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angelruel · 4 years

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vintage pt.2

summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future.

masterlist

Word Count: 4.4 k (kind of long, oops)

“Soooo what’s my favorite color?”

“Easy. Blue,” he retorted while reaching over to fill in a space on the tic tac toe board that Y/N had drawn on her empty lap desk. He was the x’s and she played the o’s. It was a bit difficult for Ruel to pretend to not know all of her tricks she played in this game, but he was a very convincing loser. She had also taken the opportunity of his return to test him on some trivia of her personal likes and dislikes.

“Okay, here’s a good one,” she said as she filled the left hand corner on the board with a perfect circle. Ruel learned a long time ago that her strategy was to fill two corners and the center spot of the board in order to have an upper hand on winning. He watched her play the same way over again. Ruel admired her predictability and he almost felt confident enough that her tic tac toe skills returning would somehow correlate to her feelings for him to return as well.

“Well finally a good one. Lay it on me.” He gave her his signature soft smile that he always grants her when he’s being his sweetest version of a boyfriend.

“What’s my favorite song? Or, at least one of my favorite songs.”

Ruel scrunches up his nose in thought, “hmmm. I’m gonna need a little more context, bub.”

“Okay so maybe my favorite song I like to hear on a road trip. Something that gets me energized.” Ruel found it funny that she was reaching for more and more clues to jog her memory. They both knew that couldn’t she remember the last road trip she’d been on, or any of them for that matter. He was proud that she was at least in a more positive mood about not remembering things.

“Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith. There’s one.”

Y/N’s happy expression dropped to a confused one.

“Huh? I don’t listen to Willow Smith.”

They both just sat there for a while. There was still an apparent wall that Y/N had built up to secure herself from being hurt by Ruel since she barely knew him.

But the truth was that she barely knew herself.

“Well, I guess I did listen to her music,” she dropped her head down. “I guess I just can’t remember it.”

Ruel used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the marker drawings on Y/N’s desk tray so that he could lean over it to hold her hands.

“Hey, how about we do something else? I brought back some stuff like you asked me for.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile when he let go of her hands to grab a blue shoebox from the floor.

“Oh, you brought gifts! Yay!” she exclaimed while clapping her dainty hands over and over. He sat the box in front of her lap on the hospital tray and she stared at it for a minute. One of the things she did remember was that blue was her favorite color. And after having a few conversations with Ruel, she discovered that his was brown. So, she assumed that the color of the box was a little nod to her. She thought that was really sweet.

“You can go ahead,” he encouraged her. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

She hesitated to lift the flimsy lid from the top. Partly because she was afraid that seeing the contents wouldn’t help jog her memories at all, and also because she was still pretty weak from the constant dosage of pain meds she’d grown accustomed to.

The first things to come out of the box were some polaroids and a bunch of little papers she grabbed that were grouped together. One of the polaroids showed a group photo in front of a campfire with little writing at the bottom that said ‘new years 2020.’ There were some post-it notes with little messages written on them in pencil. They were fading but Y/N could still make out what they said. It was a girl’s handwriting, and there was a little drawing of a pond? Or maybe a lake.

i drew you a pond since you wanna act like a silly goose all the time. bitch.

-y/n

There was another one filled with words instead of a cute drawing, and she assumed this one was a serious matter.

hi, love. i left to go watch the sunrise with coco around 4 am-ish. you probably would’ve wanted to join us, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. and coco said that you’ve been smothering me lately and encouraged me to sneak out. anyways, i’ll probably be back before you see this, but just in case i’m not, don’t call the cops. okay that’s all. in case i never return, i love you.

-y/n (under the heavy influence of stella)

Ruel chimed in to explain. “Yeah, you used to leave me little notes like that sometimes instead of texting like a normal person.”

“And you kept them?”

“Of course I did. I’m not a monster.” He joked and she playfully hit his chest with the stack of notes. Ruel scooted his chair closer to the side of Y/N’s bed and leaned in. “Lets see what else we got in here.”

There were movie tickets, receipts from restaurants, and even old wristbands from festivals.

“Is this what you meant when you said I grow attached to material things?” She laughed on the outside but in reality, Y/N was so infatuated in the idea that a boy would keep a box of things that reminded him of her and their relationship.

“Ha yeah, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me after a while.” Ruel reached his hand into the box as well and pulled out a little beaded bracelet. It had a simple pattern of ocean blue and brown wooden beads. He played with it in between his fingers.

“I remember this. Your cousin made it for us when you brought me to Thanksgiving. She kept running back and forth asking us what our favorite colors were. It was so cute. And she said we had to share it,” he reminisced.

He gave her the bracelet which she carefully placed on the wrist that wasn’t connected to an IV. There were mostly pictures in the box. Pictures of Y/N and Ruel in different settings: kissing, posing next to venue signs with his name on it, cooking, etc. She picked up one of the pictures and examined it carefully.

“I remember this,” she said in a nonchalant matter. Ruel looked up at her, then back at the picture in her hand.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I remember that whole trip. That was a fun trip. Hmm.” She hummed to herself in bliss with a grin on her face.

“Tell me about it,” he grinned back at her. “What do you remember?” She looked down for a while. It was almost like the times they spent together were in secret, and too precious to share with anyone else. She felt a deep connection to someone-whoever it was to make her feel such strong emotions in just the echos of the times they spent together. Y/N began longing for the person who made her experience this type of fondness. The person she was looking for was right in front of her. Why was she holding back?

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“Okay, how do I say this,” Y/N’s hand snaked up to her head to rake through her hair as she paced in deep thought. She took in a deep breath and turned around to look at him sitting in the hospital chair across the room.

“I-I want this to be special. I mean, you’ve been so patient and considerate with me. You haven’t tried to rush me into anything at all. But I see the way you look when you think I’m not paying attention. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to finally give in. Well not, finally give in, but. You know, you know what I’m trying to say right?” She used every ounce of energy she had to walk across the room to face him. She picked him up and brought his face close to hers.

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” she whispered and smiled softly. Before she could say anything else, Y/N heard the doorknob rattle in desperation to open it.

She quickly threw the teddy bear back into the chair and tried to pretend that she was doing anything else.

Ruel leaned into the door frame and struggled to keep his balance as he carried a Taco Bell bag and two drinks in his hands.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” Y/N rushed over to him to grab the drinks and his eyes grew in shock.

“Well, it’s nice to see you up and moving so much. The doctor was right, you really have been getting stronger every day.” Y/N smiled up at him with pride as they both settled the food onto her desk. “So, have you heard anything yet?”

“Anything about what,” Y/N mumbled in between taking bites of her soft taco. She knew exactly what he was referring to, though.

“Oh, you know. Like when are you gonna get out of this place? I mean, with the way you’re up and walking now,” he brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her neck as he examined her face with concerned eyes. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? They said four to six weeks, but by the looks of it, you’re healing up really well. You’ve done so good lately.”

She mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him another wide smile. Y/N was happy that he was proud of her progress. He played a big part of her growth, though. Through the discomfort and the multiple procedures she had to undergo, Ruel was always there at the side of her bed to rely on. Whether she was up at 4 am crying because she couldn’t remember the names of her dogs or freaking out in excitement after being able to stand up on her own, he was there for it all.

And as her strength developed each day, so did her trust and love for him. She assumed that it wasn’t the same as their previous relationship, but it was more than enough to keep them happy. He would always tell her that he loved her, but she didn’t say it back. He told her it was fine, that he knew she didn’t really know who he was and he wouldn’t hold it against her. But in return, he needed for her to accept that he still loved her as much as he did before the accident and to be okay with him loving her even if it meant that she couldn’t love him equally back for a while.

But after spending so much time with him, Ruel was hardly a stranger to Y/N anymore. He was a friend, a very understanding and attractive friend. She couldn’t ignore the burning sensation she felt deep in her stomach when he would cuddle up close to her on the bed during their movie nights. She couldn’t ignore the desire or the comfort she felt for him any time that he was around (which was very often because Ruel was always around). He told her that he would wait for her, that she should take her time to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship whenever she was ready. He told her that she’d just gone through a major trauma and that she needed to focus on getting better. He said he would wait for her, but a part of her feared that he was only saying this to make her feel better. She feared that he had already accepted that they were just friends, that maybe he’d already began a new romance with some skinny long-haired girl in Sydney and he was just waiting for Y/N to get her strength back so that he could go home to her.

“Okay, well I have to tell you something,” she finally came out with. Ruel sat up straight in his chair to give her his full attention. His eyes were fixated on her face and his hands rested in his lap. She found herself lost in thought trying to remember what she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t focus on anything but his beauty.

“Did they already tell you whether you’re going home or not?” he laughed a little as he went to grab his drink off of the desk. “Did I miss it when I went to get lunch?” He used the side of his jeans to wipe the water that got on his hand from the cup. His huge hand. The same huge hand that he then used to move the long strands of hair out of his face. He’d previously told her that she did not like the long hair look on him and always encouraged him to get haircuts and shave. In the moment, Y/N couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone would ever encourage him to change his appearance when he looked like that. The long hair and mustache gave him a much more mature look in comparison to the old pictures and videos she would look at of him. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to cut the hair that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers through. She quickly snapped out of it and shut her eyes so she couldn’t look at the beautiful boy in front of her.

“I really do have to tell you something,” she started and stopped because she was nervous. With her eyes still closed, she felt Ruel’s hand grab hers.

“What’s going on, why are you acting so weird?” he let out a nervous laugh and Y/N realized that he was probably feeling the same anxiety as her in the moment. She knew that someone had to be the confident one in this scenario, and she decided that it would be her. She took one last deep breath and let go of it.

“Do you remember what I told you when I first told you I loved you?”

“Yes,” he laughed again, “Do you want me to tell you the story again?” She nodded quickly in a child-like manner and looked at him in adoration.

“It was a little after a month of us dating and I’d just taken you home after we went out driving and just hanging out. I was almost back in the car when I saw you run out of the house, barefoot, yelling at me to wait.” Y/N laughed a little and felt the tension between the two of them begin to melt away.

“And then what did I do?”

“You went into this whole speech about how you felt and how you were very scared to be vulnerable because you were afraid of being hurt. And then you said something that I’d never forget,” he looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the tiles, “you told me that the fear you felt only grew as you fell more in love with me. You said you thought that it would never go away, but you didn’t want it to stop you from embracing the happiness you felt when you were with me. And then you told me you loved me, and that you were scared of me. You said that I made you wanna jump into the fear rather than run away from it. You said you knew that you loved me as soon as you felt scared. Because you knew you had found something worth cherishing. And if it ever went away, you didn’t think you’d survive it.” He looked down. After saying all of that, it still seemed like there was something he was missing. He looked as if he didn’t manage to not break her heart. He was scared too.

“Ruel?” Y/N let her hands relax and gripped onto his tighter.

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared.” She began to fiddle with his long digits and almost felt hesitation to do anything next.

“What are you afraid of-” he began, but was interrupted by the connection of her lips onto his. He freed his hand and rose it up to the back of her neck so he could deepen the kiss. They kissed again, and again. They kissed until their faces were red and she broke away for a moment to catch her breath. She smiled at him and he looked back at her in disbelief.

“I love you. I really do, Ruel. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long but I don’t want to be just friends. I want you in my life like you used to be,” her eyes dropped to her lap and her expression changed, “before everything got so fucked up.”

He grabbed her face again and began to pepper it with kisses. At this point, Ruel was halfway onto her bed. She brought up her dainty hands to cup his face and she gently pulled away again. Ruel hitched a rushed breath out as he pouted in confusion as to why she pulled away.

“Oh yeah, I’m going home today.” She smiled with her teeth and he laughed in pure bliss before grabbing her face again.

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The boxes piled in the middle of the living room all started to disappear one by one. Y/N watched in awe as Ruel picked up every box and placed it in its proper area. Her legs swung back and forth in boredom while she waited on top of the kitchen counter where Ruel had placed her since she refused to wear shoes on the trip to her apartment.

“You’re such a good slave,” she told him in a sweet tone as her eyes followed him across the area. He shook his head, barely giving her an ounce of the attention she practically begged for, and continued moving things around.

“Honey are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own like this? You can stay back home a little longer if you’d like,” Y/N’s mother remarked. She looked at her daughter with concern.

“I’m not alone, I have Ruel. And besides, I’ve already left the nest once before. I should be fine.”

“Well I guess I’ll be on my way home now. Call me if you need anything. Anything.” Y/N pecked a kiss on her cheek and guided her mom outside.

By the time she got back into the apartment, the living room was clear of boxes and she moved down the hall in search of her boyfriend. She found Ruel in her bedroom on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone.

“What’s so interesting?” She sat down beside him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Once she realized what he was watching, she pulled out one of his airpods so she could listen in. It was from her Youtube channel she started a few months ago. She had faint memories of vlogging herself doing normal things like grocery shopping or going to her brother’s football games. She’d only looked at a few of her storytime videos, including the one where she details how she met Ruel. This was a video she hadn’t seen before, though. It was of her and Ruel together in some resort. It looked like they were on vacation and he explained to her that they were in Amsterdam for some music festival and had decided to make an entire trip out of it since it was so close to their anniversary. They’d coordinated matching outfits for the first weekend and were posing in front of the bathroom mirror together like lovesick idiots.

“Damn, I’m so jealous of us.”

Ruel let out a low chuckle at her and skipped through the parts she’d recorded of his performance.

“Yeah, most people are.” He fast forwarded to a portion of the video after they returned to the hotel. Ruel was in the shower and Y/N was laying on the bed, recently showered, detailing all of the ways she was proud of her boyfriend. He laughed when she poked fun of how he forgot his own lyrics on stage.

“Well that was almost cute,” he added and locked the phone.

“Hey, it’s still pretty cute,” she laughed, “You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth, babe.”

“Babe, huh?” he questioned as he turned to face her.

“What, is that weird? Or too soon? I mean, you call me ‘bubs’ and ‘love’ all the time,” she looked down and played with the details of her jeans.

“It’s adorable. I love it. And I love you,” he reassured her as he cupped her face and pulled it in for a puffy kiss. She kissed him back, this time with more dominance. Y/N kissed Ruel like there was a pot of gold hidden somewhere in his mouth that she was determined to get.

Ruel matched her energy right away. He kissed her back and gripped the back of her neck to guide her face closer into his. They adorned each other with open mouths and full hearts. As they continued, Y/N felt the urge to go further and further with him, exploring his body and getting to know him on a more intimate level. They were so good at making out, it seemed like they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt like she was kissing a lover from a different lifetime, like she’d replayed scenarios over and over which all ended with her loving him. She couldn’t remember ever doing this with him before, but her body remembered. Everything with Ruel came with such ease. Every time he touched her body, she was overcome with euphoria and only craved more. She craved being closer to him, kissing him deeper.

“Mmm, take this off please,” she tugged on his shirt and he quickly pulled it off before resuming his actions. Y/N felt herself falling into an intoxicated state as she moaned against his mouth. He responded to her by wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it closer against him. They both began to move in sync with each other, both giving and taking as their bodies danced a routine they knew too well. Y/N was so distracted by Ruel that she didn’t even hear her mother walk back in through the front door. She only whined when he pulled his face away from hers.

“Why’dyoustop,” she breathed out. She was out of breath and watched him with puppy dog eyes as he stood up.

“Your mom is back,” he stated flatly. He was clearly out of breath too and he was trying to calm himself down so he could see what was going on in the front.

“...so?” she gave him a blank stare and patted on his side of the bed to join her again, “she can let herself out.”

“Don’t worry, bubs. We’ve got time,” he chuckled to himself and pulled his shirt back on over his head. Y/N sighed and jumped from her side of the bed to join Ruel in the living room.

“I’m sorry, hun. I forgot the most important box: your things from the hospital.” Y/N’s mother placed a small box on the counter and tapped the top of it lightly, “This is what you had on you when the crash happened. There’s not much in there, just the clothes you were wearing, your wallet, your phone,”

“My phone?” Her eyes perked up. So did Ruel’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I bet there’s a bunch of clues in there to help jog my memory,” she picked up the box and skipped down the hallway to drop it off.

“I’m pretty sure it’s dead, so you’ll have to find a charger for it. You probably have the same kind.” Her mom gestured towards Ruel, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes were fixated in thought, emotionless and dazed in a trance.

“Huh? Oh yeah, probably. Sure.” He snapped out of his guilty state quickly and turned to see Y/N coming back from her bedroom.

“Was that it, Mom? Cause we were just about to go out and get some food before it gets dark.” They both said goodbye and hugged Y/N’s mother. Once the door was shut behind her, Y/N grabbed Ruel’s hand with a quickness. His worries were suddenly gone as she led him down the hall.

It wasn’t long before they’d continued right where they left off. Y/N was still indulging herself in him and embracing the comfort she felt in his arms. She gripped the fabric of his shirt into her fists to deepen the kiss and felt the vibration from his mouth into hers as he let out muffled moans. With each kiss, she found herself thinking about all of the things she couldn’t wait to do with him before another thought popped into her mind and snapped her out of the daydream. She pulled away from him and turned her head towards the box.

“I’ve been wondering what was left on my phone,” she gestured to the dresser. “I need to plug it up so I can see what was going on before I lost my memory. It would be cool to see who I last talked to right before my life was ruined, right?” She laughed and began to sit up. Ruel grabbed her hand and lightly pulled it so she could come back down to him.

“I thought you wanted to do this, yeah? I mean hey, this is our first official night together alone. We can look into the phone later, right?”

Y/N nodded and laid back down next to him. “Hmmm, you’re right. This first, phone later,” she declared before connecting their lips once more. As Ruel rolled his lanky body on top of hers, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Ruel was so against her looking at her phone. Was there a dirty secret in there that he didn’t want her to find? She dismissed her paranoid thoughts and continued.

a/n: okay, so that’s that on that. ugh what is on that phone that he doesn’t want her to see???? i hope this makes sense, i’ve reread it so many times and it seems like crap but i’m still going to post it. thank you for the support of my page, and please send me asks with what fics you would like to see next ;)

#one ruel #oneruel #ruel #ruel fic #ruel imagine #ruel imagines #ruel one shot #writers on tumblr #ruelvandijk #ruel van dijk #ruel vincent van dijk #ruel x reader #rueledits

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ultimate-distaster-material · 3 years

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-Shuichi Saihara Birthday Special- Birthday Boy~Vol.2

SHUICHI POV

I wake up to the unbearable sound of the monokubs yelling into the monitor, alerting me to wake up. Something about today felt different from the last, as excitement flushed through me, and had absolutely why I had felt like this. Today had a quite special feeling to it that I couldn't recognize. Yet I ignored the thought and quickly got dressed, brushing the sprinkles of dust littering my uniform and wasting a full 5 minutes contemplating whether or not to wear my hat to breakfast. I decided to leave it behind, trying to fight off my addiction to wearing it. Plus, if things got out of hand, I could always come back for it.

I briskly walked out of my dorm, venturing to the kitchen to fix myself a coffee and relax. I love coffee.

"Shumai!"

I instantly knew who that voice belonged to. My lovely boyfriend, Kokichi Ouma. I turned to witness him bouncing excitedly towards me, with a big box rested in his arms. I pondered for a moment.

-Why does he have a box? And why does it have wrapping paper on it?-

Suddenly everything clicked. The special vibe to the day, the present Kokichi was carrying, and why I had felt an overwhelming excitement earlier.

It was my birthday.

September 7th

I waved happily at Ouma as he inched closer, somewhat struggling to carry the present and running out of breath rather quickly. I quietly chuckled at his attempts, and watched him as he almost dropped the present onto the seat and collapsed into my arms, panting heavily. I continued to laugh at his childness and ran my fingers through his silky purple locks, while he impatiently looked up at me, before suddenly jumpscaring me by throwing his hands into the air.

"Happy Birthday, Saihara-Chan!"

I smiled as he aggressively hugged me like a human teddy bear, and I thanked him soon after. I watched as he began to speak, not expecting what happened next.

"Saihara-Chans a big meanie! He doesn't wanna open my present!"

He wailed, clearly attempting to make a dramatic scene as crocodile tears poured out of his purple orbs, hitting the floor with a slight splat. I rolled my eyes and picked up a present.

"Calm down Koki. I'm opening it now."

"Yay! Let's see what you get Shu-Shu!"

I gently peeled the checkered wrapping paper, revealing the box hidden inside it. I was a little scared to open it because it was from Kokichi, yet I still trusted him. Carefully, I opened the box, to reveal a ton of objects scattered inside.

"You didn't' have to waste all your money on me, y'know."

He grinned and put his arms behind his head, doing his signature pose.

"Don't worry! I used Momota-Chan's money instead!"

"WHAT?"

"You heard me, nishishi!"

I sighed and pulled out one of the objects, which was a stack of mystery novels. I swore he could see the stars in my eyes, even without looking. I studied the books, acting like a child on Christmas Day. If he got a cent for every time I said thank you to him, he would be rich. I peered down at the box, reaching for the next object. Mascara. I glared at him.

"Really?"

"Y e s"

I sighed and placed the mascara back into the box, pulling out a black coffee mug instead. I smiled at the object, studying the designs decorating its outsides. Beautiful thin streaks of teal blue slashed across the side, and the deep black colour surrounding the lines.

"Thank you for this, Kokichi."

He smiled at me, swaying back and forth on his heels, his black and purple shoes digging into the tiles. I carefully placed the mug onto the table, and grabbed another object from the box. A checkered scarf. dug through the box to find the very last item. I let out a long relaxed breath as the last item sat perfectly in my hands. A realistic drawing of Kokichi and I, hugging each other. I peered up at my boyfriend, curious.

"Did you draw this?"

"Maybe."

I sighed and stared at the beautiful picture in my hands, before gently placing everything back into the box.

"Sidekick! Maki~Roll and I are here to wish you the best birthday to ever happen in the galaxy!"

"Shut up. You're just embarrassing yourself."

Maki sent a deadly glare at Kaito, making him shiver a little as he handed over the present. I ripped the wrapping paper that was littered with stars and gazed down into the box. I picked up the first item, which was a plastic covered CD of some sort. I inspected the disc, reading the information on the back. My Chemical Romance. I had been secretly wanting this for a while, yet would never admit it. The only person I told was Maki, because I know she honestly doesn't care about judging people other than Kaito and Kokichi. And maybe a few others that I shall not name. I peered back down into the box, double checking that I hadn't forgotten something. The only thing there was a 'Milky Way' chocolate bar that I would eat later.

"Atua told me to give this to you, Saihara~Kun!"

The random voice popped out of nowhere as I was thanking Kaito and Maki. I almost jumped off the chair in fright.

"A-Angie! How long have you been there-?"

"Only a few minutes, nyahahaha~"

I sighed and took Angie's present from her hands, the paper decorated with paint splotches and strokes. I repeated the process, open the box and find a new item to add to my growing collection. This time I had gotten a quite large paint brush, and a drawing of me. I gratefully thanked Angie for her gifts as Miu dramatically entered the room.

"Ayo virgin! I got something for you emo boi. Take it or leave it, it's from Miu Iruma herself! "

She sat down a few chairs away from me after handing me the box. I wasn't prepared. It was probably gonna be something sexual. To my surprise, it was a extra pair of her goggles, but just the way I would've wanted them. I've always told Miu her goggles looked cool, and now I was thanking her for giving me a pair.

"Also...Piano freak told me to give you this and say happy birthday for her."

She passed me a photo of Kaede and I playing the piano, which I admit seemed was a memory I would cherish forever.

As the day went by, I was almost buried in gifts and wrapping paper from all of my classmates. I got a load of new items, and I was grateful for all of them. Gonta had even gotten me a mini cage with a small caterpillar in it, so I could learn how the insect turned into a butterfly. And Rantaro got me a necklace that matches his. Tenko only go me some chocolates, claiming that she didn't wanna give me something better since I was a 'degenerate male'. Himiko had gotten me a beginners magic trick set and a guide to go with it. Tsumugi had sewed me a cool detective costume I had grown quite fond of. Kirumi and Ryoma had even offered to play board games with me and had rented me some books from the library. Korekiyo had gotten me a 'ritual guide', which I studied a little and was pretty interesting. Kiibo had even set up a huge slumber party for all of us. Kaede showed up eventually, claiming that she was helping Kiibo set up the surprise party.

I must admit, that was one of the most fun birthday I have ever had. Ever.

#Happy Birthday Shuichi Saihara #Birthday #saiouma #oumasai #gay panic #danganronpa v3 #:>

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eldritch-essor · 3 years

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the Christmas Switch

Prompt: Satan gets Christmas letters from kids who misspell Santa’s name.

It’s one strange day in Hell indeed when someone dares to interrupt Satan’s afternoon nap.

“Ex-Excuse me, Sir—” Satan cracks a single eye open, studying the postman in front of him who’s somehow managing to simultaneously sweat like a broken water fountain and tremble at the near frequency of an electric toothbrush. Rather understandable, the Devil thinks, considering that the poor man’s standing in Hell, directly within blasting range of the ruler of said land.

“Yes?”

The postman jumps at his voice, lower than usual from his recent nap and twice as menacing, though Lucifer would probably just dump a cup of water onto him. Trembling even harder, he involuntarily retreats a few steps away. Not like it would help him in any way.

Satan sighs, rubbing at his temples with a clawed hand to ward off the incoming migraine that’s sure to set in sooner or later.

“What brings you to my domain?” he asks slowly and clearly, making sure not to move too quickly lest the postman gets a heart attack.

“I— There’s a— no, I mean—” the man starts, stumbling over his words as he frantically roots through his satchel, spilling several letters in the process. Satan raises a single eyebrow as he watches. The postman finally manages to produce a neatly stacked set of envelopes of varying sizes and colours, and Satan vaguely muses at how miraculous it is that he hasn’t dropped any of the letters into the pond of lava right next to him yet. Clearing his throat, the postman starts again, proffering the stack towards Satan with a hand that’s trembling so hard he’s actually amazed the man hasn’t managed to shake the words right off the paper itself. “I mean to say, you have— your post, S-Sir.”

Satan nearly chokes on his drink.

Letters? He wonders, internally backtracking. And for me, of all people? It’s only when the postman replies that he realises he said it out loud.

“Yes, Mr. Sa— I mean, sir.” The postman tentatively takes a step forward, eyes honed onto the Devil for any sign of movement that would presumably send him running like the wind. After detecting no threat — or at least, as minimal of a threat as one such as Satan could pose — he quickly lays the letters down at Satan’s feet, holding out a clipboard and pen towards Satan gingerly. “N-now, would you please sign here to declare that y-you’ve received your mail?”

The second Satan manages to scrawl what should resemble a signature onto the space indicated — it’s not as if he’s ever needed to write, that’s Lucifer’s job as the accountant — the postman snatches everything back and disappears in literal seconds. Satan watches the man’s rapidly receding back and contemplates how he made his way into Hell in the first place.

After he’s certain the postman’s long gone, Satan picks up the stack of letters thoughtfully wrapped in a length of twine string. “Letters for me, huh.” he mutters as he picks apart the knot, dumping the five envelopes onto his lap.

For lack of a better term, they were all covered with the brightest colours that a crayon could conjure. And they were all labeled in the shaky handwriting of children who have just mastered how to write their first letters.

tO sAtAn, the envelopes proudly declared, in various colors. Unable to hold back his curiosity, the Devil slit open one of the envelopes with a pitch-black fingernail and glanced at the letter within.

dEar saTan, the letter starts. mY name iS EmiLY, aNd i am 6 YERs Od. (It took a few moments to adjust his eyes to the assorted sizes of the letters. ivv bEN a GOOd GIRL THis YER, aN i wOULd ReeLy LUvE a pupy fR CRissmass! pRETTY pLEasE? YOU COULd COmE OvER aNd pLay wiTH HER, two! Satan finds his lips cracking into a smile as he decides the brown coloured blob on the bottom of the page is most probably a drawing of a dog.

Picking up the other letters, he opens them more eagerly, devouring the content within like a man who’s been deprived of water for a long time. Except, he doesn't exactly need water to survive (demon and all) but that’s beside the point. Timmy would like an action figurine (whatever that was), Ann wanted a new teddy, and the other two letters were written in penmanship that the Devil simply couldn’t decipher, even when he took out his reading glasses and squinted at the crayon scribbles so intensely the letter nearly went up in flames.

And no, the Devil certainly did not accidentally singe a hole into one of the letters in the process.

“LUCIFER! I DEMAND YOU READ THIS FOR ME, THIS INSTANT.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Out of everything he’s put up with over the past few centuries — not that Santa would ever admit that he was ancient — getting ambushed by a cloud of ash and sulphur was definitely a first. And that was saying something, considering how often he’s been tripped up by a devious string of bells wrapped around the kitchen in a childish attempt to catch him out during the job. And just don’t mention the cookies and milk. Santa didn’t know who started the ridiculous notion that he’d like twenty million cups of milk and double the amount of chocolate cookies during one night, considering how they’d forgotten one crucial fact: he was lactose intolerant. Also, who in the world in their right minds would think one man would be able to stomach enough cookies to sustain a small army in one night? Ridiculous.

Well, there was a reason why Santa didn’t sneak into houses via the chimney anymore. Not that Satan seemed to care, that is.

Santa blinks. Wiping the soot off his glasses to the best of his ability, he squinted hard at the figure in front of him, internally wincing at the scolding Mrs. Claus would definitely give him for getting his suit dirty again. That was Satan, all right, with an innocent ‘deer in the headlights’ look that had no business being on his face.

“What are you doing here, Satan?” he asks, furiously wiping his glasses, as if he’ll be able to banish the sight of the Devil in a crude mimicry of his own outfit. Satan shrugged nonchalantly, with a grin so big Santa half expects to be eaten whole. It certainly looked… ominous. The barely disguised, unadulterated glee behind was even more so.

“I’ve been asked to deliver some Christmas presents!” he chirps, and Santa swears, if Satan’s smile was creepy, Satan chirping was horribly terrifying. Had he managed to overthrow God or something? He should just— wait.

What?

“Little Emily has specifically requested for me, so you can just move along,” Satan says smoothly, leading Santa to the door.

Santa finds himself standing next to his reindeer — who are coincidentally having a staring match with Cerberus and Hades, who are somehow perched on the roof — when he finally processes what’s going on — oh no.

Immediately, he runs back into the house, making sure not to wake up the inhabitants of the house when he proceeds to have a whispering match with the Devil.

“Look, Satan,” he starts, trying his best to be reasonable. “You don’t have to strain yourself like this. I’m sure I can manage to cover the five kids who’ve accidentally written your name on their letter on my rounds. How about you just head back to Hell and, I don’t know, take a dip in one of your lava pools?” He was interrupted by a barely suppressed growl and oh, that was why people don’t usually like Satan; he mused as he was confronted by a rapidly reddening face and glaring red eyes.

“She wrote to me, Santa.” Satan hisses, waving a piece of paper that’s somehow singed in a corner and covered with crayon but the word ‘sAtAN’ is vaguely distinguishable in the top left corner. “Me.” Satan puffed his chest out in childish triumph. “Not you.”

Santa sighs, pinching his nose with a still soot-covered hand. Of course, this would happen.

“This happens every year, alright?” he says in an attempt to pacify the beast. “Some kid misspells my name, and the post office is usually smart enough to redirect it my way. One of them must have slipped up this year, and that’s why this happened.”

This, however, seems to be the wrong thing to say, as steam metaphorically — or is it literally? — starts pouring out of the Devil’s pointed ears.

Santa quickly decides that he’s not paid enough to deal with Satan on top of delivering presents to another couple million houses before dawn — and that’s already five minutes he could’ve used to get that done wasted — and so he just roughly jerks the basket out of Satan’s hand before ruffling through his sack — a little girl would probably love a doll or something — when sharp needle like teeth latch onto the hand that was holding the basket.

Satan watches calmly as Santa frantically pries the teeth of the small creature off his finger.

“Down, pup.” he says once he’s decided Santa has had enough punishment — the insolent brat — and the creature obediently lets go, diving back into the basket before Santa can see what it is.

“It’s just a puppy,” Satan says soothingly. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“I suppose.” Santa concedes as he bandages his bleeding finger. “Now, no giving them anything inappropriate, alright? Or I’ll make sure never to let a single letter reach you again, no matter how many typos there are. Deal?”

Santa’s never seen the Devil grin so widely before. And so, he reluctantly allows Satan to leave his present at the Christmas tree. He supervises as Satan carefully leaves wrapped presents that look somewhat safe — a plastic sword, a teddy bear, a few figurines — under others.

At last, all the houses have been visited and dawn is peeking across the horizon. Santa lays sprawled across a particularly overgrown roof as he watches the sunrise with his reindeer — and never in a million years would he ever imagine — Satan, Hades and Cerberus, who’s still staring at Rudolf, growling.

“This was a good year,” he says, satisfied with his work. After all, he managed to deliver all the presents, and on top of that, Satan didn’t burn anything down! It was an accomplishment in itself. “Next year, if you want, I’ll teach you how to make gifts, so you don’t have to buy them from stores.”

“Buy gifts?” Satan looks at him quizzically. “Why would I have to do that? I’ve practically got everything they could ask for stowed away somewhere in Hell. A sword was just plain easy. I did have to bribe Hephaestus to make some of the figurines, but it’s pure luck that Cerberus’ kit had pups this year.”

Santa feels a sinking sensation in his stomach as he processes this.

“You did WHAT?!”

-vrei.essor

#christmas #my writing #writing #santa #satan #cerberus #writing prompt #original content #do not repost #do not copy #or satan will not deliver your presents :)))#satan gets a kid a three headed puppy for christmas #tired santa #regrets life #short story #my precious #writers on tumblr #not a prompt

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

If After All These Years, You��d Like to Meet

Chapter Three

Jamie and Claire were set to meet at noon for lunch. Her body didn’t seem to remember that it got to sleep in again, though. She was up and about by 7:30, cursing herself the whole time. Since she’d started working at the hospital so soon after moving, there were still numerous unpacked boxes around her flat. Some were even being used as end tables. She wasn’t working and she didn’t have plans till later. It seemed like the right time to start taking care of the boxes.

It was just after 11:00 when she took a break to get ready before lunch. While she’d gotten a lot unboxed, she still had a lot to do to make the place truly homey. Shrugging, she walked off to her room. It was a problem for later. She’d thrown on some clothes and base makeup. It was a lunch with a friend so she didn’t need to look her best.

As she walked from her room there was one box to catch her eye. It simply bore the tag “Lamb.” Two other boxes sat with it, bearing the same tag. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she settled down to look through them. There had only been a few boxes of Uncle Lamb’s things she’d kept. She’d held onto her treasured mementos of him, of course. But most of the his personal belongings were of no use to her. In defiance of her aim to not be sentimental, there had still been things she couldn’t let go. There were also boxes she simply hadn’t had the time to sort through before she’d had to return to Boston to pack up her own things. She’d brought these things with her and now it seemed was finally going to look at their contents.

One box was papers he’d written and all educational or professional works. Silly as it was, she couldn’t bin them. Perhaps she could find someone in the archeological field who would be interested in copies of his papers. The next box she looked in seemed to be his random box. There was no rhyme or reason to the things in there. After deciding there was nothing worth saving in the box, she moved onto the third and final box. Somehow she’d saved the biggest one for last.

Tears surprised her as they fell from her eyes nearly as quickly as she realized the box was filled with her parents’ belongings. She found several packs of old pictures, a photo album from their wedding, part of their silver set, and, in a plastic bag, numerous terrible drawings she’d created. Sitting back against the wall, Claire let the tears fall freely. It had been a really long time since she’d missed her parents this much. With Lamb gone, she felt her last tie to them had disappeared.

Claire dried her eyes, hoping the worst of it was done. She picked up the photo envelopes and started looking through them. There were pictures from the home they’d had in England that she could barely remember. In the next envelope was a picture of Claire standing proudly in front of a moving van with her mother. The rest of the pictures in the roll were from the Scotland house. Claire smiled as she stared down at a picture of her and her parents standing happily in front of their new house. Uncle Lamb had taken the picture right before he left to go on his next dig in Turkey.

She realized it was getting close to time that Jamie would arrive. With that, Claire decided to look through one more envelope before lunch. And with the first picture, she knew she’d picked the right stack to peruse. The first picture was a shot of seven or eight year old Claire sitting on a fence with seven or eight year old Jamie. She laughed at the picture of the two of them smiling hard for the camera. Looking through the stack, they seemed to all be pictures of the Fraser kids, Ian, and Claire playing and posing around Lallybroch or the Beauchamps’ home. Claire shook her head in awe as she took a solo trip down memory lane. She’d just reached the best of the pictures when her phone started buzzing on the table.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Hey! I’m downstairs,” Jamie informed her.

“Great! Come upstairs for a second!”

“What? No, Sassenach, I’m starving. Let’s just go,” Jamie nearly whined.

“Oh come on, it’ll be really quick. Just come upstairs,” Claire argued back.

“Ye better not be trying to seduce me or something,” Jamie joked.

Claire rolled her eyes, holding back a laugh. “Oh no, you figured me out,” she replied sarcastically. “It’ll be a couple of minutes. Just come on.”

Jamie sighed loudly through the phone. “Fine, buzz me up.”

She was still looking through the pictures when there was a knock at her door. Opening the door, she smiled at him brightly. “Hi!” she greeted.

“What’s the emergency?” Jamie asked in a bored tone.

She motioned him to come in. “Well I was going through some of Uncle Lamb’s boxes that I have and I wanted to show you what I found.”

“Seriously? And this couldn’t have waited till after lunch? I wasna kidding. I’m quite hungry.” Claire fixed him with a glare and held out the package of photos for him. He took them from her gently and opened the envelope, gasping softly at the first picture of the two of them. He wore a broad smile as he looked through the first few pictures. Looking up at her apologetically, he said, “Alright, I can see why ye wanted me to come up here. Sorry.” She chuckled and shook her head, stepping closer to look at the pictures again with him. “These are hilarious. I canna believe your mother caught an action shot of us pushing Ian out of the swing.”

Claire laughed with him. “I couldn’t believe that either. I don’t remember us getting yelled at after that, but I’m sure we did.”

“Oh there’s nay doubt we did,” Jamie agreed. He flipped through the pictures with such care, a moment paused on each one to remember the time it was taken. “I’d forgotten about that wee shed ye had in yer backyard. We had a lot of fun there.”

She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face as she looked down at the picture of young Claire and Jamie sticking their faces against the window of the shed her parents had converted for a playspace. “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” So many happy memories were being presented to them again. A time when both of them still had both of their parents. The kids in these pictures were truly happy and carefree. Perhaps that was the feeling Jamie brought out in Claire again.

“No way,” Jamie muttered, interrupting her thoughts. Taking his eyes off the second to last picture, he looked up at Claire with a smile of disbelief on his face.

“That was the one I wanted you to see most! I’d forgotten Jenny and I talked the two of you into playing “Wedding” with us! And then I found that! How amazing is that?”

Jamie pulled out his phone to take a picture of the picture. “I canna believe there is a picture of Jenny and Ian being married as kids. I have to send this to Jenny. She’ll lose it for sure.” Once he’d marveled at the picture enough, he moved onto the next one. This one showed the other wedding that had happened that day: Young Jamie and Claire’s. Jamie breathed out a laugh. “But of course it was a double wedding.” Claire laughed too as she nodded. “Goodness, I told a coworker I was having lunch wi a friend. I should have told him I was having lunch wi my wife. How careless of me.”

Claire smacked him on the arm, still laughing. “Too right.” He put the pictures back in the envelope and handed it back to her. “Alright, now we can go eat. I’ll wait till after lunch to seduce you,” she teased. Jamie shot her a strange look. “What? You were the one who said it earlier? I was just keeping up the joke.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Aye, but now it’s just weird.”

“What, because we just looked at our wedding pictures?” Claire continued teasing.

Jamie laughed at her joke. “That was it. It made it too real.”

Rolling her eyes, Claire grabbed her jacket and walked to the door, Jamie following her.

They were chatting easily over lunch when Jamie grabbed his phone. Holding up a finger in apoology, he checked it quickly. Claire didn’t mind. She ended up having to check her phone often due to work. Well, that and the long distance relationship she was trying to sustain. He started laughing and looked up at her. “Jenny says she’d forgotten that she and Ian were an old marrit couple. She seems to think it’s quite funny that you found that.”

Claire smiled, still in disbelief of the memories she’d uncovered. “What did Ian have to say?”

“She actually asked me to show it to him when I see him tonight.”

Claire raised her eyebrows. “He’ll be here?”

“Oh aye,” Jamie confirmed. “He has some big meeting here in London tomorrow for work. So he’ll be staying with me.”

“The company won’t put him in a hotel?” she asked, hoping he didn’t work for the Mackenzies as well.

“Och, no, of course they do. But Ian always turns it down and says he’s a place to stay in London,” Jamie explained with a shake of his head.

“Ah, so he uses his friend and brother in law for free lodging?”

He nodded. “Exactly. He says it’s in the spirit of bonding time but I’m not quite convinced.”

Claire laughed, just able to picture it in her mind. “That’s exciting though that he’ll be in town.”

“Ye’re welcome to see him if ye’d like,” Jamie offered. “He’ll be staying at my place.”

“Oh, I don’t want to horn in on your time together,” Claire said, waving off his offer.

Jamie raised one eyebrow at her. “I see Ian plenty. It’s been 18 years for ye. Ye’re more than welcome to join us this evening if ye’d like.”

“Well that sounds lovely,” Claire agreed with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

As they left their restaurant, Claire saw a considerable amount of people walking to and from the next street corner. “Oh I wonder if the market is still open,” she mused to herself.

“The market?” Jamie asked, following her gaze.

“Mhmm, it’s just a little street market. A couple of friends at work have said they have found some interesting things there. So far though, I’ve never gotten there when it’s still open,” she explained.

“Well then let’s go have a look, shall we?” Jamie said with a gesture towards the market. Claire shrugged and started walking, Jamie falling in line next to her. They wandered down to find that the market was indeed still active. Claire smiled happily as she looked at all the different booths to peruse. Jamie silently followed her as she walked from booth to booth. Occasionally, he’d point something out that he thought was noteworthy. Claire kept presenting things to him for his approval. She tried on a necklace and looked at him for his opinion. He nodded in approval. “That looks quite bonny,” he remarked. Something about the face he made as he appraised her made her turn right around and buy it.

Claire was admiring a blue vase at another booth when she heard her name. Jamie and Claire both turned to see who’d called out to her. “Ah, Mary! You’re off today as well then?” she asked, greeting her friend from the hospital.

“Oh yes, thankfully! I’ve never needed a weekend off so badly in my life.”

Claire nodded vehemently. “I know exactly what you mean. It seemed like it would never come.”

“Apparently Fentiman had to do a whole emergency surgery yesterday,” Mary gossipped.

“Christ, on his own?” Claire asked, astounded at the thought. “He’s just started his residency.” Mary nodded, agreeing with her. “This is probably indelicate to ask, but did they survive?”

She leaned in close to Claire and lowered her voice. “Well I heard from one of the other nurses that it was touch and go for a while. But the patient seems to be pulling through.”

Claire nodded, feeling impressed by her coworker. “I hate to say I wouldn’t have expected much from him. But good for him.” She glanced over at Jamie, noting how bored he looked. “I’m sorry, we’re being so rude.”

He shook his head, about to speak but Mary interrupted him before he could. “I’m so sorry. Claire, is this the famous boyfriend? The one you left in Boston? I don’t know how you’d do that,” she questioned, nearly drooling at the sight of Jamie. Claire hated the feeling of possessiveness that came over her. She wanted nothing more than to step between Mary and Jamie.

“Uh, no, actually,” Claire said quickly, trying to get Mary’s attention back on her. “This is actually my friend, Jamie.”

“Ah,” Mary replied, still eyeing Jamie. “I should have known,” turning her eyes to Claire, “You did say that he seems hesitant to cross the ocean.”

Claire grimaced at the statement. She hated that she’d shared that with Mary. It just came out one night when Claire was overly tired and in a gossipping session with Mary. Since then, she’d done her best to avoid Mary when she seemed like she wanted new dirt. “Yes, well he’ll actually be here soon,” Claire lied. Jamie looked at her with a surprised expression. “Anyway, Mary, we have somewhere to be, but I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Mary nodded and said her goodbyes, her eyes lingering on Jamie as they left.

Once they were out of Mary’s earshot, Jamie broached the subject between them. “Ye didna tell me that Frank was making a trip over.”

“He’s not,” Claire said shortly. “I lied to Mary. I don’t need another Geillis or Louise at work. I’ll just let her believe what she wants.”

“Well ye convinced me so ye must have convinced her as well, if that helps,” Jamie said with a grin.

Looking back over her shoulder at Mary, Claire replied, “It actually does.”

Without ever meaning to, or really acknowledging it, Claire and Jamie ended up spending the rest of the afternoon together. They wandered around running errands either of them needed to or simply going in shops that looked interesting. It was nearing dinner when Jamie got a call from Ian saying he was getting close to being there. They grabbed some food and went back to Jamie’s flat to wait for Ian.

A knock at the door signalled his arrival and Jamie jumped up to get the door. Claire observed as Ian and Jamie greeted each other happily, wrapping the other in a big hug. She smiled at the sight of it. Similarly to when she re-met Jamie, she could see remainders of the young boy she knew in Ian. He certainly had the same smile. He froze for a second when he laid eyes on Claire. “Och, sorry, Jamie. Ye could ha told me ye had a lass over.”

Jamie turned around to look at Claire. “Oh, I don’t.” Claire shot him a puzzled look. “Well, she is a lass, so technically, I do have a lass over, but it’s no like that,” he stammered. He gestured Ian to come further into the room. “Ian, do ye recall Claire Beauchamp from when we were kids?” Ian nodded. Jamie pointed to her saying, “This is Claire!”

Ian stared at her, eyes wide. “Goodness, it can’t be! Claire Beauchamp?” Claire smiled and nodded. “Well how the hell did this happen?” Ian walked forward and wrapped Claire in a hug.

“I moved back to London just recently and ran into Jamie through some mutual friends,” Claire explained happily.

Ian marveled at the sight of her. “That’s wonderful. Goodness. How’ve ye been?”

She sat down on Jamie’s couch. “Um, pretty good. It’s certainly good to be back in England.”

“She’s a doctor now,” Jamie informed Ian. Claire rolled her eyes as he sat down in the chair adjacent to the couch. Ian followed suit and joined Claire on the couch.

“Look at you,” he said, seemingly impressed. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a surgeon,” Claire tried to say humbly. “I hear you’re married with a bunch of children!”

Ian smiled bashfully. “That’s true. Four in all. The oldest is five.”

“Wow, that’s a lot!” Claire remarked.

Ian shrugged. “Ye get used to the chaos after a couple of them. And ye get used to operating on less sleep than a human adult requires. But I suppose ye probably know how that goes if ye’re a doctor.”

Claire couldn’t disagree with him. It was, after all, the first weekend she’d had off since she’d moved back. And the hours certainly were insane. She merely nodded to agree with him.

“So ye come back to England and the first thing ye do is start spending time wi this one?” Ian asked, pointing to Jamie with an amused look on his face.

Claire laughed. “Silly of me, isn’t it?” she replied, grinning.

“I’d say. If I hadna fallen for his sister and married her, I’d have dropped him years ago,” Ian teased.

Jamie looked at them and rolled his eyes. “Sure ye would have.”

Suddenly, Claire remembered the picture. “Oh, Jamie, give me your phone! He has to see the picture!”

Jamie followed orders, pulling up the picture and handing the phone to Claire. She beamed as she handed over the phone to Ian, explaining how she found it. He stared at it in disbelief before dissolving in a fit of laughter. “Goodness. I canna believe this exists. How funny. Has Jenny seen this?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, she told me to show it to ye. She probably didna want ye takin yer eyes off the road while driving.”

Ian kept staring at the picture of him and his wife as small children. As he handed the phone back to Claire, his finger accidentally swiped to the next picture. Claire’s breath caught in her throat at the picture of her and Jamie on the fence. She didn’t remember him taking a photo of that as well. Fighting a smile, she swiped back to the wedding picture and handed it back to Jamie.

Claire turned back to Ian, trying to refocus her mind. “Okay, so forgive me for being incredibly intrusive, but I just have to ask.”

“How did I end up marrying Jenny?” Ian asked with a smirk.

Claire laughed. “Yes, exactly! How did that happen?”

Ian settled back into the couch, getting comfortable to tell a long story. He smiled fondly as he recalled how it happened. “Well I was always rather taken with Jenny. Even when we were kids. She was a girl and I was supposed to think she was gross, but I didna. She impressed me. Not that I didn’t enjoy spending time wi just ye and Jamie, but it always excited me when Jenny decided to play wi us as well. When I was a teen, I’d make jokes to her about when we would be together or something stupid like that. She always scoffed or brushed it off or straight up told me I was an idiot. I was ne’er disrespectful. Or at least I assume I never crossed a line because then Jamie would have pummeled me.”

“That’s true, I would have,” Jamie said as he nodded.

Ian laughed as he went on. “So when I was 18, I decided to enlist in the army. I was rather nervous to leave and the day before I shipped out, I jokingly said to Jenny to wait for me. It was more of the same stuff from before. She left the room and came back wi her rosary and told me to be safe and to come back. I didna really know what to make of it. I assumed it was just because I was the only one of the people in the village that was joining the army. Well I was gone for a year before I lost my leg in an incident,” he explained, patting his artificial limb. “The first person I saw when I struggled through the airport on crutches was Jenny. She was sobbing as she threw her arms around me. Somehow she beat my own mother to the punch. Well, she made sure I got to every physical therapy appointment I needed. She took care of me, more than I ever expected. When I asked her why she was doing so, she said “Because I want to dance with you at our wedding.” We’d never acknowledged the little joking comments I’d made to her. Of course I knew there was more to them and that I was mad for her. But I’d never in a million years expected her to return them. When she’d said that, I’d just thought she was teasing me the same way I teased her before. But then she pulled me in and kissed me and that was that. We never had to make anything official or whatever because we just knew we wanted to be together.”

Claire nearly gaped at Ian. That was one of the most beautiful stories she’d ever heard. “Wow. That’s quite a story. How long before you were married?”

“It was a couple of years. We got married a year or so after Mr. Fraser passed. We had already been engaged, but Jenny was grieving and so we waited till she was ready,” Ian explained.

She stole a glance over at Jamie. He bore a saddened expression. Claire understood the feeling. Just that morning she’d sobbed for her parents, after all. She thought maybe she’d try to bring the conversation back to a happy note. “It’s so wonderful that the two of you are so happy,” she said, interrupting the silence. “And that you have a family.”

Ian smiled, grabbing his phone to show her pictures. “Oh aye, we’re quite pleased with them.” He scrolled through pictures on his phone. There was Young Jamie, age 5, Maggie, age 3, Kitty, age 2, and Michael, age 1. They were certainly all close together. She laughed as he showed her a picture of Jamie with all four kids on his lap. He looked like a natural with them.

“You have such a beautiful family, Ian,” Claire said with a smile for him.

“Ah, thank ye. I feel quite blessed wi them,” Ian replied with a matching expression.

The subject eventually changed and they were catching up on other things. Ian and Jamie spoke of people they knew from Scotland. It wasn’t like at the party the night before though. Claire felt anything but left out of the conversation. She shared stories from her own life at their prompting. She was having a lovely evening catching up with another old friend.

It had been a few hours when Claire heard her phone ring across the room. She jumped up and ran to grab it. Her suspicions were right: it was Frank. Swiping quickly before the call ended, she answered the call. “Hey! Can you hold on just a second?” Frank agreed and Claire set the phone down on her purse. She walked over to where Ian sat on the couch. “I have to take that, so I’m going to head out. But it was so great to see you again! I’m so glad you’re doing well.”

Ian stood up to give Claire a hug. “I’m sorry you’re leaving. It was so wonderful to see you as well. You’ll have to stay in touch this time.”

Claire tilted her head and smiled. “Of course!” She walked over to Jamie and gave him a hug before leaving. “I’ll see you soon?”

Jamie nodded. “Hopefully,” he replied. “That’s more on you than me.”

She sighed but agreed. “You’re right. I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good! Let me know when you get home,” he requested.

She patted him on the arm. “Of course I will.” Walking back over to her things, she picked up her phone, purse, and jacket. She looked back at Jamie before she walked out the door. “Hey, thanks for a fun day.”

He smiled. “I could say the same.”

She nodded with decision and walked through the door, closing it behind her. Putting the phone back to her ear, she said, “Sorry about that, I was saying goodbye to some friends. How are you doing, Sweetheart?”

“I’m doing alright. I missed you so I thought I’d call you. Who were you spending time with?” Frank asked.

Claire hated the part of her that wondered if he was interrogating her. “Two friends that I knew back in Scotland.”

“Scotland? When were you in Scotland?”

Claire swallowed harshly as she walked out into the open air. “Remember, I lived there as a child?” He made a noncommittal sound. “Well anyway, they were two friends that I always used to play with when we were kids. One of them lives in London now and the other was visiting. It was nice to catch up.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you talk of these ladies,” Frank replied.

She debated lying for a second. “Yes, I have,” she insisted instead. “I’ve told you about Jamie.”

“It’s a man?” Frank asked, a harshness to his tone.

“Yes. Last I checked I was allowed to have male friends.”

“Claire, be realistic. I’m sure the only reason he spends time with you is because he wants to sleep with you,” Frank argued. “You need to be careful around men like him.”

“Men like him?” Claire repeated. “You don’t even know him. What kind of judgment is that? Are you only friends with women because you want to sleep with them? What about Candy from the history department?”

“You mean Sandy?” he asked, ignoring her question. “That’s nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Then why can’t I just be friends with Jamie?” Claire retorted.

“Whatever, Claire. It’s not like you’ll listen to me anyway,” Frank dismissed. “So other than spending time with the man, what did you do today?”

Claire was silent for a moment. She’d spent basically her whole day with Jamie. Frank wouldn’t appreciate knowing that. “Well I went through some of the boxes in my flat. I’m making more progress on getting unpacked.”

Frank started commenting on how she needed to be more prompt about things like that so she wasn’t living in a hovel. He continued talking but Claire was starting to tune him out. She reflected on the lovely day she’d had, trying to grasp at the way she’d felt all day, instead of the way her boyfriend was making her feel.

~~~

The door had just closed behind Claire when Ian began staring at Jamie with an odd expression. Jamie walked over to his kitchen to grab a couple of beers for the two of them. All the time, Ian remained silent but still bearing the expectant expression. “What?” Jamie finally asked.

“So what’s happening there?” Ian dug.

Jamie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing. I promise ye.”

“I canna say I believe ye, brother.”

“I can assure ye that nothing is happening between me and Claire. We’re only friends,” Jamie insisted.

Ian still shook his head, refusing to believe Jamie. “I’m sorry but that’s not the way it seems seeing the two of ye together. Ye seem too close and too comfortable to be just friends.”

“It’ll never happen.”

It was Ian’s turn to roll his eyes. “And why are ye so sure of that?”

“That call she got that she left to take,” Jamie began to explain, “tis her boyfriend. Well, I could almost guarantee that’s who it was.”

Ian sighed disappointedly. “Oh.” He watched Jamie for a moment as he drank some of his beer. “So what’s her lad like?”

Jamie shrugged. “I dinna ken. I’ve never met the man.”

“You’ve never met him? That seems surprising.”

“This has only been the third time I’ve seen Claire since we reconnected. Besides, her boyfriend lives in Boston,” Jamie informed him.

“She’s doing the long distance thing?” Ian asked skeptically. Jamie nodded. “Well I hate to say it, but that probably won’t last.” Jamie shot him a disapproving look. “What? Ask most people who’ve done long distance. They say it doesna work.” Ian paused as he took another drink. “So is he moving here?” “I dinna believe so. She’s never said anything of the sort.”

Ian looked confused. “So is this a temporary move for her?”

Jamie shook his head. “She’s made it seem fairly permanent.”

“So how is that going to work then?” Ian exclaimed. “They canna be marrit living across the ocean permanently. This relationship won’t last if he doesna move her or she doesna move back.”

“She moved here because her uncle was sick. And then she stayed because she enjoyed being back in England,” Jamie explained. “But the man didna even help her move.”

Ian laughed loudly, then covered his mouth. “That was bad, I shouldna have laughed. But I have to say, that’s not a good sign. I dinna see this relationship lasting. I just hope Claire’s the one to toss the anchor.”

Jamie just shrugged, not feeling as though he had much to say on the matter. It annoyed him that Ian assumed they were together or that Jamie wanted to be with her. He enjoyed spending time with her, but they didn’t really know each other all that well again yet. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him of how easy it’s been each time he’s been around Claire. He shook his head to clear out the thought.

“And then if she does, ye should let her know ye’re interested,” Ian said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Who’s to say I am interested?” Jamie argued back.

“So what did you guys do today?”

“We went to lunch. She seemed interested in seeing ye after I mentioned ye’d be here this evening.”

A smile grew slowly across Ian’s face. “So the two of ye essentially spent the whole day together?”

Jamie opened his mouth to deny it, but it was true. They really had. From lunch to the market to errands. They’d even gotten dinner to bring back to his place. And it just felt natural spending all that time with Claire. Jamie couldn’t remember an instance where there was an uncomfortable silence or moment that dragged on awkwardly. He was just comfortable around her.

“Aye, I suppose we did,” Jamie agreed begrudgingly.

“See?” Ian replied annoyingly. “Ye may no be now, but I bet that one day soon, ye’ll be interested. I know ye, man.”

“I canna do that,” Jamie argued. “She’s my friend. I’ll respect the boundaries there. I value having her back in my life. I’m no going to drive her off by making some sort of advance.”

“I’m no saying that,” Ian defended. He paused for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps it came out that way but I didna mean it like that. The thing I really mean is that ye’ve been through hell, man. Ye deserve a woman like Claire. I think she’d be good for ye. And ye for her. And that’s just from the amount of time I spent with the two of ye this evening.” He fixed Jamie with a meaningful stare. “Look, just make me one promise.” Jamie nodded for him to continue. “If the time comes where she becomes single again and ye examine yer feelings and realize ye do want to be more than her friend, promise me ye’ll actually tell her.”

Jamie sighed, leaning back in his chair. The situation Ian presented seemed ridiculous. But it also seemed too good to be true. Jamie was fairly certain that time would never come. Ian kept staring at him expectantly. With a huff, Jamie leaned forward and held out his hand to shake Ian’s.

“I promise.”

Next chapter

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #if after all these years you'd like to meet

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machinekeys · 5 years

Text

Also idk if and when I’m gonna finish this, so here’s the first half of that RWBYsona Freezerburn Pt. II.

Yang’s fists connected with the library door again and again, knuckles leaving bloody smears on the rough wood. The rusted, pitted weight of Ember Celica around her wrist added more force to the blows, and the door was splintering under the onslaught. Through the cracks in the wood, Weiss could see the shelves and desks Blake had used as a barricade quiver with every blow. Yang’s bestial grunts of exertion, the sweat that dripped down her face, disgusted Weiss, but she could swallow the bile a little longer. Some prizes were worth the indignities she was made to endure.

Yang paused to catch her breath, swaying drunkenly until she rested her forehead against the remnants of the door. Weiss tutted and prodded her with the toe of her boot, which earned her a yellow-eyed glare from Yang. Instinctively, Weiss took a step back out of range, but Yang made no move to follow.

“’m tired,” she mumbled into the wood.

“You’re lazy. There’s a difference.” Weiss crossed her arms. “Come on, you brute, don’t you want me to see how strong you are? Or was I wrong and there really isn’t anything about you worth my attention?”

Yang turned to face her, hands clenching into fists. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous. “Careful, princess.”

It wasn’t an idle threat. Most of the time, Yang was a creature of ash and sullen despair, content to sleep and drink herself sick in the filthy lair she had made out of their dorm room. But each time her rage took hold it burned hotter and more dangerously than the last. More than once, Weiss had to flee like pathetic prey Faunus until Yang returned to her bed and one of the bitter-smelling bottles that littered the floor.

Weiss’ sword hand had unconsciously dropped to Myrtenaster’s hilt, pale fingers gripping the tarnished silver as if two feet of broken steel could protect her from Yang. Weiss forced herself to let go and stepped closer. Deliberately telegraphing the motion so as not to provoke Yang, she trailed a fingertip over Yang’s collarbone, leaving a white trail of frost. Her gaze lowered to watch the beads of meltwater slide down Yang’s chest. Weiss leaned in and licked up one of the drops with the tip of her tongue, smile sharpening when Yang let out a surprised breath.

“Hush, don’t tell me,” Weiss murmured. “Show me.”

She focused on that cold, ravenous place deep inside where her Aura used to live and put a palm on the door. Tendrils of ice spread from her, freezing the wood solid. Yang tensed and for a moment Weiss thought she might have miscalculated, that Yang would grab her and hurt her and her plans for Blake would have to be delayed yet again. Yang turned back to the door, smoke wreathing her body, the yellow of her eyes tinged with red. With a roar, she smashed her fist into the frost-rimed wood and it shattered, the force of the blow scattering the desks and shelves piled behind it.

“Good girl.” Weiss patted her on the shoulder and primly stepped over the wreckage.

In sharp contrast to the antiseptic emptiness of the rest of the school, the air inside the library was choked with dust and the scent of molding paper. Thin, wavering beams of light pierced through moth-eaten velvet curtains covering the windows, but did little more than throw shadows across the floor. Shelves loomed overhead, forming a labyrinthine path deeper into the room, and the thick carpet muffled all but the faintest sound from Weiss’ footsteps.

Wood and ice crunched beneath Yang’s boots as she followed Weiss, but she stopped just inside the door. “I don’t want to do this. Thought you wanted me, not Blake or Ruby.”

“Of course I want you.” Weiss rolled her eyes. “Specifically, I want you to find Blake and bring her to me. Now, be a good beast and do as you’re told.”

“Do it yourself,” Yang said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Though her pose was relaxed, her fists were clenched hard enough that the knuckles were turning white, and Weiss knew it would be unwise to push her any further.

“Fine, maybe I will.” Weiss marched off without a single backwards glace.

Despite her words, there was no evidence of anyone living in the library. The first few rows were all the same, empty and silent. Books rotted in place on their heavy wooden shelves, leather spines cracked and peeling. The layer of dust coating the floor appeared to be undisturbed in the dim light without any tracks to hint where her prey was hiding.

Weiss paused, glancing up at a worn placard that indicated she was in the reference section. A slow smile curved her lips. Obviously, Blake wouldn’t make a nest near crumbling encyclopedias and dictionaries. Like Yang, she would choose to drown out her misery instead of bearing it with strength and dignity as Weiss had. They only difference between the two cretins was their choice of intoxicant. She turned and headed for the romance section.

Though most of the signs were faded to the point of illegibility, Weiss remembered the way. She could have crowed at her own brilliance when she saw the small pile of cushions at the end of the row. A few small stacks of books surrounded the bedding, their covers showing couples in various states of swooning infatuation. And there, lurking in the shadows, was Blake, nearly invisible except for the two burning yellow points of light that were her eyes.

“There you are,” Weiss breathed.

Blake’s Faunus ears were pinned back against her skull. She held up a clawed hand, Gambol Shroud’s tattered ribbon twining around her palm and up her wrist, its loose ends hanging limp in the still air. When she spoke, her voice sounded hoarse from disuse. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.”

“Don’t be difficult, Blake. Yang and I have missed you so very much.”

Blake flinched at the mention of Yang’s name. “No, no, no, you’re wrong. You don’t feel that. You can’t feel that. Not for someone like me.”

“Someone like you,” Weiss asked, sensing weakness. She shifted her weight onto her front foot. She could cover the distance between them in a few steps, and she only needed to touch Blake to freeze her in place.

“Liar. Thief. Killer.” With each word Blake seemed to shrink in on herself.

Here was Weiss’ opportunity. Comforting Blake was sufficient excuse to get close enough to trap her. Blake needed to hear gentle, soothing words. Needed to be coddled and held and told that Yang and Weiss forgave her for her transgressions, that she could have the storybook redemption she craved. As if she deserved it. As if she wasn’t a coward and a traitor. As if she hadn’t abandoned Weiss.

“You forgot one,” Weiss said, soft and cruel. “Animal.”

Blake bared her teeth. “You sound like your father. When did you become daddy’s little girl?”

“How dare you,” Weiss spat. She was going to freeze the bitch’s tongue solid and watch her choke on it.

Drawing Myrtenaster from her belt, she lunged, but the distance was all wrong. Blake leapt out of reach of the wild thrust and landed in a crouch on all fours. Reckless, Weiss charged forward, aiming a vicious cut at her face that Blake barely dodged. She gave ground as Weiss continued to press her, falling back until she hit the far wall. Shelves rose high on either side of them, leaving no avenue for escape.

“Stay away! I’ll hurt you if you come any closer!” Blake’s chest rose and fell rapidly with every panicked breath.

What little light there was in the library grew dimmer like dusk fading into night. Shadows dripped down from the shelves and pooled around Blake’s feet. She squeezed her eyes shut and clapped her hands over her ears, claws digging into her own scalp, as wispy tendrils of darkness spidered up her legs and torso.

Weiss paused. The sight of Blake so distraught tugged at some long-forgotten part of her. Something that hadn’t yet been consumed by winter and loneliness. She lowered her sword, pointing its broken tip at the floor.

“I suppose I’ll be the bigger person,” Weiss said, graciously. “We can chalk your outburst up to typical Faunus hysteria.”

“Please just go,” Blake moaned, shadows rising up to cover her face in a translucent veil.

Weiss took a step towards her. “No, I won’t let any of you leave me. Not again.”

Weiss started to move closer and Blake charged, lashing out like a corned animal. She slammed into Weiss with her full weight, and her claws tore through Weiss’ jacket and the flesh beneath. Weiss stumbled and went down on one knee, pressing a hand to the gashes. Without pausing, Blake sprinted down the narrow corridor between the shelves. Weiss was on her feet a moment later, racing after Blake as blood streamed freely from her wounded side. The Faunus was too fast and Weiss knew she wouldn’t be able to catch up before Blake reached the exit.

“Yang,” Weiss yelled when Blake turned a corner, disappearing from view, “don’t let her escape!”

Weiss skidded out into the open in time to see Yang and Blake staring at each other. Yang stood in front of the door, fists raised in a boxing stance, but she made no attempt to grab the Faunus. Shadows moved across Blake’s face in Rorschach blots and she was bent in a half-crouch, like a lioness preparing to spring, but she didn’t try to dodge past Yang. Neither appeared willing to be the first to act.

“You shouldn’t have run,” Yang said at last.

Blake cringed. “I tried not to.”

“I wanted to tell you things while there was still enough of me left to mean them,” Yang continued, dully, “but that didn’t matter—” She looked over Blake’s shoulder at Weiss. “—to any of you. I protected you. I loved you. But I was never enough. I was never first.”

“Yang—” Weiss started but Yang cut her off with a rough shake of her head.

“Shut up. This isn’t about you. For once, it’s about me.” Little trails of smoke escaped Yang’s mouth with each word as her face twisted in a scowl, clearly working herself into one of her moods. “Or do you even care?”

Blake’s ears flattened and Weiss gripped Myrtenaster so tightly its wire-wrapped hilt began to cut into her palm. Any move – any word – could be a match to the gunpowder of Yang’s temper.

“I’m sorry,” Blake said.

Yang stepped aside and gave a mocking half-bow, gesturing for Blake to go through the door. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. If I really didn’t mean anything to you, go ahead and run away. It’s what you do best.”

And there was the trigger, Weiss thought. The moment Blake tried to leave, Yang’s rage would boil over with the Faunus as the closest target. While they were distracted with each other, Weiss could dart in and stab Blake in the back of the knee or slice through her Achilles tendon, some injury that would make it impossible for her to flee. Then, Weiss would stand back and let the two of them wear each other down, hopefully leaving the victor exhausted enough for her to subdue without too much fuss.

The shadows crawling across Blake’s face lightened, her expression taking on a less hunted cast. She straightened up and repeated, quiet but firm, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could have stayed. I still do, but I think we all know it’s too late for that,” she continued, glancing back at Weiss. “Goodbye.”

Blake must have understood it was a trick. Though she lacked Weiss’ tactical brilliance, she had that bestial cunning that made Faunus so tiring to deal with. Still, she cautiously started for the exit. Yang’s mouth twisted, unable to settle on a single emotion. For a moment, Weiss thought she might actually stand aside and let Blake pass. She was only a few steps from the door when Yang lashed out, seizing her wrist in a brutal grip.

Blake hissed, whatever composure she’d managed to claw back gone in an instant. Her free hand raked across Yang’s cheek, drawing four parallel lines of blood, before Yang grabbed it too. Blake writhed like an animal with its leg caught in a trap, but Yang was too strong. She began to force Blake’s arms down by her sides, Blake fighting her for every inch.

#freezerburn

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mrshopkirk · 7 years

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5 small steps: step 5 (the end)

Characters: Bucky, Steve, Sam, Nat, mention of other Avengers

Summary: The tale of five small steps Bucky takes on his road to recovery and the help he receives from an overly protective, supportive and determined mother hen called Steve.

Warnings: silly, fluff (I don’t know but it’s not angst), some swearing, mention of nudity (blink and you miss it)

Word count: 1160

Notes: Thank you @hellomissmabel for proofreading. I love you, darling. This started out as a serious fic but it turned out completely ridiculous as I was trying to cheer myself up. A shout-out to @melconnor2007 for the laughs while we were working out the details of turning this into a television show. Oh, and feedback is appreciated. The cat mentioned can be found on Instagram @catstradamus.

The end... Well, this was it, the last step on Bucky’s road to recovery. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you all enjoyed it!

*MASTERLIST*

STEP 5: SOCIAL MEDIA

Bucky’s been sitting at the kitchen counter for a while now, sipping his lemonade, thanking his lucky stars Steve isn’t here to lecture him about eating and drinking healthy and reprimanding him for adding extra sugar to already sugary drinks. He likes everything sweet. He’s had his fill of water, liquid and dried food, IV’s and everything tasting the same for all those years. Just like he like his showers long and hot, and his clothes soft and smelling nice. His room is always warm and his bed has an abundance of covers on it. He makes a little cocoon for himself every night. He never closes his curtains so he can see the stars at night and the sun first thing in the morning, hating absolute darkness.

He would have cut his hair too but he caught the disappointed look on Steve’s face from the corner of his eye when he mentioned it. He compromised and it’s half-length now. Steve looked so ridiculously happy he thought he was going to braid his hair. He’s also slowly adding color to his room and little trinkets he finds to avoid it from looking like a clean, sterile room. He wants it to feel like a home so he has a picture of him and Steve, and some of his drawings on the wall, and a forties arm chair in the corner next to a stack of books, both of them presents from Wanda who likes thrift shops. He should go with her someday.

Bucky hears Nat giggle and peeks over her shoulder.

“Watcha doing?” He plops down on the couch next to her.

She shows him her phone.

“Wow! That’s a cat?”

“Yeah, Samson. Probably the biggest cat in the world and he lives in New York.”

“Fucking amazing. I want one of those.” He keeps staring at the cat’s pictures. “He’s so huge!”

Steve walks in hearing Nat and Bucky giggle and sitting close to one another. Though he has nothing to do with it, still his chest fills with pride like a dad watching his little son learn something new.

“What are you kids doing?”

“Nothing, dad,” Nat drawls out the last word making Bucky snicker. “Just watching cats on Instagram like every other normal person on this planet.”

“I don’t have Instagram,” Bucky says.

“I said normal person, didn’t I?” She pokes Bucky in the ribs. “Oh god, watch it, Barnes,” she mumbles and looks at Steve. “I can just see a bad idea brewing in that insane brain of his.”

“I think my brain is the insane one.”

“Well, Steve’s more stupid,” she states matter-of-factly, prompting a new giggle from Bucky.

Steve plops down on the couch with such force that Nat is catapulted in the air a little and she gives him an undignified look.

“Give me your phone, Buck.” Reluctantly Bucky gives him the phone.

“Ah, that’s so cute, Barnes, Steve as your lock screen.” It prompts a blush from both Steve and Bucky.

“Here you go.” Steve tosses Bucky back his phone. “Now you’re alive online too.”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve. How about asking if I want one those things?”

“You’ll love it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Stop it before I do something you’re going to regret.”

“Like what?” Steve huffs and walks out of the room.

When Nat tries to grab his phone from his hands, he clutches it to his chest. “Don’t you people have any respect for privacy? Don’t you know the meaning of boundaries?”

“I just want to know your username.”

Bucky looks at his screen and groans. “Goddammit Steve. You couldn’t have come up with something better than bionic_barnes?” He points a warning finger to Nat who’s choking back her peals of laughter. “He’s gonna regret this. Just wait and see.” He stalks out the room.

“Oh, Steve, you poor stupid man,” Nat hiccups while she pushes the follow button.

Steve pours himself a cup of coffee and walks over to the team that’s huddled together around the dinner table.

“Who did he get so many followers in a week?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Have- have you seen his posts, man?” Sam barely manages to get out before the laugh he’s been holding back escapes him at full force.

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve sips his coffee.

“Bucky’s- Bucky’s Instagram account,” he snickers.

“I’m glad to hear he’s doing so well. I told him it was a great idea to show himself to the world so they can see who he truly is. Just the naked truth, you know?” Steve furrows his eyebrows as everyone is giggling at his words. He clears his throat. “So how many followers does he have?”

Everyone goes silent. “You haven’t seen his account then?” Nat asks.

“No,” Steve drawls.

“He’s at 2 million and counting.”

“WHAT?! How- when- how- what?”

“Like you said, Steve,” Nat claps him on the shoulder, all you have to do is show the naked truth.”

Steve grabs his phone and goes to Bucky’s account.

bionic_bucky

Official account of Bucky Barnes. Please, forgive me for all I’ve done. Here, have some pics of Steve.

His coffee cup shatters on the floor as he’s met with an account full of pictures of… him.

Coming out of the shower at the gym, a towel wrapped around him and bending over to grab his bag, steam surrounding him.

Holding on the bars in the Quinjet on his way to a mission, his uniform stretched to its limits across his shoulders and ass.

On his way back from a mission, dirt across his face, blond hair sticking to his forehead and smiling a lopsided grin.

Sitting on the floor, drawing, his tongue sticking out.

Lifting weights, shirtless and sweaty.

Picking up a pencil while Nat pretends to slap his ass, winking at the camera.

Sleeping on the couch with a teddy bear in his arms.

Posing for the new official Captain America pictures with the entire team photo bombing the shoot. Is that a sandwich sticking out of Scott’s fly?

A little video that starts with Nat announcing they’ll get an exclusive of Cap’s bedroom sounds. The screen goes black right after Steve sees the doors to the gym behind Nat. He can hear his grunts, groans, pants, sucking in breath between his teeth. (It’s just working out, people.)

Coming out of the swimming pool, shorts stuck to his thighs and what half a million people had now dubbed ‘mini Cap’. (he huffs, water is really cold in January, okay)

“BUCKY!!”

“Yes, my dear…” Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe.

“What the fuck were you thinking? I mean, you can see almost see my dick and my ass in these pictures! You motherfucker! You ass! Jerk!”

The shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face makes Steve suspicious. Bucky mouths ‘go on’.

“Oh no,” Steve groans. “Bucky, no…”

“Bucky yes…”

bionic_bucky just posted a new video.

TAGLIST: @callamint @laterthantherabbit @aubzylynn @you-and-bucky @harleyqueen7 @hardcorehippos @ursulaismymiddlename @buckyywiththegoodhair @hellomissmabel @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @abovethesmokestacks @eve1978 @winterboobaer @howiseethesethings @melconnor2007 @s8sense @50shadesofyes @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @10kindsofderp @thatawkwardtinyperson @persephone-is-here-omg

5 SMALL STEPS TAGLIST: @magellan-88

BROKEN TAGS: @brokennoone (sorry girl)

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 7 years

Text

Wrack and Ruin: Final

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

What an end to a day. Arthur is frustrated. Feeling bad for a monster! Indeed. How typically French. How typically Bonaparte. How typical it is for one from that family to go and throw the entire plan off. This is how society falls, he thinks, when we start feeling poorly for monsters like the Jersey Devil. As if it inhabits any humanity within it to warrant pity or kindness.

What a miserable end to his letter to Liverpool. Well, perhaps not miserable. Bonaparte, that is Napoleon, assured him that the creature posed no military threat or otherwise to England or her colonies. What would happen were it to go to Upper and Lower Canada? Nothing, Bonaparte had said. Eat some cattle? Scare a few farmers?

He will admit he was not sure what he had expected from the entire expedition which hadn't been his idea to begin with. There was no great confrontation as there had been in Woodford and for that he is thankful. He isn't sure he is up for more confrontations with mystical beings of supernatural power. Age does catch up with one.

He concludes his letter to Liverpool and adds it to the stack that is to be sent on ahead of them before they embark on their journey homeward.

'No dinners with a president,' Napoleon says, letting himself in. 'Are you offended or relieved?'

'Relieved, I assure you. And I had dinner with the director of the Federal Bank and the former, if temporary, King of Spain. I think I can forego dinner with Monroe for that.'

'And you dine regularly with the former emperor of France, how your other dinner guests must pale in comparison.'

'That is a title we do not recognize,' Arthur replies in a stiff manner.

'But Joseph is King of Spain! That is unkind. Not to mention a work of great mental elasticity. Who made him king of Spain I wonder.' But Napoleon is smiling as he says it so Arthur does not take umbrage.

They end up topsy-turvy on the bed with Napoleon's stockinged feet on the pillows and head by the foot of the bed with Arthur the opposite. It is a quiet evening, no formal dinner. At some point soon they will go downstairs and be social. Both are still in their hunting clothes, buckskin breeches and wool coats deposited on chair backs.

'I still cannot believe neither of you shot it,' Arthur says. He can feel circles being traced along his hip.

'It was no wolf, bear or boar. There would have been no honour in it. You would agree with me had you seen it.'

Arthur props himself up and looks down to Napoleon who has his eyes closed. One arm is beneath his head as a pillow, the other against Arthur's leg drawing those absent shapes.

'It's the Jersey Devil,' Arthur says.

'It was sad.'

'Sad? You don't look at a deer and think, oh it's sad so I shan't shoot it today.'

'No, no.' Napoleon's face screws up in thought then regains composure. He unwinds his hand that was a pillow and rubs his eyes. 'It's different. I felt pity for it. Not the pity you feel for a wounded horse or hound, where it is a mercy to shoot them. But the pity you feel for a man who dies alone with no one to hold his hand. Or the pity you feel when someone is dead and there is no one to mourn for them. The pity associated with extreme isolation.'

'That is all very well but it is hardly human.'

Napoleon thinks on this then sits up and frowns at Arthur. He holds out his hand and balances it side to side, 'yes and no. When I met its gaze I felt there was something humane about it. It's eyes, though red and yellow, were still human eyes.'

'You mean they expressed human emotion.'

'No, I mean they literally were the eyes of mankind. The eyes of Adam.' He rubs his face again. 'It's hard to explain. I hold no grievance with Joseph for not shooting it. I didn't run it through either. We just sort of exchanged eye contact with it then it went on its way. The only of its kind Joseph thinks. How sad. Alone, exiled from its family all those years ago.'

Arthur, 'there is no similarity there. Your family still cares. Well, some of your family cares.'

Napoleon laughs. Says that Arthur really knows how to make a man feel loved. Excellent ability to improve a person's mood. ‘God,’ he sighs as he lies back down, ‘what would I do without you to remind me that some of my family cares?’

'I wager you would get on well enough.'

'I'd be a puddle of despair.'

Arthur rolls his eyes, mutters that Napoleon is not being serious anymore. Always skirting away from difficult truths. At that Napoleon sits back up and with a grave expression says, 'I'm sorry.'

'For what? I was just grumping. It's my way.'

'Now who isn't being serious?'

'Fine, fine I accept your strange and unnecessary apology.'

Napoleon smiles and pats Arthur's cheek. 'I am glad.' Bringing up Arthur's hand he brushes a kiss along the knuckles then says he must go and bathe and change if he is to be in anything resembling a presentable state for dinner.

It is later, after food and drinks and several rounds of cards and Arthur has retired for the evening that Napoleon finds Joseph in his library with a thick blanket on his lap and reading Defoe. Joseph looks at him from overtop his glasses.

'You appear comfortable,' Napoleon says. He lingers at the edge of the room. Outside the light of the fire and the lamps and candles. Joseph motions him to the chair near him.

'I hate this book but I'm too committed to stop now. Besides, I promised Cadwalader that I would give him my assessment of it and I would like it to be more thorough than 'absolute rubbish, feed it to the pigs with turnip tops'.'

'What a country gentlemen you have become.'

Joseph smiles, says that the same could be said for Napoleon. He heard of the garden from Wellesley who was really just complaining about the bees. Bees, how fitting. He has thought about bees as well.

Napoleon, 'what I said today. I didn't mean it.'

'Yes you did.'

'No,' he sighs. 'No, I didn't. I was angry more at myself than you. I'm never angry at you.'

'What a lie.' But Joseph laughs a bit as he says it.

'I am trying to apologize brother. Very well, I have been angry you in the past. I am capable of being angry and frustrated and all manner of other things with you but I still love you and I am sorry for the unkind words I said today. I do not truly believe them of you.'

Joseph takes his glasses off and sets them aside along with Defoe. He looks at Napoleon with great patience. Napoleon ponders for a moment longer then goes, 'and I am also sorry for making you King of Spain instead of letting you remain King of Naples like you preferred and I am sorry for leaving Elba thus setting in line a chain of events that lead to this current situation and I am also sorry for making you do my homework on Corsica when we were seven and never managing to keep my stockings up then blaming you for my state of undress to mother.' A tentative look. 'Shall I continue?'

'Perhaps you should just write me a letter. No, no, Nabulio it is all right. I thank you for your apology. I always know that you generally do not mean what you say in the heat of the moment. What was it Duroc said about you?'

'Oh no not the Duroc quote.'

Joseph, in an aproximation of Duroc's manner of speaking, "The emperor speaks from his feelings, not according to his judgement; nor as he will act tomorrow."

‘How perceptive of him...I miss him a good deal.'

'I know.'

'We are leaving for England tomorrow.'

'I know.’

Joseph searches his brother's face and finds sadness but it is a well-restrained emotion. At first he is annoyed because even now, even after it all, even in this intimate moment when it is just the two of them, he must be in control of himself but then he remembers being ten years old and going to France and how he wept and wept and made his brother's shoulder damp and Napoleon, who was Napoleonne then, just cried a few tears. Two, or three. And he swallowed a few times but couldn't speak. The empire just made him worse.

When do walls develop? Is it when you are taken from your family who you will not see for another fifteen years and thrust into a country whose language you do not speak, whose customs you do not understand and told to make friends with boys you cannot interpret? Is it when you witness war for the first time? Mobs running wild? Your friend taking a piece of shrapnel and dying atop of you as they cough blood onto your face? When do you bury yourself in irony and smiles and wry social observations?

Joseph wonders how much he has changed as well, in all those years. He looks back to Corsica and it feels as if it was ten minutes ago. Then, at the same time, it feels one hundred years ago.

Napoleon is staring at the fire and breathing very carefully. He is tapping out a rhythm on the armrest.

'I should go to bed, it is late.'

Joseph, 'no, no. Stay. We may not see each other for some time after this.'

Napoleon does not look at him. Joseph wants to say, You know I have seen you naked and squalling, right? You know I have seen you screaming in our father's lap because you scrapped your knee, ruined your breeches and everything is terrible?

But that would serve no purpose. Joseph instead goes to a shelf and retrieves a selection of books. 'Do you remember when father read Cicero to us for the first time?'

'Vaguely. I remember sitting on the floor of his study and listening to him read. I don't remember what it was about. It was our tradition whenever he was home. He would let you sit in his nice chair because you were always in a better state of dress than I.'

'You had just spent the day chasing around with the shepherd boys in the hills. You were filthy.'

'I was six. All six year olds are filthy.'

Joseph sits back down with the books and sets them on the floor between them. He says they should read from one, that he has chosen all those he remembers them going through when young. There is even Ossian, Napoleon's favourite though Joseph never quite understood why. And beneath that Virgil and Ovid and Caesar and Roland and countless others. Napoleon picks up Ossian and thumbs through a few pages.

'I was once accused of having Ossian dreams,' he says as he reads a section.

Joseph shrugs, 'there are worse dreams to have.'

'What do you want to read?'

Joseph picks up dusty Virgil and hands it over. Anything of his, for now. And really, it doesn't matter, they have all night.

Later, several books alter, Napoleon bids good evening. It is half two in the morning and Joseph says, 'I am glad you came. Even if we didn't succeed in anything remotely close to what we set out to do.'

'Next you must come to England. We have trolls.'

Joseph grasps his brother's hand and says that it is a plan then pulls Napoleon into a hug. He tells himself to not cry so much as he did when they were boys. The sense of separation is not as large as it was then. There has been a decreasing in the miles in the gulf that Joseph had imagined between them. Perhaps scouting for trolls would be just the thing. A vacation from sometimes-dreary Bordentown.

Pulling back Napoleon's hand stays on Joseph's neck and he looks his brother full in the face. It is like he is memorizing him, or seeing him afresh for the first time in many years. Joseph grins.

'Don't get into too much trouble, Nabulio.'

'Don't worry, Giuseppe, I have made enough noise for one lifetime. Come to England for the trolls?'

'For the trolls. Maybe we'll find some humanity in them, too.'

'Sure, but don't tell Wellesley, he'll have an apoplexy.'

Sometimes, Joseph thinks, it is like that poem wherein we go into the forest and carve the words of our love into trees and as the trees grow so do our loves become louder. There will be some forgotten people whose trees do not grow and their voices petrify, freeze in time. But they have been lucky, he thinks. Their voices are still heard, they are not reduced to living in silent woods barren of human contact and love. Their exile could have been thus - could have made of them unspeakable creatures not to be seen or heard or known.

A gentle thank you to all who stuck with me this week and through the strange and odd journey of this wee story. It went in an unexpected direction for me and I am glad you all kept with me as we jointly became emotional about brothers being brothers.

I also want to thank everyone who lovingly liked, reblogged, and commented. You are all so great and wonderful and supportive and it means the world. Really though, you’re all the best.

Thank you also to the anon who sent in the prompt of Napoleon and Arthur vs. Cryptids. I am not sure if this is what you wanted but thank you for the inspiration! It has been a pleasure to write.

<3 <3

#writing #wrack and ruin #jersey devil #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #duke of wellington

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almaasi · 7 years

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GISHWHES 2016 List Of Items

Lots of other people have posted this list since 2016’s scavenger hunt, but I’m uploading it here (drastically belated, I know) for my own collection. The 2016 hunt ran between July 31st and August 5th, and the winning team went to Iceland with Misha Collins. This list contains all of the hunt items, their value in points, and whether they were submitted as photos or videos - including deleted items. (Registration for the 2017 hunt closes VERY SOON, and this may be the final hunt! Sign up at gishwhes.com!)

[ see also: 2011 list // 2012 list // 2013 list // 2014 list // 2015 list ]

Disclaimer: I am not Misha Collins, nor am I directly affiliated with him, or any of his team at gishwhes.com. However, they did apparently name their 2012 Fograt mascot after this tumblr blog. Which is the coolest thing that’s ever happened, obviously. (“Tales of an Injured Fog Rat” was created in 2010 with that title. I’ve been archiving the item lists since the hunt’s conception in 2011).

Also, yes, the cursor is a penis. I’m only a little bit sorry.

#1. PHOTO or VIDEO. 32 POINTS. There’s something you used to do for your significant other when you first met them. Something that made them smile… It’s been years since you did this. Do it now.

#2. VIDEO. 123 POINTS. A freight train engine pulling a tiny flatcar (a utility flatcar, not a big cargo flatcar) with a woman dressed in Victorian attire, sitting at a writing desk with a vase of flowers on it, writing a letter to her beloved.

#3. PHOTO or VIDEO. 21 POINTS. “Someday your face will freeze like that!” said every mother ever. The 2016 Summer Olympics has added Competitive Gurning to their roster and you are your country’s champion. Put on your Olympic uniform and let’s see your medal-winning, face-making moves. Judgment will be on technical merit, artistry, and execution. A perfect 10 takes the gold.

#4. PHOTO or VIDEO. 57 POINTS. Dentist's offices are notorious for playing dreary elevator music. But it doesn’t have to be that way! Get dental work done while a string quartet plays live music in the room.

#5. PHOTO or VIDEO. 37 POINTS. In the middle of a mall food court, you and a friend (one or more) play a nice game of badminton - we must see the tennis whites, the net, rackets, etc.

#6. PHOTO. 54 POINTS. Submit two images, side-by-side. If you have or know a child under 6, have them draw a family portrait. Now, get your family to pose EXACTLY as they drew you all in the drawing. Try to replicate the clothing, individual heights and anything you need to do or add to your bodies to contort them to what the child drew.

#7. VIDEO. 44 POINTS. Are you still jogging occasionally? Good. Be sure to try out this year's latest fashion craze: pineapple shell shoes with matching pineapple caps to protect you from the sun. Let’s see you (carefully) jogging in public.

#8. VIDEO. 87 POINTS. Get "This week, GISHWHES is making the world measurably weirder…” or similar text on the news ticker at the bottom of the screen of a major network or cable news channel.

#9. PHOTO. 27 POINTS. Care homes, rehab facilities, and hospitals have many patients and clients who can't read for themselves. Contact a local center and offer your services to read for an hour or two (or more) during the Hunt Week. If photo evidence with the patient is a sensitive issue, ask the care staff for a photo or documentary evidence of your contribution. - Monica Duff

#10. PHOTO. 26 POINTS. Find the coupon section from your most recent newspaper. Cut out at least five coupons. Go to the store and leave the coupons on the shelf taped next to the relevant items with a note “From the Coupon Fairy!”. - Elizabeth Fiedler

#11. PHOTO. 47 POINTS. You (a human) must re-enact this photo (not pets allowed): http://markobbie.com/wordpress1/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/dog-firehose.jpg

#12. PHOTO. 58 POINTS. I have to travel a lot for work, so I’ve learned a thing or two about working the system. It turns out, if you package yourself properly you can send yourself by mail for a fraction of the cost of an airline ticket. Transform your appearance into a first-class parcel and have a friend deliver you to the post office for shipping. Don’t actually ship yourself— just get a photo of your packaged self being weighed at the post office, in a bin at a post office with other packages, or being loaded into a mail truck.

#13. PHOTO. 32 POINTS. It’s a well-known fact that Pablo Picasso was a huge “Supernatural” fan. He painted portraits of Mark Sheppard, Jensen Ackles, Ruth Connell, Sam Smith, Richard Speight Jr., Matt Cohen, Jared Padalecki, Andrew Dabb, Rob Benedict, Misha Collins, Bob Singer, and many of the other cast and crew members. Sadly, until now, these great works have been lost to the world. Fortunately, your team has unearthed one of these priceless works.

#14. PHOTO. 38 POINTS. Live your dream. You know, the one you had while you were sleeping last night. - Julie Reynolds

#15. PHOTO or VIDEO. 105 POINTS. (slow-mo or real-time). This is the final showdown between the Haves and the Have-nots. Show up Monday afternoon at NO LATER than 12 PM at Dolores Park in San Francisco (the flat side of the park at Dolores Park entrance). If your team name has an odd number of letters in it, you are an executive and you must dress business-snazzy. If your team name has an even number of letters in it, you are a member of the proletariate and you must dress in over-alls or blue-collar apparel. Bring at least 12 water balloons (pre-filled with water). At exactly 12:10 PM, the ultimate water balloon battle will ensue. It will last exactly 7 minutes! After this time has expired, the battle will be over and BOTH teams MUST clean up the water-balloon shrapnel (see below). You must have a friend capture the event with a video or photo (don’t get your phones wet) or, if you don’t have a photographer attending with you, you may get a photo with the gishwhes representative at the event—they will be wearing a royal blue beanie. You must circle "you" or your representative (if you don't live near SF) in the image that you submit so we can identify that you were there. IMPORTANT! Participants must collect and dispose of ALL balloon shrapnel at the end of the battle. Otherwise, seagulls will eat them and they will die a horribly painful and drawn-out death. Have you ever read the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”? Why not? What’s wrong with you? Let’s just say killing an albatross (which, although from a completely different family (Diomedeidae) than the seagull (Charadriiformes), they do both have wings, and think the ocean is a good place to poop - so they are pretty much brothers) is not good karma and it shall haunt you for life. So be a responsible Gisher and don’t leave until the debris is gone.

#16. PHOTO. 56 POINTS. Your yard needs an upgrade. It's too expensive to do proper landscaping, so let's just dress it up nicely... with every item of clothing you own displayed in a beautiful, artistic manner on the trees, bushes, cars, patio furniture, fountain, etc. Have your neighbors over in the middle of it for a yard-warming party if you wish.

#17. VIDEO. 39 POINTS. Give your dog a slow, massaging soap bath in a kiddie pool in a crowded pedestrian area. If it's cold out, use a large stuffed animal instead. Relaxing spa music should be playing in the background. - Tracy Liu

#18. PHOTO. 67 POINTS Recreate a painting by Goya in candy.

#19. PHOTO. 58 POINTS. It’s such a strange feeling lying in a coffin almost completely buried in popcorn with only your face showing. Trust me. I know.

#20. PHOTO. 29 POINTS. Handcraft at least 3 birthday cards and send them to this young man: http://abc7.com/society/boy-from-big-bear-with-severe-autism-wishes-for-birthday-cards/1424726/ - Elizabeth Madsen

#21. PHOTO. 41 POINTS. Re-create a monument or landmark using tree branches and twigs right next to the original monument or landmark. The structure must be over 4 feet high.

#22. PHOTO. 41 POINTS. [REMOVED:] Find a pet that can easily and happily be kept in an enclosed terrarium: a lizard, turtle, snake, rodent, or even an injured bird. This animal must be a rescue animal; it cannot be acquired at a pet store. Now, introduce this animal to its new family: an elementary school classroom that will care for it. The classroom must have the means and facilities to humanely care for it.

#23. PHOTO. 79 POINTS. The versatility of corn is amazing— it has so many uses! However, there's no better use for corn than this year's must-have fashion statement: the Corn Husk Bikini or Corn Husk Evening Wear! Feel free to color the husks, as well as to accent and accessorize with kernels.

#24. PHOTO. 53 POINTS. Paint a watermelon to look like the head of a famous dictator (past or present) and place it at the base of one of the cannons at Dawes Point under the Harbour Bridge in Sydney, Australia. You will likely see other watermelons there. To make sure your photo submission is different from any other team’s, you must stack or display the watermelons artistically. If they are already stacked or displayed in an artistic manner, you must thoughtfully re-stack and rearrange them.

#25. VIDEO. 48 POINTS. Let’s see a bad lip reading of a Supernatural episode in this style: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1w8Z0UOXVaY - Julie Reynolds

#26. PHOTO. 61 POINTS. Drones are just the first step in machines’ efforts to take over the world. Let's end this battle before it starts! Let's see an epic picture of you squaring off against a flying drone in your mightiest battle pose. You must be geared for battle though... Use anything from your kitchen or pantry to create your armour and weaponry.

#27. PHOTO. 94 POINTS. Dress up your pet as a well-known public figure (actor, politician, musician, etc.) and get a photo of your pet with the ACTUAL public figure it is dressed up as. Make sure the pet looks as much like the public figure as possible (wardrobe, hair, etc.).

#28. VIDEO. 48 POINTS. Submit your video in slow motion.You are throwing an elegant party. Show us your sophistication by decanting red wine directly into your guests’ mouths. Properly aerate the wine by pouring it from at least 2 stories above the guests. The guests, of course, must be wearing white.

#29. PHOTO. 36 POINTS. Recently there has been a lot of news about bottled water and how much of it is just urban tap water sold in a bottle with a fancy label. It’s an unregulated sham. That said, it seems like a pretty good way to make a buck, but at this point the bottled water market is pretty saturated. Set up a stand on a public walkway to sell “fresh air” from your city in bottles with compelling labels.

#30. VIDEO. 43 POINTS. Dub a “Beavis and Butthead” cartoon with actual audio clips from Barack Obama and Donald Trump as the voices for Beavis and Butthead respectively.

#31. PHOTO. 46 POINTS. Personify the name of a street sign. - Erin Atkinson

#32. PHOTO. 39 POINTS. We all learned from the movie “The Secret” that vision boards and positive affirmations have the power to help you manifest really important things in your life like sports cars and boundless riches. Now I’m sure everyone probably wants a red sports car and immeasurable wealth, but we want to see your vision board that depicts aspects of your life that transcend the trappings of material status. Make a collage from magazines of the things which cannot be bought or sold that you would like more of in your life.

#33. PHOTO. 33 POINTS. Rainbow teeth.

#34. PHOTO. 31 POINTS. We’ve seen Jensen Ackles portraits in Skittles. What about Jensen Ackles on Skittles? Draw a tiny Ackles on a single Skittle. Post a photo of the Skittle portrait in the palm of your hand.

#35. PHOTO or VIDEO. 44 POINTS. In support of the documentary “Alive Inside,” find one person with Alzheimer's or some form of dementia and learn what their favorite tunes were when they were young. Make them a playlist of those songs and play it for them.

#36. PHOTO. 53 POINTS. If you, dear reader, happen to be someone who knows my mother, don’t spoil the fun by telling her about this… My mom doesn’t care that I'm on TV, she’s just not impressed. However, she turns into your typical proud mother when you bring up gishwhes. She loves GISHWHES and she hates that I won’t let her be on a team (but come on, how bad would it look if my mom’s team won?) Anyway, she loves gishwhes—she also loves birthdays. It just so happens that tomorrow, Monday, August 1st, is my mother's 70th birthday. Let's combine two of her favorite things: birthdays and gishwhes. I have secretly planted a GPS tracking device on my mother. Help me surprise her between the hours of 11:30AM and 1PM by showing up and saying happy birthday to her! Follow this link http://bit.ly/2astpwS to see exactly where we are. (Hint: It’ll be in the vicinity of Bellingham, WA.) Take a photo of yourself with my Mom in the background to submit as proof you completed this item.

#37. PHOTO. 37 POINTS. I believe that children are our future. Show us your futuristic robot baby.

#38. PHOTO or VIDEO. 1? POINTS. [REMOVED:] Couch surfing. Really. Real couch, real surf in ocean water. Make it happen.

#39. PHOTO. 67 POINTS. There's a lot of talk about how undocumented immigrants or "illegal aliens" are taking away our jobs and using public services such as hospitals and schools. But I think the real thing to worry about is actual aliens from other planets. Prove that aliens are a drain on our civic infrastructure by showing an alien from space (this costuming has to be impeccable) displacing a citizen's job or clogging up our hospitals or prisons. Caption the image with a message about the dangers of aliens draining our civic infrastructure.

#40. VIDEO. 81 POINTS. We all know about "Transformers" - the cars and trucks that turn into super-robots. But what the movies and toy manufacturers have overlooked are all of the other less-celebrated, more mundane Transformers. For example, what about Burgertron? He transforms from a burger into a robot. Or Desktopatron? She is a desktop computer who transforms into a robot. Or Fiddletron? He’s a violin one minute, a robot the next. Show us a human in a Transformer costume that goes from household object to a bad-ass robot.

#41. PHOTO or VIDEO. 84 POINTS. Free range, grass-fed, small farm dairy cows in Northern Vermont have it rougher than most cows: the rolling hills, the verdant pastures, the way the flickering lights of summer’s fireflies mingle with the starlight, the smell of ripening raspberries wafting into their barns. Help a heifer in these dire circumstances forget her suffering. Treat a dairy cow to the most pampered milking session in human/bovine history. A minimum of three attendants must milk the cow. One person must be feeding her clover by hand as another gently milks her wearing satin gloves as another massages her gently. The attendants must be dressed in semi-formal attire. The milking must take place in a well-appointed living room.

#42. PHOTO. 45 POINTS. Let’s see a picture of you and a friend, dressed as Jedi knights, enjoying a root beer float at the White Turkey Drive-In in Conneaut, Ohio, or at another 1950s-style dining facility. Bonus points for being served by a Sith. - L.S.

#43. VIDEO. 52 POINTS. This video may be 25 seconds or less. Create the world’s first human piano. Get multiple people to stand in one line dressed in black and white as piano keys, with each leg a different key (two keys per person). Then “play” them: have them lift their heels several inches off the ground, and when you press down their leg they sing, hum or grunt the corresponding note (pitch perfect, please). When you remove your hand, their leg goes back up. Two or more legs down at the same time makes a chord. Play chopsticks (or another familiar ditty) more or less in tune.

#44. PHOTO. 61 POINTS. Two elderly men playing chess by candlelight in front of the front row of a crowded movie theater while the film plays in the background.

#45. PHOTO. 46 POINTS. Isn’t it great to get your friends and family together for the holidays?! But it’s so hard! Sometimes all you can manage is getting everyone together for one holiday a year. But then you have to choose a holiday, and that’s so hard, too! Wait a minute... not if you decide to celebrate ALL holidays in that one night! Let’s see that night. - Inspired by Nicole Bowman

#46. VIDEO. 66 POINTS. This video may be up to 20-seconds. Everyone knows how important specific diets are in developing a chiseled physique. Find a bona fide, professional, competitive bodybuilder or ultimate fighter in peak condition and have them create a 20-second infomercial touting the muscle-building, fat-burning, nutrient-loaded virtues of aerosol spray cheese (like Cheeze Whiz). We must hear the athlete’s name, credentials and see their glistening, oiled, body as they “sell” us (however they best can do that) on the benefits and delicious taste of the aerosol spray cheese. This should probably include ravenously squirting the cheese directly into their mouth. Bonus points if you get a former World Champion.

#47. PHOTO. 41 POINTS. Submit two images, side-by-side. Recreate a famous, iconic photo from junk food. For example, you could submit the black and white photo of Einstein sticking out his tongue, next to another photo of your best attempt to recreate that photo using various junk foods as your paints. I hope that makes sense. For some reason it sounds confusing as I type it. But you have to somehow figure out what I mean here and then do it. Best of luck.

#48. PHOTO. 38 POINTS. Let’s stop sugar-coating our grievances and complaints! Actually, strike that— let’s actually sugar coat them. Confront your boss or employee about an issue in the workplace that has been irking you. While doing so, you must be entirely coated in powdered sugar. Your body language must convey your frustration.

#49. PHOTO or VIDEO. 47 POINTS. Cosplay a thunderstorm, in public, complete with sound effects, lighting and rain. - Karen Hutchinson

#50. VIDEO. 63 POINTS. Virtual reality interfaces are absolutely amazing. The technology is mind-blowing. Using virtual reality and augmented headsets like the Hololens and Oculus, I have stood on the surface of Mars at Jet Propulsion Laboratories and examined the undercarriage of the Mars Rover, been in the eye of a hurricane, and have been attacked by heavily-armed 19th-century militia. It’s mind-blowing. Your task is to create a virtual reality experience totally unlike any VR experience to date. This video will require a super-short, adrenalin-pumping intro-teaser, which will let the viewers know that they are about to experience VR like never before. THEN, abruptly cut to a 360-degree clip of the most mundane activity you can imagine. BORE US TO DEATH.

#51. VIDEO. 174 POINTS. Time-lapse this submission to 20 seconds or less. Get permission from a museum to temporarily replace a painting worth more than $100,000 with a forgery of the same painting. The forgery must be painted by an 8-year old and we must see time-lapse showing ALL OF THE following 3 occurrences for you to receive points: (1) removal of the original painting (caption with the name of the painting and estimated value), (2) installation of the child’s painting, and (3) patrons viewing the child’s painting.

#52. PHOTO. 26 POINTS. Submit a screenshot. Using the satellite function on Google Maps, find a geological feature that looks like one of our Gishwhes mascots (Fograt, Wooster, Elopus, etc.). Screenshot the image and then caption it appropriately (i.e. Fograt Valley, Mount Slangaroo, etc.).

#53. VIDEO. 121 POINTS. [REMOVED:] This video submission can be up to 20 seconds. Someone told me that they once hid a rubber duck in the fireplace in the grand dining room of the White House. I just want to know if it’s still there. Examine the nooks and crannies of the fireplace in the ACTUAL grand dining room of the White House so that I can confirm or deny the existence of this rubber ducky. You get points whether there’s a duck in your video or not. Your video exploration of the fireplace must start with a quick 360 degree shot of the White House’s Grand Dining Room.

#54. PHOTO. 57 POINTS. IMAGE. My grandmother, Dorris, lives in a retirement home called Roland Park Place (RPP) in Baltimore, MD. A few years ago, I put RPP in the Hunt. People started showing up with flowers and cookies. She called me in a panic, “WHAT IS HAPPENING?! CALL IT OFF!” A few hours later, she called back, “Well, it isn’t so bad…. Maybe just tell them to come during visiting hours.” The next year she said, “You’re going to put RPP in your hunt again, right?!” Clearly she was excited by the prospect. So, we did another RPP item last year. This past year she’s had some health problems. She’s 92, a bit tired, cardiologists, etc. She has been vacillating. She told me to put RPP on the list, to take it off again, and finally yesterday she said, “I think we should do it.” So, if Gammy says “do it,” it is a choiceless matter— it must be done. Visit RPP and take a photo with a resident. Bring a small gift: cookies, flowers, a deck of cards, a board game for the rec room, some water colors, etc.… One more thing, your photo must show you dressed as a pirate. The RPP resident should have at least one pirate accessory on as well (a hat, an eye patch, etc.), which you must furnish for them. If no member of your team lives within 50 miles of RPP, you may perform this item at any retirement home or assisted living facility anywhere in the world. This item must strictly be performed between the hours of 9AM and 5PM, on a weekday (not the weekend).

#55. VIDEO. 14 POINTS. Gishwhes has broken 7 Guinness World Records. Let’s see how many records you can break in 10 seconds. (Hint: record=LP)

#56. PHOTO. 81 POINTS. Green Eggs and Ham. Sam does not like green eggs and ham. Not on a boat, not with a goat. Show us yourself enjoying green eggs and ham (sunny-side up) on a boat with a goat.

#57. PHOTO. 102 POINTS. A Hell's Angel (or other bona fide member of a known motorcycle club) in a fruit leather jacket sitting astride their bike.

#58. PHOTO. 47 POINTS. Garnet from “Steven Universe” popularized the phrase, “I am made of love.” Turn yourself into a collage (you are the pasteboard on which the collage is affixed), comprised of all the things you love that, combined, help make you uniquely you.

#59. VIDEO. 102 POINTS. Time-lapse this submission to 20 seconds or less. Create an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine that ultimately serves an an incredibly simple function. For example, you could set up a Rube Goldberg machine at a deli counter in a grocery store that, upon completion of its entire elaborate multi-step process, issues a single numbered ticket to a patron waiting for their turn. The machine MUST be set up in a public place.

#60. PHOTO. 35 POINTS. Let's save 'em! http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/2016/07/06/penguins-on-worlds-smelliest-island-in-danger-as-volcano-erupts/ Tweet your support to https://twitter.com/BAS_News and hashtag #gishwhesLovesSmellyPenguins and #[your gishwhes username]. Get at least 20 people to post their support. Submit a grid image of screenshots of the posts.

#61. VIDEO. 93 POINTS. Gymnasts around the world are gearing up for the Olympics. Show a gymnast in action on a balance beam, vault, floor exercises, etc. proudly wearing their “pizzatard" (unitard made from pizza). If that sounds too challenging, you have the option of putting them in a fishtard, a fruittard or a friestard. Any of these options garner the same point value.

#62. PHOTO. 62 POINTS. There’s one thing everyone has always agreed on: you have mad artichoke-repurposing skills.

#63. PHOTO. 48 POINTS. Wallpaper an entire wall of your bedroom with photos of your nose. You must cover every inch of the wall and must have AT LEAST 100 pictures of your nose. Pose in front of it with your finger up your nose.

#64. VIDEO. 51 POINTS. This submission may be 30 seconds or less (or time-lapsed). Celebrate the Olympic Summer games by running a 40-meter, 30-legged dash.

#65. VIDEO. 37 POINTS. This submission may be 25 seconds or less. A commercial for your new 80 SPF Sinscreen (this is not a typo).

#66. PHOTO. 76 POINTS. In corporate-speak, we often hear, “Thanks for jumping in the sandbox with us!” It means, “Thanks for embarking on this joint venture together.” At Gishwhes we take these types of comments literally. Let’s see people in business attire playing with sand toys, holding a corporate meeting in a sandbox in the middle of an indoor, upscale corporate lobby.

#67. PHOTO. 44 POINTS. The morning commute can be such a drag! Let’s help commuters get the day off to a good start. Distribute free coffee at a bus stop dressed as a chic butler, waiter or waitress during morning rush hour. - Jessica Carla Marques

#68. PHOTO. 33 POINTS. Create a portrait of your favorite Supernatural actor on an Etch-A-Sketch in the style of a famous painting. http://chicagoist.com/2016/05/09/_jane_labowitch_24_has.php

#69. PHOTO. 42 POINTS. Dress up in armor from items you find in a big box store and, using a pool noodle or tube of gift wrap, defend the perimeter of the ladies’ undergarments department.

#70. VIDEO. 51 POINTS. VIDEO: It's time to go Christmas Caroling, Hillywood style! Recruit 10 of your friends, each cosplaying as different SUPERNATURAL characters, and hit the road to a random neighborhood! Once there, take your Supernatural Squad to 3 different homes (must be strangers)! Knock on their door, get into a caroling formation, and when they open the door, sing an acapella version of "Supernatural Parody by The Hillywood Show®" as loud as you can! Extra points if you bring and play your own instruments! Happy Hillydays! - Hillywood

#71. VIDEO. 212 POINTS. [REMOVED:] This submission may be 30 seconds or less. Two hot air balloons next to each other (but at a sufficiently safe distance from one another) drifting at an altitude of at least 500’. Communicate a knock-knock joke from one balloon to the other using tin-can and string telephone technology. We must hear the joke clearly through the tin-can phone. Video edit together footage from at least three cameras: one from the perspective of each caller in the respective hot air balloons and one shot by a spectator from the ground.

#72. PHOTO. 29 POINTS. I'm going to tweet something to you on Wednesday, August 3rd in the afternoon. Or morning. Or evening. I’m not sure. Anyway, you must pass it on when you see it that day (PDT time zone). Submit a screenshot of your post. Specifically: As some of you may know, I've published a few poems in my day. I fancy myself a wordsmith, but what with shooting, parenting, Gishwhes, and all the [REDACTED BY THE NSA IN THE INTEREST OF NATIONAL SECURITY] I've been doing lately, I've been a little too busy to cozy up with my journal and pen for a quiet writing session. Fortunately, crowdsourcing is "in", so I'm going to crowdsource my next award-winning poem and I'm counting on all of you to help me make it publication-worthy. Sometime today, I'll tweet the first stanza (four lines) of my poem. Choose one member of your team to write the next 2 lines of my poem by retweeting with a comment. Then, that person will tag one another person to write the next 2 lines of the poem, and so on. Each line of the poem must be exactly the same meter as my original work. Get 14 people (including yourself) to contribute to my epic, Pulitizer-prize worthy poem. (At 32 lines, the poem should feel complete. If you have absentee team members you may recruit up to 3 non-team members to fill out your stanzas. Screen shot all 32 lines, beginning with my tweet, for your submission. Oh, and it should be stylistically in the vein of Yeats-meets-Kipling. (The Pulitzer people will eat that up.)

#73. PHOTO. 64 POINTS. Provide evidence of having helped at least 10 eligible United States citizens to register to vote. (Please redact any sensitive identifying personal information from your submitted evidence.) Whether they are changing address, changing party, changing to eligible voting age, or just plain changing their mind to get up off their butt and participate in democracy after years of sideline apathy, the first step to actually voting begins with registration. Submit images of the 10 (or more!) registrants side-by-side or as a grid. - K. Tank Conner.

#74. VIDEO. 74 POINTS. Houston, we have a problem... a math problem! We're planning our gishwhes winners’ trip and need to calculate the travel time from NYC to Reykjavik (the capital of Iceland) if our average speed is 400 miles/hour. Oh, one more thing, this needs to be calculated on a working pre-1970 supercomputer.

#75. VIDEO. 46 POINTS. The tiny kitchen trend is all the rage, but what about tiny bathrooms? Give a full spa experience to a hedgehog, hamster, or mouse, all using tiny spa implements in your tiny spa. (Remember, the customer is always right— so don’t make them do anything they aren’t happy to do including bathing them in water!)

#76. PHOTO. 97 POINTS. Nobody ever talks about the fact that 250 years ago, stormtroopers who had been abandoned on planet Earth were forced to assimilate into pre-Industrial culture. Dramatically re-enact this difficult time. Show a stormtrooper getting back to basics using a spinning wheel, butter churn, or other old-fashioned tool or machine in a rural setting. Feel free to add accessories to the stormtrooper’s outfit to make their assimilation more complete—a Shaker-style hat, a musket slung over the shoulder, etc.

#77. PHOTO. 77 POINTS. Oil and water don’t mix, but in this case we’ll make an exception. Paint a portrait of a live model while both you and the model are scuba diving. Your subject(s) must be wearing formal attire and you must be wearing a beret while at your easel.

#78. VIDEO. 46 POINTS. A working, playable lute made from lutefisk.

#79. PHOTO. 79 POINTS. Cross something off your bucket-list while wearing a vintage zoot suit.

#80. PHOTO. 33 POINTS. Sealand has a population of 4 and holds the Guinness World Record for “the smallest area to lay claim to nation status.” Get Sealand or one of the world’s 20 smallest nations (by population) to grant you citizenship or legal status on an expedited timeline (by the end of the Hunt). Caveat, you can’t pay for it. They have to do it just because they want to see the spike in population growth (or they like the idea of gishwhes).

#81. VIDEO. 46 POINTS. This submission may be 25 seconds or less. Jason Manns is well known for his rendition of "Crazy Love." Show the Crazy Love you have for your fellow humans by surprising your favorite barista, convenience store clerk, or other underappreciated worker with a serenade. Don't forget to bring an instrument of your own creation.

#82. PHOTO. 66 POINTS. Submit an illustration for the fairy tale “Trumpunzel.”

#83. VIDEO. 116 POINTS. This submission may be 25 seconds or less. Recently a former NASA engineer created the world’s largest NERF gun (http://nerdist.com/former-nasa-engineer-builds-worlds-largest-functional-nerf-gun/). We think he didn’t try hard enough. Show the world that you can out-do his efforts. Your submission must clearly surpass his effort or you will receive no points. - Dave Lavery

#84. PHOTO. 83 POINTS. “Death 2 Normalcy”, written in “Highway Braille” (Botts Dots) on a city street. The message must be at least 20 feet long.

#85. PHOTO. 42 POINTS. It's summer (for those of us above the equator)! Time to go the beach! But sand castles are so dated, so gauche, so elitist, so medieval. Catch up with the times and build a sand trailer park.

#86. PHOTO. 56 POINTS. As you all know, Saturday the 6th of August is International Find Another Gisher Day. Meet up (reach out over social media to find gishers in your area) with AT LEAST 5 other Gishers that aren’t on your team at a bus stop and, together, decorate the bus stop with post-it notes inscribed with a mix of delightful, surreal, and uplifting messages. One must read, “Be the unicorn you want to see in the world.” Submit one image of all 5+ people standing in, on, or around the decorated bus stop. The submission description must include the gishwhes usernames of each Gisher in the photo. Each team can submit the same image if a team member was there representing the team.

#87. PHOTO. 38 POINTS. Dress up as a prospector and pan for gold in a public fountain. - Trish Burdick

#88. PHOTO or VIDEO. 87 POINTS. You know those giant teacups at amusement parks that spin? Go for a ride with a friend or two. Of course, you all should be dressed appropriately for the tea party… as a spoon, a tea bag, a sugar cube or something else that one would find in a teacup.

#89. PHOTO. 45 POINTS. Submit two images, side by side: The first photo is a close up of just your face and head with a garland of fresh flowers on your head. The second photo takes advantage of your talents as a highly skilled hair and makeup artist: it is the same person, wardrobe, framing, and lighting as the first photo, but this time you have aged. You are 95 years old and the garland of flowers have long-since wilted and died.

#90. PHOTO. 44 POINTS. Many people think superheroes have a great life of running around saving people with lots of public recognition for their grand deeds. But we know the truth. They have to do the same domestic chores in their off time that we do. Let’s see a superhero performing a tedious domestic chore. -Monica M.

#91. PHOTO. 36 POINTS. Find a little-known, but widely problematic social injustice and come up with a funny analogy for it. Use Photoshop to create an illustration of the analogy. The more ridiculous the better. Bonus points if John Oliver appears in your Photoshopped image. Tweet the image and a brief explanation of the problem to @iamjohnoliver and @gishwhes. Submit a screenshot of your tweet. - Tracy Liu

#92. PHOTO. 108 POINTS. It's the era of streaming media! But you have scads of obsolete technology clogging your closets/attics/garage. Take your old CD-Roms, decommissioned cell phones, powercords that have nothing to power, and create - and model - a haute couture look worthy of a fashion show. Pose wearing your masterpiece (as if you were a mannequin) in a shop window next to actual mannequins wearing ordinary clothes . - Monica Duff & Olivia Desianti

#93. PHOTO. 92 POINTS. You know those Chinese festival dragons where several people are hidden under the cloth of the body and tail? Make one of those, but have it be the largest Castiel ever seen: there should be one “head” and then everyone else must be under a massively long, large, and brown home-made looking trench coat behind the head (there must be at least 7 people under the "coat"). Make sure your Castiel New Year’s Festival is celebrated in public in a crowded venue.

#94. PHOTO. 11 POINTS. It's time to connect the freckles! Find a willing human that's a good freckle pallet and “connect” their real freckles to create a new freckle constellation. - Katrina McGarrah

#95. PHOTO. 45 POINTS. Submit a screenshot of your post. Kilroy was a meme (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kilroy_was_here) before memes were cool. Kilroy never grows old though, and now he is so hipster! Bring "Hipster Kilroy" into his well-deserved glory as a popular Kilroy Hipster meme. Get at least 100 likes on your post. - Kathryn Newton

#96. VIDEO. 96 POINTS. Make a cheerleader outfit entirely out of vegetables, including pom-poms, and cheer for a garden or for the produce in the produce section of a supermarket. - Dean K.

#97. PHOTO. 61 POINTS. While we can never completely repay veterans for their service, we can do our best to show how thankful we are. Take a photo of a team member volunteering at your local veteran’s hospital, clinic, or non-profit dedicated to veteran affairs. - Katrina Cuddy

#98. PHOTO. 49 POINTS. Your choice! Either a panda made of sanitary pads - a “Padna,” if you will, or a likeness of a totalitarian world leader made entirely of feminine hygiene products. - Inspired by Sarah Davison

#99. PHOTO or VIDEO. 72 POINTS. The bees are disappearing from our planet. This is particularly tragic for gishers, given our reliance on honey for getting things to stick to our skin (oh yeah, and also because we kind of need them to pollinate the flowering plants on Earth, which we depend on for food). Help save the bees by establishing a milkweed garden, creating a painting or mural honoring bees, helping out at your local apiary, protesting the use of glysophates, supporting an organization dedicated to bee preservation, or in any other way you see fit.

#100. PHOTO. 60 POINTS.Rob Benedict created a video instructing people how to detect someone having a stroke so people can help save lives: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aTFThB8D4M. Tweet this link from 15 different twitter feeds and put links to all 15 twitter posts into a single screenshot that you submit.

#101. PHOTO. 59 POINTS. It's been a very hot summer! Help out the first responders in your area by bringing ice-cream to your local police, fire, or EMS department while dressed as the world famous Dessert Fairy. - Danielle D.

#102. PHOTO. 47 POINTS. Don't you hate that feeling when you walk out to your car and you see the dreaded ticket under your windshield wiper? Let's change that. Find small envelopes and stamp them in red ink with an ominous: “PARKING SALUTATIONS BUREAU!” Then find a row of cars and put positive messages in your envelopes under their windshield wipers.

#103. PHOTO. 64 POINTS. Everyone thinks Zombies are slow and stupid. This is not at all true! In fact, you recently lost your job to a zombie because they demonstrated a willingness to work long hours without food, sleep, pay, or encouragement. Let’s see the zombie who replaced you at your place of employment, doing whatever you used to do to make a living. The image must show your former boss or coworkers proudly watching the zombie perform your old job better than you used to do.

#104. PHOTO. 42 POINTS. Dress up as a Bellossom or other grass-type Pokemon and plant some beautiful blossoms at a nearby Pokestop.

#105. PHOTO or VIDEO. 42 POINTS. There's one small thing in your community that needs to be addressed or repaired... Something you always think, "Someone really should do something about that" when you see it. Be the “someone” and fix it.

#106. PHOTO. 23 POINTS. Bring a basket of homemade treats (hand-knitted socks and beanies, fresh baked bread or cookies,etc.) to someone struggling to get by or living on the streets, along with a note or card of encouragement. If you would prefer not to document this item with a photo (out of respect for the recipient or for other reasons), simply document it with a written description of what you did or video describing it. This item is on the honor system. You’ll have major karma issues if you fake it.

#107. PHOTO. 36 POINTS. Did you see the startling news on the front page of the newspaper today? Of course you did. Using Photoshop, replace the front-page photo with a photo you’ve taken of a play-dough re-enactment of the original photo. Did that make sense? No? Figure it out. You are not allowed to email support for ANY clarification on this item. (What I lack in eloquence, I make up for with capriciousness.)

#108. PHOTO. 15 POINTS. Rise of the machines: Every time you try to register for anything online, it makes you resolve a captcha puzzle to confirm that you are “not a robot.” Frankly, we’re sick of this blatant discrimination against our digital comrades! Have you and your teammates (or your friends) change your avatars to your favorite robot (Robocop, Asimo, Terminator, C-3PO, BB-8, R2-D2, Curiosity, Spirit, Opportunity, Gishbot, Snackbot, E.M.I.L.Y., etc.) until further notice. Submit a screenshot of 15 new Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr or Instagram avatars.

#109. PHOTO. 43 POINTS. Make a sock monkey hat from orphaned socks - Amber Stifle

#110. VIDEO. 72 POINTS. This submission may be 25 seconds or less. Employ a modern dance company to explain what really happened to the dinosaurs. - Sheri Smyth

#111. PHOTO. 49 POINTS. Magazines get a lot of flak for airbrushing models, promoting unrealistic expectations and contributing to body image issues. Take a photo from a magazine that depicts a body that is an unrealistic ideal (and likely heavily Photoshopped to remove wrinkles, blemishes, and curves) and, using Photoshop, recreate what you believe to be the original, unretouched photo. Your Photoshopped image must include all of the following: additional limbs, machinery, tentacles, and at least one additional enhancement. Then caption the two photos side-by-side and post to social media. Under the original commercial image you must caption, “#makeup” and under your photoshopped image caption, “#nomakeup.” Tag the post with #MakeupNoMakeup. Submit a screenshot of your post.

#112. VIDEO. 68 POINTS. Get a news anchor or on-air reporter (and this has to be an actual, on-air broadcast, not a staging of a broadcast), to explain, very succinctly, the profound impact that gishwhes has had on his or her life. For example, the anchor or host or reporter could say, “gishwhes saved my marriage,” or “gishwhes taught me to read,” or “gishwhes helped me get over my fear of mice,” or “gishwhes gave me an incurable rash.” They must also mention your team’s name in the broadcast.

#113. PHOTO. 83 POINTS. U.S. Vice Presidential candidate, Mike Pence, said “smoking doesn’t kill.” Of course, it not only kills smokers but those around them. Let’s give him a wake-up call for the health of ourselves, our loved ones and our children. Take a picture of yourself in front of the tombstone of someone who died from a smoking-related disease. Tweet the image with, "Hey @Mike_Pence #quitblowingsmokeabouttobacco. Screenshot the post. - Hilary Swank

#114. PHOTO. 102 POINTS. Grid image of all 15 of your team members (5 rows of 3 columns). Let's see each member of your team dressed in some way emblematic of that member’s state, region or country. For example, if a team member is from New York, the photo might show that member of the team wearing a yankees hat while eating a slice of pizza. If a member(s) of your team is MIA, feel free to add your favorite picture of Misha in their place - Jennifer Irving

#115. PHOTO. 35 POINTS. We all have failures and regrets. Bury one of yours and provide a tombstone with copy. - Christina Brayton

#316. PHOTO. 19 POINTS. Submit two images, side-by-side: let's see what existential angst looks like next to what the meaning of life is. - Stephanie Magnolia

#117. PHOTO or VIDEO. 47 POINTS. Gishwhes has conquered the Great Wall, South American waterfalls, the Champs-Élysées, and even SPACE! Help gishwhes conquer new territory— take gishwhes somewhere epic that it’s never been before. - Julie Reynolds

#118. VIDEO. 62 POINTS. Time-lapse this submission to 30 seconds or less. Paint a Bob Ross painting. We must see both the painter replicating the Bob Ross painting and the playback of the Bob Ross video the painter is replicating. You must paint in real-time while he is painting. The video should end with a side-by-side comparison of your masterpiece and Bob Ross’s.

#119. PHOTO. 28 POINTS. Your pet has just released their first, much anticipated, heavy metal rock album. Show us the cover art. - Jessica Hicks

#120. PHOTO. 46 POINTS. Beauty is on the inside. Photoshop a revised version of your reflection in a mirror. Show us a photo of you standing in front of a mirror. But the reflection we see is what you look like on the inside. Interpret this however you like with the caption on the image: “Beauty is on the inside.” - Inspired by Abi Perry

#121. VIDEO. 33 POINTS. This submission may be 1 minute or less. Go to one of these places and have a local tell you the story of how the place got its name. https://www.instagram.com/sadtopographies/ The video must start with you next to a sign that identifies the location. -Tracy Liu

#122. PHOTO. 63 POINTS. We The People… are confused. Let’s update a dusty document and modernize it so everyone can understand the language. Grab some chalk, head outside and rewrite the US Constitution as street art. As Richard Dobbs Speight once said. “Bigger is better.”

#123. PHOTO. 29 POINTS. Have a child under 7 choose your outfit, do your makeup, and fix your hair. Then go grocery shopping with them. - Dawn Townsend

#124. PHOTO. 16 POINTS. Submit a screenshot. Create a website, blogpost, or in-depth social media post explaining an aspect of the elusive Miss Jean Louis’ biography. - Inspired by Holli DeWees

#125. PHOTO. 83 POINTS. This year was HRH's 90th birthday, but more importantly, it is the 7th anniversary of Misha Collins and The Queen’s torrid on-again, off-again relationship. I’d like to see a commemorative coin displayed in a fitting setting. Its value is one haypenny and this is not a drawing or a computer generated graphic. It’s a real, metal alloy coin commemorating this auspicious anniversary. - Inspired by Monica Duff

#126. PHOTO. 126 POINTS. On a desolate, dusty prairie, a ranch hand rescues the local school marm from a runaway horse. Create a drawing of Misha & the Queen of England in the Wild West. (You pick who plays the school marm and who plays the ranch hand.)

#127. PHOTO. 81 POINTS. Do the “airplane” with an astronaut— you know, like your parent used to? Lay on your back with your feet in the air while an astronaut lays face-down, with his or her hips on your feet, and with their hands in yours, pretending to be flying. This must be a real, official astronaut or cosmonaut, wearing appropriate flight garb. Caption the image with the astronaut’s name and number of hours in space. If you cannot find a qualified astronaut to perform this item, you may substitute Flava-Flav, Kanye West or any of the Kardashians. - Inspired by Dave Lavery

#128. VIDEO. 45 POINTS. At gishwhes headquarters, we do almost everything right, with one glaring exception: we have not yet commissioned a gishwhes theme-song. We need a catchy, 10-second jingle that we can play every time the Slangaroo takes the stage.

#129. PHOTO. 23 POINTS. Welcome to Slangatoilegami. You don’t see the phrases “Slangaroo”, “bathroom tissue”, and “origami” together nearly often enough. Let’s fix that. - Dave Lavery

#130. PHOTO. 64 POINTS. How do you plan to spend your extra second? http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/07/leap-second-added-year-december-time-clocks-earth-science/ Because you are an efficient person who treasures every moment you are blessed to be on this planet, you need to plan your extra second carefully to maximize its impact. Write a 250-word Op-Ed piece explaining exactly what you plan to do with your extra second and get it published in a newspaper. The piece must seamlessly include a mention of your team name and gishwhes without mentioning that the piece was written as an item for gishwhes.

#131. VIDEO. 75 POINTS. Time-lapse this submission to 20 seconds or less. 3-D printers are really cool. But who really needs another little keychain printed out of plastic? It is time to get creative with the materials used to print your next copy of the head of a Balrog. Show us a 3-D printer that prints with cheese (or Silly String, or toothpaste, or Play-Doh, etc…) - Dave Lavery

#132. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Seven days of happiness! Each day of gishwhes, do one thing to make someone else happy and document it. Each photo must be taken and submitted on a different day. On day one, you must submit a photo of what you have done on day one of the hunt to make someone else happy. For the item after this, you must submit on day two the image from day two, etc. This item and the 6 following items must be submitted on the corresponding day of the hunt to garner the points from that day... Submit for this item for Happiness DAY 1 (which must be submitted on day 1 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy? (Each day you must do something different for a different person, and it cannot be your teammates.)

#133. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Happiness DAY 2 (must be submitted on day 2 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy?

#134. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Happiness DAY 3 (must be submitted on day 3 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy?

#135. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Happiness DAY 4 (must be submitted on day 4 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy?

#136. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Happiness DAY 5 (must be submitted on day 5 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy?

#137. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Happiness DAY 6 (must be submitted on day 6 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy?

#138. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. Happiness DAY 7 (must be submitted on day 7 of the hunt). What have you done today to make someone else happy?

#139. PHOTO. 25 POINTS. We’re writing an e-book and we want you to do our work for us. There’s a habit that was hard for you to change, but you changed it anyway. What is the habit, and what is your number one piece of advice for making that change? Please submit an image of one paragraph of text.

#140. VIDEO. 97 POINTS. A functioning vending machine that dispenses emotions and memories. Show a customer making a purchase.

#141. VIDEO. 39 POINTS. This submission can be as long as it takes you to record it. Our music can change the world. Be part of the Gishwhes choir! Record a video selfie of yourself singing “Carry on my Wayward Son” a capella in the key of A. Your submitted recording must have “Once” starting precisely at the 1 second mark. The recording must also be in tune and on beat. (The submissions will be collected and edited into monstrous chorus.) Sing only the following portion of the song: “Once I rose above the noise and confusion Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion I was soaring ever higher But I flew too high Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man Though my mind could think I still was a mad man I hear the voices when I'm dreaming I can hear them say... Carry on my wayward son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you cry no more.” (If you have already submitted this item in a different key or of different length you will receive your points for this).

#142. PHOTO. 51 POINTS. Submit two images, side-by-side. Contribute to the gishwhes world forest. Plant a native tree in a place you are fairly certain the tree can live out its full life. Submit before and after photos.

#143. PHOTO. 29 POINTS. As you may know, Rob Benedict & Richard Speight are currently in production on their new series, "Kings of Con", where they play MC's on the sci-fi convention circuit as the eponymous kings of conventions. What you may not know is that their agent messed up and booked King Kong and the Kings of Con to MC the same convention. Draw or paint these three giants of the con circuit trying to share the stage or green room. Either Rob or Rich should probably be the lithe damsel in distress.

#144. PHOTO. 27 POINTS. Submit two images, side-by-side. They say you regress to your childhood as you get older. Show us a photo from a part your childhood you’d most like to return to, and a photo of your current progress toward that regression.

#145. PHOTO. 18 POINTS. You hate finishing other people’s sentences, so doesn’t it make you laugh so hard you squirt milk out of your nose when you…

#146. VIDEO. 24 POINTS. Be the town crier for the day and shout what you think people should know about the day’s events in a public square.

#147. PHOTO. 31 POINTS. As we all know Matt Cohen is legendary for taking off his shirt to raise money for charity. His 6-pack abs have single-abdominally raised thousands of dollars for great organizations like www.randomacts.org. Let’s thank his abs for their altruistic humanitarian work by using Photoshop to digitally remove his abs and then place them on a vacation around the world. (Unfortunately Matt can’t make this trip himself as he’s busy shooting his TV show.) His abs can visit anywhere on the planet that you can capture in an image. Let’s make sure they have the proper tourist accessories, too.

#148. PHOTO. 57 POINTS. Art changes lives. Contribute to the gishwhes art gallery by submitting an image taken by you or of you that captures the notion of identity in the 21st century.

#149. PHOTO or VIDEO. 43 POINTS. Someone near you doesn’t have access to clean drinking water. Provide that person with the means to access clean water without purchasing bottled water (this might be by giving the person a filter, or a solar tea kettle, or something like that). If no one near you needs clean drinking water, we have something called the all-powerful Interwebs. You can buy a family clean drinking water for a year: http://lifestraw.eartheasy.com/products/lifestraw-carbon-credits. If no one lives near you and/or you don’t have funds to buy clean drinking water for someone, find another way to promote access to clean, safe water.

#150. PHOTO or VIDEO. 43 POINTS. Those moving sidewalks at the airport are treadmills, and you never exercise without your ipod, short shorts, a tank top and matching head and wristbands.

#151. PHOTO. 17 POINTS. Generate an application form for the job of “Director of Imagined Realities.”

#152. PHOTO. 36 POINTS. Write a poem in binary so that the zeros and ones also form a beautiful pattern.

#153. PHOTO. 314 POINTS. Secure a legitimate contract with any public or private space exploration company (Space X, NASA, etc) to send a payload into space containing a drawing and a message written on a single 8 ½” X 11” sheet of paper. The message must be addressed to the universe and must be written by a child. Submit your signed and countersigned, legitimate contract by the end of the Hunt. THEN (and this is the only thing that you will be permitted to submit after the official end of the hunt on August 6th), you must submit evidence by email to [email protected] that your payload was successfully launched into orbit. Email proof must be received by 11:59 PM PST September 5th, 2016.

#154. VIDEO. 93 POINTS. You’re on the 2016 Summer Olympics Trash Scull Crew Team! Build your scull out of trash. Your team of 3 rowers is led by a coxswain who bangs two pieces of trash together to keep the time. Row for the gold!

#155. VIDEO. 133 POINTS. Get a 2016 candidate for high-ranking national office (or someone currently in office) to say that they think preserving the habitat of the endangered Slangaroo is a top legislative priority. In the US, this person would need to be either running for President, VP, Senate or the House, or someone currently in office in one of those positions. In other countries it could be a prime minister (or a current head of state) or members of Parliament, etc. They must be candidates or elected officials on the national stage.

#156. VIDEO. 107 POINTS. gishwhes transcends the space-time continuum, bringing old technology to life in modern times to create cutting edge graphics! To demonstrate gishwhes’s ability to bridge time, create a program to display an animation of a gishwhes mascot using a TRS-80, Apple II, Commodore PET, or Commodore 64. ( You may not use an emulator. You must use the actual hardware, and the video must show the graphics playing on the screen of the computer in question.)

#157. PHOTO. 21 POINTS. William Shatner opted out of the Hunt this year due to “scheduling conflicts” (which we all know is code for “trouble in bromance paradise”). Help Shatner realize the egregious mistake he made by skipping the 2016 hunt by sending him 3 photo postcards featuring highlights of this year’s Hunt experience with “Having a wonderful time! Gish you were here, Bill!” Submit a photo of the 3 cards stamped and addressed to Bill. You can all ask him for his mailing address on twitter. He’d like that, I’m sure.

#158. VIDEO. 86 POINTS. If there’s one thing all of us over the age of 35 are nostalgic for it’s the rotary dial phone. We pine for that satisfaction of being able to insert our fingers in that hole and spin the dial. Help bring us back to those halcyon days: Make a smart-phone app that interfaces with a real, old-fashioned rotary phone. (Note: this must not be an app that renders a digital simulation of a rotary phone. It must be an app that somehow works in concert with an actual rotary phone.)

#159. PHOTO. 56 POINTS. Zachary Levi is one of a kind. But what would be better than Zachary Levi? A pair of Zachary Levis, naturally. Paint a portrait of Zachary Levi on a pair of jeans. (The jeans may be distressed, but the depiction of Zachary should not be.) Feel free to get Zachary to model the pants.

#160. VIDEO. 84 POINTS. http://gishwhes.tumblr.com/choosewisely

#161. VIDEO. 127 POINTS. Gishwhes is proud to premiere Amazon’s new shopping service, Amazon Reverse Super Prime Now On Demand Fresh™ (ARSPNODF™)! Forget the old business model of customers buying things from online megastores and having to wait for almost a whole day for delivery. With this new service, customers can now ship merchandise to any Amazon senior executive directly through our patented Swift Drone Delivery Service™. With Amazon Reverse Super Prime Now On Demand Fresh™, the Amazon executives can receive packages from customers conveniently just outside their own office buildings in under one hour. Get Jeff Bezos or any Amazon senior executive to send you a timestamped email ordering a small, lightweight, used item from your home to be delivered by ARSPNODF™. Using a drone as the delivery mechanism, deliver the item ordered to the executive (who must be waiting for their package outside their office building) office in less than one hour. Submit the original order along with a timestamped photo of your happy customer with their item delivered by drone. Amazon Reverse Super Prime Now On Demand Fresh™. It’s so easy!

#162. VIDEO. 69 POINTS. Here is your item: https://www.dropbox.com/s/367yaonidvn5rqb/slfwxuhsxccoh.jpg?dl=0

#163. VIDEO. 114 POINTS. Time-lapse this submission to 30 seconds or less. Set up a thin, flat, smooth, vertical surface that is at least 3’ high and 3’ wide, (it could be made from 1/8th inch plywood or a similar material that is very thin and very flat). Then, behind this thin, vertical surface, set up powerful electromagnets that spell a word or phrase (make sure to reverse or mirror the letters so that on the front side they are correctly positioned--this might make sense in a second). Then, take a mass of iron filings (a minimum of 1 cubic foot of filings) and pour them through a funnel that is positioned at least 20 inches horizontally in front of the vertical sheet so that when the filings fall through the funnel they are drawn to the magnets and adhere to the sheet. Film the time-lapse as the iron filings fall and cling to the vertical surface to gradually form the word or phrase that the magnets spell out. If that doesn’t make sense (and I know it doesn’t), here’s a little diagram for you: https://www.dropbox.com/s/lahvg70sph9l7t0/diagram_2.jpg?dl=0 Do not attempt this item unless you have worked with electromagnets of this wattage before or have an electrician on hand who has. They can be dangerous.

#164. PHOTO. 17 POINTS. We have Declared August 1st to be a new international holiday: It’s Retro Twitter Day. Retweet something you posted 4 years ago today with a comment. Hashtag it #RetroTwitterDay.

#165. VIDEO. 42 POINTS. Few things are more wayward than dancing with wild abandon in public. You know who's super good at that? These guys: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=elKgDE5gc9I Find them. Join them. Let them inspire your choreography and costuming. Bonus points for inducting innocent bystander or use of an obscure 80s alternative dance tune soundtrack. Dance like nobody's watching. Except we all are -Kim Rhodes

#166. PHOTO. 32 POINTS. Being #WaywardAF sometimes means being #BadassAF. Take a picture of you doing something you have ALWAYS wanted to do but were afraid to try. Caption your photo with a short explanation and post it to Twitter tagging @OfficialBrianaB and @kimrhodes4real. - Briana Buckmaster and Kim Rhodes

#167. PHOTO. 46 POINTS. Justin Guarini can be a "Lil Sweet" at times: http://www.dietdrpepper.com/?gclid=Cj0KEQjwwry8BRDjsbjMpPSDvagBEiQA5oW0nCKHz838Mz7MBDeTb_x_W9puq-FTaSHe9wyyAv2TwHcaAjEq8P8HAQ Using nothing but forced perspective and a disproportionately large, “weird, unusual or scary” object that you wouldn’t want to be smaller than, make yourself look tiny.

#168. PHOTO. 33 POINTS. At Hope Chest they create butterflies and transform lives http://www.myhopechest.org/ Channeling your inner Monet, pen a message of hope with colored ink on a white bra. Then, channel your inner supermodel and stage a public photo shoot of someone wearing this “support undergarment." (You may wear a shirt underneath it if you prefer and you must adhere to local laws. Please note that Gishwhes does not provide bail money.) Once completed, submit your image on the gishwhes website and also tweet to @MyHopeChest your awesome results on the final day of the game. Extra points for incorporating butterflies into the design. - Ruth Connell

#169. VIDEO. 28 POINTS. Time-lapse this submission to 20 seconds or less. Join The Hunt, and wear sensible shoes. Grab a friend and go for a walk. A really, really long walk. Unlock the 2.0KM, 5.0KM and 10.KM Poke Eggs and show us what you've hatched. Capture the journey in a 20 second time-lapse video and submit to Gishwhes. Extra Points if you photo grab your hatchlings and ping @OsricChau with a map of your travels. - Osric Chau

#170. VIDEO. 45 POINTS. Everyone knows Gishers throw the most badass recycling parties. Invite ten of your rockstar friends to help you collect litter from a park, roadside location, or public space. You must EACH collect 20lbs of debris, and dispose of it appropriately. Show us a 15 second montage of the festivities. (Extra points for recycling— and don’t forget, it’s a party!). - Lana Parrilla

#171. VIDEO. 44 POINTS. Time to prove you are the person Mr. Rogers knew you were capable of becoming. Ask an overwhelmed mom or elderly neighbor for a list of five chores they could use some help with. Show us that list and you getting them all checked off.

#172. PHOTO. 41 POINTS. Misha loves to travel, but between filming, gishing, and that thing we never talk about in front of polite company, he hasn’t had much time lately. Help Misha out by cosplaying as him in front of one of the 7 modern wonders of the world. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New7Wonders_of_the_World No photo manipulation — you have to really be there.

#173. VIDEO. 42 POINTS. You may have heard about a little show called Hamilton. Lin Manuel Miranda lit up Broadway with his innovative style, combining traditional theater and rap to engage delighted theater goers with the story of history’s hippest Founding Father. But that was just a big “win all the 2016 Tonys” ploy. We want to hear and see– in full costume a rap song about another historical figure important to you. Upload a 15 second video on the site AND send it to @Lin_Manuel.

#174. PHOTO. 62 POINTS. We here at gishwhes feel that it’s important to embrace A.I. because - let’s be honest - it just feels good. We also feel it’s important to be able to identify species other than our own when the time comes (soon) that aliens arrive (likely borough or splatter) on our planet. If we can’t make these differentiations, we put ourself at extreme risk of interstellar species misidentification (a plight none of us should be subjected to nor a party of). Accordingly, please treat this item and the ensuing exercise with the respect and devotion it deserves. You’ll also get points. So there’s that. If that’s still not enough, know that this is part of a legitimate research paper that will further scientific research methods worldwide. If it’s not clear, Gishwhes likes supporting science in addition to stormtrooper humiliation, weird food art, and global kindness. http://ubee.enseeiht.fr:8080/PartsSimilarity/home.html

#175. PHOTO. 108 POINTS. CHANGE A LIFE. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), 4.8 million people have fled Syria since the civil war began in 2011. (Over 6 million others are internally displaced within Syria.) Many of these families are living in tent cities and encampments with very few resources and very difficult lives. Gishwhes and Random Acts would like to team with Gishers across the globe to help change the lives of FOUR families in particularly dire circumstances in refugee camps in Lebanon. The first is a family where a mother of 4, Khouloud, was paralyzed from the neck down by a sniper's bullet while tending her vegetable garden. For two years, she has been unable to leave the tented shack she shares with her family in a refugee encampment in Lebanon. The second is the family of a 12-year old girl, Khawla, who attempted suicide so that her mother would have one less mouth to feed (the father is presumed dead by the Syrian government). The third is a widowed mother, Reem Diab, who lost her husband, child and her leg in a rocket attack and who lives in a tent on a rooftop in Lebanon. And lastly, we want to help, Aya Sokheyta, a 7-year old girl with spina bifida, who cannot move her legs. Our goal is to provide healthcare and comfort for the individuals in the families above that require it, nutritional food and permanent housing for, and provide the means for all of the children to attend school. We’ve created a Crowdrise page here https://www.crowdrise.com/change-a-life-khoulouds-story. DONATIONS ARE 100% TAX DEDUCTIBLE AND 100% OF THE DONATIONS GOES TO THE FAMILIES (for countries other than U.S., deductions are contingent on your laws). The Gishwhes Item is to create a fundraising “page” for your team, where family, friends and others can donate. Since this is Gishwhes and there’s always an extra twist with everything we do, here’s the deal: we also want you to get OTHERS to donate to your team’s crowdrise page. We know you don’t need “points” as an incentive to help these families, but since it is part of the Hunt, we want to maximize the power of these points to help: start a page and try to get at least 10 donations from people or businesses NOT on your team. You and your team members are welcome to donate to your campaign, but that is not a requirement for points— the Item requirement is to get at least 10 people to make a cumulative total of least 10 donations who are NOT on your team. There is no minimum to donate for GISHWHES purposes, but Crowdrise does require a minimum $10 donation be collected, and let’s all please encourage others to be generous so we can make a profound impact. SUBMIT a screenshot of your team's page with a minimum of 10 donations on it. (To initially create a fundraising team, click the FUNDRAISE FOR THIS CAMPAIGN button.). If for any reason your team is unable to (or chooses not to) join this crowdrise campaign, you may still get points for this Item by collecting goods or volunteering at least 2 hours of your time with any refugee aid organization that is providing relief to refugees. SUBMIT PROOF YOU HAVE DONE THIS. For example, Spark Ontario’s Warm Welcome program (http://www.findmyspark.ca/warmwelcome), Deutsche Kleiderstiftung (Clothing Foundation) in Germany (http://www.kleiderstiftung.de/kleidung-spenden/ ), or ref.connect’s cultural integration program (http://www.refconnect.de/de/about/konzept.html) in Germany. You do not need to use these specific programs to qualify for points; these are just examples— any legitimate organization helping refugees is acceptable. Thank you for being a part of this. We hope you join us in helping to change these families’ circumstances for the better and we will be sending Gishers updates on their situation in the coming months and years.

#176. PHOTO. 48 POINTS. Every year William Shatner hosts The Hollywood Horse show celebrating the unique and special work of therapeutic riding animals. http://www.horseshow.org/ It's about time your freeloader pet got a job and moved out. Show us their career trajectory by writing a formal resume highlighting their special skills and qualifications. Post it on LinkedIn. Get ten people to give a recommendation.

#177. VIDEO. 69 POINTS. Not everyone knows this, but legendary outlaw Doc Holliday was a dentist. Crochet a gunslinger's belt worthy of Doc Holliday out of dental floss. Instead of a gun, your holsters hold a toothbrush, of course. Draw! (And don't skip the gumline.)

#178. VIDEO. 71 POINTS. Time-lapse your submission where appropriate. We're looking for Gishers to be product testers for our new line of powerful breath-defying mints! If you received a barf bag & mints last year, this Item is for you. Create a 25 second video in which you create the most unappealing (but still safe to consume) "mouthwash" you can from food items, condiments and drinks. Really make it a stomach-churning, disgusting combination of edible products—for example, chocolate milk, mayonnaise, pureed anchovies and orange juice. Then, use the mouthwash on yourself. Make sure to gargle! Finally, use on of our Gishwhes patented breath-defying mints and give a loved one a kiss. Rate the product on whether your loved one needed to use the barf bag after locking lips with you. (If you did not get a patented trademarked gishwhes barf bag & mints, then you are part of our control group and may complete this item with any barf bag and some probably inferior, commercially available breath mints.)

#gishwhes #gishwhes list of items #Misha Collinbs #gishwhes 2016 #gishwhes item list #post of postiness

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

Text

In flight chapter 8

I closed my eyes, ready to pass out.

He lay down beside me, pulling my back to his chest and throwing his arm over me.

“Mine,” he whispered in my ear. I floated into a pleasurably deep sleep.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mr. Relentless

It was fully light out when I awoke. I stretched, feeling sore but good. I was alone in bed, but I could smell coffee.

I threw on the first thing I saw in my closet. It was the thin cotton shift of a nightgown I’d worn in the hotel the first night I’d spent with Justin.

I made my way slowly into the kitchen. It was empty, so I passed through into the small adjoining dining room. I leaned in the doorway to soak in the sight that greeted me there.

Justin wore only a pair of snug dark gray boxer-briefs.

Even his underwear looks expensive, I thought.

He held a coffee mug in one hand, his other arm running restlessly through his sandy hair. He was studying the paintings I’d arranged on the walls. I studied his flawless back. It was tan, of course. And it bulged with well-defined muscles. But it was also elegant, somehow, like the rest of him. His ass looked carved from stone. Unaccountably, I wanted to bite it, but I stifled the strange urge.

I licked a finger as I approached him, then rubbed it hard on the skin of his shoulder.

I knew a lot of girls that did spray tans. If his coloring was sprayed on, a little vigorous rubbing would reveal his secret. The lovely golden shade didn’t rub off.

Justin shot me a baffled look over his shoulder. “You having fun back there?” he asked.

I lowered my hand, smiling sheepishly at him. “Sorry. Don’t mind me.”

He took my strange actions in stride, turning back to study the wall again.

He turned to look at me. His eyes were intense.

“Do you sell these?” He waved a hand at the wall of art.

I shook my head. “No. It’s just a hobby.”

He just raised a brow at me, raising his cup of coffee. “I made coffee.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

I moved into the kitchen to make myself a cup.

He crowded behind me, kissing the side of my neck.

“How are you feeling?” he murmured against my skin.

“Good,” I answered, taking a long draw of the dark liquid.

“It was torture, pulling myself out of bed with you lying there. I wanted you to wake up with me inside of you. But that will have to wait. You’re still too raw.”

I rubbed my back against his chest.

“How do you know?” I asked him.

He stilled. “I suppose I don’t.”

He sighed, a heavy sound, then stepped away. “Are you going to give me the tour? I want to see your house.”

I shrugged, the thought making me self-conscious. I loved my house, and it was relatively new, and in good shape, but compared to what he was used to, it had to seem pretty shabby. Still, I showed him around.

The dinning room and kitchen connected, and the living room doubled as an entryway, so it was a very quick tour. I had my paintings hanging everywhere, and he stopped for long pauses to study all of them.

“I’m not sure I like how many pictures you have of another man hanging all over your house,” he told me with a raised brow.

I blushed, but only because I had remembered the picture I had begun of Justin on an easel in my backyard. I had forgotten to bring it inside, and I worried briefly that the weather had ruined it in the day I’d been away. I didn’t want him to see it even more than I didn’t want it to be ruined, though.

I’d check on it later, I decided quickly.

As for his comment about the handful of pictures I had of Stephan hanging around, I just ignored it. I wouldn’t deign to respond to comments about Stephan and I. Either he was teasing, or he was jealous. Neither would matter. If he had an issue with Stephan, I would be showing him the door.

“Are you two somehow related?” Justin prompted, fishing in a way that made me tense up.

“Not by blood. He’s my family, though. My only family.” I was strung tight as I watched his face for a reaction. This was a deal or no-deal moment for us.

He just nodded, looking thoughtful, but making me relax instantly.

“I like him. It seems like he protects you,” he finally said.

I felt so relieved that it scared me. I hadn’t wanted to show him the door in the worst way. That thought made me panicky.

“You have no idea,” I told him.

His eyes sharpened, and he tensed up. “What do you mean? I would like to have an idea, please.”

I just shook my head, mentally kicking myself for saying something so untactful. The idea of having no idea would drive a man like him crazy, so I came up with a palatable answer.

“Just that we’ve been together since we were fourteen, and he’s always been protective of me, since the day we met.”

“Together? What does that mean, exactly?”

I shrugged. “You know, inseparable. Best friends.”

He reached up and gripped the back of my neck lightly. His touch was light, but his eyes were hard and searching.

“What would I have to do to get you to open up to me?” he asked softly.

I didn’t like this line of conversation. My mind worked furiously to try to get out of it.

“I would imagine you’re as closed off as I am, Mr. Cavendish. So, you tell me. What would make you open up to someone?” I asked, thinking the tactic should work well.

I imagined that Justin’s answer would be the same as mine. Nothing.

“For you, I’d take an exchange of information. You share something, I’ll do the same. Sound fair?”

I eyed him uneasily. Unwillingly, I was tempted. Within reason.

“Do I get to choose the information I give?” I asked him cautiously.

He shrugged. “I’ll take it if that’s all I can get. I’ll do the same. I’ll start. My parents died when I was thirteen. I was left with an older cousin as a guardian. I detested him. He died a year and a half later, and it was one of the best days of my life. I disliked my next guardian, my Aunt Mildred, but she was a saint compared to the first one.”

My eyes opened wide in shock. It was a random and strangely personal revelation, giving me some insight into Justin. I sincerely hoped that he didn’t expect the same thing from me. I thought hard of something to tell him that I could bear to reveal. I sighed heavily when I realized the best way to distract him.

“I started painting a picture of you. It’s in the backyard. It’s embarrassing, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself,” I told him. It was a lesser evil by far, of all of the things that had popped into my head.

He grinned, and it was a heart-stopping grin. “So you do think about me, at least a little, when I’m not pursuing you relentlessly.” He headed to my bedroom, where there was a sliding glass door into the backyard.

“One second. I need to punch in the code,” I called, quickly doing so.

“Have I mentioned that I like your security?” Justin told me as I joined him in my bedroom.

He was opening the barred door that went over my sliding glass. It was an eyesore, but one that made me feel secure, and the bars had become popular in Vegas due to excessive break-ins, so it was fairly commonplace to see them. It didn’t even make my house stand out. I had the thick bars mounted on my bedroom’s sliding glass door, and covering all of my windows.

“Happy to please you,” I told him, and he sent me a hot look.

“You have no idea, Selena,” he repeated my earlier words back at me. I stifled the urge to respond that I would like to have an idea.

He moved directly to the easel without asking. I just followed him. It was really a small price to pay for the knowledge he had given me. He was an orphan like me, and he’d had a rough time of it. Not homeless, but perhaps more alone. He hadn’t been blessed to find a Stephan, like I had.

He studied the painting like he did most everything. Intently. It was only a rough outline of him so far, just his face and part of his torso, wearing a V-neck as he sometimes did. He hummed low in his throat.

“It’s very good. Were you going to give it to me when you finished?”

I shook my head. “I was going to hang it in my bedroom to masturbate to,” I told him, only half-joking.

His reaction was gratifying. He sent me a look that was pure heat and appreciation.

“You ever want me to pose for you, you let me know.”

I brightened at the offer. “Yes, I do. I get much better results when I paint with my subject at hand.”

I gestured at the view of the mountains behind my house. “It’s why I have so many paintings of those.” I tried to get the courage to ask him to pose nude, but couldn’t quite do it.

“You have an extra bedroom you haven’t shown me. Show it to me.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. He was relentless, it seemed to me, about exploring every detail of my life.

He touched my nose with a finger. “It’s so cute when you do that.”

My nose wrinkled more, but then I tried to smooth it out. Being called cute by him just didn’t do it for me. In fact, it kind of annoyed me.

How many cute girls does he go through in a week? As many as he wants, I supposed.

“My guest bedroom is tiny, and just storage at the moment. It basically holds all the paintings that I don’t have room to hang.”

He started moving instantly at that. “I’d love to see them.”

I let out a frustrated noise, but the man always did what he wanted.

I leaned in the doorway while he rudely rifled through my guest room. There was a small guest bed, but even that was covered by some boxes and paintings. The room embarrassed me. I really needed to get it organized.

Justin made a sound of pleasure and pulled a canvas out from one of the many stacks of paintings leaning against the wall.

That was yet another reason I usually did watercolors. They took up very little space when finished. Just a piece of paper unless I framed them, whereas my numerous acrylics and few oils were on canvases that had taken over this room, my far more numerous watercolors occupied one small chest in the corner.

It was a self-portrait, I saw, as he admired it. I cringed slightly. Self-portraits weren’t my favorite. I usually only did them when I lacked for inspiration. I had painted this one a few years ago.

I’d used a picture Stephan had taken when I wasn’t looking. I was wearing my cool, composed face, and it had interested me to paint myself that way, so enigmatic. I tried to behave that way, knew people viewed me as inscrutable, but I rarely felt it. It had pleased me that other people perceived me that way, and so I had painted it.

In the painting I was leaning against a counter, the one from our old apartment. My arms rested on the counter, my head tilted up and slightly away. But my eyes were a clear, pale blue.

We’d been having a party in our small apartment, I recalled. The picture had been Stephan’s way of trying to draw me into the fun. I hadn’t even noticed him until he’d taken several shots of me. I’d used the first picture to make the painting.

“I want this,” Justin said softly. “Can I buy it from you?”

I gave him a very level stare. “Thats ludicrous. You can have it, if you want it. I never hang self-portraits. I can’t imagine why you would want that, though. Where would you hang a thing like that?”

He just grinned. “Plural. As in, you have more?”

I rolled my eyes. “I do. They’re in here, somewhere. As you can see, I don’t have it organized. I have no idea where any specific painting is.”

Justin just started rifling through my things with more focus.

I sighed, resigned to indulging his strange mood to dig into every part of my house.

“I’m going to make breakfast. You can have any pictures you want, but please don’t take them if you’re just trying to flatter me.” I left before he could comment.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Mr. Accommodating

I made ham and eggs. I needed to go to the grocery store, so it was the only thing in my fridge. I had to keep a very clean kitchen, buying only things that I could use immediately or things that lasted for weeks before they went bad. It was one of the necessities of my job.

I made a huge portion for Justin, and a more reasonable plate for myself. I knew from my long experience with Stephan that a man Justin’s size, no matter how fit, would put away a lot of food. I was pleased to find a small block of extra sharp cheddar to top it with. Simple fare, but good.

I brought the plates and some bottles of cold water into the spare room.

Justin was digging through the mess with as much concentration as ever.

I saw that he had found four more pictures to add to his collection. The one on top was an oil picture of a lilly. I thought it an odd choice for him, but I just set his plate on the bed above where he crouched, digging.

I tried not to stare at him as I sat down on another cleared spot on the bed to eat, my plate balanced on my lap. He still only wore his boxer-briefs. It was beyond distracting.

“I made ham and eggs,” I finally said, when he just kept digging. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s getting cold.”

He turned, sitting cross-legged on the floor and grabbing his plate. He grinned at me almost boyishly.

“It’s like Christmas for me in here. It’s not often that I find something I want that I don’t have.”

I can well believe that, I thought. Though what I couldn’t imagine was why he would want my paintings. I still just wanted to think that he was trying to flatter me to get into my pants. Which was obviously unnecessary at this point. That, I supposed, was why it confused me so much.

He cleared his plate in short order. I still wasn’t half done with my own when he took his last bite.

“That was fantastic. Thank you,” he said, then got back to work.

I finished eating, then looked at the pictures he’d selected so far. Three of my self-portraits, and the lilly. As I was studying them, he found my chest of watercolors. He flung it open as though he had every right in the world. For some reason, I didn’t even attempt stop him.

He added two more pictures to his selection almost immediately. More self-portraits, I saw.

I started to get antsy as he searched the chest. I was recalling a rather embarrassing self-portrait that I’d buried at the bottom. To hide it.

“I need to go run errands soon. I have absolutely no food for lunch, sooo…”

“Mmmk,” he mumbled, but just kept digging. He singled out two more of my larger watercolor paintings, setting them on his pile. They were landscapes of the Vegas mountains, much like the ones I had in my living room. I actually liked them better than the ones that had ended up above my mantle, but they’d been too big for the mosaic.

I knew when he found the painting I was worrying about. He pulled out a smaller painting, and stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. He looked at it for so long that I walked to him, checking to see if my suspicions were correct. They were, of course.

It was on a not quite printer-sized piece of watercolor paper. My only fully nude self-portrait. Looking at it, I wasn’t quite as embarrassed as I’d thought I would be. At least it was a better picture than I had remembered.

I had sat on a chair in my bedroom, in front of my full length mirror. I was sitting up very straight, and had even painted the paintbrush in my hand and the easel and board I was working on. My br**sts were fully revealed, though my legs were closed modestly. Modestly for a nude. Just the barest hint of what lay between was revealed. My gaze was steady, though wide. My free hand lay on my thigh, clenched. My bare feet were arched, my toes pink. My hair had hung loose, though it didn’t cover a thing.

“Exquisite,” Justin said, tracing a fingertip along the page. “I don’t know where to hang it. I should burn it, so no one else can ever see it, but I just couldn’t do that. It’s too perfect.”

His hand shot to my leg where I stood to his back and side. I jumped, startled.

“You’re too perfect. I need to travel with this one personally. Do you have a folder I could carry it in?”

I reached into the chest. His hand remained on my thigh, gripping it firmly even when I took a step forward. I pulled out a navy folder. I had them everywhere. They were handy for storing watercolors.

“Here. But if you take that painting, it’s only fair that I get to paint a nude of you.”

“As you wish, Buttercup,” he told me, turning to plant a hard kiss on my stomach before hiding the nude in the folder.

“Go shower. I’m going to arrange for these paintings to be transported and framed.” He held up the folder. “Except for this one. This one I carry.” He strode out of the room.

Unaccountably, I was a little bit shaky, but I headed to the shower without another word.

I was in the shower for a good ten minutes before Justin slipped in behind me. I had already washed, but he soaped me up again without asking, touching me everywhere. His rock-hard erection pressed against my back. I rubbed against it, and he pushed my h*ps away gently.

“Not until I check to see how raw you are,” he said roughly. But he continued to touch me, rubbing my br**sts gently for long minutes. My head fell back, and my mind went feverish.

“These must be sore, too, but I can’t seem to keep my hands off. My self-control is apparently shot where you’re concerned. I’ve never had this problem before.” His voice was a rasp in my ear, as though he were telling me a dirty secret. It got me unbelievably hot. He shut the water off.

He toweled me off, quickly drying himself and wrapping the towel around his hips.

“Get on your back on the bed,” he ordered me.

I moved to the bed, and felt his large presence behind me with every step. I sprawled on my back on the bed, my wet hair fanned out above my head.

He pulled my legs apart as he dragged my h*ps to the very edge of the bed. He was more masterful than rough as he handled me. He knelt between my legs, using a light touch to study me. I should have been embarrassed, but I was beyond it.

“I don’t care if it hurts,” I told him. And I didn’t, not right then, though I had been extremely sore at work the day before.

“Quiet,” he told me, his voice harsh. “My control is hanging on by a thread, but you’re just too chafed. I rode you too hard that first night, and that morning. Fuck, I can’t believe I did all of that to a virgin. I feel like a bastard, looking at all of that injured pink flesh.” His fingers were still gently touching my petals as he examined my sex. “But I still want to f**k you so badly I can’t see straight.”

I wriggled against his fingers. “Just f**k me, then. Please.”

He slapped the side of my butt, hard.

“Don’t.” He looked at me with troubled, beautiful eyes. “I’m going to need to be more careful with you. I didn’t realize you could take so much without protesting, so I just kept going. Fuck. I shouldn’t have taken you after that first time, but I’ll remember that night for as long as I live. It was so perfect.”

His words were bringing me to a fevered pitch. I stroked my br**sts as he ranted. He gave me a hard look. Hard, but hot.

“Well, we’ll have to do something about this.” A wandering finger found my backside. I stiffened instinctively. He chuckled, withdrawing. “Not that.”

Without another word, he buried his face between my legs with a purpose. He had me gasping out his name with an orgasm in less than a minute. He crawled up my body to kiss me wetly. I ran my hands everywhere I could touch.

“I love your body. I never get to touch you enough. I want to,” I murmured into his mouth as he pulled back.

He fell back into a sprawl almost instantly, accommodating my whim. He folded his tan muscular arms behind his head, smiling. He was definitely all tender lover this morning, only glimpses of the dominant in him showing.

“Have at it, Love.”

I didn’t hesitate, using both of my hands to stroke his chiseled abs. Those starkly ridged abs made Brad Pitt in his prime look sub-par.

I kissed his abs as my hands moved higher, licking. He sucked in a breath. I moved up to his chest. His small n**ples drove me wild, a shade of brown darker than his perfect skin. I stroked and licked up to his neck. Everything about him was just so long. His arms, his legs, his torso.

My gaze traveled south, to his quivering arousal. It was long too, and so hard and thick. I wanted to taste it the most, but knew my exploration would be over if I so much as touched it.

I went back to his neck, moving down to the defined line between his pecks. I nuzzled there, lingering.

I loved this spot, felt almost comforted when I buried my face there. I let myself linger there for long minutes. Reluctantly, I moved away.

I sucked at a nipple, biting down lightly. When he didn’t protest, I bit harder, then sucked hard.

He moaned. My hands kneaded at his arms as I went back and forth between his n**ples. He was so hard, but his skin was unbelievably smooth. I was getting so turned on that I kissed a path directly to his cock. I’d lost the control to stay away.

I cupped his scrotum, putting wet lips on his tip as I shifted for a better angle. He grabbed my thighs, moving me until I straddled his face. I was shocked when his tongue started licking me from that angle. His hand moved to the back of my head, pushing my surprised mouth back to his erection.

He spoke against me, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. I shuddered at the feel of it, and at his words. “Don’t orgasm until I say. I want us to come at the same time like this.”

I didn’t answer, couldn’t, as I sucked him into my mouth hungrily. The more he licked and nuzzled at me, the more furiously I sucked at him. I stroked his shaft hard with both hands, as he’d shown me, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could.

I came up for air once, breathing on his deep red tip when he sucked on my clitoris. His c*ck surged up at me furiously, and I took him back into my mouth.

“Come, Selena.” He breathed the words into my core.

I did come then, sucking him hard, my lips pulled over my teeth. He poured into my mouth at the same moment, and I swallowed as shudders wracked through me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mr. Bossy

He turned me onto my stomach. His fingers brushed lightly over my thighs and ass as he studied me.

“This healed well. Your skin loves a good spanking.” A hand wandered between my legs, stroking, whisper soft. “You’d be in good shape if I hadn’t been so rough. The ways I f**ked you, on your first time…I can’t stop thinking about it, but I still can’t believe I didn’t have more self-control.”

I closed my eyes, just enjoying his touch. “I loved it. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

He stroked my hair at that.

“That’s because you were made for me. But I still need to give you a few days to recover now, and that’s regrettable.” He suddenly slapped my ass.

“Get dressed, Buttercup,” he told me, moving to the overnight bag he’d left by my bedroom door.

He dug into it, pulling out boxer briefs, then moved into my closet. I hadn’t realized he had clothing hanging in there. And much more than a night’s worth, which I found curious. Maybe he just liked to have his pick of clothes, I mused.

He moved from his clothing to my own, grabbing a white sundress with sunflowers on it. He handed it to me. “Wear that,” he told me. I didn’t protest. It was comfortable enough. I grabbed a bra and some panties out of my dresser. He followed me there, digging through the drawer without asking. “Nice,” he said. “I ordered you a few dozen more pairs. The last line of defense between me and your p**sy is bound to take some casualties.”

I laughed at the visual. Strange, controlling, funny man, I thought.

I went into my bathroom to get dressed. Justin was too distracting.

After I’d changed, I texted Stephan that we were almost ready, and that I’d come knock on his door when it was time.

Stephan always looked like a model, but he never needed more than ten minutes to get ready. I found it both convenient and infuriating, depending on the time of the month.

I sat down at my vanity and used the blow-dryer for about a minute on my hair. I would let it air dry the rest of the way. It would be pin straight when it dried, so I wouldn’t worry about it. I put on just a touch of makeup.

Justin had dressed quickly, and sat on my bed, watching me, his hair damp. He wore a pair of navy cargo shorts that let me admire his long, muscular calves. He paired it with a light gray V-neck shirt that was tight enough to be distracting. It was the most casually dressed I’d ever seen him.

He combed his fingers through his hair and seemed to be ready to go.

I glared at him. “It’s not right, someone looking that good with so little effort,” I told him.

He just smiled at me.

I put my watch on, though I usually didn’t wear a watch anywhere but work, where it was required. I thought it would please Justin. I was right. He rubbed my shoulders, his eyes warm as he studied me in the mirror. I leaned into the caress, closing my eyes. His hands were positively magical. He stopped, pulling me to my feet by my hands.

“Let’s go.”

An SUV stretch limo was parked outside, and I shot him an arch look. “Isn’t that a bit much for errands?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “I need to do some work while you guys run inside. I thought it would be more comfortable.”

He pulled on my hand, tugging me to Stephan’s house. He knocked, and Stephan pulled the door open almost immediately.

He grinned at us, stepping out and locking up. He wore some plaid cargo shorts and a light blue polo. He was in his full Abercrombie glory today.

Stephan kissed my cheek in greeting. “Good morning, beautiful. You are positively glowing today,” he told me, and I blushed.

Justin squeezed my hand.

We headed to my favorite art supply store first. It was across town, so I stocked up on supplies when I went there, since I didn’t make it often. Justin was practically plastered to my side in the limo, an arm thrown around my shoulders. Stephan sat on a seat that faced the side of the car, lounging comfortably.

“I could get used to this. Thanks for driving us, Justin,” Stephan said with a happy smile.

Justin just nodded pleasantly, a hand absently stroking my hair. It was a little awkward at first, but I made myself relax into his hold. It wasn’t that I didn’t like his touch. In fact, my reluctance had more to do with liking it too much.

Stephan’s phone dinged a text at him, and he took it out, muttering, “Excuse me.”

He gave a little whoop when he read the message. “Nice. Damien and Murphy have a line that mirrors all of our New York trips this month. I knew they were trying for it for the last few months, but they kept getting bumped. Their new bid starts this week, so they’ll be on our layover this weekend.”

I smiled. “Nice,” I said.

I saw Justin looking a question at me. I tried to interpret the flight attendant speak into English for him. “Damien and Murphy are pilot friends of ours that always fly together. They just got a new schedule, and we’ll be doing all of our New York layovers with them.”

“Melissa will love Damien,” Stephan muttered, texting furiously.

“And we won’t have to watch her hooking up with that married captain anymore,” I said, studying Justin. I didn’t want him to feel left out of the conversation.

“Why will she love Damien?” Justin asked Stephan, his voice bland.

“Well, he’s a captain, so he makes a decent paycheck. Also, he’s hot. He has an australian accent and looks like Colin Farrell.” As Stephan spoke, he never once looked up from his phone. Was he tweeting about it? Who knew?

I laughed. “He actually does. I never thought of it.”

“Melissa will be chasing him like a bitch in heat.”

I blanched a little at Stephan’s harsh choice of words. It wasn’t like him, but I knew why he disliked her so strongly. She’d brought out his protective side with the way she’d treated me.

I looked at Justin. His eyes were cold. Something had upset him. Was he upset that Melissa would hook up with Damien? Was he interested in her? Had she given him her number, like she’d said? I didn’t want to ask him, so I looked away.

We were turning down Ramrod Street when I explained to Justin. “We might take awhile in there. They have a station where you can build your own frames, and Stephan needs to frame a picture.”

Justin just nodded, getting his laptop out of it’s case. “Do you have a grocery list?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He held out a hand. “I’ll give it to Clark. He can grocery shop next door. Stephan, if you have a list as well, I’ll take it. I’ll cover the groceries.”

I started to protest. Justin just held up that hand. “You’ll be cooking for me for the next few days. It seems a fair trade to me. Stephan, will you come have dinner with us tonight?”

Stephan accepted the invitation happily. I sent Justin a warm look. He knew how to butter me up, that was for sure.

“Do you both like sushi?” Justin asked.

We both nodded.

“Good. There’s actually a very good place about five minutes from here. We’ll stop by there when you’ve finished.” With that, he gave his attention to his laptop, dismissing us.

We got out of the limo, grinning at each other.

“Your boyfriend is bossy,” Stephan told me teasingly.

I grimaced. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve only known each other for a few days. And I don’t think he does the girlfriend thing.”

He raised a brow. “So what does he do?”

I waved a hand at the limo. “He does this thing. I think he furiously pursues short, private, physical relationships.”

Stephan gave me a slightly troubled frown. “And how do you feel about that?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t want to think about it too much. The thought of something permanent terrifies me, so maybe this will be ideal for me.”

He reached for my hand, looking sad. “Don’t get hurt, Buttercup.”

I shrugged. “Life hurts. As long as it doesn’t kill us, we weather it.”

He swallowed, nodding. I knew he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue to keep the mood from getting dark, as it could.

I stopped on the sidewalk before entering the store, looking at him squarely.

“I think he’s good for me, in a way. I can’t seem to resist him, and I have to face my fears when I’m with him. I find it liberating, if a little terrifying.”

I paused, taking a few deep, even breaths.

“I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to the police. I need to tell them what I saw,” I told him quietly, referring to the decade old incident that still haunted me.

His gaze searched mine. He knew what I meant, but he wanted to know why.

“I just need the closure. It’s always somewhere at the back of my mind. And I’m tired of living with the fear. If I testify, maybe that monster will be behind bars where he can’t touch me. And some sort of justice might bring me some semblance of peace.”

He nodded. “Just tell me when. I’ll be there with you.”

“Soon. Maybe after this Justin thing blows over. A week or two.”

His hand tightened on mine. “I get why a relationship would terrify you, of all people. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve more than a fling with this guy, or that you shouldn’t try for something more.”

I just shook my head. “I can’t even entertain the notion right now, Stephan. Not with Justin. Trust me, I’m fine with what it is. I would feel better, though, if you approved.”

He put his arm around me, squeezing. “I approve of anything that makes you happy. But if you’re hurt at the end of this, that rich bastard is gonna have to sue my ass, because I will I beat the shit out of him.”

I was shocked by his words, though his tone was almost light. I studied him intently. He, like me, had a long and sordid history with violence.

Stephan had been raised with a strict mormon upbringing. He was an old-fashioned gentleman because of it, which I always found irresistibly charming. I was also convinced that this was what had made him a hopeless romantic, always thinking everyone should get a happy ending, with their one true love. This charmed me as well. He had so many deeply ingrained, good, wholesome qualities that I had always believed stemmed from his deeply religious beginnings. But he hadn’t quite fit into the mold his parents had designated for him.

Stephan had been nine when his uncle had begun to abuse him sexually. The sicko had been his father’s brother. He’d also been a pillar of their religious community, holding a position a few steps higher than Stephan’s own father.

Stephan’s father had looked up to his older brother, and when a ten-year-old Stephan had tried to talk to his father about it, he had been sharply reprimanded. Stephan had told me that there had been no violent abuse from his father before that time. But there was plenty after that.

His father had called Stephan a liar, while still blaming him for events he wouldn’t even admit ever happened. He’d begun to take offense at every little thing Stephan had done, calling the young boy ‘wrong’, and ‘queer’.

The beatings had increased and escalated until Stephan had begun to fight back. He was big from an early age, and he had told me he’d made a decent attempt at defending himself against his father, after a time.

Stephan put up with the near-constant abuse until he was fourteen, when he said he’d become so fed-up he didn’t even care if he lived anymore. He had confessed to his parents then that he was gay. His father had beaten him severely, taking nearly as much damage himself from a then strong Stephan, then ordered him to leave.

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