#i went to my museum for the first time in months today and just. climbed into our l-39 during break

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Walked into my cousin’s house (he’s a firefighter) to find everyone trying to find out what it means when the firemen say, “A Collyer’s Mansion Situation.” No need to look, I knew it referred to the Collyer Brothers of New York City- the code for fire in a hoarder’s house. The picture above is of the police knocking down their door w/an axe. 

It usually means it’s not safe to enter the building. In 1947, it took police 5 hours to plow thru the junk and find the first brother’s body. It took them 3 weeks to find the 2nd brother just 10 feet away, buried under a collapsed junk tunnel.

History’s worst hoarders, the tragic but fascinating tale of the Collyer brothers can speak to anyone with a penchant for collecting or thrifting. How did 2 prominent members of society end up sealing themselves off from the outside world, fiercely reclusive and entombed by over 140 tons of collected items?

Homer and Langley were both educated at Columbia University. Homer had a degree in law and Langley studied engineering and also became an accomplished concert pianist who performed at Carnegie Hall.

They had a normal childhood. They never married or lived on their own, & chose to remain at the family’s Harlem brownstone with their mother. When their parents died, everything was left to them.. 

In 1933, Homer went blind from eye hemorrhages. His younger brother quit his job to care for him full-time, which is when their withdrawal from society began. Langley began keeping years of newspapers so his brother could read them when his sight was restored.

In the midst of the Great Depression, the brothers became increasingly fearful of their own neighborhood, which was shifting from the upper-class area they had known to an area synonymous with poverty and crime.

People became curious, local kids threw rocks at the windows, increasing their paranoia. Langley boarded up the windows, removed the doorbell and wired the doors shut.

Several people attempted to burgle the home, which prompted Langley to construct booby traps and elaborate tunnel systems made of junk all around the house.

Langley ventured out only after midnight for food runs. He would collect countless unwanted and abandoned items on the street that caught his eye along the way.

When Homer became paralyzed due to rheumatism, the brothers refused to seek medical treatment. Even though their father was a Dr., they didn’t trust them. Instead, they decided to use their fathers medical library in the house.

Langley believed his brother’s sight could be restored with a diet high in vitamin C so he fed Homer 100 oranges a week. He adapted a Model T Ford to generate electricity after their power was cut off, along with their water and gas, due to unpaid bills.

When the bank came to evict them, police found Langley in a clearing he had made in the walls of junk. Without a word, he wrote a check for the equivalent of nearly $100,000 today to pay off the mortgage and ordered everyone off the property.

The next time authorities returned, it would be to search for the bodies of the Collyers. To enter the sealed brownstone, an officer broke a window on the second floor and climbed through.

Unable to get past the solid walls of junk, a squad of men began making their way through the debris by throwing out everything blocking their way onto the street. The spectacle drew a crowd of thousands.

After several hours, they found Homer’s body. Medical examiners later determined he had died of starvation and heart disease.

When they couldn’t find Langley, they thought he fled and launched a search. Finally, a workman found his decomposing body. He was buried in one of his 2ft. wide tunnels lined with rusty bed springs and a chest of drawers. He had died of asphyxiation after he accidentally tripped one of the booby traps and was crushed. Police believe that he was bringing food to his brother. 

The house was deemed an unsafe fire hazard and was razed later that month in 1947. Some of their stuff went to museums and the rest was sold at auction.  Since the 1960s, the site of the former Collyer house has been a pocket park, named for them.

messynesschic.com

[flytohurt]

Thrasher mag, March 2024 issue // buy it here! by Matt Pendry

article under the cut!

Skateboarding seems to be everywhere these days, including in the wrestling ring. But if somebody is going to hop over the ropes with a board, we're glad it's Darby Allin because he's not using skating as a gimmick - the dude rips! Despite putting his body through the ringer three-to-four nights a week wrestling, he's still out there getting broke off on his board - and loving every second of it. We caught up recently to talk about living in his vehicle, his guest model on Deathwish and jumping a car over his damn house. Check it.

What's going on, Darby? I'm on the way to the FA warehouse to hang out before we do this meet and greet at their store later today, and on top of that I'm getting ready to go to Mount Everest on Saturday. I got so much shit planned. I have to get hit by a car tomorrow and I have a joint sprain at the moment, so I'm trying to stay at 100 percent.

What do you mean you have to get hit by a car tomorrow? I have to get hit by this car for an AEW promo show tomorrow, then do an actual show in Inglewood and them jump on a red-eye flight to China to train for Mount Everest, so I got to make sure my body stays in one piece.

It sounds like you have a lot going on right now! Where are you originally from? I was born in Arizona, but I was only there for two months so from my brain's standpoint all I remember is Seattle.

Did you start skaing there? Yeah, I started skating in eighth grade.

Is that also around the time you started filming yourself with a tripod? Yeah, it would just rain all the time in Seattle, so when you got a sunny day you couldn't take it for granted - you had to go balls to the wall. That's pretty much when the inception of all my craziness started. You know, sitting at home all day thinking about skating while it was raining. By the time it was sunny it was time to rock and that's when I would get sent to the hospital.

I heard you broke your leg one time and had to push yourself home. That's when I was going to film school in Arizona. It was my first month there and I was trying to drop in on the ASU art museum structure. It's this huge drop in I'd seen in videos. I didn't have a filmer because I'm impatient and don't like to wait for people, so I set up a camera on a tripod and went for it. I flew into the concrete wall in the landing and broke my foot. At that time I had no money and the buses had stopped running, so I had to push myself on my board all the way home. It was a good ten miles; so gnarly. Then I was just sitting there sweating in a hot-ass apartment all summer with no AC and a broken foot.

Sounds like a long summer. I head you were homeless when you moved to Georgia to join the amateur wrestling circuit and make a name for yourself. How long did that last? I was living in my car in Georgia for about five months, pretty much because I didn't want to end up complacent or lazy. A lot of people sit on the couch all day every day, but when you're living in your car, in the middle of the Georgia summer, you get woken up pretty early. It was just a way to push myself out of my comfort zone because I think comfort zones are the death of most people. So, that's the big reason I wanted to be homeless in my car and it ended up working out.

It sounds like with that environment and mindset you were able to push yourself to where you are today. Yeah, absolutely. Everything I do in life is to get out my comfort zone. All the crazy stuff I do, whether I'm getting hit by a car, or jumping over my house, or trying to climb Mount Everest, or sleeping in my car, it helps me get out of my comfort zone and that's usually what chills me out.

Was cooking chicken in the bathroom of a gym on a George Foreman grill out of your comfort zone? Well, I used to park outside of an Anytime Fitness and go cook chicken in the bathroom. Everybody in the gym could smell that shit and would be like, What's going on?

You got to do what you got to do. I didn't have a kitchen or money to eat out so it saved me so much money.

Were you skating much during this time, or had your focus shifted to wrestling? I pretty much stopped skating for a solid year and a half. It was weird - I felt like in order to make it in wrestling I needed to dedicate my life to it and at a certain point I really felt something was missing and I couldn't pinpoint what it was. I was feeling this depression like something about my life was just not there anymore, and then the moment I picked up a skateboard again I was like, Oh shit, this is it, for sure. I never put it back down after that. I've been skating all the time now, even though I'm signed to this company and have to wrestle every week. It's like, You can't pay me enough to stop skating now. When I stopped skating for that year and a half I felt it. Mentally, I really felt it; it just sucked.

Does All Elite Wrestling ask you to take it easy on the skating? No, it sounds crazy but they trust me. I still skate so much. I'm not just doing rock to fakies either - I'm usually trying some crazy shit, so it's really hard to balance out the two worlds, especially when you have to perform every week and you have a passion for skateboarding. I don't think anybody truly understands how much I thread the needle on a weekly basis.

I heard when you first got signed to AEW, they couldn't guarantee you anything because they didn't know what was going to happen with the new company. The parallels are almost identical to many pro skater's careers in this aspect - style, personality, presentation and so much more go into both curating and carrying out a successful skateboarding or wrestling career. Being a few years into a professional wrestling career, do you think it's similar to being a professional skater? I think the overall difference is skateboarding is just more unpredictable. With wrestling, once you make it you're kind of set. I feel like being a pro skater would be a lot harder and there's no real guarantee for the future. Once you can't skate anymore you're kind of spit out of the system, but with wrestling there's more options with what you can do outside of it once your body gives out.

I'm saying the career path is what is so similar - where you go and live in your car with no money and push yourself into this life. Well, would you rather do that or would you rather play it safe? I worked at a 99 Cents store and the mental pain of working at a place like that versus risking your body every day is a no-brainer. I would rather risk my body any day.

Let's talk about the Gates of Hell slam you took a few days before doing a pay-per-view match in Arizona. I was filming this AEW intro video with Max Yoder at the Gates of Hell. Jaws was there, too. There's a big crack at the bottom that wasn't Bondo'd. I tried to no comply backside 360, hit the crack and flew into the wall at the bottom. I fell into this red anthill. I just laid there while they were eating me up. The first thing I thought was, Oh shit, I have to wrestle next week. So I went to Jaws' house and was like, Alright, if I piss blood I'll go to the hospital. If not, I'm good. I sat in the bathtub for like two hours and there was no blood, so all good. A few days later I show up limping for this big match and everybody was like, What happened? I told them I was training and hit my knee, because I have a wrestling ring at my house. I have such a drive to show skateboarding to the pro-wrestling world because they've never really seen it before, so that's why I wanted to skate the Gates of Hell, but I got annihilated.

In true akater fashion you just want to put it on the line! That's what it's all about. It seems like you want to represent skating in the right way and not as some lame gimmick to your persona. It's actually who you are and where you came from. Continuing to skate is certainly a risk because I feel like I have a high standard for how I want to skate. I don't want to just play it safe.

How did the guest board with Deathwish come about? It was my friend Steve Hernandez's idea, who works at Deathwish. He was trying to sell it to Reynolds and Ellington, but they were kind of on the fence. Once they saw some of my skating they were like, Yeah, he's actually a skater. Let's get it! Then we created the Darby Allin AEW Deathwish board. I was super grateful for that whole experience.

When you started making a little bread from AEW, was the backyard skatepark the first dream that was brought to life? Yeah! I got a roll in out of my kitchen window. We have like 14 acres of fucking chaos - there's dirt jumps, a skatepark, we're blowing up cars every weekend. It's just a representation of what I would have wanted when I was ten years old: a fantasy land mixed with Nitro Circus and skating.

Which brings me to the house jump - how did you get the idea for that? We were filming a pilot for my TV show Darby's Days Off and they asked me, What's something you want to do? I was looking at my yard and I said, Can't we just build a big-ass jump over the house? The next week there was a truck unloading dirt and building this massive jump and we even got mobile-home trailers. Travis Pastrana told me trailers are like a crash pad for cars. Earlier that week he also told me there was a good chance I'd break my back if I didn't land it right. Tony Khan, my boss at AEW, asked me if I could a stunt duble and I was like, No way. The moment I landed it, Tony was on FaceTime and I jumped out of the car and was like, I can make it Wednesday! He's always getting stressed out with my shenanigans.

I'm sure he was hyped once he saw how much publicity the video received. That's my whole goal with professional wrestling. I feel like a lot of wrestlers play it safe outside of the ring. To find a way to attract a new audience or fans you have to think outside the box.

You're certainly thinking way outside the box. You clipped the house but still came out alright. What were the stats? How far did you fly? It was a 96-foot jump over the house. It was insane and by far the gnarliest thing I've ever done.

Have any fans or fellow wrestlers ever given you shit about bringing a skateboard into the ring? No, not really. I feel like the best thing to do in wrestling is bring something from outside of wrestling into the ring. Nobody's ever been like, Yo, what the hell? Why do you have a skateboard?

Because they know you actually skate! That's the thing - if I didn't really skate and everyone saw me out there with it, they'd be like, All this is just same fake pro-wrestling shit. There's a lot of that going on already and I don't want to add to it.

It seems like after everything that you have been through you've made the best of the situation - you've got action figures in Target; your matches are televised across the world; I've literally seen you on billboards. You're a celebrity at this point! So, one last thing - I know you're a certified psycho, but are you serious about this Mount Everest thing? You're about to fly to China for a month. Are you actually training to climb it? Absolutely. When I say I'm going to do something, I do it. I just want to work for it. I want something to push towards again that's going to be extremely difficult. It's more of a spiritual quest. I have a lot of things I want to do in life, but Mount Everest kept calling me for whatever reason. I only have six months to train for it and my guides there tell me that's unheard of, but I feel like with everything I've put myself through in life I can 100 percent do it.

Are you going to take your board? Are you going to be the first person to get a clip on top of Everest? I don't even know if that's possible to bring up there. I'll have to ask them, but that would be epic.

Well, I can't wait to see what's next. Do you think we're going to get a full Darby part anytime in the near future? Yeah, it's a goal of mine. Once I get back from Everest I want to start filming.

I know it would be one for the books. Thanks for talking with us, Darby. You're truly one of a kind, my friend. Good luck on the mountain! We'll see how it all plays out. If this interview comes out before Everest, cool. If not and I die on the mountain, then yeah, I don't know...

You're a skater. You'll be all right. Yeah, I guess we'll put that to the test.

[angelic-eros]

I’m doing much better today. I’m feeling more alive than I was a while ago.

A man walked into work today who I hadn’t seen in months. One who told me I remind him of his home and who I planned to paint my room with. He had one drink and then left to pack for his flight to Scotland.

A friends cat climbed onto my lap and reached to place her paw on my neck the way my cat who passed earlier this year did. I started to tear up in my friends living room while we talked about concerts and clothes.

I fought to remember a store me and an old fling used to pass when we would walk to the park we’d sit and drink in until midnight but never went in. Instead we’d walk past and buy cheap alcohol and talk about sex and drug parties I’d never plan on attending, if just to make the time go quicker.

I made a white dress for an event next week that makes me feel beautiful. On Sunday I will have a day off work and a regular told me I should go to church. Instead I will spend it making the outfit for a concert in the city I travelled to to lose my virginity with a man I haven’t spoken to since I came out as a lesbian.

Today I will go to a museum and look at the artists that came before me and I will be with the partner who I confessed to after time in a rose garden and a blossom tucked behind my ear that still is saved in my phone case.

All this happened today and all these events first happened in the first few months of this year. I feel exhausted but I feel alive and I feel loved. And that’s better than I felt a few months ago.

[thepropertylovers]

The True Magic of the Last Few Days

There was no work done this weekend.

I can’t remember the last time I was able to say that. My laptop stayed shut and tucked away the entire time. Emails were read but not responded to. And as I’m sitting on the couch in the living room writing this while sipping on my extremely hot coffee and the rain pours down outside louder than I’ve ever heard it, I’m comforted by the fact that that’s exactly how this weekend should have gone.

We celebrated Riah’s 6th birthday this weekend and spent the last three days with family. Friday night we went to watch my younger sister fight in a boxing charity event in Chattanooga. My whole family (minus Amy who lives in GA) went to support her in her first ever boxing match. It was loud, country music and people yelling for their favorite champ were pretty much the only things you could hear, but it was still so different and fun nonetheless. She ended up losing, but all of us swore she should have been the winner, especially in round 3. Maybe next year.

Meanwhile, Riah turned 6 on Saturday! Our big boy is 6 years old which is so, so hard to believe. He was 2 1/2 when we first got them, a little wild child with long hair and a temper. Now, he’s so damn sweet and such a charmer who wears his heart on his sleeve but has the confidence to lift anything, no matter how heavy it is, because he “has abs” he says. What a perfect goofball.

We took the kids to the Creative Discovery Museum in Chattanooga, a staple in town that we used to go to when we were young. It just might be the coolest place for children, and I can say that confidently because I found myself having just as much fun as they were. My mom came too for the afternoon and we just all had a blast, watching the kids’ eyes grow big with excitement and wonder playing with the different exhibitions and dig for dinosaur bones in the sand. It’s a magical place, but the real magic came from spending the afternoon together, uninterrupted and completely focused on having fun. That doesn’t happen often enough. Why is that?

On Sunday, we had a party for Riah at the farm with our closest friends and family. PJ and I made chicken salad sandwiches and pimento cheese sliders, ordered our family’s favorite cake from a local bakery, cleanup up the pavilion that had seen better days since we haven’t entertained there for months, and hung some Paw Patrol decorations at Riah’s request.

Parties are always when PJ puts 110% into everything he does to get ready for them. I swear he could have been an event planner in another life. He likes everything to be tidy and perfect and goes above and beyond to achieve it. Case in point: he brought this piñata that I bought two years ago and forgot about (it’s been sitting in the corner of a closet ever since) to finally use at the party, and because it wouldn’t stay on the string, he climbed up into the rafters of the pavilion to hold the string the entire time so the kids could take turns hitting it. His mind works in such creative ways, and his body follows suit no matter what the task is. I’m so lucky I get to do life with this man.

So that brings us to today, Monday. A very rainy Monday actually, which I don’t mind one bit. Today will be spent sending approximately 10,000 emails and catching up on all the work that wasn’t done this weekend. I’m still getting used to this work from home thing, almost four years in, but I’m almost positive that in a normal job, most people do in fact do zero work on the weekends, and instead leave it for Monday through Friday. I’m going to be more diligent about following that schedule going forward. This weekend has opened my eyes in a way and I need to start putting everything away on Friday night and not opening it until Monday morning.

I hope there was some good in your weekend, too. xo

[theretirementstory]

12/5/2024 Another week has passed and with it my granddaughters 6th birthday. The date today is also another memorable one for me as on this date, 40+ years ago, I started working in the job which now pays me a pension 😀.

Looking back through my photos, I remembered my day out in Paris, with Pauline, way back in 2022. We went to see an exhibition at the “institut du monde arabe” being keen on architecture and a lot of Arabic stuff too, it was wonderful to see this beautiful building. We had a lovely day, as at the time Pauline was living in Paris and so was my guide for the day. It was the 27th February and we sat outside “The Panthéon” in the sunshine. What a year of holidays that was! Apart from the day in Paris, I went to stay in Mulhouse for three nights, from there I visited my Turkish friends in Strasbourg, visited the “Cite du train” in Mulhouse and the following day visited “Musee de l’Impression sur etoffes” (Textile Museum) in Mulhouse. In May I had a trip to London and visited so much I needed a holiday to get over that one. Then in August/September I was in the UK again visiting my family. Unfortunately that was the last time I was there, as my trip last year was cancelled due to being in hospital. Reading all that I did, I really wondered how I managed it!

I think I have mentioned before about how not just the lyrics but the music speak to me on records that I love. This week, it’s a virtuoso guitarist, Gary Moore, and the first song is “Still Got The Blues For You” which is from April 1990.

The second song is really Gary Moore’s signature song, it’s from 1978 and it’s “Parisienne Walkways” either sung by Gary Moore or Thin Lizzy I just love this song and I think it fits in well with my current abode.

Pauline paid me a visit yesterday which was lovely. She stayed just short of three hours by which time I was really bushed. She is flying to Italy tomorrow to stay with a friend before returning to Barcelona to start a new job on the 21st of the month.

Thursday was the day of the 32nd fete des plantes at Bergères, a small village that comes alive once a year with stall holders plants, fabricated items for the garden and the chance to rub shoulders with the Mayor of Bar-sur-Aube and sometimes the Mayor of Troyes. This year Mme Marine Le Pen paid a visit, with her bodyguards. I saw photos from the local paper but everyone I spoke to who had been there seemed to have missed her!

My knitting group friends attended the “Champagne Party” at Urville, they had tables selling knitted, sewn, crocheted items, woodworked items and the stained glass items always take up more of the stall than anyone else! The market was over two days, I don’t think they will have sold much, they hadn’t on Friday!

For those in the know, the market was not in the famous Drappier Champagne House but in another champagne house in the village.

“The Photographer” was out photographing the aurora borealis on Friday evenng. Then had to be up early to take his son to a birthday party at a farm, while his sister had her birthday party with friends. It has been great to see my grandson climbing on hay bales. We even had a video call while he was there.

“The Trainee Solicitor” had a good four days at work. He is on the lookout for a cheap car as he starts his Uni course at the end of May and needs “wheels”. He had a good day yesterday, doing some relaxing.

“The Reconnect Navigator” was bushed with her 4 day week but had a lovely time visiting her family, watching football and just generally catching up.

“The Jetsetter” arrived in Vancouver not feeling great, she thinks she picked something up on the plane. However, it didn’t stop her popping over to Vancouver Island and down to Seattle (as you do). I am sure she will be having a fantastic time and more of her adventures will be discovered.

So as I am stuck in this hospital for not quite sure how much longer, it has been nice to share with you again what has been happening in the wider world.

I will be sticking my nose into another Ian Rankin “Rebus” book finding myself in “Auld Reekie” again.

Have a good week until next week.

The Pantheon in Paris.

[hauntedbestie]

Hide 'N Seek

Bo Sinclair/F!Reader

word count: 2.7k

summary: Bo gives you the chance to win your freedom. But what if you don't want it?

warnings: implied stockholm syndrome, references to self-harm, references to physical/mental torture/abuse and murder, im back on my bullshit

It was meant to be a game.

Hide and seek, but with a twist. The twist being that you were technically being held captive, and this little game was how you’d win your freedom. Bo would let you out, generously giving you an hour to run and hide somewhere and, should you make it to sundown without him catching you, he’d let you go. You weren’t stupid enough to believe that the man who incapacitated your friends so his brother could turn them into wax figures would actually let you go after what you’d seen, but the thought of getting to roam freely for a couple hours was very nice.

This would be the third round, your third attempt at besting Bo in his town. The first had lasted about an hour, he found you hiding behind his mother’s casket in the church but did give you the privilege of walking yourself back up to the house because he had something to tend to in town for Vincent. Not one to even try to betray his trust anymore, you went straight to the house and to his room and he found you there two hours later.

“Did ya eat?”

“No,” you’d murmured, looking up at him when he asks why. “You didn’t tell me I could get food. You just said to go back to the house.”

“Baby’s learnin’,” he had praised, leaning in to kiss your head. You do your best not to cringe at the contact, it was still very unfamiliar to have that kindness extended to you. “I like that.”

The second attempt lasted four hours. You’d guess he found you in the movie theater at around noon based on the sun’s positioning. It was then that you learned that Bo knew exactly where all the figures should be – since he’d counted your extra head in the fifth row on the left side. That time he didn’t send you home, instead keeping you by his side as he tended to basic maintenance around the town.  

“You really know where everyone is here?” you asked, watching as he screwed in the new lightbulb.

“Sure do. I’m the one that had to put ‘em there. Mama had a plan all sketched out, we’re just finishing it.” He sounded proud, and you crack a smile when he looks down at you from his perch on the ladder. He doesn’t smile back, but you know by his tone that he’s not upset with you. “I reckon you’re starting to get used to where everything is by now.”

“I’m not sure about that.” You really aren’t. There were places you’d seen a lot of, the church and the museum itself, that you probably did know the layout better than you should. The town as a whole, though? Not so much. That’s why Bo always won the game.

And here you were on your third attempt, listening to Bo as he talked to Vincent and Lester. Something about staying out of your way today, acting like you weren’t even there if they saw you because you were allowed to run around today. But this was your time, and you move back to Bo’s bedroom and climb out the back window – intentionally pushing off the wall to avoid the trap that you knew was in the bushes beneath the window. Lessons learned the hard way.

The game had started at dawn, technically, and now it was 6:45am. The sun was still working it’s way into the sky, but you still had some darkness to work with as you made your way to your chosen hiding spot this month. You’d thought about it over the last couple weeks, and now you knew what Bo expected of you. He was going to look low, in places that were easy for you to get in and out of – he was not going to look up.

There was one house that you knew had a ladder behind it and a chimney you could hide behind should you need it. You were going up hang out up there until you couldn’t, then when the sun set, you were going to get out of here. That was the deal that Bo made with you. And then you’d head for-

Oh, fuck, where could you go? You’d been in Ambrose for…how long had it been? At least three months where you’d been kept in the house – Bo’s room specifically – but there was a while where you were in the basement of the gas station at the start of your stay. How long was that? Was anybody still looking for you? Did your family think you were dead? Had it been so long that they’d given up?

The thought had you stopping midway up the ladder, uncertain that winning this game would even be worth it if everyone thought you were dead. Life here wasn’t so bad these days; Bo was nicer to you now that you stopped crying and trying to escape so much, Vincent would let you watch him work (he’d even started to let you work with his wax to make your own art), and Lester, well, you didn’t get a lot of time with Lester but he always gave you extra snacks and that was enough.

“Smart girl got a head start.” Bo’s voice nearby has you startled, and you freeze on the ladder to avoid making any unnecessary noises. Based on sound, it seemed like he’d be heading towards the church, so you give it a moment before slowly continuing up the ladder. You had dressed light, ready to move at a moment’s notice and used sunscreen to prepare for sun exposure. You were more than just smart, and you bask in that information as you lay back on the roof.

The only issue with this plan was that, if it worked, you were about to be bored as hell.

If the plan was going to work, you’d have to keep still unless you absolutely had to move, since you did not want to draw any attention to your little rooftop. You didn’t have any sort of mp3 player or game to play, all you could really do is watch the clouds and listen to Bo try to stay quiet as he cussed his way through town trying to find you.

The time gives you the chance to really think about how long you’d been there. You knew for certain at least three months, that part was easy. It had been wintertime when you’d watched your boyfriend at the time be rendered immobile by a well aimed knife to the spine; the plan was for your group to travel for a basketball game, college sports had been a big deal to your boyfriend, and it had been his birthday weekend. The marks on your arms that you’d given yourself to keep track of the days in the gas station basement had long since healed, thanks to Vincent’s caring touch, so the count you had of the early days was gone. You did know that it was October now, thanks to the calendar kept in the house, and it was….January (you think) when you’d left for that weekend trip. Nine months, give or take a week or two, which was a long time to be missing.

Nine months of fear, pain, tears, and hunger; but there’d also been light in the darkness. Life in Ambrose was a life where you had very few responsibilities. You did laundry and stayed out of the way, that was pretty much it. Sometimes the brothers would hurt themselves in their work, and you’d tend to those injuries if the opportunity presented itself, but that wasn’t much of a responsibility. The care was returned; Vincent’s care over your injuries, both the ones you’d inflicted upon yourself and were inflicted upon you in your captivity, Lester making sure you ate enough, and Bo sleeping in the living room chair for three weeks after moving you into his bedroom in the house. You’d been given your own bed in the large room but clearly, he was aware that you weren’t comfortable sharing a space like that with him at that point. Obviously, the man cared enough about you that he’d do that, and that was enough for you right now.

The world outside might have forgotten about you, but you knew the brothers here wouldn’t.

You don’t even register how long you’d been on the roof until it starts to get cold. You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, since the sun is now setting, and you decide that if Bo hadn’t found you yet, he likely wouldn’t. Which meant that you won, but was getting out really a prize if you had nowhere to go?

“Oh you’re fuckin’ kidding,” you hear Bo from down below, and turn your head to see him looking up at you from the street.

“Hey,” you greet, turning so your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. “Spend all day looking?

“Fuckin’ everywhere, and you were up there this whole time?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you confirm, watching as he moves out of your line of sight towards the house. It’s only a couple moments before he’s sitting on the roof beside you, a quiet settling between you since you both know what it means now that you’d won. “I expected that you’d be looking anywhere but up.”

“People do tend to go low when they hide. You’ve been paying attention.” The praise is rare, and to an extent you hate that you grow warm at his words. Bo meant what he said when he was giving compliments, though, that’s why the words meant so much. “Where do you wanna go? I’ll take you there, give you money for a bus ticket, whatever you want.”

The moment of truth, and you shrug as the daylight continues to fade into dark. The stars were becoming visible, and you look up at them as you try to prolong your response. Because you didn’t know, and you didn’t want to make any decision like that. It was too much to think of; the idea that your family had given up, that everyone you knew before thought you were dead. Maybe it was better that way?

“Well?” he prompts, and you look over at him to see that he’d taken his hat off and was holding it tightly in his hand.

“I’d like to stay here, with you, if that’s okay?”

That wasn’t a question either of you had expected to come out of your mouth, but you knew deep down it was what you wanted. Why try to become someone else somewhere else, declare yourself alive again and have to answer questions you didn’t want to answer? Put the Sinclair brothers in danger when you really didn’t want to? Life would be easier if you stayed here; better, even, you were sure of it.

First he nods, and you take the opportunity to scoot closer so you can rest your head on his arm. He tenses at the contact but relaxes quickly, and you crack a smile when you feel his hand on your back. Bo was….abrasive at worst these days and you found a weird brand of comfort in him letting you stay and be so close to him without him explicitly initiating.

“Yeah, sweetheart, you can stay here with me.” The verbal confirmation has you relaxing, and your eyes close when you feel a hesitant kiss be pressed to your head. Were you sure what was happening here? Not at all. But in this moment where you’d just denied your opportunity to go back to the life you once had to keep the life you have now, you needed the comfort and were grateful that Bo was allowing the close proximity. “That’ll make Vincent happy. He really likes you.”

“Does it make you happy?”

This time he pauses, but you don’t move to look up at him. You don’t want to see the uncertainty in his features or look him in the eye should he lie to you.

“I chose you all those months ago, to have you finally choose me is a blessing.”

“Then why give me the chance to leave?”

“Because you’re not a pet. At first it was kinda like that, yeah, but then it became more than that.” You still weren’t proficient at translating Bo-speak, since the man kept anything that was vaguely reminiscent of a “feeling” close to his chest unless he was so mad that he snapped, but you supposed that he was saying that he cared about you. The fingers on your back begin to gently tap, and you look up at him finally to see him looking at you. “Look, I care, and I want you to be happy. I just have a fucked up way of showing it, according to Lester.”

“It is a bit fucked, yeah,” you agree, letting out a small laugh when he rolled his eyes. “But I’ve come to care about you too, Bo. Vincent and Lester, too, but you’re my favorite - don’t tell them.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that nugget of knowledge between us, sweetheart.” The assurance has you smiling, but he looks like he has more to say so you keep your gaze on him as he cracks a small smile of his own. “But Mama always said that good things come to those who wait, and also something about God sending angels in different forms, and I think I got both of those in you. Just needed you to actually want to be here.”

“I like playing this game, but we’re going to have to figure out different prizes for winning since I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

“You think you’re going to keep winning?”

“Plenty of hiding spots here. You just have never had to think about it.”

He nods at that, and you take a moment to rest in the fact that you’d never really just sat and talked to Bo. Small couple minute conversations while he was working on something and you watched, or short questions that didn’t require lengthy answers or follow up from him were the norm, not sitting side by side chatting like this. You hoped there was more of this now that you weren’t going anywhere, since changing your mind about staying wasn’t on your agenda.

“I’m heading out to town tomorrow; you’re welcome to join if you want.”

“I’d like that, Bo,” you murmur, feeling him relax a bit more. This was nice, surprisingly comfortable given the circumstances that brought you to him and the events of the past nine months, but you weren’t going to question anything about it. You knew better. Questions would destroy your outlook on the situation. Bo cared about you, and you cared about him. Perfect world, no need to question it. “Thanks for not killing me after I punched you in the face that one time.”

“It was one helluva punch, that’s for sure.” The compliment has you smiling, your eyes closing as he leaned in again and the familiar feeling of his kiss on your forehead has you sighing. “Told you that you’d learn to like me.”

You weren’t going to tell him that ship had sailed over a month ago. You don’t have a chance to, as Lester is calling out for Bo to see if you’d been found yet. Bo stands, and you look up at him as you realize the moment is over now and he’s putting his hat on so he can go be an elder brother.

“You can stay out here as long as you like. House’ll be unlocked, I think I’ll have to make dinner since I doubt those two did. Hopeless, both of ‘em.”

You could stay out, but instead you stand while volunteering to make dinner if it was needed. Bo hated cooking, and was terrible at it, and you’d had enough time to yourself on that rooftop for one day. So he heads down the ladder first, watching closely as you make your way down after him, his hand settling on your back for added support when you were in reach and staying there until you were on solid ground. That warmth leaves your back, but your hand does brush against his multiple times on your way back up to the house as Bo tells you about how his supply runs usually went to prepare you to tag along on tomorrow’s run.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and The Death Angel Part 34

Series Masterlist

Part 33

Contains: Fluff, angst, smut (fingering, oral sex F receiving, P in V) Canon typical misogyny, discussions of racsim. Don't hesitate to let me know if I've missed anything. Follows the plot of 2x03 -2x04 very loosely/

5.3K words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #the reaper and the death angel (tag list may not work)

You've spent most of your adult life in and out of war zones, and you've worked with the US military to identify terrorists and dead GIs. Sick of all the death and pain you chose to leave fieldwork and go back to historical research. When your little Brother leaves the Marines and settles in a small town, you decide to follow him. Will you find a home in your small, underfunded Museum job and your Brother's found family? Or will life with the Club just be another war zone?

"Jax, he's in Ireland."

"What?" Jax took the phone from your hand and looked over the photo, he handed it back before throwing a glass at the wall.

"Fucking dirty lair." Chibs sounded very angry.

"Let me guess, Jimmy'o said he was still here?"

Jax sucked on his tongue, "yeah he did."

He was still in a rage, "Jax, take a breath. We need to figure out if he lied because the rumour was true and he was working with him to remove the kings or for another reason. He's back in Ireland now, right?"

He nodded, "yeah."

He went outside, you imagine to go and smoke, "I'm sure the Irish will be calling soon. You have a big problem on your hands, let's hope you're not about to be asked to help first-hand because no one here can leave the country."

Jax came back in a little calmer, "when did Billy get this?"

You looked at the text, "right before he called me, the body has to be pretty fresh, I'm still waiting on news from the cops over there but that could take a lot longer." Jax put a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss.

"Thanks Darlin. Head home, I'll be there before you go to bed." With one last kiss, you left.

Jax wasn't home before you went to bed, you were just falling asleep when you heard him come in and climb into the shower before shifting the covers and settling next to you.

"Sorry I'm late, Clay wanted us to stay back to wait for the Irish to call."

You rolled over into his arms, "it's ok my love, are you still meeting the Bastards tomorrow?"

He pressed his face into your shoulder and breathed in the smell of your conditioner, "yeah. Good night y/n, I love you."

"Good night beloved, I love you too."

****

"It's been a long time since we've had this kind of weight in our backyard brother."

Jax wasn't impressed with how Clay was dealing with his, "maybe we can get some MP5s."

Nevertheless, T.O smiled, "that will work."

With a hug and handshakes the deal was done just as the Irish pulled up, "Did you ask Jimmy about the photo?"

Luke didn't seem worried about the lie Jimmy told, 'aye, he said he had no idea Cammy could even get into IRA territory, he must have done it through one of his old contacts."

"We need details, the man who's been selling us guns for months has just turned up dead and the only person with answers won't talk." Luke's excuse about the army wasn't going to fly.

"Do you have kids?" Luke shook his head, "then you don't know shit about sorry asshole." Bobby and Opie pulled Jax away and Luke promised to try harder to get more information before handing them their new guns.

****

"Hey Mr Madock, how are you feeling today?"

He was looking around, "where's Rose?"

You put a hand on his shoulder, "I think she's at the store, I'm sure she'll be back soon. Can I get you something to eat?"

He waved over at the fridge, "I'll take a sandwich if you're offering."

You finished putting it together just as the nurse walked in, "how long before he's ready to leave?"

She seemed sad, "he moves out tomorrow."

Gemma was in one of the rooms packing, "We should take some of his favourite figures with him, the home's good enough that it should have a display case in his room."

She nodded, "yeah, I think he'd like that."

You put the sandwich on the table and sat next to him, "I notice your how many statutes you have around, do you have a favourite?"

He put the food down and got up, walking over to point out some of them, "but this one is Rose's favourite." He sat back down and went back to eating, you were sure Gemma would be happy to let them go with her father.

You went into the other room to help Gemma pack, she was stuck hard onto the bed, looking through a photo album. "Is everything ok?"

She shook her head, "all of these things are going to be packed in boxes and giving away, his whole life is here."

You sat next to her, looking over the photos, "things aren't what matters, people are. It's not like he's dead Gemma, he's just going somewhere he can be looked after."

She gave you a sad smile, "how do you always know what to say." You reflected that pain in her face.

"I've seen more human wreckage and suffering than any person should, it's given me an insight I wish I didn't have." She rested her head on your shoulder and you lifted a hand to rub her head, "it's going to be ok Gem, everything works itself out in the end."

****

Jax couldn't believe it, Clay had basically sold Ima and Lyla to Lin for the day to get more guns. He could hear you going on a righteous rant in his head, something about humans not being things to be bought and sold for a gain. There were days when he hated Clay.

But they had the guns and Lin was happy with the arrangement, so it was another thing to put in a box, he hoped Ima would look him in the face when he got home that night. "Are you ok with this? I know neither of them want to work with men?"

Sam shrugged, "it's her choice, and I don't care what she does or doesn't do at work. You seem to forget I was raised my y/n, she'd kick the shit out of me if I had a problem with it."

Jax nodded, "yeah I guess, if it had been up to me, it wouldn't be happening."

Sam's face changed, "but it's not. Don't you have an issue with all of this. Black men can't join the Club but we can use them for our own means, we're in the dark ages Jax, sooner or later that's going to kill us."

Jax knew Sam was telling the truth, "what is it that your sister says, I'm just waiting for all the old bigots to die so you guys can change things?"

Sam huffed, "yeah, you know she won't stay if you don't change things when you take over. She's going to expect you to do better than you stepfather."

Jax took a solemn breath, sometimes he wished you weren't so moral, "I know I wouldn't expect any less from her."

Just as he was about to say something else, Clay got a call, it was the Irish kings. The conversation was hushed and Clay seemed angry, there was a mention of Belfast overstepping and doing bitch work. But it didn't matter, when Clay got off the phone, he was telling everyone to ride back to T-M for church.

****

"Belfast has dropped us in at the deep end, what's going on with Jimmy'o isn't clear and they don't want to put out the hit until they're sure. The Kings want us to handle it."

Jax shook his head, "this is my problem, Cameron hit my family, I should be the one to deal with it."

Clay shook his head, "your family is our family, son. This falls on us just as much as it does you. I've told them we won't be going until we have all our buyers sorted here, which will be at least two weeks."

"If we all go we look guilty, I can't ask you guys to take that hit."

Clay smiled, "but I can. Who's up for in Irish adventure?"

All the hands around the table went up with a cheer, "you're all very unbalanced individuals."

They exited the Clubhouse and Opie went up to Lyla, Jax watched the conversation from afar, Lyla seemed ok, but he could see Opie getting stiffer as it continued. He didn't blame him, Jax wasn't happy about it either, but there was no reasoning with Clay.

"I just don't want you to end up sad."

Lyla shook her head, "how can I be sad, you're my guy." They watched on as they kissed, cheering like children as it got more heated.

Opie pulled away and walked over, "you guys seemed to be working things out."

Opie shrugged, "I don't know, every time I try to talk to her, we end up naked."

Bobby laughed, "just marry her, that will fix it."

*****

"Is that your speech for the town meeting?"

You nodded, "yep, I'm just putting on the finishing touches. It's going to make it every clear that Hale has no place in the town." Gemma sat down next to you, "Nate leaves in the morning right?"

She nodded, "yeah he known he was going for a while but he just can't seem to accept it."

You put a hand on your shoulder, "that's normal, once he settles into a routine it will be much easier."

She sighed, "how do you stay on top of everything? You should be at home resting and you're helping me. You've been working your ass off for the Club, and you still find the time to look after Abel."

You shrugged, "I like to keep busy, if I wasn't here, I'd be at home doing paperwork."

She smiled, "come one, dad wants to make you his famous rice pudding."

*****

"Hello Mayor."

Oswald smiled, "not yet."

Clay stuck his hand out, "we need a favour."

Oswald crossed his arms over his chest, "does this have anything to do with your boy?"

Jax nodded, "yeah, the guy who almost took him is in Ireland, we need help getting out."

Oswald shook his head, "I can't, even with everything that happened with Hale, he's still got support. I'm sorry, but if you want to be Charming a small town, I can't be seen to help you guys until these gun charges are gone."

Clay didn't seem happy with that, but he accepted it, "well when you need us, we'll be here."

With that done, they left to go to the party with the Chinese. Jax was sitting outside smoking, it's not that he didn't find the women inside attractive, but he only had eyes for you. Sam wandered out and sat by him, taking a puff from the joint that Jax handed him.

"Why aren't you inside?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't need to see it, they're safe with the others guys around." A quiet feeling over the two men, "I don't like that Clay put them in this position."

Jax nodded, "neither do I." Jax didn't know what to say or do, since Sam read his father's manuscript, Sam had been more and more restless for change.

Jax didn't blame him, he wanted the same thing too. The truth is, Jax was waiting for Sam to take him into an alleyway and beat the shit out of him for even looking at you. He would wake up every morning to your sweet voice and walk into the kitchen with breakfast done and Abel cooing in someone's arms and wonder how this became his life.

"There's no other shoe Jax, stop fretting."

Jax huffed a laugh, "so why does it always feel there is."

Sam's answer was dry, "PTSD." Jax didn't know what to say to that, "come on, we better head inside before y/n's spidey senses start to tingle."

As Sam walked in, Jax paused to call you, "hello Jackson, it's good to hear your voice."

He smiled, "hey Darlin, how are things over there?"

He could already feel the tension melting away, "good, slow but good. Are you guys coming to the town meeting tomorrow?"

Jax wouldn't miss it for the world, "yep, we've all cast bets to see how long it takes you to reduce Hale to tears."

Your laugh made him forget how stressed he was, "not long I hope."

He shook his head, "I got to go pretty girl, I just wanted to check in."

He swore he could hear your smile, "well, aren't you a gentleman."

"I love you y/n."

"I love you too Jax."

Jax hung up and went inside only to be greeted by a scene he didn't really want to see, he went to the bar and got himself a beer, then buried himself in a conversation away from what was happening behind him.

Opie walked over looking sad, but Jax did his best to distract him, "I'm sorry it's turned out this way bro, this never would have happened if I had any say."

Opie shrugged, "but you didn't have a say, Clay has been talking matters into his own hands far too often."

"I know, but his hands are failing, I can't see him staying on my longer after we go inside."

"I hope you're right Jax, because he's going to ruin everything we've built if it keeps going like this."

****

When you got home, Jax was already there. "You're home early?"

He pulled you into his arms, "the party went by without a hitch. The Chinese came through so the Bastards have their MP5s."

You knew something was wrong by the tone of his voice, "what's wrong dear?"

He shrugged, "more problems with Clay?"

He nodded softly, "yeah, he's a bit of a pig."

You gave him a strange look, "I know, and I know what's got you so upset. If you're worried about Ima and Lyla talk to them. I know Ima would appreciate hearing for you that you don't think she's a dirty whore for earning a living."

Jax huffed, "I forget you don't mince words."

He pressed a kiss to the side of his head, "you wanna order take out tonight?"

You nodded, "sure, I'll go ask Sam and Ima what they want, you good with pizza?"

He nodded, "great, I'll make sure to get you extra ham."

Jax raised his eyebrows, "what, you don't think I notice that whenever we get pizza, you eye the pieces with the most meat."

He laughed, "I love you so much."

You pecked the tip of his nose, "I love you too."

****

You were laying in bed next to Jax, his leg rested over yours, "I finished your book."

He watched your smile spread over your face, "really what did you think?" He put a hand on your side, his thumb rubbing back and forth.

"I really liked it, you're really smart."

You could sense he was about to be self-deprecating, "don't sell yourself short Jax. You have read all my papers and understand them fine, there are people with multiple PhDs who can't do that. For an ok mechanic with a GED, you can handle yourself fine. Now I won't have you insulting your own intelligence."

He squeezed your side, "you mean that?"

You turned and put a hand on his leg, "I don't say things I don't mean Jackson. You should know that by now."

He put his forehead on yours, "how did I get so lucky."

You leaned in to kiss him, the press of your lips slow and soft, "it's not luck Jackson, I love you."

He rolled on top of you, since the day you got shot, he's been treating you like you're made of glass.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" You nodded, "I once got blown up and ended up with four broken ribs, then went on an op a day later where I got into a fist fight with a guy Opie's size and I was fine. I'm a lot tougher than I look, plus, I miss you terribly."

He kissed your neck, his lips soft against your skin while his beard tickled you. You sat up and pulled your shirt over his head, Jax's hand coming to touch the border of the bandage over your ribs, "it doesn't hurt, don't worry. However, it's starting the heal so the stitches are itching like a motherfucker."

He reached down and removed your panties, sliding them off your legs and throwing them somewhere in the room. His lips kissed from shoulder dome to shoulder dome and down your chest. His thumb stroked the scar just under your navel.

"How did you get this one?"

"Knife fight with a guy with one eye, I think he was aiming for a stab and not a slash."

He was pulled away from his memory by your hands in his hair. He kissed down your body, reaching your mound with soft lips and a gentle breath. He lifted your legs onto his back and you settled against the pillows, reaching one hand down to wind in his.

He started small, pressing gentle kisses to your slit while his free hand held you open for him. You gasped when he pulled your clit into his mouth and sucked, his groan shuddering your body. He kept with the soft touches until you were squeezing his hand with bearly restrained force, then he was sliding two fingers inside you and bending them up to rub your G-spot.

Jax took in every one of your whimpers and moans, if you could hear his thoughts, you would tell him he had an ego. He kept a steady pace as you reached the edge, only speeding up when your legs shook around his head.

"Jax…. Oh my God, please."

His thumb replaced his mouth as he lifted his head, "I know sweet girl, I'm here." He put his mouth back on you just as you feel off the edge, squeezing him over and over again. He pulled his fingers out and kissed up your body, "you good?"

You brought your hands to his cheeks, and he turned his head to kiss your palm, "please Jax, I want you inside me." He smiled softly, resting his weight on his elbow as he took his other hand and lined himself up at your entrance. You nodded and he slid inside you, your breath catching in his throat while Jax paused in hopes of retaining his composure.

"Move, please."

He huffed, "I'm just a man y/n, you're killing me here."

The giggle you gave against his chest didn't help, "are you admitting that I make you weak?"

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, "without a doubt." He started moving slowly, putting more force into the last few inches.

His hips slowly got faster as his fingers rubbed your clit, "come one Darlin, take it easy on me." You smiled and pulled him into a kiss, rubbing your noses together before pulling him to you with your legs. You rocked your hips in time with his, moaning into his ear while he grunted like he was dying.

""Jax..I…"

Another grunt, "I know Darlin, I'm right behind you." You whimpered as the climax took over, biting into his shoulder while his warmth filled you.

"Holy shit."

You chuckled as he rolled off you to get a cloth to clean you up, "I know, who knew waiting a few days would be so hard."

He cleaned you up and threw the used cloth into the hamper, "your aim's getting better."

He frowned in mock offence, "my aim's always been great."

You were going to respond but you were cut off by a yawn, "I think it's time for bed."

You nodded and rested your head on Jax's chest, "are you coming to drop your grandpa off tomorrow morning?"

He nodded, "yeah, I figure you guys need help loading everything up."

You put a hand on his chest, over his heart, "I'm sure Gem will be happy to see you."

He picked up your hand and brought it to your lips, "yeah. Good night y/n."

"Good night beloved, I love you."

****

"It's that everything?"

You nodded and passed Jax the last box, "yep, all done. You want more coffee?" He was already halfway to the kitchen. Nate seemed to accept that it was time to go, you had spent as much time with him and Gemma as you could getting them ready for the change, but she seemed sadder than her father did.

"You alright Gem?"

She shook her head, "I can't believe mum put him in a home."

You shook your head and put a hand on her shoulder, "because she had to, he can't get the help he needs here unless you want to move here with him a watch him twenty-four-seven. It's a good home, with good staff, he'll be ok."

She took a deep breath, "I hope you're right."

It was mid-morning when you got to the home, Jax walked in with you and helped unpack Nate's room while Nate took a tour of the facilities. "Ooo, they have old movies every night at eight, I think I might more here too."

He laughed, "they also have liver with gravy on the menu."

"On second thought, maybe not."

Gemma gave her father a sad goodbye and you left for Charming, promising to come back for a visit whenever you could.

****

You went home to look after Abel while Jax sat by for the long awaited call from Jimmy's, when it came, he couldn't control his anger, "you lied to me Jimmy. You told me he was still here and yet he was dead on the street after the IRA took him out."

Jimmy stuttered, "I had no idea he got out of the country Jackson, you need to believe me. I'm sure we can come up with a solution that suits everyone."

Jax sucked on his tongue, "the real army boys grabbed Cammy at central station before anyone could tell me he was here. Maybe if you don't believe me, you'll believe a brother."

Jimmy handed the phone to O'Niel, "Jax, it's Liam, he's telling the truth, Jimmy would have no way of knowing that Cammy was in town. Our crew was hired to watch him while he's up north. I've been with him him the whole time and he's never gotten any word from the kings."

O'Neil hung up, Jax knew he was lying threw his teeth but Clay made it clear that no one was to know about the plan to go there and deal with Jimmy themselves. Jax felt such rage, not only could he not get vengeance directly on the man who took his child and shot his girlfriend but he was being lied to.

Before he could stop himself, he was driving his fist into the side of the van. The pain was minor compared to the anger he felt. Nevertheless, he sat down and had a smoke in hopes that the skin-tight feeling of burning rage would fade.

"Go home and be with y/n and Abel, you're no help to anyone in this state."

Despite the fact that Jax didn't appreciate Sam bringing up the fact that he was emotionally compromised, he was right. Clay walked up and sat down next to him.

"Your hands look like mine feel."

Jax nodded, "we have to stick with the plan, we'll go to Belfast once the guns are locked down and sort out this mess once and for all."

When Jax got back to the house, you were ironing your outfit for tonight while Abel sat in his crib. "Hello my love, what are you going home so early?"

He shrugged and you saw his hand, "person or inanimate object?"

He ran his thumb over the bruises, "the side of a van."

You shook your head, "go ice them, I'll clean the cuts once I'm done here."

He walked into the kitchen and saw the blown-up photos from the vandalism of Jacob Hale's office, "you have exhibits and everything, maybe you should have been a lawyer."

He heard you let out an over-exaggerated gasp, "you take that back, I would never be a bottom feeder." He laughed and came back with a bag of peas over his fist.

"What are you going to wear under that nice suit?"

You shook your head, "you'll just have to see you insufferable man."

He took the iron out of your hand and put it on the base, pulling you into his arms, "you seeing Half Sack today?"

You nodded, "I'm going to take him a late lunch, you want to come?"

He shook his head, "nah, I think I'll spend the rest of the day with the little guy."

You looked over and smiled at Abel while he did his best to eat his soft toy, "careful, he's started pulling hair."

Jax laughed, "he's weirdly strong."

You shook your head, "most babies are, they have crazy grip strength, I just want to know why scientists tested for it." Jax picked Abel up and held his little hand.

"Because they're science hippies."

You did your best not to laugh, "are we all ready that bad?"

Jax smile stretched over his face, "yes, every single one of you."

You put the iron back down, "hey, I'm not the one who spent hours researching motor oil, you're one of us." Jax shook his head through a blush.

"I love you."

You pressed a quick kiss to his chin while Abel tried to grab a strand of hair, "I love you too."

****

They all pilled into the town hall, you had pressed Jax and Sam's flannels so they looked extra proper under their kuttes. They sat in the front row, with Jax sitting closest to the podium. He felt a little buzz in his bones, he had seen you address the UN with fiery blow after fire blow while talking about the gemstone industry, he only hoped you had just some of that fire ready for Hale.

Once everyone important was there, the meeting started. Hale got up in his pressed suit and started talking, "I've called you here today because I made a grievous mistake in allowing the businessman, Ethan Zobelle, run a shop here in Charming. I'm not going to deny that I was the one who helped him open his store, nor am I going to deny that I didn't do my due diligence in finding out who he associated with. I'm here to hear from Charming citizens and make that mistake right."

Behind him, you and some other people were sitting ready to talk, Clay and David were some of them. You stood up first, placing a stand down and folding the cardboard in your hands to show the blown-up photos. You tapped the mic are started talking, looking at each person in the eye as you went along.

"When I got back from my first tour in Afghanistan, my grandfather, a World War Two vet who joined the Marines at only fifteen took me into this office and showed me something. He would always tell me his most prized possession was his wedding ring but then he flipped a picture frame around and showed me the possession he was most proud of." You had told Jax this story before.

"On the other side of the simple photo that hung on his wall was a display case. Inside that display case were three nazi armbands, all three covered in old blood, multiple Nazi medals and an SS-Ehrendolch, an SS dagger. I saw the pride on his face as he told me how he got each one, all taken from Nazis he had killed in battle." Jax knew you and Sam worshipped the man, he could see why.

"My grandfather was a good man, so one day, when someone for the KKK moved next in down the street, he wasn't going to take that laying down. He and my grandmother got the whole nine yards from that monster and his friends. I would have been about six when he first told me this story, when I asked him if he was scared, he shook his head, put a hand on my shoulder and told me when that brick and the message race traitor came threw his window, he knew he was on the right side." Jacob Hale was sweating in his chair.

"Mr Hale has no excuse, we've all seen the photos, he was there smiling while the flag of our biggest enemy was flying behind him. The first time I saw my grandfather angry was in the nineties when a piece on Neo-Nazis came on the news. When I asked him what he thought the government should do, because these were Americans in the nineties and not Germans in the forties, he looked at me and said that we should take to the streets and gut them like the Nazi pigs they were." Jax was doing his best not to smile.

"Don't listen to this man when he says he's sorry, there's nothing sorry about standing there mute while someone heils Hitler. This man wants to be mayor and he will lie and manipulate to get there."

You looked right at him and pointed to the photo of him at one of the rallies, "you are an insult to everything I stand for, you are an insult to Charming, the home of Holocaust survivors. You are an insult to California, the home to Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton which turned Americans into Marines to kill Nazis and you're an insult to America. You have no place having any say in what happens here."

The hall was silent as you stepped down and sat next to Jax. He was rock hard in his jeans, your passion was ensnaring, he saw you as a force of nature, no less terrifying than a raging forest fire, and God he loved you.

*****

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen." Everyone had gone to the Clubhouse to celebrate Hale's humiliation, even his brother joined the pile-on. By the time the meeting was over, he was lucky he had any business in the town at all.

You shook your head, "I was just doing the right thing."

Jax pulled you into his side and kissed your temple, "nah, that was really hot."

You giggled, "the fact that you're turned on by me lecturing someone is a little weird. I mean, I'm not going to ick your yum but most people think I'm a harpy for being so opinionated."

Jax smiled, "well I don't care what other people think, I love that you stand up for what you believe in, I didn't know your grandfather but I think he'd be proud of you tonight."

You gave him a sad smile, "I think he would have loved you Jax, he would have taken garden clippers to your hair while you slept but he would be happy I have you."

"She's right, about the clippers I mean. Really Jax, my sister's telling the truth, he would have adored you."

Everyone laughed, and Jax pressed his lips to your ear, "now I think you promised to show me what's under that pantsuit." Just as you were walking arm and arm to the dorm, Clay got a call.

"That was Alverez, he said he needs you to come to their Oakland Clubhouse."

You pointed to yourself, "me? He has a shot doc doesn't he, why would he need me?"

Clay looked worried, "The Calaveras just dumped a body at their doorstep. They think it belongs to his son's best friend Mateo. Esai's beside himself. They need you to make sure it's him."

You pressed your lips together, "they can't tell by looking at it?"

Clay shook his head, "no, from what Alverez said it's pretty rough, he's wearing his kutte but they can be sure."

You rubbed your face, "I need to stop by the house and get my kit. Call him back and tell him I need to know everything about Mateo that might help me get an Id."

You had no idea what you were about to see but you hoped it wasn't as bad as Clay was making it out to be.

Part 35

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @dorkus-minimus @chocolatecatstheron @tazanna-blythe @golden-promises @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg @ann0631 @whitetiger1249 @meow-now @toodaloo-kangaroo

[obx-adventures]

The Introverted Twin

Summary - Being John B’s bookish twin isn’t easy. Especially with my best friend, Pope, being weird about me getting closer with JJ.

Catch up here: Ch 1

——

Chapter 2

When I get home from my SAT retake, I’m met by John B and JJ at the porch. They both have huge grins on their face, and I can see JJ practically vibrating in excitement.

“Uh, what’s up guys?” I ask confused.

“We know that we fucked up the other day and we want to make it up to you,” my brother tells me as he puts his hands on my shoulders. “We are taking you to that planetarium in Chapel Hill that you’ve been wanting to see.”

I can’t help the enormous smile I give them. I’ve been wanting to go to Morehead for years, but no one would go with me. Not even Pope, who is just as nerdy as I am. I can’t believe the boys are willing to do this for me. I pull them both into a group hug and they both wrap their arms around me. I give them both kisses on the cheeks as I pull away from the hug and am surprised to see JJ blush a little.

We load into the van and I pull out my phone to research the exhibits we can see. The boys leave me alone, knowing that I like to make a plan anytime we go somewhere new. By the time we get to the ferry, I have the whole afternoon planned out.

“So, Sunshine, are you excited?” JJ gently nudges me with his shoulder once we sit down. John B is standing on the deck, so JJ and I are alone.

“So excited! I can’t believe you agreed to this. But I’m so happy.”

“Agreed to this? No way! I am not letting JB take credit. This was my idea.”

I feel my cheeks flush and quickly look down to hide my face. I’m stunned by JJ’s thoughtfulness. I always thought he wasn’t paying attention when I would talk about wanting to go.

“Thank you, J,” I say quietly.

“I told you I would do anything for you, Sunshine.” He grabs my hand and I get lost in the feel of our skin touching. While my hand is soft and dainty, his are rough and calloused. I’ve watched these hands fix the van, break open skin, and roll blunts. But I never realized how gentle they can be, how gentle JJ really is.

We sit in comfortable silence until my brother joins us. He gives us a weird look when he sees JJ holding my hand, but JJ doesn’t seem to care. Instead he prompts me to tell them the plan once we get there. I spend the rest of the ferry ride telling the boys about each exhibit we’re going to see.

----

JJ gently shakes me awake when we dock back on the island. After a full afternoon at the planetarium, I immediately fell asleep with my head on JJ’s shoulder when he got back to the ferry. I’m still pretty groggy so JJ scoops me up to carry me to the van. I immediately fall back asleep in JJ’s arms once my brother starts driving back to the Chateau. I wake up briefly when he settles me onto my bed 10 minutes later.

“Thank you, J,” I mumble as I adjust in my bed. JJ chuckles at my barely intelligible words. He leans down, brushes my hair out of my face, and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

----

The next day, I wake up to the sounds of a full house. I check my phone and see that it’s already noon. I usually don’t sleep this late, so I jump up and get myself dressed quickly. When I walk out to the living room, I see all the Pogues chatting. Kie sees me first and pats the open seat next to her.

“Hey, sleepyhead, welcome to the land of the living.” I go sit next to her on the couch but lean in for a hug from my only girlfriend before getting comfortable.

I have always been grateful for Kiara Carrera. With my general awkwardness and having John B and JJ always around, I’ve always struggled to make friends. Pope and I bonded while in gifted classes in middle school and I was pleasantly surprised when he got along so well with the Gruesome Twosome (my dad’s nickname for JB and JJ when they were kids). But I never made any female friends until Kie joined our little group a couple years ago.

“How do you think the SAT went yesterday?” Pope asks me. I briefly fill in my best friend but change the subject before the other boys can complain. John B is beyond proud of my academic achievements but is quickly bored when Pope and I talk about school.

“Y/N, now that you’re done studying for your test, are you finally going to come out on the Pogue with us?” my brother asks me. I quickly agree to go with and start making sandwiches and packing snacks for our day.

As soon as Sarah Cameron gets to our house, we set out on our adventure. I’m pleased to see that the other Pogues are beginning to accept Sarah. Kie was vehemently against their relationship and JJ didn’t like her because she was a Kook. But my brother didn’t care and now she sits on his lap while he drives the boat and no one bats an eye.

Once we get out to our usual swimming spot, I decide not to jump into the water right away. As I lay down to get some sun, Pope comes over and lays next me.

“I thought you were going to come over after you finished the SAT yesterday,” I immediately feel guilty at Pope’s statement.

“Oh shit, Pope, JB and JJ surprised me with a trip to the planetarium yesterday. I completely forgot about our plans.”

“They took you to Morehead?” Pope asks in surprise.

“Yea, JJ felt guilty about the fight the other day, so he got JB to agree to go. They were waiting for me when I got back from the test.” Pope has a strange look on his face but before I can ask him what’s wrong, Kie yells to me from the water.

“You got JJ to go to a museum?” I can hear how incredulous she sounds without even seeing her face.

“Hey!” JJ yells, sounding slightly offended. “I can do smart people things. Plus, it was really cool. Y/N made me look through the giant telescope and we got to see this movie about the Carolina sky.”

I turn in surprise to look at JJ. I couldn’t tell yesterday if he actually enjoyed the trip or was just trying to have a good time for me.

“Dude, you actually liked that shit? I was so fucking bored!” I turn to stick my tongue out at my brother and see Sarah smack him upside the head, which makes all of us laugh.

“No, it was awesome!” I can’t help the smile that comes from JJ’s enthusiasm. Pope nudges me to get my attention.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” I frown at the hurt tone in Pope’s question. “I would have gone with you guys.”

“I didn’t think about it, Pope. They said it was to make up for getting into the fight the other day. I thought they meant it just for the three of us.”

Instead of responding, Pope gets up and walks to the back of the boat. He looks angry but I don’t know why. Even though he’s my best friend, we don’t do everything together. I really didn’t think this was a big deal, but I guess I was wrong. While I’m thinking about how to make this right, JJ climbs out of the water and sits next me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” JJ tells me. I turn to him and get lost for a minute while looking at his face. Just like the other day in my room, I’m in awe of how beautiful he is. Today, with the sun behind him and his wet hair hanging down, he looks even better. His eyes sparkle as they reflect the sun and ocean and his sun-kissed skin glows. He catches me staring and flashes me a blinding smile while raising an eyebrow at me. I quickly avert my gaze and try to change the subject.

“Did you really have fun yesterday? You weren’t bored like JB?”

“I had a great time. That stuff really was cool. Plus, I was happy to see you so happy.”

I don’t know what to say to JJ, but the butterflies are back in full force. It’s hard to doubt him when he sounds so genuine. I silently contemplate my relationship with JJ. I love to be around him and it seems like he actually enjoys spending time with me. But why?

After a few more hours of swimming, we decide to head back to the Chateau. John B has had a few beers, so I decide to drive back. Normally he fights me on this but Sarah grabs his hand and drags him over to sit with her. I see JJ sit next to Pope to try to talk to him, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the sound of the boat. When we get back to our house, Pope leaves without saying anything and I can’t help feeling hurt.

“He’ll come around, Y/N,” Kie tells me as she throws an arm around my shoulders.

“I just don’t get it. It’s not like I did it on purpose. I was just so excited to go, I didn’t even think about.”

“I think that’s the problem, sweetie,” Kie says kindly. She elaborates when I look at her in confusion. “His feelings are hurt because he thinks you don’t care about him.”

“Kie, he’s my best friend. Of course, I care about him.”

“I know you do.” I can tell she wants to say more but is holding back. When I raise my eyebrows at her, she goes on. “I think he realizes you don’t care about him the way he wants you to.”

My eyes widen at this. Is Kie trying to tell me that Pope has romantic feelings for me? That can’t be true. He’s never given me any indication that he does. But I suppose it’s possible that I’ve missed the signs. I’m usually blind about this stuff. I remember when a guy from school asked me out last year and John B laughed at my surprise. He said that the guy had flirted with me every day at lunch for months, but I was clueless. This is Pope, though. I know him better than I know myself. I would know if he was into me, wouldn’t I?

When we go back into the house, I start making dinner for the boys and myself (Kie had to go to the Wreck for her shift and Sarah had to pick up Wheezie) but my thoughts are still on my best friend. I’m startled back to reality when I feel something scald my skin. Grease from the bacon I was cooking for our BLTs has spit out and seared the back of my hand.

“Oh shit!” I yell as I run over to put my hand under cold water.

John B runs into the kitchen to check on me and offers to take over cooking duties. I go over to sit on the couch next to JJ while I rub the back of my hand. He reaches over to inspect my hand and looks concerned. Again, his rough hands hold mine gently as he delicately brushes his fingers over the reddened skin.

“You ok there, Sunshine?”

“I’m fine, J, just wasn’t paying attention.”

“Thinking about Pope?” JJ has always been able to tell when I’m lost in my thoughts. It’s strange because not even my brother notices most of the time.

“Yea, I saw you tried to talk to him. What did he say?”

“Honestly, nothing,” JJ tells me with a shrug. “He wouldn’t look at me and didn’t answer when I asked him what was going on.”

“Kie thinks he’s into me,” I admit quietly to him. When he doesn’t say anything, I turn to study his face. His normally bright eyes are filled with worry and his lips are turned down in a small frown.

“Well, do you want him to be into you?”

“He’s my best friend, JJ. I’ve never thought of him as more than that. And until today, I didn’t think he thought of me that way either.”

I don’t understand the look of relief on JJ’s face. But before I can ask him, John B brings over sandwiches for us. I spend the rest of the evening watching movies with the boys with my head resting on JJ’s shoulder. I fall asleep thinking about how I’m going to make things right with Pope.

Ch 3

Taglist: @agirlwholovescoffee

[jojo-reader-hell]

Joseph Joestar x Reader

(No one asked for this but here it is.)

“Hello sir. I’d like a ring please.”

This had to have been the twenty third or twenty fourth time you’d rehearsed this very line. How hard was it to get the words out of your mouth? Well, considering the circumstances, pretty damn hard...

You paced the outside of the jeweler’s shop like a lion in a puny circus cage. It wasn’t common for you to do the proposing, you’d gotten this lecture from the museum director plenty of times, but you were also the only female paleontologist in The American Museum of Natural History, when have you ever done anything that was expected of you? When have you ever let anyone dictate what you should and shouldn’t do? You were ready to face the backlash, the judgements, the strange looks when you intended to run to the justice of the peace arm in arm with a man who was six foot four, burly, the grandson of a wealthy socialite, and had nary a brain cell to save his life.

“I’m not strange.” You muttered to yourself lowly.

Proposing to the man you loved wasn’t any stranger than him proposing to you, even if you both were only eighteen. Not anymore strange than your penchant for wearing men’s clothes because they were easier to navigate when putting together centuries dead creatures, or your tendency for your facial powder to be comprised of dirt instead of the familiar beauty puff with vanishing cream.

That didn’t matter, none of it mattered, you insisted this, because Joseph Joestar had told you before he left New York that he loved you for you. He told you so many times he loved you. And of course you believed everything he said, because you trusted him fully. How did you trust him? Well to answer that question you’d have to ask how do fools fall in love? There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to the ardent love you felt, call it a foolish love at first sight, but you didn’t care one bit. There were only two things you were certain of: fossil identification and the fact that you were deeply in love with that hot headed Brit.

You asked many times before about your futures together, eager to know if you were to expect him to take a knee for you and ask for your hand (how quaint and like a Jane Austen novel that sounded, to take your hand, it was unlike Joseph but it made you think of him), but he insisted that he wasn’t the marrying type.

“I’m not one for commitments.” He’d grin sheepishly. “But don’t worry, I’ll always come back to you no matter what. You know how I feel about you and only you. Would you be a good button and wait for me?”

And you would. Every single time he asked. You’d wait patiently for him, forever and always, despite the fact that he didn’t want to marry you. You were his button. It’s what good buttons do, wait forever... Under a piece of furniture or in a crevice, they wait ever so patiently for their beloved owners to come and reclaim them. But it didn’t make his rejection any less hurtful. The first time you heard him say he loved you but didn’t want marriage with you, it broke your heart. It broke your heart all the other times you heard it too, even in your closeness there was always bitterness despite the heat of the moment.

But this time was going to be different. Maybe... you thought, maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t like you or was afraid of a commitment. Maybe it was something more shameful to him... Maybe... Maybe it was because he was just exactly like you? Afraid of the expense because he didn’t have anything besides his grandmother’s money, and wanted to provide for you himself like you wanted to be able to provide for him. Maybe he was afraid you wouldn’t want to be seen outside of closed museum doors with such a bumbling oaf, or maybe he was afraid of the expectation that came with marriage: that he’d have to become a father. You knew as well as not being the marrying type, he wasn’t exactly fond of children either, and hell, you weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to get pregnant either...

But none of the maybe matters anymore, you thought as you finally worked up enough nerve to enter the shop, none of it matters because I’m going to tell Jojo I can’t spend another minute without him. I’m going to tell him he’s not just a lover, he’s the love of my life and I want to lay my very heart and soul at his feet for him to have and to hold forever.

You didn’t have enough money for anything more than a simple band, that happens when you spend the majority of your life writing grant letters begging for scraps from whatever wealthy eccentric wanted to fund a dig. There was always only just enough to sponsor the dig with bare essentials, never anything substantial left to pay you a decent wage. You’d probably make more money waiting tables at the museum cafe. Yet the ring you chose... even you had to admit you wouldn’t have minded having it for yourself. It was of a sterling silver that sparkled in the light and that captured your gaze because not only was it beautiful, the jeweler didn’t question you when you told him it was for your boyfriend. He only smiled and said it was a proper decoration for those who wanted high class taste, probably assuming that you both had never seen something so fine. While you didn’t appreciate the insinuations of your poverty, you knew it was perfect for Joseph despite its modesty.

“Sterling silver is very durable, stronger than gold. It will last him a lifetime.” he assured you. “No matter what happens to his hands, rest assured the ring will come out of it looking as fine as the day you saw it in the display case.”

Durable, lasted a lifetime, just as fine as the day you saw it, you thanked the man silently as you stored these words and phrases carefully into your heart for the moment you’d pull out the tiny box for your Jojo. You wouldn’t get down on a knee obviously, but your rephrasing of words wouldn’t hold any doubt for the question you wished to pose to him. You already had an idea that you started muttering to yourself the minute you exited the shop:

Joseph Joestar (you’d start with his full name: he always pays attention when you use his full name), something something like this ring, my love for you will last a lifetime... something something heart and soul at the feet bit, maybe something about how like this ring, no matter what may happen to the both of you, your love will be just as strong as the day you first met him in the case... wait what? No. Joseph Joestar, my love for you is like feet- ... what?? No!

Hmm... you’d have to work on that speech for sure. But to be fair, you were a paleontologist, not a poet. Sometimes you’d mispronounce difficult words Joseph was raised hearing (you’d never heard them used in sentences before, only read them in books), and he’d tease you for weeks about it. Or you’d mix up words in your sentences, blushing profusely because your mind worked faster than your mouth and you always had so much to say and never enough people willing to listen.

At least there was plenty of time to consider what you wanted to say. There was nothing left to do but wait for him to come and visit again. Joseph told you before he left that he shouldn’t be gone more than a few weeks “just to take care of a few things”, what these things were he never told you. Maybe he thought you’d explode if he told you what was going on in his life? Who knew? Unfortunately he like many of your colleagues underestimated what you could handle. You knew how to steel your heart against most things, an acquired talent years in the making from working such a thankless profession.

But how does one steel their heart against expectations? Unless you spend your life steeped in pessimism, there will always be an expectation waiting to be fulfilled, and there was also the lingering danger that the expectations would be dashed to the floor like fine china, shattering on impact. Or like chipping away at newly discovered and fragile fossilized bone, trying to contain the excitement of being able to put it on display for children and adults to marvel at, only for the damned thing to crumble to dust even though you’ve tried your hardest to be careful and contain the shaking in your fingers.

Weeks turned into months, and you still hadn’t seen him make an appearance through your office doors in the museum. Every day you’d arrive at the museum early in the mornings to ask if anyone had come by to see you, the minute the director said no you only dug your heels in and worked a fourteen hour day in the hopes that Joseph would come. You never went out to eat lunch anymore, choosing instead to take your only meal of the day in the company of the tyrannosaur you’d helped to excavate, climbing into the enclosure that protected the bronze cast of the original and sitting by its feet. Never once from this spot did you relax your vigil. Instead your eyes remained trained on the doors to the museum, hoping that one day you’d have a chance to see that hulking, dim witted brunette waltz in like he’d just bought out the deed to the museum.

He never came. That didn’t deter you. You carried the ring box with you everywhere you went, crammed into your desk or bulging in your pants pockets. Rain or shine it was ready to make its proposal. You kept touching the box so incessantly there were worn spots where anyone could see you’d been worrying it with your fingertips. Never once did you open it, wanting to keep the inside of the ring pristine and without fingerprints to mar its beauty. It was only a matter of time, you kept telling yourself this on the days it would be too gloomy for visitors to distract yourself with. These days, like today, you’d sit in your office staring at whatever specimen you’d had laid out on the work bench (today you were scraping dust off coprolite with an old tooth brush). Sometimes you’d start to cry, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach that made you wonder if Joseph would ever come back to you like he said he would. Sometimes you’d beat yourself up for your obedience, your obstinate nature that made you look like a dog waiting on a side street for a master that would never come. It was only a matter of time, you tried to tell yourself... And land sake’s, the bones in the museum had more patience!

You just had to wait... wait for the day he’d come to you and tell you with that snarky little whisper in your ear...

“Did you miss me too much?”

The sound of his voice jolts you out of your thoughts, you jump so high it’s almost criminal, landing comically out of your chair and onto the floor where you can see in your delirium that the ring box has toppled over somewhere and rolled. Immediately your first thought is about the ring, not Joseph, and thank the lord he’s too busy doubled over laughing at you to notice you panicking and looking everywhere on the ground for it.

“Bahahahahahahaha! You’re as skittish as ever! Look, you’ve even ripped the seat of your pants there where you fell!” He howls with laughter, you know he’s looking at you foolishly searching on the floor with your ass in the air and you can’t even react in your typical angry way.

Your heart is pounding too hard in your chest, uncomfortably tight as you try to find the ring box and remember all the things you’d planned to say to him once you saw him. But the words escape you, they fly away like birds escaping from a cage leaving you groping the air trying to catch them. You can’t say anything at all, Joseph is here. He’s right there and you can’t seem to say a word of what you’re feeling.

Joseph is here.

Joseph is here...

“Joseph is here!”

You blurt out the words like a child that’s been waiting for their parent to come home from work. One of many things that Joseph loves about you is the youth hiding inside the dusty outer shell of an academic. You throw yourself into his arms, wrapping around his neck like a scarf as you have to jump on tip toe to be able to reach up and give him a kiss...

And he suddenly puts a gloved hand to your mouth, your lips pressing against his palm which feels unnaturally hard.

“Ah ah ah!” He grins. “We can’t do that anymore button, I’m a married man now!”

“...?!”

It’s like a car accident. The brakes screech in your mind. The weight of his words slam into you, like how a 1939 Plymouth coupe going 85 miles per hour might mow down some pedestrian jaywalking on Broadway. It feels like you’ve been thrown into the air from the impact. The wind is knocked out of your lungs. There’s a ringing in your ears that drowns out everything, you can’t even hear what Joseph is saying anymore because there’s suddenly this busty blonde shaking your hand and looking as though she’s not sure who to cling to, you or Joseph, who’s still talking even though you can’t hear him not a bit because of all that ringing...

You see a gold band on her finger, bedazzled with diamonds so big they’d make the Hope Diamond look like cheap costume jewelry. There’s a band on Joseph’s finger as well, solid gold and rather plain but the likes of which would make the Sterling silver band turn to rust.

Vaguely, you’re aware of the pain. You think it’s from the car accident, but then you realize that there is no car accident. There’s no wreckage. There’s no driver. You’re not laying on the asphalt.

The pain is in your chest. Your heart... after a while you realize you’re in pain and the reason you can’t hear anything they’re saying is because your heart is broken. It was a sudden occurrence, a split second life change that was akin to a car crash, but not the mercy of one. All that waiting. All the words you wanted to tell him. Could it have saved you if you had told him when you were on the floor to shut up, to listen to you? Or would it have embarrassed you all the more to lay your heart and soul at his feet when his pretty new wife would probably be standing there the whole time?

What could you have done, you thought, as you continued to stand there and let Joseph and his new wife talk incessantly at you about everything that had happened to lead them to this moment. You noticed after a while of willful deafness that from the angle you were standing at, you could see where the ring box had fallen when you knocked it over.

It reminded you of the time you lost a button on your old coat, and Joseph had given you a hard time because you were too stubborn to give up the search until you found it by moving a bookshelf. That’s how he’d given you your nickname after all, he called you button because you told him very seriously you didn’t want to leave your poor button all alone on the cold floor, like it was a living thing that could feel sadness. The box sat there. Forlorn. Like a lost button, neglected, waiting hopelessly under furniture or in a crevice for an owner that would never come to retrieve it.

[straya-kids]

Hi can you write an angsty + fluff imagine about Got7 Mark and y/n? Y/n losing conciousness while in the arms of mark. it can be due to anything its up to you! but pls have a happy ending 😁 hope the imagine could be a long one so we could see how mark cares for his gf

Here you go! I’m sorry it took so long, and I’m sorry it didn’t have as much angst as you probably would’ve liked. I hope you enjoy!!

pairing: mark tuan x gn!reader genre: fluff (maybe some angst if you squint) word count: 1.4k warnings: mentions of exhaustion, fainting, physical weakness

=============

“This isn’t working,” you sighed to yourself as you piled more concealer under your eyes. You were sitting in front of your vanity, trying your best to cover the dark circles under your eyes, but to no avail. No matter how much foundation and concealer you put on, you could still see the shadows staring back at you.

It was a Saturday, and your boyfriend, Mark, finally had a day off. Wanting to make the most of it, you’d gotten up early and started getting ready. As you went through your morning routine, you couldn’t help but dread the rest of the day.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with Mark. You loved him and wanted to spend as much time as possible with him, even more so now that he’d just had a comeback and was busier than usual.

Your past few months had also been extremely busy. Your boss had you coming in for overtime nearly every day, and because of the stress of work, you hadn’t been sleeping well. You were thoroughly exhausted and wished you could just laze around in bed all day.

A few rounds of concealer later, you decided you’d done all you could do. You quickly got dressed and finished getting ready. As you were fixing your hair, you felt your phone vibrate.

Mark, my love💕: I’m on my way, baby. I can’t wait to see you. It’s been too long. I have a full day planned for us. I love you.

Knowing that Mark was driving, you didn’t bother to respond, instead finishing up getting ready. When you were finished, you sat in your living room, waiting patiently until you heard the doorbell ring. You quickly opened the door, seeing your boyfriend’s bright smile.

Mark practically tackles you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I missed you so much, baby. I’m so happy to see you.” Mark swayed gently with you in his arms, pulling back to kiss you gently.

“I missed you too, Mark. I’m so glad we get to spend time together today.” Mark couldn’t keep the grin off of his face, and it seemed that he was so excited that he didn’t notice your dark circles or the way your eyes weren’t as bright as they normally were.

Mark took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he led you out of your apartment. As you walked out of the building, you started walking over to his car, which was parallel parked in front of the building. Mark tugged on your hand.

“I thought we could walk today. It’s too sunny and nice out.” The excited look in Mark’s eyes made you melt, and though you were having a hard time keeping up, you nodded, walking back over to Mark.

Mark spoke constantly as you walked, and you were grateful that he was feeling talkative. You weren’t sure you had the energy to keep up the conversation. He told you about his recent schedules and how much the fans loved the recent comeback.

The first part of the day Mark had planned consisted of shopping. He took you to multiple stores, and the two of you walked around, pointing out different items the other would like. Mark ended up buying a few things for each of you, even though you insisted he not. Of course, he carried the shopping bags, being the gentleman that he was.

As the day went on, you could feel your body get weaker and weaker. You weren’t sure how much more Mark had planned, but he was having such a good time that you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you wanted to go home and rest. You simply linked your arm with his to use his body to help support your own.

The next item on the agenda was visiting an art exhibit that Mark had been wanting to check out. Visiting art exhibits and museums was something the two of you loved doing together. You shuffled along with your boyfriend, trying your best to enjoy the exhibit.

“Isn’t that amazing, y/n?” Mark exclaimed, pointing out a painting.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, gripping onto Mark’s arm as you started to feel lightheaded.

Mark noticed the weak grasp you had on his arm and looked over to you, his brows furrowed in worry.

“Are you okay, babe? You’re looking a little pale...”

“I’m fine,” you replied weakly, nodding faintly in response.

“Are you su-“ Mark was cut off as you slumped over into his arms, unconscious. He quickly supported you, carrying you over to a quiet bench in the next room. He laid you down on the bench, propping your head on his thighs.

“Y/n! Y/n, wake up, baby.” Mark tapped your face lightly until you stirred, blinking up at him blankly.

“What happened?” You asked softly, trying to sit up. Mark gently pushed you back down, brushing his fingers through your hair.

“You fainted, babe. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?” Mark looked down at you with pure concern in his eyes, and it made you feel guilty for not telling him how you felt.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been working overtime every day and I haven’t been getting much sleep. I guess my body was trying to tell me to rest.”

Mark frowned, bending over to kiss your forehead gently.

“You don’t need to apologize, y/n. I’m sorry you’ve been having a tough time. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have dragged you all over Seoul.” He chuckled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we go back to your place. We can order some delivery and then I’ll help you get to sleep.”

Mark slowly helped you up, making sure you were steady on your feet before he let go. He then pulled you onto his back, giving you a piggyback ride all the way back to your apartment. He let you down once you were safely inside.

“Go put on some comfy pajamas and get all comfortable and relaxed. I’ll order the food.” You nodded, heading off to your room. You undressed and pulled on some baggy sweatpants and one of Mark’s t-shirts. After getting dressed, you headed into the bathroom and tied your hair up before washing all of your makeup off. The dark circles were once again prominent against your pale skin.

The sound of the doorbell rang through the quiet apartment, signaling the arrival of the food that Mark had ordered. You walked back out into the living room, seeing Mark gathering utensils and plated for the food. He looked up as he heard you enter the room, a pout making its way to his face.

“My poor baby,” he said, walking over to you. He wrapped his arms around you as he placed gentle kisses to your forehead, each cheek, the tip of your nose, and then to each dark circle under your eyes. “Let’s eat in bed.” He once again took the food and utensils, pulling you along with him into your room.

He got you settled first, making sure you had your food and drink before getting comfortable himself. He put one of your favorite shows on tv as the two of you ate. You couldn’t help but notice Mark glance at you every so often, making sure you were getting plenty to eat.

When the meal was over, Mark cleaned everything up before returning to your bed. He climbed in and moved closer to you, pulling you into his chest. He pressed soft kisses to the top of your head, rubbing his arms comfortingly up and down your back and arms.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” Mark spoke nearly in a whisper, in an attempt to help calm you. You nodded, smiling up at him.

“Of course. And I love you, too. So much, Mark.” He gave a warm smile, continuing to rub your back.

“Sleep, baby. You need to get as much rest as you can.” You nodded once more, closing your eyes as Mark started to sing softly.

Mark watched as you closed your eyes, smiling softly to himself as he felt your body slowly relax in his arms. It only took a few minutes before you fell asleep, the combination of the warmth of his body, his arms, and his soft voice lulling you off to sleep rather quickly.

Once he was sure you were asleep, Mark let himself relax, drifting off into dreamland next to his love.

[sage-nebula]

((do NOT reblog))

Lately I’ve been thinking that I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I’ve been tired—like, extremely so—for . . . maybe a year now? If not longer. It feels like it settled in shortly after I started my new job back in March of 2019, so in that case it’d be more like a year and nine months, but it’s hard to say for sure. I thought for a long time that it was because of my new job, because I have to wake up early in the morning for it and my delayed sleep phase disorder means that I’m running on a lower than average hours of sleep each night during the week. But lately I think it’s more than that.

See, the thing is, it doesn’t matter how much sleep I get. Even if I get the suggested nine hours a night, I’m still dozing off a little after waking up, like a couple hours later. Even if I get twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hours of sleep in a night, sure enough I’ll be dozing off again a few hours after waking up. I have no energy to do anything on the weekends. Even if I get the aforementioned thirteen hours of sleep Friday going into Saturday, on Saturday I still feel so drained that doing a load of laundry leaves me feeling completely wiped out. This causes mess to pile up in my house, because I just don’t have the energy to get it done, because I only start to feel normal by Sunday night (and even then it’s like barely normal) but then the work week starts again. I had a four day weekend this weekend thanks to the Christmas holiday, and I spent both Thursday and Friday with no energy to do anything at all. Even when I didn’t feel sleepy, I felt so drained of energy that just laying there felt like the most that I could do. Today I’ve felt a bit better, but still recuperating. Tomorrow, my last day off, is the only day I think I’ll have the energy to actually do stuff and get my house in order. But then the work week starts again, and so does the cycle anew.

And the thing is, this isn’t normal. I didn’t used to be like this. Even when I was only getting like five hours of sleep a night, I’d just need a day or so of rest and then I’d be back at 100%. But now it’s like I’m slow charging, and it’s never enough because I don’t have time for it to be enough. One or two days of sustained activity is enough so that my body wants to shut down for like a week. And it’s not sustainable! It’s very hard to live like this! I can’t keep my house clean or do basically anything else because I feel so drained. This is also why I haven’t written anything of substance in so long; even though writing isn’t a physical activity (aside from the physical activity of typing), it still takes energy, and that’s energy that I just haven’t had. My battery is constantly in the red, yellow at best, and I don’t know what to do about it.

About four or five months ago, when I told my doctor about this, he gave me Antidepressant #2 in an effort to help it. That seemed to work for like, a day or two . . . then I went right back to falling asleep at my desk at work no matter how much I slept the night before. I recently asked him to up the dosage to see if that would help, and he agreed*, but then I discovered that upping the dosage gives me tinnitus, and people on the internet say that after they kept using it despite the tinnitus it got to the point where the tinnitus never went away even after they stopped the medication, so. I’ve decided to stop taking that one and I’m going to try to wean myself off it. I’ll talk to him about that on Monday.

(*He said that he didn’t think that it would help and suggested that I exercise to get more energy instead. Of course, the fatal flaw of that plan is that I don’t have the energy needed to exercise in the first place. Plus, my legs are such shit that even things like jump rope cause my right ankle and left shin to be fucked up for days afterward. He suggested I try yoga, since that’s a low impact exercise, and I’ve got myself a mat to give it a shot, but I don’t have much optimism about it making much of a difference.)

I looked up Chronic Fatigue Syndrome online and it honestly does sound like it fits. I’m constantly exhausted, I have daily headaches (which could be down to my genetics since I do have genetic migraines but still), I often have muscle pain in various parts of my body, etc. But at the same time I’m not sure if it’s actually that or if I’m just overreacting. Like I don’t know what the threshold is, or if I’m like, I don’t know . . . what if I’m just lazy? I don’t think I am, because there are things I genuinely wish I could do that I just don’t have the energy to do. I wish I could take my dog on hikes and long walks. Pre-pandemic, I wanted to do things like go to the art museum or the science center or the zoo. I’d like to do rock climbing, provided my legs could handle that, and so on. But even before the pandemic, I never had the energy on the weekends to actually go out and do those things. I’d want to! But then I’d feel so dead that I couldn’t even get out of bed before late afternoon / evening, much less actually go out to do things. Don’t get me wrong, I do take my dog on short walks at least once a day, usually multiple times a day, because I’d never neglect her needs like that. But it’s not the same as being able to take her out to a trail and explore new areas that would surely be more interesting to her nose than just our neighborhood.

So I don’t think I’m lazy, because I want to do these things, and even smaller things, like I wish that my house could be clean and that I could make all these interior decorating renovations to it, but I just don’t have the energy. But I still don’t know if it’s actually bad enough to be considered Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I still don’t know if I’m overreacting. What if this is a level of exhaustion that everyone has, but unlike me they can push through it? What if this is just part of Being Thirty and I’m just too weak to handle it? It’s like how I didn’t know if the pain I felt during my period was normal or not, and I still don’t actually. My gyno gave me the birth control implant to drive my periods down just because I asked for it, she didn’t actually diagnose me with any illness like endometriosis or anything like that. Sure, it felt like machetes were being shoved up into me every month to the point where I’d become incapacitated and sometimes even cry out in pain and sometimes even throw up due to how bad it was, but it could be that way for everyone, right? Maybe that’s just how it feels to have the lining of your uterus shred itself because it’s mad you didn’t get pregnant that month. How am I supposed to know?

There’s no real point to this post. It’s more that I just wanted to get my thoughts down somewhere. I don’t even know where to go from here, really. I don’t think my doctor takes me seriously enough to look into a diagnosis like this, but also I’ve never had luck finding a doctor that does take me seriously and I don’t really know where to start looking. To be fair, I do have an anxiety disorder and so I grant that my mind does find jumping to the Worst Case Scenario to be an easy one, but also the last doctor I had literally would not listen to me describe my breathing problems to her without dismissing me entirely, so. It’s been rough. Of course, even if I did get a diagnosis, it’s not like there’s a treatment, and definitely not a cure. So even if I do have CFS, what can be done about it? It’s not like knowing will solve the issues that it causes in my life. 

I don’t know. There’s no point to this. It just really sucks to be fucking physically exhausted all of the goddamn time, especially since sleep does little to help it and I hate sleeping anyway since I have nightmares at least 75% of the time, if not 85%. (It honestly feels more like 85%. Maybe even 90%. It’s very rare that I wake up having not had at least one or two bad dreams that night.) I just want to have energy. I don’t know what that’s so much to ask of my body.

But anyway, DO NOT reblog this, or I’ll just delete it so the cut leads nowhere anyway and also block you, thank you,

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter six: the black night

Sam and Alex spent about an hour of that first day in Germany there in the hotel room, away from the world, and with only each other. Neither of them were fatigued from the overnight flight. She had considered on taking her journal out for herself and for a drawing of something, much like how she made a special drawing for the show in England. But she had no idea if she should share her work with Alex, especially when he caught a glimpse of her doodling a sunflower on the inside of the journal's cover.

He sat next to her on the bed, in his little shorts, white socks, and his Gary Moore shirt, and with his legs pulled up a bit, and his hands right between his thighs. She gasped at his looking on at what she was doing and she covered up the doodle with her hand. He in turn gasped in response to that. She realized that he had seen her art but he hadn't known that it was actually her.

“Is it okay if I have a peek?” he asked her in a small voice and with his eyebrows raised which enlarged his deep eyes a bit.

“It's—It's kind of private, though,” she told him.

“I liked it, though,” he confessed, still in a small voice. “Basquiat died a few weeks ago, so I like to see another artist ascend to the position of greatness at some point.”

“I'm no Basquiat, though,” she insisted.

“Well, yeah. Every artist is unique. Basquiat was one of a kind—and even from a small sliver of a glimpse into your art book here, I can tell that you yourself are one of a kind. And that little thing you were drawing just there piqued my interest a bit. So—” He bowed his head and he raised his eyebrows even more, which softened his face to that of a young boy. “—is it okay if I have a little peek?”

He then lifted his head.

“I mean, it's only fair. You got to see the beginnings of our new album—twice! You're also seeing the transition of eras between albums.”

She swallowed and she leaned forward a bit to make sure that they were alone in the hotel room: Greg had gone off with Eric and Louie to have breakfast, while Chuck and Tiffany went out somewhere.

She then moved her hand out of the way to show him the little sunflower.

“Oh! Have you seen the painting that Vincent van Gogh did? The one of the sunflowers?”

“I have, yes! A few times, actually! It's—probably one of my favorites from him, to be honest.”

His face then lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“You know—we are in Europe, and on the western side of the Iron Curtain no less. It's not like we're back on the West Coast where you kind of have to set aside a whole few days just to go from L.A. to some place in Oregon or wherever. We can get on a train and go up to Frankfurt and visit a museum.”

“Would you take me there?” she gasped at that.

“Samantha, this is Europe,” he told her. “Ever since the war ended, they've been all about a revival of culture here. So—you know, I don't really wanna sit around here in my shorts and watch German TV all day long, either. I know you don't, too.”

“I don't,” she confessed with a shake of her head.

“Well, then.” He clicked off the television and he stretched out his long lanky legs before him. “Let me put some pants on and we'll catch the next train up to Frankfurt. It's only a few hours anyways.”

“Maybe we can go up to Copenhagen, too?”

He stopped. “If there's time today, we shall see.” He flashed her a wink and then he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and he walked over to the bathroom with his jeans. Sam closed her journal and she tucked her pencil right up next to the spine as she set it off to the side on the bed cover. She climbed off herself to put her shoes back on; soon he came back out with his black hair a bit more frizzy than she had seen before and a big silver skull ring on his right hand.

“I can see you being a continental of sorts, Alex,” she confessed.

“A continental?” he laughed.

“Yeah. I mean, you're smart and you're in touch with the world at large, and you like art, too.”

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug, “I feel like if you're considered a continental, you actually have to hail from the continent of Europe. Remember, the last name is not only Jewish but it's Eastern European.”

He adjusted the big ring on his right ring finger: it almost looked too big for his hand.

“Why a skull?” she chuckled at him.

“Why not?” he asked as he flashed it to her. “It's actually a symbol of life. Like a carpe diem—a reminder that the clock is ticking for me and for all of us. I also wanna think for myself, too. I've also got it on my right hand because I ain't married.”

“Mr. Swinger,” she teased him, and he scoffed at that. “You are in fact a continental!” She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

“I've got a bit of money on me,” he assured her. “It's not a lot 'cause of the whole exchange rate and everything, but it's better than nothing, though.”

“I've got money, too,” she told him as they stepped out of there and into the hallway. He shut the door and tucked the room key into his front pocket.

“Remember if someone asks us, we're just hanging out together,” she told him as they walked on to the lobby and the front doors.

“Well, yeah, of course.” He chuckled at that, and they kept on going to the sidewalk outside. Chuck and Tiffany strode back into the hotel right then.

“Where you guys going?” he asked them in a big jovial voice.

“Frankfurt,” Alex promptly replied. “Taking the train up.”

“Have fun, kids,” Tiffany said with a smile on her face.

A beautiful but gray day there in Bavaria: Alex peered up to the sky overhead with his eyes squinted and his lips parted a bit as if he yearned for a glass of water.

“Think I could've brought a jacket with me?” he wondered aloud; the hazy sunlight made his smooth skin appear even more smooth than before. The little tuft of gray almost stood straight up over his brow.

“Nah, I think we'll be fine,” Sam assured him as she took out her sunglasses from her purse and put them upon her face. They walked side by side down the sidewalk: right at the corner was the sign to the train station, across the street and down the block from there.

“The trains around here run like clockwork,” he told her as they awaited at the corner, “especially those in Switzerland.”

“Like literal clockwork over there,” she said with a grin on her face.

“Exactly!” he chuckled at that. “They're nothing like the trains or the buses back in the States.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and especially through his gray stripe. “Think it's time to dye my hair again.”

“Why's that?” she asked him.

“To rid of this little thing of gray on my head.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I kinda like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It's interesting. Like, why is it in a single little plume upon your head like that and not all over?”

“I wish I knew,” he confessed and they crossed the street together. Once he had caught up to her, he spoke up again.

“A few years back, I was brushing my hair and I happened to look down to the sink, and I saw a gray hair there. I picked it up and I wondered where it could've come from. So I showed it to my mom and she goes, 'oh, it's probably from your dad.' But my dad's completely and totally bald, though. He hasn't had hair on his head since before I was born—at least that's according to her, anyway.”

“Wow.” Sam was stunned by that.

“Yeah, and soon another one grew back there.” She thought of the nickname she, Aurora, and Marla had given him at the Legacy shows: the boy with the pearl in his hair. “And, you know that whole thing where you shouldn't pluck gray hairs because more will grow in their place?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Well, my mom told me not to do it for that very reason. What did I do?”

“You plucked that one?”

“Yeah. Next thing I know, I got a whole little pocket of gray right there in a few months time.”

She laughed at that.

“And yeah—I have to confess, I'm particularly self conscious of it.”

She stopped laughing right then.

“Aw. Really?”

He nodded his head at that with a downcast look upon his face.

“It makes me look old, you know?” he continued with a lean into her own face. “Like, I'm nineteen looking on at my twenties soon. I shouldn't be going gray yet.”

“But I like it, though,” she insisted. “Like I said, it's interesting.”

He shrugged at that. “I've had people ask me if it's a birthmark, but who knows, really.”

Sam thought about the conversation that she had had with Aurora and Marla about that little pearl of gray, about the boy with the pearl in his hair. She couldn't exactly recall everything about it as he held the train station door for her.

“Thank you, dear gentleman,” she told him as she took off her sunglasses before she headed inside.

“Herr Skolnick and Fraulein Shelley,” he corrected her as he shut the glass door behind them. “That's the only German I know so far. That's according to this guy Louie talked to while we were in there.”

“Pronounced 'froy line', you said?” she asked.

“Yeah, he broke it down for the two of us, too. It literally means 'young lady.' Kind of ironic because I'm actually younger of the two of us.”

Sam giggled at that and he led her over to the ticket booth, which stood wide open just for them.

“Two single adults to Frankfurt, please—round trip,” he kindly told the man, and he took his wallet out from his front pocket.

“A combination for you and your girlfriend, too?” he asked Alex in a light German accent, and he was taken aback by that.

“Oh, she's not my—” He gestured to Sam.

“Couples get half off on the midday rides,” he continued, and Alex and Sam looked on at each other with knowing glances.

“Uh—yeah, we'll take it,” Alex told the man; and he snickered at the whole notion. “Good idea, right, babe?”

“Yeah, baby!” Sam went along with it. Alex took out a couple of euros from hiding and the man inside handed him a pair of tickets.

“For the Amerikanischer and his kleine Dame.”

“How do we say 'thank you'?” he asked the man.

“Danke schoen. 'Please' is bitte.”

“Oh, right, right, right! Uh, yeah, danke schoen.” He gazed on at Sam with a bemused look on his face, but she couldn't help but giggle at him as he handed one of the two to her. All the way towards the platform, she resisted laughing more at him. They stood there in anticipation of the train and the gray sky overhead darkened a bit with more rain clouds. Alex cupped a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter. Sam felt her face grow warm from the feeling.

“Man,” he muttered and he shook his head.

“For real. I was not expecting that.”

He snickered some more.

“Couldn't beat that with a stick, though,” he said in a low voice.

“No way.” Sam thought of Bill right then and his incessant penny pinching. At least there she was headed into an art museum in central Germany and not a little market the size of someone's house down the street from her. There was a good reason with Alex: if she put any thought into Bill's behavior, it would ruin her day out with Alex himself.

“I got us the parlor car, by the way,” he told her; far off to his left, the silver train turned the corner on the railroad.

“Oh, you big stud!” she joked as she knew the man in the booth was still in earshot from there. He chuckled at that. The train rolled up before them and they soon boarded it one after the other. They were greeted by the warmth and comfort of the parlor car: nothing like the parlor cars back in the States for sure.

They took the spots closest to the window, but before she took her seat there, Sam spotted a small bar tucked in the far corner of the car behind them.

“Care for some authentic German beer?” she offered him with a gesture towards the bar.

“Bitte, meine Dame,” he joked, and she giggled at him and then she stopped. “Wait, that was good. You are a continental!”

The train rolled forward and she made her way over to the heavy white stone bar tucked in the corner. The female tender with the short bob of maroon tinted black hair showed her a smile in response.

“Two glasses of—ooh, Belgian beer, please,” she said.

“Two glasses, you said?” the woman echoed in a thick French accent.

“Uh, yeah—for me and my boyfriend over there,” she told her, and she had a difficult time in stifling a giggle at that. The bartender poured her and Alex a pair of glasses of that rich dark Belgian beer; when she handed the first glass to Sam, she looked behind her to the seat next to the window and gasped.

“Oh, my god, 'e is a beautiful boy,” said the woman in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Sam told her with a shrug.

“No—cherie, listen to me. 'E is a beautiful young man. I 'ave never seen a boy so beautiful as 'im.” She turned her head back in Alex's direction: the way the gray light of the day glowed back onto his milky skin so it resembled to porcelain and onto the plume of gray upon his head, and his jet black hair appeared blacker than normal. She handed Sam the next glass of beer. “You Americans—you must take care of one another and love one another. Take good care of 'im.”

Even though Alex wasn't her boyfriend, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer they could carry the whole charade out there in Europe.

“How much are these?” she asked with a gesture to the glasses.

“Five euros, s'il vous plait.”

Sam handed her five bills and then she picked up the glasses. “Is it—merci?” she asked her.

“Oui! Merci beaucoup.”

“Uh, merci beaucoup! He's learning German and I'm learning French so it—just makes sense.”

“Right? Enjoy your ride, ma cherie.”

Sam felt her face grow warm once more as she headed back to the seat across from Alex.

“Looking—as—red as a—cherry—tomato,” he stammered given neither of them were sure the woman was within hearing range of them. Sam giggled at him and he shrugged his shoulders; she handed him the glass before she took a seat across from him.

“I should tell you that this place that we're playing at this weekend, Schweinfurt—it's a few miles from the Iron Curtain. Like the border to East Germany is literally right down the street from there. I looked at it on this atlas that my parents have before we left—it's nuts.”

“Oh, wow, really?”

“Yeah—and I saw the train route while I was getting tickets in there. It's right after Nuremberg, too. We get to Nuremberg and then we hang a left and we're in Schweinfurt. Apparently, we have a stopover there!”

“Cool! So we get to see a little peek at it?”

“Exactly. Stopover there and then it's onto Frankfurt. Beyond that is Cologne and Essen, and then Amsterdam. But that's a full day's trip, though—Munich to Amsterdam.”

“Like, something to set aside for a whole trip altogether.”

“Right! We went to Amsterdam last summer for that festival that we played—you know, Eindhoven. Beautiful there. You think Germany's beautiful. I wanted to visit the van Gogh museum but we were kinda strapped for time, though.”

“Some day,” she remarked.

“Definitely, some day.” He raised his glas to her and they made a toast to each other. They took a sip of the Belgian beer in unison: nothing like any drink Sam had had back in the States, or even the cocktails that she had with Marla back in England. This was strong and full but nothing to get the both of them drunk, however.

“Oh, my god,” she blurted out as she brought a hand to her chest.

“Yeah, that's unreal.” He gaped at the sensation and rolled his eyes a bit, and she giggled at him, and he showed her a smile in return.

Within the hour, they stopped over in Schweinfurt and Alex pointed out the window. Beyond the train station was a street: off in the distance, Sam could see the pavement recede back into the heart of the city. A part of her expected to see a full on brigade off in the distance but she knew that the Soviet Union still loomed over them, and even more so from the station there at the edge of West Germany. Indeed, she spotted two men on the sidewalk wrapped in red and black overcoats and with batons latched to their belts.

“Soviets,” Alex pointed out. “See the hammer and sickle on their chests?”

Sam took a closer look: embroidered on their chests were little medallions. Even from the train window, she could make out the shape of the hammer and sickle inside there. It almost didn't even look real, even from a distance.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed out.

“I remember when we came over here last summer to play at Eindhoven festival and Louie, Greg, and I came here to Germany first before Chuck and Eric did, and I saw one of them when we got close to the border. Probably the most surreal moment of my life. It's like 'oh my god, it's real.' You know what I mean?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Those men merely stood there on the sidewalk as if they awaited something. But within time, the train rolled out of the station and westward to Frankfurt. But at that point, it was almost three in the afternoon, which meant they only had a couple of hours to relish in an art museum.

But there was absolutely nothing in the world that Sam could get past and that was the big beaming smile on Alex's face the whole rest of the afternoon.

The cold expression that she had grown almost all too familiar with had completely vanished and gave way to one of true joy. In those few hours as they walked along the cobblestones and visited a bakery for a bite of late lunch of open faced sandwiches and Black Forest cake, and then they continued on in search of the arts to nourish themselves further, every time Sam looked over at him, he looked up at all the buildings around them with a sweet smile plastered on his face. The happiest he had been up to that point, and he wasn't even with Testament right at that moment.

They were alone together in Germany and he enjoyed every moment of it.

At one point as they walked to a bookstore on a corner, she considered putting her arm around his shoulder. She had to stop herself, however: he wasn't her boyfriend.

But he certainly felt like it as she bought him a big glazed sugar cookie from another bakery.

“I'm gonna gain so much weight hanging out with you, Samantha,” he joked as he took a slow sensual bite; he rolled his eyes into the back of his head as if he experienced an orgasm.

“Get some meat on those bones,” she retorted, and the bakers laughed at that.

By the time the sun hung low over the horizon, and the gray sky began to change colors to a rich royal blue, they began back to the train station. Alex lovingly patted his stomach by the time they stepped on the platform. She had never seen him more contented as they gave the conductor their tickets before they stepped aboard. He snuggled down in the seat by the window on the right side: that time, they didn't have a table between them.

“Back to Schweinfurt!” he declared with a big beaming smile on his face.

It was the happiest she had ever seen Alex; she nestled close to him as if he was in fact her boyfriend at that point. His body was warm from the food, his face was rosy from the Belgian beer, and his hair was soft from the moisture in the gray skies overhead. Even if it was only for a few hours, she knew she had done him good that day. She had done what the bartender in the previous train wanted her to do for him.

As the train started moving, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. That time there was no arm rest between them, but a bit of a divet separated their seats, so she couldn't lean all the way over to him to cuddle with him. But he was warm and full: she had to relish in the soft feeling from his body.

He gave his dark hair a little toss and he looked at her with that sweet smile still upon his face.

“Still wanna dye your hair again?” she asked him as she eyed the gray tuft over his brow. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't really know, to be honest,” he confessed, “after today, I just might keep it.”

“As black as the very night itself,” she whispered to him.

“As black as night—but the gray as bright as day.” He winked at her when he said that and she beamed at him.

Soon, they made their stopover in Schweinfurt and that time around, they had enough time to step off the train. Sam went on to the ladies' room while Alex made his way over to the ticket booth for a question.

She surfaced out of there when she spotted those black curls right in front of her, but without his guitar on his back.

“Hey, Joey,” she greeted him in a soft voice, and he turned his head and flashed her a grin.

“What you doin' here?” he asked her.

“Oh, just—checking the place out,” she replied; she didn't dare tell him that she was there with Alex lest he fly off the handle at the mention of his name.

“You know, we're only a little ways away from the border of East Germany,” he told her.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I know.”

“We get any closer—goin' down this street here—we get stopped by the cops over there.” He glanced up to the clock on the far wall. “We better hustle on back to the train.”

“I should ask you what you're doing here, then,” she retorted back to him, and she couldn't resist the grin on her face.

“I'm doin' what you're doin' and checkin' the whole place out. I got nothin' better to do, to be perfectly honest wit' ya.”

“Well...” She thought about Alex in the back of the train station, and his talking to the man in the ticket booth over there.

“Well, what? You wanna mosey on back to Munich and go grab a li'l bite to eat?”

The warm, soft feeling that Alex had bestowed onto her was still powerful and she desired for more of it. “That's real kind of you, Joey, but—”

“Oh, c'mon! You're my girlfriend after all. I can't hang out with my girlfriend in Germany?”

“You have to ask first,” she pointed out with a wag of her finger. The ringing of a bell caught their attention.

“We have to get going,” he told her and he raised his dark eyebrows at her. He began towards the train outside but Alex was still somewhere back there. They were about to leave soon; she chased after Joey towards the platform.

“By the way, I should have to ask you—how'd you get so tan?”

“I got a bit sunburnt a few months ago,” he told her with a shrug of his shoulders. “It all just peeled right off and underneath was all as brown as a coffee bean.”

The soles of his shoes padded on the concrete before them and she hurried after him. She peered over her shoulder: Alex was nowhere to be seen behind them.

Joey reached out for her hand and he led her onto the parlor car of the train, the exact same car as when she and Alex rode up to Amsterdam together. He took one step onto the floor of the doorway and she followed suit. She hung there in anticipation of him. He was somewhere in there.

She would stand there and wait for him if she had to. Even if it meant blocking passengers from boarding themselves. Even if it meant throwing all of the trains completely off schedule from each other.

“Sam?” Joey called back to her.

“Coming!” she replied, and she peered out to the incoming darkness. He ducked out from the station. She recognized that little tuft of gray from afar. He craned his neck in search of her. Even though he wasn't her boyfriend, he certainly felt as such right there as he looked for her.

She waved at him so as to grab his attention. She dared not call his name given Joey was right behind her.

“Sam!” Joey called again.

“Alex!” she blurted out. “Alex!” He turned his head right as the last few passengers boarded the car in front of her. He bolted right there and ran towards her. The train was about to leave right there.

“Hey!” Alex called after her.

“Sam, c'mon!” Joey insisted and he grabbed her by the hand and he took her aboard the train. The doors closed before Alex could come on board himself. He pounded on the doors but it was useless and too late at that point. The train rolled forward right then and there.

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK!” he shouted on the other side of the glass; his big voice echoed over the train. Joey dragged her to the seats on the other side of the train, unbeknownst to it all. Sam stood there before him, unsure as to what to do next. She knew that Joey was turning a blind eye to him.

“HEY!” Alex called out and he waved his arms about. She gasped at the sight of him there on the platform with his arms straight up in the air. She turned to Joey, oblivious to what had happened.

“Oh, no,” she muttered under her breath. She knew that the next train would be there soon enough, but she still left Alex behind, and about a mile away from the border no less. At least they were still in West Germany and they hadn't crossed over the Iron Curtain at any given moment. But if what he had told her about it remained true, he was still potentially within harm's way.

“FUCK!” was the last thing she heard before the train went around the corner and away from him. Her false boyfriend left behind about a mile from the edge of the Iron Curtain, and she went with her real boyfriend at that point.

“Care for a cuppa Joey?” Joey himself offered to her with that lopsided grin on his face.

“Um—sure.” She couldn't help from feeling out the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and especially the heavy feeling inside of her chest. She left Alex behind, but then again, it wasn't exactly her fault. The train was about to leave.

Their small white china cups of coffee soon arrived and Joey was eager for the first taste. She couldn't enjoy it however. She kept on thinking about Alex, all by himself at a strange train station. She also missed the nickname Joey had given the cups of coffee as well: she couldn't exactly enjoy that for herself, either.

It would be another hour and a half before they returned to the station in Munich, and all the while, she thought of him. She wanted to cry but she couldn't, not with Joey right there in front of her.

By the time they reached the station in Munich, it was almost nine thirty and she couldn't bear to look at everyone because she knew someone would ask her what happened. Lucky for her, Joey led her to a small stretch of grass right across the street from their hotel, one that overlooked a small dark lake; before them was a narrow cobblestone walkway and a few metal tables accompanied with spindly chairs. He gestured for her to have a seat on the chair closest to her.

“I'll be right back,” he told her, and she nodded at him. She sat there, all alone, in a foreign city, and she had no idea as to what to say to Alex when he showed up again, that is if he did. Surely he knew that she waited for him at the door. Surely he would understand.

Joey soon returned to her from across the street with two cups of water in hand, and he handed her the one in his left.

“So—you guys are—touring?” she started with a clearing of her throat; she took a sip and the cold feeling upon her tongue was all she needed to feel right then.

“Yeah.” Joey turned his attention to her, complete with a thoughtful look on his face. “By the way, you've been awful quiet lately. I don't ever recall you being so quiet.”

“Oh, it's—it's nothing,” she sputtered out. “I'm just—in awe of—everything.”

Something moved about down on the grass. She spotted that little tuft of gray hair over his brow. He flashed Joey a dirty look and he looked at her with a cold glare. Even from a distance, she could feel his anger. She took a sip of her water as he walked on over to the dry patch of grass down by the waters.

Joey gave his black curls a little toss back from his neck and he showed her that lopsided grin. He then rested the side of his head within the palm of his hand.

“God, you know—it really is just so beautiful here,” he remarked with a glance up to the black sky overhead.

“Yeah—it really is,” she said with a look right into his eyes. “Like—upstate, but more.”

“Right?” She looked into his eyes so she wouldn't have to see what Alex was doing. But she could still see him out of the corner of her eye. Joey peered over his shoulder to the cobblestone walkway behind him with his dark lips still upturned in a joyous smile.

Alex had taken his spot there on the grass not too far from them, and he leaned back onto his elbows and stretched out his legs. Sam wondered where exactly she had gone wrong there with him. She would have to go back to the room with him, after she left him there within range of East Germany to his own whims. She left him there all by himself and he had hardly any money of him to top it all off.

When Joey wasn't looking, she had to talk to him.

Joey himself downed the whole cup of water in four large gulps.

“Let me get you some dinner,” he offered her as he set the cup down on the table.

“Oh, no, Joey it's—it's okay. I'm not hungry.”

“What?” he asked her with a bit of a mocking tone to his voice.

“I really am not hungry.”

“Oh, come on,” he encouraged her. “Some brats and sauerkraut to fill your cute li'l belly—I wanna treat my girlfriend well!”

She swallowed as he stood to his feet and rounded the side of the table. She watched him go across the street to the cafe next door to the hotel: she watched him go inside.

And then she turned her head to the right. Alex had turned around so he could watch her from a distance.

She walked up to him and he glared at her.

“Hey—about earlier,” she started, and he shook his head and he brought a hand to his brow as if he had a headache. She swallowed. She knew she had messed up by leaving him there, and she had to face the music with him, but she couldn't resist the sinking feeling in her chest.

“Alex, listen, he's my boyfriend,” she insisted, and she could feel her stomach twisting itself into a tight knot. Alex stood upright then and he towered over her.

“I know,” he said, terse. “But what I can't understand is what you continually see in him, though. And you ditched me, too!”

She paused right there and her mouth fell dry as a bone, more dry than any alcoholic drink ever left it feeling in the past. He shook his head about at her and nothing could deny the look of disgust on his face, either.

“You,” he stammered and he grew angrier and angrier right there, right before her, “you—you—fucking ditched me right by the boundary to East Germany. You ditched me when you knew damn well that there are Soviet soldiers over that way. How—” His bottom lip trembled and his face turned bright pink. The look of anger on his face twisted into one of heartbreak. They weren't in a relationship but she could tell that she had broken his heart.

“How—How—How could you?” he sputtered and he buried his face in his hands. Sam lunged for him but he pushed her hands away from him.

“No!” he yelped with furious tears in his eyes. “No! No, god dammit!”

“Alex, listen to me—”

“How could you become the very thing you are up against!” His voice broke to where she could barely hear him.

“What?” Sam demanded, stunned.

“You behaved just like that sad sack of nothing you call a friend, Aurora. She made my birthday all about her—you made our day out all about you. How could you!”

“Don't insult Aurora like that!” she spat, but Alex bowed his head again and he ran away from her and back to the lobby. She fumed at him even though he couldn't see her. How could he compare her to Aurora! But at the same time, as she stood there on the grass with her hands down by her waist, she couldn't help but wonder exactly what he meant by that.

She had gone off with Joey and left Alex at the train station, right within range of those Soviet soldiers.

She did.

But he had no right to say that about Aurora, even after everything she had done in the past year.

But his tears told her a different story. He wept at the very notion itself. Joey had already gone back to his room as well. She fetched up a sigh.

She had dinner with Joey but she wasn't in any mood to be with him after the fact. The day was about Alex, and she had been caught up in her own unfinished business all the while.

“I might just go to bed early, babe,” she told him as Joey walked her back to the room. “I have a headache. You know, with all the traveling and whatnot.”

“Oh, of course,” he replied, still with a thoughtful look on his face. “Besides, we're supposed to be back in our rooms at eleven, and here it is ten thirty.” Before she reached into her pocket for the room key, Joey leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her lips. A feeling that she had missed.

It felt so long ago, and yet it was all within her hands right there.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth.

“I love you more,” she retorted, and he chuckled at that.

“You have a good night,” he whispered again, and he gave her another kiss before she unlocked the door and headed inside. She set down her purse on the table: Chuck and Tiffany had gone out again, and Greg was nowhere to be seen, but Alex had already crawled into bed. The bed sheet hugged his slender body so she kept her eye on the smooth curvature while she changed her clothes right there next to the bed.

She rounded the foot of the bed so she could look into his slumbering face. But he rolled over before she could so much as peel back the covers; he breathed hard and heavy as she crawled underneath the bed sheet next to him.

“Alex—” she whispered.

But he never acknowledged back to her. Joey was in fact her boyfriend, but at the same time, she had left him there at the train station. He sniffled and she knew that he was crying again.

“Alex, listen,” she started right into his ear. “I'm terribly sorry about earlier. I know you're hurt and I hope you can forgive me. But as I've said, Joey is my boyfriend. I couldn't help it. I hope you can forgive not just me but the both of us. You also had no right to insult Aurora like that. Yeah, she's been a complete egotistical bitch since she got married, but I still consider her a friend.”

But he was silent still. She sighed through her nose and she lay back down in the bed with her arms folded across her chest as she awaited for Greg to rejoin them. The whole incident left her divided. Too divided to think things over and too tired to even consider the very suggestion itself.

But she managed to fall asleep before she got to see him walk through that door, and she awoke by the time he had climbed into bed next to her.

Alex was sound asleep himself. They had trapped her in bed, but she could slide down the bed to the foot. Careful not to wake either of them, she sank underneath the covers and she inched to the foot of the bed. She slithered out from under the covers and onto the floor.

There was one guy she could talk to about all of this as she swiped the key card to the room before she crept out to the hallway. She squinted her eyes against the low lights upon the ceiling. Held low against the black night outside there.

She adjusted the straps of her camisole before she closed the door behind her. All alone in the hallway there, she continued on towards the very end. Every time she blinked her eyes, there was that image of Alex crying. She couldn't shake the image from her mind. She had been a friend to him this whole entire time. She thought about what she had said about Aurora earlier as well. Still a friend, but she hadn't been one to her in almost a year at that point. He had more of an upper hand over that.

One other guy she knew she could visit, even when the going got tough overseas, right down the hall from them.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

you took me on a cut-your-own-christmas-tree-farm date & holy frick you make a cute lumberjack I WAS UNPREPARED 

A couple of cuss words are in here. Fluffiness ahead.  

All the instructions said were for him to dress warm, which in Race’s mind was jeans, a shirt with a flannel shirt over it and his winter coat. He wasn’t prepared to see Lumberjack Spot walk out of their bedroom, tugging on his winter coat. His breath was momentarily taken away as his eyes slowly made their way up Spot’s body. “You done checking me out?” 

“Uhhh . . . I may need a moment or two more.” Race grinned, taking another look before Spot grabbed his hand and dragged him out of their house. “So where are we going?” 

Spot gave him a look as they got into the SUV, they had recently purchased. It was the first car either of them owned that wasn’t used and both had a blast test driving so many cars before landing on a deep navy blue Nissan Rogue. “You know what the date is, right?” 

“Uhhh . . . December 1st, right?” Race had a hard time keeping track of the days as they mostly just blended together with appointments and work. 

Spot started driving, giving his boyfriend a grin. “Yes, It’s December 1st and it’s a surprise if you haven’t figured it out yet.” 

Race nodded, hooking his phone up to the bluetooth as Michael Buble’s “It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas” played softly through the speakers. Race laced his fingers with Spot’s and squeezed them as they headed out of the city. 

“How has your week been?” Race smiled, looking over at Spot. “I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.” 

Spot grimaced, his engineering firm was about to close a big deal with a local hospital on building a state of the art facility that would take a couple of years and millions of dollars. “The deal is almost done. We’re anticipating being able to sign on Monday. I’ll just be glad when it’s done.” 

“Have they named a head engineer on it yet?” Race asked, knowing just how badly Spot wanted the job. 

He shook his head. “Not yet. My boss said they’re going to announce it in a few weeks.” 

“Fingers crossed that it’ll be you, Spottie.” Race grinned. 

Shaking his head, Spot clicked off the cruise control as they merged onto an exit. Race looked up, not recognizing where they were headed. “Don’t jinx me. Yes, I want it but I’ll be happy that the firm is getting the business. There’ll be other big deals.” 

One of the many things that Race loved about Spot is that he was modest. One of the things Race disliked about Spot was that he didn’t toot his own horn and own his accomplishments. Spot was a brilliant engineer who had finished the new art museum to rave reviews. They had toured it several weeks ago and even Race was impressed by the building. 

“You’re too modest. You deserve that contract, Spot.” Race gave him a look with a soft smile. “Own that and let yourself imagine it for a second that it could be yours.” 

Spot nodded, as they turned into a seemingly empty lot. They quickly parked as Race’s eyes widened in realization. “We’re cutting down our Christmas tree today, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, yes we are. It’s tradition after all.” Spot laughed, getting out of the car and heading into the little hut off to the side. Race watched as he talked with the lady behind the counter, her handing him a map and a saw. A few more words were exchanged before Spot joined him outside. 

“That looked to be an interesting conversation.” Race noted as Spot nodded, opening up the map she had given him. 

Nodding, Spot laid the map out on the hood of the car, surveying it. “She asked if we had done this before and I told her yes. Then she asked about the particular tree that we were looking for. I told her something that’s full, won’t shed a lot, and tall. She suggested the Fraser Fir, as they have a firm needle.” 

Race snorted at the statement before hip checking Spot as he looked at the map, pointing at a spot. “So we’re heading over here?” 

“Let’s go find us a tree.” Spot scooped up the map, grabbed the saw and Race’s hand as they made their way out to the field. They headed to the left side, where the Fraser Firs would be. In passing a few trees, they quickly decided to keep walking. “How big are we looking for?” 

“Well the house ceilings are 12 feet, so something significantly less than that.” Spot shrugged. “Maybe like 8 or 9 feet.” 

Race nodded, stopping to look at one, letting his fingers comb the branches. “How about this one?” 

Spot eyed it, shrugging. “How about we keep looking? It doesn’t feel like the right one.” 

Race laughed, throwing his head back. “You’ve get a feeling about the right tree?” 

“It's instinctual.” Spot said, walking a few yards away from Race. 

He shook his head, watching his boyfriend walk away. “Now I know you’re just making shit up.” 

Spot’s laugh echoed in the open field, causing Race to smile before going to find him. Race found him looking at a tall tree with a grin. “How about this one?” 

Race joined him, letting his fingers fall to the branches and giving them a hearty tug. The needles were soft under his fingers and the tree was taller than him, which wasn’t saying much. “I love it. I think this might be the one.” 

“Want to do the honors?” Holding out the saw to him, Spot gave Race a look before busting up laughing.

“Have you met me?” Race wheezed out over the laughter. “I can’t cut anything straight. I’ll muck it up.” 

Spot dropped to his knees before falling to his stomach, grumbling about being on the cold ground before starting to cut down the tree. Race took the opportunity to gleefully stare at his rear in the tight jeans. “And quit checking me out.” 

Gasping, Race gave him a grin.  “I wouldn’t do such a thing.” 

“Then why do I feel your eyes burning holes on my ass?” Spot looked over his shoulder with a grin, continuing to cut down the tree. 

The tree fell with a flourish as Spot held a hand out to be helped up. Race pulled him into his arms, kissing him with a grin. “Great job, Spottie.” 

Spot laughed, picking up the truck before motioning Race to grab the top. They awkwardly walked back to the parking lot, allowing the employees to wrap it up and tie it down to the car. After paying, they were on their way back to the city. “How are we going to decorate it?” 

“Lights, ornaments, the whole 9 yards that we typically decorate it.” Spot shrugged, not really understanding where Race was going with this. 

“All tonight?” Race asked, fiddling with the radio. 

Spot caught his hand in his, lacing their fingers together, squeezing them gently. “If you want. Or we can put the lights up tonight and do the ornaments tomorrow.” 

“Rather just get it done and over with.” Race sighed, relaxing back in his seat, watching the world pass them by. “It’s hard to believe it’s already December. Seemed the year just started and now we’re almost done.” 

Spot smiled, listening to Race go soft. “Are you ready for the mayhem that’ll be coming with work?” 

“Christmas dances are already underway and we have our big showcase on the 21st- you’ll be there right?” Race asked, biting his lip. 

Spot nodded. “It’s in my calendar and I wouldn’t miss it for the world, especially since Ella is making her dancing debut.” 

Jack and Kat’s daughter, Ella, was 3 and all she could talk about was dancing at Uncle Race’s studio. The little girl loved her uncles and loved dancing even more so it was a natural fit. 

“She’s so good, Spottie.” Race sighed. “It’ll be fun watching her grow and continue to get better.” 

Spot loved listening to Race talk about dancing. He had been a dancer his whole life and the decision to open his own studio wasn’t one he took lightly but he excelled at it. He had a waiting list of potential dancers due to the popularity of the studio and the high standards he held his dancers to. 

Race sighed. “It’s going to be chaotic these next few weeks but it’ll be nice to have some time off at the end of the month.  Maybe we can get away for a few days after Christmas.” 

“That sounds like a plan. We should probably book something sooner rather than later and maybe in the middle of the week.” Spot loved the suggestion and knew that Race was correct about the chaotic nature of the weeks ahead. 

Once home, they made quick work getting the tree into the house and setting it up in the corner of the living room. “Hey, where did we put the lights?” 

“Uhhh . . . I think they’re in the attic.” Spot called back, tightening the tree stand, ensuring that the tree was secured. 

Race nodded, heading into the hallway where their pulldown stairs were located. Once the ladder was secured, he climbed it immediately finding the big box that had Spot’s scrawl on it. Grabbing it, he heffed it downstairs, putting in near the tree with a huff. “You okay?” 

“Have I mentioned how much I hate our attic?” Race gave him a look with a shake of his head. “Because if I haven’t, I really hate it.” 

Spot chuckled, because it was the same statement every year around this time. “I’m sorry that you had to go up there.”

Race shook his head, opening up the box, grabbing a string of lights. Spot stayed back, knowing how much Race loved to put the lights on. “Quit staring at my ass.” 

“Payback is hell.” Spot grinned, letting his eyes scan Race’s backside with a chuckle.

Race looked over his shoulder and wiggled his butt at Spot as he continued to clip the lights into place, causing Spot to laugh at him. Before long, Spot was grabbing the step stool for Race so he could do the top part of the tree. While he did that, Spot went up to the attic to retrieve the boxes that were filled with their ornaments. 

“Spottie?” Race called, standing at the bottom of the ladder, looking uneasily up into the attic. “You up there?” 

“Yea I’m up here.” Spot handed him a box, watching him take into the living room before appearing once more. He handed him one more before walking down with the final box. 

Looking at the boxes, Race looked over at Spot with a grin. “How do you want to do this?” 

“How about we start with our ornaments for the year?” Spot suggested as Race grinned.

They had started the tradition the first year they were together. They would each buy each other ornaments that reflected on the past year. In the past four years, they had to get creative with the ornaments. 

Spot walked into their bedroom, grabbing a box and went back into the living room as Race came from their home office. “You hid yours in the home office?” 

“You never go in there so it was the perfect hiding place.” Race grinned, sitting on the couch as Spot joined him. “You go first.” 

Spot grinned, handing over the colorfully wrapped box. Race’s eyes lit up at the box before slowly starting to unwrap it. A plain brown box was in his hands as he slid his finger under the tape. Opening it up, Race gasped at the silver box that had a silver ribbon on top with a red ribbon attached to it. “It’s so pretty. But I don’t understand.” 

Spot took the box from him, before lacing their fingers together, giving them a quick squeeze. “Antonio, it’s been an amazing four years since you walked into my life. You have turned my world upside down and I am so thankful everyday that I can call you mine. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” 

Dropping to his knee, Spot unlocked the silver box to reveal a silver hammered ring, nestled in the velvet inside. Race’s jaw dropped as a tear made its way down his face. Nodding, he sniffled. “Yes, Sean. Yes.” 

Taking the ring out of the box, he slid it on Race’s ring finger before pulling Race to him, kissing him. “I love you, Racer.” 

“I love you too Spottie.” Race held his left hand up, admiring the ring. “Damn you Spot. Making me cry . . . it’s supposed to be a happy day.”

Spot chuckled, kissing him once more. “It is a happy day. You just made all of my hopes, dreams, and wishes come true.” 

“And now you want me to give you my ornament?” Race said, wiping his eyes with a sigh. Spot grinned at him, nodding. 

Handing Spot a simple red wrapped box, Race ran his finger over the ring that was just placed on his finger with a grin. Race had had a hard time picking out Spot’s ornament but hoped he would love it. 

“Don’t look so nervous.” Spot grinned, pulling off the wrapping paper watching Race bit his lip. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” 

Race nodded, his lip still in between his teeth. Spot opened the box, gasping at what was laying among the tissue paper. Race had gotten a local artist to create an ornament of the two of them. Their backs on the ornament with Spot’s arm around Race’s back. Along the bottom were their names along with “your my person” and the year. 

Spot looked up at Race with tears in his eyes. “I absolutely love it. This is amazing.” 

“You sure?” Race asked, despite the reaction from Spot, he was still nervous. 

Putting the ornament on the coffee table, Spot leaned over to Race, pulling him in for a kiss. “Yes, I absolutely love it. It’s perfect for this year.  Our ornaments go hand in hand.”

“Unintentionally but yes they do.” Race grinned, pulling Spot back in for a kiss. “I love you Sean Conlon. Thank you for making me the happiest person yet.” 

“Love you too Antonio Higgins. Thank you for making me so happy.” Spot sighed, lacing their fingers together. “What do you say staying here for a few hours before we decorate the tree? Wanna cuddle with you.” 

Race nodded, kicking off his shoes before laying his head on Spot’s chest, fingers still laced together. “You’re a sap Conlon but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“Love you too Higgins.” Spot grinned, running his fingers through Race’s curls with a sigh of contentment. 

Later, after the tree was decorated, they would sit in front of it with Race’s ring on display as they texted and called their friends and family, bringing them into their little secret. Race would look over at Spot with the biggest grin on his face, knowing his life was complete due to the amazing person sitting next to him. 

Any feedback you have would be awesome! Hope you enjoyed the fluffiness of these two!!! 

[finchbeak]

Quito Day 1

I have not had butterflies about travel since November 2004. My first trip out of the country. To Paris. Since that trip nearly 17 (!!!) years ago, I traveled all over the world, largely by myself, without a care (Russian visa anxiety notwithstanding).

My last trip out of the country was in July 2019 - the last entries on this blog - to Madagascar. I was supposed to go to Paris in December of that year, but Gus having tumors all over his insides made me cancel the trip. My next international trip was scheduled for March 2020. To Beijing.

I blame myself for the panny.

I had hopes during the pandemic. That it wouldn’t be so bad. That it would clear up in a few weeks. A few months. By winter. And I booked (and then canceled) my trips. So when I finally got that sweet, sweet second dose of Moderna? I was on the Delta website planning my next adventure.

I knew I was not going to feel safe with a trip to a big city where I would go from restaurant to restaurant to shop to shop to museum to museum. I needed Madagascar redux. Galapagos was the obvious choice.

I’d been wanting to travel here for years, but, as a solo traveler, it was even more cost prohibitive than my usual solo trip. Very few boats in the Galapagos had single berths available for booking. If I wanted to go, I would have to pay double.

Then I found Solaris (http://www.yachtsolaris.com). Built in 2019, it has 5(!!!) single berth cabins. I booked the last one - at a 45% discount. I rounded out the trip with two days in Quito and 4 days in the Andean cloud forest. So here I am. In Quito. SItting in the lobby of my hotel, which is also one of the oldest residential buildings in the city, sipping Chilean wine, and composing this entry.

Getting here went smoothly, but I was so wired and full of butterflies the night before my departure I barely slept. I was a wreck. Packing? Not my finest attempt. Preparations? Non-existent. I arrived in Quito with no plans, expectations, or a base knowledge of the city.

I was also the youngest person in first class on the Atlanta to Quito leg of my trip. Every single person was decked out in their “adventure trip” clothing. All of them 55+. I apparently travel like a retiree. No wonder I am single.

We land. Passport control and customs are a breeze. I hail a taxi, get to my hotel, discover the toilet is beyond repair, and get a new room. But the hotel is super cute, the location is great, and the staff has been unbelievably helpful.

A quick sidestep into Covid: Everyone wears a mask. Inside. Outside. I wandered my way into a super crowded area of the city and felt fine - because, yeah, I was in a crush of people, but every single one of them had a mask on. And none of this shit Americans pull with the mask below their nose. Some of their precautions are not necessary (my hands get sprayed with alcohol everytime I enter a shop or restaurant) but I would much rather have overkill.

I woke up this morning (I missed desayuna), stepped out of the hotel, and walked. This is what I do. I walk.

Quito is adorable. I am staying in the heart of the colonial center, built on top of an ancient Incan city, and filled with 16th and 17th century architecture. It is a Unesco World Heritage Site for reasons. I didn’t go into the many, many churches because today is Sunday and services were happening, but I marveled from the outside and was happy enough walking the cobbled streets, just taking everything in.

Twenty minutes into my wanderings an Ecuadorian Rock Pigeon shat on me. My head. My shirt. My jacket.

Yeah.

I wiped myself off with the hand sanitizer wipes I had put in my bag and tried to continue on. But my clothes SMELLED. I SMELLED. I went back to the hotel for a quick change, asked about the laundering services and continued on.

There was a cultural arts and crafts festival happening - complete with traditional Incan dance and handiworks. I bought a few trinkets to bring home and found a cute restaurant where I could sit outside and enjoy the perfectly mild weather.

After lunch I went back to the hotel and climbed to the roof, five stories up, to take in the panoramic view. Then I retired to my room for a nap. Because I am on vacation.

Dinner was harder. I tried four restaurants before deciding on the place with a view. But honestly? The salmon was cooked perfectly, the service was lovely, and THE VIEW.

On my way home I helped an adorable Canadian couple reorient themselves and directed them to some food options.

I have no idea what I am doing tomorrow. I probably should have booked some sort of excursion. But if the worst thing that happens is I sit in a cafe and drink coffee or wine? That’s kind of the perfect vacation.

Miles walked: 7.24

Birds who shat on me: I estimate 2, but maybe 3 in a coordinated effort

Times I said “HOLA PERRO” to random doggos in the street: Too many to count.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 202

September 29

Writing my journal very late tonight, because I have been doing stuff! The kiddo has been having a hard brain time lately, and though we have discussed it with professionals in ways I will not detail in this journal, I am still trying to find ways to cope in the everyday. The pandemic has been just ridiculously awful for mental health in general. Today after school we built a giant fort in the kitten room, with the cat tree as the central post and chairs, table and desk as auxiliary anchor points for the sheets. I tell you what, binder clips are where it's at when it comes to securing sheets to various anchor points. We declared the fort a no electronics, yes snacks and kittens zone, and hung out in there for awhile after school and awhile before bed, then left it standing for tomorrow. Anything novel is good, I feel, and forts always gave me a cozy and secure feeling that I hope to pass along. 

Tonight I have also been trying to assemble a YouTube playlist I'm calling "Good Thinking Skills." I found a channel called How to ADHD with lots of really good videos that I'm going to watch for my own sake later, but also videos on how to stimulate your brain properly, and how to deal with it when easy tasks seem impossible, stuff like that. I added some videos on mindfulness, some on what anxiety is, how to reframe negative thoughts and feelings, etc. I tried to find ones that were actually interesting, testing them by forcing myself to sit through them entirely with no outside stimulation. If I couldn't do it, boom, off the list. I'm planning on incentivizing watching the videos on the list by giving him points for watching. The kiddo tends to do very well with any computer based activity that earns him points, so here's hoping! I know the points system is supposed to generally limit screen time so this is sort of counterproductive, but the point of limiting screen time is to give him a better life, so anything that might make his life better, I figure, can also be the point of the points system. 

Wow, that was convoluted. I'm pretty tired. Anyway, the first presidential debate was tonight and my husband had to stream it and watch it while chatting with the members of the political science club he is the faculty advisor for. This meant that the debate was on in the bedroom, which made the bedroom poison all evening and I would not go near it unless necessary. Yikes. Politics are also not good for anybody's mental health right now. What a truly rotten year this has been, in so many ways. 

Today I went out and did a curbside pickup at Aldi because Instacart gave me a 20 dollar discount coupon plus waived the service fee to make me try them out. It worked well, I got all the groceries I ordered except the onion soup mix, which was not available. I need my onion soup mix for many onion soup purchases, so I am very much hoping it comes through in my Walmart order later in the week. Once I got all the groceries home, I broke down the big square of ground beef into pound baggies for the freezer and froze all the chicken breasts in the family packs 2 or 4 together. It is much easier than freezing the entire thing and then having to deal with an enormous block of frozen meat later. I have a family pack of chicken thighs in the big freezer that I am super not looking forward to dealing with someday. I also cleaned and organized a lot of the pantry (again) because that thing will not stay organized for love or money. I decided to try and get all my month's groceries (except ultra-perishables) at once, so I need a lot of pantry space and freezer space available! 

Okay, I was just thinking and remembered that my parents are considering coming to see us later on in October, God willing and the COVID don't rise, and they wanted me to look for hotel rooms for them, so I had to take a break and do a little bit of that. They haven't been here to visit us since we moved in (they helped Kiddo and I get here with the moving truck and all our stuff since Husband had to leave a month before us in order to start his new job on time. and it was all a big thing). It kind of sucks that we won't be able to show them most of the cool museums and historical places and Colonial Williamsburg that we've been scoping out for a year and a half, but see above re: the suckiness of the year. Just being able to see them is going to be really nice. And we will all be careful. I don't even know what the holidays this year are going to look like, but I feel very, very glad that last Christmas we went all out on the family togetherness and me and my sisters and our families and my parents were all together for the holiday for the first time in probably at least a decade. If we can't do nearly so much this year, at least we had that. 

Kitten news for the day: Kittens like forts. They especially like forts when you have used a cat tree as the main support pole. They especially especially like forts made out of dangly fabric pieces that they can play with and climb! Everyone had fun with the fort.  I didn’t get any pictures of the kittens in the fort because the fort is a no-electronics zone and even Mom leaves her phone outside. You’ll just have to use your imaginations.