#and the owners of the dogs didn’t apologize or pay for her fucking bills.

[princesslampshade]

Just watched a video about a professional dog sitter getting her face ripped off by two dogs

Like girl you actually like dogs enough to be around them on PURPOSE?

[fridaynightguys]

Today is the last day of Mercury in Retrograde. It was a crazy 28 days in the life of me.

During Mercury in Retrograde the following things happened…

Had a falling out with my BFF. We are like sisters so it is super hard and I miss her but I’ve reached out, tried to make an effort, and now I just need to sit back and give it time. Time heals wounds. Also, in the case of group texting these days I accidentally left her off the birthday party invite text. I really had no idea until she said she didn’t get it, I had to look at my phone to see what happened and she was right. I felt so bad and apologized but that was like the nail in the coffin.

My endometriosis came back guns a blazing. For a number of days, I was curled up in a ball with a heating pad crying. Visited my specialist who said only a full hysterectomy will relieve the pain. Bring on early menopause.

And on the last day of Mercury in Retrograde, my dog jumped the fence and got in a dog fight. She was a bit and has numerous stitches. From what I know the other dog and the owner are okay, I just don’t know who they are. Seems like the block doesn’t think kindly of her so they just say they don’t know where she lives. I’m following a post about it on the awful Nextdoor and she hasn’t popped up there. If I find her I’ll pay the bills incurred. Ugh and I had a nice flow going this morning.

The icing on the cake, hello sinus infection. It’s that time of year isn’t it.

Fuck off Mercury in Retrograde. I’m going to bed.

[namjoonfluff]

The Florist

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

summary: you own a flower shop in London and get to meet lots of interesting customers but none as interesting as Jungkook. 

genre: this is pretty fluffy at the moment - tempted to make it a series if people like it and we might get smut or angst!

word count: 1,900 notes: i haven’t edit yet so if things don’t make sense, feel free to come for me in my asks

When you opened up Buds & Blooms last spring, it was partly because of your love of flowers but also your love of people too. You see, you were surrounded by the same beautiful blossoms every day. However, the individuals who entered the shop were exactly that - individuals. Each one completely unique from the others; with different lives, different problems and different reasons for buying flowers. 

You had Mrs Norris who popped in every Monday to check out the latest bouquets. Her visits were never about purchasing a bunch but indeed, she was lonely. You would often see her leaving her terraced house, waving goodbye to her dog and shuffling across the street to the shop. Your eyes followed her every move; head bowed to the ground as she manoeuvred the cobbled street. The bell would ring to signal her entrance and you acted as if you hadn’t been expecting her arrival for five minutes now. “Hello, dear,” She would whisper softly across the rows and rows of roses and camellias. 

You glanced up from your ribbons and smiled. She didn’t like to start a conversation straight away. Instead, Mrs Norris took a very slow lap around the store before settling upon a bouquet of sunflowers. Her fingers ran across the sunshine petals as she fell into a deep thought. 

“Patrick used to buy me these,” Mrs Norris said to herself, looking sadly at the bright bouquet which sat waiting for her. You would never tell her this but you placed them there purposely. Before Mrs Norris’ husband passed away, he paid you to create her a bouquet every week. Even beyond the grave, he was finding a way to keep their love strong. It was enough to make you believe in soulmates! 

Soon after, Mr James rushed into the store like usual. No matter what day of the week, it was always just before lunchtime when he threw the door open in a hurry. As his face flushed pink and chest heaved, he briskly walked to find the biggest bouquet he could possibly find. Lucky for him, you always had one prepared for his visits. “What is it this time?” You grinned from behind the counter.

“Forgot-” He said breathlessly. “Forgot the pickles and now I’m getting a bollocking!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the panic on his face. Anytime Mr James and his wife had a slight disagreement, he would rush out to buy her flowers. It was because of him that the flower shop stayed afloat! He must have purchased about fifty bouquets since his wife got pregnant. He was seriously the best husband though. 

Plenty more customers popped their heads into the store throughout the day. There was Miss Dean - a teacher from the local school who always needed a fresh arrangement for her classroom. You were also visited by Danny Jones, your next door, shop neighbour. He was always dropping by to offer you some of his luxury coffee. It was disgusting though; the bitter type of coffee that just sat in the back of your throat the whole day! With his cup of hell, he also brought an uncomfortable attempt at flirting. “So, do you ever leave this place?” Danny said, leaning up against the counter. Your eyes twitched as you watched him squash the head of a pink rose from one of your wedding displays. It was a shame you had to be polite in front of customers because you could have slapped him so hard in that moment. 

“Well, you know what it’s like running a small business,” You shrugged. “I just wanna keep this place afloat!” He sipped his sludge while raking his eyes up and down your body. It would maybe make sense if you were wearing some kind of body-con, booby dress with heels. Yet, here you were in your favourite pair of mom-jeans and a baggy jumper. “That’s why I have my father involved,” Danny smirks from beyond the cup. “He pays the bills, I just make sure nothing goes wrong!” 

You subtly roll your eyes from behind the vase you were plucking flowers from. How could someone get through life like this? You wondered. But you didn’t really have to think for long. He was lucky enough to have his daddy’s investment. Need more beans imported from Dubai? Get Father on the phone! Someone broke the coffee machine again? Well, looks like Daddy’s going to need the call. You were jealous really! After all, you had saved up the money to buy the shop, scrimped and scraped so you could afford the latest till. You had even dipped into your life savings to buy a new sign for the shop. That’s how much you cared about this place! It frustrated you to see someone have it so easy. 

“Anyway, do you fancy getting a drink with me?” Danny asked. 

“Not if it’s any of that coffee,” You whispered.

“Huh?” He looked up from the flower he had de-petalled just a second ago. You were this close from kicking him out the store! 

“I’m okay,” You said shyly. How are you supposed to reject someone nicely? Someone who always gets their own way? 

“Are you sure?” Danny’s annoying voice peaked again. “Do you really want to be single and selling flowers all your life?” Actually, yes. That sounded like an absolute dream plan right now! No annoying men trying to make you drink their horrible coffee. Maybe you could have a dog like Mrs Norris. Yes, a dog sounded like a great idea - plus, they are much quieter than men anyway! 

“Honestly,” He huffed, bringing you out of the daydream where you’re walking your adorable dachshund around Hyde Park. Fucking idiot! How dare he interrupt you as you and Herbert settle on a park bench for a picnic. “You women confuse me beyond belief,” “You talk about marriage and babies but when a decent guy comes along, you reject him!” 

Afraid he was going to start lecturing you on the benefits of marrying into his family, you made sure to place a pot down on the counter - loudly! That should wake him from his own daydream which probably involved an image of you being his trophy wife, feeding him his exuberant coffee beans. “Sorry, Danny,” You said, looking up at the clock. “I’m closing now!” 

“No worries! Want me to do the tills for you?” He pointed at your cash register. “You want to make sure you’ve counted all your takings correctly!” 

How could someone be so unbearable to be around! 

“No,” You said firmly - or as firm as you could make it sound. “I’m okay!”

Despite his resistance, Danny finally left the shop five minutes before closing, leaving behind his stupid cardboard cup. In frustration, you lobbed it at the wall, hitting the space just below the chalkboard which advertises your prices. That was going to leave a mark but you would deal with it tomorrow. The only thing you need right now is to stick your head in a bunch of peonies! Thankfully, you were the owner of a flower shop and so a bouquet of peonies wasn't far away. 

Sticking your head into the fresh flowers, you inhale their sweet, earthy scent. They act as a reset button, helping you to remember exactly why you love this job. It was your philosophy that flowers could fix anything. Whether it was a petty argument or full-on heartbreak, buying someone flowers was like putting a metaphorical bandaid on their heart. It wouldn’t fix them, of course! However, it helped the healing process feel a little easier. It was just nice to know someone cared enough to send you flowers. It takes the sting out of any sour experiences. It helps to forget just a little! And as a florist, you were so happy to be a part of making people’s lives better. Even if the shop didn’t make you any money, you would still get up every day at five o’clock and create bouquets and arrangements. This was your biggest passion after all! 

“Hello?” A voice enters your ear from across the quiet shop. Shit!

You quickly whip your head around to see a man standing in your door, half smirking and half wondering ‘what the fuck is this girl doing motorboating some flowers!’ Well, at least, you think that must be what’s going through his head. How often do you walk into a shop to see someone with their face buried in flowers. “Sorry, I was just-” You start to explain but you wonder how you’re supposed to explain this to a stranger. Apologies, I just stuck my head in some flowers because this annoying guy keeps hitting on me. It’s not exactly normal person behaviour - the type a complete stranger would understand. “It’s okay,” The man spoke in a soft and calming voice. “I am looking for flowers.” “Well, you have come to the right place,” You gestured to all the flowers around you, which you had yet to stick your face in. “I promise I don’t do that with all the flowers!”

The stranger just laughed and began walking around the shop, admiring all of the flowers you had available at the moment. Completely embarrassed by what just happened, you rushed to the backroom to compose yourself. Oh god, what is my life! Did I really just embarrass myself like in front of some random guy? What must he be thinking right now! Maybe he’s already run out of the store and called the police. Amidst your thoughts, you hear a voice call out saying: “Excuse me!” With the heat from your cheeks slowly dissipating and breath starting to still, you walked back to the front of the shop with confidence. You see the man standing by the bucket of Ranunculus stems, staring down at them intently. 

“How can I help?” You smiled, catching the man’s vibrant smile back at you. Now that you’re in touching distance of the stranger, you realise quite how handsome he was. His warm skin was actually glowing - like he was sweating but it was a beautiful kind of sheen that wasn’t gross at all. As if you had made a complete fool of yourself in front of someone as beautiful as him. What an idiot!

“Can you tell me about these?” He said softly and you nodded. 

“These flowers are called…” As you explained the history of the flower and its meaning, his deep-brown eyes watched you intently. It was almost hard to keep eye contact with him because every time you looked in his direction, his eyes were staring right at you; full of wonder and intrigue. No one had ever looked at you like that. He even smiled and laughed at your little jokes, which definitely no one ever did! Nobody cared about flowers as much as you do to even understand your jokes. “So, these are perfect in bouquet, wreaths and things like table settings,” You finished with a smile as always. However, it didn’t feel forced like it did with other customers.

“Could I get them in a bouquet to collect tomorrow, please?” The man said quietly. “A mixture of colours, please?”

You nodded. “Of course, can I take a name for my book?” 

“It’s Jungkook!” The man smiled as he told you his name. To be honest, you didn’t need to know his name. How could you forget his handsome face after all! You just wanted to know more about him; it was an interesting name - one you definitely would never forget.

[sif-the-tsunami]

Ropes and Roses Part 5

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Events in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship. This is a very adult story about two people who are moderately terrible at adulting.

Warning: SMUT! unprotected sex (use condom sense, kids) oral (female receiving) slight angst, Dominant woman, willingly receptive to that domination but not quite a sub yet man

Pairing: Henry and OFC (am I doing this right?)

Word count: 1800ish

A/N: If you read it and like it, it would mean a lot to me if you could say something nice!

The air was getting cool and damp as they waited for their driver to pick them up. As a perk of being a performer, Elizabeth was picked up and dropped off each time she came in. The bouncer made a comment reminding her about the rules regarding taking a patron home, but kept to himself when she explained that they knew each other out of the club and he wasn’t a member. The bag she had slung across her back was stuffed with all her costumes and accessories for the evening. Henry offered to hold it for her, she however refused.

“So,” he began, “are there anymore secrets between us?

“There still may be a few. I have to keep you on your toes.” She mused with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t get rid of the entire feminine mystique this early.”

“Truly, we can’t have that, can we?” He watch her carefully, wanting to learn how to read her face. She was kind, compassionate, intelligent, and evidently capable of beating someone to tears. The car pulled up, Elizabeth waved at the large bouncer, and they took off.

“I think I know what you want to ask, but are too polite to do so. No, I do not have sex on stage with the women I perform with. Do I make them orgasm, sure. Usually it is just with a large vibrator. We had found out Olivia can squirt recently and wanted to show off a little.”

“Olivia was your naughty vixen tonight.”

“Yeah, she’s cute, isn’t she. So eager too please too. She is getting married in two months too.” She chatted. “But, just like me, we do this to pay the bills. Liv is an incredibly hard worker, she’s studying to become a neurosurgeon.”

“Good for her.” He answered quietly.

She stopped, wishing that the silence between them was less awkward. She searched for his hand in the dark unsuccessfully. There was a lot going on in his mind.

“Maybe, you should go home to Kal, I’m sure he will miss you if you don’t come home tonight you will break his puppy heart.”

“He will, but he will also be fine. Are you okay? I want to apologize but I don’t know how to process this whole thing. I am furious at Jeremy, he had no right to try and fuck things up for us. I also wish I had known but how do you tell someone that you as just starting to see, ‘Hey, I get paid to beat people.’ There isn’t a greeting card for that one. I don’t want you to mistake me being quiet as me not being alright with what you do. I’m just trying to absorb everything.”

“We’ve had a pretty terrible twenty four hours haven’t we?”

“We have, but maybe we got all of our bad luck out at once?”

“Maybe.” The car slowed down and stopped outside of an apartment building. “Do you still want to come up with me?”

Henry was already out of the car and coming around to open her door before she could finish the sentence. By the time they made it to the elevator he was kissing her neck. The entire ride up they were locked together, Elizabeth pinned to the wall by the massive man. The door chimed letting them off at her floor. She squirmed to try and have him put her down. He shook his head and squat down to pick up her bag, moving her to his shoulder, caveman style, hand on her butt. He only put her down at the door so she could let them in.

As soon as the door shut behind them, his hands were in the process of exploring the beautiful woman in front of him. Until he heard a loud meow. He broke off of their kiss and locked eyes with the biggest house cat he’s ever seen.

“You didn’t tell me you have a cat,” never taking his eyes off of the furry house guardian.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, that’s just Alistair. Like the Dragon Age character.” Elizabeth reached out and proceeded to rub cat behind her ears. “He usually meets me at the door, like a dog only smaller.”

“What the actual fuck, that creature is enormous. Where did you find him?”

“I got him as a kitten at a shelter. They didn’t think he’d get this big, but he’ll keep getting bigger until he’s about two.” The silver and black long haired tabby purred loudly. The woman and the cat briefly touched noses, “He’s my baby boy, I’m just little lady with a giant hairy pussy.”

“A dad joke, right now?” he chuckled. “I think you are the one that deserves a spanking for that, Mistress Bettie.”

“You promise?” Elizabeth bit her lower lip seductively, grabbed Henry’s hand and lead him to her bedroom. “I’ll give you the tour in the morning.”

Her room was surprisingly normal compared to what he was expecting. The bed had an inviting fluffy comforter on it that was dark blue with tiny stars all across the top and a fuzzy underside. It was going to be like sleeping under a teddy bear. There were no accessories in the room that suggested its owner had interesting tastes. Her headboard didn’t even look like someone could be tied to it. They locked lips again and Elizabeth started undressing herself. Her casual outfit they came to her home in was thrown to the side, he started stripping his suit but she stopped him after his coat came off. He kissed her neck lustily as he ran his hands down her torso.

She pulled back from him for a moment, then Elizabeth sat down on the bench at the foot of her bed, exposed except for the knee high socks she had been wearing under her boots.

“Henry, last night you seemed pretty excited about the idea of us.” He walked up to her, she started toying with his belt while looking up at him.

“I still am, in every possible way.” His voice was husky again, he gasped as her hands caressed him through the black fabric of his pants.

“Show me how much you want me, handsome. No, not with this,” she said she fondled him, leaning forward she grazed her lips against his bulge, “Show me with those lips of yours.”

Henry knelt in front of her. She sat up pretty and proper with her legs crossed at the knees, leaning her weight on one hand. He ran his hands up from her ankles, kneading her calves with he strong hands. He never broke eye contact with her as he gently kissed her the shin closest to his face. He moved her legs with the dominance he usually shows his lovers. He kissed, licked and nibbled his way to the apex between her legs before starting over on her other leg. He then grabbed her hips with his large hands and pulled her towards his face. Henry planted delicate kisses around her sweet sex. Without a word, he licked her with the entirety of his broad tongue, then flicked her firmly on her love button. He licked, teased and worshiped the perfect pussy in front of him. Her moans were music to his ears, encouraging him to ravage her further. Her first orgasm he had to earn, Elizabeth didn’t cum easily. He was more than happy to work for it though. As he peaked her pleasure, she grabbed the espresso colored curls and  kept his head in one place, yelling out his name.

Henry looked up at her as the tremors subsided, kissing the inner part of her thigh, “What do you think? Can you tell how much I lust after you. I’ve wanted a taste since I’ve met you.”

He chuckled as all she could muster was an “uh huh.”

“So, beautiful, what now?”  He asked, licking his lips.

“I want you to take the rest of your clothes off and lay on your back.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He replied with a wicked smile.

“You say that now, but you don’t what kind of trouble that will get you into.” she cooed at him. Henry obliged her, slowly removing the rest of his suit.  She sat between his legs after he got on the bed with her. “One day, I promise that I will give you the most earth shattering blowjob you have ever had.”

“Oh yeah?” He mused at her. She started teasing him, having her fingers dance up and down his magnificent manhood.

“Yes, however, I am feeling very selfish tonight.” She rubbed little circles with the precum along the tip. He shifted and inhaled sharply. She swings a leg over him and positioned herself above him, good God was he girthy. “I don’t even know if you’ll fit inside.”

She slid down his length with a throaty moan. She started to ride him, grinding herself against him. They begin to thrust and rock together, Henry losing himself to the pleasures of her body. He pulls her close to him, kissing her deeply to bring them closer. Her moans and whimpers drove him wild. She was the sex goddess of his wet dreams. Without warning, he pulled her hips off of him, and rolled Elizabeth onto her back. He held his weight on his elbows, holding her face with one of his hands. She ran her nails down his back, leaving deep red scratches. He thrust himself into her, losing the ridged control he worked so hard to maintain. Her eyes were tearing up, as soon as he saw, he stopped immediately.

“Oh god, am I hurting you?” he asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay, please don’t stop. Oh fuck, please, don’t stop.” She gasped. With her consent, he pounded himself into her. She arched herself against him in bliss. He felt the trembling start from her core. Eyes rolling back in her skull, her orgasm was sudden and forceful, pushing Henry into the abyss with her. He touched his forehead to hers, spilling himself deep inside of her. Elizabeth’s tears continued to flow freely.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It has been so long… so so long… since I have felt this good.”

Henry kissed her temple, “Don’t apologize, I lost my hold, you just feel so good. Damn, I thought I hurt you.”

He rolled over onto his back. He opened his arm up for her to snuggle up to him, resting her head on his chest, she ran her fingers through his chest hair. She shivered once coming down from her incredible high, causing her to giggle. She asked, teasing him a little, “So was it good for you?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

“Stay with me tonight?” She asked, in that same small voice he heard that morning.

“Of course, my darling.” They drifted, peacefully,  to sleep in each other’s arms. 

[tsarinastorm]

AA: Ashes to Ashes-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam listens, or attempts to listen to the current man in the front of the room talking about his battle with gambling addiction and alcoholism. But paying attention is difficult for Adam at the moment because Y/N is sitting beside him, looking perfect, and the smell of her perfume is enough to disorient him. Today she smells like roses, jasmine, and coffee. They’ve hung out a couple times, mostly over coffee, and talked as friends do. Adam found it comforting knowing that he had someone he could talk to, rant to, and spend time with. Of course, Adam never had many friends before, but he assumes those are the hallmarks of friendship. It would much easier if he didn’t want to be more than friends with Y/N, he had to constantly remind himself not to cross that line with her. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

           His struggle is made worse by the fact that Jessa is sitting on his other side, watching him squirm out of the corner of her eye. Since he’s been hanging out with Y/N and developed feelings for her, he’s thought about ending things with Jessa but he knows there’s a chance that Y/N won’t want anything to do with him anymore if he does that. She might take Jessa’s side. He thinks if he lets Jessa be the one to end it, it may be better for his chances with Y/N or he considers waiting until he knows that Y/N has feelings for him too. In the meantime, things will remain same.

           The man finishes talking, and everyone claps for him, including Jessa and Y/N. After the meeting, Y/N and Jessa go the restroom, together, as women normally do, and he goes over the snack table. He scoops some cookies, racing towards the ones he knows are Y/N’s favorites before they’re all taken. As Jessa and Y/N walk up to him, a man stops Y/N and tells her how he was inspired by what she had said at the last meeting. This man keeps touching Y/N’s arm and Adam can’t help but glare, then he finally interrupts them to hand her the cookies.

           “Here, I got these for you,” he tells her and the man waves then briskly leaves. Y/N takes the cookies and says, “Thanks, these are my favorites, and I think he’s getting way too attached to me.”

           “Oh yes you will have a sober buddy for life,” Adam says back and wants to kick himself for sounding lame. Y/N takes a bite of the cookie and tells him, “I can’t believe you don’t cookies or sweets, you’re like a tall alien.”

           “Yes he is. It looks like I’ve found someone else to pawn Bill off on.” Jessa chuckles talking about both Adam and the other man, and she jokingly bumps into Y/N. They keep chatting for some time, then when they walk out of the building, Y/N hugs Jessa then heads the other way. Adam is disappointed that he didn’t get to talk to her more, he must have been looking sad because Jessa questions him, “You do know that doesn’t bother me?”

           “What doesn’t bother you?” He asks because he’s not sure he’s understanding Jessa correctly. She watches Y/N walk away and holds his hand before answering, “You hanging out with her. It’s good for you. You need a friend.”

           “Thanks,” he says and gives her a slight smile, then they walk back to the apartment as Jessa chatters away but his mind is elsewhere.

*********

           Adam waits outside the building, knowing that Y/N will walk out soon. She told him to meet here before they hang out. Apparently she volunteers once a week here and it makes Adam feel like an asshole who doesn’t care about other people. Y/N walks out and Adam greets her.

           “Hey, kid.” He makes a mental note to come up with a different nickname for her. She smiles and joins him. Before they make it down the block she stops to say, “I’ve got to stop at my place to take my dog for a walk if you don’t mind.”

           He actually likes dogs and has wanted one of his own for a while, though preferably one that would work better than the one he had for a few days before he and Ray had to take him back to his owner. He can’t hide his excitement, “I like dogs, I really like dogs.”

           Y/N tucks a piece of hair behind her ear laughing at his response and they keep walking to her place. Adam is surprised to learn that she lives in Nolita, close to where Jessa used to live with Shoshanna. That must have been how they met. When they reach the apartment door, she warns him, “Bagel is still anxious around men. He’s not aggressive or anything, just timid. It might take him a while to warm up to you.”

           “Okay, I’ll give him space then,” Adam answers, thinking what the fuck kind of name is Bagel, and as soon as they walk through the door, Adam notices the apartment looks just like he expected it to be. It was very much like Y/N: classy, refined, and a bit eclectic. Books everywhere, comfy couch, candles, and a messy desk. Y/N goes over to the crate to let ‘Bagel’ out, though Adam thought the dog couldn’t have had a more wrong name. Bagel was an Australian shepherd mix who was rather large and had a dark tri-colored, speckled coat, and two different colored eyes. Bagel looks at Adam suspiciously, then follows Y/N back into the apartment kitchen. Y/N comes back with a leash, hooks Bagel up and they leave, though Adam still feels that Bagel is giving the side eye.

           They spend a half-hour or so walking around the neighborhood, then they get to a park. After they’ve walked and played which Adam actually enjoyed, Y/N excitedly says, “Oh there’s an ice cream truck, we have to get ice cream!”

           “Ick, I don’t like ice cream. It tastes like sweet mucous.” Adam says and tries to hide his disgust. He could suffer through ice cream for her. She doesn’t miss a beat, and isn’t the least bit dismayed by his commentary because she adds, “Good, because I was talking to Bagel anyway.”

           He goes with her and she gets two ice cream cones. She’s struggling to eat hers and feed Bagel his at the same time. Adam takes the one that’s meant for Bagel out of her hand and says, “I’ve got it.”

           Bagel is hesitant at first then he forgets everything but the ice cream. Y/N smiles watching both of them, and Adam chuckles back watching the dog chow down on what’s left of the cone. Once the ice cream is gone, when they sit down, Bagel is jumping up on Adam, wagging his tail and wanting attention.

           “You know I’ve never seen him warm up to anyone like that, especially not a guy.” Y/N says as she works on finishing her cone. Adam says, “The ice cream helped.”

           “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” She teases and offers him her cone. He thinks for a second before taking a lick, then a bite, and somehow it’s more sensual than it should be. He has to think depressing thoughts to keep himself from getting hard. Y/N surely feels it too because her eyes stay locked on his and the tension between them could be cut with a knife. Just as suddenly as the moment happens it ends as Y/N jerks her head away and re-focuses her sight on something else.

           She changes the subject by asking him if he ever considered getting his own pet. Truthfully he has, then he’s talked himself out of it. “Yeah but I’m not sure if I’m good at long-term responsibility.” He skirts around the issue.

           “You could try getting a succulent.” She says and her eyes light up at the possibility. Meanwhile, Adam is sidetracked by what she said so he asks, “What the fuck is a succulent?”

           She laughs for a long time before she explains, “It’s basically the cactus family. You know they don’t need much attention. You could try it, and if it works you could work up to a goldfish.”

“One time I went to Coney Island with Jessa, I won a goldfish and it died before I got it home. I think I shook the bag too much” He tells her, she chuckles again as they start walking back to whatever the next adventure is. She tells him, “So maybe try a few plants first then.”

           “I had a goldfish when I was a kid, my sister flushed it to free it or whatever.” He says and the memory still stings. Y/N watches his reaction before saying, “I understand her point but that’s rough. Especially with you being a kid. Was she always like that?”

           “Yeah, that’s Caroline. She’s chaotic. One time, when Hannah was trying to mediate between us, she actually had the audacity to suggest that I had repressed sexual feelings or some bullshit for her… that’s what she’s like.” Adam finds himself confessing his life story and all of his family issues in one go with Y/N. She listens to him contently, sometimes chiming in with her own family drama.

“Damn, that’s fucked up. For what’s worth, you don’t seem like that type. That’s something that shouldn’t ever be brought up” Y/N says, trying to comfort him, but Adam finds himself apologizing instead, “Sorry to dump all that shit on you.”

           “It’s what friends are for. And, everyone has family issues. Everyone’s family fucks them up in some way.” She says, and Adam’s glad to have her as a friend. Even if he wants more.

************

           It was a smothery day in New York, the concrete only made the heat intensified. It was like one of Dante’s rings of hell. You were already wearing a cropped tank top, and linen short-shorts with your hair up. Jessa was wearing a bikini top and shorts, while Adam was wearing a sleeveless shirt and athletic shorts. The three of you were trying to go to a pool, or get down by the water, but it was too crowded. The crowd just made it more miserable. When you walk past a display, you’re drawn to the headline. Apparently, the local theater group is putting on Antigone, one of your favorite plays. You’re too entranced by the flyer to notice that Jessa and Adam have come up beside you.

           “You, okay? You just zoned out.” Jessa asks and looks at the flyer. You respond, “Yeah, it’s just one of my favorite plays, I’ll try to make it.”

           “Antigone is a classic.” Adam adds. Then Jessa gestures between you and Adam, then declares, “You two should go together. It’s not really my thing so I’ll sit it out.”

           “Do you really wanna go?” Adam asks you after he eyes Jessa suspiciously. You know you must look just as stunned as he does. You liked spending time with Adam, the two have developed your own friendship, but you somehow felt like you crossing a line. After all, he’s your friend’s boyfriend. The same friend who’s now pushing you to hang out with said boyfriend. It was made worse by the growing crush you had on Adam, in fact, the crush was hardly a crush anymore, and it was more like real attraction. But you weren’t that girl you reminded yourself.

           “Yeah I do, but you don’t have to go with me.” You say, giving him an opportunity to opt out, also giving Jessa a chance to rethink her offer. Neither of them do. Adam runs his hands through his hair then says, “No, I’ll go. It will be fun.” So much for trying to distance yourself, or being worried about over-stepping your place.

******

           Tonight you were going to see Antigone with Adam at one of the theaters near his neighborhood. You were both excited and nervous. You enjoyed spending time with him, and wanted to get know more about him, but you knew the more time you were with, the more you’d fall for him. Also, you didn’t want to seem like the girl who took their friend’s boyfriend. You were wearing a strapless jumpsuit that was airy but didn’t look too casual. Adam knocks at your door, and as soon as you let him in, Bagel runs to him. You still can’t believe how fast he took to Adam, and it makes you think about the saying about dogs judging character.

           “Hey, I’ll be ready in just a minute. Do you want something to drink? Non-alcoholic of course.” You say. Adam sits on the couch, Bagel joins him with his tail happily wagging. Adam then answers with, “Can I have a glass of milk?”

           “Sure.” You were glad that this was a time when you actually had milk in your kitchen. It was honestly the first time a guest wanted a glass, you take the glass to him, and he swallows it loudly. After you’ve put the finishing touches on your look, you tell him you’re ready. He looks you up and down then tells you, “Y/N you look hot…”

           “Thanks,” you blush, you’re totally unprepared for his next comment. But you had been around him enough you should have expected it by now. You knew he had a filthy mouth, and was open about those kind of things.

“You trying to get fucked tonight?” You struggle to find a good comeback at first, you eventually settle on, “No, that’s none of your business anyway. But what if I am?”

           Before he has a chance to comment back and make you more flustered than you already are, you open the door, motioning for him to walk out. You then put Bagel in his crate and join Adam to head on your way to the theater. It was going to be a long, and potentially frustrating night, judging by how bothered you are.

           You and Adam are walking back from the play, chattering about how great the performance was, when you feel something fly in your hair. You try to act cool and get it out, then whatever it is just gets more stuck. Adam at first laughs at your struggle, then his hand is on yours, trying to work whatever it is out of your hair. You notice it’s some kind of bug and you screech.

“Calm down, tiger.” He says and you stand still while he frees whatever creature is trapped in your hair. He brushes your hair behind your ear and your eyes lock onto his. It’s incredibly simple yet intimate and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him but you know you can’t.

“Did you just call me tiger?” you ask to distract from the sexual tension that’s growing between you. You also never really had any nicknames either so the fact that Adam came up with one for you made you happy.

“Yep, you’re always wear that tiger’s eye thing bracelet.” He says as he backs away to give you space again. His finger reaches for the bracelet, barely tracing the skin of your wrist, and now that’s the only thing you can think about. You force your thoughts back to the bracelet: you’ve had it for a few years and you wear it daily.

“You noticed?” Adam nods his head in response. You then fidget with the bracelet, your hand brushing against his, and tell him, “It’s supposed to bring good fortune, invoke the divine, and offer protection.”

“Has it actually done any of those things?” He asks, and you notice how close his face is to yours. You can feel his breath on your cheek, count every freckle on his face, and you can’t help but notice that his eyes resemble the color of the tiger’s eye.

“I think it has.” The two of you then continue on your way, both avoiding eye contact and putting a few feet between you. It wasn’t as if you had crossed the line, but you were certainly dancing around it.

                                   ********

Adam came back to the apartment after a particularly bad day on set, and it already seems that Jessa is in some kind mood. She’s waiting on the couch, her posture tense, so he breezes by her to get to the kitchen. As he pours himself a glass of milk, Jessa pounces. Her mouth latches on to his neck while her hand reaches for his dick. He’s caught so off-guard that he moves away, and that was clearly the wrong response. He’s always pissing her off anymore anyway. Adam’s starting to think that Jessa’s waiting for him to fuck up in some way that she can use a pretext for an argument.

“What the hell is going on with you? We barely talk, we hardly fuck anymore, and you totally moved away from me!” Jessa shouts at him. He knows he’s been zoned out, but he’s busy with his career and his relationship with Jessa is becoming a burden. Was there any easy way to tell her that the relationship felt like an unnecessary strain on him, or that he’s falling for her friend? He decides not to, and he answers back with, “I’m busy, I’m fucking stressed when I come home. Then as soon as I come home, you wait for me to do something then pounce!”

“It’s like you don’t even notice me anymore!” Jessa screams back at him, and he’s tuning her out. Same old, same old. How he doesn’t listen to her, pay attention to her, or fuck her like he used to. As he continues with his glass of milk, no longer arguing back with her, she disappears into the bedroom. She soon comes back out with a bag and tells him, “I’m leaving for a while, if you fucking care at all!”

*****

           The desk in your apartment is full of paper work, you can hardly see your laptop, and you finally removed the coffee mug and glass of water from the danger zone. Bagel watches you apprehensively from the couch as you get up to stretch a bit. You have to finish this draft then you’re going to an art gallery and out with some friends. You’re not able to go out like you used to since you have to remain sober, but you still need to de-stress. You’re suddenly alerted by the buzz in your apartment.

           The person on the other side is Jessa, asking if she can come in. Once inside, she crashes on your couch like it’s hers and Bagel seems unbothered by her.

           “What’s up?” You rummage on your desk, even more conscious about the fact that it’s a disaster now that someone’s here. As she grabs your Roku remote she tells you, “Adam and I had a fight again. It’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore.”

           “I’m sorry that sucks. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. I’m going to be working then going out.” You get back to working on your draft, while Jessa tells you about her fight with Adam, asking for your thoughts. Talking actually helps you work sometime because silence allows your mind to wander.

After you complete the draft, you hop in the shower, and sit at your vanity doing your hair and makeup. Jessa is perched on your bed, chatting away as you tell her about your friends and she tells you about hers. The one she talks about the most is Hannah, you don’t even know Hannah but you’re exhausted and irritated by her.

“Are you worried about going out tonight? Being around alcohol again?” Jessa asks and you answer honestly.

“I’m nervous about it but as long as I don’t drink anything, I’ll be fine. The long-term goal is to be able to socially drink again.”

“Sobriety sucks. It’s definitely the harder path.” She shares the sentiment, then someone else is buzzing in. None of your friends are supposed to coming here, you’re all supposed to meet up somewhere, and you have no online shopping packages coming today.

It’s Adam, shit, you think. Jessa and Adam, who are fighting in your apartment, this was going to be interesting. Adam strolls in like he owns the place then is stunned when he sees Jessa standing there.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her and she asks him the same thing.

“I’m here visiting my friend, what’s your excuse?” She says combatively, crossing her arms.

“Both of you need to talk about your problems.” You say and hope they’ll try to listen. You really need to get going.

“Okay, well Adam doesn’t seem to care about me at all anymore.” Jessa says and you decide to keep playing mediator.  Calmly you place yourself in the middle of them “Thanks for sharing your feelings, Jessa. Adam, what do you need to talk about?”

“I’m busy and I don’t want to talk all the time, sorry I take my damn job seriously!” He shouts, throwing his arms in the air.

“Okay, well I tried. I need to get going, so don’t trash the place and lock up when you leave.” You say as you quickly head towards the door, you’re already ten minutes. You seriously wondered what Adam was doing with Jessa, and what the two of them were doing holding to their relationship that was pretty clearly a disaster. You could really use a drink right now.

[tommyplum]

- eggplant peach question mark  |  tommy/alfie, modern au    for @boundinshallows’ sholomons prompt fest 2019

Tommy is the manager at a liquor distribution outlet, Alfie is the co-owner of a microbrewery. Even with all that booze around they have slow days at work. Luckily, they’ve got their mobiles, and each other.

TXT: Alfie. I'm going out of my mind.

TXT: The temp agency sent me May Carleton of all people to cover for Lizzie while she's on hols and I suspect Lizzie knew beforehand because she's left five separate towers of ancient bills of lading to be entered into the system and filed away which is impossible

TXT: And all we've got open in the back liquor fridge is raspberry sour. 

TXT: Talk to me, Alfie, cheer me up. Tell me what you're wearing. 

TXT: No, tell me what you WISH you were wearing.

---

alfie

[TXT] And why is May Carleton such an affront, sweetie? Surely she’s as capable as that Lizzie of yours of rolling her eyes at you? 

[TXT] My day’s going swimmingly, thanks for asking. 

[TXT] And stay away from that bloody raspberry horror. You know what happened the last time you drank it, and I can’t get away today to fetch you out of trouble.

[TXT] But, since you’re curious, I’m wearing jeans and that leopard shirt that you hate.

[TXT] What I’d LIKE to be wearing though, is your mouth. How’s that?

---

tommy

TXT: Because, Alfie, the last time she temped here was at Christmastime and I went down on her in the supply closet. 

TXT: I mean 'affront' isn't the word I'd use, more like 'awkward reminder of why I don't drink alcopop anymore'

TXT: The point isn't May's capability, she's more than, it's that Lizzie purposely left her more work than is humanly possible and it's maybe entirely because she wanted to be able to report to the agency that May didn't do all the work she was left.

TXT: Or maybe I'm overthinking.

TXT: Swimmingly? As good as all that? Have you cracked the recipe for that new seasonal lager, then?

TXT: Too late. The raspberry doesn't go as well with tea as the caramel apple did, but it'll do in a pinch.

TXT: Any chance some terrible accident concerning a boiler and a thousand pounds of mash might happen to that leopard shirt? Preferably when you're not in it, but Alfie, I really do hate it so I'm not going to be picky

TXT: Ahhh. My Mr. Solomons is in that sort of a mood right now, is he.

TXT: If I were there with you, I'd be having you with my mouth. With your back pressed up against that machine that drops the hops into the vat. 

TXT: There's a machine like that, yes? Anyhow that's where you'd be, backed up against the hop machine. Jeans around your knees, watching me suck you down. 

TXT: I've changed my mind this raspberry tastes WONDERFUL with tea

---

alfie

[TXT] Oh, THAT May Carleton. Never cared for her.

[TXT] Hmph. Good on Lizzie, leaving her some work to keep her busy then.

[TXT] You? Overthinking, love? Perish the thought. 

[TXT] I was being facetious, Thomas my sweet. Ollie’s off on the sick and that seasonal lager still tastes like gingerbread piss.

[TXT] You are aware, love, that they’re not actually paying you to sample the goods, yeah? And I thought you were swearing off alcopop, lest you start sampling the help next.

[TXT] Thankfully no. It’s safe as houses right here on my back in the office. But your concern is noted and appreciated.

[TXT] Your Mr. Solomons is ALWAYS in that sort of a mood where you’re concerned, pet.

[TXT] That’s what I like to hear.

[TXT] Though you’re a bit more caught up in the machinery than I generally care for, Tommy. Focus, yeah?

[TXT] Right, that’s enough bloody raspberry. 

---

tommy

TXT: Because you're horrendously jealous. It was before you and I pinned things down, Alfie. I won't be getting distracted by the temp staff again. May's a good girl.

TXT: Besides which I sent her round a bottle of that Amarula stuff as sort of an apology afterwards and forgot to take off the sample tag so she's been slightly cold to me. 

TXT: If you called it Gingerbread Piss you'd be able to make a lot of money in a very specific market. Consider it, Alfie.

TXT: Nobody takes stock of what's open in the back cooler other than me, the manager, and therefore I, the manager, can drink whatever he damn well pleases. I'm not quite an alcoholic but I'm high-functioning and that's the important thing, isn't it.

TXT: My concern is that the leopard shirt go in the bin

TXT: Mmmm. Call me 'pet' again. 

TXT: All right, all right, you win -- raspberry tea poured down the bog where it belongs. Now to get back to me sucking your cock, Alfie, I'd cup your balls in my hand and slide my mouth all the way down while you watch. Are you watching, Alfie? You'd better be watching. I don't put on this kind of a show for just anybody.

---

alfie

[TXT] Oi, I’m not horrendously anything. I’m just the right and proper amount of jealous, as it happens, being your man.

[TXT] XD Well, that’s put her off, then. Even those pretty blue eyes of yours pale held up against a sample tag, love. You cheap little arsehole. xD I love it.

[TXT] A /very/ specific market. And not one I’m looking to court professionally.

[TXT] It is something, innit? Though that high functionality takes a bit of a turn depending on what you’re drinking, sweetie. 

[TXT] I see. Not for me at all, was it? In danger of industrial accidents? I’d no idea you were so shallow, Thomas.

[TXT] Pet. /My/ little pet, aren’t you?

[TXT] You’d better not. And believe me, love, I’m watching. Watching you look up at me through those long lovely eyelashes as I push my cock deeper into your mouth, making you glug a bit. You know that little noise you make… the one I like so much.

--- 

tommy

TXT: Yes, dear Alfie. You should indeed be afforded all the privileges that come with being my man, intense jealousy included.

TXT: I used to be better at this. Choosing apology gifts for poorly-planned sexual encounters, I mean. I'm losing my touch.

TXT: Is it terrible that the thought of that makes me sad? I hate losing skillsets, is all.

TXT: If I read into your specific wording of not wanting to court that market PROFESSIONALLY would you accuse me of overthinking again

TXT: or should I invest in some rubber sheets

TXT: I discovered one of those flash-in-the-pan bottles of low-calorie margarita and nobody will miss it. We should drink more margarita, you and I. It's so FESTIVE

TXT: You know precisely how shallow I am, because I've told you time and time again that I didn't listen to a word you said for at least two hours when we first met because all I did was stare at your lips.

TXT: Your little pet, Alfie. Collar me and put me on your leash.

TXT: Your belt will do, in a pinch, come to think of it. I've seen the state of your dog leads. They're not chew toys, you know.

TXT: I do know that noise you get out of me when you're pushing against my tongue with your big thick cock, Alfie, I do. I'm the one making it, aren't I?

TXT: glufrgh

TXT: like that

---

alfie

[TXT] Listen you, intensity is in the eye of the beholder, yeah? I’m no more jealous than I have right to be what with you sticking your tongue in the typing pool on occasion. A man likes to know that what’s his is HIS.

[TXT] Good. Lose it altogether, so far as I’m concerned. Though I can think of a very thoughtful list of gifts to be bought in case of blue balls, should you be in the market for one.

[TXT] I’m going to blame that little bout of ennui on the raspberry. For a piss-artist you really don’t waste any time going in for the maudlin, love.

[TXT] Rubber sheets might have all sorts of practical uses; who am I to say? I don’t run your household, Tommy sweetheart.

[TXT] Bring it back with you to mine tonight. I’ll cook and we’ll be properly festive, just how you want us to be.

[TXT] That’s right; you did! :D And I found that to be a very endearing admission on your part. Unsurprising, given that I am a glorious example of manhood, but endearing all the same.

[TXT] God, love, in a fucking HEARTBEAT.

[TXT] Alright, now, steady on, Cyril is just a natural chewer, yeah? And better he chew on his leads than your poncey little shoes, hm? He remembers how hurtful you got the last time. Don’t think he doesn’t.

[TXT] That noise loses a bit in the written word - but yeah, that’s it. That thick wet wonderful sound of you swallowing down all I’ve got to give you.

[TXT] But go on, what would you do next as I’m fucking that pretty face? Would you have your hand down your trousers, yet?

---

tommy

TXT: At this point in the narrative, Alfie, I'm all yours. Eye of the beholder and tongue from the typing pool and whatever other scattered body parts are making you fret.

TXT: That isn't a threat to leave me high and dry when it comes to sex, is it? Because we both know how well THAT sort of threat turns out.

TXT: I come from a long line of the maudlin and mawkish. Don't make me haul out family histories of who tumbled down wells accidentally-on-purpose and who drank themselves to death in front of the homestead hearth. It's my HERITAGE, Alfie. 

TXT: Continue being mean to me and I'll find me a well and boot myself down it. See if I don't.

TXT: Melodramatic announcements also run in the family. Heritage!!

TXT: Also for God's sake Alfie be direct for once, eh? Here I'll make it easy: DO YOU WANT TO PISS IN MY MOUTH

TXT: That would btw go down better than this low-cal margarita. I'm getting a bottle of the good stuff to bring round to yours and we can be just how I want us to be with it.

TXT: I made it up to Cyril, didn't I? Took him for his walks for a sodding fortnight in the worst of the October rain. And I've got nothing against natural chewers seeing as you, my darling glorious example of manhood, share that trait with your mutt.

TXT: Hand down my trousers, yeah. Prick already hard, Alfie, from the time I first got my lips wrapped around you. Making whatever noises you want me to make, all of them for you. 

TXT: Want you to cum down my throat so I can taste you for hours after. Sometimes I think I can taste your cum for days, you know. Makes for a strange experience when Ada pops round with new baking and wants my opinion on how her mini cupcakes taste.

TXT: "Like Alfie's spunk, Ada. And white chocolate."

---

alfie

[TXT] Who’s fretting? And was that so bloody hard? It’s hardly my fault that I love you, you bleeding pillock.

[TXT] Sweetie, I would /never/ threaten you with a lack of sex. I mean, let’s be reasonable, yeah? /You’re/ the one who’s basically a human-shaped cat, I’m just looking out for my own lonely interests.

[TXT] Oh yes, here we go, it’s Dylan Thomas and the Shelbys all over again, raging against the dying of the bloody light and taking their sweet sodding time doing it.

[TXT] Mean?! I’m not being mean to you, my sweet lovely boy - bite that forked tongue of yours. This is /teasing/, pet. Because your plaits are the most fun to pull. <3

[TXT] And as far as pissing in your mouth goes, I can’t say as the thought’s never crossed my mind. Have YOU ever considered it? Since you’re the one what brought it up and all. Or is it only the pish of gingerbread men that turns you on, lover?

[TXT] You’re already bloody into it? May’ll be having to pour you into a taxi before the afternoon’s out.

[TXT] But yeah, bring the good stuff. We’ll make a night of it. Just you, me, and the rubber sheets, eh?

[TXT] Seeing as you just called me your darling glorious example of manhood, and it’s made my cock just that little bit harder, I’m going to magnanimously forgive you for calling our boy a mutt.

[TXT] Christ, you know how to make me want you, Tommy. I want you here, on those bony knees of yours, right fucking now.

[TXT] Keep talking about my spunk and how much you love to taste it. You’ll be having it soon enough. Long before your next margarita, my love.

---

tommy

TXT: "I love you, you bleeding pillock". Missed your calling writing Valentine's cards, sunshine.

TXT: I believe these days instead of human shaped cat we're going with bisexual, Alfie. And if you want me to stop being dreary then don't, for the love of God, tell me that you're lonely. It breaks my heart.

TXT: Don't even tease about it. Do you hear me? 

TXT: Dip my plaits in ink all you want but never that. I couldn't take it. I do love you, you bleeding pillock. Diversions into supply closets and over-imbibing of suspiciously saccharine drinks notwithstanding.

TXT: And now that we've gotten THAT out of the way, as regards my drinking your piss: I'm considering it NOW, isn't that enough? You're basically a big fucking gingerbread man yourself, Alfie, I don't see a problem

TXT: I'm stopping. I want to be sober enough to get drunk with you.

TXT: Ah, that's how it works, is it? I appeal to your vanity and you forgive me even for slandering our dog? Powerful intel to have, Mr. Solomons. You may live to regret handing me the reins.

TXT: Good, yes, that's how I want you to think of me, down on my knees for you, Alfie, I always am. Even when we're just talking or fucking texting or standing next to each other in the loo cleaning our teeth and eyefucking each other in the mirror. Know that from now on, Alfie: I'm always on my knees.

TXT: Right where I can keep control of you.

TXT: I'm going to suck you off the minute I walk through that door. 

---

alfie

[TXT] You’re not a hearts and flowers sort of lad though, are you, my sweet?

[TXT] I’m sorry, pet. I’m not really lonely. Hand on heart, yeah? No teasing at all. I’ve got you, and I know it. No matter how I natter on.

[TXT] Because I do love you too, Tommy.

[TXT] And now I’m left to wonder just what exactly it is that makes me a gingerbread man - and, piss notwithstanding - if that status has any impact on your addictive behaviour toward my semen? Am I sweeter than most, love? Tell me I’m the sweetest you’ve ever had. ;)

[TXT] Good. On both counts.

[TXT] As it happens, being on the receiving end of some decidedly saucy texts from my sweetheart has put me in a rather good mood. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a given, but I think today it’s enough to leave me in a forgiving sort of mindset.

[TXT] Christ. That’s it. I’m calling it. We’re done for the day.

[TXT] Gather ye margaritas while ye may, mate, because I’m coming to pick you up. RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

[TXT] I’m feeling a bit out of control. 

---

tommy

TXT: You've rumbled me there. I'm more of a gin and handjobs sort of lad. 

TXT: Good. You bloody better well HAD know it, that you've got me, because I've already cut the tag off you and I won't return you. 

TXT: Well, you're a gingerbread man because you've got beady eyes and a gumdrop for a mouth and a great big round head, don't you? 

TXT: And you're sweeter than any other I've ever tasted, Alfie, the sweetest of them all. Ask me to be mirror mirror any time and I'll tell you, whenever you like.

[ no reply for about fifteen minutes ]

TXT: I've scored two bottles and given May instructions on closing up and she seems relieved to be rid of me. Come and get me and we'll stop for rubber sheets along the way.

TXT: Don't you worry, Alfie. I've got all the control you'll need.

/end

[loustellaperry]

Draco finds a three-headed dog

     I scribbled up a Harry Potter edition MASH game, and used my answers as the prompt for this post. My answers were Draco, Mansion, Fluffy, and shop owner. This is what my imagination did with this information... 

It was a particularly dark day, but that was to be expected when it’s the middle of April in England. I couldn’t help but race the raindrops on the window, as they fell. My back had gone numb, as I’d been sitting in the same spot, by the same window, since I got home at noon.

…

I had woke up straight from a PTSD nightmare, of a scene I was involved in when I was around fourteen. It was the day, my mom slapped me in the face, right before I got on the train for school. In which case, I wouldn’t see her again until Christmas.

I sat up straight out of bed, with the same nerves I had the second her hand hit my cheek. Shaking fingers, a racing heart, and sweat droplets lining my forehead, I pulled myself from my not-so-dreamy state. The rain hadn’t begun yet, but the sky already seemed rather dreary.

The clock read 9:13 am, and as usual I headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I became a coffee drinker at the mere age of 16. It was my go-to, to keep me going through the toughest part of my life. I carried it with me to adulthood.

Four of my five fingers took turns tapping my finger prints against the table top. In order, from my pinky to my index finger, while my thumb sat there stabilizing them. I sipped my coffee through dry lips. My face still felt swollen, as though I hadn’t seen sleep for four months. I mean, this wasn’t entirely wrong. I lifted my eyes from my coffee mug to the phone, in the hallway. I have never heard it ring… ever. I can’t believe I’ve been living here for four months, and no one’s called me. Not even Crabbe or Goyle. To be fair, I haven’t really reached out to any one since moving in.

I inherited one of the Malfoy manors when my uncle passed, in December. It’s still filled with all his things. He lived alone, and sold bewitched muggle artefacts straight out of the foyer, much like the rest of my family. I’ve distanced myself from most of them, in honor of my mental state. After the battle of Hogwarts, I went straight to therapy and have been there ever since.

It took me three years to realize my situation wasn’t the greatest. I guess I was brought up to believe if you could pay your bills, and have extra left over, then you needn’t complain. I was never taught to take care of my mind. After about a year and a half passed, my relationship with EVERYONE slowly but surely deteriorated. I’ve only talked lightly to my parents, as I transitioned from their roof to this one.

A lot’s happened inside my brain since then. I’ve began using poetry and famous literature to subside the pain. This was my Slytherin shining through. My uncle had quite the collection going, in his book room. It reminded me of a smaller version of the Hogwarts library. Loads of history on famous wizards, spells, potions, poetry, and even muggle fiction. I’ve also took over his garden. He had quite the abundance of herbs, as well. I’m thinking about buying a place in Diagon Alley, and selling them. You see, cutting ties with my family the way that I’ve been, is sure to decrease my income. And I’m just slightly over sneaking around, and selling illegal objects from my home. There’s a peacefulness that comes with the idea that you have nothing to hide.

…

               I took a cabbie to London, to meet my therapist at 10:30. Recently, I’ve been overly disconnected. I find myself lost in a daze, replaying events from my childhood. She said it’s normal for complex cases of PTSD. Talking about it helps, or at least it’s supposed to. My therapist has this way of swimming straight to the darkest depths of my brain, and showing me memories I buried there, LONG ago. Although, each weekly session knocks me down for the remainder of the six days left in the week, I do feel my head becoming easier to carry.

I guess I just miss my friends, and kind of my parents. I’m supposed to forgive them for their ways even though, they never apologized. I just feel shameful, because I, too, feel like I have things to apologize for. I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s also hard, when I feel like they are still living in their old ways, and just because I’ve found a path out of illegal activity, doesn’t mean they want to.

They also kind of make me feel dumb for living the way that I am. My dad even said I’ve brought shame to the family name, as they’ve given me everything, and the way that I repay them is “seeking help, like some sort of peasant”. If asking for help, makes me a peasant than so be it. I couldn’t open my mouth before, without exploding on someone, about something that was never ignited. Although, I lead a quieter life now, my chest doesn’t hurt as much.

…

Therapy sped by, and was mostly silent on my part, as I said earlier, I’m pretty disconnected right now. Not much to say, when my mind isn’t all there to begin with.

As I opened the heavy door, I was greeted by immediate brightness and thick rain. If the breeze hadn’t been so pleasantly cool, I would have pretended I was dying. I find myself thinking about death a lot. But it’s apparently “normal”, when you’ve encountered the things that I have. According to the plan my therapist has made, those dark thoughts will decrease as I talk through them. It just feels like to me, that they’ve increased… a lot.

I opened my dark green umbrella, and ventured down the sidewalk. Old thoughts from school flooded my brain. Almost all of my peers were already married and having children. Here I am almost 21, and just living off the same wealth, I’ve had since I was young. I’m constantly reminded by my therapist that I’m still pretty young, and have lots of love to give. But honestly, FUCK LOVE…

 and then I caught a glimpse of him. It was a fat, grey dog, with three heads. As soon as my eyes landed on it, it had taken a sharp turn down an alley. I followed closely behind, almost catching up to it, but then it hopped through the brick wall. I ran over to the area, that it disappeared in. I drew my wand and tapped on the bricks. Nothing. I crouched down and examined my surroundings. I didn’t know there was a wizard portal here. Then I noticed the transparent air shaking, as though there was something under it. It can’t be…

I lowered myself to it’s level, and reached into the air, hoping to pull off whatever invisibility device this pup was using. To my expectations and slight surprise, I could feel the creature underneath my hand, it was just… invisible. A few seconds later, it’s transparency faded and against the wall, was a shaking very small but plump three headed dog. The school’s old gamekeeper owned one. Her name was Fluffy and she guarded some of Hogwarts most valuable secrets. Only, that one was the size of a small building. This one was the size of a baby bear.

“Are you alright?” I made my voice small enough to fit the tiny creature.. All three of it’s heads, flinched as if I was going to hit it… them. “I’m not going to hurt you”, I meant, I’ve not been around a dog since at least five years ago, but I definitely won’t kick you.

All six eyes lifted to meet my gaze, with a glossiness of tears. All ears were held down, and it’s entire coat was trembling before me. This was probably the cutest and purest thing I’ve seen all year. I reached out and let it sniff me, and softly touched the middle head. It seemed to not mind.

“Now, do you have a home? This is a strange place for a creature like you to be wondering around”

“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?” A man peered around the edge of a building. “Oh, yeah… I just found…” and when I looked down, the dog had went invisible again, also it had three heads. “I mean, I had dropped something. But I found it, thank you”.

The man shook his head slightly, tilted his hat, and kept walking. Filthy muggles, treating me like I’m crazy!- I mean, he was just an interested man, not filthy, he never said I was crazy… his facial expression did… I don’t know, it just seems like muggles are extremely nosey and annoying. I mean, I’ve met pure blood wizards that were the same. I just hate people, to be fair.

Glancing down, the dog was now in full sight and wagging it’s tail. “How about you come home with me?”

As I picked up the creature, I realized how heavy it actually was, and how hard it was going to be to get into the cab without looking suspicious. “The only thing, I need you to do is stay invisible”.

…

It snores. Also, it’s a boy. I named him Snake, because why would you not name an animal after a different animal? Snake fell asleep shortly after we got home, and I’ve kind of just been sitting by this window, ever since. We’re probably ordering out for dinner.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and using a MASH game as a prompt. Also, I’ve always wanted to write harry potter fan fiction.

Message me, and lemme know what you think of this version of Draco.. 

[prorevenge]

Tried to give shitty neighbour a taste of his own medicine. Ended up getting him some hefty fines.

My initial plan should have resulted in an @petty-revenge-stories worthy post, but I inadvertently ended up going a lot further. (long story: tl;dr at the end)

Some background:

My neighbour, let's call him Dave, is a twat. Literally everyone on the street hates him. The previous owners of our house left because of him: we gave them a lowball offer on the house which they accepted straight away because Dave drove them crazy. We initially didn't pay much mind because, for 10/12 years that we've lived here he's been pretty courteous, even very helpful. His attitude changed over the past 2 years. He's started complaining about the volume of my guitar playing even though his dog is yapping away 24/7 - bear in mind this is a dog which he doesn't even let out of the house. He forced us to reposition our CCTV cameras so they didn't look into his gardens, then put up his own which look into ours claiming it's his property so he can do what he wants. Some craftsmen came to do work on our roof, and he complained about them to the council on a small technicality with their scaffolding, causing them to get fined.

But the problem at hand here is about parking. Dave works for a local utility so he has a big pickup truck supplied by his work that he parks in such a way that half of it takes up space in front of our house. You see, for a long time, we had a old banger Toyota as the family car, and his parking was not an issue as we only had the one car in the driveway. Dave also loved to take the piss out of this car. He was the kind of guy who would buy a 4x4 in the winter then sell it in the summer for a convertible. Two years ago, the banger was complemented with a shiny new Toyota, and that too for me. Not only did he not have anything witty to say about our new car, his much cherished truck's parking space was at threat. So, he buys a van, parks it in front of his house, then parks the entirety of his pickup truck in front of our house, so much so that his truck's trailer hitch would be over the exit to our driveway. Unfortunately, as much of a dick move as this is, he's perfectly entitled to do that as it's a public road. Any requests to ask him to move and he'd say that he'd been parking there since before we moved, and that he needs to keep his driveway clear wide to get his other cars out as the people opposite park a car outside their house. When I pointed out that we have the same issue, he said I "need the practice cause I'm a new driver". Thankfully the people on our other side and across the road (both having a long standing hatred of Dave) suggested we park my dad's car outside their houses if there was space - mine lived in the drive for insurance reasons.

Luckily for Dave, my dad got a new job abroad so he had to sell the banger, and I got an internship at a big company halfway across the country so my car wouldn't be there. However, my dad purchased another shiny new Toyota for my mum as she'd have to drive herself around (and his new job was a pretty big promotion). This is the situation until last Sunday.

Now starts the real bullshit. Because of Eid, so I took a week off work to spend it with my mum. When I arrived home after the long journey, I was in luck: Dave was still at work and his other van wasn't there. I guess he'd sold it now that he didn't need an excuse to occupy the front of our house. Thus, I parked squarely in front of our house, with about a metre between the front of my car and the imaginary line between our house and Dave's. Later that night, I go out to throw the trash and I see that this fucker has parked his truck under 2 inches away from my car. This is an issue for me because we're on a hill, and I drive a manual so there's a good chance of my car rolling into his trailer hitch unless I'm really careful. The next day, I actually saw him park in the same way. From my window it looked like he'd actually hit my car so I decided to go out and have a look. As I kneeled down to check the front bumper he goes "what do you think you're looking at?". I said "Oh, it seemed to me you've parked really close, I was just checking to see if you've it my car". His reply was "I've got parking sensors so get the hell back inside".

Now, I read @petty-revenge-stories a bit so I thought I'd give Dave a taste of his own medicine. After a day out with the mates, I saw that he was at work, so I decided to park outside his house, being very considerate, following the Highway Code and leaving a wide berth for the car in the driveway to exit. I just thought I'd fuck with him a little, piss him off and then move the car after a few hours just to see how quickly he runs out to park his truck in the usual spot again. What I didn't expect was that he'd be a stubborn cunt.

Dave flips his shit as soon as he arrives. He parks inches away from my car with the bay of his truck over our driveway, throws the gate open right into the bumper of my mum's car and nearly bangs the door off its hinges. He demands that I move my car "right fucking now". The lovely Irish guy opposite us, Mick (not actually being racist, that's his real name), saw him open the gate into my mum's car and takes this moment to come and tell us what Dave did. I take a look while Dave keeps shoving me and shouting at me: he's left a dent and scratched the paint. My mum goes ballistic at this point. Seeing as all 5'1" of her is about to deck Dave at this point, I tell him, calmly, that I'm perfectly entitled to park where I currently am, and that I'd very much appreciate it if he would pay for the repair to my mum's car and go park his truck somewhere else in the meantime. He blatantly refuses and says he wont pay shit, calling us pakis, terrorists, ungrateful cunts, and all kinds of lovely compliments before storming back inside, telling us he'd like to see what we can do.

So, I hit up the non-emergency police hotline, with some traffic cops coming over about an hour later. Remember the CCTV cameras he had us reposition? They captured a lovely 1080p/60fps rendition of the gate bouncing off my mum's car and Dave shoving me. Unfortunately there was no sound, but Mick and the family to our other side basically told the traffic cops what was said to me and my mum. As luck would have it, Dave had gone out for the night with his girlfriend. Because they couldn't contact him, his blocking of our driveway, and me and my mum saying we needed to go out that night, the cops had his truck towed. Along with the fine and collection information which they posted through his door, they also left a note saying possible charges could be pressed for assault, anti-social behaviour, hate speech and vandalism.

The police called earlier today to say that his workplace had left them with insurance information for a claim for the repairs. Off the record, they said that, although the company would foot the bill for the tow, the fine and the repairs, Dave would be paying those out of his own pocket and would be penalised even more heavily for his conduct and making the company look bad.

No fully happy ending though: now I'm afraid he might do some shit to my mum while I'm away for work... I'll take what I can get for now...

TL;DR - Neighbour parks like a twat. I give him a taste of his own medicine to troll him. End up getting his work truck towed.

Edit: I might as well add some more context here.

Re. the family on our other side: he's wolfwhistled at their underage daughter, and fought hard against their new extension claiming some bullshit - the council overturned his objections on account of there being a whole house (i.e. ours) between Dave and the other neighbours.

Re. the pensioners (Mick and his wife) opposite: he's been a general cunt to them for about 20 years, apparently. I'm pretty sure he's shot their windows with a BB gun - bragged about his air rifle when we complained to him about the neighbourhood cats shitting in our garden. Hell, one of the families even came up to us and asked us if we knew who injured their cat. Unfortunately we were still on good terms with Dave then so we didn't want to throw accusations around without being sure.

One of my aunties is a social worker who deals with a family on our street who adopts a lot of kids. Apparently the family and the kids all complained about Dave to her.

Edit2: well quite a lot of interest in this story. Just had a quick skin through the comments, so here's what's going on:

pressing charges fully: according to the police, the utility company is looking to compensate us for all the shit Dave pulled, and should be contacting us soon. As this incident involves their vehicle and their employee, they'd rather it not get taken to court. We have some relatives who are lawyers and they suggest also taking an offer from the company, especially as bringing hate speech accusations against someone without sufficient proof is dangerous: other people's testimony is probably not enough. Our family members are all over the place, and we're all far too busy with work at the moment.

we must have pissed Dave off for him to change after 10 years: Yes we did, by repeatedly asking him to park his truck in such a way that he doesn't have his truck almost across our driveway while most of the front of his house remains clean.

Edit3: Anticlimactic ending to the story. He just knocked and apologized. Said he got a bollocking at work and regrets saying all that stuff to me and my mum. Also did he didn't actually think we'd call the police, and that if we did nothing would have happened. Still, we're staying vigilant, but I guess it's a happy ish ending?

(source) (story by deleted)

[ihaveallthesefeelsokay]

So here’s a fragment I wrote for Jericho - Bill’s POV the night that Jake left town.  It’s definitely a fragment and I might flesh it out and include more POVs to post on AO3, but we’ll see.

The radio squawked to life in the darkness.

“Code eight!  Code eight on Braintree!  Code eight!”

Bill shot straight up in bed, hoping he’d dreamed that.  He’d never heard a code eight – officer in dire need of help – used outside of training in the almost seven years he’d been a deputy.  He’d lived in fear of ever hearing it.

Sara’s voice transmitted next, worried enough Bill knew he hadn’t dreamed it or woken up to some midnight drill.  “Confirming a code eight on Braintree Court in Jericho proper.  All officers please respond.  Connor, please update as possible.”  Her words were calm, but Bill knew she was as desperate as he was for more information.

Despite the fact that it was three in the morning and he’d been asleep just minutes before, Bill had his gear on in record time.  He stopped only long enough to give his dog Sadie a quick ear scritch and apologize for leaving her again so soon.

Braintree Court was in the Pines, the most expensive area in Jericho and generally a quiet place.  What could have happened there that made Connor so desperate for backup?  The radio remained silent other than officers checking in as they arrived on the scene – with everyone in the same place, there was no need to use the radios.

Bill’s apartment was on the south side of town, about as far from the Pines as was possible – he certainly didn’t fit into this neighborhood – making him the last on the scene.  As soon as he turned onto the street, it was obvious where to go.  Pajama-clad people stood in the road, watching a house lit up with the flashing of patrol cars and ambulances both.  Riley stood guard in the driveway, turning away anyone who got too curious.

“Home invasion,” he explained quickly as Bill jogged up.  “Homeowner killed one of them; the other put up a fight.  No surprises who’s involved and we’re all gonna be fucked because of it.”

Bill could have figured part of that out a second later when angry yells sounded from the front of the house.

“He shot him!  He killed him!  Why’re you arresting me?  Arrest him!  I didn’t do anything!” howled Mitchell Cafferty – one of Jonah Prowse’s lowlifes – as he was manhandled into the back of a patrol car by Connor and Salem.  Mitchell’s nose was broken and blood dripped down the front of his shirt, but judging from Connor’s black eyes and busted lip, he’d probably earned it.  Bill wondered whose body he’d find inside.

Bill nodded as Connor and Salem passed, all intradepartmental animosity dropped for the night.  They were deputies first, after all.

Sheriff Dawes greeted him at the door.  “Good, you’re here.  I need you processing the scene while Jimmy gets a full report.”

Bill nodded, unsurprised; the sheriff had been pushing him into a crime scene specialty.  It worked for Bill; he generally had an iron stomach and he’d never been as good as Jimmy at dealing with people.  It sounded like Jimmy already had his hands full – Bill could hear loud sobbing further back in the house.

The sheriff pointed away from the noise.  “Walk through the dining room.  There’s pieces of the kid all over the den.”

Sheriff Dawes referred to everyone under forty as ‘kid’, so Bill still had no clue who’d died.  It might have been Jake – and Bill felt his stomach lurch at the thought.  Only for Stanley’s sake, he told himself, but it was a lie.  He may not have liked Jake, but he’d still known him since they were kids.

The homeowner turned out to be Gray Anderson, one of the owners of the salt mine.  Of course, Bill thought, if a dumbass like Mitchell Cafferty was going to knock over a house, it was going to be the house of the richest man in Jericho.

Gray looked to be in shock, barely registering the EMT buzzing around him at the kitchen table, checking his vitals.  Jimmy sat across from him, trying to calm down the sobbing Mrs. Anderson.

Just past them in the den, Bill saw what was left of the second home invader – and he knew he’d never forget the sight.  It took him a moment, but he recognized the kid – and ‘kid’ was the right term – despite the fact he was missing a quarter of his face.

“Jesus fuck, Chris,” Bill swore under his breath.  Emily Sullivan’s little brother.  Jonah Prowse’s only son.  Riley was right:  there was going to be hell to pay before this was all over.

Three hours later, Bill slunk out of the finally-deserted house and locked up behind the EMTs carrying out Chris Sullivan’s remains.

This hadn’t been the grisliest thing Bill had ever seen, to be sure – there were some car wrecks and suicide calls that kept showing up in nightmares – but it was the first time he’d really known the person involved.  While he worked, Bill had managed to make himself forget that he knew a name for the bits of blood and brain splattering the hardwood, but it’d been exhausting to stay focused.  He was done with that, though, and had a camera full of bloody photos, a pad full of notes, and a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t off-duty just yet.

The street was quiet and empty, except for Bill’s car and Salem’s patrol car, parked across the front of the drive for easy visibility.  Bill collapsed into Salem’s passenger seat without waiting for permission.

“You and I are out here for a few more hours,” Salem said by way of greeting, confirming Bill’s guess.  “Connor checked into the clinic with a concussion and a broken rib, but he’ll be fine.  Taylor’s taken the Andersons to a hotel for the night and Sheriff sent Riley and Sara home to get some sleep.  They’ll take over for us when we’re up.”

Bill nodded, glad for the update on everyone.  “Cafferty?”

“In a cell, scared shitless.  He fought hard enough that I think he wanted us to shoot him.”

“I wouldn’t want to be him right now,” Bill said, shaking his head.  “Jonah’s gonna have it out for whoever survived and let Chris die.”

“Tell you what, I do not want to be there when Jonah finds out.”

“I just hope he stays out of town.”  Hope was all Bill had; Jonah was usually canny enough to be subtle, but he’d also never lost a child.  He might try to target the Andersons, he might attack the salt mine, he might take it out on Jericho in general, or he might do nothing at all.  Bill had no way of predicting what would happen in the morning.

“Sheriff’s gonna ask the mayor for a curfew, just in case.”  Salem rubbed his temples.  “It’s gonna be a long day.”

A long day with a lot that could go wrong.  Bill glanced at the clock – 3:58.  Too early to call his parents to tell them to stay home today, but he could leave them a text message.  He couldn’t tell them any details yet, but maybe they’d call out from work and stay in if he asked them to.

“Talking to your momma?” Salem asked wryly when Bill pulled out his phone.

“Don’t you fucking start with me,” Bill snarled.

Salem laughed hollowly.  “Not tonight, man.  Jonah’s shit is probably gonna hit the fan.”

That was not the response Bill had been expecting.  For Salem, it was a shocking show of concern.  Still…  “I was just gonna tell them to be careful.”

Salem snorted.  “No, you weren’t.  You were gonna tell them to stay home and hide out, weren’t you?  That’s what you always tell your parents when things look skittish.”

Bill bristled.  Salem was being too perceptive for his liking.  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” he suggested.  “I’ll keep an eye out and punch you in the nuts if things get interesting and I need your help.”

“Nah, Koehler.  I’d sleep through that; your throws couldn’t hurt a fly and we both know it.”  Despite his words, Salem stretched out and pulled his hat over his face, shielding him from the streetlamps.

Bill grinned.  If he lucked out, one of Jonah’s goons would do a drive-by and Salem would see how harmless his punches were, after all.

Bill fought to keep from dozing off.  He’d parked the patrol car, ostensibly to watch for speeders, but in reality he and Jimmy were taking turns catnapping and hoping nothing else happened.  Neither of them had gotten any real sleep yet and all the adrenaline had worn off hours ago.

His phone started buzzing.

Bill eyed his cell phone.  Everyone who had his number knew better than to call him during work hours.  Text, sure, but if they needed to talk to him, they had to go through the office.

Jimmy stirred.  “Whozzat?” he mumbled blearily.

“Sheriff Dawes?” Bill said questioningly, staring at the number.  With a shrug, he answered.  “Hello?”

“Bill, I need you and Jimmy to go pick someone up for questioning.  Mitchell’s told us about a third party involved last night.”

It was definitely Sheriff Dawes, but requests like this usually came over the radio.  “Yes, sir.  Why didn’t you radio us?  Is there a problem with our equipment?”

“I didn’t want to tip off the suspect.  I need you to pick up Jake Green.”

“Ja–?  No, of course.  Yes, sir.  We’ll go get him right now.”  Bill had the car in gear before he hung up the phone.

Jimmy rubbed his face, trying to wake up.  “What’s going on?  Something happen at the station?”

“Mitchell talked.  Jake was there last night, too.”

“And he called in case Jake was listening to our radios.”

“Yup.”  Bill nodded solemnly.  “I would be, if I were him.”

Gail Green met them at the door with red-rimmed eyes.  “You’re here for Jake,” she stated bleakly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy said gently.  “Is he here?”

“He’s not here.”  Gail stepped aside to let them in anyway.  “I haven’t seen him since last night and his things are gone.”

Bill nodded at Gail as he passed her.  “Do you know where he might be?”

She shook her head.  “I’ve already looked for him in his usual places:  the ranch, his grandfather’s, Stanley’s.  I didn’t go to the hunting cabins, though.”

Bill made a mental note to get the locations of the cabins.  He’d been to a couple of them as a teen, but not all.

“Johnston told me what happened,” Gail said.  “Have you checked on Emily yet?”

“No, ma’am,” Jimmy answered as Bill huffed.  When did Gail think they’d had time to check on anyone else?  They were doing well to all still be awake at this point.

“Was Jake part of it?” she asked desperately.

“We can’t say right now.”  Bill wasn’t going to be the one to tell her, at least.

Gail looked imploringly at them both.  “Find him.”

“We’ll do our best,” Jimmy promised.

“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Green, I’ll go check out Jake’s room and you can tell Jimmy where to find all the hunting cabins.”

Gail nodded.  “Let me get coffee for you boys, too.”

Oh, Bill could kiss Gail right now.

Patrol cars were sturdy, but they weren’t designed for off-roading comfortably, Bill noted as they bumped slowly down the road – more of a rough trail, really – from the last of the hunting cabins.

“So where next?” Jimmy asked.

“Let’s double check the Richmonds’ while we’re out here,” Bill suggested, “but I think the next step is to go to Jonah’s.”

Jimmy grimaced.  “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

“Jonah ain’t here.  You wanna go the fuck away now.”  The guard glared menacingly at Bill and Jimmy through the chain-link fence.

Bill’s hand went instinctively to his holster.  “We told you we’re not here for Jonah.”

“Yeah, you’re looking for Jake Green.  Who ain’t?”

“So Jake isn’t here?” Jimmy asked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“So then he’s here?” Bill countered.  “We need to talk to him.”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

Bill rolled his eyes.  “You gotta say something.  Like maybe, ‘Sure, Jake’s here; let me go get him.’  Or maybe, ‘Jake’s not here, but I’ll tell you where he’s hiding.’  Else we’re gonna be standing here staring at each other’s mugs for a long time.”

“Jake isn’t here,” said a gravelly voice from inside the compound.  Jonah Prowse, looking worse than Bill had ever seen him, stepped out into the light.  “If he was, I’d have strung his guts over the fence for you.”

The hair on Bill’s neck stood on end.  “We’re sorry for what you’ve gone through today, Jonah, but don’t go making threats in front of us.”

Jonah glanced dismissively at Bill, which just made him try to stand up a little taller.  “Deputy Taylor, you won’t find Jake Green here.  My men are looking for him, too.  You should leave before this conversation takes an unpleasant turn.”

Jimmy nodded.  “We have to ask you to let us know if you find him.”

“Leave,” growled Jonah.

“Uh, sorry for your loss,” Jimmy stammered.  He reached out and grabbed Bill’s elbow, making sure Bill followed him.

“’Jonah ain’t here,’ my ass,” Bill snapped as he slammed the car door shut behind him.  “I think we need to go talk to the sheriff now.”

Connor was manning the office when Bill and Jimmy got back.  His face had blossomed into livid black and purple bruises.

Bill whistled.  “Lookin’ good, man.”

Connor flipped him off, moving slowly enough Bill could tell he was still in pain.

Sheriff Dawes waved them into his office.

“We didn’t find Jake,” Jimmy said right away.

“I guessed that when you didn’t bring him in with you,” the sheriff said drily.

“He cleaned out his bedroom at some point last night.  We put a BOLO alert on his car with the state troopers and checked any places he might have holed up,” Bill explained.

“How sure are you that you checked all his hiding spots?”

Bill and Jimmy looked at each other and shrugged.  “Relatively?” Jimmy offered.

“I’m not close to him anymore, but we went to all the places he used to hide out when we were in school.”

Sheriff Dawes sighed.  “If we were a larger department, I’d recuse you for your history with the Green boy, Koehler.  But I need all hands on deck for this.  Did you learn anything else?”

“We did,” Jimmy confirmed.

“Jonah isn’t happy with Jake.  Said his guys are looking for him, too, and came close to saying he’d kill him if he found him.”  Bill thought back.  “The compound was quiet, though.  Everyone seemed on edge, as if they didn’t know what was going on, either.  If they’re planning anything, it’s being done inside and silently.”

“Cafferty made it sound like Green was the mastermind of the plot and then deserted them.  I’m not sure how much of that is bluffing, but he’s vehement that Green was supposed to be there.”  Sheriff Dawes poked at some papers on his desk.  “He’s clammed up now, of course.  Wants to get lawyered up.  I’m not sure what good that’ll do him, since he can’t afford anyone good, but he’s welcome to try.”

Bill frowned.  He hadn’t even thought of how big a trial could get, even in a seemingly open-and-shut case like this one.  Last night wasn’t going to be over for a long time.

“What’s your judgment on Jonah?  Is he planning anything?”

“He’s pissed as hell,” Bill said.  “But he didn’t seem histrionic.  He made no threats against anyone but Jake.”

“Well, he told us to leave before things got heated,” Jimmy pointed out.

Bill nodded.  “Still, I didn’t get the impression he was doing anything but mourning today.”

The sheriff thought for a minute.  “Okay.  I want you boys to do your paperwork and then go home and get some sleep.  Keep your radios on, but rest.  We start fresh on this in the morning.”

There was an end in sight.  Bill thought longingly of his bed.  “Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

[supersoldierslover]

A New Beginning Part 1

Summary:  After moving a lot, you found yourself in a small town in the middle of Europe ready for a new start. You see yourself falling in love for the city and developing a crush for the cute stranger that you never had the courage to talk to until you’re forced to. (Modern Au)

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Words: 1586

Warnings: Fluffy like so much fluffy. And Steve with a beard because that should be a warning.

Thanks to @drinkfantasy , to beta this for me you rock.

Credits to the gifs owners

You have a routine, every day you wake at 5:50 a.m. and stays 10 minutes in bed just enjoying the warmth and the comfort of your sheets. Then you drink a hot cup of coffee or tea looking outside your window, you love to see the people passing by and how the city comes to life with the morning.

But by far your favorite part of your morning lately has been the time you spend walking with your dog. You look at the small puppy in the end of your bed “Come here, babe.” You say tapping the bed, she was so adorable and so small. You were so glad that your mom gave you a puppy as congratulations for living alone gift “Do you want to go for a walk, Blueberry?”

The dog barks making you get off of bed “Come on, girl let’s find your leash.” You change your pajamas into a pair of black leggings and a pink sweater and your favorite sneakers. Even though is summer the morning is cold, you put the leash on your dog going outside.

The streets are almost empty with a few exceptions, the small coffee shop on the other side of the street is already open and there are a few people inside mostly business man that work long hours and they need their caffeine.

A few people are running, while others are walking with their pets like you. It is so odd how you recognize so many faces but don’t know any of their names, like the teenage girl who is always reading a book by her window, or the old lady knitting on her balcony but for sure your favorite is the handsome stranger.

You see him every morning, the blonde man with a magnificent beard. Usually, he is sitting on a bench drinking some coffee and reading a book. As usual, you pass through him and he nods when he sees you, you don’t think too much about it, he was just being polite. You wish that you had the guts to talk to him, but you don’t even know what you can say to a man like that.

You and Blueberry walk for a few more minutes enjoying the cold wind and the sun that rises until you stop at the small coffee cart there is nothing that you wish more than a hot cappuccino with cinnamon and caramel. You are so distracted trying to find the right change to pay for your coffee that you don’t notice that, Blueberry‘s leash getting lose, you only notice when she was already asking for the handsome stranger to pet her.

“For fuck’s sake, Blueberry. It had to be him?” You pay for your coffee and go to the stranger'a direction, pretty sure of the fact you gave the guy the wrong bill. You wanted to talk to him for so long maybe you should thank your dog after all "I am so sorry about her, she usually is very well behaved.” He stops petting her looking at you “Please, don’t apologize, I love dogs and she is the sweetest thing ever. What is her name?”

You sit by his side on the bench, taking a sip of your drink “Blueberry.” He nods “Interesting  name.” He says taking a sip of his own coffee, smiling at you “Well, she does have these big eyes that look like blueberries and she is adorable.” You shrug, you don’t want to justify the name of your dog for a stranger no matter how hot he is “I like it. I am Steve, by the way.”

You smile and introduce yourself to him “It is nice to meet you, you know… I always wondered why you always here every morning reading.” You don’t know why you said that maybe is something about how his blue eyes don’t let you think before speak or is just because you don't want this conversation to fall into an uncomfortable silence.

“It is a beautiful neighborhood, especially in the morning where the streets are almost empty and the sun hasn’t completely risen yet. I can’t get this view from my apartment.” You nod, not realizing that he is looking at you. You always liked how quiet this city was especially in the morning. “Yes, I like to watch people too. I feel like I know all these people even if I don’t know anything about them.”

“I always wondered what was your name and your story, colorful sweater girl.” You smile at him “This is what you used to call me before knowing my name?” He nods “Why colorful sweater girl?” You are usually wearing black in the morning, you think that today is a rare exception.

“The first time I saw you were wearing a baby blue sweater, then on the very next day was a purple one and if I recall correctly you were wearing this exact pink one in the third consecutive day I saw you, so it was the appropriate nickname.”

“You have a good memory, Steve.” He blushes as you say these words, you can’t help but find him adorable and intimidating at the same time “You were too pretty to forget.” This time you are the one blushing “Now, you are just being cheesy.”

“I am dead serious, you bring color to this place.” You don’t know what to say, you don’t think he is just flirting with you to pass the time he is really being honest with you.  When you look into his eyes, they don’t seem deceitful, you hate that you already trust this man that you don’t know anything about it.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to answer him your alarm clock starts to ring letting you know that you should get home and shower to go to work “I should get going, I can’t be late for work again.” He seems disappointed but he nods “Do you want to walk me home? It’s a 10-minute walk.” You say without realizing that you are doing, you are actually showing a stranger where you live.

“Of course, you realize how dangerous it is to show a stranger where you live, right?” He asks getting up, throwing his coffee cup in the trash “Yeah, but I trust you. Don’t ask me why I just do and you can tell me more about yourself so this way we can be friends, Steve.”

“What do you want to know?”  You shrug “Everything that you are willing to tell me, but you can’t start telling me, where are you from?” Great now I am the one flirting with him. He arches his eyebrows at you “Come on, Steve this accent is not from someone from a small town in the middle of Europe.”

“Brooklyn, but it’s being a while since there was my home and what about you?” This is a long story with a lot of insignificant details “Well, everywhere, I grew up in town very much like this one but not in this country. I always wanted more so I moved a lot and explored a lot.. But nothing ever felt like home. I actually I lived in New York for a while.”

“Really and what did you think about the city?” This was not supposed to be about you, you are supposed to get to know him better but you have the feeling that he rather listen than talk “It was a nice city, a lot of busy people during the day but at night the city it was almost magical.”

“So you weren’t a fan of the central park in the morning or to spend the day on Corney Island? “ You can tell that these places meant a lot to him, just by the way he is speaking but what can you say when you lived in New York you were fascinated by the night life of the place “Not really, but I bet you would show me I great time in there.”

You curse yourself, why you keep flirting with him? And more important it is working? “Maybe someday, I can take you there.” He voice is so sad, you want to ask what happened but you also want to make him smile and forget about the sad things.

You two fall into silence, it is not uncomfortable but you wish that you hadn’t upset him. It’s being four months since you move into this place and your only friend is Blueberry “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so sad, just a lot of memories. I am going to make two random questions that can make everything go back to normal, ready?” You nod waiting for him to continue.

“How do you like your coffee and blueberry muffin is your favorite type of muffin?” You stop noticing that you two arrived in your building “With sugar and cream and about the muffin, chocolate.” He smiles “Great, I will see you two tomorrow?”  He asks hopeful, you have to control yourself to not say anything too fast.

“Of course, if you want.” You try to sound casual, but the smile on your face says it all “I will be waiting on the bench, goodbye, doll, and goodbye blueberry.” He kisses your hand and pets your dog before he goes.

You can’t help but smile, Steve was something else “You are a little match maker, aren’t you? “You ask your dog and she barks in response before you two get in the building.

Part 2

Please Leave feedback, I really like this series and i believe this can be a really good one. So share your opinions with me. And of course, if you want to be tagged let know.

[imaginethatawriter]

A Stray Called Frank (Frank Castle x Reader)

Summary:  You’re the owner of a small, but busy animal shelter that sees way too many dogs for your taste. One day a tall, beat up man shows up with two sad looking dogs. You don’t question their origins, but as Frank continues to show up you start to wonder just how he rescues so many past fighting dogs.

Warnings: mentions of dog fighting, profanity, injury

A/N: I realize a lot of the stories I write have very little romance. oops. Also this one is a bit long so I apologize.

1st count: 102

2nd count: 102

3rd count: 102

No matter how you counted, no matter how many times you counted, the numbers were inevitable. You were out of space. And two more cars just rolled into your driveway toting along unwanted pets. In your heart you hoped for cats or some other small creature (You could make room for those. You’d keep them in your house if you had to), but you knew that more dogs were coming your way.

You throw down your pencil and release a heavy sigh. Your body collapses under the vacant feeling in your chest. You were sinking. Your entire world was sinking, slowly, constantly, inevitably. But you refused to give up. These dogs needed you and you were the only one in between them and the violently efficient kill shelters. You scrub your face and look through the window at the middle aged woman struggling to pull a cracked plastic crate out of the back of her mini van. You wondered what story you would hear from her.

The puppy was too disobedient and made too much of a mess. I didn’t have time to properly train him.

My kids wanted a puppy so badly, but they just didn’t seem to care for it once it started to grow up.

My boyfriend and I bought him together, but we broke up and I don’t want him anymore.

Just the thought of people’s carelessness made your blood boil. You shove yourself away from the desk and stalk out of the small wooden building that is the center of your animal shelter. You snatch a pair of sunglasses off a rack near the door and step out into the bright morning.

You’d make room.

 By the end of the day you had turned away five dogs. And every single one of them tore your heart in half. A nice family covered in tattoos, holding the hand of a bright eyed child stopped by and took home a cat that no one had looked at since his arrival. It was a small celebration in the middle of tragedy.

1st count: 104

2nd count…

The gravel driveway crunches outside of your office, forcing you to look away from your population count. Glancing at the watch on your wrist confirms your initial thoughts. It’s well past ten o’clock. You closed the gates at 8. There was a small chance whoever was in the car was lost, but what lost person went through the trouble of opening a chained fence leading into absolute darkness. You click your computer monitor off. A rifle leans against the far side of your desk and you pick it up if only for your peace of mind. The crunching stops, but the silence doesn’t last long. A car door opens and slams shut in the same moment you open and shut your office door.

“Stop right there!” you shout into the night.

The man facing the back of the car raises his hands in the air. “Whoah, I’m not here to fuck around.”

“Turn around.” You step down from the wooden building and cross the gravel road to get closer to the man. “If you’re not here to fuck something up, why are you here?”

The man’s face is still hidden by the darkness of the night, but his broad shoulders and intimidating height cause your hands to tighten on the rifle.

“I’ve got dogs from a fighting ring. I can’t bring them to the other shelter near here.”

“They from your fighting ring?”

“No.” The response is short and clipped. A man after your own tastes, he seemed disgusted by the thought of being involved in a dog fighting ring. He doesn’t give you any further explanation as to how exactly he came to possess the two dogs currently lying in the back of the car.

You dropped one of your hands from the gun to open the back door and look closer at the dogs. It was a horrible sight. One of the dogs was missing both of its ears and had a large gash across its nose. The other dog doesn’t have any visible injuries but you can see its ribs and pelvis sticking out. The only reaction you have is a deep sigh.

“I really want to help. I really do, but I’m completely filled to capacity and I don’t have the resources or the money to treat the injuries.”

The man slowly reaches into one of his front pockets and pulls out a disorganized wad of cash. “I got money for you to build new cages and pay for vet bills.”

You snatch the money from his hands and flip quickly through the stacks of hundreds. You look back at the man with wide eyes.

“I don’t want this money if it’s gonna get me arrested.” You thrust the stack back towards the man, but he makes no move to take it.

“It won’t. Call it an anonymous donation. Just…help them.” The man’s face wilts when he glances back at the dogs still lying calmly in the back of the car.

You watch the dog’s breath for a few seconds before setting the gun against the car and crossing your arms. When you turn back to face him he’s watching you intently through the low light.

“What do you know about the dogs. Are they dog aggressive? People aggressive?”

“I don’t know a lot. I’m pretty sure they were both bait dogs. Didn’t seem aggressive towards me, but I don’t know about other animals.”

“All right.” You think for a second about how you’re going to handle this. Every thing about this situation was off the books and strange. But one thing bothered you the most. “How come only bait dogs?”

“They were the ones I could get.” A simple and vague answer.

It was dark, late, and you should have been home hours ago. “Ok all right,” you say finally. “Help me get them into the building and I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

You place the wad of cash in your pocket and pick up the rifle. The man whistles quietly behind you and reaches into the back to grab the chains wrapped around the dogs’ necks. You were thankful that the chains were loose. You’d seen too many dogs with embedded collars. Both dogs obediently followed the man and the man followed you back to the office building. The light from inside casts deep shadows on the man’s face and you notice for the first time that there are fresh bruises covering his face and deep cuts on his hands. You also see that both dogs are more emaciated than you originally thought. You close the door behind the dogs and replace the rifle next to your desk. You quickly stash the money in the top drawer. You don’t bother taking the chains from the man, instead you simply unravel the coils around the dogs’ necks and let them have the freedom to roam. Both dogs immediately find separate corners of the room and curl up into tight balls. You don’tt blame them for being terrified.

While you’re busy attempting to gather supplies for the two dogs, the man opens the door and tries to slip out of the building.

“Wait hold on! We’re not done here. I can’t just have to extra dogs with no paper work. Inspectors drop by randomly and these two are going to be here for a while.”

The man hesitates before stepping back inside and closing the door. You want this to be over as much as he does so you grab a release form from the desk top and hand it to him.

“Fill it out as much as you can. I don’t care if you leave some stuff out. I just need some information to show.”

He hunches over the desk and starts scribbling. You rummage through the office to find any kind of spare food bowl or even cereal bowl that you could use to give the dogs food and water. The dog with the missing ears shrinks away from you when you place the bowls on the ground, but the thin dog attacks the food immediately. He wolfs down the portion you give him and starts to slurp the water. You expect the poor guy will have some stomach pains in the morning. The sound of the pen hitting the desk signals the man’s departure. With the papers filled out you don’t care where he goes and with his injuries you know he doesn’t want to stick around.

The door opens and closes quickly and you’re surrounded by the sounds of two dogs eating for the first time in a while. You pick up the random items scattered across the floor and place them in hard to reach places. Despite everything you put away you know that something will be torn apart in the morning. The risks would be worth it though. You’d order supplies tomorrow and start building new shelters by the end of the week.

You’d make room.

 Your prediction was almost correct. Your building materials were delivered at the end of the week, but the sudden increase in activity drew the attention of the safety inspector. Entertaining him for the day was nothing but agonizing. He tried to poke holes in every one of your shelters. He looked through all of your release and adoption papers looking for problems. He even noticed the strangely vague papers of the two dogs that were currently hidden in the bathroom of the office. But you were thorough. You’d seen too many animal shelters fail to be careless. As soon as he leaves you start building. At night you spend time with the two dogs; sitting with them, talking to them, petting them when they get more comfortable with you. In two weeks you have enough shelter for ten more dogs. With the money left over you make sure the injured dog gets stitches and antibiotics and the rest goes into your savings. You’d use it before too long whether it was for food or more vet visits.

It only takes three days for the shelter to fill back to capacity. However, along with the new shelters came new interest from the local news. A news reporter shows up at your doorstep early one morning to ask for an interview about your life and work. As much as you hate being the center of attention, you know from experience that news exposure brought many new adopters. You put on your best fake smile and spout out a speech about the great dogs that are abandoned because someone has to move or they don’t want it anymore. You even mention the ex-dog fighters that end up at your shelter wanting a nice relaxing home. It was an exhausting day, but you see the positive repercussions the next day.

A record number of people stop by to look at the animals. A young tabby cat with a missing ear is taken home by a cute little girl in a pink dress and her single father. One of your favorite pit bulls is taken in by an excited college student who excitedly told you about the preparations she’s put her apartment through. A man on a motorcycle unexpectedly falls in love with a small terrier mix and promises to return with a car the next day. And your biggest accomplishment. The one adoption that filled your heart with hope for the dogs left over at the end of the day. The dog that the man, signed Frank on the release forms, brought to your shelter with missing ears and gashes on its face is taken home by a female couple who desperately wanted to help ex-fighting dogs.

You sit back in your desk chair looking at the small stack of adoption forms waiting to be filed. You’ve procrastinated long enough. You scoot forward and pick up the top sheet. It’s a tedious and boring task, but you’d rather stay up late than get up early. The clock on your computer clicks over to midnight when you hear the familiar crunch of tires on the gravel driveway. You feel a sense of déjà vu as you grab the rifle by your desk. When you step onto the gravel, a familiar figure climbs out of the driver’s side door of a truck. A cacophony of barking comes from the bed of the truck.

“Dude midnight is not a good time to drop off dogs. Maybe come sometime when the sun is in the sky.”

“Can’t do that.” Frank faces you with his arms crossed, waiting for you to continue.

“You’re lucky I had a really good adoption day. I actually have room.” You pause for a second as the barking escalates. “How many dogs did you bring? Holy shit!” You move past Frank and peer into the back of the truck. Five dogs in metal crates frantically crash together attempting to get free. Thankfully they aren’t trying to attack each other.

“What’s your excuse this time?” you ask with a bite to your tone.

“Dog fighting ring.”

“Yeah fucking right. Two bait dogs might make sense. Maybe you’re a good Samaritan that just so happened to get lucky enough to get two dogs and live without dying. But five dogs! Dog fighters don’t fuck around. They kill people who steal their dogs. So, tell me what the real story is.”

“They’re from a dog fighting ring. I got them out. That’s what you need to know.” His voice is louder and even in the sparse light of the moon you can see his face twist into anger.

You can’t deny the dogs even if you suspect the man giving them to you is guilty. Without another word you use the tire to climb onto the side of the truck. Looking closer at the dogs you can see that all of them are injured or unhealthy in some way.

“Fine if you’re not going to be straight with me at least help me carry the crates inside. I need to take a look at them before they can go in a permanent enclosure.”

Silently, Frank moves behind you and opens the back of the bed. He single-handedly lifts the cage closest to the back and carries it to the office. He moves so easily it’s frustrating when you struggle to lift the dog out of the truck and carry it to the building. By the time you’ve moved the single dog, Frank has moved three. All of the dogs are extremely eager to get out of their cages and even in the light it’s hard to see everything that’s wrong with them. You rummage through your desk and pull out a stack of release forms. You drop them on the desk and slap a pen on top. You were not happy. Not with Frank, not with the late time, and not with the amount of paper work that was still waiting for you.

You desperately wanted to know exactly where these dogs were coming from, but you weren’t going to get any good information from the man currently signing papers. You would just have to find out by yourself. The door opens and closes behind you.

 You spend the night in the office building, getting only a couple hours of sleep before you begin your morning chores. Only two of the fighting dogs need to be seen by the vet for their injuries. The rest settle nicely into their temporary homes. All of them seem relieved to be away from their dark past. In between refilling water bowls and arranging volunteers to walk the dogs, you research recent dog fighting ring busts. You should just let it go, but the idea that Frank is giving you his own fighting dogs won’t leave your mind. Searching the term dog fighting ring bust results in an enormous number of articles across the country. When you search specifically for your area you can see that there’s been a sharp increase in dog fighting busts in the past few months. You open your file drawer and grab the most recent release forms. You flip all the way back to the very first time Frank is scrawled across the top. April 21st.

You type dog fighting ring bust april 21. Into the search bar and stare in amazement at the first article that pops up.

The Punisher kills twenty in dog fighting ring bust

Clicking on the article reveals grainy photos of bodies piled on the ground, empty dog cages, and a blurry photo of an imposing man in a painted leather jacket. An idea starts to form in your head. You flip through your release papers to find the date of Frank’s second drop off. April 28th.

Typing in this date yields a similar result. Another article about the Punisher taking down a local dog fighting ring shows more blurry photos of the carnage left behind. None of the photos of the Punisher are good and none of them show the man’s face. But you know.

The next time you hear tires crunching on the gravel outside you don’t bother with the rifle next to your desk. Outside a beat up mini van with huge dents in the side and with bullet holes in the windows waits for you. The sound of barking dogs is muffled, but unavoidable. Frank steps out of the car.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he asks already moving to the back of the car.

“Not when I know the Punisher is breaking apart dog fighting rings and bringing the dogs to me.”

Frank freezes with his hand on the handle of the back door and the two of stand in absolute silence. The sound of cicadas pounds into your ears. The car door clicking open cuts through the night and the muffled barks turn into distinct howls. And still Frank doesn’t turn to look at you.

“You didn’t bring your rifle out tonight?”

“Nope.”

Frank turns away from the door. The interior light of the car casts deep shadows on his face. “You sure that was a good idea.”

“You said it yourself. There’s nowhere else you can take these dogs.”

The man grumbles lowly before turning back to the crates stacked haphazardly in the back. He pulls two out and sets them on the ground.

“I’m not about to turn you into the police if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Frank let’s out a short huff of air. “I’m not afraid of the police.”

You shrug. “Well how about next time ask ahead before you go and break apart another dog fighting ring. I don’t have the room.”

“I’ve got more money.”

“I could have all the money in the world and no more land to build on, dude. I can’t expand anymore. I’m at my limit.”

Frank whirls at you. “If you’re going to say something, say it.”

“Fine. I don’t want you to stop busting fighting rings. I think the people who organize and participate in them are the lowest forms of beings. But you have to start coordinating with me. I can tell you when I have some extra room in the shelter. You can like give me an email address or a phone number or something so that I can contact you and then just bust the rings when there’s room.”

Frank stares blankly at you. The dogs inside the car begin to calm down so that the sound of cicadas is once again deafening.

“Fine fine,” Frank throws his hands out. “I’ll give you a fucking email.”

“Good,” you say with a smirk, invisible to him.

You work with him to move the three dogs into the office building. In a familiar routine Frank fills out release forms while you give all of the dogs food and water. All three dogs will have to go to the vet in the morning, but they’ll be ok for the night.

“Here.” Frank thrusts a scrap piece of paper towards you. An email address is scrawled across it.

This piece of paper represented the culmination of a dream you’ve had since you were small. Teaming up with the Punisher would finally allow you to stop dog fighting rings. Frank Castle was a terrifying man, but you could tell this would be a beautiful partnership.

Original Request:  Can I request a Frank Castle x Reader? Where the reader is like a owner of a animal shelter(mainly dogs), and somehow Frank comes into her life? Maybe you can fit in she has really tan skin too?? 😊😊✨✨✨

[lolcat76]

MIGHT i suggest Kiss at Pine Lake: an executive is sent by her boss/boyfriend to buy out her old summer camp so they can build developments on the land, only the camp is now run by another former camper she had a thing with back in the day (but lost touch with due to Tragic Circumstances), who can't pay his bills but has no intention of selling? Is this not actually perfect?

I love you. It is indeedactually perfect. Thank you, @okaynextcrisis for the fabulous Hallmark prompt, and thank you @cassiopeiasara for the beta reading and great advice.

If Laura could have doneone thing differently in her life, it would have been keeping her seat next tothe weird nose-picker in her freshman English lit class at the University ofWashington. If she’d stuck it out next to him, she might have never met RichardAdar, and she might not be looking over a perfectly pristine 6 acres of landnext to Pine Lake, a large, ambitiously named pond that fed into Lake Chelan,trying to figure out how many trees the state of Washington would let thembulldoze to build the 340 condo units Adar Development so desperately wanted tobuild.

“Lotta trees,” the campmanager said.

No shit, Sherlock, she thought, but she kept her mouth shut. Alot of trees, indeed, trees with rope swings and obstacle courses, somewhatfrayed but still swinging in the late summer breeze. Trees that gave shelter toa small army of campers every summer, until Adar Development found the land andsent her to supervise the acquisition.

It wasn’t hard to findthe site, once she saw the map – it was the same route her parents drove fromBellevue to the lake every summer to drop off Laura and her sisters for a monthof forced childhood fun.

Forced for Laura, funfor Cheryl and Sandra. Somewhere in the attic of her parents’ house, there wasa box of macramé and ceramics, collected over eight years of summer camp atthis very spot. While she stood and surveyed the grounds, mentally making notesof the hills that would need to be graded and the water lines that would needto be laid in place, she saw herself ducking under a tree to read while she wassupposed to be learning to play tennis.

“Shame to bulldoze thetennis courts. Then again, tennis was never my game,” he said.

“Mine either.”

“So I hear.” With that,he turned and strolled down the path that used to lead to the boys’ cabins, butnow led to what would be the development’s fully appointed fitness center.

Treadmills and a yogastudio. That nose-picker in her Lit seminar went on to make probably a cool tenmillion at Amazon, and here she was, bulldozing her childhood so that peoplecould do downward dog where she learned to French braid her hair. Not for thefirst time, she cursed that empty seat next to Richard Adar. She switched seatsand wound up sitting next to him in English Lit, and he cheated off of her forthe next four years. Sixteen years after they graduated from college, she wasstill carrying him.

He was still cheating,and she was still helping him. This time, she was helping him cheat on hiswife. And his tax returns, she was pretty sure, but she couldn’t for the lifeof her figure out which of the two was worse.

Maybe she should havepicked her nose that first day in English Lit and followed the geek to Amazon. JudithRoslin would have been horrified, if she’d remembered who Laura was those lastfew weeks of Laura’s freshman year before she faded away. Her dad, the head ofthe Econ law department at U Dub, would have terrified Richard Adar right outof her life if he hadn’t taken a leave of absence to help care for his wife.

If, if, if. If a bullfrog had wings, he wouldn’t bumphis ass when he hopped.

God, Laura missed herfather.

If she could just getthe camp manager to sign for the latest offer and pass it along to the owner, shecould get the hell out of here and back to her condo in Belltown. She wantedthe offer settled so that she could go home before the dirt road they’d drivendown every summer in an old station wagon was paved to make way for fanciercars with better suspensions.

She followed the managerto the trailer housing the camp’s office, the closest thing to a modernbuilding on the site. The trailer sat between two old cabins, both facing thelake. The last summer she’d spent here, she’d been a counselor in one of them.She didn’t want to think about the counselor in the other, or what had happenedin that little clearing between the two cabins before some idiot had put atrailer there.

Maybe if she’d pickedher nose at that first fireside singalong that summer, she’d never have added BillyAdama to her list of regrets.

***

“I hear you come highlyrecommended by the owner,” she said.

Tigh grunted inresponse. “Hard to find jobs around here, or I’d hang your fancy condo-buildingass out to dry.”

Well, at least he washonest. “I’m not the one buying this land. I’m just here to do my job.”

“Shit job, if you askme.” He dug through the cabinets in the trailer until he found a bottle ofwhiskey and two reasonably clean glasses. He poured a good measure into eachglass – far more than she should be drinking if she had any intention ofdriving home tonight – but it was the closest thing to a friendly gesture she’dgotten from anyone in this pissant town. One thing was for sure, the locals didnot see the need for fancy condos intheir backyard.

She knocked the whiskeyback with more confidence than she felt. “It is a shit job, but it’s a job, andI hear they’re hard to come by these days.”

Glasses lined up, and afew more fingers of whiskey pushed in front of her. “Maybe you’re working for thewrong person. Ever consider that?” Saul’s glass hit the table in front of her,empty again, before she could even wrap her brain around what he said.

Of course she hadconsidered it. She considered it every damn day she showed up in her office,prepared to give Richard her thoughts on smart investments and where they stoodto make money in real estate, only to have him ask her what color underwear shewas wearing.

White cotton, andthreadbare at that, because she wasn’t going to tempt him with silk and lace ifhe wasn’t going to challenge her to do her job better. At this point, she wasfairly certain that her practical underwear would give out at the same time hischarm did; she only hoped she could escape his hold on her with her dignityintact.

Oh, and without going tojail.

Frankly, she wasn’t surejail was worse than her job. She’d just be trading one stifling cage foranother. She nudged her glass toward Saul. Maybe another shot of whiskey wouldhelp her figure it out. If she couldn’t drive home tonight, at least she knewwhere she could pass out; the bunk beds might be old, but the cheap mattresseswere surely holding up better than her underwear.

Saul tipped the bottleinto the empty glasses, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Men. Drink them underthe table or give them a blow job; they were so damn easy to impress. She’d hadher quota of blow jobs this week, so she’d have to stick with drinking withhim. “Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought,” he said.

“Maybe I’m not,” sheagreed.

“Still don’t like you.”

She slammed the glassdown on the cheap pressboard table and held it up, a challenge, to see if he’draise his own to hers. He did. “Don’t like you either,” she said, beforechasing down the bitter, salty taste of years of regret with a mouthful ofcheap whiskey.

***

She wasn’t a snob, byany stretch of the imagination, but Laura did like to sleep in a comfortablebed. She’d paid a lot of money for her mattress, so waking with rusting coilspoking into her backside was hardly the goodmorning she expected.

Then again, neither wasthe pounding in her head nor the cotton in her mouth. She rolled off the limp,sagging mattress and kicked around at the pile of clothes at her feet. Wherethe hell were her shoes?

Where the hell was herpurse and her car keys, and why was she standing in the middle of a cabin shehadn’t seen for the last 20 years, her toes idly riding up her calf to scratchat bug bites?

Dammit, Saul Tigh! Ifthe contract for purchase of the land hadn’t included retaining existing camp staffuntil demolition began, she’d be at home right now, not kicking through dustbunnies to find her phone.

At least a quick surveyof the cabin assured her she was alone. Score one for Laura Roslin – she wasn’tgoing to add another notch in the cheap pine bunk bed frame to go with herfirst. But she was most definitely going to get fired, because she had apresentation to give about the progress at the construction site at 10 am, and,seriously, where the hell were her shoes?

Her phone rang, echoingthrough the cabin that had been filled with chatter and gossip years ago.Marcie should have been asleep in the bunk underneath her; Cheryl and Sandrashould have been sitting on her bed, waiting for her to wake up.

Instead, she wasstanding in the middle of an empty, musty room that was making her allergiesseize up, sneezing and wiping her nose as she answered the phone. “LauraRoslin.”

“You were supposed to behere ten minutes ago with your report.”

She forced back anapology for her tardiness. Richard had every right to be pissed, but herheadache and his snippy tone told her that Richard had even more right to gofuck himself. He sent her to the development site; he sure as hell didn’t getto choose what happened once she got there.

“Thereare…complications,” she said.

Richard hung up. Henever liked complications.

She didn’t either, butshe did like knowing where she could find her shoes. Finally, she dug them outfrom under a well-worn blanket. If she could just manage to button her blouse,she’d be out of here and on her way.

Just as soon as shetracked down Saul Tigh and got him to sign off on the damn offer.

***

Based on the yellingcoming from the construction trailer, Laura wasn’t the only one having a roughstart to the day. Tigh’s bellowing was loud enough to wake the dead, andwhoever he was arguing with didn’t seem to be holding back either. She halfexpected to see one of them to come crashing through the windows as she pickedher way through the weeds choking the path.

The last thing shewanted was to get in the middle of whatever battle was being fought, but sheneeded coffee and she needed to brush her teeth, and neither of those thingswere going to happen until she got a signature and got on the road back tocivilization. Squaring her shoulders, she reached up and pounded on the door tothe trailer.

Saul threw open thedoor, and Laura was annoyed to see that he didn’t even have the courtesy tolook hung over. “Oh. You’re still here.”

“Sorry to interrupt,”she said through clenched teeth, “but I still need someone to sign this.” Shethrust the folder at him. Rather than take it, he stepped back from the doorwayand waved her in to the trailer.

“Might as well get your signaturefrom the boss,” he said. She was tempted to remind him that, once the sale wentthrough, she was going to be theboss, but the smarter play seemed to be to keep her mouth shut and get a penready.

“Signature for what?”came a deep, gravelly voice from somewhere inside the trailer. She followedTigh inside, squinting against the dark of the trailer.

“Revised offer,” shesaid. She cupped her hands around her eyes to block the light from the doorway,barely able to make out the shape of a man at the far end of the room. “I needa signatory from the camp to receive the offer, or else it’ll have to go backto the lawyers.”

He let out a derisivegrunt. “Never had much use for lawyers.”

Laura bristled. Herfather had been a lawyer, a damn good one, and she wasn’t going to let thischump hiding out in the middle of nowhere crap all over his memory. “Lawyerscome in handy when you need to get things done, and I’d very much like to getthis offer done and accepted so that I can get out of here and get moving onthe development plans.”

“And a lawyer is gonnahelp you with that?” he asked. He moved forward, just enough into the lightthat she could see the glint of silver threaded through his black hair. Hereached out and snatched the folder from her hand, then leafed through thepapers. “It’s a good offer,” he grunted.

“It is,” she agreed, surprisingeven herself with the ice in her tone. “Better than any other this camp isgoing to get.”

He scribbled his name onthe first form, acknowledging receipt of the offer, and handed the paper backto her. “Maybe so,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sell.”

He’s going to sell? After all these months, the elusive owner of CampBlackbird had finally shown his face? It’sabout damn time, she thought. Richard was already pissed enough at her;maybe if she took a little extra time to work her feminine wiles on him, suchas they may be, she could get him to agree to the sale and she could get herboss off her back. In more ways than one.

“It’s a beautifulproperty,” she said, turning on her brightest smile. “People would love to buy acondo here and take advantage of the peace and quiet. I spent some time here asa child myself, and I have to tell you, I’ve thought of buying my own place hereonce the development goes up.”

“Really? I thought therewas a rule around these parts about you not being allowed back.” He finallystepped fully into the light of the doorway, and his blue eyes met hers. Blueeyes that she hadn’t seen since she was seventeen years old and flat on herback on the ground under this very spot. Suddenly, complicated wasn’t the wordfor this sale anymore. Impossibleseemed a little bit more accurate, and some other words with just four letterscrossed her mind as well. And then one more word – breathe. “Of course, since that’s half my fault, it’s probably onlyfair that I lift the ban on Laura Roslin.”

Jesus Christ, Billy Adama. Laura’s knees went a little weak underneathher.

“Saul,” Bill barked,“take a hike. Miss Roslin and I have business to discuss.”

Business? After allthese years, she had a lot of questions to ask him, but none of them had a damnthing to do with the offer he was still holding in his hands. Hands sheremembered far too well.

Saul raised an eyebrowat his boss, then looked back at Laura. “You gonna be ok?” he asked her, hisvoice a little gruff, but his expression softer than it had been last night.

“Fine,” she saidfaintly. “Thank you.”

“You know where thewhiskey is, if you need it,” he said, then ducked out of the trailer. It wasbarely 9am, her head was still pounding, but God help her, she’d never wanted adrink more in her life.

She had the receipt ofoffer in her hands; she should collect her dignity and get the hell out of herewhile she still could. Instead, she sank down into one of the beat-up vinylchairs in front of the reception desk. “So I get a lifetime ban, but you get tocome in and take over? Seems a little unfair to me.”

“I bought the camp usingan LLC. Mr. Cottle wouldn’t have sold it to me if he knew who was buying,” hesaid with a little chuckle.

Privately, Laura had herdoubts. As she recalled, Mr. Cottle wasn’t nearly as pissed at poor BillyAdama, led astray by Laura Roslin’s bookish charms, as he was at her fordefiling the sanctity of his precious camp. After all, it hadn’t been his entire family dragged down for avery detailed description of how he’d found the two of them bare-ass nakedunder a blanket, and then escorted to their station wagon with a very colorfulreminder that they were not invited back for the next summer.

Then again, she hadabsolutely no idea what happened after they’d left Camp Blackbird. Maybe Bill’sparents had been on their way when they’d headed down the dirt road, Cheryl andSandra whining on either side of her in the back seat and her parents refusingto speak to their oldest daughter.

It wasn’t like shehadn’t done the math; their anniversary was seven months before her birthday.Laura might not know much about children, but she knew that a preemie didn’tweigh 8 pounds at birth. It seemed more than a little unfair to her that theywere so pissed about her night under the stars.

She hadn’t regretted itat the time. He was handsome, and smart, and had a wicked sense of humor. He’dliked to make her laugh. She’d liked to laugh with him. They’d gone fromsneaking kisses behind her cabin to groping under swimsuits while they weresupposed to be teaching swim classes, to having sex under the stars. If onlythey’d snuck out half an hour earlier…

If only he’d called herafter she’d been sent home. He had her number; she waited to hear from him, butthe rest of the summer stretched out with no contact, and in the fall, she wasin her dorm at U Dub and sitting next to Richard Adar.

And 20 years later, shewas sitting in a cheap plastic chair, staring him down as he flipped throughthe pages of her company’s offer, every flip of a page catching the sunlightagainst the wedding ring on his finger. Ofcourse.

She was done withmarried men. Done with this one in particular, just as much of a pain in theass as the other married man who was expecting her to deliver a signed offerletter.

“I wasn’t kidding. Youand I both know this camp hasn’t been profitable for years. Just accept theoffer and call it a day.”

He held out the folderto her, waving it a little bit when she refused to take it. “It’s a greatoffer. But you’re wasting your time.”

“I quit wasting my timeabout 20 years ago,” she snapped.

He looked her over,those damn blue eyes drilling into her. “And yet here you are.”

“And so are you. Really,Billy? So many happy memories here for you?”

“Bill,” he snapped, “andyes, as a matter of fact.”

She let out a sharp snort.Lord only knew what he got up to after she was booted out of the camp. She hadabsolutely no interest in how many happymemories he had at this camp.

“I remember you, and me,and a night under the stars, and that’s enough to make me turn down youroffer.”

“Well,” she said primly,“Not all of us have such fond memories of losing our virginity.”

He blinked at that andtook a quick step back. For a second, she felt like a complete ass. It wasn’this fault the night ended badly. Well, not entirely– he was the one who suggested they meet halfway, and he was the one with theblanket. He was also the one who made enough noise to wake the dead…and Mr.Cottle.

But she was the one whomet him there, under the stars, and she was only too happy to let him tease herout of her shorts and her camp t-shirt, and she was the one who told him thatshe was ready, that she wanted it to be him.

Billy – no, Bill – sighed. “Ifthis is really what you want, I’ll sign,” he said.            

Thank God. “It’s what I want.” She nodded at the pen on the table.“Sign it, and we can be out of each other’s hair.”

“On one condition,” he said. He picked up the pen and hovered it overthe paperwork. “I’ll sign, but you have to go on a date with me.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” The words were out of her mouthbefore she could stop them, but he didn’t seem the least put off by her crass words.

“Yep. Long time ago,” he said.

“Sign the papers and take your wife on a date,” she snapped.

His brows furrowed, a bit confused before he saw her pointed gazedirected at the ring on his finger.

“Divorced,” he said. “I wear the ring so Saul doesn’t hit on me.”

“He’d probably be an easier target than me,” she said.

“Easy never interested me.”

Well, he’d be the first. “Fine,” she said. “Sign the papers and I’ll goout with you.”

He signed the offer with a flourish, then held his hand out to her. “Isbreakfast too early for a date?”

Laura shrugged. “Whatever.” She’d eat some pancakes, tell him he wascharming, and then be on her way by noon. “Lead the way.”

***

Her phone rang once again, and one again, she was determined to ignoreit.

“You have to answer eventually,” he muttered, his voice thick withsleep, even as he pulled her closer to him.

He was probably right. Richard wasn’t going to stop calling, not untilhe got the answer he expected. She tucked her hair behind her ears, trying tocall up some sense of professionalism. Hard to do when she was stark naked andBill Adama was wrapping his arms against her waist.

“Roslin,” she barked, choking back a laugh as his fingers trailed upagainst her sides.

“It’s been four days and you haven’t shown up once. What the hell areyou doing?”

That was a very good question, but not one she was going to answer forRichard Adar when Bill Adama was pressing kisses to her shoulder. “I’mquitting,” she said. “Deal’s dead.”

“Goddammit, Laura, I didn’t send you down there to kill the deal!”

She was half tempted to argue, but Bill pulled the phone out of herhand. “I’ll talk to you about my severance tomorrow,” she called out before hemanaged to hit the disconnect button and throw the phone down on the flooramidst their discarded clothes.

“I’m going to get fired,” she said with a giggle. He hummed in response.“Do you care?”

“Nope.” He rolled onto his back, then tugged her on her side so that shewas draped against his chest. “Do you?”

“Mmm-mmm,” she hummed.

“Good,” he whispered.

“I’m out of a job, and you’ve got a camp that’s not making money,” shesaid. “How is that good?”

“Never wanted the camp. Just wanted you. Do you think Adar’s the onlyoffer I have?”

She snuggled a little bit closer to him. “I’m very good at real estate.I could probably get you a great price for the land.”

He laughed as he dug his fingers into the skin of her hip. “Whatever youwant. Don’t want the camp anymore, since my girl isn’t allowed on the grounds.”

“Well, Washington is a big state,” she chuckled. “I’m sure we can findother places to get kicked out of.”

“God, I hope so,” he laughed into the sensitive skin of her neck.  “Can’t think of anything I want more than tobe kicked out of every campground we find.”

She shrieked with laughter as he moved down from her neck, teasing theticklish spots he’d discovered over the last few days. Neither could she.

[chichirod]

Content. The addiction to the flow of the internet.

Sonny.

Maybe it’s a time travel piece. I love the idea of time travel. And done in a grounded way, What if the time travel was extremely mundane. Why sonny? Well he’s got this tone to his personality that feels like he’s being surprised by everything that happens.

What if he could time travel, but it only took him to one specific place.

Sonny and his dog. Maybe his dog is racist?

Sonny the karaoke man.

Sonny hits a car in a lot. He’s parks somewhere else. He thinks he’s off, but someone sees him. Stops him.

What are the ways that sonny could be confronted?

Sonny

Pulling wallet out to pay. The false gesture.

The tip. He writes a cheap tip, but he notices something wrong with the bill. He has to confront the waiter. The waiter confronts him. Waiter asks what percentage it is, he can’t do the math in his head.

He’s somewhere public. He’s watching an inappropriate vid. Gets called out.

Shits himself.

Self sacrifice.

Goes for a date with a girl. Girl says something a little racist.

He nicely ends the date. He tells his friends, but one of his friends tells.

Sonny he’s a man who wears his emotions. He’s consistently apologetic.

He’s a hopeful auditionee. He’s not bad actually. He sings karaoke. Records it. He’s nervous. But he makes an enemy. He ends up shitting himself mid audition.

Maybe the first scene is him hitting the car, getting caught. Getting caught by the lady and then leaving the note. Or Sony watching the game and someone fucking the moment he is waiting for. Sonny and the guys waiting for this moment. Maybe they’re auto shop guys.

We are in a ship cafeteria. A man lays dead on the floor. The checkout lady realizes asks who wants his food.

The set-up. The conflict. And Every choice creates consequences.

In the dentist chair.

Scene:

Sonny he’s with one of his friends outside a restaurant. They see a famous boxer passing by. Coop asks him politely for an autograph. The boxer is pissed. He’s sick of being stopped. Coop says, well you’re a celeb man, it comes with the territory. The boxer does’t like it. Coop says, c’mon man, I watched you at Caesers in 2014. He steps in and snaps a selfie, the boxer knocks him out. Sonny stands there. Boxer- I’m tired of being objectified.  Coop comes to. Holy fuck. Are you ok? Ya. Dinner. They sit at the table. The dude has a huge welt. He’s ok, but he sits pretty silently. Sonny tries to keep his mind off of it. Makes small talk. Still, nothing from Coop. Then, he spits it out. Why the fuck didn’t you do anything? You just stood there. Boomgaurtner? What the hell was I supposed to do?

Woman talking about how brutal her period is right now. Eventually sonny and this woman hook up. She turns the lights off. … We cut to him having a pee, blood all over his face. OR Someone comes in?

These are the two stories. A satire. And. A docudrama.

One character. No lights. Small crew.

A gymnast. A hockey player.

INTRO

Sonny

Gymnast?

- open on videos of her as a kid jumping and enjoying the gym. Cut to today, in the bathroom. Nursing blisters and malformed toes.

- Eating toothpaste.

- The brutality of the bar.

- Mom locking the door to the fridge.

This is the story of a child gymnast. She’s is skilled, but she’s not naturally talented, but her coaches see a physical ability that they want to harness. They see the opportunity in her. A glory that they never had. They use her as an outlet. Pushing her is also a way for them to control something in their own lives. There is physical pain yes, but worse is the emotional warfare. The sacrifice that she must make while every other 12-year old goes to school, watches tv, plays on their phones. The final image?

Man and woman rent a cottage. A creepy neighbor, but oh well. They have a nice time. A new-sh couple. They have romantic time. They are making dinner. And they get into an argument over gender politics.The man is a better cook. Woman have lost their place in the kitchen because of a taboo. That night they go to be upset. The woman fingers herself quietly. The man realizes. He gets mad. He goes into the bathroom to JO. The creepy neighbor is seen coming towards their house. The two of them are scared. The woman wants to come into the bathroom, The man refuses. He argues. She should go downstairs if this relationship is equal.

- possible stories

- she kills her coach.

- she is paralyzed.

- amputates her chest.

A undocumented worker. Their parents dying. Working on a farm in California. Witness a crime. Wife kills abusive husband.

Guy parking at an office. He hits a car.

First scene should  - eat the type of world we’re dealing with. A bite of satire.

What is the final image of the film.

The wrestler -

Find him at his glory, in the ring MSG.

Cut to the locker room. Present day. Creaky version of himself.

Fans visit him. Remember the good days.

He goes home. Door locked.

Sleeps in his van.

Next morning bang bang bang.

Woken up by kids. Wrestles with them.

Car pulls in, interrupts the moment. He watches the car.

Int office. Moments later, he tries to bargain with owner of trailer

Nothing.

Woman runs him extension chord for his blender.

Goes to work in supermarket

Asks for more shifts.

We see him working with the Mexican dudes. Lugging.

Int gym. He holds a glass vile. His buddy says its as good as the German stuff.

Plunges the needle into his naked ass.

Cut to mall. Greets a shopkeep friendly. He gets into a tanning bed.

Hair salon. Korean woman bleaches his hair.

Driving. Eyes. The strip club.

INt shitty wrestling match. A promoter lists the matchups.

They prep for the match. Going through moves with some young blood.

Ram - a chick is here to see you.

In the hall - hey kiddo. A young girl greets him.

She there to root on her old man? No. She’s there to make amends. 12-stepper.

Interrupted by two meatheads. He puts on his act for them. The girl is pissed at the interruption.

In the ring. Kid loco taunts him. Calling him a loser. Something turns and he takes the upper hand. Ram Jam

Int dressing room. Gets offered the 20th anniversary rematch with the ayatollah.

Stip club. Door man asks for hgh. Bartender slides him a beer. Cassidy is working vip. Girl same age as his daughter on the pole

Walks passed the VIP. Casidy is being berated for being old by frat boys.

Randy busts through. Makes them apologize. Expects a thank you. Cassidy is just pissed.

Cassidy warms to him. Lapdance. Ram’s explaining the 20th’ aniversary opportunity.

They chat. Ram bleeds. Cassidy helps him. Leads to him showing her his scars.

Cassidy quotes from passion of the christ. The sacrificial ram. Her song comes on and she’s pulled to stage.

99c store. Picking up weird supplies. Thumb tacks.

Cut to match .

Randy’s heart is giving way in the match. Has a heart attack. They pull him out of the ring.

Hospital - Bypass.

Dr says no more wrestling.

Gets trailer back.

Showers.

Plays vids with Adam.

Adam leaves. Ram does jumping jacks. He gets winded. He starts to cry.

Goes to Cheetahs for comfort. He asks her out. Something more real.

She meets him out back. Sympathy. But he’s overstepping.

Looks at old pic of Daughter. Goes to visit his daughter. She’s studying child development

SHe’s on her way to class. Tries to evade hum, but he charms her a bit.

He gives her a ride. Fesses to heart attack and she loses it. Now he wants to make good!? Now that he’s scared of dying?

Goes to fan expo. Learns from an old promoter that he’s been left out of a reunion.

He watches another old wrestler. In a wheelchair.  Piss trickles into a catheter bag.

Back at trailer. Scared to go in alone. Drives to..

Cheetahs

Cassidy tries to get dances, no takers. SHe’s happy to see randy show up.

She asks about daughter. Randy doesn’t know much about what she likes. Cassidy suggests a second hand shop.

Randy goes to bar, cassidy a little rejected.

She comes to him, offers to go with him on Saturday to the shop.

Randy goes to work. Asks for something more permanent. Wayne offers deli counter.

Saturday, ram meets cased at the second hand shop. First time seeing cased clothed.

They find a shitty green jacket. Cassidy doesn’t like it, randy does, she plays nice.

They are about to part ways. Randy asks for a beer. Cassidy resists. She’s got a kid. 9years old. Ram gives her an old toy of him. Take care of that 300 bucks on eBay. Really? Nah. Cassidy obliges. One beer.

Talk about kid. Her hopes to move. Quitting cheetahs. Def leopard. Randy dances for her, They sing together. They bond over that pussy Cobain boo hoo Seattle. It’s the moment they need to meet. No contact with customers she says after they kiss. She’s gotta run.

Deli counter. Robin name tag.

Serving customers, he’s clueless. Bad exahcnage, bad exchange, then a nice one. 57… O-57 bingo. Whats my prize?

College. Ram meets his daughter. What are you stalking me? DO stalkers bring gifts?

They walk along a midway. The reminisce about when she was young.

They sit on a bench. Mint chip ice cream. He accepts her unspoken apology. Drops her off. Hope the wasn’t too painful.

Ram puts a photo of them on his fridge. On the phone. He tells a friend to count him out. He’s retiring.

Cheetah’s. Guys put dollar bills in Cassidy’s g-string. Randy tries to put a purse envelope in.

They sit. It’s a thank you card. Rand tries to ask her out to a cover band bar. It’s becoming too much for her. You think I’m a stripper.. but I’m a mom with respoonsibilities. You’re a customer.

Randy slides a 20 across the table. Cassidy slides it back. You’re refusing a customer? Argeument. Embarrasment. Randy storms out.

Shop-rite. Old lady pound of potato salad.

Guy recognizes him somehow. Teamsters? Softball? Ram Jam. Slicer fingers get closer.

Trailer. Drinking Touching scar. Turns on gun and roses. Dances around his room like it’s a ring.

Collectibles store.  Scott Bromberg. Asks for referee opportunity. Booker D tries to work him into the gig. During the match randy steps in. Gets hit with a chair. They shower. Praise Randy as the master.

Hotel bar. Shit pit story.

Hotel bar. Hanging with girls. Coke dealer walks in. I don’t do that anymore. Me neither. Cut to them in the bathroom doing bumps.

Morning. Eyes open to find a poster of fireman.

Leaves the house. Gets home opens the fridge. Dismay. Picture of him and daughter on fridge.

Bang bang bang on her door.

Daughter pissed. She waited in the restaurant for 2 hours.

She hates him. Throws a pot. He grabs her. I’m sorry. You don’t mean it. You’re right. She calms. She’s totally done Wirth him.

He leaves. Starts to cry.

Shop Rite - line at the deli counter. “You believe these fucking morons?”

Slice slice. More pressure. Customers complaining. Slice slice. Jams his thumb into the slicer. Blood everywhere. Smears blood across his mouth. He smashes into the shelves dodging a woman.

At home. Calls the promoter. He wants in. Shaves. Tan in a can. Peroxide in the hair.

Cassidy shows up. How’d you find me? Big Chris.

Cassidy explains she’s trying to get to a place in her life and she can’t bring anyone from… good for you. Quitting is hard.

He hands he the flyer. Drives off.

Cassidy’s apt. Tells the sitter. In bed by 11, no bargaining. Her son plays with the ram doll.

Cheetah’s - cased dances.

She leaves the stage.

Randy at roadside payphone. Gets Stephanie’s answering machine. Tells he loves her and that he’s going back in the ring.

Randy naps on side of road.

Gets to auditorium. Man on the phone. Man business is rocking Just opened a third dealership. Randy looks on. This is the ayatollah

They chat. Did thnink it was on. Then I get a call , its on.

Randy wants to go over the moves. Ayatollah wants to wing it.

Cassidy at gas station. Asks for directions.

Int locker room. Ram taping up.

Cassidy pulls up. Looking for locker room

Randy now suited.

Ayatollah music begins to play. Announcement.

Randy turns to find Cassidy there. She tries to get him to bail. He’s still going through with it.

Randy- this is where I belong. Listen to them.

Randy enters the ring. Ramming chairs.

He grabs the mic.

I just got one thing to say to you people. Thank you. I started in 1982. I was 6 foot 1 3 back surgeries… End of the speach. The crowd roars. Ayatollah is about to smash him.

Randy is a little intense for the ayatollah. They trade revenge moves each more real than the last.

Their in the ring out of the ring. Chocking with flags and poles.

Ayatollah  - You wanna bring it home?

Cassidy pleads with ringside.

His heart is giving. Pounding. Irregular. Hard. Ram is about to finish him. Ayatollah says just pin him.

Cassidy leaves the match sobbing.

Horns are out.

He leaps . Glorious and immortal.

Some things last a long time.

I’ll eat your sandwich if you’re not eating it.

You’re got me going. You really got me going.

I can’t believe you got th t sian out.

It looks great on you.

I like this shirt.

Do you have any salt?

Walks into coffee shop. Puts hands on the glass. He moves like an animal something he’s stalking.

[crackopenabook]

Cognitive Dissonance

       I wake up in my college dorm, once again drenched in sweat - a common occurrence these days. An outline of my body is molded into the sheets and mattress. I put my headphones into my ears, turn on my iPod and play a song that is chock full of melancholy and sadness. I walk into the conjoined college bathroom, splash water onto my face and just look at my reflection in the mirror. A stranger looks back at me.

       I grew up in an abusive household. My father is an alcoholic with a bad temper, and the alcohol only exacerbated his verbal abuse toward my mother, my younger brother and me. It was an onslaught of being called, “stupid”, “ugly”, and even one time he called me a “tramp”; I was only 13 years old at the time. I spent the majority of my life in extracurricular activities, from playing club soccer to Catholic Sunday school classes.  Pretending you didn’t live in an abusive household was pretty exhausting, feigning happiness became an art form of sorts. This one particular occasion that stands out was in my 7th grade gym class. I remember how my face felt awkward when I smiled and laughed. When I got home that evening I examined my face when I smiled: the left side of my face was slower than the right. When I blinked my left eyelid took a few seconds longer to match the right in movement. When I drank water, the water dribbled out of the left side of my mouth, when I flared my nostrils only the right side would flare out the left stayed motionless. I remained relatively calm when I brought my mother into my room to look at this anomaly. She took me to the doctor the next day and I was diagnosed with Bell’s Palsy, which in my case, was related to stress. This was not one of those moments where we tell the doctor the type of abuse we endure day to day. I took my prescribed medicine and moved on with my life.        Major Depression Disorder affects more than 16.1 million American adults, or about 6.7% of the U.S. population age 18 and older in any given year. [1] When I was a freshman in High School, I began having anxiety attacks during the day, it was as if there was a large weight on my chest and I felt my heart slow down. Normally these attacks would happen at night. I would be lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, but then I would see the walls start caving in around me. It would feel as if my body was being pinched between two fingers, a hard thing to describe. I had the impulse to jump out of bed and begin walking as fast as I could, sometimes I would I have to go outside so I can take a deep breath with fresh air in it. I would mention these events to my Mother but I think she just found it odd but nothing really came from my telling of these anxiety attacks. I don’t believe she really knew much about depression and anxiety, or at least, she didn’t put a label on it.        My freshman year of college was out in Brenham, Texas, just an hour north of Houston. I was pretty excited to live on campus because that meant I was going to be far, far away from my Father. However, the loneliness I felt while I was there took me by surprise. Growing up, I had no problem sitting in my room reading a book. I wasn’t very social outside of my sports playing and church-going activities. I suppose my being holed up in my dorm room, outside of going to class, wasn’t the healthiest option. My roommate was cordial and on the occasion would include me when her friends came over to study. I found it must more pleasant when she would go home for the weekend, some peace and quiet, for me to collect my thoughts. There was a night that my roommate was away and I was feeling so sad. I was frustrated that I wasn’t doing well in any of my classes that weren’t electives, I missed my dog, and strangely enough my home. I began thinking about what would happen if I decided to kill myself. What were the pros of no longer existing, anywhere but here would have to be better; even as a God-fearing Catholic I was willing to take those odds of being sent to Hell for suicide. I put a large amount of my depression medication in my hand and put it up to my mouth to ingest but I couldn’t do it. I thought about how much my death would destroy my Mother, how much she has gone through with my Father and how she didn’t deserve to endure pain by my hand.        I withdrew from Blinn College in April 2007, moved back home, my parents got a divorce, and I just began working full time. Since I was making some money from working so much I moved out of my Mom’s home and started working three jobs at the mall. I was so busy living a 21-year-old lifestyle I didn’t have time to dwell on my sadness. I still have major depression that rears its ugly head when I’m overwhelmed by work but I put on a happy face to power through. What else can you do? ________________        You begin routines to push you from sunrise to sunset. The industry I work in has the “same shit different day” attitude, I work as an estimator for a body shop. Dealing with the aftermaths of peoples hardships; their loss is my gain. Customers and insurance groups don’t see the monetary benefit I see from damaged vehicles that cost thousands of dollars to fix. However, when dealing with that amount of money from various companies across the country can become very stressful. Paperwork, the quality of work you need to sell back to the owners of those vehicles, and the hassle of collecting payment from insurance companies that might feel they don’t have to pay for certain items.        I have worked for three different body shops around the city of Houston and each one has the same type of coping mechanism: drinking alcohol and ingesting various types of drugs. When I first began in the automotive industry I was still “green”, which was just another term for being new to the field. One of my co-workers, Josh, had anxiety issues and took a high dosage of clonazepam[2] which can help with panic attacks but can also lead to suicidal thoughts, memory loss, and drowsiness. Josh would give me a pill or two to take when he could see I was having a rough day. Normally after a long work week, my co-workers and I would buy a bottle of Crown Royal and hang around the shop for a majority of the night. Josh would tell me, “Fuck it, this job sucks anyway” and we would take a clonazepam with a glass of whiskey.        One afternoon I couldn’t handle the clonazepam I took. I honestly can’t remember how many I took, but I remember having a major panic attack. I couldn’t stop crying or saying how much I wanted to die. It was enough that my manager at the time asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and...I don’t remember how I got to the emergency room. After I was evaluated, my Mother and Step Dad showed up at the hospital and talked with me about what I was feeling. I was put in an ambulance and taken to a mental institution and held there for 7 days. This was a completely different type of outcome than my attempt at attempted suicide some 6 years prior. You have a routine from sunrise to sunset in that hospital. Nurses wake you up around five in the morning to take your blood pressure, take your meds, and then back to bed only to be woken up again at eight in the morning for breakfast. It was an interesting system to be in because of the different types of health issues you personally get to be involved with. My first night there I was woken up to a woman screaming for her cigarettes. Some of those women coming off of meth or heroin can’t miss an opportunity to smoke or else they will fight a nurse.        This hospital was split between men and woman when it came to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and quiet time. You can’t spend too much time mingling with the opposite sex. I did notice a younger, dark-haired, Hispanic guy who couldn’t have been more than 25 years old. He was manic-depressive; the way he would just stare off into the distance but he had a look in his eyes that just seemed empty and lifeless. I would try to talk to him but he wouldn’t really say much of anything, hardly a grunt of acknowledgement. The other guys would say “he’s too quiet” and “very weird”. I saw something in that manic-depressive guy that I was so afraid to see in myself. I couldn’t shut myself off completely like that. I had one of my best friends from the body shop, Chris, come and visit me. He asked me, “How long are you gonna be held up in here? This place feels creepy, almost like jail but cleaner.” My best friend has been in county jail for street racing so I could see where he was coming from. “I don’t know when they’ll let me out of here. Once I have my evaluation and the doctors think it’s safe for me to go home.”, I told him. Chris had such a look of pity and confusion on his face and in his eyes. I’ve always been honest with Chris about my depression but he could never quite wrap his head around the issue of me just feeling sad. After 5 days in that hospital, I was ready to fake being happy. I missed my home, my dog, and fresh air from outside of those walls. On the 7th day, I was released. My Mother came to pick me up from the hospital and as soon as we drove away from the building I started crying. A cry of relief, of shame, guilt, and happiness to be free.

________________

I was fired from my job at the body shop a month after I returned to work from getting out of the hospital. I honestly can not remember my final month at the shop. I am fairly certain they kept my workload to a minimum. When I was let go it was the shop foreman, TJ, that brought me into the manager's office, “I’m sorry, Ashley, but we’re gonna have to let you go. Clean out your desk. You’re done for the day.” No one is a fan of being fired and I remember feeling calm at first as I packed up my desk and said my brief goodbyes to Josh and Chris. As I was leaving though I saw TJ again and that was when I started crying and he hugged me. Apologizing. So only a month away from my hospital stay and I was home alone with only my dog and bills I couldn’t afford. This was November 2013, just a week before Thanksgiving. Ah, what to give thanks for? It actually took over four months for me to find a job as a receptionist at a moving company and over a period of six months, I was promoted to an accountant. Thus began my love for accounting, or more specifically the love of counting money. During this time I also started having a friends with benefits relationship with my current boyfriend. I have not had another major depressive episode since working at the body shop. When I told my boyfriend, Jonathan, about the mental hospital I was in he was very supportive. One of his best friends, Clayton, was in a mental hospital for three weeks, I have actually spoken with Clayton concerning this and he describes how generous Jonathan was, “Jonathan would come and visit me almost every other day just to see how I was doing. He was the only one of our friends who would do that. Jonathan is one of the kindest guys you’ll ever know.” All of that is true. On me and Jonathan’s second anniversary, he told me how he really feels about me, “When I look at you I see someone that’s felt sadness and hard times just like me. I see someone that hasn't quit. Someone that hasn’t compromised being themselves.” Knowing you live with this overwhelming amount of sadness inside of you and having to carry the burden of that knowledge alone is tiring. To have someone by my side through toughs times is very helpful. My family has all but moved to other sides of the state or out to other states so seeing them becomes more difficult. I’m not one to attempt contact with friends. I prefer to be alone so my old friends are just distant memories. My dog passed away a couple years ago so it was tough waking up alone and not having someone to get you out of bed every morning. However, having Jonathan, even his cat Pablo has made a home with us, is a blessing I would have never known I deserved or needed. I have found my way back into the body shop business. I have learned from past mistakes and I don’t drink on the job or do any drugs; which is funny to even say considering that should be a give-in with any job. I came back into this industry because I know it pays and I already know the routine it asks for. I have worked at this particular shop for over a year and I have come home crying from stress more than twice but I had Jonathan to catch me as I am falling. However, I find myself drinking just a little bit more every day just to get out of the reality of my current workload. I know though that the harder I work and more accounts I take in the more money I can make, which has paid for the college classes I am currently taking, and the car I am saving up to buy. To keep me from making my past my present I try to keep up a healthy lifestyle with exercise and eating correctly. Running helps create dopamine which creates happy feelings.[3] Although as I’m running I just wonder what it would be like to run away from everything I currently hold dear and never look back; I don’t think I could do that. ________________ [1] Facts & Statistics, Anxiety and Depression Association of America, ADAA, 2018, adaa.org/about-adaa/press-room/facts-statistics. Accessed 22 Sept 2018 [2] Medline Plus. The American Society of Health-System Pharmacists, Inc., 1 Oct. 2018, medlineplus.gov/druginfo/meds/a682279.html . Accessed 18 Oct. 2018. [3] Healthline. Exercise, Depression, and the Brain, 2016, www.healthline.com/health/depression/exercise. Accessed 17 Nov. 2018.

[myyellowsunflowers]

I hate my father. I didn't grow up hating him. But for most of my memories now, it's pretty much negative, since it made up of 11 years of my life (currently 25).

When I was young, he used to dote on me, and he treated my mum's side of the family like his true family, and it was definitely reciprocated. Everyone really loved him. When Ahma had very bad wounds, as a medic, my dad cleaned her wounds every day after discharge when no other children dared to do it for ahma. This is one of the many examples of how good a man he was.

My parents met in their twenties, and there was a period of time when my paternal grandma went US (quite a long period of time actually), my dad started staying with my mum and her family. Ahma cooked everyday for him and they were all very close.

Dad was an aspiring entrepreneur. He had a joint venture, a engineering company with his best friend. My mum was an account assistant. All I could remember is that dad was hardly home and he would come home in the wee hours like 3am. He worked hard, but efforts did not pay off. He did not bring home any salary and mum was taking care of the entire family with her own pay which is v minimal. His partner even hired illegal immigrants, and we were so worried sick that one day they might get caught. Eventually my dad decided to pull out of the business venture, and he did not even get a single cent. He did not have the guts to get any money from his partner.

How did we get to stay in a private property? My mum had v good luck and won lots of lottery. So much to be able to afford a private house. However it's the first mistake. My dad did not contribute to the payment of the house, nor the numerous mercedes they changed over the years.

The problem occurred when our neighbor, Mark, approached my dad for mlm. Herbalife and nuskin. My dad was stupid enough to believe that he can make it big too. My mum bring stupidly supportive gave him lots of money when he had to buy products to hit the target. He had no customers, he had to buy the products himself to barely hit the target. And soon, my mum couldn't afford out anymore, and they started having credit card debts. And he still insisted on continue this mlm thing, and even went for many courses to 'become a better person'. These courses costs thousands of dollars as well.

After this failed mlm venture, he decided to sell chocolates. My mum quit her job to help him. I was in primary school and I helped to sell as well. Also a waste of money and time. There were simply so much debt, we sold our house to come back to our current flat we have now.

I wonder if the flat is cursed. The previous owner sold it to us as they were gonna get divorce. We bought it and soon there were more problems.

After the chocolate venture, my uncle introed my dad to work for a fashion jewellery company. Income was stable. However he met this woman, a third party.

Mum only found out when his phone bills exploded for two consecutive months when he usually barely uses his phone. Yes, mum pays for ALL THE BILLS. She buys all the things he use, his clothes etc. He would say that his shoes are spoilt, and my mum would buy one pair almost immediately. My mum may not be the prettiest or the most gentle wife, but for sure is she supportive and generous. In fact it's her weakness that she is so supportive and generous.

And yet, my dad fell for this third party. He confessed when mum confronted him. I was 14 then, sad and scared, I hid under the blanket acting as if I was asleep.

He said he liked the girl cause she is young. My mum is old and the feeling is just now fresh anymore. And he actually compared it to me and my then bf. That his relationship is like mine, new and fresh. It is not. You are married, and you have no rights to have another fresh relationship with another woman outside. Her name is LINDA KOR AH LIAN aka kugualian, and I'll never ever forget nor forgive. All she wanted was his money. Little did she know that my dad is worthless financially. And my dad actually had the cheek to ask for money from my mum to give to kugualian.

My mum beared with all of his nonsense until this fateful day. The father's day of 2008. My dad, mum and I went to visit my paternal grandma. During that period, the channel 8 show was regarding infidelity. Grandma couldn't stop blaming the husband for having anther woman outside of his family. After that, my dad drove us back and dropped us at our bus stop, and he said he is gonna go out. My mum was unable to control her emotions anymore and he forced him to come home through many calls. It was a night I will never forget. Everyone quarreled with everybody. My grandma wanted to hit him and my dad was egging her on. Shouting ensues, while I sat under the clock, crying, hugging my knees, with gigi and snowy by my side.

To think I made a father's day card for him. As he packed up, I threw lots of little notes, asking why he would wanna leave the family, leave me. Till date I don't have my answer.

Eventually, he left home that day. My paternal grandma actually reprimanded my mum for letting him go, as if it was her fault for his infidelity. As if mum is holding on to his money and property, that she had a good life because of him. What a joke. Till date, she still asks me to take care of my dad, without ever mentioning my mum in my future life plans. She hated my mum since the first day they dated. But yes, I digress. I sent many hate messages to that fucking woman, just as she deserved. I never regretted my actions, except that I should have taken a step further. I was too weak.

We should have let him go forever, filed for divorce when we had proof. Instead, all the parties involved met to talk about this. I remember that night, my dad grabbed my hand make me sit beside him. I was too weak to say no. I was wrong to follow. The woman was unscrupulous. Both my dad and her denied their relationship when my dad confessed the first time my mum asked. He was such a bad liar, but my mum was weak. So was I, so we didn't do anything about it.

One week later, his friend made him come home, made us accept.We willingly accepted, hoping it will be a whole new start. I remember, he looked so haggard. I heated up the soup for him, at that instant, I felt hope.

It didn't last. I rmb I was in his car one day. He reprimanded me for texting that woman. He was disappointed that I'm such a person. I can't believe he said that. And he actually expected me to apologize to her. I was weak, all I wanted was peace. I apologized unwillingly. And he scolded me for confiding in my then bf, for making him lose face.

Even though he came back, he heart never came back, even until now. He still asked for money from mum for her. He refused to talk to my grandparents, and yet they cared for him, cooking every meal for him. Grandma even asked me to eat less, so he can have breakfast the next day and bring it out for lunch. I didn't even have my dinner, and she was so ready to sacrifice me for this lousy son in law who hurt her daughter so much.

My dad decided that working for the fashion jewellery company was touch despite the stable income. So he wanted to drive taxi. He didn't even had 2k for the deposit. My mum had to borrow money to support him. Till date, he still haven't repaid her this money. Also not counting all his fines for speeding, illegal parking etc.

Things just progressed. He doesn't talk to anyone. At least he was finally contributing to the familythru stable monthly salary. I was lucky my grades were good enough for a scholarship, if not I'll be still repaying my tuition fee loan. It just progressed til he doesn't come for any gatherings anymore (we still went for cny for his family wtf).

I just can't understand. It progressed to the extent when he didn't even care about the dogs anymore. He refused to bring gigi to the vet when she was v sick. She passed away shortly. Did he even shed a tear? No. What about snowy, he didn't even pet her anymore. He didn't even asked what happened to her when she disappeared forever. He is a monster.

Then one day he refuse to give mum any money at all. Refused to ever send me to work anymore. And that was the breaking point. He was still using all our stuff. Stuff mum bought. He always ate all the stuff without caring for others. When mum confronted him, he was like why should he ask? Why does he even need to ask before eating or using anything since it's his home? Honestly, whenever I ate something that wasn't bought by me, I inform my family every time. He just doesn't have the basic courtesy at all. He said we always threw stuff away without consulting him. Truth is, he bought none of those stuff. He didn't give mum any money, didn't buy any stuff for the family, what was his business caring? He scolded ahgong for the stuff thrown when it wasn't his fault at all. He just liked bullying ahgong cause he was the easiest to bully. If you are truly unhappy, you should have spoke to mum instead of bottling up and having another woman. This excuse is so bad it's like he didn't even bother coming up with a good one.

So the war begins. Everyday his goal is to make mum unhappy, doing everything he can. Eating all our food, using all our stuff. When ahma confronted him, he said he hadn't treated her as a mother in law since the conflict started. Hey, she was fucking washing your clothes, cooking stuff specially for you. How dare you treat her this way.

So the latest update is the war of the TV. He asked mum to move away the TV when she confronted him about him watching tv when he didn't pay for anything. So, I removed the tv cable. Since he didn't pay for it. Fuck. He removed the video cable and mum was unable to watch her dvds anymore. He had no right. Cause he didn't pay for anything, not even the wire. He had no right. I was going to change the wifi password, but mum refused, fearing for the safety of my grandparents. Sigh. Mum confronted him despite me dissuading her (cause I do not like him knowing that he managed to make mum unhappy. In fact I encouraged her to smile at him all the time just to spite him, but she just couldn't). He actually did not have the guts to own up. Seriously. If you have the guts to do it, have the guts to own it.

I regret my actions. For hoping that there will be a second chance. I regret buying him birthday gifts every year, giving him monthly allowances, it was my weakness and stupidity for thinking that he will want good for me. And believe me, he doesn't want me to have happiness. He actually wanted to confront my fiance, and warn him about my family, about how crazy we are. Truth is, he made my family crazy. He was so selfish as to want to ruin my happiness, my marriage, for his ego. He is truly selfish. I cannot bring myself to forgive or forget.

I'm never gonna be so weak, and I must not forget.

And I will remember the lessons learnt.

1) never buy something you cannot afford.

2) don't gamble

3) mlm fucks you up no matter what the 'sapphire' or 'diamond' member says

4) practice open communication

5) don't die die also want to have your own business

6) be contented with a normal life

7) be mindful of credit cards

8) always be filial to your parents

9) created special moments to keep the fire going in your love life. Love required active effort for maintenance, and we should not look elsewhere when no longer feel the fire anymore. You will never stop looking for a next person if that's the case.

10) be strong. I can live without him. I don't need to beg him to love me.

11) some family are just not worth having.

I'm rambling. I should think thru and write in a format that makes more sense. But whatever, nobody reads. I am just trying to make myself feel better. Do I feel better? No. I will not until he leaves. I'm really in so much pain I want to give up. Oh wells, may the next decade of my life be better.

[wanna-be-missed]

The Meaning Of Love (Chapter 1 of 6)

Summary: Simon’s never really understood the meaning words like ‘want,’ ‘family,’ and ‘love.’ This is his journey, set after the events of the book, to discovering his own feelings and being at peace with the Mage, Baz, and most of all, himself.

This is basically my own little continuation of the book. Please let me know what you think! I’ll be releasing a chapter a day!

You can read the first chapter on A03, fanfiction.net, or underneath the cut.

---

Chapter 1: Inexpressible/Unknown

Simon had never been very good at talking or putting his own feelings into words.

By the time he’d said his first word when he was a kid, everyone around him had already assumed that he was dumb and mute. All the other kids his age had already started talking, making sounds even if they were nonsense. Simon stayed quiet.

It wasn’t that he was dumb. He’d just spent his whole life tossed around different foster homes, and no one had ever taken the time to talk to him much. He wasn’t around long enough for people to get to know him or to finally get him to open up. Of course he was having trouble learning. His life was confusing, completely void of a stable parental figure who loved him. It was understandable.

Eventually he caught on and finally began to speak. He learned non-abstract words like ‘ball’ and ‘dog,’ but even then, he struggled to articulate his emotions, to translate that feeling of want into words.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried in those early days of being a kid. “More food pwease?” he remembered asking cheerfully one day after he’d licked his plate clean.

“No, there isn’t any fucking more! Be grateful for what you have, you little brat!”

He’d already forgotten that particular foster parent’s face, but he would never let himself forget their response. Simon hid his bruises for weeks after that. He never asked again.

Simon had always liked food. However, it was rare that he ever lived in a place that could offer him very much. Sometimes he would starve. He usually fell asleep to the sound of his own grumbling belly. But if he acted like he was ungrateful or unhappy with his current situation, there were often dire consequences, so he stayed quiet.

It wasn't always that bad, however.

Once he’d lived with a nice old lady who cooked him scones. They were nothing like the sour cherry scones he would come to covet at the Watford School of Magicks. She burned them, and she was too poor to afford anything fancy, but her heart was in it.

“You sure gobbled those down quickly!” she chortled. “Do you want me to make you any more? I have just enough to make another batch.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Simon murmured, remembering his manners.

“Nonsense!” the woman cried good-naturedly. “You’re part of the family now. I’ll whip you up some more!”

Simon didn’t understand what she meant by ‘family.’ A half a year after that, however, he was transferred to live somewhere else, so he never quite found out.

Everywhere he went, he was never in a position to ask for what he wanted. Sometimes he slipped up and wished for something (like the time he wanted to grow up to be a footballer, or even worse, the time he wished that his parents would somehow come back to find him). But then reality set in, and he realized that it was useless to think about it. Whenever something happened to him, it was always something that he had no control over. Dreaming, wishing, wanting: it was all pointless.

He began to make lists in his head of things to push to the back of his mind. It was better than wanting something that he could never have.

It hurt too much.

---

Watford had always felt like the place where he belonged, but after the Leaver’s Ball, Simon never stepped foot there again.

Baz moved into a dorm at the London School of Economics after he graduated, and was doing really well there (of course he was, the prat was flawless), but in comparison, Simon had no idea what he should be doing with his life or where he belonged. He was lost.

Even Penny seemed to have her life put together. She had dropped out of Watford just the same as Simon, but she was smart enough that it hadn’t affected her job prospects in the slightest.

Also, she still had magic on her side.

Simon was now about as Magickal as a Normal, albeit a Normal with dragon wings and a cartoonish devil tail. He mourned the loss of his magic. He couldn’t even go out in public without relying on someone else to spell his wings and tail invisible for him. He could never be a mage anymore, but he could never be a Normal either. He didn’t fit in anywhere.

He used to be the Chosen One, and now… he was just no one.

Despite his lack of purpose, life went on. He and Penny bought an apartment not far from where Baz went to school. He needed to pay rent somehow, so he applied for a job at a shop nearby.

The owners of the shop were a couple of mages, Mr. and Mrs. Stainton, the parents of Philippa Stainton. They didn’t really approve of Simon dating Baz after he had been the one to steal away their daughter’s voice, but they were friends of the Bunces and agreed to take Simon in without a second thought. They were some of the few people left who still believed that Simon was a hero. They forgave him for a lot of his faults because of what he’d done in the past to save the Magickal World. They never mentioned that most of those things only happened because of him in the first place. He always made sure to quickly change the subject whenever they praised him.

Simon didn’t particularly enjoy the shop work either, but it gave him something to do and paid the bills. Besides, after everything that had happened, he was kind of glad for a life without adventure. No more fearing for his life every day. No more worrying about going off. He’d never considered what he would do after Watford. Honestly, he never thought he’d survive that long.

At one point while he had been dating Agatha, he’d let himself imagine a future with her. He’d imagined that he would just marry into the Wellbelove family and things would fall into place from there. He knew now that that had just been the easy way out, a way of escaping from actually having to decide what (or who) he really wanted.

No wonder it had taken him so long to realize that he was obsessed with Baz.

He never could have predicted that he’d end up with a boy, much less a vampire who used to be his enemy, but somehow that’s what happened, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe he liked girls too, he wasn’t sure, but he knew without a doubt that he liked Baz the most.

After all their fighting and hating each other, it had only taken a moment between them and a desperate kiss for Simon to finally realize how he felt. Just as always, it was so much better for him to just go with the flow. What was the point of trying to think about the future when it was impossible to predict? He didn’t want to think about the past or the future, so he threw himself into enjoying the present.

Even though he didn’t like working all that much, he did love that the store was right next to a bakery. He spent a lot of time looking into the window and drooling. He often spent his lunch break watching them as they added finishing touches to the cakes.

This was happiness, he thought as he ate: no thinking, no feeling, just being.

---

“I love you, Simon,” Baz whispered, his voice wavering with an emotion that Simon didn’t recognize. “I love you so much.”

Simon’s eyes widened.

It had been about half a year since they had officially become boyfriends, but neither one of them had said those words aloud to each other before. Baz had been practically in love with Simon ever since puberty hit, and on some level Simon understood that by now, but he had no idea how he was supposed to respond. His mouth hung open dumbly.

When he didn’t say anything back, Baz averted his eyes and cleared his throat awkwardly, his features twisting into a scowl.

Simon took Baz’s hand in his gently, a silent apology, a silent answer.

Baz looked up at him, reassured by his touch. They were always holding hands. They did it more than talking. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Simon looked a bit sheepish. “You know me, Baz. I… I’m not sure what I’m feeling most of the time.” He hated his own excuses, even if they were true. “But I do know that I’m so happy to be with you. That’s the one thing that I’m absolutely sure of.”

“You’re happy,” Baz confirmed, keeping his voice neutral, “but you don’t know if you love me back.”

Simon heard a small spark of anger in his voice, which Simon knew by now meant he was actually just disappointed and feeling defensive. He squeezed Baz’s hand, terrified that this was going to mess things up between them. He wanted to say it back so badly. There was no one else he could ever imagine saying it to.

But he knew Baz, and he knew that Baz wouldn’t want to hear it unless it was the truth.

The only experience he’d ever had with saying ‘I love you’ was with Agatha, but neither of them had actually understood what they were saying back then. They had both just been going through the motions, trying to keep each other by doing what they thought they needed to do. In the end, relying on a love that just wasn’t there was what ruined them. He didn’t want that to happen between him and Baz. He wanted to be sure.

“It’s just…” Simon said, trying his best to explain truthfully, “I don’t even know what that word means. I’ve never really… No one’s ever really…”

Baz nodded silently in understanding. He should’ve realized that Simon would need time. No one had ever really cared for Simon like this, not even family. He’d always been on his own.

The side of Baz’s mouth twitched up in an attempted smile, and he leaned over to kiss Simon on the cheek, pressing his lips against as many of Simon’s moles as he could find. “Take your time, then,” he said softly between kisses. “I’m not going anywhere.”