#meanwhile they got me into my scan in 5 minutes instead of 5 hours because my ass understands how triage works n i was patient and calm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

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𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion. Not requested.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

"Hongjoong!"

You were practically swinging your feet in the air, whining and pouting like a child out of boredom and annoyance at being cooped up in the studio with your boyfriend.

"5 more minutes." He repeated.

"You've said that for the last 45 minutes." You groaned, tired of waiting for him to finish up.

"I promise I'm serious this time." He assured you.

5 minutes quickly turned to 10, nearly becoming 15. You let out a huff every now and then, eyes staring daggers into the back of your boyfriend's head. Seriously, why could he not take a little break? You wanted to spend time with him yet even on what's supposed to be his day off, he still chooses to work when you could both be doing.....other things.

Getting an idea, your hands quickly worked to rid yourself of your pants and underwear, Hongjoong, still focused on his task didn't even budge at the sound behind him. But when he began to hear some rather familiar moaning, he swung his chair around and was shocked to see you legs spread on the couch, your fingers rubbing against your clit as you stared at him through hooded eyelids. Hongjoong instantly got hard. Licking his lips, he got up and took his place next to you on the couch. Fumbling with his zipper, he pulled his pants down enough to stroke his hardened member.

"Let's play a game since you're so bored. If you can get yourself off before I cum, I'll eat you out right here. But if I cum first, you have to suck me off."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢��𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

You were even more tired and angry than when you woke up. Why did your boyfriend have to be so difficult and special about cleaning? You literally spent over an hour lint rolling the shelves over and over again because you had 'missed a spot.'

"Make sure to get the corners, that's where the dust mostly accumulates." He called out from the kitchen.

Not being able to take it anymore, you threw the roller and the rag you were holding down onto the floor. You were tired of being ignored by your boyfriend except when he came over to inspect your cleaning. So you decided it was time to get back at him while simultaneously showing him getting dirty isn't such a bad thing.

Picking up the bucket of murky water, you mentally patted yourself on the back for choosing not to wear a bra underneath your white tank top. Looking over at Seonghwa, who still had his back turned, you put your plan in action. Splashing some of the contents all over you, you let out a squeal that had Seonghwa running over immediately.

"What?" He asked as he came in.

Putting on the biggest pout you could muster, you turned around to let him see the mess you made: white tank top soaked, your breasts completely visible through it, nipples poking out. Seonghwa's mouth dropped as he stared at them, unable to peel his eyes off.

"I'm dirty." You let out a huff.

Discarding the rag he was holding, Seonghwa pulled you against him as he began to peel your shirt off.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up then?"

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Once again you tried to pull your boyfriend out of bed.

"Yunho, baby. Come on. You have to get up."

You tried to tug his arm, pulling it but he didn't budge at all. Dropping his arm, you looked at him with an 'are you kidding me' expression.

"You said you were going to get up early to spend time together." You reminded him.

Letting out a tired groan, turned onto his stomach and hugged the pillow underneath him.

"I will....just give me a few more minutes..."

Shaking your head, you smacked his back before getting up yourself. You decided to let him have it his way. You had a lot of things to do today, starting with taking a shower. You made sure to slam the drawers rather loudly in an attempt to annoy your boyfriend, which he did not really appreciate, but still didn't say anything.

You were barely 2 minutes into your shower when you remembered you forgot your shampoo in your vanity dresser. Not even caring to turn off the water since you would be in and out in less than 10 seconds, you sprinted out the bathroom, door accidentally letting out a loud noise that startled your boyfriend. He quickly shot up and his gaze fell on you and your dripping naked body.

"Sorry Yunho, I forgot this." You apologized profusely.

Yunho blinked slowly, eyes scanning your entire body as he began to move off the bed.

"Damn...I'm definitely up now." He chuckled at the double meaning behind his statement.

Although you didn't plan it, you couldn't complain when he pulled his shirt over his head and began walking you back into the bathroom.

"Let's hurry before the water gets cold." He said with a smirk on his face as he closed the door behind him.

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"I swear to god, you probably love chicken more than me."

Besides the fact your cold boyfriend was being a selfish asshole by not sharing his meal, he had been blatantly ignoring you when you both knew damn well he was more than capable of maintaining a conversation while also eating his dinner. You let out a scoff when he still didn't acknowledge you and just kept munching on the stupid drumstick. Picking up one of his fries, you flung it at his head.

"I am talking to you!" You exclaimed.

"Busy." He pointed down at his food, mouth full of chicken, you don't even get how you even understood that one word.

"Well you definitely answered my question. You do love chicken more than me. I bet if you had to choose between me or a chicken leg, you wouldn't hesitate to grabbed the chicken leg and ditch me."

You were seriously about to smack him when he just stared you down as he reached for another chicken leg.

"Are you serious-"

Getting up in frustration, you were going to go the bedroom and make him sleep on the couch, but suddenly an idea popped in your head. Turning back around, you stood right in front of him from across the table, hands on your hips. He gave you a questioning look when he finally looked over at you and then proceeded to choke slightly when you lifted your shirt up and flashed your boobs at him. The poor boy was nearly wheezing at the sight. Feeling satisfied, you put your shirt down and chuckled at him.

Quickly putting the leg down, Yeosang began wiping his hands on a napkin as he walked over to you.

"I'm suddenly hungry for something else."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

"Who's the prettiest girl? You are..yes you are." San cooed at the siamese he was currently smothering in his embrace.

Meanwhile you were on the other side of the couch, no longer paying attention to the movie playing. Well technically neither was your boyfriend, but you weren't watching cause you were too busy witnessing some furry feline steal his attention away from you to the point of abandoning your cuddling session in favor for her.

"San, she doesn't even want to be held." You pointed out how her claws were sticking out, her head looking in all directions trying to search for a way out of his embrace.

"Nonsense! My babygirl loves me." He chuckled as he kissed the top of her head.

"I thought I was your babygirl." You whimpered slightly.

San didn't respond which made you even more jealous of the stupid yet totally innocent cat who just wanted to be free from her owner's caresses. Tapping a finger against your cheek, a sinful idea popped in your head. Taking advantage of the fact a blanket was covering your lower half, you pulled your shorts and panties down without San noticing anything. Pulling the blanket off you and lifting his hoodie that you were wearing slightly up, you spread your legs before calling out to him in a sing song voice.

When San looked over, his jaw dropped at the sight and he immediately put Byeol down on the floor.

"Go on now girl, run along." He patted her behind.

With a sly smirk, he began to position himself in between your thighs.

"Cause there's another pussy I want to play with."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

It was supposed to be a date night with your boyfriend. You two had already finished eating the delicious meal you cooked specially for him and were now supposed to watch a movie together, yet his eyes were glued to his phone. Glancing over, you frowned when you saw he was texting no one else but Yunho.

"Mingi?" You poked his cheek.

"Hmm?" He barely acknowledged you.

"You're not watching the movie." You said.

"Yeah I am." He responded, typing something into his phone.

Rolling your eyes, you then asked him what part was it on.

"The part where they found out the butler did it." He answered you.

You wanted to face palm. The idiot forgot it wasn't even a thriller since his baby ass couldn't handle them. Getting up, you told him you were going to the bathroom, which he probably didn't hear since his conversation with Yunho must obviously be more important than his date night with you. Turning on the light, you peeled off your pajama set to reveal the new lingerie set you bought specifically for tonight. Pulling out your phone, you quickly snapped a photo and sent it to him. Hearing a loud thud, you smirked as you knew he saw it and that noise was of him dropping his phone.

When you came back out, he was no longer on his phone, instead his attention was fully on you. Clearing his throat, he stared at the pastel pink set.

"You got that just for tonight?" He questioned you.

"Yep." You nodded.

Letting out a long sigh, he got up and went over to you, an arm slinging around your waist.

"I'm an ass aren't I?"

You giggled at him and pecked his lips.

"Just shut up and come on. I didn't spend so much money on this for it to go to waste."

Mingi was a giggling and blushing mess as he allowed you to lead him into the bedroom.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

You covered your ears at your boyfriend's obnoxious and loud laugh, no doubt signaling another victory on the stupid game he was currently playing. He had the volume up so loud you could actually hear some of the sound effects emanating from it.

"Jung Wooyoung!!!!" You screamed at the top of your lungs and yet he still couldn't hear you.

Throwing your hands up in frustration, you gave up and went into your room. Taking out your phone, you began scrolling mindlessly through tiktok. Nothing besides cat videos were actually interesting at this point....

Until you saw the newest challenge that was trending all over. Perfect for girls who had oblivious gamer boyfriends like the one you had. Getting up, you decided to put the plan into action. Stripping out of your clothes, you grabbed a towel to wrap around yourself and grabbed a nearby plushie toy to throw at him since yelling wasn't going to work.

As expected, he did not notice you standing in front of him for a while after you came out. Aiming the plushie at him, you struck him right on the face. He immediately ripped his headset off.

"What the fuck are you-"

He froze when he saw you standing there, a mischievous look on your face. Swallowing hard, he widened his eyes when you let the towel drop on the floor, your naked body on full display for him. Not even bothering to see if he paused the game or not, he quickly got up and started walking towards you.

"Come here babygirl."

Knowing his teasing tone to well, you quickly sped down the hallway, giggling loudly as Wooyoung chased after you, catching up to you and holding you in his arms.

"Stop right there. You caused a problem, now you fix it."

Throwing you over his shoulder, he gave your ass a slap as he walked into the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed, he straddled your lap and began to free himself out of his sweatpants.

"Ok. Why not show me your skills with a joystick for once?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You could not peel your eyes off your boyfriend's arms as they continued to lift up the weights he was holding. You were pretty sure you were drooling at this point. Every time his muscles flexed, you were tugging at your bottom lip with your teeth, your thighs clenching closer together.

"Jongho?" You shyly called out to him.

He didn't respond since he had his earbuds in, music full volume. Besides, when he was concentrated on something it was very difficult to get him to break focus. So you needed to think of something that would work.

Looking down and fumbling with the hem of your skirt, you finally had an idea. Moving cautiously so he wouldn't notice, you slipped a hand inside and began pulling your panties down your legs. Not like you needed them, they were practically drenched already.

Casually walking in front of Jongho, you pretended to be on your phone and 'accidentally' drop it. Bending down, you made sure your skirt rode up enough for him to notice you weren't wearing underwear. That is if he had even looked over at you. Glancing back, you caught your boyfriend's eyes, which were staring at you in disbelief.

"Guess it worked." You chuckled inwardly.

Putting the weights down, Jongho took off his earbuds and walked over to you. His fingers glided down to your skirt.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" He whispered, lips ghosting over your earlobe.

Sucking in a breath, you whined at him.

"I want you to pay attention to me."

Chuckling softly, he pressed your body to the wall, hands going to the back of your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly.

"Well then. Wanna help me out? Let's see how long I can lift you in and out of my cock."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez headcanons

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micheswife · 3 years ago

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Confessions

MICHE ZACHARIAS X SHY CADET

Miche finally tells his crush he likes her. That's it

Miche watched her from Erwin’s office as she left the headquarters to enjoy a well-deserved break. The evening sun highlighted her brunette curls, stopping just below her delicate shoulders. It was a shame really, her hair used to touch her waist when she first joined. She was so incredibly shy and anxious back then, struggling to find her place among younger people that were much stronger than her. He remembered back when she declined the promotion for the sake of her happiness. It had been 3 years since y/n joined the survey corps at the age of 20. She was a late beginner, but her analytical skills, a fateful emotional meltdown and a background in research had soon gotten her a place under section commander Hange. Y/n was not good as a fighter, but she was observant, more than Erwin and Hange. Miche could not help but notice her, she was cute after all. She had flaws, just like everyone else, but the veteran soldier was drawn to her in particular. He couldn’t remember when he felt like that for the first time. Maybe it was when he saw her for the first time, clutching a soiled handwritten application and trying her hardest to put on a brave face. Who knows? Who cares? The important part was that he liked her, she did not know and he was not going to tell.

“What are you looking at Miche? “

“N-nothing, Erwin. Go on…”

Miche went back to focusing on the meeting. y/n had already disappeared in the next lane, so there was no point looking outside. The meeting would go on for hours, as usual, veterans had no holidays.

Meanwhile, y/n made herself comfortable near the quiet riverbank. It was one of the few attractions in the little land of Paradis, especially after the fall of Wall Maria. The serene river glowed red under the now darkening sun rays. Y/n had about 30 minutes to draw something, after which it would get too dark. Problem was, y/n had no idea what to draw. So she just sat there, wondering about her life. It seemed self-indulgent to refuse work only to get out and ponder about herself, but she needed it. The chaos inside the headquarters hardly did her any good. She wanted quiet and peace, but what she had right now was just pure loneliness. Y/n had friends, but nobody close or free enough to sit under the open night sky. So she sat all alone over the wall, the cold breeze ruffling her hair. If only there were someone to hold her.

“Bottomline, all of you must prepare your squads for next month’s expedition. We can’t afford to compromise manpower. Pay attention to the weak members, we need them to come back alive. You all are dismissed.”

Miche walked out of Erwin’s office and went straight to his room that he shared with Dieter, another squad leader. He felt tired, as though he knew what was about to come. A lot of action and a shit ton of casualties, not to forget all the rigorous training he was about to deliver on the cadets.

“What a long day..”

“Tomorrow’s going to be longer, Ness.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you will make it through the expedition?”

Miche scrunched his nose at the odd yet totally reasonable question. Him and Dieter served the scout regiment since their teenage years, yet they never quite got used to the anxiety before impending doom. Against his overbearing stress, Miche gave him a positive answer hoping to lift his spirits.

“I will make it out alive, Ness. The most damage I will end up with is a lost limb, after which I will retire and live a peaceful life. Don’t worry.” Miche finished with his signature scoff, masking his true emotions. The shameless, pretentious display of cockiness was all worth the little chuckle from Ness, the most sociable, tender man among veterans.

They made their way to the dining hall after chit chatting and freshening up. Their tables had the usual serving of bread, soup and vegetables. His eyes scanned the place for the owner of those beautiful, crazy curls, y/n, she should have been back by now. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Usually it was so easy to spot her in her corner seat. Perhaps Hange assigned her some work, but he couldn’t risk revealing his crush by asking the overly-energetic squad leader. So he quietly finished his plate, feeling just a little hint of emptiness because he missed y/n.

“Nifa, find y/n and tell her I want her in the lab tomorrow at 6am sharp.” Mike overheard Hange speaking from a couple of tables away.

“Yes captain.” Nifa quickly finished her meal and left the dining hall and eventually the headquarters. Her face made it clear that she had done this several times now and Miche was not surprised. Y/n was often in her own head and stayed out for a long time. Miche just found it unusual for her to stay out this late. It was cold outside, no person in their right mind would stay out past 8pm. He wished he knew what was going on inside the girl’s head that made her personality so withdrawn, but he did not have the time. He needed to draft a schedule for this week’s training and tests for the cadets. Just the thought of sitting in an office doing paperwork with a candlelight flickering throughout the night made him feel calm. He was extremely skilled on the field, but he liked doing paperwork too. His studious side was something only his immediate squad and other veterans were familiar with. Sometimes he couldn’t help fantasizing about sharing his study with y/n. Aside from his feelings, y/n had the brains to draft a perfect test that tapped into all the necessary skills for the next expedition. After all, that was what she had been doing before joining the survey corps, albeit in a different field. Miche stopped in his tracks as an idea struck him. He felt dumb, so dumb. He had drafted so many tests, all by himself, fully knowing that there was someone that could probably do it better than him. Fully knowing that y/n had been a psychology student, and she had perfected the theory subjects after joining the survey corps. He turned around and approached Hange.

“Would you mind if I borrow one of your soldiers for a while?”

“That depends, Miche, who are you talking about?”

“Y/n, I need her help drafting the tests tonight. I think she can do a good job.”

“You are right.. I’ll let her know.”

“Tell her to be in my office by 9;30 tonight.”

Miche left for his office to begin work, he wanted to finish as much as he could before y/n showed up. Because work was not the only thing he was concerned about. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was dubious, but he needed to do it. It was funny how a few hours ago he thought he’d never confess his feelings, but later created an opportunity to do that exact thing. He couldn’t believe himself.

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It was 9;30 sharp, and Miche heard a soft knock on his office door.

“Come in, it’s unlocked, and take a seat before me.” He said without lifting his head.

Y/n made herself comfortable and glanced over three open books and a single page. Miche was writing down questions.

“Alright y/n, I need your help drafting the question papers for tomorrow’s tests. Of course, you will be exempted from actually taking the test as a reward.”

“Understood, sir”

“Good, now I want you to create 30 questions that combine the concepts of formations, weaponry and strategy. Make them difficult, and make sure to base it upon the last 5 expeditions.”

“Alright-”

“You have 2 hours to finish this.”

“Okay..” y/n walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a heap of books. Miche raised his eyebrows in confusion,

“How are you going to refer to that many books and finish it within time?” Miche questioned her.

“I will, don’t worry.” y/n’s sudden confidence took him aback.

“Well good luck.”

Time flew by quickly as both of them were engrossed in their work, the only sounds coming from the candle and turning of pages. It wasn’t peaceful to be precise, y/n was turning pages with such aggression it made the section commander steal glances at her. She would flip through the pages and write down important points, constantly checking the time as she worked. Her handwriting got messier as time flew by and Miche couldn’t help but notice. He could tell that y/n totally had the plan to give those cadets a hard time. She had a weak, but cocky smirk the whole time, and Miche was just glad that he was not one of the people that would need to take the test. He knew that expression and aggressive handwriting very well. She always wore that smirk while writing exams, and everytime she came out on top. Miche knew she was overcompensating for her sub-par physique and iron-deficiency that interfered with her ODM skills, but that semblance of confidence on her face always turned him on. Her hair was still messed up, she struggled to keep that twisted fringe out of her face.

“Where’s the ruler?!” Y/n asked loudly, shaking Miche out of his trance.

“Wait…” He fished out a ruler from the clutter in his drawer and handed it to y/n.

“What are you drawing?”

“A wrong diagram of the latest formation.” Y/n replied curtly.

“I see.. Good.”

Miche was organizing his drawer after finishing his work when y/n handed him the tests. It was 11;30 sharp. The ink had somehow gotten between y/n’s fingers. Miche went through all seven pages of three extremely complicated tests and shot a glance at y/n, who looked like she was awaiting his praise. She was sitting with her back straight, wide eyed and messy hair. Miche chuckled, and y/n smiled. She knew she had done those cadets dirty with her questions.

“You have a naughty side, don’t you?” “Kitten” , was the term Miche refrained from using at the end.

Y/n nodded with a cheeky grin. The section commander squinted and got up from his chair, towering over her. A faint blush crept over her cheeks as she broke eye contact with him, staring down at her feet instead. Her delicate shoulders now looked tensed up under her transparent, embroidered shoulder shawl. The pile of paperwork didn’t allow him to notice her beautiful blush pink dress. She had embroidered little flowers to accentuate her figure all the way down to her hips.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” Miche blurted out, causing her to blush harder and breathe unevenly.

“Thank you, sir..”

“Look at me when you speak.”

“O-okay..” she slowly raised her head, still not wanting to make eye contact.

“I will be straight to the point y/n… I like you, not just as a comrade.”

“Understood.” y/n was taking quick, short breaths, causing the tall blonde to get on his knees. She had gone back to her timid mouse state and he could no longer read her.

“Are you scared right now?” Miche tried hard to not sound like a creep.

“No, I like you too!”

“That’s -” he began to speak but got cut off.

“More than a comrade, if you were wondering…” she trailed off shyly. Miche kept staring at her, dumbstruck at her honest confession. This whole time he had no idea about her feelings.

"When were you planning to tell me ..?" Miche asked, pulling a chair behind him. He was still leaning towards y/n with an expression of pure shock.

"I… Never planned on saying anything." Y/n's expression saddened as she looked at him with her doe eyes.

"I can understand.". he was telling the truth. The realisation that their confessions were a result of his impulsive decision dawned on him. He couldn't take his eyes off her form. She looked anxious, fondling with her pendant in one hand.

"Do you want to take this further?" Y/n asked with a shaky voice, and his answer was immediate.

"Yes."

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" The 35 year old man felt like a teenager trying to walk on eggshells. The woman before him giggled and nodded in approval, finally lifting her hand from the pendant. She was starting to settle down, although the butterflies in her stomach made it difficult. Miche was about to lean in when she stopped him and got up from her chair.

"I forgot to lock the door." She said naughtly.

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Okay, I really wanted to turn this into a smut, but I am too chicken. 🙈🥺

#miche aot #miche zacharias #aot miche #section commander miche #miche x reader #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #mike zacharias #miche x you #miche fluff #mike aot #attack on titan #snk miche #aot hange zoe #aot hange #aot canon #canonverse #shingeki no kyojin

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years ago

Note

"It's yours if you want it" for anybody you'd like :))

There are some cuss words up ahead. This may or may not be based on personal experience - you either love garage sales or hate them. Enjoy!!

The group, as they were affectionately known, had met up in their designated location (the Walmart parking lot) before designing the course of action. Race, Mush, Jack, and Albert took their Saturday morning expedition very seriously, while Kat, Spot, Blink, and Romeo were along for the ride.

“So today’s expedition will include at least 4 garage sales.” Jack scanned the crowd (well 7 people in front of him) with a grin. “Now I don’t want to hear any groans or complaints from the peanut gallery.”

Spot, who had his arm thrown over Katherine’s shoulder, rolled his eyes. “We know the routine captain pain in my ass. Can we get the show on the road?”

“Hey dumbass pipe down!” Jack gave his brother-in-law a look and shook his head. “Now we’re going over to McGoverness so there should be some hot ticketed items there. Everyone ready?”

The group was split into cars - Jack, Kat, Spot & Race in Kat’s Rogue and the others in Mush’s Sequoia - before heading over to the designated neighborhood. Race and Jack talked excitedly about their action plan and what big things they were looking for while Kat and Spot tried to keep the eye rolling to a minimum.

Pulling into the subdivision, Race groaned at the number of cars already pulled along the side of the road. “How about you go deeper into the subdivision - maybe not a lot of people are back there yet?”

“Good plan, bro.” Jack high-fived him before heading towards the back.

“Blink just texted and they’re going to check out the ones up front for anything good.” Spot mentioned as Race nodded. “Tell them to look for an air fryer.”

Spot raised an eyebrow at his husband. “What do we need an air fryer for? It’s not like you’re gonna use it.”

“Nope but you would snookums.” Race grinned at him batting his eyelashes.

Jack pulled the car up to a house that had a lot of stuff out, which caused him and Race to get really excited. The four got out of the car before walking to the sale, saying their hellos to the sellers.

Kat always gravitated to any books that were for sale while Spot always looked for vinyl albums. Race and Jack were the oddball ones - you never knew what they were looking for or what they’d walk away with.

Spot and Kat didn’t find anything and stood watching their respective husbands go through a free pile, each examining the random junk. “Hey Kat?”

She groaned as Jack called her over. Walking over to him, she couldn’t see what he had in his hands but could see the excitement on his face. “Yea?”

“Didn’t you have this as a kid?” He handed her a heart shaped play thing and watched as she popped it open. It was an old Polly Pocket toy and she smiled at it.

“Yea I did. I had a few of them growing up.” Kat thought back to her childhood and grinned.

"It's yours if you want it." An older woman smiled at the four of them. “My daughters used to love playing with them so it’s yours if you want it.”

Jack looked at his wife with a grin. “Want it?”

“What am I going to do with a Polly Pocket toy?” Kat shook her head at her husband. “It was great for nostalgia sakes but I don’t have use for one now.”

Jack gave her a look. “That might be worth something now.”

“It’s not like it’s a limited edition baseball card.” Kat shook her head, putting back in the free bin. “Thank you for letting us look but I think I’m good. Good luck with your sale.”

And with that, Kat went back to stand with Spot while Race and Jack finished looking. “What was that about?”

“Jack found a Polly Pocket and wanted to know if I wanted it.” Kat gave him a look.

Spot chuckled. “Doesn’t he know you have an entire bin in the attic?”

“Apparently not.” She shook her head. “Let’s head to the next house. They’ll figure out where we went.”

The two headed next door. They said their good mornings to the lovely couple sitting out front with cups of coffee. Kat nudged Spot and pointed to a table. “Twenty bucks, they each walk away with at least 10 cards each.”

“No way. They might walk away with 5 each.” Spot countered, looking at the baseball cards.

The man looked at the two with a grin. “I’m Earl and this is my wife Nancy. Do you know some collectors?”

“It’s nice to meet you - I’m Kat and this is Sean. Our husbands, who are brothers, have collected baseball and football cards since they were kids.” Kat smiled “We left them next door so they’ll be over shortly. You’ll hear them before you see them.”

The man stood and smiled. “This was my brothers and my collection from the 60s, 70s, and 80s. I’m sure there are cards your husbands haven’t seen.”

“Great, we'll be here for the next hour or so.” Spot grinned, hearing the playful arguing of Jack and Race.

“Those your husbands?” The man grinned, hearing the two before seeing them walk on his lawn.

Kat and Spot merely nodded their heads. “Make sure you drive a hard bargain. They love to hackle and bargain.”

“There you two went. We were worried you had taken the car and left us.” Race grinned. “Not like you haven’t done that before.”

Kat sighed. “It was one time and we needed coffee. Besides they have football and baseball cards here.”

She watched in amusement as Jack and Race both beelined it to the table and started flipping through the books. Despite her dislike of garage sales, it was always fun to watch Jack and Race get excited at finding a coveted card. Walking over to the pair, Kat gave them a look. “Anything good?”

“He’s got a 1970 Dick Butkus card that’s in my pile.” Jack grinned as Race scoffed. “You’re just sour because I found it first. I left you a couple other ones.”

Race gave him a look. “But that’s a classic card.”

“Maybe I’ll give it to you for your birthday or Christmas.” Jack said offhandedly as Race’s face brightened.

“Really?”

Scoffing, Jack snorted. “Yea like that’s gonna happen.”

Hitting her husband, Kat shook her head. “Grow up - you two are old enough to not be acting like you’re 9 and 7.”

“He started it.” Race stuck his tongue out at his older brother as Kat looked between the two.

“I don’t care who started it. Knock it off.” She looked over her shoulder. “Or else Earl and Nancy won’t sell you any cards.”

Race and Jack’s eyes went wide at her threat. “You weren’t over here long enough to be their friends.”

“Oh you don’t know what I could do in ten minutes.” She grinned. “Don’t test me.”

The two nodded before looking through the cards as Kat wandered back to Spot who was thoroughly amused. “Did you threaten them?”

“I had to pull out my mom voice.” Kat laughed. “They were acting like brats.”

They heard a squeal of brakes as the rest of their group piled out of the Sequoia. “Anything good here?”

“Cards - football and baseball.” Spot shook his head as the rest of the group headed down.

Race and Jack pointed some things out to Mush and Albert before heading up to pay. Kat and Spot watched the exchange between Earl and the boys grinning.

Soon, with a shake of hands, Jack and Race headed up the driveway, each grinning at their purchases. “Good haul, boys?”

Instead of answering, they fanned their newly acquired cards at Kat and Spot, while Kat held out her hand. “Fork it over, Higgins-Conlon!”

“What did you bet on?” Race cocked an eyebrow at the two as Spot slapped a $20 in her hand.

Motioning to the cards, Kat grinned. “The number of cards you two would walk away with. I said at least 10 each while Spot only thought 5.”

“It was unfair. It was before we knew the quality of the cards.” Spot grumbled.

Race leaned over and kissed him. “Awww snookums, sometimes we win some and other times we lose some.”

“Why do I love you again?” Spot grinned as Race threw his arms around his husband and kissed his cheek.

Jack, meanwhile pulled Kat into a hug and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for always coming on these. I know it’s not your favorite.”

“But it’s fun watching you get excited at finding coveted cards.” She kissed his cheek. “You get this funny little butt wiggle you do when you find one that’s rare or on your list.”

Spot looked over at them with a grin. “Oh the butt wiggle.”

“Keep your eyes on your husband’s ass and off mine.” Jack pointed at him with a playful glare, as the rest of the group joined them at the end of the driveway.

Jack looked at them grinning. “Any luck boys?”

“None. Shall we continue?” Albert shrugged.

Pointing to the sale a few houses down, Jack motioned them to head that way before grabbing Kat’s hand. “Love you. Let’s go on a garage sale hunt.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.” She swung their hands, letting him lead her anyway he wanted. “What are you looking for?”

“Yard Sticks. Thinking of starting up a collection.” Jack shrugged as she gave him a look.

“We don’t need any more crap in the house. We’re busting at the seams already.” Kat shook her head. “If you’re gonna start that collection, then something needs to go. We don’t have the room.”

He tilted his head. “Then we need a bigger house.”

“No Jack, we don’t need a bigger house.” she sighed. “We need to clean out and get rid of stuff. No more collections until we clean out.”

Pouting, he squeezed her hand. “Please?”

“Nope.” She shook her head.

She saw the lightbulb click over his head as a grin slid across his face. “The baby’s room.”

“What about it?” She was hesitant to see where he was going with this.

“Well they won’t need it for a little while so we can put stuff in it.” Jack grinned, wincing at the slap that she landed on his arm. “What? That’s a brilliant idea!”

“No it’s not.” She shook her head. “That baby will have more stuff than you do in the next few months. Besides, keep your mouth shut unless you want our friends and family to know already.”

He glanced ahead at their friends who were turning into the driveway and didn’t hear them. “No more junk, Jack Kelly or you’re on the couch for the foreseeable future.”

“You’re mean Katherine Kelly.” He pouted, but still kissed her cheek. “But okay.”

“Grow up. God only knows how you’ll be a father in 7 months.” She rolled her eyes with a grin before leaning over and kissing him. “Go look but no buying yard sticks.”

Jack saluted her before making his way down the driveway causing her to laugh. The man drove her nuts at times but at least her life was never dull.

Thanks @cutesiewoojin for sending this in!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #drabble requests #newsies drabble #drabble prompt #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #jack kelly x katherine plumber #jack kelly #katherine newsies

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shewillreadyou · 4 years ago

Text

Becoming: Chapter 8- Cater to you

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N:Settle in for this one. It’s long. Please share, and comment. Let me know what you would like to see happen. Will Liam come through or disappoint her again? Will Raymond lay off?

Disclaimers: All characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Sexual content. FLUFF, ANGST SMUT

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Word Count: 3945

Pairings: Liam Rhys and MC (Karis Vasquez)

Song inspiration: Cater 2 U- Destiny’s Child

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

In Paris

It’s been a long awkward day and a text message from Liam left her even more deflated. She told him that it was ok, and that she understood but in the back of her mind she wondered if this was only a glimpse of the canceled plans, a portrait of how much of a priority she would be if she became his queen. She started to pour herself a glass of wine to soothe the sting in her heart she felt. She stopped and instead took a long swig directly from the bottle. Then she tucked the entire bottle under her arm and headed back into her room.

The next few days seemed like a blur. She texted Liam every day but kept things light, knowing that anything more would spill her true feelings onto the surface. Liam called her early Thursday morning. She dared not answer, sending him directly to voicemail secretly hoping it would elicit the same response as it had last week. She also knew that he knew her well enough that he would recognize the disappointment in her voice straight away.

In Cordonia

Braxton sends a weekly report to Liam concerning Karis’ safety. He has run off a few paparazzi who have taken pictures and noticed one guy following her a few different times, but never close enough to do her harm. Each incident is immediately reported to Liam. Liam was sitting trying to balance a budget following one of his father’s recent hospital stays. After a budget meeting, Liam just can’t seem to figure out the origin of a recurring charge that started the day he came back from Paris the first time after he reconciled with Karis. He confides in Regina who confirms his suspicions.

Meanwhile in Constantine’s office

The phone rings, it’s a phone call he had been expecting.

“Sir, I have the intel on KV, faxing it over now.” The fax comes through and Constantine reads it over.

Impressive, the orphan daughter of an alcoholic and a junkie, and still manages to get a full academic scholarship. Pre-law major with a minor in political science, she had maintained a 4.0 GPA her entire collegiate career while holding down a job. No criminal record, no parking tickets, a credit score of 815. Currently in Paris on a paid internship at Alaris Avocats. Lives alone. The only company she has entertained since in Paris is Liam, one Mr. Matthew David Carusso, and Raymond C. Perry.

He tucks the report into a drawer when he hears a knock on his door.

“Liam, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Father, I wanted to come to deliver the news in person. The council met while you were in the hospital and voted that due to your health and deteriorating mental capacity you are hereby relieved of your duties as the reigning monarch of Cordonia. You are now just a figurehead until my coronation. I told myself that your mental state must be the reason you are gambling with fate.”

“Son, I don’t know what you mean?”

“Save it. Let’s make one thing clear dear Father if we have to revisit this conversation it won’t end well. I have finally managed to do an audit for the month of June.”

All the color drained from Constantine’s face.

“You will pick up the phone this instant and order your man to stand down or you both will face my wrath.”

His face falls. “How did you–”

“The moment I left Paris I put a man on her. I know you don’t know what it means to protect the woman you claim to love. You failed my mother, but you taught me what not to do. Here’s what you fail to realize. I will protect her with my life. Your guy has been made 8 different times. Fortunately for him, he never got within 100 yards of her. My guard has been given an order to end anyone who attempts to harm her.

Meanwhile Thursday afternoon in Paris

After taking a leisurely stroll alongside the Seine River to clear her mind Karis got a text from Raymond.

She was just about to respond when there was a knock on the door. She grabbed her piece and headed to the door. When she cracked the door secretly hoping that it was Liam, she was disappointed to find a stranger in a black suit. She takes the safety off the .22 Liam left with her.

“Who sent you?”

When the man spots the gun, he ducks around the corner.

“Whoa, I am sorry if I scared you ma’am. Ms. Vasquez? I have been sent by Prince Liam. Could you put away the gun and come with me?”

She closed and locked the door and put the gun down in front of her while she called Liam to check the story.

The phone rang only once before he answers.

“Hey, angel!”

“Adonis, don’t you hey angel me. Did you send someone to my place to pick me up?”

He laughs, “Yes, and you pulled a gun on him?”

“That’s not funny. I was scared. What is going on? Where is he taking me? What do I need to bring?”

“I’m sorry, your right dear. I definitely didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to surprise you. Just bring you and stop with all the questions, future attorney. Just leave your weapon at home.”

She removed the magazine and placed the gun back in her small safe. She grabbed her purse, locked her place and followed the stranger out to a town car where again she was expecting to see Liam. Alas, the car was empty. He opened the door and when she settled inside, there waiting was champagne, flowers and chocolates. She smiled as she wondered what Liam could have possibly meant when he said that he wanted to “surprise” her. She knew that if it was anything short of him physically being in her presence she wasn’t interested.

The car quickly navigated the streets of Paris and before long approached the airport. They pulled onto the tarmac where Karis saw the private jet with the Cordonian seal. She had never seen anything like it before. Her mouth went dry, her pulse raced and her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. Did the jet being here mean that Liam was inside? Before she could investigate further the door opened and the driver in the black suit took her hand to help her out of the car.

“You’ll need to board now, Ms. Vasquez.”

She made her way over to the steps of the private jet, a cocktail of nerves, adrenaline, and excitement course through her body as she ascended the stairs. When she gets to the top, there is a thin blonde who greets her.

“Lady Karis, on behalf of the captain, and flight crew welcome aboard. I’ll show you to your seat and make sure you have a comfortable flight. We should land in Cordonia in approximately 2 hours and 48 minutes. Please let me know if there is anything that I can do to make your flight more comfortable.

“I guess I’m going to Cordonia then, huh?”

The flight goes by quickly as Karis reads an ABA journal. She resists the temptation to text Liam and ask more questions. When the plane landed Karis met a handsome older gentleman named Bastien, he was the head of Liam security detail he leads her to a black suv with dark window tents. It looked very similar to the one she spotted in New York the night she met Liam. The door opened and finally, there he was; he looked exhausted. He wore dark shades to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t shaven. Black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt with the first several buttons undone. Damn, he was sexy. She went to greet him properly but Bastien stopped her.

In Cordonia

“Not here, Ma’am.” he hastily helped her into the car and they sped off down the Cordonian roads. Liam gave her an apologetic look as he reached across the seat taking her hand.

“Hey, Angel.”

“Hey, babe. Are you ok? You look terrible. What is going on?”

“It’s a long story. I’m fine. I will explain it all when we arrive at our destination.”

“Adonis? What is the meaning of all of this? Why couldn’t I hug and kiss you? You don’t have a wife or fiance’ your hiding do you? I told you from the start I don’t like bullshit.”

He smiles. “You definitely went into the right field. You are the only woman in my life. You couldn’t kiss or hug me because the paparazzi were all over the place. I will let them know about you when the time is right. They can wait, but for now, I want you to myself.” He squeezed her hand.

She raised her eyebrow, “If you say so.”

“Where are we going? I am not dressed to visit a palace and I’m starving.”

“Then lucky for you, I have all of those things covered.”

Just then they pull into the underground garage of a modern residential building situated on a hill. There are armed guards outside and inside the garage. The driver opens the door for Liam, and he comes around to open the door for Karis. The moment she is on her feet Liam pins her against the side of the vehicle, his lips taking hers in a deep, desperate, longing kiss. She grabbed him by the collar. Her knees buckled and when he finally pulled away they were both breathless. Her eyes widened as she wiped her mouth.

“What has gotten into you?” She smirked, still catching her breath.

“Welcome to Cordonia,” his deep voice rumbled in her ear. He smiled before taking her hand and leading her past the armed guard who stood at attention, into an elevator. He scanned his thumbprint before pressing a button for the penthouse. Bastien had gone ahead of the couple to apparently make sure it was clear. The elevator beeped and the doors slide open to reveal a modern open concept floor plan with floor to ceiling windows.

“It’s my apartment. Make yourself at home.”

Liam leads her through a large bedroom into the closet which is the size of her whole apartment back home. There are mostly men’s clothes and one section with an assortment of women’s clothing.

“Adonis, whose clothes are these?”

“Your’s. Everything here was selected specifically for you. It’s all in your size. You will have several options for the entire weekend. I know that you must be tired after the flight. You will find a basket in the shower with your pear-berry shower gel, scrub, and body butter. There is another basket on the counter top with a new tooth brush and anything else you might need. If there is anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Meet me out on the terrace.”

She stands there as tears threaten to spill from her eyes. He snakes his arms around her waist pulling her close. Her back is firmly against his chest. He gently kisses her on the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Hey, whoa, please don’t cry. I promise to feed you after you shower,” he whispers in her ear. She smiles instead turning to gently slap him on the arm.

“You did all this for me?”

“Of course, I want to give you the world.”

“I don’t need the world, Adonis. I just need you.”

She winds her arms around his neck clasping her hands together. She kisses his lips sweetly. “Come shower with me,” she says against his lips.

He smiles nervously, “Karis, I–”

She pouts, interrupting, “You don’t want to?”

He chuckles, “I absolutely want to. But it’s not a good idea. Our food will be cold and we have some things that are very important for us to discuss. But, I promise after, we can take as many showers as you want. There’s a tub in there too.”

“Ok, I’ll be quick.”

He kisses her on the cheek and leaves her to get dressed. When she stepped out of the shower she moisturized and wrapped a towel around her body heading back into the closet. She finds an assortment of lingerie in a gift bag wrapped in tissue paper. She is impressed. There are at least a dozen sets in different styles and colors. She decided on a pair of black lacy panties, a black bra, black shorts and a white blazer. She finished the look with some black and white pumps. She finger combed her hair and put on some lipgloss and headed out to meet Liam.

Liam stands to receive her and his jaw drops eliciting a blush from Karis. She bites her lip as he pulls out her chair.

“Karis you look, wow–”

“Thank you. Please, sit down. While I am hungry, I am more eager to chat about what you wanted to discuss.”

He motions for the chef to bring their dinner. When the entrees are uncovered Karis swoons.

“Adonis! Shrimp and grits? You remembered?” Hot tears spill from her eyes.

“Of course I did. It was the very first meal we ever shared. He reaches across the table and wipes her tears with his thumb.”

“I’ll get to it. I believe that it will give you a clearer picture of why I had to alter our plans this weekend.”

She starts to eat. “I’m listening.”

“First, as you know my father is ill. He has spent a great deal of time in the hospital. In turn, I have had to assume a great deal of his day to day duties. Because of his continued absences, the council had a meeting and has officially removed him as reigning monarch of Cordonia. It has essentially ascended me to the throne as new king of Cordonia. It will be official the night of my coronation. Because of the timeline my coronation has been moved up and the traditional social season won’t happen. I have to choose a fiance by my coronation. You are who I choose. You will always be my choice. Baby, my queen, I need you here with me, by my side.”

Her breath catches at his words. He is going to be the actual king of this beautiful country and he wants her of all people to be his queen.

”I want to be by your side, Adonis. I just have to figure out how to do that without compromising who I am.”

“I’m holding on to that. It’s not a no. I know that you hadn’t made up your mind. But if you decide that this is what you want we would move forward with your citizenship. I know we talked about you needing a house to sponsor you. There will be three houses Domvallier, Ramsford, and Cormery Isle essentially courting you for the opportunity to sponsor you, starting with a welcome ball tomorrow night in the duchy of Domvallier, a brunch on Saturday at Cormery Isle and Saturday night there will be a Beaumont bash.”

Overwhelmed, Karis attempts to change the subject. “Adonis, what about you? You have been talking about me this whole time. You have been working hard, doing your father’s job, you look like you haven’t slept, and planning this weekend for me? Let me just take tonight to take care of you.”

“I’m listening.”

She stands moving around the table and kisses him sweetly on his lips before pouring apple juice into his glass. She takes his fork, feeding him forks full of food while he runs his hand up and down her soft bare leg. She noticed the swell in his pants and smirks and shakes her head.

He smiles seductively. “I have to say that I am thoroughly enjoying being fed by my woman. How else pray tell are you going to take care of me?”

She picks up his glass and places it in his hand. “Drink your apple juice.”

She grabbed the ceramic dish of apple preserves from the table and saunters back into the apartment, looking over her shoulder at him with hooded eyes.

He stands gulping his apple juice down quickly and followed her inside. She leads him to the bedroom. She grabs his hand and motions for him to sit.

“I’ll be right back.” She goes into the bathroom and starts a bath, lighting the aromatherapy candles to set the mood.

She moves back into the bedroom and kneels at Liam’s feet. His expression is unreadable. She unties his shoes and removes them, then his socks rolling them and place them neatly inside his shoe. She stands and bends at the waist making sure he gets a clear view of her cleavage as she removes his cufflinks and begins unbuttoning his shirt. She ran her fingers lightly down his chest before unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers and boxer briefs to the floor.

“Karis–”

“Shhhhh,” she interrupts, placing one finger on his lips.

She takes his hand leading him to the bathtub. She turns off the water and invites him to get in.

“Are you joining me?” he asks.

She winks and bites her lip, “No, this is about you. Not me.”

She soaks a towel and lathers it up and begins to bathe him. He relaxes under her touch allowing her to take care of him for a change. He was sure that as she toweled his body they would connect. She instructs him to lay across the bed where she begins a full body massage starting with his feet. While she rubs, he groans.

“Tell me, if you had your way, what would this weekend look like?”

She moves to the other foot kneading it with her hands before moving to his calves. His eyes were shut, and a smile crept slowly across his face. Clearly he was enjoying this pampering from the woman he loved.

“In a perfect world, I’d be able to convince you to move here with me when you leave Paris. There are so many reasons that it would be ideal.”

She takes more oil in her hands and starts to stroke his thighs.

“I’m listening,” she says. But touching his body the way that she is, backfires and it is turning her on just as much as it seems to be turning him on. She squeezed her thighs together trying to hold off the white hot passion pooling in between them.

“I spoke with the dean of admissions at Cordonia U and you could still graduate by December if you did your last semester here. It’s a great program and it would be an asset, seeing how you are interested in international law.”

“I’m not convinced, but I’ll consider it,” she said as she straddled him and rubbed up and down his abs and pecs.

His hands move to her waist, “Karis, I really want to talk more, but I can’t concentrate with you being this close to me, touching me like this,” he growls as his hand slowly starts roaming up her side. She moves his hands and rolls off of him.

“I didn’t tell you to touch me your highness,” she smiled.

“Please.”

“Hands behind your head.” she said in a quiet voice.

He complied. She straddles him again and rubs oil on to his bald head as she kisses him. Their tongues tangle for a few moments before Karis moves down to nip as his neck and shoulders.

“Mmmmmmm, angel.”

She takes some of the apple preserves leaving a trail of it down his torso. She then takes her tongue swirling it around his nipple, before she places hot open mouth kisses down his torso licking the apple preserves. His length is so stiff he looks like a sundial. She bites her lips, her eyes dancing.

“See something you like my queen?”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

She crooks her finger beckoning him closer. He grinned as he rose from the bed. She backed him into the wall, hands gripping his thighs. He goes to tangle his hands in her hair.

“Hands behind your head, Adonis. Let me take care of you.” He huffs, but complies. She takes her hand and with her thumb smears the bead of pre cum over his tip. She licks him from base to tip before taking the head in her mouth. Liam’s head falls back in ecstasy. She twirls her tongue around the tip while pumping the shaft with her hand. As she bobs on his length taking more and more with each movement.

“God, you’re an angel. Your mouth is heaven, my queen.”

She looks up at him and leans in making him completely disappear into her mouth. She can feel him throb and twitch and knows he won’t last long. She doubled her effort as she massaged his balls. It was enough to send him over the edge, and he exploded in her mouth. She stood licking the spillage from her lips and then swallowing while gazing into Liam’s eyes. He collapses on the bed.

“That was insane.”

She blushes, “well I am clearly crazy over you.”

He laughs.

“I know, that was cheesy.” She pops the button on her blazer letting it fall off her shoulder.

His breath visibly catches in his throat. “Karis you’re resplendent.”

She shimmies out of her shorts and panties.

“Keep the heels on.” Liam says as he sits up on the edge of the bed.

Karis slowly sways her hips over to Liam straddling his lap taking his lips in a hungry kiss. His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his bare chest against hers. He breaks the kiss.

“I need to taste you.” he says in a deep baritone voice that vibrates her chest.

She pushes him back onto the bed and straddles his face steadying herself with her palms on his chest. His large hands palm her backside guiding her as she rolls her hips on his tongue.

“So wet and sweet,” his muffled words send electric pleasure currents through her body as he continues to use his tongue with precision. He inserts a crooked finger in search of her g-spot. He alternates from licking to sucking her swollen clit as she moans his name. “Oh, Adonis!!!”

“Let me hear you, my queen.”

His words are enough to make her come undone. Her thighs clench on his head and he continues to flick his tongue as she creams in his mouth.

He flips her over, pinning her ankles above her head. “Your legs go on for days in these heels,” he says. Her only response was a smile as she was still catching her breath. Her sensitive clit still throbbing, Liam plunges easily deep inside of her tight center and she howls.

“How does it feel?” he asks as their bodies slap together, sounding like a slow clap at first.

“Adonis, you are incredible, but I want to be on top.”

He gathers her in his arms and flips her on top without breaking their connection, “as my queen wishes.”

He takes her breast in his mouth as she plunges down on his length. Her pace picks up and he lets out a primal roar meeting her rhythm. “Yes, my king! Give it to me.”

He rolled his hips and tugged her hair. Her body spasmed and tears flowed from her eyes. Watching her orgasm is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. The combination of her moans, the grind of her hips and the clinching of her center around his length was enough for him to join her over the edge. He pulls her onto his chest and just as they both begin to fall into an easy slumber, there is a knock on the door. Liam slips out of bed and into his boxers before cracking the door.

“Sir, it’s your father. I need you to come with me.”

Tagging:

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#choices #trr #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #the royal romance #choices fanfiction #prince liam #Meet Karis #king of cordonia #shewillreadyou #raymond who #kim reads #kim writes #kim reblogs #follow shewillreadyou

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years ago

Text

notable moments from The Second David Job

leverage 1.13

parker AND eliot were both using lil flip notepads when they were casing the museum

- - - - -

they were apart for three months. THREE!!! MONTHS!!!

- - - - -

the whole scene where parker, hardison, eliot and sophie are casing the place and just narrowly missing each other until it all blows up in their faces? BIG doctor who vibes from the episode where donna and the doctor keep barely missing each other until they see each other through the windows and get caught

- - - - -

aww the last dammit hardison of the season

- - - - -

(Hardison drops his helmet as he rounds a corner, followed by two guards)

Hardison (to Eliot): Help me.

Eliot: I got you.

Hardison: Help me, help me!

(Eliot grabs Hardison’s arm and flips him, then gestures to the other guards)

Eliot: I got it.

Eliot: All right, check one floor up. I think I saw another guy dressed just like this one.

Guard: Got it.

Guard 5: Let’s go.

Eliot: Move! (pushes Hardison into the elevator)

Hardison: I'm gonna kick your butt.

Eliot (pushes Hardison): Stand over there!

Hardison: I'm gonna kick your butt

🥰 chaotic boyfriends 🥰

- - - - -

(Sophie walks toward the doors. Parker drops down in front of her)

Parker: Oh! W- Where did you --

Parker: Run now. Talk later

- - - - -

sophie took off her heels to run

- - - - -

okay but I NEED THAT SCENE OF ELIOT, HARDISON, AND PARKER SQUISHED INTO THE BACK SEAT OF NATE’S CAR AS THEY SPEED AWAY, HAVING NOT SEEN EACH OTHER FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS

- - - - -

Hardison: How'd you know we'd be there?

Nate: Last week before the exhibit opens, security almost in place, but not fully staffed. Best time to case the joint. Plus, I did chase all of you at one point or another.

- - - - -

Eliot: Is she in on this?

Sophie: "She" can hear you, okay?

Hardison: Wait a minute. There is no "this," Eliot.

Parker: Sophie did come back for me.

(Nate walks over to the table, which is covered in plans)

Eliot: Wouldn't have had to if she wouldn't have lied to you.

Hardison: No calls for three months. I don't need you people.

Parker: What do you mean, you don’t need us?

Sophie: I’m sorry, I seem to remember a certain job with horses where I backed your play, actually.

Eliot: I don't care! You don't con your crew!

(the four of them begin arguing, talking over each other. Nate whistles to get their attention)

parker immediately backing sophie up? we love a trusting daughter

hardison acting all dismissive and parker IMMEDIATELY calling him out? amazing

eliot having trust issues? we’re sad to see it but not surprised at all lol

- - - - -

Nate: Glen-Reeder security system here.

Parker: And that's not the worst of it. (walks over to table)

Nate: Hmm?

Parker: The Davids are under bulletproof glass on a motion-Detector pad.

Nate: Really?

(the others join them, Nate takes a step back)

Parker: Mm-Hmm.

Sophie: Environmentally sealed…

Nate: Really.

Sophie: …kept at a constant temperature and humidity in the case. I saw them working on the airflow.

(Nate walks away, no one notices)

THE FAMILY BACK TOGETHER AGAIN

- - - - -

Nate: Why'd you come back? We agreed to scatter for six months. All of you–all of you—made an amateur move being there.

Parker: It's too hard to leave a job undone. It's like an itch.

Hardison: I put a lot of work into us, into that office. It was like my second home. I blew up my second home.

Eliot: As annoying as you people are, I quit this crew when I quit this crew. Nobody makes me leave.

Sophie: I just, I really wanted to hurt Sterling.

THEYRE A FAMILY, YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

eliot smiled when nate said he taunted them bc:

1. fuck with sterling at all costs,

2. typical nate, and

3. he MISSED THIS

ALSO

hardison and sophie look exhausted and annoyed when nate said he told them he was going to steal it. meanwhile, parker and eliot fucking smile because yeah, get on their level. they Get It™

- - - - -

the team sitting around the table like old times ,,,

ALSO hardison’s worktable tho,,, half eaten bag of chips, empty bottle of orange soda, mini basketball, etc. we love to see how this man works

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey, I think the roof's the way in, but it looks like they've rigged alarm sensors to the skylights.

Parker: I can get around those.

Eliot: Really? And end up on one of the new 20 cameras they got down there from our last little trip to the basement?

Parker: That was fun.

Hardison: Yeah. Could we talk about that?

Parker: Talk about what?

hardison: can we talk about the kiss or ???

parker and eliot are sitting next to each other :)

also eliot is wearing flannel now and we love to see it

- - - - -

Eliot: How'd we miss that?

Nate: Grifter, hitter, hacker, thief. You were all trying to solve your version of the crime instead of just trying to solve the crime. There was a reason we worked together.

- - - - -

Parker: What about Maggie?

parker likes maggie

Parker: Okay, look, you always have a plan "b," right? So, fine. Without Maggie, what's the plan "b"?

MASTERMIND PARKER IN SEASON ONE

- - - - -

Nate: You know, I had to ask her out 10 times before we even got a coffee --

Eliot: Coffee? I would love to. Yeah. What time--? In an hour? I, yeah, I would love to. Let me write down where you want to go. I know exactly where that place is at. All right. I'm looking forward to it. (hangs up)

Nate: Yeah, all right -- No.

Eliot: She probably just really wants some hot coffee.

Nate: Shut up!

Eliot: It's not like a date. (pulls his hair back)

Nate: Are you kidding me? You're fixing your hair?

Eliot: Because I’m playing the professor Sinclair dude!

maggie’s thirst + nate ready to die LMFAO

- - - - -

parker, hardison and sophie watching the button cam footage like a soap opera (sophie is literally eating gummy bears lmfao)

- - - - -

(Parker, Eliot and Hardison sit on the stairs as Maggie and Nate stand in the dining room, arguing)

Eliot: I feel used.

lmao poor eliot. although we love to see the ot3 sitting together as a unit

- - - - -

eliot using a tight alias and then using his real phone number? big dumbass energy

- - - - -

Nate: So we replace the rebar, reinforce the concrete, with any luck, they'll never know what hit 'em. And that, that's the plan.

Maggie: You actually expect this to work?

Nate: Um…

Hardison: No, no, you're supposed to say, "wow. That's just crazy enough to work."

Sophie: Incredibly, chance does seem to bend itself to his bizarre machinations.

Parker (whispers): That's his superpower. (smells Maggie)

in this house we love and respect maggie

also dnjsjsjjdnsn under the cork boards there are two (2) big cases of orange soda and beer for eliot

+ now parker is wearing a very pretty flannel that I want

- - - - -

Maggie: I have to check museum inventory.

Nate: Oh. Easy.

(Nate looks at Hardison, who types on a laptop, then shows monitor to Maggie)

Maggie: This is confidential. (takes laptop) You're not reading my e-mails, are you?

Hardison: No. No.

(Maggie looks down at the laptop. Hardison nods to Nate while she’s not looking)

LMFAO

- - - - -

Sophie: Okay, why don't you run up to him? Being just a little bit out of breath, it changes the speech rhythms—

[Blackpoole Gallery]

Sophie: --makes it harder to detect a lie.

(Maggie passes Parker, taking Lloyd’s phone, and starts to run)

Maggie: Lloyd!

[Mansion Dining Room]

Hardison: See? Like that right there. It's informative.

Eliot: You learn and you con

it’s true, your honor

- - - - -

Nate: Okay. What's he found?

Hardison: Oh. Well, looky here. Dr. Ernst Volk, University of Berlin, dead. Dr. Schliemann, London museum, dead. Oh. Oh, and also the three guys that actually discovered the tomb. Eliot, what does that say?

Eliot: It says "dead."

Hardison: D-E-D, dead, baby.

Eliot and Nate: D-E-A-D.

Hardison: I-I know how to-- I was throwing a little style on it, Just a little bit, a little style. I know how to spell "dead," damn it. I can steal a bank, I can spell "dead. (annoyedly drinks orange soda)

give him a break pls

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrap it up now, Maggie. You're doing great.

THEY HAVE CHEMISTRY

john rogers said that they had a fling in canon (I’m thinking during sophie’s absence in season two) and bless his soul for giving that to us

- - - - -

Eliot: You need something?

Sophie: I was just trying to make myself useful.

Eliot: Yeah, well, last time you tried that, we had to blow up the office.

Sophie: That's not fair.

Eliot: I was just getting used to it.

Sophie: What? Having an office?

Eliot: Being part of a team.

Sophie: Look, I didn't mean, you know, it wasn't supposed to go down like that.

(Parker walks in and tosses a bag on the floor near Eliot)

Parker: What's going on?

Eliot: Sophie here was just trying to apologize.

(Hardison carries the painting into the room)

Sophie: No, I wasn't.

Parker: She tried that with me earlier. She kind of sucks at it.

Eliot: A little bit.

Hardison: Oh, did she give you the speech about how we're thieves and about how this is what thieves do and if we were in her shoes, we'd have done the same thing?

Eliot: No, I think she was just getting to that part.

(Eliot puts the part he was working on down and stands up)

Eliot: You apologized to him first, huh? Why am I last?

Sophie: I wasn't apologizing. I...

Eliot: That's the problem.

Sophie: I just wanted to see if w-we… we were all okay with each other.

Eliot: Okay. There it is.

Parker: I forgive you.

Hardison: Apology accepted.

Eliot: Yeah.

they give sophie shit but they still love her

also eliot is such a sap he misses the office and even admits that he liked having a team what a SOFTIE

- - - - -

Geary: Pictures have been distributed. We're scanning every guest that comes into the museum.

Sterling: Eliot Spencer?

Geary: Eliot Spencer, (referencing files) wanted in five countries, including Myanmar—

(Eliot walks behind Geary and Sterling, pausing to listen for a moment as they walk away from him)

Geary: --which is offering a half-million-dollar bounty on his head.

Sterling: Bringing Spencer to justice and getting paid for it? It's icing on the cake.

(Geary and Sterling get into an elevator)

[Museum Lobby]

(Geary and Sterling walk out of the elevator)

Sterling: Parker?

Geary: Parker. Wanted in nine countries, including Brazil and Yemen.

Sterling: Yeah, tough choice. I'll have to flip a coin.

(Parker is working in the gift shop of the lobby, watching them walk by)

Sterling: How about Sophie Devereaux?

Geary: England, France, Spain, Luxembourg -- Europe, basically.

Sterling: France. Wonderful shopping, horrifying prisons.

(they walk past Sophie, who stifles a laugh)

[Mechanical Room]

(Hardison turns on a light on his hat, opening a panel and attaching clips)

Sterling: Alec Hardison.

Geary: Well, he better not show his face in Iceland

I LOVED THIS MONTAGE

also we love to learn more about the team

- - - - -

on hardison’s phone when it shows their synchronized countdowns, he has himself down as “big h”

- - - - -

Ian: Conspiracy to commit robbery is what, five years? Catching him in the act, 20.

- - - - -

nate rappelled in this one!

- - - - -

nate snatching the gun right out of blackpool’s hand? eliot taught him that and you CANNOT change my mind.

- - - - -

Ian: Maggie!

(Ian walks over to Maggie, followed by Nate and Sterling)

Ian: Well, you understand –

(Maggie punches Ian in the face. He falls to the floor)

Maggie: Screw therapy. That felt really good. (walks away)

we stan a QUEEN

- - - - -

Sterling: Of course, you know your entire plan depended on me being a self-serving, utter bastard.

Nate: Hmm. Yeah, that's a stretch.

(Nate hands Sterling the gun and heads for the door)

Sterling: I'll call you when it's done.

Nate: You do that

- - - - -

(the team stands in a circle, dressed for travelling)

Nate: Thank you, all of you. You surprised me.

Eliot: We had a good run.

Hardison: It's a good time to move on.

Parker: I'm going somewhere... else.

Sophie: A fresh start.

Nate: We made a difference. Remember that.

Hardison (to Parker): Where you going?

Parker: Let's see how hard you look.

(the team separates reluctantly, each going a different direction. They all pause for a long moment, then the screen goes to black)

parker and hardison are still cute, parker is about to cry, hardison and eliot look very sad and almost tearing up, and sophie is actually crying

also hardison was the last one to turn around and that’s so in character it hurts my heart

+ the ot3 were each wearing leather jackets (plus eliot wearing a hoodie underneath = bix2)

I hate the scenes when they split up and the producers said that they ended every season as if that was final anD B O Y IF I HAD TO WATCH THAT AND HAVE IT BE THE END I WOULD HAVE R I O T E D

#leverage #leverage 1.13 #leverage 1x13 #leverage season 1 #season 1 #notable moments #mine

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anonymous-mary · 4 years ago

Note

Why does it seem every time there is an election, your state has so many problems? Reading an article about all the problems there was. Were there problems where you were working?

Honestly, yesterday was crazy for a short while where I was but we got it fixed by 9:00 am. Afterwards we were really busy but things went smoothly at my precinct.

One of the problems was Covid 19 and brand new equipment. They replaced all of the equipment because there had been complaints of people not thinking their vote was tabulated correctly. The new system however lets you see your vote after you vote but it's really a throwback to have paper ballots.

Instead of having little computers to check people in, we had iPads. I have joked before about me being the techie of my group and how very sad it is that is 63-year-old is the most technically savvy person there.

Really and truly the thing that would help fix the Georgia system the most is for a lot of college students to sign up to work for the polls. Before I go any further I really would like to push that you get paid. It is a very long day and I do it out of civic duty but for college student about $200 for a long days work is decent.

Anyway one of the problems was that all of the training because of Covid was training films not in person. So you have a large group of retired people who have never seen this stuff before. Even if they have an iPad of their own this one was put in a stand and is doing completely different things than you've ever had it programmed to do before.

In my precinct we arrived at 5:30 a.m. put together all new equipment with incredibly long government written manuals. You can't even imagine how redundant almost everything is.

Another huge problem was so much time had passed. Several things were changed but the voting manual was never updated. The instructions told us the passwords and the cards that would allow us to put passwords in the machines were in an orange binder. But as it turns out they were on lanyards in a completely different place.

Normally at my precinct we have about 15 voting machines for an election. Instead because there had been so many people voting early they only gave us three that can accommodate just three people each. Even worse they only hooked up printers to three of them. So for all practical purposes three of the six were not open. They felt people would be afraid to stand close together because of Covid and we would have practically no voters anyway.

At 6:30 a half hour before the polls opened we could see how wrong that would be. There were already people standing in line outside. As line official I spoke to the people and let them know we were very shorthanded but we would get them through as quickly as possible as soon as we officially opened at 7:00 a.m. .

Inside we had four people. Normally for an election we have 6 to 8 people. Instead of three people to check people in we were going to have to have one.

As soon as we started the chip card reader which loads the vote onto the card you use to vote malfunctioned on one of the machines. The system says there's a problem but would you like to bypass it. So the poll official clicked on "yes I would like to bypass it". What happened is it only loaded part of the ballot if you bypassed. So people started to vote with the card and then found the rest of the ballot was missing.

Once you have started voting it takes a call to downtown voter registration to allow you to use a different ballot. Of course registration was flooded with calls because most people did the same thing my poll official did. They hit " bypass"

Meanwhile I set up a second machine and a third. They both worked correctly all day and we were able to move the line as much as possible but we still only had three voting booths. So it was slow but at least the line was moving The first people in the morning actually took about 45 minutes to vote at my precinct.

The unfortunate people that had registered on the malfunctioning iPad had to wait about an hour and a half for us to get bypass numbers to allow them to vote. A couple of them decided to cast the paper provisional ballots instead. Because this happened in many places all the provisional ballots will need to be counted and there will be many more than normal. So I don't expect results to come in for days.

About 9:00 a tech person came over hooked up all the rest of the printers and we were able to have many more people vote at the same time because we were able to open 8 booths.

I know people will wonder why we didn't just hook up the extra printers when we saw how many people were waiting to vote but the way the voting machines are configured there are tons of cables running in a very tiny space underneath

It was impossible to tell which cable went to which printer and they were all pre put together. Everyone was afraid that if they pulled the wrong cable they would take a booth down instead of adding one. We are not supposed to touch anything but let the technician do it. Each technician though is assigned to three or four polling places.

Anyway for me by 9:15 we were running smoothly. We did have a few problems with people that had requested absentee ballots and then never used them. If you ever do that yourself bring your absentee ballot with you to the polling place. It is a very simple matter for me to cancel your absentee ballot if you have it with you. I can cancel it and let you vote immediately.

However if you don't have it, it is much more complicated. We have to make sure no one else in your family picked it up and cast it in your name and so we have to cancel the ballot. This takes a call to the downtown voters registration office. Because of Covid many more people than usual requested absentee ballots. I also talked to people that said they received absentee ballots they did not request.

A few entire families came in that had requested absentee ballots but never used any of them. So the calls to the downtown registration office were many more than normal. At my precinct those were the only people that ended up waiting about an hour to vote.

Other problems were because you have paper ballots, it was pouring rain outside and really humid. People's damp hands tended to make their paper ballots not want to go through the scanner. At our precinct it was not really a big deal but it did sometimes cause a line at our only scanner. However nobody waited more than 15 minutes just scan their ballot.

So basically there's plenty of blame to go around.

The Secretary of State for purchasing equipment that really didn't work very well.

Fulton county did not have adequate people to operate the polls. Training elderly people to operate computers remotely was never going to go well. They did pull all of their employees in to help. However none of them received any training. I had the head of Health services helping at my precinct.

We have many good technical colleges in Georgia. We actually could have made an appeal to recruit more technicians and train them. Lots of young people are fired up about voting right now and we need to take advantage of that by having at least one technician that understands the systems in each polling place.

Fear of Covid also took a huge toll. People that normally work were afraid to and skipped the election.

So brand new technology with half as many people was never going to go well. I feel very fortunate my precinct did as well as it did. The four of us never ate lunch and went from 5:30 in the morning until 7:00 with just grabbing a bitel of something here and there.

During the extended hours from 7:00 to 9:00 we only had four more voters in my precinct and so we were able to eat then. By the time I got the equipment back to the collection point it was 10:00.

I know that's a really long answer and I expect most people to scroll past. However for people that are interested in what exactly went wrong in Georgia, that's what happened where I was.

I will edit this later. I realize some of this is not terribly clear but I spoke this into my phone while I was getting ready for my regular job.

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im-a-writer-sometimes · 6 years ago

Text

Sorry (Spencer Reid x reader)

Request: Hello, do you have the request open? If so, I would like to ask for one, where Spencer is a boyfriend of Hotch's daughter, and all of Foyet's situation happens, and for various reasons Spencer did not say goodbye to her, so he did not know they were going to leave. I would like it to be angsty, but then everything goes well and they meet again. or if you want to do it more angsty, instead of Hayley, it is the reader who dies, Spencer sees her. that as you decide, thanks -@awesomemikaus

Warnings: death, language

A/N: I'm sorry it took me, like, twelve years to get to this request. I kept meaning to rewatch this particular episode and I kept forgetting about it. Anyway, here it is.

(this is based on 5×9, "100")

---

"How's Haley holding up?" Reid asked.

"Just about as terribly as you would imagine," you answered, clutching the phone tighter in your hand.

"And Jack?"

"He still thinks we're on some fun trip. He's just glad to be skipping school."

Reid let out a half-hearted chuckle and you let yourself smile.

"How's my dad?" You asked, your voice getting softer.

"He's doing... well, not great. But he's going to find Foyet, okay? And then we can go back to spending movie nights together and you can go back to your classes that you pretend to hate. And you can rant to me about your shitty professors. And we can be normal. This'll be over soon, okay? It'll all be over soon."

---

You were currently holding Jack in your arms, your eyes fixed on Haley's anxious frame. You whispered to Jack, trying to distract him from whatever was bothering your former step-mom. Out of nowhere, you saw her drop her phone in the trash, turning to you and Jack.

"Haley, what's going on?"

"We need to leave," she said, the words stumbling out of her mouth. "We need to go now."

"Haley, what's wrong?"

"Aaron is..." She glanced at Jack nervously, then just shook her head. "Come on. Marshall Kassmeyer has been compromised, we need to go now."

Your eyes widened and you nodded, following Haley as she rushed down the street.

---

"Haley, what are we doing in our old neighborhood?" You asked, arms gripping the armrest of Haley's car.

She didn't answer, and you tensed when she turned onto a familiar street. Your old house came into view and you furrowed your brows.

"Haley, why are we here?"

"He said it was the last place he would look," she mumbled as she pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. She immediately got out of the car, beckoning for Jack to follow. You hesitantly trailed behind her, towards the house you used to call home.

---

"Haley looks good with dark hair," Foyet mused. "She's lost some weight. Probably from all the stress you've caused her."

Hotch seethed silently on the other side of the phone.

"Where's the little guy? Oh, there he is. And there's your lovely daughter. Isn't she a sight for sore eyes?"

Hotch suddenly didn't care about red lights or traffic laws. All he could think about was his family.

Meanwhile, Reid was listening in, his heart hammering a million miles a minute. He kept picturing you. You smiling or laughing at some stupid remark he made. You dancing around while cooking pancakes. You singing along to some random Broadway tunes.

He had never really had room in his life for a god, but at that moment, he said the closest thing he could manage to a prayer.

---

You were seated on the couch, eyes trained on the man in your living room. He was playing chess with Jack, a crooked smirk on his ugly-ass face.

"Foyet?"

You heard your dad's voice echo through the room.

"Aaron, it's me."

You looked up to catch Haley's anxious expression, but quickly trained your eyes back on the man. You wanted to watch his every move and make sure he didn't lay a finger on Jack. If he tried to, you weren't sure that you could stop him, but you could at least try your best.

Soon enough, Jack was up and gone. Headed upstairs to 'work the case'. You knew what that meant. And you were suddenly smug. Because this asshole didn't. You may be four million steps behind in every other area, but you suddenly felt like you were one step ahead. He wouldn't lay a hand on Jack. You would make sure of it.

Suddenly Foyet was standing up, walking towards Haley. You were on your feet in seconds, standing between her and the monster walking towards her.

"I want him to know that you weren't always so serious," Haley said from behind you, voice cracking.

"No," you said, turning to look at her. "That sounds like a goodbye. This isn't a goodbye."

"Isn't it?" Foyet asked, cocking his head. "Have you not realized what going to happen, Y/N."

"Y/N," you heard your dad's voice. "You should know that Spencer is listening in on this call. He can hear you."

You turned towards Haley and she looked at you sympathetically.

"Spence? I love you, okay. I have always loved you. And I know that sounds like a goodbye, but it's not. I promise I'll see you again. But know I love you. And you too, dad. I love you so much."

"Oh, Y/N. You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." And with that, the sound of gunshots echoed through the house.

---

Spencer's heart stopped. Everything was in slow motion. The cars around him were moving a mile an hour and the tear trickling down Morgan's cheek was moving as slow as molasses. He could hear his pulse thrumming in his ears.

Then, suddenly, everything was sucked back into reality and he was in a speeding car again, next to a man holding back sobs.

He kept hearing the gunshots echoing through his head. He kept hearing your words.

I love you so much.

I have always loved you.

By the time Morgan came to a halt in the street outside the house, Reid was racing out of the car, not even bothering to close the passenger door. He pushed past the EMT's and his eyes scanned the room. Not a sign of you. He stumbled around, following a trail of bloody footprints.

Until there you were.

Laying on the carpet of the upstairs hallway.

Spencer sank to his knees beside you, feeling desperately for a pulse.

Nothing.

He tried again, thinking maybe he had missed it.

Still nothing.

His eyes found yours. Cold and empty, fixed on the ceiling above you. With shaking hands, he reached for your face, closing your eyes with his trembling fingers.

Then it hit him.

Like a fucking freight train.

You were dead.

He collapsed, his head laying on your stomach as he sobbed, cries wracking through his body. He clutched onto you, bringing your limp frame impossibly close to him. He cradled your head in his hands, watching the color slowly drain from your face.

"I love you so much. I love you so, so much," he mumbled through sobs.

Soon enough, Morgan found him, clinging to your body. He had encountered death and trauma many times in his life, but he had no idea what to say to his friend, falling apart right in front of him.

So, he placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder and uttered the first words that tumbled out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #bau #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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t0m0kii · 6 years ago

Text

FANFIC: Monkee Meow [Monkees]

my first monkees fic that i’ve been working for ages on that i actually just finished yesterday! i love writing The Boys so i’ll probably write another one day when i’m struck with an idea but! until then! go ahead and read this one if you like!

((and yes, judging by the title you can probably guess that it involves a cat, lmao))

“You what?!”

“Oh, relax, Micky, taking care of cats isn't difficult! Besides, it's just for today, just a little extra money until our gig tonight, alright?” Mike talked quickly as he bustled around the pad, tidying up for the arrival of their small feline guest.

“I mean, 20 dollars all for just takin' care of a cat for two hours sounds good to me.” Davy said. “Plus, I quite like cats.” He smiled.

“Do you think the cat's gonna like me?” Peter asked nervously. “I'd hate to make it uncomfortable.”

“It's a cat, Peter! Not only that, but you're the least intimidating person I know, maybe even on Earth.” Mike replied from across the room, then going right back to feather dusting.

Peter seemed relieved as he grinned. “Thank goodness for that.”

“Good grief.” Micky was still a bit dazed, since Mike hadn't bothered to inform him of anything. Nevertheless, he regained his composure. It wouldn't be that bad. Cats are nice! And 20 dollars was a lot of money for guys like them...

“Oh, what the heck, we can handle it.” He finally concluded. “What's a cat to a Monkee?”

The conversation was halted by a sudden knock at the door.

“That must be them,” Mike said, rushing over to get the door. Before opening it, he caught one last glance at the other boys and gave them one final instruction. “Act natural, alright?”

“Don't worry, Mike, I can act. I was in a play once in my school days, y'know.” Peter reassured, smiling.

Davy spoke up. “You told me about that! I bet you played the part of that oak tree very well.”

Once the laugh track finished playing, Mike nervously opened up the door to meet who was on the other side.

A somewhat short (but still taller than Davy) man in a fedora and a mobster-esque trench coat was standing there, holding a much smaller, less intimidating-looking cat in one hand, and a plastic bag with unknown contents in the other. He looked as if he'd definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, meanwhile the kitty, as black as the night, with bright yellow eyes that could probably scan a whole area in seconds, looked quite content and happy. “You guys the cat-sitters?” The man finally spoke up, his voice coated in a stereotypical Brooklyn accent.

At first, the guys didn't say anything. However, they'd met this guy's type before, and knew well enough to play it safe. Mike was the only one to finally say something. “Uh...Yeah, come on in.”

“Why did he say that?!” Micky whispered to the other two.

“He's lost it this time, I tell ya.” Davy whispered back.

“Why are we whispering?” Peter entered the conversation.

They both turned to look at him. “You know why!”

When they looked back toward the man, he had stepped into the house. His eyes narrowed as they seemed to scan the area around him. “You boys a band or somethin'?”

They all nodded. “We're Monkees, sir.” Mike answered meekly, as if he too was a bit unnerved.

“Monkees...” The man paused, as if he'd heard this name before, but just couldn't put his finger on when. “Right.” He dismissed the thought.

The cat, most likely already bored of sitting around, jumped out of the man's arms, and after making a graceful landing onto the floor, made its way over to a chair near the coffee table.

After watching the cat do its thing, the boys turned back to the man, wondering what he was going to say next.

He let out an impatient sigh. “Alright, listen,” he began, immediately grabbing the attention of all of them. “This cat?” He pointed to the cat, who was now sitting on the couch. “Very important cat. Gotta keep a real eye out for 'er. Can't ever turn your back.”

Even though they weren't entirely listening due to all the nervousness replacing their coherent thoughts, the four boys nodded nonetheless.

“Now, you can't let nothin' happen to this cat, see.” This time, the man was looking directly at Mike, right in his face, since he was nearest to him. “If anythin' happened to this cat, and we found out about it, me 'n the boys wouldn't be too happy, see.” He got closer until he was right in Mike's face. “And by the time we'd get done with yeh, you wouldn't either. Capiche?”

“Believe me, you're loud and clear.” Mike replied.

The man, now that he had finished his semi-threatening instructions, took a step back. He set the plastic bag down onto the ground by the door. “There's her cat food, in case she gets hungry. I'll be back in two hours, and remember...” Right as he opened the door and was about to exit, he looked back at them. “You can't turn your back.”

And with that being said, he left.

Mike turned around to face the other guys. “Gee, what a nice fella.” He said sarcastically.

“Yeh can't turn yer back,” Micky mimicked in his best impression of the man, then shaking his head. “Pssh, he's full of it.”

“Careful, Mick, he might unleash the boys on ya.” Davy joked, grinning.

“I could take 'em!” Micky put his fists up as if he were pretending to prepare for a fight. “Lemme at 'em, lemme at 'em!”

Peter looked tense. “I dunno, he seemed pretty serious.”

“We're not gonna take chances in findin' out,” Mike said. “If that's what he's like on a normal day, I don't wanna know what he's like when he's angry. For now, let's just focus on the situation at hand.”

All four of them looked toward the couch, where the cat was curled up, sound asleep.

Off to a good start, I'd suppose.

The whole pad was taking it easy.

Micky was over on the platform stage, sitting by his drum set, polishing the cymbals so that they would shimmer and shine their brightest at the gig that night. Mike was sitting on a middle step in the spiral staircase putting the finishing touches on the set list. Davy was down at the beach, and, whatever he was doing, it was probably being played over some sappy, slow song. Meanwhile, Peter was at the table by the staircase reading a book. An upside-down book, but a book nonetheless.

You may have already noticed how not one of them were paying attention to the cat. Why would they be? If you own cats yourself, you would know that cats usually aren't very active animals. Unlike dogs, they like to lie around and relax, occasionally moving around or jumping on something. As long as it wasn't making any noise, the boys figured it wasn't getting into too much trouble.

But then why was the man so insistent on them keeping constant watch over it?

Before this question could be given an answer, the back door suddenly opened up, revealing the figure of Davy. “Hey, fellas, guess what I just saw!”

“Let me guess,” Micky began. “You've just seen a face, you can't forget the time or place where you just met? La da da da-da da?”

“You're hilarious,” replied the adorable Brit sarcastically. “But really! That club we're playin' tonight, they've already put our names on their sign outside! 'The Monkees: On at 5 PM'!”

“Well, whaddya know!” Peter piped up. “...But how'd the sign know who we are?”

By this point, Davy was still holding the door open, and, for a brief moment, he felt something brush against his leg. However, since there was a bit of a wind blowing, he paid it no mind.

“Hey, Mike?” Micky turned to the wool-hatted man on the steps. “How's that cat doing?”

Mike didn't even look up from the set list. “She's over there, look for yourself. Just fed her a minute ago, so that should be fine.”

The curly-haired drummer shook his head, getting up from his drum set and walking over to the chair. He at least wanted to get a better look at her. He'd already seen her earlier when she'd just arrived, but he still wanted to get closer, just because he was like that.

He looked over from the back of the chair, expecting to see the cat still sound asleep.

Instead, the chair was empty.

“Oh,” Micky said nonchalantly. “She's gone.”

“She's gone.” Mike repeated absentmindedly. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he finally looked up from the set list. “What?!”

“She's gone!” All four of them exclaimed at once.

“Where could she have run off to?” Davy pondered.

The three boys looked over in the shorter boy's direction. There he was, standing in the doorway, still holding the door about halfway open. It seemed they were beginning to put the pieces together in their brains as to how the cat could've escaped.

“...What?” Davy asked, confused as to why everyone was glaring at him. His eyes wandered until they reached downward to where he too could see. “...Oh dear.”

Mike, Micky and Peter all sprung to action from where they were and bolted over to the back door. They bustled hurriedly outside to where they were standing on the deck, overlooking the beach.

Surely enough, in a curvy line starting from the bottom of the steps and leading off to god knows where, was a series of tiny paw prints.

All three of the other boys turned to face Davy, annoyed expressions on each of their faces.

“Heh...He said not to turn your back, y'know.” That was the only thing Davy could say. This sentence seemed to only make them angrier, but this time more so with themselves.

“Well, fellas, it's been a good run. It was nice knowin' ya, but I gotta spl-” Micky was about to walk away until he was grabbed by the back of his collar by Mike.

“Oh no you don't,” he said, dragging Micky back to where he was. He turned to face the others. “Look, we can fix this! We've got two hours; two hours til' the man comes back, and two hours til' our gig. All we gotta do is find the cat and bring 'er back by 5 and pretend nothing happened.”

“But we don't know where it went!” Davy piped up.

“Well,” Peter began, glancing back at the beach. “We could always just follow the trail.”

This caused the other three to glance in the same direction, then back to each other, then back to the sand.

They knew what they had to do.

Surely enough, they bounded down the back deck's stairs and started out hot on the trail of the paw prints.

If this were an episode, it would also be time for a short commercial break.

The paw shapes imprinted in the sand, though small in size, were still very much visible to the four boys and probably everyone else. As they walked along the trail, their eyes shifting up and down from the trail to where they were going, they tried to move quickly. After all, they didn't really have that much time.

They noticed how the path strayed farther and farther from the house. They had traveled all the way to around the middle of the far right when the prints abruptly stopped at the ocean shore.

“Why's it stop here?!” Micky exclaimed.

“I thought cats hated water.” Peter noted confusedly.

“Apparently it hates us even more.” Davy remarked.

Mike was trying to think of a possible answer, trying to be the one in charge. But, to tell you the truth, he was in the same lane with the others in the sense that none of them had a clue. It's difficult to always be the responsible one, you know.

Suddenly, a voice called from the ocean. “Lovely day out here, huh, boys?”

Their heads jerked to the source of the sound. They were met by the sight of a man in his boat, waving and looking quite content. They'd seen the man before, in his quite expensive looking motorboat, but they never knew him by name. They didn't think the man knew their names either, but still went out of his way to be friendly anyway.

“Don't interrupt, we're staring at the sand, basking in our failure and impending doom.” Mike replied, finally speaking up.

“Nice weather for staring at sand!” The man responded back, unaffected by the pessimistic dismissal. For some reason, he'd taken this as an opportunity to start an actual conversation. “Everyone's taking advantage of the sunshine, I'd say! I've seen lots of people come and go today.”

Something seemed to click with Micky. “Seen a cat lately?”

“Cat?” The man paused, looking down a second to think. After a second, he looked back up. “Oh, yeah, I did!”

“Where is it?!” All four of them exclaimed at once.

“Well, you see, right about where you're standin',” the main pointed to the spot, making them look downward. “The cat was right there, and one of my other sailor pals was standin' nearby over there.” He pointed to about where Davy was standing on the left side of the trail. “And I guess he figured no one else wanted it, so he said he was going to take it with him, and then he headed off.”

“We want it!” Peter protested.

“We don't really want it, we need it.” Mike corrected.

“Where's he gone with it?” Davy asked.

“Off into town, I'd suppose. Didn't really think to ask.” The man shrugged. He didn't quite understand the urgency of the situation, but then again, who else would?

The four looked at each other again, finally thinking of a solution.

“So we gotta go find him and get it back!” Micky said.

“Come on then!” Mike commanded, beginning to walk in the direction of where their Monkeemobile was parked. “Each second spent still alive is valuable!”

The other three followed behind, and they were off.

It wasn't long until their short car trip was over and they had reached the town. Quickly, they all hopped out and began to search.

“How are we gonna know who he is when we see 'im?” Davy asked.

“Look for a cat with a sailor. Er, uh, sailor with a cat.” Micky answered.

“Knowing the sailor type, he'll probably be talkin' his head off somewhere.” Mike joked flatly.

“At least we'll be able to hear him!” Peter smiled, still keeping his optimism after all this time.

Through the busy streets of the town they walked, examining every passerby in their lines of vision. Lots of talkative folk, even a few people with cats (one even looked a lot like the one they were searching for), but, alas, no sailors with cats.

Suddenly, something caught Peter's attention, causing him to point somewhere. “Hey, look! He doesn't have a cat, but there's a sailor. I bet maybe he knows the guy, at least.”

The others all looked over to where he was pointing, and, surely enough, he was right.

Mike gave Peter a swift pat on the back. “We don't give you enough credit, ol' buddy.”

“I get by.” Peter responded, smiling.

Without wasting any more time, they all hurried over to the man, which, as they could see, startled him a little bit. He looked a little freaked out as they approached.

“Hey! Do you remember hearing anything about a cat on the beach?” Mike asked him.

The look of shock on the man's face faded into a look of contemplation. After a second, something seemed to click in his mind. “Oh! That cat near the shore earlier today! ...Was that your cat?”

“We're pretty much responsible for it.” Mike replied. “You seen it?”

“Oh...Uh...” The man looked embarrassed. “Well, I saw it, and I didn't think it belonged to anyone, so...I brought it over to my mom's house and, uh, told her she could keep it. Y'know, since ladies like cats.”

All four of the boys' hearts fell. They had to look some more?! You must be joking!

“Do you think we can go get it back?” Davy asked.

The man began to look like he really wanted this conversation to be over. “Well, yeah, I guess I'd have to, since it's your cat and all.”

“It's n-” Micky was about to correct him, but a swift elbow jab from Mike shut him up.

The nervous sailor pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket and quickly scribbled something onto it. When he finished, he handed the paper to Mike. “Alright, there's the address, I assume you fellas will know what to do from there. Just don't be too forceful, alright?”

“Trust me, peace is our thing.” Peter reassured.

“Thanks a bunch, pal.” Mike said politely. “Sorry for the trouble.”

After he said this, all four of them turned around and scrambled back to the Monkeemobile, where they hopped back in and sped away in a flash.

The man blinked. “Long-haired weirdos,” he muttered, shaking his head.

After roaming the neighborhood, scanning each house number in search of the one written on the paper, they finally found the location of the residence.

From the car, they observed the house. It was a fairly nice, pleasant looking house, a lot like the kind of house you'd expect someone's mom to live in.

“Alright, no more standin' around, we gotta get moving.” Mike said, which caused everyone to exit the car and steadily approach the house. When they got to the front door, they stopped.

“Who's gonna knock?” Mike asked.

He looked over to Micky, who shook his head. He looked to Davy, who did the same. Finally, he looked to Peter, who just looked back, looking as if he were thinking about something very different.

“Alright, Pete, you do it.” He finalized.

Peter snapped out of his daydream and regained his composure. Facing the ground, he shyly stepped up to the door and gave two swift knocks.

They waited for a moment until they saw the door open up, revealing a content looking older lady on the other side. She smiled a little bit as she said, “Aren't you those boys who play in that band? The...Koalas?”

“Monkees,” corrected Peter.

“Oh! Well, I love you four! Won't you come in, I just made some muffins!”

Peter looked back at Mike for his permission. He shook his head. Peter, although disappointed, looked back to the doorway.

“N-not right now, maybe after the show later, though!” Peter grinned. “Actually, we were looking for a cat. A black cat, with bright yellow eyes, that looks like it'd be a blast to bring with you on Halloween.”

The lady was as calm as could be, as opposed to the anxious nature of the four boys in front of her. “Say, come to think of it, my son dropped by and gave me a cat just like that earlier today! He said he found it on its own...Is it yours?”

“We were supposed to be watching it for someone.” Micky answered.

“If you still have it, we'd, uh, kinda like to have it back.” Mike said.

“Oh...” There was a slight hint of regret in her voice. “Well...My niece came by, and she had been really wanting a cat lately, so I gave it to her instead. She seemed very happy about it. She even said she was going to use it for her entry in the Best Cat This Side of Malibu competition in the park. She sure seemed like she had a lot of confidence in that cat.”

It was all they could do to not groan out loud. They were getting real sick and tired of searching around for this cat, but they couldn't give up, even if they had already been searching for an hour.

The boys caught anxious glances at each other. Retrieving it this time was going to be harder than they thought.

“Do you think she'd mind if we got it back?” Peter asked, looking nervous. “'Cause, we, uh, kinda need it.��

“Maybe if you asked nicely.” The lady suggested. “She's fairly reasonable.”

Davy began to turn around. “We'd better get goin' then.”

“Right,” the others agreed, beginning to follow him back to the car.

“Thanks, we really appreciate it.” Peter thanked the kind lady, grinning.

“You'll come back for muffins later, won't you?” The lady smiled warmly.

Peter smiled right back. “Of course!”

With that being said, the four of them got right back into the car and sped off. As they took off, they all had a feeling that retrieving it this time was going to be harder than they thought.

When they had finally driven back toward the busier part of town, the whole contest set-up proved to be by no means hard to find. There was a surprisingly big crowd of people there, some with cats, some just there to watch, waiting around for the show to start. There were signs leading up to the park and everything, so you couldn't possibly miss it.

“How'd we miss this?!” Micky pointed to a nearby sign. “I swear that wasn't there yesterday!”

“It's best not to ask too many questions, Mick. That's the reader's job.” Mike advised from the driver's seat.

“The who?” Micky asked confusedly.

“No, the reader.” Peter corrected.

In the midst of these fourth-wall-breaking antics, Davy looked down at his watch. “It's already 4:15, we've gotta make this quick.”

Before any more could be said, the car turned into a parking space and slowed to a halt. The four boys got out of the car and began making their way over.

“We don't have much time left to waste, so we gotta move quickly. No distractions this time.” Mike said. The three others nodded in agreement as they began to look around. With their eyes they scanned each person with a cat in their arms. So far, none of the cats looked like the one they were looking for, which is odd, because you'd expect a cat like that to stand out quite a bit.

After a few minutes, they stopped for a moment.

Even though nothing was being said, each of them could tell that they were growing more and more hopeless.

“You know, if nothing works out, we could always leave the city, change our names, become a barbershop quartet somewhere off in Canada.” Micky proposed. “Or, eh, maybe a trio. We'll sacrifice Davy to the mobster guy because he's the one who got us into this in the first place!”

“It was your job to watch it, but no, yer bloody drums were more important, eh?!” Davy retorted.

“You leave my drums outta this!” Micky's face reddened. At this point, the two were right in each others' faces.

Peter's eyes darted instantly to Mike, expecting him to resolve the conflict, since he didn't want to get involved. As stated earlier, peace is sorta his thing. Upon noticing what was expected of him, the tall Texan rolled his eyes, let out a long sigh and stepped forward. “Hey, that's enough, you two! If you don't quit yammerin', I swear I'll-”

“Are you boys looking for something?”

All four of them stopped in their tracks. Almost in unison, their heads turned to see who had spoken to them.

They were met by the sight of a girl who looked to be just a little bit taller than Davy, with short blonde hair and auburn-colored glasses. In her eyes was a look of curiosity and amusement, and in her arms was none other than the cat they had been looking for all along.

A tidal wave of relief washed over the boys as they locked eyes with the feline, who was actually looking quite bored. They had their target right where they wanted it, and all they had to do was get it back. To do this, it was plain to see they had to first stay cool.

“Uh...” Mike spoke first as he and the others boys re-positioned themselves, dusting off their pants and pretending like they weren't just fussing at each other minutes prior. Abruptly, he looked over to Davy. “Would you care to explain?”

Meanwhile, Davy wasn't really paying any attention to what Mike had requested of him. His eyes were locked on the girl, and, for lack of any better description, there seemed to be a bit of a twinkle in them.

The girl's look on her face transitioned from curiosity to slight confusion. Maybe the secret to deflecting the sparkle eyes lies within the power of a pair of glasses...

“Hey, Davy!” A swift bonk on the head from Micky snapped him out of his fantasy.

“Waa! U-uh,” Davy quickly tried to regain his senses. “Actually, we were looking for something. That cat.” He pointed to the now sleepy looking feline she was holding.

She glanced down at the cat as she took a step back, holding it closer. “My cat?”

“Well, uh, the thing is...It's kinda ours.” Micky explained. “I mean, we were supposed to be watching it for someone, but then it escaped out onto the beach.”

“Then a sailor guy picked it up and brought it to your aunt.” Peter added.

“And then your aunt gave it to you.” Mike said.

“And now here you are.” Davy smiled, laughing a bit. “We've kinda been on the hunt for that blasted cat all day.”

Of course, this lump of sudden information was difficult for the girl to process at first, but, had you been suddenly caught up in this situation, you'd most likely be confused about it too. “Good grief! You guys have been through quite the predicament, huh?” She giggled, but her expression saddened when she looked down at the cat. “Well, I'm gonna miss having a cat, but I guess the hour I had her was well spent. I'll give it back.”

She was walking over to Mike to place it in his arms when, suddenly, a figure who seemed to be in a rush approached.

“Miss Debbie!” He tapped her swiftly on the shoulder. “The contest is starting! Bring over your cat!”

Debbie looked to the man, then back to our four boys, who looked just as surprised as she was, but with a more exasperated look on their faces. “Okay, I'm coming!” She said to the man, who had already rushed back to the judges' table. “I'll have to give it back afterwards, I'm sorry. I gotta go, okay? But come on, maybe you can watch.”

“For crying out loud! At this rate, it's curtains for us.” Micky muttered.

“Hey, maybe if she wins, the mobster guy will only bust our heads in just a little less forcefully.” Davy muttered back.

Unfortunately, there was no more time for witty jokes, because the contest was starting.

In front of them was a small sized obstacle course set up on the grass. It curved around a bit a few time, but was generally short. This, the boys assumed, must have been what the cats were competing for. It was an agility contest, and the winner got...Well, they'd figure that out when they got to it.

The four watched as Debbie walked over with the other contestants to set their cats down at the start of the course, the judges keeping a close watch in the process.

There were five cats, counting theirs, sitting in a horizontal line. The other kitties looked as if they'd rather be anywhere else, but, somehow, their black cat looked indifferent.

Suddenly, the same judge that had previously rushed them over spoke up. “And now, the agility competition begins! On your marks...”

The crowd waited in anticipation.

“Get set...”

While everyone else was focusing on the show starting, the four boys were more focused on their watches.

“Go!”

In an instant, all five of the cats bolted from the starting line and were off and away, some slower than others. The boys' eyes were glued on their cat the whole time, and even though there was a lot of noise in the background to distract them, they were trying with all their might to keep watch.

They observed as the cat maneuvered past the other cats with relative ease, passing each obstacle with poise and grace.

“Come on, come on!” They encouraged. They didn't care if she won or lost, just as long as she got back in time, but still, it felt nice and refreshing to be focused on something else besides worry. Not only that, but the energy of the rest of the crowd sort of revived their spirit, which, by this point, they needed.

They watched as the other cats were straying farther and farther behind from theirs in the lead. They couldn't help but be marveled by the fact that these other cats had probably been training for weeks, but theirs didn't even have any idea what was happening and somehow was still winning. They had a feeling the owners of the other contestants caught onto this too. Nevertheless, they all kept it in mind right until the bored looking black cat crossed the finish line in probably the most nonchalant way possible.

“She won!” Debbie cheered.

“She won.” Micky, Mike, Peter, and Davy all exchanged perplexed glances at each other, causing them all to just shrug. Still, they hurried over to where the cat was sitting patiently at the finish line.

As they all looked down at it, they could tell it still didn't care about anything.

“Better pick 'er up quickly, the wind might sweep her away.” Davy said sarcastically.

Mike was the one to do just that. “Very funny. Now, quick, what time is it?”

Micky raised up Davy's hand to where he could look down at his watch. “4:40.”

“We better hurry. Scooby Doo is coming on TV in 15 minutes.” Peter suggested.

As they were all rushing to the Monkeemobile, Mike looked back at him. “If we don't get this cat back to that mobster fella, we'll be the ghosts in their next TV special.”

“I've always wanted to be famous!” Peter grinned excitedly.

The other boys just shook their heads as they hopped in the car and began to drive off into the midday. You see, it wasn't quite the sunset yet, even though that would've been cooler.

Quickly, they pulled into a parking spot and hopped right out, explicitly making sure the cat was still with them. They certainly didn't want a repeat of the whole day.

They decided to go through the back door to arise less suspicion, just in case the guy showed up early.

After they'd bounded up the stairs, they practically ran into the house, shut the door behind them, and finalized it all with a long sigh.

“Phew,” said Davy, looking down at his watch. “And with only 5 minutes to spare.”

The pad was just as quiet and calm as it was when they'd left. It looked like practically nothing had happened, which is good, in their situation.

The cat jumped gracefully out of Mike's arms and sat down on the same chair it'd been sitting on when it arrived.

“Now, I say we get back to where we were, but this time, we k-”

His sentence was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. At once, they all knew who was on the other side, and once again they truly appreciated the fact that they'd returned just five minutes early.

Despite the fact that the figure on the other side of the door had knocked, they then proceeded to just walk right in anyway.

“Hey, did you leave the door unlocked?” Davy asked Mike.

“Either that or he just broke our lock.” Mike murmured in reply.

“Better than our skulls, at least.” Micky joked quietly.

At last, the trench coat man had returned in all his intimidating glory. They watched as his eyes immediately darted over in the direction of the cat, then to the food bag near the door, then to the boys themselves.

“Have you been standing there this whole time?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

They didn't really know how to respond, since this tone was more one of suspicion than of a genuine question.

“Uh...Yeah!” Micky nodded.

The man nodded back. “Good.”

He walked over to the cat and picked it up, causing the cat to meow happily in reaction. Right after that, he dug around in his pocket for a second and pulled out two crumpled ten dollar bills.

“There ya go,” he said. “That's ten dollars me 'n the boys scored from our last drive-by, ha ha! Good times.” He smiled a bit to himself, which seemed like a rare occurrence.

Our four protagonists didn't say anything. Instead, they were focusing intently on the time, watching as it turned from 4:44 to 4:45.

The trench coat man looked as if he were about to go out the door until he paused and looked right back around at them. “Say,” he began. “Would you boys mind if I came back again next w-”

“Yes!” All four of them exclaimed at once.

“Right then.” And with those final two words being said, he finally left. However, the Monkees still had a while before they could relax, as they had their show to go to in a matter of minutes.

Without even saying anything, they all grabbed their instruments (Micky even lifted his entire drum set over his head to bring, since there wasn't much time to take it apart) and bolted out the door.

Luckily, they only had to drive a minute or two into town to get to the place.

After they'd entered the building, got to the stage, and set everything up, the club owner approached to talk for a second.

“Good on you boys to be on time.” He praised. “A minute later and you would've been late!”

They all looked at each other, and they were all thinking the same thing; as soon as they got home, they were going to take it easy for the rest of today and tomorrow.

Right as the clock struck five, the place began to get crowded, and it was their time to shine.

“Alright, from the top!” Mike said. “One, two, three-”

The music began to play. Now, once again, if this were an actual episode, this would be the time for a musical segment, so for this part you can just use your imagination. Pretend they're playing “You Just May Be The One” or something.

The song eventually fades out, and everyone applauds. As the noise dies down, a single news reporter in the audience approaches, tape recorder microphone in hand. “So, what are you boys planning on next?”

“Sleeping.” They all said at once.

And with that, the episode fades to black.

At this part, the end credits would be playing, but – oh, you've got it by now.

Use your imagination.

#i'm so nervous about posting this asdifvgjfkdslkfgj #mostly bc i'm afraid of getting laughed at but also because I'VE NEVER WRITTEN A MONKEES FIC BEFORE IF I FUCKED IT UP I'LL CRY #ANYWAYS READ IT BLEASE..#t0m0kii writes #the monkees

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gloriousgwendolinechristie · 6 years ago

Text

Press: The end of Game of Thrones: An exclusive report on the epic final season

EW – OCTOBER 2017: THE TABLE READ

When Kit Harington entered the conference room, he had no idea what to expect.

The final season’s scripts had been emailed just a couple of days earlier, sending the Game of Thrones cast into a reading frenzy. Like millions of fans around the world, the actors had been waiting nearly a decade to learn their characters’ fates. The entire six-episode season arrived at once, protected by layers of password security.

Sophie Turner flew through her copies in record time, quickly messaging the producers her reaction. “It was completely overwhelming,” says the actress, who plays Sansa Stark. “Afterwards I felt numb, and I had to take a walk for hours.” Others, like Emilia Clarke (Daenerys Targaryen), first had to hurry home to get some privacy. “I turned to my best mate and was like, ‘Oh my God! I gotta go! I gotta go!’” she recalls. “And I completely flipped out.” She then settled in for a reading session with a cup of tea. “Genuinely the effect it had on me was profound,” Clarke adds. “That sounds insanely pretentious, but I’m an actor, so I’m allowed one pretentious adjective per season.” Peter Dinklage, meanwhile, broke his years-long habit of checking immediately to see if Tyrion Lannister survives. “This was the first time ever that I didn’t skip to the end,” he says.

Even showrunners David Benioff and Dan Weiss were uncharacteristically anxious, wondering how the actors would react to the climactic twists. “We knew exactly when our script coordinator sent them out, we knew what minute they sent them, and then you’re just waiting for the emails,” Benioff said.

The cast then journeyed to Belfast to gather in a production office for the formal read-through. By then, everybody knew the tale that was about to unfold, with two notable exceptions: Davos Seaworth actor Liam Cunningham (“The f—ing scripts wouldn’t open, the double extra security!” he grouses) and Harington, who outright refused to read anything in advance.

“I walked in saying, ‘Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,’” Harington says. “What’s the point of reading it to myself in my own head when I can listen to people do it and find out with my friends?” So, yes: Jon Snow, quite literally, knew nothing.

Benioff and Weiss opened the proceedings by asking the cast to refrain from doing anything during filming or afterward that might reveal even the tiniest spoiler (“Don’t even take a photo of your boots on the ground of the set,” one actor recalls being told). And then, seated around a long table scattered with a few prop skulls, the cast read aloud the final season of Game of Thrones.

At one point, Harington wept.

Later, he cried a second time.

SEPTEMBER 2012: IT’S IMPOSSIBLE

After the table read, the Game of Thrones cast spent 10 months filming just six episodes of television. But the season actually took far longer to pull off. GoT’s final chapters have been in the works for years. To better understand what’s ahead, let’s first go back to EW’s season 3 set visit and this never-before-revealed conversation with Benioff and Weiss…

The production camper was like many others on the set — barren, cramped, cold, utilitarian, with dirt on the floors from muddy boots tramping in and out all day. The showrunners sat on the same side of a tiny dinette booth while the wind coming off the Northern Ireland bay howled outside. They were already thinking about their final season, and it worried them.

During its second season, the fantasy drama averaged 10.3 million viewers across all platforms. That was enough to ensure they were eventually going to finish the series, yet that inevitability was also the problem. Because when they first pitched Thrones to HBO, they hadn’t exactly been honest. And now they were working every day toward a finale that was impossible to make.

“The lie we told is the show is contained and it’s about the characters,” Benioff said, which was at best half true. The epic fantasy was very much about its ensemble cast, but it’s also the least “contained” series ever made. “The worlds get so big, the battles get so massive.”

Author George R.R. Martin, whose series of novels forms the basis for Thrones, had revealed to the duo the broad strokes of how his Song of Ice and Fire saga secretly ends, including a description of an epic final battle that’s been teased from the show’s very first scene. But this climactic confrontation was miles out of reach for a series that cost about $5 million per episode. “We have a very generous budget from HBO, but we know what’s coming down the line and, ultimately, it’s not generous enough,” Benioff said.

So the producers had an idea: The final season could be six hours long and released as three movies in theaters — just like Martin’s best-known influence, The Lord of the Rings. It’s not that the duo wanted to make movies per se, but it seemed like the only way to get the time and money needed to pull off their finale. “It’s what we’re working towards in a perfect world,” Weiss said. “We end up with an epic fantasy story but with the level of familiarity and investment in the characters that are normally impossible in a two-hour movie.”

The flaw in this plan was that HBO is about serving its subscribers, not taking gambles at the box office. Behind the scenes, the network brass gently shot down the movie idea. But executives assured Benioff and Weiss that they would eventually have everything they needed to make a final season that was “a summer tentpole-size spectacle.”

Years later, the producers would strike a deal with the network to spend two years on a shortened season 8 that would cost more than $15 million an episode. You could say HBO made good on that promise from 2012, and the showrunners will happily give the network full credit. “They put their money where their mouths are — literally stuffed their mouth full of million-dollar bills, which don’t exist anymore,” Weiss quips.

But it’s probably more accurate to say that since season 3, Benioff and Weiss willed their ambitious final season into reality the hard way: by growing Game of Thrones into the biggest show in the world, a hugely profitable pop culture and merchandising sensation with more than 30 million viewers an episode and a record number of Emmys. Only with that kind of leverage do your towering ambitions begin to look like reasonable requests.

In fact, the GoT team was so successful that the biggest sticking point in the agreement was persuading HBO to halt the series. “We want to stop where we — the people working on it, and the people watching it — both wish it went a little bit longer,” Benioff says. “There’s the old adage of ‘Always leave them wanting more,’ but also things start to fall apart when you stop wanting to be there. You don’t want to f— it up.”

That concern — a constant desire to conclude the show on the strongest possible note — is something we heard over and over from the cast and crew when we visited the GoT set for the last time.

MARCH 2018: THE FINAL SEASON

Arriving at the studio gate, I’m halted by a guard and asked to scan my badge, a security upgrade from past years. Then I’m asked for my phone, and the guard covers its cameras with stickers — that’s new too. Along with an HBO escort, I walk inside an enormous hangar that’s so large it’s where the RMS Titanic was painted.

What’s being filmed here is episode 6, the series finale. Like Harington going into the table read, I don’t know anything about the final season’s storyline. I look around at a meticulously constructed set that I’ve never seen on the show before. Several actors are performing, and I’m stunned: There are characters in the finale that I did not expect. I gradually begin to piece together what has happened in Westeros over the previous five episodes and try not to look like I’m freaking out.

There is absolutely nothing more that can be said about that scene at this time.

A word about spoilers: The cast is used to keeping story secrets, yet they’ve never sounded so anxious about it. “There are moments where you don’t trust yourself to have this in your brain,” says Joe Dempsie, who plays Gendry. “You’re in possession of something millions of people want to know. It’s such a bizarre feeling. And between now and when it comes out, I’m gonna be drunk at some point.”

So far, at least, the team has done a far better job than in previous years at keeping the story under wraps, even while drunk. Theories abound online, but they are guesses. A purported script leaked to Reddit, but here’s a way to spot a fake — real Game of Thrones scripts don’t say “Game of Thrones” on them. “Drone killer” guns were used to guard against any peeping robots attempting to fly over the set. Production documents stating which actors were required to be where and when used code names (Clarke, for example, was “Eldiss”). “It gets highly confusing when you need to remember who is who,” Turner says.

Benioff and Weiss’ next gig is writing a new Star Wars film, and they received some final-season secrecy tips from The Last Jedi director Rian Johnson and producer Kathleen Kennedy. “They’ve given us a lot of hints about how to lock things down, things we never would have thought of or didn’t know were possible,” Weiss says.

At some point HBO will release a proper final-season trailer revealing more. Until then, here’s some basic setup we can tell you: Season 8 opens at Winterfell with an episode that contains plenty of callbacks to the show’s pilot. Instead of King Robert’s procession arriving, it’s Daenerys and her army. What follows is a thrilling and tense intermingling of characters — some of whom have never previously met, many who have messy histories — as they all prepare to face the inevitable invasion of the Army of the Dead.

“It’s about all of these disparate characters coming together to face a common enemy, dealing with their own past, and defining the person they want to be in the face of certain death,” co-executive producer Bryan Cogman says. “It’s an incredibly emotional, haunting, bittersweet final season, and I think it honors very much what George set out to do — which is flipping this kind of story on its head.”

How these fan favorites get along drives much of the drama this season (okay, here’s one specific tease from the premiere — Sansa isn’t thrilled that Jon bent the knee to his fancy new Targaryen girlfriend, at least not at first).

The drama builds to a confrontation with the Army of the Dead that’s expected to be the most sustained action sequence ever made for television or film. One episode — the same that Benioff and Weiss were concerned about pulling off so many years ago — is wall-to-wall action, courtesy of “Battle of the Bastards” director Miguel Sapochnik.

Last April a crew member revealed that Game of Thrones had wrapped 55 night shoots while filming a battle. Media outlets around the world ran stories saying the final season’s battle took twice as long as the 25-day shoot for season 6’s climactic Battle of the Bastards. This wildly understated what really happened. The 55 nights were only for the battle’s outdoor scenes at the Winterfell set. Filming then moved into the studio, where Sapochnik continued shooting the same battle for weeks after that.

“It’s brutal,” Dinklage says. “It makes the Battle of the Bastards look like a theme park.”

The battle doesn’t have just one focus, either, but rather intercuts between multiple characters involved in their own survival storylines that each feels like its own genre. “Having the largest battle doesn’t sound very exciting — it actually sounds pretty boring,” Benioff says. “Part of our challenge, and really, Miguel’s challenge, is how to keep that compelling… we’ve been building toward this since the very beginning, it’s the living against the dead, and you can’t do that in a 12-minute sequence.”

To help pull it off, the production hugely expanded its set for the Stark ancestral home of Winterfell, adding a towering castle exterior, a larger courtyard, and more interconnected rooms and ramparts. Strolling around the new Winterfell is like wandering a sprawling, immersive medieval resort compared with its previous Days Inn-like scale. The ground is covered with snow and blood. The air is thick with smoke from the fire pits. You can turn any direction and only see more Winterfell. It’s easy to feel like you’ve somehow wandered into Westeros.

The Winterfell expansion is just a small example of how every element of the production was heightened this year in an effort to “not f— it up.” Scenes that normally might take a day to film now took several. “[Camera] checks take longer, costumes are a bit better, hair and makeup a bit sharper — every choice, every conversation, every attitude has this air of ‘This is it,’” Clarke says. “Everything feels more intense. I had a scene with someone and I turned to him and said, ‘Oh my God, I’m not going to do this ever again,’ and that brings tears to my eyes.”

Lena Headey, who plays Cersei Lannister, agrees: “There was a great sense of grief. It’s a huge sense of loss, like we’ll never have anything like this again.”

More tears, like during the table read.

You know, Harington will actually reveal why he cried that second time.

“The second time was the very end,” Harington says. He’s referring to when the cast reached the last page of episode 6, and what the showrunners wrote there at the bottom.

“Every season, you read at the end of the last script ‘End of Season 1,’ or ‘End of Season 2,’” Harington says. “This read ‘End of Game of Thrones.’”

Press: The end of Game of Thrones: An exclusive report on the epic final season was originally published on Glorious Gwendoline | Gwendoline Christie Fansite

#gwendoline christie #game of thrones #got cast #Brienne of Tarth #star wars #Captain Phasma #The Force Awakens #Mockingjay 2 #Commander Lyme #THG #The Hunger Game

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denriawhale · 7 years ago

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perhaps i should explain

a day before my birthday and i find myself reflecting on the fact that i nearly didn't make it to said birthday.

back in march—the 20th, to be precise—i got into a car accident. i'm going to go into the whole morbid affair here so if you don't like hearing about near-fatalities you should probably stop reading.

i was driving back to my college after spring break, at around 9:30 at night (i didn't want to leave home, so i stalled as long as possible, heh), when it happened. i was singing along to the music on my phone, and wanted to know how much time was left in the song that was on. so i looked down.

big mistake.

i lost control of my car—driving 80mph, with cruise on—and glanced off the left guardrail a couple of times before cutting straight across the road and spearing the other rail. i then slid along the rail, forcing it into my car. it slid under my left leg, taking a foot-long, 2-inch deep, 6-inch wide chunk out of my leg on the way, snapping my femur in the worst compound fracture my current ortho has ever seen and shattering my tibial plateau (my knee). it also broke my pelvis in 5 places. i sound a little clinical about this because it's hard thinking back to how much it hurt, really. the rail pinned me into a 6-inch-wide space between it and the back of my car seat.

i can say that while i was out of control of my car, i couldn't move. couldn't even take the cruise off. i really only had time to think "this is actually happening, this is real, this isn't a game or a movie. i am about to die... or be in indescribable pain for a long, long time" before the impact happened.

honestly, people ask when i regained consciousness a lot but i never lost it. and i can say that the impact was sort of like a jump cut in a movie. the previous second i was bracing and then i blink and the impact has happened and i'm pinned. the fear took a while (in accident time. time gets fucking weird in situations like this. in realtime it was probably maybe one minute or two.) to set in. actually the first thing i did of my own volition (the first thing i actually did was throw up eight times onto myself) was take stock of my injuries. i could move my arms and my head felt okay, and i could feel my right leg, it seemed fine. my left leg was a different story. i couldn't feel it at all. no pain, no cold, no nothing. i noticed that my knee seemed at an unnatural angle and it really, really bothered me to look at that. despite knowing it was probably a bad idea, i used my hands to shift my leg back into alignment.

nothing. it was like i was holding someone else's leg. i think that was when i started to get really afraid. i figured the leg was a complete lost cause.

i also figured that i was going to die.

i started thinking about my friends and family, and i made peace with myself. i'd done everything i could to be a good person, maybe i wasn't the best but surely god would see that i tried to help my friends and be a good family member and i would miss them but i would make sure to watch over everyone in heaven. after that i just waited to bleed to death. it was so, so painful and i've never wanted to die before then but at that moment i wanted it more than anything else i'd ever wanted in my entire life.

that was when jared found me. i didn't learn his name until over a month later, but he's honestly my hero. he witnessed my accident in his rearview and immediately pulled over to help me. of course, i didn't know that. all i knew was that while i was waiting to bleed out, my car's back door flew open and a man threw himself inside, mid-conversation with 911.

that was when i decided that i was going to fucking live. it didn't matter that i hurt, i wasn't going to go out with an ellipsis at the end of my story. i was going to fucking fight and then even if i did die, i could face god proudly and say that i did my fucking best right up until the end. the fear completely left me, and i became very determined and rational very fast. i guess it was a survival instinct from my body. adrenaline and all that?

he was telling them about my condition and making sure i was awake. the dispatch sent out help and he hung up, then immediately started trying to get the seatbelt choking me off. of course, he couldn't because the mechanism was wrecked—the entire front of my car was a mangled mass of metal and plastic, and my seat wasn't much better if we're being honest. he would have cut the belt, but he didn't have a knife and mine was in my purse, which was flung against the windshield and completely unreachable through the tangle of sharp metal. failing that, he asked if i wanted him to call anyone and i had him call my parents, who immediately began to rush to get to me, 2 hours away.

that was when the next miracle happened.

a volunteer firetruck—driving home for the day, not summoned by dispatch—pulled up and out poured about a dozen firemen. they ushered jared away and immediately began trying to help me. i remember the name of one of them because he was the one who tried to keep me awake and alive by talking to me the entire time. his name was nate, and his job was to sit in the back seat of my car and hold my head to make sure i didn't move it in case i had a neck injury. he also talked to me to keep me calm—though mostly the calming part wasn't necessary. i panicked a total of 3 times after the firemen arrived, each time screaming "help me" over and over and trying to pry myself out of the rail's grip. they only lasted maybe ten seconds before nate settled me down again. meanwhile the firemen tried to figure out how the actual fuck to get me out of my mangled car.

then the paramedics and another firetruck arrived, the ones summoned by 911 dispatch. the firemen wound up deciding to kick the rear and front windshields out—they put a blanket over me to protect me from the glass—and cut the roof of my car from the rest using the jaws of life. after the top was off, the paramedics rushed in. they tried and failed to stick me with an iv—shock and cold had collapsed most of my veins. i had no pulse in any of my limbs, but i was still awake and talking. i knew that if i passed out, i would die.

in fact, at one point it very sharply occurred to me that i could escape all the pain that was coming to me by simply closing my eyes and going to sleep and dying. it was so, so tempting. but then i remembered that one of my long-held beliefs is that the saddest thing in the world is a parent outliving their child, and i couldn't possibly do that to my parents, and i didn't want to leave my friends. my resolve to live got even stronger.

the paramedics had to use a drill to give me something called an io, which is basically an iv but it sticks into your bone marrow instead to give you fluids. by the way, it's also incredibly painful and when i still had one in the next day i actually thought my arm was broken.

once they managed that, the firemen started trying to figure out how to get me out. i remember thinking to myself that they needed to hurry the fuck up and stop standing around talking about what to do, but that's because i was in pain. logically i know they had never seen something like this and they would need to discuss how to help me or they might end up killing me by accident.

they ended up deciding to cut the reinforcing bars out of the back of my seat and then, using the jaws of life as a spreader, they forced the back away from the guardrail. at once, maybe ten firemen surrounded me and lifted me out of the car and onto a stretcher.

honest to god, that was the closest i came to dying. all of the pain completely vanished, and i closed my eyes and sighed in relief, nearly fell asleep right then and there. then i remembered what was happening and forced myself awake again.

that was also when i began to bleed to death. it turns out the guardrail had cut my femoral artery, and the only reason i'd made it longer than a couple of minutes was because the pressure of the rail crushing me was acting like a sort of tourniquet to stop the blood from escaping. the paramedics rushed me into an ambulance to stabilize me and stop the bleeding, rushing to put warm fluids into me and keep me awake. it started to get hard to keep my eyes open, and i said as much to the paramedics, figuring it was important. the look of complete and utter terror on their faces is something i don't think i'll ever forget. they rushed even faster at that point, making me promise to stay awake and then rushing me into a helicopter.

at that point i was too tired to speak, so i kept myself awake by looking at all of the buttons in the helicopter (there were so many, it was crazy) and trying to reason out what they might do. it was all i could think of. they got me to the hospital and into the trauma bay after that, and that was when things got a lot easier.

it took them an hour and a half to get me to the trauma bay, starting from when jared called 911.

once at the hospital, they had to do a CAT scan to confirm what all was broken and make sure my spine was okay, and they wheeled me to the scan room. they apologized so many times before they moved me to the table, because they knew it would hurt me (and boy, were they fucking right) but it had to happen. i, of course, cooperated easily because i knew what was at stake here. they got me back to the trauma bay and the red cross found my blood type (a negative) and started to give me blood. i woke up a lot after that, and started asking for details on what was happening and participating in conversation.

that was when the absolute worst part happened. they had to debride the wound—that is, pull pieces of road and dead flesh out of it. they apologized, then lifted my leg up into the air and started pouring betadine into it. that was the only time i screamed in pain. it was blinding agony, the worst thing i've ever felt in my life, so much worse than the accident itself. i wanted to die. i wanted to die so badly. but, eventually, it was over and they set my leg back down.

my family turned up after that, and at this point i was pretty certain i was gonna make it. so i wanted to make my family feel a little better. i made some jokes, like telling my mom "at least i kept all my teeth!" and apologizing to my dad for wrecking the car. i think they thought i was an asshole for joking around at a time like that, but hey. then i was wheeled out of the room and into surgery.

i'd end the story there, but i want to bring up one other thing. the next morning, they woke me up from surgery still intubated. that was the worst thing i have ever fucking experienced and for each subsequent surgery i have threatened the nurses with death if they ever wake me up like that again. never. again. imagine being restrained so you cant move your hands, unable to make even a groaning sound, unable to communicate, with a tube down your throat so you keep throwing up over and over and they keep having to suck fluid out of your lungs which just makes you throw up again and it's an endless fucking cycle. eleven hours. i spent eleven fucking hours like that. i have never wanted to fucking die more than i did when i was intubated. nothing compares. nothing. not even the month i spent in agony in the hospital while my bones knitted back together. it was fucking awful. never again. i will fight six bears barehanded before i let them wake me up intubated.

that being said, i'm really glad for those surgeons and that hospital and everyone who was involved that night. they're all the reason i'm still here and i will always be in their debt. i'm currently still recovering and i have one more surgery (on the 28th) in my future. unless there's some kind of complication, but i've been blessed to escape any kind of complications so far. i hope that continues. i'm expected to make a full recovery and i'll be able to go back to college once i have more stamina for walking!

anyway, there's my story. of course, there's more to it, but a month of hospital time would take so long to go over and in the grand scheme of things the part i wrote about is what's important. if you made it all the way down here, thanks so much for reading.

#personal #car accident #story

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fictionplumis · 7 years ago

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Guess who got a job working in a metaphysical shop?

It’s so cool because everyone that works there is paid hourly to tend to the shop but everyone also does readings, so if people come in and you do a reading for them, instead of getting your hourly rate of $9, you get paid 60% of the reading you did. Plus you get $5 for every aura scan or 20 minutes on the crystal healing bed you sell.

Today was my first day. I worked four hours and did a thirty minute reading, so I just made $68 for four hours of work--if you can really consider making a couple crystal grids, ringing up one transaction, and doing a tarot reading to be work.

And I get client contact information so I can start building a client list!

I’m absolutely fucking beside myself with happiness right now to have this job, it’s just such a great place so far and everyone is so nice. The manager that I originally talked to is excited to have me there and has apparently told everyone about me. Before I showed up she kept thinking that something was missing from the shop and she wanted to get someone in there that worked more with cyrstals and then I came up and asked about a reader position, which she has people do all the time but she felt like there was something else with me, and then I came in to fill out my application and showed her the crystal grids I made and how I also do reading with crystals and now she feels like the universe sent me because she was asking.

Meanwhile I feel like the universe guided me to the shop because it’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. Something where I can get paid to do readings but also make a secure, hourly wage doing something metaphysical where I don’t feel miserable and I’m not constantly abused by customers getting paid next to nothing to do too much work.

Like. Listen. I’m so happy. So freaking happy.

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greatplanettahoe · 8 years ago

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Japan Log Day 1

I kind of want to create a log of my time in Japan. I think it’d be fun, and from what I’ve heard, I’d be able to remember my trip better! There may be a day delay for me, at least for day one because that was all flying and lemme tell you, after a 13 hour flight, a 3 hour flight felt like NOTHING, haha. I felt like I played on my DS for a half hour and it was over. So, I don’t know when entirely I’ll post these, or if anyone cares, but I don’t. Because it’ll be fun for me to look back on and remember ;)

Day one - The day of insane travel

Our journey began as most other journeys do, of sitting at home, counting away the hours and having panicked thoughts of what you still need to do and what’s been done. My way of coping was to blast music - sorry Tegan - and stare blankly at a wall. Not productive when packing was half done. Luckily, I got everything ready about an hour before my friend came to pick me up. About ten minutes before, I began to stress clean. I guess that’s exciting? Lilia’s parents graciously took us to Vancouver In'tl Airport (YVR)- Canada. The car ride felt short. Shorter than I thought it was to get to the border. Right before we hit, we got to see the tiny little peace arch. Cool! Going in, the border guard is looking over our passports, doing the routine questions.

Then, he leans in and goes “Alauna?” and I sheepishly correct him as he clearly wasn’t quite sure how to pronounce my name. He informs me that I need to sign my passport and I need to do that before I check in at the airport otherwise they may not let me fly. OOPS! Luckily Lil’s dad had a pen that I could use otherwise I’d have to hunt for somewhere to sell a pen at the airport at MIDNIGHT! Getting into the country, I receive a text from my mobile provider. CONGRATS! T-Mobile works in Canada text/data free, call 20c/min. Neat!

After a pretty good wait in line - China Eastern is apparently a very popular company - and chatting with the nice lady in front of us we reach the airline official. Neither of our passports scanned into the computer. Probably because Lilia’s is 9 years old, mine’s 1 month. He was very kind, making sure that we knew our layover was between two different airports in Shanghai (more on that later, ugh) and asked us if we had any illegal items to which we both said no. He smiled and said “I trust you two, you both look very trustworthy”. He then noticed that we were seated at least 10 rows away from each other. With our permission he changed our seats to be together. Once he got our tickets, he pointed out what information we needed to know. Lilia got seat C, he was going to be in seat B, I in A …. wait. There is no seat B! :P With a very heartfelt thank you, we asked where the gates were and said our farewell.

Getting up to security, was a very small line with a long wait. It looked like the officer’s battery had died on his scanner and had to get a new one. Oh well. After that, it took about 2 seconds to make sure our tickets were valid - phew! and go onto phase two with the bag screening. They instructed us to put laptops in a separate tray. Confusedly, I ask the man why. He mentioned because laptops could be bombs. Which, I never thought about and by the look on my face, he must have understood and had a small smile as we thanked him. Lilia got through security fine. The metal detector beeped for me. Contrats, I’m wearing a bra, because that was literally why the detector beeped for me. Past that, we walked through a small mall with a bunch of stores, and very glittery flooring. Our gate was easy to find, and had a subway near us. We just got chips and ginger ale as we both weren’t feeling fantastic.

There’s not much meant to be said for the flight. Although, as it took off, Lilia looked at me and said; “I regret every jet I crashed in GTA 5”

It was nearly 13 hours and insane. Neither of us slept much, which sucked. But, at least it was quiet as pretty much everyone else did sleep. Except for one guy in the row beside us whose entertainment screen wouldn’t turn off and he was trying to sleep so he had his jacket backwards to cover his face LOL. I did kind of feel bad for him since it was legitimately malfunctioning. Their movie selection was pretty bomb. Lilia and I synced up our screens so we watched Furious 7 together. The airline provided us dinner. I accidentally got shrimp noodles, which thank you that my medicine works, and Lilia got some sort of beef patty and rice. There was also some sort of custard that was similar to cheesecake, but not entirely. It was delicious. We both tried to sleep for a while. Gave up. We got breakfast which was two adorable hash-brown patties, an omelette, and a very undercooked, disease sausage link which neither of us touched. At that point, Lilia started up Day After Tomorrow, and I started Secret Life of Pets … which got interrupted a total of a billion times. I managed to finish SLoP right before they cut off entertainment for landing purposes.

The drive after landing and getting to our gate was probably half the time of our flight. We get another text from T-Mobile. Welcome to China! Your phone has free texting, call 20c/min, and 2g unlimited data! AWESOME!

Immigration was easy, whom also informed us that our connecting flight was in a separate airport, security was easy (they have thermal screening, so that was definitely interesting!), and getting our luggage was SUPER easy. Customs, we had nothing to declare so went through that line no prob, and exited the airport into a throng of people all shouting ‘taxi!’. One guy dogged us for a long time and we eventually rolled with him as the bus to take us to Honquaio was in another hour and we only had four before our other flight. Driving in Shanghai is terrifying. Our driver nearly creamed 2 people on mopeds, and almost hit countless other cars. I never want to drive in Shanghai. As nice as the city was, there was no telltale building style, and all the buildings were insane colors. I saw an apartment complex that was hot pink. OK. We arrive at the airport, to where the cabby swindled us out of a little more money than what we agreed on, but both of us were tired and didn’t care at that point. The line in this airport was about two times longer than YVR, but went quickly enough. Again, getting to our gate was super easy, and we had about an hour of downtime before boarding.

Second flight felt way too short, and they provided us with spaghetti and another of those delicious cluster squares! Hell yeah. I think I played my DS for the entire time, but it was hard to tell since the flight felt super short.

Getting into Japan, immigration was NUTS. The line was insanely long, although it went quickly. Got fingerprinted so if I crime in Japan, they’ll know it was me. Shucks. Too bad I wasn’t planning on anything anyways. We both had our first experience with a Japanese western toilet which I’m now convinced they all have bidets since our hotel toilet has one too. FYI, the seats are very warm when you sit on them, and the one in the airport played gentle music to mask the fact that I had the best racehorse pee in the universe. Sorry, TMI? We get ANOTHER text from T-mobile. HOORAY! Your phone works! Free text, 20c/min call, 2g unlimited data! WHAT?! I wasted $40 on SIM cards before we left, and now we don’t need them! Oh well, lol.

Hitting up the international ATM, my card was declined. WHAT!? I had called my bank, so they should know I’m here! I managed to get the attention of an airport lady who graciously tried helping, but it declined for her too. Lilia was able to get out some cash. What the heck?! We asked the airport lady where the Keikyu line was and if Pasmo was over there, and she instructed us what to do. We thanked her for her time and assistance. Meanwhile, there was another American having the same problem as I. I noticed his card had a chip. Lilia’s didn’t. Ding ding, it’s the chip. We got sodas and some Japanese candy and a fruit cup, got Pasmo’s and went to the station towards Kawasaki - after a little help as we didn’t see our stop.

The train wasn’t too terribly crowded. But, went approximately the speed of a fighter jet. My shoulder and back is still sore for hanging on for dear life while making sure my luggage didn’t go anywhere. There was a lady I kept bumping into and I kept apologizing whenever I did though she just smiled and told me it was OK. There was also a nice man there who watched us to make sure we were OK and whenever another train passed us, make a slight thunking noise, probably had a great internal laugh at my face whenever I had a slight panic about it.

Getting off the station and heading down some steps, there are apparently designated sides which you move. We went down halfway the wrong way, realized, and moved over with our luggage. Sorry! Walking here is definitely interesting. There’s people crossing the streets, not even really looking. I think we saw 1 personal car on our walk to the hotel.

Getting into Noanoa was easy. Manager was SUPER nice, got our luggage taken to the room, and let us stay in the spa room while we waited the last hour before the official check-in time. While there, Lilia opened up her fruit cup, which has jello instead of juice, and I had my candies which were DELICIOUS, and apparently limited time, so guess what I’m buying more of once I get cash? Because Japan is a very cash-heavy type of country.

Our hotel room is a little small, but nothing we can’t handle. I’m sure Lilia feels weird actually being on par or taller than most the people we’ve passed walking to the hotel. We spent half the day exploring the tiny room, seeing what was on TV and being very confused over a child’s show before turning it off. We figured out google translate, and have translated pretty much everything in our room. We still need to figure out the unit on the wall, but we at least know lighting, what the controls are on the bidet, and how to work the mechanical nightmare that is the shower. We put on a Youtube show that we both like, and I crashed just before 7PM after roughly 24 hours of travel and not sleeping. Lilia poked me awake and we officially went to bed around 7PM.

We have not eaten since at least noon on the flight, and it’s going on 14 hours. Yeesh.

Our plans today, as I’m finishing this up around 2PM, is to visit an actual bank so I can hopefully withdraw cash, find somewhere to eat, and hit up a couple parks and museums. There’s also the Keihin Fushimi Inari shine that we’ll probably explore. Today is slotted to be a low-key day as we’re both pretty tired even after sleeping for a solid 12+ hours.

Note: Edited for easier reading

#Japan Log #Day 1 #Japan Trip #This blog is a day behind just fyi

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 8 years ago

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Women Puddin’ Other Women Down

I’m going to bitch about a topic that’s really been grinding my gears lately: women putting other women down. But before I get started, I wanted to talk about the Women’s March that happened last weekend on Saturday January 21st.

IT. WAS. AWESOME.

I participated in the Denver, Colorado march. My roommates and I got up at the crack of dawn, drove to Denver (we live in Boulder) and marched from morning ‘til afternoon.

Everything about the day was exhilarating. We chose to drive to Denver because the line for the RTD bus at the Boulder station wrapped around the block (this was at 7:15AM, hours before the march was supposed to start). As we drove down route 36, we saw floods of people along each bus stop, faces and signs bright from the reflection of the pink sunrise.

After we found a parking spot in Denver, we stopped for a caffeine fix at Pablo’s Coffee. We waited in line for 40 minutes with dozens of other marchers to find that our coffee and breakfast treats had been covered for all participating in the march. As we made our way to the capital, the streets were flooded with caring, loving, progressive, strong people, all eager to hit the streets.

The morning had a slow start. We were at a standstill for about 2 hours. The reason being: there were SO. MANY. PEOPLE. I was delightfully surprised by the outcome, and the amount of men in the crowds! There were people of all different races, ages, sexual orientations and disabilities, out in Denver on a chilly morning making our voices heard.

The city of Denver expected 40,000 people to come through. As of right now, it’s estimated somewhere around 200,000. We showed up. We made a difference. We sprawled through city, together, peacefully, and proudly. For the first time since election night, I’ve felt hopeful.

Now let’s get down to bitchin’.

Women putting other people down. There are sooooo many examples of this, but here’s a few to get started:

-Women talking shit about another woman's sexual history (IE: She has threesomes on the reg. She must not respect herself.)

-Women outwardly questioning another’s makeup and wardrobe choices (IE: You’re wearing that?)

-Women insulting another female for their life choices (IE: making stay at home moms feel like they’re not politically woke because they chose be at home with their families).

-Women commenting on your breakfast choices (IE: wow, that is A LOT of bacon).

-Women pointing out social interactions (IE: She’s always looking for attention. I feel bad for her).

The list goes on. Why do we do this?

Throughout high school, my weight fluctuated frequently. I had an extra 30-40 pounds on me during my freshman and sophomore year. Stress and an overwhelming sense of low self worth made me overeat. By the end of junior year I was tired of hating my body, and started “dieting” (aka starving myself) to feel pretty. And hey, it worked! Boys started looking at me in ways I wasn’t used to, friends complimented me and encouraged me to “keep it up!”

I was grossly thin. I was always tired. I was obsessed with running for miles, and then stepping onto my bathroom scale right afterwards to see how much weight I’d lost during the run. Yeah. It was messed up.

Enter grandma. She lived next door to me when I was growing up, and was present for most of my childhood. She was a firecracker of a woman who I loved very much. She was also incredibly shallow. To be fair, she grew up during a time where your dress size determined your entire self worth. That mindset was certainly perpetuated onto all of her daughters, and granddaughters.

During the time I was losing weight, she always had a positive comment, and, like my friends, encouraged me to “keep it up!” I would walk over her house after school, you know, for some standard gram time. She greeted me at the door with a full body scan, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I knew I looked up to her standards with the first words that came out of her mouth. If I was looking slim, she would say “Carla, you look so beautiful!” as she held the screen door open. If I had a couple extra pounds (which I swear to god, she could pick up on like a hawk) she would grimace and say, “Hello.” The interaction started to stress me out so much that I stopped visiting her solo. I’d only cross the yard when my sister, mom, dad or boyfriend at the time could be the buffer. And go through the door first.

Why do women do this to each other? NY Times puts it eloquently:

We aren’t competing with other women, ultimately, but with ourselves — with how we think of ourselves. For many of us, we look at other women and see, instead, a version of ourselves that is better, prettier, smarter, something more. We don’t see the other woman at all.

(https://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/01/opinion/sunday/why-women-compete-with-each-other.html)

Women have it ROUGH. Like so many other minorities, we’ve have to fight for every single right we have. Life would be a little sweeter if us ladies stopped comparing, judging, belittling each other for our choices. Next time you’re thinking about making a comment that’s meant to knock a woman down a peg, think about where the root of that comment is coming from, and work on those insecurities instead.

NOW LET’S GET TO THE KITCHN’.

Picking Women Up, Not Puddin’ Them Down

Lavender Lemon Pudding with Honey Poached Pears and Candied Lemons

OG recipe from Cafe Johnsonia: http://cafejohnsonia.com/2013/10/lavender-panna-cotta-honey-poached-pears.html

Total time: 1 hour 5 mins // Serves: 6-8

Alright, technically this a recipe for *panna cotta,* but they’re essentially the same thing. Pudding feels less intimidating and in all truth I just couldn’t let go of the name.

This recipe is easy, it just takes time. There’s just a lot of steps, and a good amount of throwin’ shit together. It’s not that bad, I promise!

For lavender lemon pudding:

3 Tablespoons cold water

one package gelatin

1¾ cups heavy cream

1¼ cups whole milk

½ cup sugar

1 teaspoon lavender buds

1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or ½ vanilla bean, scraped)

For honey poached pears:

3 slightly under-ripe pears, cored and peeled, cut into quarters

½ cup water

¼ cup honey

Juice of 1 large lemon

Peel of one large lemon cut into strips (I used a vegetable peeler to create long strips and cut them into thinner strips with a sharp knife)

1 teaspoon lavender buds

1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise down the middle

pinch sea salt

For candied lemon peel:

Reserved poaching liquid, only pears removed

¼ cup granulated sugar or evaporated cane juice

For lavender lemon pudding:

Have ready 6-8 custard cups or ramekins. (You can lightly oil them if you plan on turning them out onto a plate, it helps them release better.) Place the ramekins in a 9- by 13-inch baking dish or on a rimmed baking sheet. Set aside.

Place the cold water in a small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin on top. Let soften for 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine heavy cream, milk, sugar, and lavender in a medium saucepan. Heat gently, stirring to dissolve sugar, until the mixture just comes to a boil. Remove from heat and add the softened gelatin. Place back on the stove and heat gently until the gelatin is completely dissolved, about 2-3 minutes.

Stir in the vanilla and strain through a fine mesh sieve into a large measuring cup with a spout. Pour about ½ cup of the mixture into the ramekins. (There might be some leftover depending on the size of the ramekins.) Let stand until cooled to room temperature, then cover the ramekins with plastic wrap and place in the fridge for several hours to chill until set.

For honey poached pears:

Place the pears, water, honey, lemon juice and peel. lavender and vanilla bean in a small sauce pan Bring to a simmer and cook until pears are just tender, stirring occasionally and making sure the bottom doesn't burn. (If it does start to burn, the heat is way too high. It should just barely simmer.)

The pears will probably need between 30-45 minutes to properly poach. Check for doneness by inserting the tip of a sharp knife into one of the pears. If it goes in easily, then the pears are done. If not, cook for a few more minutes. Remove the pears and place them in a bowl to cool. Reserve the poaching liquid and other ingredients.

For the candied lemon peel:

Bring the poaching liquid to a boil and then lower the heat a bit and continue cooking until the liquid reduces and become syrupy, an additional 15 minutes or so. Remove the lemon peel from the syrup, letting as much of the syrup drip back into the pan as possible.

Reserve the remaining syrup to use as a sauce when serving. Place the sugar in a shallow bowl and add the lemon peel to the bowl and roll until coated. Set the zest aside to finish cooling. You may need to roll them in the sugar several times. Set them aside until serving time.

To serve:

Either serve the pudding still in the ramekin or carefully loosen it from the mold with a thin knife and turn upside down on a plate. Top with 3-4 pear slices and drizzle with some of the syrup and top with a few strips of candied lemon peel.

Note from the “editor”:

Carla is one of the best people. She’s got it all going on. She has the most beautifully curated Instagram, the best fucking attitude I could ever hope to steal for myself. Follow her if you feel like you need some feel good posts in your social media. I love her. She’s the best.

As a woman, life is already hard. We should spend more time lifting each other up rather than puddin’ each other down just to feel a little more ahead. This goes for everything. The basic lesson in intersectional feminism really. We all can’t get ahead if everyone is pushing everyone else down. It just doesn’t work like that. Getting your own self image and worth to a good point is so damn hard anyway. Ugh. Anyway, Carla, youre beautiful. I love your mind. Reader, You’re beautiful, and I love you for being here.

If you want to write for this blog, just let me know! There are submission guidelines HERE Bitch it to me ladies.

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rilenerocks · 4 years ago

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November, 2014

Michael had a cyst on his eyelid which was drained by our eye doctor. He also had a visit with the dermatologist who observed some odd tissue on the crown of his head and performed a biopsy which showed precancerous cells. She asked him to return in December for a second look. Hyper vigilance continues.

We welcomed Thanksgiving with stunned gratitude. After the 2013 holiday, we thought we’d spent our last favorite family holiday together. That previous November, we’d been told that Michael’s Merkel cell cancer had returned, scattered throughout his bones, and that absent treatment, his prognosis was 2-3 months. With treatment, perhaps he’d have a year. And here we were, past that year with the family gathering again in our home. Michael had weathered his chemo well but despite that, we knew that the cancer, which had been undetectable for 4 months, was now visible again in a few spots on his skeleton. Thus far, he remained asymptomatic. We’d managed to take a few special trips and were doing pretty well at living mindfully. But we were also tired and stressed. The anxiety of living from scan to scan had worn both of us down. Life outside Michael’s cancer hadn’t stopped either. My mother, aged 91, was now showing signs of dementia. Her life in assisted living was getting harder to manage as she regularly confused her medications, causing dizzying symptoms. She was also having wild diabetic episodes which required frequent trips to the ER. My sister and I were trying to manage her problems together, but as her power of attorney for health care, I needed to be present much of the time. I resented having to be away from home at all when Michael was struggling with the disappointment of his scan. In the midst of everything, I was reminded of what I’d learned as a much younger woman – during times of crisis it’s likely that people will become more like themselves rather than developing new and better responses to stress. That certainly applied to both Michael and me. When the family dispersed, he went into a dark, irritable space. Facing his mortality every day was wearing on him and withdrawal was one of his go-to life management techniques. Mine was to begin probing and pushing, getting it all out on the table, aggressively trying to dissect every feeling and every thought. Michael had frequently said drily throughout our lives, “would you mind removing your feet from my back?” Yes. I was usually impatiently stamping my feet at the finish line before Michael got out of the blocks. In the best of times we tolerated each other’s differences pretty well. These however, were not the best of times. Being angry and alienated from each other is truly a dreadful feeling when you know that time is so limited by disease. Neither one of us could allow too many days to pass before limping back to each other, trying to find our common ground so we could reunite and face whatever was coming next. There’s no manual for dealing with terminal illness. We just kept going, trying to manage ourselves and our relationship in the best possible way.

December, 2014 was an intense month. Michael went back to the dermatologist who destroyed more tissue on the top of his head with liquid nitrogen. My mother continued to deteriorate both mentally and physically. She was in and out of the hospital every few weeks. I realized that assisted living was about to become a thing of the past. In two years she’d gone from living with me to the partial care facility – now she seemed destined for a nursing home.

Meanwhile Michael had his December scan. Not only had the three spots which were radiated failed to respond but there were two new ones. He was still pain-free but we knew he needed to get some systemic treatment before the cancer became more widespread. I had sent out a dozen inquiries to researchers across the country who all felt like Michael’s best bet was the clinical trial for a PD-1 inhibitor rather than the possibility of using Tarceva and Zometa which might affect one of the mutations in his tumor tissue. A branch of that PD-1 trial was starting in January at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis, only a few hours away from home. We were desperate for him to get approved for that before there was a decline in his overall physical condition. The learning curve about clinical trials was steep. In our naïveté, we thought having a proven incurable disease targeted by the experimental therapy was enough to qualify. Instead there were rigorous standards involving previous treatments, blood count levels and in Michael’s case, what was the most challenging – evidence of measurable disease. We found out that bone metastases were not considered measurable disease; rather there needed to be soft tissue that could sized for potential shrinkage from the treatment. I still can’t understand the narrow parameters of a trial to treat a rare and incurable disease. However, our local radiation oncologist informed us that the scans he used to develop his radiation plan for those first three recurrent cancer spots showed soft tissue involvement along Michael’s rib. He gave us copies of those scans with the rib area highlighted. We managed to get an appointment to see the principal investigator for the St. Louis trial in mid-January.

In late December, we ran off to Starved Rock for a brief two day vacation, keeping up with the tradition we’d practiced for years. I left town with my mom still in the hospital. I was exhausted from trying to deal with the logistics of her life and the bureaucracy of both her health insurance and the assisted living home. I was also exploring our own health insurance for the drugs Michael would need if he didn’t get into the trial. Our trip had a forced element to it although it was better than not going. When we returned, my mom was too ill to be anywhere but a nursing home.

December 26, 2014

Dorothy to the nursing home today. Dismal, depressing and a bitter end. I always said I’d never put my mother in a nursing home but I actually did it. Who can ever really know what they will or won’t do? Life is full of unpredictable and unimaginable changes. Those who can’t adapt belong on the losing side of natural selection. But the strong ones who survive are mutated. I am mutated. Some days I am unrecognizable to myself. Is there any girl left in me? Am I completely brittle from my experiences? Where are the soft unprotected innocent spaces? Can I find some velvety smooth place to nestle in for just a few minutes?

Our family went out for New Year’s Eve dinner as we did every year. We’d started 2014 in terror and were ending it only slightly less fearful. By January 5th, Michael started feeling pain in his hip at the site of one of the lesions which had shown up on his scan. A few days later we were frantically packing up my mom’s apartment as the assisted living facility wanted it available for a new renter. We were hoping that Merkel Cell would, as our Dr. Luyun had stated, remain at least a little indolent for another week or so as Michael’s intake appointment for the immunological PD-1 trial was looming at the cancer center at Barnes in St. Louis. With no systemic cancer treatment since March of 2014, we were certain that the slow insidious return of disease could soon escalate. We tried to stay optimistic, hoping that entry into the trial was imminent and that this new immunological drug, soon to called Avelumab, would have more benign effects than Tarceva or another chemo. Michael already needed a narcotic for the new pain. We were teetering on the edge of a cancer abyss.

On a glittering cold and sunny January morning we drove off to St. Louis. We carried the scans from Dr. Stanic, where he’d clearly marked and measured the soft tissue along the rib which was mandatory for entry into the trial. The Siteman Cancer center was huge, gleaming and bustling with activity.

We were ushered into an intake office where Michael filled out the application and waiver documents required by the trial. The principal investigator’s nurse, Joann, unfortunately reminded us a bit of Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, although she was actually more brusque. She did a cursory vitals exam and quickly got a blood draw. We mentioned that we were concerned about Michael’s low platelet issues. She said, “oh that’s no big deal – you can just get an infusion before your treatment.” We stared at her, dumbfounded. That didn’t sound much like what the protocols said. Within a few minutes we met the doctor, Gerald Linette who went rapidly over the documents and then surprised us by already having the blood test results. They showed that all Michael’s counts were adequate for the trial. Things evidently moved much faster at this large cancer facility than at our community center at home. We felt relieved and hopeful. Although this very different atmosphere was somewhat antiseptic and cold, all we really cared about was getting into the trial. We handed Linette our scan copies. He quickly informed us that Michael would be scanned on-site and that only their local results would be considered as opposed to those done on off-campus equipment. He ordered the scan and said we’d be informed of his decision as soon as the results were read by a radiologist. Michael was in and out of the test within minutes and suddenly we were on our way back home. We were mid-way through our return trip when Joann called and informed us that the Barnes scan showed only 2 sites of active cancer versus the 5 on our local scan. In addition, there was no sign of soft tissue involvement. I started arguing with her because she was being so dismissive. She cut me off and said abruptly, “Michael needs to go home and get sicker. Have him scanned every two months and call us back when things get worse.” And that was that. We were so disappointed, angry and frightened. With this avenue closed off, all we had left was the Tarceva/Zometa combination or another line of chemo. Either an untested choice or a choice we knew wouldn’t do much. The Tarceva was incredibly expensive and we needed to get insurance approval before we could begin that regimen.

The advent of pain into Michael’s life changed everything. Prior to the end of his remission, the only pain he��d ever suffered from illness was a byproduct of radiation treatment. Almost three years from his initial diagnosis, he was hugely fortunate that Merkel cell had thus far been a mysterious abstraction that he knew was inside him. Now it made its presence known round the clock. His need for pain medication became a complicating issue. The meds caused stomach problems. They didn’t really provide thorough coverage so pain woke him at night causing fatigue and mental fogginess. In addition, there was no way to pretend that he was okay, even for a short time. Although we’d been looking at the possibility of death for more than a year, the physical symptoms made things much harder psychologically. We tried to continue making the most out of every day but we had dark times, both alone and together.

We went about the business of getting Tarceva approved by insurance. Tarceva was an oral medication and the adjuvant Zometa was administered by infusion. By the first week of February, Michael began this experimental treatment, hoping that it would target the primary genetic mutation in his cancer cells and halt disease progression.

After only a few days on this protocol, side effects hit with a vengeance. Michael developed an angry pustular rash on his face, chest and the back of his neck.

He developed new pain which now involved both hips. We saw the radiation oncologist who zapped the first three spots of the returned cancer and he suggested that some of the pain might be attributable to arthritis. I was baffled by this suggestion as Michael had been through the pain of herniated disks in his life and never was as uncomfortable as he was in these moments.

He became very quiet, sighing a lot and saying he was trying to find his balance. On occasion he’d go back to teaching as a guest speaker, trying to feel like there was life outside cancer. I worried a lot about his being exposed to a broad community of germs but he needed to go there to stay sane. We’d always had differences about how much validation we got from external sources. So off he went while he could while I fussed away internally.

Within two weeks, the side effects went from bad to so bad that treatment needed to be stopped. His blood showed elevated liver enzymes and his dreadful rash covered his head and entire torso. He developed jaw and esophageal spasms, bloat and acid stomach. He grew so weak he could barely get out of bed. What a rapid and stunning reversal from the relative good health he’d maintained for so long. In addition, his pain was increasingly breaking through his meds. I found myself in the unenviable role of advocate and chief nag. Michael had little appetite and not much thirst. I knew that not eating and drinking would compound all the other issues. So it was up to me to push and prod, all day and all night, counting calories and ounces and driving my beloved husband crazy. Obviously I didn’t want this miserable job. But Michael wanted to stay alive and if he couldn’t manage his basic care, I would. Basically this failed treatment sapped his energy. He was prone day and night which only made him feel worse. Dr. Luyun suggested Michael try what was considered an “old people’s” antidepressant, Remeron. Its primary side effect was increased appetite and weight gain. At that point, anything was worth a try. By mid-February, Michael was like a shadow. Exhausted, in pain and spending lots of time sleeping. We set up appointments for X-rays to see if anything new would show up in his sore hips.

Meanwhile, at the crown of his scalp where he’d had the biopsy and the liquid nitrogen treatment, there was a peculiar lump growing. At first, the doctors thought it was a keloid and then perhaps a cyst. It was scaly, about 3/4 inches tall and seemed spongy. Dr. Luyun recommended removal. When Michael saw the dermatologist, she felt it would be better to have the head and neck cancer surgeon remove it because of its size. Our original surgeon had moved away so we went to the young woman he’d suggested. We saw her and she scheduled an outpatient surgery. That morning, I sat in the waiting room waiting for someone to call me back to see Michael in recovery. After awhile, I realized too much time was passing. I went to the receptionist who managed to send a patient liaison to talk with me. She informed me that the surgeon was sending one frozen section after another to a hospital pathologist. I immediately realized that the growth was a Merkel cell that had gotten by all the doctors. My heart literally sank into my gut. How could I tell Michael that what we thought was an innocuous cyst was cancer? Even worse was realizing that this growth, which had been present, albeit smaller, since December, was actually on his head when we’d gone to Barnes to try getting into the trial. He’d had the trial-precluding soft tissue component for months. And indeed, he’d gotten so much sicker that his liver enzymes would disqualify him from the trial at this point.

When the young surgeon came to speak to me I could see she was totally shaken. She’d had to cut almost to his skull before she found a clean margin with no cancer cells. She was barely able to seal his incision which had a large yellow bolster pressed down against it that would need cleaning while it stayed in place until skin regenerated.

I felt devastated. I pulled myself together for Michael’s sake but this trajectory, coupled with my mother failing in the nursing home, was a gigantic weight, so much to carry.

February 27th, 2015

How did this happen? In January, his scans were stable. What’s happening now? I feel so defeated. Where do we go from here? How much time is left? When my eyes pop open in the morning, my brain is instant tumult, running possibilities, turning flips, the pace so rapid that I am breathless. I continue to cast around for alternatives. I am so lonely.

I have been sitting on this for awhile, anxious about writing on tough topics during the pandemic and now the social unrest around the world. But I promised myself I’d tell my husband’s story after he died and I’m going to do it. This is part of a series-I’m re-publishing this piece which will be immediately followed by part 2. Thank you. November, 2014 Michael had a cyst on his eyelid which was drained by our eye doctor. He also had a visit with the dermatologist who observed some odd tissue on the crown of his head and performed a biopsy which showed precancerous cells.

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