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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

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Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without.

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him.

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison.

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved.

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?”

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor.

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand.

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father.

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #Kurt Hummel

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aceresources · 3 years

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Wolf Evil Dead MC Book 4- Memes Part One

FEEL FREE TO CHANGE THE GENDER TO WHATEVER SUITS YOUR MUSE. WARNING LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, AND NSFW THEMES INCLUDING SEXUAL INNUENDO.

“You pushed me away. I pull you back.” “That’s our game. That’s always been out game, baby.” “And what’s more, it’s a game you like. And you know it’s a game I love.” “What the hell?” “Shh. It’s me baby.” “A coaster? Those are for people who put their drinks down.” “Be a doll and hand me a bottle of vodka.” “Which one? Cherry, pineapple, coconut...?” “Christ. Life was a lot simpler when there was only one flavor of vodka.” “Pick a flavor, ___. I want to go home sometime tonight.” “I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” “Well aren’t you just bein’ the worm in my tequila tonight.” “I don’t try to annoy people; it’s just a gift.” “Drink up, Cupcake.” “What the hell flavor did you pick?” “What the hell are we stocking this shit for?” “Pick another, shorty.” “Bet this is gonna taste like cough syrup.” “___, the way you drink, you’re going to shorten your life by ten years.” “That’s okay. I just want to live long enough to ride the scooter shopping cart at Walmart.” “I just had a visual of you trying to get your giant body in the scooter.” “Speaking of Walmart, does anyone else get road rage pushing a cart through that place? Or is it just me?” “That’s ‘cause you don’t know when to go.” “The best time is the middle of the night.” “Yep. That’s when you see all the best outfits. Just the other night I yelled at some guy, ‘Hey, dipshit! Shoes do not turn pajamas into pants’.” “Come here, you little spitfire.” “Let me go, you big brute.” “You know I kid, baby girl. I love you like a sister.” “Isn’t it time you went home to your wife?” “If our ol’ ladies could hear the next five seconds after we hit end on a call, we’d never get any pussy.” “What do women say when they actually are fine?” “Yeah, they like to get inside your head and rearrange the furniture.” “Trouble in paradise?” “She called me a stubborn ass!” “I’m not stubborn. My way is just always better.” “You know ___, some things just go perfectly together, like I told you so and sleeping on the couch.” “You finally figuring out that being right isn’t nearly as important as knowing when to shut up?” “Christ. Just shoot me now.” “With pleasure. No one wants to listen to you whine about your miserable life.” “Just shut up and become bitter and resentful like the rest of us.” “___’s going home to his wife. And what about you?” “I ain’t got a wife.” “No, but ___’s probably waiting on your ass.” “She’s a little pissed at me right now. But I guess that’s what I get for falling for a damned redhead.” “What’s wrong with redheads?” “You’re so full of shit, ___.” “If she wasn’t the firecracker she is, our ‘fearless leader’ here never would have looked twice.” “Firecracker. Yep. Just like you, darlin’.” “Not that I don’t appreciate how clean you keep this place, but go home, kid.” “You’re crazy, girl. But have at it.” “Uh-oh. She wants something, boss.” “Something I can do for you, darlin’?” “Name it, sweetheart.” “Move your ass so I can mop.” “You might need to spank her ass for talking to you like that, ___.” “You wouldn’t.” “Settle down. I’m kidding.” “She’d like it too much, anyway.” “___ been giving you anymore problems?” “You steer clear of him.” “Consider it tough love, babe.” “You deserve to be happy, ___.” “If ___’s not gonna step up for you, you need to let it go.” “I don’t think she’s lettin’ go.” “I don’t think either of them are. And that’s gonna end badly, ‘cause one of them is going to end up leaving. And we all know it’s not gonna be ___.” “Man that sucks. I like ___.” “Well, I’m taking’ off.” “Set your alarm. We got business to take care of in the morning.” “Why set my alarm when I can just wait until someone text me Where the hell are you?” “Get out of here, ___.” “Our grocery budget is pretty tight this month.” “You know tips down at the bar have been shit lately.” “Maybe it’s your attitude.” “Go get cleaned up. We’re going out tonight.” “___ says there’s a party up at the clubhouse tonight.” “You’re being an ass.” “You don’t have to do that darlin’.” “I’m so sorry. We were guest here. That shouldn’t have happened.” “Your man’s a dick.” “I’m beginning to see that.” “Why the hell are you with him?” “I’m starting to wonder that myself.” “It’s becoming apparent he’s just a braggart and a jerk.” “You’re the only one out of the three that gave a shit enough to apologize. And you didn’t even do anything.” “I’m so embarrassed they acted like that.” “Thanks for caring enough to do that but that’s not your responsibility.” “Still. I feel bad. Let me at least pick up the glass.” “Since your ride left, ___, will take you home.” “I did. Probably not after tonight.” “You got a place you can stay? A girlfriend or family?” “He rebuilt it for me for a birthday present.” “___ is kind of a gearhead.” “He give you the title?” “That’s a sweet ride, girl.” “___ and I can be real persuasive when we need to be.” “He signed it over to me?” “There’s a bill of sale in the glove box.” “Your boyfriend’s a douche, darlin’.” “I don’t think he’s her boyfriend anymore, ___.” “Then hell, come on back to the clubhouse next weekend.”

#memes #my stuff #tw language

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eat0crow · 5 years

Note

Jasonette first meeting please?

I’ve written a couple Jasonette first meetings already but I was scrolling through a prompt list and -You just snuck into my apartment and wait is that blood-stuck out to me. Hope you enjoy!

This fic was beta-read by the lovely @the17thtearoom

Is That Blood

Kwami knows that Marinette is a scatter-brained mess no matter what time of day it is. She would like to deny it, but really, no one would believe her. She blames Tikki, even if she was a disaster before the little fortune god came into her life. Nino has the proof, and has justly been sworn to silence.

There is never a need to relive the fourth grade. Never.

There’s a general swirl of chaos that follows Marinette wherever she goes: Paris, London, New York, now Gotham. It’s one of the reasons, maybe even the reason that despite desperately needing someone around to help out with the rent—Gotham charged way too much for a studio apartment, how the hell is it more expensive than Manhattan—she’s never looked for a roommate. Not after spending a month bunking with Alya, and driving the girl insane.

Alya hadn’t been the one to ask her to leave, she’d claimed Marinette was fine. Marinette had seen the way her eye twitched after the fourth time, in a week's span, she had come home tracking some dark, vaguely sticky substance behind her.

For the sake of their friendship, Marinette had moved out a little over a week later.

With this in mind, Marinette thinks she’s being overwhelmingly okay with the situation when her first question, upon stepping foot back into her apartment, happens to be, “Is that blood?”

Not, “how did you get in here”, or “who are you?” Is that blood? When did her life get this weird? Oh yeah, when she—a newly turned fourteen-year-old girl—was entrusted with guardianship over some of the most powerful deities in creation. That’s when.

It’s only after watching the man for an uncomfortable amount of time that Marinette notices the sickly crackling of unnatural magic clinging to the air around him. There’s a pool of dark magic sitting in her living room. It’s coating him, clinging to his very being and dripping, toxic, onto the pale beige carpeting.

God the carpeting, blood stains are a bitch to get out. At least he had the sense to push back the coffee table, and not sit on the couch that Marinette’s fairly sure, has been in this apartment since before she was born.

The stranger pauses his stitching mid-action, needle freezing halfway through the gash on his leg. Marinette is concerned.

“No, it’s cranberry juice,” he says sarcastically, even as he presses a towel, her pink bunny towel no less, against his leg. It’s clearly an attempt to hide the murder scene she just walked in on, but honestly, the towel is turning a disgusting shade of rusty brown.

Marinette takes one fortifying look around her living room, paying particular attention to the sticky wet spot her home invader is sitting in. He had better not have touched her one true love. If the coffee maker is broken she will break him.

“You should finish stitching that up before you bleed to death all over my carpet.”

“I’m not going to bleed out in the middle of your living room.”

Marinette grabs her emergency first aid kit, the one she keeps tucked safely in the umbrella stand. It’s a beast, and maybe Marinette had been a little obsessive when it came to putting it together, but she had spent a good portion of her life fighting. She liked to be prepared, even if being prepared meant carrying around a walking pharmacy.

Delicately, Marinette did her best to avoid mashing the blood further into the carpet. “I have a tourniquet in here just in case, but it doesn’t look like we need it. You did remember to disinfect the cut before you started stitching, right?”

She’s close enough now, knelt next to the man, to really make out his features. The pressure she forces down on the wound makes him wince, and Marinette blinks. Green eyes, there’s an aura to them that reminds Marinette distinctly of Tikki’s magic, a faint light just barely visible—Lazarus light. Well, that explained the corruption clinging to the air.

“I didn’t think you would be too thrilled with me poking around your bathroom,” he hisses out, sharp and very clearly in pain.

Marinette would usually let a lie like that go, but her patience is getting dangerously thin. “You could have spent another minute grabbing the peroxide from the medicine cabinet. It’s not like I can’t see your bloody footprints marking your trail. You grabbed my favorite towel, but not the one thing that prevents a staph infection. Who taught you first aid? Honestly! ”

A dark brow raises upward, clear interest taking over the strangers face. “You’re remarkably calm for someone who just found a random stranger dripping blood all over their apartment.”

“I’m more than a little pissed over that. You owe me a carpet cleaning.” Marinette grabs the travel-sized bottle of peroxide out of her kit, along with her sterilized needle, lighter, actual stitching thread—why the fuck is he using dental floss? Why?—and a roll of gauze. She’ll probably need more later, but for now, this is good. “You’re giving yourself way too much credit. This isn’t even close to the strangest thing I’ve seen this week. Now, this is going to sting like a bitch, but you broke into my apartment so, you deserve it.”

He lets out a long string of curses, biting down hard on his hand as Marinette pours the disinfectant over the wound. It’s a good three inches long and at least a centimeter deep. He needs a hospital but, seeing as his first choice was breaking and entering, Marinette’s probably as close to a professional as he’ll see.

“Fucking shit,” he grounds out around clenched teeth. Marinette has to take out the stitches he’s already done. They’re uneven and sloppy, probably because he’d been using the needle from her sewing kit. She slips her surgical scissors, the fresh pair she just held under her lighter, against the floss. His face loses all color as she carefully works the four rows he made out. “I know you’re pissed, but I don’t deserve this.”

Marinette casts him her most deadpan expression as she lights the curved stitching needle on fire. “Who's the dumbass who didn’t disinfect his—what? Stab wound? It looks like a stab wound, do you have any idea where that knife could have been? You’re lucky I’m nice enough not to let you get a blood infection.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Nice enough. You’re a regular ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who broke in.” Marinette takes satisfaction in stabbing her needle into the skin and watching as his smirk turns into a grimace. “How did you get in here anyway? The front door was still locked.”

“I kicked in the back door,” he admits, with just the faintest hint of shame. “It was hanging on by a bolt and a decades worth of rust.”

“You’re lucky you’re already bleeding.”

“I was in a hurry, okay,” he says defensively. “My friend lives in the same apartment number one complex over. I apparently was off a bit with my directions. I promise, I don't usually break into random people’s homes.”

“Guess I’m just special then.” Marinette has to hide her smile by occupying herself with cleaning up. She’s angry at him, damn it!

“I’ll fix the door for you if you want? And I’ll pay for one of those rug doctors Walmart rents.” He carefully stretches out his leg. He’s a bit unsteady on his feet. A mix between pain and blood loss no doubt. Wordlessly she offers up a bottle of Tylenol.

She regrets handing it to him a nanosecond later when he takes a double dose and then, throws back a third for good measure.

“Oh, you’re going to be paying my cleaning bill all right, but the door can wait,” Marinette says, getting up, and heading over to her kitchen. There is no problem in the world food doesn’t make better. “You look like you could really use some breakfast, and I’ve had nowhere near my daily dose of caffeine. We can figure everything out after we’ve eaten.”

The man follows her over, leaning heavily against the wall to support his weight. It’s a sorry sight. He makes an aborted move to help her before deciding that nope, he really can’t stand for all that long. “Did I tell you how weird you are yet? I feel like I should have.”

“Would you rather I call the cops and kick you out?” Marinette asks, pushing the coffee maker to the very edge of the counter. He can reach it if he tries. Marinette fully plans to make him. With a bit more force than necessary, she slams down her jar of coffee mix. “Clearly you’re lucid enough to make some coffee while I fry up some eggs.”

There’s a spark of amusement in the stranger's eyes. His smirk is back, and he watches Marinette with something like glee. “Sure thing, firefly.”

“It’s Marinette,” she corrects, not bothering to turn away from the stove. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but...you did break into my house.”

“That’s fair,” the stranger agrees. Reaching for her phone instead of the stack of coffee filters. The bastard, doesn’t he realize how thin her sanity is stretching? “Jason Todd. You mind if I use your phone for a minute. Roy can stop by Home Depot, and get you a new door. So we won’t be reinstalling something that was already on its last legs.”

Marinette feels a headache coming on. “I’ll make enough for three then. Just have him pick up some kind of cleaner so the stain doesn’t set in.”

#maribat #jasonette #crow writes #prompt fills #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng

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xihaveaplanxx · 3 years

Text

The Calm (Pt 1 of 2)

“Is he sick?”

“No, well...not in the traditional way. I think he likes your friend.” Hosea turned to his daughter. She had come to visit him and they were in the kitchen observing Dutch who was sitting at the table writing and crumpling up pieces of paper and then writing again. He apparently was trying to write something for Dreama to convey how he felt and none of his words were making sense. It was weird to see him in such a way seeing as he always knew what he wanted to say. He was a master of words even but when it came to her, he didn’t know what to say. Hosea , of all the years he knew him, never knew him to get this way over any woman, ever. He usually had tons of women that fawned over him but this was different. Clearly. He was concerned for him. Seeing how Dreama was to people she was with, other than Anders, he couldn’t see this going well for him and part of him felt if she broke his heart, he might actually get broken in the process. “He told me he wants to write something to her something. Seems nothing is working.”

“I have ears, Hosea.” Dutch looked over at his friend. “And I think you are trying to imply that I am lovesick.” He placed the pen down and crossed his arms. “It’s not that. I just can’t find the right words to tell her how I feel. It all sounds....dumb. I want it to sound....how I feel but it all sounds stupid.”

“Why don’t you just instead of trying to structure it perfectly, just write out all you feel” Jenny suggested. “Don’t make it so rehearsed like one of your speeches at work. Just make it honest.”

“That’s a great suggestion, Jenny. At least unlike your father you want to be helpful.” He told her. “But it’s not so simple. Just writing it out. It’s hard. Probably a waste of time too. I’m not Anders. I’ll never be Anders so I can feel all the feelings in the world, she’ll just see me as someone that she can tolerate for now but her heart belongs to him.” He sounded quite sad which took both Hosea and Jenny off guard. They never heard him sound so...defeated before. He really had it bad. Very much so. “Maybe I am just wasting my time. After all, whenever Anders gets released, she’ll just go to him whether I really like her or not.”

“I’m sorry, Dutch.” Hosea told him. “Maybe you should move on to someone else. Someone that willingly won’t dump you off like that. At least if you feel she would.”

“Oh, Hosea. It’s too late for me. I’m too far in. I’m just going to have to get hurt and get back up again. I just wish that she’d just like me more than him but...she won’t.”

“Does she tell you you aren’t as good as him?” Jenny asked curiously

“Oh all the time. I doubt she’s even kidding. She just likes Anders, loves him actually. I clearly am just there til he comes back and she’ll just go to him. It’s not often I’d ever even say I was wrong but picking her, that was a mistake and I’m clearly being forced to deal with said mistake.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.” He got up from the table and threw out all the crumpled up paper he had on there. “I’m going to get ready for work.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Well of course.” He told Jenny. “My heart might hurt but that doesn’t mean I’ll be miserable at work. If anything it’ll be a great distraction. Won’t need to think of her when I’m busy making sure my staff isn’t trying to start a fire in the garden section...again”

“Again?”

“Yes.....again.”

At the house/John’s pov

“Uh, what is he doing here?”

“He’s staying here, John, is that okay with you?”

“Actually it’s not. He’s a criminal.”

“Well, not anymore.” Dreama glared at me. To say I was stunned to see Anders was saying a lot. I thought he was locked away for good but I should have known if it comes to him she will do anything and I mean ANYTHING to break him out. Her fathers had very high influence around the town and as their daughter, she used that to usually get what she wanted. It’s how it always was. Even in school. She could have killed someone and been let off. Not that she was capable of murder but sometimes I wondered. “He needs somewhere to stay so he is staying here”

“I don’t think Jenny would like that.”

“My father is paying for this house. Not Hosea. If I want Anders here, he is going to be here or you can move out John if you don’t like it so much. You both can.”

“Nevermind.” I decided to not say more. She was usually understanding and kind but when it came to Anders it’s like he was a parasite to her mind. Just being around him, her love for him made her largely hate others if they had anything to say about him, often making valid points that she refused to even acknowledge though I know deep down she knows he’s a reckless mage. Oh, and possessed but she likes to pretend that’s not a thing even though we’ve seen him go into pure possession mode more than once. “Is he staying in our room?”

“Yes, but you can still have your bunk, he’s going to sleep in my bed.”

“Oh, that’s great.” I told her trying not to seem annoyed he was here. Jenny was going to be pissed. Can’t say I blame her. I also couldn’t help but feel bad for Dutch. He really REALLY liked Dreama. A whole lot. He was telling me and Arthur the other day and clearly she doesn’t care about him...or anyone unless it’s Anders. The poor guy. He was actually starting to calm down and he was even nicer at work apparently. He’s going to lose his shit when he sees this, I feel bad for the people at the Walmart. “Well, I’m going to head out. Meet up with Farkas.”

“Oh, alright. See you later John.”

“Bye” I turned to leave the house. Once I got down the block, I called Jenny. I needed to warn her. I’d rather call her and let her know other than he walks in and sees Anders in the house. The phone rang twice and then she answered, thank goodness.

“Hey John, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Well nothing except Anders is living with us now apparently”

“He’s what?? Isn’t he in jail?”

“He was but you know damn well Dreama wouldn’t let him get locked away for too long. Not with her parents' influence and how good she is with most of the law in this town, we should have seen this coming. I’m not even concerned about that. I feel really bad for Dutch....”

“Shit. Dutch has been very upset today. He wanted to write her something....then got down on himself which isn’t like him.”

“It’s her influence. She can take the strongest man and break them if she wants. Don’t even know why she talks to others when it’s clear she just likes Anders.”

“I know. I...does her dad know he is there? Teldryn might not care but oh Erandur will.”

“Will it matter?”

“Oh, it will matter.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry just he won’t be there later, trust me”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Three hours later/Erandur’s pov

“When I got this place for you, I got it so you can live away from me and Teldryn and Valdimar and live with your friends and then I come here and I see Anders. You know how I feel about that man. He should be in jail. Who released him? Was it Geralt? Tormund? Who let him out for you and what did you pay them because I will give them double that amount to keep him in maximum security. You do not get to destroy a town and run around scot free whether you love him or not.”

“I’m not letting him go back.”

“He has to. You know I don’t like him.”

“Well you're not the one in love with him I am. He’s my one love. Why can’t you let me be with him?”

“Because he’s a demon!”

“No I’m not.” Anders glared at him. “You always sided against things that helped your own kind, other mages. You’re a mage, your daughter is one so is your husband and a few of your good friends and yet you would turn a blind eye on injustices. You aren’t a figurehead for mages, you’d rather us lose our gifts than celebrate them without being watched.”

“You destroyed a town, Anders. If anything you proved what happens if mages are allowed to use their magic freely. Unchecked, look at what happens. Put most of us on watch for years. You made things worse when they were finally getting better!”

“You don’t understand”

“Maybe I don’t but what I do know is I do not approve of you with my daughter and I do not want you with her.”

“Well, she loves me. I love her. You won’t break us.”

“Dreama....” I turned to my daughter about to lose my mind on this man. If it wasn’t looked down upon I’d have set this man on fire. “Will you pick this man over your father?”

“I.....”

“Will you......pick this man....over your father? Don’t you dare disappoint me..”

“Dad....I.....”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“I won’t pick him over you.”

“I thought so. I know you are upset with me. I know that but I need you to understand that this man, as much as you love him he is a menace and a lot of people died because of him and his recklessness. I know he matters to you so much, and I get that, believe me and I’m only doing this for your own good. I will not let you get lost in this man and his stupidity. I will not let him be the cause of me losing my daughter.”

“Yes dad.”

“I’m sorry, Dreama.”

“It’s okay.” She said lowly. I knew it wasn’t okay and it wasn’t going to be for some time. She was upset with me and upset in general and I understood that but this was for the best. I knew so.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Sure.” She said as she got up and walked out the house. I’ve not a clue where she went but I knew Anders wasn’t with her and as low as the bar seemed to be in that sense, so long as she wasn’t with him, that was fine. She might be with Dutch but apparently he’s actually calming himself down. I loathe to think how he might react to her being near Anders because she is the type to tell him about it. She always wanted to be a mess and she was going to be vengeful over Anders. I knew that but I hoped she wouldn’t be so bad.

“Anders, you are going back to jail.”

“You can’t make me.” He told me, holding his hand up to me. He really thought his little magic was going to harm me. “I won’t go.”

“You’d hurt the father of the woman you love so easily huh?” I told him and he backed down almost immediately. “Come with me. You are staying there this time.” I dragged him out and he didn’t say much, he just cried....a lot. He was always overly emotional. Crying every time he either got caught or couldn’t get away with doing whatever. I knew for one thing I wasn’t going to ever tell Dreama that Jenny tipped me off. I’d rather her not be upset at her. It would remind me of Hosea and I falling out over me and Teldryn sticking together. Yes Teldryn did get better and step up and be a good father and a good husband but it wasn’t always like that. Anders wasn’t like Teldryn though. Anders was Teldryn if he never matured which Anders refuses to do and wants to bring my daughter with him. I understood how she felt more than she knew....it’s why I just couldn’t allow her to be with him.``

At Hosea’s place/Hosea’s pov

“Oh, that sucks.”

“It does. My father really doesn’t like him and I don’t know why?”

“Could be te murder.”

“Didn’t your friend kill people?”

“Sure but I wasn’t in love with him. I think it was more a wake up call after all of that. You kind of just won’t let Anders go which I don’t get what is so great about him.”

“You sound jealous, Dutch”

“Yeah because the girl I really......someone I think highly of is so interested in someone clearly bad for her and loves them too much to notice.”

“You were going to say something else there”

“I was, but I won’t.”

“What were you going to say?”

“It’s not important.” Dutch sighed deeply. “You’ll be okay. There are other fish in the sea.”

“I don’t want them.”

“I know. You just want Anders even if he’s trash.”

“He’s not trash. You’re trash!”

“Fine.” Dutch got up and walked up the stairs. I quickly moved from the window, trying not to seem nosy but I know Dutch knew I was probably watching all of this. He had just got home from work a while ago and of course she called saying she wanted to talk and he was willing, even in his tiredness to listen to her rant. He was clearly fed up with her, I didn’t blame him though. “I’m going to go inside. I’m tired.”

“Course you are. I want to talk and you are tired.”

“No, you want to talk and be mean to me because the man you love got carted off to jail...again. You just want to scream at me because you want to make someone feel as bad as you and that’s not fair and it’s not okay. I’m tired and I wanted to help you but I can’t, not if you are going to be like this. Just go home.”

“I...”

“Go.” He told her and she got up and left. He came inside and looked over at me before hanging his coat on the hook. “I know you were watching, Hosea.”

“That was tough.”

“Someone had to tell her. I hate that she’s like this over him. He’s not even that great”

“As opposed to you?”

“I might have been arrested before but I never done the things that man has done. She just...doesn’t care who she hurts. I wish she did though. I have a soft spot for her, Hosea.”

“I know you do, Dutch.”

“But I’m just wasting my time. I thought things would look up for us. I guess not.” He shook his head. “I’m going to bed.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay up and talk.”

“For once, I think I’ve done enough talking Hosea. I just want to lie down.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure after some sleep I’ll just be fine.”

At the park/Arthur’s pov

“Hey now, calm down.” Dreama was having a meltdown. I was coming in from fishing at the pond at the park. I didn’t catch nothing and that was just okay. I should have came earlier but I knew damn well I wasn’t here to fish, I was here to just clear my head. I was on my way back home and here was Dreama, screaming and crying and carrying on. I didn’t know what was going on but I can imagine it was Anders related. Dutch could never make her cry like this, she’d never allow it. “What’s the matter?”

“Dutch is an asshole! I asked him for help and he just...he sucks...Anders is going back to jail. Everything fucking sucks, Arthur!”

“What...what went on?”

“Too much. I hate everyone.”

“Hey now, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.” I sighed. “Come walk with me.”

“It’s late.”

“I know but just walk with me. You need to calm down. You are flying off the handle.”

“I’m upset”

“I get that but that’s no reason to be like this. Maybe Anders was never quite the best thing for you.”

“You sound like my father...and everyone else.”

“Yeah, because he’s not the best for you. Look at you right now. On a warpath over him and for what? I know you love him I get that but people love alot of things that are not good for them. Like me and my alcohol. I love whiskey but no one said it’s good for me. Anders is like whiskey....but whiskey with a body count.”

“That don’t help, Arthur.”

“I think you need time to just....calm down. Be by yourself even. You never really are since you tend to drag around anyone who gives you attention. You need to find you.”

“I know who I am, Arthur.”

“No, you know who you are in the view of Anders. I don’t think you’ve seen yourself as yourself in years. He’s in jail and probably staying for a long time...you gotta move on....it would be good for you both.”

“I.......”

“I know it’s hard, kid. It’s for the best.”

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infinite-rabbits · 5 years

Text

Emergency: Please help

So this happened yesterday. I made a few posts of it here and was messing around on tumblr to distract myself from all of the stress, but now the seriousness of the situation is really hitting us.

My roommate and I are both out of work due to Corvid-19. We’re not sure if we’re getting paid for our time away and there isn’t much communication from our jobs. Yesterday we got hit hard enough from someone who was gunning it out of a parking lot that they totaled the car. I know this doesn’t look like a lot of damage, but apparently the frame is completely messed up and the insurance company is going to take the car and possibly give us enough to replace it??

The worst part about this is that we had barely enough money to last over the next two months being out of work. We had rent covered, food, and bills once we pooled our money together.

But now we have to loose a huge chunk of that money because he has to pay the deductible on the insurance.

So I’m going to do what I really wished I would never have to do. I have to ask for your help. Please, if you can donate anything at all, doesn’t matter how big or little it is, you can send it to me through my Ko-Fi: HERE Or you can IM me and I can give you the address my paypal is linked to. If you can’t donate, please please please just reblog this. The more people see it, the better.

Thank you for any help you can give, little or small, it means the world to us.

Full Story of what happened under the cut:

So uh... we ran out of bread last night and we're close to being out of PB&J. This morning we decided to go out and get some more because, well, it's hard to get ahold of because everyone's panicking and it's one of the main things in our diet right now. The roomie and I headed for Walmart, and while we were on a 2-lane road in the left lane, some douchenozzle shoves his way through the heavy traffic out of a parking-lot and rams us on my side. We weren't even going that fast. We were actually coming up to a stop-light, so my roomie was slowing down. He hit us hard enough to make us spin-out and do a full 180degree turn. The back passenger door was absolutely wrecked and I was lucky he didn't hit MY door, but because he hit my side, I'm really starting to hurt now. The back driver wheel hit the median while we spun and it actually hit so hard that it knocked the wheel itself off of the rim and scraped the metal. Somehow we didn't hit another car and we wound up in the right-hand lane completely turned around and facing the wrong direction. I was SO pissed that I got out of the car and screamed at the guy. Both of us were shaking and I was choking because when he hit us, some white stuff flew into the car and I breathed it in. Still kinda choking on it. (Found out later it was probably the stirofoam that was under his bumper.) I manage to kinda stop traffic enough for us to get the car out of the lane and into the parking lot beside us, after which we realized that we couldn't drive any further because of the wheel being messed up. He stayed in the median and called for someone while we called the cops and the insurance company. Then I noticed there was a damn kid in his car. She was like, 2-3 years old and didn't look like she'd been strapped in because she was just climbing from the back to the front seat to see what was going on. He sped through fucking traffic and t-boned us with a kid in the back seat. This whole time, he's over there refusing to come and talk to us until someone else shows up. Turns out, he needs a translator. That's fine. In our area we get a lot of tourists so I just assumed he wasn't from around here. I would have assumed his car was a rental if it hadn't been for the brand new paper license plate. They get their car into the parking lot too and his bumper is all but falling off. A lady shows up to take care of the kid, which seems fine. But then another guy shows up. Then another guy. And Grandma shows up too. For some reason the whole family shows up and are hanging around while we wait for the cop. Normally I wouldn't care, but being surrounded by this many people while I'm already anxious was a bit much for me and made me uncomfortable. I'd already called a friend and cried over the phone with her and being surrounded made me feel stressed. Finally the cop shows up, gets our stories and our information, then goes into his car for basically an hour to have to fill everything out and get it all in order. Luckily we just get given a sheet of paper with all of the information we need on it. Then he glances at them and says to us, "They're gonna be pissed." He wound up getting a ticket among who knows what else because of his reckless driving. The cop leaves and they're visibly angry. Then one of the guys who showed up approaches us. Something about him immediately rubbed me the wrong way, like I got a bad vibe from him. He asks us if we're alright, and I tell him no because our car's wrecked and I'm starting to hurt. Then he tries to get us to lie. Like the dude straight up look sat my roommate and says, "If they ask what happened, tell them--" I have NEVER cut someone off so fast before. I told him: " NO. If they ask, we are going to tell them EXACTLY what happened." And this douche has the NERVE to say: "Well next time you really shouldn't be going so fast. Then you can stop when something like this happens." Like, he's legit trying to turn this around to be my roomie's fault. Keep in mind: we were coming up to a stop light. We were actively slowing down. The speed limit in there is 45. My roomie couldn't have possibly been going more than 35 at the absolute most, and even that's pushing it. I just GLARE at this guy and say: "NO. Even the COP said WE HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY. HE hit US. You need to walk away." I'm... I'm tiny. I'm not even fully 5'6" and I'm sitting here in my stupid Jurassic Park tank top and hole-filled shorts just glaring daggers at this guy. Don't you dare come at me with your stupid scorpion gold chain necklace thinking you're all big and bad and thinking you're going to intimidate me when you're outright coming after my roommate. I'm a wuss when someone comes after ME and I'm by myself, but you put me in a room with people I care about and have someone go after them? All bets are off. Thankfully he just got pissed off and turned away. The whole family climbed into the back of their other van except for like two who went into the translator's car, and they all drove off. For like an hour. We were left sitting there trying to contact the insurance company again, making sure they got all of the files they needed, making sure they got their statements, and figuring out if it was getting towed tonight or not. Then the translator and one of the other guys show up and start messing with their van. First they back it up...and the bumper nearly completely falls off. Then they sit there for a few minutes and try to get it on. The guy driving it goes very slowly out of the parking lot, leaving his entire front in the right-hand lane for some reason while he's waiting to go and then finally does. The other guy on the other hand almost causes another accident. So he's behind a truck that's also waiting to turn out. When the truck goes to pull out, this dumbass SLAMS down on his gas, nearly rear-ends the truck, slams on his breaks, and then once the truck is out of the way, he zooms out of the parking lot without properly looking to make sure no one else is coming. I really don't understand it. But from the looks of things, they probably aren't going to be calling their own insurance company. The car wasn't even registered under the guy that rammed us. It was someone else's name of the same address. So he just wrecked someone else's newly bought car. All of it sucks, my roommate's car is totaled and we are gonna see if we're getting any money for it tomorrow, and I'm in pain so the insurance company is gonna have to send me a doctor over all of this. We're out $500 for the deductible and I'm.... honestly really frustrated. All of this because of Bread, Peanutbutter, and Jelly. Thankfully a friend of ours came to pick us up and also brought us those three things, but now the adrenaline is starting to wear off and I'm getting *really* tired. I'm going to get myself some coffee and try my best to focus on the one-shot I started before the crash just to keep myself awake for now. For the most part I was typing all of this here because it's a safe place to store the information in case I forget anything. But also I kinda wanted to let you guys know why I hadn't posted anything yet. I was saying I wanted to do one short-story a day and I fell behind yesterday because I was doing character-designs for one of the other stories. So I feel guilty falling behind today too. Even if I do have a good reason for it. Stay safe out there, everyone. It's getting really crazy.

#psa #emergency #money emergency #car accident #please help

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slimeyslimeyballsack · 4 years

Text

The Mix Up Part 2

“Pairing: Mob!Steve x OFC (Adrien Bravo)

Warnings: violence, swearing, kidnapping, me trying to type with acrylics on, Bucky and Sam being idiots, more flashbacks

Taglist: @kayteewritessteve @wxstedhexrt @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @scuzmunkie @champagnesugamama @weepingwillow2233

Part One

The two men gave very menacing glares, like very menacing. So, logically she followed them when they asked. Muscular men with metal arms are super persuasive. And the other guy was scary too. I guess. Either way, nobody was around to help, and by the time police were called and had arrived Adrien would have already rusted the man’s arm. They got into a very shiny, very black Cadillac. The black man got into the driver’s seat while ‘Robo’ set her down surprisingly gently and followed her into the back seat. The engine started and the car lurched forward.

“You understand, right?” He asks as he places the back over her head, tying her wrists and ankles. Again he was surprisingly gentle. One arm was cold while the other was searingly hot in comparison.

“Alright, that’s done. Just got to deliver her to Steve then we are done for the day.” Robo gave out a heavy sigh.

“I’m not who you’re looking for,” she paused. “and before you say anything, I know it sounds like a shitty excuse, but there’s another Adrien Bravo. We get mixed up all the time. I don’t know her personally, but she sounds like a real tool. It’s an easy mistake, so you can just drop me off and we’ll let bygones be bygones. Like I wouldn’t even recognize you in a lineup. Well maybe Robo, because of the arm you know- ”

She had said too much. Nobody had stopped her and she had just kept rambling. Why the hell did nobody stop her? Was she not being annoying? That was hard to believe.

“You’re right. It does sound like a shitty excuse, huh Sam?”

“Sounds like a shitty excuse to me Robo.”

There was some shuffling followed by an, “Ow, you asshole. Don’t distract the driver. What would an accident look like on the record?”

“Eh, Barber’ll handle it.”

A release of air sounded as Robo sat back in his seat.

“So, Adrien, you have done a lot of shit.”

“I’m telling you it’s not me.”

“Okay, and I don’t work for a notorious crime syndicate.”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“Everyone’s got their vices kid. Yours just happens to be stealing, and gambling, and assault, and what do we have you for? Oh, murder. That’s nice. Steve had us pick up a murderer Sam. See how much he loves us?”

“This is probably payback for when you beat the shit out of Tony’s parents. You know he’s partial to Tony.”

“I was drunk and they were clearly looking for a fight.”

“They’re in their eighties Bucky!”

That was when Adrien realized it. These men were idiots. She sat quietly as the two men bickered. She was very proud of herself for biting her tongue. She was just going to wait it out. All she had to do was prove that they had the wrong person. Easy peasy. Probably. She would wait until they got to where ever they were going and then convince this Steve that she wasn’t Adrien Bravo, well, not the one they were looking for.

If Adrien ever met this other guy, boy oh boy was she going to give her a piece of her mind. For over a year this other Adrien had been causing problems in her life. Credit cards had been filed in her name. Various cases of tax fraud. False checks. People looking for an Adrien Bravo who slept with their boyfriend. Someone looking for an Adrien Bravo who slept with their girlfriend. Adrien Bravo beat up my dad. Adrien Bravo owes me money. Adrien Bravo isn’t allowed into Walmart anymore after ‘the incident’.

It was slight inconveniences most of the time. Things that could be fixed with a bit of explanation: a call to the credit card company, and extra stop on the subway. But now this Bucky and Sam who worked for the mob were kidnapping her and accusing her of murder! That was not cool. If Adrien was going to be accused of murder it was going to be one she committed. And may or may not be on one Adrien Zora Bravo. But she’d have to get through this mess before any murdering was done.

“Can you tell me why I’m here again? Besides the obvious reason of kidnapping an innocent person.”

There was some mumbling involving ‘but isn’t it in her rights?’ followed by ‘everything we do is illegal why do we care about her rights?’

“Hello?” More mumbling that ended in a grunt and ‘whatever’.

“Adrien Zora Bravo. You have been accused of murder in the first degree.”

“Is this a trial?”

There was a silence.

“Adrien Zora Bravo. You have been accused of murder in the first degree for the murder of Phillip J. Coulson...”

Several days ago

The lean figure kept close to the wall. She blended in with her surroundings. She was able to look like someone just out for a stroll while still being able to sink into the shadows if she needed to.

The house she was looking for was like any other suburban house. It had a picket fence and bushes in front. Little windchimes hung on the porch. It made Adrien sick. The person here was happy. He lived alone but he constantly had guests over. The guy wasn’t even that likable. Obsessed with comic books and trading cards. The guy had a squeaky clean record. Not even a speeding ticket. At least according to the police. These people could cover up anything. And this man had to die.

Phil Coulson. A middle-aged white male. He worked a boring desk job. He had no enemies. His murder would go unsolved.

All she had to do was sneak in. That part was easy. He left the window unlocked on the second floor. His mistake. He was reading in his bed. Silk sheets. Pity they had to be ruined.

Then she would take out her knife, cutting his throat and ulnar artery. His death would be practically painless. Adrien wasn’t a monster. This was why she waited until after he was dead before delivering her message. She would clean up her mess. Then silently make her way out the way she came in.

It was supposed to be that easy. She was supposed to be in and out. But of course, it didn’t happen like that. A friend came over. Right as she was coming out the window. He looked her dead in the eye and you could tell he recognized her. He had clearly recognized her. Panic was starting to overtake her as she waltzed back out into the street. Back into blending in.

She tried to watch her back and not look conspicuous. She knew how to tell when someone was following her and she knew what to do when someone was following her. Why hadn’t she killed that guy? Then there would be no witnesses. She knew better. But she panicked. She was supposed to be in and out. She always had plans for what-ifs, but there wasn’t supposed to be a what-if. He wasn’t supposed to have any friends. Everyone was on their own business. She was going to be in so much trouble. This was bad news.

Rage was a single word that could describe Steve Rogers when he found out. Pure unadulterated rage. Now, Steve was a patient man, he really was. Short tempers don’t do much for you except make you enemies. But the absolute audacity of the person who did this was unmeasured, causing unmeasured levels of furiousness in Steve.

You don’t just come into his town and kill his people. You don’t do it. Not without consequences following. The last person that crossed Steve Rogers probably couldn’t tell you much from God’s Acre.

Nat had tried to calm him down before going into Coulson’s but when Steve was pissed he was pissed. He had burst through the barricade of people to see the man. It was impossible to see anything with Steve’s investigation team keeping out possible contaminators. But carved onto Coulson’s chest was the phrase ‘This is a Warning’.

“Jesus Christ, that’s terrifying. You should be finding this guy.”

“Yeah, that’s what we did, genius.”

“Except that’s not me, genius.”

Completely aware that there was no way to convince these two of her innocence, she decided to wait in silence until they got there, which wasn’t very long, thank god. She probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up her resolve for a whole lot longer. The car stopped and shut off and instead of untying her legs, Bucky swung her over her shoulders, ignoring Adrien’s pounding and protests. They went through several doors before he plopped her down on a chair.

“Thanks a lot, dickhead now my asscheeks are gonna be bruised.”

A new voice was introduced and she could only assume it was this so-called Steve. The back was ripped off of Adrien’s head to reveal a cold blue gaze staring at her. The malice quickly turned to confusion though.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“It’s Adrien Bravo like you asked.”

Steve continued to stare. The confusion turned into annoyance, then one of slight pity.

“This is the wrong person.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

Part Three

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flowerpowell · 5 years

Text

Until You Hate Me (Liam x MC)

PART TWO - INTRODUCTION

A/N: This is a sort of filler chapter I think, at first it was supposed to be longer (with actual action in it lol) but it didnt work and so it is what it is. I hope it’s still enjoyable. Characters belong to Pixelberry of course.

Rating: G

Word count: 1591

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @brightpinkpeppercorn @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cora-nova @client-327 @desiree-0816 @jared2612 @princess-geek @emichelle @ao719 @badchoicesposts @sunandlemons @cordoniantrash @kinggliam @needalittlerain @flyawayboo @nazariortega @jlpplays1 @kimmiedoo5 @annekebbphotography @ladyangel70 @eadanga @kingliam2019 @nz1091 @emceesynonymroll @texaskitten30 @mskaneko @custaroonie @drakesensworld @janezillow @ritachacha @lodberg @msjr0119 ♥

(let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!)

Riley glanced at the watch again and sighed. Regina had asked her to meet her before the jet was supposed to take off but she was either late or forgot about their meeting at all. After five more minutes of sighing and checking the hour, the Queen finally showed up.

“You told me not to be late and yet you’re coming late?” Riley asked not caring if what she said was perhaps a bit too rude when talking to a monarch.

Regina narrowed her eyes before answering calmly. “A Queen is never late.”

“Are you quoting Princess Diaries now?”

“I have no idea what is that.”

“Ugh, nevermind. Let’s talk business. Two hundred thousand dollars for being an awful suitor, or whatever is that called. Anything else I need to know?”

“From what I see, you’re off to a great start,” Regina noticed and Riley rolled her eyes. “Liam will try to teach you everything that the girls from noble families learn throughout their lives. It’s impossible for him to succeed anyway but I just want to make sure you’ll make it even less possible. Is that clear?”

“As clear as the sky,” Riley nodded and Regina looked up. It was cloudy. She sighed.

“You can do whatever you please to make him fail the ‘challenge’ but never embarrass the crown.”

“And what if make him hate me in less than six weeks? Do I still get two hundred?” Riley inquired. It didn’t seem so difficult to do and she was sure she’d succeed in less than six weeks.

“Of course.Whether you do it in one day, a week or six, it’s up to you. Just do it before the coronation. But don’t flatter yourself too much. Liam is very stubborn and never gives up, unfortunately. Unlike his brother,” she sighed.

“Oh, it’s cool. I’ve pissed off more people in my life than I befriended. I’m gonna nail it.”

Regina raised her eyebrowns and looked at Riley sceptically. “Well, then. I guess we have a deal,” she extended her hand and Riley shook it.

“Your Majesty!” A man in a funny uniform bowed slightly before approaching them. “We’re taking off in a minute.”

“Of course. We’ll be right back,” Regina said politely and turned to Riley once the man disappeared. “Oh and Riley. Don’t even think about falling in love with Liam or making him fall for you. I’ll destroy you if anything like this happens.”

Riley swallowed hard before composing herself. “Don’t worry about it, Regi—, Your Majesty. I’m mentally and physically unable to fall in love.” Believe me, I tried.

“Good. Let’s get you to work then.”

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

Riley looked around the Royal jet, taking everything in. She felt Regina’s eyes on her as she was slowly approaching Liam. She tried to look nonchalant, as if being in a Royal jet was something she did on daily basis but she was failing miserably.

Mental note for myself: work on my facial expressions.

“Liam,” Regina said loudly when they reached Liam’s seat. He turned around at the sound of her voice and quickly got up when he saw Riley beside his stepmother. “This is Riley, the waitress from the bar you brought me to yesterday. She kindly agreed to go to Cordonia with us to help you with you challenge. Riley, this Liam, my stepson and the future King of Cordonia.”

Liam smiled warmly at Riley before taking her hand and kissing it lightly. She chuckled in response and Regina rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be somewhere there,” she motioned seats at the end of the jet and walked away.

“I am so happy you agreed to do this, I’m sure it must have been an odd thing to be asked for,” Liam started, leading her to her seat.

“Umm, yeah, I mean,” she stuttered before clearing her throat, “spending a few weeks in a Royal Palace will be like all-inclusive vacay that I didn’t have to pay for. Looots of fun!” She winked at him and Liam’s eyes widened a little. Gosh, I hate myself already.

“Yes, that’s... a nice comparison! Although we will have some work to do,” he laughed nervously while Riley put her feet on his seat.

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugged. “Do you have free champagne or something here?”

“We do, just a moment,” Liam got up and went to grab a bottle and two glasses. On his way back, he stopped by Regina’s seat.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” She asked sweetly.

“Are you sure it’s the same person we met yesterday?” He asked quietly, glancing at Riley who was now testing the seats by jumping on them.

“Of course. Why, something happened?”

“No, nothing. Hmm...” He walked away not seeing Regina’s triumphant smirk.

“Is something wrong with the seats, lady Riley?”

“Hmm, what? No, nothing, I was just checking their quality. It’s not bad though my couch from Walmart is much more comfortable.” She turned to him and took the bottle from his hands. Without bothering to pour the alcohol into the glass, she took a few sips straight from the bottle. I hope I’m not exaggerating.

“I’ll make sure to pass this suggestion to the people responsible for the seats here,” he smiled politely and sat down in front of Riley.

She returned the smile and sat down as well, typing a short message to Regina.

“Help, tell me more about Liam, what he likes and what he hates. ASAP.”

Luckily, the answer came shortly.

“No one truly knows what he likes, he’s too reserved. I would say he loves Cordonia, of course, our apples, baklava. He’s a romantic so family, a loving wife and children are his biggest dream. He hates fake people and people who can harm his friends and family.”

Riley sighed. That did not help her at all. And the fact that they shared favorite dessert and fruit was making it even harder. I swear if I have to pretend I hate baklava I’d rather be broke and kicked out of my apartment.

“Is everything alright?” Liam asked noticing her disconcertment.

“Yes! Absolutely. I just thought maybe you could tell me a little bit about yourself and all. I have to spend a few weeks with you after all!”

“Of course. Is there anything in particular you’d like to learn about me?”

“The basics, I guess. How do you feel about becoming a King, what am I even doing here, what’s your biggest dream and so on. The usual.”

Liam chuckled. “I don’t believe these things are the ‘usual’. But to answer your questions, I’m feeling nervous about becoming a King. I never really thought about it until my brother abdicated. And then my father died and everything became very real.”

“I’m sorry,” she wanted to put a comforting hand on his shoulder but stopped herself instantly.

“I don’t know how much Regina told you...” he looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Not much,” she lied, biting her lip.

“When I realized I was going to be a King, I knew I had to sacrifice many things. But there was one I didn’t want to sacrifice.”

“Love?”

“Exactly. It may sound foolish but I’ve always wanted to marry for love. And since the coronation is so soon... I just wanted to give it a try. Regina claims that you can’t simply teach anyone how to be a Queen because it’s a skill only noble ladies are born with but I don’t agree. My mother was a commoner too and I’m sure she was a wonderful Queen. This is why you’re here in a way,” he smiled at her sheepishly. “Regina... She gave me a chance to teach a lady outside the court, that is you, all about the manners and the Royal Protocol so I could prove her wrong. If I succeed I can marry whoever I want and whenever I want because I’ll prove that it is possible to learn these skills.”

“And if not?”

Liam took a deep breath before sighing. “Then I’ll have to marry Madeleine, my stepmother’s favorite suitor.”

“So marrying for love is your dream, right?”

“Yes. A loving wife and a few kids,” he smiled to himself involuntairly at the thought and Riley couldn’t help but smile too.

“And you? Do you want to get married, have kids?” he asked curiously after a moment.

“Me? Oh no! I don’t like kids, eww!” I hope Mrs Dulay can’t hear me now. “I want to have cats though.” He doesn’t have to know I’m allergic to them

“Cats.” Liam repeated.

“Cats. Like, ten of them or more.”

“Ten cats. Okay. But what if you were a Queen? You’d need an heir or someone to appoint.”

“I’d appoint one of my cats. Cats are the best. Cats should rule, I’m sure they’re destined to do so,” she explained and Liam’s eyes went wide.

“So no kids for you, only cats and a cat would be the Royal Heir.”

“Yes, exactly.”

He nodded and quickly turned his attention back at his phone. In a few hours they would land in Cordonia. He knew he couldn’t back out now, especially that it was his only chance but something was telling him that it was a mistake. And that it would be the longest six weeks in his life.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #king liam #king liam x mc #liam x mc #choices #choices trr #trr #trr liam #the royal romance liam #liam x riley #king liam x riley #playchoices #blanca still doesnt know how to tag 2019

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rjalker · 4 years

Text

I had this fucking woman ask me to make her bags light because she couldn’t lift a lot of weight AND she asked me to keep her cold items together so I’m like, okay.

So I bagged her cold items in two different bags, because she was buying half a gallon of almond milk and four pack of butter and a tub of cottage cheese and a big box of yogurt.

And

A) those would not all have fit in a single bag regardless of the weight

B) it would have weighed like fifteen pounds. And most people who are asking for their bags to not be heavy cannot safely lift fifteen pounds.

And also she had reusable bags she wanted to use but I politely apologized and told her I couldn’t bag her items in those BECAUSE OF THE MOTHER FUCKING PANDEMIC AND THE ONE SMART THING WALMART HAS DONE IS GIVE US THE CHOICE OF WHETHER OR NOT WE WANT TO TOUCH CUSTOMER’S REUSABLE BAGS BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW IF YOU KNOW BUT ALOT OF PEOPLE’S REUSABLE BAGS ARE FILTHY AND DISGUSTING and she was complaining that someone did it for her last week and it’s riduclous! what’s the difference?? I’m already touching all the things she’s buying!!! THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE ITEMS ON THE SHELVES AND THE DISGUSTING FUCKING BAGS THAT FOR ALL I KNOW HAVE BEEN PULLED OUT OF HER DIRTY LAUNDRY HAMPER OR PEED ON BY A CAT (BECAUSE YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’VE HAD CUSTOMERS BRNG BAGS IN WITH THEM THAT REEK OF CAT PISS!!!!!!!!!!)

And then she had a case of soda in the cart that she wanted me to scan BUT she didn’T FUCKING TELL ME THAT or IF SHE DID SHE MUMBLED IT SO I COULDN’t HEAR AND MY HEARING IS THE OPPOSITE OF A PROBLEM and then just fucking demanded “Well arent you going to??!?!?!” and I’m like “aren’t I going to what?” Because she’d been asking something about the change shortage so I’m like???? and she snarled “SCAN THIS SODA!!! I’M NOT GOING TO PICK IT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” so I did.

And then she started throwing a fucking hissy fit because her cold things were in two different bags instead of one and I reminded her that she’d asked me SPECIFICALLY not to make her bags heavy and if I put all of those in a single bag it would be very heavy AND ALSO THEY WOULD LITERALLY NOT FIT BECAUSE THAT’S NOT HOW THESE BAGS WORK and THEN she started fucking demanding that I take all her fucking bags off the wheel and PUT THEM IN HER REUSABLE BAGS IN HER CART and at that point I literally just had no fucks left to give so I’m like “Ma’am I can’t touch your reusable bags.” And she’s like “YESS YU CAN!!! YOU CAN DO THAT AT THE VERY LEAST!!!” and I’m like no I really can’t.

So she was trying and failing to put her plastic bags in the reusable bags and still grumbling and snarling about the cold things being in two bags instead of one (DESPITE THE FACT THAT I DOUBLE BAGGED THEM AND TIED THEM SHUT SPECIFICALLY TO HELP THEM STAY COLD BEFORE I REALIZED SHE WAS AN ASSHOLE) and I literally just didn’t give any more fucks so I just patiently waited for her to finish fucking failing and she snapped, “You’re NOT very helpful!” and I’m like “Well, ma’am, if you could just be a little more polite, I would be happy to help you!”

And then she left and said something to one of the other cashiers as she went past them but they didn’t even hear what she said and asked me what happened and yeah.

If one more customer says anything to me I’m going to break something.

Like the register.

And if they claim that the national coin shortage is actually a scam/conspiracy by Walmart to force them to use cards so it can track their purchases, I’m going to take the till out of the drawer and BEAT THEM TO DEATH WITH IT

#caps lock

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jimlingss · 6 years

Text

The Deli Diaries [8]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 1.5k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: prepare yourselves cause after this chapter, we’re going to see 2 whole inches of development......probably.

Except, there’s something in the air today that tells you things are a bit different. And it’s not the little glances made by Jimin from across the produce floor that gives you that feeling. Rather, you notice another man who’s wheeling a shopping cart around and putting items into his reusable grocery bags. When he thinks no one is looking, he pockets a giant piece of brie cheese into his jacket pocket.

If possible, you sigh even louder than before. The debate inside your head begins… Who even cares? You steal food too. Plus, what if this person needs it? You don’t give a shit about this store anyways. If anything, this is the perfect revenge. Management can suck it. But — you do have a duty to at least report theft. They made it loud and clear that you have no responsibility to confront a possible shoplifter. The damn company is too afraid of liability issues and doesn’t want any employee risking their life, but you can always call the manager on duty to deal with it. Plus, this guy was stealing a lot. If he was planning to walk out of this store with that entire cart like you think he is, then that’s three of the deli chickens off of the shelf and you’re going to have to make more. God, you wish Amber wasn’t on her break right now. If she was here, she’d have to deal with this and not you. With reluctant footsteps, you walk towards the phone and pick it up, pressing the button for the intercom. “Manager on duty to the deli….please. Manager on duty to the deli…?” Your voice echoes throughout the entire store and you put down the handset while cringing. The shoplifter is still a bit of a ways off, choosing what jar of pickles to take. And you wait...patiently, you wait. But no manager ever comes into the deli. “What’s wrong?” The brunette boy turns and gives you full immediate attention when you come strolling towards him from behind the deli cases. He stops piling oranges onto the display case and wipes his gloved hands onto his red apron without making the cotton fabric dirty. His rounded eyes stare back into yours and you don’t know where to begin with answering his question. “Where are all the managers?” You’re pissed off and for good reason. They’re all probably chatting in the staff room and having a goddamn tea party while talking smack about Walmart and other more successful grocery stores. Where are they when you need them?! “I haven’t seen them.” Jimin frowns in concern, searching your face as if he could detect what’s wrong. “Why?” “They’re so useless,” you mutter more to yourself. “I think someone’s shoplifting.” “What? Who?” “That guy.” You turn and keep yourself close to Jimin. Your voice is lowered down and you whisper all your words. The innocent produce boy’s cheeks heat up at your close proximity, but he forces himself to keep focus. “The one walking back and forth and lurking in the corner.” “The one with the baggy coat?” “Yeah.” He’s a bad shoplifter, shoulders hunched, purposely avoiding eye contact, though you swear his pupils flicker over for a mere moment. “What is he even doing?” “I don’t know, but is that all his stuff?” Jimin means the shopping cart that has things piled on like a mountain. Food and toiletries are overflowing from the reusable shopping bags, spilling out, and you can see three of your precious rotisserie chickens on there too. “Yeah, I think so.” You sigh. “We can’t just ignore it.” The boy smiles, stealing a glimpse of your profile. As much as you like to trot around and announce how much you hate this place and your job, Jimin knows you care a little, whether you want to admit it or not. “Is there no security guard walking the floor?” “No.” Sometimes there are hired guards that walk around and wear the disguise of a normal customer, but they only work every other day at certain hours. Of course, today there was no one like that around. Just your fucking luck. “Why don’t they have any anti-theft beepers at the door? Or like the security scanners?” “You tell me.” But you know the exact reason. You asked your supervisor once and apparently it’s too expensive to get those machines at the door. Goddamn. You don’t understand the logic. The stupid ass company is not only dumb, but cheapskates. Maybe they deserve to be stolen from. “Should we just ignore him?” Jimin’s brows furrow and he considers all the options. Without saying anything, he takes a step forward, but is stopped when you grab onto his wrist. You latch onto him with a tight grip, fingers curling over his skin. “Wait. Don’t. What if he attacks you?” Jimin looks at you. “He won’t attack me.” “I’ve seen the security guard tackle people before and no offence, produce boy, but I think you’d get beaten into a pulp.” The corner of his mouth tugs in amusement. Deep down, Jimin likes it when you worry about him. In a way, it expresses that you care for his well-being. Unless...you’re only apprehensive since you know that company policy wouldn’t pay his hospital bills and you’d feel obligated to fork over your paycheck and help him. “I work out at the gym, you know.” “Uh-huh.” You’re fully aware that now’s not the time to bicker or banter with him. “What if he pulls out a weapon….like a knife or something.” His smile grows wider. “I’ll protect you, don’t worry.” “Oh my god.” You’re rolling your eyes to the back of your skull, but then your vision is stolen by something else. All at once you let Jimin go and a gasp falls from your parted lips. “Oh my god! He’s leaving!” The pair of you run over on instinct and the shoplifter is prevented from moving when you block his way with your bodies. “Um, excuse me, sir.” You’re pleasantly surprised when you sound firmer than what you feel inside. “Could we see your receipt?” “Why?” The stranger’s eyes are big and full of fear. You can see the way sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin and thankfully he’s not violent, though it’s still too early to be at ease. “We just need to make sure you made these purchases.” You force yourself not to waver, standing strong in your spot, but also wondering what the hell you would do if you died protecting a place you’ve always wanted to throw your shit at. “But I paid for these already,” he defends himself. You give an incredulous expression. Really? Does he think you’re blind or stupid? “We just need to see your receipt, sir. And then you can be on your way.” “I….I think I lost it.” The rugged man begins to pat his pockets like he’s searching for it. “I think I already threw it away.” “Oh. Then can you stay here for a moment, so we can check the purchase logs at the customer service counter? It’ll only take a second.” “No—!” He shouts and his jaw ticks. “I paid for these! I want to go now. You’re being very rude to me.” “Please cooperate,” Jimin pipes up beside you and you’re surprised at how harsh his tone is. All signs of the timid produce boy have disappeared and he doesn’t look so cute anymore. “It’ll only take a second.” “I…” The man’s face goes pale and he books it to the left. At the sheer speed he whips himself, his body lurches forward and his feet slide. He nearly stumbles and falls, arms flailing out, but he catches himself before he can eat shit and he dashes through the door. The man runs for the hills while the sound of his voice is left behind. “I’m sorry!” The full shopping cart is left abandoned in front of the two of you. “Well….that went better than expected.” “Told you I could protect you.” You scoff and a moment later, someone else comes jogging from the left. He’s a taller dude, red apron tied around his body, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. The grocery manager looks frantic and catches his breath while trying to piece together what happened with the both of you standing there and a cart full of items in front of you. He’s late. “You paged me? What happened?!” You look at Jimin, gazing into his eyes with your dead ones, not impressed at all. The produce boy’s lips turn upright and expand into a smile, eyes crinkling, laughing at your expression.

#bts scenario #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #jimin as a produce boy and someone comes into the store to steal #the most thriller this series gets

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hookahazz · 6 years

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Chronicles of a Black Girl Vol 1: The Beauty Supply Store |Harry Styles|

Warnings: Cursing, fluff (very cute in my opinion)

Word Count: 2.6k

(A/N): This is the first installment out of 10 (maybe). Hope you enjoy. This was just an idea that came to me for one of the parts. Feedback is very much appreciated. Tell me if I have errors! I really want to know if you guys loved it, liked it, hated it, or whatever. I wanna know!

Ask box

“Love, where are you going?” Harry inquired as he watched (Y/N) begin to throw on a random pair of sweats and one of his jumpers.

“The beauty supply store, Haz. You coming along this time?”

This wasn’t the first time she had gone to the beauty supply store. In fact, Harry found it quite odd how often she’d go. To him, it seemed like she’d make a trip there every day when really it was just about three times every couple of weeks. He had never gone with her. Usually, she went right after she had gotten off from work or on a weekend he hadn’t spent the night, vice versa. The only thing Harry knew about the beauty supply store was that they sold overly expensive hair care products for (Y/N) and that the bags were small and a bright yellow with “DJ’s BEAUTY SUPPLY” printed in black in the center of it. Every time (Y/N) went to any store, whether it be Walmart or target, she always kept all the plastic bags. She had a plastic bag filled with plastic bags shoved inside one of her kitchen cabinets. No matter how many times he told her to rid them to free up space in that cabinet she’d simply reply with: “I’m not getting rid of them Harry, they’re perfect and I can use them for all sorts of things, mini trash bags, shower caps, and they’re perfect for when it’s time for a deep condition.” He suggested multiple times for her just to buy the individual trash bags for her mini trash cans, a pack of shower caps, and some deep conditioning caps but she wasn’t having it. (Y/N) just usually flicked him in the head and rolled her eyes. Spending money was not her favorite thing to do, and the thought of her spending any money on things as such when she could just use the plastic bags made her roll her eyes in annoyance.

Harry had truly never even seen or stepped a beauty supply store, one that was made for black women in particular. He was curious as to what it held. He’d seen some of the products she had brought home and cringed when his green orbs were met with the price tag. For someone who hates spending money, (Y/N) surely had no problem splurging on hair products. He thought if he went today then he could see just why (Y/N), in his opinion, spends so much time here.

“Sure baby, just let me throw something on,” he smiled, getting out of bed to throw on an outfit fairly similar to his girlfriends.

↫ ↬

“I’m excited.”

“For what,” she smiled and rolled her eyes, parking her car into one of the vacant spaces closer to the door.

“Not sure really. I’ve never been here before. I just wanna see why you come here so much.”

“It is not that exciting, and I do not come here that often for the bazillionth time,” she rolled her eyes.

The pair got out the car, closed the doors and headed to the door of the small shop.

For (Y/N), it was just another day. Really she hadn’t planned on being here for long but she knew this ten-minute trip was easily about to turn into forty-five-minute one, knowing already that Harry was ready to explore and experiment with all the store's amenities. Like a gentleman, he opened the heavy door for (Y/N), following closely behind. Harry was as giddy and thrilled as a kid on Christmas.

His eyes first landed on pictures plastered on the wall of men and women “browsing” through the store.

“Hey (Y/N),” he whispered. The store was silent, just the noise of the infamous yellow bag crunching as one of the employees handed it to a customer.

“Why’s it so quiet in here? And why are there pictures of people on the wall? You come here a lot shouldn't your picture be on the wall?”

His ignorance was cute and (Y/N) really couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Why are you always laughing at me? You didn’t even answer my question,” he pouted making (Y/N) laugh a bit harder.

Harry knew dating a black woman would eventually lead to him asking a lot of dumb questions about black culture, questions she was more than prepared and happy to answer. She had been doing so her entire life. It was quite long ago, around the time they had first begun dating but (Y/N) had decided then that she wanted to get box braids resulting in H pouting and whining because he wouldn’t be able to hang out with her. He pleaded and begged for her to allow him to tag along, just wanting to be in her propinquity. After almost an hour of his non-stop whining, she caved. Harry grinning from ear to ear, just thrilled that he got to be with her. His happiness was short lived however when he had realized two hours in how long this hair braiding process really was.

“(Y/N)... When are you going to be done?” the grown man whined, his childlike behavior amusing both (Y/N) and Nicole, one of (Y/N)’s friends and a braider

“You don’t get to complain now, H. I told you it was going to be long but you kept nagging me so I had to say yes,” she playfully scolded him.

“If you want, you can go back home and then I’ll call you to come to get me when I’m done” she suggested, but Harry wasn’t having it.

“Nope! I’m staying right here. Gonna stay awake until the very end with you so you won’t be bored!”

After about another hour of conversing with (Y/N) and Nicole, Harry ended up passing out on Nicoles big and comfy couch waking up just as she was cutting the flyaways off of the braids.

“You’re done already?!” Harry yelped, wretched that he missed the entire process that he wanted greatly to watch.

“Just about, baby. She’s gonna dip me then we can go,”

After another ten minutes that Harry swore was thirty, (Y/N) was finally done and Harry couldn’t be more than thrilled.

“They’re so pretty, petal,” he gushed over his girl.

“Thank you, baby, “ she grinned.

“Do you want me to help you?”

“With what babe?” (Y/N) yawned glancing at her phone that read 11:09PM.

“Braiding your hair again tomorrow,” Harry said as if it was the most obvious thing.

(Y/N) was a giggling mess, “H, I don't have to rebraid them after this. They stay braided until I take them down.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed, turning his attention from the road to her.

The rest of the ride home consisted of Harry asking about one hundred more questions about braids and (Y/N) constantly laughing at his ignorance but taking the time to carefully answer and explain all her boyfriends' questions.

“Sorry baby,” she pecked his lips.

“But no, I shouldn’t be on that wall and you don't want me to be,” she began walking down the aisles looking for her regular shampoo and conditioner set, Harry continuing to follow her closely.

“Why not?” he inquired, furrowing his brows out of confusion.

“Everyone on that wall has stolen from here H, They have their picture there so that they can call the police if they come back.” she giggled.

Harry felt embarrassed. Why else would they have photos of random strangers in the store?

↫ ↬

After about five minutes of standing there watching (Y/N), Harry became rather bored, his green eyes scanning the quiet store in hopes of searching for something to do while (Y/N) pondered over which conditioner she was going to buy. (She had an impressive collection of conditioners really. Sometimes when she had left them at his house he’d use them in the shower, grinning from ear to ear because he got to smell like her. Boy, was he in love.) As if on cue, his eyes landed on the bright and colorful wigs in the back of the store. The thought alone made Harry giggle aloud, (Y/N) turning her attention to him only for a moment to roll her eyes, not really understanding what was so funny.

“Um pet, I’ll be right back. Gotta take a piss,” he whispered before kissing her cheek and scurrying off to the back.

Now (Y/N) was no idiot. There wasn’t even a bathroom open for customers and she had figured out only moments after they had begun browsing through the shop that he was growing jaded (him fidgeting with his silver rings and shifting his weight every couple of seconds gave it away). She was going to propose that they could go, that she could just grab her usual products and they’d be on their way in a jiffy but obviously he had other plans in mind, not wanting to shorten her usual trip.

↫ ↬

(Y/N) was just about ready to go. The only thing keeping her from the cash register, her car, and her warm flat was two jars of gel; one of them being so large it required a handle to carry and the other with a snap top. She really couldn't decide. Getting the larger one meant paying more but not having to come back for gel as often and purchasing the smaller one meant saving money (something she liked very much, saving) but probably having to come back in the next month just for gel. She groaned and rolled her eyes (something she did unconsciously, being pestered by Harry for always having what he called an “attitude”). Just as she was about to call his name, she heard a fit of giggles coming from the back of the store. What has he gotten himself into now? (Y/N) quietly made her way to the back of the shop, following the sound of Harry’s and another womans snorts and giggles.

“I look good Ms.Leanne! Bloody fucking fantastic!”

“Quite adorable Harry!” she clapped, encouraging him.

Again, (Y/N) rolled her eyes (she really didn’t mean to do it in a bitchy way it was just her natural reaction to a lot of things) and turned the corner only to find her boyfriend sitting on a stool with a couple of wigs surrounding him, and a curly silver one placed upon his head. She leaves him alone for only 5 minutes and somehow he manages to get the owner to let him try on wigs. Ms.Leanne never ever ever let anyone try on a wig mainly because she spends a lot of time and money on them and didn’t want them to be tangled or matted by sloppy customers. She didn’t really care for anyone except for (Y/N) and now, Harry. (Y/N) leaned against the wall and watched and rolled her eyes some more as Ms. Leanne helped him put on three more wigs. The bright pink afro was enough to have (Y/N) doubling over in laughter, gaining both Harrys and Ms.Leannes attention.

“Button!” Harry giggled rushing over to his girl.

“Hi, babe. Having fun?” (Y/N) continued to laugh now in Harry's chest, tears threatening to spill.

Harry just looks so ridiculous she really can’t help but snort. He’s standing in front of her in a jumper and sweats with his black vans, standard everyday clothes, with the brightest pink wig on his head, his goofy grin added to the mix. Ms. Leanne herself is now doubling over in laughter slapping her thighs not only from Harrys absurd look but, because of (Y/N)’s goofy ass laugh. It was enough to make anyone laugh really.

“Stop laughing at me! I think I look swell, really!”

“Oh c’mon, can’t have both of you giggling at me” he whined.

Other customers walked past the lot of them stifling their own laughs at how ridiculous he looks.

“Damn it petal, you’ve got strangers laughing at me too.” Harry pouted only to receive a couple more snorts and giggles from the two women.

After a moment (Y/N) finally composed her self and kissed the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sorry H. You just look so fucking crazy I really couldn’t help it,” she sighed trying to catch her breath.

“You’re annoying,” he huffed.

“But, I missed you.”

For what seemed like the bazillionth time today (Y/N) rolled her eyes again. She wasn’t anything but a couple of aisles over but Harry will profess how much he misses her even if she’s just gone to the bathroom in the middle of one of their cuddling sessions. A clingy one he was.

“Okay bub, you about ready to go? I got all I needed,” she smiled.

“Yeah, I got what I need as well, ready when you are,”

“What do you mea-” (Y/N) started but was cut off by Ms. Leanne and H.

(Y/N)’s jaw hung.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually going to buy it, Harry,” she gaped.

“Nope. My dear friend Ms.Leanne here is giving it to me for free! Isn’t that splendid, button!”

↫ ↬

(Y/N) and Harry argued playfully for a couple of minutes, mainly consisted of her trying to persuade him not to take it home. He wasn’t budging, however. It was almost as if he had planned to torment her with it. Ms.Leanne laughed as she rang Y/N’s items up. It came up to to a total of 48 dollars and 65 cents and that only led to another banter of who was going to pay.

“Oh come on, you never let me pay,” he whined as they walked out of the shop and back to her car after bidding goodbye to Ms.Leanne (Harry promising the old woman that’d he’d be back real soon with or without (Y/N) to try on more wigs and play with her ).

She rolled her eyes and hopped into the driver's seat, placing the familiar yellow bag in the backseat.

“You still have on that damn wig, H” she smiled.

“Course, love. Gonna get a new one every time we go,” he smirked.

Harrys first time at DJ’s marked the start of a new tradition one of which will more than likely have (Y/N) and Ms. Leanne laughing until it hurts at Harry's goofy antics.

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agaywadarchive · 6 years

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FULL NAME: sara michelle avraham OPEN FOR PLOTTING: yes NICKNAMES: sare BIRTHDATE: 2/14 YEARS OF AGE: 34 BIRTHPLACE: Boston, ma RESIDES IN: Either la, las vegas, or nyc OCCUPATION: event planner GENDER IDENTITY: cis woman PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her NATIONALITY: American citizen FACE CLAIM: g/al gadot PARENT(S): Adoptive; Christopher & Veronica Avraham. Biological; Delphine Rosen & Richard Blaine SIBLING(S): twin biological siblings, two other siblings CHILDREN: no, but she wants some someday OTHER NOTABLE RELATIVES: no PET(S): a poodle named Dina ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single CURRENT RELATIONSHIP: no one POSITIVE TRAITS: energetic, flirtatious, gregarious NEGATIVE TRAITS: naive, aloof, perfectionist LIKES: romance, soft fabric, being smiled at, aerial scarf yoga, adventures, ghost stories, true crime novels, writing, receiving affection of any kind, playful people, games of twister, organization, video games DISLIKES: bridezillas, monster-in-laws, people who like to pop her bubble of optimism, the feeling of numbness, stepping on gum, mess, aggressive men, men who talk down to her MYER'S BRIGGS: enfj ZODIAC SIGN: aquarius RELIGION: jewish POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Democrat HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good

tw: cancer, euthanization, death

Sara was adopted by Christopher and Veronica Avraham. Christopher was a strict Military Sergeant who raised her well, but raised her to have both manners and respect towards others. While Veronica was a surgeon, who demanded that she focus on her studies and not so much parties and misbehaving. They were suited for one another and loved one another very much, but her parents weren’t very touchy feely with each other - to the point where Sara had only seen them kiss twice - and weren’t very touchy feely with her either. Sara loved them both a lot nonetheless and tried her best to be a good daughter to them.

Although her parents were strict, Sara was spoiled rotton and got whatever clothes and toys that she wanted. Her parents were proud to have jobs that supported their family and they thought that Sara was such a good girl that they didn’t think that they were making her a brat by buying her things. Sara’s mother also put her a few beauty pageants for the sake of fun and growth, and Sara ended up being pretty good at them. She did not always get first or second place, but she ended up holding her own and displaying her talent of piano and singing to everyone. Sara, as an adult, likes aesthetically pleasing clothes, jewelry, and items due to that. She only takes the best and will not wear anything that’s bought at Walmart or Target.

She wasn’t really great at school growing up. She was much better in creative classes than she was in math and science classes. Due to a habit of daydreaming in most classes though, she would typically would miss out on a lot of what was said in class and ended up having to be tutored throughout most of her education. Thankfully, her parents could afford a tutor who made learning fun for her, but she still was interested in everything but school. However, in high school, she did begin to pick up her grades and paid much better attention to what the teacher was saying. So she was able to go to college to get degrees in business and hospitality.

In High School and college she easily made a lot friends. Since she was the type who liked to introduce herself to strangers or people who were alone during her walks around campus/or school grounds, it made sense that she would. She was the type of woman who needed friends to survive because she didn’t like to be alone at all and she being alone for hours at a time made her stir crazy. So typically, she would hang out with friends or study with them.

She’s kind of a ditzy optimist? She’s not really stupid, but she’s not the sharpest crayon in the box either. While she through emotions like everyone else, she tends to get over things rather quickly and doesn’t hold grudges or think too long about betrayals because she doesn’t really have the mental capacity for that. If you wrong her, she’ll be upset about it for like an hour, but then she’ll see something positive on television or her phone and be over it. Same goes for feelings of sadness, she will be upset for an hour or so, but then she’ll think about something else and suddenly that feeling is nonexistent. I feel like feelings of happiness tend to last long with her however, and she tends to get odd looks for smiling as much as she does, but honestly, she just has a lot of positive thoughts and just accepts the bad when it comes her way. I feel like if someone bursts her happiness bubble she does get a little pissed up, but again, doesn’t last long due to how her brain works.

Sara is sugar sweet and would never hurt anyone’s feelings intentionally. This goes back to her being a bit too dumb to even process that sort of thing. So she’s not likely to manipulate or harm someone without influence of some kind. She just doesn’t really have it in her. She is more than likely that person who gives the clothes off her back to friends in need and she’s always willing to put her life on hold to help the ones she loves. Sometimes that ends up with her getting hurt, while other times, it’s all good.

Her dream growing up was to plan weddings. She was one of those girls who dreamt of her own wedding and made little albums with cut out pictures of brides and decorations in it. The albums also had little notes in them and long letters that she’s written to her future self about what love should be and what it isn’t. She had even saved her adopted mother’s wedding dress for her own special day, hoping that she looked as beautiful in it as her mother did. Sara basically planned everything to the nines and put that love into a new fondness for decorating and planning as a whole. She would help her friends with their birthday parties and their family’s parties and ended up assisting people in her neighborhood as well. She began to get better at her hobby as years went by, and that’s why she finally got the hang of school instead of simply zoning out during it. But eventually, she did go on to have her own business called ‘Ever Afters’ that was located in both Los Angeles, California and Las Vegas, Nevada.

She was married to her college sweetheart, Samuel Radcliffe, for a few years. He was the perfect man for her and they had a love that made everyone jealous of their relationship. The two of them were supportive of one another and always had each others backs when it came to school and their careers. However, when Sara turned twenty-three, he gave her the news that he had a brain tumor that would eventually kill him. Sara was deeply upset by this news and researched all she could to see if there would be a way to save him, but eventually, she came to the conclusion that that was it for him and she’d just have to be there for him along the way. It was a rough two years for her, but after reaching a place where he was no longer himself and was suffering, her husband asked her to take him to Oregon so that he could get euthanized. At first she was adamant about him living as much as he could so that she could be with him, but after a while, she considered that selfish and decided to let him do as he wanted. So as a gift to him, they moved to Oregon and within the year, he had died. Sara wasn’t upset by his death because that was what he wanted and she had grieved months before he had past. She thought it was time to move on and live her life, so she did and did it with a new positive perception of life. The perception that life is fleeting and that you only live once, so you might as well enjoy it. And instead of staying in Oregon, she decided to move back to Los Angeles.

A little after he died, a crazy thought popped into Sara’s mind. She would sign up for for the Miss California Pageant and compete. When she told her mother that she would compete, her mother told her that it would be difficult because she was older, but she didn’t tell her not to do it so Sara did it. Surprisingly, she won Miss California and was given the opportunity to become Miss America. Sara was a bit weary about running for that because she had mostly signed up for the pagents to prove to herself that she could move on, but she ended up doing it anyway, and again she won. She was a bit too frightened to compete in the Miss Universe pageant, but her family told her to try and do it for the fun of it, so she did, and surprisingly she won that as well. Sara was really proud of herself, but after about two years of pageants, she decided to go back to focusing on her business.

Now, she works a lot, but she also makes time for a dating life. She wants to find someone else to fulfill her after the death of her husband. Whether that person is a woman, a man, or anyone else, she doesn't mind. She just wants to feel that strong love and bond she felt with her husband all over again. She just isn’t sure if she’ll ever find it again because people keep telling her that that was a one-time thing.

For fun, Sara likes to paint. Her paintings are inspired by Gustav Klimpt, therefore she puts a lot of detail into her art and spends a long time doing it. She is not the best, but her art is good and she’s been told that it’s good in the past.

#bio: sara avraham #c: sara avraham #elliesfinishedbios #cancer tw #death tw #listen i had..............to write this.......yeah #i partially blame kayla for making me talk about her after filling my add

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overwhelmed-ravenclaw · 6 years

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IF YOU ARE IN NORTH LOUISIANA OR NEAR IT PLEASE READ THIS! I do not like making personal posts on here. This is one, I am sorry about that. It might have some triggers in here, but I am not sure what to tag them as besides being an ableist (discrimination to disable people) because that what it is. Also, a lot of cursing (some from myself) I am sorry about that. The other thing is racism is mention but tbh it has nothing to do with that it is basically playing the blame game. Also a kid threaten to commit suicide.

I have PTSD and a part of that is being born deaf and misdiagnosed as a baby. I eventually got the surgery I needed to get the ability to hear for the first time properly. Now years later (more than double of when I had surgery) I am a bus aide/para. I LOVE IT! It is one of the BEST things that has ever happened to me. Issue is because I am in North Louisiana, bus aides don’t get paychecks year around. There is a Circle K on my route, 4 hours long route from bus barn pick kids up then to the schools. In the afternoons me and the bus driver used to stop at Circle K before getting the kids to head home. We also check the gas, clean the windows, etc. Normal bus stuff and things you even do in your car. This day, the driver sent me in to the station to get our drinks instead of her coming with me. Normally bus drivers, truckers, cops, other officials gets free drinks. I got her fountain drink. Then I got my bottle drink. Heading back to register, I see the assistant manager giving me the stink eye. She is my sister’s boss. Just barely. My sister was pass over for the position for this woman, Jasmine. I get to the register, put my things down and greet her nicely. She refuses to ring my stuff up. When I finally got her to ring me up she rang up my bus driver’s drink and when I corrected her before paying she refused to fix it. By this time I am running 5 minutes late and like screw it. It was a dollar, it won’t hurt anything. I pay then she refused to give me the little bit of change I had back OR receipt that I asked for. Fine. Whatever. I have to go. Half way to the door I heard something weird turned around and clear as day could read the woman’s lips and she called me a “Fucking retard.” When the old man behind me in line started to fuss at her about being so rude to me. I don’t give a damn, I was more pissed that she said that behind my back than to my face. I storm out and told my bus driver what happened. Bus driver said it happens and tried to pay me back the dollar for the drink. I refused because nice old lady who makes me snacks during breaks. A few weeks later I went in, it is last week of school, so I am about to be out of the job for 3 months and not get a paycheck for 4 months. My last paycheck was combinde with my previous because sent out dates for aides is weird at this time. I go into Circle K, my sister is working and my aunt is bringing me home. I go get my drinks for the morning and place them on the counter. My sister is in the back, the assistant manager, Jasmine, is up front checking people out. She reused to check me out. I asked her to four times and no one else was in the store besides an old man drinking coffee. Finally she checks me out after calling me everything she could under the sun, including racist because I am “demanding servatude” and saying because she is black I am treating her like a slave... 1 I wasn’t rude, just tired. 2 She is the cashier, checking people out is her job. 3 I have had a long day and wanted to go home and snuggle my puppy. Well then she kept repeatively calling me fucking retard to my face refusing to check me out. Finally my sister came up front finish fixing something in the back and then told me to get in her line so she can check me out. I check out and asked my sister if she wants something to eat before I head home. She said no and then went on her way of what she had to do. I left got food and then head home pissed that the woman was being so arragent calling me racist for asking her to do her job. Stupid people will be stupid is my logic with the whole fucking retard part, at least she said it to my face this time. My sister who witness all of this went to the manager complaining that Jasmine was calling me a fucking retard. Manager went back on tapes from what my sister said and watched the tapes and saw me standing there listening to Jasmine’s insults and her going on about how I’m racist for 15 minutes. Finally he said he’ll handle it. Nothing at all happened. Two more times something similar to that happened. We reported to the manager, Jody, nothing happened. Because I was a cashier’s sister. This last time I went in and haven’t been in since, I walked in with money and pump number to prepay for gas, didn’t think I’d make it to the other station. I went up to Jasmine, she was the only one there, I told her pump number and price then gave her the money. She placed the money in her draw, never put it in the computer. She typed it up like she was going to put it in but never pressed the button that would turn pump on. I had someone outside waiting for the pump to be turned on. 15 minutes and I get a call from the person outside asking why the pump isn’t on. I go the the cashier and ask why my pump isn’t on and she tells me “Keys and license.” ... I prepaid... I pointed that out and she told me that it is mandatory for everyone to give their keys and license before getting pump turned on even when prepaid. If I wasn’t a fucking retard I woud know that. I eventually waited 10 more minutes after I talked her into at least turn the pump on... I thought. The person pumping gas came in and asked why the pump still not on it been almost 30 minutes. The woman then again insisted keys and licenses because she isn’t turning pump on any “other fucking way” so the person called Jody, the manager, and the manager eventually came in and looked at the cameras, got my money back and we left to go to walmart to get gas. A couple of days later I learned that it wasn’t just me, who she hates, that she was doing this to. She was doing it to a 17 year old kid too. This kid is a sweetheart, I use to watch her when I was still in high school myself 10 years ago. Well that was my last straw. I told my theropist about what was happening and she called corp right before she came to see me because of Jasmine telling the 17 year old to kill herself that she is a fucking retard that is a mistake on this earth. I called corp and then next week when my theropist came to our “lunch date” she told me that her friend at Monroe’s Circle K told her that the corp was pissed because there was around 19 complaints on the assistant manager at the Circle K my sister works at. I am told by my sister that if I called in she’d be fired. We didn’t have money because I was out of job till school is back and that is her job. So I called in under my step-sister’s other sister’s name, with their Okay. The manager who only talked to me once but mostly avoids me because I’m deaf and have PTSD called my cellphone. He wanted details. So i gave him all the times she called me fucking retard and how many times she has ignored me when I said I want receipt and how many times she has called me racist for asking her to do her job. At the end of it he said he would handle it and he has to make a report to the big boss. Okay, I think to myself, FINALLY she is going to get straighten out. Worst case of senario in my head is she gets demoted but still there, best she gets fired. She got neither. She got a write up and told that my sister was jealous she got the assistant manager position (that my sister don’t even want because it is a crap job) not my sister. Because of my sister working there, she is allowed to be an ableist and when someone calls her on her shit she gets to use the whole “I’m black” card and get out of it? No! That’s fucking wrong! I am so fed up with this shit! She made the 17 year old want to commit suicide because of this shit! She has isolated a good part of her COWORKERS who have family members who are disabled and she treat PAYING CUSTOMERS like shit because of something THEY CAN NOT HELP! And gets away with it. I don’t give a flying fuck if she’s black, I’m Native American and don’t see me using the whole “Well you stole my land” line or “You had caused mass destruction and nearly made us exstinct race.” No, I am a human being and I see others as HUMAN BEINGS so stop being so up your own ass thinking everything about race that you can get away with total bullshit and treat everyone like shit! I get that this is a very small town, but seriously, you can’t treat people like that. If you like to make complaints or draw attention to this please do so. I am fed up. The inforamtion of everything is below. If anyone that goes to this Circle K sees anything that needs to be reported PLEASE REPORT IT! This treatment isn’t just! Circle K, Jonesboro, Louisiana (71251) store # :: 07773 (I think that is it.)

Complaint phone # (It is just an answering machine) :: 800 869 5872 Store phone # (please do not harass the workers they are mostly innocent bystanders) :: 318 395 8082 I don’t know their last names only their first names. The Manager: Jody Assistant Manager: Gabby (Jasmine’s roommate) Assistant Manager: Jasmine

#Circle K #Complaints #TW suicide threat #tw cursing #TW ableist trash #TW Blame Racism #Not story #not art #PSA #Louisiana #unfair treatment #Not edited #disable #partly deaf #ptsd #sub bus aide #bus aide #para #stupid people are stupid

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bonkybornes · 6 years

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Never Gonna Give You Up

The credit for this oneshot goes to the person who’s probably the only thing reminding me to write at the moment(sorry about that, I’m trying): @elegantdragoncolor

"Damn it Cas." Dean stood, watching over Cas as he slept, "I wanted to stay here but if you leave me, I won't survive. All of this crap we've been through? It has torn me apart so many times that I don’t know who I am anymore, but you do. You always picked up the pieces and I was selfish! I knew it would cost you something eventually, but I kept pushing and going things I shouldn't have. I know that I'm selfish, but if you don't wake your ass up I will collapse. Please" what started as a shout turned into a whisper as dean ended his monologue. Cas had saved him from hell again, and this time it had taken a toll. It had been weeks since he had been awake, but Cas was breathing, and that was enough to keep Dean fighting for him.

"Dean, Dean!" The older Winchester woke to his brother smacking him on the chest lightly, his eyes drifted to Cas to make sure he was okay. "He's waking up." Sam told him. It was as if someone had injected caffeine into Dean's veins, he rushed over to the bed where Cas had laid for the past few weeks.

"Cas? You with me?" Dean bit his lip as his hand found it's way to the angel's chest. Relief flooded his heart as slivers of muffled blue peeked from behind Cas's eyelids.

"Dean?"

"So you're saying there's nothing you can do to help him?" Sam hardly ever raised his voice but this doctor was really starting to piss him off.

"I'm sorry. At this point it would probably be best for you to consider admitting him somewhere he would be comfortable, not everyone can handle taking care of people like him." The doctors had run multiple tests on Cas to try and figure out what happened to him, the results didn’t come back as a specific disease but they had an unfortunate list of symptoms to guide them. Dean grit his teeth and summoned up all his anger, glancing at Cas through the window outside his room. He was coloring a page the hospital had given him.

"You listen here, you dick. I have seen him at his worst, which trust me doc, is worse than he is now. So this? I can handle this." The doctor kept a poker face through Dean's speech, as though she'd heard more like it.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Novak has epilepsy, is blind in both eyes, deaf in one ear and deteriorating in the other, and has the worst case of cognitive disfiguration I have ever seen. Think it over." She handed him a brochure for 'Sandy Beaches Care Center' and headed in the other direction.

The ripped up brochure sat in pieces on the floor as the trio made their way out of the hospital.

"Dean, why do I have to sit in the wheely chair? My legs feel fine." Cas asked, eyes sliding to where dean was signing him out.

"Its just a rule the hospital has, just to make sure you make it out without falling." He whispered a small thanks to the receptionist and continued pushing Cas down the hall, Sam following behind.

"Oh." Cas furrowed his brow, "That's dumb."

"Yeah buddy, it is." The elevator doors closed, bringing them down to the ground floor.

Dean never got a good nights sleep, but some nights were worse than others. This was one of those nights. Guilt consumed him as the tears slipped down his face, a hand over his mouth to muffle the noises coming out. This was all his fault, Cas did this for him. Cas was this way because of him. Because he sold his soul again, because he couldn't just live with the fact that Sam was going to die, because he had to play the hero again. Dean hated this with every fiber in his being, and the worst part? He would do it all over again. He would do it again because even if Cas wasn't himself, dean could still have both of them. Most nights were sleepless for Dean, but this time he fell asleep with tears staining his cheeks.

"Cas, time for breakfast." Dean nudged the angel gently, pulling him out of his dreams.

"Pancakes?" Cas peeked an eye open, though it didn’t make much of a difference in his sight.

"They're on the table." Dean smiled sleepily. The boys made their way to the kitchen where Sam was waiting for them.

"Morning Cas." Sam greeted managing to look away from his phone to smile.

"Good morning Sam." Cas answered. Dean followed him to his seat and set a plate of pancakes down in front of him.

"Hey, the doctor called this morning to schedule Cas's hearing aid fitting." Sam announced, "It's at four on Tuesday."

"Where's it at?"

"Uh, Saint Paul Hearing Center. 4949 Russell street." Sam sipped his coffee.

"Alright, I got that one. Made an eye appointment for him too, three today at Walmart." Dean stated.

"I'll take that one, hit the books and look for spells to help." Sam finished his pancakes and set his plate in the sink, heading to his bathroom to shower.

"Stop by the pharmacy while you're out!" Dean yelled after him. "Alright buddy, TV time."

As scooby doo played on the TV, dean found it hard to concentrate on the spell book in front of him. He'd seen all of the episodes but it was still entertaining. Dean snapped out of his trance when he heard his glass shattering. He looked up to Cas, only to see that he had fallen to the floor shaking, a seizure.

The hunter straddled Cas, pinning his arms to the floor in an attempt to hold him down. The doctor had said that the only thing they could do was make sure he didn’t get hurt and make sure he took his meds.

It lasted about fifteen minutes, Cas shaking and Dean praying to whatever deities and gods were out there for cas to be okay. Finally the shaking stopped and he came back into consciousness.

"Hey, hey, Cas?" Dean climbed off of his hips. "You're okay, you had a seizure." They sat for a few seconds as Cas came to. "You wanna lay in bed and listen to some cartoons?" Cas nodded his head weakly.

It was times like this when Dean wished he had been smarter.

"Hey, how is he?" Sam asked, leaning up against the door to Cas's room. Dean let out a breath and turned to look at Cas.

"He had a seizure while you were in the shower, left him a little shaken up. We'll have to reschedule the appointment." Sam nodded mutely.

"I'll call. How are you?" Dean's eyes didn’t leave the angel as he spoke.

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"Alright Cas, time to get ready. You have your hearing appointment in two hours." It had been about a week and Cas was doing a little better, his eye appointment had gone well. Even though his glasses couldn't do much for him, Cas picked out a yellow rectangular pair. Yellow was his favorite color.

"But I don’t wanna go!" The tantrums had started a few days ago, and nobody in the house was liking it.

"Cas, it won't be scary. I promise. I'll stay by your side and it won't hurt at all. Okay?" Cas furrowed his eyebrows but nodded.

The drive to the hearing center was longer than Dean would have liked it to be but it was worth it, even if Cas didn't technically need it yet. The doctor had said that Cas's hearing was deteriorating in one ear so it seemed only fair to him that they make it as good as they can.

"Sir, technically he doesn't need a hearing aid. He's completely deaf in one ear and the other one is still in pretty good condition!" Dean's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Are you deaf, Dr. Herring? Hear me when I say, you will give him a damn hearing aid or so help me I will ruin this business. Capiche?" The doctor nodded fearfully, his smile full of nerves.

"One hearing aid, coming right up!"

"Dean, maybe it would be best to consider the home." Jody suggested. It had hurt enough coming from other people, but Jody? "You could still visit him!"

"Jody, if I died tomorrow and some assclown tried to put him in a home. I would mosey my way back into the veil, and I would go vengeful spirit on their ass so fast, they wouldn’t even have time to take a breath. It's not happening." Sam stood behind him with his arms crossed, mouth opening to support his brother's statement.

"You heard him Jody, we wouldn't do it."

"Hey, Dean. Get this, a couple was burnt to death at a benefit for homeless kids in Alabama. Sounds like Rowena's M.O.." Dean took a swig of beer.

"You go check it out, I'll stay with Cas. Hes got a checkup on Friday." Sam made his way to his room to start packing.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll go grocery shopping on my way back."

"It's a complicated book with a lot of complicated spells! I'd need time to look over it.' They'd found Rowena, and currently were having a chat about the book of the damned and if any spells in it would help Cas.

"So stay here, figure it out!" Dean's patience was running thin. The witch widened her eyes in mock surprise.

"He's a wee bit invested isn't he? Don't worry Dean, I'll get loverboy back to his original state in no time. After all, I do owe you one." She sent a wink Sam's way. "I'll need some items." Sam crossed his arms.

"Make a list."

"Is Rowena a nice witch, or a bad witch?" Cas asked.

"That's hard to say. She wouldn't do anything to hurt you but she's not very nice sometimes." Dean supplied as he put Cas's hearing aid in for the day.

"I think that deep down she's a good witch, she's just angry in her heart." Cas said, blindly feeling his bed sheets.

"I think you might be right about that one buddy." Dean replied. There was a pause before Cas spoke again.

"Why does your soul feel so sad today?" The hunter was a bit shocked by the words.

"My soul? How do you know what my soul feels like?" Dean asked.

"I don’t know, but it feels sad today. Why does it feel sad?"

"Well, sometimes humans get sad because something happened, or because they feel guilty, or sometimes just for no reason at all." Dean answered.

"You don’t need to feel any of those things Dean, I wanted to save you. I love you!" The angel hugged him with excitement as Dean tried to keep his breathing under control. This was not the way he thought this would go.

"Love you too buddy." He said, patting the angel on the back and hugging him back.

"That's the last of it." Rowena announced. "Now you just need to say these words." She handed a paper to Dean. He took a deep breath and spoke the incantation.

"Fige me maledicti convertam te auditus et visus, gustus, olfactus, corporis animique inveniunt novis, vertunt in via." At first the room didn't change, it seemed the spell hadn't worked. Then Cas dropped to the floor, eerily still. A gasp escaped his throat just seconds later as his eyes unclouded and his brain righted itself.

"Dean? What happened? What's in my ear?" Dean's face lit up, the spell had worked after all.

"You saved me from hell again, but this time something happened to you." Dean proceeded to explain the entire situation, leaving out a few details along the way.

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classic-rock-roller · 6 years

Text

1. QR is on tour over Valentine’s day and you’re stuck back home. You get a knock on your door at a ridiculously early hour and you find Bonham standing there with one of Randy’s acoustic guitars. She strums it without really trying and sings “I love you biiitch.” *strums again* “I ain’t never gonna stop loving you biiiitch.” This is weird even for her. How do you respond?

“Are you ok, Bons?” She stops, “Yeah, I just figured that since the boys are away this valentines day we could celebrate our friendship instead.” I’d smile at her, “That sounds perfect. You want to come in for some coffee? And be careful with that, Randy may kill you if anything happens to it.”

2. Bonham likes a weird flavor of gum that you can only get at a specific store in Colorado, and the last time she had it was when she was 13, but she insists, “you have to try it it’s so good.” Randy and Kevin ended up at that place while on tour and they bring some back. You’re trying it and think it’s good and you turn around and see Bonham lying on the floor with a pack next to her face. “What are you doing?” Kevin asks. She says, “The last time I had this was when I was still dating that kid in middle school and the smell it just…brings back some feels.” How do you, Kevin, and Randy respond?

Me: “Aww, Bons.” I’d lay next to her on the carpet and try to make her feel a little better.

Randy: “Aww, hon. I’m sorry.” And he’d join her as well.

Kevin: “Are we all just laying on the carpet? Ok.” The four of us would just lay there and try to cheer her up.

3. You’re visiting Bonham at her mom’s house with Kevin and Randy and she gets a package in the mail one day. You don’t know what it is, but her brother follows her to open it and says, “What’s this?” Nothing happens for a moment until her brother runs past you giggling. Bonham soon follows, yelling “Get back here you licked Vince Neil you will pay!” You think you know what happened but Randy and Kevin are beyond confused. How do you all respond?

Me, running after the two of them: Vengence will be ours! We’ll get you for licking Vince Neil.

Kevin: Wait! What the fuck is going on?!

Randy: We should have learned by now not to question and just go with it.

4. You’re hanging out with Randy, Kevin, and Bonham one day. When you and Kevin get to their house, she’s in the living room playing Guitar Hero. Randy comes down from upstairs and says, “Maybe if you practiced your clarinet as much as you practiced that stupid game you’d be halfway decent.” She doesn’t even turn away from the game as she shouts, “Piss off!” How do you and Kevin respond?

Me: Bonham is amazing at the clarinet. What are you talking about?

Kevin: Don’t get into the argument. Just let them work it out.

Bonham: Thank you BabyCarrot. (To Randy) See someone thinks I’m good at the clarinet.

5. Your band decided to add a bari sax part to your latest record and have left Bonham to figure out the details. She’s never played one before, but once she gets her hands on one she starts noodling around trying to get a decent sound. After a while, you all come in to see how it’s going, and she’s finishing up a scale. Daryl slow claps and says, “Wow, that almost sounded like music.” How do you, Bonham, and your band respond?

Me: That was music, Daryl.

Bonham: Would you like to try to play it? I would love to just beat on the drums. It’d be better than beating your face.

Erik: Woah, ok we don’t need to start a fight.

Linus: Ten bucks on Bonham!

6. It’s super hot one day and Bonham’s running around in shorts and a bra when Kevin and Randy get to your guys’ house. Kevin says, “Good God Bonham put a shirt on.” She whips around and shouts, “It’s my fucking house I will walk around however I wish!” How do you and Randy respond?

Randy: Yeah it is her house Kevin.

Me: She does have a point, Kevin.

7. You make it to New Mexico on your road trip with Kevin, Randy and that sax player, and you stop at a gas station. Kevin asks the clerk something and the clerk makes a confused face before responding with rapid-fire Spanish. Kevin looks defeated before the sax player says, “I got this, what do you wanna ask him?” and then proceeds to conduct a successful conversation with the worker entirely in Spanish. “There you go, he said we gotta take C-470 to get out of here.” How do the three of you respond?

Me: Boham, I love you more and more with each passing day.

Kevin: Where did you learn that?

Randy: That was amazing. You’ll have to teach me sometime.

8. Randy and Kevin are taking you and Bonham to a super fancy place for dinner, and you’re both trying to figure out what to wear. Bonham helps you pick an outfit that Kevin loves too, so you’re ready fairly quickly. Meanwhile, everything Bonham tries on is being vetoed by Randy. After a few minutes of this, she says, “If you don’t pick one I will go naked.” How do the three of you respond?

Randy: I don’t see a problem with that.

Kevin, gagging: Please wear clothes, Bonham. I just don’t want to see Randy make that face again while I’m in the room.

Me: Well, you keep vetoing Randy so she’ll just pick something and that’s what she’s wearing.

9. You just left a black tie music event, and Kevin is driving you, Randy and Bonham home when Bonham says, “Pull over into that place, I’m starved.” It’s a fast food joint, and when you all go inside, you get stared at by all the staff and all the patrons. “Why’s everybody looking at us?” Kevin asks. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because we’re dressed to the nines and are standing in a fast food joint,” Randy says sarcastically. How do you and Bonham respond?

Me: Remember when we dressed like this and went to Walmart, Bons? We stood in the chip aisle for like fifteen minutes deciding what we wanted.

Bonham: Oh yeah, that was so much fun. We laughed the entire way out to the car.

10. You suggested that your band all get made up like monsters for a your music video, and somehow the guinea pig for your new makeup artist is Bonham. After a couple of hours of makeup, she comes out with half-inch fangs on every tooth, demon eye contact lenses, two-inch claws on every nail and her hair teased to high heaven. She says, “What do you think? Do we wanna keep this guy as our makeup artist?” How do you and your band respond?

Me: It looks great.

Erik and Linus are on board but Daryl says, “I don’t know. I don’t want her to alienate some of my female fans from me.

Bonham and I would roll out eyes.

11. Your band somehow all got piled into a Toyota Highlander to get to your next venue, and Linus and Bonham ended up in the trunk seats with Daryl and Erik in the middle and you riding shotgun. You get to the venue and when Erik and Daryl fold up their seats to let Linus and Bonham out, Bonham says, “Fucking finally! Fresh air!” She tries to jump out the doorway but her foot gets caught between the seat and the car frame, and she falls out of the car, landing facefirst on the pavement. Bonham immediately begins laughing hysterically. How do you and your band respond?

Me: Oh my god, Bonham are you ok?

The boys would just laugh and she’d sit up and go, “You fuckers.”

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

1) You and your singer are down at the local bar on karaoke night. No one is volunteering and someone finally says, “Hey, you girls. Why don’t you come up?” Your singer shakes her head and goes, “No, you’ll have to get me super drunk to do that.” The bartender passes two beers your way. “Here on the house.” How do you and your singer respond?

2) You, Kevin, Randy, and your singer are at a bar for karaoke and all night you’ve been trying to get your singer up on stage. You finally get her up there and she’s great. Some asshole in the back screams, “God you fucking suck” when she’s done. She grabs back the mic and says, “Joke’s on you fucker. I’m the lead singer for War Angel. You know one of the hottest bands in LA right now.” How do you, Kevin, and Randy respond?

3) You have just told your singer’s sister to get out of the car and she stares you down with the fuck you look, plants her feet, crosses her arms, and says, “No.” Your singer goes to put the car back in drive because she’s not going to get out of the car. What do you do?

4) You and your singer are driving with her sister in the back. Your singer’s sister has learned from last time and doesn’t complain. She pipes up from the back, “What’s a sugar baby? Is that where you’re turned into a sugar glider?” How do you and your singer respond?

5) Your singer gets up really early one morning and goes and bangs on your door. “Come on! We’re going on an adventure. Let’s get up.” You roll over to see that it’s 5:30 in the morning. You get out of bed and go open the door, “Did you even sleep last night?” “Yes I slept for two hours and then couldn’t go back to sleep so I am surviving on coffee. I’ll be fine.” How do you respond?

6) You and your singer are driving on a road trip and Kevin and Randy are sleeping in the back. It’s late and you’re driving a stretch of road all on your own. All of a sudden she says to you calmly, “Don’t panic, but the breaks just went kaputt. I need you to keep the boys from hurting themselves too much while I pull the emergency brake.” How do you respond and what do the boys say once you guys are stopped?

7) Your singer left her and Kevin’s house one day super angry and drove to clear her head. You don’t hear from her for several hours and you, Randy, and Kevin are starting to get worried. Someone calls the house and when Kevin answers he’s barely on the phone one minute before getting ready to leave. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hangs up and goes, “That was the hospital. She got into a really bad accident and is in intensive care at the moment. We’ve got to get down there.” How do you and Randy respond and what happens once you get to the hospital?

8) You, Kevin, Randy, and your singer are camping. Your singer keeps smacking at mosquitos on her skin even though she has bug spray on. “I swear they think I’m like sweet corn or something.” She smacks another one, “By the time we leave tomorrow I may have well over 100 bug bites.” How do you, Randy, and Kevin respond?

9) Your singer is babysitting her sister and Axl’s kid again. (Kevin and her don’t have any kids yet.) You’re out with her and she’s pushing the buggy. A reporter asks, “Is that your and Kevin DuBrow’s newborn?” She sarcastically answers, “Why yes it is. I secretly carried him for nine months.” You don’t think anything of it until you, Kevin, Randy, and your singer see those exact words splashed on the front cover of a gossip magazine. How do the four of you respond and how do you try to resolve this?

10) Kevin has said how he’s super nervous to become a father. He says how he thinks he’s not ready. One day, your singer pulls you aside and tells you she’s pregnant and wants to tell Kevin when you guys go on your double date tonight. What do you say to her and how do Kevin and Randy respond when she tells him that night?

11) Kevin and Randy have always talked about doing something crazy. One day, you go to one of those amusement parks by the beach and they have a slingshot ride. Kevin tries to get your singer to go on it and she says, “No fucking way. You can go with Randy.” How do you and Randy respond and how does their ride go?

@osbournebemydaddy your move, Bonham, love

#tag game #tag war

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