Nor did he deserve it.

“How’s life been treating you down here?” Voss asked instead, taking a real good look at him. “You look both more and less like a cop now.”

“Senior Detective Dosiro Hemoni at your service.” Dosiro said, tipping an invisible hat.

“Oh no shit huh? Congrats, Dosie.” Voss grinned lopsidedly. “I always figured you’d claw your way up the ranks eventually. Would’ve sent you a card or something if I heard about it.”

“Haha, well, wasn’t easy, y’know.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh, never thought I’d actually see you again Chichi.” Hearing his old nickname made something warm up in Voss’ gut, but not the same way Dosiro’s pet names used to. In a way, it burned.

“Don’t… I, uh wasn’t supposed to come back.” Voss said, looking out the window at the small spits of snow falling from the sky. “I guess I got lucky, if you could call it that.”

“I mean, I’m glad you’re around again. So, uh what’re you doing with yourself these nights? Like, work wise?”

“Oh y’know… Uh, bullshit.” Voss shrugged, leaning his face on his palm. “Met a guy who hooked me up with a… decent enough gig. Waiting tables at some fancy ass place a few blocks over.”

“Oof, you? Waiting tables?” Dosiro tapped his fingers against his chin in a way that was… uneasily familiar. Voss couldn’t quite remember why.

“Eh, I get good enough tips cause I’m cute.” It was… something, even if the clink of silverware and plates rattled his head.

“Heh. That big obnoxious lookin’ place up on Cyan?” Voss nodded. “Well damn, I’ve never actually even been inside. Er, as a customer. You got someone to hook you up with a job in there?”

“This face works wonders, Dosie.” Voss grinned, poking his fingers into his dimples. “You of all people should know how that works.” Dosiro snorted, a touch of color rising to his cheeks. How many times had Dosie smiled and winked to get Voss to drop everything and go looking through files? Evidence? Other people's desks? Probably more than Voss was willing to admit to falling for, honestly.

“But, uh, yeah.” Voss continued, not wanting to dwell on their past too long. “Guy knows a guy… if he’s not the one who owns the place.” He still wasn’t sure on that one. Could be either. Both.

“That’s not a little sus, Voss?” Dosiro snorted, amused but definitely hiding… something. Concern maybe?

Hopefully?

“Aww, worried about me, Dosie?” Voss grinned. “Don’t be I can take care of myself.”

“I- I dunno Voss,” Dosie said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve never known anyone to just give people… well, anything really without expecting something back.”

“Maybe that’s just a you thing.” Voss shot with more ice than he meant to. Ugh, Dosiro had a point but…

Miles was holding out on whatever it was he wanted from Voss. It’s not like he hadn’t considered that possibility, he wasn’t that stupid and infatuated with the man. Though he did have an awfully bad track record…

Dosiro winced, his leg beginning to bounce under the table. He looked over his shoulder, hoping to see their waitress. It was so busy in the cafe that they’d be lucky if their orders came tonight.

“Uh, right. Sorry.” Dosiro cleared his throat and sat up a little. “I- I dunno, I just don’t wanna see you hurt. Who is this guy anyway?”

“Who says he’s gonna hurt me?” Voss asked, squinting at him. There was something off about his fidgety-ness. The way he kept pretending he wasn’t looking at his watch. “I can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t let- I mean, he’s nice, Dosie. Nicer than the fuckin’ Empire, that’s for sure. His name’s Aarika. Rich ass jadeblood.”

“Really?” Dosiro asked, some light that Voss didn’t trust coming on in his eyes. “Like… fish rich?”

“Mhm probably if his hive is anything to go by…” Voss let that one fester, watching that light in Dosiro’s eyes flicker before he continued. “He’s got the prettiest eyes too.” Voss sighed dreamily. Partially to punctuate, partially because thinking of Miles for any amount of time made him feel… Giddy, almost. Clearly this had the opposite effect on Dosiro.

“Voss, listen I know you’re-”

“I’m.” Voss dared, only imagining the places Dosiro would go with that thought. Clearly it wasn’t anywhere nice as he paused and rethought his sentence.

“I know you’re… des- down on your luck.The fleet does that to you. But you’re trusting, and sweet on anyone who’s nice to you. It’s almost your best and worst quality.”

“You seemed to be an awful big fan back in the day.” Voss eyed him with suspicion. And annoyance. Dosiro sighed and glanced at his watch again, then out the window over Voschi’s shoulder. Something he saw made color rush to his cheeks.

“Listen, Voss, you know I care about you, right?” He said quickly, leaning in. “I always have. Which is why we-”

The door to the cafe jingled open, and in entered another, skinnier tealblood, flushed by the harsh cold outside.

“Dos!” He called, catching Dosiro’s eye when he looked over his shoulder. Dosiro groaned and swore under his breath.

“Friend of yours?” Voss asked as the new teal wordlessly invited himself to their table, pulling up a chair to the empty side.

“Voss this is Jug.” Dosiro said, somewhat pained, “My, uh, partner.”

“Jug.” Voss repeated, taking the cold gloved hand Jug so eagerly extended to him.

“Detective Medjug Albath.” Jug corrected. He was uncomfortably… familiar looking. Tall, but probably shorter than Dosiro still, neatly coiffed black hair- though his had streaks of teal at the temples- double spiked horns, skinny but still muscular somewhere underneath his layers. Even down to the, albeit much sparser, dusting of freckles. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror. Aside from the glasses.

“Ex-Imperial Officer Voschi Horjan, if we’re doing the full title thing.” Voss shot an accusatory look to Dosiro, who looked like he could melt into the cafe’s pristine tiles.

“Oh there’s another one of you. Great.” Their waitress returned finally, happy as ever. She slid Voss’ latte and muffin in front of him carefully, Dosiro’s not so much. “Do you need anything, or-”

“No ma’am.” Jug said quickly, sliding his rectangular glasses up his nose. “I’m fine, and might I just say-”

“No you might not. If you need anything else just holler, Mr. Horjan.”

She was gone again faster than Voschi could say “fine.” Jug attentively watched Dosiro pour sugar into his coffee for a moment before turning to Voschi.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He said, undoing the buttons of his coat.

“No you haven’t.” Dosiro shot through a clenched jaw. He worriedly looked to Voss, who had already started to withdraw from the conversation. He certainly wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Me?” Voss asked, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why whatever for?”

“Well Detective Hemoni moans an awful lot about missing having a-” Dosiro shot Jug a look that could melt the snow drifts outside. “Er, a friend in the more stuffy paperwork oriented side of things.”

“I’m sure he does.” Voss said cooly, admiring the cartoony tiger face the barista made in his foam. “You haven’t found another prettyboy to charm in the evidence room after all this time? Or the DA's office?”

“I uh-” Dosiro opted to tug on his coffee instead of answering. His leg shook under the table, reminding Voss just how bad a liar he was. He’d let it slide so many times…

“Mhm.” Voss hummed, bitterness rising in him even despite the sweetness of his drink. “So were you just walking by here and happened to see us, Detective Albath, or..?” Dosiro shot him a look. One that Voss wasn’t meant to catch, but of course he did.

“Oh, uh yeah, actually.” Jug nodded, an even worse liar. How were these two detectives again? “I wanted to make- to uh, go over some urgent c-case things.”

“Do you do that whenever you see your partner on what could be a date through a window or do you just not have a phone?” Jug swallowed. Dosiro glared at him. Voss waited expectantly, sipping on his latte even though it was still a touch too hot.

“Voss, c’mon…” Dosiro started guiltily. “I- this isn’t about-”

“Dos you fucking suck. What do you want from me?”

“I thought you would have gotten to the point by now, Hemoni.” Jug started, rising from his seat. “My apologies, I can just-”

“You stay.” Dosiro and Voschi said at the same time, not looking away from each other. Voss was definitely winning their stare down. He had more hate in his eyes than Dosiro was capable of.

“Alright, fine, I’ve known you were in town since the day you landed. Happy?”

“What do you think?” Voss should have known better. He should have known better sweeps ago, but he couldn’t help himself then. Fortunately he was a lot meaner now. “I can’t fucking believe- no I can. Of course I can. Because it’s you. What can I do for you, detectives? You have until I finish this.”

“I’m concerned about you, Chichi.” Dosiro pleaded, leg still bouncing under the table.

“Call me Chichi again and I leave immediately.” Voss said, narrowing his eyes. “Chatterbox, what’s happening here?” Jug looked to Dosiro for approval, not exactly receiving it, but not being given any other instruction either.

“We do have, er, concerns, Mr. Horjan.”

“About?”

“Voss before he-”

“You know what, Hemoni? You can call me Mr. Horjan too. I’m starting to like how it sounds.” Dosiro blinked, not used to this much hostility- not from Voss anyway. Jug fumbled for a manilla folder from the inner pockets of his jacket.

“We- uh- caught wind of your… new association with a, erm, person of interest in one of our cases.” Jug said, readjusting his glasses on his nose. Again.

“Okay.” Voss’ intensity seemed to make the poor skittish tealblood even more nervous.

“We were… Um… Well, detective Hemoni thought… that… help… please...”

“Look, Voschi,” Dosiro said, leaning in across the table, lowering his voice. “I mean it when I say that I’m worried about you, you have to know that. This guy Aarika- allegedly- has been seeking out ex-fleets to recruit into his gang. He knows the ones that come back here have to be some kind of desperate-”

That word struck a nerve in Voschi’s scrambled head- so hard that he didn’t even realise he’d kicked Dosiro in the shin until he yelped. Jug jumped about half a mile. Voss’ eye twitched as he leaned back further in his chair.

“Sorry.” Voss said, not even bothering to pretend to be. “Foot slipped.”

“Alright, maybe I deserved that.” Dosiro winced. “And more, I know, but can you listen to me? Please? I cannot stress enough how important this is.”

Voss "relaxed" in his seat, biting the top of his muffin like an apple. Dosiro sighed and took Jug’s hefty file, plucking out a blurry, but still recognizable picture of Miles. Voss actually felt his heart skip a bit.

“This guy, Voss.” He said, tapping the photo on the table. “Amillo Aarika, head of the Divinity Cl-”

“I know who he is, Dosiro.” Voss huffed. “He told me that much.”

“Did he tell you anything el- you said you were in his- no I’m getting ahead of myself.” Even despite Voss’ clear sour disposition he couldn’t help but go straight into detective mode. The restraint he must have had to hold it back this long… He wanted to catch the bad guy more than he gave a shit about him.

What else was new?

“We have reason to believe that- uh Mr. Aarika is also involved in a massive organized crime operation in Delhon.” Jug interjected. “And that, er, you may be in danger, physically speaking.”

“Oh really?” Voss said, turning the photo over in his hand. This was awfully recent… And… in fact… that grey outfit… That street corner...

“There’s no evidence of any sort of, er, trafficking, Mr. Horjan.” Jug nodded. “In fact, the city’s been better than in sweeps in that regard as of late.” Voss was going to shove those stupid glasses into his eyes if he kept messing with them.

“Is he gonna eat me?” Voss asked disinterestedly. Jug was doing an awfully piss poor job of making a potential criminal sound dangerous. Maybe it was because Milo was far more endearing. “Cause I’d probably let him.” Dosiro groaned into his coffee cup.

“Er-”

“Voss, he grooms ex fleets and whoever into… whatever he needs. Drug dealers, thieves, hell we’ve even linked assassins to-”

“Potentially linked.” Jug corrected.

“Ugh, do you think I have it in me to kill anyone?” Voss groaned. Sure he did, but… Being paid for it would take some of the magic away. Plus, since he’d been home? That part of him felt like a completely different person. Escaped when his skull had been cracked apart.

“I know you don’t Voschi.” Dosiro sighed. “You’re… fragile.”

“We, er, may need you to, though.” Jug said, very matter of factly. Voss nearly choked on his muffin.

“Excuse me?”

“Jug, don’t-”

“We have other, more pressing cases to work today, Hemoni.” Jug huffed, some confidence in himself found. “We can’t just sit here beating around the bush all night for your pet project.”

“What do you-” Voss stopped himself, glaring at a guilty, guilty looking Dosiro.

“You want me to keep going along with this.” He breathed. “Oh my god, so much for being concerned about my safety-”

“Voss, please calm down-”

“Don’t you have officers for that? Like actual trained people who are meant to-”

“Mr. Horjan you have to understand that Mr. Aarika- allegedly- has a certain… hold over Delhon’s police department. Contracting outside assistance is, perhaps, our only option at this point.” Voss shook his head incredulously at the both of them.

“Mr. Aarika gave me a job.” Voss hissed. “One that’s far less likely to fucking kill me than outsourced undercover work.”

“That’s his first step, Voschi!” Dosiro exclaimed, frustrated, “What don’t you get about that? He’s not being nice to you because he likes you, he’s being nice to you because this is his game. It's the first step to using you to get what he wants.”

“Oh, what could being used possibly be like?” Voss seethed. “What a horrible new experience for me!” Dosiro opened his mouth to respond, but Jug swooped in to calm him down.

“Mr. Horjan, please, people are starting to… look.” Voss made accidental furious eye contact with their waitress, who promptly turned on her heel and marched to the back.

“And we aren’t asking for much, in all honesty.” Jug continued.

“Aren’t you, though?” Voss hadn’t felt this mad since before he’d gone comatose. Had he ever been this mad, actually? His memory was foggy, but fury like this just wasn’t him. He was a simmer, a pot that never quite boiled over. Not like he wanted to right now.

“No, we just- just continue doing what you’re doing, and report anything suspicious or outwardly criminal to one of us. Take pictures, be nosy… If it ends up being nothing…”

“Which it won’t.” Dosiro muttered. Jug produced a smart looking business card from his pocket, sliding it across the table to Voss.

“Think about it, won’t you? You’ll get as much protection as we can offer, as well as payment, obviously.”

“Hm. No.” Voss threw the last of his muffin in his mouth, washing it down with the rest of his latte. He left that card sitting there as he stood.

“Both of you can shove it up your ass. Together, maybe! You especially can eat shit, Hemoni. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think you actually missed me.”

Voss zipped his jacket back up, storming back into the frigid cold air. Fortunately this time he had his rage to keep him warm.

[southernchicstyle]

I Scream You Scream

                                                                 Photos by Daniel Ortiz Photography

When thinking of ideas for our daughter’s 3rd birthday party, she was on a major ice cream kick (I mean, what kid isn’t... but she was extra excited about it all of the time). So, ice cream party quickly became the theme. 

And, with her birthday falling on a week day and Sunday Funday on my brain, “Sundae Funday” just clicked and came together! There was already a gold letter banner for it and everything. Plus, it was nice having all of Saturday to get everything ready for the Sunday party. 

I pinterested the heck out of ideas to find what would really stick for our party. Ice cream cone centerpieces, a sundae bar with lots of toppings, and an ice cream cart were MUSTS from my research. 

Etsy came through with the best banners, printables (invites, signs, etc), and balloon garland kit (linked everything at the end of the post but also attempted to link throughout the post). 

There are so many fun ice cream themed ways to serve food. I found this great clear acrylic cone stand and served fruit in sugar cones. And, our sweet nanny made popcorn balls on sugar cones that turned out so cute!

Another Etsy find were the ice cream food tents that were a great accent to the decorations. 

The table centerpieces were a combination of a few ideas I saw online. The glass containers themselves were finds from our local Ross. (The gold bottom was not my favorite at first but I’m so glad I got them!)

Then sprinkles went in the bottom with a waffle cone for the flowers. Carnations and hydrangeas give a good ice cream scoop appearance and we added in some wild flowers to liven it up.

Not everyone will care so much about sprinkles matching throughout the party, but I was a bit crazy about the specific colors. So, I found a huge container of them online and used them from the cake to the centerpieces, etc.

Ice cream cone cookies and 3s were an easy cookie decision in the party colors... with sprinkles, of course. Ours were made by Paulie’s Cookies in Houston. They tasted as delicious as they looked!

And, these honeycomb ice cream cones were an easy addition to the party.

I really loved so much about the birthday party, but I’m SUPER proud of the ice cream cart. Unable to locate one to rent or purchase, I tasked my handy husband with making one. He bought the wood, I found the wheels, we had the umbrella, and I bought the letters (and lined them up ever so carefully). He knocked it out of the park!

The balloon garland kit was perfect for recreating this look I found on pinterest (we added in the lavender balloons to pull it in from other parts of the party) and the inflatable ice cream cones were one of the first things I bought for the party!

The ice cream cart photo spot was popular, too. And, thanks to the balloon garland kit I now can create a balloon garland with ease!

Since the kids would no doubt end up on the playset, it got a little ice cream party touch, as well. A mini ice cream banner was the cutest along with mini 3D cones. 

Our talented nanny also created the awesome balloon ice cream cone that she also knocked out of the park. She even managed to add balloon sprinkles!

It was SUPER windy during the party, so it was quite difficult to capture of a photo of the awesome ice cream cone balloon piece completely upright (its even on a sturdy metal pole...).

Two things: 

1) Who remembers the ice cream poppers/shooters (in my daughter’s hand below)? We HAD to have them for the party and the kids LOVED them!

2) The pieces on the floor in the photo below are frozen rose petals. I’d never seen anyone freeze flowers like this! Keep reading for who made that happen.

Scooping ice cream from tubs was the last resort for the party. My first idea was to rent a soft serve machine. Oddly enough, that was a difficult task (finding a company who rented one and would deliver it to our area).  Sharing this with a friend, she recommended trying a local ice cream store for catering.

So, I reached out to Sub Zero Nitrogen Ice Cream. You know, the ice cream spot where they make the ice cream in front of you using science. Not only would that provide entertainment, but it would be one less thing I have to attend to during the party.

Sub Zero to the rescue! 

The owner was great to work with, and he had a great set up complete with science experiments for the kids like the frozen roses. Perfect option for a party!

For the Ice Cream Sundae bar, toppings were the hero. 

But, the set up included two “ice cream sundae” arrangements (white and pink hydrangeas bundled to look like ice cream scoops with burlap wrapped around the stems to look like a cone, and a cherry on top), the ice cream cups each child could take home with them, and our wooden back drop covered in vinyl sprinkles and finished with the “Sundae Funday” gold balloons. 

Toppings on the bar: Marshmallows, crushed Heath Bar (toffee), cherries, mini M&Ms, gummy bears, strawberry wafers, almond slivers, Teddy Grahams, strawberries, sprinkles, cookie dough, peanut butter cup, caramel, chocolate syrup, white chocolate syrup, and whipped topping. 

Clear scoops for the toppings aimed to keep little hands out of touching everything. No telling if that was successful, but they looked great!

Even though ice cream was the main attraction, you can’t have a birthday without cake. 

Sweet Marie’s made the cutest “ice cream cone melting” cake for our girl’s party. And, we ordered some chocolate and vanilla cupcakes from the local grocery store with white icing and added the cupcake holders and cherries to look like ice cream sundaes.

The birthday girl wore a tiara made of sprinkles (a little pricier than I wanted, but it was perfect) and a custom Cuteheads dress with the most perfect ice cream cone buttons on the back. 

The candle for the cake is simple a “3″ I found online that we put adhesive on and sprinkled sprinkles on to match the cake and other decor.

Oh how I wish I could take credit for the melting ice cream cone on the craft table, but I only found the idea on pinterest. Our nanny recreated it!

Rough instructions:  Inspired by Pinterest. We didn’t have specific instructions, but took brown butcher paper to make the cone and added a sheer tan ribbon for the lines. The white “ice cream” is a filler you would use when stuffing pillows or crafts for kids with pink table cloths (I believe we used the plastic ones you can get at any party store) bunched up around the base with craft pom poms sprinkled all over. The cherry is a bunch of sheer red fabric balled up with pink string making the little pink ball on the cherry and a cotton ball on top of that. Used a combination of hot glue and fabric glue to secure things.

In addition to the jump house, our playset, and the trampoline, we had a necklace/bracelet activity for the kids.. These ice cream cone charms paired well with the two sets of beads I ordered for stringing. 

And, the bean bag toss has become a consistent activity at our parties. It was painted with flowers for the first birthday, bubbles for the second, and ice cream for the 3rd. You’ll see the next iteration when I get our son’s 1st birthday posted!

For the adults, I found a fun ice cream champagne idea on pinterest and put my own (easier) spin on it. The post I found suggested scooping vanilla ice cream ahead of time and putting it in the freezer on a pan, which definitely helped get the drinks out quickly. And, we served them in fun gold rimmed champagne flutes that I also used for flowers on the kids’ table.

To make the ice cream drink, add a scoop of vanilla ice cream to the flute then pour champagne over it. Add a raspberry flavored drink on top... just a little more than a splash. We used the black raspberry Ice Water, but the original recipe called for a homemade raspberry sauce. I did not have the time for it, and the raspberry sparkling water was easy and delicious!

And, last but not least, the kids all went home with some fun ice cream themed goodies. The favor tags were a printable download linked here that was personalized with our girl’s name. And, the cellophane wrapped cups were printed with a similar ice cream cone as the signs and invite. Inside the cups we put ice cream pens, mini sundae shaped lip glosses, stickers, and lollipops.

Then we wrapped cellophane around the cups, tied it with ribbon, and added the favor tags. The kids also took home bath bombs shaped like ice cream scoops with sprinkles. My friend Beth (who owns Manor) made them and they were a hit!

It may have taken me a while to get this comprehensive post together for you guys, but I loved reliving every single detail. My last tip from the party is related to the balloon garland. 

Get a balloon pump for blowing up the balloons, use balloon tape, and enlist help for blowing up balloons. It’ll go much faster with help! And, the balloons will hold air and typically look good at the least for 24 hours. We assembled ours the night before.

All things party related including some not pictured:

- Assorted Beads for Stringing $14

- Balloon Garland Kit, Ice Cream Dream $30

- Balloons: Gold and White 12″ Balloons, 100 pack $10

- Balloon Tape, 25′ length $7

- Cake by Sweet Marie’s

- Candle (gold trim 3) $4.50

- Cherries: Pack of 25 Artificial Lifelike Red Black Cherries $5.60

- Clear Acrylic Ice Cream Cone Stand $15

- Clear Scoops for Toppings, 16 pieces $9 

- Confetti Sprinkle Beverage Napkins (48 count) $7.50

- Cookies: Custom by Paulie’s Cookies

- Dress: Custom Cuteheads Dress

- Elastic Thread Beading String, 0.8 mm $7.60

- Ghirardelli Caramel, Chocolate, & White Chocolate (3 pack) $18

- Gold Plastic Silverware (300 piece) $30

- Gold Rimmed Champagne Flutes (clear hard plastic set of 50) $20.20

- Gold Rimmed Plastic Cups (set of 50) $14.20

- Happy Birthday  Ice Cream Banner $20

- Honeycomb Ice Cream Cone Hanging Decor $6.50

- I Scream You Scream Instant Download Sign, 8x10 $5

- Ice Cream Birthday Party Printable Invitations, 5x7 pdf $16

  for those in Houston, I print mine at Katie & Co.

- Ice Cream Birthday Party Favor Tags (1.75″ x 3.5″) $10

- Ice Cream Cone Shooters, 12 pack $12

- Ice Cream Cone Charms (set of 9) $9

- Ice Cream Dessert Bowls and Spoons, 12 pack $14

- Ice Cream Party Balloons with Sprinkles $13

- Ice Cream Party Cups (with lids and straws, 16 oz) $12

- Ice Cream Parlor Food Label Table Tents, Printable set of 8 $10

- Ice Cream 6″ Pens (6 count) $12

- Ice Cream Scoop Bath Bombs (made by Beth of Manor)

- Inflatable Ice Cream Cones, 36 inch $8

- Lavender Balloons (12 inch, 12 count) $4.17

- Mini Ice Cream Banner $10.40

- Natural Rainbow Sprinkles, 1.6 lb $18.99

- Pastel Lunch Napkins (150 count) $15

- Photos: Party Photographed by Daniel Ortiz

- Rainbow Sprinkles Lace Tiara $30

- Self Adhesive Vinyl Letters, 4 inch $9.50

- Sprinkle Number 3 Balloon $6

- Sprinkle Paper Lanterns (set of 3) $11

- Sub Zero Nitrogen Ice Cream (catered locally)

- Sugar & Cloth 5 inch Oval Dessert Plate, Mint with Gold Trim (24 count) $10

- Sundae Funday Gold Balloon Banner $37

- Sundae Lip Gloss Party Favor, set of 12 $16.55

- Tablecloth: Round Raised Petals in Taffeta, 120 in. $40

- Wire Spoke Wheel, 16 inch for cart $33

- Vinyl Sprinkle Stickers (used on backdrop)  $18

Sugar & Cloth 5 inch Oval Dessert Plate, gold plasticware, and  cake by Sweet Marie’s

          _______________________________________________________

Birthday Archives:

2nd Birthday: Bubble Bash

1st Birthday: Garden Party (I guess its possible in my baby brain state I never posted the garden party... Will remedy that as soon as I can)

[familytravel123-blog]

Spain!

We’ve been here a week now, and it’s been one very long week. I haven’t been able to post until now because, honestly, this season of adjustment has been hard. I’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions, and we’ve been wildly busy setting up house.

At times I question our sanity and wonder why in the world we would put ourselves through this. Right about the time I start to spiral the drain, something excellent happens, and I’m brought back up a little. But all in all, it’s been harder than I imagined.

The kids have done fairly well. Troy is craving alone time, we’re with one another 24/7 and he likes his space, and Grant had a little homesick moment that brought me to tears a few days ago, but for the most part, we’re adjusting.

I believe any move would likely produce these emotions, so there’s nothing too unique about them. The only real difference is the language barrier. We’ll be picking up Spanish as we go, and I’ve been looking into local courses that will accept the kids. With all of that said, onto my extraordinarily long post about our week!

Day 1 - Travel Day - “Toto, I’ve A Feeling We’re Not In Kansas Anymore” ~ Dorothy

We woke up at 3:30 AM to get ready for our flight out of London on the 21st. We made it to the aiport and had just enough time to eat breakfast. Other than a brief moment thinking our luggage was lost, the trip was uneventful.

One of the greatest blessings throughout this process has been a business acquaintance of Matt’s, Javi, who has helped us through many of the challenges we’ve encountered as we took on planning and navigating living in Spain. So many of our hurdles along the way have been buffered by him, and he’s gone further to help us than we could have ever hoped for or expected.

He and his wife Maria Angeles were there at the airport to pick us up when we arrived in Valencia. Incredible really, considering they both had to take time off from work, had to take two cars to fit our family of five and luggage, and had to drive us across town to get to our apartment. These are people who’ve never met us, people who just have generous hearts and were willing to go out of their way for strangers. The impact from kindness such as this almost knocks the wind out of you because it’s so genuine and pure.

I drove with Maria Angeles and Matt and the kids rode with Javi. As we drove she pointed out landmarks and explained the city. She speaks English really well, so we spent a pleasant ride chatting.

Once we arrived at the apartment, Matt and the kids made their way to the building to check in with our new landlord. Matt tried buzzing in, and no answer. After a few minutes, a couple of people exited the door, so he and the kids took the opportunity to go in. He disappeared for a while, and I was left waiting in the street with Javi and Maria Angela.

It was rather cold, the wind was kicking up, and my anticipation was killing me. I was so anxious and excited to see our home. A short video is all I had to go off of, so seeing it in person felt a little bit like a blind date, a blind date that would last five months. Stressful.

Matt finally came out after what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only 15 minutes. He had found the landlord, thankfully, barely catching her as she was headed out to the city center, and had our keys in hand. We waved goodbye, calling out, “Gracias!! Gracias!!” to Javi and Maria Angela, and headed in with our luggage.

We traveled seven floors in two trips since the elevator is approximately the size of a double phone booth. Once we all made it up, Matt worked to unlock the door as I stood in the back of the pack trying to capture the first entry on video. That was a bust, but alright in the end, because the entry was fairly lackluster.

We brought our suitcases to our prospective bedrooms and toured our new home. It was what I remembered from the video, but what the video couldn’t convey was how terribly cold it would be.

There’s tile throughout the apartment, and on this chilly day, the entire place felt like a refrigerator. There were heater units in each room, which would have been a perfect solution, if we were able to figure out how they worked. We added “how to work the heaters” to the list of things to ask the landlord and decided to head to the grocery store because we were all exhausted and hungry.

Our neighborhood market, “Consum”, is right bellow our apartment, which is very convenient. We walked in and I realized this was not going to be a convenience food trip. I knew we needed to eat soon, my head was pounding, telling me that the breakfast we had in the airport at 5:00 AM was not going to get me by any longer, and I was positive the kids were starving as well. But, everything needed preparation and cooking. We went with a pizza from the refrigerator section, one of the only items that was close to ready to eat.

We made it back home and that’s when it all took a turn. We noticed the tile throughout the apartment was noticeably dirty, and as we took an in depth look at the kitchen, we realized it was filthy as well. We also discovered the fact that there were hardly any dishes or silverware, and the few pots and pans that were in the cupboards were worn and unclean.

I felt deflated and disappointed. This is where I was going to be preparing food to feed my family for the next five months, and I couldn’t even imagine making food to feed them lunch at that moment.

As Matt fiddled with the oven, trying to get it to turn on and heat up to make our sad little grocery store pizza, I went into the front room and sat. I felt a huge weight on my chest. A dark cloud of sadness. I missed my warm clean home and my kitchen, my ability to provide my children the simplest of things, a meal. And I was cold even though I still had my jacket and scarf on.

As I was stuffing the tears down and typing out a text venting to a friend at home, Matt came in to tell me he figured out the oven, so I followed him into the kitchen to get the pizza started. That’s when I discovered the dripping greasy pan and rack inside. I broke. It was more than I could handle on top of being exhausted. Matt graciously took over, washed the mess and made the lunch while I texted the landlord asking how to turn on the heat. The message back was, “There are not central heat. Only there are heater”. So I gave up and took a nap, still dressed for a winter storm.

Since Maria Angeles and Javi had kindly invited us to enjoy a meal at their home that evening, I was forced to pull it together. Javi picked us all up at 8:30 PM. Spanish family life starts late in the evening. Siesta here is real, shops and businesses close for hours in the middle of the day, and many people nap. Dinner time is typically around 9:30 PM, they were eating early on our behalf. Javi took us on a little tour of the surrounding city, showing us so many historical buildings, as we drove to his home.

He and his family live in a nice apartment on the other side of the city. It’s small by American standards, but here in the city, it’s considered fairly large with four bedrooms.

After meeting their two fantastic children, Sarah (18) and Guillermo (16), and getting a tour of their home, we sat down to an incredible home cooked meal of traditional tapas. All of the items were labeled with adorable tags, tortilla: potato omelette, croquettas de jamon: dough combined with ham, formed into little oblong shapes, breaded and baked, and pan con tomate: bread topped with a fresh tomato spread and topped with jamon, to name a few.

The conversation was fabulous, deciphering English and Spanish translations, talking about the differences between our home life and the life they lead. The kids enjoyed comparing school life and what they do in their free time.

We brought along a few gifts, one being “Exploding Kittens”, a card game we have a blast with at home. Troy taught Guillermo to play, thankfully he has a great command of the English language and followed along really well.

The evening ended after midnight. Following a full day of travel and emotions, we settled into our icy apartment, dressed in our warmest clothes, tucked in as tightly as possible.

Our Apartment ~ White Balcony On The Top Floor

Jamon With A Hoof

Our Angel Family

Day 2 Trying To Hold It Together

Matt messaged the landlord again, she was already planning on coming over later in the day to go over any items that we had concerns about, but we wanted to clarify the heater issue and let her know that the cleaning crew must have ditched out half way through to take a siesta, because our bedrooms were clean, but the floors and kitchen were missed completely. She had us contact the house cleaner, who came by to take care of what I hadn’t already done myself.

That was a nice step in the right direction, but as we thought, there was no heat. It was the middle of the day, yet we were all inside dressed as though we were ready for a snow storm. So, so cold. Thankfully the landlord brought a couple of space heaters up, they were welcomed for sure, but didn’t eliminate our need for bundling up. Still, it’s the little things.

The night before Matt told Javi about our lack of towels and kitchen items, as well as our lack of heating. As another blessing, Maria Angeles showed up at our apartment with huge bags of towels and linens, dishes and silverware, and space heaters. I have never been so happy to hold an armload of clean towels. I did a happy dance, maybe shed a tear, and said a prayer of thanks. Javi’s parents, who’ve never met us provided us with all of these things from their own home. I was, and continue to, feel blessed beyond belief.

The View From Our Front Window

With Rain the Next Morning

Day 3 You Get Slippers, And You Get Slippers, You All Get Slippers!!!!!

It was a slow morning, but we decided to head out to shop for some of the things we still needed to help make our apartment feel like home. Our list was long, but remember, we’re relying on public transportation, which means everything must be carried home. We ended up at a store called El Corte Ingles, very much geared to the tourist crowd and people wanting to buy small appliances. It was similar to Macy’s in the United States, but included a grocery store. Very interesting to say the least.

We picked up a few kitchen items, and most importantly, slippers for the entire family! I have never been a slipper wearer, but I haven’t stopped saying how much I LOVE them from the minute I popped them on and created a barrier between my cold toes and the freezing tile. Yay slippers!

With the space heaters we had been a bit warmer, until the outlets blew late in the evening. Matt couldn’t see that a breaker needed to be flipped, so we went to bed cold, wondering if there was a problem with the power, hopeful the landlord would respond to our text questioning what we should do to get the power back. She didn’t respond. Brrrr.

Day 4 Professor Mom In The House!

After a freezing night, Matt decided to try the breaker box and got the power back up before the landlord responded to do just that. At that point we were just thankful it was going to be bearable again.

We had done a little homeschool the day before, but this was a real full day of school. I worked with the kids to get organized, realized we were severely short on basic school supplies and tried to figure out how I’m going to keep the kids on track. Homeschooling is never easy, but this situation is particularly challenging. I have confidence though.

We also explored the corner park. It’s pretty cute, with equipment I haven’t seen at our parks. Sadly, no swings for Jillian and Grant. They both love to swing, so we’ll need to go on a hunt for a park that has them. It was crazy cold, and Jillian didn’t want to go home, so I bundled up and watched, channeling my mommy mind powers to will her to tiredness. I finally insisted we needed to head home before it was dark. I was just happy she had a little fun.

Due to the business of gathering the essentials for our new life, our kids haven’t had too much time to play and just be kids. I know we’re just getting settled, but it was really starting to get to me. This little bit of park time was a nice break. I’m also feeling the stress of helping them find other kids to play with. They can only be expected to play with only one another for so long. Add “kid friends” to the list of things to get to make this place feel more like home.

Day 5 Pinch Me, This Is The Real Deal

Javi drove our family out to his parent’s home in the suburbs of Valencia on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon. We were treated to the most incredible experience. The true Valencian family table, complete with Sunday Paella, made on an open fire. I’m reserving the details for another post so it won’t get lost in this extra long ramble of our first week, because it was just that special. Just know that this was a day I will never forget, with people who are warm and a joy to be with.

Day 6 Faux CrossFit And Real Food

We took a family field trip on the bus to Carerfour, essentially Spanish Walmart, to get more household items. We need so many things to complete the apartment, the list seems never ending.

This trip also allowed me to see my route to the only CrossFit Gym I may be able to get to. The one I originally was hoping to attend is less than two miles from our apartment, but sadly, the path to get there includes walking under, or over, train tracks, and I’ve been told it’s unsafe. People walk the entire city at all times of day and night safely, but I guess the train track area is to be avoided.

I’ve been truly missing working out, specifically working out with my CrossFit family and lifting heavy weights. I researched as much as could about the area gyms, and the only other thing that came close was at a globo gym, and was called “Cross Hit”. I died a little inside when I read that, and then died laughing when their only promotional video was of a bunch of oiled up body builders. Something tells me I may not be happy there.

So, it looks as though going to the gym will include a thirty to forty minute trek via walking and bus riding. Good thing I can couple it with stops at the Spanish Walmart, so I guess it’s not too far off from my state side life. Walmart on my way home from 5:00 AM CrossFit was always my go to.

On the way home I also found the second market near our house, “Mercadona”. When I walked in, it was like the angels began to sing. It’s larger than the one under our apartment, and it has more of what I need to feel comfortable cooking meals here. It’s still a far cry from my local Ralphs at home, and the packages contain about 90% less than my regular Costco purchases, but the cashiers are kind, and the selection is passable. They do sell pig snout (or is it cow??), but they also have meat I recognize, and a selection of bread my kids will eat. Winning.

Bell Peppers The Size Of My Forearm 

Day 7 The Real Beginning

Today the kids and I ventured out on our own to the famous Central Market of Valencia. I pulled out the bravery card and took the leap of faith to travel the streets by foot and by bus alone with the kids, and it was more than worth it. This one deserves it’s own post as well, I can’t wait to tell you all about it.

For now, we are getting there friends. To a point where we’re not just existing, we’re living. We’re exploring, we’re enjoying. I’m not wanting to hide under the covers in the morning and call Spain a big mistake. I’m ready to grow and find my way. Wish me luck, I will absolutely need it.

Saw This Building Walking Today, And It Was A Reminder To Just Keep Looking Up To See The Good

[cindafain73658-blog]

The Best Diamond Of Them All

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