#and about grandparents: they used to live with us like six years ago and wanted to move back overseas. it is not a good idea to go ->

[talietikasero]

positive relations with your parents? never heard of it. can't relate.

[zirconika]

nine lives of a thief

TWO | the first life

NAVIGATION . MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a series entitled 'Nine Lives of a Thief,’ but you may choose to read each part as a oneshot. Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 4.7k SUMMARY: While on a supply run with Aaron, Daryl is eager to learn more about you. Getting pieces of you and your story then propels him to revisit your history to determine the best way to make it up to you. It goes awry when he discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff is only in the childhood flashback. Uses scenes from S05EP16 SETTING: Pre-Negan Alexandria and Pre-Apocalypse A/N: omfg sorry for the late update i’ve been busy taking care of my college requirements and i took driving classes HAHSNDHDHAJA anyway hope u guys like this one

     Daryl Dixon was a man who was wired to function solely on just destination—get to it, do it, and leave it. It confused him that a part of him now ran on motivation. It was not the drive to operate that confounded him, but that he was always eager to return. 

     To you. To see you. 

     And if he’s lucky, maybe even speak to you. It bothered Daryl that the last real conversation you had was the first time you spoke since ever. There never seemed to be an opportunity anymore, and if there was, you always seemed like you were in a hurry or that you were busy as if you had a nine-to-five corporate job you had to tend to.

     He knew you were somewhat avoiding him, whether you knew it or not. 

     Right now, Daryl was focused on one thing—getting food for the community. Coming back to you was a close second. Even as Aaron made conversation, you were all he could think about. How he’d initiate a conversation without starting one. 

     The longer he listened to Aaron, the more he thought of ways he could bring you up: That girl, how’s she been? No, it’s too upfront. 

     “You okay?” asked his friend. 

     Daryl perked up. “Hm? Ah, m’sorry, just distracted.”

     “You wanna ask me something,” Aaron guessed as they kept walking. 

     “Yeah, I… Wanted to ask ‘bout Eric. Er—how is he?” Daryl worried Aaron would catch on, but it was clear he loved talking about his beloved. His enthusiasm for Eric reminded Daryl of your spirit back when he first met you when he was all but six.

     A bright smile broke on Aaron’s face as Daryl opened a wired gate. Aaron’s smile stayed as he talked about Eric. “Says he misses being out here with me. I do, too and…”

     Daryl swung the gate open, entering the deserted courtyard, thinking only of you while Aaron talked about Eric. It wasn’t that Daryl didn’t care—he did, but it wasn’t exactly easy to act like he did when his mind did him a grizzly favor bringing you up every single time. How much older you looked…

     He felt he missed a great deal of your life, and he was hoping he’d get to see more of it now that you’d reunited. If only you just weren’t so damn hard to reach then—

     “You ever felt that way about anyone before?” Aaron asked him as he followed from behind. He could sense the question in Daryl’s eyes. If he knew Daryl wasn’t listening, he didn’t give him too much for it. “Love, I mean.”

     He hadn’t heard of that word in a long time. In fact, he thinks the first time he ever learned of the word was decades ago.

     “That Dixon kid spells trouble.”

     It was your father’s routine to comment on your then next door neighbors whenever he visited you at your grandparents’ home in Georgia. It was usually that specific combination, but it also differed each day. Sometimes, he was talking about the younger kid, while sometimes the older one.

     It mattered to you a lot. You knew them more than just trouble. You were keen on making sure your family never found out you had a crush on ‘that Dixon kid.’ 

     The first time you met Daryl, you were instantly hooked by his eyes. To you, it was the greatest shade of blue you’ve ever seen. You were just settling in your grandparents’ home, saddened to spend your childhood away from your parents as they worked in the city. They figured it wasn’t exactly the best place to raise a child, so they sent you to the scorching land that is rural Georgia, in the safety of your grandparents’ care.

     You hated the Georgia heat, hated that you had to say goodbye to your friends in the city. That is until you saw that charming fella, sporting worn out overalls as he rode his bike away from home. 

     You just had butterflies fluttering in your belly. At first, you thought he had pepper or some sort of dirt just above his lips, but you learned the hard way that it was only a mole, but that’s another story for later.

     Rejection from a crush is usually a direction to stay away. To you, however, you were only more interested in getting close to the much shorter kid. You planned on befriending him first, then riding a horse to a faraway castle to get married second. 

     The first time Daryl met you, he despised you. He loathed you, even. Hated the way you wore your hair in braids and the way you couldn’t take a hint even if he tried. It was on the first day of first grade, only on the way to school.

     He always sat alone by the window in the school bus, his lunch nothing but a juice carton he could fit in his tiny pocket. You had sat down next to the boy, his feet barely enough to reach the floor. 

     “Y’know, you’re gonna starve if you call that your lunch later,” you told him.

     He only scowlded at you in response, ignoring you to watch the world pass by the window. 

     You smiled at him nonetheless. As far as you were concerned, you liked this boy. You knew right then that you would be safe in his company. “I’m [Y/N]. You are?”

     No response. You let that go on for a while—just sitting right next to each other as he watched the small world pass him by, acting as if you weren’t even there. Unapologetically, you touched the surface of his face just above his lips, trying to swipe away the supposed dirt stain.

     “What’d ‘ya do that for?”

     “You have something on your face! I couldn’t just let you go to school with that,” you argued. You could almost see it: the kids laughing and pointing at him all because he forgot to wipe off a stain from his face! You were just concerned is all.

     The boy wiped at his cheek with his hand, only to realize what you were referring to. “Heavens to Betsy! S’just a mole I’ve had since I’s a baby!”

     “Great! We’re making conversation.” You smile at the boy. “You’ve gotta think it’s silly that I know about your mole and not your name.”

     “Not gonna. Yer piddlin’, talkin’ so loud ‘ya could piss off the Pope, actin’ lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut!”

     You frown, confused at his Southern lingo “Piss of the Pope? Lower than a snake’s what?”

     His frown dissolved. “What, yer not from around here or somethin’?”

     He was relieved to see your smile return, glad to not have pissed you off to send you running back to whichever father you had who, he assumed, probably had a shotgun. 

     “Yeah! I’m from Brooklyn.”

     The boy grunted, crossing his arms. “You’ve got an awful lot to say for someone who just moved.”

     “Oh, I only have this much to say to people I like.”

     “Well, I don’t like you,” he interjected.

     You only smiled as you unzipped your bag to pull out another smaller bag. “Didn’t say you had to, because I can make you!”

     Before he could argue, you tore your sandwich in half, handing one half to him and keeping one the other for yourself to munch on. “Try it,” you tell him.

     “How do I know ya ain’t trynna poison me?”

     Rolling your eyes, you took a bite from the snack. You handed it to him insistently. “I’m still alive.”

     “Yeah, but—”

     “Just try it!”

     Daryl’s never had enough good things in his life that your sandwich appeared to be more of a threat than a peace offering. He was used to getting the shortest end of the stick, or not even any.

     He opened his mouth to debate against it, but he gave in. One bite in and something told you he hasn’t had something quite like it for the past year. You decided right then and there that you wanted to be the one who could put a smile on his face.

     “This—sh’good.” The young boy admitted in between loud chewing. “You made this?”

     “Meemaw did,” you replied, grinning as you ate your own half. “I’ve got more snacks in my bag, if you wanna share them later. But I need to know your name first!”

     The bus came to a halt. It was the first time you looked at him clearly, and him you. “I’m Daryl.”

     That night, he was all you could think of. The blue-eyed little boy who you were determined to make yours. His pretty nose, his funny walk, his everything. You weren’t particularly secretive with your feelings, bringing a sandwich for him after you asked your grandma to pack you two every day. 

     It wasn’t just the sandwiches, though. You’d often pester him, asking if he’d ever want to marry you one day, to which he’d respond with, “Ew, never!”

     “Daryl,” you called to him as he ran away from you, retreating back to his house.

     “What?” he turned back to yell.

     Grinning, you braced yourself for his outburst of anger. You made it a hobby to rile Daryl on your quest to make him yours. “I loooove you!”

     “No!” he spat back, running even faster back to his house. You laughed the entire time, thinking of when he’d eventually wear down and say it back. Little did your young self know, she’d be able to turn the tables around in just a decade. But that’s a story for another time.

     Little Daryl, on the other hand, lay in bed, staring at the ceiling racking his mind on ways he could get rid of you. That day, he was guilty of something grave, something dangerous. Thieves are born once they do the honor of their first theft, and you were just unlucky enough to be Daryl's first victim, having done you the untimely inconvenience of stealing your heart. That day was the first of many lives he would lead.

  ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     “I dunno, I was young. But I guess I did, once,” Daryl said after recounting his earliest memory he had of you: stubborn, ambitious, and determined. “Whatever it was, I screwed it up.”

     “Screwed up how?” Aaron asked, and Daryl wondered if you had opened up about your past to the guy. He wishes he’d brought you up in the conversation earlier on so that it wouldn’t be suspicious for him to suddenly talk about you after he’d just given a glimpse into his history.

     “Drove her away when I drove away,” Daryl said lightly. He was relieved to find a confused Aaron, but more so when they reached a couple of cargo containers lined up in an organized fashion marked with the text: How the harvest gets home. 

     Aaron wanted to ask, but his interest was piqued by the promise of food to take home. They made their way through the gap between the two containers, eager to give it a look. Daryl noticed the two cans hanging by the sides before he followed suit, but he followed anyway. 

     The pair climbed up the short length of stairs, pleased to find more containers.

     “Huh,” Aaron chuckled, enthused about what awaited behind the doors. The can on the door was certainly appetizing. “Woah…”

     Daryl watched as Aaron mused about the container, who bent down to loot his pack for a tool to obtain another license plate, this time from Alaska—K4Z 816, with the subtext ‘The Last Frontier.’ There was definitely something… Strange and unsettling about the place. However, the promise of something to bring back weighed more than the thought of coming empty-handed. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

     “Hey, listen,” Aaron called out, triumphant while Daryl explored the small space enclosed by the containers. “I don’t like giving up either. But… The guy is in a red poncho. You could see him from miles away. We’ve got a lot of miles here, and no sign of him.”

     The lock of the container caught Daryl’s attention.

     Aaron began to walk over to Daryl after getting a new addition to his collection. “We’ve come away with… A trailer full of cans. I’d say that’s a good trip!”

     The pair stopped in front of one of the containers. Daryl bent down to tinker with the lock, eager to get out of there to return to you. “Here you go.”

     The archer was already picturing the many things he wanted to do when he saw you again, and the ways he could approach you. Daryl grunted as he swung the handle open.

     The choice to open the door was certainly a choice, albeit an absolutely fatal one. Wires snapped from all directions as the door slid open upwards. There were no cans inside of the container, no. The pair jumped in horror as they were met by the gruesome sight of the dead, some impaled by a hook and some able to chase freedom. 

     One by one, all of the doors swung open to reveal the very same scene in front of them. The pair dashed out of the scene upon discovering their mission was a total bust. 

     The walkers were already pouring out into the open space, blocking their only way out. Daryl plunged his knife down one of the walkers making its way to him, its groans speaking only of its lethal appetite. Aaron, on the other hand, made a weapon out of the license plate he’d just looted, smashing it against the temple of a walker twice until its head split open.

     “Over here!” Aaron yelled to Daryl, pointing to the space under one of the containers. The archer followed Aaron in a haste and for the first time in a long while, Daryl feared death. 

     He felt his heart beat faster every passing second that the dead clawed their way to them, crawling with an undying thirst for their flesh. He wondered if you’d miss him if he were to die now, if you’d look for him…

     No. There was no way in damn hell he’d die without explaining himself at least twice. That’s right—twice. And even possibly more just so you’d take him back. He’d make it up to you. Daryl stole one glance at the walker crawling towards him with a ‘W’ blatantly itched on its forehead before obtaining a long metal chain as a weapon.

     The troubled pair hurriedly got out of the small space, with Daryl whipped the chain on three incoming walkers, ruthlessly determined to get out of there. He was already drafting a plan in his head: get out of there, get to you, talk to you. He was no longer going to spend more time waiting around for the right time, if there even was such a thing.

     He plunged his dagger deep into the head of the walker that had gotten ahold of Aaron’s bag before running out together. Aaron wasted no time slicing the head of a walker clean with his own machete, eager to be out of there as soon as possible. He did the same for another one coming his way.

     Holy shit, was it terrifying having to push through the walking dead as if it were just a mosh pit in a concert. The two couldn’t even begin to catch their breath as they jumped into the same door of a car, especially as a head of a walker just peeped inside in time when Aaron made to shut the door close. He had to do it multiple times until the head was crushed enough for him to finally close it.

     The shelter of the car was no use, though. Walkers gathered from all sides, clamoring to get inside. They both knew it wouldn’t hold and would eventually give up. For sure, more walkers would be drawn by the commotion, curious to get a piece of what was inside the damn car.

     “Glass will hold for a while, right?” Aaron asked, observing the crowd of hands and brutal groans from the dead on all sides of the car’s windows.

     “Maybe,” Daryl replied, still holding a dagger in his hand. Daryl thought of ways he could salvage this mission for the sake of returning to you. “Maybe we can make it so they can't see us. In a couple hours, somethin’ will come by, they’ll follow it out. There’s gotta be somethin’ in here we can use to block the view.”

     Aaron began to rummage through the compartments. “We can cut up these seats.”

     He only found an eerie warning written on a crumpled sheet of paper in one of the cup holders, stating, ‘TRAP. BAD PEOPLE COMING. DON’T STAY.’

     Aaron showed it to Daryl, who could only think of how damn helpful it would have been three minutes ago. Just like that, he was drained of the hope he could ever return to you. 

     They sat there for a while like that, hopeless. Daryl chuckled.

     “What?” Aaron asked.

     “I came out here to… Not feel all closed up back there. Even now, this feels like me… Than back in them houses. That’s pretty messed up, huh?”

     “You were trying,” he assured Daryl.

     “Can I tell ya somethin’?”

     Aaron nodded. “Lay it on me.”

     “[Y/N]... I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s—er—the one I been thinkin’ of back there when ya asked me if I’ve ever felt it before. I did. I… I thought I’d never even see her again, so I put her in the back of my mind ‘cause the last time I did, I ruined her for good. I thought she was livin’ the perfect life I always pictured for her if I left, thought she was better off. Then I met her and… Shit, I’m an asshole.”

     Aaron sat there, taking in everything Daryl had just told him. You had shared a fair piece of your history to him, entrusting him with a small part of your past you thought you’d never end up facing again. He knew of a first love that broke your heart, knew you have your fair share of regrets and grudges. He just didn’t expect it to be Daryl Dixon.

     “I see.” Aaron only nodded. “She used to be my partner out on these runs, yknow.”

     “Yeah?” Daryl asked, intrigued. He was never able to learn much about you for the past week, having been cautious about who he could and could not ask. “Why’d it stop?”

     “Well…” Aaron sighed, his eyes focused on the unsightly crowd of dead clamoring to break the glass. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell.”

     “You don’t think we’re gonna die in here?” Daryl asked with a smirk.

     “Yeah, I don’t. We’re both gonna get out of here and you’ll ask her about it and she’ll tell you.” Aaron looked around the windows. “You’ve got a lot to know. It wasn’t easy for her back then.”

     “Right.”

     “Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you went off on your own by the barn. Storm hit and you led your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring you people back.”

     Daryl could only give him a hopeless smile.

     “You were right. We should have kept looking for that guy in a poncho,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have given up. You didn’t.”

     Daryl licked his lips before pulling out a cigar and placing it between his teeth. He didn’t mind having a heroic end anymore, because it meant earning him at least an ounce of redemption. It would be a sort of repentance for what he’d done to you all those years. “I’ll go.”

     Aaron looked back up to him, confused.

     Daryl had to explain as he lit his cigarette.  “I’ll lead them out. You make a break for the fence.”

     “No, no, no,” said Aaron. “This was my fault.”

     “It wasn’t a question.” He’d made up his mind. Daryl took away the cigarette from his mouth for a moment. “And this ain’t your decision. It ain’t nobody’s fault. Just let me finish my smoke first.”

     Aaron looked at Daryl, and he was sure the archer did not want to die just yet. He wasn’t gonna let that happen to his friend. “No. You don’t draw them away. We fight.”

     And fight they did, braving the outside. It was simply luck that the man in the red poncho happened to be their very savior, and he was just looking for the man that led them to shelter.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     Any half-sane man should have been concerned with the matter at hand—the crime scene unfolding before him. Rick stood there, blood the main component of his gait, having just executed the community’s only doctor.

     And yet Daryl couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, couldn’t help but stop the questions running in his head: Is she alrigh’? What is she thinkin’ right now? Is she okay? Is she fine?

     When your eyes met his, we raised his brow in question. You only looked down, avoiding his look. You always did that. You’ve been avoiding him. This time, he let it slide. After all, you did just witness a murder.

     For a while after that, you continued to avoid him. He let you. Maybe because he wanted you to, but eventually he grew tired of it. A couple of nights after the incident, he decided he’d take matters into his own hands with you.

     Daryl watched you from below. You were on watch duty at this hour of the night, manning the gates in the event a threat presented itself.

     You were so lost in thought you almost fell off the wooden watch tower when someone offered you a sandwich. 

     “I don’t think ya should be on watch if ya didn’t even catch me climbin’ up here,” the archer said, his hand outstretched with a wrapped sandwich in hand. “Made it myself.”

     “Sorry, I was just…”

     “Avoidin’ me?” he asked.

     “What?” you asked back with a nervous laugh that faded into silent confession. You took the sandwich, scrutinizing it with a nostalgic burn in your chest. This has happened before, but you didn’t want to ask him about it or bring it up in any way at all.

     Daryl looked into the distance, the night sky with a lot more stars than he could recall from when he left. “Stars are brighter nowadays, huh?”

     You’re grateful he was kind enough to give you a break from the subject. But he wasn’t trying to change it. He was just thinking of the night he left… “Light pollution’s gone down, so… Yay apocalypse?”

     His gaze returned back to you, and you wanted to beat yourself up for feeling that familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach like you did back when the only thing you felt for him was love. “Ya ain’t gonna try it? S’gonna get cold.”

     “How do I know you’re not gonna—?”

     This time, Daryl took the bread from your hands to take a bite. “Poison ya? I’m still alive.”

     You took the sandwich with a laugh. “I was gonna say drug me into liking you.”

     “Don’t need drugs for that.” Daryl gave you that same old damned smile he did, and suddenly the air smelled like the leather seats of your parents’ car that you stole. You held his stare, but you refused to return the smile. 

     “I should go,” you told him, shoving the bread to his chest as you rushed down the ladder. You heard Daryl’s frustrated and confused grunt while you were hurrying down. 

     By the time you got down, Daryl was just close behind. “[Y/N|,” he called out calmly.     “Goodnight, Daryl.” You felt the tears prickle in your eyes. You refused to face him, you just felt the fire in your legs propelling you forward, pushing you to run home. It was all so familiar, everything he did. You hated the way you felt so stupidly attached… You were an idiot. You’d give in, and everything would just go like it did back then.     “[Y/N],” he called out once more, this time with the slightest hint of indignation. He just wanted to talk to you so he could say his piece, would that be so bad? “Stop, damn it.”

     You heard his footsteps getting louder and closer just as he grabbed you by your wrist, purposeful yet so gentle like he always was whenever he touched you back then. Your heart was beyond just beating quickly. You were sure it would eventually break through your bones and run free.     You didn’t even realize your face was wet with tears until Daryl wiped it off for you. You were seventeen all over again, crying to him and asking him to take you with him if he was going to leave. You were nine once more, crying yourself to sleep after moving away. 

     “I can’t,” you utter out.     “Can’t what? Tell me.” His eyes were hungry for answers, but you didn’t even know either. You just knew you couldn’t stand to see him anymore. It broke your heart, because you thought that if you would ever run into him again, you would be okay. That you would have moved on, and you could remain civil. So many words you wanted to tell him. 

     You swat his hand away. “I can’t keep talking to you just because you’re here. I can’t—can’t keep pretending that you’re—you—that what happened for around thirty fucking years ago is no longer bothering me, because I know damn full well that it is and it always will! And you being here I… I just… I can’t!”

     “Ya want me to go?” he asked, gentle as ever.

     “No, Daryl,” you said, out of words you could say to even come close to saying what it is you felt. “I just… I just wish you never left.”

     So many explanations, and yet it was all reduced to you pushing him away. You just needed to get out of there.     And that should’ve been the end of it. Daryl respected your preference for isolation. That really should have been the end of it for at least that night. He stood there, his heart half-broken. He just decided that maybe he deserved it, that he was stupid for thinking he deserved even another chance.

     As Daryl watched you walk down the street away from him, he decided he’d give you more time. As much as you needed until you were—

     In the short distance, you fell to your knees. Daryl halted in his tracks, his brows furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were doing. Even though your back was to him, he could make out that you were doing the same habit he was used to seeing you doing, only this time, your back was heaving up and down.

     God, he didn’t need to see anything else anymore. He was already on his way the moment he felt something was wrong. His mind raced with so many terrible scenarios he refused to verbalize. 

     “[Y/N], what’s wrong?” he asked, worried as he knelt down in front of you. “What’s happenin’?”

     “I—” Your mouth was locked shut from the static that spread from the tips of your fingers all the way to your jaw. It was cold, and it was burning hot. 

     You felt Daryl scoop you in your arms without question, and you let him. You heaved short, heavy breaths you couldn’t begin to catch. You felt and heard your heart in every direction, beating as if it was taunting you. 

     “...Bringin’ ya to Denise,” you heard Daryl say over the racing pace of your deafening heartbeat. You shook your head, the static finding that safe spot of yours, too. 

     “No, I—please—home—don’t—Denise,” you managed to say in between the uncontrollable hitches in your breath. 

     Daryl shook his head, slowing down as he tried to think of the right thing to do. But he felt your fist tighten its grip on his vest in request.

     “Please. Now—Now, Dar—Now.”

     You felt him caressing your hair with the gentlest of touches, just as you remember it. You felt him whispering soft promises against your ear, but you couldn’t make any single word out of it as everything went pitch black…

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[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (part 5)

werewolf!Johnny x reader

part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Johnny spent a fair amount of time with you and Emma for the next week, weaseling himself into your schedule with a kind of single-minded determination that must have gotten him far in the military.

By Friday, you were exhausted, irritated, overstimulated, and, disappointingly enough, horny. It turned out the lack of sex over the last year or two had turned your hormones into monsters that were very attracted to the nice smelling man that fixed your refrigerator and coaxed Emma to eat her greens. It didn’t seem to matter that it was Johnny of all people, or the fact that you still couldn’t look at him without anger sparking in your heart.

What was worse was that Johnny brought up finances on Thursday, mentioning something about helping with the bills. That had been like a shot of adrenaline, your blood pressure rising through the roof.. 

You had dropped the bowl you were washing into the sink, shattering it into a thousand pieces. “I don’t need your help, John,” you had snapped. “I haven’t for the last decade.”

Johnny left shortly after that, seeming to have traded in his old hot-headedness for the same soft, patient tone he uses with Emma. He had explained it well, saying he hadn’t had a house or a family to spend his savings on in the last six years, and he wanted to ease the load for both you and Emma’s sakes.

But it was the fact that he felt so comfortable to casually interject himself into your lives. What would happen if you became dependent on Johnny again and he died? Or decided that family life wasn’t for him?

Then both you and Emma would be crushed. You didn’t want your finances to be involved as well.

So you were angry with him, avoiding the polite texts he had sent and the phone call that you sent to voicemail. All you wanted was peace and a night out with Charlie, perhaps a bit of making out and/or hands-in-pants involved.

You hadn’t gone that far with Charlie yet. Both of you had been burned in the past and you were enjoying the slowness of it all. Today, however, you were ready to be properly touched by a man. It had been too long.

Emma was spending the day with her grandparents by their request–they had picked her up an hour ago, your Mum seeming to sense you needed a nice, peaceful morning. 

You did laundry. You cleaned the kitchen. You made yourself lunch and watched an entire episode of the Bachelor without interruption, then took a hot bath with rose petals and a vibrator.

It was lovely.

You were cheerful as you dressed and packed Emma’s overnight bag, planning on dropping it off at Tom’s place since your parents had her. 

You turned the page in Jack’s novel before you left, smiling up at the paper maché whale. 

It was a nice walk, the air brisk and the snow crisp under your boots. You went over the Emma list in your mind: snacks, her favorite books, her favorite stuffy, toothbrush, pj’s, a chilled and chopped steak in case Tom had forgotten to grab dinner, crayons, paper…

Before you knew it, you were popping the door open with your hip. You had already mentioned to Tom you were popping in so there shouldn’t be any unwelcome, undressed visitors.

Except there was.

A man in a black surgical mask stood in the dark of Tom’s hallway, huge, dark-eyed, and super fucking bloody intimidating.

 You dropped the bag with a screech, thinking of burglars, murderers,oh-my-god-is-Tommy-murdered-like-that-woman-in-that-documentary-you-saw-once-

“Shut up!” Tommy said, frowning at you from the couch. “Fuck, lovie, he’s a friend from work.”

The man in the mask raised a hand in an awkward wave.

“Oh,” you said, your heart pounding in your ears. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re a right scary chap and my brother usually keeps female company.” “You’re alright, love,” the masked man said, his voice like gravel. He picked up Emma’s backpack from the floor, offering it to you with a massive hand.

The mask was odd and the hoodie covering the rest of his face and hair was odder. But your brother had rather imaginative taste in friends and you had seen and met much worse.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling as your heart resumed its normal pace. “I’m his sister.”

The man hummed, as if amused. “I can tell.” He offered you a gloved palm. “M’name is Simon.”

You shook it firmly, giving him your name in return. “Sorry, if I had known if Tommy was having company I would’ve called before I came over.”

“He’s not company, he’s a guest,” Tommy said, rising to herd you into the kitchen. “He’s staying here for a bit with Johnny.” That certainly had your spine straightening. You hadn’t thought Johnny would still be here, after all there were a dozen relatives that would all love to host their long lost war hero.

“He’s out for an errand, lovie, don’t look so tense.” 

You relaxed a fraction, soothed by the thought that you won’t have to deal with Johnny in your hair before your date with Charlie.

“You’re a friend of John’s then?” You asked Simon, your tone just a mite cooler than it had been before. 

Simon nodded, his dark gaze tinged with humor. “Don’t hold it against me, love.”

It took you a second to see that he was a wolf too. It was all in the way he moved, the languid way he blinked at his surroundings. “Easier said than done,” you teased, forcing yourself into the good mood you were in before. “In that case, Tom, do I need to reschedule? Emma isn’t much for strangers.”

Tom shrugged, unzipping Em’s pack.“Johnny isn’t much of a stranger now, and Simon is a good lad, he won’t mind her.” Simon nodded again, sinking into the shadows as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ve heard she’s a sweet girl.” “The best,” you said, smiling. 

“Jesus, lovie, did you pack enough?” Tom said dryly, pulling out the sliced steak. “I’ve never let the girl starve, not in the last six years.” “You’re a busy man, I was just making sure in case you forgot,” you said. “By the way, she likes a glass of milk before bed now. And her favorite book is the one on top, the one with the rabbits, plus King Robert is the sheep she sleeps with-” “Right. I’ve got this. I promise.” You felt Simon’s eyes on you, judging, appraising. You were sure Johnny probably didn’t have the nicest things to say about you–most likely that you were an irritating little girl that followed him around for twenty years then proceeded to get pregnant and raise the child without him knowing,

“And Johnny will be here, so he’ll be able to spend some time with her,” Tom said, putting the steak in the fridge. “If that’s alright with you.” “It sounds like it’s already been planned,” you said, trying your very best not to be hateful in front of guests.

Tom sighed. “If I were half as smart as you think I am with your theories of scheming and plotting, I’d be living in a much nicer neighborhood.”

You laughed. “No, you’d be in jail.”

“Touché. Simon, how do you feel about a classic steak and potatoes meal tonight? It’s Emma’s favorite, she’s our six year old codger.”

Simon made an agreeable noise, his nose now in some masculine-looking magazine with bears and car parts on the front. He was quite a large man, commanding such a presence.

Johnny was an unsuspecting kind of violent, always smiling and laughing until he wasn’t, until it was serious. Simon was different. He felt older. 

Oddly, you didn’t mind him around Emma. You’ve wanted to expose her around more adult wolves anyways, so she’ll learn her manners.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You said, anxiety creeping in like it always did whenever you would be separated from Emma for longer than a few hours. 

“We’ll all keep an eye on her, pet,” Simon said. “Between the three of us, I think she’ll be safe.” You relaxed. “Right. Thank you, Simon.”

Tommy ushered you out of his house quickly after that, his phone blowing up with Johnny’s texts and calls. You saw his black truck pull up minutes later, but by then you were already through your door. 

Emma and your parents stopped by for lunch, your mother chattering about how she had seen Johnny at the grocery store and how much he had grown. It was like the last six years had been erased in their minds, the times when Emma was ill and you were at your wit’s end, the pregnancy you had spent constantly sick and deeply depressed–all of it was gone. 

Your mother was imagining a new life for her daughter, a life of being married to the man that gave you Emma and making a dozen more pups in a nicer house, with financial stability. She didn’t know the whole story with Johnny–hardly anyone did. She assumed the two of you had been dating when you had conceived Emma, and you had never thought to tell her differently.

Johnny had never actually wanted you. He was just drunk and about to truly leave the only home he had ever known. And you were right there, tipsy and desperate for his attention. You had missed him like a lost limb when he started ignoring your letters and calls, and seeing him again had brought up all those feelings again. 

But now, he was just setting a trap. He wanted to be in Emma’s life, and when her grandparents, uncle, and various other relatives were on his side…it made your life a lot harder.

Emma nuzzled into your side, sensing your turn in mood. “You smell sad,” she said, her mouth dusted with biscuit crumbs. “You always smell sad.”

Your mother heard her, and seemed to gain some perspective. “When I saw him, I was so angry. I just thought of all the things he had done to you…but then, when I came up to him, he was just so different. He’s a different man than he was all those years ago.”

And you were a different woman. It wasn’t revolutionary to change. 

Emma followed you into your bathroom and watched as you began to primp, perched up on your counter as you brushed your teeth and curled your hair, patting makeup over the purple half-moons under your eyes.

Emma was quiet mostly, sensing the strange mood you were in. She played with your red lipstick and powder, smudging them around her lips. “Careful, it might stain,” you said. “And what will Tom say if you’ve got red all over your face?” “Is Johnny going to be there?” Emma asked hopefully. “He’s fun.”

“Yes, he’s staying at Uncle Tom’s house.”

She nodded, smiling messily at herself in the mirror. “He smells just like me, Mum, and he looks like me too.”

“He’s your father, Em, of course he does.” You blinked hard in the mirror, trying not to cry. “But Mum…” Emma looked at you, her face suddenly serious. “If you don’t like Johnny, I don’t like him either.”

You actually did cry then, bringing your daughter to your chest like you did when she was a baby. You could still remember the day that you first held her in your arms, and all of the heartbreak had seemed worth it. “God, Em, it’s not like I don’t like him,” you said, burying your face in her strawberry-shampoo scented hair. “It’s just…we’re adults, and adults have tricky feelings. I could never dislike Johnny, he gave you to me.” “But you’re so sad when he’s here, we can smell it,” Emma said, sniffling. 

“I’m always sad, Em, I cried every morning I dropped you off at school for months.” That seemed to make her feel better. She snuffled, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Are you going to see the book man?” She asked.

You nodded. “We’re friends, we’re going to go have dinner, maybe see a movie.”

“Good,” she said, wiser than her years. “You never go out.”

She allowed you to wipe the makeup from her mouth without a fuss before your parents ushered her out the door, giving your cheek a slobbery kiss before waving goodbye.

The house was too quiet, so you turned on music, the old crooning stuff that Jack liked. Another half an hour and you were ready, wearing your second-nicest dress and your favorite red heels as you frantically dried your Chanel nail polish. 

Charlie was usually early, but time ticked on well past the time he was supposed to be there. He’s never been late, not in the two years you had known him, not even to work. 

You texted a few times, staring at the screen for a response. He lived in the city, so an accident was well possible–he wouldn’t just ditch you, would he?

Maybe he had forgotten. You did make the plans the week before…

Time ticked on. You gave him a call.

“Hello?” Charlie sounded distracted and irritated. You cleared your throat, “Hey, Charlie, I was just calling to see if we’re still on tonight?” Charlie made an apologetic noise. “Ah, shit, I forgot.”

“Oh,” you said, trying very hard not to sound hurt. 

“Our team had a last minute thing at the bar and I completely forgot about our date, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s-that’s alright,” you said, kicking off your heels. 

“Would you like to join us? We’re at the corner bar where the boss had his divorce party.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m not really in the mood for a bar,” you said, undoing the clasps to your nice earrings. “Rain check, I suppose.” “I really am sorry,” Charlie said, sounding it. “I can’t believe I forgot.” “I can’t believe it either,” you said, then you hung up. 

You stared at the phone, feeling miserable and very, very sorry for yourself. Of course, the first date in ages and you get tossed up for a group of sweaty, gross men.

You showered, to scrub the makeup and product out of your hair. You might have cried a bit, but that was between you and the water faucet.

[eyeofnewtblog]

This is Noni cat, and I got her 8 years ago from the shelter. They told me she was maybe six years old when I swiped my credit card for her.

She’s been a pretty active cat for at least the last 6 years; when I was living alone with just Noni as my roommate, she would jump out of my open 3 story window down to the second story window and demand food and pets, which my neighbor was happy to provide. Luckily he only had to do this once, but I was still mortified (especially since I was living in a no pets place and passing off my adoption of a cat as “my coworker is going through a divorce and asked me to watch his cat for a few weeks so that his ex didn’t cause more trouble” and all my neighbors were single older men, and I worked in a motorcycle place with 90% male coworkers so it honestly did fly under the radar…the only reason I was able to get her at all was because I did laundry/cleaning for one of my single coworkers for a week and put his number down as my landlord and he was like “yes, she can get a kitty, she’s done a really good job of keeping things clean and being responsible, I trust her.” FYI, I was also taking his dog on play dates at the doggie park down the street from me on my days off just for my own amusement, so like. He wasn’t my actual landlord but he also wasn’t lying about my ability to take care of an animal.)

Anyway, the only reason I ever ended up with Noni was because on my second date with my now husband I said I didn’t know if I wanted to buy a cat or a gun, and he and I spent 8 hours just bumming around all the pet places and gun shops that we both knew about (and meeting my aunt and grandparents because they live just up the street from one of the best pawnshops in the area, I “have some mail I need to pick up right quick, it’s just a five minute detour” and oh my goodness…you know that feeling when you see your family immediately like the person you’re dating? Yeah.)

So after husband and I move in together but before anything is official…there is a wildly out of control feral cat population in the area his apartment was in. Noni cat was fine, because she only ever hung out in the front or back yard, but the lady two houses up would put out multiple trays of food for 30+ cats. She was very sweet but also wasn’t trapping and spaying/neutering them, and we didn’t have any central ac (so doors open and fans on, we die like men, sleep with ice packs, and scrub the mud daughter nests out with dawn dish soap), so every summer, about once a week, I’d hear typical cat fighting noises, and go charging out to the living room where some random cat had Noni cornered. I stomp and shout and chase the stay cat out, Noni cuddles me for ten minutes in gratitude before the heat is too much for both of us, we move on.

Then me and husband buy a house in 2018. We move into our new suburban paradise, but alas…Noni cat is a straight up gangster cat, right out of Commerce City.

In all the years we have lived in this house, Noni cat has left a minimum of ten bunny corpses on the front lawn. Per summer.

I love her, I really do. And I recognize that cats should be indoor pets, for environmental reasons. But I legit cried when she brought a still alive baby bunny to the door (with every intention of eating it as is on the living room floor) and she accidentally dropped it and it tried to run away and instead of doing anything productive I just went inside and cried to my husband. Who laughed at me, rightfully so.

Anyway, she’s getting older now, and there’s definitely something wrong with her. She didn’t murder any baby bunnies at all this summer, got “old cat skinny and bony” and honestly refuses to go outside at all. She was always super cuddly during winter because cats like warm things, but now she wants cuddles and attention all the time.

With me starting a new job, I don’t necessarily have the money to get her fully checked out. I want to, she isn’t just a great cat, she’s the only cat my husband has ever liked; she’s wonderful and worth every penny, but fuck are we in a tight spot with his medical stuff and me having three jobs in the last 18 months. There’s no fucking ROOM on the credit cards to take care of her.

Husband found a vet that charges a lot less, but is an hour outside of town. What we save in vet bills we spend in gas to get there.

I don’t really have a point I’m leading up to, or a critical argument or analysis…my cat is dying and it fucking sucks on so many levels, because she was so instrumental in how I got where I am.

I just wanted to tell her/my story and have it be shared with random strangers who might have an interest.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Nine.

So then, my beautiful, wonderful audience. Those who are not new around these parts know that sometimes, treats are given in the form of a double update day with my stories, and guess what? Today is one of those days! I know you've all been waiting patiently for the sexual side of Emma and Guero's blossoming relationship to finally flower, so I thought I'd share it today in the next chapter! Has that made you smile? I hope it has! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Words - 3,434

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

The more she revealed, it seemed, the more comfortable she became with sharing memories of her nineteen years held prisoner. Guero lay there and let her recount it all, being exactly what she needed, somebody to simply listen.  

“Marie taught me how to shoot.” He had wondered at how well she seemed to handle the Beretta she’d pointed at his head, her handling of the firearm steely and confident. “There were guns kept all over the house, so there’d always be one within easy reach, just in case. With whom Rocco was, he was a target, or rather his family were. He routinely pissed off other mob families, so of course anyone he cared for became a target, a weak point.  

“She wanted me to be able to protect myself from such a threat, but mostly, if Rocco himself ever became so unhinged that I felt my life was in danger. “Shoot him dead, and we’ll figure it out somehow afterward”, is what she used to tell me. How we would have figured that out beyond running for our lives, I don’t know. His guys would have hunted us down.” 

She paused for a moment, tears beginning to swim within her eyes. “I hate myself, for leaving her. Joey, Alessia and Mikey, too. I loved them so much, they were like my siblings for Christ’s sake! It’s a guilt that’ll never leave me, that I ran and they’re all still stuck there! She became my mother, and I abandoned her!” 

“Hey, no,” he began, touching his fingers under her chin, gently lifting her head. “You don’t have to feel guilty about a thing. I get that you miss her, she made the hell he put you through bearable where she could, but Marie chose that life, Emma. Nobody forced her. 

“She knew who she was marrying, and I’m not saying that in the end she had an easy choice to get away from him, ‘cuz I can see from what you told me he’d have killed her for it, but you found a way out. You took your chance, and you got free. If she loves you as much as it seems she does, then she’ll be fucking happy as hell the girl she counted as one of her own got free of him.” 

She absorbed his words, realising that no matter how unpleasant it felt, what he’d said was the plain, simple truth. If she didn’t assume her to be dead via Rocco’s hand, Marie would be quietly rejoicing her escape. “Is it wrong that I feel more of a maternal bond with her than I do my actual mom? I feel guilty for that, too. When I hear the word mom, I think of Marie, not Cassie.”  

He shifted slightly beneath her, Emma moving a little as he turned onto his side, resting his head on his arm. “It might sound cold, but it’s fact. Marie was in your life longer than your birth mom. I kinda guess it’s only natural you’d think that. Doesn’t mean you love Cassie any less, or that you can’t reconnect with her now you’re free.”  

“But, but,” she began, her throat swelling on a rising lump, “that’s the thing, there is no Cassie. When I was twenty-five, we sat and looked on the internet, I begged her to look up my family. I just wanted to know if they were okay. Mom died back in two thousand and thirteen from breast cancer. My dad, he passed away six years ago, motorbike accident. All I have left is Dylan, who is still in Spokane. My grandparents, too, unless anything happened in the interim. 

“I’ll never see my mom and dad again, and I loathe him, I detest him completely that he robbed me of those years with them, that they both died not knowing what had happened to me! As if me being taken wasn’t bad enough. It left Dylan all alone, no immediate family, and it’s all because of him!” 

She fell apart at that point, naturally so, sobbing against his chest as Guero held her. Again, he had no idea what to say to that, knowing it would take a man greater with words than he was to offer verbal comfort. Instead, he was just there, not knowing that truly that was all she needed from him, just someone to be there. It wasn’t about words. Listening was enough, as he continued to do, Emma sharing more with him about her life within the gilded cage prison that was the Lombardi mansion.  

“He used to virtually pimp me out to his friends too at parties.” Once again, Guero felt his anger flare like a firecracker, grinding his teeth as his jaw tightened. “I always wanted to enjoy sex, but none of them ever made it feel good for me, all too consumed by their own pleasure to give a damn about mine. As long as they got to lie between the legs of a pretty, young blonde, that was good enough. 

“There was only one of them who was different. His underboss, Vincent Calabrese never laid a hand on me. I was offered to him, and for appearances in front of Rocco and the others he always accepted, but once we got into the bedroom, he just sat down beside me on the bed and we talked. He said he wasn’t in the habit of defiling little girls, but even when I was over the age of consent, he still wouldn’t.  

“He staunchly disagreed with what was being done, the child trafficking. ‘It’s an affront to god, snatching children from their families’ is what he always used to say. He always opposed it, and Rocco knew that, but ultimately went along with what was being done for the sake of a quiet life, and I guess not ending up with a bullet between his eyes either. This leads me to something that you guys should all know, EZ especially. 

“You’re running heroin for him now, but all that will change if Rocco has his way, and believe me, he will. You guys are in his pocket now, which means in his mind, he owns you. You’re all to do with as he pleases, and what he pleases is to start bringing children across the border. Undocumented migrants are much easier to move, and get away with moving, too. I overheard him talking about it, it was always a two birds with one stone deal for him. He’d get you used to the money first, and then tell you that your consignment would begin to include kids as well.” 

Guero pushed himself up, his eyes rounding as he looked down at her. “For real, that motherfucker wants us in on trafficking kids?” 

His horror at the very suggestion was telling over the person he was. Although still a criminal, he was a man with the kind of morals that had been few and far between in the world she had escaped from. “Eventually, yeah.” 

“And if we refuse?” He didn’t need to ask, really. He could guess. 

She made a gun motion against the side of her head, couple with a soft exclamation of ‘pow’. “He’d wipe you all out and move onto the next nearest charter, using your eradication as an example of what happens when people push back against him.” 

The weight of the mafia. That was a war they definitely wouldn’t win, and he knew that for sure. Rocco Lombardi could crush them all, very easily, too. “I have to take that to EZ. Not now, of course, but at some point over the weekend, call a templo. Will you be okay to come and tell us what you know?” 

She smiled, reaching to stroke his hair. “Of course, I will.” 

They remained quiet for a time after, Emma needing the silence. Her legs remained in tangle with his as she reached for the tequila bottle, taking a long glug, the alcohol burning her throat. She felt a little drunk and numb, which was what she had needed in order to sit there and offload it all to another person. “There’s more I could tell you about my life, but right now, I feel drained. Like I need air, too. Can you give me a minute?” 

“Yeah, take as long as you need.” He reached to stroke her face, Emma turning her head and kissing his palm, getting up and letting herself out of the front of the house. The cool air hit her, soothing to her frayed nerves, the residual effects of her revelation hanging onto her, though.  

“Hey, boo.” Of course, Tyrone would notice her out there, always keeping the watch. She walked over to his window, her shoulders heavy, watching him emerge from behind the swathe of curtain fabric. “Damn, you look all sad and shit. Fuckboy bin’ actin’ up?” 

She shook her head. “No, no he’s great. Listen, I know you deal, so I figure I’m in the right place. Can you sell me a joint? That’s all I want, just one.” 

He looked entertained at the naivety of her question, that it was the norm for dealers to exchange such a small amount. Tyrone, for all of this mouth and uncouthness was kind, though. “I ain’t selling you shit, white girl. This is on me, hold on.”  

She smiled. “Thank you, you’re great.” 

He beamed, reaching to grab his rolling tray, locating one of his pre-rolled joints. “Ain’t I, though? I know fuckboy rarely smokes it, so just remember I gotchu if you ever need a lil’ hit.” The truth was, neither did she. She’d occasionally partook of it back in her old life, secretly taking from Rocco’s personal stash which he smoked to ease his chronic migraines. It helped her feel more relaxed in the utter brutal chaos of her life. It smelled and tasted awful, but she enjoyed the calming buzz.  

Tyrone passed a joint and a lighter through the window. “Enjoy, boo.” She smiled, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “Aw, lawdy! I gotta kiss from a pretty girl, hell yeah!”  

She laughed softly, shaking her head and lighting up, moving to sit on the front step of Guero’s side of the house, taking a long drag. God, that was some nice weed. She coughed a few times, the usual, barky rasp associated with smoking weed, her throat tickling.  

“Yo!” She turned to see a large arm thrust through the window, a can of soda proffered forth. “If you don’t like mango then I can’t help you. Oh, hold up. I might have a Fanta somewhere.”  

Walking back over, she took the can. “Thanks, Tyrone. You keep your Fanta, mango and I are good.” She moved back to the step, opening the soda and sipping it, the tickle clearing nicely before she took another little puff, looking out across the street into the darkness. The only sounds audible were that of the game Tyrone was playing, and the chirp of cicadas. It was somewhat relaxing in ambience.  

The weed had an instant calming effect upon her, all of the brutality that would endlessly echo through her memories placated and pushed back again, back behind the fortress walls in her mind. She’d had to keep it there for years to have even had a chance of remaining sane through her ordeal. God, she couldn’t believe that she’d actually escaped it, found somebody who she could trust, someone who for all intents and purposes was slowly becoming all hers, too.  

“As if you’re out here getting high on my front step. Not even I do that.” Turning, she saw Guero emerge from the house, moving to sit behind her, his legs flanking her body as he stretched.  

“Well, that’s because you don’t smoke weed,” she chirped, watching him frown before plucking the joint from her.  

He took a few puffs, handing it back, holding in a cough until the tickle passed. “I do, but not often. It has too much of an effect on me, and I can never get the balance right.” 

“The balance between what?” 

“Between a nice buzz and ragingly horny.”  

“Ahh.” She nodded, looking entertained, the stoned giggled welling up within her. “I somehow don’t think you need any extra boosting in that department.” 

He moved her hair, kissing the side of her neck. “A hundred percent correct, mamacita. And since I guess you’re probably drunker now than you were earlier, I’m not risking that balance any further, so you finish it. Kinda figure you need the sedation after everything you told me.”  

“Oh, you’re not wrong there,” she spoke, eyes widening a little as she leaned back against him. “Even if I was sober, sharing all of that has kinda dampened my desire.”  

He snorted softly, arms tightening around her. “Understandable. S’okay, I can wait.” 

“Can you?” she giggled, the sound joining the noise of the cicadas. 

“Mm.” he hummed, kissing her neck again. “Just.”  

Just then, the curtains next door began moving, Tyrone’s boom sounding. “Goddamnit, will you two go back in that house and bust some furniture already? Shit!” They both snort laughed, Guero resting his forehead to her shoulder, Tyrone continuing. “You better sort yo’ damned mess, fuckboy! Because I am one pretty smile away from makin’ that fine assed lil’ honey mine, you hear?”  

“Yeah, I hear,” he called through his laughter, “and I see, too. Plying her with weed and soda.” 

“I know what the ladies like! If she’s still out here in a half hour, she gets the first slice of my pizza, too!” 

“Exactly, you gotta give me a head start against your half ton of raw charm, dog,” he chuckled, Tyrone emerging further from the curtains.  

“Hey, I might be a big fella, but I’m no fuckin’ half ton! I’m thick and juicy, drives the chicks wild!” 

“Tyrone, you ain’t thick, my man. Your ass is so fat, if I swerved my bike to miss you, I’d run outta gas.” There was a pause, a squawking laugh emanating from the window, Emma thinking it hilarious a man with such a low, rumbling voice had a laugh so high in pitch. All banter with their hilarious neighbour aside, they remained outside until she had finished the joint, heading back in and returning to bed.  

“Do you feel better for telling me everything?” 

Resting her head against his chest, she nodded, her nails tracing the outline of one of the spiderweb tattoos that spread out across each of his shoulders. “I do, you know. Whether the nightmares will stop because of it, I don’t know. I think I might need further help to recover from it all. Kinda scared about registering with a doctor, though, putting my name back out there. He’ll be looking for me, and if he finds any record of a twenty-nine-year-old woman named Emma Louise Taylor anywhere, he’ll come for me.” 

Her muscles stiffened at just the thought, Guero turning to wrap both arms around her, feeling her relax into his embrace after a few moments. “We’ll work something out.” She fell asleep in his arms, those early morning hours passing dreamlessly, neither waking until 10am the following morning.  

Rising from her place curled against him, Emma rubbed her eyes, looking down at the chiselled tattoo canvas that had been her pillow. Her safe person, the kind of man she’d dreamed would one day save her from her fate, and there he was... snoring like a brontosaurus. She couldn’t help but giggle softly, thinking that was a part perhaps not strictly included in the romanticism of her fantasies.  

He cracked an eye open, his grin widening. “What are you laughing at?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? The noise! You snore like something hell spat up for being too loud.” 

“I wasn’t snoring,” he began stretching, the other eye opening eventually. “I was doing mindful breathing.” 

Immediately, she cracked up, leaning to place a kiss against his stubbly jaw. “There’s nothing mindful about those sawn logs.” 

She had a point, he guessed, Guero turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around her. “Yeah, but I’m cute. I get away with it, don’t I?” 

“Yeah,” she agreed, turning her head back to kiss him, “you do have that going for you.” 

“And a whole lot more.”  

Biting the corner of her lip, she shifted against him, a little wiggle that stirred him exactly where she intended him to be stirred. “Feel like showing me?”  

“Mm.” His arms tightened around her, kisses scattered against the side of her neck. “I need coffee and a shower, then trust me, I’ll spend all morning showing you.” 

Now that was a statement definitely on a par with her fantasies. He left the bed first, taking a shower, calling to her that he’d left in on for her as he made his way through to the kitchen. It was while she was under the warm water looking down at herself that a stab of panic prickled against her guts.  

He’d see her naked. All of her. 

While she had body confidence in her shape, the littering of scars that marked her sides and lower back made her feel ugly. Some had faded to white, but there were still a few dark pink markings that remained. All were raised scar tissue, triangular shapes of knife points pressed into her skin, the burning brand of a hot blade searing Rocco’s displeasure branded onto her skin forever.  

As she dried off, her eyes found them again, wondering if they’d really be all too noticeable if the blinds remained drawn in the bedroom.  

“Of course, they will," she muttered, beginning to sniff. All she wanted was to move on from it all, enjoy the basic human right of a consensual sexual relationship with another adult, someone of her actual choosing, yet the literal scars of the past held her back.  

A soft tap sounded upon the partly open door. “Em, you want a coffee?” 

Em. No one had ever called her that before. She liked it. “No, thank you.” 

“You alright.” 

“Yeah.”  

Her pinched voice alluded to the contrary. “No, you’re not. Can I come in?”  

“Yeah.” Tightening the large, white bath towel around herself again, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, trying to compose her upset.  

“So, people who are alright stand here crying, huh?” Him and his smart mouth. He was right in his light sarcasm, though. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

Baby. He'd called her that back when he’d first found her. How different the intent behind the word was now. “The scars I have,” she began, gulping, hoping she could swallow down the lump she had painfully swelling in her throat. “You’ll see them, and they’re hideous. They make me ugly. You’ll think they look ugly.” 

He frowned, lifting her chin with a gentle touch of his fingers as he began shaking his head. “I’ve never liked people making my mind up for me. That includes you, mamas.” His hands pressed softly on her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve got no problem with whatever scars you have, and I’m not gonna think you’re ugly because of ‘em. Only thing that is, is that low opinion you have of yourself. If you want, leave a t shirt on. I don’t mind. I’d prefer you naked, but whatever makes you comfortable, I’m good with.” 

She could fetch a t shirt, or she could just be brave and let him see her. All of her. She’d bared her soul to him already, after all. Indecision made her heart quicken, the soft stroke of his fingertips at her upper arms soothing as she reached for the towel and untucked it, letting it fall. Fighting the urge to cover herself with her arms, she looked anywhere but him as he took in her nudity, her body tensing when he moved his hands to stroke the scars she detested so much with careful attention.  

Leaning close, he kissed the side of her head, his lips soft against her ear. “They aren’t who you are, and you’re not any less beautiful. They’re only the map of the journey that finally led you to me.”  

Her throat tightened with emotion, his words so beautiful, she wanted to cry. The desire in his eyes as she finally looked at him dictated it might be poorly timed, though. This was not a time for lament and sadness. No. This was the time to plant her lips upon his and let him carry her to the bedroom.  

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson All of Those Voices: 5 surprising things we learned from the documentary

ALTPRESS

Sara Feigin | Published: March 23, 2023

A group huddle is how every good music documentary starts. And All of Those Voices doesn’t stray from what works. Louis Tomlinson’s camaraderie with the five members of his band mirrors the tight bond he had with his fellow members of One Direction. But this isn’t a One Direction movie, this is the story of an artist rising from the ashes of grief and self-doubt into superstardom.

In All Of Those Voices, Tomlinson gives fans an all access pass to his past and present, taking us along with him on his journey from being placed in One Direction over a decade ago on The X Factor to selling out a 30,000-person outdoor venue in Milan as a solo artist.

Tomlinson wants us to believe we’re watching the story of an underdog hitting his stride, but we’re really witnessing a star coming into his own and shining brighter than ever expected.

Here are some of the most interesting things we learned from the documentary.

One Direction’s big break came as a shock

Tomlinson has spoken a lot about how he feels One Direction had just hit their stride as a group leading up to the breakup. They were writing their own songs, they were making moves different than any boy band really had before, and he “felt like [they] were unstoppable.”

The singer shares that the five-piece were as tight as they could be, but when Zayn decided to leave it felt like the beginning of the end. Tomlinson was prepared for the band to call it quits, but he was angry rather than upset because he was fully committed to One Direction.

He didn’t know if he had the skills to go solo

Never once in One Direction’s five years together did he even daydream about a solo career — it was always the band or nothing for him. After their final performance Tomlinson voiced concern about what would come next for him.

Tomlinson and his team also discuss the feeling of having to prove himself to the masses. There was a fear that because he was most known for being in One Direction his solo music would be seen as less credible, especially if he made the type of music he really wanted to make. It doesn’t help that Tomlinson holds himself to an incredibly high standard, so he stresses over his live shows being pitch perfect.

Family is the most important thing to Tomlinson

Throughout all the highs and lows of his personal and professional life, Tomlinson has always had his family back home in Doncaster to rely on. He comes from a large family unit including four younger sisters. He and his late mother, Johannah, had an incredibly close relationship. She had him when she was only 19 years old, and it was just the two of them for most of Tomlinson’s childhood.

In the documentary we hear from the singer’s grandparents, all of his sisters and even his son, Freddie, who lives in LA with his mom. Tomlinson reveals that his son doesn’t get to spend a lot of time in England, so he’s out in LA with him whenever he can spare some time, making sure to FaceTime with his family back home so they can be a part of Freddie’s life.

Tomlinson views his backing band as his bandmates rather than employees

The camaraderie between Tomlinson and the band members he tours with is palpable. Watching them interact with each other, it’s as if they’re a six-piece fixture rather than a solo artist and hired touring musicians. Hearing Louis speak about how it meant so much to him that One Direction felt like a unit and seeing him replicate that feeling with his new bandmates is a beautiful full circle moment to watch.

We see multiple moments of the touring crew enjoying time together letting loose in places like Iceland, South America and Italy. Tomlinson even treats everyone to a day on a yacht, where his bandmates share with him how he’s unlike any other artist they’ve toured with because of how he makes them feel included.

There’s a deep connection between Tomlinson and his fans

“You need me and I need you” is a common phrase heard coming from the Faith In The Future singer. A main theme of the film is how thankful and appreciative he is to have his fans. When the turn out for his lockdown livestream concert broke a Guinness World Record he fully understood how much his fan base supported him and wanted to see him succeed.

It’s not uncommon for fans to camp out for days and sometimes even months to get the opportunity to be up close and personal with Tomlinson. The love they feel for the singer is intense. So much so that it’s not uncommon for Louis to leave the stage with scratches on his neck and holes in his shirt. But he eats it up as much as they do. His dedication to making sure his fans know they’re seen is unparalleled, and something that needs to be seen to be believed.

[rainmustfallts4]

Westfall Orphanage Challenge (the sims 4)

◇ Introduction

Another challenge I wrote over a year ago. This has been found and edited before being posted to this blog. There are two different ways to play, so feel free to play whichever way suits you best or, if you’re feeling adventurous, you can try both paths!

This challenge is all about Westfall Orphanage (or whatever you would like to name your own.) You either take on the role of caretaker or orphan, tackling a list of goals that will move you toward a better and brighter future.

────── 〔🌧〕──────

◇ Choose Your Path

Path 1

You are a child sim growing up in the orphanage with six other kids. You never knew your parents and you’ve been here since the day you were born. You’ve seen kids come and go. You’ve seen the orphanage change owners many times, most of whom never cared about the children. You no longer care about being adopted. No, you’re determined to make your own path in life and support yourself!

Earn and maintain an A in both elementary and high school.

As a child, become a scout and earn every badge. Complete your aspiration.

As a teen, reach the top of a part-time career and after school activity. Graduate early.

Keep track of the money you make from your job and complete the voidcritter collection with your own money.

Max one social skill (charisma, comedy, mischief, etc.)

Max one hobby skill (painting, guitar, writing, etc.)

Reach level 5 in two life skills (cooking, baking, knitting, etc.)

Get two character values within range (either positive or negative.)

You may only leave the lot on Saturdays and Sundays. Curfew is 9:00 PM.

Sneak out at least once as a teenager.

As soon as you become a young adult, move out of the orphanage with the money you earned.

Apply for and get accepted into university.

If you want to play option 2 with this sim, graduate university with an economics or psychology degree then move back in as caretaker of the orphanage.

Path 2

You’re a young adult that has inherited an orphanage from your late grandparent. Before they died, you promised you would take over for them and do your best to raise the children living there, providing a good life for them until they either get adopted or grow up. Though you aren’t entirely excited about this life change, you’re determined to keep your promise.

Max cooking skill.

Max baking skill.

Max parenting skill.

Max handiness skill.

Must have a work from home job.

You may only leave the lot on Saturdays and Sundays.

Have a good relationship (middle bar or higher) with all kids.

Scold children when they misbehave.

Praise children when they behave.

Always bake a cake for the kids on their birthday.

Take the kids to at least one festival.

Do not accept any invites to dates, parties, hangouts, etc.

Influence them to do their homework, take care of themselves and do chores.

Keep the orphanage clean and repair all broken objects.

Cook meals for them every day (the kitchen should be locked for everyone but you, keep them fed!)

You must have each child reach young adult and move out. It’s your choice if you want to add more children in or end the challenge.

────── 〔🌧〕──────

◇ Choose Your Difficulty

Casual: 2 children, 5 teen, $20,000 starting funds, aging off.

Medium: 1 toddler, 2 children, 4 teens, $15,000 starting funds, long lifespan.

Hard: 1 infant, 2 toddlers, 3 children, 1 teen, $10,000 starting funds, normal lifespan.

Extreme: 3 infants, 4 toddlers, $5,000 starting funds, short lifespan.

Custom: choose your own combination.

Fate: roll the dice and let fate decide.

────── 〔🌧〕──────

◇ Additional Guidelines

Control only your own sim. You can check the other sim’s needs and inventory, but you can not order them to do anything.

You can build your own orphanage or find one on the gallery. You don’t have to use your starting funds toward this.

You can not hire a butler or a maid, but you can hire a gardener.

The sim you control can have whatever traits you like. The others must be randomized three times.

────── 〔🌧〕──────

◇ So you like points, huh?

Casual; +1000

Medium; +2000

Hard; +3000

Extreme; +5000

Custom; +500

Fate; +1000

Each skill over 5; +1000

Each skill at 10; +2000

Earning a degree (option 1); +2000

Completing the challenge (option 1); +1500

Completing the challenge (option 2); +2000

Each time the power is shut off; -500

Each time a child is taken; -500

Each time an item is repo’d; -500

Each time an item is repaired; +500

Every A in school; +500 each (1000 for both middle and high school)

Every B in school; +300 each (600 for both middle and high school)

Every D in school; -100 each (-200 for both middle and high school)

Every F in school; -200 each (-400 for both middle and high school)

Every character trait earned; +250

Every enemy made; +100

Every friendship made; +150

Having more than 15,000 at the end; +1000

Having less than 15,000 at the end; +500

+5000 for playing the challenge, I hope you had fun! c:

Share your stories and results with the hashtag #westfallorphanage!

[baby-girl-e]

Christmas Tree Farm

Characters - Iceman x Maverick, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Summary -  Maverick and Ice have their first Christmas with Bradley after Carole’s death. Just a couple of new dads doing their best to raise a happy kid. 

Word Count - 3.5k

Warnings - Canon- Character deaths; Mentions of period-typical homophobia

A/N - Sorry for the wait on this one, I started it a while ago and then life happened you know? I hope this one is happy and Christmas-y enough for you, I added a sprinkling of fluffy angst because I can’t help myself! This is also my first Kazansky-Mitchell-Bradshaw family fic so let me know what you think!

Without further ado... Christmas Tree Farm based on the song by Taylor Swift

It was the first Christmas that Maverick had Bradley since Carole died. He would’ve taken the kid to his grandparents house but for all that he tried he just couldn’t get in touch with the Bradshaws. Carole’s parents had been dead for longer than he’d known her, but he always knew that Nick’s parents were around and had spoken to them many times before he had died. The number he had for them, that he wrote down at her funeral, was right but he got their machine every time. With no call back he just had to assume they were out of town. He didn’t dare to think it was because they were ignoring him, how could they possibly not want to be with the coolest kid in the universe on Christmas?

So here Maverick was, standing in the middle of Target staring at the coats looking clueless. Bradley had outgrown his last one and Ice had insisted he needed a new one before they went to the Christmas tree farm the next day. He reminded his boyfriend that they still lived in San Diego and it didn’t get far below 50 degrees fahrenheit, especially not in the middle of the day. Ice had lovingly reminded him that not everyone was raised in the midwest and that this kid went from living in Texas to living in California and wasn’t used to the cold. 

“Need some help?” A kind looking lady pushing a shopping cart with what looked to be a kid Bradley’s age next to it, noticed his confused gaze. 

“Oh, um I’m fine I just have no idea what I’m doing here.” He thought he may as well be honest with the stranger.

“How old is the kid? I’ve had a few myself.” 

“He’s uh six.” Wow, time flew. It felt like just yesterday Nick had handed him a tiny bundle that just blinked up at him, unknowingly looking at his future pseudo father. 

“Well then he’s probably the same size as Matty here. What size did you last get him?” He internally winced at that. He didn’t check the size on the one that didn’t fit and he wasn’t the one that bought it for him, Carole was. 

“I don’t know, this is my first year as his dad.” She gave him a weird look and he decided to add more to make himself not sound like a dead-beat. “His parents and I were best friends, his dad died two years ago and his mom this summer. So now he’s mine.” 

She gave him a sad look and boy was he sick of those. It wasn’t her fault, what else was she supposed to do when told that story? It’s the polite thing to do. 

“Oh I’m so sorry. Do you at least have your wife around to help?” He almost laughed. No, but he had an Ice. A boyfriend that stuck by his side through thick and thin and god was he so damn lucky. He didn’t have a wife, but he was better so Maverick found himself agreeing. 

“Yeah I do. She’s usually better at this stuff but she’s working late.” He really had to keep the laughter at bay by referring to Ice as his wife. He couldn’t wait to tell Tom about this later. 

“Well not to worry I can help. Does he look about the same size as Matty?” 

“Yeah I think so. I would’ve brought him but he was just having so much fun at his friends house.” It was actually the Metcalfs but how was he supposed to say he didn’t want to stop listening to Viper explain the mechanics of an F-6? Weird kid. 

“Oh I understand, I won’t shop with the kids if I can help it. He’s usually a size 5-6, a little tip is that they’re sized with the same number as the ages so if they’re average sized then you should be safe. For coats however I always go a size up so that it at least lasts for two seasons. Shoes are kinda similar, but you don’t want to go too big or he’ll trip.” 

Really he should’ve been writing this down, but he’s a pilot for god sake he can remember stuff.

“Oh thank you. I’ll have to remember this for when we need to get him new shoes. I don’t think he will for a while.” 

“Of course, we parents have to stick together. Maybe bring your wife next time so it’s less painless!” He’s one hundred percent sure his ‘wife’ would have wanted to be here today but the Navy didn’t give time off for clothes shopping for the kid you and your secret boyfriend share. Maverick was only here because he wasn’t yet trusted to do the paperwork side of TOP GUN. 

“She’ll be here next time I’m sure. I’m not usually allowed to even do the grocery shopping let alone this. I don’t know why she puts up with me.” He laughed as he said it but it was true. He didn’t feel like he deserved him at times. 

“I’m sure love has something to do with it. Good luck!” And with that the nice stranger left him in the coat aisle gaping. 

Eventually he picks what he thinks might work, a hat and gloves that match, and heads back to their little house. When he gets home he calls Ice to check in and also to see if he’ll pick Bradley up from the Metcalf’s. 

“Kazansky speaking.” Maverick had to stop himself from giggling at his deep voice, it never failed to make him swoon. 

“Hey babe, how’s work?” Pete could hear a sigh of relief over the phone, probably because he’d been expecting it to be a work call.

“It’s killing me baby. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be home free.” The way Tom had drawled through baby was making him sweat. 

“I’ll have dinner ready when you get home if you want to swing by the Metcalfs on your way and grab baby goose?” Viper and his wife had long since found out about their relationship, Pete accidentally using babe in the workplace, but they never bat an eye. After Pete’s inevitable breakdown his fathers former best friend reassured the couple that their secret is safe with him and if they’re comfortable they could come to Sunday dinners with his wife and really be a real couple. Small mercies. 

“Why in god's name is he at the Metcalfs without you?” 

“Because I had to grab something from Carrie after work and Bradley wanted to come. Mike was telling him about some F-6 and it was like pulling teeth getting him to leave. They offered to keep him until you got off so I said yes. I’m telling you Tom our son is so weird.” 

Our son slipped out of his mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was, Pete quite liked the little family he had made for himself. 

“Well that’s because he’s been spending too much time with you. I say we switch places and see which dad he takes after.” It seemed Tom thought it was natural too. Pete didn’t want to erase the kids memory of his real dad, but he also didn’t want him to grow up without one like he did. 

“You’d love that wouldn’t you? Just go get him and get your ass home so I can finally kiss you. I’ve been dying to since you thought it’d be fun to chew on that stupid pen.” The worst part about working with your secret boyfriend was for sure the whole keeping your hands to yourself part. 

“That got you going huh? Maybe I’ll keep it up.” He could practically hear the smirk. Oh god. 

“Not unless you want to be slapped with a DD. Good god I’m hanging up, Love you.” 

“Love you too.” Tom was laughing through his words but then the line went dead. Pete couldn’t help but laugh too. God he loved that man. 

///

About an hour later Pete could hear both keys jingling in the lock and a small six year old voice chattering on about some plane. He was still in the kitchen when the door opened and heard Tom remind Bradley to take off his wet shoes before he came flying in to say hi to him. 

“Pete! Hi!” The little boy was jumping up and down practically begging to be held. 

“Baby goose I just saw you a few hours ago, you can’t have possibly missed me already!” He was hugging Bradley tight as Tom came in and pressed a small peck to Pete’s lips. 

“I don’t care I missed you!” He was wiggling to get down already and Pete obliged. He called out to the boy to go wash up so they could eat and he heard something that sounded like “okay'' before he disappeared to his room. 

Pete shook his head at Tom before striding over to where he was drying his hands. He immediately took his face in his hands and kissed him. Resisting Pete was futile and Tom kissed him back with an urgency he was still getting used to. 

They made a point to not kiss in front of the kid, no more than a small peck, but with him distracted they took advantage of the moment. As they pulled back they mumbled greetings before Pete retreated back to putting dinner onto three plates. 

“Glad you’re home Tom. I missed you.” Tom blushed and set two out of the three plates on the table. 

“And you gave Bradley a hard time for missing you? You’re impossible Pete.” 

He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t help it.” 

Once they get Bradley downstairs and eating Pete starts to notice Bradley seemed like something’s on his mind. Just picking at his food and being abnormally quiet. Tom picks up on it too because he gives Pete a look before addressing the kid. 

“Everything okay baby goose?” They were already worried about raising him, so anytime something went wrong they were both panicked. 

“Yeah, can I tell you guys something?” He looked up to them with wary eyes and Pete felt his insides freeze. 

“Anything Bradley you know that.” Tom reassured him.

“Well, this morning in class my friends were talking about their dad’s and I don’t know, I just wish I could talk about mine.” They looked at the kid concerned, they knew they’d have to talk about this eventually but Pete wanted to avoid it as much as possible. 

“Well you know you have a dad, he’s just not here.” The kid looks sad still and Pete looks to Tom for some assistance. Tom’s at just as much of a loss.

“I know, but I don’t know how to tell the other kids that. Would it be okay… Maybe…” He didn’t seem to be able to get out the words. Tom stepped in. 

“It’s okay kiddo, take your time.” Neither had been prepared for parenthood, least of all Tom. He had resigned himself to a life without kid’s a long time ago. 

“Do you think it’d be okay if I called you guys dad?” 

Tom looked to Pete, like he did in most situations, and Pete looked pale. He never wanted to replace Nick, but Bradley really did deserve to have a dad. 

“Oh baby goose, of course that’s okay. But you remember what we talked about with Tom right? That people can’t know we love each other like your parents did.” Bradley nods enthusiastically.

“I remember. But I can still call you dad?” Bradley looked so hopeful but not quite so sure of himself. Like he didn’t know that these men would give him their kidney if he asked. 

“Absolutely Bradley. Just as long as you don’t tell people you have two dads, at least for now that’s okay. Tom?” Pete wanted to be sure that he was also okay with it, it’s not like Tom had planned on kids so early into a relationship. 

“It’s okay with me buddy. I’m honored that you see me that way. Now go clean up and we’ll watch a Christmas movie?” 

He nods again and runs up the stairs leaving his dad’s flabbergasted but deliriously happy in the kitchen. They were a real little family and damnit if they weren’t both over the moon about it. 

///

The next day comes quickly, especially when they’re woken up by a little boy jumping on their bed. 

“Dad! Dad! We’re getting a Christmas tree today right?” It seemed Bradley wanted to start calling them dad asap. It might get confusing really fast if he doesn’t find another term to call one of them. 

“We are buddy, but we have to be patient and get decorations for it first. Your dad and I only have a few things.” He tried on the name himself and Pete was rewarded with a glowing Tom even this early in the morning. 

“Okay, I’ll go get ready then. But you need to hurry, not wasting time kissing. Yuck.” He makes a face and collapses into giggles when Tom does exactly what Bradley had requested they not do. 

It takes them record time getting Bradley out the door that day, normally having to stop for about a million things but it seems like the kid moved like lightning when he had something to look forward to. He did look cute all bundled up in his new coat, even if he’d have to take it off the minute he got into the car and into his carseat. 

They went straight to Walmart to find ornaments and lights and were delighted to walk right into them when they walked in the door. Bradley picked out a set of shiny red ones and even found an F-14 one. Perks of living right near a Navy base. 

“Dad! Look, it's the one you fly right?” He had made the mistake of grabbing an F-15 Eagle before and received a long lesson on who had better planes, the Navy or the Air Force. 

“That’s right Bradley, put it in the cart.” He did so and scampered off. Pete leaned in close to Tom to whisper to him after. 

“I hope he finds another name for one of us. We can’t both be dad, I’m already confused as to who the hell he was just talking to.” Tom laughs and nudges Pete along the aisle. 

“I’m sure he will. I wouldn’t mind being called Pops. I’m sure you two can find a joke in there somewhere.” He smiled and winked at Pete before turning towards the ornaments, not missing Pete’s lit up face. 

“I love this so much more already. Ice-Pops. That’s amazing.” Tom was laughing too but slowed when he stumbled upon a first christmas ornament. It was pretty generic looking, a tree with a banner below that stated “Our First Family Christmas 1988”.

“What about this one Pete? I know it’s not our first Christmas but it is as a family.” Pete takes it from his boyfriend to examine it. 

“It’s perfect Tom. I love it. Should we get one to commemorate our first christmas?” He turned to find another generic one and saw the perfect one. A red heart decorated with snow and candy canes, a similar banner but this one stated “Our First Christmas”. 

“I could write 1986 on the back? What do you think? Too obvious?” Tom examined it much like Pete had before placing it in the cart. 

“Anyone who doesn’t know about us will not be invited into the house during Christmas time I assure you.” Tom sounded so sure of himself that Pete left it there. They rarely had guests anyways. 

Eventually they get Bradley to decide on a star and the rest of the trimmings before Tom tells Pete to go out to the car with Bradley while he purchases the items. They wanted to get to the Christmas tree farm within a reasonable timeframe to maybe try and beat the crowds. They both so desperately wanted this to seem as normal as possible and with lots of people around they’d have to go back to pretending to just be wingmen and not lovers. 

As Tom pulled into the lot Bradley was screeching his excitement. “Dad!! Look there it is!!” 

“Which dad are you talking to kiddo?” They just needed some clarification already. 

“Both of you now, but I think I’m going to call Ice pops. You know, like the Ice cream?” He was giggling and Tom had a smug look on his face. It seems like great minds think alike. 

“I love it, baby goose. Let’s go choose our tree shall we?” Bradley was back to screeching and Pete couldn’t unbuckle him fast enough. 

The kid ran into the farm with his dad’s in tow, Tom by the hand, and ran right to the tallest one he could find. 

“This one Pops! This one.” He was jumping now, pointing as he went. 

“Kiddo that won’t fit in our living room, let’s look for a shorter one, yeah?” He re;ented fairly easily for his age and was quickly bounding over to the next one. 

He searched every row, multiple times too, looking for that perfect tree. Pete and Tom just looked on, hoping he’d settle on a decently sized and priced one soon. Eventually he did and it was Tom’s turn to get the attendant to wrap it up for them. 

Sooner rather than later it was strapped to the car and they were on their way home. Once they got there Tom started up on making soup to warm the chilly boy and Pete figured out how to get it set up and looking nice. 

Looking into the living room Tom couldn’t help but tear up. He really never thought that anything like this could ever happen to him, least of all with Pete. When he saw Pete’s plane fall into that flat spin back in 1986 he really thought that was it. That he’d never get the chance to tell Pete how he felt. And moreover, after learning of Nick Bradshaw’s passing he thought Pete would never be the same. 

Later, when Pete had admitted his feelings for him and all seemed right he still had a hard time believing it. Just when he had thought that maybe, just maybe they’d be okay, Carole Bradshaw had followed her husband. This was it, he thought. Pete is going to raise Bradley and Tom was going to become just a past fling, it wasn’t like he was going to have time for a relationship and a kid. But here he was. Watching the love of his life wrap lights around a Christmas tree with a child that calls him ‘Pops’. 

Later after the kid was in bed, tree decorated and Christmas movies watched, he and Pete sat on the couch basking in each other's arms and the glow of the fire. 

“Hey Tom?” Pete was quiet, not because he needed to be but because he didn’t want to disturb the peace they had found. 

“Yeah baby?” Tom was drawing idle patterns on Pete’s arm, also not wanting to disturb the peace. 

“I love you.” It was so simple, but Tom really wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it. 

“I love you too. You know I bought something after you two went out to the car.” It was random but it was in a small bag a couple inches away from him and he couldn’t help himself. 

“Oh yeah?” Pete turned slightly towards his partner and raised him a curious brow. 

Tom pulled the bag towards where they sat and pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe. Pete blushed and shook his head in laughter. 

“Babe, you know you don’t need that to get a kiss right?” He was already inching impossibly closer to Tom, hoping he knew where this was going. 

“I know, I just would like something to remind you. Maybe we can keep it up year round.” He was teasing Pete but it seemed he was growing impatient. He grabbed the plant from Tom and held it above their heads before pulling him into a hard kiss. Tom was kissing back in record time and they sank into it. 

Kissing wasn’t a new concept to them, obviously, but every time they did it never failed to make Tom’s heart flutter. Pete pulled away and set his arm down around Tom. 

They breathed heavily into each other's mouths and Tom broke into a smile. Pete was smiling too by the end and then they were laughing. This was comfortable, this was love. 

“Merry Christmas baby.” Pete had caught his breath enough to squeak the words out. 

“Merry Christmas Pete.” he hoped and prayed this was the standard for the rest of his Christmases. He finally had everything he ever wanted, a family.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

It's Not Where You Come From (Kerri-centric, pt 1/2)

Long awaited, but here's the first half of the Kerri adoption fic, as part of the Wedding Planner AU! This takes place about 9 months after the events of Dearly Beloved.

Also for those who are not from the US, here is some information about FMLA. This fic also includes mentions of child neglect, transphobia, and theming around the US foster care system.

Read on ao3

Kerri’s been watching the driveway all afternoon, waiting for the familiar State of California vehicle to pull up. She has an open library book in her hands, but she’s barely read a single sentence. Soon enough, her CPS worker arrived, rolling the black bag filled with her and other kids’ files. 

Kerri’s gotten used to this weekly routine for the past six months and has realized that she had no choice after being placed in foster care. She knew she would be stuck in this rotted system until she would turn eighteen and would never be adopted. Who wanted a pre-teen who came out as trans, and then her birth parents just gave up?

The preteen waited in the bedroom that she shared with her foster brothers. She wished she lived in the girl’s bedroom across the hall, but after her foster parents went back and forth on her situation, they decided it would be best for her to stay in the boy’s room. But she had the bed by the window, so at least she was grateful for having that. 

After about twenty minutes of waiting, she heard footsteps walking down the hallway and opened the bedroom door without knocking. 

“You’re wanted downstairs.” Her older foster brother told her before plopping down on his bed with an older-generation of an iPhone. Kerri was pretty sure that it didn’t have service on it.

Kerri said a quiet thank you and left the book under the pillow. She’s had her stuff stolen before and couldn’t take any chances. 

Her foster mother and the CPS worker welcomed her into the living room. She sat in her usual seat that she resides in during these weekly check-ins. Her hands busied themselves with the loose thread on the arm of the chair.

“I’ll leave you two alone, then.” Her foster mother politely smiled as she left the room. Kerri would consider her as one of the better foster parents, only if she allowed her to grow out her hair and wear girl’s clothes. 

The CPS worker started asking her all the standard questions. Is she being fed enough? Is she being treated well? Kerri’s answers always remained the same yes’s and no’s, and whatever short answer would get this meeting over with the fastest. 

“I’ve got some news for you. I’ve already talked to your foster mom about it and she thinks it’s a good idea.” Her CPS worker said as she was putting Kerri’s file back into the bag.

Kerri’s head tilted slightly in curiosity “What is it?”

Her CPS worker took a deep breath “Remember when we tried to find you a placement within your family, but they all said that they couldn’t take you in?” Kerri nodded. How could she forget? She didn’t have many known relatives in the area. Her mother was an only child, and her father moved from Hawai’i to California. Her grandparents and her mother’s cousins in San Diego had all said no to Kerri living with them. 

The only other family she has ever heard about was her father’s estranged brother, who cut off all contact almost twenty years ago. 

“Well,” Her CPS worker continued, “You have an aunt who lives in LA, on your dad’s side. She was hard to track down, she changed both her first and last name years ago.” 

“Wait, my dad didn’t say he ever had a sister.” Kerri crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “All he had was a brother that wasn’t in the family anymore and…” her voice trailed off, realizing that this could be the same person. It felt like a long shot to ask, but she had to rule out the possibility. 

Kerri swallowed her nerves “Is she like me?” she quietly asked.

The worker nodded, “She is, her name is Sasha. I haven’t tried to contact her yet  because I wanted to see how you felt about it first.” 

She did have a blood relative out there. But Sasha cut off all contact with her family, as she might not want to be found again. Kerri wanted to be mad, but she could understand where Sasha was coming from if that was the case. 

But this could also be her way out of the foster system, even if there was a big chance that Sasha didn’t want anything to do with her family. There was only one way to find out.

“I want you to try to contact her. I really want to meet my aunt.”

The following week, the CPS worker came for another visit, but she was alone. Kerri watched the car from the bedroom window for a few seconds longer than usual to ensure no one else was in the car. 

Kerri didn’t want to feel disappointed, but she couldn’t help it. She felt frustrated that a relative she’d only known about for a week hadn’t appeared yet. Maybe her worries about Sasha were correct. This woman did not want anything to do with her family anymore, even if Kerri was just some kid that wanted to meet her aunt. 

The CPS didn’t mention her aunt either during the meeting. It was the same routine as every other week, some questions that Kerri’s answers never changed. As the CPS put away the files, Kerri blurted out, “What about my aunt? Have you tried to contact her yet?”

The worker took a steadying breath before answering Kerri’s question. “I’ll be honest with you. I did call her, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Kerri’s voice lowered slightly “Why would I get my hopes up?”

“She said that she wasn’t sure right now. She told me she would think about it and call me back as soon as possible.” The worker explained carefully. 

“Oh.” was all Kerri could respond with. She knew she had nothing to lose from the CPS worker contacting Sasha, but Kerri felt as if she lost the last possible connection to her family. 

Better get used to the foster system since Kerri is stuck in it for the next six years. 

Another week passed, and Kerri watched from her usual spot by the window for her CPS worker to arrive. Kerri accepted that Sasha didn’t want to meet her, as big of a pill that was to swallow. It was fine and nothing had to change in Kerri’s life now. She needed something stable, as there were too many changes in the past year alone.

The California state car pulled into the driveway and stepped out from the driver’s side was her CPS worker.  Same black rolling bag and it will be the same meeting she has every week. Kerri pulled down the blinds, she wouldn’t miss anything new outside that she hadn’t seen before. 

Kerri stopped paying attention to the time, actually reading her library book when her foster brother barged in the room. 

“They want you downstairs, and there’s some lady there too with them.” He said in a bored tone as he pushed open the door, then went to the end of the hall. 

“Wait, what lady?” Kerri asked with no response. Could it be Sasha? Did Sasha agree to meet her?

Turns out, it was Sasha who was downstairs in the meeting. Sasha was everything Kerri could ever dream of being one day. Her long dark hair was in a high ponytail, and her warm green eyes looked at Kerri without pity. Her aunt was stunningly beautiful and kind, and Kerri was nervous about making a good impression on her. 

Each time Sasha asked her a question, Kerri could only manage to answer in short, simple responses. It took Kerri until the end of the meeting to settle her nerves and feel comfortable around Sasha. 

“Is there anything you want to know about me?” Sasha asked her directly, and Kerri looked up at Sasha in front of her and noticed a ring with a set diamond on her ring finger. 

“Are you married?” she asked, pointing to the ring. 

Sasha smiled warmly and looked at her ring “Yes, I am. My wife and I just got married this past spring, and she even surprised me with the best honeymoon trip to Hawai’i.” 

Her aunt was married, lived in LA, and went on a surprise honeymoon trip. Sasha seemed to be doing great for herself, Kerri couldn’t wait to get out of the system if that life was possible for her one day. 

Sasha came back the next week and the following few weeks after that. It took a while for Kerri to warm up to her aunt, but she looked forward to her visits from the CPS worker and Sasha. 

She learned a lot more about Sasha during the following few weeks. Sasha owned her own wedding planning business in LA, which was one of the coolest jobs Kerri could ever dream of. 

Sasha didn’t mention her wife very often, as all she mentioned to her was that her spouse worked nights and they had been together for almost three years. Kerri didn’t even recall Sasha mentioning her wife’s name. She mostly spent the time during meetings listening and asking Kerri about herself. 

One day, Kerri came downstairs for another meeting, and she saw there was another woman next to Sasha. She didn’t remember meeting this woman before, she was a couple of inches taller than Sasha and had cherry-red hair and sharp brown eyes. 

“Who is this?” Kerri asked as she found her seat in the living room. She looked at her CPS worker and Sasha. 

Was this a new CPS worker? A new foster parent? A random woman looking to adopt a pre-teen? The last option was the most unlikely, but a girl could dream.

“I wanted you to meet my wife.” Sasha said, putting her hand gently on the woman’s shoulder “Kerri, this is Anetra.” 

Anetra leaned forward to give Kerri a pleasant handshake “Nice to meet you. Sasha has told me a lot about you.” Kerri noticed a faint scar over Anetra’s left eye as they shook hands. Anetra’s hands were long and willowy, a distinction from her athletic figure. 

Kerri couldn’t tell if Anetra was shy or didn’t have much to say at all. During the meeting, she watched Sasha’s wife (or maybe Kerri’s other aunt? She wasn’t sure what to label Anetra) and her reactions. Anetra didn’t talk much, so that was all Kerri had to go by to get a first impression. 

Anetra’s face didn’t change much either. She laughed with everyone, nodded, and smiled when appropriate, but that was about it. Kerri couldn’t tell how Anetra was feeling, maybe bored? Mad? Like she didn’t want to spend her afternoon with her wife’s niece in a foster home? Kerri had no idea what to think of Anetra. 

A couple weeks after meeting Anetra, the Department of Social Services granted approval for the Colbies to take Kerri out of the foster house for day visits. By this time, Kerri’s aunts were visiting without the CPS worker and taking her out for afternoon visits. 

These visits quickly became Kerri’s favorite time of the week. They took her to the parks in the neighborhood, coffee shops, and sometimes the beach (weather permitting). Kerri spent most of the time talking to her aunts and learning more about their lives in LA. She learned that Sasha started in wedding photography and recently got back into the hobby after their honeymoon. 

It took a while longer to learn about Anetra, but she learned that her other aunt did competitive taekwondo until she was about sixteen. But that was about it, Kerri realized that Sasha did more of the talking out of the couple.

One week, Sasha came by to pick Kerri up to spend the day at the nature park, but Anetra was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Anetra?” Kerri asked as they got into Sasha’s small black car. 

“She had a rough migraine this morning, so I told her to stay home and feel better,” Sasha said as she started the car and buckled her seatbelt. 

“Oh, that sucks,” Kerri said. She wasn’t sure how Anetra felt about having a kid in her life since she was so hard to read. 

“Yeah, but her best friend, Marcia, is coming over and bringing her some medicine and food from our favorite Thai place later. So she’s in good hands.” Sasha smiled, pulling out of the driveway and down the street. 

Kerri’s spent barely two minutes with Sasha today, and she’s already learned two things about her elusive aunt.  Maybe Sasha could tell her more about Anetra while they were out today. 

“I think that’s the same one that Anetra has a tattoo on her chest.” Sasha pointed to a butterfly that was on a milkweed leaf in the nature center’s butterfly garden. 

“Oh, it’s pretty.” Kerri simply said. 

Sasha looked at Kerri, eyes full of concern “What’s going on? You aren’t usually this quiet.” 

Kerri took a deep breath, “Can I ask you something about Anetra?” 

Sasha nodded as she led them to a nearby bench, “What is it?” 

“Does she not like kids?’ Kerri blurted out without warning and saw Sasha’s confused stare before continuing.

“I mean that she’s hard to read, so I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She doesn’t talk much either.” Kerri said in a rush, hoping that Sasha would understand what she was saying. 

Sasha smiled at her, but not in a mocking way, “Do you know how many times I’ve told her that she has the meanest-looking resting face? Her scar doesn’t help much, either. She’s just a quiet person, but it takes her a bit to warm up to people.”

Kerri sighed in relief, “So it’s not that she’s bored or mad or anything?”

“No, and she absolutely loves kids. Whenever the florists at the store bring in their little boys, Anetra will come by just to play with them.” Sasha laughed to herself. 

The scar comment stuck out to Kerri after she felt her nerves from before untangling themselves out of relief. “Then how did she get her scar? If you knew her before she got it,” she asked, hoping it wasn’t a rude question. 

Sasha stood up from the bench and invited Kerri to join her in continuing their walk “I’ll let her be the one to tell you that story one day. It was scary when it happened, but we can laugh about it now.” 

“Really?’ Kerri started walking alongside her. 

“Yes, it’s a good reason we don’t have much glass in our house.”"

Weeks continue to go by, and Kerri notices that the visits with Anetra and Sasha change slightly. They never acted differently, and they still talk to her and take her to different places in San Diego. 

But at first, the visits aren’t as long as before. It wasn’t noticeable to Kerri when the visits ended about ten or fifteen minutes earlier than usual until it happened week after week. She never mentioned this change to her aunts, thinking they might not have been paying attention to the time. 

Then the visits become much shorter than usual. Most visits consisted of about half an hour of going to a park, talking, then dropping Kerri back off at her foster home and leaving to head back to LA. She tried asking why her aunts left sooner and sooner, but they always gave vague answers to Kerri’s frustrations. 

“We want to beat traffic on the way home.”

Or 

“There’s a meeting we need to get to.”

Or 

“We have something early to get to in the morning.”

Kerri grew more frustrated when she heard these answers to her constant questions. And with the frustration also came worry. 

She was worried about what the sudden change in her aunts could result in. Were her aunts not wanting to see her anymore? After months of visits, they decided they didn’t want Kerri in their lives.

Kerri tried her best to keep the negative thoughts at bay until Anetra and Sasha didn’t show up one week when they were supposed to. They didn’t call her foster parents to tell them they wouldn’t be there. They didn’t give Kerri a heads-up during the previous week. 

The driveway was empty all day, and Kerri would know since she watched it from the bedroom window until it got dark out. 

It was the saddest she’s felt since getting placed into foster care. She felt sadder than when her parents brought in an old suitcase and told her to pack what she needed. Even sadder than saying goodbye to her younger siblings. And much sadder than keeping her hair short and wearing hand-me-down boys' clothes for months. 

She told her foster mom that her stomach was hurting and didn’t want to eat dinner that night. Her foster mom gave an understanding nod and told Kerri she would keep a plate in the fridge whenever she was hungry. She stayed in the bedroom for the rest of the night, never getting hungry enough to get her plate until she fell fast asleep. 

Days later, her sadness turned to anger. Kerri felt angry at her aunts, she felt angry at her CPS worker, and she felt angry over almost everything in her life. How dare they string her along for months and then suddenly not show up when they were supposed to? How dare her CPS worker bring up contacting Sasha months ago just for Sasha to stop showing up one day? 

Her CPS worker was visiting that day, and Kerri was almost too pissed off to meet today. But she was required to go to these meetings, so she grudgingly headed downstairs when she was called. 

As she was answering the CPS workers with a hint of venom in her voice, there was a knock at the front door. She tried to keep her eyes away from the door as she heard Sasha’s voice thanking whoever let her and Anetra inside. 

Now Kerri felt like she was silently fuming. Her aunts didn’t bother showing up a few days ago just for Kerri, but they would show up to a boring meeting with her CPS worker when they didn’t even have to be there.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t make it the other day, we’ve just been so busy this week.” She heard Anetra explain as they found their seats on the couch. 

“Is that why your visits are getting shorter too?” Kerri asked her tone sharply pointed with her anger. She looked at her aunts, and both had small looks of surprise. 

After a few seconds of silence, Sasha spoke to her wife and the CPS worker “I think it’s about time that we tell her what’s been going on with us.” The other two nodded. 

Kerri tried to soften her voice “Tell me what?” 

What was going on with her aunts? Were they getting a divorce? That would have explained why they had been leaving sooner and missing visits. 

Kerri looked up to see smiles on Sasha and Anetra’s faces, and confusion grew as she listened to what was said next.

“We’re getting guardianship over you,” Sasha said in a gentle, yet excited voice. 

After a few seconds of the thought of guardianship settled into Kerri’s mind, she managed to say “You two? Want to be my guardians? You do?”

“We do, It’s been a long process, but we just need to sign a few more papers, and we’re approved to be your guardians,” Anetra said, as Kerri watched all the adults in the room carefully.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked.

“We wanted to wait for it to be official before we said anything to you. We weren’t sure if the state would approve us since we’ve only known you for a few months.” Sasha explained.

“Does that mean I get to live with you in LA?” she was met with nods as she felt euphoria flood her chest. She’s finally getting a real home again, and a home where she’s allowed (and encouraged) to be herself. 

“We’ll be back in about a week to help you pack and move. I’m taking some time off work since it’s the off-season, and Anetra is taking a few weeks of FMLA so we can help you get settled and enroll you in school.” Sasha explained helpfully. 

“So what do you say, Kerri? Would you like having your aunts as your guardians?” her CPS worker asked, but already knew the answer. 

Kerri nodded and felt tears spring to her eyes. The two women in front of her noticed and jumped out of their seats, and gathered the pre-teen into both their arms. 

This was her first hug in almost a year and one of the best in her lifetime. She felt Sasha’s fingers run through her hair and Anetra gently rubbed her shoulder and back.

Kerri didn’t realize it until years later, but she was finally with her parents. They weren’t the ones who gave her life, but who would provide the unconditional love she always needed.

[fangerine]

i'm not jewish. i think, maybe a great great grandparent was but that's neither here nor there. but even though i'm not jewish, i was always made aware from a young age how rampant anti-semitism is in not just the united states where i live but globally. when i was 12, my mom encouraged (made me) read "the diary of anne frank". i believe it was only then that i began to truly recognize just how horrible the holocaust was. i don't think my public education did a very good job of teaching people how evil it really was. there seemed to be some sort of assumption that kids "just know". we didn't see the horrors of it actually displayed in books. i know that a world history class can't spend the entire time on one event but a few pages can't ever grasp the ruthless slaughter of six million innocent people. memorizing numbers and dates for some test worth five points will never get the message across to kids that something as horrible as that happened much less than a hundred years ago.

i grew up christian. i'm not anymore but i will never EVER in the good ol' united states of america be afraid of being attacked for my religion. christians can fuckin' whine and complain all they want about being "persecuted" but the fact is that in 2021, the FBI reported that over 50% of religion-related hate crimes were anti-jewish.

over fifty fucking percent.

we always say "never forget" and "never again" but you can find countless surveys where an alarming amount of people either don't know or fervently deny that SIX MILLION PEOPLE WERE SLAUGHTERED FOR BEING JEWISH.

i know the persecution of jews goes much further back than the holocaust but hopefully, my point is clear.

in the past few weeks, i saw a burned apartment door of an elderly jewish couple in paris. they would have been toddlers when germany occupied france in 1940. i saw jewish families in germany with the star of david spray painted on their doors. i've seen people in protests proudly waving nazi flags in new york city. samantha woll, a synagogue leader was just murdered outside of her home in detroit. i can go on but i think you see the picture.

i'm not jewish but i don't need to be for these disgusting acts to horrify me. what i've come to realize (and maybe this is wrong) is that the hatred of jews has become so frequent in our society, that it's not really looked at anymore. it's not "newsworthy" and therefore, many people just don't care.

i'm not sure what i can do except speak up. i fear for the safety of jews all around the world. there are so many ignorant and hateful people out there making it so dangerous. jewish families aren't sending their children out of fear that something could happen at their schools. jewish people are scared so please, don't be ignorant. know the history. for non-jews like myself, we have a duty to educate ourselves and listen to a group of people who have been targeted and violently persecuted for centuries.

for jews who see this post. i'm sorry this increase in hatred towards your community is happening. i can't possibly begin to know how you must be feeling but know that you aren't being ignored by everyone. your cries for justice are NOT unheard.

if there is anything that i can do to help, please reach out. if there's anything wrong with this post, please say something. i am trying my best to be educated but know i don't and will most likely never have the full picture. i would love to add links, resources, and whatever else that is useful and important.

[sunshineapparition]

mb interview

hii, i've put together a rough transcript of things Mosbank said in the LoveCast interview, please go watch it, everyone was sweet and lovely, but maybe it'll be useful for some

i might do the same for their most recent live interview just cause there might be new info

SunsetxVibes

'very spicy', but it won't be like Big Dragon; it'll be romantic and sexy

separated into two parts - Thai Old Period and Present time; the Old Period will also show more about Thai culture and build the story

the mystery (Phaya Naga) in the last scene from the trailer is supposed to give wealth and prosperity, so…

they've answered this almost everywhere but - for Bank, Lin is more him than Yai, he thinks that Lin is little bit stupid, but cute, clumsy, trusting, less angsty, just like he is, and Yai to him was more of a grown up (was he really xd..)

for Mos - Mangkorn was closer to him, much easier to portray, and Sun is 30yrs old and so he has to look and act more mature (in Paris Bank said that he thinks Mos will do well because many things Sun does for Lin, Mos does for Bank)

more subtle sexy than showing off sexy

now this interview was recorded I believe in August and Bank said the workshop will be at the end of the month

(however I still believe the trailer won't be until Jan 2024, though I want it now xd I also want everyone to work really hard on the series, not only that MB deserves it, but the culture as well)

the author of the novel said few days ago the english version is coming soon btw!

Big Dragon

basically nothing was said; not surprised

i will dig into the other interview just for the movie actually

Club Friday the Series

Bank again said don't watch his series (however I loved his performance, I think he shouldn't be ashamed, quite otherwise, and I found it much more interesting than Mos' one, he was also great, but I love toxic drama xd)

Bank is playing a very mature character, sexyy scenes and all

Mos is the opposite, young, straight and great partner

at first they didn't want to accept the offer - they thought they wouldn't be good enough compared to their bigger co-actors (Saiparn,..), but now they feel that it helped them become better

AcadeX

focuses on equality a lot

it'll be different from the pilot

SH wanna like make a bang with it as there aren't many thai fantasy/supernatural movies

international actors will join this movie too, out of SH

also Mos talks about it like he's in it but I'm not sure, right now he's not

Misc.

they were really nervous but excited about the Pride parade; their idea was to show people, help people understand (some people from the provinces, far from big cities, didn't even know about the Pride) - Bank inspired his mom and she would like to join next year

their concept was 'love is pure' - hence they white and the wings (Bank dressed as fairy)

name Bank is too popular in Thailand - so he went to the fortune teller; and then tried it in instagram first to check if there are any accounts

Mos' real name is Modt, it turned to Mos because of his grandparents pronouncing the name with different accent - then Bank helped him with Moslhong

while modeling - Bank disliked dressing up just for jobs, he didn't feel like he had his own identity, now he wants to be himself

they've been taking dancing classes and Bank said he grew up with 1D

chemistry game - they nailed it

the future in 3 words - Bank 'thank you, sorry, see you soon' and Mos 'grown up, developed, six-packs'

[pheita]

15 Tags 15 Mutuals

@eternalwritingstudent tagged me like forever ago. (2 weeks to be precise) and since I am sick and bored I finally try to work through the backlog of tags and prompts *cough*whoever believes I will succeed*cough*

I will do this for Aleena, because I gave too much attention to Tali and Constantine the last weeks.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Thankfully not. My damn hair already gives away where I belong to, I don't need a name to it.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Before I met Thane and Namira who seem to have made it a competition how to turn me soft and mushy and make me cry from too many emotions? At the end of "Moulin Rouge". To save my honor, I was drunk and Alya forced me to watch it because I didn't know the movie. That was about 2 years ago.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, and don't plan to like in the next hundred or so years.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Me? Never.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

If they hold themselves in a way that gives away, they know self-defense, if or how fast they could become a threat.

6. What's your eye color?

light blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Depends on the mood.

8. Any special talents?

Well, my nymph powers? I can make everything grow, shape any natural material into what I like. Oh and then there is this mind melt thing I can do because I am not a full nymph born from the birth tree but born by another nymph. It is kinda weird sometimes, but can be fun during sex. *eyebrow wiggle*

9. Where were you born?

Funny story. Apparently, patience wasn't my best trait from day 1 on. I was born in my grandparents' house in France while my parents were visiting. By calculations, I should have waited two more weeks.

10. What are your hobbies?

I play the piano, like to be the pest of a certain earth clan leader, play video games, well and does stay in training counts?

11. Have you any pets?

Artemis might look like a pet for sure, but this cat is more like an annoying old aunt, I can tell you.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I am trained in weaponless self-defense, fighting with swords, daggers, archery and pole arms. Besides this, I like to swim.

13. How tall are you?

5'1"

14. Favorite subject in school?

I didn't go to a regular school because I wanted to become a shieldmaiden and the training starts when you are six years old. But I loved the history lessons.

15. Dream job? I am living it

Tagging @bloodlessheirbyjacques @kainablue @ashen-crest @jezifster @writingamongther0ses @aquixoticwrites @ryns-ramblings

[devilsgatewayhq]

Character Name: Chase McCoy Age: 39 Time living in Tonopah: 21 years Occupation: Tattoo artist at Cosmic Ink Gang Affiliation: Former Capo for Los Santos, current soldier for The Enterprise Neighborhood: Webster Village Face Claim: DJ Cotrona

Biography (TW: drugs, alcohol abuse, death/death of a grandparent)

From a very young age, all Chase Petroski knew was conflict. His mother and father married for the legal benefits of it and never planned on having children, so it was a great surprise to them both when she ended up pregnant. They decided to have him, but she pretty much checked out after that. His prison therapist attributed it to post-partum depression, but Chase wouldn't offer her that out: not when she turned to drugs and alcohol to cope instead of her family. When Chase was five, his mother skipped town and his father decided he couldn't – or didn't want – to raise Chase on his own. He was sent to New Orleans to live with his grandmother.

Despite not knowing the town, Chase didn't mind so much because he was finally with someone who loved and cared about him in a way that he had never experienced when living with his parents. Here he actually felt wanted. Then, two years later, his grandmother passed away unexpectedly in her sleep. It devastated him and he didn’t want to be sent back to live with his dad, so he continued to pretend that she was alive, using her credit cards, forging her signature, and learning how to navigate public transportation so he could get to and from school on his own. He was discovered when collections came to seize her assets after bills went unpaid and he was sent into the foster care system.

Chase was angry with the world for being sent back into homes where he wasn't really wanted. He continued to feel like every good thing he had was being taken away from him and that anger seeped out into his actions: constantly getting into fights, causing problems in his foster home and at school, and acting out practically any chance he could get, resulting in him bouncing between foster homes frequently. When Chase turned 15, he found his way into drug dealing in an effort to start saving up money for when he aged out of the system. He wanted nothing more than to move away from these rowdy streets he'd called home.

Once he aged out of the system, Chase changed his last name to McCoy after his favorite boxer, bought himself a shitty motorcycle and headed west, letting it lead him wherever life decided to take him. During his travels, one of his old foster brothers reached out to him with an offer to join him in Tonopah Valley where he'd gotten involved in what he called a great opportunity. Being a part of a cartel wasn't where he'd seen the direction of his life going, but when he weighed the pros and cons, how could Chase pass that up?

He joined the ranks of the Los Santos Cartel, starting at the bottom and working his way up over the years. When he was still the one dealing out drugs, he ran across Maeve MacNally at a party, a spitfire bombshell he couldn't take his eyes off of. Their personalities clashed more often than not, but they were practically inseparable, especially once they fell into bed with one another. He didn't even care that her father was a member of the Sons of Silence, but for her sake, they kept whatever it was they had a secret between the two of them.

He got a job as an apprentice at a tattoo shop, learning the art on the job, and came to love the focus and expression of the medium. He became a sought-after artist among the others in the shop, and part of him thought he could make an honest living this way and wouldn't need the cartel anymore, not that he voiced that thought out loud to anyone but Rio. He did, however, propose to Maeve, deciding that a life without her wasn't a life he wanted to live, and she said yes.

Things were going so well that the other shoe was bound to drop. Six years ago, the driver for a shipment didn’t show up on the day of the delivery, so he jumped in as a replacement last minute to ensure business continued as usual. Unfortunately for him, the driver had been turned, giving up the position of the drop -- and Chase in the process. He was caught crossing state lines with a large number of drugs and was charged with possession with intent to distribute. They offered him a lesser sentence if he gave up his supplier, but he refused to rat out the cartel and accepted whatever the consequences of the trial ended up being.

Guilty. Once it was written in stone, and Chase was off to prison for who knew how long, Maeve broke things off, claiming she couldn’t wait for him if this was what their life was going to be like together. Once he was behind bars, he then had to contest with dodging assassination attempts left and right. He and Alejandra had never seen eye to eye when he'd joined the ranks of the cartel, but he had never expected her to actually hire people to off him.

His constant swerving of death caught the eye of someone on The Enterprise's payroll, who passed his name along to the advisor. He approached Chase with an offer: they could pull some strings for him, get him released early and back to his normal life, as long as he agreed to run occasional errands for them. At the time, he declined, his loyalty to the cartel still iron-clad. As the years went on, however, and there was no sign of anyone trying to get him out, only more attempts to get rid of him, that loyalty began to wane and he eventually changed his mind.

He only ended up spending five years of his original sentence behind bars, getting out early "due to overpopulation and good behavior." He's recently been released on parole, and though he'd been hoping to distance himself from his criminal past, he's starting to realize that once you're in, you're in for life.

Headcanons: 

He and the former Los Santos teniente were in the same foster home briefly when they were about 6 and 8 years old, respectively. Though Chase was only in the home for a short period of time because he got moved to a new home when he was causing too much trouble, the pair remained close friends.

He has a German Shepherd named Cooper. He got him when he was a puppy before Chase ended up in prison and he had Maeve take care of him while Chase was away.

He has a soft side to him that very few people get to see. he covers it up because he's had to basically fight his whole life to take care of himself, so he doesn't want anybody to take advantage of that side of him.

He still highkey has feelings for his ex, even if they're toxic for each other.

[fire-intherain]

Introduction - Elsa

If you’re hearing ROLLING IN THE DEEP by ADELE playing, you have to know ELSA TAYLOR (SHE/HER; CISFEMALE) is near by!  The 39 year old SALON OWNER/ BEAUTICIAN has been in Denver for, like 27 years.  They’re known to be quite BLUNT but being CARING seems to balance that out.  Or maybe it’s the fact they resemble NATALIE DORMER.  Personally I’d love to get to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those NEW HAIRSTYLE, LONG LUNCHES, CHAMPAGNE vibes.  And maybe I’ll get my chance if I hang out around the CHERRY CREEK District long enough!

Elsa was born in Camden borough in London, UK and lived there with her parents until she was 7 when they divorced.

Her American mother brought her back to the US to her family in Colorado Springs.

They lived with her grandparents until she was 12 when her mother got a job in Denver and they moved to the city.  

When she started high school she made a small group of friends who stuck by her when she fell in with the wrong crowd and got into trouble with police.

Heading down a path she didn’t want to and with support of her friends and family Elsa got herself a place at college to study hairdressing. On several occasions she nearly got herself thrown off the course but with encouragement of a friend she finished her training and secured a position at a salon.

After a few years she finally knew what she really wanted so she quit her job as a hairdresser and began a full time course to qualify as a beautician.

When she graduated she got a job at a salon in Cherry Creek and when the owner wanted to retire six years ago Elsa took a chance and offered to buy it. 

Thankfully the bank supported her and she was able to raise the money she needed.  Now she is proudly the owner of Body and Soul and with the business side of her life finally sorted she now wants to sort out her personal life.

Birthday: 14th September

Bisexual

Loves to shop

[dantekidd]

[thomas doherty, male, him/he ] - was that dante kidd i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the twenty nine year old who has been in nightrest for most of their entire life and works  as a musician has a reputation of being sweet, but also vulnerable. they reside in low point & people in town usually associate them with playing instruments at the park, helping elders cross the street, and a billion dollar smile. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

Name: Dante Kidd Pronouns: Him/He Age: 29 years old Birthdate: June 12, 1994 Place of Birth: Nightrest, Salem Occupation: Musician/Songwriter Sexuality: Pansexual

Dante had been born to parents who cared nothing about him. His mother and father had been drug addicts who had him more for the money they could get from the government and not exactly because they wanted a child. He learned from a very young age to look after himself in ways that no five year old should. That lifestyle did not last long though as when he turned six his parents had overdosed with him in the house. It took a total of two days for anybody to become aware of the situation and call the police as Dante had seen them passed out so often that he had simply assume that they were asleep.

His grandparents took a hold of his guardianship from then on, and to say that it had been a blessing in disguise was an understatement. Living with them had changed Dante's life so much that he was able to finally act like a child his age should. He was able to hang out with friends form school, and his other cousins whom his parents had never let him be around. Dante excelled at everything that he put his mind to through out his high school experience, ending up as the valedictorian for his graduation class.

By his high school graduation, Dante couple play six instruments and he practiced long and hard enough to have gotten a full scholarship to Berklee College of Music where he excelled and was offered multiple positions on different orchestras around the country. Although he began by playing the piano at professional theater performances, Dante would soon attend an open mic night out in LA where he performed one of his own songs on guitar and the audience loved him.

With this new found joy in his life, Dante took to performing at different functions and events gathering a good following of supporters who traveled with him from state to state. It wasn't until three years ago when his grandmother passed away that he decided to come back home so he could take care of his grandfather. For the past three years he has continued to perform at different local spots, but nothing as thrilling as his previous life. On the side he also writes music which he sells to record labels and uses that money to help evolve and renovate historical places throughout the town.

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

Arabella Reyes - babymama (he don't know)

Grayson Kidd - cousins

CONNECTIONS WANTED

best friends

ex girlfriends

childhood friends

family friends

current lover (fwb)

[sideshow-tornado]

I am calm, but more quiet calm with a rage and anger burning underneath. Playing my very needed role to keep it together for my family. I’ve done it my whole life and I am pretty much resigned to being okay with that. It’s just so frustrating to be in this position again because something just very awful has happened. Something that is no one’s fault.

My cousin Stephanie and I are just six weeks apart in age, and we grew up as close as siblings. So her kids, while technically my first cousins once removed, I have much more of an Uncle & Nephew/Niece relationship with. And with her two oldest biological children having absentee fathers, I even have had somewhat of father figure role in their lives.

Stephanie has four children. Her oldest son Brent, who is 24, and recently finished a stint in the US Marines now working in cybersecurity in the telecommunications industry; doing a great job of starting his life and making something of himself.

Her youngest is my niece Lily, who is 7, and my parents’ de facto grandchild; anyone follows my personal posts here has certainly heard me talk about her frequently as I spend a lot time with her. She was born a month after my divorce was finalized and honestly being a part of her life has been very healing for me.

Stephanie also took in a young girl named Zoe when she was four years old after her mother died tragically in a flash flood related drowning. Zoe got married and had a daughter of her own in December of 2020, named Avery Noel appropriately.

Zoe was diagnosed with a brain tumor and cancer called Glioblastoma, a rare condition that usually affects older white men. Late Senators Ted Kennedy and John McCain both died from it. Zoe had surgery and chemotherapy & radiation to little effect. She died a year ago last month at the age of 26.

And she died just two days after my grandmother, shared with my cousin Stephanie and that side of my family, my father’s mother. My last grandparent. It’s been a tough few years.

I have not yet mentioned Stephanie’s middle biological child, her daughter Ava. She turned 16 earlier this summer. Very much in the middle, being 8 years younger than Brent and 8 years older than Lily. A good kid. Had a rough go. The most chaotic early childhood, with her biological father’s family being even more of a train wreck than my own.

I’ve always been as close to her as I can. Because of friction between Stephanie and Ava’s biological father I handled a lot of early drop offs to the other family, but by the time she was 3 that side of her family was mostly out of the picture. Even still I have memories that gut punch me of having to hand over a crying toddler who did not want me to leave her.

Ava grew up fast, was a feisty kid sure, but not a bad kid. She wanted to be in a play after being exposed to it through me, so we got to act together in a production of Cinderella, at my former theatre company back when she was 8 years old. We had fun. She decided not to pursue it any further, but it’s a great memory we shared. She played soccer and did gymnastics for a while, but never got too serious about either. She loves dogs. And was always excited to tag along with me to the movies, like her old brother had done so often.

As she has become a teenager there has been some growing apart, as is common, but I’ve always tried my best to remind her I’m always there for her when she wants or needs it. I’ll cash app her if she’s out with friends, or order door dash to school on days she’s allowed to get it.

Stephanie and Lily’s father have been going through a contentious divorce and custody battle the past year and half, and Ava has suffered a lot of the collateral damage from it; there has been emotional abuse and neglect, from both sides. Stephanie has substance abuse issues and is a text book Narcissist, I truly do not use that word lightly.

Stephanie has alienated herself from most of her friends and family, even me. But we love her, and we love her kids and just want to protect and take care of them. She hasn’t been making that easy.

This is all a very, very long way to say that Ava started experiencing some headaches and facial numbness three weeks ago. A few visits to the ER and follow ups with her doctor lead to an initial diagnosis or suspected diagnosis of Bells Palsy. Her conditioned worsened this past Thursday night, went back to the ER because she was in pain and her face was swollen with her left eye literally bulging out. A CT scan was done and they discovered a mass. She was immediately transported to the nearest children’s hospital.

Additional testing and examination from the specialists have shown that she has a common but aggressive and high risk form of cancer. Rhabdomyosarcoma.

I was at work Friday morning when I found out she was in the hospital. I immediately left work to go and be with her and help Stephanie manage. I was able to sit with her while two different oncologists came by and other doctors and surgeons and case workers discussed her treatment and options. Lots of information.

Last night they did a procedure to get biopsy of the mass, and draw bone marrow and spinal fluid samples to get more info about the cancer. As well to go ahead and surgically insert a port catheter in her chest to be used for chemotherapy.

The preliminary results indicated the cancer is more aggressive and the mass larger than originally thought, so they started her chemo this evening.

My mom and I are going to take Lily to visit her tomorrow whenever she is feeling up to it.

I feel good about the level of care she is receiving, it’s a great hospital, the staff all instill confidence and respect. They are being blunt and honest, which is what Ava wants. She’s taking it all pretty well but even so it’s devastating. And scary. And shocking. And just sucks so very much.