#obviously he checked their salary before stealing them

[theverycoolfish]

I apologize for well Europeans as an European myself.

my only advice is to BE CAREFUL posting about holiday traditions around europeans. you'll post something casual like "anyone else watch the old Grinch movie every year? what a classic" and a european will appear as if summoned and say some shit like "funny how USAmericans always CONVENIENTLY forget that Not Everyone On Earth is from The USA…….. no of COURSE we dont watch 'the grunch' or whatever the fuck that is…. our tradition is to attend a community showing of Glummdorf the Racial Stereotype"

[xkseii]

⎮A ring for your heart ⎮

⏤ Characters: Pantalone⎮reader

⏤ Including: nsfw (-17)

⏤ Warnings: sub/bottom & masochist! Pantalone, top/dom male reader, dub-con, aphrodisiac, obsessive, mention of courting, blowjob, choking, violence, reader called 'sir', mention of pet play, mention of breeding, urophilia, belly bulge, size kink

⏤ 5.000 words

You were a banker, and Pantalone was your special client if you could call him that way. He was a particular rich man, really intelligent and with a charm that nobody could deny. He was someone you really admired, he was clever, and it was not uncommon that you would end up enjoying a cup of tea after work.

After some time being Pantalone's personal banker, you ended up being a part of the Fatui. The reason? The salary. You weren't interested in their motivations, you were just doing your work and going back to your house after. You weren't fond of the Fatui or Harbingers, most of them were just crazy guys wanting to kill people under a god's orders. So… puppets.

The only other Harbingers you were in contact with, except Pantalone obviously, was Pulcinella. The older man was quite easy to rely on, always calm and smart, you knew he was taking care of Childe's family whenever he was doing a mission, even sending sweets to his brothers and sisters. It became a habit for the older man and you to leave some sweets or tea boxes inside each other's office while the other was away.

This week has been hellish, nobody was doing their work right and money suddenly started to disappear. You were losing your mind over the matter, who was dumb enough to steal from the Fatui? You spend days and nights searching in every registers a flaw, something you could have missed.

But you were an intelligent man, and you knew you haven't made any mistake. You were glad to keep everything in the archives, even after months and months, as you could, in case, prove that you haven't done anything. And with tons of papers under your arms, you leave your office to meet with the 1st Harbinger. You could yourself sweat a little at the thought of being alone with this man, with other people around, no problem. Alone? No way in hell.

Thankfully for you, he called you while a meeting was held. As you enter the room, all Harbingers were there. There were the ones who didn't care one bit about you, the 'I want to kill you' vibe the second you stepped in and the two you were comfortable with. You place the documents in front of Pierro, classed by month as you explain every flaw you have found, even before you were hired. Immediately, you confirm it was none of the 9 people standing around this table as you checked everything personally.

You see from the corner of your eyes that Arlecchino and Pulcinella were nodding at you as thanks, as you knew it was annoying for them if someone else was going to do it. After all, most people weren't trustworthy with money as the Fatui were greedy people. It was nice to know that even people like them could trust you.

Even if they weren't saying it, as the Harbingers were listening to you, they were impressed. Not only did you check everything from the last past months in detail in less than a week, but you also wrote down any issue, name of the person, addresses, absolutely everything, going to the extent of doing a background check. As Pierro dismissed you, you're surprised when he ruffles your hair, saying you did a good job. You leave with a discreet smile, ignoring the raising voices when the door closed behind you.

As you were half-asleep in your chair, head resting on your desk, your door opens in a silent creak. This week's work worn you out, and you only wanted to sleep. You yawn as you feel a warm hand touches your cheek, rubbing gently your jaw as the comforting touch lull you to sleep. You thought it was just your imagination as you fall asleep until a soft chuckle reaches your ears. You shot up from your seat, grabbing instantly the weapon at your side, the shining blade pressing against the intruder's neck.

Pantalone stands there, waiting for you to lower your weapon. With how fast you moved, you still made a small cut on his neck, the blood dripping slowly as it get to disappear in the fur of his coat.

“Why are so stressed today?”

His sweet voice calms you down as you put back the weapon to its original place, for an unknown reason, you were on the edge and someone suddenly standing next to you didn't help. Pantalone steps closer, redoing your hair and placing your coat correctly on your shoulders as he observes you. You could see his usual sly little smirk on his face as he kisses you quickly on the jaw.

“You were impressive.”

You would have heard that from anybody else, you would have thought they were making fun of you. But the way his eyes lit up, even just a bit, could tell he was genuinely impressed. You and Pantalone grew closer over the months, being the only two people approximately sane, that was something rare these days. Pantalone was the really smart one, talking about everything he knew while you were the curious and understanding one, sitting there and listening avidly about his recent favourite book and newfound knowledge.

Surprisingly, he was someone who liked physical contact, and it wasn't rare to find him nuzzling into your neck or resting his head on your shoulder. It took you by surprise at first but got used to it, you noticed how your coat or turtleneck would always have his perfume on it with how many times he was resting against you. When he was not giving that cold glare and fake sympathy to everyone, he was quite cute. He was either behaving like a snake or, around you, like a cute puppy.

Suddenly, before you could open your mouth to say something, you see him rummage through his pocket. He takes out a small box, a purple one wrapped in silky tissue, just the box itself looked so expensive. Gently, he gave it to you with a small smile, his prying eyes observing your reaction as you unwrap it conscientiously. As you open it, a small and discreet ring was carefully placed in the middle of the jewellery box. This ring seemed familiar, but you could not manage to remember where.

“Do you like it? It's a reward since you did such a good job.

I am certain you spend hours looking at those awful reports.”

He moved behind you, massaging softly your shoulders as you lean into him, your body giving up under the soft touch. It was unexpected that a member of the Harbingers could be this gentle and kind. You shiver as he moved to your head, massaging your temples, cold fingertips sending little shocks through your body. You yawn as you lean more into him, head lolling back as it rests on his shoulder. Pantalone felt his mouth water as the soft skin was so exposed, as he wonders what you would say if he bit you right now.

You were trusting him, and this feeling alone was making him have butterflies in his stomach. He was itching to let his hands wander, but he knew he could not. It was so tempting, as you rest against him, your warmth spreading onto his cold body, it always amazed him how hot your body was compared to him. He wanted to stay there forever against you, snuggle into your warmth as you do something else. The feeling of your fingers running through his hair to untangle it was always making him relax, being around you was a blessing. You were the only worthy person here, the other Fatui being useless and incompetent.

Whenever he was asking for something difficult or not, you would lend a hand or explain to him where he was wrong. And something that surprised him, was that you weren't after his money. Anytime he would try to pay for something, whenever it was the tea or dinner, you had already your money out. It was frustrating him to no end, he was the richest here, and you never asked him anything. How was he supposed to court you if you weren't accepting any of his gifts?

He knew you would refuse the ring, he knew it, but he still tried. And when you put it in your coat's pockets, his heart skipped a beat, as you finally accepted him. His mind was telling him that you were just accepting a gift, nothing more, but it was an opportunity nonetheless. He was so mad when Pierro ruffled your hair, and he was not the only one, but nobody was close to you except him. He could be the only one for you, those simpletons had no chance against him. Were they even able to buy a gift as grandiose as his? No way.

His smile widens as he sees your body temperature rise up, seems like it was starting to work. The aphrodisiac he asked Dottore to make in exchange for a good amount of money was working, he could feel himself being affected too. Imbibing the jewellery box was a good idea. He could hear you pant, his hands holding your side moving to the front of your torso, feeling the muscles with bliss. Your hips thrusted up as you grab his wrist, trying to stop him, but he knew your mind should already be fuzzy by now. You were too weak to stop his hand from sneaking under your shirt, pinching the skin. Each groan of yours could make him cum on the spot, but he wasn't satisfied.

He was glad to see you react to his touch, but you would usually put up a fight with him, forcing him to submit without knowing it. Everyone was treating him as royalty, as a genius so nobody dared to put him back into his place. But you weren't anybody, your sharp tongue breaking his ego whenever he was acting too pretentious. He wanted you to force him to kneel and apologize, lick your shoes and make him choke on your dick. But you were too docile, almost as an obedient dog, that's not what he wanted.

He remembers Dottore telling him that the effects would wear off nearly immediately after the first orgasm, and instantly, without a second thought, he was unbuttoning your pants. When you'll be back to normal, you would be mad at him, right? So you could potentially punish him for what he did. The thought of you glaring at him like you did whenever you were annoyed made his legs quiver. He needed the mean man that would put him back in his place, slap him and degrade him.

He thought he could just jerk you off quickly, but he may have underestimated you a bit. When he unbuttoned your pants and just slid down your underwear a little to take your dick out, the size left him stunned. He knew you would be big, you were taller and buffer than him after all, but this, that was too much, even for a greedy man like him. He was rendered speechless, staring dumbly as he didn't know what to do. His hand shakes as he was hesitant to touch it, legs closing involuntarily.

Unfortunately for him, the effects of the aphrodisiac were a tad stronger than he thought they would be, and when you grabbed his neck with a mean smile, he froze on the spot. Surely he was turned on to see this side of you, but something inside your eyes made him shiver in fear. Your hold was tightening around his neck, and when he tried to stop you by grabbing your hand, you caught his wrist, twisting it in the wrong direction. The cracking noise was so strong, that Pantalone thought it could have been heard outside, the sudden pain made him moan, the delicious feeling of raw strength breaking him.

He was used to getting hurt, he was a Harbinger after all, but never he felt so good after one of his bones was broken. He could cry from the pleasure of this, he wanted it to leave a bruise, so he could remember it. With a crazy smile, he placed his hands over the one that was choking him, asking you to break his neck. He trembled as he could feel your fingertips dig into his skin, legs quivering as his knees finally gave out. He was held up by your grip only, legs swinging uselessly into the air, but before you could really break his pretty neck, you let go.

A wicked smile on your face as you watch him struggle to stand up, whenever he was pushing himself up with his arms, you would kick into them, making him fall again. He was sniffling, humiliation filling his mind. He looked up at you with teary eyes, glasses sliding down his nose as he sees you turn your back to him. He was going to protest, call your name until he saw you sit back down on your chair, legs crossed, your elbow resting on top of your thigh as you watch him in amusement.

He called out your name weakly, never did he felt this powerless. He was just something useless clinging to you, some dirt under your shoe. You motioned for him to get closer, his eyes widened as he put all his strength in his arms to get up, he was so close to crying with happiness. Until you clicked your tongue, he goes rigid, blood run cold.

“Who told you to get up? Crawl.”

He was paralysed, you wanted him to crawl? He looked down as he did so, he heard you click your tongue again, and he hurried to get closer to you. As he was on his knees in front of you, your hand appear in his field of vision as you hold his jaw gently, almost lovingly. You slid your thumb over his lower lip, bringing it down softly as Pantalone opens his mouth. And you spat into his wide open mouth. He moans as he swallowed, letting his tongue loll out to ask for more.

“Aren't you satisfied with what I just gave you?

Are you so greedy that you can't even say 'thank you, sir'?”

He fumbled over his words, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. His thoughts were scattered until you slapped him, immediately he started to thank you over and over, tears sliding down his cheeks as he blushed crazily. It was as if the spot you slapped was on fire, he would have enjoyed it more if you weren't so disappointed in him right now. He needed to apologize for his behaviour.

You could see him panic, one of the smartest men panicking because he did not know how to apologize. You teasingly moved your feet in front of his face, testing if he was that desperate for you. Almost immediately, his hands hold your shoe as he kissed it, moving to your ankle as he was licking and sucking on any unmarked spot.

With a smile, you watched as your shoe got more and more covered in drool, he was lapping at it like a dog, panting and whining as his tongue met the leather. You hear a noise suddenly outside, and you grabbed his long hair, hiding him under your desk as your legs were caging him. You took the first document you saw, acting as if you were reading it. And that's when someone knocked on the door, you looked down to see Pantalone resting his head on your thigh, droopy eyes looking right back at you. You run your hand through his hair before telling the person to enter.

And you froze when Pierro opened the door, closing it immediately behind him. He sat on the chair in front of you, handing out some documents to you, you guessed it was about the issue from earlier and started to read immediately. Everything was going fine until your dear rich friend thought it would be a good idea to start jerking you off while sucking the tip of your dick. As you continue to act like nothing was happening, you're glad the subordinates outside are making so much noise to conceal the wet ones coming from under the desk.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he takes off his gloves with difficulty, as one of his wrists was broken, sliding them into your pocket before using your precum to wet his hand a bit. And before you knew it, he was choking around your cock, the tip scratching the back of his throat as you watch his eyes roll back. You weren't even able to move your hand without the man in front of you noticing, you could feel his tears and drool mix together as it slides to the base of your dick, wetting your pants.

You stuttered once before focusing and speaking normally to Pierro, explaining where it looked suspicious and how you did not have the same data. He looked satisfied with your answer and only asked some more questions, you barely managed to conceal one of your groans with a cough before he could see how sweaty and twitching your hands were. As he left the room, he complimented you on your good work and ruffled your hair before leaving your office.

Pantalone was looking at you betrayed when he felt your cock twitched suddenly when Pierro talked to you like this. Unbeknown to him, it was because his teeth grazed one of the veins on the underside, sending the most powerful shiver through your body. You feel him pull back from your dick to complain, but you grabbed his hair, slamming his face down. You forcefully made him speed up the pace, listening to the choking and slurping sounds he was emitting.

At this point, you were just fucking his face, he was unable to breathe correctly, and he felt like he was going to pass out. So when he taps your thigh hoping you would let him breathe, he almost moaned when you pulled your dick out of his mouth. But when he tried to ask you to be gentle, you laugh out loud, tugging his hair roughly before being rougher than before. You were watching with bliss as his teary eyes lost their focus, metaphorical hearts forming into them when your hips stilled suddenly, as you shot your load into his throat. The warm cum covered the inside of his mouth, it tasted so strong he was sure it would alter his taste buds forever.

Any of his complaints from earlier left his mind as you were marking him, and his heart burst when you praised him, calling him your good boy as he was being the perfect pet. You pulled him off your dick as he was not doing it himself, still swallowing your load with a big dumb smile. But when he noticed how there was still some left on your shaft, you did not have the time to make a move before he was lapping at it, collecting every last drop of your release with whimpers and moans.

“I've been good, right sir?

Thank you so much for being so nice to someone like me.

Please can I have more, I'll do anything sir”

He looked high because of your cum, and you weren't so far away from the truth. The taste was addicting, the feeling even more, that he wanted to be filled by you. He did not mind walking around with a butt plug, he would even choose one with a tail at the end, so he would really be your dog, you could use him whenever you want, he will never complain, as long as he's your favourite.

But it seems like you were hesitating, and before Pantalone started to suck you off again, he gave you bills, thanking you over and over. The amount you had in your hand was more than your salary in two months as you watch Pantalone mouth at your underwear, licking the fabric and kissing it.

His head shot up when he heard you open a drawer, and let a tube of lube fall on his face along with a condom. You moved your chair back as you watch him spread his legs apart, but it was a too difficult position for him to insert his fingers, so he ended up on all fours, face on the ground as his ass was up in the air. You could observe in satisfaction his fingers disappearing inside of him, the wet noises filling the room as his whimpers get louder. With a sigh, you place your shoe in front of his face again, watching as he focuses on licking it instead of making too many noises. And honestly, if he kept being this loud and cute, you would have taken him now and not waited for his hole to be stretched. After all, your dick could do this too instead of his fingers.

Your patience almost snapped when he started to moan loudly, he was not using his fingers to stretch himself anymore as they were just slamming into his hole, as if he has gone crazy, he was not even moaning your name anymore but only 'sir'. Angrily, you tug his hair, watching as his mouth has fallen open at the pain, eyes rolling back as he cums on you, staining your shoes and pants. He was smiling at you happily, as he has still not processed what he did. When his mind clouded by his orgasm cleared up, he was left staring at your clothes in shock, eyes widening as he felt your murderous aura.

“S-sir I did not mean to! I'll clean it up!

I'm so sorry, I promise it will not happen ag-”

And his head was slammed onto your pile of documents, you fully pull his pants down, tearing off his underwear before slamming your dick into him, not caring anymore. You let out a shaky sign at the tight heat that surrounded you, almost hugging your cock so sweetly.

“If you dare drool on my work, you are dead.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Did I asked you to talk?”

“No-”

“Then shut the fuck up. Your voice is annoying me.

At least Childe knew when to stay quiet.”

You could see his eyes filling up with tears but when you pronounced Childe's name, there was only hatred in them. Pantalone had a disgusting feeling of jealously spreading through his body, the thought that Childe got you first drove him mad. He moved his hand back, spreading his cheeks apart for you as he placed his forehead against the wooden table, certain he will be able to keep his noises in.

“Baby, do you want me to breed you?

You'll be by my side forever that way.”

He was flustered at the words, pushing his face into the papers on the table, hiding his turned-on face. You can't help but groan at the way he was tightening around you while you were swiftly pounding into him at a fast pace. You clench your jaw as his ass comes in contact with your pelvis each time you go deeper, the force makes him shudder as he feels like you were forcing his walls to mould to your size. He never felt that good in this life, he was sure nothing could make him feel as good as this.

You were pulling out slowly to slam back roughly, your tip hitting his prostate each time you bottom out, shooting some precum in the deepest part of his ass. His tongue lolls out at the feeling, hands scratching against the table as he moves his ass back, back arching to coax you into being rougher and go harder on him. Your hand was itching to spank him, to dig your nails into his ass, leave your handprint onto his soft flesh. You were groping and slapping his ass just a second later, watching as he moves one of his hands back to grip one of your hand.

He was so close to cumming, some more thrusts, and he would do it. He tried to warn you, but he was unable to let any words out, he was crying as he tried to keep it in since you did not give him permission. His hand gripping at the edge of the desk as you were ruthlessly fucking him. You were pounding into the pretty man, raw skin clapping being the only thing heard in the room. His ass was a cherry red as your hand kept slamming down and with how hard you were going on him.

He slurred, trying to get some words out, but it was impossible. He almost screamed when he came, fluids covering the desk and papers just under him in a white mess. He shook when you stopped moving, flipping him over, resting on his back as you watched with angry eyes your ruined work. He was babbling, apologizing to you, gripping your shoulders with tears in his eyes as he was kissing your lips, claiming his love for you.

You moved your hand to his neck, choking him as the other was holding up his leg, and you slammed back inside. You did not care if he was screaming as overstimulation took over his body, clawing at your back in the hope it would stop you. The man was ruined, glasses falling off his nose and hitting the table, dampened eyelashes and black liner smudging over his face. You spat on him, dipping your fingers into the mess he left on the table before smearing it over his cheek.

You could feel yourself getting closer, heat pooling in your stomach as you prevented Pantalone from breathing, watching as his face turned red. You rested your forearms on each side of his head, rocking your hips back and forth, burying yourself deeper and deeper as you keep tightening your hold on him. You groaned, jaw hanging loose.

Pantalone has lost his mind, your thick cock bullying your way into him, stretching him to an impossible extent as he feels something filling him up, the hand around his throat making him unable to breathe. He wailed with the rest of his breath he had, as you shoot your load in him, filling him up perfectly, his stomach warmed up by the hot cum. You never stopped moving, prolonging your orgasm as he reached his high suddenly, head slamming back against the hard wood, dizzy under the pain and pleasure as he cum all over himself.

It was never stopping, you keep cumming in him, mind going blank as you were breeding him. He placed his hands on his bulging stomach, hearts in his eyes as he knew he was yours, you choose him over everyone else.

“Whose hole is this?”

“Yours… yours only”

He did not care if someone could see him like that, he finally got everything he wanted. Tears of happiness wet his cheeks as it ruins his makeup even more. You pulled out gently, ignoring his whimpers as you rummage through your drawer, getting out a butt plug before sliding it into him delicately. Your hand massaged his stomach as you watch his eyes crossing, hips jerking up as he was still hard.

He has been so good for you, you could not leave him like that, and with that, you wrapped your warm hand around his pitiful cock, jerking him off. The red tip was burning under your fingertips, cock twitching as hard as the rest of his body, panting harshly when you let go of his neck, watching as he pissed himself.

You sat on your chair, lifting him up to place him on your lap, rubbing small circles on his hips as you let him calm down. Kissing softly his neck and jaw as his mind cleared up, instantly hiding into your neck in embarrassment. Flustered as he sees the mess he made out of your paperwork, guilt bubbling up into his throat, he has really done it, didn't he?

“They are just duplicates, I don't care.”

They weren't, but he did not need to know that, especially when his dark eyes looked up at you with so much love. As he hugs you tightly, kissing you like a starving man. Sadly, the gentle moment was ruined by one of the subordinates knocking on the door, saying there was an emergency meeting. You both got up, Pantalone running to dress back up as you just buttoned your pants and placed your coat back onto your shoulders.

You place Pantalone's glasses on his nose as you kiss the tip of it before redoing his hair and removing his makeup. Both your turtleneck hiding the suspicious marks as you head to the door, waiting for Pantalone to follow you. You turn around, seeing how his legs were shaking, not being able to hold himself up correctly. With a sigh, you let him lean on your body as you walk into the corridor, and enter the room, accompany him to his seat. He motions for you to stay beside him, ignoring some Harbingers openly glaring at him.

As Pierro was talking, he gripped your hand, putting his gloves on your hands and slid the ring he offered you onto your ring finger and one of the rings he was currently wearing on your index. He intertwined your hands, showing off to the others with a smug face. Went as far as pulling down his turtleneck a little to show off the bruise you left while you choked him earlier.

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

[ackermelon]

SHHH SHHH LISTEN

The Shiratorizawa volleyball team (except ushijima) definitely pampered Tendou because they thought he was poor. Little did they know that the man was loaded.

For instance, Goshiki would always share his food with him, and Tendou - being a foodie - would just take it without asking. On weekends when they don't have practice, Shirabu and Semi would take him shopping and buy him random shit because they truly believed that Tendou only owned one hoodie. Tendou just really liked that hoodie and refused to wear anything else.

After their big loss against Karasuno, Tendou invites the team to his house to spend the day as a way to cheer them up. They follow the GPS and find themselves in a very remote area, leading them to believe that Tendou lives on a farm ("I'm so glad I dressed down for this." "Do pigs bite?" "How do you milk a cow?").

P.S. They all dressed down for this day because they didn't want to make Tendou and his family feel insecure.

However, they find themselves in front of a five-story mansion, and Shirabu has to check the address three times to make sure they were in the right place.

There was a butler waiting for them at the entrance, and as they were walking up the steps to get to him, Tendou bursts out the door. And yes, he was wearing that one hoodie. He makes everyone fist bump the butler before walking in (Goshiki tries to apologise but the butler assures him that his salary is very much worth dealing with that menace).

They walk up the stairs, gawking at their surroundings and why the fuck do they need this much space when Tendou is an only child?

His room? Massive, and filled with junk, but somehow still very neat. The team walks around, looking at his trophy case when one of them notices something. "Since when did you play basketball?"

"I don't."

"There are two basketball trophies here."

"Oh, I stole those last year."

"That was you?"

Then Semi walks to his dresser and notices something else. "Is this my watch?"

"Oh yeah! I forgot to return it."

"I never even gave this to you."

"Oh, then I must have stolen it too."

They ask him why he steals when he is obviously loaded and he just shrugs and replies with, "for fun." They leave shortly after that, not missing the confused look on Mr. and Mrs. Tendou's faces when they see a bunch of rich boys dressed like football dads in their entrance hall.

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch1-2)

ships/characters: Goldie, Quackfaster, Gyro, Fenton, Lil Bulb, Manny, Boyd, Launchpad, Scrooge/Goldie words (so far): ~2800 summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943

First two chapters are up!

It was a Saturday afternoon. Normally she wouldn’t be in Duckburg, but she was passing through on her way back north and thought a little stop could be nice. Just pop in and say hello, maybe stay for a swim in the money bin or a sleepover if Scrooge asked. He wouldn’t ask, but she was always up for it.

Security at the bin was the same as usual. It always felt like there was a gap just for her - though obviously Scrooge wouldn’t be foolish enough as to leave his guard down for a professional thief. That being said, she was in his office quicker than usual, and a brief scan of the room told her she was alone.

“Huh,” Goldie breathed out, wiping her hand along his desk and taking a seat in his big chair. She spun around a few times, then stopped and looked at the different drawers. They were all locked, which didn’t change anything for her, but she knew this desk was mostly paperwork. Nothing of note, nothing of interest. Even a spare few dollar bills wasn’t worth the effort.

She stood up and walked over to the vault. It was closed, but perhaps Scrooge went for a more...private swim. That’d be fun to interrupt (and/or join in on). Her left shoulder made a terrible cracking sound as she slowly opened the door and she groaned a bit, popped her head in, and listened closely.

No sounds whatsoever.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Goldie groaned, rubbing at her shoulder and stepping fully into the vault. She looked up and down, left and right, but there was clearly no Scrooge to be found.

She sighed and closed the vault door on her way out in a sudden burst of politeness. Alright. Often Scrooge spent his Saturday afternoons catching up on work that he missed during adventures out of town. Apparently this was not one of those Saturday afternoons. Her shoulder was still a little sore, so Goldie decided to exit the normal way. Maybe someone would see her and call Scrooge to let him know. That’d be fine with her, she didn’t want to spend the whole day just looking for him.

But she had no such luck as it seemed the majority of his administrative employees weren’t working on a weekend. Made sense. Goldie poked her head into every other room to see if Scrooge was in a meeting or doing something or whatever, but he just...wasn’t there! It was agitating. Just a little bit.

The next door she spied was to the Archives. Goldie spent very little time in this room, since she had a pretty decent memory and didn’t need a piece of paper to remind her what year something happened in. Scrooge loved to talk about himself and his accomplishments, so there was rarely anything she needed to know that she didn’t already.

With a shrug, she entered the room anyway, considering the possibility that Scrooge could just be reading through old files like the old fogey he was. The door creaked loudly and almost immediately, Goldie made eye contact with the only other person there.

“What the…”

Goldie frowned as the other woman spoke and started walking towards her. This was not someone she’d had to interact with in a long time.

“Goldie O’Gilt, is that you?”

“Ah...Quackfaster. Nice to see you,” Goldie responded with a characteristic smirk. “Still working as Scrooge’s secretary, then?”

Quackfaster snorted and looked down at Goldie’s hands, clearly checking for stolen items. “Archivist. But you already knew that.”

“I did.”

Emily didn’t see anything on Goldie, and nothing near her seemed to be missing, so she turned around and headed back to her cart. “What are you doing here, O’Gilt? I know there’s nothing in this room you’d want to take.”

Goldie glided a finger against one of the shelves and cringed at the amount of dust that accumulated so quickly. “You can’t know that for sure.”

Her response was just a brief glare before she went back to filing.

“Alright, yeah,” Goldie stepped a bit closer, relishing in the way that Quackfaster flinched and reached for the sword that Goldie knew she had on her. “I’m just looking for Scrooge. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s not here,” Quackfaster said as she struggled to shove a certain book into a spot that was a little high up for her. “I assume, anyway. I haven’t seen him.”

Goldie rolled her eyes before reaching over and grabbing the book, getting on her tip-toes and putting it in its place. “Don’t you know his schedule, Secretary?”

“Archivists don’t keep schedules, Thief,” she scoffed. “Even if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t tell you. So have fun walking around town like a lovesick puppy.”

“Excuse me?” Goldie couldn’t contain her offense at the simile and proceeded to knock over Quackfaster’s cart of books before rushing out - leaving a loud crash and a pile of old papers in her wake.

Emily sighed and looked down at the pile. At her next salary meeting, she was definitely bringing this up.

Goldie, on the other hand, was back to business. That conversation had been entirely unhelpful and mostly unpleasant and very incorrect. Lovesick puppy? What was she, a teenager? She just wanted to see Scrooge so she could brag about her latest exploits - remind him of how nice it is to not be boggled down by family...maybe get some food. Sure, she loved him (or whatever), but she wasn’t sick over him. She wasn’t some kid in a bad romantic comedy. She was Goldie O’Gilt!

Quackfaster told her Scrooge wasn’t around, but she didn’t really know. And then, even she had, she might’ve told Goldie the opposite of the truth. There were a lot of angles to consider, as there usually was. So Goldie did what any sharp shooter would do - she decided to check out the last place in the Money Bin that Scrooge might be...the weird underwater lab.

--

She didn’t normally take elevators. They weren’t safe or secure. She could still remember when elevators first became a common thing...people became so reliant on them so quickly.

This was all she could think about in the slow, slow ride down to the lab where she was desperately hoping she’d find Scrooge. It’d be a shame to find out this trip to the Money Bin was a waste. If he wasn’t down here, she’d be stealing something for sure.

The doors opened and she was welcomed by two incredulous stares. She crossed her arms and stuck out her hip, staring back at them.

The two men looked at one another and then back at her.

“I don’t have time for this. Inter- er, Employee! Go!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Goldie stepped out of the elevator and looked around to see a distinct lack of Scrooge McDuck. She frowned. The shy-looking duck waddled up to her and smiled.

“Hi there! Welcome to Dr. Gearloose’s lab!” Fenton reached out a hand. “What can we do for you?”

She looked down at his hand and then back up at his face. “You seem familiar,” she said cautiously, grabbing his hand with two fingers and giving him a single shake before letting go. “...were you ever a Sheriff?”

“No, ma’am!” He didn’t give any sort of negative reaction to her odd question. “But mi mama is a police officer, so that’s close! Sort of!”

“Mama…” Goldie paused and put a hand to her beak in thought. “Oh! Are you Cabrera’s boy?”

“Wh…” Fenton blinked several times in surprise. “You know her?”

“You could say that,” Goldie said smugly. “We had a run-in a little over two decades ago. I remember you being much smaller.”

Fenton scrunched his face and considered her words, realizing after not long that this was someone on the other side of the law. “Um…”

She strode past him and towards the other man she’d seen earlier. “Is Scrooge here?”

Gyro sighed as loudly as possible before turning around to point in her face. “ Why would Mr. McDuck be here? This is a scientific laboratory, not a bin filled with coins.”

He realized briefly after speaking that this woman was familiar - familiar, as in, he’d met her just a few months ago for him and many many decades ago for her. Considering the recent controversies regarding unsanctioned time travel, Gyro started to sweat.

“Huh.” Goldie eyed him carefully. “You look familiar, too.”

“That’s not possible,” he said quickly. “I’ve never-”

“Gearloose, right? Any relation to Ratchet?”

He paused. “Uh...my grandfather?”

Goldie smacked him on his back. “I knew it! You’re his spitting image, you know that?” She laughed and continued to look around the room on the off chance that Scrooge was purposefully hiding from her. Why would he be? Who knows. Scrooge was a mystery sometimes. “Damn, I guess I owe Scroogey some money.”

“Why’s that?” Fenton asked, coming closer when he determined the intruder wasn’t a danger to the lab.

“Well, I bet Ratchet would die a virgin. Seems I lost.”

Fenton blushed and Gyro grumbled, turning back to his work, which Goldie just realized was also quite a bit familiar.

“Hey, I know this robot, too. This whole lab is turning into a trip down memory lane.”

“Hi! I’m Boyd!”

“Yes, I remember that,” she said with her eyes on the exit. “I’m guessing you’re not determined to kill anymore?”

Gyro glared at her and Boyd just clapped a hand to his cheek, producing a metal clang. “Aw geez, no I’m not! I’m sorry if you got hurt at Doofus’ party, Miss O’Gilt.”

Goldie shrugged and looked back at Fenton, who almost looked like he had a light bulb over his head. Or, well, actually. He did have a light bulb over his head. And then it jumped down onto his shoulder.

“O'Gilt! As in... Goldie O’Gilt?!”

“The one and only.”

She didn’t react as the light bulb jumped from him to her and then from her to the grumpy scientist behind her. She started to walk towards the door when she decided she’d made a mistake in coming here.

“You’re Mr. McDuck’s longtime, ah, paramour, one might say?” Fenton asked as he followed.

“One might.” She had to admit that it was interesting to know how Scrooge described her to his coworkers, but something told her that he’d never called her that.

“Then, from what I’ve read, you’re well over 100 years old, and I have never had the opportunity to ask Mr. McDuck about that, but I’m deeply fascinated!”

He started rambling, following Goldie the entire way to the elevator, and even stepping inside the elevator with her. She frowned deeply at this fact, and then there was the giant stone horse thing with Scrooge’s head clopping its way towards them that she very much wanted to get away from.

The talkative guy didn’t seem frightened by it, though - in fact, he waved at it as he continued to rant about chronological physics or whatever the hell was happening.

Not wanting to deal with this anymore, Goldie took this opportunity to grab Fenton back the back of his shirt and toss him towards the statue thing - repeatedly pressing the Close Door button on the elevator as fast as possible.

Fenton just squeaked and Manny caught him without a problem. “Hm...I guess I’ll have to save my questions for next time!”

Gyro barked at him from the other side of the lab. “There won’t be a next time! This lab needs to be more secure!”

Goldie breathed out a sigh of relief as the elevator dinged and she was back to being surrounded by no one and nobody. The Bin was still mostly empty and she was very happy with that. Though now she’d have to make her way over to the manor - where she was more likely to run into Bentina. After their last interaction, she knew it wouldn’t go well and didn’t want to deal with it. She’d just have to do her best to avoid the kitchen.

She headed out the front door, but on spotting a security camera, Goldie smirked and looked around for something to take. She spotted a few umbrellas sitting in a holder by the door, and shrugged. Something was better than nothing. Plus, it was getting kind of cloudy out there. So she grabbed the nicest looking one and stepped outside.

The clouds didn’t seem as thick once she left the building, but whatever. The umbrella was going to be hers either way. And now she had an annoying journey to the manor - normally she’d find a faster way over there, but the streets were pretty empty and she didn’t have any of her fancier gear on-hand.

So: walking it was.

Her knees started to hurt after only a minute. The road she was on was not made for feet, it was made for wheels! Why didn’t Gearloose or Cabrera or Quackfaster have a car she could steal? Were they all commuters? Did Scrooge pay any of his employees well enough to afford a car?

Just as all these complaints were charging through her brain, Goldie was cut off by the sudden sight of a familiar limo coming up towards her. She couldn’t contain the big smile on her face as she stepped in front of it - bringing the car to a halt.

She brushed invisible dirt off her pants and posed - leaning gracefully on the umbrella - in anticipation of Scrooge coming out to greet her.

Instead, a tall, muscular man stepped out of the driver’s seat and rushed towards her.

“Whoa! I almost hit you!”

Goldie sighed and stood up straight. “Is Scrooge with you?”

“Huh? No, he-” Launchpad pouted as he looked down at her, clearly dealing with the gears in his head turning a little faster than usual as they deciphered the data in front of him. “Oh, man! You're Mrs. McDuck!”

“Mrs....” Goldie looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. “I’m not -”

“I was just on my way to visit Fenton, Mrs. McD! But I could take you back to the manor instead, if you want!” He took off his hat and held it to his chest, looking a little nervous. “Please don’t be mad I almost hit you. It wasn’t that bad!”

“You didn’t-! I’m not…” Goldie was so confused by his assumptions that she didn’t even know where to start. But...a good con always knew where the benefits began. “...alright. Sure. Fine. Mrs. McDuck won’t say anything to Scrooge if you drive me back to the manor and not say a word about this to anyone. Does that work for you?”

“Oh, yes ma’am!” Launchpad quickly stepped back and opened up the back door for her so she could slide in. He closed the door on her foot and she scowled - leading to another slew of apologies before he closed the door for real.

She sighed and looked out the car window, feeling like she’d lost her touch. Usually she just knew where Scrooge was. Right away, she was always able to find him. And this was going to be one of those days where she ran around like a chicken without its head.

Launchpad was humming along to a tune on the radio, and Goldie felt the urge to have him change it to something more her style. But she wasn’t here to put on a show. She needed to find something else to focus on.

“Who told you to call me Mrs. McDuck?”

The redhead lowered the radio volume and looked at her in the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She shuffled a bit in her seat. “Did Scrooge tell you to call me that?”

There was quiet in the car for a minute as Launchpad seemed to be thinking about her question. She was ready to tell him to forget it when he finally spoke up again.

“I don’t remember! But I don’t think so,” he said with a nod. “Did I do something wrong? Do you still use your maiden name? Or should I call you something else?”

Goldie didn’t respond to that as she looked down at the seat next to her and noticed a stray white feather. She reached down and picked it up, realizing immediately that it was Scrooge’s. A hint of an embarrassed blush came to her cheeks as she tossed the feather back down - being able to recognize the smell of Scrooge on a single feather was ridiculous.

“No,” she finally said, deciding that the unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest was kind of...nice. “That’s fine.”

[twokinkybeans]

Stark On Ice 6: Epilogue [Starker]

Read here on AO3!

-

Chapter 6: Epilogue

Peter sighs as he laces up his skates and pulls the zipper of the Midtown Ice Arena-themed vest a little higher. He already hears the loud, happy noise coming from the locker rooms. It’s not like he didn’t teach any classes during Celebrity Spin-Off, but it’s good to have more time for his students again.  “Mr. Parker, hi!” Peter turns around to see a young girl emerging from the locker room with a big, broad smile on her face. “You have to check out my double axel. I finally mastered the landing!” She’s beaming with happiness, and it warms Peter’s heart to see her enthusiasm. Before the TV show, she’d been nearly there- just… Just the final details had needed some work. “Don’t show me before you finish a proper warm-up though, go skate five laps first and do the regular routine. Can’t wait to see it!” His encouraging words reach her, and with a big smile, she sets foot on the ice to prepare herself for today’s class. Slowly, more and more students drop in, and before he knows it, the ice is rather filled. The next hour simply flies by.

-

Tony stares at the man presenting the current progress of the new project. Tony isn’t sure he even heard a word the man said. He never quite realized just how much he despises working as the CEO of Stark Industries. It’s tiring, having to make stupid business deals all the time. It’s not like the results are any good. He never really cared, but… Oh well. Ever since he started to care for Peter, he’s begun to care for other things in his life too.  A slight smile plays on his lips when he remembers Happy’s face when he gave the man a raise that doubled his salary. He earned it, and Tony is done with being a greedy billionaire. He wants to do something else. His fingers itch to throw everything he has overboard and make a run for it. He doesn’t know what he’ll be heading for, though. He has no plan. No idea. He’s never done something else, so how is he supposed to know?

“Mr. Stark, I would-” “Wait,” Tony sighs and shakes his head. “Look, boy, it isn’t you. I bet your presentation is wonderful and that the progress is going according to plan- few bumps here and there, yada yada. I, however, won’t be in charge of this deal.” The surprised echo going through the room is everything. Tony eyes the man’s name sign and grins.  “Michael, you’ve been working hard on this project. You know the revenue streams better than I do. If you want, I’ll leave you in charge to execute any decision related to this project.” The boy in front of the other people has a hard time to keep from crying. His eyes teary- filled with the recognition he’s been wanting so much. “T-Thank you, Mr. Stark, I don’t know what I did, but I would very happily accept the offer.” he stammers. Tony smirks. “It’s yours, fella.”

Michael takes a deep breath before he continues his presentation. Nervous but bold when he tells the clients what his plans are. Tony nods to himself. That was the right call. He made someone very happy here, and he doesn’t have to bother with it. He realizes he finally starts to trust people again. His employees. His friends, too. All because of Peter Parker with his ever-be-damned innocent puppy eyes. He wishes he could see Peter again soon. The boy is immensely busy with teaching and catching up with his YouTube channel and own training. Even though Celebrity Spin-Off may have eliminated them for the race - leaving Clint and MJ to win - the bookings for Dancing On Ice have been off the charts. Everyone wants to get a glimpse of Peter Parker with their own eyes. Tony wishes he could spend more time with his boyfriend, but he’s immensely proud of how the boy is doing. He’s famous, famous for being himself and the thought alone has Tony feel proud.

They haven’t seen each other in three weeks now. But Tony intends to surprise him tonight. Happy happily volunteered to be their chauffeur, and the restaurant had been more than excited to rearrange some tables to squeeze them in. Ned and MJ are a part of the secret plan, too, making sure Peter has the night off from something else.

-

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a long time now.” “Oh?” “Why aren’t you pursuing the Olympics? I may not be a professional, but I know enough about figure skating now to see you have the potential.” Tony’s voice is gentler than usual. Peter presses his lips together and casts his gaze down. The man knows he’s treading on thin ice and it has Peter feeling understood and more at ease simultaneously. He knows he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. A simple “I don’t feel like it” would suffice. Peter wants Tony to know, though. He’s his boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. 

“My parents… They were rather famous pair skaters—multiple Olympic gold medals. My mom, she… The stress of having to upkeep her physique, athletic capabilities, relationship, and me-” Peter pauses for a short second, taking a deep breath. “It drove her to a massive panic attack during a show and she fell. Broke her ankle. Couldn’t skate again on the same level. It drove her insane. She got behind the wheel, drunkenly so, and crashed herself and my father into a tree in Ohio.” Peter’s voice wavers, and he shakes his head slightly. “I don’t… I don’t want to end up like them. I want to enjoy the sports. She grew to hate it. I couldn’t… I need this in my life. I can’t bear the thought of losing it. I’m good here. Shows, teaching. It’s still professional, and yet at the end of the day, I can still have a game night with Ned and stuff my face with a way too big pizza.”

Tony nods. Unsure what to say. Peter gives him a faint smile. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s been fifteen years now. Although it’s something I carry with me, it’s not… It’s not something that I’m allowing to dictate my life. Honestly, I’m having a grand old time, Tones.” “I’m so sorry, though,” Tony whispers and opens his arms. Peter hums appreciatively and crawls into his lap- straddling the thickened thighs. All these months of harsh training show on Tony. “I wish they were still here to see what an amazing young man you’ve become.” 

Peter scoffs, but his gaze betrays his pride. “Thanks,” he whispers and kisses Tony’s forehead. “Now, what about your parents? They left a mark on you too, didn’t they?” Tony shrugs. “My dad’s a prick. My mom never knew how to deal with that. They died before I could properly build a bond with her.” “How’d they die?” “Suspicious car accident. It’s never been confirmed exactly what or who did it.” “I’m sorry…” “Nah, honestly, as much as I miss the idea of them- I don’t miss them. They were never there for me when I needed them. I wish I could’ve had loving parents, but hey, at least they left me with a multi-billion-dollar company.” “I always forget how rich you are.” “Wanna be spoiled?” “Ugh, no. We’re good like this.” “Good.”

The both of them fall silent for a good minute after that. That is until Peter cocks his head and innocently brings his drink to his lips. “So-” he starts “-MJ and I have a plan for a new video for our channel.” Tony knows by the tone of the boy’s voice that it is something that Tony won’t necessarily like all that much. Or maybe he will. It’s about him, that’s for sure. “Oh?” He simply says. Peter chuckles. “Well, we figured it’d be fun to star you as a guest? People will love to see more of us skating together, and the fact that you’re Tony Stark only makes it better.” “What about MJ?” 

Peter’s smirk widens, and he grabs his phone that had been facedown onto the edge of the table. Tony groans. “Oh God, you got it all planned out, didn’t ya?” “Of course I did. Who do you think I am? MJ is in charge of all our social media and editing, but I? I make the scripts. Skating is much more than just a simple dance, eh? It’s a choreo. A story.” “Sure thing.” Peter scoffs and shakes his head as he scrolls through his phone, probably to find the right document or whatever it is he wants to show his boyfriend. “Thought I taught you more these past months,” he jokes. Tony chuckles.  “I’m still very much a rookie, Pete. Your world of figure skating, I- haven’t figured it out yet.” “Oh God, that’s the worst pun ever.” “Shush, I’m having an ice day.” Peter snorts and shoves his phone forward. “Maybe my choreo will shut your mouth.”

Tony can’t help biting down his lower lip as he spills his last joke. “Axel-lent.” Peter sends him a death glare after that, but the playful sparkle in his eyes betrays that he loves the convo. He nods at his phone, and Tony takes the hint. Dropping more jokes would be overkill now. (Yes, he knows more puns, and he won’t ever admit to Peter that he stayed up until 3 am a few nights ago to Google them).  He squints his eyes at the screen, cursing under his breath as his fingers slide down the screen to lower the brightness. As much as he doesn’t think he’s that old yet, his eyesight doesn’t agree. Peter, if he even noticed, doesn’t comment on it.

“I- Is this Romeo and Juliet?” “Well-” “MJ IS PARIS?” “Isn’t it romantic!” “Romeo and Juliet never came off as romantic to me, to be frank. Those teens had an unhealthy obsession and-” “Tony, I love Prokofiev’s music. You’re gonna have to bear with it. Be glad I didn’t cast you as Juliet.” “Did you steal this from that Netflix show? I know Justin’s a hottie, but-” Peter blushes a bright red, and Tony grins. “Does that mean you agree?” “Yes. Of course, I agree. But no, this choreo is very different. They were pair skating for the competition, and we’ll be making a little play. On ice. Plus, it’s not even the same song.” “Alright, alright. Agreed on Prokofiev.” “Good.”

Tony smiles as Peter continues to explain the rest of the choreo to him. The costumes he has in mind. Tony doesn’t like admitting things to himself- especially not when they’re good feelings. But he has to confess he likes this. Peter. Skating. Even acting, in a way. It unlocks a part of him that he’s never quite experienced before. Obviously, his job allows for minimal creativity, but it’s nothing, absolutely nothing, like this. 

-

A little over 11 months ago, the broadcasters asked Tony to participate in Celebrity Spin-Off; an annual TV series where celebrities get paired up with a professional figure skater and compete against each other. Well, he’d laughed in their faces, wondering why they’d even ask. Were they really that stupid? He had better things to do. “If you can find me a male skater who lets me lead, I’m in,” he’d scoffed sarcastically to brush them off. 

He’s still not sure why they took his answer seriously, but they had. Tony Stark doesn’t back out of a promise, though. So, here he is, lacing up his skates to record a YouTube video with his sweet, enthusiastic, now 22-year-old boyfriend and his bestie; dressed in a silver-lined tight suit to play Romeo out of all possible characters.

He’s never felt more alive.

(Especially not at 7 AM)

[slug-bpd]

w@lm@rt “masterpost”

I’ve worked at the lovely store for a good bit now so I do have some tips, but take it with a grain of salt as I live in a more rural area, and as such my security will be different than yours.

ap~

My store has only 2 ap officers, and they’re just now adding a 3rd. There are a few door ap people, but they aren’t the same authority wise, they’re there as presence and to ask to check your receipt; but honestly as everyone else says - just pretend to be on a phone call, wave a random receipt at them, and walk briskly. I’ve never seen one of those ap people make a stop - it’s only been the plainclothes ap or the salaried managers.

On that note - no floor associate can stop you or app. you. The most they can do is CS you or contact management and management is always so busy that if you’re quick enough you can just get out before they arrive. On associates name tags, if they are a manager they will have a yellow/orange slip under it saying “department manager” or “assistant manager” or “general manager” or “support manager”. The only two uniformed associates you need to worry about are assistant managers and the general manager. They are the only two kinds of associates empowered to stop you.

Of course, don’t conceal in front of anyone - EVER - but keep an eye out for the others, and if someone sees you conceal, just leave quickly. There are plainclothes ap at my store, only 1 (they’re in the process of hiring another), and he’s pretty obvious. Not very subtle. If you see someone walking around and holding things, and not really looking at what he’s looking at (he’s been standing in electronics for the past 10 minutes, but hasn’t really looked at anything he’s in front of, only looked around and then made a blind selection (LITERALLY SUSPICIOUS PERSON THAT WE TELL LIFTERS NOT TO BE) thats him).

concealing~

There’s usually blind spots in toys, appearal, housewares, and stationary/ fabric. There’s cameras in pretty much every action ally (the larger paths around the store that have displays in the center of them) but if you go into an aisle without them and in between cameras, face away, crouch and conceal, etc. you’ll be okay.

My fitting room usually doesn’t count but I recommend doing a test run - grab one or two clothing items and nothing you want to lift, and ask for a room. If they take the things from you and count, then you know that’s not the best and on the floor is your best bet. If they just let you in and don’t count, then you know you can leave, grab different sizes/colors in what you just grabbed (bonus points if its jeans or bathing suits), and load up with items you intend to lift before coming back. Concealing in items hoods/pockets would work for this scenario, and you can just conceal in the fitting rooms in your purse or bag, but I recommend being SUPER quiet with any de-tagging as fitting room associates have to sit like not 5 feet from the rooms and they can hear a LOT. My best tip - go when it’s busy, but obviously that’ll have to wait until all this lockdown is over.

time of day~

A Friday or Saturday, in the early afternoon. It’s busy, but also a normal time of day when normal people shop when they have the weekends off. If you go then, the checkouts are packed, the store is busy, electronics is usually swamped - it’s a free for all if you play it right.

electronics~

I don’t recommend lifting anything you can’t pick up and walk away with (anything not locked up). The company has a policy that ANYTHING locked up needs to be rung up at the registers in the department, and often times associates are hesitant to even let you hold the item for a bit, they need to walk it over themselves. One time we had a display for instax cameras that weren’t locked up (it was a pallet in the department) so look out for stuff like that - a seasonal display of a high price item, because those will be unlocked. In that case, you can take it and conceal in the rest of the store.

general~

PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. STOP LEAVING YOUR GODDAMN PACKAGING. You have no idea how much packaging we find shoved under the fabric aisles, in the appearal department - the other day I found literally four corners of jewelry packaging (the corner that has a sticker that says “Security Device”) torn off, and just lying on the ground. Right on the jewelry aisle, below what they wanted to steal. I’m just. Why? Honestly most times I just toss the packaging, but protocol is to take it to claims, and let ap know what you’ve found so they can investigate it. Please don’t, it’s so annoying. Throw your tags away. Take the whole package. Oh my god.

Do your homework - scout out the store and cameras, check out the fitting room, but the store is pretty easy if you’re quick. Ex: the jewelry counter is covered in cameras, but there’s one aisle of cheaper jewelry hung up on pegs (the ones w the stickers I mentioned earlier), and that aisle is a blindspot. If you’re quick and grab something and conceal in the same aisle, in a situation as before, no one knows. No one saw you grab it, no one saw you conceal. Those aisles are goldmines, but just make sure it’s clear like I mentioned.

In general most associates don’t care, we don’t get paid enough for the amount of bullshit and yelling we have to deal with, but it’s still annoying to find packaging and shit, and if you’re obvious. If you’re not obvious and you don’t leave stuff behind, and we can ignore it, often times we will. If you’re coming in with a crowd of friends and all wearing backpacks, and suspiciously all splitting up and then coming back together when you leave, and oh! look! your backpacks are full, then we’ll stand by the doors to watch ap stop you, because it’s so so funny to see. If they see you leave, in a situation like above (a lot of people, super obvious), they’ll let you go. And they’ll wait and watch for you, and the next time you show up, they’ll call the police. The police were waiting for the kids since ap called them the second they walked in - they remembered them. If you come in in a group one day (please don’t, but if you do), come in by yourself next time you go.

People will come into the store to bullshit (high schoolers) and fuck (playing with toys) around while waiting for their parents / just hanging out, etc. I’ve heard my ap say they don’t really care about them and they can tell the difference between the ones fucking around, and the ones lifting. So you could play it a couple ways. You could come in with a buddy and act young and in high school, and just looking at clothes and makeup, thanks; or you can dress a little older and if you have a SO that knows you lift, come with them. Coming in with a partner and being nicely dressed gets you a good bit of credibility. You have money to sustain your lifestyle (or supposed lifestyle), and obviously you have a person to date, so that’s kind of a subtle/subconscious boost. I and other associates tend to ignore couples if they look older, since they’re usually just doing their own thing and know what they want. If you look like a middle school couple it’s not the same, you’re just kids to us.

Not sure really what else to add? Be careful, watch the customers around you for suspicious people (they’re usually the ap), but don’t conceal in front of anyone anyway. Find your blindspots. Good luck???

[prorevenge]

Fire me for obeying the Am? Right...

Am - area manager Sm - store manager Me - me obviously

Worked for a fast food chicken chain in Australia, there's two major ones so that should be ambiguous enough, as a Store Manager.

Worked there for over 3 years without issues, but then the franchise owner decided that he was going to retire. Fair enough, some of the higher ups started to negotiate to take over one or two of the stores for their own business. Also fair enough.

Now the problems start, there's too many managers left and not enough stores to work in. As salaried employees, we get paid regardless of how much we work, so obviously this was causing the retiring owner some concern.

Cue the Am: I want you to continue using such and such, the packaged date says that it is expired, but in my estimation it should be fine for two more days.

He says this in front of staff and my Sm, I query him on it, knowing full well that this is not only illegal, but against the licensing laws of operation for a fast food place. Get shut down quickly and told to use it anyway. Fine, use it and throw it out at the end of the night, knowing that we could get in shit if anything comes of it.

Next day Sm hands me a write up for using expired stock. I point out that he was there and as my superior it was his responsibility to take up the issue with the Am. Since he didn't and I did I'm not accepting the written warning and won't be signing it. (I assume he was covering his ass or was told by higher ups to do this.)

Next thing I know I'm getting a second warning from Head Office about this and insubordination. Right, I'm pretty sure at this point that they are just looking for any excuse to dismiss anyone to reduce staff and sell off.

We had a pda with daily checklists on it. This requires FOUR daily checks of stock use by dates to be run through by specific times to ensure product quality. EVERY DAMN DAY.

I started taking these super seriously, forwarding any out of date stock to superiors (both Sm and Am, plus the Hr officer and the owner CC'd) including who had not completed them correctly previously and included pictures of the stock.

Was then made to attend a meeting with the company lawyer, stating that my conduct was unprofessional and I was suspended WITH PAY while an investigation took place. (all of this was super illegal, but the suspension with pay will be important)

Two days later, I get a call saying that I have had my employment terminated immediately and I will not be receiving any holiday or sick pay that I am owed.

Cue the drama. Since all of this was super illegal, as was the firing (in Australia you are required to have 3 written warnings for the same offense before immediate termination or do something serious like steal the cash. They could have given me the flick, but they had to give me notice and pay out my leave) I filled for illegal termination. This is a complicated process, which fortunately I had well documented, but disputes have to be filed within 28 days.

Due to the complexity of the forms and having to drag information out of the company about specific incidents (closed servers means that all emails cannot be sent outside of the company) the forms were filed 26 days after by express post so it would arrive 1 day inside of the time frame.

Dot points to speed this up:

They dispute the case being brought in at all since I was terminated on such and such date, therefore I'm outside of the 28 days. They used the date of the suspension with pay as the termination date.

This was disputed for FOUR weeks in back and forth emails, with appeals at every stage to slow me down before they caved.

They offer me the pay I was owed at this stage to shut me up and get me gone, I refused, knowing that they had no case for dismissal now and they'd pissed me off I went full out, I wanted pay for TIL and the job reinstated. This takes another SIX weeks.

Got the job back, with pay for the time I had spent fighting with them, had heaps of holidays owing so I immediately took holiday pay and got another job before the pay ran out.

Bonus: The whole shit show got shut down about two months after I left. Turns out someone had informed the Food Safety board and shit hit the fan. Who knew? 😜

Tldr: Fast food joint started ownership change, tried to fire me in a super illegal way. Gets shut down figuratively and literally due to the shady shit going down.

(source) (story by Conman1984)

[eichscrocs]

Hey now, You’re an All-Star

January 11, 2019

@ edmontonoilers: YESSSS! ⭐️ #LetsGoOilers

@ edmontonoilers: Leon with some love for the fans after today's #NHLAllStar news! #LetsGoOilers

When Connor heard the news he was beyond thrilled, his 'liney' Leon was going to All Star too.

@ mcdavid97: All-Star bound with 29! 👊

Surely Connor had gone years previous, but none of them had included another one of his teammates, let alone the one he was dating. Connor liked to keep his life private for the most part, which included Leon too. Media was beginning to become suspicious, but in all honesty neither boy seemed to really care that much anymore. It was going to be a first time for the both of them; Leons first all star, and Connors first all star with his boyfriend. Surely a big reason Leon got voted in was Connors endless support, and maybe for the fact Connor had his whole family (distant relatives included) voting multiple times daily for him, but Leon didn't need to know that.

The beginning of the 2019 season did start out a little rough, so the break would be good for the both of them (besides the fact Connor managed to get Chia fired, but that's besides the point). The Oilers organization had known about the two boys relationship, and everyone was so supportive, especially Nuge who had been the reason they got together in the first place. In the locker room it was even the on going joke, and Ryan was often referred to as 'Ryan Love Whisperer Hopkins'. Connor and Leon enjoyed any privacy they got so the organization was surprised when the two had told them that they wanted to let everyone know they were together, but a little more subtle since both boys were quite reserved.

January 24, 2019

@ edmontonoilers: The dynamic duo had officially arrived in San Jose! #NHLAllStar #LetsGoOilers

If Connor and Leon could agree on one thing it'd be the all star jerseys, they color black was extremely flattering, but they wouldn't be wearing those jerseys until tomorrow. After all today was the skills competition, they'd be sporting the classic orange Oilers jersey. Connor was the first of them to compete, to no one's surprise it was his third year in a row competing for the fastest skater title. Why? Because other than Dylan Larkin (who wasn't voted in) he truly was a speedster. Leon sat on the bench chilling and taking in his new surroundings. HI heart was so full and slightly filled with nerves of watching his boy get ready to skate. From how the event was beginning to unfold his only threat to steal the title from him was Jack Eichel. Seeing Connor on the ice made his little heart flutter.

Connor had taken off just like that and Leon instantly zone in to watching him skate his lap. His skate was over just as fast as it had started, and sure enough Connor took the three-peat. Leon stayed sat on the bench smiling even wider than before. Media ended up in his face and questioned him about Connors pace. Leon would be lying if he said he didn’t wish they were going to ask about their relationship. So he figured clue number two, drop a hint. So Leon turned to face the camera for all to view on instagram, his english flowing perfectly. “I had and idea that he’s pretty fast so, uhm ya know obviously last year I think he won it, so it was uh ya know I had my money on him.” Leon finished off saying while a slight smile arose on his face.

After Connors event both boys were able to relax for a little, as puck control was the next event. Connor shoved his way in the box to sit with the rest of the Pacific division boys, but more importantly next to Leon. “You did so well out there.” Leon said then bumped shoulders with him. Connor schooched closer to Leon (if that was even possible) and his body was pressed right against Leon from shoulders to skates. He rested his one hand on his knee while Leon decided to put his hand directly half on Connors and half on his own retrospective kneecap. Leon looked over at him again and smiled, then turned back to watch the event infront of him. Nobody seemed to ask about it; whether they didn’t care, couldn’t see it, or already knew (Leon doubted the third one though).

As it got closer to Leons turn for premier passing he got more anxious. He didn’t want to dissapoint himself, the fans that voted him in, and most importantly Connor. Leon had to leave his warm encounter with his boy to get ready to go. Connor stayed on the bench watching in awe at his boyfriend, the way Leon made the pucks into the minature nets with such little effort was really no surprise. Since Leon joined the Oilers organiztion he had been giving those types of passes to Connor. Even before McDrai happened they had sucah a remarkable chemistry. (Why was Connor now suddenly realizing that Ryan is super good at reading into love?). When Leons last puck went into the net, the time stopped and Leon looked over and started skating back towards the bench where Connor was. Leon didn’t look at what his time was, but he knew it had to be good when he saw Connor smiling and clapping his mitts together for him. Finally Leon’s competition had ended too, and he managed to stay on top, claiming the win. The closer he got to Connor the happier he was. Connor was sitting looking sky chewing his gum, not to forget the fact he was checking Leon out from head to toe. That all star champ was his. For the remainder of the competition boys the boys were just fooling around with each other. Both had adrenaline running high from their wins. The start of this weekend was a good one, and eventually they hit the locker room to suit back up for media.

Connor had anticipated questions about the Oilers and his captaincy, but his personal favorite was when someone had asked about Leons performance. “That was awesome! That was an event that was tough. Really really tough and Leon I know was a little bit nervous.” Connor began to answer. Since he had heard from Leon still nobody had realized they were an item, he knew he’d have a little fun hyping Leon up. “I ket saying you’re one of the best passers in the game you could easily do it. And he proved that tonight.” Connor said lovingly about his teammate and boyfriend (which the media still couldn’t seem to pick up, which was surprising).

Finally day one was in the books and both began to head to the hotel to rest for the night. Although they’d be staying in the same room together, a king size bed all theirs. After all they were both hockey boys who needed enough space for cuddles. Connor’s room was rendered useless, they’d be using Leon’s room instead. Not that it mattered too much anyways, Connor had the salary to make useless purchases like his hotel room that would remain empty all three days in San Jose. Both boys began to take off their suits and put them on hangers. Even with salaries like they have, both Leon and Connor hated spending so much time finding a suit they liked, only for it to cost more than they ever would have typically spent (it was a suit, why must they cost so much?). No way were they going to ruin them only to go through suit hell once again. Leon was the first to get changed out of his suit, and he head to the luggage to find some clothes for bed. Leon put on some plaid pj pants with pockets, along with an old oilers shirt (which wasn’t his). He had taken a seat while Connor was still getting ready for bed. Connor put on Oilers pj pants that Leon orginally got for him as a gag gift, but no surprise Connor loved them so much. Paired with his Oilers pants was one of Leon’s shirts. Leon looked up from his phone and saw Connor looking adoarble, his hair still looking freshly cut.

In fact Leon was the actual reason his hiar was cut in the first place, and it wasn’t because Leon liked it short, hed just told Connor it’d be funny to see media have a hay day. And anyways Connor loves seeing Leon laugh, so his answer was obvious, he had to do it. He took a seat right on top of Leon crushing him, and laughing as Leon went wide eyed and stuttered out “Oh well hello to you too” while lightly laughing. “What are you looking at?” Connor asked as Leon was looking down on his phone. “Figuring out which picture of us to put on insta.” he replied while turning his phone to Connor to look at the pictures. Leon continued to swipe through the photos until Connor pointed out a good one. “Post that one” Connor suggested. Despite Connor hardly posting on his accounts he knew when a picture was good, and that was definitely it. Leo opened Instagram and selected the picture Connor suggested. “Should I add a filter?” Leon asked seriously. Connor thought the photo was fine as it was, but the temptation was way too high. Leon had seen a yellow tinted filter, “Con! This filter would look sick!” Leon said while showing Connor the result. To Leon’s dismay he was given the ‘are you actually joking me right now?’ look. “I think it looks good, especially you so I’m posting it.” Leon told Connor. Connor put his hands up as to say ‘I’m not stopping you’. “Oh I have the perfect caption too!” He said excitedly as he began to type it out. It was the best usage of 27 letters in his life, all for one small post.

@ drat_29: Great day at the skills comp with @ mcdavid97

“Alright it’s posted” he said to Connor as he locked his phone and placed it on the nightstand. Both boys then opened the bed to go to sleep for the next days fun games. Of course they couldn’t go to bed without Connor claiming his little spoon position. “Ich liebe dich.” Leon mumbled to Connor as he drifted to sleep holding the one he loved the most in his arms.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, bval-1!

July 20 - Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm(Chris Evans). Can it be fluffy and smutty please for @bval-1

Written by @ozhawkauthor

“You intrigue me, you know.”

“Because I don’t hang on your every word?” Darcy didn’t even bother to take her eyes off her computer screen. “Must be novel.”

“A little bit that, yeah,” Johnny laughed, swivelling back and forth in the spare office chair next to her desk. She stuck out a foot to still him.

“Don’t distract me right now, please. This has to be right or we could strand the next person to use the bridge between dimensions.”

“Well… if we could make sure it was Reed…”

She had to chuckle at that, but she also kicked his chair a short distance away and concentrated on running through Jane’s program one more time, double-checking every step. Finally, she clicked on the button to confirm acceptance and turned to Johnny, who was waiting for her with surprising patience.

“We are not stranding your brother-in-law between dimensions. No matter how annoying he is. I wouldn’t even strand my brother-in-law there.”

“Your… oh, that’s right. You consider Jane your sister, so Thor’s your brother-in-law?”

“I was talking about Loki, actually.” Darcy gave him a reproving look. “Be nice. Thor’s a darling.”

“To you, maybe.”

“Just because he threatened to lightning-strike your balls if you broke my heart.” She smirked, remembering the horror-struck expression on Johnny’s face and the way he’d put his hands protectively over his junk. Johnny might be a superhero in his own right, but nobody wanted to get on the God of Thunder’s bad side.

Johnny winced at the memory, obviously still wary of Thor.

“So why do you say I intrigue you, anyway?” Standing up, she clambered onto his lap facing him, hooking her arms around his neck. “If it’s only partly because I make you do the chasing?”

Johnny took the time to steal a slow, lingering kiss before answering. “Because this place would come to a grinding halt without you, and I don’t think anyone realises it. You make sure your mad scientists are all fed and that they get an amount of sleep which serves to keep them functional.”

“I had a lot of practice with Jane,” Darcy attempted to disclaim.

“Wrangling one mad scientist is impressive enough. I know, believe me. Seeing my sister do it with Reed has impressed that on me. Taking on a whole facility full of them? That’s just… I don’t even have words for how impressive that is.”

“They’re not all mad scientists.” Once again Darcy attempted to downplay. “Helen Cho’s really very good about looking after herself. As long as you make sure she doesn’t have to actually leave the lab to get food, anyway.”

“Stop pretending you’re not awesome.” Johnny’s blue eyes crinkled up around the corners and he butted his nose against hers gently.

“Okay.” She laughed. “I’m awesome.”

“Problem is, I think I’m the only one who recognises it. Everyone else just takes you for granted.”

“They really don’t. Not considering my salary, anyway.”

“Okay, I take that back. I’m not the only one. Pepper recognises it too. I mean, she’d almost have to. It’s entirely due to you that she actually gets to see Tony on a regular basis, fed and not manic from sleep deprivation.”

Darcy smiled, surprised all over again by how astute Johnny was when he wasn’t pretending to be an idiot so others would underestimate him. After dating for three months, she really shouldn’t be, though.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she queried, honestly curious.

“Well, I was thinking about throwing a ‘Darcy is totally awesome’ party,” Johnny teased, “but then I realised I’d rather appreciate you privately. So, I ordered us in a fantastic dinner and bought an excellent bottle of wine and three different flavours of Haagen-Dazs.”

“Annnd this is why I’m with you despite the hate mail from your fan club.”

“Stop it, I make sure that’s screened before you get your mail.”

“Doesn’t silence the Twitter trolls, sadly.” She smiled ruefully at him, then squeaked as he rose to his feet, carrying her easily with him despite her not being exactly a lightweight.

“Don’t worry about them. I sicced Vision on your mentions yesterday.” He grinned wickedly. “Now hold on tight, sweetheart.”

Smiling, Darcy hooked her legs around his waist and nestled her head against the crook of his neck. He showed no signs of strain as he carried her out of the lab and down the three flights of stairs to her apartment, where a delicious dinner was indeed keeping warm in the oven. Darcy inhaled the fantastic scents and suddenly realised she was absolutely starving.

“Now you sit right there, sweetheart,” Johnny deposited her carefully in a chair at the table, “and let me wait on you.”

“I could get used to this,” Darcy said as he poured her a glass of wine and served her dinner.

“Could and should.” Johnny stole a kiss before taking his own seat opposite her. “I’m resolved to take just as much care of you as you do everyone else. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

She laughed to hear the words she spoke so often to her scientists used against her, and picked her fork up.

“I don’t know if I’ll have room for ice cream, if I eat all this!”

“Oh, that’s not for you. It’s for me to lick off you,” Johnny said wickedly. Darcy spluttered and almost choked, staring at him wide-eyed.

“Eat up quickly so we can get to the fun stuff,” Johnny urged, stealing yet another of Darcy’s scientist-wrangling phrases. She gave him a narrow-eyed look and set her fork down.

“You know what, I’m not going to be rushed over my dinner.”

“Well, we could save it for later?” Johnny said hopefully. Darcy scowled.

“Or not. How about I put on some nice relaxing music and you take your time eating?”

She smiled as he scrambled out of his seat, picking up her fork again. “I nearly said ‘good boy’ then,” she admitted between bites, “but that would give away the fact that I’m literally house-training you like a puppy who’s been used to pooping on the carpet.”

It was Johnny’s turn to almost choke on his food, but then he laughed. “Relationship-training, you mean?”

“You’re the one who admitted I’m the first girlfriend you’ve had in years you made it to a one-month anniversary with.”

He winced, but she was quite correct. He normally got itchy feet and a roving eye after just a few dates… or sometimes even on a first date. Darcy, though, was different. She’d fascinated him from their first meeting, in part because she flatly refused to fall at his feet. They’d known each other six months before she condescended to let him buy her a coffee, and another six weeks before he managed to get her on a date.

Maybe it was the taking it slowly and getting to know her before their relationship began which made all the difference, because Johnny Storm admitted to himself that for the first time in his life, he was head over heels in love. He couldn’t get Darcy out of his head, couldn’t get enough of being with her, in bed or out of it. Just sitting here gazing at her enjoy her dinner was enough for him, at least for now.

As soon as she finished eating, of course, he was out of his chair and scooping her up into his arms again, raining kisses on her laughing face as he carried her into the bedroom. At least she was as eager as he to get to the action, attacking his clothes as he stripped hers off, pulling him down atop her once they were both naked and kissing him hungrily.

“I fucking adore you,” Johnny said, interspersing the words with kisses down Darcy’s throat, heading for the full breasts he liked to worship on until she got too frustrated to let him continue.

“What’s brought this on?” Darcy asked on a gasp as his mouth closed over one nipple. He didn’t reply, too busy, and it took her slightly confuzzled mind a minute to add two and two to make four. “Wait… is this because that new guy flirted with me yesterday? Remy Something?”

Johnny stilled, and she knew she’d hit paydirt. Finally he lifted his head with a sigh. “LeBeau.”

“Only guy I’ve ever met who’s an even bigger flirt than you,” Darcy mused. “You didn’t seriously think I was going to fall for that Cajun charm, did you?”

He shrugged, looking a bit sheepish.

“You’re an idiot.” Reaching up, she fluffed his hair gently. “You’ve no need to be jealous, Johnny. You won over me already. I’m not looking to trade you in.”

“I’ve never been jealous before,” he admitted plaintively.

Darcy had to suppress the urge to say “Aww, bless.” He looked genuinely pathetic. Instead, she said “Welcome to Normal Human Feelings, Johnny.”

He wrinkled his nose and said “I don’t like it.”

She had to laugh. Her ladyparts, however, were feeling decidedly unsympathetic to his plight, and he needed his mind taking off his non-existent problem. So she put a hand on top of his head and said “Let’s keep you busy… and me satisfied. After all, if you keep me happy, I’m hardly likely to look elsewhere, now am I?”

He smiled as she pushed down. “Mission accepted!”

[rhina988]

The Heart Wants What It Wants - Chapter 22

Start from the beginning

Chapter 21

Nicole’s POV

“Hey... are you okay?” Maya asked me after I’ve been staring at my phone for almost two minutes.

“Uuuum... yes... I just ... I’m fine,” I lied, feeling my heart shattering into pieces. “I just... I have to go,” I tried putting on a brave face, but I was going through so many emotions that I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. The minute I felt my eyes watering, I got off the table and ran out of the restaurant.

“But we haven’t...” was the last thing I heard Maya saying, after I had stormed out of the restaurant. I hailed the cab and went home. I was still staying at Rachel’s, but now I knew I needed to find a place of my own, because I couldn’t possibly let her go through all of this with me. I needed some space from everyone. A clear head to deal with everything that’s been on my back for so long.

This was an entirely new situation for me. Never have I ever been involved with someone who had so many unclear issues, and with someone who’d make my life extremely complicated. All of this information was overwhelming, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was out of control. I wasn’t able to keep my thoughts together, everything was so jumbled in my head and I felt like I was literally going to fall into pieces. I knew exactly how I felt about Jared, but I was starting to doubt if he was worth all the pain, torture and all this drama. Maybe the picture was just an innocent moment between a fan girl and a rock star. Maybe it wasn’t. I didn’t know what to believe, but I knew one thing ‒ if he did have some flirty bimbo he’s been seeing when he was in Russia, he wouldn’t let paparazzi catch them. So, no matter the headlines I decided not to think about it too much.

I was home, and I just needed a relaxing shower to clear my thoughts. I undressed, tossing all of my clothes on the floor and I went for a long hot wash. Shower was always a safe place where I managed to face all my problems, so I knew I was going to feel much better after. Letting the warm water fall over my body, I played all of the moments Jared and I shared in my head. That serendipitous moment at the beach in Mexico, the night of passion we couldn’t avoid, all the lustful flashes swarmed my mind and suddenly it seemed as if desire, lust and passion was all that we shared. But what about love? Are we really in love with each other? At one point, I was willing to abandon everything I believed I had always wanted, and now I’m completely lost. Suddenly, I realized that this was the worst time for Jared to be gone. I needed him by my side so desperately that I even wanted to fly to Russia in a second.

While I was drying myself off, I heard my phone ringing. Rushing to the bed, I hovered over the phone and saw Jared’s photo on display. My heart started racing and I couldn’t wait to hear his voice. I slid my finger over the display, and brought the phone to my ear but no words were leaving my lips.

“Hello? Nicole, are you there?” I heard Jared speaking and I immediately teared up. The feeling of utter joy washed over me, and I just needed to hug him so bad. The last thing I wanted was for Jared to think that I cried, so I gave my best, trying to calm down and talk already.

Clearing out my throat, I breathed out, “Hi... I’m here,” I answered wiping the tears off my face.

“Baby, it’s so great to hear your voice,” Jared said, and I could hear him smiling, “I just needed to call you and...”

“...check if I saw you with that girl?” I cut him off.

“Look, she’s just a girl who asked for a photo. I...”

“I know. You don’t have to explain anything.” I said, suddenly feeling calmer.

“Really? I don’t?” Jared was surprised at my reaction.

“No. You sound convincing, and I really can’t handle more drama at this point,” I answered with a sigh as I was lying on my back.

“Thank you for believing me, baby. I would never lie to you. I miss you so much, and I can’t wait to be back and hold you in my arms,” Jared said causing a tidal wave of emotions fluttering in my heart.

“Please come back soon. I’ve never needed you as much as I do right now,” I said lying down in my bed and curling up in a fetal position. I took my blanket and hugged it as I listened to Jared’s sultry voice helping me relax.

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. I’ll come by your place straight from the airport,” Jared said making my heart race and fill with an immense warmth.

“Sounds perfect,” I said with a smile.

“Okay, I gotta go now. Can’t wait to see you, babe,” Jared sighed and I knew he meant it with all of his heart.

“Okay. I’ll see you in 2 days. Bye,” I said hanging up the phone.

After finishing the conversation with Jared I heard my phone buzzing again, and it was a text from Maya. She was apparently worried about me, so she just wanted to check if I was okay. I replied that she has nothing to be concerned about, and that I’ll be fine as I’ve always been. I’ve learnt to pull myself together after every hardship, and I wasn’t planning on giving up on this one either. They say that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, and by now I felt like a super woman. Even after everything, I had no intention of looking back, but merely walk with my head up high and straight into the bright future.

The afternoon passed quite well, as I was browsing through the real estate ads. Looking for the new apartment was anything but easy, and after a few hours of thorough search, I gave up, feeling desperate. My salary wasn’t enough to let me rent anything that I envisioned for myself, and I knew that staying at Rachel’s wasn’t going to be an option for much longer. Soon, I started to wonder if maybe I needed an extra job, because working in a company with Lucas didn’t seem as a manageable idea at this point.

The next day seemed as the longest one ever. Jared was supposed to come back the day after and it appeared as if the time stood still. I did everything in my power to distract myself, but this Sunday was never going to end. Fortunately, I was in the mood to jog so I went to the beach, had a strenuous workout, spent some time sitting near the ocean and just clearing my thoughts. When I woke up the day after, everything looked different. Suddenly, I felt as light as a feather knowing that I’ll hold Jared in my arms in only a few hours.

After finishing my breakfast, I decided to text Jared and check when he’ll be coming, before I head off to work, only to have my phone buzz at the moment I thought about typing the message.

It was Jared, sending me a photo of himself.

See you soon, babe.

Before I managed to reply to the message, I heard the doorbell ring. Rachel and Shawn were still asleep, so I rushed to open the door because I didn’t want them to be disturbed. Hopping to the front door, I opened and almost fainted when I saw Jared standing there.

“Surprise!” he said excitedly as I was dumbstruck. I was literally paralyzed from the shock, and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. “Won’t I at least get a hug?” Jared asked nervously.

After realizing I wasn’t dreaming, I screamed so loud I was sure the neighbors would call the police. Throwing myself into Jared’s arms, I hugged him so tight, that I thought I was going to smother him. Feeling his arms wrap around my waist was all I needed all these days that we were apart. Just breathing in his sweet scent and having his body finally close to me, felt like the most wonderful bliss I could ever imagine.

“Oh my God... you’re really here,” I breathed out gripping him tightly, as I was trying to catch my breath from all the euphoria I was going through.

“I’m here babe,” Jared said through a giggle, “It’s so good to have you in my arms again,” he continued as I could feel his arms roam across my back, trying to settle me down.

I pulled away, taking his hands into mine I just stood there looking at him looking at me. My face lit with joy, I smiled and jumped right back to Jared’s arms, covering his entire face with my kisses, only to hug him again. Jared started to giggle as he didin’t expect me to act like such a big child, but I simply couldn’t help myself.  

“We should probably go inside,” I said becoming aware of the fact that we were standing at the door for almost 10 minutes.

“How are you already here?” I asked as we were approaching the sofa. Jared sat down, and pulled me down to his lap.

“We managed to take an earlier flight, and I wanted to surprise you nicely, for once,” he said brushing the back of hand over my cheek. Completely melting under his touch, I took his hand and kissed his palm.

“God, I missed you so much,” I said and hugged him again, settling calmly inside his embrace. My head was resting on his shoulder as his arms held me firmly like someone was about to steal me. I sighed, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. Looking up at him, I saw him already looking at me. Lifting my head up I was still all smiles, and that instantly made Jared smile as well. He cupped my face and brushed his lips over mine, making me melt into a puddle of happiness.

This safety was all I needed. At that moment, nothing mattered anymore. Not Francesca not the fan girls, not the popularity ‒ nothing. All that mattered was that Jared and I were finally together again, and at that moment I knew it ‒ I did love him with all my heart. All the insecurities, all the anxiety, all the restlessness and doubts were gone once I could feel his warm embrace. I was calm, warm and above all, I felt safe and protected. I just hoped he loved me just as much.

The moment of bliss was suddenly interrupted by the clamor coming from upstairs. The lovebirds were obviously having a rough morning. Rachel was bickering about Shawn’s job, he tried to put some sense into her, but she was a strong-minded Gemini and there was no way in hell you could calm her down when she wanted to argue with you. They were headed to the dining room, when Shawn glanced towards the living room and saw Jared and me. He just took Rachel by her shoulders and swiftly turned her towards us. Jared and I smiled and waved at them, before I stood up from Jared’s lap.

“Morning,” I said as I took Jared’s hand waiting for him to stand up.

“Morning...” Rachel said in surprise when she saw Jared next to me, “what is he...” she seemed highly agitated, but tried to control herself from bursting out to him after everything, “... doing here?” Clearing her throat, she finished the sentence and smiled forcefully.

“He’s back from Russia, and he wanted to see me. You know we needed to talk,” I said with a calm voice, not wanting her to argue with Jared.

“I don’t think this is the right place for you to do that,” Rachel said matter-of-factly, stating that she doesn’t want him in her home.

“Okay we’ll go, don’t worry,” I said and my phone started ringing off the hook. I realized I was terribly late for work, and completely forgot I was supposed to meet with a new client. I went to another room to take a call, unfortunately leaving Rachel alone with Jared, because Shawn managed to sneak out to work, before things heated up to a boiling point.

Jared’s POV

Nicole was in the kitchen talking with her assistant, while I was left with Rachel, whose eyes seemed as if they were going to stab me right in the heart. I swallowed hard, trying to say something that would make her feel less angry with me, but she started her monologue.

“Okay, here’s the thing, mister Bigshot,” she started and I was immediately thrown away by her move, “this is the last time you stepped inside this house. If Nicole can’t see who you really are, I can, and I’ll do my best to try and explain what kind of a bastard you are.”

“Hold on...” I protested but she wouldn’t let me speak.

“No, no, no, I’m not done,” Rachel said pointing her finger at me. “You broke her heart, you made her question her entire future and throw it all away because of you, only to find out you were nothing but a rock star who needs some entertainment from time to time. You’re here now, and you can talk, but I never want to see your face in my home again. Are we clear?”

“May I speak now?” I asked as she rolled her eyes at me, gesturing with arms that I can talk.

“Look, Rachel, I never meant to hurt Nicole. What happened with Francesca was nothing but a pitiful try of a desperate girl to get some security, attention, and money. Sadly for her, I knew what I had and hadn’t done back in the day, so she had no chance in getting what she wanted. I always take responsibility for my actions, so I have no intention of putting Nicole through any hardship. I’m not a bad guy, and I never wanted to be one. I love Nicole, and all I want to do is make her happy and feel safe around me. I really need you to believe me.” I finished and watched Rachel unstiffen from her stern posture.

“You love her?” she asked me with surprise sparkling in her eyes.

“You love me?” then suddenly Nicole appeared looking at me with teary eyes.

Chapter 23 

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[wiersema1]

Summer 2018 Travelblog

When I was a kid our parents took us on a driving trip every summer for two to three weeks. Mom and Dad looked forward to it immensely. Dad saved all his money from his middle-class salary from Kemper Insurance, and saved up all his sick days and vacation days earned throughout the calendar year and blew them all on our annual trip. He loved the freedom, the driving on the open road through our nation’s interstate system. He wanted to see the world, have some nice expensive dinners, and visit America. He also dug jamming that trunk with all the suitcases, just making it barely fit each and every day. Dad also loved pounding martinis the minute we checked into the hotel. Who could blame him? Having to listen to me talk all day in a small car? Good grief.

So now I continue the Wiersema family tradition by taking our family on the same vacations (more or less). However, I’m not a martini guy. I’m a beer guy and we have a Honda Odyssey van rather than a two-door Buick Regal. Anyways, the luggage fits nicely rather than snugly (vans > two-door cars) but the arguing and fighting increases with each and every bozo driver that doesn’t have their headlights on in the dark. I know! Another difference is the texting and driving has become so rampant that it’s a modern epidemic. Black plague anyone? No thank you, I’ll have some texting and driving instead…… something needs to be done. (*PS This sounds like a future rant column.)

This year we drove from our home in Mundelein, Illinois to Boston, Massachusetts by way of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. We also stopped at Niagara Falls and Cooperstown, New York as well as several other stops. Here’s a rundown of our trip(s) along with photos.

2014 : Texas; via Route 66

2015 : St. Louis and Hannibal, Missouri; via the Mississippi River Valley

2016 : Upper Peninsula Michigan; we drove all the way around Lake Michigan

2017 : Tennessee & the Smoky Mountains

2018 : Toronto, Niagara Falls, Boston, & Cooperstown

Day 1 (Friday, July 6, 2018) : Mundelein, IL > Sarnia, Ontario, Canada

The first day of a driving trip is always very exciting. You rush around packing the car and making sure nobody forgets anything. “Do we have the contact solution, the sunglasses, the hats, the pillows, my extra pair of underpants?” Once you get rolling, the excitement settles into a dull, melodic rhythm of “Are we there yet?” noises heard from the backseat. Then you realize it’s already time to get out the extra underpants. The first day is always a long drive. This year we ended up just over the Canadian border. Deborah (my beautiful wife) booked us a hotel in Sarnia. We went out to eat at a restaurant on the water called Stoke’s Bay Grill & Bar. It was really Canadian right away. I loved it! CFL (Canadian Football League) was on the TV’s, some weird items on the menu like fried clams (I just totally invented that, like a fiction writer would do), and a really friendly waiter who loved hockey and the Toronto MapleLeaves (inside joke) and Chicago Blackhawks. Then confusion! He asked us a really strange question. Oh no! Cultural differences. How will we ever survive? When we asked for the bill, he replied with “You need the machine?” While my wife stared at him, my mind wandered into “Rage Against the Machine” territory. As I was jamming out in my brain to some hard-core metal, my wife politely asked, “Wait, what?” He exclaimed that if we were going to use a credit card that we would need to scan our card on a credit card machine at our table. Oh, right! We told him we don’t do that in America. Rather, we give the card to them so that they can steal our credit card number behind our backs. No worries. We were full-fledged Canadians on our first night. I dug it the most!

Natalie and Dad at Amsterdam BrewHouse on Lake Ontario in Toronto.

Day 2 (Saturday, July 7) : Sarnia, Ontario, Canada > Toronto, Ontario, Canada

The second day of a trip is really exciting too, except you start running into little problems getting adjusted. For instance, you have four people in one hotel room trying to use one bathroom and one shower. So while you’re trying to get your body adjusted to sitting in a car, sometimes all day, you also have to deal with everybody’s unique sleep schedule. As most of you know, I’m a late riser. This can cause problems. Oh well, I’m in charge as the man of the house, er the hotel room, right? Right guys? Is anybody listening? Sometimes I get the feeling that everybody is talking but nobody is really listening. Do I need to repeat it?

Hotel rooms……. they inspire kids to goof around. This is the Residence Inn in downtown Toronto.

Anyway, we drove from Sarnia to Toronto. We stayed at the Residence Inn by Marriott in downtown Toronto. It was pretty sweet! The only problems we had were minor. A strange skater dude skateboarded into our van at an intersection as we waited for pedestrians to cross. The weird part was he seemed to infer that it was our fault. It was confusing. I was kind of mad and then lost it with just a tinge of road rage, but don’t tell anyone. The guy skated into our van, then threw me double fingers (I think.) It was all very confusing because it was a Saturday around 4 pm and there were a ton of people on the streets. Our kids are screwing around in the back seat and I’m driving this monster soccer-mom van. Then boom! So I looked in the rearview and saw this guy giving me double “buzz-off” signs. I’m ready to get out of the car but luckily he zoomed off into the abyss. I was ready to fight…..and I would’ve won let me tell ya.

Casa Loma

The first thing we saw in Toronto was a mansion called Casa Loma. It was pretty cool. The place is gigantic and there were a ton of visitors. It’s not as big as Biltmore in Asheville, North Carolina but it’s similar. Many movies have been filmed in the rooms of Casa Loma including “Cocktail”, “Extreme Measures”, and “Maximum Risk”.

Moving on, we loved Toronto! We went out to eat at Amsterdam BrewHouse on the shores of Lake Ontario. It was awesome. Great food, atmosphere, and beer. I would highly recommend Amsterdam to anyone in Toronto. If I lived near this place, I’d be there nearly everyday.

Does this look like a princess that needs a knight in shining armor?

  My beautiful wife and I at the top of the castle at Casa Loma in Toronto. Good thing I saved her from the evil lair where she was being held against her will, a la “Sleeping Beauty”. To borrow a phrase from Chipper Jones, “Deborah is the queen of my castle.”

Day 3 (Sunday, July 8) : Toronto

My son and I went to Rogers Centre, formerly known as SkyDome, for a Blue Jays game. The New York Yankees were in town and it was a Sunday afternoon ballgame. The weather was fantastic.

Trev and I hung out by the Blue Jays bullpen before the game so that we could cheer on Mundelein’s own Ryan Borucki, who made his 3rd career start for the Blue Jays.

As luck would have it, the first big-leaguer from our hometown high school (Mundelein High School) was scheduled to start for the Blue Jays. His name is Ryan Borucki and he made his 3rd career start. He pitched fantastic but unfortunately he didn’t bag his first major league win because Toronto’s offense couldn’t support him…… “No sticks man”.

After seven excellent innings allowing only one run, he left the game at the 7th inning stretch. The Jays had men on in the bottom of the 7th but couldn’t push it across so Borucki was saddled with another no-decision, leaving a 1-1 game that the Yankees eventually won in extras, 2-1 in 10 innings. Nonetheless, it was an amazing stadium and beautiful day for a ballgame. I highly recommend SkyDome!

Toronto’s CN Tower right next to SkyDome on a beautiful Sunday afternoon at the ol’ ballyard.

Day 4 (Monday, July 9) : Toronto > Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada

Trev and I went to the Hockey Hall of Fame! It was awesome, even better than I imagined. It’s an underrated Hall. It’s very interactive which is great for kids of all ages. Trev loved playing video games (EA Sports NHL ’18) and shooting pucks with a real-life stick at a video board goalie. He beat me. Boo for Dad.

Trev next to a cool Chris Chelios’ Chicago Blackhawks jersey. Sweet action bro!

The greatest part of the Hockey Hall was definitely the collection of famous trophies including the Stanley Cup, the Conn Smythe Trophy, the Hart Trophy, the Vezina Trophy, and the Art Ross Trophy. They have a vault where they store the original Stanley Cup which is obviously irreplaceable. Wow, the history in this Hall was incredible. A special place for all hockey fans. Go there!

This is the “Original” Stanley Cup Championship Trophy. Since it is irreplaceable, the Hockey Hall of Fame locks it up in a vault. I know…….. really awesome!

Trev beat me with 2 goals to my one. Way to go T-Magic!

Possibly my favorite trophy in sports is the Conn Smythe Trophy awarded to the NHL’s Playoff MVP. It’s just so cool, right? The design has the old Maple Leaf Gardens mounted on top of a base with silver maple leafs where they engrave the winner’s name. Way, way outstanding. I especially love the Blackhawks triumvirate of Jonathan Toews (2010), Patrick Kane (’13), and Duncan Keith (’15). This version on display is Sidney Crosby’s 2017 Trophy. Alex Ovechkin just won it in June for the 2018 edition. Overall, it’s a fantastic Trophy Room which really is the highlight of the Hockey Hall of Fame.

After the Hockey Hall we were on our way to Niagara Falls. What can we say about this fantastic part of God’s creation? I’m speechless, which is hard for me. We went on the boat ride which was more than amazing. Great memories for our family. Let’s let the pictures do the talking.

Day 5 (Tuesday, July 10) : Niagara Falls > Lake Placid, NY, U.S.A

Who loves a sports town with a Hall of Fame? I do! I do! Sign me up! Lake Placid is a hidden gem of a town in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. Lake Placid is the site of two Winter Olympic Games, 1932 and 1980. In case you forgot, the 1980 Winter Olympics is one of the most famous Olympics ever because of the miraculous upset of the Soviet Union’s men’s hockey team, consisted mostly of professional players, by the teenage and college kids that made up the United States men’s team. It’s known as the “Miracle on Ice”. There’s even a movie called “Miracle” which I can’t believe I haven’t seen yet. I know. What am I waiting for? Nothing. Sign me up for that too.

Day 6 (Wednesday, July 11) : Lake Placid, NY > White River Junction, Vermont

On Wednesday we left Lake Placid and drove to Vermont. We stopped and saw Fort Ticonderoga in upstate New York in the afternoon. Fort Ticonderoga has a unique history, having been a part of several wars while being in possession of many different countries. There’s some cool things to check out, especially for people who like learning about different types of cannons and guns. Trev really enjoyed it. Check him out pretending to shoot the cannon! He loves this stuff. They also have some excellent monuments to fallen heroes of yesteryear.

Day 7 (Thursday, July 12) : White River Junction, VT > Boston, Massachusetts

On Thursday we left Vermont and headed further east to our final destination, Boston Massachusetts. What a city! Boston is really cool. If it wasn’t for all the people, I’d love living there. Haha! We stayed at a Homewood Suites in Needham, MA which is a suburb of Boston. It was a new hotel and our suite had two rooms and a kitchen which was nice for us so that we could make ourselves at home. We were nervous about our decision to stay outside of downtown because we knew that we’d need to drive into the busy downtown bustle all three days and we had heard about the awful Boston traffic. Truth was, the traffic wasn’t bad at all. At least not nearly as bad as Chicago and the Chicago suburbs. Boston was a breeze compared to what we’ve been living with for decades.

On this first day in Boston, we drove to Lexington and Concord. This is where the Revolutionary War started in 1775. In a way, this was a microcosm of what our trip was all about. We wanted to learn and teach our kids about the important history of the United States of America. How did it start? What happened? What were the important events? Where did they happen and who made them happen? As we learned, it all started in Boston and the surrounding areas. Lexington and Concord does a great job with their bus tours. They had a narrator on the tour bus that explained it all and told interesting stories. Then we would get off the bus and view the sacred grounds of these events. It was fascinating. I had been on the same trip, more or less, in the 1980s and I still remembered many things. The Minuteman statue? I recall standing there 30 years ago. The Boston Tea Party, Paul Revere, Bunker Hill, etc. I remembered most of it. It’s amazing what the brain can recall.

The Minuteman Statue in Lexington, MA.

The lobby in the Homewood Suites in Needham, MA.

Day 8 (Friday, July 13) : Boston

Adversity struck on Friday the 13th. The plan was to go downtown and get on another tour bus that would drive us around all the main sites along the Freedom Trail. We had paid about $120 for four tickets. You’re supposed to be able to hop on and off the bus all day. The problem was the tour bus was always too crowded to board. There were no empty seats on any of the buses all day long! We actually never got on a bus. It was ridiculous. Needless to say, we were all hot, tired, and exhausted after walking everywhere instead of riding. We even took a few cabs but it was disastrous in a sense. On the other hand, it was awesome anyway. Don’t worry, we ended up getting a refund. Surprisingly, we even received a personalized letter from the CEO of the bus company too, apologizing for their mistakes and our trouble. He included free passes for any bus another time. They are set up in several American cities. Not bad.

Despite the change of plans, we saw several amazing places: the Mapparium, Old North Church, Faneuil Hall, Paul Revere’s house, the Swan Boats in Boston Common, and Cheers! We even sat at the famous bench where Robin Williams counsels Matt Damon in “Good Will Hunting”. It was spectacular. A great day filled with sweat, ice cream, history, and an annoying old man who told me to take my hat off in Old North Church…..”Son, remove your hat. This is a church for Godsakes!” I’m kidding about the “Godsakes” part but the rest is a true story. I quickly removed my hat thinking I was a bad person. Then I looked around at about a dozen others wearing hats of all sorts. Hey old man, this one’s for you. Buzz off!

The famous park bench where Robin Williams counsels Matt Damon in “Good Will Hunting”. Look up the scene if you don’t remember. In this case, I guess I’m Robin’s character Sean the counselor and Trev is the rascally obnoxious smart kid who needs therapy, otherwise known as Will Hunting. Sounds about right.

At the top is the Old State House, near the spot of the Boston Massacre. The bottom two were taken at the Old North Church. Natalie did a great job posing as a worshiper a la Teddy Roosevelt. 

Day 9 (Saturday, July 14) : Boston

I finally saw Fenway Park. All these years I’ve wanted to go there to see the Red Sox and their historic park. This was a definite “bucket list” item for me. The ballpark, and the game, didn’t disappoint. I absolutely loved it. Fenway Park is now #1 on my list of favorite ballparks I’ve attended a game at in person. It ousts my previous #1 Giants Park/AT&T Park/SBC Park/Pac-Bell Park in San Francisco. We went to San Fran in 2001 so that ranking held for 17 years! Sorry San Fran, you’ve fallen to #2. Beautiful weather, a spectacular crowd with friendly BoSox fans, the hot dogs!, and a finish unrivaled in my entire 100+ baseball games I’ve ever seen! That’s right. How do you see the best game ever? When it goes extra innings and the home team wins on a walk off grand slam!!! Xander Bogaerts hit it just barely over the Center Field wall to earn the victory. What a day! Unforgettable.

Look at this goofball out on Jersey Street (used to be called “Yawkey Way”). Also, check out the man on stilts!

We met great BoSox fans. Check out this woman who’s clapping behind Deb. She worshiped J.D. Martinez. She always shouted in a thick Boston accent, “Hey J.D., you can have my lucky charms any time.” Therefore, we’ve nicknamed J.D. “Lucky Charms” henceforth.

Trev wanted a “Green Mawnstah” shirt so we bought him one and then took a pic in front of the Green Monster. 

Panoramic shot of the view from our seats. I actually loved the obstructed view because it reminded me of Old Comiskey Park. I’ve never been in a stadium that felt close to Old Comiskey at all until Fenway. This stadium is easily the best ballpark I’ve ever seen. It’s not even that close.

Day 10 (Sunday, July 15) : Boston

Because of the disastrous trolley situation on Friday, we decided to try it again on Sunday except with a different trolley bus company. It turned out well. This time we were able to hop on and off the trolley all day. We saw most of the Freedom Trail, especially the parts we hadn’t already seen on Friday. On this day, we saw Bunker Hill, “Old Ironsides” (the U.S.S. Constitution), the Tea Party Museum, Boston’s “Little Italy” neighborhood, Harvard, and MIT.

The kids with Sam Adams while drinking…..Sam Adams. What! Above that is a pic of them dumping tea into Boston Harbor. I remember doing this over 30 years ago! The museum is better now but the dumping of the tea remains the same.

  My beautiful daughter Natalie and me while I strangely hold a lemonade cup.

This photo summarizes our family well: Mom & Dad are happy and fun and not afraid to get goofy. Trev is a hot dog. Natalie remains calm and wonders what our problem is. Above this is the Lampoon Castle Building at Harvard. Many famous writers including George Plimpton, John Updike, Doug Kenney, and Conan O’Brien have worked here since the inception of the comedic Harvard Lampoon publication was founded in 1876. (I saw a feature story on 60 Minutes recently.) Above that are a couple of photos of the Bunker Hill Monument. 

Day 11 (Monday, July 16) : Boston, MA > Warwick, Rhode Island

On our way out of Boston, we hit Plymouth Rock and drove out on Cape Cod. We created a song that the whole family enjoyed immensely (Must be sung with a Boston accent, i.e. “Cape Cawd”): “Cape Cape Cod, together we will see, Cape Cape Cod, fun for you and me, Cape Cape Cod, surrounded by the sea, Cape Cape Cod, lobsters we will eat”. Sometimes these little things become great memories. A super fun family day that ended with mini-golf and then dinner at the “Lobster Boat”. Yeah you guessed it….one must pronounce it with a Boston accent, i.e. “Lawbstuh Boat”.

Day 12 (Tuesday, July 17) : Warwick, RI > Cooperstown, New York

Driving from Warwick, Rhode Island to Cooperstown, New York was outstanding. The scenery was breath-taking. It’s kind of like going back in time to a world long since left behind. It’s all small country roads to get to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. It’s quite an experience just getting there. And then when you do……wow. We did almost the exact same drive thirty years ago and it was memorable. It remained so three decades later.

Day 13 (Wednesday, July 18) : Cooperstown, NY

Is there anything more fun in the world than going into a sports Hall of Fame? I think not. The Baseball Hall was easily the greatest Hall of Fame I’ve ever seen. Did it seem familiar to what I remembered as a 10-year-old boy? No, not really. Not at all. Memories from thirty-three years ago can be hazy. This is one of them. I’m actually shocked that I have little memory of the Hall. I think my dad was in a hurry to get out-of-town that day. I don’t know for sure. I remember the Babe Ruth statue. I remember a gift shop that I was rushed to make decisions. As a kid I got a “I (heart) baseball” button, a mini pennant, and a mini wood baseball bat. That’s all. I always regretted that. This time, I left no room for regrets.

I went crazy! I spent everything my wife had on pennants, banners, a Chipper Jones HOF jersey, a snow globe (I started a small collection a couple of years ago), magazines, two t-shirts, etc. My wife says I can’t buy anything for a long time. That’s fine. I agree. I’m not sure I’ve had more fun in years!

As for the Hall itself, it is outstanding. There is so much to look at you would need to go back several times just to get a full view of everything. If you wanted to study a particular era, you could spend hours doing just that.

Since we were there about a week before the 2018 Inductions, there were displays of all the new inductees. That made it very special for me because I love this year’s class. The six inductees this year were Jack Morris, Alan Trammell, Trevor Hoffman, Jim Thome, Vladimir Guerrero, and Chipper Jones. You could argue that Thome, Vlad, and Chipper are three of my all-time favorite players. For sure, Vlad and Chipper are two of my faves while Chipper is definitely in my top five favorite players ever along with Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, Lenny Dykstra, Frank Thomas, and Ichiro. Well, that’s six. OK. Let’s throw in Pedro Martinez, Mark Buehrle, Mike Trout, and Bryce Harper for our Top Ten.

At the end of our big day in Cooperstown, we headed over to the famous Otesaga Resort Hotel on Otsego Lake. It is truly magnificent. All the Hall of Famers hang out here on Induction Weekend each and every year. I can see why they like it. You can sit on the veranda in a rocking chair and take in the beautiful sights of God’s green Earth. Peace abounds. We ate on the porch and heard some stories from the waiter. He said Frank Thomas is one of the nicest guys and best tippers he’s met in his couple years working there. Next time I visit Cooperstown I plan on staying at the Otesaga. It is truly a special place.

Day 14 (Thursday, July 19) : Cooperstown, NY > Elyria, Ohio

Two weeks in a car and hotels can really get you thinking. During this year’s trip, I had plenty of time to reminisce, think about life, and best of all hang out with my family. I am beyond blessed. God has shown his grace and mercy to me in abundance. I shall never forget this year’s vacation. The memories are endless. I shall remember our experiences in Toronto, Niagara Falls, Lake Placid, Boston, Cape Cod, and Cooperstown with great joy and humility. A fantastic vacation that I would obviously highly recommend.

Day 15 (Friday, July 20) : Elyria, OH > Wiersema’s Maplewood Estate, Mundelein, IL

After another super long day of driving, we made it back home to Maplewood. Thank God we made it home safely. It was a magnificent trip that we’ll all remember forever. Two weeks of driving, eating, drinking beers, seeing Halls of Fame, going to baseball games, visiting historic National Parks including America’s Freedom Trail…..it doesn’t get much better. An outstanding trip.

Next year…….Yellowstone Park, Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, Montana, Wyoming, the Rocky Mountains, and Custer’s National Monument, site of Custer’s Last Stand. I already can’t wait! Pack the car. Let’s go right now. Why wait for 2019? Oh yeah, we better save up the money and the vacation days. Get your tour books, your cowboy boots, and your National Park Passport books ready. July ’19 is right around the corner!

Summer 2018 Travelblog Summer 2018 Travelblog When I was a kid our parents took us on a driving trip every summer for two to three weeks.

[raynebowrayne]

New project I'm toying with. Whacha think, folks?

I'm tagging this with Reylo tags because that's the main focus of my blog and people there read my Ao3 Reylo Fanfic.

Here is an original story I'm working on.

***

He's like a male Molly Ringwald.

That was my first impression of Ben Johnson when he completed his first season on my favorite television show. In his rookie year as a celebrity his character had come on the show as the slightly odd and geeky but still charming and rather attractive in an unusual way that you could spend hours pondering without ever being able to explain the how or why of.

The next year he finished the season by winning the heart of the beautiful Esmeralda Crain, the central "beautiful young focal character" of the ensemble driven primetime drama that I watch with an almost religious fervor.

The show, "Finding Me" is an hour every week from June to September of pure unadulterated drama about a dozen just out of college, young people finding their way in the world. It's shot like a 'reality' show, but it's fully scripted and jam packed with amazingly talented actors and actresses. I can't get enough of it.

By season three I was blogging about it on three different social media websites, spending every second of my free time obsessing over the show. In truth, I spent my unfree time obsessing quietly while I check bags and wave a metal detector wand around people at my local airport.

Season 7 has just wrapped up and somewhere along the way, I fell head over heels for the character Miles Adams. I tuned in every week after season three just to see Miles. The other 10 people on the show were great, but Miles and Esmeralda stole the show in season three… and for me, in my obsessive frenzy, they became the pair I loved the absolute most. They were perfect together.

The actors who played them - Ben Johnson and Emmy Star (no, that's really her birth name, I googled her) were superb. By season 4 they were each making four times more money per episode than anyone else in the cast.

Of course, when they flew to vegas during the season four finale and got married during the airing of Miles and Esmeralda's own vegas elopement the internet exploded with the impact of an atom bomb.

Some people were flat out convinced that it had been a sham, a publicity stunt, a way to make the show more money so that it could afford Season five's pay raises for the entire cast, including doubling Ben and Emmy's already impressive salaries.

I never believed that. No way. Ben and Emmy, or Bemmy as I call them, have waaaay too much chemistry onscreen and off to be faking it. No, the show making more money was a natural consequence of having the most talented young cast ever assembled in one show. Period. End of discussion. Fin. I will not hear another word about it.

Of course, in every fandom you find trolls… With six couples, a lot of cross-relationship sexual tension, and a highly diverse cast season seven Finding Me's social media following is a breeding ground for fandom trolls. We real fans call them "antis." They whine endlessly about the show but for some reason wont just stop watching it. I do not get those people. They annoy me.

So here I am, in my cheap polyester uniform with my shiney little badge and clunky black patton leather steal toed boots, daydreaming about Miles' gorgeous, fiery, brown-eyed smoulder while I wave through a pretty blond that towered over me by a good six inches.

Mile's eyes have the most intense quality about them. He can literally boil freezing water with a single stare. I'm not sure at exactly what point he went from "geeky" to "omfg I totally would trade my soul for just one night with him" but I think it might have been the season two smouldering hot ten second stare down while stalking toward Esmeralda with pure unfiltered, unbridaled lust rippling off of him like heat waves off desert sand. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was the moment.

Just the thought of that moment is enough to make me blush as I blink away the image. I glance up at the guy who'd just set off the metal detector as I pass the wand across his chest. I freeze. My brain crashes against my skull and I stand there gaping like a fish out of water as Miles Adams stares back at me in annoyance.

I blink.

No, not Miles Adams.

Ben Johnson.

Ben "omfg" Johnson is scowling at me. In the flesh. At MY airport! In Real Life!

I watched in fascination as the annoyed look melted off his face and alarm flashed ahead of concern that gave way to amusement and finally turned to exasperation.

"Breathe." He rolled his eyes and said, half mockingly - half coaxingly with a slight grin on his lips.

In Dolby Digital his voice caresses you like tattered silk, in real life, it's more like a cat's tongue.

His eyes widen and he half reaches for me. "No, really, you need to breathe."

Oh, god. His voice... is talking to me!

"Shit!" He hissed as his face, that incredibly expressive face of his, swam before my eyes.

I blinked and found myself looking up into his frowning face.

"Dear god, not again." Came an annoyed female voice. "They're never going to stop doing that if you keep catching them."

Ben turned a quick scowl toward someone above my head then looked back and asked me, "Are you alright?"

That's when three things hit me at once.

One, I'm cradled in his arms, across his lap as he squats down in front of the metal detectors.

Two, his eyes are prismatic, a totally different shade, ranging from black to amber-yellow depending on how the light hits them.

Three, I'm making a total ass of myself by continuing to stare at him - dumbstruck and drooling.

Reality set in with the suddenness and force of a high speed mid-air collision.

I apologized profusely as I fought my way through 10 tons of humiliation and panic to get to my feet. My mortification could not have been more complete… until I chanced a glance upward and spotted a trickle of blood oozing down his chin.

I have never wanted to cry so badly in my life.

Without another word I took off at a dead run for the nearest ladies room where I immediately screamed "Fuck!" at the top of my lungs. That didn't help much so I did it a few more times before I began ugly-crying my eyes out.

It took me a good hour to get control of myself enough to clock out amidst pitying glances and some snickering from my fellow security guards. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked briskly out to my car.

I'd been at Bluegrass for five years. I'd seen celebrities before. Admittedly, not many… but some! Johnny Depp once came through my line! I was calm, cool and professional. No sweat. Under no circumstances have I ever lost my shit over anything or anyone like I did with Ben Johnson. Not even close.

I called in and talked my supervisor into arranging two weeks worth of my accrued vacation for the immediate future. It was too easy. He had obviously been appraised of my blunder.

I hung up and cried myself to sleep at four o'clock in the afternoon.

The next two weeks were more of the same. Log in to check my blogs, weep as soon as I see a picture of him, log out and cry myself to sleep. Wake up, go pee, see myself in the mirror and burst into tears. Pull a burrito out of the microwave, set it on a paper plate, burst into tears.

About midway through the second week I got rip roaring drunk... at home… alone… with a half gallon tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a half gallon bottle of Smirnoff.

It tasted terrible when it made an encore appearance later on.

As I lay there next to the toilet, in the fetal position, my hair wet from both sweat and vomit, I pondered my life and it's recent trials and tribulations.

The most comforting thought came to me as the room spun like a drunken tilt-a-whirl. It doesn't actually matter what happened when Ben Johnson unexpectedly jumped out of my fantacy and into my reality… I'd never see him again.

Another highly comforting thought was that my co-workers will surely have moved back to their favorite gossip topic, Shirleen Dabney's love life, and forgotten all about me fainting and then splitting the lip of my favorite celebrity by now. Surely. It's not like they're blogging about it. Shirleen's love life is way more interesting than lil ole me.

Shirleen is a tall, leggy, redhead with surgically enhanced ta tas and an ass like a fetishist porn star. She's been picked up and dropped off to work by twelve different men in the three months she's been at Bluegrass. Twelve! Different! Men! That works out to one a week. The security room is abuzz with gossip about her every second that she's not in it… and dead silent when she is.

With two more Shir-boys to gossip about, no doubt my little incedent with a t.v. star is long forgotten.

[delstonejr]

Dear Corporate America, Hello. My name is Del. I am one of your customers – you know, those people you purport to serve. I have an insight I want to share with you, but before I do, let me proceed from an assumption: You want to make money. Is that right? You want to make as much money as you can. Making money is the point of a free market economy. Bob builds a mousetrap and customers buy it. Sarah makes a better mousetrap and customers no longer buy Bob’s mousetrap. They buy Sarah’s mousetrap. If Bob wants to sell mousetraps, he must build a better mousetrap than Sarah. The process is Darwinian. Its intent is to foster innovation. The motivation is money. But Bob can do other things to increase his chances of selling mousetraps. He can lower his price. He can make the buying experience more salutary. He can increase his advertising. Let’s say one of Bob’s tactics is to make the buying experience more salutary. This is where the concept of “customer service” enters the picture. One way Bob can distinguish his mousetrap from Sarah’s is to provide superior customer service. The customer service concept is made up of many different parts. One is accessibility. Bob’s customers will have questions about his mousetrap. They may need help setting it up. Or maybe they want to tell Bob how nice it is. The point is, they will need to contact Bob from time to time. Obviously the easier Bob makes it for them to do that, the more feedback Bob will receive and the more appreciation his customers will bestow upon him, enhancing his ability to sell mousetraps in the future. If we agree on everything I have said here, let me ask you, Corporate America, the following questions: 1. When your customers call you by telephone, do your force them to navigate the infuriating maze of an automated telephone-answering system? 2. Do you force your customers to wait on the telephone – sometimes 15 minutes, sometimes half an hour, until the next “customer service representative” becomes available? 3. Do you constantly remind your customers who are waiting on the phone that your company is experiencing a higher-than-normal call volume, and that wait times may be longer than usual? 4. When your “customer service representative” finally answers the telephone, do they actually work for your company and understand the fundamentals of your mousetrap, or are they employees of a call service and don’t really care if your customer’s questions are answered or their problems resolved? If you can honestly answer yes to these questions then may I suggest the following. 1. From a customer’s perspective, automated telephone answering systems are rage-inducing. They save your company time by stealing it from us. They often do not present us with the proper options. They are sometimes circular, leading us into ridiculous self-perpetuating loops. We resent this, Corporate America. Our time is as important to us as yours is to you. You may be “maximizing your profits” to “answer to your shareholders,” but you are driving us away from your product to avoid paying the salaries and benefits of employees who would receive calls. The goodwill earned by having an actual human being answer the telephone and promptly address our issues would more than compensate for the tiny loss of income for their salaries and benefits. HIRE MORE PEOPLE, Corporate America. 2. Making us wait on the telephone for a “customer service representative” to take our call should not be our problem. It is your problem, Corporate America. You clearly do not employ enough “customer service representatives” to manage the number of calls you are receiving. The solution? HIRE MORE PEOPLE, Corporate America. 3. Reminding us that you are experiencing higher than usual call volume and wait times may be longer is a slap in the face. We are perfectly aware that a pandemic is in progress and more people are using the telephone to conduct their business. Pretending that you cannot correct the problem is an insult to our intelligence. You can easily correct the problem, Corporate America, and

we know this. HIRE MORE PEOPLE. 4. After negotiating your rage-inducing automated telephone answering system, waiting for half an hour to speak to a “customer service representative,” and being told repreatedly that you cannot do anything about the call volume, do you seriously expect us to be friendly and cheerful while speaking with the representative if they know nothing about your mousetrap and cannot help resolve our issue? You do understand, Corporate America, that with any product and in any transaction there exists multiple bottom lines, not just one, and one of those bottom lines is your reputation. Another is your customer satisfaction. We don’t care about your P and L. We don’t answer to your board of directors. Your investors mean nothing to us. We have paid you for a mousetrap, Corporate America, and we expect you to not only build the damn thing and sell it to us but to be available when we have questions or need help. Money is not the only bottom line. So do this one thing, Corporate America, and we’ll get off your back. HIRE MORE PEOPLE! Email me at delstonejr@yahoo.com . In addition to my humor columns and opinion pieces, I write fiction – horror, science fiction and contemporary fantasy. If you’re a fan of those genres please check out my Amazon author’s page. Print and e-books are both available, and remember: You don’t need a Kindle device to read a Kindle e-book. Simply download the free Kindle app for your smart phone or tablet.

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[swilmarillion]

What was college/university like for everyone (leasure time included) or basically their lives as young adults?

Ah, yes.  Life before attempted world domination.  A much simpler time :D

Gothmog never went to college.  He’s a smart guy and all, but he’s a very hands-on learner and also tends to only be motivated to learn or do something if he thinks it’ll be valuable to him.  The rigid structure of higher ed just didn’t appeal to him.  He ended up in the army, mostly to cash in on the whole signing bonus deal.  Oddly enough, he was pretty miserable.  He didn’t like his superiors and hated the pointlessness of drills and exercises.  He’s not big on rules for the sake of rules, and he definitely doesn’t like to be treated like garbage, which is how he felt about his whole army experience.  He ended up getting into a little trouble--like, getting high, stealing an army jeep, and going AWOL kind of trouble.  He got a dishonorable discharge which was...not great.  He ended up bouncing around for a while, trying to stay out of trouble, and wound up at the bar, working as a bouncer.  When Thil started, the two of them really hit it off and became good friends pretty much immediately.  They were both in that early twenties, having a hard time meeting people and I’m super lonely phase of life, so they kind of glommed onto one another.  Gothmog’s spare time has remained largely unchanged throughout his life.  He likes to cook and eat delicious food, watch horror movies, and dick around with his friends.  He’s a good, simple guy.

Thuringwethil always had a lot of ambition.  She wanted to be a high-powered lawyer, making an obscene salary, able to afford designer clothes and shoes and vacations basically anything she could ever want.  In college, though, her life was the polar opposite of what she wanted.  She went to an expensive private school for undergrad and law school because it was the top school, and she wanted the best.  Still, it was expensive, and she worked constantly just to tread water. She was an impeccable student, straight As her whole career.  She was also really good at networking, both with professors and students.  She has this uncanny ability to get things from people--secrets, favors, etc--without investing much on her end.  She ended up with a lot of connections that she still uses today.  She did competitive debate and was really good at it.  She wrote for the law review and the school paper, and she did assistantships with a couple professors that took up a lot of her time.  In her (pretty limited) spare time, she liked to read trashy romance novels and trawl social media looking for things she could use against her classmates.  Oh, one other interesting thing.  She had this job when she was an undergrad, one of those pretty low-paying part-time gigs, where she worked in the biology greenhouse, taking care of plants.  The manager really liked her and would show her some tricks for taking care of the plants.  She kind of developed an unexpected love of plants that has stuck with her even to this day.

Melkor was basically that jerk in every movie that never goes to class and yet inexplicably does really well in his classes (mostly).  Okay, let’s be honest, he barely passed the ones he didn’t care about--all those liberal arts classes like music appreciation and poetry.  Not interested = not going = not trying at all.  Ds get degrees, right?  But his engineering classes?  Math and physics?  He aced them, every time.  It was really infuriating to a lot of his professors.  He showed up to class a handful of times, turned in homework that had obviously been completed on his way to class, and still managed to own his exams.  Most of his professors agreed he was brilliant, but also an asshole.  He was insufferable to his classmates and had very few friends.  He didn’t do any formal extracurricular activities, but he did do a lot of tinkering around.  He checked out books way above his formal education level and built some truly incredible prototypes when he was still in college.  That’s how he spent a lot of his free time; the rest was spent doing a lot of really reckless partying, going to concerts, getting into fights, etc. His professors pretty universally agreed he was either going to revolutionize the field or end up bombing a public works building.  In their defense, he kind of ended up somewhere in the middle.

And we come to Mairon, the biggest, most high-achieving nerd you’ve ever met.  He went to college early because mr. smartypants was done with high school super early. Having him in class was...an experience.  He was an exceptional student--did all the homework, everything done on time, participated in class discussions...the works.  But he was also wickedly, unbelievably smart.  Ahead of the class, smart.  He’d ask questions in lecture that stumped the professors, regularly.  He would raise points that called established theories into question.  He was also kind of a loner.  He wasn’t mean to classmates or anything, but he didn’t have a lot inc common with them,and they were honestly a little afraid of him.  He spent a lot of time with professors, talking about schoolwork and theory and basically just absorbing everything he could.    Mairon was homeless when he started college, but after hanging around Aule’s lab for a while, Yavanna took a liking to him and let him live with them.  He spent most of his free time studying and doing independent research.  He did very little for actual leisure, but he did enjoy writing anonymous call-out pieces in the school paper and pitting competing interest groups on campus against one another.  You know, basic mischief.  He really didn’t have any friends.  He was too busy, and too aloof.  The only people he hung out with were his labmates (almost never outside of work) and Yavanna, who he got super close to.  He also fooled around with Eonwe every so often, mostly to blow off steam, and picked up random dudes when Eonwe was busy and he needed a little, um, you know.  It wasn’t until he met Melkor and came to Utumno that he started having friends like a normal person, and that he got to put all that knowledge to good use.

[warping-reality]

Rooftops: Intro & Ch. 1

So, due to overwhelming support-and by that I mean @cheezit-insanity said she’d read it, so-here’s the intro and first chapter of the book I’m writing, Rooftops. 

Rooftops: a Novel

by Jeneve Wilder

Introduction

                We lived at the top of what used to be a publishing house. It had been abandoned for many years, until the current landlord won it gambling and leased it out to those desperate enough to stay there. And they were desperate, each and every one of them.

               The ground floor could often be found with three or four of the homeless sleeping in the makeshift lobby, seeking shelter from the bitter cold. Four prostitutes lived on the fifth floor—a nice bunch, considering. We didn’t see much of the other residents.

               There was no heat—an unfortunate circumstance in a northern state where the wind could slice right through you. The stairwell and floors creaked with age and the main doors didn’t have locks. Not that there was any real need for them.

               We didn’t have anything worth stealing.

               There were six of us, in total; or rather, three pairs of us. We came in pairs.

               The first pair was Oliver and RiRi. Siblings, though you wouldn’t guess it. Oliver was studying law at Uni, fancied making a name for himself. RiRi fancied the same, only she went about different means. Night and day, Oli and Ri were. RiRi’s real name was Rhianna, and she went by Anne, but when they came to live with the rest of us we already had an Anne—formally Joanna. So, they flipped for it, Anne won, and RiRi had to find a new nickname. RiRi was a lot of things. Bright. Loud. A headache, according to Shiloh. She wore graphic tees and snapbacks, piling long waves of burnt orange hair up into haphazard ponytails. Oliver was everything RiRi wasn’t. Respectful. Proper. Just a bit full of himself, but then he’d had a hard time of it, as did most black kids from a poor family. (Yes, you read right. RiRi was adopted. No continuity flaws here.) He had to grow up a bit too fast. Then again, we all did.

               Next were Rose and Peter. Or Peter and Rose, if you prefer. Unlike Oliver and RiRi, neither name had to come first. (Some people are just funny like that, aren’t they, where their names must be said in a particular order, or else it’s wrong? Try saying ‘Hermione and Ron’ or ‘Frodo and Sam’ and you’ll see what I mean.) Anyways, Peter and Rose are hard to define. Peter was a tattoo artist, Rose an apprentice in the shop he worked in. That’s how they met. They were disgustingly in love, that much was obvious to anyone around them, yet they didn’t seem to have the same urgency to their relationship that others did. Not much is known about Rose. (Read: the girl is a fucking mystery.) She’s Latina, wears leather, and rides a motorbike that most of her salary goes towards. She’s a decent artist, street smart, and completely terrifying. That’s all. Peter’s a bit easier-he’s an absolute sweetheart. When you think of Peter, you think of watercolor and beat up converse, of messy hair and goofy smiles, pencils stuck behind ears and faded shirts pulled on inside out.

               Shiloh and Anne were last. Best friends since they had met in a community theatre production at 15 and 13 respectively, the two were absolutely inseparable. Shiloh is tall. Annoyingly tall, according to Anne, who is 5’2” and ¾”. Choppily cut, short blonde hair hangs in her face, obscuring her eyes. Shiloh cut it when she was 16 as an act of rebellion against her mother. She was 21 now, and hadn’t spoken to her mother in almost 5 years. Anne and Shiloh were both students at Uni alongside Oliver, Shiloh studying Pre-Med and Anne undeclared. Where Shiloh was ungainly and awkward, Anne was graceful and poised. Her abundant curls of dark, Hawaiian hair flowed well past her waist. She wore loose, fluid clothing and made her own jewelry. Years of dancing had made her lithe frame strong and slender. She was the undisputed mother of us all, taking care of each of us in her own special ways.

               Now you have the setting and the cast of characters laid before you. Now you must await the lift of the curtain, for that odd stage play of life to start and the actors to perform.

               This is our story, we six strange thespians of unusual origins on our opening debut. We invite you to join us, in a year of our lives.

Rooftops: Chapter 1

              Shiloh grinned into the wind as she urged her bike faster down the street. Anne was pulling up close behind her, challenging the small lead Shiloh had won over the past seven minutes. Gritting her teeth, she soared tightly around the last curve in their route, gaining another foot on Anne before screeching to a stop outside the Chemistry building. Anne panted as she pulled up a second later.

              “Oh hush, I’m tired,” she said, rolling her eyes at Shiloh’s smirk.

              “Maybe your legs are just too short,” the other girl laughed.

              “Need I remind you that I’ve won for the past two days?”

              Shrugging, Shiloh swung off her bike, walking it over to the rack by the side of the building. She kneeled, tugged a small weed out from a crack in the pavement, and quickly chained up her bike. Anne tugged a knot of dark, tangled hair from her helmet, wincing as she did so.

              “I’m late. Are we on for lunch?”

              “Nah, not today.” Shiloh checked the time. “I’ll be heading to the gym with Oli. And relax, you’ve still got a few minutes.”

              “Alright, see you tonight then.”

              Shiloh waved a distracted goodbye as Anne pedaled away. Jogging to the third floor, she headed on into her classroom, despite being almost half an hour early.

              Ms. Rigley glanced up with a small smile as Shiloh bounded towards her desk, dropping off the latest homework assignment into the blue inbox.

              “Hey, Ms. R. Anything I can help with?”

              “Good morning, Caulton.” Ms. Rigley always called everyone by their last name. “If you could copy these notes onto the board, it would be helpful.”

              Shiloh nodded, grabbing the pages and beginning to write the formulas out in careful strokes. It never hurt to be on a professor’s good side, especially with midterms coming up, so Shiloh was more than happy to offer her assistance. The time passed in silence, broken only by the occasional squeaking of the marker or shuffling of papers. Shiloh stood back to survey her work, and then she headed to her chair.

              One by one, fellow students started filing in, stopping to drop their work off. Shiloh’s fingers itched with the temptation to straighten the haphazard pile. They were a small class, slightly cramped into a stuffy room with large windows. Holden nodded a greeting to her as he slid into the desk to her left and pulled out his notebook. Ms. Rigley stood, and the class began.

              Although a Biology major, Shiloh found Ms. Rigley’s Organic Chem to be her favorite class, mostly due to the teacher herself. She was gruff, and a harsh grader, but she obviously cared for her student’s success and mental health, allowing them occasional breaks from homework and always providing extra credit. Clicking her pen, Shiloh set herself to copying down the first problem.

              ~

              Pre-wrap was her best friend, Shiloh decided as she stepped from the changing room into the bright fluorescence of the gym interior. There was comfort in the familiar routine of preparation before any task, especially exercise. She passed a colorful poster boasting, ‘Today is YOUR Day,’ and plopped down on a mat next to Oliver.

              “How was your day?” She grabbed a roller and started stretching. “And please don’t start rambling about your newest law assignment thing again,” she found it prudent to cut off that line of discussion before it started. “It’s fucking boring.”

              In response, Oliver rolled his eyes. “As I have stated many times, my field of study has innumerable possible applications to help people. Law is not boring, it’s fascinating. It’s a puzzle.” He paused. “I suppose such a study is only for those with true dedication.”

              Shiloh chuckled. Oliver had a way of speaking properly. She supposed it was his way of distancing himself from the slum he grew up in. At least it would help his law career.

              Their friendship was an easy one, built on mutual comradery, gym life, study halls, and light teasing. cha

              She switched legs, working on her left calf, and changed the subject. “Anne’s picking up dinner tonight—”

              “Redundant, she does so every night.”

              Shiloh charitably ignored the interruption. “Should I let her know of any preferences?”

              Oliver grunted, seemingly unconcerned. “If it’s not Indian I don’t mind, but if I must have any more curry, my tongue will fall off.”

              “Blame Peter for that one. I’ll let her know.”

              “Want to cycle in on the bench?”

              “Sure, I’d like someone to spot me anyway,” Shiloh answered. “Want to row a bit first though. Can you entertain yourself for 20 minutes?”

              “Fine with me, I’ll jog.”

              “Cool, I’m almost done here. You never answered me though.”

              Confusion flickered across his face. “Answered what?”

              “How was your day?”

              “Oh. Fine.” Oliver’s usually gruff voice pitched a little higher and softer. “I met someone new.”

              “Do tell.”

              “Her name is April. She just transferred from community college.”

              What an incredible way to give me no information of importance, Shiloh thought. “Do you like her?”

              Her suspicions were confirmed by the acute redness that flushed across the back of Oliver’s neck. “She’s nice enough,” he huffed.

              “So that’s a yes then,” she sing-songed. Oliver just rolled his eyes in annoyance. Tapping her chin, Shiloh pretended to think. “Wonder what the rest will think of this! Oli’s got a fling!”

              “Ah, keep it under wraps, would’ja?” He asked, reverting to his old slang, betraying his nerves. “I kinda was thinking ‘bout takin’ it slow, like.”

              “I gotcha,” Shiloh grinned. This girl must be really something. “I suppose I could be persuaded to keep my lips sealed, for now. Hope she’s as great as you seem to think.”

              “Yeah, well,” he scratched his hear. “You better get to rowing if we are to leave in time for dinner.”              

              Shiloh gave him a quick salute, and bounded towards to rowing machine.

              ~

              After their time at the gym was done, the two biked home, delightfully sore. When they finally arrived, and hiked up the seven flights of stairs, they found the apartment mostly abandoned. A quick glance at the coat rack, which was a bunch of push pins Anne had shoved into the hardwood, told them that RiRi was the only one home. They headed to the central room where RiRi sat, headphones in and eyes glued to her laptop screen.

              Oliver caught Shiloh’s eye, indicating with a jerk of his head to take the left. Shiloh nodded, mouth twitching upwards at the corners. In unison, they snuck closer to the unaware redhead. Pouncing with a jubilant shout, their fingers quickly found her sides, and RiRi shrieked, falling off her perch and crashing into Oliver. Shiloh clambered over the chair to join the impromptu huddle, continuing to tickle RiRi mercilessly until she cried uncle.

              RiRi lay on her back, panting. “Scare the life right out of me, why don’t you,” she grumbled, mustering up a glare.

              Oliver smiled, kissing her cheek in a belated greeting. “You should know better, losing track of time and letting your guard slip in house full of pranksters.”

               “Is it really six already?” RiRi cast a longing glance towards her computer. “And I’d hardly count Peter as a prankster.”

              Shiloh gave an undignified snort. “That’s only because nobody’s ever caught him. I still say he’s responsible for switching all my coffee out for decaf/

              Oliver and RiRi simultaneously at the reminder of that awful week. An undercaffeinated Shiloh could be the plot of a horror movie.

              “Anything exciting happen while we were out?” Shiloh asked, unconcerned with the dramatics of the siblings. “Please tell me you weren’t on the computer all day.”

              “Actually,” RiRi answered with a sniff, “I went on a walk around noon.”

              Oliver gasped with mock horror. “You left the house? Haven’t we taught you the dangers of the outside world? Have you learned nothing?”

              Shiloh quickly cottoned on and joined the act. “I never thought I’d see the day! Our little RiRi, all grown up and venturing outside!” She wiped away a fake tear. “The sky is red! Cats and dogs are getting along! I’m suddenly straight! The world’s turned upside down!”

              There was a brief pause, and then Oliver and Shiloh collapsed into a fit of giggles.

              “Oh, bugger off. I’m not that reclusive.”

              “You are that reclusive. And British, apparently.”

              Oliver quickly derailed the conversation before the two could devolve into their usual bickering. “Did you accomplish anything productive, or have you just watched Jean Bailey all day?”

              “I have actually! I uploaded a video and started on scripts for a couple others.” Her voice took on a light and excited tone, as it always did when RiRi talked about her work. She was pursuing a career on YouTube, eager to make her money doing something fun. Currently, she only had about 1,200 subscribers, but she carried a confidence that her channel would soon take off.

              “Is Anne back yet?” RiRi continued. “I’m hungry.”

              Shiloh checked her watch. “She should be back soon, no clue as to what she’s bringing.”

              “As long as it’s not Indian,” Oliver sighed.

              Shiloh shrugged and walked away to dump her backpack in her room. Might as well loose herself in a book while waiting, she reasoned. Shiloh let her fingers trail over various options before settling on the familiar comfort of Pride and Prejudice. Cracking it open, she settled down to read. The familiar sentences and notes scrawled in the margins served to soothe her tired mind.

              These books were her principal possessions. Shiloh had precious little in the way of things. Her side of the room was furnished with a simple desk and chair, and a mattress with two blankets was tucked into a corner. Random sketches Peter or Rose had left lying around were tacked haphazardly to the walls; a sheer piece of cloth hung over the single window overlooking a back alley. A thin screen separated her side from Anne’s. But her books were everywhere-stacked against the walls or in orderly piles on the floor. Shiloh could tell you where each was, name each author, even recite entire chapters from some of her favorites. She had always had a good memory for small things like that. These books were her haven away from the chaos of the real world.

              Shiloh finished reading about the first ball. Glancing out the window, she could see the familiar blue glint of Anne’s bike chained to a tree. Grinning broadly, Shiloh marked her place, slipped the book back on the pile under the desk, and jogged out to meet her friend.

              She entered the den at the same time as Anne, the later carrying several bags. “Who wants Pho?” Anne called. No sooner had the words left her mouth than a brightly colored blur snatched the food from her hands, plopping down on one of the handstitched beanbags that occupied the majority of the room.

              “Did you get me vegetarian?” RiRi asked, already digging through the first bag.

              Anne rolled her eyes, opting not to answer. Shiloh could have laughed-Anne had been catering to all of their dietary restrictions for years; it was unlikely she would forget.

              RiRi found her soup and happily started preparing it, the rest shoved to the side. Ambling over, Shiloh nodded help to Anne and started to rummage for her own. Oliver emerged from his room a minute later, and the four sta down to eat together, pow-wow style.

              “Where are Rose and Peter?” Oliver asked after thee edges of everyone’s hunger were sated.

              “Working late at the shop,” Anne answered. “At least, that’s what they texted me. I suspect they skived off for some alone time, so I brought extras for them to have when they get back,” she added, gesturing to the half empty bags.

              Oliver nodded. Shiloh stirred her soup three times and gulped some down. Minding the tipsy bowl, Anne swung her legs into Shiloh’s lap.

              Understanding through some unspoken bond, Shiloh shifted to stir her soup again while her left hand started lightly kneading Anne’s calves. They were each often sore, and a light massage was always welcome. Usually, they were each glad to oblige. “Went to the studio today?” Shiloh asked, already knowing the answer.

              Sure enough, Anne nodded. “Yeah. My legs are killing me—I need new pointe shoes.”

              Shiloh hummed in acknowledgment, stirring her soup three times, her spoon scraping against the cardboard of the bowl. Anne continued without prompting.

              “I started on a new choreography today. It’s a lot of fun. More modern than I’m used to.”

              They ate in silence for a while. RiRi’s voice broke through harshly. “Would you stop that?” She asked in annoyance as Shiloh stirred her Pho three times yet again.

              Shiloh started. “Stop what?” she asked.

              “Stirring your soup! Three times before each bite. It’s creepy.”

              “Oh,” she turned a blank stare back towards her bowl, setting her spoon and chopsticks down. “Sorry.”

              Almost predictably, Anne’s brow creased in worry. When she spoke, her voice was pitched low so that the other two couldn’t pick up on their conversation. “Are your compulsions acting up?”

              Shiloh shrugged noncommittally, refusing to life her gaze and meet Anne’s steady stare. Anne dropped it with a long look that promised they’d be revisiting the subject later.

              After their meal, Shiloh started to clean the trash from the area as Anne drew RiRi aside for a private talk. Straining her ears, Shiloh managed to catch the tail end of Anne’s sentence.

              “…be more patient…not Shi’s fault…compulsions… struggling…be more supportive…”

              The palms of Shiloh’s hands rubbed fruitlessly at her eyes, feeling the grittiness of exhaustion setting in. Although she appreciated Anne’s willingness to defend her, her faced flushed with anger and shame. She could deal with it on her own, and certainly didn’t need someone fighting her own battles.

              “I just don’t understand,” RiRi’s voice was easier to overhear, her tone lacking the soft lyrical quality that Anne’s always carried.

              “No, you don’t.” Anne snapped in response. She took a deep breathe presumably for composure, and started speaking quietly again. Shiloh moved closer under the ruse of throwing away the bags. “Look, just because you don’t understand something, especially an illness, doesn’t mean you can be disrespectful. It’s like—like Oliver’s MS. You don’t need to understand OCD. Just stop being such a dick about it.”

              RiRi started to respond, but Shiloh had heard enough. She threw away the trash and headed to her room. First, she lay on her mattress, tossing slightly. Staring at the rough sketch of a ballerina, she traced the familiar lines with her eyes. The activity did not calm her. If anything, her thoughts became more jumbled, fingers picking restlessly at the jersey comforter.

              Giving up with a weary sigh, Shiloh stood, pushing her window up and clamber out onto the fire escape. She liked going to the roof when she needed to think, letting her legs dangle over the edge and staring up at the stars.

              So, that’s what she did now.

              RiRi’s impatience wasn’t bugging her. Hell, she was right, it was annoying and she should have a lid on it. Anne was also right. Compulsions were worse, she was jittery and unfocused at the best of times lately. Shiloh hated the loss of control. And wasn’t that what her disorder was supposedly all about? Compulsions leading to a false sense of control?

              She lay on her back, the sky laid out above her. A few blinking starts peered back, not distinct enough to form a recognizable constellation. She missed the stars. In fact, Shiloh didn’t think she had seen a sky full of stars for years. Ah well, small price to pay for living in the city.

              Her fingers listlessly tapped out the rhythm to ‘Ramble On’ by Led Zeppelin. With a shudder, she realized she hadn’t grabbed a jacket before heading up.

              Shiloh stayed outside another few minutes, staring up at the stars and letting her mind go blank. An airplane passed high overhead. Shiloh’s dad used to be a pilot. She distantly wondered if that was him now, way up above her.

              The wind blew, bringing a distinct chill with it. Shiloh heaved herself up and climbed back down. Her rooftop venture left her much calmer than before, if also slightly melancholy.

              Ducking back inside her window, Shiloh latched it and prepared for the next day. She had just flicked off the light and slid between her blankets when the door creaked open.

              “Shiloh?” Anne’s voice called, barely louder than a whisper. Shiloh could feel her presence, barely a foot from where she lay.

              Squeezing her eyes shut, Shiloh stayed very, very quiet and very, very still.

              A silent beat, an intake of breath. Then—

              “Goodnight, Shiloh,” Anne’s voice was closer than before. “I love you.”

              Shiloh squeezed her eyes even tighter. Tension ran along every line of her body. She was sure that if Anne reached out and touched her with a feather-light finger, she would snap like a rubber band. But Anne merely crossed the room, footsteps fading away behind the screen.

              It took Shiloh a long time to fall asleep that night.

[ominous-meme]

OF ASSASSINS AND ATTRACTIONS (AOIHA)

Requested by @cancerianwastelandcat; this is one of the first times I’m writing BL, I hope you like it!

Uruha refuses point-blank to leave for the job without a shot or two, so poor Kai has to keep the bar open for an extra half hour while the assassin rants about his shitty job, shitty boss, and shitty lifestyle.

“So he calls me and says I gotta go for this job at one in the fucking morning! Who does he think I am?”

“His employee,” Kai mutters, wiping the glasses he’s just washed. He sincerely hopes Uruha finds a nice guy soon, the last three left because they couldn’t deal with being an assassin’s boyfriend. Kai himself has no attraction to Uruha, although that’s probably because he would rather not leave his peaceful life.

Uruha gulps down the last glass before slapping a note onto the counter and stepping off the stool.

“Good luck,” the bartender says. “And do try to find someone nice to calm you down. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Whatever.” Shrugging his jacket on, Uruha steps out into the cold night. He should be done with this job before dawn and slip in and out as quietly as possible.

Morals aren’t his cup of tea. “I’m just the guy who follows money,” he once told his best friend Reita, who agreed. And that’s done them better than if he actually listens to his heart. For money has allowed him to provide for his parents and sisters and nephews, money has saved him from the lenders, money has made sure everyone he cared for now has a roof to sleep under, good clothes, and three meals a day. What did the heart bring, he often says bitterly, looking at himself in the mirror. 

Nothing, his reflection will say. Nothing but a determination to see your loved ones happy. But that’s all it did. Money has a better claim.

The window is open as the boss said it would be. Uruha thanks his luck that it’s a ground floor one, although he can climb a floor or two when he needs to. The mansion is dark; all the servants have gone to sleep, as has the target. Slowly, he places one foot on the stairs, then another, then another, then another. Without a sound, he makes it to the bedroom: “First floor, second door on the left.” He’s muttered those words to himself all through the journey to the mansion.

What he doesn’t know is that someone else has been mumbling the same words to himself for the last couple of hours as well.

Aoi had to talk Ruki into not throwing a fit on hearing about the job. “Kill that bastard!” The midget had snarled. “The fucker tests on animals for cosmetics and is a disgrace to the rest of us, kill him as painfully as possible.”

Aoi is a freelance assassin, which means he, unlike Uruha, gets to choose who he works for and what targets he is assigned. But it was his friend’s encouragement that made the decision for him. He accepted the job.

“First floor, second room on the left,” he says in a sing-song voice in his mind. Pushing the door open, he sees...an empty bed, the side lamp on, and an extremely attractive, stunned man wearing a leather jacket and holding a gun of his own.

“As much as I’d like to think you’re my target, you’re clearly not,” Aoi says, staring at his counterpart. “You’re not old or fat, and you’re not in pajamas. Also, unlike him, you have nice hair.”

He could almost slap himself.

“Well, neither are you my target. Last I checked, he wasn’t supposed to have that mole on his neck,” Uruha says, staring shamelessly. He’s cute, he thinks. Too bad I have to kill him. Can’t have anyone stealing my salary.

So obviously, in a very genius moment, he points his gun at Aoi, who does the exact same thing right then. “Look, I need to pay the bills,” Uruha says, “and I’d like to live a long life, settle down with a nice guy, and maybe a few kids. I’m not having you take my target away from me, wherever he is.”

“Oh, I know you, you work for that annoying old man in the city, right?” Aoi laughs. “He’s probably going to give you some miserable sum for killing this big shot anyway. You might as well be a freelancer with me, we could do some real good stuff together.” Wait, that sounded wrong…To make up for it, he tries to smirk, but it seems to backfire because Aoi swears he saw his rival assassin blush.

Aoi ducks just in time as Uruha fires a couple of rounds from his pistol. “I was just trying to make conversation!” He protests, hiding behind a chair. “What’s wrong in trying to chat up a cute guy?”

Uruha imagines that Aoi wants to punch himself for that (he’s not far off from the mark), but a part of him is saying He called me cute! and regrets firing the pistol. In his defence, however, he was in shock at what he interpreted from the earlier statement.

Not that Uruha was born with much tact, however.

“Well, thanks, but I really need this cash. So I’m very sorry, but you’re gonna have to step down, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” Aoi stands up, his own gun locked and loaded, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not the one with styled hair!”

Uruha flicks his honey locks. “Well, maybe I like to take care of my hair!”

“I take care of my hair, you look like you’re going to a photoshoot if you live.”

“If I live????” This time, Uruha smirks, and Aoi nearly drops his gun to the floor. That smirk is the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life, and he licks his lips.

Uruha can’t believe what he just saw, and secretly wants more of it, but the bills come first. So he shoots at the raven-haired man, who dodges it again...only because he trips on the chair and falls forward, wildly waving his arms about to grab something.

Unfortunately, that something happens to be Uruha’s pants.

They both fall on the floor, and Aoi finds himself straddling the cute honey-blond assassin; one hand on the floor next to his head, the other...well…

There’s an awkward silence while both try to figure out what to do next. Not that either of them minds the position they’re in, though.

“So, uh…” Uruha’s mouth feels dry. “Does this mean I get your name and number?”

Aoi’s sure he now has better things to do than eliminate his rival, one of which includes exchanging the aforementioned names and numbers. He sits up, balancing slightly on Uruha’s legs and pulls a card out of his pocket. “My business card. It’s usually for the clients who want me to bump someone out of the way, but it’s got everything you need...except my personal address. I ain’t giving it out so easily, even to a pretty boy like you.”

“We can save that for the second date.” Uruha smiles, sitting up as well and giving him his own card.

“Perfect.” Aoi leans in and kisses him full on the mouth. It takes Uruha a couple of seconds to realize what’s happening, and finally starts to respond when he feels a slight sensation of teeth on his lips. “Mmm,” Aoi licks his lips. “Didn’t know you taste like honey.”

All Uruha can do is sit there with his jaw dropped, staring at Aoi (whose name he still doesn’t know, he hasn’t looked at the card yet). For his part, the raven is acting smooth just to contain his own shock at what’s been happening so far.

“Well then, I’ll get going, it seems like our target isn’t here.” Aoi stands up and adjusts his jacket before offering an arm to Uruha. “Drop by the office any time you like, or you could just call me. Of course, unless you want to go back to my place now.”

Standing up, Uruha smirks, finally regaining his confidence. “Or mine.” Now it’s his turn to lick his lips and Aoi’s turn to blush.