#the same friend said Tuesday/wednesday there will be snow..

[aideshou]

[captain-aralias]

My Year in Review (but i cut the giant gif)

summary is - my top posts this year are recs, discord links .... and a pregnancy announcement!

I posted 1,105 times in 2022

165 posts created (15%)

940 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@facewithoutheart

@cutestkilla

@artsyunderstudy

@letraspal

@forabeatofadrum

I tagged 908 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#carry on - 700 posts

#carry on fanart - 277 posts

#fic rec - 235 posts

#my content - 177 posts

#unintended - 38 posts

#snowbaz - 36 posts

#restoration ecology - 31 posts

#simon snow series - 22 posts

#doctor who - 16 posts

#sort of - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#the ones i'm disappointed with didn't quite sell the premise or i had to write them too hurriedly or forgot to bring something in

I sent 3 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

life update

i'm 14-weeks pregnant 🎉

due date: 30th may

bit more info below the cut

i thought about making a lulzy WIP wednesday post (aka, "here is what i'm working on") along these lines a few times, but i didn't want to tag anyone into personal stuff they didn't necessarily want, and also i thought i miscarried almost immediately and that started me down a spiral of anxiety, so now it's not so funny. but anyway - i thought today would be a good day to tell people, since we're out the first trimester.

how:

IVF - worked first time

my partner's egg

donor sperm - man it's weird buying sperm, particularly from america, although i only browsed. i bought from the UK. i do know men i could have asked, but in the end i thought... i dont know anyone well enough i'd want to have a child with them. at all.

happy to answer questions about any of the above, if you're interested. thinking of writing a blog about it in my work persona.

how am i?

fine apart from the anxiety!

my main symptoms have been exhaustion, leading to very little writing, and some nausea but pretty weaksauce compared to some

i've told most people at work, which is a very supportive environment, so all good.

my partner's therapist said (to her) not to make big life decisions so soon after the death of my mum/her dad on the same day about a year ago, but we are both in our mid thirties and at our most financially viable, so - hopefully it's fine.

how is baby?

probably ok! we've seen them on several scans, definitely have two arms, two legs, brain, etc

still haven't managed to do the test that tells you the likiehood of Downs etc, though, as the baby has refused to move into a position where they could get a good measurement. we may know towards the end of december - so that is making me More Anxious, but it's still fine

why am i putting this on the internet?

a few reasons.

firstly - i would've told livejournal. the same thing happened when my mum died - i wanted to tell the online community i'm part of, the same way i've told friends and people from work.

but also - because i've been saying i've been tired and that i'm not writing on here, and i wanted everyone to know... this is why. i'm not sick! i'm just pregnant.

AND ... i don't know what the next six months, and then the next.......... twenty years will be like. i'm hoping to write a few more Carry On things before the baby arrives, assuming the second trimester is less tiring (which seems likely so far), but who knows? and probably less after that. BUT WHO KNOWS.

my partner is also a fandom person. i have nine(ish) months of maternity leave (thanks, britain!) and she'll be around for most of that too, thanks to working from home. so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe i'll be writing a bunch of extremely realistic babyfics or something. probably not, but you never know.

anyway!

that's the news.

it may all still go wrong, obviously. we haven't done all the tests, still six months to go.

i'll update with these same tags, if we lose the baby for whatever reason, and i'll update if we don't!

98 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#4

Some 'Carry On' Recommendations for your Tuesday

here's some things i've been reading recently that i think other people should read too! thanks for tagging me @messofthejess!

N.B. this list is super long and also only scratching the surface... i should rec more often, anyway - if you see this, please read some of the things as you will really like them, and give the authors some love!

Teen or under

The Plum Tree by @otherpeoplesheartachept-2, under 1k

baz and malcolm talk (without exactly talking) about how baz is a vampire. great characterisation, really nice contained and different piece.

Eight Times Simon Couldn’t Stop Himself by knightinbrightfeathers, RainyForecast, steadfastasthouart (steadfastest) - 12k

just realised this has three authors! really brilliant fic, fangirl-era - but super worth reading, as long as you're ok with simon being smart, and also knowing he's into boys before he kisses baz. (why wouldn't you be?). this is all about simon and baz pranking each other/being generally awful, until they aren't - you see their relationship changing and simon gradually realising what he feels about baz, then there's a telepathy scene! this was recced recently in the discord* so probably lots of people have now read it, but it's seriously good!

Golden Boy by @spockzilla, 9k

magickal mishap, simon turns everything to gold by mistake! this author (also responsible for the fic where simon turns into a frog) is really good at making the silliest things sexy, and sexy things silly - which is a good thing.

end to begin by @tea-brigade, 4k

canon AU, simon and baz are exes, but simon needs baz's help..... really lovely, unusual, interesting and moving fic! i really like how it uses this inciting incident to let baz be kind (that's for me, the most important thing about them being together) and encourage the two of them to have the conversation they should have had a long time ago. works so well.

Trapped by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe based on art by taken_aback_by_Tuesdays,

penny/shepard get together, no snowbaz involved! this fic is criminally unread, because ... it's not snowbaz, but it is BRILLIANT. amazing penny and shepard characterisation, and it's so fun to see them get together a different way... that also involves her saving him.

Explicit

This Will All Go Down In Flames by @facewithoutheart with art by @tea-brigade, 11/17 chapters, 40k, WIP (no sex yet, RIP)

obsessed with this fic right now! band AU where simon and baz briefly bacame friends at school, then became incredibly successful musicians before the band broke up... because simon and baz couldn't communicate about how they fancied each other. it's great! fun, funny, social media stuff, a malcolm trying to be down with the kids, texas references, shepard being a reporter - highly recommend.

Crosse My Heart by @creepyspice with art by @cutestkilla, 5k, brobelove not snowbaz

omg, this fic is so good. seriously - even if you dont think you're into brobelove, you should read this, as i dont believe you could like snowbaz if you don't like the competitive snarky action this fic has in spades, but also if you like brobelove, my god you should read this! such amazing characterisation and super sexy.

Here in the Dark by @artsyunderstudy, 5k

love this middle of the night sex - i'm repeating my comment here, but the whole mood is perfect: confused and dreamlike, you're locked out of baz's POV, entirely in simon's and it works so well for the mood. plus, it's sexy AND there's amazing art to go with it.

Two Heads Are Better Than One by @skeedelvee, 22k

omg, i am obsessed with this fic. it's so deeply strange (simon and baz share the same body, due to - magickal mishap!) AND SO AMAZING AND SEXY. and also romantic and fun. proper enemies to to friends to lovers action, a fantastic scene where simon and baz watch baz's vanilla porn, a bit where they defeat a unicorn together, sex as one person, sex as two people - it's got it all.

*if you're not in this discord, but you'd like to be, this is the link to get in: https://discord.gg/FJ8meVhr

that's enough - i've got more i should rec, but i'll do another post later.

101 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

#3

Thought it was time to bring this back. 

Discord is a chat room. This is a chat room about Carry On, etc.

Not the only one, but one of the biggest (there are 200+ members). The Discord has:

a strong, active moderator team, who make sure this is a safe space (not me, I’m just a helper)

adult-only areas, and a policy that NSFW stuff is not shared outside of these spaces

places to talk about and share fic, art, meta, fan theories, memes, etc

virtual outings, like fic readings

custom emojis

It’s very nice.

This link will get you in: https://discord.gg/8yZvQK7k 

(it expires in 7 days, so 6th May 2022, but feel free to message me if you see this post and the link’s expired)

You will have to introduce yourself before you’re given access to the server proper, although you don’t have to talk after that, if you don’t want to. You can just quietly vibe. Alternately, you can talk a lot and that’s fine too!

You will also have to sign up to the code of conduct.

If you have trouble getting in/speaking once you’re in, it could be because you haven’t verified your Discord account. There’s a clear prompt on desktop, but not on mobile.

I can confirm I checked with the mod team before making this post. It’s kosher.

Please share this post, if you want to.

108 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

#2

AU - Canon Divergence Recs

i couldn't think of a good title for this, but basically there have been a few fics recently where i thought: not only is this a great fic, but also this is something i think we could see more in other fics.

basically, they all do a thing that is a good tool to make new fics with. and they're all good fun. here we go:

Eighth Year AU but with Mage-mission

Shiver (rated E) by @facewithoutheart and, yeah, ok me - but not really

for me, an eighth year fic should be about baz being gone/the coffin, magic sharing (with simon and baz much more likely, therefore to be interested in each other quicker), or the plot events of carry on - this one does that. BUT ALSO the plot is driven by simon going on a quest for the mage, which is a classic seventh year trope. cool! (and not my idea)

Post Watford Get Together with Magickal Mishap

Come As You Are (rated E) by @facewithoutheart who sponsored this video

how genius is this? they've left watford, so they've both moved on but magickal mishap happens to simon and that's the plot instigator. simple, but genius.

Genuine new past for Simon and Baz, makes them the same but different

I Know What You Are (rated T) by @martsonmars

ok, other fics have done this too, but i really like this fic and i think the way it does this thing is perfect. simon's grown up with the mage and lucy as his parents; baz has been raised by natasha and malcolm. as a result, when we meet them in eighth year they have completely different histories. it's not only the way they interact with each other that's different, they're both much more confident, have different friends. they really are different people, but the same.

Carry On universe but no Watford

Pretty in Pink (rated T) by @arca9

i was re-reading this one (fake dating heist, love it!) the other day and thinking - this is pretty unique! baz and simon work for the coven, but only just met each other when they became partners, there's no watford. but they use the magic system - it's just a really fun view on what's necessary for your AU to work.

112 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Top 10 SnowBaz fics

I was talking earlier about how 'What's Left' is one of my top 10, which it is. obviously that made me think.... what are the rest?

i think it's probably instinctively these, these ones that influence me the most/that i've re-read the most/that i most wish i could have written, although i had to delete some real favs to get down to 10, and limited myself to one fic per author. and excluded 'your bloodied mouth' as it ain't finished, but kept 'northern downpour' as i believe it will be.

almost all canon divergence, most have plot and sex.

5 Times They Half-Arsed It by @krisrix

Bound and Determined by @fatalfangirl

Golden Years by @basic-banshee

keep on keeping on by waveydnp

In A Bind by @im-gettingby

Northern Downpour by @scone-lover

Remember the Magic by @sharkmartini

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done by somekindofpath

What's Left by @cutestkilla

When the Bells Ring by @phoxphyre

360 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour à tous 👋. This morning I am in Troyes, in the all-inclusive hotel which serves atrocious food - THE HOSPITAL ! Don’t be fooled by the photos ! News of those photos will appear further down. This is certainly the place for a crash diet. However I am not here for the food (no way) I am here for the fantastic medical care I have received and am continuing to receive.

The weather here is currently five Celsius and drizzle which looks to continue until early afternoon when it should be eight Celsius.

So why is she complaining about food, I hear you ask? This was the restaurant I went to last Sunday with my friend Maud. I had filet de bœuf with pepper sauce, gratin dauphinois and mache (lambs lettuce). Followed by tartine des fruits, glace and meringue croustillant. Having not eaten so much before I was surprised that my stomach could take what was a surprisingly big meal but it did! It showed its appreciation by rumbling again at 4:30pm 🤔, I think it wanted more of the same.

It’s a beautiful restaurant overlooking the lake and even on a grey day it is wonderful.

The start of the week I was chilled then at 2:30pm that calmness was thrown into chaos when a call from the hospital said arrive at 9:00 not 15:00 as originally told. No reason was given but I calmed myself by thinking chemo was starting early?

I was ready when the taxi arrived at 7:45 for the hours journey to Troyes. I was put into the family room while my room was prepared. An older French gentleman appeared who looked to be leaving (think it was his room I was given). He was polite, recognised I was “a stranger” and told me I spoke good French, what a compliment.

After being installed in my room the day involved being fitted with a catheter into my JUGULAR, yes you read that right. Apparently it gets the chemo into the blood stream quicker than with the normal PICC line. It was painless until I started feeling pain in my shoulder, the PICC line was put in on Friday and the jugular catheter removed yesterday. I still have the pain even with pain medication and as I had had it a little time before I came into hospital I have asked if a doctor will approve an X-Ray. So that is all the complaining done. I have lost Friday to treatment and Saturday to pain but hey such is life!

Now we turn to my family, where we find that “The Trainee Solicitor” has some news to give me which he confirmed is not “bad news”. He also took “mothers’ advice” and visited the “drop in” centre about his ear problem. I hope thé drops are having an effect and no side effects (look at the paper inside the box). I am hoping you feel better soon.

This week “The Ex-Graduate” changes title and becomes “The Reconnect Navigator”. She has had a couple of boring days in the job but has also had a few very interesting days. That’s the first week over and let’s hope you had your walk yesterday as I know you desperately needed the exercise. These poor nurses don’t need exercise,they must walk miles in a day on this unit, it is huge!

“The Photographer” had been working his day job, with a day off on Wednesday, always welcome when you work a weekend.

Yesterday, he travelled to Buxton in Derbyshire, to photograph for Scarborough AFC. There had been snow but the match was played. It ended up even, 0-0, but not a loss, which should give the players a little boost. These players work all week in amazing jobs and give up Saturdays and Tuesday evenings to play matches as well as the training they need to put in too. As you can imagine, they are tired but morale keeps them going.

Our newest member to the “clan” is “The Jetsetter”, who I think may either be back home now or still cruising in Norway (rather you than me, I get nauseous in my bed 😂 I don’t the action of a boat😂). Welcome and if you are still in Norway, “God morgen 👋.

I apologise in advance if my choices in music range from years you have only read about in history books 😂 but this is the music I love and the first track is “Long Train Runnin’” by The Doobie Brothers. This is back to 1973 😱.

The second song is Yah Mo B There by James Ingram and Michael McDonald. Oh, this is a bit more recent 😂 1988.

The picture below is of my dessert last week.

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine.

[loveandscience]

been in and out of intense anxiety the last couple days, so maybe writing it here will help

Okay so my old dentist who I loved retired, and gave his practice over to a new guy. Tuesday, I went to try out the new dentist and very loudly in the next room while I had my teeth cleaned, he was telling someone how they didn't need a crown or something because God designed the perfect teeth system?????

And as soon as he introduces himself to me, he out of the blue goes on about a "beautiful sermon I heard" on the way to work, and how this really ill woman had so much faith that she would just get better, and that she "touched Jesus" and was instantly healed. I'm sitting there with his sharp tools in my mouth and he's going on a religious rant and what the fuck am I going to do? He does tell me I have 2 cavities, then overcharges me for the cleaning and "exam."

Decided I really needed a new fucking dentist, and thankfully my friends suggested some to try. So Wednesday, I called a place and they got me in, and they were so nice and professional and I really liked them! They did another exam on me and apparently the last dentist (maybe the one before, too) had missed an entire fucking dead tooth???? It's been discolored for years but old dentist never thought it was an issue... Apparently it's dead and needs a root canal. Who the fuck knows how long it's been dead. Terrifying. Also they say it's 3 cavities not 2.

Anxious about the root canal, I've never had one, and it's so expensive. The same day I have my root canal, I also am driving somewhere I've never been an hour away to see my new liver doctor, and that's also terrifying.

On top of those expenses, I'm hoping to sign kiddo up for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu lessons bc I think it'll be really good for them and they are really interested.

But I've also had several clients transition to every other week or end, which is good they're doing better. I also have less income though so need to market again for new clients. Husband was planning to increase his income by taking classes paid for by work, but the classes are taking so long that I wouldn't be surprised if it takes all year, which is not what we'd hoped for a timeline.

Pet Day at kiddo's school is coming up and last year's Pet Day, we brought our cat who ended up dying shortly after. He had cancer which obviously wasn't caused by Pet Day, but I do think he picked up a virus which might have exacerbated the cancer. I'm planning to make sure every kid sanitizes their hands before touching the cat we bring this time, and bringing the young healthy one instead of the old frail one. Still some anxiety.

Wanted to take kiddo to this snow place in FL this weekend, but tickets plus parking are 100 dollars, yikes. So been incredibly anxious about that. Just before clicking buy I checked and it's supposed to be thunderstorms that day, so texted the friend we were planning to go with and hoping we can put that off... Really anxious they might have already bought tickets even though they said they'd wait til after I bought ours (maybe they could pick up on my anxiety around committing, idk).

So the common theme, laying these all out, seems to be financial. Which is sad, because I wanted to scale back on work and be able to rest more and focus on my health, but with husband not likely to be making much more money any time soon, it means I need to work more hours. Which is hard with the amount of dr appointments I'm going to have to be having.

At least... I got a little while of getting to work out almost daily and rest up.

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1994 I just got off the phone talking to Andy. Sure enough, the day he arrived the weather took a turn for the worst. Up till his arrival, the weather had been in the 50s. He said he was freezing the whole time and it never got up above 32º. He said all he could think about was me laughing at him.

He saw his family and said Linda’s daughter Samantha was cute which surprised him, cuz he too, thinks babies are ugly. I agree. They all look the same, too.

He said he just knows his 6-year-old nephew Brian’s going to be gay. Maybe so, cuz when Lisa was a baby I always felt she’d be into music, and I was right. Music and gayness run in families.

He stood at Mary’s and she, Adam and Adam’s best friend Mona from San Francisco and he went to dinner to celebrate Adam’s birthday. This girl Mona apparently moved back and is a topless dancer in Springfield. And is making way more than I did here. Andy says she’s blond with big tits, though, so maybe that’s why. I also think it’s cuz there are fewer topless bars in Springfield than there are in Phoenix. Andy, Adam, and 4 others went to a gay bar in Hartford and were shocked to see it was packed with wall-to-wall people. There he met up with an old lust object he met 15 years ago who wants to get back together with him. Andy said he would’ve if he lived there. The funniest part of it was when they left the bar after 5 hours. When he came out of the bar it was snowing really hard and all the cars were covered. Before that, when Mary came to wake him up at noon, she came into his room and said, “Look. I’ve got something to show you.” She pulled up the shade and there was a dusting of snow. He said he was like - oh my God! When he returned to Adam’s in Adam’s car, he had to do something he swore he’d never do again - clean snow off of a car. He had driven his father’s car over there.

He said no one bad-mouthed me. His mom said I turned out to be a beautiful girl and remembers when I was chunky. They asked if Tom and I were going to have a kid. Judy said she was glad I got to see Goldie and Al and said she always liked them.

He said he called Nervous and he actually talked to him. He wanted to go over and take a picture of him and Crystal, but he wouldn’t let him.

He slept from 4 AM to noon while he was there.

Well, that’s all for now. In a half-hour, I’m going to watch a movie I taped.

Later…

I watched a couple of movies I taped. They were so-so.

I tested Tom’s PrintBMP programs for bugs. So far, so good. I printed out 2” pictures all the way up to 11”. I printed out Piggy, Norah, and drawings I did of Linda and Gloria, as well as a couple off the top of my head.

I wallpapered the back wall of Piggy’s cage by taping pictures on from the outside facing in. One of Piggy, 2 of Norah, 2 Linda drawings and 3 Gloria drawings.

Tom got that envelope yesterday from my parents. It was a Phoenix Suns T-shirt. He really liked it as he really likes basketball.

I chatted with my dad earlier. I called Tammy too, who had a friend over at the time.

Another funny thing Andy said was how he missed his plane because he had to take a shit. He was delayed for two hours.

It’s not as cold here as it is in the east, but I wish it was in the 80s here like it is in Florida. It’s pretty chilly out there right now, but where my parents are you can lie out in the sun and go swimming. The pool temperature is 50º.

What should I do now? I guess I’ll pump in a little bit of fresh air and go start typing another document for Tom.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1994 First I’ll go into detail about making the earrings, then into what Marjorie gave us. The earring kit came with 4 strips of soft metallic plastic. One strip makes 4 pairs. It also had the mold and the backings and parts. What you do is cut a strip in half and put them in a pot of hot water with a few drops of cooking oil so they don’t stick. Then, when they get soft and flimsy you take them out and press them into the earring mold. Then you set it in cold water for a couple of minutes, then take them out and trim off excess plastic on the outside of the mold and remove the mold. The last part’s easy. You peel off a dot over the adhesive, push the backing down into it and pull it out with its adhesive on it. Then you stick it wherever you want on the back of the earring, put the post on, and they’re ready to wear. I have a pink one, a green one, one with light pastel colors and one with darker colors. I just had a pair on but I had to take them off as they were irritating me. I can’t wear fake stuff in my ears.

Marjorie’s sister Margaret sent us a Christmas card and she also wished me a happy Chanukah. She lives in San Diego. She also gave us some cookies she made, some material and scissors that are great for cutting material. Now I can keep an extra pair in my room. We had one in the back room, one in the kitchen and one in the living room. I had a pair in my room, but they were quite little. The ones that were in the kitchen now live in my room and the ones Marjorie gave us are in the kitchen.

Later…

The good news is that I cut 30 square foot pieces of material and sewed them into 5 strips of 6. Then, I connected 2 of those strips side by side. The bad news is that when I went to attach the third strip, I got it backward, with the backside of the material facing the wrong way. Tomorrow, or whenever, I have to take the seam ripper and rip it off and put it right side up. Then hitch on the remaining 2 strips and hope I don’t fuck that up. Lastly, I’ll hem the 4 edges and hope to hell I’ve made a fairly decent quilt.

I have about 11 different patterns. The 7 Marjorie gave us, a sheet, an old dress, and those 2 from the material we got to make the 2 throw pillows that are on the living room couch.

Tonight there’s to be a movie on called Bionic Ever After. At least, I think that’s what it’s called. Lindsay Wagner and Lee Majors reunite to get married, I guess.

Tom says there’s also some bionic quiz on Prodigy, too. I’ll have to check that out in a little while.

We ordered stuff at dirt-cheap prices from a catalog. He got tools and I got Velcro sneakers, a nightie, and a few other things too, which I can’t remember.

Later…

I just finished typing up 25 and now it’s printing out. The next one (26) should go fast. It’s a 130-pager, but I only need to type up about 94 pages. The rest is letters or convos from tapes that I copied in.

As tired as I am I have to stay up till 2:00 to take Andy’s last tape out and put it with the rest of them by the door, even though Tom would gladly do it.

Tom’s going to tape the movie I mentioned earlier in his room and I’m going to tape a movie in the living room.

I let Andy know we’ll both be asleep, so he’ll use his key to let himself in quietly.

Tom left about an hour ago to go take his parents to the racetrack. Barely 5 minutes after he left Marge called saying Dad’s stomach was bothering him, but that maybe it’d be OK by the time he got there. I thanked her for the stuff, too. I guess he’s feeling better cuz Tom hasn’t returned. Maybe he’s over there chatting. I know how much they all like to talk.

Well, now I’m going to go check the printer. My stuff should be done printing any minute.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1994 Wow! Only 8 more days to go! Can’t wait to get it over with and get on with life in stereo.

Last night at sundown was the beginning of Chanukah. I never lit the candles since being on my own and we doubt my parents would’ve sent the menorah, candles, and that plate if I weren’t married. Last night, or afternoon, I should say, I lit the candles. It was fun and interesting. Especially for Tom as this is all new to him.

I’m sure my parents tried to call, but I was in bed and Tom had the ringer off to do computer work. I talked to Tammy and Bill. Tammy said she appreciated the gifts. I’m glad she did.

I finished the Tammy and Sarah documents yesterday. And Shauna’s, too.

Yesterday morning Tom swept out the garage and I took all the trash out of his car. Tons of it.

Shortly after Tom got up, we screwed around. We experimented with different positions. It was fun and it’s getting easier.

Then, we went to a bookstore and an art store. He got a computer book and I got 2 journals. In the art store, I got these pens, plaster of Paris to mold figurines, and an earring-making kit. We made all 4 earrings in the kit. They came out really cool looking and they’re not hard at all to make. I’ll expand much more on it tomorrow.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1994 I just checked Andy’s messages for the first time since he’s been gone. He’s got 26. The bulk of them is from an ex-coworker. I think that’s who it is. A few calls from the ad he placed. One sounded promising, one a complete ditz, and the other a slut. The dirty old man type. Lots of hang-ups too, that are probably ad-related. I used to get that a lot when I placed ads back east.

I finally did get around to writing Alex a letter. Also to Bob, Tammy and my parents. I wrote them to give my wrist a break from all the typing I did.

Several months ago, Tom printed out pictures for me to draw and I did, so I turned it into stationery.

I’d also like to get that V-shaped keyboard they make. It really should decrease wrist strain. I added a few more things to the ‘to do’ and ‘to get’ lists.

I got a letter from Bob today. I found it ironic that he said he expects us to have a kid by November 26, 1995. Why? Cuz I had feelings about November, Tom said he thought it’d be the end of ‘95 or the beginning of ‘96 and that most people in his family are born in the winter or summer. On the other hand, that means getting pregnant around March. That’s awfully fast for a DES daughter, even if after the surgery he came like there was no tomorrow. Seeing is believing for me, though. The other day we were talking about not always getting something you wanted. Whether it’s out of your control or you’re waiting. Like when Tom said the reason I’m not pregnant is cuz we agreed to wait. When he said that, that deepened my belief that he could’ve cum since day one, but is waiting for when we are ready. With all that’s gone on, though, plus my surgery, I’m very glad we waited. However, if he doesn’t cum in time after surgery, I’m going to think two things: That God doesn’t want me to have a kid and that there’s something wrong with him, but his ego or manhood won’t allow him to say so and go talk to a doctor about it. No, I don’t think I’d think he didn’t want a kid unless he told me so and he’s told me he does want one.

We’ve had good talks and he gives good advice. He brought up a very good point about why we don’t have tapes of me singing. Besides blocks, I’ve got in my head due to those bullshit bands back east and Scott, he said I worry too much about the end of things which prevents or makes it hard for me to start things. Yeah, it’s true that I’d sit there and ask myself what I’d do with the money, for example, whether I made a little or millions.

I’ve often told myself to bring back the music. Sing more, play the guitar and keyboards, but then I ask myself, “What for?” The answer should’ve been, “Cuz it’s what I like to do.” I wish I had the same attitude about it as I do with writing these journals and drawing. I do it cuz I like it. I never think of the end, and doing these things serves no purpose.

Tom sure was also right when he mentioned how I never thought drawing on paper would lead to me drawing on walls. Very true. I mentioned this to Tammy and my parents, too.

Later…

I talked to Mom real quick yesterday who said she couldn’t really use the crayon can, it was childish, and if she found a child she’d give it to them. Most people would’ve been like, fine! Fuck you then. But I appreciate her honesty and this way I know never to send anything like it again. Just like when they used to send me grandma clothes. I’d send them back, rather than let them sit here and go to waste. I’m not shocked as she is “too grown up,” but a part of me is shocked as she has her own set of Mickey Mouse T-shirts, stuffed animals, etc. I believe you’re never too old for anything. I forgot to say this in my letter to my parents, but I think it’d be best if we told each other what we want for birthdays and holidays.

I haven’t sent Scott anything for about a year, and I know he’s long since moved, so his father’s getting two Bob letters. I know Scott will hear all about it. I wrote his dad’s address as the return address, too, with no postage and I’m having Andy send it. This way the mailman won’t see there’s no stamp on it, as he picks it up from here, and toss it back in the mail slot. I doubt he’d do that even if he did notice that there wasn’t any postage, but this way I don’t have to worry.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1994 I was trying to decide if I should make a period chart for 1995 on the computer or do one myself. Well, I came up with an even better idea. Journals 36 to 40 and 52 and letter books have every other page blank for the most part cuz I glued in pages and wrote stuff not back to back. In 52, 100% of it has every other page blank. I’ll use a page for each year. I just wrote up the 1995 period chart. It’s a bit sloppy, but it’ll work. I may or may not use all blank pages in all books for letters. That’d take forever to fill up. There could be a few hundred of those. Tonight I typed up the Shauna doc and began 25.

I hope Andy doesn’t kill me for forgetting to record his shows in SP today. At least they did get taped, but hopefully these two soaps will be the most boring of all.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1994 I just finished typing 26.

Tom and I had a steak for our Turkey Day dinner.

My parents called and we chatted about our visit with Goldie and Al.

Ma asked me about the picture she sent since I didn’t write about it. I told her that it wasn’t until right after I finished their letter that I got the message behind it and read it. Tom and I were right. Even though the girl in the picture had brown hair that was only medium length, she reminded them of me. She said they got it in a gallery.

They said they went over to Marty & Ruth’s for dinner. Better them than me. Or us.

She said to tell Tom to look for a brown envelope. I asked Dad to tell me what it is and that I wouldn’t tell (I really wouldn’t), but he wouldn’t tell.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1994 Dinner tonight with Goldie and Al was great. Tom was impressed with them and he enjoyed himself, too. Goldie and Al looked very happy. They didn’t look as big as I thought they might, and I don’t remember them being so short.

I could tell they were judging me for who I was today. Not in the past. I told Tom they were always good to me, never gossiped or bad-mouthed people.

Dinner was their treat and pretty good. I got eggplant and Tom got lasagna.

They told me more about their retirement plans. They had once stayed on the beachfront where my folks used to live for $1,800 a month! I guess my folks were paying $800 a month. Wow! They got a 3-month lease on an apartment in Las Vegas.

They showed me pictures of Aaron and Noah, their wives, and their kids. Of course, I’d never say this to them, but they didn’t look too great. Their wives were so ugly and looked like typical moms. I brought our wedding pictures, some of me at the two apartment complexes I lived at here, and those pictures of Tammy and Noah going to Tammy’s prom.

If anything shocked them, it was how happy I’ve become and that I’m not fat anymore.

I never could remember how they met, so they told me that they lived next to my folks in Springfield on Willowbrook Dr. They left Springfield in 1966 and they hate Springfield too, and understand how shitty it is there.

Goldie said Ma was always a night person. Really? I don’t remember that. I know she’d be up till 11 PM - 1 AM, usually, and sometimes slept till noon on weekends. She was never up, though, that I knew of at 2:00 - 4:00 AM.

We were laughing at how Goldie was going to say to Ma, “Ha-ha. I got to meet your son-in-law first!”

They are quite happy for me about my ear surgery and are going to call me a few days after the surgery to see how it went.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1994 Just a very quick rundown on things cuz I’m about ready for bed. I made a mistake in saying Andy arrived in CT at 7:00 our time. He arrived at 7:00 their time.

Al called. They said it’ll be easier if we could meet them at the Olive Garden restaurant in Sun City. It’s about a 45-minute drive, but it’s worth it. We’ll be there at 6:30. Al said he was going to bring some pictures and so am I. Our wedding pictures, pictures of me at the VV & CC, and something else I’m sure they least expect. Their son Noah went to Tam’s prom with her and I have pictures of this. They were outside of the house we had on Berkeley Dr. in Longmeadow. I was in one of the shots all bandaged up after ear surgery. They oughta get a kick out of it, but I’ll expand more on that and other stuff tomorrow.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1994 Andy came over, but not for long as he has to get up at 8 AM. His plane leaves at 10 AM and he'll arrive in Hartford at 7 PM. His layover in Washington D.C. is an hour, so it'll be a 9-hour ordeal for him. Yuck! I sure as hell don't envy him. I called Prodigy while he was here and it finally does look like it's cooling way down there. It may even snow. The satellite showed flurries into New York and Vermont. The humidity's 92%. No thanks. I don't miss that shit.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1994 After I got up today, we went over to Mary’s to check out that vanity table and mirror. I like it but don’t know when it’ll be brought here. It has 6 small drawers and a stool. It’s white with speckles and is rather old, but not totally dumpy. It’ll be great for makeup, and I do intend to fix it up.

We changed Piggy’s cage today.

I’ve also got about 6-7 Nintendo games for Tammy and others that I’ll mail with the crayon cans I made. We’ll still put together a disk of games at some point.

Later…

Andy will be here anytime between 9 PM - 1 AM. He leaves tomorrow and he’ll be back on the 29th. He’s going to give me tapes to tape his soaps on. I also have things to show him, like new wall art and clothes. I’ll give him the 16 or so no-postage-necessary envelopes I have, too. I was going to mail him his Chanukah card, but I may as well give it to him tonight.

I got a letter from Bob today.

We went to Christown Mall earlier where I got two new lotion fragrances at Potions & Lotions. I got China Musk and April Rain. I also got some Chinese food.

Now, you’ll never believe who called me about coming to see us Wednesday. Goldie and Al! I’m so psyched! Apparently, they’re out visiting Al’s sister in Sun City. They’re also taking a couple of months as a vacation. They stopped to see someone in Las Cruces, New Mexico, have an apartment in Vegas, but still has a house in Milford, MA.

She said she was thrilled to “hear” about my ear, can’t wait to hug me, meet Tom, and talk with us. She’ll be calling at 5:30 Wednesday and I’m really looking forward to seeing them. So is Tom.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1994 I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet, so I just thought I’d write up on some of the things we’ve got planned during his days off. We’re going to go over to his sister Mary’s house to check out a vanity table she has sometime soon. We’re going to change Piggy’s cage. We’re going to put together that disk of games to send to Tammy and go to the post office to mail off everyone’s presents.

At some point, maybe Monday, Andy will be stopping over. I have some things to show him and he’s got to give me tapes so I can tape his soaps.

Tom’s going to go food shopping very early in the morning before I get up.

The other day I got a booklet in the mail with perfume samples. You know, the kind you peel open and rub onto yourself. Instead of rubbing it on me, to spare my allergies, I rubbed it on a few book covers. The back of this one, the next one, and a few old ones.

In about a month or a month and a half, it’ll be time to go journal shopping once again. Tom said he always figured that someday he’d read my journals, that it was bound to happen. No way! What an embarrassing thought. After I’m dead is one thing, but not while I’m alive.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1994 I finished typing up computer notes and tips from Tom’s computer magazines. I use different names for different documents. I’ve already used Norah, Kate, Farrah and Jaclyn. Next, I’ll use Linda, Gloria, and other people I like, then maybe names in our families. You can only use up to 8 characters, so Nickolena will have to be Nicolena. Here are some of the names I’ll use for future documents. Gloria, Linda, Maria, Lamaris, Shauna, Saundra, Lisa, Becky, Sarah, Tammy, Bill, Larry, Arthur, Dureen, Nicolena, Ray, Evie, Marjorie, David and Steven.

Later…

In a little while I’m going to go watch some shows I taped. I asked Tom to circle the page number in the index of magazines he wants to be typed and he did so in about 8 magazines. I have my work cut out for me, but I don’t mind and it’s fun. There’s going to be a total of 25 files and so far, I’ve already done 2. He picked out 5 more names, Mary, Wendy, Diane, Eileen and Lolita. I did Gloria and Bill and now I’m working on Marjorie. Bill, Marjorie and Saundra were all 1 page, but all the others are 2 to 3 and there’ll be an occasional 4.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1994 I got my parents' package today. It was a huge one. Ma wrapped my birthday presents in flowered paper, my Chanukah presents in Chanukah paper and Tom’s Christmas presents in Christmas paper.

It was funny to see we sent each other the same Chanukah cards. I mailed out theirs and Tammy’s today.

Tom got a Phoenix Sun cap. He’s got a matching sweatshirt from his parents to go with it. Soap, deodorant, and cologne for Tom. He also got this really cool thing that’s in the shape of a ball, filled with liquid with a boat in it and a clock. We both got matching blue mugs, but of course, he doesn’t drink coffee or tea, but he sometimes drinks hot chocolate. There was a cookbook, chocolate candies, orange jellybeans, 2 rose candles, and a menorah with candles to go with it. A picture of a girl that looks great hung over the girl I drew in my wall mural and 2 calendar booklets for 1995. A thing you hang in the kitchen that’s hard to describe. It looks like beans and corn and stuff like that. A window-clinger, not a sticker, of a menorah, and dreidels. I stuck those in the garage door where only we can see them. There are too many hate groups out there. Three small magnetic picture frames. All my niece’s pictures were too big, so Gloria’s living in them. Two palm-sized balls with bells in them. They’re really pretty too, with gold and other colors with panda bears. Three skirts that fit perfectly. They’re just below the knee, but sexy and sophisticated. They’re all solid colors of peach, white and black. Another one of those skort outfits that’s flowered. The thing’s humongous on me, so I’ll have to shrink it and wear a tank top under it. A 50-inch windsock of a cow that even has a little cowbell on it that I put on the end of the clothesline. On the other end of the clothesline, I put the bird feeder with the bunny in it. A wind chime of a cat and 3 hearts. I put that on the patio.

It’s nice to be able to have a big, private yard to use these things.

Lastly, a drawing I did that was put on a plate when I was maybe in the 1st grade. Gross! Tom says it’s a wonderful keepsake. Ma said that, too. She enclosed a note saying it was a wonderful keepsake she enjoyed for years, but now it’s for me.

I just typed them a letter and that’s all for now. Now, I’m going to go watch TV and Andy will probably call at some point.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1994 Soon, I’ll be going to bed. I just thought I’d quickly update on stuff first. Today I finished typing 23. I took Norah’s story and combined it with my journals, so counting that, I have 36 typed up that total 356 pages.

Yesterday when we screwed around, we didn’t use a rubber. Tom feels that at some point in ‘95 I’ll be pregnant. Sounds nice, despite my fears and doubts about it, and I hope that we’re both about to make one if you know what I mean.

I called Dad today and he asked how Tom and Andy are and said they don’t sell live animals. They’re flags with all kinds of animals on them as well as states and other countries.

Just as we were hanging up, Ma came in with groceries and she asked what their Chanukah present was. I said I’ll tell her if she tells me what’s in the package that oughta arrive tomorrow. She wouldn’t tell, so I wouldn’t tell.

Tom asked me questions earlier about Chanukah and his mom asked which one we celebrate. None with no kids. That’s something you live up more when there are kids. If we have a kid, we’ll acknowledge both.

His parents have a birthday tradition where they send each kid and their kid’s spouse a check for how old they are. Last June 28th Tom got a check for $37. He said she asked if I’d be offended if she wrote the check out to me for $25, even though I’m turning 22. She was shocked to see that I’m turning 29.

Wow. Even though I’ve been keeping journals for 7 years, when I turn 29, that’s 9 different ages I wrote during. During 21-29, but never much during 21 since I started writing at the end of October.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1994 Tom’s home now and he’s talking to his sister Mary who had a computer question.

I never heard from Andy last night, so who knows what he’s up to?

I did a lot of journal typing today and I’m in the hospital now with only 13 days to go till I arrive in Phoenix!

Speaking of hospitals, it’s been one year since my last attack! After that 2½-year reign of terror I went through back east till I got here, I’ve had only about 5 bad attacks in the 2½ years I’ve been here.

I still have some crayons left over, so I may use them to make another picture frame unless I think of something else.

Only 19 more days left till surgery. The time oughta fly by now.

Well, Kim has gone back home today. I assume she’s already there. If not, she’s on her way.

I still haven’t mailed Bob’s letter out yet, but I’ll be sure to say so when I do.

Of course, I haven’t heard from Mark, and I know he could be busy, it’s only been since last Friday or Saturday since he got my letter, but I don’t know. Maybe he will surprise me like Minnie did. When I do send Bob his nasty letter and he tells Minnie and maybe others about it, I’m sure she’ll call all about it.

No package yet from my parents. Maybe tomorrow.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1994 I still have lots to tell, so now’s as good a time as any. Remember the arts & crafts book Andy sent me under a bogus name? Well, I’m so very glad he sent it. Using an empty coffee can that is rectangular, I glued on a poster board around its sides. Then, I took 41 regular-size crayons and glued them around their sides. It was a perfect fit and it looks soooo cool. I glued on all the crayons so you could see the names of their colors.

I made 2 for us. One’s in my room and one’s out back by the computer. Then, I made 6 more for these people: Andy, my parents, Tammy & Bill, Lisa, Becky and Sarah. I’ll send them out as Chanukah presents, but Andy’s will be for his b-day. I also made a little crayon frame, by gluing crayons on a poster board, with Piggle’s picture in the center of it. He’s been here a year today.

I finally got new mascara and this stuff’s the best ever.

Got a letter from Bob today and when I return, I’ve got some wild stuff to write about him.

I probably won’t return any letters I get from Alex or Minnie, even though Tom said, “I hope you wrote her back,” after I got Minnie’s first letter. In fact, I’m not even going to tell him about the letter I’ll be sending Bob for a couple of reasons. Cuz I don’t want him to feel guilty or think something’s wrong with me that’s making me do this. This is my decision and my decision alone.

Assuming Mark’s like most people, he’ll never do what I politely asked him to do. Either way, I’m doing what I’ve been wanting to do for years, with Tom and Andy as an exception. That is to dump people. Believe it or not, this is easier for me to do now that I’ve got a life and my shit together. Cuz now I’m not as lonely and as desperate and can think and choose my words more rationally.

I copied the letter I typed up into 7. I don’t know when I’ll send it, as I kind of want to wait till I get enough letters to finish off the remaining 42 pages or so.

Anyway, it’s pretty nasty and cruel and I’m sure Kim and others will get an earful with several letters. I’m sure it’ll make him feel pretty miserable in the head and physically, but tough shit. The short letter basically says I found out he was convicted twice before for sex crimes, he can drop dead, his problems are all his fault, and that if he ever comes here I’ll kick his ass right back there.

Tom and his parents are at the racetrack now. I hope he makes some money.

Andy may be over later on.

Later…

Tom’s home now but he didn’t win any money.

Hurricane Gordon hit Florida, but Mom and Dad are OK.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1994 I have lots and lots of updating to do. I don’t remember if I mentioned this, although I must’ve. When we got our new camcorder, we also got some free gifts. There were 3 little puzzles, but they were all white, so you could write your own messages, break them up and send them to people to put together. They were a little bigger than postcards and they give you envelopes to go with them.

I sent one to Andy, one to my parents and one to Tammy and everyone there.

Andy returned the $20 he borrowed last night by slipping it in the mail slot.

I finished the wall mural in the living room. I drew a bird on a cactus, two palm trees with a hammock strung from both trees and a little girl sitting on it reading a book. Tom says the little girl looks like Barbara Streisand, but I don’t see it.

Last Saturday when we screwed around, we used a rubber for the sake of making sure nothing gets in the way of my surgery. I thought with that peace of mind, with or without surgery, he’d cum, but he didn’t. He said after the surgery we won’t use rubbers. I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry. If we ever do try to have a kid we’ll have to hope that his pre-cum is enough to get the job done. I also still believe in meant to be/not meant to be, so we’ll see.

I haven’t spoken to Kim since she left that message the other day and if she’s tried calling when no one was around to answer, I don’t know.

I got a letter from Bob yesterday and still don’t know when and if I’ll be dumping him. I’ll give it a little more time and see if I hear from Mark. I doubt I will, though, as most people don’t do favors for those they didn’t really know for too long and weren’t great friends with.

Today I got a letter and a birthday card from Alex. I threw the card out right in front of Tom. Why not dump him too? What’s the point? I do like to get letters, though, but we’ll see.

I still have a lot to write about, but I’m taking a break now.

Later…

Tammy left a message and I called her back. They admitted Bill into Bakus Hospital in Norwich. They say he may either have pneumonia or both that and cancer. She’ll keep me posted.

Today we went to play miniature golf. It was a lot of fun.

I’ve done a lot of shopping, too. I got two of the pens I’m writing with, these stickers that came in a package of several things, all in the style of ballerina bunnies. I got a pink glitter ruler with shapes for tracing. Three erasers in the shape of musical notes. One purple, pink and green. A notepad with the bunny sticker like on the next page on its cover. Identical stationery (8 sheets) and 4 envelopes in yellow, purple, pink and blue.

I got reinforcing rings for papers that go in binders. You stick them around the punched-out holes of papers that go in 3-ring binders to make them stronger. I got through to almost the end of journal 2 with them, then stuck the centers of the holes on the back of those envelopes for decoration. They’re really cool looking, with different colors that glitter.

I got thigh cream that you put on before you go to bed for $14. It’s supposed to reduce craters.

I got Chanukah cards for my parents, Tammy and her family, and Andy.

Today we filmed Piggles with the camcorder, then ran it through the video kit, as we do with Norah’s and printed out a few pictures. One’s in the back of this book on the very last page. We had a certain reason for it when we printed Piggle’s picture out, but I’ll explain it later.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1994 I got up at 2 AM and surprisingly there was a message from Kim that she left at 6:00 last night. To make things easier, I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t call. She said she’ll try calling back. I don’t mind talking to her on the phone, but I don’t want to see her.

Anyway, Tom awoke in a great mood a couple of hours ago. He just left for work for an hour and will be going back in for an hour this afternoon. In the meantime, they’re still going to pay him for a half day’s work at time and a half.

Tomorrow he may be in for most of the day.

Later…

I was starving so I made a TV dinner.

My waist is down to 24.5” so that’s good.

Right now I’m going to go work on the computer.

Later…

I just began an outline of a palm tree. On the living room wall where there are just the small table and coat rack, I want to do a huge wall mural of palm trees. I went outside and studied the palm trees out there to try to get it as realistic as possible. I’m going to wait until Tom gets back. With him being from here, he can give me the best advice and opinions.

God’s going to pay me back real good, no doubt, haha. This is because I woke up Tammy and my parents. I forgot there’s no school today and my parents don’t usually get up till 8:30 - 9:00.

Dad said that today he’s sending out a Chanukah package by UPS and asked when Tom’s birthday was.

Now I think I’ll go get something else to eat.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1994 I got about 20 of the above labels from some charity thing in the mail, so I use them as date separators. I wish they were the peel-and-stick kind, though.

Quite a bit has gone on over the last couple of days. Tom and I have had several talks. Once again the visit with Kim is off and as much as Tom always says, “You make your own choices. I’m not your daddy,” it’s something I chose to do for two reasons. One, cuz I believe in fairness and I know Tom wouldn’t do anything to make me feel uncomfortable. Two, cuz why not? It was no big deal for her to leave me all alone cooped up in that apartment in Deerfield all the time. I also don’t feel like I’m losing anything. Just her letters here and there. If it were Andy, my parents, Larry or Tammy, he’d have no problem and I know that for sure. He just never got over her waking him up when she was last here, even though he understands it wasn’t deliberate. Some people never get over or forget things. I’ll never get over or forget lots of shit either.

This morning we were in great moods, talking about all kinds of things; he thinks she’s coming today. I never did mention the message I left on her machine yesterday (her plane should be landing right now) saying it was time I level with her about why we both had a problem with her coming here and that all I could deal with is letters and phone calls. I also told her that if she didn’t want to remain friends anymore through the mail or by the phone, I’d understand and that I won’t call or write her unless she does.

As for Bob’s letters that I was going to give her, I guess they’re all going in no-postage-necessary envelopes for Andy to mail out. That is after I “delete” any traceable names.

I also sent a letter to Mark (Kim’s ex) asking if he can let me know if Bob’s been in jail before for the same thing he’s in for now. Tom mentioned that possibility, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if I can come up with anything. For a while, I’ll be his pen pal, although his letters have slowed down. I’ll definitely give him the ax if I do hear any negative news from Mark, but I also might cuz he’s getting so boring. He’s just old news with the same old shit. All I really ever want for a friend is Andy.

Andy came and borrowed $20 one day when I was asleep and is so much happier at this new place and with being able to sleep late.

Later…

Tom had been telling me this last month that he was going to get me a present for me at work. Something someone was selling, I guess. I got it yesterday. They’re 8 folding postcards with flower stickers to seal them. The part you write on is all white and about the length of this page. 4 of the backs were green and white stripes and the other 4 were peach and white. I sent the peach ones to Andy, Lisa, Becky, and Sarah. I sent the green ones to Tammy, Bill, Mom & Dad, Bob, and Tom.

He also brought home a box of peanut butter cups and a box of mints that he got from Wendy’s daughter.

In other news, I work on continuous typing stuff for Tom. Stuff from magazines.

I’ve begun typing 23, the last New England journal. This one won’t be done as fast as 20-22 whereas it’s bigger and there are fewer charts, lyrics, etc. Wait till I get to 76. That one will probably be the longest.

Yesterday, all by myself while Tom was working, I printed out some pictures with no problems at all. They look really nice and tomorrow I may do more and hope I have the same luck as yesterday.

The exercising I’ve been doing very regularly has been showing and I’ve been weighing 99 pounds. I hope it lasts.

The back room looks better than it ever has. It’s really neat and organized.

I may or may not have mentioned that my folks sent us a brochure of their flea market. I didn’t realize it was such a mob scene. Also, they sold fish, birds and animals, as their personal business card said.

I’m glad Kim hasn’t called. She’s probably too pissed off to as she said she was going to call at noon before I left the message yesterday afternoon. It gets funnier, the more I think about it. There were so many times I wanted to give her what she gave me for abandoning me in Deerfield. The only nice thing I’ll remember is the financial help, the stuff she bought or gave me and her letters.

If I do ax Bob, and if I’m still writing to Minnie at that time, I’ll simply tell her the truth, but that she’s got to do what she’s gotta do.

What will I tell my family and Andy about Kim’s not coming? She just changed jobs and her mom’s sick. The truth is none of their business and I don’t want to discuss it over and over with so many people. Or to have them think that Tom made me do this. No one tells me what to do. It was my choice.

Alone or married, I’m more and more turned off by the idea of Bob coming out here once he’s released. He’s old news with the same old shit. My gut feeling tells me he may very well not live long enough to see freedom anyway.

Later…

I feel bad for Tom as he busted his ass doing the backyard and the patio cuz of Kim. It needed to be done, but he wouldn’t have had to do it all at once if we’d known I was going to call off her visit.

Anyway, I’m getting kind of tired so I’m going to go take my meds and lay down. I’ll be falling asleep real soon.

Cigna called. Gotta go for blood work and an EKG on December 1st between 8 AM - 4 PM.

I believe on the 24th we’re going to Dave and Evie’s for a Thanksgiving dinner.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1994 Not too much has gone on since I last wrote. We played around with the picture-printing program and just bummed around the place.

Andy left a message for Tom to borrow $20 if that was possible. He’s still in training and isn’t getting tips yet. As I was going to bed, he said he’d check the account and see if it was available.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1994 I know I’ve been a bit sluggish with my writing lately, but I sure do have lots to tell. Amazingly enough, I’ve typed up journals 20, 21, and 22 in less than a week. Now I’ve only got one more east coast journal to do. That one will take a little longer cuz it’s bigger with fewer pages with letters, charts, lyrics, etc.

Here are the journal numbers I’ve typed up that total 300 pages. There are 34 altogether that I’ve typed: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 38, 39, 40, 41, 49, 51, 52, 53, 60, 62, 63, 77.

I typed up 61, which is a story. Here are the ones I will be typing up: 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 37, 42, 43, 50, 55, 56, 58, 59, 64, 66, 67, 68, 69, 76, 78, 80, etc.

Here are the ones I won’t be typing up cuz they’re all letters or whatever: 23, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 54, 57, 65, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, and 75.

Later…

We all know I have a bad habit of doing things before I think about them, right? Well, last night I did something that I guess you could say was stupid. As Kim’s visit’s getting closer, I’ve been a little more anxious. As I’ve said before, though, Tom told me that I’m an adult, can and should make my own decisions, trusts my judgment, and that all married couples don’t always agree. This is very true, but instead, I called Kim and told her I couldn’t see her. After nearly 24 hours of thinking about it, I realized that disagreeing is one thing, and fighting about it is another. I believe we’re better than that now, neither of us wants to fight and we’ve gotten to know each other well enough to know we’d never set out to hurt one another. I’ll call her in a while and tell her how I took my anxiety out on her and am sorry for it and hope she can still see me.

Later…

I called and talked to Kim who understood that with her visit and the surgery, I panicked. She will be staying overnight at those people’s house, knows my schedule will be off and that I want to do only local stuff. She was on her way out and couldn’t talk too long, but said she saw Bob. She said he shaved his beard and mustache off and actually looked pretty good. Yes, she got the article from Minnie and couldn’t believe it, saying she felt like she was reading about a totally different person. When we see each other, she’ll fill me in more. On the 10th, she’ll be calling me from that house at about 11 AM.

Tom made some changes with the picture-printing program, so I think I’ll go see if I can whip up some fairly decent pictures.

Later…

Tom got up about an hour ago. I printed out some pictures and I intend to do more. Then we ate and played with Piggy.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1994 I just finished those 75 tips for Windows & DOS and am now printing them out.

Can you believe that two nights ago I typed up almost two journals? I decided to give it a try by typing up 20, one of the 4 NHA journals, telling myself I could stop if I needed or wanted to. I got through it OK and there were only 80 out of the 130 pages to type. I was so bored most of the time that I’d copy in charts, letters, and convos from tapes. Any stuff like that in any of my journals, I don’t bother typing. I had almost finished with 21, which had the same number of pages when I got all this garbage as I got a couple of times before. All these symbols and shit like that. Tom and I managed to save the bulk of it, but I had to retype some stuff. To get it out of the way before more trouble happened, I left out a few pages of trivial shit, like what I ate, what I was wearing, what shows I watched, etc. I can still swear that something doesn’t want me typing these journals. When I work on stuff for Tom, there’s never a problem. However, I have a mind of my own and am now working on 22.

Got a letter from Bob the other day and today we got an invitation to go to a housewarming party at Jackie’s. If I remember correctly, Jackie’s Tom’s aunt. I won’t be awake to go, and I don’t know if he’s going.

When I got up, I was sneezing pretty badly for a couple of hours. I even thought I had a cold. Andy’s over his cold and has had his third day of training at the new place. He’s happy so far.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1994 We went to the fair Wednesday for two hours. It was lots of fun. A lot like the Big E. They even had that same yellow wavy slide. I got cotton candy and we both got ice cream. We went on the ski lift and the Ferris wheel.

For only $12 I got a lavender crepe skirt with a matching top. The top has white lace trim with a tiny purple satin ribbon in front, but it slides down really easily, and Tom says his mom won’t mind putting straps on it.

In a few months when the county fair comes, we’ll have to do the things we didn’t get to do this time around, like play games, go on the big yellow slide, go in the funhouse, and get me a caramel candy apple. I forgot to get one on my way out.

When we came home, we ordered a camcorder through Fingerhut that was over $1,000. I can’t wait, though, and it’ll arrive in about a week. Can’t wait to send videos of all kinds of things to my parents and Tammy and everyone. I’ll write more about it when we get it.

Got a letter from Minnie today. I wrote her back as well as Alex, Bob, and Kim. Yesterday I wrote to my parents, Tammy and Bill, and also stuck in a letter for my nieces. Did I mention that I typed a letter to Larry? Well, I did. He should get it Fri. or Sat.

Earlier I talked to Andy who’s got a cold and hasn’t started work yet due to it.

I printed out all 33 pages of 19 and now I’m going to go work on those Windows & DOS tips for Tom.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1994 Now I shall begin in journal 80, as 79 is all filled up with letters. Soon after I start 80, I’ll be listening to music, then crashing. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be lots of fun. Tomorrow, I may very well also finish typing up 19, then I’ll decide what to do from there. My movie should start recording soon.

Well, bye-bye for now, as I’m going to go start journal 80. After I finish 80, I’ll probably head to 81 as I really doubt I’ll be finishing that subindex as I mentioned before.

Later…

Wow! I can’t believe I’m already starting my 80th journal. This pen is going to die on me any time now and I really don’t have a whole lot to write about. I got all caught up in my previous book. Cuz we’re going to the fair tomorrow, I’m sure there’ll be lots to tell then.

I hope I get some mail tomorrow, too.

Anyway, I’m going to go and play me some tunes now, then make coffee and conk out. Tom will be waking up tomorrow at 10:30 unless I get up earlier.

Larry mentioned calling Tammy, but I forgot to ask her if he mentioned going to see her if possible since he will be working locally.

Did I remember to shut the computer off? Yeah, I’m sure I did, but I’ll double-check it when I get my lazy ass up and off this bed.

I still have to have Tom show me how to print envelopes, and maybe we can check out the possibilities of my editing on the computer. He said it’s not hard to do, but it’s very different than anything I’m used to.

Well, that’s all for now as I’m getting very tired and my hand’s killing me. I’ll write tomorrow evening.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1994 I only copied 4 of the 12 songs on Gloria’s new CD. I also noticed an address for a fan club, so I requested information about it.

I just typed Larry and everyone else there a 2-page letter with all kinds of fonts.

Instead of going to the racetrack today, we’re going to go alone sometime, so I don’t have to be there for hours. I hope he wins money for the fair.

Andy got a job at a place called Caro’s if I spelled it right. He’ll be working the dinner hours, so we’ll no doubt see more of each other.

Later…

Tom didn’t win any money at the tracks today, but oh well. He took his parents there and they gave Tom a T-shirt, a buttonhole maker, and a really neat craft. It’s a crushed can with a face painted on it. It’s hard to describe, but it’s quite clever.

I spoke to Andy too, who’s psyched to start his new job.

After Tom came home, we ate, then fooled around. We also were both in the back room each working on a computer. He showed me how to change the colors of the Window’s title bar.

Can you believe I’ve only got about 40-something pages left of 19? After I finish typing 19, the next 4 will be my nightmare in the NHA. I’m deciding on whether or not I should skip them, or get them the hell over with. Tom said if he were me, he’d skip them. We’ll wait and see how I feel later.

No mail for me today. I haven’t been getting as much, but soon I’ll type letters to my parents, Kim and Bob. One last one for Kim till she gets here. I’ll have to call her to see if everything’s still set and where she’ll be staying. I’m not sure where she’ll be staying overnight.

Today I got some information from Tammy all about her computer. Yup, it is a piece of shit. Hopefully, we can send her games soon.

Later…

I just ate, watched a little TV, and left Andy a good luck message. I may not talk to him before he starts work at the new place.

Tom’s going to wake me up tomorrow at 10:30 and we probably won’t be back here till sometime late afternoon.

I’m glad I haven’t gotten around to typing anyone’s letters yet, as this way, I’ll have more to tell them.

For the fun of it, I’d really like to see a psychic and I hope they’re not too expensive. I also hope they’re better than the 900# psychics. They’re certainly quacks.

Let’s see… what kinds of questions shall I ask if I see one? Perhaps stuff like, will our marriage last forever? Will we have a kid? Will we have a successful business? Will we move and when? Will I be a singer and if so, how well-known will I be? Will I ever quit smoking forever?

Speaking of singing, I really got into it a while when Tom and I were in the back room.

[myselfinserts]

I just sit back and watch you make a fool of yourself

Darwin’s Game. A free to play mobile app game where you can only be invited to join in. Upon joining, you are bitten by the snake mascot, and given a special power known as a “Sigil”. The Sigils can be almost anything, from teleportation to mind manipulation to even elemental control. Nobody knows what their Sigil is going to be until they try to use it. Using a Sigil is said to come as naturally to a player as breathing or blinking. Almost a primal instinct in some cases. 

For some, their powers allow them super speed. Others have the ability to manipulate ice and snow. Some have rare healing abilities. And there have been some that say that certain players are given the ability to tell truth from lie. 

Clement Gladstone liked to think he got lucky with his Sigil. After all, being able to pull weapons from his hair was rather handy. 

That is, if he knew how to use them. 

According to his profile, “Hephaestus's Prop Calendar” was the power he had been granted. On certain days he could pull certain items from his hair freely. If a major holiday was happening, he’d often get an item that aligned with the holiday. It was very difficult to explain to his mother where he got a Candy Cane Sword-Cane, but he managed to lie his way into keeping it. 

The problem was there was never a guarantee he’d pull something useful. He got at most twenty pulls a day, if that. Sometimes the item is so big it requires more than one try. But the order of what kind of item he’d get was always the same. 

Mondays and Tuesdays were weapon days. He’d always pull something like knives, swords, stun guns, and such on those days. 

Wednesdays were “armor” days. These were usually things like coats, pants, boots. Any article of clothing really. A lot of it name brand. He was able to donate quite a few pieces to shelters over the last few months thanks to this day. Occasionally, he’d get actual military grade equipment. He saved those for when he absolutely had to fight. 

Thursdays were the healing item days. He’d get less on these days, but what he’d get would be special. Bottles of healing potion. Sandwiches that never rotted that gave you a boost in strength and agility. Candy with special perks. He had a good stash in his room and several hiding places all over the city. He’d sometimes sell a location for points to particularly good people. But that was rare. 

Friday, surprisingly, was a vehicle day. He’d pull an envelope with a location and a photo of whatever vehicle he had. It was tricky selling a few of those without suspicion. Thank god for the market place in D-Game for that one. He kept a few of them though. The motor bike with the side car was his favorite. 

Saturdays were a little different. He could pull almost anything from the previous days, but it could only happen during events or battles. Sometimes he’d engage in battles with friends in order to trade. Whatever he pulled for the points. He was a high ranked player because of this, but not anything impressive. A simple B9 rank. 

Sundays were the day he hated the most, though. He never knew what he’d pull on Sundays. Sometimes it was just a yo-yo. Other times it was a pretty good skate board. But sometimes it was items he’d have to contact the Information Broker to help him figure out. One time he got a strange pair of bats that Harper Alberi gladly made into their own signature weapon. Another time he got a bunch of small cubes that he learned could carry almost anything. Like having a small pocket dimension in place of a purse. Those sold for a pretty penny, but he kept a few for himself and his closest allies. 

And today seemed to be one of those days. A day where he’d sit on a roof looking over the item in hand, trying to figure out what the fuck it was. 

Clement looked over the gun in his hand carefully, trying to figure out what prompted his Sigil to summon such a piece. It was heavy, black with blue trimmings, and in the shape of a megaphone. The dial on the side had several settings, each a differing color and with a symbol he could use to make a guess as to what they meant. Yellow lightning bolt? Must have been electric powers. A flame? Fire, obviously. But what about the music note in pink? Was there seriously some kind of music function on this thing? Was the purple magnifying glass some kind of search feature? And what was with the rainbow infinity symbol?

His phone wasn't much help in this case either. At best, all it had was the name of the weapon and the number of bullets available. There was also a warning that it had to recharge every 24 hours. There wasn't any explanation on how it was supposed to be used.

"An R-1 Edition Hacking Gun," he grumbled. "Well, if this is going to be my main weapon for now, I better go find someplace to test it. Damn. I was hoping for a sword…." He shrugged and started making his way down the fire escape, pulling out his phone and pressing the call button. It was a relief when it picked up. “Afternoon.”

A distorted sound crackled through the speaker. “What did you pull today?”

“Getting right to it,” he laughed. "I like that quality in a friend. So Duckie-"

"Don't call me Duckie,” chided the voice. “Only certain informants call me Duckie.”

"Sorry…."

"….You can call me Odie, today. Now get your ass seven blocks down. Northwest. I need to see that item you pulled."

Clement smiled fondly. "Sure thing, Odie. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“What exactly did you pull today, anyway? It looks like a megaphone of some kind.”

“Watching me through security cameras again?” He shook his head. “Do you just like seeing me that much?”

“No, it’s for pure entertainment. You tend to get into stupid fights on Sundays, so I just sit back and watch you make a fool of yourself until you need me to send in a rescue.”

“Ouch. You wound me.” Clement started making his way toward the the meeting point. “It looks like a megaphone/gun fusion. It’s called the “R-1 Edition Hacking Gun.” I think you’re supposed to set the dials and then shoot.”

“....”R-1, huh?”

Clem stopped. “What? Does that sound familiar?”

“......no. Just thinking. Hurry up.” 

Clement shrugged. “Okay.”

The walk was a lot quicker than he expected. Perhaps it was just because the blocks in this part of town were smaller. Or maybe it was because he was used to walking these streets now. But it didn’t take long for him to find his way to an old parking garage that was set for demolition in a week. Everyone around the area was gone. Most of the security cameras in the vicinity were either taken down or broken beyond repair. On the chain blocking off entry, there was a note that said “Come to the Tenth Level”. 

If it were anyone else, he’d turn around and say “fuck it”. 

But Clement knew that the information broker, the “uglyduckling” as they’re labled, wasn’t the type to lay traps for him.

No. Odette Allard would rather punt him into the sun personally. 

Once he got to the tenth level, he was surprised to see how empty it was. No one seemed to be present. There was the familiar buzzing of a drone, so he knew someone had to be nearby. In the center of the vast parking lot, standing limply, was some kind of metal mannequin. Its eyes glowed a soft red. 

Okay. Maybe Odette doesn’t want to punt me personally. She wants me to die by the robot. 

“I don’t plan on killing you,” the voice grumbled. 

Clement chuckled. “Are you a mind reader?”

“No. You’re just a musical theater major.” 

The robot started moving in closer. 

“Use the gun on the robot. It’s designed to take a tank head on, so go ahead and go all out.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “What do I start with?”

“The obvious stuff. Obviously.”

“Right.” 

Without even thinking, he bolted forward, turning the dial to the electric symbol and taking aim just in time for the robot to come at him with a kick. He ducked and pulled the trigger, eyes widening as he was thrown back. He hadn’t prepared for the recoil. It knocked his red beanie clear off and a few feet away.

A ball of lightning shot out from the front of the megaphone, electrocuting the robot the moment it made contact. Once the static began to wear off, it took no time to recover and start charging at him again. 

Clement muttered a curse and turned to grab his hat. After managing to get back on his feet, he tried to circle around the robot, looking over the different dials. Switching it over to the flame one, he quickly took aim and began to fire. 

The fireballs that shot out from the megaphone weren’t nearly as strong as the lightning, just barely grazing the robot and leaving small singes. On a human, though, it must have been pretty hot. Something like this would easily burn the skin clean off a person. 

A few quick dodges and he managed to slide under the robot’s legs, turning over just in time to hit it with the music note. 

He didn’t expect the robot to stop fighting and begin break dancing.

“What the fuck?” he laughed. “This seems like something that-”

“Look out behind you, Clemmy-clue~!”

Clement snapped to attention and managed to roll out of the way just in time for Harper to slam the pinker of the bats down onto the ground, leaving a decent sized crater in his place. “What the actual FUCK, Alberi?!”

Harper laughed, hands gripping to the bats in their hands tightly. The pink one was bright, frilly, and covered in nails in between the sakura pattern that seemed to leave petals in the place it had hit. The one in barbed wire had a more mellow, lunar feel to it. Covered in constellations that seemingly moved on their own. “So we got a Paralyzer, a Burn, and a Dancer button. Pick something else before I actually initiate a proper battle!”

Without thinking, Clement turned the dial and took aim as Harper lunged at him. He pulled the trigger and closed his eyes. 

Please be something good.

BANG!

When he opened them again, Harper had crashed into a nearby pillar, the bats fallen to the ground and scattering petals and stardust where they fell. He quickly checked the dial, to see it was on a soft teal, with a baseball bat on it. 

“Oh, I get it. Either this is an anti-Harper button, or this is a kind of knock back function. Wish it wasn’t so damn vague.”

Not wanting to let Harper get the chance to recover, he quickly switched it to the purple magnifying glass. When he turned it on and saw the light reveal some disturbing stains on a nearby wall, he quickly turned it off. 

Black light. Got it. 

He turned on the green dial, not expecting much. All it seemed to be was an “on” switch, but he wasn’t sure if it turned things on, or if it was the way to activate the gun. Deciding to try it, he quickly ran in the direction of the old elevator. The power had been out for ages, but if his hunch was right-

“Come back here!”

Clement glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened as he saw the robot and Harper both coming at him. He took aim at the elevator and pulled the trigger again. 

As soon as the small green ball of electricity hit the button, the old shaft lit up and let out a soft ding. 

“Alright! All that’s left is-”

“Hyah!” 

He turned on his heel and slid under the bat, just barely missing the tip of his nose as he rolled and moved to start running up to the eleventh floor. There were only two buttons left. One with a dark blue, broken glass design, and the other the rainbow infinity symbol. 

Something told him not to use the blue setting yet. 

Hearing the sound of the robot behind him, Clem switched to the infinity, said a silent prayer, and took aim. 

When the blast hit the robot, it froze in place and turned around. A small screen with buttons on opposite side of the dial lit up, and Clement could see through the “eyes” of the robot. In the upper left corner was a timer, and pressing a few of the buttons began to make the machine move. 

“Okay, I get it. This is a hacking feature. Then this last button must be-”

He hadn’t noticed the time had run out until the robot was practically on top of him. Harper wasn’t far behind, a bloodthirsty grin beaming from their face. 

Clement switched the megaphone to the final setting and aimed. 

In a strong blast of blue, the robot shattered into a thousand pieces. 

Harper skidded to a halt, all joy having vanished from their eyes, replaced by indignant annoyance. “What the hell, man?! Trainee-bot didn’t do shit to ya!”

Clem let out a sigh and collapsed to the ground, laying on his back in exhaustion. “Are we done?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Clem glanced up as he saw Odette coming down the steps of the fire escape, motioning the drone back over to her direction. “So? What’d you think, Odie?”

Odette said nothing as she approached, waiting until she’d taken the megaphone in hand. “I think that I’ll be holding onto this. I’ll trade you however many points I think it’s worth.”

He simply smiled. “Keep it. Consider it a gift from “Fiero��.”

“You need a better handle, you brainless bouffant.” 

“Nah, I think it works for me.”

Odette smirked. “Fair enough. You owe me a training robot anyway.”

[ichigopanhpff]

Mitsuya x Fem!Reader Begin Again: Ch. 6

[Previous Chapter] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next Chapter]

Season 2 recently got announced and I am HERE for it! My body is ready, but my heart never will be.

Also, I think I'll change updates to this story from Wednesdays to Tuesdays from this chapter on.

Warnings: Violence

“Merry Christmas,” Toman’s commander greeted his battered and bruised captains with a calming grin. “What are you guys doing on a day like this?” Mikey then looked around and immediately grasped the tense situation in the church, noticing the Black Dragons in the same room.

Mitsuya immediately bowed down at his friend and apologized.

“This is all my fault,” the worn down second division captain apologized. “I broke the peace agreement I made with my own irresponsibility,” he explained. “As you can see, we’re fighting now.”

The commander looked on nonchalantly at his friend and looked up, changing the topic to his bike, Impulse. Apparently, his big brother and Baji recognized it, saying those two led him to the church. This made Mitsuya extremely concerned about his friend’s mental state.

The petite blond’s gaze turned to Taiju.

“You’re fighting these three, right?” he stated casually.

“So you’re the ‘Invincible Mikey’ huh?!” Taiju aggressively greeted.

Ignoring his comment, Toman’s commander asked why he was standing in his way in wanting to ride with his friends again. This off beat question confused even the leader of the Black Dragons and answered with a direct fist at Mikey’s face, promptly knocking him to the ground in one shot. A deafening silence shook the church as the clock outside chimes for midnight.

“Even the bells toll to bless my victory on this holy night!” the muscular tattooed monster bellowed. “I’ve defeated the Invincible Mikey!”

“No way…” Takemitchy quivered out. “Just one hit…?”

“Taiju, you fucker!” Mitsuya screamed as he rushed at him. “You’re dead!” This was the first time (Y/N) had seen her childhood friend so angry. He stopped mid-step when he saw the long haired blond stand back up like nothing happened. His lip bled from the punch he took. Mikey looked up and glared at Taiju.

“Give up, Sano Manjiro,” Inui spoke up. “The boss is on a whole different level than you. You’re just a pebble in his military rule.”

Toman’s leader swayed on his feet slightly, worrying the captains. The hit he took from Taiju was pretty serious.

“I just hit you with the best punch I’ve thrown today,” Black Dragon’s leader boasted. “Guess it’ll take more than one hit to put you down,” As much as everyone else wants to join in to defend Mikey, they were all currently too spent to even move a muscle.

“Is this all the Invincible Mikey is made of?!” he taunted. “How disappointing.”

The short blond sighed aloud. “I took that hit from you to punish myself.”

Before Taiju could respond, Mikey jumped up and unleashed his signature high roundhouse kick right at the behemoth’s temple in an instant. All everyone saw after was his massive body falling to the ground.

“Holy shit,” (Y/N) breathed out.

“Boss?” Koko called, only to be met with silence. Taiju’s head lulled to the side with the whites of his eyes showing. He was out like a light. Inui called for him again while Koko stood in place from shock, completely in disbelief. The Toman members and Yuzuha stood motionlessly, still reeling in the miracle Mikey pulled with his attack as he looked up at the ceiling of the church.

“That was freakin�� awesome, Mikey-kun!” Chifuyu exclaimed.

“What a beast…” Yuzuha let out with a tense nervousness.

Mitsuya let out a breath of relief and said, “Had me going for a moment there.” He staggered his way over to (Y/N) and outstretched his hand to help her up off of the floor. With a light groan, she managed to get back up on her feet.

“I decided… to go riding with Baji and my brother every Christmas,” Mikey declared and proceeded to take out a tattered temple charm he wore as a necklace to show everyone. “I ride and wear the mementos they left me. When I ride my bike out in the snow, it’s like they’re still here.”

He then held the charm to his chest and closed his eyes. “My brother, Baji, and you guys… You’re all in here with me. All of you make me strong,” he continued with a soft smile on his face.

(Y/N) fully resonated with Mikey’s words. They say only when you lose someone precious do you realize the true value and meaning a life has had on you. Wounded hearts are often the heaviest but beat the strongest and kindest.

“All right, guys!” Mikey turned toward the door. “Christmas may be over… but let’s go riding!”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” Taiju bellowed out, panting. The beast managed to regain consciousness in this short a time after taking a hit like that. Inui assisted him in getting back up, but his nervous system was still in shock from the temple kick he took judging by how much his legs were trembling. “This isn’t over, Toman! Koko!” he barked. “Call our soldiers in! We’ll pit our army against them.”

“Ah right, those guys…” (Y/N) grimaced.

“I won’t let any of you leave! It ends here,” Taiju continued shouting. “I won’t lose to any of you bastards!”

“Taiju… The Black Dragons are strong,” Mikey praised. “But they can’t create a new age. You’re good in a fight, but you’ve got ho heart.” The Toman commander stared down Black Dragon’s boss like he was unworthy to be in the same space as him. “We’re going to create a new age. So sit back and watch.”

“Is he always like this?” (Y/N) asked her friend with a sense of nervousness building in the pool of her stomach.

“Pretty much,” Mitsuya confirmed with a lopsided smirk. “But we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Koko! The hell are you waiting for?!” Taiju screamed. “Where are my soldiers?! Hurry up!”

Unable to get a response from his captain, he removed himself from Inui’s shoulder and staggered out to the entrance of the church. He fell to his knees as his body was still recovering from Mikey’s attack.

“Takemitchy,” Chifuyu called. “You can still move, right?”

“Uh… yeah,” he dumbly responded.

“Just gotta hold out a little longer. We’ve got 100 Black Dragons outside!”

“And six of us,” Takemichi added.

“Hakkai, I think the second division needs to raise some hell!” Mitsuya declared, with his vice captain agreeing.

“You owe me two hot meals for dealing with all this,” (Y/N) complained to the second division captain and stretched out her limbs in preparation. “And I’m not accepting anythin’ you make. It’s too salty for my palette.”

“A small price I gotta pay,” he chuckled.

The doors then swung open to reveal Draken with splatters of someone else’s blood on his face.

“Why’s everyone else so tense?” he asked in confusion and walked up to his best friend. “Mikey! I stomped all the dudes outside,” he casually notified. “Shiba Taiju lost to you and all his soldiers are down. His will to fight is gone.”

The six who were prepared to fight all blinked stupidly, trying to make sense of Draken’s words. Rushing out of the building, all they saw were a sea of Dragons’ bodies laid out in the snow.

“The Black Dragons are dead!” Mikey declared. “Toman wins!”

Yuzuha was in disbelief at the sight in front. Part of her still thought this is all a dream.

“In the end, our top two guys were the biggest monsters,” Mitsuya huffed out a breath of relief.

“Looks like we got our Christmas Miracle after all,” (Y/N) added and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “You Toman boys are somethin’ else.”

As they celebrated their victory, Takemichi uttered out a “Mission complete” before completely collapsing. The lilac haired boy rushed to his side right on time to catch him on his back.

“Thanks, Takemitchy…” he softly said and turned to Mikey and Draken. “We beat the Black Dragons thanks to you two, but tonight’s MVP is him.”

Everyone stood in silent agreement. Throughout the whole fight, he was the one who stubbornly kept going even though he was being beaten to a pulp. Despite (Y/N) only meeting the first division captain tonight, she could tell he has a lot of heart and cared deeply for his friends. The Toman members slowly made their way down the stairs of the church and back to their respective bikes.

“Mitsuya,” Mikey called. “I’ll take Takemitchy home. You should get patched up.”

“You look like you’ve seen better days, (Y/N)-chan,” Draken teased, seeing the bruises littered on her cheek with a busted lip as she held onto her injured left side.

“Not everyone can take down 100 dudes on his own with barely a scratch,” she retorted and muttered loud enough for him to hear her say, “Yet you can’t even talk about your feelings.”

Annoyed at her commentary, he purposely poked her sore side with some force, immediately making her scream. Her body froze up in pain and keeled over in the snow with a muffled crunch from her knees.

“That… was low…” she groaned out between her teeth with crocodile tears in her eyes.

“(Y/N)-san, are you okay?!” Chifuyu called with worry.

“I’m fine,” she stiffly wheezed out, her body sinking into the shallow snow. “Just… feeling my soul escape from my ribs. No thanks to your asshole vice commander.”

“You talk a lot for someone’s soul leavin’ their body,” he coolly replied and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

She heard a pair of faint footsteps crunching in the snow coming in her direction. Gingerly rolling on her back with a wince, she sharply exhaled and looked up to see a hand reach down; it was Mikey’s. Quietly thanking him, she accepted the help and cautiously pulled herself back up, still grimacing from the pain and let out a breath.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” he noted with a calm smile. “Mitsuya said you were his childhood friend?”

“Yes… I’m (Y/FN),” she introduced herself and lightly bowed.

“(Y/N)… Thank you for protecting him. He’s very important to me, as I’m sure he is to you.”

“That stubborn idiot was ready to come here alone to fight that damn muscle head,” she noted with exasperation. “I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let him do that.”

“He’s always been the responsible one. But that’s what makes him so reliable and likable,” Mikey revealed. “Toman’s indebted to you.”

“Actually, I--”

“(Y/N),” Mitsuya called. “We should head out.”

“Take care of him for me, okay?” The commander flashed her a friendly smile and walked back to his bike.

The impression Mikey gave to her was a mix of kindness masking the weight of his sadness and responsibility of being the gang leader.

At the same time, she felt… connected with him.

Everyone respectively made their ways back home and Mitsuya found himself at (Y/N)’s apartment yet again; her argument was she didn’t want him scaring his mom and sisters coming home all beaten and bloody. As much as he tried arguing back, she practically shoved him into her bathroom so he could get clean before patching him up.

After soaping and shampooing all the sweat, blood and grime off of himself, he made his way into the tub for a much needed soaking. The heat of the water certainly helped with the sore muscles from all the hits he took from Taiju and Inui. Scooping some water in his hands, he splashed it over his face; the cut on his left hand from grabbing Yuzuha’s knife was now pale with dead skin peeling on the sides.

“I left some spare clothes for you here,” she said through the door. “They might be a little big, but should fit okay.”

Thanking her, Mitsuya leaned back a little to submerge his shoulders into the water with a content sigh, fully relaxing and reflecting on the fight. He was able to save Yuzuha and Hakkai with Takemitchy and Chifuyu’s help. Were it not for that, his friend would’ve definitely killed Taiju.

That would’ve been a regret he’d carry for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) being there helped change the tides of the fight. His injuries could’ve been much worse than what they are now if she wasn’t there; hell, he could’ve been dead! The fact she jumped right into the fray without a second thought was…admirable. Her brute honesty and willingness to help was something he always liked and appreciated about her, even though he could do without her stubbornness at times.

Deciding he’s soaked enough, he dragged himself out of the tub with droplets of water slowly cascading down his toned muscles. He toweled off and put the fresh clothes on, tying the strings to the sweatpants tightly so they wouldn’t fall off. The lilac haired boy made his way to the living room area, where (Y/N) already set up the first aid kit.

“Had a good bath?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He sat down beside her as she soaked a cotton ball held with long metal tweezers with an antiseptic. Mitsuya inwardly winced at the distinct smell of the liquid, knowing very well how bad it’s going to sting.

“It’s gonna suck, but it’ll help disinfect and heal faster.” (Y/N) turned to him with the tweezers in hand. “Let me know if it gets to be too much.”

She gently dabbed on his forehead, her attention focused on the wound. Mitsuya seethed lightly from the initial sting of the medicine. His lavender orbs gazed upon her features closely. Were her eyelashes always that long? Her stare that deep? Her lips that rosy without makeup?

“Mi-tan,” she called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Why’d you become a delinquent?”

“Remember when I told Hakkai I ran away from home?” She nodded. “That was when I met Draken for the first time,” he revealed. “I was tagging up a random wall with a dragon design in an alleyway. That guy watched me the whole time while eating a karubi don.”

(Y/N) set down the tweezers and dabbed some bactine cream on a cotton swab to apply to his forehead lacerations as she listened on.

“Meeting Draken that day convinced me to become a delinquent who protects his family.” He unconsciously reached up and scratched his right temple. “We coincidentally ended up getting the same hairstyle and dragon tattoo on our heads, but opposite sides,” he meekly finished with a light chuckle.

“Guess even you have your tipping point, huh,” she remarked and peeled off the backing of a bandage. She placed it on top of one of the two cuts on his head and gently ran her finger across so it adhered properly.

“You’re really good at this.”

She looked dead in his eyes and flatly said, “If I had 500 yen every time Hisa-nii came home with cuts and bruises on his face from fights…”

“Speaking of fights,” he brought up suddenly. “You weren’t using aikido.”

“Those three were out for blood, so I had to get aggressive with jeet kune do,” (Y/N) casually explained and proceeded to treat the cut on his hand with a fresh cotton ball of antiseptic, dabbing gently on the wound. Mitsuya’s palm lightly twitched from the stinging. “Aikido’s known to be the kindest form of martial art since its purpose is to disengage, not harm.”

“Jeet kune… Bruce Lee jeet kune do?”

“One and only,” she confirmed with a small smile. “Hisa-nii’s best friend, Jun, taught it to me. He thought it’d work well with my fighting flow,” she elaborated. “But I have yet to perfect it against stronger people like Taiju yet…”

She unconsciously rubbed her left back side, knowing for sure a dark purple bruise was there to greet her in the mirror when she goes to disrobe.

“I have some Chinese medicine for the bruises if you want,” she offered, looking at the scattered spots of red and purple on his face.

“Nah, that stuff smells too much.” The lilac haired boy reached out and held (Y/N)’s face by the chin. “Let me treat that cut for you.”

“Ah, it’s fine,” she disregarded and tried to gently swat his arm away. “I just need to clean it and keep it moisturized. Not the first time I’ve had a busted lip.”

“Oh really?” Mitsuya teased with a smirk. “I didn’t know you had a knack for trouble.”

“I’ve been feeling more like a delinquent magnet since I’ve moved back,” she tiredly snipped and stuck a bandage on a cut near the corner of her friend’s mouth with a lot more force, making his head jerk back and hissed in pain. “But… I asked for it.”

Just as she reached for the antiseptic, Mitsuya beat her to the punch and grabbed a fresh cotton ball from the table.

“Please. I insist.”

Feeling too exhausted to argue, she turned her whole body to face him and leaned her face forward. Her nose bridge scrunched at the light burning sensation and smell of medicine.

“So is Mikey-kun always like that?” (Y/N) asked.

“Like what?”

“Elusive and off-beat with his thoughts and feelings,” she pointed out.

“Well…” Mitsuya began and remained silent for a short beat, gathering his thoughts. “He’s always gone at his own pace, but he had me worried tonight… I didn’t realize how hard Baji’s death affected him.”

“Who was he?”

“His childhood friend. They did karate together at Mikey’s grandfather’s dojo,” he explained and used the cotton ball to wipe off any dried blood off of her skin. “He passed away recently in our last fight with another gang…” His voice trailed off and placed the cotton ball down on the table. Mitsuya’s shoulders slumped and heavily sighed with a pensive expression and sniffled. “Honestly, even I haven’t properly mourned his death either.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“Hey, are you free tomorrow?” he asked suddenly and looked up at (Y/N) with misty lavender orbs. “I wanna go visit his grave to…” Her friend swallowed the weighty lump in his throat to control his emotions. “Give him his Christmas present… And I want him to meet you.”

“I should be free in the afternoon.”

With both their wounds treated, (Y/N) let Mitsuya stay the night and rolled out a spare futon in her room for him to sleep. She made her way into the bathroom to wash up; as expected, a bruise scattering up from her upper left arm, rib cage and into part of her back was there. But the colour was unexpectedly lighter than she thought it’d be. Counting her blessings of wearing thick enough clothing to cushion the injuries, she took the shower head and sprayed herself with lukewarm water, gently massaging her tender flesh before lathering up some soap and shampoo. Delicately rubbing the sore areas, she rinsed off her whole body before soaking in the tub like Mitsuya did before.

Letting out a long sigh of relief, she settled into the tub of warm water, feeling it heal her body while massaging the super sore areas again. She reached up to her right shoulder blade where a small, rectangular hanafuda styled tattoo of a lotus sitting on rippled water could be found etched in her skin. (Y/N) reached for her wet locks and wrung it out as best she could without making her sore arms hurt any more.

Her mind suddenly flashed to her friend’s chiseled torso and inwardly groaned for letting herself get distracted like that during a fight with a light blush.

Honestly, she was embarrassed.

Safe to say, he wasn’t the same scrawny boy she grew up with anymore. Eight years really made did make a difference. Her childhood friend was slowly turning into a man.

And then there were those two from the First Division, particularly the captain, Takemichi. He was tanking Taiju’s hits like nothing. Strength wise, both Mikey-kun and Draken-kun were monsters in their own right; but when it came to tenacity, Takemichi was in a league of his own.

Toman really had some diamonds in the rough on their team.

Feeling the webs of her feet begin to wrinkle from soaking, (Y/N) slowly pulled herself out and drained the water before toweling herself off. After frantically putting lotion all over her body to shield herself from the cold, she threw her pajamas on and found the hair dryer to hasten the process of drying her hair. The only thing she wanted to feel right now was her futon to greet her tired and battered body.

Exiting the bathroom, she tip toed into her room and around Mitsuya’s now sleeping form. Slipping into her own bed with glee, she got into a comfortable position; the last thing she saw was her childhood friend’s peaceful face before drifting off to sleep herself.

Taglist: @netzukochannn @toobsessedsstuff @owiee12

[silverrstarrr]

extra hand

Update note: Happy spring break loves! Here's a smut I never finished but I still wanted to post it. I'll be taking break from writing eren. I recently started simping for geto Suguru from jjk so😩

Okay, so this is my first smut. I'm just experimenting and playing around with things. I WOULD LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, but don't bash me bc I'm a little sensitive and then go off 🥲. Song? Um, don't get mad at me but killshot by Magdalena b. slowed n reverb and no guidance remix, slowed n reverb.😕🦴

Pairings: erenxf!reader, smut!

Warnings: fingering, swearing, idk??

"Fuck!"

You tossed your phone onto the nearby bed in the spawn of annoyance, watching the mobile device bounce up a few times, then settling down into the soft comforter. Why were you irritated? It was because he hasn't texted. Eren Yeager haven't texted you back.

Your relationship with eren was a toxic one. You weren't the type to romanticize or fetishize "toxicness" but here you are, putting yourself in one.

Eren was your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend? The both of you used to talk, met at a dumb frat boy party. This should have raised red flags immediately but you guessed the alcohol was to blame for it.

You guys had a small heated makeout session in one of the corners, away from the crowd. Sadly your friend was vomiting all over the place and had to take your leave.

Slowly you started seeing each other on campus and exchanged numbers. He'd always flirt with you, crack small jokes and was a good listener.

Sometimes he made small gestures and teasing comments that made the tension between you two, very heavy.

You started talking to him more than usual. you were sure eren only gave you his number to call you anytime he was in the mood, which happened often. It was obvious he's been with other women before cause, phew, he knew how to put it down.

Despite being fuck buddies, he was always down to chat and talk about things. You adored everything about him. How unkempt his hair was, the way he'll always ask how you were feeling and was willing to help you–his beautiful jade eyes.

Anytime you were upset with him, he always knew how to catch your attention again. From all this, you caught feelings. Real bad. But eren didn't feel the same, well so you thought.

Eren was walking around campus with another girl, arm slung around her shoulder, him whispering sweet nothings in her ears as you watched her face get red and started laughing. He even took you on small dates to restaurants and hanged out at his dorm.

You stood there dumbfounded. He played you. You guys were never a thing, you didn't understand why you thought you'll be different, he's a fuck boy after all.

He hit you up later that night, wanting to have a sesh in his car. Your emotions were spilled all over the place. you messaged him back questioning about the girl he was with. You sounded so desperate and you hated it.

From the way you were texting he knew you've caught feelings and automatically cut you off.

You were shocked, you hoped for him to just clear things up and tell you those overly used line: "she doesn't mean anything". You know, what most guys tell their girlfriends after being caught cheating.

But that was 4 months ago. He recently got in touch with you two week ago. How dare he just try to slide back into your life as if nothing happened? you were beyond pissed but you still messaged him back anyways. What the fuck? You're just going to get hurt all over again. You guys were chatting for a good week and decided to meet at his dorm.

"Hey y/n, long time no see, huh." He said

you clicked your tongue. "So you just ghost girls out of nowhere and hit them back up whenever you feel like it?" you were absolutely irritated, you wanted to punch his stupid face.

Eren rolled his eyes and let out a tiresome sigh. "It's whatever, get over it. I messaged you back, correct? You should be happy."

He was high. You could already tell by the way he smelled and the reason why he texted you out of the blue.

"Fuck you, Eren." You stormed out of there with your blood rushing. You were so angry but wanted to cry so much. "Whatever"? Was he serious?

You immediately called an uber and went home.

You rented out an apartment with one of your friends from high school. They were out most of the time so you never really saw them.

Automatically, eren was blowing up your phone with text messages. You didn't answer them, and kept him on delivered.

Which didn't last long because early on, on Tuesday, you messaged him back.

He was obviously upset you left him up and dry for a week but got over it.

Now, you're here. Waiting for his reply once again, your last text message was three days ago. It was currently Saturday night, 6:48 pm.

He hasn't responded since Wednesday. Was he going to ghost you again? Maybe he found another girl to mess with? bzzt bzzt You instantly whipped your head back, and stared at your phone's now lightened screen. You had a notification,

From eren.

Unlocking your phone, you checked what he sent.

"Can you come over?"

"pls?"

You read, then reread, then read again. He wanted you to come over? he's doing it again. He's fucking doing it again. He responds three nights later, what the fuck.

You didn't respond at first. Just staring at the open conversations.

You guessed eren saw that you read his text and three dots appeared on the lower left, he was typing.

"y/n, I know I fucked up but please can you respond at least?"

Your thumbs swiped against the keyboard.

"say what? what do I owe you a response for?" You sat down on your bed as the blue bubble sent.

"my phone got messed up, I dropped in it in the rain on my way back from practice. It cracked really bad"

You studied the screen not knowing what to say. You couldn't tell if he was lying or if it was true. But it did rain on Tuesday, so his story wasn't completely untruthful.

"I'll be over in 10"

That's it, you gave in to him. You're just setting yourself up again for another heartbreak.

You decided to prepare yourself. This was going to be a long night

—

You had your jacket on as you stepped out the door. It was still winter, luckily the piled up snow died down.

You quickly jogged to your uber and entered inside. the driver took off shortly after you came in.

The drive was pretty short, he was only ten minutes away. you wished it was longer, so you could lecture yourself for the decision you made.

You hoped out the car and went inside the boys dormitory. His dorm was on the left wing, so you proceed towards that direction.

Eren shared a dorm with Armin, you hoped he was there just in case a heated argument happened because you had a feelings one would come.

Arriving at the hall where all the rooms were at, you walked down the hall checking the numbers, so you'll know which one was his.

You despise that you remembered it as you stood in front of his door.

You pulled out your phone to shoot him a quick "here" to notify your arrival.

Not too long after, a tall brunette opened the door, he immediately grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside.

The room was dim and dark, other than the dark purple LD lights.

You felt your back make contact with the door behind you, he snaked his free hand around your waist. He pressed his lips against yours, you could feel his impatience as he tilted his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss.

He pulled away ever so slight and licked the bottom of your lip asking for entrance, so intoxicated by his lust you simply obeyed and parted your mouth slightly. His warm tongue slipping in exploring every inch of your mouth.

You ran your other hand over his black t-shirt trailing up to his neck soon afterwards interlocking your fingers in his brown locks. Although the kiss felt rushed it still made you melt, and gave a small throb down in your area. You slightly tugged on his hair earning you a groan into the heated kiss.

The butterfly’s in your stomach were going on a rampage and your heart was beating out of your chest. He slightly pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths together.

"...eren," you moaned slightly.

He was looking down at you, you were so stunning beneath him—face already flustered from one kiss. he wanted to here his name once more.

traveling down to your neck, he started showering it with wet kisses, and continued traveling down. He reached your collarbone and gave it a small bite, as the skin turned red, your grip in hair grew tighter. You were a mess, already ready feeling slick in between your legs as you rubbed them together, desperate for any sort of friction.

eren slid his hand upwards from your waist to your shirt, his soft hands grazed your bare skin—rubbing slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

you released another breathy moan as he continued at your neck. Hearing you moan was a blessing to him, he couldn't stop thinking about you ever since your last encounter.

He wanted to defile you, run his hands all over your body, touching placing only he knew he had access to—having your fingers intertwined in his long locks as he heard dumb founded mewls, begging him to stop teasing and give you what you wanted.

He pulled himself away from your neck, leaving you stunned at his sudden stop.

" why'd you st-" you were cut off by the jerk at your arm once again. He was taking you to his room as you trailed behind him, not saying a word.

Reaching his room, he pulled you inside, his lips crashed against yours once more, he kicked the door with his foot and closed it, locking the knob.

Your mind was fuzzy, you felt so heated and felt your pussy clench against nothing. You wanted him so bad, his impatience was rubbing off of you. But you couldn't bring yourself to tear away from his mouth, his lips felt so soft against your own. It made you feel wanted by him again, as if he never ghosted you and needed you this whole time.

Your back touched the soft mattress of his bed as he climbed on top of you, you were going haywire. you gave in to him with no obligation whatsoever and was dominanted in response. you can't say you didn't expect this from the moment he decided to text you.

His hands slithered up your shirt, pushing it up, grabing a hold of your breast through the bra. you smiled at his eagerness to touch you, how long has he been like this? using your elbows to support you, you raised your upper back from the bed as his other hand came around and unhooked your bra.

The butterflies in your stomach wouldn't stop, the warmth from his body felt attonishing against your own. sloppy kisses smothered across your lips, each break releasing a moan from one another, hearing throughout the room.

You laid back down as his hand large hands began fondling with your breast, your nipples were already hard from all the foreplay.

Eren hips started to grind against your pelvis,

"Fuck..." he moaned out, his face was already red, blushing like a dumb teenage virgin.

You break the kiss and sat up to remove your shirt, eren gave you space to do so–moving back a little. You tossed it on the floor, on the otherside of the bed, along with your bra, which was sitting next to you since eren took it off. You knocked you shoes off as well.

You immediately leaned towards eren wrapping your arms around his neck, lips already on his own, making him fall towards your direction—giving you a chance to wrap your legs around his waist. Your back made contact with the mattress once again and you moved your hips, grinding your heated core against his crotch.

"Dammit y/n...fuck, I can't stand this...when you do this to me."

Eren followed the same action as you. Releasing small moans and you both continued to dry hump one another.

You tugged at his shirt, wanting him to take it off. You didn't like it when you were the only bare and he knew this, a small chuckled erupted from his throat as he got on his knees–hands grasping the hem of the shirt, tugging it over his head.

You laid there in awe, he still kept his shape after all these months. You guessed those practices were really paying off. Your hand trailed up his torso, feeling his sculpture chest beneath your palm. His skin was so soft, you drifted your hand back down, passing over his abs.

"You like what you see?" he said smirking down at you.

"Shut up." you spat out.

Eren moved back down to your chest and took a hold of your breast, bringing his mouth to your nipple–while his other hand supported his weight. He gave it a long lick eyes flickering up at you, checking your reaction. His mouth was warm, his heavy breath touching your skin while he decided to play with your nipple.

You released small grunts as his red tongue swirled around your perked bud, closing his mouth then releasing it—leaving kisses and bite marks all around your breast. You were prepared for all the purplish marks you'll in the morning, you prayed you had your ointment at home.

Using his other hand, he slid his hand down your stomach, earning another moan from you. His touch felt so ethereal, this was what your body was craving for all these months.

His hand slid past your joggings, making contact with your cotton underwear. He dipped his fingers between your lips, gathering the slick that was leaking from your heat. His fingers brushed against your clit, as you moaned his name,

"eren—hnng, stop teasing—"

His only response was a smirk as he released his lips from your nipple with a wet pop sound.

"look how wet you are for me, hm? what happened to that attitude that you're so keen of?" his index finger continued to rub against your entrance, your clit getting some friction in the process. His middle finger plunge into your hole, sliding is easily from the lubrication of your wetness as he began pumping his finger in a steady motion, each stroke going deeper and deeper, stretching you out.

"nnghh—fuck eren..." your voice pitched at a higher tone for a moment.

you haven't felt like this is a while, his long digit fitted perfectly into your hole.

"hm? look how tight you pussy has gotten without me, can't wait to feel you around me."

Eren pulled his finger out, using his index to spread open your lips, then gathered some more slick as both fingers went inside.

He was prepping you up for his length, since you haven't had sex in a while. His fingers started to scissor you, both spreading out in your core—stretching you out even more.

Your hand immediately went for his hair and tugged at it with a grunt, eren moaned at your aggressiveness with his brunette locks.

"s-stop...mfhh." another soft mewl escaped your lips.

Eren pulled out his fingers and rested them in your panties.

"Stop?" He knew what you meant, he always does. his eyebrow turned to an arch, waiting an answer.

"m'didn't mean for you...to," you couldn't form a sentence, your mind was so hazy from the heated atmosphere between you two. you wanted his touch again, you hated the feeling of you clenching around nothing.

eren gave your chest a few pecks, then one at your neck close to your jaw.

"use your words, y/n." man, he was enjoying this too well. He missed this part of you so bad, having you a complete mess under his touch.

"I want you inside of me." The last word was spoken in a lower tone, you were embarrassed. Never knew you'll hear those words come from your mouth again.

"Good girl." He bought his fingers up to his mouth as he sucked on them, swirlying his pink tongue around his digits while directly making eye contact with you. Releasing them with another wet pop, he start to work on his joggers.

Moving off of you, he swing his legs to the edge of bed, pullng down his gray sweats as it hits the floor–slides it across the floor. He did the same with his boxers.

You did the same, taking off your bottoms along with your damp panties, placing it over with your other clothing.

erens cock slapped against his abdominal, precum already dripping from the slit of head.

He gave himself a few strokes, groaning loudly as he shifted back to your direction. Settling between your legs, he uses his hand to trace his pink tip between your folds, slipping between your lips constantly—gathering lubrication.

"m'mfgh...stop teasing eren," your chest was heavy with anticipation, you wanted him inside you so bad. His free rest on your bended knee, his fingers drawing circles.

"shhh, y/n—I know." He coos.

Finally, he dipped his cock into your seeping hole as your velvety walls draw him in–not giving him a chance to adjust from tight you were. You both moan in unison, feeling contentment, getting what you guys wanted you at last.

" hnng, you're so tight...shit," erens eye closed shut while he pushed the rest of his length inside you. Even after stretching you out with his fingers, you were still tight and eren enjoyed every second of it.

Once he was in all the way, his cock was a snug fit—he waited for you to adjust so he could move.

Your chest now heaving up and down, you give a little nod—signaling it was okay to move. Drawing his hips back, he slid out of your core completely and immediately thrusted forward entering back to your wet core.

Eren began thrusting into you at a steady pace as his both of his hands grabbed your legs, resting them behind your knee.

You knew it'll be a long night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

update note: HAHAHA IM BACK GUYS MORE FANFICS. I'm finally on spring break 😭

[evermoreweasley]

all I want is now (fred weasley x reader)

(all images are from pinterest)

summary: your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, knows just what to do when you’ve had a long week at work and are missing the simplicity of the past

warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol & drinking (wine), brief mention of battle of Hogwarts, kissing, happy tears, suggestive comments, undressing, steamy but no actual smut

a/n: honestly, I was inspired by the song set down your glass by snow patrol

taglist: @theweasleysredhair @witchyweasley @sarcasticallywitty15 @wand3ringr0s3 please message me if you’d like to be added or removed!

word count: 1.6k

---

You had an extremely long week at work. On Monday, you had to train new employees, on Tuesday you had to sort out all the inventory, and sort through boxes to try to find a missing order. On Wednesday, you visited your boyfriend Fred Weasley in his shop during your lunch break. You reminisced on your old days at Hogwarts, and the simplicity of it. 

He nodded in response, smirking as he recalled the late night rendezvous in empty classrooms. You smiled as you went on about the carefree days in the common room and cherished nights wandering the corridors. You didn’t have to worry about training employees, or inventory, or missing orders. It was so simple back then, not a worry at all. 

You were more than thankful that it was now finally Friday. Fred had appeared in your shop that morning, he brought you a latte and many kisses to your forehead. You were so busy you barely got to speak two words to him. Lovingly, he smiled at you and simply told you he’d see you back at your apartment that night.

As the owner of a bustling and busy shop in Diagon Alley, you happily sighed as you closed up the shop for the night. You quickly dipped your head under the hood of your coat as you walked outside, the rain was coming down in a light drizzle as you crossed the street. The rain lightly hit at your eyelashes and you quickly blinked as the droplets fell onto your cheeks. You didn’t mind though, and smiled as you felt the coolness on your skin. Walking into the Hog’s Head Inn, you passed by many people celebrating and chatting as they drank fire whiskey and butterbeer. Smiling at the man behind the counter, you purchased a bottle of your favorite red wine before thanking him and quickly apparating back to your apartment. 

With a quick pop, you landed back into your apartment. The sound of your high heeled black boots loudly clicking across the hardwood floor as you made your way to the closet to put your coat away. You wiped the remaining rain droplets over your rough denim blue jeans as you made your way to the coffee table, trying desperately to open the wine bottle. A curse fell from your lips as you looked for a wine bottle opener.

“My girl is home,” A calm, familiar voice spoke out behind you. You could hear a slight smirk in his tone and you smiled.

“Hi, Freddie,” You turned to see Fred walking towards you, a well fitting and cozy maroon jumper and casual black jeans placed upon his tall, handsome figure. You sucked in a breath as you caught his deep chocolate brown eyes. The sight of him causing you to go truly breathless never went away.

“Allow me,” He smirked at you, lightly chuckling as he placed a quick spell on the wine bottle. The cork immediately flew upwards before catching it easily in his free hand. He grabbed your wine glass from you kindly, as he poured the wine.

“Of course,” you lightly giggled at yourself. “How could I forget to use magic,”

“You’ve had quite the long week, darling,” Fred breathed out as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear lovingly. He disappeared quickly into the kitchen before reappearing with a second wine glass, pouring some for himself.

He took a long sip from his glass as he deeply stared at you, your beauty truly made his heart beat out of his chest. “I got you something,” He started as he pulled his eyes momentarily away from yours as he placed his hand inside his deep jeans pocket. “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Freddie,” you hummed, smiling as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut. Fred just gently tutted at your words.

Fred had been nothing but the sweetest boyfriend to you, but it didn’t all start out that way. You had been friends since your first year at Hogwarts but after a while, you felt yourself slowly separating from him due to your growing feelings, these feelings were so new and foreign to you at the time and you were confused. 

In the fifth year, you were still friends but felt yourself always side eyeing the older twin as he constantly tried to distract you from your schoolwork. He would charm pieces of parchment to fly up and gently bounce off your head to try to get your attention. Each time, looking back at him, he would be waving with a cheeky grin on his face. You tried to ignore your undeniable feelings for him, in the sixth year you even took a random Slytherin to the Yule Ball, but you couldn’t ever get Fred off of your mind. 

One day in the seventh year, after Herbology class, Fred walked up to you with his famous smirk and a bouquet of light pink roses, your favorite. You were prepared to turn on your heels and walk down the opposite corridor but instead, smiled shyly at him across the hallway, finally ready to face your feelings. You started to date that night and later, after the battle of Hogwarts, you moved in together, in an old apartment with hardwood floors, a roaring fireplace, and wide, beautiful windows that looked onto the busy street below.

“Open your eyes.”

You opened your eyes at Fred in front of you, before trailing down to his open palm. Your eyes grew wide as you looked over what he held out for you. A delicate, striking gold chain held in the center a glass heart which contained a light pink rose flower petal from that same bouquet so many years ago. The bouquet that started your relationship, the first gift Fred ever got you. Your eyes teared up as your fingers lightly traced the glass heart, the one that encased your favorite gift.

“May I?” He asked as he smiled down at you. You nodded eagerly, you were truly speechless. Fred moved behind you before gently pushing your hair to the side as he clasped the necklace around your neck, your hand flying up to gently stroke at the gift. 

“I remember you charmed the flowers to never die all those years ago, but I wanted to give you a way to wear them. When you said you were having a rough week, I just knew I had to do this for my girl.”

“Oh, Freddie, thank you,” you breathed out as you turned to face him. “I love it.”

“Y/n,” He breathed out as he ran his smooth fingers gently down your cheek. “I know you miss the easy going days of the past, but,” He scanned your face before falling on your eyes, smiling. “All I want is now,” You stared deeply into his deep chocolate brown eyes. “To be present with you. Everyday for the rest of my life.”

You beamed up at him as you nodded. “Me too, Freddie. I love you,” You ran your fingers through his fiery red hair as the joyful tears pooling in the corners of your eyes spilled out onto your cheeks. 

“I love you, my angel,” he hummed. 

Fred quickly ran his fingers back down, wiping the tears away before he leaned down to kiss you. Gently at first, but the intensity of his lips against yours soon picked up. The feeling of butterflies sprung to life in your stomach, reminding you of their presence. Fred’s big, strong hands danced around your waist as he pulled you down to the couch, so you were now on top of him. As you straddled him, with your legs on either side of him, you smiled under the kiss. You moved away, only momentarily, to remove his maroon sweater, as you did so, it lightly caught on the band of your gold watch. The thread of the maroon material catching until a small tear appeared. 

You cursed as you watched it happen, before catching Fred’s eye, but he only smirked in response. “That eager to get me naked that you tore my jumper, hmmm, angel?” He hummed teasingly. A giggle escaped your lips as you ran your hand up and down his now bare, toned torso. You nodded as you bit down on your bottom lip. 

“I’ll forgive you if you remove your jumper too, angel,” he hummed, staring intensely into your eyes as a lazy smirk fell across his face.

You lightly blushed as you quickly removed your jumper, leaving you in front of your boyfriend in your black lace bra. Fred sucked in a breath in excitement, as you leaned over him, grabbing your wine glass before taking a sip, being sure to not break eye contact with him while doing so. 

“Set down your glass,” He spoke out, as his chocolate brown eyes grew darker.

You cocked your head to the side at him in response before smiling innocently at him, batting your eyelashes. “Why’s that, Freddie?”

He tutted as his smirk grew wider at your words. He gently placed your wine glass back on the coffee table before flipping you over so you were now laying underneath him on the couch. “That’s why,” he chuckled as he peppered your face with soft kisses. You giggled happily as you pushed your head deeper into the plush pillows underneath you. With one hand around Fred’s neck you pulled him down to you to kiss your lips, with the other you felt the coolness of your necklace around your neck and you smiled. More than grateful to be right here, right now. 

[winterrose527]

have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??

Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Thank you for this prompt!!

***

She was so sick of this shit.

Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.

But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.

Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.

Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.

Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).

She wouldn’t say that today though.

No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.

Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.

The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.

There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.

So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.

She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.

Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.

And she had to deliver.

The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.

To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.

So Sansa Stark was it.

She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.

“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.

“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”

Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”

“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.

She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.

Game face, Baratheon.

She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.

Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.

“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.

“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”

“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”

He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”

“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”

He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”

She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.

“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.

She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”

“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.

She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.

She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.

“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.

He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”

She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”

His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”

She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.

On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.

Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.

She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.

She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”

He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”

She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”

He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”

“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”

“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”

A gentleman.

So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.

“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.

It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.

“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.

“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.

A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”

She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.

“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”

He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”

She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”

“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”

She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”

He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”

“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”

“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.

That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.

It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, “I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”

“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“

“Robb,” he corrected her.

“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”

“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.

“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”

That was hard to argue with.

But not impossible.

“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.

There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.

His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”

“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”

His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.

“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”

“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.

“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”

His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”

She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.

She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.

She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”

He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”

It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.

She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”

“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.

“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”

“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”

She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”

He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”

She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”

He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”

She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”

He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”

“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.

“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend. 

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh. 

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.” 

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola. 

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks. 

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens. 

She brings it up to her father that night. 

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip. 

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably. 

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true. 

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint. 

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once. 

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.” 

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.” 

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile. 

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin. 

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?” 

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing. 

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further. 

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment. 

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns. 

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further. 

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax. 

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.” 

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.” 

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away. 

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat. 

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?” 

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls. 

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at. 

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later. 

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily. 

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it. 

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé. 

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard. 

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down. 

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine. 

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive. 

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before. 

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done. 

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.” 

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking. 

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing. 

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court. 

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll. 

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass. 

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining. 

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along. 

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

[porrokin]

“SAINTS BEFORE SIXTH”

i have actually never posted anything like this on my tumblr - i'm kinda nervous ngl.

below you can find the blurb and entire first chapter of the fantasy novel i'm writing! 🤎 i'm so incredibly proud and wanted to share it with you :)

Andy was almost an adult now, not once in the past decade had she been entirely sober. This hadn't been a choice of her own; she didn't get many of those anymore after becoming a permanent resident in the Institute. She'd been permanently deprived of direct sunlight ever since her sixth birthday, on December 30th.

Meanwhile, her best friend claims to speak with his deceased parents and the Keepers found her newest ally before she did. They've been forcing him to use his powers for their selfish winnings, cruel violations like this could go unseen since the Warden disappeared.

Escaping the Keepers is one thing; they're still worlds apart from getting home - considering there's anything to come back to in the first place.

story : all rights reserved ; @porrokin

don't copy or claim this in any way; it is my work and belongs entirely to me.

THE ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER IS POSTED BELOW !

-

Never once during the past decade had Andy been entirely sober, that fact would, however, become even more disturbing when you considered she was barely eighteen years old. It hadn't been a conscious choice, at least not one of her own.

Ever since her sixth birthday - almost precisely twelve years ago - Keepers had taken the freedom of making decisions away from her. What she ate, where she slept, who she talked to, and whether or not she took her meds four times per day - which she did, much to her disliking.

The Keepers no longer informed Andy of their plans for her, they used to back when she was still enrolled in the program. Christiano was, though she wasn't sure if she always believed him when he talked about what he did during those three hours every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday. Nine hours each week, that's how much time they did want to spend with her roommate. She was on her own, once again.

The line scurried along. Andy hesitantly followed as she took in the newly arrived smell of potatoes and spinach. Lunch must start soon, meaning the clock could say 12:55 am anytime now. The rest of the world outside was sleeping, in contrast to this place - heavily lit by beaming, quietly zooming tubes. The grey ceiling was covered in them, leaving nothing to go by without catching the eye of at least one Keeper. Andy didn't know why they lived during the night, rather than when the sun could cast real and natural light into the long, empty hallways. Probably to keep the public from asking much-needed questions about this place, or perhaps they did know but couldn't care enough.

Another name was called out - not hers. The girl in front of the line had been injected, she swiftly turned around and started walking in against the direction of the line. Back to her room, she went, another day of the same, mundane routine. Day after day, twelve years before you got away.

Long ginger hair draped over her slim shoulders, curls bouncing up slightly with every step she took. Her face looked tense; not unusual for this place, but it was rather strange to see from this girl. When their eyes met, Andy was surprised to see an almost luminescent light grey shade. The girl's eyes were once green but now reminded her of the colour of freshly polished silverware reflecting in the light.

As she walked past her spot in line, electricity seemed to flow through Andy's spine; causing her entire body to shiver. Her eyebrows shaped themselves into a slight frown, for a moment she glanced behind her to look at this girl for an extra second. She wasn't allowed to speak to anyone in white but her roommate, though by now she'd been here long enough to recognize who slept in the same hallway and who didn't.

A loud crackling sound disrupted the silence, a moment later the automated voice began to talk through the speakers. Same time every day, the same voice at exactly five minutes before 1 am. 'Ten minutes before lunchtime, those who have not yet received their injections will be expected back in Hallway 162B in exactly 45 minutes'.

In a matter of seconds, their plan was about to be set in motion.

Right away, rummaging sounds rose from the back of the line. 'I need Andy!', a familiar voice shakily called out. 'My roommate, Andy Donahue!'

'Not up to you, get back in line or I'll make you.' Andy recognized his voice as the heavier Keeper with the bushy, unmanaged moustache. He sounded calm, he'd been quick to tase someone in the past and would most likely have his beefy fingers wrapped around the device already.

She raised her hand and started walking towards the back of the line, her body shaking entirely as if it was freezing and she walked into the cold without any clothes on her limbs.

Without expecting it, she was forcefully yanked back from behind. Before Andy even had time to blink, her arms were locked firmly behind her back, wrists pushing hard against her spine.

'You too, now? Don't think you're an exception to the rules.' Captain Keeper; not because he's the leader, but he sure did like trying to boss the others around. She didn't answer him right away but rather tried to stretch her body and spot Christiano in the hallway. She couldn't.

'I'm his roommate, that's Irvine. Sometimes he freaks out in the presence of many people-' A sweaty hand roughly pulled her head back by her hair, causing her to face the ceiling. Her body alarmed her of the pain this caused to her neck. The bright lights made her eyes tear and she struggled to swallow.

'Did I tell you to open your mouth?' Clammy Hands scoffed.

She attempted to reason with him: 'Let me take him to our room so he can calm down.'

'Get back in line. Otherwise, I'll make sure you don't get out of solitary until snow melts.'

She managed to free her arm from his clammy grasp. 'I can ensure you-'

He reached for her, his face caught between anger and frustration. He was getting impatient, little was he aware that this was exactly Andy's will. She stumbled backwards to avoid him this time, successfully, both of them were surprised by it.

'Christiano will throw up. Do you want that to happen when..' She ever so slightly raised her chin, dramatically pausing for a moment as she raised her boney finger.

Andy continued. 'About six hundred kids still need their injections in this hallway? That seems to be a big inconvenience — if I am allowed to voice my opinion.'

'Sir.' she added. The encounter would surely have been more entertaining would her head not be pounding, the shakiness of her knees increasing by the second. She knew her body needed the meds she managed to rid this morning - she would deny this dependence at any cost if someone were to ask.

He sighed and resultantly nodded in Christiano's direction. 'Go. I'll know where to find you in five minutes.'

She did as told, anxiously searching the hallway for her roommate. So far everything was going just as she so meticulously planned; she was okay.

By now she imagined the time creeping closer to 1:00 am, breaks for the Administration would start in ten minutes; she only needed three. The two minutes after that meant for racing back to their room, in case Captain Keeper was indeed determined to stick to his earlier promise.

Something as cold as ice grabbed her hand, effortlessly disrupting her thoughts. Chocolate brown eyes met hers, a feeling of relief washed over Andy's body. Squeezing his hand, they swiftly disappeared behind the corner at the end of the hallway.

'You got the key?' Andy hushed her voice. Administration breakrooms were still in the same hallway as their offices. She wondered whether they got as little sunlight as the kids here did.

'I do. Traded my last blanket for 15 minutes of borrowing the thing, this place leaks of greedy bastards.' He grinned, accentuating his sharp facial structure.

'If you're right about the Bidding we'll be out of here soon enough anyway.'

'I am right.'

'I believe you.' She extended her hand for him to hand her the key. 'I want to prepare for everything, that's all.'

While Andy gained access to Ad 348H, Christiano leaned nonchalantly against the drinking fountain, his finger push-ready on the button. If she caught the sound of water running, she needed to hide. Christiano would have to sneak her back out after their lunchtime. Not the desired option, as this would be too close for comfort with the Administration break ending at the same time.

Thanks to Christiano's contacts she knew immediately which cabinet to find; about twenty seconds had passed already. Her hands rummaged through the several files and envelopes, one of the many drawers containing surnames with "D" as their starting letter.

She gasped audibly when finally skimming across her own, "Andy Donahue" it said. As she attempted to pull it out, the cardboard folder ripped on one end; the contents spilling out like jelly beans at an overwhelmingly disorganized children's party.

She cursed to herself as she attempted to fish for whatever just got lost within the mass amount of documents and belongings. A soft texture brushed against her finger and with some effort, she managed to grab onto it.

Her journal! Andy's heart skipped a beat, who knew they would've collected this in here after confiscating it years ago. Without hesitation she dropped it into the neck of her jacket, holding it against her stomach with her other hand. What else did she need? Her file was too big to ever sneak out in its entirety and to take this heavy notebook was already a reach.

A loud cough echoed into the room as if she had her fingers in her ears this whole time to block out the noise. Finally, the sound of splashing water seemed to reach her. She slammed the cabinet shut, somehow getting her black sleeve stuck in the process. No, no, this was bad - this was so awfully bad.

While securing the journal with her other arm she put her body up against the heavy metal cabinet and made a desperate attempt at freeing herself from its hold.

'Yes!', slightly too loud.

Within a moment she smoothly turned around, slamming herself against something and stumbling onto the cold concrete flooring.

'We really don't have time anymore, why didn't you come out when I signalled for you?', Christiano grabbed her free arm and hurriedly pulled Andy back up on her feet.

'I'm sorry!'

She followed right behind him, both came to a sudden stop once they'd realized what was waiting behind the walls of Ad 348H. At least six Keepers surrounded them in the hallway, pointing that same amount of stun batons in their direction.

Captain Clammy Hands was the one to break the silence: "Such a shame, Donahue."

-

© PHOTOGRAPHY : @/k_reckd [ TWITTER ]

to read more, check out my story on wattpad @/porrokin [ same as on tumblr ]

CREDIT WHERE IT IS DUE ; THE COVER

© PHOTO - MODEL : @/iiphugs [ TWITTER ]

[newstfionline]

Friday, August 6, 2021

US plans to require COVID-19 shots for foreign travelers (AP) The Biden administration is taking the first steps toward requiring nearly all foreign visitors to the U.S. to be vaccinated for the coronavirus, a White House official said. The requirement would come as part of the administration’s phased approach to easing travel restrictions for foreign citizens to the country. No timeline has yet been determined, as interagency working groups study how and when to safely move toward resuming normal travel. Eventually all foreign citizens entering the country, with some limited exceptions, are expected to need to be vaccinated against COVID-19 to enter the U.S.

Big tech companies are at war with employees over remote work (Ars Technica) All across the United States, the leaders at large tech companies like Apple, Google, and Facebook are engaged in a delicate dance with thousands of employees who have recently become convinced that physically commuting to an office every day is an empty and unacceptable demand from their employers. The COVID-19 pandemic forced these companies to operate with mostly remote workforces for months straight. And since many of them are based in areas with relatively high vaccination rates, the calls to return to the physical office began to sound over the summer. But thousands of high-paid workers at these companies aren’t having it. Many of them don’t want to go back to the office full time, even if they’re willing to do so a few days a week. Workers are even pointing to how effective they were when fully remote and using that to question why they have to keep living in the expensive cities where these offices are located. Some tech leaders (like Twitter’s Jack Dorsey) agreed, or at least they saw the writing on the wall. They enacted permanent or semipermanent changes to their companies’ policies to make partial or even full-time remote work the norm. Others (like Apple’s Tim Cook) are working hard to find a way to get everyone back in their assigned seats as soon as is practical, despite organized resistance. In either case, the work cultures at tech companies that make everything from the iPhone to Google search are facing a major wave of transformation.

At least 10 dead as van carrying migrants crashes in Texas (AP) An overloaded van carrying 29 migrants crashed Wednesday on a remote South Texas highway, killing at least 10 people, including the driver, and injuring 20 others, authorities said. The crash happened shortly after 4 p.m. Wednesday on U.S. 281 in Encino, Texas, about 50 miles (80 kilometers) north of McAllen. A surge in migrants crossing the border illegally has brought about an uptick in the number of crashes involving vehicles jammed with migrants who pay large amounts to be smuggled into the country. The Dallas Morning News has reported that the recruitment of young drivers for the smuggling runs, combined with excessive speed and reckless driving by those youths, have led to horrific crashes.

Turkish wildfires are worst ever, Erdogan says, as power plant breached (Reuters) Turkey is battling the worst wildfires in its history, President Tayyip Erdogan said on Wednesday, as fires spread to a power station in the country’s southwest after reducing swathes of coastal forest to ashes. Fanned by high temperatures and a strong, dry wind, the fires have forced thousands of Turks and foreign tourists to flee homes and hotels near the Aegean and Mediterranean coasts. Eight people have died in the blazes since last week. Planes and dozens of helicopters have joined scores of emergency crews on the ground to battle the fires, but Erdogan’s government has faced criticism over the scale and speed of the response. In the last two weeks, fires in Turkey have burnt more than three times the area affected in an average year, a European fire agency said. Neighbouring countries have also battled blazes fanned by heatwaves and strong winds.

Sri Lanka’s financial problems (Foreign Policy) Sri Lanka is threatening to become South Asia’s economic weak link. It’s mired in a severe debt crisis, and its budget deficit exceeded 11 percent of GDP during the last fiscal year, which ended in March. The country’s foreign reserves can only pay for three months of imports, prompting Colombo to cut back on many foreign imports, including turmeric, a staple product. Fitch Ratings has warned default is a real possibility. Sri Lanka’s woes stem in great part from a floundering tourism sector. Tourism typically accounts for at least 5 percent of GDP, and some estimates even put the figure at 12.5 percent. The sector’s troubles began before the coronavirus pandemic, when suicide bombers killed at least 290 people in churches and hotels in April 2019, keeping visitors away. But the pandemic still dealt a giant blow. A 2021 assessment found tourist arrivals between January and April fell nearly 100 percent from the same period in 2020.

Australia to spend $813M to address Indigenous disadvantage (AP) Australia’s government on Thursday pledged 1.1 billion Australian dollars ($813 million) to address Indigenous disadvantage, including compensation to thousands of mixed-race children who were taken from their families over decades. The AU$378.6 million ($279.7 million) to be used to compensate the so-called Stolen Generations by 2026 is the most expensive component of the package aimed at boosting Indigenous living standards in Australia. Prime Minister Scott Morrison said the compensation was a recognition of the harm caused by forced removal of children from families.

Israel launches airstrikes on Lebanon in response to rockets (AP) Israel on Thursday escalated its response to rocket attacks this week by launching rare airstrikes on Lebanon, the army said. The army said in a statement that jets struck the launch sites from which rockets had been fired over the previous day, as well as an additional target used to attack Israel in the past. The IDF blamed the state of Lebanon for the shelling and warned “against further attempts to harm Israeli civilians and Israel’s sovereignty.” The overnight airstrikes were a marked escalation at a politically sensitive time. Israel’s new eight-party governing coalition is trying to keep peace under a fragile cease fire that ended an 11-day war with Hamas’ militant rulers in Gaza in May.

‘Winning a medal doesn’t make him Jewish’ (Washington Post) When gymnast Artem Dolgopyat stepped off the podium as only the second Israeli to win an Olympic gold medal, he triggered one of Israel’s many cultural tripwires: It quickly emerged that the country’s newest sports hero is banned from marrying his fiancee here because he is not considered Jewish enough by the rabbis who control Israel’s marriage law. Immediately after Dolgopyat took top honors in the men’s floor exercise, his mother took the chance to complain that Israeli religious law is keeping her engaged 24-year-old son from tying the knot because only his father’s side of the family is Jewish. Marriage law is tightly controlled by Israel’s Chief Rabbinate. And for generations, couples who are of mixed religions—or who are atheists, gay or inadequately Jewish—have been forced to marry outside the country. Dolgopyat’s training schedule has made that impossible, said his mother, Angela Bilan. “I want grandchildren,” Bilan said Sunday in an interview with Israeli radio.

Talking to strangers (Atlantic) A hefty body of research has found that an overwhelmingly strong predictor of happiness and well-being is the quality of a person’s social relationships. But most of those studies have looked at only close ties: family, friends, co-workers. In the past decade and a half, professors have begun to wonder if interacting with strangers could be good for us too: not as a replacement for close relationships, but as a complement to them. The results of that research have been striking. Again and again, studies have shown that talking with strangers can make us happier, more connected to our communities, mentally sharper, healthier, less lonely, and more trustful and optimistic.

But tanks make such handy snowplows... (BBC) A German retiree was fined nearly $300,000 by local authorities on Tuesday following the discovery of a World War-II era tank in his basement along with other items of the period, including a flak cannon and multiple machine guns. The Panther tank was removed from the man’s property in 2015, a job that took 20 soldiers almost nine hours to complete. The unnamed 84-year-old might have been able to hold on to his tank and the rest of his collection—which must now be donated to a museum within two years, according to Tuesday’s ruling—had he kept it a better secret. “He was chugging around in that thing during the snow catastrophe in 1978,” Heikendorf Mayor Alexander Orth told reporters.

[strangergrove]

COLLEGE!AU TIPS/INFO

Hey everyone! I love college!AUs and know some people may want to write one but do not feel confident doing so because they haven't been to college, or maybe just want some more information. Now not all of this will apply to all colleges/universities of course, but I wanted to give as much as I could. (For reference, I went to the University of Minnesota) This is meant for giving an idea of general college life and things that might be fun to add to a story, so I haven't added the more technical things, but I can if you guys want that.

ORIENTATION WEEK

Freshman arrive a week before everyone else to get settled in and learn the ropes (no classes yet, just events)

You get a student ID that's required to enter the dorms and higher security classrooms (ones with expensive equipment) You can also put money on it and use that at cafeterias and campus stores

They took all the freshman to Target after-hours (so we were the only customers) so we could buy groceries and anything we forgot to bring before school started

They also brought us to the Mall of America (because it was five minutes away) so we could go on all the rides and visit Sealife for free (the shops were closed down, though, so no shopping) I think it was supposed to be a chance to make friends before classes started. I don't know, but it was fun

DORM LIFE

I didn't have a roommate so I can't comment on what that was like (when applying for dorm living, we were asked if we preferred to have a roommate or not. I didn't want one and therefore lived in a single-occupancy room)

I did, however, have a sink mate (our single-occupancy rooms had this weird thing where two of them were joined by a tiny room that had nothing but a sink and mirror in it. The doors locked from the outside so the other person couldn't get into your room if you had it locked. Some people left their doors open so they basically had a roommate while getting to have separate rooms) I know this is probably unique to my dorm (because it's really weird) but it's also fun and could make for interesting scenes

At the end of every year you had to reapply to live in the dorms and you were given the option to stay in your room, change rooms but keep the same roommate (you and your roommate both had to apply for this option, of course) or change rooms and roommates

Rooms with only 1-2 people did not have their own bathrooms. There were shower stalls in the bathrooms that you could use. This lead to a lot of people walking around in robes or towels in the halls.

The cafeteria food was not included in the price of the dorm. You either had to buy a meal plan (X number of meals a month) or pay per meal at the door. If you had the meal plan, they scanned your student ID. You were allowed like 5 guest passes or something

There was a computer lab in the dorm with printers you could use, but rarely anyone went there

There was a laundry room in the basement. You had to scan your student ID to pay for the washer and dryer (ours was broken and let you do it for free) If you weren't down there to transfer or collect your laundry as soon as it was done, some people would take all of your clothes and just throw them on the table (even if there was already a pile of clothes there) because washer and dryer space was limited. So laundry at 2 in the morning was usually safest

CLASSES

I biked everywhere because our campus was huge and it was like a 15 minute walk minimum between my classes (sometimes a half hour if I had to walk to the stadium downtown) so biking was a life saver (biking in the snow was hilarious and difficult)

Driving anywhere near campus was a nightmare. Therefore, there were free shuttle busses to take you to different parts of the campus (most of the campus was in Minneapolis but part was in St. Paul.)

I had classes start as early as 7am and run as late as 9pm. My longest classes were 4 hours. Most common length was 2 hours

Only some teachers took attendance (usually in small classes) others passed around a clipboard to sign your name and prove you were there

For each hour in-class you expect 2-4 hours of homework that day

Most of my classes were Monday/Wednesday/Friday for lectures and Tuesday/Thursday for other classes. Once-a-week classes could be any day (and were usually the really long classes)

In high school you can take Advanced Placement classes and test into higher class levels (and earn credits toward a certain subject) This means if you leave well, you can take fewer prerequisite classes and fewer classes that have nothing to do with your major. This also means you may be able to graduate early (I graduated a semester early from this and taking way too many credits per semester)

In our university, any credits above 15 each semester were free (I took 18-19 each semester to take advantage of this) The required amount of credits to be determined full time was either 12 or 13, but they recommended 15 to be in track to graduate in 4 years (assuming you were going for a bachelor's like I was)

FREE TIME

There are tons of student groups ranging from support for foreign students to writing clubs to learning a certain language to capture the flag (which we played at midnight) These groups are amazing and a great way of meeting like-minded people

We had an event every year called Spring Jam where they had all kinds of vendors come, they threw parties and events, and even a concert

Our dorm hosted events for every holiday (Yule ball, haunted house, etc.)

We had a student union center with all sorts of resources for students, but also a theatre, cafeteria, game room (with bowling alley, great food, video games and pool tables you could rent by the hour, and trivia night every Thursday) and great hall for concerts and events

There was a bar called The Library, so any time anyone said they were "going to the library" they got suspicious looks

There were also a ton of on-campus jobs specifically for students, so you could submit your class schedule to them and they would schedule your shifts around it

If you want more information on anything, please don't hesitate to leave a comment/ask/dm! Also, if you have anything you'd like to add, please feel free.

I will update this if I think of anything else, so please check the notes for mentions of updates.

[imnotwolverine]

A warm heart(h)

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: The Christmas vibes continue, including some cute moments with Marianne, Henry’s mom. No smut, just fluff this time <3 Have a nice Wednesday! 

Word count: 3.985

Disclaimer: fluff 

--

This is part 14 of the Tea for Two story.

Find the Masterlist here. 

--

< Go back to part 13

He speaks just like his father, I thought, looking at the two men as they were chatting.

I was sitting in the back of the car while Henry and his father were sitting in front, their melodic voices having an animated conversation which I couldn’t quite follow over the loud racket. Was it about Henry’s motorcycles? Or Kal? 

I soon gave up my futile attempts to figure it out as the car continued to hurdle itself over the loud, bumpy country road that seemed to go on for miles now. I let out a silent sigh as I pressed my travel weary head against the cold glass of the SUV and looked outside. The fields were freshly frosted with white tips of snow, the crisp white merging almost seamlessly with the grey sea in the distance.

The Jersey Islands were every bit as picturesque as Henry had described them. Its rocky cliffs held up an island that was coasted with a number of quaint little villages, a natural reserve, a castle and a zoo. Especially the zoo held a special place in his heart. He had spoken about it in great length while he had shown me some pictures of the Durrell challenge - a yearly running event he was an ambassador for. Yes, this island sure seemed nice and I could totally imagine him as a small boy, running through the fields, climbing in the trees and diving in the sea on a hot summer’s day.

‘You okay back there dear?’ Henry’s voice awoke me from my stare. I sat up a bit, leaning forward so he could hear me over the loud noise. ‘I’m fine.’ The car shook wildly as it drove over a pothole. ‘Could use a cup of tea though.’ I said, touching his cheek. He smiled, moving his head slightly to rub his cheek into my hand. I sniffled, seeing the look his dad was giving us.

Colin was everything you expected a dad to be. A big, burly man with a small heart and that unmistakable dad humour that made everyone cringe in slight embarrassment. The same embarrassment I kind of felt right now, as Henry finished his very eager cheek rub by planting a loving kiss in the palm of my hand. Henry and Colin shared a look between them that I could not fully decipher, but it sure was something along the lines of; “Like it or not, dad, I’m going full PDA in your face.” To which Colin thought “Oh will you now? Be careful before me and your mom start doing the same.”

I snickered at the thought.  

‘We’re almost there lovebirds. Almost.’ Colin rumbled.

—

This week was all about Christmas. We had started off with a small dinner at our place with some of Henry’s friends on Monday. Henry and I had cooked some simple fair since we had little time on our hands, but it had been fun nonetheless. Henry’s friends were surprisingly normal people. Mostly middle aged, slightly balding men with wives who definitely over-plucked their eyebrows. And boy could they drink. It had been a while since I last had a hangover, but Tuesday definitely was hangover day. Much to Henry’s amusement, who had had his hangover from hell just a week earlier. Aren’t we quite the pair?

Thursday we had flown to the Netherlands for a Christmas dinner with my parents. And I must say. I don’t think I’ve ever, ever in my life, seen my mom act this awkwardly around guests. She was fidgeting endlessly, getting up at every whim to ask Henry if he really didn’t need anything else. Coffee? Tea? Beer? Wine? She had downed almost a whole bottle of red wine before she had calmed down to the point that we could have an actual conversation. Poor mom. Thankfully, other then a bit of an awkward start, it had been nice. Kal had totally captured my parent’s hearts - yes they are dog lovers - and Henry’s down to earth, relaxed demeanour had further calmed their worries about “their daughter dating this movie star”.

And now we had finally arrived at his parent’s home. A house that quite perfectly fit the bill of “countryside”, it’s shape barn-like and the large number of classically glazed windows offering a lovely view over the crisp white fields around us.

The car drove up a small driveway as the wheels crunched over the freshly fallen snow. ‘Good thing you arrived early. There’s more snow expected later this afternoon.’ Colin said in his rich brit accent, turning his steering wheel to park the car underneath the carport. ‘Home sweet home.’ Henry cheered in equal vibrant brit timber - he sure got his voice from his dad - jumping out of the car to reach for my door and hold it open. I felt slightly embarrassed by his never ending gallantry as I accepted his reached out hand. ‘Milady.’ He smiled, earning an amused chuckle from me. ‘Darling.’ I mused, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before moving to the back of the car to help his father move our suitcases inside.

—

The house was surprisingly large. We arrived in a spacious hallway, which was heavily decorated; wreaths wrapped around the staircase railing, hundreds of small lights that adorned every nook and cranny, and a small Christmas tree to boot. If you think English countryside at Christmas, this was probably the first thing you’d imagine.

We stalled our suitcases next to the door as Marianne appeared from the kitchen, her appearance every bit the dainty housemother. She was wearing a pink apron, her pale blond hair neatly coiffed, as her hands were still wrapped around a big white mixing bowl. ‘My dears! Come in, come in! Let me put this down real quick.’ She moved back inside the kitchen as Henry followed her, his step as excited as that of a kid who just came home from school. I followed them, walking into the spacious kitchen.

What a dream kitchen. In the middle there was a large oak and grey granite kitchen island with some bar stools, which was surrounded by dove grey kitchen cabinets stretching along one side of the wall, the other wall offering a handsome view over the surrounding meadows through the many, many windows. The air was already filled with a mixture of scents. Roasting meat, spices, sweet cake, a hint of coffee. Hmmm. I took an appreciative deep breath while Henry gave his mother a big bear hug.

‘It smells delicious in here Marianne!’ I exclaimed as she unfolded herself from Henry’s embrace, reaching out her arms to also give me a hug. She smiled. ‘Well it’s Christmas only once a year!’ She cooed, wrapping her skinny arms around me. I noticed in the corner of my eye that Henry had already moved to the stove, stirring one of the pots and eagerly sniffing in the smells. ‘Mmm! This is going to be delicious mom. Any idea when the others will arrive?’ Henry asked, looking at his mom as she joined him at the stove. ‘Not until five [o’clock]. Piers and Charlie are out for a long hike with the wives and kids.. and they only left like..half an hour ago. So plenty of time to get comfortable. Can I get you two something to drink? Eat?’ She put the lid back on the pot that Henry was stirring, gesturing him to sit down. He smiled, kissing his mother on the forehead before moving to one of the bar stools. I also sat down and sighed: ‘A cup of tea, no milk, no sugar, would be..most welcome right now.’

Marianne nodded, a half-smile painted on her lips as she noticed the exhaustion slip through my smiles. She didn’t hesitate a moment to put a kettle on the stove. ‘And you dear?’ She quickly peered at Henry, whom had aimed his gaze at me. I looked from his mom back at him, a silent question in my eyes. ‘You okay dear?’ He brushed a hand over my back, looking at me intently. ‘I’m okay. Really. Just a bit tired. A cup of tea would do me wonders right now.’ I said, offering him a reassuring smile. He nodded, his lips turning in a soft smile before looking back at his mother. ‘Tea would be lovely mum, thanks.’

—

A few hours later the others returned from their hike. Within moments the quiet house was filled with trampling children’s feet, laughter and the rich smell of the hot cocoa I had been making together with Marianne - I had been helping her out in the kitchen.

It was the first time meeting Charlie, Piers and their wives and children, but thankfully this was once again a really relaxed meet-up. The Cavills - or should I say Cavilleers as they called themselves? - truly appeared to be a friendly lot. They acted like I had been part of this family for years already, which was the best and most comforting feeling in the world.

While dinner was being prepared the kids had folded themselves in some blankets in front of the television, the adults busying themselves with setting up the table and sipping on well-earned glasses of hot, spiced wine. This was as Christmassy as one could get, I decided, leaning against one of the kitchen countertops while Marianne instructed the men what should go where.

‘How long have you been cooking them Christmas dinners now?’ I asked as she turned back around to sip on her wine. She shrugged. ‘Forever and a day. I believe I started when I met Colin. And well..now there’s five grown boys and then some.’ She smiled, taking another sip. Piers had wandered back in the kitchen. ‘Anything else?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. ‘Oh no, that’ll be all. I think in 15 minutes we’re ready for the first course.’ Marianne smiled. Piers didn’t waste a moment, turning on his heel and slipping back to the living room where the others were residing.

I felt her grey blue eyes giving me a warm, yet curious look-over. ‘It’s quite different without all those fans around, no?’ She winked, walking back to the stove to stir in the curried leak-potato soup that was slowly heating up. ‘Yes. A whole, whole lot more relaxed. And thank you again for having me for dinner. Truly. Shall I toast the toppings real quick or do you want them fresh?’ I asked, moving to the kitchen island where all garnishes and toppings were neatly splayed out.

‘Oh perhaps that’d be nice. Yes, a quick toast of the almonds would be great. Good thinking.’ She smiled, pointing at a pan I could use. ‘Do you and Henry cook together?’ She asked as I started toasting the almonds, her hand still languidly stirring the soup. ‘As often as we can, though on workdays it’s currently mostly me doing the cooking since he’s home much later.’ I shrugged, tilting the pan with a short tug to skilfully flip the roasting almonds. ‘And for you and Colin?’ ‘Same.’ She shrugged in turn. We both chuckled.

‘You know I’ve never seen him so..openly affectionate with anyone.’ Marianne said, offering a cheeky smile. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks - or was it the hot stove? - and smiled awkwardly. ‘Well I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never known any other Henry.’ Our eyes met again, both amused. ‘Has he always been so chivalrous?…That’s the word right? Chivalrous?’ I asked. ‘Yes, that word totally befits him. Oh goodness. From the moment he could talk he’d say “please” and “thank you”. Obsessing over these fantasy books of his, imagining himself to be Sir Lancelot or the likes. The courteous behaviour kind of stuck from there.’ Marianne crooned, recalling the sweet memory. ‘That’s adorable… And so befitting him.’ I chuckled, removing the almonds from the fire.

‘And I heard he met your parents? What was that like?’ I heard Marianne ask as I scooped the almonds back in a small container. ‘Oh..super awkward. But fun nonetheless. It’s was a bit of a challenge for my parents to speak English and well..let’s say..my mom was not totally ready for his good looks?’

Marianne laughed heartily as she turned away from the stove to give me another look up and down. ‘My dear you are so pretty yourself I hardly believe you never brought home some handsome gent before you met Henry.’ She praised. I shook my head. ‘Only one. And he was good looking, sure. But not..the Henry-kind of good looking. If I had been my mom, I’d TOTALLY have stared as well hahah.’ We shared another knowing look before both bursting out laughing, the hot wine making our cheeks glow.

‘Ladies…’

We quickly straightened our faces, suppressing further chuckles as Henry appeared in the doorway. ‘Are we almost ready for the first course?’ He asked, looking at both our rosy cheeked faces, an amused smile brushing over his lips. We both nodded, wide smiles on our faces as Marianne turned down the hob and took a deep breath to calm her chuckles. ‘Yes dear. Let us eat. Can you call for the others?’ She said, laughter still thick in her pretty brit accent. Henry nodded slowly, not fully wanting to leave now his curiosity had peaked regarding the conversation me and his mom had just had.

“Go” I gestured with my eyes, seeing him hesitate. He peered at us for another moment. ‘Alright then. Keep your secrets, fair ladies.’ He said, winking and striding back towards the living room.

And so started the yearly Cavill Christmas dinner.

—

A half a wine rack of wine bottles later, the kids put to bed and the fireplace cracking, we had settled down for a cozy night.

The others were playing a board game on the kitchen table, while me, Henry and Marianne had made ourselves comfortable near the fireplace. Marianne had sat down on one of the couches, me and Henry on the opposing couch. We spoke a bit about some meddling subjects. Maintenance of the house. Colin’s retirement. The health of some family members. Holiday plans from Marianne and Colin.

I couldn’t help but slowly sink deeper and deeper into Henry’s chest, the fireplace and his heavy arm blanketing me in a soothing warm embrace. Before long my eyes started to droop, my ears no longer registering the conversation as I fell into a most welcome slumber after this long month of almost constant travelling.

—

‘So how are you two doing?’

His mother’s voice sounded through the thick veil of sleep. Were we still in the living room?

Probably, I decided. I could feel the gentle heat from the fireplace near us and hear the distinct sound of fire crackling. I got intrigued by the conversation and couldn’t help myself but remain completely still so they wouldn’t know I was listening, feigning to still be deep asleep, my head now resting on Henry’s lap.

‘Good mom. So good.’ Henry spoke. I could imagine him smiling right now, as his hands were slowly caressing my hair. ‘I didn’t know a relationship could be this ..normal. I feel like a normal person with her and that is more than I could ever have asked for.’ He halted petting my hair as his body slightly shifted, one of his hands untangling from my hair as I heard some soft footsteps on the carpet near us. Probably someone was reaching him a drink, as I now felt his abs press into the back of my head as he bent forward.

‘Thanks,’ He said, relaxing back into the seat, his one hand free hand continuing to caress my hair softly.

‘Oh darling. I can’t be happier. Finally! Goodness..’ His mother’s voice was a bit shivery. ‘Mom..’ Henry said sweetly - probably giving her that sweet, knowing smile. ‘Oh I’m being silly. It’s just..ooph..’ She snouted her nose in something. ‘..It’s just that I was feeling so sad for you. You were trying so hard. And all these girls. They were nice..but not quite right..not for you. You know?’ She spoke, her voice still a touch emotional. ‘I know mom. I was there…believe it or not.’ He sighed.

I could almost feel his eyes look at me, were it not for the fact that I couldn’t actually see as I was pretending to still be asleep. I imagined the way he was looking at me with those silent, ocean blue eyes. Full of admiration and love.

It made me think of a question one of my friends had recently asked; whether I got insecure when being around him - since he was so good looking - and I had simply answered; never because of him. There was not a slither of a doubt in my mind he thought me beautiful, the centre of his love and affection. If anything, he doused me with so much PDA I sometimes came to the point of complete embarrassment (sorry colleagues, sorry friends). 

All the more glad I had been when he had kept it on the down low when his little nieces and nephews had joined around the dinner table, their curious faces quietly deciding whether or not I was “cool”. 

‘And I heard from Sarah that you are taking a bit of a hiatus from work?’ His mom continued. ‘Oh..no, not really a hiatus. More like..getting my schedule to a point that our relationship doesn’t completely revolve around me and my work. We’ve decided to split our schedules. Half the year she follows me around, the other half of the year I follow her around.’ He said. ‘Oh my!..So you are really serious about this. Oh Henry! Sweetheart! I’m so happy for you. This is just so good. OH!’ Her voice quivered again.

‘Is mom being the good ol’ sensitive Sally again?’ Charlie’s voice sounded from the doorway.

‘Oh stop it you.’ Marianne retorted, sniffing her nose again. Henry chuckled softly. ‘It’s fine mom.’ He said sweetly as Charlie’s feet shuffled to the couch Marianne was sitting on. ‘It’s okay mom, we love you all the same.’ Charlie crooned, the couch whiffing as he plopped down next to Marianne. ‘Oh Charlie, don’t tease. And weren’t you playing a game?’ ‘Yea, though I’m..unfortunately..on the losing end, so a few moments respite to come up with some new tactics should be allowed.’ Charlie said. ‘Ah, Piers still kicking your butt?’ Henry chuckled. ‘Not even. It’s the ladies you oughta watch out for.’ Charlie chuckled in turn. I heard Marianne sigh, her breaths becoming more steady now.  

‘Looks like she could use a bed, no?’ Charlie suggested - probably looking at me, sleeping on Henry’s lap. Oh no, don’t. I want to stay! Please! I want to hear what you all have to say. Besides, Henry’s lap is SO comfortable. My mind raced, as I tried to keep a deep slow breathing rhythm. Fake sleep Lisa. Nice and calm. Henry hummed. ‘It’s fine. Just going to finish this drink and then we’ll call it a night. I could definitely use a good snooze as well.’ He sighed. ‘You do look tired my dear. Work’s been busy?’ ‘Yes. Almost constant travel, lots of interviews, cast calls, meetings, you know the drill. I’m glad we have a week off now.’ ‘And so is she, from the looks of it.’ Charlie chuckled.

Marianne huffed. ‘Oh I can remember the days that you didn’t shy away from using napping as the perfect excuse, Charlie dear. Remember? Whenever you had to do a chore, you’d just take a nap instead… I sure do remember.’ She laughed, a tone of mockery in her voice. ‘Mommm.’ Charlie whispered, slightly embarrassed. Henry laughed in turn. ‘Oh..I remember that far too well.’ He said, his hand that had been stroking my hair now halting.

Was he looking at me? I could almost feel his eyes on me.

‘She does look cute when she sleeps.’ Charlie said. Henry hummed in agreement. ‘She looks cute, always.’ ‘Except for when you’re in a fight, right?’ Charlie quipped.

‘Actually..we’ve never had a fight.’ Henry almost sounded surprised himself. ‘We just..communicate really well. Talk about everything on our minds. No secrets.’ Henry said, matter of factly. ‘Ah, so you two already talked about..big future plans?’ Charlie got more curious and I could hear Marianne gasp softly. My heart fluttered. Henry however, remained quiet for a moment as his hand moved to softly brush my cheek. ‘Perhaps that’s the one thing we really should start discussing. I mean. Sure we had some chats. We both want kids, perhaps another dog, and at some point a house with a nice garden so she can make a vegetable garden. And..marriage…of course. But..we haven’t really discussed when…’ His voice trailed off as he shifted a bit.

‘Ohh I know that look brother.’ Charlie squealed in excitement. Gosh. I missed something. Had he given them a certain look? A wink? Had he showed them something? ‘Anyways. I don’t want to rush it either. I know she doesn’t want it to be rushed. So we’re just gonna take these steps one at a time.’ He said, soon after taking a last swig of his drink and moving his body to probably place the cup on the sidetable. ‘And now..’ His hand brushed my hair back again. ‘We’re going to bid you good night.’

‘Good night Henners.’ Charlie said and his mother also cued in: ‘Oh do I need to help? Or can I get you anything?’ She said, her mom-mode activated again. Henry chuckled as his large arms easily scooped me up, lifting me off the couch. ‘Mom, it’s fine, please. I’ll see you all in the morning. Good night.’  

I felt the heat of the fire fall away as Henry moved us through the cool hallway. I involuntarily shivered, leaning harder into Henry’s chest. He hummed softly, pulling me slightly closer. ‘I know you’re awake.’ He whispered. I groaned softly, peaking open one eye to look up at him. Dammit. How did he even know? He chuckled softly, seeing me sneakily peering at him, his legs now walking us up the stairs. ‘How’d you know?’ I croaked. ‘I’ve seen and felt you sleep next to me a hundred times. I KNOW when you are asleep.’ ‘Sorry,’ I said softly. He hummed again, moving us around the corner of the hallway to walk to the bedroom at the end. ‘Don’t be. It was..kind of fun. Besides. Mom and Charlie definitely didn’t know.’ He spoke as he got to the door. ‘Now..if you could..help me out a bit.’ He whispered, glancing at the door knob. I giggled and quickly turned it so the door fell open.

Usually I would have protested him for carrying me to bed. But honestly..this time I didn’t mind at all. I felt so tired I doubt I could have moved up those stairs without my eyelids closing again - they were closed again now - and it was so very sweet how Henry carefully laid me down onto the bed. I sighed and felt the heavy weight of sleep crawl over me, not even noticing how Henry started to unbutton my pants. The lights went out after what had probably been one of my most relaxing Christmases ever.

--

Part 15 > 

[scandeniall]

dive deep //ch.4

pairing: akaashi keiji x reader 

Chapter 4: writing blues  | prev | next | masterlist

wc: 1436

The days came and went as per usual. Try to write, trash said writing, a glass of wine, eat, sleep, repeat. This had been the writer’s life since the start of the project, and at this point the days seemed to all blur together. The only disruption to the writer's poorly designed schedule were the occasional intrusions of her friends. Kenma had dropped off food on more than one occasion, not even surprised when he’d come by to see her in bed. The awkwardness surrounding the writer and Kuroo dissipated shortly after he had dropped her off. An apologetic text from both adults brought them back to normal and he resumed his presence in her life. 

The ending of the week neared, and so did another meeting with the newly found editor. A meeting in which no progress on the manuscript had been made. Monday had been spent uninspired and in bed. The writer had no desire to write, and promised to get to work tomorrow. Tuesday, the writer managed to get out of bed, set up her desk to write and nothing. Instead, she found herself rereading earlier chapters and criticizing every character. One character’s description was off, and she hated the name of another. Then the dialogue felt forced at one part. The critiquing prompted another headache, causing the writer to head back to bed.  

Wednesday came with a text from Akaashi, confirming that they were all set to meet on Friday. That sparked the slightest bit of urgency as the writer attempted to crank out something. Something is better than nothing, is what she told herself. But it's useless if it's no good also plagued the back of her mind as she eyed the handwritten words and began to transfer them onto her laptop. A few paragraphs here and a few paragraphs there, until she forced out her second chapter for the day. Two chapters to make up for zero progress in almost a month. It felt fair enough. As she continued transferring the newest rushed words, the clock at the bottom of the screen read 2am. The sun had long gone down, and the world had long settled. Everyone except for her. It was almost sickening at how long it took her to come up with the newest words. 

Thursday became another useless and unproductive day. The early hours were spent in bed, a possible side effect of having stayed until nearly sunrise. She attempted and failed to push out a third chapter, but the words just weren’t coming. However the writer welcomed the presence of Kuroo who’d stopped by in the early evening. This time the man had forced the two of them on a walk. “Seeing the sunset might inspire you.” He claimed following her out of the apartment. “I wish the sun was all it took for me to finish this book.” 

“Well then you could use some vitamin D. Cheer up would you,” The pat he placed on the woman’s head caused her to recoil in annoyance, telling him he didn’t have to pet her like a dog. The two settled into a leisurely pace as soon as they hit the sidewalk. “How’s work been. I feel like we haven’t talked about you lately.” The writer prompted the conversation this time.”That's because you’ve been worse than usual,” Kuroo shrugged. “Clinicals are kicking my ass, but it's fun. Neurology, is pretty cool, but brains are fucking gross” The writer laughed as her friend slightly gagged at the memory. “I can’t believe you're actually going to become a doctor. Promise to take care of me when this agency fries my brain.”

“I think you're a little too old for pediatrics.” (Y/N) could only respond that it was a pity. The two continued the walk in silence only breaking on ocassion to point out an animal they’d seen along the way, or maybe a funny looking cloud. As the writer kicked a pebble along the pavement she felt at ease. Sure the feeling was temporary but her friend always seemed to know what she needed. “Hey, you're meeting with Akaashi this weekend right?”

The writer nodded as her friend took a quick glance at her. “Yeah, tomorrow. I’ve been trying to write all week.” The words came out bitterly, an indication of the failure she’d rather not voice aloud. A weight around (Y/N)’s shoulder caused her to shift her focus towards her taller friend. The male only returned a slight smile. “Come on.” With that the two of them were off their path. The walk had been longer than the writer bargained for as they strayed off their initial path. However, she couldnt find it in her to be upset as the two neared a place she hadn’t been in so long. 

“Kuroo, what are we doing here.” The writer followed her friend’s motion as they settled onto a giant rock. “Figured you needed some peace of mind. Remember how much we used to come here after classes. Me, you and Kenma. Catching the sunset and just being happy.” Kuroo breathed out. The place in question had been a relatively secluded part of a lesser known park in the area. Two giant rocks, slightly hidden in the trees. However, beyond overseeing a beautiful lake. One where birds would come to play, and they’d watch the way the ripples in the water cause the trees' fallen flowers to just float. It had the perfect view of the sunset. During their university days, the three found themselves there to regroup, and hide away from the rest of the world and their responsibilities. The writer hadn’t been there in months, partly due to the snow that had covered the winter group, partly due to her own lack of action. 

“Stop that. We can't both be emotional disasters.” The words were accompanied with a smile, and a silent thanks towards the man.

----

“Hey.” Another person’s presence setting in front of her caused the writer to jump in surprise. She quickly moved the sheet of paper she’d been scribbling across to the bottom of the stack, offering a curt hello at the editor as she removed her earbuds. The sound to the paper knocking against the table as she straightened the stack blended into the background of the coffee shop’s noise. “How long have you been here?” 

The writer only shrugged, taking a glance at the wall clock past Akaashi. “Maybe like an hour. I felt like writing,” she spoke politely. She noticed Akaashi start fiddling with the bag on his shoulder taking out his own belongings. She couldn’t help but watch him in curiosity. “So you know Bokuto too huh?” The words came as she noticed a singular sticker on his laptop case. The mascot of the MSBY Black Jackals. Akaashi offered her a kind smile before nodding. “I take it you’ve met him too?”

“Yeah, a few times back when I was in university. He came down to visit Kuroo.” The editor nodded in understanding. Of course you knew Bokuto through Kuroo. “We played on the same team in high school. It’s how I know Kuroo and Kenma too.”  He responded after (Y/N) asked about his association.

“So I read what you had so far,” the man started before pausing. “Well, it just seems different from what you’ve written in the past.” The words caught her off guard, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes only for a moment. “I’m just trying something new. That’s all.” The words came calmly however the editor knew better. He easily caught the quick reaction change. Something seemed off, however it isn’t his place to pry. At least not yet. The writer and editor relationship is a delicate one of trust, and as of now he didn’t know his writer at all. 

Akaashi could only reassure her that the words weren’t bad, just not what he had been used to reading from the writer. “I’ve made some edits, however it seemed like someone had gone over it before.” The words were laced with confusion. Akaashi remembers when he’d gotten the files and how from an editorial standpoint, the work thus far was near perfect. If this writer was so good on her own, he wondered where he’d even fit in.

“I had another editor before you. Well a few of them for this project. Things didn’t quite work out.” The editor ignored the ice lacing her words as his own posture stiffened. If this writer had gone through multiple editors for a single project, just how hard is she to work with.

a/n: mwah im back after taking the past 3 weeks off from fics (but in my defense in between everything going on and needing that break and how i wrote 8 fic chapters in literally 1 week. i deserved. Just a reminder that my intention is for this to be slowburn so um yeah.

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