#coming tomorrow to replace the ones i broke last year like three days after purchasing. they are so cute and also only £10....

[steelycunt]

sorry for succumbing to the thrill of litl pakaj. it will happen again

[mochinek0]

2021:8-Hurt

Lila couldn't believe what she was seeing: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in a stupid Santa outfit and hanging off Damian Wayne's arm, as if she belonged there. Marinette wore a red Santa dress, complete with the white trim and black belt, white stockings, and black boots hat went up to her knees. Damian Wayne kept his arm comfortably around her waist as they talked with other people form Gotham. She couldn't even get close to hear what was being said. Lila had been placed in the opposite group from them, but there was always tomorrow. As they past by a shop, Lila noticed something in the window.

"Oh, I see somehting for my momma; I'll just be one moment." she quickly called, running into the store.

'How is this possible?'

Lila plastered a smile on her face, hoping no one would notice how cold she really was. She had quickly purchased a red, leather Santa dress with a giant black belt, the previous day. She had made sure it hugged her curves in all the right spots. Damian Wayne wouldn't know what hit him. When it came time for Bustier's class and Gotham Academy to break up into two group, she quickly found the young Wayne heir.

"Damian." She cooed, "Want to be in my group?"

"No." he declared, before walking off.

She couldn't believe he turned her down, after all she went through for him. She was freezing her ass off and told her 'no'! To add insult to injury, he stood next to Marinette, again! She wasn't even pretty! She was in a giant Robin hoodie and some joggers that read Gotham Academy down the leg. She looked like she hadnt even put any effort into her look; even her hair was thrown up in a messy bun! Marinette looked like she had crawled out of bed!

Damian put his arm around Marinette and guided her to a coffee shop on the corner, when she yawned and snuggled deeper into her hoodie. Their group smiled as the two walked off and nodded, as they followed them.

'I don't believe this!'

Lila stomped her leg down, but she hadn't been paying attention to the ground and brought her leg down on a patch of ice. She screamed as hit the floor. The last thing she remembered was the scent of peppermint, before she blacked out.

'Why does my head hurt so much? I feel like I've been sick for a week.'

Lila blinked her eyes open and found herself staring at some lights.

"Where am I?" she questioned, out loud.

"Lila!" someone shrieked, before they threw themselves on her.

"Get off!" she screamed, not knowing who the offending party was.

When they pulled away, she realized she had shouted at Alya. Looking around, she saw she was in a hospital room and the group she had been with, was in her room. She quickly noticed, her leg had been bound and was now in a cast that went up to her thigh. Her clothes were gone and replaced by that horrible rag of a gown.

"Lila, are you okay?" asked Rose.

"My head hurts and the lights seem really bright." she answered.

"They said it wouldn't be a surprise if you had a concussion." declared someon from Gotham, "You slipped on ice, broke your leg, and thankfully didn't crack your head in the process."

Lila looked around the room and saw Damian Wayne, bored out of his mind, with Marinette curled up in his lap, asleep.

"This is all your fault, Marinette!" Lila screamed, "I can't believe you broke my leg and hurt me so badly that-

"Mari wasn't around you when you fell." spoke up a girl from Gotham, "She was with us in the coffee shop. We had to come here since you injured yourself."

"If you hadn't been flirting with my boyfriend-" she continued, only for people from Gotham to start laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Sabrina.

"They are laughing at her because Marinette has been my girlfriend for the past three years, since she was fifteen." Damian growled out.

"Yeah!" a girl smiled, "They're Gotham's 'IT' couple. They're everywhere in the papers, if you could actually read them."

"Even the Daily Planet has written articles about them." spoke another.

"Soon to be married, right?" teased another.

"I haven't proposed." Damian stated.

"Yet." chided another.

"It's okay, Dami." Marinette yawned, stirring awake. She could tell that what they were hinting at was getting to him, "We don't have to get married any time soon. Don't listen to them. If you're comfortable with our relationship and how it is, then, that's how it will stay."

Marinette leaned up and kissed his cheek in reassurance.

"Awww." cooed the kids from Gotham.

Marinette remained in her relaxed position on Damian's lap and asked, "How could I have done anything to you?"

"That stupid Santa outfit. It's why I was so cold and broke my leg." Lila cried, holding her head.

"But Lila, you said that you lived here in Gotham, before. You should have known what the weather was like. I know because I visit Dami for Christmas; I wore combat boots with grooves on the bottom, especially since I'm clumsy." Marinette answered.

A male from the Gotham class picked up Lila's boots, "No grooves. These are super easy for you to slip on ice; there's no resistance. I say that you breaking your leg was inevitable."

"As for my Santa dress, it was velvet, but the inner lining had insulation. It was basically a sweater dress." Marinette continued, "Not just because of the winter, but I get cold easily. I did the same thing to my leggings. Yours, on the other hand, they are regular tights that you would wear to school in Paris. That horrible Santa dress you wore earlier, that the doctor's had to cut off of you, was genuine leather. The only thing that would have done in this type of weather, was shrink and make you colder."

Lila noticed Damian's eyes narrow in her direction. She could only guess that somehting Marinette had said, upset him. Lila hated everything about this situation: she couldn't move, everyone was watching Marinette pick apart her wardrobe choices, and she couldn't confront her.

"Wow, Mairnette!" Adrien smiled, "You really had everything prepared."

"Of course." she answered, "If I'm gonna be a fashion designer, I have to be prepared for the weather and know all about the fabric going into creating outfits."

A knock on the door, drew everyone's attention. A nurse walked in and announced, "Visiting hours are coming to an end. Layla has to take her meds."

Damian patted Marinette's head and spoke, "Let's head back to the manor. I'll call Alfred to make sure he has some hot soup ready. I don't want you getting sick on me."

Marinette just smiled, as she slid off his lap. Damian was quick to usher her out of the door. Any kids from Gotham, quickly followed after the couple. The class from Paris hesitated on what to do, but Adrien took that first step out the door, calling for the others to wait up for him.

That one step, was the first crack in their perspective: Lila claimed she was dating Damian Wayne, but everyone from Gotham had backed up Damian's relationship with Marinette, to the point where they would soon be engaged. She had lied to them, but she was still sick and needed them, right?

"What about me?" Lila questioned, "When can I leave?"

"You have a broken leg, possible concussion, and the onset of pneumonia, since you were careless enough to not dress for the weather." the nurse answered, "You won't be leaving the hospital any time soon. You all need to leave; I have to change her IV bags."

The Parisian class quickly filed out, waving Lila bye and a quick recovery. After her medicine had been changed, the nurse came back and placed a plate of cookies and a cup of eggnog on her tray.

"Make sure you leave some for Santa." the nurse winked, before leaving the room, as the medicine proceeded to knock out the visiting girl.

Lila woke up to a nurse changing out her IV bag.

"Merry Christmas, Dear." the lady smiled, "It's still a tad early; go ahead and go back to sleep."

Lila laid still for a moment before she reached for her phone. Her phone had been bombarded with text messages and a couple missed calls from her mother.

"Momma?" she whispered, still deluded by the medicine.

"Mr. Wayne was able to get in contact with her and she reached out to us. I believe she's on the next flight out." the nurse answered, before leaving the room.

'Great.'

Lila clicked on the group chat only to find she had been removed.

'What is going on?'

She opened a text from Alya and finally understood.

After we left the hospital, Bruce Wayne, himself saw us. We asked him about you and told him about all the amazing things you had done. We asked if he was proud of his goddaughter, but he said he never heard about you. His son, Tim, pointed out every mistake and showed us how you couldn't be telling the truth! I posted your stories on my blog! Oh and btw, the Waynes loooooove Marinette. Damian's brother refer to her as their sister. We decided, as a class, that all we want for Xmas from you is an apology and to know why you lied to us. Merry Christmas, Lila.-ALYA

Lila sighed and turned off her phone.

'Why would I apologize? They were the idiots who believed me. It's not my fault they weren't smart enough to use Google. Maybe I could persuade Momma to homeschool me. Shouldn't be that hard with a broken leg.'

@maribat-calendar-events

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[katandabbieslife]

The Long Awaited Update, maybe, if anyone still reads our stuff...

So, it’s me, Abbie, who dropped the ball this time and not Kat. I promised you guys an update about why we were gone all summer and that did not happen. To explain it, completely, I might need to go back Winter break 2 years ago. It was right around the time we started this blog. Kat and I were both full time students and working to pay for food and bills. We both let our jobs know in September that we’d need winter break off to go home for the holidays as a lot of employers in college towns expect. We were both told that would not be a problem and we made plans, book flights because they’re much cheaper when booked in advance. We were set! Wrong, we were both screwed. Schedules came out for the weeks of winter break and Kat was scheduled for 2 days that first week and then scheduled for Christmas Eve, and the day after Christmas. Kat went to ask if it was a mistake and her boss told her no, that it wasn’t a mistake and they couldn’t spare her for two weeks. She explained we booked our flights in early October because we were told she’d be off. Kat explained she needed the time off to visit family and they told her they couldn’t do it. Kat told them she was already told she’d have to time off and was going home to visit family at which point they told her if she was a no call no show, that they’d have to terminate her. She broke down in tears and went back to work. Over the next couple days, she kept begging them to give her the time off. She talked to co-workers to try to get those days covered and several said they would do it. They just had to convince their asshole manager.

 Just as Kat was seemingly ready to get her situation finished, mine popped up. My schedule had me scheduled for a full 40 hours for both weeks. I was beyond shocked because I never worked over 32 hours and usually only 28 hours. I went to ask why I was scheduled for a full 40 hours and the bitch told me “Oh, you only work a short schedule because you’re a student, and since school is out for these two weeks, we had some of you kids want to go home to family for the holidays and we need you to cover some of those shifts since classes are out.” I threw my schedule down on the desk and said “Yeah, some kids wanted to go home for the holidays, I was one of them, I put in for this in September and you said it was approved, what the fuck happened?” and she just blankly stared at me. I asked when some of the other put in for the break and she was like last month, and proceeded to tell me I should ask for time off 3 weeks in advance, I pointed out I asked 3 months in advance. She gave me a shitty grin and a chuckle and told me to get back to work. I refused and told her we had flights booked for over two months and they were non-refundable (not sure if they were or not, just said that to hopefully change her mind) and she told me, I hope you didn’t pay a lot, it would suck to lose all that money for something you can’t use. I told her “I’m not going to lose money, I’ll go to the labor board or small claims court since these were booked AFTER you approved my time off.” She told me to stop being dramatic. I explained I would be going home for the holidays one way or another. After arguing with both our respective bosses, we were finally told we’d get the time off. We thought it was all settled. We left, we had a great holiday, we came back to school. We stopped by both of our places of employment to get our schedules and Kat was told she’d been replaced. She came out in tears and I comforted her and explained we’d get her another job. She calmed down and we drive to my shithole job and I get my schedule and I’m scheduled for 3 hours one day, 5 hours another and only have 5 total days scheduled in two weeks. 16 hours for 2 weeks. I raised hell and it did me no good.

 Kat started her job search and I worked my few hours while filing out applications Kat brought home for me since I was looking for a new job too. Our parents knew what went on just before break and they weren’t surprised when we had to call them for extra money for bills and rent. As some of you know, My mother is an attorney and my Stepdad(Now Dad, he officially adopted me Aug. 2018) owns a small chain of like 30 or so sporting goods stores in my home state. Kat Parents own a huge Horse farm/Ranch made up of three original farms combined to make one large one. Our families are doing nicely. By this time, almost a year into our relationship, our parents were already friends and talking on a regular basis through texts, Email, and phone calls, I figure initiated by my slightly over protective mother because she feels responsible for my abuse at the hands of my biological father. Anyway, they are all friends and talk often. Mom told me to get a list of our rent and average monthly bills together and call her tomorrow. And in the meantime, Kat’s Parents put money in her account and mine did the same. I called mom with the rent and average bills and I expected her to be putting a budget or something together because “moms love that shit” right? We talked for a bit and then she said she had some phone calls to make.

 She called back a couple hours later and she told me to put it on speaker phone and I heard her asking “Katherine, are you guys there?” and we heard Kat’s parents chime in and say “yes, we’re here.” We all said hi and Kat and I were looking at each other like “W.T.F.?” Mom started by telling me I needed to go quit my job immediately after the phone call, Kat’s mom told Kat to tear up any applications she had filled out and to never mind finding a new job. Again, Kat and I looked at each other like “W.T.F.?” Mom and Katherine(Kat’s mom) both started telling us how they couldn’t believe how much trouble we had just trying to come home for the holidays and how upset they were when, at first, they didn’t think they’d get to see their girls for the holidays. They were glad when we finally got to come home but they expected we’d face some kind of retaliation for taking the time off. They were a little shocked at what actually happened, they thought it would be the opposite and we’d get the hours dogpiled on us instead, causing our schoolwork to take a backseat. They both wondered that if we got new jobs, would we get too many hours to handle both work and schoolwork? Or would we go through the same trouble next holiday season? Would we get to enjoy summer break? At which point they collectively decided to pay our bills, our rent, our food, and we’d get a small bump in our monthly allowances. My allowance was guilt money from Mom anyway. Most of it goes into a saving account anyway, I also get money from stud fee’s from my German Shepherd Franklin. Usually around $500 a month sometime more (if he gets lucky, if you know what I mean? : ) Our parents were paying for school anyway, our bills did not add that much more in comparison.  We just had stipulations. Every break, we have to go home to visit at least for a week unless we’re granted a reprieve. This only applies to Thanksgiving, Winter, and Summer breaks. All other breaks are short and we’re free to do with as we please. Because of comments I made to my mother about how much cam girls make online and how I bet Kat and I would make bank doing the cam girl thing, we were told “Absolutely no porn!” If they ever found a single picture of either of us online, a nipple, a lip, a butthole, our agreement would be null and void and we’d have to get jobs and all money would be pulled except for tuition, of course. (Way to go Mom, take all the fun stuff away and leave us with Work and School only! LOL) Anyway, we agreed, we wouldn’t do Porn. We also have to keep our grades up, which wouldn’t be hard since we wouldn’t have to worry about reading chapters on breaks at work, or getting papers written before our shifts. Everything seemed great. We agreed. Without having to work a part time job after class, I used the free time in the evening to pick up a few more classes each semester and have since taken classes from (8am to 7:30pm) 3 days a week and (8am to 7pm) 2 days a week, assuming the classes are offered, and luckily they have been. Those extra classes allowed me to double major and earn two bachelor degree’s this past spring, when I was only on track for one degree and only a few classes short of my second which I had planned on earning the end of this current semester, but my schedule worked out and the classes were offered during my new found free time.

 Skip ahead to December of 2018 and you have stories of my Birthday Party, our Holiday party, and that’s where we left off. Through spring semester, things got hectic again. I loaded my schedule to get as many classes done as I can and with any luck, I can graduate early.

 Our lives were also changed last year when we went home for winter break and I can’t wait for that chapter to start. Some of you know we’re both engaged with full blessings from both my family and hers, and we’re planning on getting married in June. One year of dating, and then 2 years and 3 months of engagement until the wedding. We’re still as happy now as we were on day one, if not happier. Kat’s mom corners us every chance she gets with wedding planning. We’ve already decided on getting married by our favorite lake on their farm, but the details are what Momma Katherine loves to obsess over and I love her for it. Ok, on to the life changer. I wrote about Kat handling the purchase of the farm northern property line of her parents property. The days leading up to arriving back home for winter break were filled with Exams and Kat making contract changes with my mother, the attorneys advice. She and Kat talked as much the week before we went home than she and I since summer break all combined. Mom helped Kat make changes and Kat emailed it to her parents attorney to make the changes official. Kats parents had been telling us they were going to take us out to celebrate when we got home and were just told we were celebrating the new addition to the company and the plans for that part of the property. Ok, well, the life changer will not be in this quick little update since the original draft of this was 28 pages long and over 22,000 words. It kind of bled into everything above then into Winter break 2018/2019. I found my Word document that I journaled in during break, just as I do with stuff I think I will write about later. So, we have this update that will hopefully explain a few things about us, and I will follow that up with the posts about last year’s winter break. I have my word files from the spring and summer too so those will be written up when I get time. For now, here is a chance to learn a little more about us. If you’re still around reading our ramblings, thank you for your patience, if you’re new, enjoy what’s been posted already and please, do not hold us to a schedule. We don’t mean to be liars by saying we’ll be posting soon and not posting for months, it’s just that life and schoolwork take precedence over Tumblr posting. I hope you understand. -Abbie

[rulesofthebeneath]

rooftop (hbad au)

<AN> Well... y’all asked for it. Also side note: please please please let me know if any of the hindi is wrong. I’ll be providing translations at the end of the fic. I used Romanized text instead of Devanagari script here.

Tagging: @pixelburied @witchiegirl @lorosette @itsbrindleybinch @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @ajaysbhandari @ylevolenahs @hufflepvnk

</AN>

It had been a few weeks since he and Grace had talked about getting married, and Ajay felt like he was finally ready to ask.

He had taken every single thing into account when he was planning, as a good director had to. Location, check: he was in the elevator on his way to the landlord’s office to talk about getting access to the rooftop. He’d met the man a few times before: he was a verified grump, but Ajay was confident in his ability to persuade the man to his side. Lighting, check: he’d sneakily purchased string lights the other day while Grace had been at rehearsal. Sound, check: portable speakers, courtesy of Lysander back from their Bonnie & Clyde days, and a playlist of all the songs she’d ever texted him about. Costumes, check: he’d ironed out his best button-down and khaki pants for the occasion, something nice but still comfortable and hopefully just casual enough to catch her off guard. And finally, for props: he’d basically cleared the nearest flower kiosk out of lilacs, her favorite, and roses just thrown in for a change of pace.

But the most important prop was in his pants pocket, and he took it out now, running his thumb over the small wooden box. He’d ordered the engagement ring from a small artisan jeweler based in New York, so it hadn’t cost him much to get it delivered. His dad had called when Ajay texted to ask his advice on how much to spend on the ring, and the two had had a long discussion about prices and expectations and finances that left Ajay feeling very secure in his choice. He had found a beautiful ring with a gold band and a few small diamonds surrounding a slightly larger focal diamond. He really loved the style (and the price), and he knew Grace would too. She didn’t wear much fancy jewelry, so he knew she’d want something low-key.

By far the hardest part had been figuring out her ring size, since he still wanted to keep the timing of his plans secret. He’d been lucky enough though, one morning two weeks ago, to find her class ring from college sitting out on their dresser. After a very awkward conversation that definitely left her suspicious, he determined that it did still fit comfortably on her ring finger and was able to discern her ring size.

Finally, the elevator arrived at the first floor, and Ajay quickly walked down the hall and knocked on his landlord’s office. The man, Simon, kept him waiting but eventually opened the door, welcoming him inside with little more than a grunt. Ajay took a seat across from Simon at his desk. Simon stared at him until Ajay realized he was supposed to be speaking.

“What are the rules on rooftop access?”

“No.”

Ajay blinked, but argued back.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my roof. No.”

Ajay crossed his arms.

“We won’t be loud and I promise we’ll clean up any mess we make.”

“No.”

Ajay narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Simon’s stony expression. The man could’ve easily thrown Ajay out of his office if he didn’t want to talk to him; Ajay knew from experience that the rudeness wasn’t beneath him. Simon must just be waiting for the right argument.

“I want to do something special for my girlfriend,” Ajay tried, attempting to solve the puzzle.

“And what’s that?” Simon asked, his expression betraying nothing.

Finally, Ajay thought, a weak point.

“Well, Grace and I have been together for almost two years now, and we’re both taking the weekend off to spend time with each other, so-”

Simon cut him off. “You’re going to propose.”

Ajay involuntarily turned red, but cleared his throat. “Yes, I am.”

Simon studied Ajay, and Ajay resisted the urge to fidget as the landlord’s eyes considered him. Finally, Simon spoke again.

“Fine,” he grunted, and Ajay broke into a wide grin. Before Ajay could open his mouth to thank him, though, Simon cut him off.

“But here’s some rules. You can play music for a maximum of thirty minutes between the hours of seven pm and nine pm. You get one warning if it’s too loud, and if it’s still too loud after that I’m kicking you off. And listen, young man, I shouldn’t have to say this, but no funny business on my roof. That’s what you’ve got an apartment for.”

Ajay’s eyes widened at that last statement, but he managed to maintain control of his words.

“Yes, sir. Thank you so much, this means a lot to me.” He thought he saw a hint of a smile from under Simon’s long beard, but he lost it as Simon turned to procure the key to the rooftop access.

“Get it to my dropbox by 9 am tomorrow, or the replacement cost’s coming out of your rent.”

Ajay couldn’t help himself from grinning at the landlord as he pocketed the small key. “Again, thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, get out of my office,” Simon said bluntly, and Ajay stood up rapidly to make his exit.

***

Almost five hours later, Grace turned her key in the lock and entered the apartment. She was sweaty from her all-day rehearsal, but very ready to spend a relaxing weekend with her boyfriend.

It had become a bit of a tradition for them, these regularly scheduled “stay-cations” every few months. Between the busy schedules and large time demands of show business, the couple had had to put something in place to make sure that they set enough time aside for each other.  It was easier ever since they moved in together, but Grace still loved having a few days just for them every once in a while.

This one was particularly special, because it came almost exactly on their second anniversary. The exact day had been yesterday, but Ajay had been forced to stay late working with a star-studded cast that was giving him hell, and Grace had needed to clock some hours at a dance studio anyways. The show she was rehearsing was notorious for its difficult dance sequences, and as a swing she was expected to know them all. But she had found a deep love for dancing, and even though it was a lot of work she didn’t mind doing it. A job was a job, and a gig as a swing on a long-running Broadway show meant amazing things to come.

It did mean, however, that Ajay was asleep by the time she gave up dancing and crawled into their bed at three am, and that he was long gone for the day when she woke up around lunchtime. Their schedules were grueling, and Grace desperately missed spending time with him.

So naturally, she threw herself into Ajay’s arms as soon as she walked through the door, her dance bag falling to the ground as his arms wrapped around her, holding her to him tightly until he noticed the sweat stench and quickly released her to avoid ruining his clothes. That was when she noticed the wonderful smell emanating from the kitchen.

“You’re my savior,” she proclaimed, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I thought we’d be going out and I’d have to be in front of people.”

“No people,” Ajay reassured her, “just me and you, a delicious dinner, a little Sinatra, and a sky full of stars.”

“How poetic. Wait… a sky full of… oh my god, did you get roof access?”

Grinning, he pulled the key out of his blazer pocket. She gasped.

“How did you get Simon to give you that?”

“That’s a secret,” he teased, smirking. He pressed a light kiss to her nose, then shoved her towards the bathroom. “Now go take a shower, you smell terrible.”

“Thanks,” Grace answered over her shoulder, rolling her eyes lovingly as she entered the bathroom. She washed her sweat away and let her sore muscles relax under the hot spray of the shower, humming some of the lyrics to the musical she’d been rehearsing. The music seemed to be permanently implanted in her head.

When she got out of the shower after fifteen blissful minutes, the towel she wrapped herself in was perfectly warm and dry, like it had just been taken out of the dryer. She made a mental note to thank Ajay for that later. What a thoughtful nerd, she thought fondly, leaving the bathroom and proceeding to her closet to pick out something nice but not too nice to wear. After all, they would be on the roof and she wanted to impress him, but she was too tired to go full formal.

Grace eventually decided on a soft pink shirt and a black skirt, accompanied by her signature knee-high boots. Under them, she wore her fuzziest Cookie Monster socks. She’d take the secret to her grave, but the only reason she liked wearing boots was because she could wear whatever socks she wanted under them. Sometimes a stressful work week needed crazy socks, and she knew Ajay agreed because she’d caught him rifling through her sock drawer on more than one occasion. She quickly dried her hair and did some simple makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. She figured she’d be getting more than enough sleep this weekend to make up for them: one of her and Ajay’s favorite things to do together was nap, because neither of them got enough sleep.

She finally emerged from the bedroom to see Ajay packing two plates and two sets of utensils into a large picnic basket that she hadn’t even known they owned. When he saw her, he smiled.

“You look beautiful,” he said, crossing the small kitchen to take her hands in his.

“You always say that,” Grace countered, biting her bottom lip playfully.

“It’s always true.” He turned back to the picnic basket and closed it, then hoisted the handles over his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

“Hell yes,” Grace cheered, “I’ve been wanting to see this roof forever.”

The pair left their apartment, fingers intertwined, to explore what laid beyond the mysterious roof access door.

Once she crossed the threshold, Grace could instantly tell that Ajay had really put some thought into the plans for tonight.

A large, thick, soft-looking blanket was spread out across the center of the flat roof, looking inviting. A small space-heater was set up beside it, because even though it was May the night could still get chilly. Beyond the blanket was a portable speaker—Grace recognized the one Ajay had used in Bonnie & Clyde—and string lights indicating a clear space, possibly for them to dance.

Grace could only squeeze Ajay’s hand in gratitude, recognizing the effort he must have gone through to put everything together. He kissed her temple and led her towards the blanket where they both sat.

“I still want to know how you got Simon to let us up here,” Grace said as she unpacked the food from the basket.

“It’s still a secret, janu.”

Grace rolled her eyes at him lovingly, then lifted the lid of one of the containers.

“Wow, Korean barbecue beef? You know this is my favorite…”

“That’s why I made it,” Ajay said, grinning. “Check the rest of the basket.”

Grace dug out a generous container of rice, a thermos of roasted vegetables (extra peppers but no carrots- he had remembered!), and finally a small box that Grace suspected was full of desserts. She raised an eyebrow at Ajay, who just shrugged and motioned to the box. Grace cautiously opened the box, then lost all semblance of caution when she saw what was inside.

“That’s cinnamon apple turnovers!”

“Yup, homemade this time.”

“Really? You didn’t just run down to the bakery during intermission–”

Ajay cut her off with a long kiss, then pulled back a few inches, their faces still close together.

“No, I made those myself. And I burned half my fingers doing it,” he said in a low voice, making Grace snort with laughter.

“You’re not usually that clumsy,” she noted between laughs. “And you’re a pretty good pastry chef, so what gives?”

Ajay simply hummed, turning away from her to start serving their meal. “My hands might have been shaking,” he admitted.

Grace raised her eyebrows. “How come?”

“That’s a secret, too,” he teased, pausing to give her a wink. Grace’s heartbeat sped up, a warm feeling of comfort and love filling her chest. She leaned forward to wrap her arms around his waist, kissing the nape of his neck as he finished loading a plate with food.

They dug in to the feast, talking and joking around as much as they could while savoring the perfectly marinated barbecue and the fluffiest rice Grace thought she’d ever tasted. Even the vegetables tasted amazing, roasted with olive oil according to Ajay. Grace ate her fill and then some, stealing chunks of the beef off Ajay’s plate to his indignation. He kept her glass filled with a seemingly endless supply of strawberry-flavored sparkling water (Grace had developed an addiction to the stuff, and now it was practically all she would drink) and let her have more than her share of the cinnamon apple turnovers (he had made three just to prepare for her wanting extras).

After the food was all eaten, Grace cleared the dishes into the empty basket while Ajay fiddled with his phone and the speakers, eventually getting them to play Sinatra songs at a volume that they could still hear but that hopefully wouldn’t provoke Simon’s rage. He helped her up and led her over to the little dance floor that he’d set up with the lights, then pulled her in close as they swayed together to the music.

After a few moments of wonderful, beautiful, comfortable silence, Grace spoke back up with the one thing that was on her mind.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me how you really got Simon to give us access?”

Ajay sighed. “I guess you’ll never leave it alone until I do, yeah?”

Grace pulled away slightly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Did you sleep with him?” she joked.

“What?!”

“Because if you did, just saying, you could’ve invited me too.”

“Grace, what the actual-”

“Might’ve been fun. But now we’ll never know.”

Ajay rolled his eyes, trying not to give his girlfriend the satisfaction of knowing that her jokes were funny.

“He was actually really easy to convince,” Ajay said, “When I told him what I wanted it for.”

“Oh yeah? What did you tell him?” Grace asked, thinking she knew where he might be going with this. She prayed he couldn’t feel her heart pounding.

“Yeah. Well, first I walked down to his office and I just asked, and he shut me down but didn’t throw me out like he did the last few times we went to ask.”

“Surprise number one,” Grace quipped.

“Tell me about it. So I thought maybe I’d try a practical appeal.”

“Sensible.”

“I told him we’d clean up and we wouldn’t be loud.”

“And?”

“He still said no. But still didn’t make me leave. So I pulled out the greatest weapon in my arsenal.”

“Which was…?”

“An emotional appeal. The man has to have a heart somewhere.”

Grace smiled against Ajay’s shoulder, his arms wrapped even tighter around her. She could feel his heartbeat from where her forehead was nestled in the crook of his neck, and it was fast. She knew exactly where he was going with this, but she couldn’t imagine ruining it for him. She just pressed into his chest more, let him hold her closer as he continued.

“I told him how, eleven years ago, I met the love of my life but I didn’t know it was her. How I loved her, and then lost her, and then found her again so many years later.”

“Awww, Ajay..”

“I told him about how you mean the world to me, and how I want to make every single moment with you as special as it can be. I told him that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Did you really say all that to Simon?” Grace tried to blink back tears, overwhelmed by all of Ajay’s beautiful words.

“No. But I implied it with what I did say. I said it was our second anniversary, and that I wanted to do something really special for you. And he said, ‘You’re going to propose,’.”

Grace snuggled in closer to Ajay, the tears in her eyes starting to fall.

“And I said, ‘Yes, I am,’.”

Ajay separated himself from Grace, unwrapping her arms from around his shoulders. Far enough back, he kneeled down where he’d been standing and took out a small wooden box. Grace, unsure what to do, busied herself wiping away her tears. Ajay noticed the action and looked alarmed, but his panic faded when Grace showed him the big smile behind her tears. He grinned back up at her, his own eyes starting to glint with tears.

“Y’know, Grace, I wrote you a speech but I can’t remember a word of it. That’s how much you take my breath away, how you scatter my best-laid plans to the wind.”

Grace choked out a laugh, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

“The gist of it is this: I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be your husband, the father of your children, your partner forever. Will you marry me?”

Ajay opened the box, revealing the delicate ring he’d bought her. Grace didn’t think she’d ever seen anything more beautiful in her life than that ring, besides the man who was holding it, and she got distracted watching the dazzle of the string lights as they hit the small diamonds at just the right angle.

Tears falling freely now, Grace nodded rapidly.

“Yes!” she choked out through the tears. She stuck her left hand out and he slid the ring on, then stood up to wrap her in a tight hug once he’d put the box back in his pocket.

“Why are you crying?” he whispered as he ran his hands up and down her back soothingly.

“Why are you crying?” Grace mumbled into his blazer, sniffing. Ajay kissed the top of her head.

“Because I love you, and I get to love you for the rest of my life.”

Grace cried even harder. “Me too.”

***

The next morning, Grace woke up warm and comfortable with Ajay beside her, gently playing with her hair. She shifted, and he turned to face her, cupping her face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, janu, did I wake you up?”

Grace shook her head, her voice a little hoarse from sleep. “No, but even if you did, I think this is the best way to wake up.”

Ajay grinned and leaned down to kiss her. Once he pulled back, he ran a hand through her hair again.

“Well, good morning then, fiancée.”

Grace took in a surprised breath. “Wow, okay, I’m not gonna get used to that one for a while, fiancé,” she teased back, grinning when he blinked in surprise.

“It’s definitely a new one,” he agreed. “Should we get up, then? I’m hungry, and I think there are a few people who might want to hear about our news.”

Grace groaned into Ajay’s chest. “Can we go ahead and argue about who to call first now, and then get food?”

Ajay laughed. “Let’s call your brother first, if that’s alright? We can do that same thing to him as he did to us when he told you about his first kid.”

As Grace laughed, Ajay rolled out of the bed and grabbed a t-shirt. Grace stretched her back and followed suit, picking a pair of white socks with large yellow lemons on them from the drawer.

“You’re so weird,” Ajay laughed.

“Don’t act like you don’t steal my socks,” Grace responded, raising an eyebrow at him. “And anyways, you know I’m weird. That’s why you love me.”

“You’re right. I knew you were weird and I still asked you to marry me. Ignored all the warning signs…” he teased, only stopping when Grace reached back over to the bed and threw a throw pillow at him playfully.

The pair went into their small kitchen. Ajay microwaved the remnants of a takeout meal from the week before, while Grace poured cereal into a bowl.

Her twin brother, James, still lived in Los Angeles, but he and Grace Skyped every week. About a year ago, around the time Grace and Ajay had moved in together, James had called her with a big grin on his face.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” he had yelled almost as soon as she answered the call, laughing at the bewildered look on her face.

“What?”

“I said congratulations!”

“What did I do?”

James had beckoned his wife into the view of the camera. His wife, Alyssa, was hardly holding back her own laughter.

“Congratulations!” she said, making Grace groan in exasperation. At that point, Ajay had come over to investigate.

“Oh, hi Ajay! This kind of applies to you, too,” James had said. Grace and Ajay traded bewildered looks.

“Congratulations on your new niece or nephew,” James had said calmly, his expression barely holding back his happiness. He had waited for the news to sink in, and had laughed when Grace’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth.

Stirring her cereal, Grace laughed to herself as she remembered that chaotic Skype call. She was so happy her brother had found someone with the same sense of humor as him. Their kid, a little boy they named Gabriel, had been born about six months ago, and Grace had been able to take some time off to go visit the newborn. He was the spitting image of Alyssa, but very loud just like James. Grace had fallen in love with him as soon as she’d seen him.

After breakfast, right at the scheduled time, Grace started a Skype call with James. He picked up quickly, sitting at the breakfast bar with Gabriel in his arms. On Grace’s end, Ajay remained off-camera.

“Hey Grace,” James said. He picked up Gabriel’s little arm to wave at the camera. “Hi Aunt Grace!” he said in a squeaky tone, imitating the baby. Grace giggled.

“Hey, James and Gabe! Is Alyssa there?”

“Yeah, hold on.” James yelled off-camera, and not five seconds later Alyssa walked into the frame.

“Hey, Grace!” she said. “When are you coming down for another visit? We miss you over here.”

“Hopefully pretty soon,” Grace smiled. “In the meantime, I just wanted to offer you guys my congratulations.” She was careful not to let anything on her face give away the news, but she knew it was a futile attempt because her brother knew her way too well to be fooled by a poker face. James raised his eyebrows at her.

“Congratulations? It’s a little late for that, Gabe was born half a year ago.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t referring to that…” Grace deflected, drumming her fingers on the table and trying not to make eye contact with Ajay, who was trying not to laugh.

“Well, what is it, then?” Maybe it was just the early hour, but James hadn’t quite caught on to the fact that she was messing with him yet. From the way Alyssa’s eyes were narrowed, Grace knew she had guessed what was going on.

“It’s just not every day you get a future brother-in-law,” Grace said, avoiding eye contact with the camera. She couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto her face, especially when James shouted in realization.

“Oh my God, Grace! You guys got engaged?” He started fidgeting excitedly so much that Alyssa took the baby away from him, kissing his temple as she did so.

“Yup.” Ajay popped into the frame, standing behind Grace’s chair with his hands resting on her shoulders. Grace held up the ring for Alyssa to inspect.

“It’s beautiful, nice job!” Alyssa said to Ajay, nodding approvingly. Ajay grinned and kissed the top of Grace’s head. James was still sitting in the corner of the frame, shell-shocked.

“James? You alive?”

James still didn’t move until a plaintive meow sounded off-screen, prompting him to pick up the fluffy orange and white cat. After a second, he turned back to the camera.

“Guys…” he said, sounding a little choked up. “This is amazing.”

“I think so, too,” Grace said, putting a hand over Ajay’s.

“Have you guys thought about dates yet? Locations?” Alyssa asked, her wedding-planner side coming out. She had worked as a wedding planner ever since she’d graduated from UCLA, where she and James had met and started dating.

“We haven’t thought about an exact date yet, but I think we want a long engagement,” Ajay said, referencing the brief conversation he and Grace had had the night before after the emotions of the night got less extreme. “And we want the ceremony to be in California, so it’s easy for all our family to come.”

“I could totally help you guys plan it!” Alyssa said, trying to contain her excitement. “Discount rate, because you’re family.”

“That would be amazing,” Grace said. “We’ll get back to you when we know more. This only happened last night. You guys are actually the first people we called.”

After a brief conversation, a brotherly threat from James, and a silly face from Gabe, the twins ended their Skype call.

“That was exhausting,” Grace said, “Who’s next?”

“The one and only Shruti Bhandari. If we’re lucky, we might be able to catch Mohit too.”’

“I miss that kid,” Grace muttered.

“He misses you, too. I keep telling him he needs to text you more if he misses you so much, but he’s worried he’ll bother you.”

“Nonsense!” Grace shouted. “I always have time for Mo.”

“He’s going to be your brother-in-law,” Ajay pointed out. Grace grinned.

Ajay started the call to his mother, and it didn’t take her more than a few seconds to pick up. After some technical difficulties involving the camera on her computer, Shruti started speaking in rapid-fire Hindi. Grace was able to pick out a few words, enough to know that Shruti was admonishing her son for not asking Grace to marry him yet. Ajay buried his face in his hands.

“Namaste, Shruti. Aap kaisi hain?” Grace asked, hoping she’d got the pronunciation of the phrase correct. Shruti’s eyes widened, and she looked to her son.

“Amma, you know I’ve been teaching her Hindi!” Ajay said, exasperated. Shruti recovered and nodded.

“I’m well, Grace, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m doing great!”

“Well, since you clearly understood my question… Ajay, why haven’t you?”

“Don’t make assumptions, Amma.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Ajay grimaced, then picked up Grace’s left hand to show his mom the ring. Shruti gasped.

“He asked last night,” Grace said, a little embarrassed. She put her hand back down, and Ajay wrapped an arm around her.

“I wanted to make it special,” Ajay explained, “And I had a hard time getting our landlord to let me decorate the roof of our building.”

“Oh, betā, I’m so excited for you,” Shruti said, a large smile appearing on her face. “Do you know the date yet? Where are you going to have the ceremony?”

“We don’t know yet, it’s only been a day. Calm down,” Ajay said fondly, and his mom took a deep breath.

“Okay. I’m calm. Tell me about how you proposed!”

Sighing, Ajay told Shruti the story. Not long after, a seventeen-year-old’s voice rang through the kitchen on Shruti’s end of the call.

“Amma? Who are you talking to?”

Ajay grinned. “Mo! Come here.”

“Bhai?” Mohit came rushing into the frame. “Bhai! And Grace! Hi!”

“Hey, Mo!” Grace said. No matter how far apart they were, she loved that kid. “How’s school?”

“Sophomore year, almost over.” Mohit rolled his eyes. “So, how come you called? You never call.”

“I call lots!” Ajay protested, but Shruti took Mohit’s side.

“You would do well to call more. But go on, Ajay, tell him your news.”

Mohit pulled a chair up and sat next to his mom, resting his chin in his hand.

“Grace and I are getting married,” Ajay announced. Mohit cheered.

“Yes! I knew it! I knew it back when you were in high school that you guys were good for each other.”

“We didn’t even know that back then,” Grace joked, “but yes, your brother asked me to marry him last night and I said yes.”

Mohit grinned. “Congratulations. Now, I gotta go meet some friends at the pool, but you’re going to tell me all about it later, Ajay.”

“Will do. See you, Mo.”

Shruti laughed fondly as Mohit ran off. “Well,” she said, “I should probably go too. You guys should come visit soon, okay? I know Grace’s parents would like you to come visit as well.”

“Of course. Main aapse pyaar kartha hoon.”

“Mai bhee aapse pyaar karthee hoon. You too, bahū,” Shruti said, smiling at Grace. Then the call ended.

“What was that last part?” Grace asked, having been caught off-guard by the sudden return to Hindi.

“She said she loves you,” Ajay told Grace, drawing her closer and kissing her forehead gently, “And she called you daughter-in-law.”

“Oh. Wow,” Grace started, incredibly touched. “I think I might start crying again.”

“Oh, don’t. We still have to call your parents, my dad, probably Rosa and Mayleen…”

“Jesus,” Grace groaned.

“Then we should probably make some kind of social media announcement.”

“Nooooo,” Grace groaned. “Can’t we get any time for just us?”

“We have the rest of our lives, janu.”

Translations:

Aap kaisi hain? = How are you?

betā = son

Main aapse pyaar kartha hoon = I love you

[flashhwing]

daylights and midnights and cups of coffee

pairing: DonnaKory summary: Donna, a down-on-her-luck photographer, is looking for a new roommate; Kory, a popular model, is looking for a place to live.  It's a match made in heaven, right? please check the notes for ao3 link

Donna was going to need a new roommate.  Which was a shame, really.  She was starting to truly enjoy her newfound freedom after finally kicking Kyle out of the apartment (a whole month after they broke up, too; it was about time), but.  Well.  Two bedroom, two storey walk-ups in lower Manhattan didn’t exactly come on a bartender’s paycheck.

Stupid artist Kyle and his need for a whole-ass bedroom for “studio space.”  He could’ve just set up his easel in the living room.  They could’ve saved so much on rent.  But no, he just had to insist.  And now he’s fucked off and saddled Donna with this extra room.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of an extra room must be in want of a roommate.

(Okay, maybe she could get a new apartment, but she quite liked this one.  It had granite countertops, and good water pressure, and four cabinets in the kitchen.  That was three cabinets more than her friend Roy had in his East Village studio.)

“Roy only has one cabinet?”

“That’s beside the point!  I need a roommate, and I really don’t wanna look on Craigslist.”

“Hmm.”  Dick sat on the customer side of the bar, wearing a thoughtful expression and brandishing an almost-full pint of Sam Adams in one hand.  Donna didn’t like where that was going.  Dick’s ‘thoughtful looks’ usually ended in spectacularly bad plans and possible bodily harm, and if he spilled that beer it’d be hers to clean up.  Unfair.  The bar wasn’t even open yet.

“Don’t give me that ‘hmm.’  What are you thinking?”  Please don’t let her regret asking.

“Well.  You’re in want of a roommate, right?” Dick raised one eyebrow.  “I happen to know a fantastic lady in want of a room.”

How weirdly and coincidentally helpful of him.

“Sounds perfect,” said Donna.  “What’s wrong with her?”

“What’s … wrong with her?”

“Yeah.”  Donna shrugged.  “What’s wrong with her?  Why doesn’t she have a place to live?”

“Uhh, nothing?  She’s new in town, just moved from LA.”

“Ohhh, so she’s one of your celebrity friends?”  Dick had a habit of befriending celebrity-adjacent people.  He was Rich (with a capital R), and hung out with models and musicians and people who worked on movies.  People on magazine covers.  He had VIP passes to most of the clubs in Midtown because he knew the owners of most of the clubs in Midtown.  

Really, some of Dick’s acquaintances weren’t the sort of people who’d give a down-on-her-luck bartender the time of day.

Dick rolled his eyes.  “I guess you could say that.  She’s great though: she’s fun, she’s down to Earth, she’s stylish – just your type!”

“My type?”

“Of friend!  She’s your type of friend.”

Donna didn’t sigh, but it was a close call.  “That’s great, but it doesn’t tell me anything.  Is she clean?  Is she loud?  Sounds like money’s not an issue, but is she responsible?”

“Yes to all of that.”

“Loud isn’t a good thing, Dick.”

“Okay fine.”  Dick shrugged and leaned back.  “If you can’t accept that one flaw, I guess you’ll have to just find some schmuck off Craigslist.”

“No, it’s.”  Donna groaned.  “It’s fine. What’s her name?”

“Kory.”

She’d heard that name.

“Kory.  You don’t mean your ex, Kory?”

“Is that a problem?”

Donna pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Why are you trying to set me up with your ex?”

“Hey, not all exes are created equal!” Dick said, maybe a little too quickly.  “I know you’re still reeling from Kyle, but Kory’s not some slack-off jerk-face like him.  Promise.”

“Well, if you promise.”

Dick tilted his head pointedly.  “Oh, come on.  We broke up like two years ago and I’m still friends with her.  That should be recommendation enough.”

“That doesn’t mean much.  You’re friends with all your exes.  Roy … Babs …”

“Yeah, coz I don’t date assholes.”

Donna narrowed her eyes.  What happened that patented Dick Grayson charm?  Or was that reserved for strangers and reporters, old friends be damned?

He must’ve seen the look on her face, because he quickly tacked on, “Too soon?”

All he got in response was a small hmph.

“Sorry.  But seriously, why are you being so resistant?”

Why was she being resistant?  This was good, technically.  She’d spent the last two weeks asking around for friends of friends of friends who were possibly looking for a place to live, with no luck.  And here Dick was, suggesting someone who definitely (probably?  How much did models make?) had enough money that rent wouldn’t be a problem.  Someone he knew and held in high regard – and as much as Donna liked to tease him, Dick was a good judge of character.  Kory should be, more or less, a perfect roommate.  So, what was Donna’s problem?

Maybe it was that she’d met Kory once and could say, without exaggeration, that she was the most intimidatingly beautiful woman Donna had ever seen.

Not that she could say that to Dick.

“I’m not … I’m not being resistant,” Donna said.  “Go ahead and give her my number.  Have her call me if she’s interested.  And either drink that beer or get out, we’re opening.”

Dick slid his glass across the bar and hopped off his stool with a mock salute.  “Knew you’d give in.  See ya tomorrow, Troy?”

“Later, Dick.”

Kory moved in two days later, on a Friday.

It wasn’t like Donna hadn’t met Kory before.  She had, once, during her senior year of college.  It was at some Wayne Enterprises banquet she had to attend for her scholarship.  Dick had introduced them, and Kory had told some story about her sister and an angry pelican, and Donna had walked away from the encounter with a general feeling of holy shit.

But that was two years ago, and even the memory of holy shit wasn’t enough to prepare Donna for the sight of Kory Anders, popular instagram model, standing in her living room with two suitcases and a hairless cat.

She just seemed so … out of place.  Donna’s apartment wasn’t bare by any means; there was a couch, a tv, curtains on the windows, and even some of Donna’s prints framed on the wall.  She had a rug on the floor and a blanket thrown over the couch.  It was all very tasteful – and of course it was, having housed pair of artists for nearly two years.

The apartment could be a Renaissance painting, all soft light and muted colors.  And there Kory stood, with her dyed pink hair and flagrantly purple, sleeveless blouse.  Like one bold, bright stroke of paint right down the center of the canvas.

And wow, Donna really needed to get Kyle out of her head.  She was a photographer, not a painter, dammit!

“Your home is lovely,” Kory said with a small smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you,” Donna replied.  “Here, let me grab one of your bags.”  They were both lime green, but otherwise mismatched.  One was a large, hard-shelled roller, the other a half-sized canvas duffel bag.

Most of Donna’s accessories were black (or at least very dark jewel-tones).  Black was practical.  It went with everything, didn’t stand out, never looked dirty … an all-around useful color, really.  

But all of thirty seconds in Kory’s presence, and Donna thought she could stand for more greens or purples or pinks in her life.

Best not read too much into that...

She led Kory to the spare room and gestured around.  “So this’ll be your room.”

Kory looked around, humming appraisingly.  She let the cat jump out of her arms, and Donna gave it a wary eye.  The apartment was pet-friendly, and Kory had assured her that Silkie (seriously, the cat’s name was Silkie) was house-trained, but Donna had never lived with a cat before.  She was more of a dog person, herself.

Plus his wrinkly, pink skin was a little off-putting.  Still, she supposed he was cute in his own sort of disgusting way.

“What are those?”  Kory gestured with her chin towards the ceiling.

Donna looked up and grimaced.  “Yeah, those.  This was Kyle’s studio and he wanted, uh, glowy stars?  For some reason?  I haven’t been able to get them down, sorry.”

“That’s fine.”  Kory said airily.  “It adds a bit of whimsy.”

Donna thought Kory probably knew a lot about whimsy.  Amazingly, the thought wasn’t in her judgemental voice.

“I don’t have a bed or any furniture for you,” Donna said, eyeing the two (only two?) bags Kory had packed.  “Do you …?”

“I’ll have to purchase them,” Kory said.  “I left everything in LA and only brought what I need.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“You can always find cheap furniture,” Kory said as if it was the simplest fact of life.  “I find it easier to replace things than to try and carry them everywhere.”

“Not me, sister,” Donna said, leading Kory back out to the living area.  “That couch is staying with me ‘till the day I die.”

Kory looked at the couch with an inquisitive eye as Donna ducked under the counter separating the living room from the kitchen.  The couch wasn’t anything special, Donna knew – not even a full set.  Just a loveseat and an armchair, both a deep red color.  They weren’t overstuffed, but they weren’t threadbare either.  Overall, it was an exceedingly average couch.

“Does it have some sentimental value?”

“Nope.”  Donna emerged with a three-quarters full bottle of Chianti.  She popped the cork and poured two generous glasses.  “I just like the color red.”

Kory smiled.  It pulled one corner of her mouth higher than the other and made her eyes soft.  Donna smiled in kind and handed her a glass.

“To new roomies,” Donna said, raising her glass.

“To new roomies,” Kory repeated, clinking her glass against Donna’s.  As she took a sip, Donna couldn’t help but notice the wine matched Kory’s lipstick.

A thought occurred to her.

“Hold up.”  Kory stopped, glass still held to her lips.  Donna put up her thumb and forefinger, framing Kory’s face between them  “Stay right there,” she added with a grin.

Kory seemed to catch on as Donna ran to her room for her camera.  Dick must’ve told her Donna was a photographer.  

It wasn’t like she was a professional or anything.  Well, technically she was, had a degree and a practice and all, but mostly she did shoots for senior photos or family portraits or whatever.  She’d tried to do freelance for some magazines, but apparently nobody was interested in pictures from some no-name bartender in New York.  Something about them being a dime-a-dozen.  Even attaching her name to Dick’s (he offered) hadn’t done the trick.

Not that she was giving up.  She still sent out her portfolio and did interviews every chance she got.  She had an instagram with a decent following.  It just … wasn’t enough to live on.

Hence the bartending.

“So where do you want me?”  Kory was perched on one of the kitchen stools when Donna came back out.  Her legs were crossed and she held her wine glass delicately in the air, elbow resting on the counter.

“Right there, actually.”  Donna grinned.  She hadn’t worked with a subject who actually knew what they were doing since college.  This was going to be fun.  “You don’t mind, do you?” she added as she flitted around the room, adjusting the lights to be soft and flattering.

“Oh, not at all,” Kory replied.  “I was actually going to ask how much you charge.”

“How much –”  Donna stopped in her tracks.  A popular model wanted to pay her for her services?  Usually she had random strangers trying to get her to work for free.  “Well, I was gonna give you the friends and family discount.”

“And how much is that?”

“Free.”

Kory’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.  “Free?  Donna, do not undersell yourself.  Everyone else will.”

Donna snorted.  “Ain’t that the truth.  But no, this is just for fun.  Call it a bonding exercise or something.  Besides, I’m not gonna charge you when you haven’t hired me.  You don’t even know how good I am.”

“Dick showed me your instagram.  I may be just a model, but I know good art when I see it,” Kory said with a wink.

“Oh, Miss Anders.”  Don’t blush, don’t fucking blush.  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Will it now?”

“You know it.”  It wasn’t what Donna wanted to say, but she didn’t want to scare Kory off ten minutes after meeting her.  “Alright so … look at the door.”

“What’s my mood?”

Donna considered for a moment.  “You’re on a blind date set up by your best friend, and it’s going great.”

Kory’s demeanor barely changed.  Her posture straightened, her fingers curled a little looser around her glass, and her eyes seemed almost imperceptibly brighter.

“Are they funny?” she asked.

“Mm … they’re witty.”  Donna snapped three shots in quick succession.  “You’re vibing pretty hard.”

“Are they pretty?”

“Just your type.”

Two more shots.  Kory sucked in her lips in what might’ve been the most adorable expression Donna’d ever seen a person bear.  She took three more shots.

“Are we coming back to my place after?”

“Uh … you might wanna buy a bed first.”

Kory threw back her head and laughed.  There.  That was the energy Donna wanted.  She took five shots before Kory turned to look at the camera.

“I think we’re gonna get along splendidly, Miss Troy.”

Donna didn’t bother holding back the grin spreading across her face.

“I think you’re right, Miss Anders.”

[jack-the-dm]

Pathfinder: Untold Wonders!

Chapter 1: Von and Ali

The firm oak door flung open with such ferocity the wall seemed to lose the battle, cracking at the point of impact. The abode was small, a mere two rooms, kept dark during the night while the residents were away. It was always a work in progress, but a certain someone never made it easy. So many years of living together made it a well known fact that idiot didn’t know his own strength.

“Ali! I’m home.” A thunderous voice boomed.

The reply was instant as the owlbear pelt over a crudely made sofa was flung into the air. The startled girl shot up, her horns catching the moonlight as they bent back along her skull like a natural headband before bending outward an inch at the base of the skull. Her void like black eyes zeroed in on the jolly intruder, “Do you have any idea what time it is?!”

The subject of her rage was an Orc like any other. Or rather, the picture of what the average Orc would look like. Standing three ticks under seven feet and weighing damn near three times the girl was a light green skinned slab of muscle. With two fuzzy straps hooking over his chest and into the belt of his black bull skin shorts, the grizzly bear pelt he used as a means of warmth and camouflage was drawn tight to the back of his neck. An axe hung from its place on his hip, bloodstains forever merged into the metal and giving it a misleadingly beautiful shade of crimson. His yellow eyes were bright and lively even as his younger companion scolded him. Dragged behind him were two deer carcasses, a leg in each hand. He heaved a shrug, “Uh... no?”

The girl, a young Tiefling of fourteen years, pointed a maroon skinned hand to the wall he’d just nailed with the door. Her long black hair hung well past her shoulders and her naturally blackened lips curled into a snarl, showing her sharp pointed teeth. Unlike the Orc, the girl wore genuine clothes purchased from the town twenty-two miles east. She didn’t have quite the same figure as most women her age. Living with an Orc since she was an infant had built up more muscle on her frame than a veteran warrior. She still had a feminine shape, but there wasn’t anything soft about her. “I don’t know either! Because you just broke the gods damned clock again!”

Sure enough, on the floor lay the various gears, pendulums, and annihilated birch casing of their clock. That had to be the fourth one in as many weeks. “Er, my bad. Well, I was going to town tomorrow anyways. Oh! Fern still owes me that favour. We can get a new one.”

“You’re not getting it, Dad. You’ve called that favour in seven times already!”

Oh. Oops. The Orc set a massive hand on the back of his neck, “Right, sorry. Guess I’ll need to pay full price then.”

Her palm slammed into her forehead, “Or you could stop kicking the door in.”

“My hands were full!”

__________________________

As the Orc settled in for the night, having butchered the deer and stowed the meat, a thought lingered in his mind.

‘She called me Dad again.’

It wasn’t as good a thing as most would think it. In his younger years, he’d been a prime raider. He’d killed plenty of people, stolen four times as much, and oh the amount of property damage. He was a true menace. That was the life for him. Not anymore though. He couldn’t afford to. With her under his care, he had to teach her how to be upstanding. He had to learn it himself there. Back when he’d even considered being a nice guy, he’d struck a deal with a local town that seemed to play out well for both of them. He would get as much as he could carry from his pillaging spree, but he wasn’t allowed to kill for it. He could erase the town twice over, but it would be rebuilt with his help come the month after. The townsfolk even began to see him as a neighbour. After about two years of that, he’d taken less to pillaging and more to helping around town. Well, on the crest of the third year, he’d gone to town, axe in hand, only to find it wasn’t there anymore. The friends he’d made and the town he’d come to love were gone, replaced by a burning replica. A flaming tower of a monstrosity was parading through the main road. The beast was a mass of flesh and bone fumbling along on all fours as it tried to avoid crushing the houses its mere presence set ablaze. He hadn’t taken much time to examine the scene, but he’d found her there, a bright red infant wailing among the carnage as he hunted for survivors. There weren’t any except her.

It was a strange course of events. He’d never seen a Tiefling in the small town before, never mind anyone of demonic origin. Last time he’d been there, old lady Meragei, an Elf so old he didn’t dare touch her lest she fall apart, had actually complained about the lack of children wandering about and how it made the place all the more dreary. He hadn’t known what he was supposed to do, but while the creature had its back to him, he took her and ran the entire fourteen mile trek without stopping. After that, things had only gotten worse.

With every day came a trial, every week a gamble on whether either of them would live. He’d done everything he could think of to keep them safe. Now, he was looking across the room at the fruits of his years worth of labour. He could honestly say he was happy having brought her up, but it was always a task. He had to make sure he left out most of the Orc culture and lifestyle. Not all his kind were violence obsessed or went giddy at the thought of blood, but enough were that it was rare to hear otherwise. He didn’t want that. It was bad enough she’d been born with demon blood in her heart, but that didn’t mean anything. Hells, he used to be a raider. Now look at them, two outcasts making a home for themselves.

__________________________

When the morning came, the two of them set out. She swung herself into the back of the cart as her father went to the front. It was small, but well made after seven tries. The Orc, Von, looped the leather straps around his chest and began to pull. As the cart started to shift and crawl down the path, Alissia found that she felt a little happy to be heading to town. It would take the better part of the day and they’d spend the night there, but she’d get to see people again. Being the only Orc and Tiefling for literally miles and miles, Von had set up his hut a long way off from anything and anyone. He’d said he didn’t like getting visitors and that it made the villagers feel safer when he strode into town. She wasn’t sure how much of that was true, but there was plenty he kept from her.

Growing up had been hard. She never wanted for anything, save for a few neighbour kids so she wouldn’t be left completely alone when her father went hunting, but in addition to that she’d grown up knowing they were different. He was green, massive, and a little on the slow side if she was so bold. She was lean, varying shades of red, and sported horns complete with a spaded tail. And her claws. Her fingernails were curved just so anything she grabbed felt them dig in, her toes too. His were not so, usually being down to the nub and usually broken or chipped. While she was certainly glad for them when eating and lacking a knife, it was just another difference.

She knew she wasn’t his daughter, but she didn’t know anything else and he... he refused to tell her anything about the day he found her or where or what circumstances convinced a barbarian like him to become a family man. She should count herself lucky, she knew that, but the lingering secrets kept bothering her.

The ride was mostly spent in silence, her hood down so she could feel the beaming sun on her cheeks. It felt good, really good. She was trying to balance a stone on the flat side of her tail, a sort of workout for it and a means of entertainment as far as she was concerned, when the cart came to a stop.

“Break time.” Von said, his deep voice resonating with a force she could never place. It always sounded like his voice came from his core rather than his throat. His bald head and bare back gleamed with sweat as he sat down on the dirt and put a towel over his face. She was forced to remember her own skin, dry of any moisture yet somehow being soft and near flawless. Just another difference between them. She hopped down over the side, the firm leather soles of her boots meeting the beaten dirt path, “Want me to try?”

He didn’t move the rag, “Ali, I know you want to help but-”

“I’ve gotten better! I’m stronger than I was last month.”

“So am I, Grukmelc. That doesn’t mean I want you hurting yourself pulling this thing.”

Grukmelc. That word again. It meant Fire-child in his native tongue, which she’d grown fairly fluent in. They rarely spoke common, only ever practicing when Von needed a reminder on the difference between bear and pear and likewise words. She crossed her arm in a huff, pouting more out of habit than anything. It wasn’t like he could see much through that. They stood there for a minute or two, neither surrendering their position, until Von got to his feet. She made to get back in, but he didn’t put the straps back on, “You can’t drag the cart, but you can start helping. Put the straps on and pull, I’ll get around back and push if you need help.”

She didn’t care that he’d just called her weak. Everyone was compared to this guy. Alissia beamed a sharp toothy smile and moved into position, looping her arms through the thick straps. They didn’t sit on her shoulders like they did for Von, but she wasn’t about to complain. She grabbed the excess and held it tight to her chest as she put a foot forward.

Nothing moved.

Von ran a hand over his bald scalp, “Mmhmm, thought as much. Alright, keep trying, I’ll push. I’ll match you so it’s your lead now.”

She heard him walk back and slowly the immovable weight behind her began to roll. One step, then another, and another. She continued to push, her shoulders creaking under the weight. True to his word, Von pushed only enough to get it moving. The pace was her own. The harder she pulled, the faster they’d go, but only as much as she could pull.

They carried on with Alissia at the head for a solid hour, sweat finally dotting her arms. Her legs shook with every step, every shuddering breath driving a spike through her chest. When the wagon stopped suddenly, she was jerked back and onto the ground, lungs fighting to get some air. Von’s shadow covered her form completely. He gave her a kind smile, his protruding bottom canines curled slightly, “That’s my girl. C’mon, vuruk, I’ll take it from here.”

Vuruk. Sweetheart. A smile graced her gasping lips. “How far did I go?”

“Half a mile. Not bad at all.”

It was slightly disappointing. She really had gotten stronger, but she was nowhere near the behemoth of a man he was. He’d already covered fourteen miles and it was barely noon, maybe some after. She tried to get back into the cart, but her legs refused. She just couldn’t do it again. She tried to hop again, but her legs buckled. She wasn’t even surprised when a large hand curled around waist and lifted her high into the cart. A different towel landed on her forehead. She’d done some fair work, her limbs asking what in all six hells she’d been thinking. The cart began moving again as she dragged the towel down over the rest of her face. She hadn’t done much, but the effort was hers.

__________________________

Twelve years later...

Von couldn’t help but smile at the memories. It was a reminder of a simpler time and a chance it could come again.

Across from him, Alissia sat with her greatsword in her lap, running a rag across the shining edge. She’d grown so much since then. She was taller than him now, nearly seven and a half foot. Her frame had grown out, her time and effort showing as her lean body had hardened with plenty of muscle. She wore it well though, adding to the height to make her seem like a bigger version of her fourteen year old counterpart. Her hair reached the middle of her back, the horns curving abruptly to follow the curve of her skull and to direct the flow down in a straight line. Her dark eyes had hardened over the years, the void like orbs growing weary of hardship. Her skin had darkened further to match her scarlet hands.

It was a beautiful feeling that swelled in his chest. He’d watched this little Tiefling girl he’d found in the middle of a slaughter grow into a wonderful woman. For so long he was sure she’d grow up to be like him, but his doubts were crushed when she began reading the training books an old Inquisitor had given her. He’d then been worried she’d become a bible thumper, but she didn’t take a god to worship. Instead, she chose to worship her moral code and somehow that had been enough for her to develop the strength of the inquisitions of old. He’d done right by her, raised her how she deserved and gave her as much as he could. She caught him looking at her and gave him a half smile, several stress lines disappearing in the lamp light, “Hey Dad. Sleep well?”

All this time and she still called him dad.

__________________________________________

Sorry for the format! I’m still working with it.

[jeremichal-archive]

and if you weren't him, would that be such a bad thing

honestly, i just missed writing for my boys and i had to live up to my username, so here’s some good old angsty jeremichael. i hope y’all enjoy & don’t forget to let me know what you think! 

WARNINGS: Swearing PAIRING: Jeremichael, past Raychael

Michael hates him in the exact same way he hates Ray.

No note. No warning. A missing car and an empty apartment. It’s two years ago all over again, and Michael can’t help but wonder if it’s his fault; if he’s the problem. Once is just shit luck, but twice means Michael’s just made to be left behind.

He made a mistake with Ray. That much he knows. He didn’t chase, didn’t see the need to when he was so fucking sure he’d come back. Blind faith; blind hope - all it got him was heartbreak and an after-thought message from Barbara saying that Ray’s new girlfriend is “super amazing, Michael. You need to meet her!”

So yeah, this time, Michael does everything he can. He calls his mobile; disconnected. He calls his burner phone; abandoned. He asks Gavin to track him; gone. He sends out a message to everyone in Los Santos and prays for something back.

Find Rimmy Tim, and bring him back alive.

&&&

It’s three days after, when Jack asks, “Maybe he got himself into trouble?” As if Jeremy’s a cat stuck up a tree.

“And he left to protect us?” Gavin adds, and Michael desperately hopes that he doesn’t crack a molar from the way he’s clenching his jaw so fucking hard.

Ryan leans across the kitchen table. His mask is off, but then again, his face paint does a good enough job replacing the loss. “It’s possible,” he hums and Michael’s pushing himself out of his chair before he realises it. The legs scrape against the hardwood floor - a sound not unlike nails down a chalkboard - and four sets of eyes snap to him.

Afterwards, he’ll regret not just keeping his mouth shut. But in the moment, the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“You’re all fucking idiots if you think he cared about us for even one damn second.”

&&&

His old apartment smells like Ray.

It’s why he sleeps at the penthouse. It’s why he still pays its rent. It’s why he hasn’t set foot in the place in about a year.

The last time he was there, he wasn’t alone. Now, the thought just makes him feel sick.

“You sure I should be here, Michael?”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“But you want me too…?”

Jeremy looks so much smaller than normal, hovering uncertainly just outside the doorway. Michael stares back at him, wishing he could tell what was going on inside his head.

“You’re not his replacement, you know,” he mutters, just in case, and Jeremy rears back as if he’s been hit. “You smell nothing like him, for one.”

“Oh…”

His old apartment smells like Ray. The penthouse smells like Jeremy. Michael just can’t seem to catch a fucking break.

&&&

Five days after, it’s obvious that Geoff picks the short straw, mainly because he shoulders his way into Michael’s room at 5 pm. His suit jacket is off, and the top three buttons of his shirt are popped, but he’s still everything that Michael looks up too.

“You’re taking this the hardest, aren’t you Michael.”

“And what, you’re not?” he hisses back, tucking his legs back up and under his blankets. If Geoff thought to look hard enough, he’d see Jeremy’s stupid purple and orange doona peaking out; but either he doesn’t see it, or he lets Michael have this one because he doesn’t comment.

“We are, Michael. Of course, we are… but it’s just- I’ve seen you like this before-”

“Shut up,” he growls. The air around them crackles and Geoff levels him with a look full of pity. “Get the fuck out of my room, Geoff.”

He does, but not without hitting him where it hurts the most. “He’s coming back. We’ll get him back, Michael. It’ll be different this time,” and Michael hates the hope that blossoms in his chest.

&&&

Michael’s smart enough to know that it won’t work, but the pathetic side of him? Well, it’s desperate enough to demand that he still tries. So he puts in the number. He hits call.

It rings.

It rings.

It rings.

Someone picks up.

There’s a moment where he’s stuck in limbo. Sat outside on the pier, head tipped back to face the sun with his phone clutched between his fingers. He pretends it’s both of them, or that it’s neither of them, waiting for him to speak first. Schrodinger’s phone call.

“Where are you?” he asks, because he’s desperate and tired, and so fucking alone. He’s still got Gavin and the others - but they were both something so different, something else and Michael misses them so fucking desperately.

No one answers, but Michael can hear the steady sound of breathing on the other side.

“Are you safe?” he whispers, because he’d throw himself into the damn ocean right now if it meant Jeremy would come back. If it meant Ray would call him. If it meant he wouldn’t have to keep losing the people he loves.

There’s no answer again, and something inside him snaps a little bit. He clenches his hands into fists by his sides, pressing them down against the old wooden pier.

“Did I do something wrong?” he pleads, because once is just shit luck, but twice means there’s something wrong with him, there’s something wrong with him, there's something fucking wrong with him-

“No,” Jeremy whispers and Michael slumps back, feeling his head collide with the hard floor at the same time the line goes dead.

&&&

Seven days after, Michael wonders how he managed to survive the first time.

Ray leaves in Spring and it’s sometime around Autumn when it finally sinks in. He’s not coming back. Ray’s not coming back tomorrow, today or in three weeks time. Ray’s gone, and so are all the promises he made.

“You want to get married one day?”

“No.”

“... Not even if it was to me?”

Ray glances at him over the top of his DS and his eyes look pitch black without the screen illuminating them. Michael does his best to hold a straight face because laughing would give Ray the opportunity to take his words as a joke and he doesn’t want that.

“If we’re not dead by the time we’re thirty, then sure.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

It would be funny, something that he could look back on and joke about with Gavin or even Jack, if it weren’t for the ring he’d purchased, buried in the back of his closet once upon a time ago.  

&&&

In a way, Michael hates Gavin too.

It wouldn’t be hard to add him to the list - the godforsaken list of damaged people that Michael loves - but then again, ignorance is bliss and Michael would rather just keep pretending.

At least this way, when Gavin shows up to the penthouse covered in lipstick marks and that goddamn lovestruck smile on his face, he can pretend it doesn’t hurt. When Gavin asks him if he wants to get bevs, only for Lindsay and Meg to be there when he shows up, Michael can pretend he’s not jealous.

Because Gavin was almost a mistake; he was almost a mistake in the same way Ray was. The same was Jeremy currently is. A habit he can’t seem to break, falling for someone who doesn’t have the emotional capacity to love him back.

It his own brand of torture, one more effective than anything Ryan could ever think to dream up himself.

&&&

Two weeks after, Michael gives up.

It’s three am when he crawls under Jeremy’s empty bed sheets, pulling them up and around him - suffocating himself in Jeremy’s scent. It’s three am when he shoves his face into Jeremy’s purple pillow, letting his tears turn the colours more black than purple. It’s three am when Michael loses all hope that Jeremy will ever come back.

It’s like losing a part of himself. A perfect 5”4 hole. Open, raw and destroying him from the inside out.

But.

But.

It hurt so much more this time.

Why does it hurt so much more this time?

Ray’s hurt. Ray’s still fucking hurts. His best friend left him. His best friend up and fucking left him, with no warning, two days after Michael took a bullet to his shoulder. There was nothing, no explanation, no apology. It was just Michael, a few empty promises and a cheap kiss that didn’t mean as much as he thought it fucking did.

But Jeremy’s? Jeremy’s fucking kills. Jeremy’s tears him apart. There was something there; he was so sure of it. It was an almost. An almost lover, and almost boyfriend. A person Michael thought he could trust. A person Michael told everything. From the reason why he keeps his old apartment, to the fucking ring he brought six weeks after Ray made that promise. He was almost everything he needed, but then he fucking left.

So Michael gives up. Jeremy’s not coming back. Ray’s not coming back.

Maybe he’s just built to be left behind.

&&&

He gets a text message from a burner phone. Gavin tracks it for him and he learns very little, but it’s enough. Purchased in Austin, Texas; paid for in cash.

Can we meet?

Impulse makes him want to text back ‘no’, but he doesn’t. He just stares at it, as the rest of his crew stare at him. No one dares to interrupt the silence that’s settled around them, but Michael wishes they would. The kitchen’s never been so eerily silent before and it makes him uneasy.

Geoff puts a hand over his hand; Michael manages not to flinch. “You don’t have to go. We can send someone else, if it- if it’s too much.”

“It might not be him…” Ryan mutters and Michael can hear how much it hurts him to say that. He knows they’re all hurting too. Being apart of the crew means being apart of a family, so Jeremy leaving hits deep in all of them.

He stares back down at the phone. There’s a slightly visible tremble to his hands that he doesn’t bother trying to hide. “I gotta try,” he whispers and Geoff slowly pulls his hand back, “doesn’t matter how small the odds are, I gotta see if it’s him.”

Where?

&&&

His apartment, ironically enough, sits on Innocence Boulevard. It’s a four-story building, with one dodgy fire escape and a back alleyway that Michael absolutely hates.

It’s the last place he broke something, his fist after punching the fucking brick wall. It’s where he and Ray kissed for the first time. It’s where he had to explain to Jeremy that his place in the crew? it wasn’t merely temporary. Bad things happen in that alleyway, which is exactly why he sits on the front steps of his building and waits for Jeremy, an ambush, whoever’s coming to meet him there.

At five to three, Michael stands. There’s a slight tremor to his whole being, but it makes itself known the most in his legs. They shake, and it’s enough to force him to lean against the wall.

At five past three, a car pulls up at the curb. Michael knows that car. He’s ran heists in that car. He’s joy ridden in that car. He’s crashed that godforsaken fucking car before. He’s the reason why the back bumper is black and not orange. He’s the reason it has a stain on the back seat.

And he’s never been happier to see that stupid fucking car.

At least… he was, up until the moment two bodies climb out of it and Michael’s heart stops beating.

&&&

Jeremy makes the first move.

He approaches the steps slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal ready to run, and Michael doesn’t blame him. Especially since he’s got one hand on the door handle and the other out in front of him, trying to tell the world to stop.

“Just… give it ten minutes?” he whispers, coming to a stop on the bottom step. Michael stares at him. It’s only been two and a half weeks since he saw him last, but God, it’s felt like years. He looks the same, but somehow entirely different and Michael realises it's because of the look in his eyes.

Fear, apprehension, insecurity and a little bit of guilt. It’s like he’s just joined the crew all over again and Michael hates it. He opens his mouth, ready to say something, but the words die on his tongue. It doesn't help that Jeremy’s already stepping back, making room for Ray, who's stuck hovering awkwardly by the car.

Neither of them makes a move. It's a stalemate. Both of them not quite sure where they stand with the other.

“You flew all the way out here with me, Ray,” Jeremy mutters in the end, cutting through the tension in a way only he could, “and I know you didn’t do it just to stand on the sidewalk the whole time.”

Ray turns his gaze to Jeremy.

“Maybe not,” he mutters, “but it would be a hell of a lot more easier if I did.”

&&&

The second the door swings shut behind Ray, Michael’s moving towards the kitchen. He doesn’t care if Ray follows. He doesn’t care if turns around and walks right back out onto the street. All Michael cares about is dousing the fire that’s ignited inside him with alcohol. It’ll make things worse, he knows, but he can’t fucking find it in himself to care.

He pours himself a glass of whiskey and downs it in one swallow. Ray makes a face. Michael pours himself another.

“So Jeremy left, to go get you,” he hisses, sipping it this time. The alcohol does a good job of masking Ray’s scent; both the one that lingers in his apartment and the entirely different one that belongs to him now.

“He told me that you needed- you needed me.”

“He lied. You can leave. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Michael.”

Something catches inside him, and the burning in his veins turns into a full-blown forest fire. “You don’t get to ‘Michael’ me,” he hisses, spinning around to meet Ray head on, “you left. You fucking left. No note! No reason! You left me all alone and I-” his voice cracks. Ray looks guilty, for what Michael guesses must be the first time in his entire life.

“I didn’t think you’d take it this hard...”

He sets the glass down just a little bit too hard, and the sound resonates through the room. Sharp and obnoxious, just like the anger inside of him. His face feels hot, and it’s either the anger or the alcohol that’s staining his cheeks red.

“Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what would happen, how I’d feel.” He leans his hip against the counter. “You aren’t stupid Ray, but you are selfish and cruel. I always pretended you weren’t, but we both know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

It only takes a second for Ray’s posture to change and Michael watches him snap upright. He picks at the fabric of the couch lazily, from where he’s balanced on the arm precariously. “We were killing each other-”

“Try again.”

Ray sighs. “Okay. You were killing me. You expected so much from me Michael. You wanted so much. You wanted a happy family, you wanted a boyfriend and a husband and the whole shebang. I couldn’t give you that and I knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“You think I would have forced you to be with me?” he asks, frowning slightly. The anger drains out of him slowly, and then all that’s left is that all too familiar hollow feeling.  

“No, not in the way you’re thinking,” he mutters, looking up at Michael, “you wouldn’t have made me be with you, but you would have made me stay with you, Michael. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t stay- I couldn’t-”

“Yeah. I can see that now.”

&&&

He tells Ray to send Jeremy up and in after him and pointedly ignores the look that flashes in his eyes. He waits for him on the couch at first, but the nerves get to him and he ends up pacing around the apartment. When the door opens, he’s halfway to pouring himself another glass of whiskey, just to do something with his fucking hands.

Jeremy hovers in the doorway again and deja vu washes over him. He stops. Jeremy licks his lips. Neither of them move.

“You-” he tries, but the words fail and Michael has to look away to keep himself from crying. He sucks in a deep breath, staring at the tattered wallpaper while he pretends he’s alight.

“You left-”

“-I-I was coming back!” Jeremy interjects and Michael holds up a hand.

“You left… to go find Ray… for me?” he finishes. Jeremy slowly nods and Michael takes one step forward. “Why?”

“You brought a ring for him, Michael. You’re in love with him. I was just trying- I wanted-” he looks away, gazing dropping to the floor like he’s waiting to be scolded. Michael swallows around the lump in his throat.

“You could have told me…”

“And what?” Jeremy replies, shrugging slightly, “leave you disappointed when I inevitably failed? Have you tell me not to stick my damn nose in places where it doesn’t fucking belong? I didn't know if-” he stops. Michael takes another step forward. It’s a year ago all over again, but this time Michael’s more prepared.

“You didn’t know what?” he asks, sucking in a breath and holding it. Jeremy shuffles on the spot, looking anywhere but him.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed-” he sneaks a glance a Michael- “no, I mean- I didn’t want to- Michael, you have to understand,” he pleads. He runs a hand over his head and Michael can see the red scratches he leaves behind in wake of his fingernails. “I just didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, and I know I should have asked, but- but you were just so- and I wanted to help! And- and- I’m so fucking sorry,” he babbles, his breath coming out in quick huffs.

“I messed this up, didn’t I?” he whispers, like it’s a secret. Like it’s the end of the world. Like he’s just realised what he’s done. “I shouldn’t have tried to- I just wanted to- I thought it would work. Fucking hell, fuck, fuck!”

He makes the move to do it again, ready to drag his nails across the top of his head and Michael can tell it’s going to draw blood this time. He wants to stop him, wants to stop Jeremy from hurting himself.

So he does.

He reaches out and catches Jeremy’s wrists, holding them down gently. Jeremy instantly freezes, and whether it’s from the touch or the proximity, Michael doesn’t know.

“You’re not his replacement, you know,” he whispers and Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut, face scrunching up. It’s a tell and one that screams to Michael that he’s hit Jeremy so close to home. “I know you think you are, and I’m honestly terrified that you still believe that if Ray comes back, we’ll get rid of you… but we won’t.”

“Michael…”

“Listen to me,” he pleads, squeezing Jeremy’s wrists and waiting for him to open his eyes first before continuing. “Yeah, I brought him a ring. And yeah, I was gonna ask him to marry me. But Jeremy, three days after I told you about it, I realised I didn’t need it anymore and I threw that fucking thing off the pier. Do you know why?” he asks. Jeremy stares back at him with wide eyes as he shakes his head, and Michael licks his lips slowly.

“Cause of you.”

“What? I- I don’t-”

“I- I know I loved him, and maybe I still do-” Jeremy flinches- “but not in the same anymore. He’s different and I'm different, and it doesn't matter how many times you bring him back for me, he’s still going to leave again. The thing is, yeah it hurt like hell when he left, but Jeremy, it felt so much fucking worse when you did.”

He lets the words sink in. He waits for Jeremy to react, but all he does is stare down at Michael’s hands, eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t think you’d…” he mumbles, words trailing off.

“What?” he whispers back, “notice? Care? Of course, I care, Jeremy. Of course, I fucking care about you…”

He waits for a moment. Jeremy’s chest rises and falls in quick succession and Michael runs his hands up Jeremy’s arms, settling just below the elbow. “I don’t want to do this wrong again,” he continues, “I don’t want to make the same mistakes twice, so if I’m being too much or if I’m ‘killing you’ then please tell me-”

“You’re not,” Jeremy hisses, head instantly snapping up, “you couldn’t.”

He lets out a harsh breath. “You’re not his replacement,” he says again, and Jeremy sways on his feet, gravitating ever so slightly to Michael. “You smell nothing like him, for one.”

“And that's a good thing?” Jeremy asks, and the look on his face is so open and vulnerable that Michael feels his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, it is,” he mumbles, and then he’s surging forward to kiss him and Jeremy happily meets him halfway.

&&&

Michael wakes up with a body lying along the length of his, and a face pressed into the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t dare move.

It’s much nicer just to enjoy the moment. The way Jeremy’s breath skitters across his skin. The way he can feel the other man’s heart beating steadily against his. There’s no worry that he’ll wake up to an empty room. There’s no threat of heartbreak when he’s got Jeremy right there, sapping his warmth from his body like the thief he is.

He lets his hand move slowly, tracing the length of Jeremy’s spine; following along all the bumps and dips. It’s only when he moves in to kiss the shell of Jeremy’s ear that he gets a reaction.

“Go back to sleep,” Jeremy slurs and Michael laughs softly.

“What time is it?” he questions, turning his gaze towards the window. Light seeps through the gaps in the curtains, but it’s not enough for Michael to believe it’s time to get up. Plus, even if it was, he wouldn’t dare disturb Jeremy. He waits for a reply, and when it doesn’t come, he slides his hand down Jeremy’s side to rest on his hip. The gentle lulling of Jeremy’s breathing makes him close his eyes, and it's hard not to give into Jeremy’s advice.

Before he completely goes under though, he presses his nose into Jeremy’s neck and breathes in.

He smells like apples and gunpowder. Michael loves it.

[withickmire]

no place for promises

Fandom: Deltora Quest Characters: Sharn (as Anna), Fallow, Endon, mentions of others Summary: Locked in the palace dungeons, Sharn encounters a familiar face. -- “And she?”  “If anything, she is stronger than her husband. She rails at her tormentors, but says nothing of use.” — Return to Del

The damp cold of the dungeon floor seeped through her thin dress, and Sharn shivered, hugging her arms around her chest. It was quiet, which was rare. She had grown accustomed to the sound of screams from the other cells. The room was not lit, but she could hear things scurrying in the dark. She had been in the dungeon for four nights; she knew by counting her meals. Stale bread and hard cheese were shoved through a flap in the water-swollen wooden door in the morning and at night, and a guard brought in a jug of water in between. Hunger pangs prickled in her belly, but they were not unfamiliar, and she knew how to bear them. She knew what it was like to want things that were unattainable. It was the unknown that frightened her.

Terror had pulsed in time with her heartbeat as she and Endon were torn from their bed. Icy fear had clutched her heart as a fierce hand dragged her painfully to her feet by her hair. We have lasted sixteen years, and they have found us out, she had thought wildly as Endon had cried out in surprise and rage. One of the guards upended the dining table, and another threw a vase against the wall. Somehow they know who we are. They will kill us for this, and they will find Lief and do the same to him, if they have not already.

The last time she felt such fear, she had been running through the palace on swollen feet, following Jarred’s lead with Endon just behind her. She had lifted her skirts to step over the bodies of her friends, and listened to dying screams, knowing they could be her mother; her father; her sisters.

But she had survived that night, and she had not been killed after her arrest. Surely, they would not have let her live if they knew who she truly was. Which left only one reason for their imprisonment: Lief and Barda were succeeding.

Her panic had faded over the days, replaced by a steady pulse of fear. There was nothing to do in the cell, except sleep and worry. She had seen no one but the guards with the water jug. She feared for Lief and Barda, and for Endon, who she had been separated from after they were taken. A cut on her cheek throbbed, and a crusty scab had formed on her scalp, but otherwise the guards had not laid a hand on her since her arrest. She would not fool herself into thinking that would last. How strange it was to sit locked up directly underneath the home she had once fled. She had been born in the palace, and maybe she would die below it.

The door to the cell swung upon without ceremony, and a tall man stormed in. Sharn pressed herself against the wall and covered her eyes; she had been so used to the darkness that she was half-blinded by the man’s torch. When at last her eyes adjusted, she lowered her trembling hand and screamed. Prandine stood before her, his thin lips pressed together in displeasure, his face unchanged by time. She remembered the bite of the knife he had held against her throat; the scratch of his clothing against her skin; the weight of his body against her hands; the terrible scream he had made when he died.

“No,” she pleaded. Was this her punishment? Had the spirit of the man she had killed come to claim her? “No.”

I killed you, I killed you, I killed you.

“Good evening, Anna,” the man who wore Prandine’s face said. “My name is Fallow.”

He did not truly know her. The harsh and heavy sound of her own breathing filled the little room. She was missing something. It was not Prandine. It was a trick. Not a spirit, but an illusion? A brother? She had heard whispers of shape-changing creatures from the west, could he be one of them? It did not matter. Monster or not, she would find out what he wanted soon enough.

Her heart thudded in her chest and she felt sick. She had nearly betrayed herself. Anna would not recognize that face.  Let him take my reaction for fear, she prayed. She had always been good at playing a part. She rose to her feet on shaking legs, supporting herself on the slimy wall. She would not kneel.

“Why have you brought us here?” she cursed her voice for the way it shook.

Fallow smiled, a terrible condescending expression that tightened the skin around his skeletal cheekbones. Sharn knew that look well, and she hated it. “We are long past such foolishness. You know why. There is nothing left for you to protect. Your son is as good as dead, Anna. Just tell me the truth of where he is, and I promise I will show kindness I would not otherwise share with you and Jarred.”

Sharn went cold. “I do not know what you mean. Lief has forsaken his family,” the lies tasted like poison on her tongue. “He did not like our simple life, and now he gets to do as he pleases. I do not know where he is.”

Fallow’s false smile slid from his gaunt face. He stepped closer to her, holding his torch nearer to her face. The flame licked terrifyingly close to her face, burning a few stray strands of her hair. She flinched backwards and pulled her hair away as the horrible burning smell filled the cell. Fallow withdrew, clearly pleased.

“Your husband has been unhelpful, but I would hope that you are clever enough to provide us with some answers,” the man said sharply, but Sharn did not hear most of his words. Endon was alive. She could not hide her relieved smile. He saw it and glared; the dancing flame of his torch made his face appear monstrous.

“Your son is committing violent acts of thievery and treason through the land,” he continued. “Does it not disappoint you to know your son is a murderer? Tell me then, of his companions. I have my suspicions as to who the man is. Tell me about the girl.”

A girl? That was unexpected. Who was the girl? Barda had wished to enter the Forests of Silence first, but what if they had gone west, instead? The chances were slim, but could she be—

“Anna,” he said sharply. “I do not have time to wait in this stinking pit. What do you know of these people?”

His lips were oddly stiff as he spoke, which she had taken to be a trick of the shadows cast by his torch. But no, she realized. He is keeping them from trembling. He is afraid. He fears my son.

The people of Deltora had nothing at all. Nothing to hope for, nothing to look forward to. Long ago, as Jarred and Anna were preparing to leave the forge, Jarred had taken Endon by his arm.

“Some of my customers do not always have enough money to pay for their goods in full,” he had said solemnly. “But you must help them anyway. That is your duty, now.”

When he had reopened the business, Endon had not done as Jarred asked. Not out of malice, for Sharn could see how his heart broke for the people who had suffered and gone unseen by him. But out of a lack of understanding. Endon could not comprehend, at first— nor could she— what it meant to not have enough. Not enough food, not enough money, not enough hope. It had taken them a month to realize the importance of Jarred’s task, when a very young woman with three small children had cried at the realization she could only afford part of her purchase.

“It is fine,” Endon had told the young woman, gently. “You can pay me the rest later.”

The woman’s swollen eyes had shone with relief, although they all knew there would not be a later, for this was Del. Outside of the palace there was no such thing as more. Endon had wept that night, ashamed that the woman had been the first of his people he had ever aided. If Lief, Barda and their companion were succeeding, it meant that they were bringing back hope to a land that had forgotten what it meant. They could not be allowed to fail.

A wave of quiet fury washed over her as she stared up at Fallow’s face. That man had no right to threaten her, or her family. You do not know who I am. I have killed to protect my family before, the voice in her head was like ice. I would do it again.

“I know nothing,” she said. “Except that you fear them.”

Fallow’s jaw tightened, and Sharn delighted in the tiny gesture.

“You work for the Shadow Lord,” she said softly, “but you are afraid of three people. What a sad little man you must be.”

Fallow stared at her for a long moment with blazing eyes. She waited for him to strike her, but he was clearly restraining himself. How long would that last?

“I will allow you to sleep on your answers, and I will return in the morning,” Fallow warned her. “Think about what you wish to tell me. I showed patience tonight. If you do not have anything of value to tell me tomorrow, I have some tools that will help you remember.”

“If you wish to frighten me, you will have to try much harder.”

Fallow pressed his lips tightly together. “You will not be so bold when I take out your eyes,” he slammed the door as he left, drowning her in darkness again.

Let him return. She knew what torture awaited her. She knew that they would hurt her, and threaten her husband, while they did the same to him.  She knew he loved her too much to say anything, even if he thought his words would save her life. The only thing they shared more than their love for each other was their love for their son. They would die before they betrayed Lief.

Her anger faded into exhaustion, and fear clutched at her heart again. She tried to show Fallow that she was unafraid, oh, but she was. She did not want him to hurt her. She did not want to die.

“Oh, Lief,” she whispered, and fell to her knees. “Please take care.”

She buried her face in her hands, and wept.

—

This is more of a snippet than a real scene, but I’ve had it in my drafts forever, and I wanted to finally finish it. I love Sharn! She’s one of the most excellent examples of Rodda’s commitment to not shoving her female characters into the constricting characteristics that are often assigned to women in fantasy. Also, this is the twentieth fic I’ve posted since I started writing Deltora Quest fic again in January! Thank you so much for reading them! Maybe I’ll make a masterpost, or a list of my favourites, or something equally egomaniacal...

[readingontheedge]

FIVE YEARS GONE by Marie Force

 Prologue

 Ava

 We met in a bar, of all places, a dingy hole-in-the-wall favored by military members from the nearby Navy base in San Diego. I went with a friend from school who was interested in one of the military guys. Before that night, I’d never been there, and I’ve never been back. John was celebrating the promotion of one of his buddies. He crashed into me as I left the ladies’ room and kept me from falling by grabbing my arms to steady me.

 Just like in the movies, our eyes met, and my spine tingled with the kind of instantaneous awareness I’d only read about but never experienced personally.

 “I’m so sorry,” he said, gorgeous and fierce in his fatigues.

 I noticed gold on his collar, a hint of late-day scruff on his jaw and the name WEST in bold black letters on his chest. Intense electric-blue eyes made it impossible for me to look away, even when I was safely back on my feet.

 “Are you all right?” he asked.

 Realizing I’d been staring at him, I blinked and reluctantly broke the connection. “I… Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for the save.”

 And then he smiled, and the tingling began anew.

 “I’m John.”

 I shook his outstretched hand. “Ava.”

 Keeping his hold on my hand, he tipped his head. “You come here often?”

 “Never,” I said, laughing. “I’m a first-timer.”

 “What do you think so far?”

 “I wasn’t impressed until about thirty seconds ago.”

 As if he had all the time in the world to give me, he leaned against the wall. “Is that right? What happened thirty seconds ago?”

 I thought about taking back my hand but didn’t. “I was saved from certain disaster by a man in uniform.”

 “The guy in the uniform is the reason you needed saving in the first place, because he wasn’t watching where he was going. Least he can do is buy you a drink.”

 “I wouldn’t say no to that.” I was proud of my witty responses and got the feeling he could more than hold his own in the wittiness department. Across the crowded room, I noticed my friend talking to the guy she’d come to see, and her brows lifted in interest when she saw me with John. He guided me to the bar, placing a proprietary hand on my lower back, and told one of the guys to give me his stool.

 “Yes, sir.” The younger man bowed gallantly to me as he took his beer and moved along.

 “Do people always do what you say?”

 “If they know what’s good for them.” His teasing grin kept the comment from being overly cocky. “What can I get you?”

 Deciding to live dangerously for once, I asked for a cosmopolitan.

 “Go big or go home,” he said with admiration.

 “That’s my motto.” I was so full of shit. I wondered if he could tell I was all talk or what he’d think of me if he knew I usually err much closer to the side of caution than the wild side. I wondered if he could tell I was just barely old enough to drink. I’d turned twenty-one only six months earlier.

 When my cosmo and his Budweiser had been delivered, he offered a toast. “To new friends.”

 I touched my glass to his bottle. “To new friends.”

 “So, where’re you from, Ava?”

 “New York.”

 “I thought I heard New Yawk in your voice.”

 I batted my eyelashes at him. “So four years at the University of California San Diego didn’t scrub the New York out of me?”

 Laughing, he said, “Hardly. I know some guys from New York. One of them is from Staten Island, which is about as New York as it gets. I know New York when I hear it.”

 “I’m from Purchase, upstate from the city. What about you?”

 “I’m from all over. My old man is a retired general. You name it, I’ve lived there.”

 “Where’s home?”

 “Right here.” He turned that intense gaze on me, and I went stupid in the head. I couldn’t see anything but him. We might as well have been alone in the crowded bar for all I knew. Unlike my friend, who loved men in uniform, I was never turned on by the uniform. Until then. Until John. “You want to get out of here?”

 I swallowed hard. It wasn’t like me to leave a bar with a man I’d just met. “And go where?”

 “Somewhere we can talk.”

 “What do you want to talk about?”

 He leaned in so his lips were close to my ear. “Everything. I want to know every single thing there is to know about you.”

  That’s how we started. We were intense from the first second we met until the last time I saw him five years ago today. I can’t believe it’s been five years since I looked into those incredible blue eyes or woke to him on the pillow next to me or heard his voice in my ear, whispering words that’re permanently carved into my heart as he made love to me.

 The worst part is I have no idea where he is. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, being held captive or if he’s living his life somewhere else with someone else. I don’t know, and the not knowing is the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with.

 I love him as much today as I ever did. No amount of time could ever change that simple fact of my life. We had two beautiful, magnificent years together, caught up in our own little bubble. He never met my family. I never met his. We didn’t make couple friends. We didn’t talk about the future. We didn’t need to. Our future was decided that first night, and it would take care of itself in due time. I honestly and naïvely believed that.

 Now, with hindsight, I realize the bubble was strategic on his part. He gave me everything he had to give, including no promise of tomorrow.

 Five years ago today, we watched the horror unfold on live television. A US-based cruise ship blown up by suicide bombers. Four thousand lives extinguished in a heartbeat. Our world permanently changed once again, our country declaring yet another war on terrorists. After 9/11 we thought we’d seen everything. We were wrong.

 “I have to go,” he said, grabbing the duffel that stood ready in the front hall closet. He called it his “go bag.” I’d thought nothing of it.

 “Where’re you going?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “When will you be back?”

 “I don’t know that either.” He held my face in his hands and gazed at me, seemingly trying to memorize my every feature. “I love you. I’ll always love you.” Then he kissed me as passionately as he ever had and was gone, out the door in a flash of camouflage.

 I never saw him again.

 I’m not his wife or even his fiancée, so no one notified me of his whereabouts. And three months after he left, when I found a way onto the base in a desperate quest for information, no one there could tell me anything either. I tried to locate his parents and other people he mentioned, but it was like they didn’t exist. I could find no record of a retired general named West in the Marine Corps, Army or Air Force.

 Furthermore, an exhaustive search for information on the John West I had known led nowhere. No high school, no college, no military service, no nothing.

 Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed the two years we spent together, doing mundane things like grocery shopping, cooking, watching TV and sleeping together after long days at work. But then I’d remember the blissful passion, the scorching pleasure, the desire that ruled us from the beginning, and I’d know I didn’t dream him. I didn’t dream us. We were real, and he was everything to me.

 Sitting on the floor in our apartment, surrounded by boxes, I take a few minutes before the movers arrive to memorize every detail of the place where we lived together. I’ve packed his things along with mine, and I’m moving home to New York. Today was my deadline. I gave it five years, and I simply can’t do it anymore. I can’t sit in our home among our things, waiting for something that’s never going to happen.

 It’s over. It’s time for me to move on. It’s probably long past time, if I’m being honest with myself. And though I know it’s the right move at the right time, that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t shattering all over again as I dismantle the place where we were us.

 My sister is getting married next month. I promised her I’d be home in time to hold her hand through the festivities. Other than occasional trips home for holidays and other occasions, I’ve been gone more than ten years. I bear no resemblance whatsoever to the girl who left home at eighteen seeking independence from her overbearing family at a faraway college out West.

 I accomplished all my goals, finishing college, landing a decent job and falling in love with the man of my dreams. I found out what happens when dreams come true and how painful it is when they blow up in your face.

 It’s time now to set new goals, to start over, to begin a life that doesn’t have John at the center of it the way it did here. It’ll be nice to be back with people who love me and care about me, even if they tend toward smothering at times. That’s looking rather good to me after years of loneliness and grief.

 The intercom sounds to let me know the movers are here. I pick myself up off the floor and steel my heart for the day ahead. I can do this. I’ve been through worse, and I’ll survive this the same way I’ve survived everything else. Despite my resolve, my eyes fill with tears as I press the button that opens the door downstairs to the movers.

 It doesn’t take them long to pack my belongings into their truck. I keep with me the things that can’t be replaced—precious photos, gifts he gave me, the clothing he left behind. After taking a final look around the apartment, I pack those boxes into my car, turn my apartment keys into the leasing office and head east, feeling as if I’m leaving behind everything that ever mattered to me.

 It’s like I’m losing him all over again. I cry all the way through the desert of Southern California and well into Arizona. I relive every minute I can remember, every conversation, every special moment. I think about what it was like to make love with him and wonder how I’ll ever to do that with anyone but him. Maybe I won’t. Maybe that part of my life ended with him, and even though I’m only twenty-eight now, I’m okay with that possibility. Once you’ve experienced perfection, it’s hard to imagine settling for anything less.

 The tears finally dry up somewhere in northern Arizona, but the ache inside… I take that with me all the way to New York, where I will try my very best to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and put them back together into some new version of myself.

  After all, what choice do I have?

Don't miss the newest contemporary romance title from Marie Force that people are saying has topped their 'Best of 2018' lists!

FIVE YEARS GONE just went live!

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BLURB:

The most brazen terrorist attack in history. A country bent on revenge. A love affair cut short. A heart that never truly heals.

I knew on the day of the attack that our lives were changed forever. What I didn’t know then was that I’d never see John again after he deployed. One day he was living with me, sleeping next to me, making plans with me. The next day he was gone.

That was five years ago. The world has moved on from that awful day, but I’m stuck in my own personal hell, waiting for a man who may be dead for all I know. At my sister’s wedding, I meet Eric, the brother of the groom, and my heart comes alive once again.

The world is riveted by the capture of the terrorist mastermind, brought down by U.S. Special Forces in a daring raid. Now I am trapped between hoping I’ll hear from John and fearing what’ll become of my new life with Eric if I do.

From a New York Times bestselling author, Five Years Gone, a standalone contemporary, is an epic story of love, honor, duty, unbearable choices and impossible dilemmas.

-------------

AUTHOR BIO:

Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance, including the indie-published Gansett Island Series and the Fatal Series from Harlequin Books. In addition, she is the author of the Butler, Vermont Series, the Green Mountain Series and the erotic romance Quantum Series. In 2019, her new historical Gilded series from Kensington Books will debut with Duchess By Deception.

All together, her books have sold 6.5 million copies worldwide, have been translated into more than a dozen languages and have appeared on the New York Times bestseller list many times. She is also a USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller, a Speigel bestseller in Germany, a frequent speaker and publishing workshop presenter as well as a publisher through her Jack’s House Publishing romance imprint. She is a two-time nominee for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA® award for romance fiction.

Her goals in life are simple—to finish raising two happy, healthy, productive young adults, to keep writing books for as long as she possibly can and to never be on a flight that makes the news.

Join Marie's mailing list for news about new books and upcoming appearances in your area. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter @marieforce and on Instagram. Join one of Marie's many reader groups. Contact Marie at marie@marieforce.com.

AUTHOR LINKS:

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[atthismoment1d]

Expanding Enchantment Of Mud Bogging Videos

Hen Home Plan - Chickens in My Yard? Publisher: Invoice Boren Whereas searching for a workable rooster home plan, there are a few other factors that you will need to consider. How much will it value? What number of chickens do I need? Writer: Bob Pearson Lots of households at present are gathering details about how to lift chicken. They also wish to know how they can have greater yields of eggs and more meat. These folks have an interest with these items simply because they would like to breed their own flocks of rooster. Writer: Bob Pearson Individuals who select to reside a healthy lifestyle usually consider eating organic foods. Maybe that is the explanation why not only the vegetable farmers but even the poultry raisers at the moment are contemplating natural farming strategies. Within the poultry business, organic chicken farming has turn into a broadly practiced technique. Adopt an alpaca Hensting Roky Road Gold (Read Webpage) Here, the chickens are raised without using any artificial chemicals, that are proven to be dangerous to the fowls. This offers the folks a healthier choice for meat and eggs. Publisher: Tom S Williams Making a rooster tractor is too much simpler when you could have a superb set of rooster tractor designs for guidance. Most individuals out of sheer desperation end up purchasing ready-made rooster tractor which value anyplace between 500 to a thousand dollars and which require them to be assembled anyways. A hen tractor is a reasonably simple to make development and could be stood up within the space a few hours and all of the supplies that you just would require is a few lumber and rooster wire.

Writer: Wayne Allen The truck that can journey longer across the field than every other wins the competition. Canada additionally has such competitions. The American Mud Racing Association not solely oversees the competitions but additionally units the principles that govern this competitors. Writer: Wayne Allen Another cool feature is the inside look at some of the vehicles used within the sport. As this is a very rough competitors, with autos going through the trauma of bumpy and rough terrain, the trucks have to be personalized in lots of circumstances. This includes engine upgrades, tire replacements, etc., and so forth. In the long run, they're constructed to endure no matter comes their approach. Writer: tuxin ATV mud bogging is considered one of the most popular sports in the United States and the Canada. It's also recognized as the mud racing, muddying or mud drags. As this recreation is all about driving, the automobile by way of the mud stretch and in the real senses a troublesome job to do. Right here the winner is that person who drives the car to the largest distance in the sport. Writer: Wayne Allen Vehicles utilized in mudding are usually both choose-up trucks or suburban utility autos (SUVs) with modified suspensions and large, over-sized tires. They could also be powered with a supercharged engine or by nitrous injection. Decrease, dragster-type rail designs are gaining recognition.

Three Jack of Spades girls the primary three into the ring. The anticipation of the competitors as Tara and Enigma set off first. In a quiet moment I share a couple of phrases of inspiration with Ruby Might. How good does she look! The first THREE! Second place to Ruby behind Euphoria with Enigma in third! Next in was little Patou Rico, once more a giant class, stiff competition. We took a second to pose for the digicam because the Show Judge, Kathy Lloyd examined a fellow combatant. No picture of the awarding however little Rico picked up a fourth place! Subsequent in was Reeya, junior brown feminine. Reeya is gorgeous. I think she is the best we have ever produced and regardless of her fifth place at the Futurity I consider she is best than that, she is a star. Again a big class and Reeya was awarded second place. Once again splitting the two Inca girls, Inca Elise and Inca Encore. Fourth place for Amiryck Night Primrose who was expertly dealt with by Isla Could! For the Patou, Inca, Amirick triumvirate it was turning out to be a reasonably good day!

Camping may be a really enjoyable and thrilling household exercise. There are numerous things you can do while you're camping to get to know each other higher and develop stronger household bonds. There is something that everybody can do when they are camping. For example, you possibly can go hiking, watch for brand spanking new species of birds that you haven't seen before, go water skiing, find out how to construct a campfire, go swimming, and so forth. This will be a whole lot of fun and an ideal opportunity, as long as you retailer your food correctly. Your camping trip can quickly be soured if an animal eats your whole meals. Almost certainly, you will have to pack up and go house early without doing lots of the fun stuff you planned to do. The key to stopping an animal from eating your whole food is to retailer it correctly. Below are a few of the things you should do to offer the appropriate shelter on your chickens and some other useful info. Writer: Jen Tooms Right here is what you need to know about chicken coop construction. Constructing a secure and secure chicken pen is extremely important to keep your funding, and your chickens protected. The first thing to contemplate is whether a easy wire and submit pen will probably be satisfactory, or should you will require a taller fence to stop the chickens from flying out. Publisher: Brad Brown It is important that you fully evaluate and understand the following elements if you intend to boost chickens in your yard. This may guarantee that you're not only prepared to do what is essential to get the most out of backyard rooster elevating, but also prepared, willing, and able as properly. Writer: Curtis Dawson Chickens can prevent some huge cash with the procurement of eggs and meat.

She is the dimensions of a fox, the colour of a fox and strikes like a fox and the herd don't let her out of their sight. She needs to maintain her wits about her! First it was the half of the herd with the older cria, a steady advance on Abby. Then the other half of the herd, the highest of Abby's head is simply seen at the underside of the image. I appear to have rambled on for far too lengthy, after all I still must whip that hoover round, have lunch and make myself look marvellous for when Sue will get house (it may take a while!). I solely have another bit of stories, or fairly 'news to return'. Last year we broke our 30th of September mating minimize off date for one special female. Patou Amelie, our greatest feminine, mother of Patou Tsar and Patou Vanilla had a remaining date with Lavender Park Tulley on the 5th of October last year. That signifies that her due date, primarily based on a gestation of 345 days, is tomorrow. However, I did take a photograph of her just to prove that she is preggers and stunning too (well she would be, she is the daughter of Patou Lily, paddock blindness? I do not care).

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The Cursed Mummy

In the late 1890s a party of four well-to-do young English gentlemen made an extended tour of archaeological excavations in Egypt. One evening in the bar of their hotel in Luxor, they met an antiquities dealer who engaged them in a lively conversation about archaeology and some of the artifacts he had acquired over the years.

“In fact,” said the dealer, “I've just purchased an exquisite sarcophagus that contains the intact mummy of a princess of the Thirteenth Dynasty. It is the crown jewel of my collection. Would you like to see it?”

The young gentlemen said they were very eager to see the sarcophagus. “Please come to my warehouse tomorrow morning about nine,” the dealer said.

At exactly nine o'clock the next morning, the dealer met the four travelers on the narrow street outside his warehouse. “Good morning!” he said as he shook each man's hand. “You're very punctual.” Then, drawing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the warehouse door and threw it open. “Please come in,” the dealer said.

The dealer led the young men through a labyrinth of wooden crates to a room at the rear of the building. Inside, standing upright in the middle of the small room, was the princess's sarcophagus. It was eight feet tall and inlaid with gold and semiprecious stones. On the lid was a portrait of the princess herself, her face serene and lovely, and her eyes open as if she were still alive.

“It's superb,” one of the young men said.

“I think so, too,” said the dealer.

For the next hour, the five men examined the sarcophagus closely. The dealer read the inscription for them and even opened the lid so his visitors could examine the mummy of the princess.

Then one of the Englishmen cleared his throat and said,

“Would you … have you … considered selling the sarcophagus?”

The dealer seemed taken aback by the suggestion. But now all four of the young men pressed him to sell them the treasure. After some negotiation, the men settled on a price of ten thousand pounds sterling. They each wrote the dealer a check for £2,500 and asked him to have the sarcophagus packed up and sent to their hotel that evening as they were planning to being their journey home to England the next day.

“Before we conclude our agreement,” the dealer said, “I should warn you that the mummy is said to be cursed. If you are having second thoughts, I will tear up the checks now without any hard feelings.”

The gentlemen smiled, and one said, “Thank you. But none of us is superstitious.”

Late in the day, the packing crate containing the sarcophagus arrived at the hotel. As three of the gentlemen met in the bar for drinks before dinner, they saw the fourth member of their party walking out toward the desert. They waited for him all that evening and looked for him the next morning. At last they went to the British consulate to report their friend missing. They notified the Luxor police, but a thorough investigation turned up no trace of the missing Englishman. He was never seen again.

From that moment, trouble seemed to haunt the young travelers. One was shot accidentally in the right arm as his servant packed his hunting rifles. Although a surgeon from the British embassy in Cairo came to Luxor to treat the young man, the wound became gangrenous and the arm had to be amputated.

The third man in the foursome found on his return home that bad investments had destroyed his family's fortune.

The fourth man was struck down by an illness which no doctor in England could diagnose or cure.

Remembering the dealer's warning of a curse, the surviving travelers put the sarcophagus up for sale. They found a buyer almost immediately, a London businessman with a passion for Egyptian antiquities.

But no sooner had the sarcophagus been installed in the businessman's home than the curse struck again. His wife and two of his children were severely injured when their carriage overturned. Then the family's house caught fire, destroying every Egyptian artifact in their collection – except the sarcophagus.

Some days later, the Times reported that the British Museum had received a superb sarcophagus from an anonymous donor. As two workmen unloaded the sarcophagus in the museum courtyard, one of the men slipped and broke his leg. The other dropped dead two days later.

Now the princess's curse fell upon the British Museum. Night watchmen heard the sound of frantic hammering and sobbing from the coffin. Other artifacts displayed in the same gallery as the sarcophagus were hurled about by some unseen hand. A guard who witnessed the uncanny events died of fright. A charwoman who scoffed at the curse and flicked her dustcloth at the mummy's face lost her only child to a deadly case of measles.

By now, the newspapers had heard of the strange occurrences surrounding the princess's sarcophagus. A photographer who took a picture of the sarcophagus found when he developed the film that the serene image of the princess was replaced by a grotesque, horrifying face. The photographer hurried home, locked himself in the room and shot himself in the head.

The museum's curators ordered the sarcophagus to be kept in storage in the basement. Within days the foreman who had supervised the move was found dead at his desk.

A private collector with an interest in the occult purchased the sarcophagus from the British Museum and then invited the renowned spiritualist Madame Helena Blavatsky to perform an exorcism. After spending a few moments in the princess's presence, however, Madame Blavatsky hurried from the room, saying, “No one can overcome such evil.”

For 12 years, the sarcophagus passed from one owner to the next, leaving behind a trail of disasters and tragedies. Then an American archaeologist purchased the sarcophagus. The curse did not frighten him; he attributed all the misfortunes of the previous owners to the quirks of circumstance. In early April 1912, he arranged for the sarcophagus to be shipped to America and booked a stateroom for himself aboard the same ship – a luxurious new cruise ship of the White Star line that was making its maiden voyage to New York.

The name of the ship transporting the sarcophagus was Titanic.