#on some of his worst days at the beginning of the shop Eugene will just lie on his back on his bed or the couch on the balcony

[gingerwerk]

Looking through my f&t au tag and in my feeling

[freebooter4ever]

Semper Fi

Sledge and Snafu walk into a tattoo parlor, what happens? For @diasimar​​ short sledgefu one shot that deals with the - ahem - sexiness of Snafu getting that inner thigh tattoo while in the Marines stationed overseas (suggestive nudity but nothing explicit)

Snafu gets the tattoo on Hawaii during one of the lulls in action sometime after his second stint on Pavuvu. He’s been carousing almost every night, gambling a lot, winning money, sending quite a bit home to his baby sister, spending even more on booze, meeting the finest of the fine in Hawaiian polite society. For the first time in months Eugene and he aren’t attached at the hip in a foxhole anymore, and Snafu’s going a bit wild. For some reason though, no matter how late Snafu returns to their tent, Eugene is still awake, his lamp turned on, his long nose in a book. Even if it’s 3am Eugene greets Snafu as he stumbles into bed, and then calmly continues reading until Snafu passes out. Snafu’s beginning to worry Eugene doesn’t sleep at all. Yet every time Snafu asks Eugene if he wants to come out with him, Eugene politely turns him down.

When it comes to gambling, Snafu tries to stick to branches of the military that aren’t the Marines. He already has a reputation amongst the first and the fifth, and almost every single one of his friends refuses to lose money to him anymore. It’s when Snafu discovers how easy it is to part Navy sailors with their money, that Snafu starts seeing the tattoos. Snafu asks around and discovers there’s a guy who will do it for cheap for armed forces, who is an artist with ink, and who even has some Marines flash to choose from.

Snafu announces his plans for a tattoo to Sledge that evening, who glances up from his book and replies that this is exactly why he takes the night watch these days.

“You’re drunk, Snafu,” Eugene says, “Go to bed. We’ll see if this tattoo is still a good idea in the morning.”

Snafu doesn’t tell Gene that he’s pretty sure this idea has been brewing in the back of his head for days. Instead he goes to bed. And he also realizes that there’s some part of Eugene stuck in those foxholes, still keeping watch, even though they’re on Hawaii where the worst that can happen already has. Gene shouldn’t be worrying about anything, and he certainly shouldn’t be watching over Snafu while he sleeps. If anyone should be looking after anybody it should be Snafu. He’s the one half in love.

“If I get a tattoo on my own, will you hate me?” Snafu asks Gene the next morning.

“Why would I hate you?” Eugene replies, genuinely confused.

Snafu shrugs. He always assumed Eugene would one day.

Eugene rolls his eyes, satisfied that Snafu is back to his normal enigmatic sober self, and then rolls over in his cot and goes back to sleep.

This time Snafu stays awake, studying Sledgehammer’s sleeping face, munching on a chocolate bar while Eugene snores. By the time Snafu finishes his breakfast, and Eugene is properly awake, Snafu gets an idea about how to put Eugene’s watchdog tendencies to good use.

“Why am I coming with you to Chinatown?” Eugene asks that afternoon as they make their way across Honolulu.

“Because that’s where Jerry’s shop is,” Snafu answers, “It’s art, Eugene, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, Gene,” Snafu sighs, “How are you even a Marine? We need to get you out more.”

“I get out plenty,” Eugene gripes and gets that cute nose wrinkle between his brows that happens whenever Snafu teases him too much.

Snafu grins.

“Just because I don’t drink, doesn’t mean I judge anyone else for it,” Eugene says defensively.

“I know you don’t, Boo, and all the guys respect you for it, but they’ll love you for it if you also join us from time to time. You don’t gotta do anything, just be there,” Snafu says.

“Huh,” Eugene says, and thoughtfully considers Snafu’s suggestion while they walk. It baffles Snafu sometimes, how Eugene actually take Snafu’s opinions into consideration. Gene listens, and thinks on it until he understands, and then adjusts his behavior as he sees fit, and he puts a hell of a lot more stock into Snafu’s judgement than Snafu could ever have imagined him doing. “Are you included in this?” Eugene asks after a period of silence.

“What?” Snafu holds the door open to the tattoo parlor for him.

“Will you love me if I hang out from time to time?” Eugene asks and hesitates in the doorway.

“I already love you, Gene, you don’t gotta work on that,” Snafu winks and playfully pushes Sledge’s ass the rest of the way into the shop.

Eugene looks endearingly uncomfortable standing in the middle of the tattoo parlor. Gene’s eyes go wide and they keep sliding over to the corner of the shop where a sailor with bulging muscles is having a delicate bird tattooed onto his bicep. Snafu slides his arm across Eugene’s shoulder to help the poor guy relax while they wait their turn to be helped.

“What am I doing here?” Gene hisses lowly in Snafu’s ear as he leans against him.

“I want to get the tattoo on a sensitive area,” Snafu whispers back and leans closer. Any excuse to hold Gene tighter.

“How sensitive?” Sledge is looking at Snafu like Snafu’s situation has gone from fucked up to total insanity.

“On a part of me that might make things a little too hot, if you know what I mean,” Snafu elaborates.

“Shelton, what the heck are you getting at?”

“I’m getting the eagle and globe on my inner thigh and I want you to be here to make sure nothing turns raunchy,” Snafu explains.

Eugene pulls away and stares at him for a full minute. “What the hell do you think is going to be sexy about a man sticking a needle in your skin for a couple hours?”

“I dunno, Sledgehammer, I’m just concerned he’s going to be nose to nose with certain areas of myself I like to keep private,” Snafu says.

“Then why not get it on your arm like a normal person?” Sledge whispers accusingly.

Snafu shrugs. He swears Eugene looks fiercely jealous, but maybe he’s just seeing things. “Hate me yet?” he asks.

Eugene just glares in response. And crosses his arms in a bit of a huff. But he doesn’t leave the shop. Eugene doesn’t say another word. He silently inspects the art Snafu picks out. And when it’s Snafu’s turn, Eugene stands beside him. He silently watches as Snafu drapes himself over the bench and splays his legs open. A strategically placed thin blanket keeps Snafu’s dignity intact, but his ass is otherwise as bare as the day he was born.

Eugene was right about the artist being professional and too focused to do much else. The guy doesn’t even treat Snafu like he’s a body made of flesh and bone, just canvas. The artist is firm, and calm, and certain of every mark he makes.

And the only thing Snafu finds distracting is the unexpected intensity of Eugene staring at Snafu’s crotch while the tattoo is being done.

At first it’s fine. The tattoo starts almost inside his hip and the pain is next to nothing. And certainly nothing Snafu can’t handle. Until the needle goes lower, into sensitive fatty areas, and the pain explodes.

“Fuck!” Snafu grits out as he tries to keep his body from reacting.

That gets Eugene’s attention on Snafu’s face, finally. Gene turns to him and takes his hand gently.

Snafu isn’t having it. He grips Eugene’s hand so hard his knuckles turn white and Eugene’s eyebrows shoot up on his face in shock. Snafu almost growls with the pain, and tears prick his eyes. In all Snafu’s half baked plans about giving Eugene something artsy to admire that they can both share, and by coincidence letting Eugene watch over Snafu’s dick for a couple hours, Snafu had never considered he might end up looking ridiculous in front of his crush.

“Hey, look at me,” Eugene whispers softly right beside Snafu’s head. Gene crouches down beside the bench so they’re eye level, and gently slides his fingers across Snafu’s cheek. He turns Snafu’s head to face him, away from the work being done on Snafu’s leg, and suddenly all Snafu can see is the adoration and concern in Eugene’s eyes.

“Sledgehammer...?” is all Snafu can manage to say.

Eugene holds Snafu’s hand tight and cups Snafu’s face, and whispers sweet nothings about how beautiful Snafu is. Something about Snafu’s stubble and square jaw, and something about the rain. And Snafu can barely pay attention, but if he watches Eugene’s lips form around the words long enough he almost forgets the pain.

‘Just fucking kiss me,” Snafu wants to be able to say, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to do it for months.”

He doesn’t say it.

He does, however, manage to survive his first (and hopefully only) tattoo experience thanks to Gene’s helping hand (Literally. Snafu hopes he didn’t maim Gene’s drawing hand.). The artist wraps Snafu’s leg and gives him instructions on how to care for the tattoo in the first few days. The artist also gives him and Gene a considering look, but says nothing. Snafu supposes the guy’s probably used to all sorts, what with him tattooing mostly Navy boys, a branch of the armed forces where what Snafu wants to do to Gene is almost legal. Almost.

Snafu’s leg doesn’t hurt too much, but he plays it up a bit for sympathy. Eugene steadfastly allows Snafu to lean on him the whole walk home, with Gene’s arm strong and secure around Snafu’s waist. To be fair it is hard to walk with a giant bandage around a guy’s inner thigh. Snafu is reduced to an awkward hobble. He is relieved when he can finally stagger into their tent and flop onto Gene’s cot.

“Snafu, wrong bed,” Eugene points out helpfully. He tries to help Snafu stand back up.

Snafu refuses and goes limp.

“Snaf, you’re on my book.”

Snafu does move for that.

Eugene rescues his book and then sits down at the foot end of the cot. “So how long is it gonna take to heal?” he asks conversationally.

Snafu grunts.

“I’ll bring you dinner,” Eugene announces. He pats Snafu’s ankle lovingly and stands back up with a sigh. A few hours of silence and he returns with rice. “I figured simple was better for now,” he explains.

Snafu makes no comment on his freely given dinner, and eats his rice quietly while Eugene carefully peels the bandage off Snafu’s thigh.

“It’s gonna look better in a few weeks,” Snafu assures him.

With his head still bent over Snafu’s crotch, Eugene looks at him skeptically from underneath his brow.

“Hopefully,” Snafu adds, his confidence faltering a little.

Snafu spends the next three days wallowing in comfort with Eugene at his beck and call. Somewhere in town Eugene picks up an odd smelling cream that Eugene swears on his life will help. Snafu agrees, not because he’s in pain or worried about the tattoo becoming infected. But because he just enjoys it when Eugene leans across Snafu’s legs on the cot to get a good angle, pushes down Snafu’s pants, and then rubs little feather-light circles over Snafu’s naked thigh to massage the cream in.

“Think you can walk now?” Eugene asks on the fourth day after he’s rubbed the cream into Snafu’s skin.

It takes Snafu a minute to remember that he never mentioned to Eugene that walking was no longer a problem after the bandage came off the first day. “Oh...probably,” Snafu says while keeping his voice deceptively light.

Eugene sighs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “Better not try,” he says, “Just to be sure. It’s starting to scab.” Eugene trails a finger down the tattoo. He barely brushes the tiny portions of scabbed skin, but it sends a strange tingle up Snafu’s spine.

Snafu swallows. “Think it’s supposed to do that,” he opinions, “The scabbing.” - not the tingling.

“I might get Jay to bring you your dinner tonight...” Eugene trails off, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. All of Snafu’s focus is on Eugene’s hand still resting over the clothed portion of Snafu’s leg. Till he hears what Eugene said.

“What???” Snafu demands.

“I’ve been thinking of going out with the guys. Burgie says it’s Stringbean’s birthday or something,” Eugene says.

“What? No!” Snafu yanks his pants back up over his crotch.

“You said I needed to spend more time with them...”

“Yeah, but not without me!” Snafu exclaims, “I’ll come along...”

“Not so fast,” Eugene holds Snafu’s chest down on the bed with his hand, and briefly fulfills one of Snafu’s many fantasies, “If you get that tattoo infected, you might be stuck here even longer than if you just wait it out now.”

“But I...” Snafu is realizing his subterfuge in getting Eugene to wait on him hand and foot is coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Jay’s staying behind tonight to write a letter to his folks,” Eugene concludes, “He won’t mind bringing you food, honest.”

“But it’s pork chops tonight!” Snafu says as Eugene gets up to leave.

“I think Jay can handle carrying some pork chops,” Eugene chuckles.

Snafu’s losing him. He’s almost out the door. Eugene’s gonna find a replacement caretaker and that’ll be the end to Snafu monopolizing his time.

“Gene!” Snafu calls desperately. He scrambles out of bed and grabs Eugene’s wrist.

Eugene blinks at him in surprise. “I thought you were in pain...?”

Snafu opens his mouth and casts his eyes anywhere but on Gene so maybe Sledgehammer won’t see his guilt. In his haste, Snafu forgot to button his pants. They’re falling down his hips again.

“You were never in any pain, were you?” Eugene asks.

“Maybe for the first...” Snafu thinks hard, “...three...or four...hours...?”

“It’s been four days Snafu,” Eugene starts advancing on him like he’s gonna give Snafu some real pain to think about, “I help you limp to the toilet four times a day. I’ve been giving you sponge baths!”

Snafu trips backwards and falls onto Gene’s cot. “I’ve been reading your books aloud for you!” he protests, “You like it when I do the heavy accent.” As if that makes them even.

“You. Owe. Me,” Eugene emphasizes. And shoves Snafu flat on his back

“Semper Fi?” Snafu says with a grin.

“Get your own damn pork chops, Shelton,” Eugene shakes his head in disgust - the worst expression Snafu could imagine being on his face, “And get out of my cot. You are perfectly capable of using your own.” He moves as if to tip over the cot and dump Snafu out of it.

“Wait!” Snafu sprawls across it like a heavy starfish. “True, my leg doesn’t hurt, but I don’t want to move too much and risk breaking open the scabs,” Snafu protests, “Remember! Potential infection!”

Eugene stops, and considers this carefully. “Fair point,” he says.

“Fuck...” Snafu groans and pushes himself up on his elbows. “You listen to my advice too much, Hammer. Don’t go out with those guys. Stay in tonight. With me. I’ll even read to you from that dumbass history book you love so much.”

This gets Eugene’s interest. He knows Snafu prefers the fiction novels over the dry facts. But Eugene’s a sucker for timelines and dates.

Snafu’s got him on the edge. He just needs one last enticement to tip Eugene over.

“C’mon Sledge, help me out with this and when it’s all healed, I’ll let you and only you kiss it,” Snafu jokes, hoping that if he entertains Eugene enough, Gene won’t kick him out of his cot. Snafu wiggles his leg enticingly. It makes the tattoo jiggle. The Marines Corps eagle flaps it’s wings. Snafu smiles beguilingly.

Except Eugene’s not laughing. His eyes are devastatingly serious as he thinks over Snafu’s words. He sits down on the cot again, on top of Snafu’s feet. And leans forward, sliding his hand up Snafu’s leg the whole way. His fingers grip Snafu’s thigh just below the marred skin of the tattoo, as if he’s waiting for the day he can touch that skin without hesitance. He stares Snafu straight in the eye with an uncompromising look and says, “Deal.”

Snafu is hit with flashes of fantasy - of Eugene’s head bending down, his lips replacing his fingers, Eugene kissing his way up the tattoo straight to Snafu’s...

“Shake on it,” Eugene insists, holding out his hand.

Snafu shakes wordlessly.

And Eugene marches out of the room to fetch Snafu his pork chops.

Snafu drops back onto the cot again and wonders desperately if jerking off would reopen the wounds, or stretch the tattoo beyond recognition.

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 4

Summary: y/n gets a card from happy hogan and vomits on the side of the road after telling off brad in the middle of an airport

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio is the worst, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 1741

A/N: i know it’s reader insert but i’m emotionally attached to y/n... so, me

                                                         //////////

Let me tell you, getting lava to come out of the bottom of the Thames was pretty much the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life. And I thought Italy was bad.

Beck had a drone on standby, waiting to shoot me should I suddenly decide I’d rather die than destroy London.

I started destroying London.

It wasn’t easy. Beck told me I had to use all four elements to make it convincing, and it took all of my concentration. Listen, I’m damn good. I can make buildings crumble, I can make airplanes stop shaking in mid air, I know what the hell I’m doing. But all four elements at once? Let’s just say I’ll have a migraine for days.

I positioned myself at the very top of the monster so I could see what I was doing. I tried to do as much damage with as few casualties as possible, but I had to perform—Beck was watching.

I was waiting for Mysterio to come out and save the day, as planned, but then a red and blue blur dropped from the sky.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I smiled, a full-blown smile. Beck had announced at the top of his lungs that he had killed Spider-Man. I didn’t take it well. I mean, what do you expect? I’d known Peter for a full year of school, and I was actually starting to call him a friend (to myself, of course, I’d let him admit that first) and then Beck just had to go ahead and drop that bomb on me.

Peter dove into the water and —

Oh shit he thinks this is a projection.

I hollowed out the middle of my monster and pulled him all the way up to my makeshift platform. Then his jaw dropped when he saw me.

“Y/N!”

I punched him in the shoulder. “I thought you were dead!”

“You’re working with Mysterio?”

“No, fuck him, he’s forcing me to do this.” I knocked some people off of the sidewalk and into the Thames. “He said he’d kill my family if I didn’t do what he said.”

Peter was gaping at me. “You’re the Avatar!”

I groaned. “Peter! You’re missing the point! I’m being forced to destroy London until you can kick Mysterio’s ass.”

He sobered up quickly. In complete honesty, he looked like shit. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheek was scrapped, and he was standing heavily to one side. Shit, just like I said. “Where is he?”

I thrust my chin toward Tower Bridge as I let my sludgy fist come down on a coffee shop. So much wasted espresso.

I had been at it for an hour, maybe two, when Peter shot some webs into the air without swinging from them. I took that as my cue to cool it, and I let the lava sink back to the Earth’s core. The Thames happily returned to normal, and I deposited myself on the uneven cobblestones by the Tower of London. The moment I touched down MJ ran past me with a weapon in hand, straight for the bridge. Odd.

“Was - was that monster thing... you?” Flash’s camera was pointed at me. I wanted to take his phone and chuck it straight into the filthy water, but all I did was look at him tiredly.

“We’re all just full of secrets, aren’t we Eugene?”

“You okay, kid?” A man with a goatee was with Ned and Betty and he looked vaguely familiar.

“Dead on my feet,” I admitted.

He nodded. “Let’s get back to your class.”

I would’ve fallen flat on my face if Flash hadn’t stepped forward and wrapped an arm around me. “Thanks,” I mumbled as I wrapped my own arm around his shoulders. “Where did everyone think I went?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, “Harrington said he got an email from your mom saying you weren’t feeling well, so you were gonna stay behind in Prague with some family then fly home. Everyone else was really skeptical, especially ‘cause Peter used the same excuse, but it’s not like we could do anything.” We slowly made our way back to the rest of the class. “Good luck explaining to Harrington how you’re back.”

“Think he’ll believe the truth?”

Flash’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s the truth?”

“I was kidnapped by Mysterio and he made me turn into an Elemental so he could become the new Tony Stark.”

I wish I could’ve told him I was making it up. I wish I could’ve made myself believe I was making it up. But I wasn’t. Reality really is shit.

Flash just chuckled half heartedly. “No. But that doesn’t mean he won’t let you go back with us anyway.”

We rejoined the class eventually, Peter still missing, but MJ quickly joined my other side and whispered in my ear, “I just kissed Peter.”

My eyes widened and I whispered back, “Holy shit that’s awesome,” but my heart wasn’t in it.

They’re really cute, and obviously happy. But I was starting to get attached to him. And now he couldn’t be mine. Not that he was to begin with, but a small part of me was hopeful.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Harrington’s exclamation could be heard over all of the class, so they all turned their heads to look at me. Joy.

“Yeah, turns out my connecting flight was the same as yours. Crazy how that works out, right?”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Okay, let’s all get back to the airport, we still have a flight to catch.”

The rest of them started migrating, but I stuck back. I don’t have a ticket. I can’t get on a plane without a ticket.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” It was the same familiar guy from before.

“I- I don’t have a ticket. M- Mysterio was the one who got me here, and I never thought so far as a way home, and-“ I was on the verge of tears, and before I could object, his arms were wrapped around me and he was patting my back softly.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I-“

But he was interrupted by none other than Spider-Man himself.

“Happy, hey- Y/N?”

Before I could really stop myself I launched myself into Peter’s arms and hugged him tightly. “God, he told me you were dead.”

His arms eventually reciprocated the level of tightness I was giving out. “It wasn’t a fun time for me, either.”

I let go eventually, mostly because I was starting to lose the feeling in my arms. I couldn’t even really say anything without tears getting in the way so I just stood there, awkwardly, sniffling.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” It was the guy, Happy, that suggested it. “Tickets, then showers, then clothes, then sleep. Both of you.”

“I could sleep for a lifetime,” I mumbled.

I don’t remember much else. I ended up between Flash and Brad, which wasn’t too bad considering Flash has comfy shoulders and the more I slept the longer I could ignore Brad. I kind of figured it was inevitable, Brad stopping me to finally have a talk, but I was hoping to avoid it.

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve tried to be nice to you, and all you’ve ever done in return is throw it back in my face.”

“Can we not do this right now, Brad? Or ever, for that matter?”

“No.” He grabbed my arm as I tried walking away. “I deserve an answer.”

I was exhausted. I was pissed. My mind was not in a good state. And I may have felt how real Brad was, but that didn’t stop my skin from crawling when his hand grabbed me.

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “I don’t owe you shit. Just because you deserve an explanation doesn’t mean I have to give you one.”

“You’re a first rate bitch, you know that?”

“And he finally drops the nice guy facade.” I probably shouldn’t have gotten so close to him, but I was not in the best state, mentally. Despite that little voice in the back of my head, I took a step closer and nearly bumped chests with him. “You’ve been trying to keep up this act so they can accept you, but you’re doing a real shit job at hiding the fact that you believe you’re just a scared twelve year old to these people. You’ve been letting their opinions about you control your life and it’s exhausting.”

“Like you’re any better.”

I took a step back and a deep breath. “If I let their opinions of me control my life I would’ve been dead a long time ago.” I shrugged. “I know what I am to them, and there’s nothing to change it. But that doesn’t mean I have to seek their approval. They’ve already made their decision about who I am - I have my whole life to make mine.” I shoved past him and finally made it out of the airport, just in time to see Peter give MJ a small peck before going to his aunt. Another punch to the gut. Reality: 1, Y/N: 0.

“Y/N! Sweetheart! We were so worried.” My parents, bless their souls, ran up to me and wrapped me in their arms. I would’ve burst into tears right there if Happy didn’t make eye contact with me and hand me a business card behind their backs. He lifted his hand to his ear and mouthed, ‘call me,’ to which I nodded simply for lack of a better response. “Let’s get you home,” they insisted. I was ushered into the car and driven straight home, but I didn’t hear a word they said.

My own parents don’t know what I can do. I could’ve died and they would never know I had abilities.

Holy shit.

I could have died.

“Stop the car.”

Dad looked back in concern. “Y/N, are you okay?” Of course I wasn’t okay, I was asking you to stop the car in the middle of the freeway.

“Dad, stop the car, I’m gonna be sick.”

He pulled over and I jumped out and emptied the trashy airplane food from my system. How could it be legal to serve that to people?

“Y/N?” Mom put a hand on my back and I almost lost it again. “Let’s get home and we’ll talk. Okay?”

Wow, did we have a lot to talk about.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​

[whitecatindisguise]

Vocalised

Okay, so I don’t usually do sequels to oneshots, because that’s what they are: oneshots. But Silenced (which you can read here) was really asking for one.

So, here it is. Let’s wrap this story up.

------

Rapunzel let out a deep sigh as she looked out of the balcony. The black rocks were everywhere, piercing through the buildings. The rebuilding of the capital will take some time, but right now, they could do nothing but wait for the rocks to disappear. At least, they weren’t growing anymore.

Princess closed her eyes, remembering the events from yesterday. The black rocks entered the capital, destroying homes and shops, moving straight towards the castle. Her father told her to run, but she refused, wanting nothing more but to help her subjects. By the time they finally noticed what, or rather who the rocks were after, it was too late. She was locked in the rock prison, surrounded from all sides.

Then, something unthinkable happened. When Rapunzel touched one of the rocks, they reacted in an explosion of blinding light and deafening sound. Once they were finally able to see, the rocks, at least most of them, reverted to the ground, creating a path towards the Corona’s Wall. 

Her father explained everything to her that day. How he was aware of the black rocks from the very beginning. How taking the Sundrop Flower summoned them to Corona. And how he never told her about it, because he knew exactly who they were targeting. 

They argued, she cried and shouted, not understanding why he would hide something so important from her. He tried to explain, cover behind his will to protect her. Rapunzel was glad her mother took side with her. She, too, didn’t approve of his actions. To put the whole kingdom at risk for the sake of protecting his daughter. Daughter, who was perfectly able to do so on her own. 

Rapunzel decided to follow the black rocks. She stated it as a fact, rather than asking for permission. She knew it was what she was meant to do. It was her destiny. And her father had to accept that. They agreed she would leave in a week, taking Cass, Eugene and Lance with her. 

Green eyes opened and, once again, gazed at the demolished landscape. Is this how Old Corona looked like? Was it the view Varian would see every day from his bedroom window? 

Her train of thoughts stopped abruptly. Her eyes widened in realisation and shock.

“Varian-!” She whispered, only now remembering the desperate plea all those months ago, on the day of the snow storm. How could she just forget about him? How could she not go and check on him once everything was resolved?

Rapunzel turned on her heel and ran out of her room, her braid flying behind her. She had to find Cass and Maximus. They needed to go to Old Corona!

~~~~~~

Eugene walked the cold corridors, a small shudder going up his spine. He never liked the dungeons. But he was here on a job, and he was determined to see it towards the end. 

After the black rocks attacked the castle, many of the rooms were destroyed and demolished. There were several casualties, but luckily, no dead. Many of the castle workers were sent to assess the size of damage. 

Eugene, along with Lance, volunteered to help the Royal Guard check the dungeons, making sure none of the prisoners escaped, as well as provide medical attention to those who needed it. So, there they were, travelling the dark corridors he never thought he would enter willingly. 

So far they didn’t find any major issues, only several cracked walls and some of the prisoners needing replacing. The two friends turned the corner and noticed one of the bigger rocks destroyed the door to the lower level completely. 

“Woah, this one doesn’t like doors.” Lance commented with a chuckle. Eugene smiled and rolled his eyes, bumping his adoptive brother’s shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s see what’s going on in there.” He said and the two carefully jumped over the rock and descended the stairs. 

This level was anything like the ones they’ve been through before. For one, it was extremely dark, a single torch slowly burning on the wall. Second of all, the cells there didn’t have bars, but rather sturdy wooden doors. 

“Looks creepy, if you ask me.” Lance said, shuddering a little at the eerie atmosphere. 

“Let’s check it out quickly and get out of here.” Eugene agreed and the two spread out to cover both sides of the corridor. 

Each room they checked was empty, and the brown-haired man was certain they would find nothing, when suddenly Lance took a sharp inhale. 

“Eugene, come here and tell me you’re not seeing what I’m seeing.” The large dark-skinned man said. 

Eugene raised an eyebrow at the statement and approached the door, taking the torch with him to get more light. He leaned over and peeked through the small window into the cell. At first he didn’t see anything, but then something moved in the corner of the room and Eugene felt his breath stop. 

“Oh my god!” He exclaimed in shock and horror, brown eyes staring at the small figure curled by the opposite wall. The light from the torch bounced off the cell walls and Eugene gasped when it illuminated the odd-coloured stripe on the prisoner’s hair. “It’s Varian!”

~~~~~~

Rapunzel stared in shock at the sight before her. Old Corona was even worse than the capital. There was no single building that was spared from the black rocks. The dark spires pierced the walls and roofs, rising tall above the houses. Worst of all, it seemed abandoned.

“This doesn’t look good, Raps.” Cassandra commented, jumping down to the ground and helping the princess off the horse. 

“I- I didn’t know it was that bad.” Rapunzel admitted, looking around in horror. “Cass, we have to find Varian.”

“Raps, I don’t think-” The handmaiden was trying to argue but the blond-haired woman was already rushing towards the alchemist’s house. 

She knocked several times, bouncing impatiently on her heels, as she waited for the answer. When none came, she hesitated for a moment, before pushing the door open and entering the silent house. 

“Varian? Are you there?” She called out, taking careful steps around. 

“That’s trespassing.” Cassandra hissed, following after the princess. “And the house is clearly abandoned for a long time. Look at all of this dust.”

“Cass, I let him be thrown away into the snowstorm. And didn’t check on him for months!” Rapunzel argued, moving towards the stairs she knew led to the boy’s lab. “I have to make sure he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Raps.” The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes as they descended to the basement. “The whole village probably moved somewhere else, seeing as nobody is here.”

Princess didn’t listen, as she pushed open the door to the lab. Just like the rest of the house, it was abandoned. What piqued their interest, however, was the enormous structure covered in tarp, taking up most of the room’s space. Curiosity taking over, Rapunzel approached it and in one movement pulled the cloth down. 

Both of them gasped in shock at the sight. The structure turned out to be a monolith amber with a person stuck inside it.

“Quirin…” Rapunzel whispered in horror, turning to her friend. “Cass, that’s- that’s Varian’s father!” 

“This doesn’t look good.” Cassandra repeated what she said back when they entered the village. But this time, the words had deeper meaning. If Varian’s father was inside the amber… then where was the alchemist?

A chitter from under the workbench startled both women. They turned abruptly and noticed Ruddiger, looking up at them. He seemed to search for something (or someone, as Rapunzel realised), and not finding what he hoped for, he lowered his ears and let out a saddened wail. 

“Oh, Ruddiger!” Rapunzel cried, kneeling down and picked up the raccoon, the animal not even protesting at the gesture. “Cass, if Ruddiger is here alone…”

“Then something must have happened to Varian.” The handmaiden nodded in understanding. 

~~~~~~

When both women came back to the castle with Ruddiger (not before checking the whole house and the village in the search of the alchemist), they were immediately met with Eugene and Lance waiting in the courtyard, both looking nervous and somewhat terrified. 

“Blondie, I’m so glad you’re back-” Eugene started but Rapunzel cut him off, jumping down from Max’s back and running up to her boyfriend. 

“Eugene! This is awful!” She cried, grabbing his shoulders. “Old Corona is completely destroyed, the villagers left, Varian’s dad is encased in amber in his lab and we can’t find him anywhere! We only found Ruddiger, and we all know, Varian doesn’t go anywhere without Ruddiger! Something bad must have happened to him. I just know it!” 

“Hey, hey. Sunshine. Deep breaths.” Eugene reached for her hands and took them off his shoulders, grabbing them between his. “This is actually something we wanted to talk to you about-”

“How can I be calm, Eugene?! He came to me for help and I not only refused it, but left him alone for months! And now we can’t find him anywhere and I’m sure something must have happened to him!” 

“Rapunzel, if you would just listen-.” The man tried again but was cut off by another wave of terrified thoughts.

“We searched the whole village. And his house. And even part of the forest. He is gone, Eugene! And I’m scared! So, so scared because I don’t know where he is and-” Rapunzel went on when suddenly it was Lance who cut her in. 

“He’s in the dungeons!” The dark-skinned man squeaked anxiously, and suddenly the Princess went silent. She stared at Lance and then back at Eugene.

“Is… Is this true?” She asked, her eyes pleading. Please, say it’s not true. Please, say it’s not true. 

Eugene sighed and looked down in sadness.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine, but Lance is right.” He said, looking up and into his girlfriend’s emerald eyes. “We’ve found him while checking the dungeons for damage after…” He waved his hand towards the black rocks. “He’s been locked on the deepest level, behind a sturdy wooden door. No light, no sound, small room.”

“Solitary confinement.” Cassandra muttered and Eugene nodded. That sounded just right.

“I- Rapunzel, I tried asking the Captain for the key. But he said…” He hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. “He said it was an order from the King.” 

“N-no. That’s impossible. Dad would never-” Rapunzel tried to argue, eyes wide in shock.

“Raps, solitary confinement is something only the King can approve of.” Cassandra spoke up.

“And, not that I like speaking bad about you dad, but… it doesn’t sound so unrealistic, knowing what else he did to protect you from those rocks.” Eugene added. 

“How does imprisoning Varian agree with protecting me from the rocks?!” Princess shouted and the man took a small step back. 

“I- I don’t know, but the kid was researching those rocks.” Eugene reminded, trying to sound calm. “Maybe he learned something that your dad didn’t like and.. you know… he took precautions?”

Rapunzel furrowed her brows, anger visible on her face. 

“It seems me and dad need another talk about secrets.” She said with determination, stomping away and marching towards the castle. 

~~~~~~

Varian hugged his knees closer to his chest. It was cold. His whole body was trembling, and he pulled himself closer, hoping to keep some of the body warmth. 

He didn’t know what was going on. Several hours ago (at least he thought it was hours. He lost the track of time short after he was locked in, having nothing to help him calculate it) the whole castle shook tremendously, there were some crashing noises and screams. And then, everything fell into silence again.

Some more time passed and he heard people again, walking around the higher levels and talking silently. At some point he almost thought he heard someone enter the level he was in, people talking and someone saying his name. But when he looked up, he didn’t see anything and everything was silent again, so he decided he must have imagined it. 

He sighed and let his head drop onto his knees. His stomach had long since stopped rumbling, the feeling of emptiness already gone. His food didn’t come for few days now, he deduced. They must have decided to starve him now. He didn’t really see a point anymore. It’s not like he could do anything, stuck in this cell. 

Suddenly, he heard more voices, footsteps coming down the stairs, keys jingling. His heart stopped, thinking what it could possibly mean. Were they moving him somewhere else? It wasn’t food, there was a hatch at the bottom of the door for that, no need for keys. Or maybe the king finally decided on his fate (which probably didn’t mean anything good, seeing his treatment until now)? 

The footsteps stopped in front of his door and he heard the key being pushed into the lock and turned. He froze completely, trying his best to hide in the deepest corner of the cell. The door opened with a deafening creak, showing how much time has passed since they were opened last time. 

Several figures stood in the doorway and Varian pulled his legs closer, making himself as small as it was possible. 

“Varian…?” A cautious voice called, the one he knew but didn’t hear for a long time. But it wasn’t possible? Why would she be here? She had no reason to-

The figure who spoke took one tentative step inside and Varian sucked in his breath, body completely frozen. 

“Varian… it’s me. Rapunzel.” The figure, Rapunzel said, taking one more step forward. He stared at her with eyes wide open. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t-

“Why…?” He somehow managed to crack out, his voice raspy from all the months of silence. She stopped and kneeled down, only few steps in front of him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She whispered and he could see tears in her eyes. She was crying. Why was she crying? “I thought- I thought you were in Old Corona. That whatever happened during the snowstorm… that you didn’t come back before everything was fine.”

He stared at her, not sure how to respond. She had to be lying. But then, why would she? It was, after all, the king who ordered those masked men to hunt him, to treat him like a criminal, to, finally, lock him in this cell. 

“I… Varian. I saw your dad.” Rapunzel continued and his eyes widened. Dad. He was still trapped. He had to save him. The Sundrop Flower. “I’m so sorry for what happened. I know I promised to help you, and I will.”

He looked up at her expectantly and she took it as a cue to continue.

“The black rocks… they were after me. They entered the capital yesterday, looking for me.” She said and Varian blinked. That explained the sounds he heard earlier. “They… when I touched them, they created a path. They are leading me somewhere. And I know, wherever that is, will help me find the way to get rid of them. And, I believe we can also find a way to free your father.”

“Why are you… telling me this?” His voice was still quiet and raspy. 

“Because I want you to go with me, with us.” Rapunzel smiled. “I can’t make up for what my father did to you, Varian. But I can help you make better memories. And, we could probably use your skills and knowledge, wherever the rocks are taking us.” She extended a hand in his direction and smiled some more. “What do you say?”

Varian pondered about the thought before nodding and taking her hand. Her smile grew wider and she helped him to his feet, stabilising him as he wobbled. A ball of grey fur ran up to him and up his frame, to finally set on his shoulders.

“Hey bud, missed you.” He whispered, a small smile on his face. Rapunzel led him out and Eugene put a reassuring hand on the teen’s shoulder. 

“Let’s get you looked up, okay kid?” He said with a smile. “You look like death itself.” 

“Okay.” Varian nodded and let himself be guided out of the dungeons and into the sunlit corridors of the castle.

------

So, that’s it. That’s the end. I won’t continue the story, but you can imagine how it went. Hope you guys liked it.

[almondharry]

you look so good : one

you look so good [5.6k]

“You must think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”

A charming smile crept on his face slowly. “It is why you married me, isn’t it?”

“I am beginning to rethink that decision. Not one of my finest moments.”

“You’re thirty years too late for that, love.”

There was a pause, then a loud scoff. Her jaw hung open in disbelief. The napkin that laid on her lap was flung towards his chest with a soft thump. “We’ve been married for 32 years, you wanker! Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Alexander and his Algebraic K Theory

September 2, 2019

It was a slow night. There was not a single car found between the thick yellow lines freshly painted in the lot. A flickering lamp post finally gave out. The moths previously circling it floated to the next one. Besides the elderly couple arguing over a crossword puzzle in their booth, there were crickets in the diner.

The checkered floors were swept and each table was found crumbless. With a broom in hand, she would pretend that she was a chess piece being moved strategically. Genevieve sat behind the counter with her chin in her palm, textbooks in front of her, and a highlighter in hand. With the cap caught between her teeth, Genevieve dragged the yellow ink over the numbers she found important. The mint green coloured plastic stool did little to relieve the ache at the bottom of her spine. Occasionally she would hum in tune with the soft melodies the local radio decided to play– the songs were interrupted by cracks after every three songs, a pattern she had observed. She preferred night shifts over day ones. When the diner was close to deserted, it gave her the perfect opportunity to crack open her books and get started on her coursework that she was weeks behind on.

Flo’s Diner was a well known spot for people to grab their fix of greasy comfort food. It was sandwiched between a laundromat and a music shop. Red leather booths lined the perimeter and mismatched frames of posters and photographs hung on the walls. There was even a twenty year old menu, slightly browning and curving in at the corners, behind protected glass. 

“Excuse me! Dear!” 

Genevieve abandoned her work, her fingers expertly gripped the neck of a steel teapot before carrying it over to the booth the voice came from.

“More tea?” she offered with the raised pot.

“Oh no, darling, I just called you over so you can tell Eugene that cholesterol is the word he is looking for in the across.” The man sitting across from her had grey hair that was combed neatly to one side. He wore a deeply indented frown on his face. He grumbled something under his breath as he kept his eyes glued to the newspaper in front of him. “I tried telling him, but he has suddenly decided to ignore my existence. Couldn’t watch him struggle like that. It’s painful, really.”

“Well.” Eugene squinted his eyes behind his glasses to read the name tag on the left pocket. “Genevieve, maybe you can help me to find a four letter word that is a synonym for annoying.” Eugene crumpled his face in thought, his eyes brightened a moment later. “Nevermind I’ve got it! It’s W-I-F-E.”

A chuckle scratched the back of Genevieve’s throat. She tried to distract herself by tipping the pot to refill their cups with pursed lips, but it tumbled out and Eugene grinned. This only prompted his wife to cross her arms and narrow her eyes at him across the table. 

“You must think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”

A charming smile crept on his face slowly. “It is why you married me, isn’t it?” 

“I am beginning to rethink that decision. Not one of my finest moments.”

“You’re thirty years too late for that, love.”

There was a pause, then a loud scoff. Her jaw hung open in disbelief. The napkin that laid on her lap was flung towards his chest with a soft thump. “We’ve been married for 32 years, you wanker! Don’t tell me you forgot!”

His face stretched into a wide smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling upwards. “Of course I knew, Maggie. Just keeping you on your toes.” His left eye dropped in a quick wink. “Genevieve, can we have the bill, please?”

“I’m on it.” She nodded and headed towards the register to print out their receipt. Genevieve exchanged their dirty plates with a credit card machine, not forgetting to include a few chocolates that are kept in a jar by the register. On her way back, she heard Maggie smack Eugene's hand away from the sweets. 

“No chocolates for you.”

“One won’t knock me dead,” Eugene counters with a huff. 

“Tell that to your diabetes specialist next time, won’t you? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about that.”

By the time Genevieve returned from the kitchen, Eugene and Maggie had gotten up. He was helping Maggie with her walker by the front door. They would be bundled in scarves and hats in no time. 

“Have a great night!” Genevieve called out with a smile and a wave. Similar goodbyes were echoed back, and Genevieve went back to their booth.

The clanking of the bell–much like one that would be strapped around a cow’s neck– above the door signified that she was the only one left in the diner other than Walter, who was prepping in the kitchen for breakfast meals. Walter was quiet as a mouse, making a noise only when absolutely necessary, so it was her and her books for the rest of the night.

Genevieve cleared the table of the machine and she swept up the small crumbs left behind with a dishrag. She folded the discarded crossword and the flimsy paper crumpled under her hold. She rearranged the condiments into their set spot. As she fiddled with the jam holders, the bell above the door chimed once again. 

Without turning towards the door, she called out, “Forget something?” She scanned the table for keys, wallets, anything of importance. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for customers to rush back in for their valuables a minute or two after leaving the diner—but Genevieve didn’t see anything left behind. 

Her brows furrowed when no one responded, and she turned around to discover Maggie and Eugene were long gone.

The lanky figure that stood across from her was disgustingly familiar. His jeans had rips at the knees and his boots were on the brink of falling apart. The wind outside had coloured his cheeks and thrown his hair in a way that veiled his eyes. It was shorter now, more blunt than she recalled. The longest strand–that once would hit his chin–sat at the tip of his nose. 

Genevieve was the first to grasp a handle on the situation, as he was too busy struggling to remove a folded book from the pocket of his denim jacket to notice the scene.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

She still had time to get away.

The impulse thought was to plan an exit. There was a back door on the other side of the restaurant. Too far. She could grab a seat at any booth and stay out of sight. Or– the kitchen door was only a couple of steps away. If she acted fast enough, maybe even ducked her head down, she would go unnoticed. She could beg Walter to take his order and hide in the back until he got up and left.

In the midst of her plotting her exit, her body betrayed her. Her feet felt like heavy frozen blocks, cemented to the tiles beneath. Somehow her throat became wrapped with spiky barbed wire. Her hands were damp and fingers pruned as if she had just wiped them with a rag after drying wet dishes. 

A hand swept his hair back to clear his sight, and Genevieve wanted to become as invisible as the crumbs lodged between the tiny cracks of the tables.

His lips parted and his eyes blinked quickly, the urgency reminding her of flapping butterfly wings. He swallowed a lump in his throat as his green eyes widened, becoming more awake and alert. 

Genevieve was very familiar with his eyes, a shade of green like the plush moss that stuck to tree barks and abandoned stones. The corners of his eyes flicked up when he focused them in on her. There was no denying how beautiful he was. With his strong jaw and sharply contoured face, he turned heads immediately, he was something to be awed at. A sprinkling of colour dotted the high points of his face, meaning he had recently gotten some sun. But Genevieve paid close attention to his soft features, unable to tear her eyes from the slope of his neck and the dips of his bitten lips.

He was a bit too much at times. His presence could overwhelm and suffocate you. His shy smirks and beaming smiles and obnoxious laughter. He took up space and his beauty was borderline interrupting. Uninvited. 

Despite it all, Genevieve despised how good he looked. 

There are countless things in the world that sting. A sharp needle to a finger, a flat iron on high heat and of course, and, the worst of them all, Harry Styles walking in at Flo’s Diner. 

“Genny?” Harry breathed out, his bottom lip curved into a perfectly cut slice of peach, and Genevieve almost winces in pain. 

His voice is like sugar being melted over a pot set on high heat—sweet, caramelized, and could burn you if you let it. 

There were sleepless nights where Genevieve had given a thought to this situation. What would happen if Harry stood in front of her? The scenarios she had concocted in her brain closely resembled hell freezing over. She was sure time would stop and the Earth would split open. But when she looked down at the floor, there were no cracks. It stayed intact. The needles on the clock continued to turn without a pause. 

Harry Styles stood in front of Genevieve, and she felt nothing. 

“It's been too long.” 

When Harry took two steps closer and positioned his arms for what Genevieve knew too well to be a warm hug, she quickly retreated towards the pile of laminated menus. 

Struggling to make her stale smile as welcoming as possible, she looked him in the eye. “Booth or table?”

Genevieve swallowed pennies as the silence prolonged, while Harry’s brows were curled in confusion from the formality. His arms held their place for a moment too long—awkward, expecting—but dropped them at the clanking of the bells above the door. Her chest visabily deflated, as if she was pricked with a sharp sewing needle, and her lips parted to sigh a breath of relief now that she and Harry were no longer alone. Somehow having others around steadied Genevieve’s heart rate. 

A group of three came staggering in the diner with loud laughter and limbs intertwined from holding each other up. Their cheeks flushed and they wore matching grins. 

“Harry! You didn’t even wait for us, tosser!”

“He went so fast! Did you see him? I did—” hiccup “—not.”

“It must be the long legs. How do you not get dizzy?”

Genevieve blinked back to Harry. His eyes were the clearest of the bunch, the supposed designated driver of the night. She tried to manage what one can only call a subpar attempt at a smile. It was plastic and stretched her face in a way that hurt. “I’ll get you a booth.” She nodded.

Harry noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. If this was a different time, he would’ve made it painstakingly obvious to her that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Instead, he let her turn away.

“At least his bum looked super cute.” A voice, Genevieve presumed to belong to Harry’s friend, giggled. “Have you been doing squats or some shit, because you were flat as a board!”

“Now that’s progress!”

“Must be those nasty green drinks.”

“Oi!” Harry interrupted their banter. “That’s enough from you lot.” The mischievous laughter subdued to amused snickers as the group struggled with their coats by the rack. 

Genevieve busied herself with placing the menus on the table of the empty booth. The first one of the bunch to reach the booth was a pint sized girl. Her face was covered with orange freckles and her chopped hair sat below her chin. Her steps were a bit muddled in her short walk to the table, but she managed just fine to her seat. A strong scent of American Spirits followed her like a cloud heavy with rain. With heavy limbs, she plopped down and her face instantly laid on the cool surface. She let out a dreamy sigh and closed her eyes.

Harry took a seat across from the sleeping girl in the booth, and Genevieve scampered towards the kitchen. She went with the intention to let Walter know that orders will be coming up soon, even though she knew he didn’t need the heads up.

Harry used his index finger to poke at the flesh of the girl across him, but her arm didn’t move at all. This action was repeated twice and the same result was given. “Angie’s down, guys,” Harry called out to the rest of the group. 

This caused the two vacant seats in the booth to be filled.

“Fuck, not again.”

“I’m not carrying her this time, I did twice before.”

“Zayn, she puked on me last time. I reckon you can carry her once more.” 

“Oh sod off, Liza. She gets cranky and pulls out my hair, no bleeding way.”

“What if we just…” Liza leaned forward on her elbows that were supported by the table. She dropped her voice a couple octaves lower. Her eyes blinked from Harry’s sober ones to Zayn’s clouded. “Left her here? It would stop her from pulling this again.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger, his head shaking at their drunkenness. The fact that this was an actual topic of conversation and it was actually happening was insane, but nothing out of fashion. 

Zayn tilted his chin, as if the possibility was a film tape reeling in his head.

“I am still very much conscious, thanks for your concern.” On cue, Angie raised her head up from her quick snooze. Her hair was tied in knots and a line of saliva connected her back to the table. “I love knowing I can depend on my lovely friends to look after me. What’s next? Leaving me an abandoned alley? Leaving me locked out? Oh wait, you lot have done that already! Cheers!”

“Oh stop exaggerating, Angie.” Liza rolled her eyes. The paper napkin was scrunched up and dragged over Angie’s mouth as she grimaced. “You are no angel here, you had your fair share of responsibility in that.”

“Let’s talk about how you guys wouldn’t be having this conversation if you left me with that fit bloke at—”

“Jesus, Angie,” Zayn groaned. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “We’ve talked about you using your shit coping mechanism to get over—”

The temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees. Icicles hung in the air. “If you utter her name, you are dead to me.”

Zayn sighed deeply at the hardened glare the messy girl shot his way. “Just saying you can do much better, yeah?” His words were soft, tender, and just what Angie needed to hear for the night.

“Yeah, Z.” Angie sighed, her shoulders dropping. She shifted in her seat and laid her head on the wall. “It’s just hard at first.”

Liza and Harry sat beside each other with their menus in hand. 

“I say do whatever to get over that bitch, really. Sleep with whoever you want. I’m pretty sure that waitress was cute, get her number,” Liza suggested with a loose shrug of her shoulders. Harry’s knee jerked up and collided with the underside of the table. This caused the salt and pepper shakers to almost tip over.

Zayn shot a funny look, his brows drew together. “You alright, H?”

“Great, should we order now? I’m starved,” Harry prompted. “I have an early morning, so I need some food in me.”

When met with collective nods, Liza signalled Genevieve, who had just come out from behind the swinging kitchen doors. Genevieve plucked out a pen and a pad of paper that was stored in the front pocket of her apron. Each step she took towards their group made her want to take two back.

Liza was first up to order. She went for the scrambled eggs and avocado toast. Zayn ordered his black coffee and eggy bread. Genevieve tried to make eye contact with Angie, but she was still browsing the menu. She wanted to prolong avoiding a specific awaited conversation for as long as possible.

“I’ll have the number two special, but no eggs,” Harry spoke up. 

“‘Course, will that be all?”

“I’ll get a tea.”

“How do you take it?” The question was simple, but to Harry it manifested a slap to the face. Genevieve knew well how he took his tea. He had taken it the same way for years on end. But the thing about people is that they change and grow apart. Harry’s lips parted slightly and the downward tilt to his brows deepened as he looked at Genevieve with a dumbfounded look that said really? 

“Harry, mate, you done?” Zayn said, looking from Harry to Genevieve. 

Harry cleared his throat quickly. 

“Milk, two sugars.” 

“Yeah.” Genevieve gave a nod and looked away. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Thanks, Genny,” said Harry. A drunken giggle followed right afterwards from the girl seated across from him. Angie cupped one side of her face as she stared at Harry with a dopey grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Even I’m not drunk enough to read her name tag wrong, you numpty.” Angie found the white tag pinned on the left of Genevieve’s chest and all eyes squinted to read the somewhat broken letters. “It’s Genevieve. That’s pretty.”

Genevieve cleared her throat. “Um, Gen is just fine.”

“Alright, Gen, can I please have some banana pancakes with extra syrup?” Angie asked. Genevieve nodded and scratched her pen against the miniature pad of paper. After she had written down all the orders, she began passing the pen between her fingers. “What else do you recommend here?”

“The eggs and bacon are really popular, I always go for the traditional English.”

“You see, I’m not really the traditional type, you know?”  

This prompted Liza to terribly disguise her bubbling chuckle behind her pursed lips. The shifting pen in Genevieve’s hand halted. It also caused Harry’s boot to meet Angie’s shin. 

“Bloody hell, Harry.” Angie scowled as she jumped further back into the plush cushion of the booth. “Are your legs fucking spazzing tonight? Do we need to take you to an A&E?” 

“That’ll be all,” he interrupted. After he saw Genevieve’s back disappear into the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes at his scowling friend. “You’re ridiculous, Angie.”

“Loosen up, H. I was so close to getting her number, but I reckon you need it more. Why are you always so wound up?” Angie spat. “Live a little. You didn’t even have one drink tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow morning and I’d rather not show up half intoxicated.” Harry shot her a knowing look to which she responded by rolling her eyes.

“Alright, that was one time, okay!” 

“One too many.” Harry smirked. “You know she tipped over a whole shelf of books on herself.”

“Did not.”

“Bloody hilarious.” Harry shook his head and smiled widely. 

There was loud chatter, drunken mumbles, and bickering. Angie was complaining about an overdue assignment, Zayn had just came off the waitlist for his stats courses, Liza’s thumbs were typing away at her cell phone screen, and Harry was trying not to look at the swinging doors one too many times.

When Liza’s phone met the table and she leaned forward towards Harry, he sunk in his seat. He had been caught.

“You have the look,” Liza whispered, brown eyes narrowing at his green ones.

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Liza was observant. She picked and prodded and critiqued until she would dig deep enough to find her pot of gold. She liked knowing things about people and places, she wasn’t afraid to get personal and into uncomfortable territory.

Harry found her nosiness particularly amusing when other people were under her investigation lamp. Especially when Zayn would bring girls home and they would be scampering in the morning. When the light was aimed at him, however, he froze, and sweat formed above his brow. “You’re jittery, your eyes are bouncing off the walls, and you’re calling girls by different names. Wanna tell me what it is now?”

“Just hungry is all, Liz.”

“Sure. I’ll just find out when I do.”

Angie and Zayn were preoccupied with their little side conversation to pay them any attention. Zayn had mentioned he had her professor before, so he knew the marking structure. Angie was bribing him into finishing her assignment.

“I’m not hiding anything.” Harry shrugged.

“I believe you.” Liz nodded, her back resting on the cushioned fabric. “For now, at least.”

Angie groaned dramatically, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “It's all numbers, Z, you know I can’t count above fifty. Whose brilliant idea was it to stick a maths course in an arts degree, anyway? What genius thought that the people who—”

“Angie—”

“Do me this one, and I’ll owe you.”

Zayn didn’t have a chance to answer since plates of warm food hit the table. Cheers from the group erupted. The heavenly smell was enough to quiet down any discussion. 

Instead of Genevieve delivering the food, it was an older man with buzzed hair. He smiled, his eyes crinkling, and asked if there was anything else they needed. He filled their drinks and let them devour the greasy comfort. 

“So good,” Liz moaned. Angie nodded and mumbled an incoherent agreement. 

The three were too busy shoving forkfuls of food into their mouths to notice the missing waitress. Harry chewed his food slowly. Maybe it was a misunderstanding on his end. Did he really expect to hit play on something that had been paused for so long and watch things go back to his parameters of normal?

Change was unavoidable, and it was evident even in the small things. He noticed she preferred to leave her hair down now, instead of her previous pony tails. She wanted to be called Gen. Her eyes, once full of fight, were now barren, almost bleak. Harry wondered what else had changed as his fork scratched his plate. Did she really forget how he takes his tea? Or did she not want him around? He frowned at the thought. 

Harry knew that Genevieve didn’t owe him warmth and comfort, besides, he got enough of that from the friends surrounding him. What Harry needed was to look in her eyes and not see vacancy. 

***

October 25, 2019

“Jesus.” Liam shook his head when he spotted Genevieve by the tree across the street. Its roots ran deep, the width of the trunk was more than the length of her arms. There were framed pictures, a few candles and wilted flowers laid against it. 

They both had matching stacks of photocopied paper. Each one identical.

Flatmate wanted. 3212 Ashford Street, Apt number 12. One bedroom. Parking available. On campus location. Utilities included. Call below for more details. 

“I know I told you to put the fliers in prime locations, but I reckon above a student memorial isn’t the best of places. That’s poor marketing,” Liam whispered harshly as he jogged over.  

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut your gob.” 

Liam and Genevieve both knew she wasn’t here to stick a thumbtack onto the tree. 

She squinted her eyes and crouched forward to get a better look at the framed picture. Gravel crunched loudly under the soles of her boots as her knees sunk into the dirt. The girl in the pictures was around her age. She was pale with short, dark brown hair and front bangs. The backdrop was a classic blue, the ones used for high school graduation photos. She had a thin smile and her eyes crinkled in the corners. Her name was written with neat swirly letters: Jenny Wu. There were notes about her being a loving sister, a daughter and a dedicated church volunteer.

“When was this?” Genevieve inquired, looking down at the handmade cards that had the weight of stones to keep from flying away. 

She looked up at Liam. Behind him dark clouds were floating in. The wind had picked up and dimmed some of the flames. Genevieve pulled at her jumper to trap heat. 

Liam scratched the back of his neck. “Almost two weeks? Maybe three.”

“Shit.” Genevieve breathed out.

“Drunk driver hit her when she was on her way home. Can you believe that? Some people can be so fucking reckless.” Liam scoffed as he crouched down beside her. He fixed some of the tiny frames that had toppled over. “She died on the scene before the ambulance arrived so they couldn’t do much, but the bloody tosser made it to the ICU.”

“That must be so hard for the family.” Genevieve reached in her pocket to pick out her cigarette lighter after spotting a few unlit candles. Her thumb helped to ignite a spark and she cupped the glass jars with her palm. She repeated this until there were a couple steady dancing flames.

“I saw them on the telly. The mother said something about forgiveness and not letting her grief turn into hatred of him.” Liam shifted to lean on the trunk, his arms folded as he looked down at her. “Like, that sounds like a terrific thing to actually do, but I can’t imagine myself especially in that situation. I would be up in flames.”

There was a moment when Genevieve saw snippets of what she assumed to be Jenny’s life. In her head, Jenny was a brazen girl with a sharp wit. She was studying politics and international relations and juggled a part-time job as a cashier. She was the head of the debate team and won their last championship. She had a younger brother who got on her every last nerve. She was learning to play the piano. 

She liked to think each person had a well crafted formula to model their life. Each one unique and distinct from the other. Everyone was working towards balancing their equations. Some were lengthy and angry looking and some were simple and short. Essentially what mattered was that they always tended to work out.

Genevieve knew first hand that solving one of these formulas was like maneuvering a spider’s web. It could get messy, tangly and dizzy. Often times there were just too many unknown variables and sticky irrationals that needed to be ironed out. And on rare occasions, webs would seem to stretch out across empty fields.

“Yeah, me neither.” Genevieve stood up quickly. Her palms patted at her knee caps. “Let’s go? We still have a few.” She waved the stack of A4 papers.

Genevieve was halfway down the street when she realized there weren’t matching steps following her. She turned around and saw the curve of Liam’s back still slumped by the tree.  

“C’mon, let's get you a flatmate! Sitting on your arse won’t make rent any cheaper!”

Liam sighed but got up with a low grunt. 

Genevieve smiled. “Last one to the car gets dinner!”

***

“Oi!” Liam hissed. “You’re a bloody cheat!”

Genevieve looked over her shoulder and raised a brow. “How so?”

The sidewalk was a narrow strip with small potholes that held bowls of rainwater. Liam lagged behind, muttering under his breath. The glowing neon open sign of Peter’s was only a short distance away. Genevieve inhaled a breath and the aroma of gooey cheese and tomato sauce danced about. She glanced above just as the streetlights were beginning to flicker on.

“You were already ten steps ahead from me. Practically two away from the car.”

She grinned. “All I am hearing are excuses.”

“You’re making me buy you a pizza after knowing I can’t make rent and you cheated.”

“It would be the polite thing to do after your friend spent relentless hours across campus for your service.”

“It was hardly twenty minutes.”

Genevieve scoffed. “I still haven’t heard a thank you.”

Liam rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “You’ll get it when I find a decent flat mate.”

They were in front of the heavy door. Liam had picked up some speed and was closer to the door. His hand pulled at the handle, and a bell above sounded loudly. A comforting heatwave greeted them. 

“After you.” Liam points his chin towards the inside. The shop was nothing fancy, it was owned by a family and had promising specials. Genevieve eyed the awaiting door. She blinked from his grasp to his eyes with brows shot up. “It’s just a door,” Liam chuckled. “You can hold it when we leave.”

As she placed their order of half cheese and half pineapple, Liam slipped out his phone. His thumb hurriedly typing over the keys. He craned his neck towards the door.

“Alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.

“Yeah, I have a friend from the radio coming by to drop a USB key for tonight’s show. Is that okay?”

Liam had gotten a new gig. Two students had got together to launch a student lead radio show on campus. Liam’s curiosity started a couple months earlier and the fliers across campus advertised they were looking to take on more people. 

“‘Course! How is that coming along so far? You liking it?”

“Absolutely loving it, it’s fucking sick. Sometimes I think no one is actually listening, but then I get a call or a request to replay a certain track or talk more about a topic. It’s fun, keeps me on my toes.” He grinned, his teeth on display. “You should drop by, see the workings. It’s much more thrilling when you’re actually on air.” 

“If my arse is ever up at 2 a.m on a Wednesday, Thursday or Monday, you’ll have my company.”

“We both know you, of all people, are,” Liam emphasized. Genevieve was notorious for her review and course work schedule that didn’t seem to have a beginning or an end. It lead to sleepless nights and cramped shoulders. “Doors are always open. It’s a dodgy basement, quite small, but there’s a couch that has your name on it. Smells like piss, so come at your own risk.”

“Creepy basements and pissed on couches, you’re really selling this to me, huh?” Genevieve raised a brow with a crooked smile. The door opened with a quiet jingling of the bells, bringing in a gust of cold air and a set of heavy doc marten boots. 

“Promise it isn’t as bad as it sounds—” 

“Don’t listen to him, its absolute shit with next to nothing funding.” A hand slaps the back of Liam’s back. “But beggars can’t be choosers, so we’re working with what we have. I’m Liza, by the way.”

She had full, tightly coiled curls that sat on her shoulders. They bounced as she looked from Liam to Genevieve. Her eyes were perfectly almond and a colour of honey that was only seen in magazines. 

“I’m Gen.” She offered her a smile.

Liza’s lips puckered in thought for a moment, her index finger lightly tapping them.  “Gen, Gen, sounds awfully familiar.” 

“I’ve talked about her before in passing. She’s the one studying Maths.”

“Brave one, you are,” Liza hums, a sympathetic glaze washed her features. “Isn’t it one of the toughest courses? That’s all I’ve heard at least.”

“It’s not too bad.” Genevieve shrugged. “I’m keeping afloat.”

“Have you got the USB?” Liam implored. 

Liza’s fingers dipped into the front pocket of her skinny jeans, presenting a stick the size of her thumb. “Oh, you’ll also be needing the keys to the panel, just make sure the grid is okay. I know the computer is freezing, Zayn will pop in to take a look at it.”

Genevieve had stepped aside quickly when her order was placed on the counter, leaving Liam and Liza to their conversation. There was a lot of nodding and a couple chuckles. She came back shortly with a medium sized white box. 

“What are you two doing Thursday night?” Liza prompted with hopeful eyes. “I know it might be short notice, but I’m playing with my band at this pub. Both of you are expected.”

“You got the gig? That’s insane!” Liam gasped, his smile bearing teeth. 

“We did!” Liza chuckled at his excitement. “It’s nothing fancy, and it’s one of our firsts, but gotta make it count. Bring your mates. The more the better.” The beeping of a car horn from outside, impatient and loud, made Liza shut her eyes tightly. “Fucking Angie has the patience of a two year old.” 

“We will be there.” Liam nods, and Genevieve smiled. 

“Cheers–” Another set of honks followed. “Fucking hell! I’ve got to run, text me if you’ve got any questions with that.” She pointed at the USB key in Liam’s hand while taking backward steps towards the door. 

“Will do!” Liam waved dismissively. 

She was gone as fast as she came. The doors swing shut, leaving Liam and Genevieve with another gust of cold air. She turned to Liam with a small smile. “She’s nice, I like her.”

“Yeah? She—” Before Liam could finish his thought, the door swung open again, this time with a bit more urgency. Heads snapped to the ringing of the bells. It was Liza, her eyes wide and a knowing gleam shining bright. An animated light bulb hovered over her head.

A loud snap. “Gen! From the Diner!” 

“That’s me.” Genevieve shook her head with a laugh tumbling out from her lips. With another wave goodbye, she was gone.

“—Great.” Liam finished.

***

© 2019 almondharry All Rights Reserved

Let me know what u think!

thank you eriza @booksncoffee for the banner! bc the only thing i know is microsoft paint.

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas @adoremp3 @haaaaaaarrry @at-least-im-1 Ayesha and Hamna! If you want to beta, shoot me a message!

Tag list: @infinitiae @sortaanonymous @sydneysuit @wonderonrepeat @confusedkiwifan @mylifeisatoilet @awomanindeniall @guccikingstyles @verorax @blue-eyes-freckles-and-a-smile @Hollydays if you want to be added on the tag list there is a link to it on the story page here!

[scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy]

Several Times Scully Got Locked Out Of Her Motel Room In Her Scanties (First Time Smut Ensues) Chapter Two

Chapter One here.

Irresistible (Season Two)

They stood pressed against one another in the foyer of Donnie Pfaster’s mother’s house in Minneapolis, Mulder holding her head, a steadying hand on her upper back as she cried her terror and relief into his chest, finally letting go.

The handcut Swiss voile table runner Pfaster had used to gag her was still tied at the back of Scully’s neck as Mulder rested his lips against her bloodied, tangled hair and softly assured her things were all right. 

They weren’t all right, they weren’t all right at all. They were so far from all right she didn’t know how to process it, and could only cling to him in her effort to remain upright, and present: to remain real, somehow. 

A part of her was glad her father had not lived to hear about this. She couldn’t have faced telling him; couldn’t have met his eyes, knowing that he knew. She had broken his heart by veering from a career in medicine to work at the FBI, but she’d always felt certain in her conviction that she was still following the path he’d foreseen for her: to use her skills and her training to help those in need.

Yet here she was, entrusted to protect others from the predators of the world, and she just seemed to keep falling victim to them.

She had disappointed her father, and now she had failed herself.

She attempted to calm down with the technique Dr. Kosseff had outlined, closing her eyes and noting what her senses could detect in the room around her, rooting herself in her environment. 

What she could hear: Pfaster being cuffed and read his Miranda rights; that was no help. 

What she could smell: Mulder’s laundry detergent, the salty, sea-air tang of his deodorant, the earthen aroma beneath it that was all him. She sucked it in through her nose, filling her lungs with the scent of him between heaving sobs. That was better. 

What she could feel: the full body press of his every contour against her aching, bruised form. The safe, scratchy cavern of his shoulder, where her stricken face was hidden from the gaze of the local field agents; his muscled arms, hesitantly encircling her; his ribs, crushing her breasts painfully as she clutched him tight; and his manhood, making lengthy, innocent contact with the soft swell of her stomach. That was… confusing at this time.

She took in a deep breath, the flow of her tears stemmed for now, and patted Mulder’s back in thanks, stepping away. He watched from a close, anxious distance as she untied the makeshift gag and ran her fingers through her hair, averting her eyes from any and all inquiries as to her health and wellbeing as she waved off medical attention.

“I’m fine. I just want to go to the motel,” she insisted, in a quiet voice.

Agent Bocks drove them back, Mulder silently riding up front, Scully pressing herself into the corner of the back seat against the door, her hands folded in her lap as she vehemently admonished any teardrops that dared to appear in the corners of her eyes. At a stoplight, the driver behind braked a little late, and she snapped her head back, bracing for an impact that never came. 

A female agent had retrieved her bag from the trunk of her wrecked Lariat rental, and it awaited her in her room.

She turned on all the lights.

In the bathroom, Scully peeled off her dusty, bloodstained clothes and dropped them to the floor, hanging her red satin robe on the hook at the back of the door. She inspected herself in the mirror, fingering the abrasion on her chin, the contusion above her right eyebrow. There were angry stripes on her wrists and ankles from where they’d been roughly tied. There were too many cuts to count. Purpling weals were beginning to marble the pale skin of her hips, knees and arms. Her back too, probably: the raised welts a catalogue of every individual violent contact made with walls, stairs, floors. She felt each blow anew as her hands explored the injuries.

As she began to draw the bath, the sound of the cascading water sent her mind reeling to the image of Pfaster falling backwards into the tub. She saw him collapsing over and over until she wrenched off the faucet. The final few droplets fell from the chrome-plated plumbing, and as she looked down onto the settling surface she saw herself submerged below the waterline: lifeless, immersed in billowing scarlet seeping from severed veins. 

She had to get back on this aqueous horse without delay. Baths were her respite, her lone sanctioned self-indulgence: scalding, frothy, synthetic-scented Elysium. Dana Scully did not shop ‘til she dropped. She rarely imbibed more than a single glass of wine. She hadn’t smoked a single cigarette since completing her undergraduate thesis. She had been averting her eyes from lingering, suggestive gazes since Quantico. She would absolutely, resolutely, categorically not allow Donnie Pfaster to ruin baths for her.

She made sure her gun was within reach, resting atop the cistern.

Climbing into the bubbleless water, she laid back against the tub, her eyes wide open. She listened to the room. The faucet dripped every few seconds. The shaving light above the mirror buzzed. A clock mounted over the TV in the bedroom counted passing seconds. God knew what time it was. She risked a few long blinks.

Behind her eyelids, she saw white. A bright light. A gurney. Her own abdomen; distended, illuminated, invaded. Images so familiar, of which she could make no sense. It looked like a dream. 

It felt like a nightmare.

Like the other nightmares that shocked her awake at all hours, gasping and sweating and reaching for her weapon on the nightstand: Eugene Tooms squeezing through her hallway air duct; Duane Barry silhouetted outside her bay window; darkness, and the insistent droning whir of helicopter blades.

She sank beneath the water to soak her hair.

She washed herself; then, when the temperature began to drop, dragged her body up and out of the bath, gingerly drying off, dabbing rather than rubbing at the sore spots, which were legion. The plughole gurgled as the last of the bathtub contents spiralled away, and she shrugged her robe over her shoulders, tucking her SIG-Sauer, still in its hip holster, into the pocket.

She walked towards the bed and was about to dig her pajamas out of the open suitcase when she heard the noise behind her. A rustle of some sort. A breath, or a shuffle, maybe. She grabbed for the gun as she spun around, unclipping the holster and flinging it away from her. Safety off, she held both her arms ramrod straight and aimed for the bathroom. Her heart pounded, the only noise she could now hear the thumping of her own blood in her ears. She didn’t wait around to see if there was something else she might be missing, but backed out of the room, sidestepping the bed. Once outside, she slammed the door shut with excessive force and screamed.

Long. Livid. Loud. Not a scream of fear, but of abject fury.  

She knew there was no one in that room. She was simply on edge, her body reliving her panic, her mind re-experiencing her abduction. Abductions. She didn’t need to wait another few months to know these Pfaster flashbacks weren’t just going to disappear. 

Goddammit. 

How would she ever escape this hell when it lived inside of her?

A body has a story to tell. 

Would her own body be telling her this same story for the rest of her life, returning to the beginning at every unexplained noise, every unexpected knock, every headlight in the rearview?

She screamed again, raging against the closed door, slamming her gun-toting fist into it.

Fuck. Another bruise she’d have to nurse. And no one else to blame for this one.

“Scully?” came a quiet voice from her left. Mulder was standing outside his open motel room door, clad only in T-shirt and boxers, holding a toothbrush in his right hand. A curtain twitched across the courtyard.

“I locked myself out,” she said, just now realizing it was true, and huffing the statement through gritted teeth, as though it were the worst thing to happen to her that day. She brought her left fist to the door and thumped the side of it into the flimsy but unyielding wood for emphasis, and because she was still indescribably irritated by her overreaction.

Mulder stepped away from his door, making room for her to pass. “Scully, get in here,” he said, sounding annoyed. She glared at him, but let her shoulders drop in defeat, and obeyed.

Inside his room, she put the safety back on her handgun and left the weapon sitting on a chair. She stalked over to the empty desk and stared at herself in the mirror. The only light came from a bedside lamp.

“Are you okay?” Mulder asked, closing the door and audibly locking it.

She caught his gaze in the reflection and rolled her eyes. “Mulder, I’m-”

“Fine, yeah, I know. I thought that’s probably why you were pistol whipping your motel room door in the middle of the night. Because you were fine.” His face was stony.

She scoffed at him, pushing out her chin in vexation.

He walked towards her, dropping the toothbrush onto a small table, posture and voice both softening. “Talk to me, Scully. You can trust me. Don’t you know by now that you can trust me?” 

“I don’t want to talk,” she said, looking down at her knuckles, regarding her fingers spread out on the table top. Fingers that Donnie Pfaster had wanted to disarticulate with rusted gardening shears and keep in his freezer next to his peas and carrots. She balled her hands into tight fists, and pressed her lips together, hard.

“What do you want, then, Scully?” he asked, his eyes searching hers in the mirror.

She studied her reflection. Wet hair and red robe. This wasn’t the first time she’d stood before him in a motel room like this. She thought about what she’d wanted, even then.

She didn't want to be paralyzed by fear anymore. She didn’t want to have to be protected. She wanted to protect herself. She wanted to rid herself of the traumas that resided within her body. She wanted to be her own kind of Persephone: ride into the underworld of her own volition, driving her own chariot, and emerge triumphant. 

She wanted to rewrite this story, to start it when she chose to, take it where she liked, control it and end it; end it for good. 

Mulder was behind her. He was right behind her, only inches from her skin, which was bare beneath the flimsy robe.

“I want you to touch me, Mulder,” she stated, loud and clear, holding his gaze.

He tenderly reached out and rested his palm on her shoulder, his eyes worried. Kind.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“No,” she said, still staring at him in the reflection. “I want you to-“

Like he did.

“I want you to grab me.”

A look of horror washed over Mulder’s features.

“No,” he said, aghast. He withdrew his hand, rubbing it over his rough stubble.

“Mulder,” she said, low and deliberate, shifting her hips so that the scarlet satin of the robe grazed over the curves of her ass, pushing out her chest so that her nipples brushed the fabric, visibly rippling the front of the garment. “I need this.”

She watched him watch her in the mirror, his pupils enlarged in the gloom. He razed his eyes over the hills and valleys of her figure, then looked away.

“Scully,” he pleaded.

“You said you could always use my help, Mulder. Now I’m asking you for yours.” She steadied herself against the desk with her hands once again. “I need to do this, on my own terms. If I need to find someone else, I’m sure I can. But Mulder,” she paused, making sure he met her gaze in the mirror once again. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Mulder stood, motionless. “I’m not certain what you’re asking of me, Scully,” he murmured.

Scully let her tense muscles ease a little. “Come here,” she instructed, softly, turning around to face him. She reached out her hand, and he took it.

Scully sat herself on the edge of the desk, her knees spread. The fabric of the robe draped over her inner thighs. A minute shift one way or the other would expose her to him completely. She pulled him towards her, tugging him close until his face was directly opposite her own, their fingers entwined, resting on her knee. 

She kissed him. His lips were soft, his cheeks scratchy, and he didn’t stop her, but he didn’t give himself to her fully, either. She pulled away.

“What’s the matter, Mulder?”

“Scully,” he whispered. “I don’t - you’re not yourself.”

She sighed, taking his face in her palms. She realized she was shaking. She levelled her gaze with his. “Mulder,” she began. “That man, his crimes, I’ve never felt anything like this. I need you to bring me back to myself.” She moved her hands, resting them on his shoulders. “I want to feel human again.” She searched his eyes, silently reassuring him this was okay. “That’s what I’m asking, Mulder. Stop looking at me like that, and show me that I’m more than just his victim.”

Mulder blinked, long and hard, and this time, he kissed her. Not gently, not tenderly, but with purpose, intent. He opened his mouth to hers, and she rolled her tongue against his, powerfully, without fear or shame.

She tucked her arms beneath his, reaching up with one hand and pushing her fingers into the base of his hairline. With the other, she tugged on the fabric of his shirt at his lower back, feathering the pads of her fingertips against the skin that emerged beneath. They were still kissing, hard, and Mulder took hold of her firmly around the ribs. She gasped, half in pleasure and half in pain, as the heel of his hand dug into one of the bruises she’d examined in the bathroom earlier. 

He immediately broke off their kiss, pulling back to gauge her reaction.

“Don’t stop,” she panted. “That means I like it.”

He resumed his kissing, but this time against the side of her neck, one hand falling to her left hip, the other trailing up to cover her breast through the robe. A shock of desire ran through her body right to her core, the first she’d felt tonight. This had been mechanical before; a means to an end. She’d had herself half convinced this carnal, obliterative odyssey could be undertaken with just about anyone. It was only now she remembered how much - how often - she wanted this man, specifically. 

She turned her face towards his, compelling his lips to return to her own. He complied, his breath sweet and sharp from the recent brushing, and she willingly swallowed his pomegranate kisses, hoping she could return to them in better times: harvest the unmarred fruit of their evident mutual attraction, so ripe with possibility. Not this sour, infested imitation, spoiled, and rotting from within. 

She tried not to think about the differences between this encounter and the tender romance she’d previously imagined when daring to envision their sexual union. It would still be him. His body, inside hers. Carrying her away from herself, dragging her beneath the earth with the frantic merging of hot, sticky flesh, freeing her, and making her anew.   

She fumbled at the rear waistband of his boxers and delved her flat palms inside, grabbing hard fistfuls of his smooth cheeks, pulling him towards her. She inched forwards on the desk, her robe parting beneath the tie at her waist and falling away at the crease of her thighs. His sex rubbed against her own through the cotton of his underwear, and she tilted her hips to gain purchase, to feel the full, swelling effect of his desire against hers.

Mulder clamped his lips down more insistently upon hers, his hands pushing into her wet hair, thumbing her earlobes, pulling her jaw up towards him. His chest pressed against her breasts, and she lifted his T-shirt at the hem. They broke contact only so that he could pull it off over his head. 

When he returned his mouth to hers, Scully shoved her hand down the front of his underwear and wrapped it around his now fully hard cock. She ran her thumb over the already oozing tip, and Mulder jumped in her grasp, moaning into her mouth.

She tore her face from his, breathless. She held him in her palm, pulsating granite.

“Protection?” she asked, and he reluctantly extricated himself from her grasp, walking over to the nightstand and opening his wallet. 

After a few seconds he held up the square plastic packet, a look of immense relief on his face. “Thank god,” he grinned, and she returned the sentiment with a smile of her own.

He walked back towards her, slow and steady, his gaze assured. Arriving at the space between her knees again, he pushed his boxers down his legs and discarded them to one side. Scully took a long look at him now. Good god, he was enormous. This was going to be perfect. 

He tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom down onto himself using both hands, then reached to untie the knot at Scully’s waist. She stopped him, shaking her head. “Like this,” she said, pushing the robe open even wider over her thighs so that Mulder could get his own unobstructed view. She reached for his hand once again, and deliberately maneuvered it between her legs, where he ran two fingers between her drenched labia. 

She turned her mouth to murmur into his ear. “I’m ready, Mulder,” she instructed, and pulled him forward by the waist. 

She heard him grunt as his sheathed tip bumped against her upper leg, and she spread her knees even further to give him better access. She felt him reach down between their bodies to guide himself into her, and steeled herself for the pain. 

She wanted the pain.

It had been a while for her, almost three years since she’d been penetrated by anything larger than a tampon or her own two forefingers, and Mulder’s girth was considerable. He stretched her inner muscles inch by glorious inch as he eased himself into her body. Her breath caught at the back of her throat as she tried to relax herself around him. He took it easy, but she wished he wouldn’t. 

“More Mulder,” she pleaded, “I can take it.”

He grasped her by the hips, and she leaned her head back into the mirror, looking down to see him pull himself out of her a fraction before driving back in, slowly, all the way to the hilt. She felt the soft, peach-fuzz pressure of his balls against her body, and the ache in her center deepened.  

“That’s good Mulder,” she encouraged. “That feels good. Now, hard. I want it hard.”

His head shot up to question her; he opened his mouth to argue.

“I said hard,” she demanded, grabbing for his ass to guide him as deep as he could go. “Please.” 

He seemed to relent now, because he began to pump into her, forcefully. He placed one hand against the mirror for support, and held the small of her back with the other. She crossed her ankles behind him and relished the feel of him creating new bruises, her shoulder blades pressing sharply into the glass. 

Mulder was working hard, building up a sweat, and she kissed his forearm where it swept up past her face, biting his briny flesh between her teeth in her sweet agony. “More,” she said, scraping her nails across his flexing glutes. “Faster.”

Mulder’s jaw set with anger, or determination, she didn’t know which, but either way he increased his efforts, and her thighs burned where she held them up, her sex ached and clenched around him, and her head slammed into the mirror over and over. Yes, this was good.

Mulder, in an effort to shield her, moved his mirror hand behind her crown, cushioning the blows. No, no, that wasn’t what she was after: a lessening of the punishment.

 Another thrust, and her hair caught between his fingers, a shock of pain tugging at her temple. Well now, this could work.

“Mulder,” she panted, desperate now. She was close, so close to the relief she sought. “Pull my hair.”

He closed his eyes as he continued to fuck her, not willing to engage on this one.

“Dammit Mulder, I said pull it,” she insisted, digging her nails into the muscles of his rear, hard.

He reacted to the tearing of his flesh with a moan and a vicious thrust, clenching the damp strands in his hand and boring his now open eyes into hers. She looked up at him, her mouth agape, a single teardrop falling down one cheek and into her ear. He gripped tighter, pounding her harder, and she nodded.

“Yes Mulder,” she said. “Yes. Yes.”

His cock was driving into her, Charon’s oar plunging into the River Styx and stirring up the forbidden pleasures of her Catholic girlhood. He collided with her G-spot again and again, and she arched into him, pressing her clit into his abdomen as he grasped her hair and steadied her hip and stared her down, willing her to those dark shores. As soon as she began to climax, shaking and swearing and tilting her head back into his fist, Mulder came as well, his thighs tensing as he lifted her off the desk and gave her everything he had for the final few thrusts.

They were still afterwards, Mulder breathing heavily into the space between her ear and shoulder. After a while, he leaned backwards, sliding himself out of her and looking her in the eyes once again. Wordlessly, he reached for the knotted belt of the robe, and this time Scully allowed him. He loosened it, pulling the slick tie open, letting the garment fall open at her center. Scully swallowed hard.

He traced the lines of the robe down over her cleavage, and softly nudged the material apart, revealing her naked skin in a widening swath. The satin fell from her shoulders and down her arms, and she was fully visible to him now, her mottled skin marked at front and back, the bruises already several shades darker than they had been less than an hour ago in the mirror. They were coming out nicely now. 

Mulder dragged his eyes from injury to injury, his eyes reflecting the pain as though they were his own. He reached out to touch the discoloration on her ribs, where he had first grabbed her, but pulled away.

“Scully,” he rasped, and hung his head.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength.

She dipped her head, seeking his gaze, and gently placed two fingers beneath his chin. She lifted his face until his eyes met her own, and watched as the tears began streaming down his cheeks.

She opened her arms, and he stepped forward, his chest hair rubbing against her naked torso, his wet face tucking into her warm neck.  

He shook with grief, and Scully steadied him with a hand on his lower back, delving her free hand into his hair once more. She kissed the side of his head.

“It’s all right, Mulder,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

***

They eventually made it to Mulder’s bed for a few hours before their flight home, and reached an uneasy truce, her wrapped up in the robe once more, him spooning her, both of them sleeping fitfully. She heard a few unidentified noises, but didn’t reach for her gun. On the way to the airport, Mulder drove, and she watched the faces of other drivers in the rearview, but kept her panic at bay.

Waiting at a red light, Mulder broke the heavy silence.

“You know, last night-“ He cleared his throat. “Last night, I thought you called me Pfaster.”

She frowned at him. 

“Near the end,” he clarified. “You said: ‘More, Pfaster.’ I thought.”

“Oh my god,” she said, horrified. “I said ‘Faster’, with an F.”

“Well, that’s what I figured. Hoped.” he nodded.

“Mulder,” she said. “You thought I called you Pfaster, and you kept going?” She was incredulous.

Mulder shrugged, looking ahead at the traffic. “You seemed like you needed to work through something.”

She gulped, tears forming. He was entirely too good for her.

Pfaster.

She closed her eyes.

Her mind wandered to another of her tormentors: Luther Lee Boggs. She’d told him to his face she’d be happy to throw the switch and gas him out of this life for good if Mulder died as a consequence of Boggs’ actions. And she’d meant it. 

Donnie Pfaster was evil, pure evil, she was sure of it, but she knew she was fully capable of being monstrous too. She lay her palm across her weapon, nestled at her right hip, and imagined a different end to her stair-fall with Pfaster the night before. A few seconds more, and she might have been able to grab the gun and end it all, blast him directly between the eyes and send him straight back to hell, where he belonged. 

But then how would she be any different to him? What destination would be awaiting her at the end of her days?

She suspected it would help her nightmares in one way if she knew he were dead, if she asserted control over that herself, but that it would exacerbate them in another. 

She’d probably been wrong to make use of sweet, tender Mulder to try and exorcise her demons last night. Great as it had felt, she suspected she wasn’t out of the underworld just yet.

As they pulled into the Lindbergh terminal Lariat parking lot, returning to her most recent traumatic beginning, she reached out and gently squeezed Mulder’s knee. He placed his hand over her own, looking over to smile, gently. 

He saw the good in her; he always had. 

Maybe she could let him be her savior, follow his light and climb back out of Hades’ realm, reclaiming her faith in herself.

As Pfaster’s only living victim, she was going to have to be a witness. Perhaps this was her true opportunity to rewrite the story. Her own story. 

She would argue for leniency. She would ask the judge for life.

She was going to change the ending, after all. 

AO3 link here.

[dangerously-self-indulgent]

Don’t Think Twice (Zion/You)

Summary: You get caught singing the lyrics to Don’t Think Twice by Zion, and he decides to tease you by taking the song very, very seriously. You don’t know if you can handle it. 

---------

You had the song stuck in your head practically all day.

You hummed it under your breath as you went around on patrol and did other daily things around the high school. You got eyed a few times throughout the day for it, but thankfully no one commented on it, so you continued to quietly hum the tune.  

You were in the storage room, presumably alone, as you checked the windows and started to sort food. All alone, you felt safe to softly sing the lyrics to the song.

Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me three times, cross the line…

Don’t think twice, don’t think twice,

Don’t think twice, baby, don’t think twice.

Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me three times, be mine…

“Awfully forward of you,” a sudden voice interrupts your singing and you jolt in surprise as you look over your shoulder.

“Don’t get any ideas, Zion,” you roll your eyes and continue to look at expiration dates on various food packages. “Don’t you have anything better to do than tease me?”

You can hear him come closer from behind you. “Well, I thought I had to kiss you. Once? Twice? Three times? That’s an awful lot of kisses,” He teases lightly, squatting next to you on the floor as he silently begins to help.

“I also said not to think twice, but I’d be lucky if you even thought once.”

“Are you saying I don’t ever think?”

“Your words, not mine,” you grin and fall forward from Zion pushing you. Just enough to annoy you, not enough to make you fall over.  

“What’s that song even from? Or did you make it up because you’re lonely?”

You ignore his attempt to insult you as you answer honestly, “it’s from a game I used to play. I honestly didn’t really care for the song, but it’s just been stuck in my head today.” He hums in acknowledgment before the two of you continue to silently work together. It’s a comfortable silence which doesn’t surprise you. As hot-headed as he could be, Zion was always a comfortable person to hang around. It helped that you felt a touch safer with him around, too. Even though you knew the likability of getting attacked right now was slim, it was still relaxing to know you had someone watching your back.

“I think we’re all done,” you softly break the silence and stand up, Zion shortly following after. You head for the door before he stops you, calling out your name.

He grins at you cheekily, leaning into you and whispering, “You forgot something.” And to your surprise, he tilts his head and gives you a rather sweet peck on your cheek.

You stutter, face flushing red. “W-what?”

“That’s one,” Zion winks before opening the class door from behind you and walking away. “Two more to go.”

“Oh, eat it, Zion!” You yell at him as he disappears down the hall, his laugh fading away with him. Once you shake off the flustered feeling crawling in your belly, you quickly run to the rest of your responsibilities for the day.

Don’t think about it too hard, you tell yourself. He’s just trying to get a reaction out of you.

Because face it, this was Zion. Why else would he kiss you?

---------

That evening during the dinner meeting, Zion hummed your song as he ate, and you’d honestly punch him if it wasn’t for the public setting. What a cheeky bastard.

---------

You’d mostly forgotten about the whole thing a few days later since Zion never did kiss you again. Today you’re with him and Ethan, scouting outside of the school in search for any clean food or supplies. You had luckily only run into a few zombies so far, of which Ethan was able to quickly swing at before it became a problem.

The three of you ended up in a small antique shop. Usually, you didn’t bother with such places but Zion had made a fair point that they could have things like blankets or rope, so you all headed inside. You were browsing one of the aisles filled with broken ceramics when you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“What’s up, Zion?” He has a stuffed animal in his hands.

It’s a valentine bear, of all things?

It’s brown and fluffy with beady black eyes, the small stuffed arms holding onto a red heart that spells out “kiss me” in cursive. You give him a strange look. “What the hell is this?”

“Can you just hold it for a second?” He rolls his eyes and you don’t know why you decide to take it from him, but you do. And you don’t know why you’re surprised when he leans in again, kissing the opposite cheek from last time. “That’s two,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away. You blame the cold weather for the way you shudder.

“This was a stupid idea,” you place the bear down on the shelf. “Did you just look for the best thing that insinuated a kiss and then come running?”

“Maybe,” Zion shrugs before looking at the opposite end of the store where Ethan was. “You ready to bust this joint?”

Ethan nods. Within a minute, you all leave the store with pretty much nothing in hand. Except for a small teddy bear that you may have snuck into your bag.

---------

“What is that?” Lawrence asks you one morning when he had come into your room for a quick talk. He’s looking at the bear you have propped on one of the student tables along with other various non-important items. You shrug, turning your back to it.

“Just something I found in a shop. I thought it was cute so I brought it back with me.”

“Oh,” Lawrence seems satisfied with your response. “Okay.”

---------

He’s getting more ballsy.

You haven’t let your guard down again since the second kiss. Zion has tried on multiple occasions to kiss you for the ‘third time’, but you’re quick on your feet and manage to block him, either with ease or great effort when he was annoyingly persistent about it sometimes. Though, thank the stars, he hasn’t tried to do it in front of the guys yet.

Yet.

You’re all together for breakfast this morning, just as you do every day. You sit between Zion and Harry, propped up on a miniature bookshelf to give you more height as Lawrence leads the meeting, talking about patrols and the usual runabout. It’s boring but you pay attention since it’s crucial to your survival at this point.

You have a pack of chips (you had to fight Eugene pretty hard in order to snag them) for your meal, and you were at the crumb end of the bag. You lean your head back and lift it to your face, pouring the chips like a chute into your mouth.

Though there were quite a few more crumbs than you thought and you ended up getting an explosion of chips all over you.

“Shit!” You curse and start shaking your head, Zion laughing beside you as Harry asks if you’re alright. “I’m fine, sorry. Just made a mess.” With a frown, you place the empty bag beside you and lick the crumbs off your lips.

“Hey, you missed some,” Zion giggles and you groan.  

“Ugh, where?”

“I got you,” and he doesn’t give you any warning, just like all the other times, as he kisses the tip of your nose. You can just barely feel his tongue on your skin and you jolt back with a loud cry, pushing him back.

“Oh my god!!! You’re so gross!” You wipe his saliva off your nose. “That was the worst one!”

“But also the last one! The song goes ‘kiss me three times’—“

“Excuse me, what?” Eugene cuts in and you’re getting seriously annoyed. You can’t believe he did that in front of everybody!

“Zion caught me singing this stupid song and has been relentless with his teasing.” You hope the questions end there.

They don’t.

“What’s the song?” Harry asks, and you give him an exasperated look. He seems to realize how embarrassed you are and he gives you a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“It’s not important-“

“Kiss me once, kiss me twice-“ Zion gladly sings and you shove him again. He lets himself sway as he chuckles madly, clearly joyed by your reaction.

“Shut up, Zion!”

“You’ve been kissing her as a joke?” Lawrence has an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Only on the cheek and stuff.” He acts like it’s no big deal.

“You shouldn’t be kissing me at all!”

“Is that actually why you have the bear?” Lawrence ponders out loud and Zion turns to you with his mouth wide open.

“You kept it?!”

“Lawrence!” You cry out, betrayed, but he doesn’t look sorry. Your face is practically on fire. “Can we talk about something else, please?! It’s over! He kissed me three times and that’s how the song goes so can we get over it?”

For the grace of your sanity, everyone thankfully moves on and the meeting continues. You can feel Zion staring at you, but you don’t look back.

---------

That night while you’re tucked into your blankets, you hear your class door open. Your body tenses.

“It’s me,” Zion announces himself and you naturally relax, even though your still pissed off at him, because at least Zion was better than a zombie creeping in your room. But only by a little bit.

Your back is turned towards the door and you don’t bother to turn around. “What do you want?”

The small bed of blankets you’ve made for yourself shifts as Zion sits beside you. It’s quiet.

Zion sighs, his hand resting on your shoulder as he nudges you to lie on your back. He looks down at you with those beautiful golden eyes of his and you can’t help but feel anxious and vulnerable. “Sorry if I took it too far,” he whispers into the quiet of your room. You look away from his eyes. Once he realizes you aren’t going to say anything, he sighs again. “Why’d you keep it?” It’s painfully obvious what he’s referring to.

“It was a stupid idea, but… it’s a nice memory.” You try and hide under your covers. “And I don’t have a lot of those anymore.”

Zion nods once. He seems deep in thought. “What are you thinking about?” You whisper and he only shrugs. You want to hit yourself for what you say next. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘don’t think twice’?”

Golden eyes meet yours again in the darkness. Swallowing nervously, you reach out to him, not daring to think twice as you cup his cheek.

You don’t try and stop him when he crawls on top of you, or when he leans down and finally kisses you properly on the lips. Your arms wrap around him as you kiss him back. He whispers, hot breath on your lips, “Isn’t it ‘cross the line’?”

“Yes,”

You kiss him again, letting his body press against yours and envelop you in his warmth. You kiss him once, twice, three times.

Maybe even more than that.

[janiklandre-blog]

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

10:15 a.m. beautiful weather - had a lovely breakfast at Veselka - with my Austrian artist friend who I think will not object to me mentioning his name - Stefan Eins - he is known by many and I congratulated him on his fame. I first read about him in the NYT in the 1970's - he had ventured into the South Bronx then burning - google South Bronx, an interesting NYC borough - and Stefan rented space there and called his venture Fashionmoda - I'm sure it is a webside - a courageous undertaking at the time. Later my German friends Marlis and Petra were talking about a Stefan while we were riding back from New Paltz, NY - must have been early 2000"s - and the next day I was in copy shop on East 7th street (now victim of the recent explosion there), mentioned Prague and Stefan addressed me - he was born in Prague - when I lived there, about 10 at the time - and later grew up in and around Vienna. He says my German reminds him of the Prague German of his mother and for many years now I've gone to openings of his shows, met him at events - at the time of the wedding of my younger son he agreed to drive me to the wedding and he was much enjoyed.

At intervals we meet for breakfast at Veselka - a Ukrainian restaurant, corner 9th and second avenue (my Ukrainian home next door) - Veselka was started by Ukrainian displaced persons 60 years ago. When I moved in with Paco in 1973 it was a very simple place with a back room that was somewhat secret, you passed through a small corridor and not many people were there - prices  were low - I even read there once upon a time - and then if my memory is correct I think the owner was mrdered on the way to the bank - when this here was a high crime area. Forget his name. Nevertheless in the 90's when New York was on the wave to what now is an expensive, trendy city, yes - Trump city - billionaires from all over the world parking their billions in real estate here, then we have all the trust fund babies whose parents also rode on the wave to affluencr - tourists galore - Veselka now big and overrun - in tourist guides - we each had a small coffee, he had a cooklie and I one of their huge croissants - the check more thsn ten dollars - still cheap in comparison to what you now pay in my favorite cafe in Vienna - name may come to me again - at the bottom of Prince Eugen Strasse where my mother lived. I always felt surrounded by spies there and loved it. Stefan and I caught up on our 

lives - he is an interesting man and may join us tonight when I plan to hear Deanne sing at Nomad. Stefan said I looked unusually relaxed and in good spirits - I gave Pim the credit.

This here house has a fire alarm test today - the fire alarm must go off 14 times - and it is rather restless.

I am amazed that I was relaxed - this constantly restless city is more restless than ever - when I went up for my op on Monday Lexington Avenue was all torn up, 80th street was all torn up, this constant loud drilling that I hate, huge machines - our infrastructure is on total overload with the endless new and huge houses - some 80 stories high - thst are being built for the billionaires who don't know what to do with their money - Manhattan is a rock, google the dimentsions - around East 34th practically a new city is being built, Hudson something - all buildings have swimming pools and undreamed off luxuries - saunas and what not - most of it of course standing empty because the billionairees have houses all over the world - Stefan was saying he has a strange feeling in his stomach that he remembers having as a small child - his father was at the German front in Russia, shot in the lungs, a bullet missing his heart by fractions of inches - and he said this odd feeling is now coming back to him. It all is very scary.

My life has been in motion. Yesterday before going to the church I called French Christine - her apartment is practicslly next door to the church - and lo and behold she csme - of course Christine style 15 minutes late - I am compulsively on time - she and other people I've known barely make it to airplanes before they leave - now you are supposed to arrive two hours before departure to be thoroughly checked ( now of course there are private planes - no controls at all, you just walk off Teterborough N.J. that I know) - but I always had to arrive at least an hour early - same with trains, buses) - but she made it and the Polsh people are incredibly friendly and forgiving of late comers. Over lunch - at a big round table covered with oil cloth - familiar to me - the lunch $1.25 - she told me of her truly countless troubles - worst of course her health problems and her problems with her large French fsmily - but - trying to hang on to a rent stabilized in New York from Paris, takes some doing.

She, in her 70's now, took this apartment 40 years ago - in German we do have a proverb : Stadtluft macht frei - city air makes you free - when did cities begin to come into being - in what we call the middle ages, after 1200? - New York in particular long has been a city, especially when life here was good on the shoe string - that made many feel free - in Paris whereever she went there was a member of her huge family - she the oldest of nine - countless uncles, aunts, cousins - I think 40 nephews and nieces - wherever she went someone reported on seeing her - New York was liberty at last. Her apartment is on the top floor, steep five flights, of what we call tenement buildings - built in the late 19th century for the great influx of workers - still, she did turn into a charming place - great view before a higher building went up - her French family loved visiting there and came in droves - but now it seems a Spanish nun who was staying there turned it into a total mess - her doctor wants her to return  to Paris for more tests as soon a possible - her landlord has been harrassing her as long as I have known her - what can say - she never has had a computer, did go to the library here, stopped using computers - anyway, sorry Christine fot perhaps saying unjust words here earlier - my heart does go out to her - nobody really expected to see her in New York again - last of them the Spanish nun - who hopped on a plane to Spain.

It was a drizzly day, I stayed home, reading newspapers - still having trouble trouble reading - finally took a walk to Washington Square - deep listener never showed up again - a bit chilly, sat there briefly, to AT&T - phone company - tp change message on my cell phone - so many people now have a lengthy machine message with their phone number - mine now says, this is Marianne, I catch your voice mail now and then, take your chance - waiting for reactions.

Did buy spinach salad greens and cooked them, good, a piece of salmon - half of it still upstairs - will go and eat it - call Christine tell her I am not coming to the church but remind her of Deanne singing, she wanted to come. At 2 meeeting grandson in warm sunshine at Washington Square Park - he studies now Urban Planning at NYU on Washington Square Park - it makes me happy to meet him - remember holding him as little baby and he was saying aya, aya, aya yah - sounded like a Jewish lament - I putting great hopes in him - that he now is realizing. Wish I could have been more with him and his brother while they were growing up -always at least 160 or more miles away - next door by California standards - and luckly not in Califronia. In this vast land here - so many are so far apart - he loves New York and already knows much more about the city than I do.

Floaters in front of my eyes - telling me - get away from the computer   adios  Marianne

[oldguardaudio]

Illegal Immigration News -> Open Borders Lobby Blasts Sheriff’s Deportation Deal

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

‘Lucky Boy’ by Shanthi Sekaran explores illegal immigration and adoption

If John Gardner is to be believed, then there are only two plots in all of …

Chicago Tribune1h

Shanthi Sekaran

Open Borders Lobby Blasts Sheriff’s Deportation Deal

A plan by a Massachusetts county to work with federal immigration authorities in order to quickly deport illegal immigrants has open border …

Breitbart News46m

illegal immigrants

DHS: Illegal immigration at ‘elevated levels’ in December

Apprehensions of illegal immigrants at the Southwest border continued to rise in December, showing that the border crisis that surprised Washington, D.C., policymakers in fiscal year 2014 has not abated. DHS said …

iotwreport.com8h

Illegal immigration

More from Bing News

Harvey Defends Trump Meeting

Brown Posts Apology To Tomlin

Alibaba To Sponsor Olympics

2016 Was Hottest Year Ever

Avalanche Buries Italian Hotel

Winter Storm Kori

George Bush, Wife, Hospitalized

Nintendo Switch

Inauguration Boycott

US Satisfaction With Immigration Levels Reaches New High

18%, respectively). President-elect Donald Trump and the Republican Congress have vowed to move forward on building a border wall with …

Call UP8h

Immigration Levels

Anti-Illegal Immigration Groups Vilify County Officials for Backing DAPA, DACA

LOS ANGELES, CA — The Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors’ …

Patch1d

U.S. County

Trump inauguration: What the president’s supporters want

Many Hispanic voters were incensed by Trump’s plan to build a wall, but not Marco. He believes the barrier will stop the flow of drugs and illegal …

BBC6m

Donald Trump

President Trump, Cities, and Immigration

Moreover, Trump has vowed to crack down on illegal immigration, and most big-city mayors are de facto open-borders ideologues. Many …

urbanophile.com4h

President Trump

Why My Grandfathers Would Have Voted for Trump

“We will restore the civil rights of African-Americans, Hispanic-Americans, and all Americans, by ending illegal immigration. No group has been …

www.laprogressive.com3h

grandfathers

Trump Signals He’s Softening on Immigration as He Says He’s ‘Working on a Plan’ That Will Make DREAMers ‘Very Happy’

After some pleading from exiting President Barack Obama and immigration reform advocates … Time …

amren.com2h

Trump

Trump nation eagerly awaits the greatness he promised

“That would be such a devastating, destructive force.” Trump made a litany of promises in the campaign, from putting an end to illegal immigration …

Billings Gazette20m

Donald Trump

Congress looks to punish ‘sanctuary campus’ colleges that protect illegal immigrants

Forget sanctuary cities: The next heated congressional battle on …

Raw Story11h

illegal immigrants

Amherst College religious leaders consecrate chapel in solidarity with illegal immigrants

AMHERST — Amherst College religious leaders came together Thursday …

Mass Live The Republican18m

Amherst College

Sanctuary City or Police Neutering?

Here in Orange County’s second largest city, and the county seat no less, the city council of Santa Ana has decided to preempt action on one of …

orangejuiceblog.com17m

Santa Ana

Local woman’s current career challenge: Helping Walla Walla clients as an immigration attorney

Her work has intensified with the election of Donald Trump, she said. A …

Union-Bulletin5h

Walla Walla

Will Donald J. Trump save the U.S. or tear it apart? Colorado Springs-area residents share their views of a new presidency

He also believes that illegal immigration will be brought under control. …

Colorado Springs Gazette16m

Donald Trump

Will Donald Trump Restore ‘Wet Foot-Dry Foot’ for Cubans?

Rubio and Rep. Curbelo.) Obama’s move was prompted by the normalization of relations with the island in 2014, which fueled a surge of new illegal immigration trying to beat the very change announced last week. Of …

Oye! Times2h

Cubans

Illegal alien sues San Francisco for violating sanctuary law

(Reuters) – An undocumented immigrant from El Salvador is suing San Francisco alleging police violated the city’s sanctuary city policy by …

iotwreport.com11h

San Francisco

Look At The Shocking Last-Minute Immigration Actions Taken By Obama

“Fear of Trump” is causing mass illegal immigration into the US, and …

redstatewatcher.com11h

United States

Illegal immigrant families surge across border

More than 23,000 illegal immigrant children and families were nabbed on … having been coached by either family or smugglers to try to exploit a …

Washington Times7h

families

Somaliland: Immigration Dept in Illegal Migrants Flush-out Operation

Somalilandsun- Undocumented foreigners living in the country have …

Somaliland Sun8h

Illegal Migrants

Border Patrol Alters Stats to Hide Release of Criminal Aliens, High Recidivism

The misclassification of apprehended illegal immigrants resulted in …

judicialwatch.org35m

Border Patrol

Illegal handed over to immigration agents sues San Francisco

A car-theft victim who sought help from San Francisco police only to end up in federal immigration custody for two months filed a federal lawsuit …

www.zerocensorship.com1d

San Francisco

Illegal workers found at barber’s shop during immigration raid

Two Iranian men have been found working illegally in a barber’s shop. Immigration enforcement officers carried out an operation on Saturday …

News and Star5h

Barber Shop

Kenney: I’d take George W back in a minute (Far Left Terrified)

I viewed illegal immigration to be the biggest threat to our nation at the time. Bush talking amnesty led me to believe he would be equally terrible on other issues. As for 09/11, yes I cut Bush slack on that. I thought he …

freerepublic.com15m

Bush

Time To Make America Great Again!

Making America Great Again Being “anti-jihadist” does not make one “anti-Muslim” E-Verify as an effective tool to limit illegal immigration …

centerforsecuritypolicy.org4h

America Great

Palm Springs has been an unofficial sanctuary city for years

Donald Trump, who is the official president as of Friday, has previously promised to stop illegal immigration and limit legal immigration from …

The Desert Sun4h

Palm Springs

How Trump can succeed

In this respect, as in so many others, Trump has been blessed in his political opponents. After his acceptance speech promising to stop …

Los Angeles Times12h

Trump

Eugene Republican Excited To Attend Trump’s Inauguration

Like other supporters, she expects Trump to crack down on illegal immigration, place a qualified justice on the Supreme Court, revisit …

OPB8h

Trump

10 promises Trump made for his first day

It includes “begin removing the more than 2 million criminal illegal immigrants” and “cancel every unconstitutional … in the country illegally …

KSBW-TV 8 Salinas15m

Donald Trump

Advocates angered by Plymouth County sheriff’s deal with immigration officials

access a federal immigration database and identify potential illegal …

Enterprise News10h

immigration officials

Illegal Immigrant Families Are Now Surging Across The Border

According to reports, more than 23,000 illegal immigrant children and families were caught … having been coached by either family or …

redstatewatcher.com7h

Illegal Immigrant Families

‘Worst of the worst’ blocked Obama from keeping promise to close Gitmo

Malia Zimmerman is an award-winning investigative reporter focusing on …

FOX News2h

Gitmo

‘China for Chinese, America for Whites’: Nationalists on Trump

JT: First, the building of a wall, or any means possible to prevent any further illegal immigration into the United States, and the deportation of all illegal immigrants who are already here. He seems to be already wavering …

amren.com2h

Trump

Dick Morris: The GOP Traitors Out To Stop Trump

Dick knows just how hard Trump will have to work to take on the Washington power structure while shutting down Obamacare, halting …

National Enquirer4h

GOP Traitors

Illegal immigrant families surge across border

More than 23,000 illegal immigrant children and families were nabbed on … having been coached by either family or smugglers to try to exploit a …

m.washingtontimes.com7h

families

Trump finishes filling top jobs for his administration: Here’s the final list

Son of a country store owner, the lawmaker from Alabama and former …

Metro International10m

Republican

This is what Donald Trump will do starting on Day One

WASHINGTON — Donald Trump will begin his presidency with a flurry of executive orders on illegal immigration, the environment and ethics as he works quickly to try to make good on campaign promises and …

Peoria Journal Star18h

Donald Trump

Death of Schengen: Germany-Austria Border Control Extended Indefinitely

The Austrian defence minister said railways were a major source of this …

Breitbart News7h

Border Control

In Washington, Mayor Elorza calls for comprehensive immigration reform

Related: 9 things to know about Providence’s position on illegal …

WPRI23h

immigration reform

Immigration Attorney Katya Stelmakh Examines the Need in the U.S. for Foreign Workers

Immigration attorney Katya Stelmakh … “People are largely focused on the Trump administration trying to secure the border and deport illegal immigrants and they often do not realize his administration might also have a …

StreetInsider15h

Foreign Workers

Illegal immigrant sues city of San Francisco for reporting him to ICE

As a sanctuary city, San Francisco city officials are not permitted — per local ordinance — to use city resources to help federal officials enforce federal immigration law.

HotAir7h

San Francisco

Why Immigration Did Not Pursue Visa Foil Sellers

The afternoon session of the Committee opened with a look at an internal report concerning an apparent illegal sale of visa stickers to then …

edition.channel5belize.com20h

Visa Foil

Carl P. Leubsdorf: President Trump and the great unknown

On the domestic side, Trump’s principal goals are repealing Obamacare, rescinding promptly what he regards as job-killing regulations, cutting …

Post-Bulletin7h

Carl Leubsdorf

What to expect from Donald Trump on his first day in office

He won’t be able to stop illegal immigration on his own or revive the coal industry in one swoop, but he’s expected to sign four or five more targeted executive actions on Friday that could help make those goals more …

politics.blog.myajc.com6h

Donald Trump

Reconsider participating in Saturday’s march

On the topic of immigration, we have had a chief executive — our president — for the past eight years who has not upheld the law on illegal immigration. He has done nothing to get rid of sanctuary cities all across our nation …

Independent Record18h

March

Why Trump towers: America inaugurates its first male president since 1985

Setting aside that the dead hero’s father, lawyer Khizr Khan, was outed …

noisyroom.net1h

Trump

A worried world awaits Trump presidency: 10 views

the question for many here is whether President Donald Trump will be true to his campaign promise of being tough on illegal immigration. As for …

CNN16h

Trump presidency

We’re About To Become Great Again … Maybe

There are chapters on jobs, immigration, and his proposal to build a wall to stop illegal immigration from Mexico; foreign policy and the necessity …

newbostonpost.com8h

Great Again

Trump picks Sonny Perdue for agriculture secretary

How Perdue will play a role in resolving these contradictions remains unclear, but he signed legislation in Georgia that sought to crack down …

Washington Post10h

Sonny Perdue

EB-5 Immigrants Include a High Percentage of Law-Breakers

But some provisions of the immigration law are more likely to attract lawbreakers … like my railroading classmate — have acquired some of their riches in an illegal manner, even before breaking the law to get the half-million …

cis.org5h

immigration law

Coalition Of Attorneys General Urge Rejection Of Sessions

In the future, an Attorney General Sessions could divert those resources to issues he cares more deeply about, like stopping illegal immigration.

wshu.org9h

Attorney General

Trump invites Oceanside woman to attend inauguration

“I’m hoping that he will be able to do the promises that he promised me as an ‘Angel Mom’ and reduce or eliminate illegal immigration so nobody …

Fox 5 Sandiego18h

Oceanside woman

NY AG offers guidance on ‘sanctuary’ immigration policies

Especially considering President-Elect Trump’s campaign promise to cut aid to municipalities that support illegal immigrants. “We need to double …

WNYT33m

Albany

BREXIT POSTPONED

As Home Secretary for six years, I know that you cannot control immigration overall when there is free movement to Britain from Europe.’ As Home Secretary, May did virtually nothing to curtail either legal or illegal …

erc21.blogspot.com9h

Britain

Chinese-Americans are becoming politically active

His Chinese-American constituents admire Mr Trump’s business acumen and worry about taxes, regulation and law and order, including a …

The Economist online5h

Chinese Americans

NEW: McGaheysville Man Pleads Guilty To Drugs, Immigration Charges

HARRISONBURG — An illegal immigrant living in McGaheysville pleaded guilty to drug and immigration charges Wednesday in U.S. District Court in Harrisonburg. Carlos Sandoval Rodriguez entered pleas to felony …

Daily News-Record8h

Police

Border Patrol Alters Stats to Hide Release of Criminal Aliens, High Recidivism

The misclassification of apprehended illegal immigrants resulted in nearly 4,000 criminal aliens being returned to their home country rather than prosecuted between 2013 and 2015, the GAO found. After analyzing …

stateofglobe.com35m

Border Patrol

Triad supporters are ready for Trump term in the White House

She added that she’s tired of hearing the racism charge and that others are too. Lofland said stopping illegal immigration and creating jobs are the …

Winston-Salem Journal38m

Trump

Palin: Obama departure marks ‘end of an error’

to his lax policies on illegal immigration and refugee resettlement, to his fueling of the racial divide between black and white Americans. “Time to …

GOPUSA12h

Palin

Europe’s Islam problem and U.S. immigration policy

Consequently, the argument I am about to make for tighter U.S. controls on the immigration of Muslims may surprise some … more than half of …

Washington Blade3h

Islam

Giant cannabis crop, illegal migrants netted in Macleod drug bust

The man, 22, and woman, 21, were of Vietnamese origin, with police confirming through the Department of Immigration that they were in …

Herald Sun Melboume2h

drug bust

Sanctuary Cities 2017: Immigration Protests Erupt In Newton As Undocumented Immigrant Controversy Comes To Boston Suburb

Some of the Newton city councilors were looking to pass the “Welcoming City Ordinance” that would amend …

International Business Times23h

Sanctuary Cities

Maryland leaders discuss refugee welcome at regional Interfaith Dialogue

Brown urged: “The voices that tout the disadvantages of the illegal …

Bay Net11h

Interfaith Dialogue

We have an ag secretary at last

Perdue may also be a tempering voice regarding immigration. He did sign a bill cracking down on illegal immigration in Georgia, but the law …

BEEF8h

Perdue

Inauguration of Donald Trump

Sirs, – As everyone knows, The Donald is against immigration. Everybody is, of course wrong. He is not; he is, however, against illegal immigration, a rather different thing. If he starts heaving illegals out, there is no …

The Irish Times37m

Donald Trump

Friends And Fraternity Brothers, Two Va. Cadets Transcend Trump-Clinton Divide

They are friends and fraternity brothers. And they cast different votes in …

KNAU Arizona Public Radio15h

Donald Trump

Virginia 2017, Part Two: The Republicans

First elected to his county leadership post in 2006, Stewart has gained notoriety for his anti-illegal immigration policies and rhetoric. In 2007, …

centerforpolitics.org19h

Republican

What to expect from Trump presidency

Many also claim that Trump’s stance on illegal immigration equates to racism. These people are simply wrong. Race and citizenship are not the same thing. Illegal immigration is not about race. Rather, it is the problem of …

Oxford Eagle8h

Trump

From middle America to Washington, DC, in celebration of Trump

He liked Trump’s tough positions on illegal immigration and his promise to cut red tape for businesses. He believes Trump will build up the U.S. …

The Kansas City Star2h

Trump

Barry Dataram gets 4 years prison, $60000 fine for illegal ammo possession while wife freed

Another sentence of 48 months was also handed to Dataram last year for …

demerarawaves.com5h

Barry Dataram

Army highlights border guard forces operations in first half of January

Additionally, an attempt of illegal immigration was foiled when forces …

Daily News Egypt11h

guard forces

Georgians head to Washington for jam-packed Inauguration Day

He won’t be able to stop illegal immigration on his own or revive the coal industry in one swoop, but he’s expected to immediately sign four or five …

myajc.com3h

Inauguration Day

Trump signals he’s softening on immigration as he says he’s ‘working on a plan’ that will make

Illegal Immigration News -> Open Borders Lobby Blasts Sheriff’s Deportation Deal Illegal Immigration News -> Open Borders Lobby Blasts Sheriff’s Deportation Deal 'Lucky Boy' by Shanthi Sekaran explores…