#i am cranky about the article yes

[rederiswrites]

Won't be reading the Veilguard Game Informer article. I would much rather have learned what I already know as part of the game, where, as a game, you get to discover things, which is past of why I like the game.

[wysiwyggins]

Hi

Some new people followed in the last couple of days, so I thought I'd post some links related to this project- The images here evolved out of a project called *Grotto*, which is a multiplayer browser game where I turned my family tree into a 1000+ room dungeon. It's a little confusing and maybe not entirely fun, but it was the first place I started developing the tile-art style on this blog. You can check it out here- http://mudroom.rip Most of the images on this blog were from another project, where I did several hundred experiments with the tiles I had created. There's a book of these, which maybe I'll do print on demand of some day. I also wrote an article about arcologies, videogames, power and architecture that accompanies it. My process journal for this project is here- http://wileywiggins.com/archon.html Right now I'm actually making a functional roguelike videogame using the tileset. It's sort of working, but so far all you can do is get burned to death by a Basilisk. I'll start a new project page for that once it gets out of the experimental phase. Here's what it looks like now-

also, to answer another question, yes I was Mitch in Dazed and Confused. I am a cranky old man now. I don't generally try to make movies any more because this stuff is cooler. However, if you enjoy the grainy, confusing black and white imagery on this blog, you may also enjoy my movie *Computer Chess*, which is about to get a new US Blu-Ray edition this month.

[backlinkfashioncat]

Types of sarees best for thin ladies

In today's era everyone is running one extra mile on that treadmill to get a leaner body. No No its not for the health only to post pictures on social media.

A perfect body is a boon for a person. specially for ladies. Everybody knows how cranky a woman gets when you call her fat. It is bad only when its on the wrong place and if your body has the right fat this can make you look really attractive.

The either way to look attractive is to wear right piece of clothing. I read an article by Shaanii on types of sarees which made me learn so much about different kinds of sarees.

Thin ladies should wear sarees of thick fabrics like tussar, heavy quality georgette, kota cotton and should avoid chiffon or any thin fabric. Bold colors, big motifs, broad borders, halter neck or backless blouses, bold makeup, unique jewellery, etc should be considered while styling their outfits which avoids their imperfections.

I am sharing some pictures of famous actresses from small and big screen with lean bodies who styled their outfits so smartly.

Deepika padukone wearing black & bold saree and bold eye make-up.

2. Hina khan styled her outfit with a halter neckline and beautiful piece of jewellery.

3. Shilpa shetty again wearing black big motifs saree and styled it uniquely.

[knickynoo]

Hello ! I hope you haven't already answered this, and if you have I am so sorry, please ignore it. Do you think, like MJF once said, that Alex would have ended up in jail at some point ? If so, I know prison is no laughing matter, but I can't help picturing him as overly tidy with his belongings and extremely cranky at the idea of SHARING A CELL (Good Lord !) with a fellow inmate because we all know that boy needs his space and loves his comfort :'D Any thoughts on Alex's little stint in jail ?

Hi! Nope, haven't answered an ask about this :) And even if I had, I'd reply to this anyway. Whenever I get a question that's similar to one I've already gotten in the past, I'm usually happy to visit the topic again and expand my thoughts. So, no worries!

I have seen that article! It was the one where they asked MJF and the creator of Family Ties where they thought Alex would be in life today, right? Goldberg said Alex would be a pro-bono lawyer and MJF was just like, "Yeah, no, Alex would be in prison."

I gotta say, it's really difficult for me to imagine a scenario that would lead Alex to prison, but I'd assume his predicament would be due to an inappropriate handling of money? Which I suppose I could see, although Alex is typically the type to listen to his conscience in the end and do the right thing. Maybe he's tricked or framed in some way? Anyway! Alex in jail thoughts...

- I mean, technically, Alex would already have a tiny bit of experience being behind bars from when he was arrested with all those women at that ERA meeting, lol. Not that it would help him much to prepare.

- Also, haven't Steven and Elyse been arrested and put in jail a dozen times in their younger years for all their political protests?? Maybe they'd have some advice for their son.

- Yes, the biggest thing for Alex would be his need for his own space and comfort items. He would be thrown all out of whack not having things the way he's used to. And yes, he would be keeping things orderly and tidy.

- I assume there are strict routines in prisons and the days are very structured. That could be a possible plus for him? Alex would like having things be done in the same way every day. He'd probably memorize all the schedules of all the other inmates and the workers.

- Overall, though, I can't decide which way Alex would go. He'd either be getting on EVERYBODY'S nerves, ranting about the injustice of his whole situation, complaining about everything, running off his mouth to the other inmates etc or he'd go the "teacher's pet" route and be so very well-behaved. Probably leaning toward the first option, because that's more in line with who Alex is. Just saying things he absolutely shouldn't say to people's faces and getting himself into trouble 14 times a day, all the while having No Awareness that he's doing anything wrong. Perhaps he'd make a nice friend who would protect him from all his social faux pas.

Thanks for the ask!

[lillywillow]

Swapped

Summary: When you lose your grandfather’s pocket watch, you pick up a stranger’s compass by mistake.

 Word Count: 1096

 Square Filled: Steve’s Compass

 Pairings: Steve x Reader

 Warnings: Maybe the tiniest bit of angst if you squint

@star-spangled-bingo

 When your grandfather passed away, one of the things he left to you was his pocket watch. It was worth quite a bit of money but to you, that didn’t matter; it was the sentimental value that was important to you. Your grandfather received it on his 21st birthday, he carried it throughout his time in the army and because of that watch, he met your grandmother. The watch held a picture of her inside. You carried it everywhere with you, keeping it in pristine shape. Your grandfather’s pocket watch was your most prized possession.

...

 One afternoon, you were in a big rush to catch a particular store before they closed. You were in such a hurry, you didn’t notice when a person walked into your path, causing you to collide, sending both of you to the ground.

 “Ow...” the man groaned.

 “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

 You scrambled to your feet to help the stranger up. He smiled sheepishly and got to his feet. You were both dusting yourselves off when you realised you were missing something. The pair of you searched the ground in a panic before picking up your lost items with a sigh of relief.

 “Oh, shoot! Now I’m really late!” you cried, running off once more. “Sorry again!” you called over your shoulder.

...

 Later that day, you took out your father’s pocket watch to check the time when you realised something. The photo of the woman inside the lid was not your grandmother... and this was a compass. Panic rose in your chest. Why did you have this object? You suddenly remembered your collision earlier in the day. This compass must have meant just as much to the man as much as your compass meant to you. He would be long gone from the place you bumped into him but you knew you had to return it to him.

...

 Steve had a bad day. He didn’t sleep well the night before meaning he didn’t get up in time for his usual morning jog, nor did he make it to his favourite diner before they stopped serving breakfast, the training session with Nat later in the day had been brutal and to top it all off someone in the park ploughed into him. Steve didn’t really blame the stranger but he was tired and cranky. Wanting to feel a little better, he took out his compass to look at the photo of Peggy only to find not only was this not his compass but the woman was not Peggy. Why did he have this pocket watch? The abrupt crash in the park with the stranger entered his mind. He must have picked it up then by accident. Maybe Stark could help him track down the watch’s rightful owner using facial recognition or whatever it was they used nowadays.

...

 Using the newspaper clipping as a clue to the mystery woman’s identity, you were deep into your research, completely forgetting your original mission. Peggy Carter truly was an amazing woman with incredible accomplishments. She was definitely the type of strong female role model you looked up to. You jumped as your phone rang, the sound pulling you from your thoughts.

 “Hello?” you answered.

 “Hi. Um... is Y/N L/N?” a male’s voice asked on the other end of the line.

 “Yes, it is. Who may I ask is calling?”

 “My name is Steve Rogers. I think we bumped into each other at the park... literally.”

 “Oh, it’s you! I’m so glad you called. I have been doing research to find the rightful owner of the compass... how did you get my number?”

 “I have a friend who helped me track down any living relatives of the woman in the compass. I called your father first and he gave me your number...”

 “I see... Well, shall we meet up? I imagine you’re just as anxious to get your compass back as I am to get my watch back.”

 “I am...”

 After arranging a time, a place and what you would both be wearing so you could correctly identify each other, you hung up.

...

 A while later, you were sitting at a cafe nearby waiting for Steve when a man wearing a blue baseball cap and sunglasses approached you.

 “Y/N?” he asked.

 “Yes. You must be Steve,” you replied, encouraging him to take a seat as you retrieved the compass.

 Steve sat down and got out the watch and soon the pair of you had your items back with a small sigh of relief.

 “She was beautiful,” Steve remarked, referring to the photograph.

 “She was... my grandfather met her in a watch shop back when he was in the service. Her father owned the shop and he brought this watch in for repairs. He carried her picture in it when he was shipped out as a promise to return to her. When he did, they were always together until the day she passed... the watch brought great comfort to my grandfather, especially when the dementia set in...”

 Steve listened to your story with interest. He briefly wondered if it was the kind of story he and Peggy might have had if circumstances had been different.

 “Who was Peggy to you?”

 Steve looked at you in surprise.

 “How did you...?”

 “I used the newspaper article to work out who she was so I could try to find you. I got so distracted by everything she did; I forgot to look for any next of kin... so, who was she to you?” you repeated.

 Steve became flustered and that’s when it dawned on you.

 “Are you...?”

 Steve looked at you, silently begging not to blow his cover.

 “You really are, aren’t you?”

 He nodded and looked at his hands.

 “This... this is amazing,” you whispered reverently. “May I buy you a coffee? It’s the least I can do after crashing into you the way I did...”

 Steve thought about it for a moment. Perhaps this was the universe telling him to move on and start a new life.

 “Sure,” he smiled.

 You spent the rest of your day getting to know each other better and swapping stories. In a way, losing your grandfather’s pocket watch was one of the best things that could ever happen to you and Steve could say the same about his compass.

[egg-on-the-run]

I got my first proper request and I literally accidentally deleted it. Am I stupid? Yes. Did I immediately panic? Yes. Do I remember what was on it?........ mostly.

Haha anon I hope you see this I'm so sorry but ily.

The turtles s/o who's usually very calm but just bursts into anger.

Notes: swearing :) I think it's funny

Leonardo:

He's used to a very calm s/o, you like to meditate together, he's always been good with helping you with breathing exercises.

You both like to keep arguments to a minimum, and even when fights do take place there isn't a lot of yelling

But when your mother came to visit :) that was just :) a lot of pressure :)

And she stayed in your apartment :) for a week :) everything was fine :)

Leonardo hadn't seen you for an entire week, not an overly long time, but certainly not pleasant. And he knew that you got stressed when you couldn't see him often. So as soon as you texted saying you had dropped your mother off at the airport, he immediately came round.

You were already screaming the moment you walked in the door.

"Oh she has some nerve! Some nerve! Speaking to me like that!"

"I'm guessing you're car ride went smoothly."

"She's been bugging me all week! When are you getting married? When are you have kids? I want some grand babies before I die! Ugh! She's obsessed with maintaining this perfect image all because her friend's kids are married and making babies like rabbits!"

He stayed quiet, not exactly sure how to comfort you. It wasn't like he could provide you with these things, and by the sounds of it, your mother would never approve of your huge turtle boyfriend.

"She just can't get that I'm happy! I have my own life and it's perfect the way I want it to be! I have a perfect boyfriend! You're a fucking delight! She–she's just so obsessed with her image that she'd never get that!"

"You... You think so?"

"I know so! She's too stubborn and she'll never get how fucking great you are and it just— UGH! It fries my brain."

"Even though I... I can't give you all those things... I can't legally marry you, we can't have kids."

"Even if you could give me a mansion and a diamond ring, or if all you could give me was a-a fucking walnut! I love you Leonardo, not that prim and proper white satin wedding she's made a thousand Pinterest boards for. I love you, I just wish she would get it."

Leonardo leaned down and kissed your cheek

"I love you too."

He believed in dealing with anger appropriately, but seeing you defend him with such passion made him feel so much more secure.

Raphael:

He's seen you angry before, he encouraged it. He's all about helping you with your confidence, teaching you to not be afraid to take up space and stand up for yourself.

But holy cow. You were mad that night.

He'd warned you not to take the trash out at night, wait to the morning — or better yet, he'll take it out for you when he came to visit after patrol.

But you are Raphael's girl. You are stubborn.

So you take the trash out, and some absolute creep decides that "flirting" in a dark alleyway in the key to a girl's heart.

Raphael swooped in, told the man to scram. But bold and drunk, the man spits back with a "Oh yeah? And would she want anything to do with a freak like you? What are you gonna do? Hit me? Aw, big angry turtle, you're gonna scare your girlfriend away."

It was two of his biggest insecurities. His appearance and his rage, especially in regards to scaring you away. It was a low blow, Raphael should have known to just walk away.

But he clammed up, he'd never admit when his anxiety got the best of him and you don't blame him.

"Oh go fuck yourself. If a vile man like you doesn't scare me, why the hell do you think a good man like him would?"

"A good man? He's not a fucking man! He's some freaky turtle thing, a pretty little thing like you deserves a real man."

"And are you a real man?"

"More real than your little pet."

The next thing you knew, the man was on the ground. You assumed Raphael knocked him out, but Raph's standing behind you and you're the one with your hand in a fist.

"Oh my god. Oh–Oh Raphie I knocked him out! O-Oh my god!"

"Holy shit Y/N! You probably broke his nose!" Raphael is grinning, shaking your shoulders.

"I didn't mean to hurt him."

"He deserves a broken nose at the least for messing with you! He was an asshole and he needed someone like you to set him straight!"

"I, um, well, I suppose he did! Saying such horrible things about you, I-I guess he did need someone to put him in his place."

Raphael ruffled your hair, "Thank you, my knight in shining armour."

"That make you my Prince?"

"Your Prince who was right about not taking the trash out at night."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

He appreciated you standing up for him more than you could imagine. And he found it mighty hot how hard you hit that guy. Seriously! He must be a good self defence teacher.

Donatello:

Donatello loves you so much, loves holding you and hugging you whenever he can. He adores it when you sit on his lap while he works.

But do you like to cuddle when you sleep? Tough luck. Getting him to bed is like trying to lick your own elbow: near impossible.

Regardless, you try. Because every once in a while Donatello is too tired to fight and he will go to bed.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

"Baby, please, just come to bed. Everyone's already asleep."

"I'll be there in a minute, just go on without me."

You sigh, not really seeing the point in fighting. Instead you return to his bed, trying to keep yourself awake playing games on your phone. When half an hour passes, you go back and try again.

"Donnie come on, aren't you tired? I just want to cuddle."

"I just need to put some stuff on a hard drive, April's writing a new article, she needs it for tomorrow."

You sigh once more, "Promise you'll come to bed right after?"

"I promise."

Donatello's bed is comfortable, but it's more comfortable with him in. You force yourself to stay awake; despite your exhaustion you're determined to cuddle tonight. It's all you want.

But it did not take an hour to put some documents onto a hard drive. And he's being awfully loud for just typing away on a computer.

"Are you fucking joking right now?!"

He jumps, almost dropping the box of beakers in his arms, "Hey love... Can't sleep?"

"You're rearranging your lab?! Why are you—since when do you rearrange things, huh? What the hell?!"

"I just y'know, thought things needed a change..?"

"Oh, and now is the time to change things, really? Of all the times to move your fucking beakers you decide to do it in the middle of the night after I specifically asked you to come to bed? Seriously?"

He gives a nervous grin, the kind that usually made you smile in return. But it was late — rather it was early at this point — and you were cranky.

"You can sleep without me, you're a big girl." He teased.

"I want to sleep with my boyfriend! I want to cuddle! Is that so much to ask for?!"

Donatello blinked, "You're right, I'm sorry, but I swear, I promise, I'll be ten minutes, honest."

"You can finish this tomorrow. If you're not in bed in the next ten seconds, I am going to scream and wake everyone else up."

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Ten."

Donatello jumped, quickly moving to shove supplies in cupboards a little recklessly. You continued to count down from ten, storming off back to his bed for hopefully the finally time this night.

By the time you got to the very firm "Three... Two... One..." Donatello was racing to bed, dived in beside you, crashing and knocking your heads together.

He'd never tell you, for fear you'd let it get to your head, but he kind of liked it when you got bossy.

Michelangelo:

Anger and Michelangelo just don't mix. They just don't. He's the king of communication, he's tries his hardest to avoid fights at any and all costs. You've always appreciated his determination to talk things out with you.

But with his brothers? He shuts down, he goes quiet and just accepts whatever blame they put on him: he knows they don't mean it, they only say mean things when they're angry.

But it hurts, hearing his big brothers tell him he's stupid, that he's childish, that he's lackadaisical.

"What kind of word even is that?! I swear Donnie must read a thesaurus as a bedtime story.."

So he's allowed to complain, and you let him ramble when he comes to visit. He sits on your bed and the words just tumble out of his mouth, lets you move around the room tidying up while he rants.

"I just—Raph keeps calling me stupid. And I just—I-I just—You know, sometimes I believe it."

You freeze, sweater only half folded and turn to him, "But you're not stupid. Just because you're not some brainiac like Donatello doesn't make you stupid. If that was the case, then I'm stupid, Raph's stupid, April, Leo, Splinter is stupid. Do you think we're all stupid?"

"Well—no, but—"

"But what?"

"But I... I am a little stupid."

"No you're not! Mikey, how many times has you out of the box thinking saved the day? Y-You were the one who suggested playing friggen buck-buck to take down Shredder! Y-Your skateboarding—hoverboarding skills saved the world. You think your brothers could do that?"

Mikey scrunched his nose up, "That's not smart though. They're right. My-my focus is all over the place, I-I could never come up with a plan like Leo, I could never have half the brains Donnie has, and Raph just—he gets things that I don't and I-I am stupid!"

"I need to have a word with your brothers—"

"And that's another thing! Everyone still treats me like I'm some kid! I don't need you to have a word with them! You're not my mom."

"Then you have a word with them! But sitting here and complaining about things that just aren't true isn't going to change anything!"

He's taken aback. Much like himself, you hardly ever yell, never ever raise your voice at him.

"I am not going to stand here and let them insult you day in and day out! Either you do something about it, or I will!"

He blinks at you, you're aggressively folding the sweater in your arms and grumbling about how you could definitely take Raphael in a fist fight if need be. You mumble something about how nobody gets to speak to your boyfriend like that, and it finally clicks with Mikey.

"Alright. I'm going to talk to them," He's mostly talking to himself, "I'm going to show them that I'm not some stupid, ditzy, lackadaisical kid anymore. I'm your boyfriend, and nobody gets to speak with me that way!"

You beam at him, anger disappearing within the second with his newfound confidence, "Hell yeah! Nobody insults my boyfriend!"

"Your boyfriend!"

"My boyfriend!"

"Your boyfriend!"

His brothers' version of a wake up call is to point out his weaknesses, tell him what needs to be corrected. But you much prefer to build him up, point out his strengths.

But jeez, he does not like your angry face.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 2/8/22

lots of short things this week. snacks, perhaps. bite-sized. little nibbles of content, even. no recipe edition, trying out a thing where i talk more about how i stumbled across a thing

listening i have never had a listening party or a youtube watch party go well or be even halfway enjoyable, but my housemates’ and my music taste overlap in such weird ways that sitting around adding things to a queueueueueueue and shouting about how girls are hot was super fun. shout out to The cover of all time, rina sawayama’s enter sandman. this breaks my cover rule, in that i don’t normally like a cover unless it’s radically different from the original, but i like this very crisp and clean version way more than metallica’s version

reading fallow week. i do want to shout out this specific sentence that made me laugh like a hyena. came across this chefs kiss of a sentence bc i like gita jackson’s work and make a point to read all her stuff

Former New York Times commentator Bari Weiss, currently running a Substack newsletter that is the single thing standing between the United States and the dark tyranny described in Warhammer 40k,

watching yes i saw the two hour nft video bc of who am i am what i do for a living, no i do not want to talk about it on my free time.

love secret base, hate sports, simple as. got here through the 17776-> john bois twitter -> secret base pipeline, bc he does fucked up sports video game stuff for them like this. apparently professional players are either very good baseball pitchers or very good baseball hitters and there’s very little overlap? why is this?? are the biomechanics that wildly different???

playing shoutout to Flick Solitaire, whose devs have been getting a lot of shitty reviews and flack in the app store reviews for commissioning a card set with Black hairstyles called My Hair Is My Crown. this is a two-man dev team who have built a perfectly serviceable little app. i don’t know that i like the feel of flicking cards as opposed to tapping them, but the app supports both and it’s much prettier and more colorful than my previous solitaire app, bc the game of solitaire itself is just engaging enough to keep my attention wandering when i’m tryign to listen to podcasts. how did you find this one kay? well, a new professional contact on linkedin posted a little cheer-up comment in one of the devs’ linkedin posts asking for advice about what to do about this barrage of bad reviews. game discovery! it happens everywhere!

also, Globle. wordle but for countries? monday’s was a tiny caribbean island nation that took me 24 tries. i think if a version of this existed that was JUST overseas territories of various countries i would be much more interested, bc there’s surprising shit all over the place and right now it’s very easy to quickly narrow down the general area of the daily country. think this one was in a kotaku article, which i do not have on my rss feed but check a couple times a week for like. temperature checking?

making added a loveseat and a coffee table to the evil lair and im a little cranky i did not do this earlier, but this house is BARREN okay we are putting together basically everything together from scratch. NOW we have a comfy place to have afternoon tea bc my housemate got real fucking hype about it, i did not have the heart to say “i don’t want to do this” and then it ended up being a ton of fun anyway and i found a bunch of new music to mull over.

this is the exact loveseat i had in college, but mine used to be sort of a denim? a joveseat, or a juton, if you will. this is bc i forgot that this company is not very good at accurately representing colors, bc i thought i was getting a light tan loveseat and instead got a pale grey. it doesn’t make a ton of difference in the room but it was momentarily startling as i ripped the packaging asunder

the blanket, as you may recall, was one of a number of pieces looted from an estate sale last summer. likewise with the round chair, which is very pretty but very uncomfortable.

the coffee table is off craigslist, bc i thought to myself “i want a glass coffee table so the openness of this gigantic room is preserved a little bit” and this was the one in the sweet spot of available, interesting, and cheap. it weighs about as much as the loveseat.

the secret to an eclectic house style is using every wood tone at once, i think, bc there’s a wall of birch veneer bookcases just out of frame and a dark knotty pine TV stand.

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[bertrumstrousers]

hello my children it is time for

Bad Blood

Chapter II: Still There

Bertrum completed his evening ritual with a final splash of warm water to rinse the soap from his face and a gentle drying off with a neatly folded washcloth. He shook out his hair and used a damp thumb and forefinger to tidy his mustache as he scrutinized his reflection. If he was going to face Mr. Drew in the coming days, he was going to do it presentably.

“Ya ain’t goin’ on a date, Bertrum, what’re you fussing over your appearance for?” Lacie barked from the adjacent bedroom. “C’mon, it’s late.” Her eyes were rolled behind the book she was reading as she awaited him in bed.

With an audible sigh, Bertrum returned to her side. “Elegance starts with proper hygiene, and you know how highly I value elegance.” As he plucked his nightcap from the dresser and sat upon the edge of the bed to put it on, he couldn’t help but quip, “…and that is why you’re here.” Had Lacie been watching, she would have caught sight of a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Listen to yerself bein’ all sappy.” Lacie set her book upon the bedside table as she chuckled. “Cute.”, she murmured as she sank deeper under the duvet.

“I’m not lying, love.” Bertrum laid down beside her and gestured with one hand as though to silently ask, ‘May I hold you?’, to which Lacie nodded in approval. Bertrum responded by wrapping a husky arm around the small of her back and tenderly pulling her over. A quick tug on the lamp’s pull chain allowed comforting darkness to fall over the room.

With one hand resting on Bertrum’s forearm, the other held snug in his large hand and her head tucked neatly under his chin, Lacie asked, out of pure curiosity, “…so what’s we doin’ tomorrow, exactly?”

A sharp tightening of Bertrum’s chest made her regret the query. “Would you prefer the long answer or the short one?”

“Whichever’s gonna upset ya less.”

“They’re both equally infuriating.”

“…aight. In that case, sleep first, be mad later.”

Bertrum agreed with a quiet grunt before giving Lacie a nuzzle and kiss on the neck in lieu of “good night”.

Lacie’s near-silent breathing was the only thing that kept Bertrum grounded in reality. By the time he resigned himself to a sleepless night nearly an hour later, she had buried her face in his nightgown, draped one arm across his stomach and the hand that previously occupied his now empty palm rested at her side. She was clearly at peace beside him.

It made him jealous.

His envy was only tempered by the sudden desire to keep her uninvolved while he settled his score with Joey. This was, after all, his own axe to grind. Bertrum was not about to admit his insecurity to himself, but a nagging thought repeated in his mind.

‘I’m plenty capable of standing up to the man, but I need someone in my corner. Someone to prove that I own what he stole credit for, to back me up when I show him my paten—‘

Startled by the revelation, Bertrum nearly leapt from his bed.

He had proof, and it would save Lacie the trip.

Waking up in the middle of the night was not common for Lacie, and if she did, it meant something was amiss. Bertrum hogging the blankets was her first thought, but that night, when she rolled over to reclaim the pilfered bedding, she found her partner missing.

“…Bertrum?”

Had it not been for his outburst that evening, she wouldn’t have thought much of his disappearance. An occasional midnight snack or pot of tea was not unusual, but he was rarely gone for long.

No noise came from the kitchen. Bertrum was a plenty polite man but he certainly was not a quiet one. Soft humming to himself as he waited for the kettle to boil, clinking utensils as he stirred his tea and the sharp tap of ceramic against ceramic as he raided one of his many biscuit tins were all sounds that were normally present during his nighttime visits to the kitchen, but every one was absent. When a full twenty minutes passed without his return, Lacie grew increasingly concerned, and the silence only made it worse.

She slid off the bed, draped on her bathrobe and went searching for him.

From the study, Bertrum silently and repeatedly thanked Lacie for leaving the crossword on the side table. By chance, the part of it that listed several of the attractions had been on the reverse of the very article that prompted his fit of rage that evening, and as much as the words still made his blood boil, he needed it.

Every ride and every innovation that was mentioned in that scrap of newspaper had a story. Hours upon hours of research, calculations and drafting. Once the technical parts had been perfected, Bertrum bestowed his favorite part, the creative and elaborate embellishments, upon his creations. A massive locked filing cabinet kept the attractions’ stories safe. The documentation that accompanied inventions that took a firm hold in the amusement park industry included their respective patents.

Those were what Bertrum was after.

For nearly half an hour, Bertrum leafed through his filing cabinet, using the article to guide his selections. His prized rides. The side-friction roller coaster, made in collaboration with a late German ride mechanic with whom he’d shared the patent. His inverted steel hairpin coaster; he had never been one for wooden coasters, their frailty did not allow for the wild drops or gravitational forces that had become increasingly popular among younger patrons. After fetching the ones the article contained, Bertrum started pulling papers associated with rides that had become famous. It hadn’t been mentioned in the article, but the strange contraption he’d invented, lovingly called the Whipper-Will-O, had its patent added to the expanding stack in his briefcase. It had always been one of his personal favorites. After all, the more disorienting, the better.

Bertrum had just entered the final stretch of his search when a knock at the door jarred him from his reminiscing and angry brooding. “Bertrum, what the hell’re you doin’ at this hour?!”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“…so yer… packin’.”

“Yes. Go back to bed, love—I’ll be there once I’m done getting these patents together.” Bertrum hadn’t turned his head to acknowledge her at all.

Bertrum had at some point changed from his nightgown to a collared shirt, neat slacks and, though the light of the desk lamp by which he worked was dim, she was pretty sure she could see his suspenders hanging from his waist. Clearly he didn’t intend to return to bed. “Big guy, just…” She sighed. “Come back t’bed. It’s three AM and I ain’t gonna coddle ya if you’re cranky in the morning.”

“Just give me some time.”

An irritated Lacie tucked her finger into the back of his collar and tugged. “You can do this after we hit the bookin’ office.”

Bertrum answered her with a grunt as he slid out of his chair. “Fine, fine.”

Attempting to sleep was more taxing than Bertrum expected. His mind was full of a sick fog that demanded his attention and blocked his path to rest. Too exhausted from fighting it, he let the haze take over.

‘He used to call you in at random. It began innocently enough, just… simple requests. You could handle those, they were nothing new. Clients made them all the time. But those requests turned into demands. Obnoxious demands. You should have listened to Mr. Connor when he warned you that Mr. Drew was unreasonable. You should have known, Bertrum. You should have bloody known.’

‘You could have left. On your own terms. The contract he’d written was a hastily scrawled mess of a page. All it said was that you’d do it, nothing more, and through that inebriated haze you could barely think twice about whether to put down your name… your untarnished name.’

The insecurity made him sick.

‘…No. Stop it. This was not your fault. That sleaze, he… he tricked you. He took advantage of you. You’re a professional, Piedmont. He was not. It showed that day. That day he called you into his office and threw you out.’

‘That memo you sent Joey was supposed to put out any fire that was smoldering between you. He overreacted. All it said was to stop taking and not returning your blueprints. Nothing else. So what if you raised your voice?! He started this! He was in your office after hours. He was mucking about in your proprietary work, and you called him out. You had every right! His firing you over an accusation? That was his fault.’

‘Tomorrow… will be better.’

Bertrum finally was able to talk himself down.

‘You’ll take back your plans by force, if you must. You cannot let Mr. Drew keep what isn’t his, and you certainly cannot let him implement anything more of yours under his own name.’

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch22: Driftwood

Summary: It’s Mary’s birthday and for the first time ever she requests a party. Meanwhile, Evelyn makes a decision and Frank isn’t entirely sure how he feels about it.

Warnings: Bad language, 18+, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: I have to a huge thanks to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for her input here! Have a biscuit, Ambi...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 21

 May 2020

“So this,” Frank held up the item in his hand, showing it to Alex, “is a fuel pipe. Without this the engine gets no food. Something you should be able to relate to.”

Alex’s response was another loud gabble as he looked at his dad from his vantage point, sat in his little bouncer which placed on the deck of the boat to Frank’s left. 

“Exactly, no food, no go.” Frank nodded, as he reached into the space, ducking down to get a closer look. He clamped the line into place before he shuffled out and stood up, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on as Alex peered up at him, his arms and legs waggling as he gave another shriek. “Yup, I reckon you’re right, Son. Time to give it a try.”

Checking that his hands and arms were clean enough, he unclipped Alex’s straps and gently placed him on his hip as he strode to the front of the boat, jangling the keys in his spare hand. Alex reached for them, making a cooing noise of interest and for a moment Frank let the baby curl his hand round the metal before hastily moving them away as Alex went to shove them in his mouth. As the baby let out a noise of protest, Frank jiggled him a little before successfully distracting him by holding him up above his head, bringing him down quickly to blow a raspberry on his cheek.  With his son held safely against him with one arm, he stuck the keys in the ignition with his other and gave them a turn, letting out a triumphant noise as the engine fired up.

“I am a genius.” Frank looked down at Alex who beamed back, shrieking and Frank chuckled, kissing the tiny boy’s rosy cheek before he turned the key to cut the engine.

“You got it working, I see!”

Frank turned to see Fliss’ head appear over the side of the boat as she climbed the small set of ladders by the side and he grinned as she hopped onto the deck.

“Yup. Fuel line was blocked. Replaced it and bingo.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek as she gently brushed her hand over Alex’s head as he was now fisting his little hands into Frank’s rather grubby t-shirt. “He helped.”

“That right? You been helping your Daddy, Bean?” She beamed and Alex let out another string of nonsensical babble and she grinned, before she looked at Frank. “You’re filthy.”

Frank looked at his T-shirt before he bit his lip. “Shit, I didn’t realise. Here.” He made to pass Alex over but Fliss shook her head, frowning.

“Frank, it’s a bit of dirt, not like he’s eating it is he?” She looked at him, before she smirked. “Besides, that’s not why I mentioned it.”

Frank arched his eyebrow as she bit her lip, scanning him up and down, her eyes lingering on his tatty jeans for a second before she shook her head and looked back at his face.

“Down girl.” He quipped and she laughed.

“I’m just gonna sort his dinner, want me to take him?”

“Yeah, I’m done out here for the night.” Frank looked at her, passing Alex over. “I’ll just lock the garage up and be right in. You riding tonight?”

“No, I snuck in a quick one at lunchtime on Cap. Alex was down for his nap so I took advantage, parked him in the office and left him to it. Slept right through.”

“Yeah, we kinda lucked out a little with him there didn’t we?” Frank smiled. “He’s nothing like Mary, she was a pain in the ass to get to sleep. Still is.”

“Well, with a bit of luck he’ll go down easy tonight.” Fliss smiled, before she looked at Frank, a dirty little grin on her face. “Then so can you.”

“Oooh, Miss Gallagher you filthy, little minx.” Frank’s mouth curled up at one side as she laughed before she stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss.

“Glad to see you’re no longer cranky, Frankie.”

“I was not cranky.”

“Sailor, you exploded at Mary when she knocked a glass of water over.” Fliss looked at him, her face soft. “I’ve never seen you blow like that, Baby. Not over something so trivial.”

“In my defense, I had told her three times to stop messing around.”

“I know.” Fliss cocked her head to one side. “Just isn’t like you, that’s all.”

Frank dropped his head, letting out a heavy sigh, he knew shew as right. Work had really been stressing him out recently and unfortunately he’d taken it out on the very people he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.” He wrinkled his nose and Fliss shook her head.

“It’s fine, no lasting harm done.” With that she kissed him again and Frank’s hand giving her ass a quick squeeze as she turned to leave.

“Hey, can you manage?” He asked as he watched her grip the side of the steps in one hand, Alex held in her other arm.

“Yeah, I got it.” She made her way slowly down, before hitting the floor of the garage. “Don’t be too long, Sailor.”

“Like I said, locking up and be right in.” He smiled, watching her make her way out, chatting away to Alex as she went, Thor trotting at her heels.

Frank climbed down himself and then checked around the garage and workshop area, making sure his power tools were locked away before his eyes fell over the little shelf he’d made out of a piece of driftwood as a surprise for Fliss. She’d picked up Heidi’s ashes a week ago, which had been another tearful morning as she’d broken down again when she’d picked up the sleek, mahogany box with her beloved mare’s name engraved on the lid. The box was currently sat on her desk in the office at the stables, Fliss saying she didn’t really want it in the house as the yard had been Heidi’s home so she needed to be there. Later that evening, Frank and Mary had taken Thor down to the beach to collect some driftwood for their fire pit and they’d stumbled upon a particularly large, gnarled piece. Frank had instantly been struck with the idea to craft it into a shelf for Fliss, thinking it would make a nice feature upon which she could lay Heidi to rest for good, and the finished article was quite nice, even if he did say so himself. He’d managed to keep the character of it nicely, the edges remained rustic and the entire thing had come up beautifully when he’d applied the final coat of varnish the previous evening.

The builders had been there all afternoon, marking out the areas where the expansion to the yard was due to start on Monday, so he supposed tonight was as good a time as any to give it to her, to apologise for being so bad tempered over the last few weeks, and celebrate the launch of a new opportunity for her business in one go. He could put it up for her tomorrow when she decided where she wanted it to go. Tucking it under one arm, he stepped out of the garage, pulled the up and over door down before locking it and heading into the house.

Fliss was currently warming something up for Alex to eat and she turned to face him, frowning as she saw the shelf under his arm.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“It’s a shelf.” He smiled, setting it down on the kitchen island.

“Frank, it’s gorgeous!” Fliss smiled, her fingers trailing over the surface of it. “Did you make it?”

“I did.” He nodded. “Out of a piece of driftwood. I thought it would look nice in your office, somewhere for you to put Heidi.”

At his words she stilled, her head shooting up to look at him and she blinked as her eyes welled with tears. She glanced back down, before she looked up at him, and gave him a huge smile. “Oh, Frankie. I love it. Thank you so much.”

Frank smiled and opened his arms, and she moved round to fall into them, resting her cheek on his shirt. His large hands gently rubbed at her back as she sniffed and he dropped a kiss to her head. “You’re welcome, Sweetheart.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” She let out a little choked sob and Frank chuckled.

“I try.” He looked down, his hands cupping her face as he wiped away her tears, dropping a kiss to her lips. “If you decide where you want it I’ll put it up for you tomorrow.”

“I already know exactly where it’s going.” She smiled. “Could you move the one above my desk to the back wall and put that in its place? I want her right up there where she’s in prime position.”

“Sure, not a problem.” He assured her, giving her another kiss. “Was Mary okay when you dropped her at Roberta’s? She wasn’t upset or-“

“Upset, no. Raging about you being a, and I quote, ‘miserable, bad-tempered douchebag’, yes.”

Frank snorted and took a deep breath. “I’ll apologise tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it, I told her to cut you some slack. She gets it. I said you’d pick her up on the way back from the airport tomorrow morning. Everyone will be arriving for her party at one so she needs to be back here by at least midday. Roberta said she’d come too, give us a hand setting up.”

“Is there much to set up?” Frank asked. “I mean there’s only five of them coming.”

“Seven if you count the twins.” Fliss corrected. “But no, not really. Food is simple, just need to throw it on the grill. Mum’s got the cake done, snacks are sorted…just a case of setting the table outside and the music and stuff.”

“You know I think she’s more excited for the party than she was for her actual birthday.” Frank mused as Fliss pulled Alex’s dinner out of the microwave.

“Well, it’s her first party.” Fliss smiled, giving the cauliflower and haddock puree a stir.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d see the day she asked for one.” Frank continued to ponder, taking the dish that Fliss handed him, before he pulled a face looking at it. “This looks disgusting.”

“Well I’m not asking you to eat it.” Fliss narrowed her eyes at him and Frank raised his eyebrows.

“Good job.”

“Keep talking, Sailor and you’ll be wearing it.”

He gave a laugh, before he moved and sat down on the stool next to Alex’s high chair as the baby made grabby hands for the dish, noises of approval escaping his mouth as Frank held out the first spoonful to him. Fliss watched them for a moment before she smiled, and moved behind Frank, dropping a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll ring our order through for dinner, you fancy Thai or Italian tonight?”

“You choose.” Frank replied, his concentration fully on feeding his son and Fliss squeezed his shoulders, before she picked up her phone and rang the Thai place, knowing full well Frank would prefer that, even though she was in the mood for Italian.

*****

For the first time in weeks, Frank felt fully relaxed that evening. He wasn’t going into the shop that weekend, having put his foot down and said not a chance given it was Mary’s party. They’d eaten a fabulous take-out, drank a few beers and now they were sat together in his favourite place, outside in their garden around the fire pit, under the stars whilst their son was sleeping soundly upstairs.

“You know, I do love how it sometimes burns blue.” Fliss smiled as she snuggled further into him.  

“Yeah, it’s to do with the salt, I think.” Frank shrugged, his fingers tracing shapes on her upper arm. ”Sure Mary would be able to tell you if you asked her.”

“Sure she would.” Fliss chuckled. “Along with a detailed explanation of exactly what chemical compounds are involved, or the fact that the moon being in a certain position to Venus means it glows a different shade of blue or some other random shit like that…” Frank burst out laughing, pulling her closer. “I don’t know how she remembers half the shit she does.”

“Diane was the same.” Frank mused. “A goldmine for trivia. She was great for Quiz Nights.”

“You do it too.” Fliss sat up and looked at him.

“I don’t.”

“You so do.” She scoffed.

“Not as bad as Mary.”

“Hmm, hey, maybe that’s what we need to do next time they have a Quiz at Ferg’s. Smuggle Mary in and hide her under the table.”

“I doubt she’d stay there.” Frank pulled a face and Fliss shoved him in his chest, causing him to snigger again.

“Dick!”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Sweetheart.” He winked as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I love you.” She muttered against his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

“How much?”

Biting her lip she arched her eyebrow and snatched his beer off him, placing it on the table along with her glass of wine before she moved, straddling him, her bare thighs falling either side of his. Bending down she kissed him deeply, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her in closer. He let his lips dance across hers before she pulled back a little, looking at him.

“That much.”

“Yeah, not sure I got it…” He chuckled, pulling her back to him as he kissed her again, this time only parting when her hands wrapped in the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging at it until he moved to allow her to drag it off. He took advantage of the moment, dragging her cami over her top, letting out a soft groan as the sight of her bare in front of him. He dropped his head, kissing and nuzzling at her breasts, Fliss’ fingers digging into his hair to hold him close.

“Got it now?” She grinned as she pushed down, rubbing her sleep short clad core into his groin, making him hiss at the feeling, his dick growing hard through the constraints of the sweats he was wearing.

“Not quite…”  He teased, nipping at her neck. Fliss giggled as he went back to her breasts, hands cupping them, squeezing gently before his mouth gently covered a nipple. As he gently flicked the hardening nub with his tongue she gave a little squeak of delight.

“I mean… If you really don’t get it, Adler…” she panted out slightly, “then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.”

“Well, you always tell my brains are in my dick.” He growled a bit, giving her chest a gentle bite, and Fliss arched herself into his mouth, hissing at the way the slight pain and pleasure mixed. His arm tightening around her, Frank lifted them both up off the cushion to lay her down on her back on the outside couch and took a chance to look over her, his eyes traveling down her bare torso, before his mouth followed suit, his beard scratching her skin slightly, mouth cooling the delectable burn as he went.

Fliss rolled herself up into him, enjoying the feel of his relatively firm torso against the softness of hers, allowing herself to get lost in the feeling as she bit her lip and tipped her head back against the arm of the wicker sofa, enjoying being in her man’s care. Frank’s gently gripped at the sleep shorts she was wearing, before he slipped them down her toned legs before he pushed his sweats down, kicking them to the floor.

He moved to a kneel, one hand gently hooking Fliss’ left leg up to rest against the back of the couch, her other leg falling automatically to the floor, toes pressing onto the smooth sandstone flags, leg bent at the knee. Frank took another moment to look at her as his hands rubbed against her inner thighs, taking her in from her toned shoulders and arms, right down to the gently curve of her hips. There wasn’t a single bit of this woman that he wasn’t achingly in love with.

Sliding his hands up and around, he gripped at those hips and shifted her slightly making sure she was where he wanted her.

“You know, Frank…” Fliss, looked up at him, and her deep brown eyes flashed in amusement, as she watched her fiance appreciate her body, and she could feel a flush rising pink up her neck, into her cheeks. The way he looked at her, like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen still made her a little bashful at times. “If brains were dynamite, then, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your pants off.”

“Oh, really?” Frank leaned forward, kissing her lips, and down her neck as she laughed, his fingers drifting along her curves till they dipped between her spread thighs and slipped along her folds, causing her got gasp. “Never heard you complain before.” He braced a hand next to her head, as she starting to wriggle from where expert fingers teased her slick. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Shut up…” She groaned as she arched up into him, pushing against his hand.

“You started this, Sweetheart.” His fingers picked up their pace and he watched as she writhed beneath him, her breath coming in ragged pants, her fingers digging into his biceps, soft whimpers of his name leaving her mouth in a staccato chant.  “You wanna think about what you just said?”

“You’re not using your…fuck!” She cried, as his fingers stretched her open, gliding and rubbing against her walls which clenched with need around his digits. “-dick, you…oh, God!”

“Nope, not yet.” He agreed, dropping his head so he could reach her breasts, a pull of his teeth on a nipple drew out another cry from her. “But I’m not sure I’m gonna need to.”

His fingers moved even faster, Fliss quivering, her whole body rubbing against his, panting as she glanced down at him, his blue eyes peeking up at her, twinkling with desire and mischief. “Frankie, please, I gotta…”

His lips wrapped around the other nipple, sucking and working his teeth around it before he pulled away, the muscles in his back and shoulders shifting as he arched up once more watching her. “Let go, Lissy.”

The heat in her stomach flooded her and she arched up off the cushions, a loud moan rolling from her throat as Frank felt her clamping down round his fingers, as her eyes flickered shut, her legs twitching. Frank leaned over to kiss her, deeply, as he slotted himself between her thighs, grinding down into her. Kisses flowed into soft bites of skin while Frank arched his hips up enough to slide his cock between her folds, and once he found her entrance, he pressed into her heat, burying into exactly where he wanted to be the most, forehead pressed against her own, breath mingling as both panted through the initial hit of sensations that coursed through their veins.

“You okay, Baby?” Frank looked down at her and Fliss nodded, tipping up to press her lips against his, tugging on his full bottom lip, nudging her nose against his.

“Better than okay” She rolled her hips once more against his, the shift in angle making her tighter, driving Frank crazy to feel her fluttering around him. Pulling his hips back he thrust deeply into her, causing her shudder.

“I can tell.” He grunted as he started to move himself, the thrust of his hips moving her slightly with each drive forward. Shifting to his elbows on either side of her head, Fliss immediately wrapped her leg from around the couch over his hip, rocking up to meet him.

“Oh, fuck, Frank!” The change in angle hit her deep and just right as he reached down and grabbed under her other knee, bringing that leg around his hips too before he fisted a hand in her hair, tipping her head back and dragging a swipe of his tongue up her neck. He kissed that sweet spot just behind her ear, once more dragging his name out of her in a chant, as he slowed his movements down, his hips now driving slow and deep. But her hands dragged down to his back, nails digging into the bunched muscles he was using to monitor his speed and she grabbed at him.

“No Sailor… I want you to fuck me.”

Frank gave a little groan as he moved to look at her and found her eyes challenging him. Fuck, he loved it when she got all fucking horny and needy.

“Oh, Cowgirl…” He smirked, shifting his chest across hers and pulling away, propping himself up above her as both his hands fisted in her hair to hold her down. “. “You better hold on to something.”

Her eyes flashed and then without warning he began snapping his hips forward and back with a brutal pace as he dragged himself back and forth from her fluttering channel.

It was so quick that Fliss screamed out, a vague thankful feeling crossing her addled brain about how she was suddenly glad they had no near neighbours, but all thoughts disappeared as soon as they flashed into her mind as she felt her eyelids flutter shut as she could feel nothing but how thick he was inside her, the constant pounding left her trying to keep up with his furious fucking, and she was failing, big time.

Her eyes opened and her entire gaze was filled with nothing but Frank, a wide chest with its spattering of dark hair drove her crazy, to the straining shoulders that gave him the leverage to shift his body in every way to claim her. And then his face, that handsome face she knew from memory, his sharp, bearded jaw was tight, those baby blue eyes burning into hers as his face hovered inches from hers, all his focus on her and only her.

It was driving her crazy.

Frank was just as swamped with the sensations. He enjoyed making love to his girl but he also enjoyed the faster, carnal fucking too. There was a darker side to him that enjoyed being able to use his size to claim her how he wanted and give her what she needed and since their weekend in Vermont, he knew he could do exactly that without fear anymore.

"Fuck…“ he growled out as he rutted into her, feeling her clench as he hit a particularly toe-curling spot deep inside her and her mouth dropped wide in a loud gasp. He was angled just right, and she dragged her nails down his back, urging him to keep hitting it, which he did, rotating his hips, making her groan and her whole body arch into him.

Frank kept going, relentless, hard, demanding, claiming. Fliss tightened her legs around him, her, hands scrambling along his back, and her head fell back against the arm of the couch again, and Frank heard her signature cry, a whispered, garbled tangle of words falling from her lips as, her whole body locked around him before with a loud, guttural cry of his name she came, hard.

Frank dropping himself enough to press his forehead against hers as she cried underneath him, his lips pressing to hers, swallowing her cries. He slowed his thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm, but he wasn’t that far from his, it was simmering and he was teetering on that edge that he knew he was going to fall over soon. There was a slight stutter to his hips as he grained speed again, grinding into her until her clenching body was too much and with a gasp of a name and a dirty grunt he spilled into her, jolting to a stop after several erratic thrusts, sinking down over her as Fliss pressed her face into his neck, breathing in deeply.

After a moment, she eased her limbs from around him, her foot sliding down the back of his thigh and calf, humming softly post-orgasm, she leaned up, nibbling on Frank’s neck, and he gave a soft hum of delight as she nipped at his jaw.

“Maybe you could blow your boxers off. At a push.” She mumbled cheekily, and Frank laughed, his mouth claiming hers, if for no other reason other than to shut her up.

*****

Even if they’d had chance to lie in the next morning, which thanks to their son was not an option, they couldn’t have. Fliss was up early, the excitement in the house at the fact they were hosting Mary’s first birthday party was infectious, and Frank found himself getting swept up in it too. This was all he’d ever wanted for Mary, and the fact she’d actually requested a party in the first place had almost reduced him to tears.

By the time nine in the morning rolled by, the balloons were blown up and scattered about the place, banners had been hung and the music system was ready to go outside. With a quick kiss goodbye, Frank headed off to go and pick his mother up from the airport, before driving back down to their old estate to pick up a very hyper active Mary, and a slightly less bouncy Roberta.

Mary was overjoyed with the decorations, hugging Fliss and thanking her over and over again, and then the time seemed to fly by with her best friend Rosie arriving first, along with her parents who once more asked Fliss and Frank if they were sure the little girl was okay to stay the evening too. Fliss waved away their concern and asked if they’d like to stay for a while, an offer which they rather hastily declined and Frank snorted a little as Rosie’s dad gave him a wink when he told Frank they had ‘plans’.

By two, the pool party was in full swing, Steve, Frank and Bill overseeing seven kids as they dived in and out of the pool, jumping on and off inflatables as the music played in the background. Frank glanced around, watching as Fliss bustled about the garden, Alex perched on her hip as she laughed at something Roberta had said before she nodded and passed Alex over to the woman who beamed at him as he grabbed at her large beaded necklace.

“Frank?”

He spun to face his mother who smiled at him, her large sun hat shading her face. She held up the empty bottle in her hand. “Me and Verity appear to have finished this Sancerre. Do you mind if-“

“You’ve sunk a bottle by two in the afternoon, shame on you.” He gave a lout tut and his mother simply arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, well having children turned me into a raging alcoholic.” She stated matter of factly and Frank snorted.

“Touche, well, help yourself, you know where it all is.” He jerked his head towards the kitchen. “You don’t need to keep asking for things whilst you’re here, you know.”

“No, I know. But I was kind of hoping to talk to you actually.” Evelyn looked at him. “Come with me.”

“Oh?” He frowned, tossing a glance back at Fliss before he followed Evelyn into the house. He reached into the fridge, pulled out another chilled bottle of wine before he set it on the counter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I just…well, I’ve come to a decision about something, and I wanted to run it past you first.”

“Okay.” He watched her as she cleared her throat.

“I’ve decided to sell the house.” She stated and Frank watched her, having a feeling he knew exactly what was coming next. “And I’m going to buy and apartment. Here.”

“Right.” Frank looked at her, his face passive.

“And one in Boston.”

“Two apartments?”

“One plus one was two last time I checked, yes.” Evelyn’s mouth twitched at the corner and Frank rolled his eyes. “I thought I could spend the winters here and the summers in Boston. That way, it would only be for six months a year. Sure even we could survive being in the same state as one another for that long.”

“Sounds like you got it all planned out.”

"I want my grandchildren to know me, Frank. I already missed out on so much with Mary, and yes, before you say anything, that was my own fault, but I don’t want to miss out on any more.”

 “And you won’t, I’ve told you-“

“Well, clearly I am because I missed the fact that Mary was now calling Fliss mom.”

Frank took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest, “I thought we’d been through this. You said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It isn’t, I just…well, I wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s on me.” Frank looked at her, his expression softening slightly. He hadn’t really considered what effect it would have on his mother, hearing Mary call someone other than Diane her mom, but then again, why would he? Evelyn had never seen Diane with Mary after all, it never even crossed his mind that it would upset her. “I should have warned you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Evelyn shook her head. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting it that’s all.”

There was a pause and Frank took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve told you before. I want you to have a relationship with the kids, and, well, if you feel moving nearer to us is gonna help that then…” He trailed off giving a little shrug.

“So you wouldn’t object to me moving closer?”

 “What would be the point of that?” He asked, passing her the bottle of wine. “You’d do it regardless.”

“Yes, I would.” Evelyn stated simply before she took the bottle from him. Frank gave her a small smile which she returned before she moved to leave, greeting Fliss who had just walked into the kitchen.

“Did I just interrupt something?” She frowned.

“No.” Frank shook his head, watching his mother leave. As soon as she was out of earshot he gave a groan and pulled a beer from the fridge. “She just told me she wants to sell the house and buy two apartments. One in Boston and one here.”

“Oh.” Fliss frowned, cocking her head to the side. “But, that’s…fine. I mean, you and your mom get on okay now, so-”

“Yeah, we do.” Frank nodded, taking a huge pull from his bottle, swallowing his beer. “Because she’s in Boston and I’m not.”

Fliss gave a chuckle and slipped her arms round his waist. “Stop being a little shit, Frank. I hate to point it out but it makes sense. She’s not getting any younger and if anything happens she’s a three hour flight away, as we saw when Mary was taken ill.”

“Why do you always have to be so fucking sensible?” Frank narrowed his eyes at her and she grinned, shrugging.

“I’m not, I can just see it from her point of view. But hey, look on the bright side. If she’s told you, it gives you a perfect excuse to help her look for somewhere. Tampa’s not a bad area, and it’s a forty or so minute drive away…”

“Oh, now who’s being a little shit?” He laughed as he dropped a kiss to Fliss’ lips.

She chuckled and pulled back, looking at him. “Anyway, parking that for now, the kids are getting hungry. Can you we fire up the grill and I’ll get the sides and stuff out?”

“Sure.” Frank smiled, before he kissed her again and headed outside, grabbing Steve’s collar as he went, roping him into helping.

Half an hour later kids and adults alike were sat around munching burgers, hot dogs and various other items Fliss had dotted out on the tables at the side of the garden. Frank was stood drinking a beer as he watched Steve flop down next to Sian on the seat round the table the adults had settled at, gently rubbing his hand over her little bump, giving her a quick kiss. Frank smiled, thinking back to how it didn’t seem like five minutes since he’d been doing the same to Fliss.

“Not sending you broody is it, Son?”

Frank turned to look at Bill who nodded to Steve and Frank scoffed. “Nope. Two is quite enough for us, thanks.”

Bill laughed. “Exactly what Fliss said, well, not exactly. Her phrase included the words ‘fuck off, Dad’ but the sentiment was the same.”

Frank laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, we’re both agreed, thankfully.” He smiled, his eyes flicking to Alex who was perched on his mother’s knee, as she sat chatting to Verity.

“I had a nosey up at the yard before.” Bill took a swig from his bottle. “Looks like they’re all ready to start. Must be a relief that they’re finally getting going.”

“To be honest, Bill, I’ve not been as involved with it all as I’d like.” Frank bit his lip. “I mean I’ve been over the plans and keep checking the costs and stuff but as far as actively being involved in organising anything.” He let out a deep sigh. “I know I should have stepped up a little more.”

“Hey don’t worry!” Bill smiled. “We got it covered.”

“I know and I’m grateful but I just, well this is our future you know? Her business, our property and land and I kinda feel a little...”

“Left out?”

Frank wrinkled his nose. “Not left out as such. Not in control is the best way to describe it, I suppose.”

“We talking about the building work now or life in general?”

Frank snorted, it unnerved him how easily his future father in law could read him. “That obvious, huh?”

“A little, plus Fliss says you’ve been mad busy at the shop.”

“I thought it would have died down by now.” Frank shrugged. “But we seem to be getting bigger and bigger and, it’s just not what I had in mind when I went to work there. And I know, I’m grateful but I kinda miss when things were simpler, you know?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t really sound like I’m very ambitious does it? Most people would kill to be in my position.”

“Look, management and running a business isn’t for everyone. If it was, the world would hardly tick over the way it does, would it?” Bill said wisely. “Have you talked to James?” 

Frank shook his head. “I honestly don’t know what I’d say.”

“Well, what do you want to happen?”

“I miss the repairs.” Frank said, honestly. “I enjoyed it when I was running the workshop. It was a good mix between management and still being able to get my hands dirty when I wanted to.”

“Tell him that then.”

“Not that simple, we got a new guy running that side of things now. Plus it would be a drop in wages.”

“Do you need the money?”

“Not especially, Fliss brings in a fair packet and it wouldn’t be a bad income at all. But I like the security.”

“Well in that case don’t let that be a factor in your decision. Trading off a higher standard of living versus job satisfaction is a mistake I’ve seen a lot of people make in the past, Frank. It doesn’t end well as they become miserable and resent their choices.” Bill paused. “Have you not thought about going back into repairs full time, like working for yourself again?”

Frank shook his head. “No. The security which comes with this job is too big a pull to give up. Especially now there’s four of us to consider.”

 “You could make it secure if you did it properly.” Bill looked at him. “Set yourself up as an independent business but get a unit on one of the Marinas. Yeah, they’ll take a cut, but you’re pretty much guaranteed work and it comes with most of the perks but you’ll manage your own time.” Frank looked at him as Bill smiled. “Might be a bit of work at first to get yourself back in the game so to speak but I can help with the practicalities of setting out on your own. Fliss has an excellent accountant plus I hear you know a pretty good lawyer.”

Frank smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Just think it over. If you need the money to set up you know me and V will help out. Plus, the beauty of it is Frank, you have a job to keep you going whilst you make your decision. It ain’t a bad place to be when you think about it.”

“Thanks Bill, I’ll give it some thought.”

***** The party filtered out at about five, and their family stayed around for a little while until they too left a couple of hours later. Mary hugged Fliss and then Frank tightly, thanking them both for ‘the best birthday party ever’, Frank not bothering to point out that the sum total she had held or attended didn’t give her much to go on. He was simply happy she’d enjoyed herself.

They managed to get the two girls to bed in Mary’s room at a ridiculously late hour, so when Frank woke the next morning he wasn’t surprised to find them both fast asleep still when he poked his head into the room. He was surprised, however, to find his bed empty. Sundays were normally their lazy mornings, none of them really bothering to get up until they had to, Alex often coming into their room for a few hours. But today, it was barely gone nine and Fliss was up and fully dressed in denim shorts and a baggy fitting t-shirt.

“Morning, Honey.” He greeted her with a soft kiss. “You’re up early?”

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” She shrugged, before her face wrinkled up and she swallowed, rubbing at her stomach.

“You okay?” Frank frowned, his hands gently running up and down her arms. “You sick?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head. “I came on a few days early and it’s fucking excruciating for some reason. Hasn’t been this bad since I had Alex.”

“Oh, Baby!” Frank pouted and with an exaggerated fake chuckle-slash-sob she pressed her forehead to his chest and he smiled, wrapping his arms round her, kissing her head.

“My ovaries are trying to kill me.” She whined and Frank chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Not really, other than give me lots of sympathy and pretend you know what I’m going through.”

“Think I can manage that.”

Together they made breakfast, Evelyn joining them and Fliss took care to leave enough batter to feed the girls with when they finally surfaced at half past ten. Frank then let them head back out to the pool for another hour or so before he dropped Rosie off home and swung by the store for some snacks which he knew would keep Fliss satisfied for the afternoon and hopefully help keep her killer womb at bay.

They all settled down for the afternoon on the sun-loungers outside, the lazy Sunday bleeding into the evening, as they dipped in an out of the pool before it was time to sort dinner, which consisted mainly of left over party food, Frank grilling the remaining burgers and sausages that hadn’t been eaten at the party. Once that was over, Evelyn asked if she could take Alex’s bath time. Fliss handed him over with a smile, whilst Frank headed upstairs to make sure his mother knew where everything was. Once he was bathed and put down for the evening, Evelyn retired back to the guest house and Mary retreated to her den to watch one of her new DVDs, leaving Frank and Fliss to curl up on their sofa, settling in for another binge watching session, this time making their way through The Witcher.

As Fliss shifted again, trying to ease a particularly nasty cramp in her stomach, Frank glanced at her, frowning a little.

“Have you taken some more painkillers?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, stretching her legs out. “Just haven’t kicked in yet.”

“What hasn’t?” Mary asked as she walked past the sofa from her den, heading to the fridge.

“Nothing that concerns you.” Frank replied, not even looking at her.

“Are you on your period?” Mary asked bluntly and Fliss glanced at Frank who looked at her, blinking, before they both turned their heads to look at her over the back of the sofa as he closed the fridge, juice box in her hand.

“How the hell do you know about that stuff? You’re ten!” Frank stared at her and she shrugged, moving back towards them.

“I read about it when I looked up where babies came from.”

“You looked up where babies come from?” Fliss repeated, her voice controlled as she was trying to supress the laughter bubbling in her throat.

“I was curious, Mom. Wanted to know how you made Alex.”

“Jesus Christ.” Frank groaned, as Fliss let out a snort. “I clearly need to increase the level of Parental Control on your laptop and tablet.”

“No you don’t because it didn’t let me google it, so I had to find it in a book in the library.” She said matter of factly as she paused by the back of the sofa, fixing them both with a look. “And, for the record, I think it’s totally disgusting what you did. But, now you have him, you don’t need to do it again. That is unless you decide you want another and-“

“No, you’re absolutely right.” Frank cut her off, his face serious. “It’s totally gross. I’m so relived I will never have to go through that torture ever again.”

Fliss couldn’t look at him, she had to turn away, the expression on his face was utterly dead-pan. She pressed her lips together, scrunching her face up as she tried desperately to stop the laughter exploding from her mouth.

“God knows what Uncle Steve and Sian think they’re doing, having another one.” Mary grumbled.

“Well, your Grandmother had two.” Frank pointed out, and Fliss slapped his thigh, in a desperate attempt to make him stop. His lips quirked at the sides ever so slightly before he straightened his face once more as Mary looked back at him.

“I suppose, but you were the eldest so she clearly thought she needed to try again after having you, you know, make it right.”

At that the laughter Fliss had been supressing burst from her mouth as her shoulders shook and she tipped her head back, roars of laughter filling the room.

“Well,” Frank looked at Mary, “you’re technically our eldest so…”

“Yeah but you adopted me, therefore you chose me.”

“Well, not really as you were kinda already here.” Frank teased.

“Yeah but you chose to be my parents, not just my uncle and his wife.”

“That’s true.” Frank nodded.

“So, that clearly makes me special.”

“Oh, you’re special alright.” Frank agreed, his face serious.

Mary grinned as she flounced back off to her den, shutting the door behind her. As soon as it clicked shut, Frank look at Fliss, who was now bright red from the force of her laughter, tears pouring down her face and he too began to laugh.

“Fucking hell.” He shook his head as Fliss wiped her eyes. “I can’t with that kid!”

“She’s hilarious, I love her.” Fliss chuckled. ”And you- I’m so relieved I will never have to go through that torture ever again, liar, much?”

Frink grinned, his arm curling round her shoulders, pulling her to him as she snuggled into his side. “Well, sex is dirty. But only when it’s done right.”

Fliss snorted. “And of course we do it right, Sailor.”

“Damned straight we do.” He leaned back against the sofa, pressing a kiss to her head.

“So, are you gonna tell Alex sex is dirty and gross?”

Frank hesitated, before he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Fliss was getting at. “You know, of course we will properly talk to Mary when she’s older and starts to get interested in dating, Fliss.”

“Careful there, Sailor. You’ll give yourself whiplash backtracking that fast.”

“I’m not backtracking."

“Course not.” Fliss wrinkled her nose sarcastically and Frank groaned.

“Look, can we stop talking about when she’s...” He waved his hand and gave a shudder. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Face it Frankie, it’s probably gonna happen sooner than later. You got to be prepared.” Fliss looked at him, her lips twitching at the corners. “I mean, you wanted her to have a normal life. Dating is part of that."

“Are you gonna shut up, or am I gonna have to make you?” Frank turned to Fliss, dropping his head a little so his nose was mere inches from hers,

“Thought that was like gross.” She teased. “And besides I’m on.”

“You know, I have heard that orgasms are supposed to help with cramps.” Frank shifted a little, his lips gently brushing her neck. “Could always do it in the shower,” he nipped at her skin. “No mess, no fuss.”

“I showered before and besides,” Fliss pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to stop his teasing bites to her neck, “it’s a known fact that a woman’s entire sexual reproductive system grows teeth in shark week.” Frank blinked before he gave a snort of laughter as Fliss shrugged. “Well, it feels like my womb is trying to eat its way out so…”

“There’s somewhere else I could shove it to keep you quiet.” Frank grinned and Fliss scoffed.

“Yeah that’s got teeth too, Sailor, and I ain’t afraid to use ‘em.” She laughed and gave him a gentle kiss. “But only when you ask nicely.”

Frank gave a groan against her mouth. “You’re killing me, Lissy!”

“Aww, I got you all worked up Sailor?”

“Yes.” He answered bluntly.

“Shame Mary’s in the den, I could have fixed that for you.”

Frank looked at her, before his head whipped round over his shoulder. “Mary! Go to bed!”

Fliss slapped his arm, laughing as Mary pulled open the door to her den and glared at him. “It isn’t even nine yet!”

“He’s joking.” Fliss looked at her.

“No I’m not.” Frank deadpanned and Mary rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Dad.” And with that she disappeared again, the door shutting behind her.

Frank groaned as he lay his head back, shifting slightly, trying to relieve the strain at the front of his jeans. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Fliss smirked to herself. She loved how she could get him worked up simply by using her words, it was a fucking huge turn on.

“You know, I’m sure I just heard Alex upstairs.”

“What?” Frank turned his attention to her.

“Yeah, I best go check on him,” she looked at Frank, “you know, upstairs,” she bit her lip, “and it might take me five minutes or so.”

With a puzzled expression Frank watched her go before he turned his attention to the baby monitor. On the small screen he saw Alex was sleeping soundly. He frowned, Fliss had no reason to be-

Oh. Oh

With a grin he stood up. “Mary just gotta nip upstairs for a moment. If you need us just, well, just wait.”

And with that he shot after Fliss, taking the stairs two at a time.

****

Chapter 23

[werevulvi]

So I've been away from tumblr for a while. Not sure how long. Maybe a month? I'm writing a book (fiction) so I've been and still am busy with more fulfilling distractions from reality than social media. The book I'm writing is about a woman, Olga, who's transitioning like me, but then she's an assassin. I don't wanna get into all the itty gritty details of that until I'm done, but writing that book has been serving as a great distraction from my gender issues. Except I need to take breaks from my hyper-focused super intense writing spree at times to not accidentally boil my brain. What? Is working on a project for 10+ hours a day, every day, for over a month a little much? Sorry I can't hear you over my autistic hyperfocus. And those breaks get me tossed right back into... mostly dysphoria. That’s what I wanted to rant about.

I know this is an unfair accusation, but sometimes I wonder just how paranoid and anxious feminism has made me. I fully abhor victim mentality, but sometimes reading feminist posts, articles, etc, about the various evils of men (crime statistics, female victims' accounts of male violence, etc) makes me feel... like a victim, and hopeless, for being female. And it requires a lot of effort to dig myself out of that pit. I need to remind myself that I can trust men, that most of them are not violent, that they're not the real enemy, and that women are not so different from men. Otherwise what? Otherwise I'd give into my PTSD and get drowned out by my dysphoria.

PTSD says all men are dangerous and want my pussy, either to harm it or fuck it. PTSD says it's my fault I'm a victim of sexual trauma, because I am female. And I dunno why, but sometimes feminism echoes that sentiment, and that's not great for my recovery, or my long term pursuit of happiness. Dysphoria says I'm too different from men and that's why I hate being female. Dysphoria doesn't want any special treatment just because I'm female. Feminism echoes what my dysphoria says, sometimes, and that's not great. Dysphoria wants equal treatment. Receiving equity due to my "failed" sex feels like... I dunno, like wanting to crawl out of my fucking skin and set it on fire, I suppose. Bad female skin humiliating me. Because that again reminds me that my sex being female is what's wrong, and not the treatment of women as "weaker" and more emotionally frail. Then my solution is to get rid of my femaleness, so that I can be strong, fast and free. Independent enough to open a fucking jar. I feel trapped in the unfairness itself.

I still want to be different from women, not from men. I want to stand out among women, and I'm jokingly boasting about how I'm such an NLOG (Not Like Other Girls) and proud to be different, in masculine ways. I'm proud to be hairier, having a deeper voice, and that female socialization didn't stick to me as much. And likewise, I feel good when I'm similar to men, blend in among them, am compared to them as an equal to them, and that I managed to pick up on some male socialization. This is more subconscious, and not something I really think about.

I still wish I was male, and that impossible dream still hurts, I guess. I've been trying to distract myself from those thoughts by writing my book and... having sexual fantasies in which I am male. Clearly my own home made therapy that made me connect somewhat with being female (3 years ago) was ineffective in the long run, but now I can't possibly make myself believe I'm a man again, just because I still/again wish I was male. It comes and goes, yes, but it's seemingly in a curvy line that over time points me in the dysphoric direction, and not in the desisting direction. And that's what's so hard. That I basically have to force myself to this realization that... I can't talk myself out of my dysphoria, and that that little bit of connection I got to my sex 3 years ago, was an appetizer for a meal I'll never have. That feels cruel.

And I keep telling myself I don't have dysphoria. Nah, I'm just transitioning for the heck of it. If only!

I don't wanna be trans, and I don't wanna be dysphoric. I wanna be male, but that's different. I can't even see myself as a man simply because I am not male and can never be. Thus, I'm a woman, and unhappy with it. Yet, I clearly can't function as a woman socially either, and that frustrates me. I'm happy that I can look and sound so convincingly male in my appearance, and I'm really excited to go back on testosterone, but I... I feel trapped, in a medical condition I cannot escape. And it doesn't matter what fucking caused it, it's not going away! Point is it's not going away! I've tried for sixteen years! I am tired! And now I can't even call myself a man without laughing all the way to hell and back.

Everyone wants to be trans nowadays. Everyone who benefits from a new label. But I don't. Clearly I don't have an easy time with it, and it might be because I just have a shit ton of sex/physical dysphoria, and not even calling myself a man helps. It just adds insult to injury. I don't wanna play pretend, goddamnit, I wanna be a real boy! That's "problematic" to say, because I shouldn't shatter other trans people's dreams. Well, mine's shattered and I wanna whine about it. I don't blame them for their identities. How could I? Ignorance is bliss, and I miss bliss.

I think that's why I feel like I'm a woman who just wishes she was a man, and kinda always have. I wrote it in my diary when I was 16, four years before I even came out as trans, before I knew anything about trans ideology or gender critical or anything, but I knew I was dysphoric and fit the loose criteria for FTM transsexuals, and I didn't like that verdict. It felt like a death sentence, and now... now it feels like a cruel joke.

I don't think I'm really all that different from trans men. De-gendered, perhaps, but still just as bloody dysphoric and still just as much of a testosterone junkie. I'm just a less happy go lightly kinda FtM. I've always been a bit of a nihilist. The "if you leave the half full glass it will eventually dry the fuck out no matter how much water you keep pouring up into it, because the nature of water is to vaporize" -kinda nihilist, not the "the glass is half empty" -kind. Yes, there is a difference. I'm not a pessimist, I'm a hardcore realist, and reality is... being trans sucks and I can't do fucking shit about it. I want a solution, not rose tinted goggles. But at this point, I'd take that too. I've tried... but they keep falling off.

Perhaps I'm too autistic to get gender identity, or maybe I just don't have social dysphoria or gender incongruence, perhaps it just feels so fucking pointless. Words... they're just blah blah blah. They have whatever meaning we put in them. So I changed my personal meaning of "woman" to include my dysphoria and beard, and since then I'm fine with calling myself a woman. But woman is still just a word. It's what I am that I dislike, not what I'm supposed to call it. My problem is not in how people perceive me. They can perceive me as a stranded jelly fish if they so wish, it doesn't change reality that I'm an adult human female. And it's reality, that biological reality, that bothers me.

And I don't like that I realised that, because biological reality is the one thing I can't change. I can change my identity, but my identity as a woman is not the problem. The problem is my sex is still persistently female. And I don't wanna change what is not a problem. Why fix what ain't broken? I get that my sex isn't broken either (well it might be now, considering I've smashed it with testosterone) but I just don't wanna be a woman. Because dysphoria. No point in arguing. It just goes round and round in circles. I can't make a logical argument for why I don't like ketchup either though. It always comes back to "but I just don't like it."

I just get sad, sometimes, over being female, and uncomfortable. And I get envious of men's bodies, and then I get sad I can't have that. And I try to emulate what men's bodies do, which makes me feel a bit better, but then I remember I'm still female, and I try to be okay with that. Sometimes I even half succeed, and feel like "yeah, being a woman is actually kinda badass!" but then I remember that a cranky uterus and estrogen exist in my body, acting as if they want me to suffer a slow (very slow) death, and I get sad again. Is trying to like being a woman even worth it, considering that's mostly been going downhill since I was 3 years old? Well what the hell are my options, aside from that?! Pretending to be a man? Pretending that the nonbinary labels could do anything at all to benefit my existence?

I'm sorry, but I don't see the appeal, in either of those options. I'll try to just exist. That became my focus; just existing. But I can't distract myself 24/7. Because as soon as I stop distracting myself, for even just a minute, I get caught in the inevitable doom that is my dysphoria, and how hopelessly trapped I am inside it.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine saying you volunteer when Sam says Dean needs to get laid because of how on edge he has been lately.

“So they were both found together, bodies burned beyond recognition. But the weird thing is that they were on the table in positions that indicated they had somehow fallen asleep. So, possession or something else?”

“Or someone simply put something in their drinks. Drugged them and burned the house down with them in it. Really, no more to it than the local police could deal with.” Sam mumbled as a response, making you raise an eyebrow at how accurate and well-thought it could be when you were barely listening to Dean and half of the things he said at the moment. Both too occupied by the video playing on the tablet you and Sam were sharing and also very occupied by savoring the cookies in front of you to pay attention to anything let alone form a proper sentence for that matter. But apparently the younger Winchester was able to multitask and not let his brother feel left out, despite his obnoxious need to find a new case.

It had been days without a case and while at first he enjoyed it, taking time off and finding every excuse to cuddle with you, the older Winchester soon found out he began to feel tired and itching to occupy himself with a case. And while you, Sam or Cas wouldn't mind, there didn't seem to be anything out there too obvious. And as time passed Dean grew from impatient to downright cranky, which really didn't help the situation much. Not when every case he saw he made it look like it was your kind of thing.

“Yeah, that. That.” you muttered, paying even less attention to them, which had started to become and easier task as the days passed.

“There were freaking candles everywhere, based on what could be saved, there were even summoning spells and books on demons and what not. The table itself was filled with- with all kinds of things used for spells, and you keep saying it's just drugs?”

“Or it's just nothing more than revenge? You said it, they were fake psychics, deceiving people. Who says it didn't get to the point where something really bad happened and someone decided to take matters into their own hands. Drugs in their water, or something, set a fire with one of the candles – which couldn't have been that hard with all the easily flammable things they had scattered around. There-” he shrugged, only for the briefest of moments looking up at his brother “Nothing the real feds can't handle.”

Once more you would have stared in awe at Sam for how he had been able to think all that and say it as if he had been really paying attention to Dean – you knew he wasn't, not entirely, not like everybody else for the past couple days anyway – but refered from it. You only hummed in agreement, all words having been forgotten in meres seconds.

“Yeah... that.” you mumbled once more.

Dean narrowed his eyes at you but didn't comment on it, knowing it was in his best interests not to mess with you anyway, before looking back at his brother “And you think they wouldn't have noticed there was something in their drinks? It was their house, Sam.”

“Maybe they were forced to drink it. They knew but say, under the threat of a gun, the had no choice.” again another casual shrug came after his words.

“Mhm sounds right. I agree with Sam.” was your only contribution, even though no words registered in your mind.

“You-” Dean started but once more shook his head “Nevermind. And you-” he turned to his brother “You're not even listening to me! And you all of a sudden have the case solved?”

“I mean there's not much to think about on that. Was there any sulfur to begin with?”

“Well, no but actually-”

“Then, it's definitely not a case of possession. And don't tell me it's about some pagan god or anything, because then what about all the stuff that was found in their place? Those two don't tie in.”

“Hmh. That.” you nodded your own head, eyes glued on the screen.

“Just admit I'm right and focus a bit on the- oh! Oh! Now that he didn't see coming.” Sam snickered as you laughed, all words forgotten and your attention fully on the screen; all the while completely ignoring the glare Dean was definitely sending you.

“That's what you call paying attention then huh?” he grumbled.

“I am Dean, but there's really no reason- Shit! Did he really do that?”

“Damn it, can you focus? This is not a joke!” Dean sounded as agitated as always the past couple days “Sam? Sam are you even listening? (Y/n)? Fuck it, you're clearly paying no attention. This is not a game and you two-”

“Wow Dean enough, ok? Enough.” Sam finally looked up “Either try to find something else to read or find someone to get laid, but just calm-”

“I volunteer.” this was the first time your voice was heard crystal clear and you looked more present than before. It took both men a couple seconds to grasp it, blinking several times.

“Y-you- what?” Dean asked in a much more rough voice, eyebrows raised in... interest?

“I volunteer.” you shrugged casually, as if it was the most simple thing in the world “For the latter of course. Don't know how I'd be of any help to the first one.” you added after a couple of seconds of utter silence and raised eyebrows and possibly wide eyes.

“Yeah. Thanks for clarifying that, (Y/n). As if it wasn't abundantly clear already.” Sam muttered, pursing his lips for a second “And it's at this point that you decide to pay attention and speak up, isn't it?”

“Well, what are friends for? Right Dean?” you looked at the older Winchester who didn't know if this was real or not because it looked like he was seeing or hearing something out of his wildest dream with the way his eyes were sparkling.

“I mean, you know, some could say it really is.” he shrugged, hardly being able to ide his smile.

“Obviously. So, just tell me what you want me to do and I'd be very happy to help. In any way.”

“Well, you know what? Since you insist, I can't really-”

“Oh no no. No, absolutely not!” Sam nearly exclaimed, his words so fast you could barely understand him, but judging by the wide eyes and look of terror on his face you had a vague idea of what he was thinking and what he didn't want to think “No, don't you even.” he gave Dean a look before he pushed the screen closer to you “You- you go back to eating your cookies and- and focus on this. And you-” he turned to Dean “Here, let me take a look at that article. You wanna discuss about a possible case? I am all ears.”

“So you wanna hear about that now?” Dean said reluctantly and Sam nodded frantically his head.

“Yes, yes absolutely yes. I'd much rather have to hear to- to how they could have died and how their burned bodies were rather than anything... else.” he said much more uncomfortable, clearing his throat.

“Well, sorry to tell you little brother but now I've got other interests. You were absolutely right-” he really delicately closed his laptop “Why rush to get back on work. There are certainly more things one can do.” he said, to Sam really, but his eyes and coy smile were completely directed at you.

[adultingautistic]

Hi.... your blog has helped me a lot. Thank you. I’ve been in denial over my autism my whole life but I’m ready to start learning about it now I think. Do you recommend any other blogs on tumblr or just in general or articles / websites to help understand myself more. Especially stuff for autistic women. I just have no idea where to even start. Thank you

OH wow!  I’m so happy my blog is helping you!  I’m glad you’re starting to learn about yourself.  It’s really true what they say about knowledge being power.  The more you understand autism, the more choices you will be giving yourself in situations, and the more solutions you will have.  

Unfortunately as for resources, I don’t know any off the top of my head.  I follow some autistic blogs, but I actually don’t like them very much, because most of the people who run them seem to be...cranky? Which is kind of why I started this blog.  I wanted there to be a place where people could come to ask questions of each other about autism, without fear of any backlash, and I couldn’t find that, so I made my own place. 

But I am also very bad at using social media (tumblr is the ONLY social website that I can use, and even here I feel like I’m bumbling around in the dark most of the time).

So I will open this question up to followers.  Please guys, if you know any good blogs for learning about autism, or if you know any good websites, share it here!  

On tumblr you might want to follow the #actuallyautistic tag, as that is the tag autistics use to speak to each other (as the tag #autism is rife with problems caused by non-autistics using it).  I believe that same tag is also used on Twitter, as well as the #AskingAutistics tag, which is a tag for people to ask questions to autistic people.

Either way, welcome!  Welcome to the autistic community, and welcome to being with a bunch of people who can understand you, and relate to you, and tell you “Yes, I do that too.”  We are glad to have you! <3

[purplesurveys]

1182

What was the last thing you bought at a store? When did you buy this? I went to a Korean mart last week to get a BTS Chilsung Cider and a BTS Hot Brew lmao. Just one of each since I had blown out my budget on other merch + my birthday dinner. I’ll complete my collection for both some other time.

What noises in the room you’re in, do you hear at the moment? I’m at the rooftop and I can hear an airplane flying above me at the moment. I also have music playing.

What color is the kitchen in the house you’re in, painted? The walls are mostly white but it also has some peach-ish tiles by the sink and water dispenser.

Do you live in a town where basically everyone knows everyone else? Nah. That would obviously be the case for residential subdivisions, but not in the town/city I live in. Way too big/populated.

When was the last time you or someone else in your family bought a vehicle? I think it was in 2017 when we got the Vitara? We sold it last year though.

Are your grandparents the kind who are very protective of you? Not so much. They know I can handle myself and that I tend to be independent, so they don’t really coddle me. They will always make sure I eat plenty whenever I come over, though.

Have you ever, or do you live on a farm at this moment in time? I’ve never lived on a farm.

When was the last time you had any kind of chips? What kind were they? Piattoooooos. They were my favorite as a kid and I ate them almost daily, to the point that I got sick of them and didn’t eat them for years. But earlier this week one of my aunts got us a pack and I found myself kind of missing them, so I got a few chips. The one I had was the cheese-flavored one.

Are you one of those people who can’t help but download everything they find? Lately I’ve been doing that only for whatever photo of Kim Taehyung I see floating on the internet that I don’t have saved yet.

How many things in the past have you bought off eBay? What things? I’ve never bought from eBay, but I also don’t know if we have that here. My last purchase from an online shopping app was a pack of fan-made BTS Polaroids.

Are you or the people you live with pack rats? This is she, lol. I have hoarding tendencies, but they’re not too destructive. At this point I am also increasingly noticing that I’ve taken this survey LOL, but I’m too whatever to care.

Were you always one of those kids who got in trouble with everyone around? Nah, I was quite well-behaved as a kid. Too behaved, actually; I preferred being a wallflower and only started opening up by the end of high school.

When was the last time you took a nap? Did it relax you any? Last weekend. I took naps to escape the summer heat, so it wasn’t comfortable in any way. I woke up cranky and in a pool of my own sweat both times.

Honestly, do you see yourself as a slut? No.

Can you text quickly?: I can type fast, if that’s what you mean. But when it comes to replying, I only do it when I feel like it. I don’t pressure myself to respond immediately.

Do you like fast food or does it disgust you?: I unashamedly love fast food.

Have you got a hairdresser that you can trust?: Nah, I rarely go to the salon to have my hair done anyway. I mostly do so for my yearly trims, and I always go to different ones every time.

Do you wear a lot of make up?: I never wear makeup.

Do you get nervous before exams? If it was a class I knew I was struggling in, then yeah the nerves would usually kick in.

What’s your favorite alcoholic drink?: Cocktails.

Do you watch Big Brother?: Not a fan.

Do you like the smell of BBQs?: Loooooove it.

Do you crash on people’s sofas often?: Not really. I’m usually shy about visiting other people’s homes.

Do wasps scare you?: Yup, and that goes for all kinds of bugs as well.

Have you ever had to spend the night at a hospital? Just once. Fortunately I haven’t really run into a lot of health issues.

Have you ever bought clothing online? Not so much, since I like seeing the item first before buying it. I did make my first clothing purchase online recently though! – I got a pair of IVP shoes and I’m glad they ended up fitting me perfectly. I finally got to use them today when I had to go out this morning for a work errand.

Have you ever worn flipflops in the snow? I’ve never encountered snow.

In December, were you single or taken? Single.

Were you happy when you woke up today? I think I was more disoriented than anything. I kept thinking it was Friday and that I had to start waking up properly for work; it took a while for me to realize it was Saturday and I could sleep in if I wanted to.

What mood are you in right now? Exhilarated. BTS comeback teaser just happened, and I might just have done another stupid impulsive purchase. K-Pop is such a dangerous black hole to fall into ;________;

Who was the last person you rode in a car with that was under 21? I think it may have been my siblings.

What are you currently hearing right now? RM rapping into my headphones.

How much clothes do you have in your closet? Do people actually keep track of how many articles of clothing they have, down to socks and all? Lmao I wouldn’t be able to give you an exact number, but I can tell you I don’t have anything close to a gigantic wardrobe.

Who is the last person you talked to on the phone? I called up LBC to ask for assistance about a shipment I needed to handle for work. They weren’t too helpful so I ended up having to go to a nearby physical branch this morning.

Do you regret anything from your past? Little things here and there, but nothing that haunts me day in and out.

Did you speak to your father today? Yes.

Have you ever hugged a complete stranger? I don’t think so.

Who was the last person to compliment you? I had my regularization evaluation with Bea sometime last week – I guess the general feedback she gave counts as a compliment? They were all very positive and I’m glad that was the case. I’ve always been conscious about my performance, so I’m just happy it was all validated and recognized.

Do you often use the term “slut”? Only as a joke to call myself when I’m feeling frisky.

Do you regret anything you’ve done in the past 24 hours? LOL I bought something again 5 minutes ago even when I told myself my purchase before that (which I bought THIS MORNING) was going to be the last...someone needs to lock my goddamn bank account

[doctolka]

1.5 Chapters of Article I

Just a piece of a project I’ve been working on, but really just started writing. It would be great if I could get feedback on just about everything in here. Thanks for reading

:::

Chapter 1 – Disease

23 of the 2 of Harvest, 330 B.D.

It is now two years since the incident with the traveler.

           I have followed every clue, every last piece of information I can lay my hands on. And yet… I’m dying. The wasting disease seems to be getting progressively worse. I have tried the magistries of every city I have come to. I do not know why I still write. Perhaps, should another cursed man find this journal, I can save them some of my troubles.

           As I write, I sit in a small pub. In the fashion of the equatorial regions, it is unnamed, as far as I know. The men here smoke a strange weed, bitter and yet sweet at the same time. Tobacco, I think they call it. It does no good thing for my lungs.

           No matter. Just down the road is a town known as Sigardis, that sits just inside the Vale of Sembri. There I hope to find passage to the capital in this region.

 Colvish closed his book with a sigh, leaning back in the rickety chair. He was getting worse. Of that there was no question. Whatever he had done to irk that man, he felt he had gotten more than a return for the favor.

Standing and slipping his things into his pocket, he turned with a bent head and exited into the bright sunlight. He considered himself lucky, in all honesty, that wearing goggles to filter the light was common practice here. They were a nuisance, but so too were the odd looks he got otherwise.

By what he had been told, Sigardis was about a day’s ride up the road, on wagon. That would make it slightly longer on foot. Should arrive late afternoon of tomorrow, if I wake early, and walk until dark tonight, he thought. He may have been weak, but he could still walk. For now. He shook his head. It wouldn’t do for such thoughts to take hold. But if this magistry fails too…. And it likely would; what could a backwater kingdom offer that others could not? Hope springs eternal, or so they say.

So he set off, pack over stooped shoulder, up the road to the Vale of Sembri. He would rest when he needed it, but for now he would march.

 Chapter 2 – Sigardis

 When light came back to the world, Colvish set off again, despite the protests of his body. He had worked fields with fever: he wasn’t about to let this knock him off his feet. The road became shrouded by the jungle as he approached the vale, promising a cooler march.

By the time he reached Sigardis, his pack weighed heavily against his shoulder, and his breath was ragged. It was difficult to tell, at first, that he was on the outskirts of the largest settlement in the area. Though the trees thinned, the brush was so tall and dense in places that the homes and farms were difficult to pick out. Soon, though, he began to hear the lowing of livestock and the distant bustle of commerce. Despite being not long out of civilization, he breathed a sigh of relief when he walked through the ramparts into the town proper.

It was a fairly busy place, though at this point in the day much of the business was beginning to wrap up; the customers avoided the heat by running errands in the morning hours. Rain came in the afternoons, anyway. Scanning the buildings to either side, Colvish finally found a shop that seemed completely devoid of customers. A tack shop. The door was open, the owner ever hopeful for another client before the day’s close. Colvish stepped inside, keeping his goggles over his eyes.

“Excuse me, sir, but could I bother you for directions?” he asked when the clerk turned toward him.

“Hmm? – Yes, of course,” the older gentleman said, looking crestfallen, “where is it you need to be going, then?”

“An inn, if you don’t mind, and where I might catch a ride to the capital.”

“There’s an inn just around the next corner, should be able to hear it soon,” he stated, “As for the ride, I could get you a deal on some tackle, and a horse to go with it.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t the gold for that, sir, no matter what sort of deal you might cut. I am most sorry.”

“Ah. It was a long shot, anyhow… your best bet would be with a certain Mr. Jason Lancaster. He’s a logger, and usually takes a train of timber that way this time of year.”

Colvish nodded. Seemed about right. “Thank you very kindly, sir. I wish you a good rest of your evening.”

“And you as well, young man. Do tell any acquaintances of us, won’t you.”

Bobbing his head as he backed toward the door, he replied, “Of course,” before beginning to slip out the shop.

“Young man!”  the purveyor called, “Your business is your own of course. But… do be cautious in the capital. It is a most strange place.”

“Indeed? Then perhaps I will be. Thank you for your time,” Colvish replied, turning once more toward the street.

 Shade greeted him comfortingly as he stepped out of the shop and turned down the street toward where the owner had indicated the inn lay. A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the still-present trees, signaling the oncoming rain. If being wet wasn’t so unpleasant, I would watch the storm, he thought, looking toward the sky. But in his condition, he’d likely catch the chills. He really did feel as he imagined the oldest of men must feel. Creaky, cranky, tired. Not that he liked allowing that through. That wouldn’t do. ‘You’ll never get anywhere in life with a bad attitude, son,’ his father used to tell him, ‘Best to keep your tongue pleasant, and curse a fellow from a safe distance. If Colvish recalled correctly, he had told him that as often as his father had lost his temper. Which was frequently. Such was the life of a poor widower. 

Colvish looked back toward the street as he began to walk. After making it this far, he wasn’t about to let his journey end with him falling and breaking something. He didn’t know if that would happen if he fell as it frequently did with the elderly. Many were the elders he knew back home that had tripped over simple things, or nothing at all, and been bedridden for weeks. He had always felt bad for them. Never had he thought he’d be experiencing similar things so early in his own life, though.

The inn was a building of the older style, its owner obviously doing well for themselves. It, like most every other building in the town, lacked even a single brick; instead using a combination of wood and stone for its walls and roof. ‘Kalip’s Dream’, the signpost read. Colvish gave this a second glance as he opened the doors to enter. What an odd name for an inn, he thought. The general ruckus of the tavern area hit him like a wall when he stepped into the room. It had been noticeable out on the street, but also ignorable.

“Excuse me miss,” he said, grabbing the arm of a barmaid, “Could you point me to the landlord?”

“Yes. Of course. Um, just over by the bar, there,” she gestured when Colvish released her.

“Thank you kindly.” He practically had to shout through the din. He didn’t look to see if she had heard him; they were both already moving toward their goals.

[reddieorrnot]

18? — pasteleddiekaspbrak

i know this trails off a bit, but i hope it’s still good!

number 18 from this list

“I think this would look so cute on you!”

Eddie’s head snapped up from the pants he was previously looking at, and saw Beverly holding up a baby pink t-shirt, with a butterfly embroidered on the chest. 

He knew that bringing Beverly along to his shopping trip at the mall would be a good idea, she always had such a good eye for fashion. Originally, Richie was supposed to tag along. But he had an appointment to get new glasses. 

The foolish boy had broken his old ones in half while skating home from school the day before. Eddie had been with him, and watching Richie take the trip and fall made his heart ache. But the second Richie made a joke about how much Eddie cared, Eddie pretended to walk away from the scene. Richie’s begging for Eddie’s medical assistance brought him right back, though.  

“It’s really pretty, Bev,” Eddie grinned and walked over to her, touching the fabric. It was incredibly soft, and Eddie had no doubts about making this purchase. 

“Try it on!” Beverly urged him, pushing him lightly toward the fitting rooms. With a light laugh, Eddie accepted and went to try on the shirt. He made his way, and entered one of the rooms. Slipping off his shirt, Eddie stared at himself in the mirror for a second, taking in his attributes. As a younger teen, Eddie had always been so skinny, convincing himself he was weak. Out of the desire to change how he viewed his strength, Eddie had started working out more. He offered to spend some days with Mike, helping him at the farm. Mike always made sure to give Eddie the cleaner jobs but ones that still produced more muscle definition over time. And over a few months, the chores had done their job. That’s why Eddie smiled at his reflection, feeling satisfied with how he looked. He also hadn’t minded it whenever the group of friends went to the quarry, and he’d catch Richie gaping at his shirtless image. While Eddie didn’t like to think about what it meant, he sure liked thinking about Richie’s shocked expression. 

Slipping on the clothing, Eddie already knew he loved the article. It fit him incredibly well, and made him feel like he looked adorable. He ran his fingers along the butterfly a few times, then pulled back the fitting room’s curtain to show Beverly, who had been patiently waiting outside.

“Oh, Eddie!” She squealed, jumping up onto her feet from the chair she had been in. “It looks amazing! I bet Richie would agree,” She gave him a sly wink. Eddie hoped how hot his cheeks got wasn’t visible, and simply replied to Beverly with an eye roll as he pulled the curtain shut. 

After taking the t-shirt off and checking out, he and Beverly made their way to a nearby frozen yogurt stand. They planned on just grabbing cups to go and heading home. Eddie stuck with more simple flavors, such as vanilla, strawberry, and occasionally chocolate. But he knew that was bad for your skin, it all was, but especially chocolate. Beverly, on the other hand, got nearly every flavor. Eddie’s face scrunched up in disgust as he watched Beverly pull the lever on “Blueberry blast”. 

“You know that’s like, all artificial, right?” He told his friend as they walked up to the cashier. 

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” She giggled, taking his cup, signaling she was covering for both of them. Usually, Eddie wouldn’t allow it, but he had just bought something and wasn’t feeling up to spending any more money. He gave her a kind smile, one that indicated thankfulness. 

As they walked out of the mall, frozen yogurt cups in their hands, Eddie felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. 

“Can you grab my phone?” He asked Beverly, his hands being full. She complied with a nod, then got his phone for him. She took the bag from his hand, exchanging it with his phone. It was lit up, and on the screen was a text from Richie.

“ditch bev, come hang out at my place w me :(((“ 

Without thinking, Eddie grinned at his phone. This meant that Richie was back from getting new glasses. Richie wanting to be with him made his heart flutter in ways he knew it shouldn’t. But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help a lot of things he did or thought about when it came to Richie.

Beverly noticed the look on Eddie’s face, recognizing it as something she’d seen many times before. 

As they got in the car, Beverly driving, Eddie texted a reply to Richie.

“No need to ditch, just finished shopping. Can I ask her to drop me off at your place?”

Quicker than expected, Eddie’s phone buzzed again. 

“yes PLEASE” 

Eddie giggled, which made Beverly speak up.

“I know you’re texting Richie,” She told him, not looking away from the road. Eddie looked at her, embarrassed. Then shook his head.

“You don’t know anything.” 

“Sure, sure I don’t,” She smirked, “So… am I dropping you off at your house?”

Her tone suggested that she knew she didn’t need to ask that, and that she knew Eddie’s reply even before he answered. Which he did so with an annoyed huff. 

“No, Richie’s,” He mumbled merely above a whisper. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” 

“Richie’s, you heard me now?” He groaned.

“Loud and clear, no need to be cranky!” 

Beverly’s playful tone made it hard not to be amused, but Eddie still managed. She carried the conversation on, talking about how excited she was for later plans with Ben, and how they were going out to go see a movie. It all sounded so sweet, and Eddie loved seeing the smile that appeared on her face whenever she spoke of their friend. It went like that the whole drive to Richie’s, Eddie mainly listening. It was okay, anything was better than Beverly teasing him. Once he had finished his frozen yogurt, Beverly had offered to just throw the cup away for him when she got home, he thanked her. As they pulled up to the Tozier house, she said nothing, just shooting Eddie a wink as he waved goodbye to her from outside of the car. Eddie acted like he hadn’t seen it.

Walking up to the front door, Eddie thought about how much he truly loved Richie’s family and his home. Maggie Tozier always treated him so kindly, and behaved as if he had always been apart of the family. Went was the same, always making jokes with Eddie, and picking on Richie alongside. Richie liked to comment on how he didn’t know whether Eddie was his best friend or his parents. He knew Richie was just kidding around, but the idea of him even making that joke made Eddie feel so welcomed and safe. It had always felt like some sort of sacred haven of peace when Eddie was a kid, where there was no Sonia Kaspbrak to yell at him because his shoes had gotten dirty. If his shoes had indeed ever gotten dirt on them, he always walked with Richie to his house first, where Richie’s mother would offer to clean them off. Then afterward, he would go home, looking as clean as he had before he had left the house. This convinced his mother that he wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything she wouldn’t approve of. He absolutely adored coming over.

He adored it even more when Maggie’s familiar face opened up the door greeting him enthusiastically. 

“Eddie!” She pulled him in for a hug, causing the plastic bag in his hand to make a noise. Pulling away from the hug, Maggie joked, “Bought something for me? Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

Eddie laughed, feeling the smallest amount of guilt, even if he knew she was just fooling around, “Next time, Mrs. Tozier. Just came back from the mall with Beverly.”

“I miss her so much! She doesn’t come around here enough, tell her she’s still as welcome as always!” 

Eddie beamed, and made a mental note to let Beverly know what Maggie had said. 

“Richie’s in his room, I believe. Just head on up there.”

With a nod, Eddie went up to the staircase and in the direction of Richie’s room. 

Eddie had always been so fascinated with Richie’s room. He had never seen something so alike to the inhabitant's personality. There were posters essentially all over the walls, along with photographs and magazine cut-outs. Not the types of magazines where all the woman wore bikinis, but the ones with his favorite bands or singers. While it wasn’t necessarily messy, it wasn’t organized to anyone but Richie himself. Eddie, personally, wouldn’t be able to find a thing in Richie’s room without help. But Richie? You could ask him for a pin and he’d know exactly where to look. It was impressive, Eddie had thought. 

Eddie knocked on Richie’s room door and heard the familiar voice. 

“Has my Eds arrived?”

Opening the door, Eddie replied, “No, but Eddie’s here.”

Richie was sitting on his bed, a comic book in hand. As he looked up to Eddie, everything in the world stopped. 

Richie wasn’t wearing his old glasses, the ones that had broken. But he wasn’t wearing his new glasses either, the ones he was supposed to have gotten earlier today. Yet, even at the absence of glasses, Richie wasn't helplessly squinting. And maybe that’s why Eddie had never noticed how blue his best friend's eyes were. How Eddie swore he could see the most beautiful sky in Richie's eyes, and how all he wanted was to be laying down on the grass, looking at that exact sky. But that wasn’t all, Eddie swore he saw the clearest ocean as well. One where just hearing the waves crash made all of Eddie’s problems disappear, and all that mattered was Richie. 

“You like ‘em?” Richie laughed.

“Huh?” Eddie answered, confused. He dropped his bag by the door and walked over to Richie’s bed, sitting beside him. The desire to just drown in Riche’s eyes only grew stronger as Eddie moved closer. 

“My contacts! When I went to the eye doctor, he gave me new glasses, but also these things,” Richie pointed to his contacts, “They feel a little funny at first, but I can see without annoying ass glasses in the way.” 

Eddie swallowed nervously, “Yeah.”

“So? You like ‘em?” Richie looked like a child waiting for candy, excited to hear Eddie’s reply. This was one of those moments where Eddie didn’t think through what he said. His brain just decided it was confident enough itself to let the next words he said spill out from his mouth.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?”

He must’ve not been expecting something like that, because Richie’s eyes widened and his face got red. Eddie was sure he had crossed some line. Richie called Eddie cute and pretty all the time, but maybe that was a thing only he could do because he was always kidding. Maybe Eddie couldn’t say that stuff… because they both must have known he wasn’t kidding. Eddie went to back up, make some joke to cover it all up, but Richie spoke first. His tone was bashful, full of flattery.

“Gee, Eds. I don’t even know what to say, that was so sweet.” 

Thankful for nothing bad happening, Eddie didn’t risk anything further. He didn’t even say anything on the nickname. 

“Yeah, well, I’m like that sometimes,” He told Richie with a shrug. 

Richie’s flushed complexion wasn’t diminished though, as he had a dumb grin on while looking at Eddie. Desperate to get the attention off what he said, Eddie thought of the first topic change he could.

“I bought a new t-shirt today.” 

“Ooo, where is it? In that bag?” 

Eddie nodded, getting up and walking over to where he had dropped his shopping bag. He bent over to grab the t-shirt, and if he had turned around fast enough, he would have seen Richie getting red all over again at the sight of Eddie in that position. 

As he walked back to the bed, Eddie unfolded the shirt and held it out, showing it off. 

“It’s real cute, just like you.” 

“Oh, shut it, Rich,” But Eddie knew he didn’t mean it. He considered what he was going to say next, then just blurted it out. “Want me to try it on? So you can see how it looks?”

Richie only stared at him, making Eddie nervous.

“Only… Only Beverly saw me with it on, and sometimes she doesn’t… she doesn’t really tell me when something doesn’t look good. And I wanna make sure it looks good?” Eddie tried to make sense of his words, but the way he trailed off and looked anywhere but Richie betrayed him.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Richie finally said, tone hushed and breathy. 

Eddie nodded, putting the shirt down, and slowly grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling it up, over his head. He let his eyes fall on Richie, before he grabbed his new t-shirt, and Eddie would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t see how Richie was looking at him. With his eyes dark and his mouth slightly agape, staring at Eddie’s bare chest. Eddie felt his hands get sweaty, realizing the silence between them. Even if he had wanted to make a move, which a small part of him did long to do, Richie seemed too in trance to do so. The concept would have made Eddie laugh if he hadn’t been so nervous. So he finally pulled on the shirt that he had been clutching, and clutching hard, he realized. 

“How does it look?” He finally managed to say, not looking at Richie but instead the floor.

There was a beat of stillness in the air.

“It looks good. But you, you look beautiful.” 

Eddie looked back up, expecting this to be one of Richie’s countless jokes. But what he saw instead was nothing but honesty in those stunning blue eyes.

Eddie so, so, extremely fucked.