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ifyouvegotthemoneyhoney · 4 years

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Sunset Love, ch. 7: Not a glance

AN: It's been a while... the weather is shit today and I'm grumpy!! Thanks for coming back -- or coming for the first time. I try to make the parts work on their own as well as being part of a longer story. Hope you like this one. xx

The chick with the low-cut top standing at the side of the dance floor had been looking up at him since the start of their set. It was quite clear from her expression what was on her mind. In between his riffs and solos, Slash was keeping an eye on her from behind his hair on stage.

It was 9 P.M. on a Tuesday night and the Whisky was almost empty. The night hadn't even really started yet. But this was what you did when you were an unknown band - you started at the bottom of the bill, early in the week.

To give him his due, Axl wasn't letting the sparse audience affect his performance. He was giving it his all, as he always did: shirt thrown aside, sweat gleaming in the stage lights, the muscles in his back tightening and relaxing along with his voice.

Slash had given up pretending to himself that he wasn't watching Axl every chance he got to do so unobserved. On stage - behind his guitar and his hair, the other guys absorbed in their playing - was the perfect place. That writhing, snake-like body, ink standing out against the whiteness of the skin, the black leather pants slung low around the hips, barely clinging on...

Axl rang out the closing notes of their new song, 'Don't Cry', and let them reverberate around the room. A few hesitant hand claps echoed around the walls and their set was over.

The girl was still there. They made eye contact again and Slash felt a rush to his groin. Relief flowed through him. He was still straight. Whatever was going on with Axl didn't make him a fag. He cocked his head towards the restroom door beside the stage and the girl gave a brief nod.

***

He buried his face in the girl's breasts and pulled her hips closer to his. She anchored her arms behind his neck and wrapped both her legs around his waist. The flimsy partitions in the Whisky toilets rattled as he began banging himself into her, pushing her against the wall to keep her up. It was skeezy but that was OK; he was into it and she certainly was too, thrusting her pelvis energetically against him and digging her nails into the skin on his back. He dragged his lips across her chest from one tit to the other, relishing the yielding softness, so different from...

He pulled his head up suddenly.

"What the fuck?" the girl gasped, her face in his shoulder. "Don't stop!"

Had he stopped? He resumed his frantic banging into her but was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. He'd been comparing this to ... how he felt doing the same thing with Axl. Jesus.

He squeezed his eyes tight and thank fucking Christ, he was about to come now... he exploded into her, clutching her buttocks tight to keep her in position. He kept thrusting til he was spent.

"Thanks, honey," he muttered, panting, as he let her down and hoisted his pants up. The girl grabbed some tissue and cleaned inside her thighs, looking none too happy.

"Yeah, really fucking great," she said, glaring. "What was that - like, twenty seconds?"

"Fuck you," he retorted, though he flushed inwardly. He knew he'd been selfish; he'd taken what he wanted from her and he just wanted to get out of there.

"Fuck YOU, asshole," she shouted and slammed the stall door behind her.

***

The next band was slamming out their first chords as he slunk out of the bathroom. More people were wandering in; cigarette smoke billowed, people's hands hung out over the balcony upstairs, some girls clustered against the front of the stage. Slash made out Duff, Izzy and Axl leaning against the bar at the other side of the room with their buddies West and Del, knocking back bottles of beer.

"Ah, here's the dirty dog," said Duff, grinning, holding out an arm as Slash approached. "Taking care of business, eh?"

They had all seen him disappear into the bathroom after the girl. The group chuckled indulgently, admiringly even.

Slash shrugged and flicked his eyes discreetly to Axl, as had become his habit. Axl was standing a little apart from the group, studying the band on stage intently. Slash mouthed 'Jack and coke' to the barman and checked back again. Yep, Axl was still acting like he wasn't there.

Slash sucked down his drink hungrily and signalled to the barman for another. He nodded along as Steven enthused to him about something, but he wasn't listening. Minutes passed and Axl's back remained firmly towards him.

Slash frowned in confusion. Sure, Axl was moody, and unexplained silences were a thing with him. This was one of those episodes, right? It couldn't be ... the girl, could it? Getting as much pussy as possible was one of their core aims as a band. Surely there was no way Axl was ... jealous?

At some point later, after several more drinks, Izzy flung his arm around Axl's shoulders, dragged him back to the group and forced him to clink bottles.

"Our position at the bottom of the bill continues uncontested!" exclaimed Izzy, lifting his drink into the air mock-heroically.

"How many was that tonight, four people?" mused Duff. "Two of them were our friends who we bribed with free beer -" he gestured to Del and West, who raised their drinks graciously - "One was that strung-out guy by the door who clearly hadn't a fucking clue where he was, and the other was that girl who just came to fuck Slash."

Axl looked away sharply, examining the ceiling. Everyone else was too drunk to notice, or care. But Slash knew now. It was the fucking girl.

"Better than our first gig," said Steve. "The Troubadour, before Seattle? Two people - the bar manager and that random guy who said he thought we were gonna be some other band?"

"Your fan base is growing, then," declared Del. "I call that progress." More cheering and clinking bottles.

Slash wanted to leave, wanted to get Axl on his own and demand to know what the fuck was going on, but the guys were in roaring form and the drinks were coming thick and fast. It was easier to just stay.

The headlining band came on, the club had filled to capacity, bodies packed in, the music and noise deafening - and their collective cash had dried up.

"Back to the Sunset and Gardner Hotel and Villas!" roared Steve, throwing his arm around Slash's neck. Slash had loosened up a bit. The knots in his shoulders were relaxing and he could talk more. Thank fuck for that. He didn't care as much about things with plenty of alcohol on board. He headed for the door with the rest of them, not casting a glance at Axl.

***

AN: It took a while to get this part right. I really want to hear what you think of it - it's harder to write tension than the lovey-dovey stuff :) Please leave me a comment.

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thatesqcrush · 5 years

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Long Way Home, Ch. 4

Rafael x Reader. AU; SVU x Good Wife. Set post s5 Good Wife, Dramatics Your Honor. References: s3, e.21 of TGW, with some dialogue borrowed from the episode itself. CW: continued angst, pregnancy talk.

***

Rafael entered his apartment with a heavy sigh of exhaustion. He tossed his leather briefcase to the side, and slipped off his suit jacket.

He slipped off his suspenders and undid his tie. Walking over to his bar cart, he poured himself a glass of scotch. He let the alcohol swirl around in his mouth before swallowing. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cellphone. He swore he wouldn’t do it, but curiosity’s got the better of him, and he looked up Will Gardner.

Hot Shot Lawyer Gunned Down in Court

Chicago Prominent Attorney Murdered

Attorney Shot and Killed, The Suspect Is a Longtime Client

Killer Jeffrey Grant Sentenced in Lawyer Death

The Downfall of the Gardners

The last headline caught Rafael’s eye the most and he clicked on it. Splashed on the screen was a picture of you, smiling, looking up at Will, a glass of wine in your hand.

Whomever wrote the article did a shoddy job, just gleaning highlights of your career, painting you as more of someone riding Will’s coattails. “Hmph,” Rafael huffed, knowing how impressive your resume was.

Rafael enjoyed working with you. You were clever, smart, and when you did let your guard down, he thought you had the most beautiful laugh.

The last time Rafael let anyone get close to him, it was Yelina and she shattered his heart. Rafael threw himself into his work instead. He thought back of that day where he met you in the park with Noah. You were stunning and had him completely enchanted.

But Rafael couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t just ethics. Grief, he knew, after his father’s death, was a beast. Rafael wasn’t sure how he would even approach you, even if he would allow himself. More so, he wanted to be respectful; you hadn’t even told him about Will.

Exhausted, Rafael made his way to his bedroom. Stripping down to his boxers, he turned down the sheets and climbed into bed. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, Rafael sat up, kicked off the sheets and reached into his boxers, seeking relief. Release came quickly, with your name on Rafael’s lips.

****

You groaned as you emptied the contents of your stomach once more. Beads of sweat rolled down your face as you reached for some toilet paper to wipe your mouth. You shivered as your sweaty skin touched the cold tile wall. Blowing your nose, you eyed the box of tampons that sat on the top of the toilet tank. You did some quick math in your head, and realized you couldn’t remember when you last had your period.

Panic began to form and before you could even fathom the possibility of pregnancy, your stomach recoiled again and you began to heave into the toilet once more.

The retching eventually stopped. You splashed cold water on your face and rinsed your mouth to get the awful taste out of your mouth.

Exhausted, you made a mental note to pick up a pregnancy test on the way home fromt the office before climbing back into bed.

****

Later that morning, you sat in your office, going through the copies of the evidence. A knock on the door stirred you. Pushing a strand from your face, you smiled at the handsome ADA leaning against the doorway, holding two large cups of coffee.

“How’s it going?” Rafael questioned, offering you a coffee.

Taking the coffee, you nodded with a bit of a shrug. “Okay; I think I found some stuff that may help us.” You took a sip of the coffee and frowned at your stomach lurching again. It didn’t slip past Rafael.

“You okay?” Rafael asked, before taking another sip of coffee.

“Yeah, I think I am just coming down with something,” you lied. “Thanks for the coffee.” You turned the papers in front of you towards Rafael. “There were these four receipts; four purchases, all on Terri Rooney's credit card the day after her death. And, more importantly, the day after Patrick Rooney was in custody.”

“Meaning Patrick Rooney wasn’t the killer,” Rafael murmured. “So where were these during the trial?”

“I don’t know,” you replied grimacing while taking another sip of coffee. “I want to talk with Judge Cuesta’s lead investigator at the time. Maybe his co-counsel at the time too. Because Cuesta should have been privy to this; I am sure he carried a huge caseload and even if he was overwhelmed, he would have had to at least pharm this out to his co-counsel.”

“So it’s either on Cuesta, which gets him removed for prosecutorial blindness, or on his co-counsel, which gets Cuesta off,” Rafael replied, now standing, heading to leave. “Good job, keep me posted. I’ve got court in an hour.”

Rafael winked at you as he left and you felt yourself blush. From the time you met him, you felt comfortable in his presence. He had a sharp tongue and a dry wit about him that reminded you of your former husband. You found yourself eyeing Rafael’s frame, focusing on his backside. Shaking your head back into reality, you reminded yourself to focus on the case at hand, and to pick up that pregnancy test.

***

Later that afternoon, you headed out from One Hogan Place, and made your way down the subway. It wasn’t long before you made your way to your destination. You looked at the paper in your hand; the address was correct. You entered the small wine shop, cautiously. “Hello? I am looking for Mara Stokes.”

“Can I help you?” asked an older woman with blonde hair. She ran her hands over her apron and smiled before squinting and looking at you more inquisitively. “You prosecution or defense?”

“I'm sorry?” You replied, a bit taken aback at her line of questioning.

“When I heard that Cuesta's head was on the chopping block, I figured one of you would come look his investigator up,” Mara replied.

“Then maybe you could help me,” you replied, shoving your hands in your back pockets. “Did Cuesta bend the rules to get a conviction on Patrick Rooney?”

Mara sighed. “Maybe. Cuesta fancied himself a true public servant.”

You nodded, frowning. “How was his co-counsel?”

“John Bullock?” Mara questioned rhetorically. “Nice guy, smart as a whip; I think he became a judge too after Cuesta. Both were gonna nail Patrick Rooney, come hell or high water.”

“Thanks, that helps,” you replied handing Mara your business card. “Here’s my card if you think of anything else.”

Mara nodded, before turning away. Taking out your phone, you called Rafael.

****

That evening you were in Rafael’s office going through your meeting with Mara.

“I think Cuesta, Bullock - they all had prosecutorial blinders on. They needed to pad their wins so that they could eventually get on the bench.”

Rafael nodded, running his hands through his hair. “Assholes,” he swore, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Patrick Rooney did nothing wrong and he spent twenty years in prison for it. He had his wife snatched from him and then he was accused of her murder. All so these two could get secure their careers,” he seethed.

Rafael was so angry, you could hear his voice shake. “Yeah,” you replied quietly. “What are we going to do?”

“They nailed Rooney; so we are going to nail them right back,” Rafael replied. “I want to bring them both in, but separately. They’ll have their lawyers.”

You nodded, taking down notes.

Rafael looked over at you, your head was lowered and you were scribbling furiously. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Amanda told me.”

You stopped and looked up. “About what?” you questioned but you knew that Rafael knew.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rafael replied. “I can’t imagine...” he began but you cut him off.

“That’s right,” you began, your face getting hot. “You don’t know, so please, save me your pity.”

“I...,” Rafael began softly, sitting on the corner of his desk. He leaned over and reached out to clasp your hand. You felt a bit of a jolt of Rafael’s hand touching yours and you stared deeply into his green eyes. “I just wish...”

You felt a pang of loneliness. You were pretty sure it was evident on your face. As you stood, Rafael’s hand never left yours. Instead, he tugged you close to him. Your bodies were millimeters apart. Rafael brushed the strand of hair that had fallen across your face again, pushing it out of the way.

Studying Rafael closely, you could see their was some pain behind his eyes. “Wish what?” You asked quietly, your eyes now focused on his lips. You swallowed hard.

Rather than answer you, Rafael closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. Throwing caution to the wind, you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss grew with intensity and you both made way to his couch.

That pregnancy test would have to wait.

#rafael barba and reader #barba and reader #rafael barba fanfic #svu x the good wife #svu goodwife crossover #svu x goodwife #goodwife au #svu au #my fics #my writing

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adventures-at-scotts-nursery · 5 years

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Ch. 1 The First Meeting

Tuesdays were inherently boring. Sure, they were one of the few days Isaac had off work, but there never seemed to be anything to do other than chores or errands. So, with nothing better to do, Isaac found himself at the bank staring at the ass of the guy in front of him.

Sure, he wasn't specifically there to ogle a stranger's physique - he had a deposit to make- but Isaac was not about to deny himself the pleasures derived from a strong back and thick thighs. And from the short glimpses Isaac got of the man's face, the stranger ahead of him was all around quite easy on the eyes. Well... if one liked a scruffy five o' clock shadow and a jaw chiseled out of granite. Isaac was certainly a fan.

For a couple moments Isaac entertained the idea of striking up a conversation. Of bumping into him and claiming it was a silly accident. Very simple, perhaps juvenile ideas, but they worked often enough in the movies that it was at least worth a shot. Simple fantasies where he'd get the guy's number and they'd perhaps go get a coffee. Did the stranger like coffee? Maybe he took his coffee black.

From what Isaac could overhear from the counter, the man had a soft voice, a gentle murmur on the deeper end of the spectrum. Just enough to send little shivers down Isaac's spine. He wasn't eavesdropping. That wasn't Isaac's intent. Not that it was really possible as the words faded into unrecognizable sounds about four feet behind him where the bank line started. But not hearing exactly what was being said allowed Isaac the freedom to imagine that voice saying just about anything.

"Next." The teller's voice broke off Isaac's fantasies and the stranger, tragically, disappeared out the front door. Oh well, nothing can last forever; and Isaac was content with the couple of minutes he had. "How can I help you today?"

The teller was pretty enough in her own right, hair pulled into a professional bun and make up so soft and flawless it made it difficult to accurately guess her age. And there was a cheer behind that professional smile of hers. Still, Isaac would have rather been back in line looking at the stranger.

"Hi, yes, I have a check to deposit," Isaac said, returning her smile as he slid the check across the counter.

"It seems rather quiet in here today."

"It is a Tuesday," the woman replied. "If you can swipe your card, I can find your account faster."

Isaac obeyed without thinking; quickly swiping his card then shoving it back in his wallet. It was a comfortable routine, one that didn't need thinking. Which was good, because right next to the card reader was a set of keys. The teller probably hadn't noticed them; the machine was in the way. There hadn't been anyone else in the bank except for Isaac and the stranger.

He swiped the keys. His patience held out just long enough to politely answer all the woman's questions and accept the receipt. Then he was out the door; keys gripped tightly in his hand.

As expected, the stranger was nowhere in sight. Not that Isaac needed to see someone to be able to track them. The keys held a strong enough scent beyond their natural metal tang; a rich smell of wet earth and an overtone of Old Spice.

"Gotcha," Isaac grinned, before he broke off down the street at a trot.

————————————————————

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Scott growled as he checked his pockets for the second, third, and fourth time. Eventually he had to admit that his keys were gone. The "Be Back Soon" sign in the storefront window stared mockingly at him. He had intended to be gone for two hours over lunch; had intended to open his shop back up at 2:30. But now? Now he just wanted to go home and tuck into left over pizza and whatever beer he still had left in the fridge.

Except his home was above his store. For which he still was missing the keys. Scott dragged a hand through his hair, attempting to think rationally through things. He had gone to a new café four blocks over; then he stopped by the bank, which was halfway between his shop and the café.

To say Scott was stressed was an understatement. Ever since opening his shop six months ago it seemed like everything possible that could go wrong had done just that. In the first month there was the pipe burst that molded all of his seeds and half of his plants. Then the HOA had started harassing him shortly after that; first because the new paint he had chosen for the store front was "unsightly" then because his own personal garden was "not supposed to be visible to the public; despite the fact that the fence that came with the property was made of decorative wrought iron. Then when he hired a guy to change the fence out with a solid stone wall, they bitched about how it was against the aesthetic of the area. Susan, the HOA president and Scott's eternal menace, nearly burst an artery when she noticed the ivy growing on the wall. But the HOA was merely a nuisance compared to the bank.

For three weeks now Scott had been receiving notices about how he was falling behind on his payments. It was hard to make any money when he barely had any customers. Sure there were a few old ladies who liked to peruse his shop and were actually very lovely. But they weren't enough to keep his business afloat. It was almost enough to make him want to quit.

But it had taken Scott four years to save up the money for this shop. And he would be damned if he was going to give up on his dream so quickly. Steeling himself for what was likely to be a long search, Scott turned --

"Excuse me! Are these keys yours?!"

Startled, Scott turned to face the man who was running up the street; a pair of keys held out in front of him. Relief flooded him as he recognized the green lizard charm, a good luck present from his mother.

"Oh, thank --" Black bangs; soft cheeks. The man was mesmerizing. His chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, exerted but not worn out. Light blue tank top against dark oak skin; eyes the color of hawthorn berries. "-- you."

"I'm glad I was able to catch you, you were practically out of sight when I noticed you left these," the younger man said with the brightest smile Scott ever witnessed. A soft tongue licked orchid tinted lips. A hand scratched at his neck, drawing Scott’s eyes to toned arms.

"Yeah..." He was staring. He needed to stop staring! "So..." It was too hot; between the kind man and the sun, Scott couldn't quite think properly. The stranger seemed to have worked up a sweat chasing him down. "Would you like to come inside? I could get you a glass of water, or a beer if you like?" Scott asked, then quickly added, "as thanks for bringing me my keys back. You know, only if you want."

"You know, I think I'd like that," the stranger said; his smile growing even brighter. Scott fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them as he unlocked the store. He needed to get away from that smile, if only for a moment, otherwise it was going to be impossible to think.

"Is this your shop?" the man asked, walking down the aisle after Scott. He took his time, looking about the plants and tools that filled the wall and shelves and hip high counters; his fingers tracing the leaves and vines that he passed. "That's really awesome. I've never met anyone with a shop before. Huh, Scott's Nursery. So your name's Scott then?"

In that moment, all of the pain and struggles of the last six months had been worth it. Pride swelled in his chest as he saw the admiration in that one man's eyes. And without thinking, unable to control himself, he held out his hand. "That's right, Scott Gardner, at your service. Owner of Scott’s Nursery."

"Isaac Wolfe." His grip was firm, and somehow Scott felt as if they were agreeing to something; though he wasn't certain what.

"If you have any questions about any sort of plant, I'm your man. But, I promised you a drink, didn't I?" Scott said. He lifted the half counter and waved for Isaac to follow him down a small corridor to the back. The break room was rather small, but it had a table with three chairs and a small little kitchenette. Isaac quickly made himself at home, practically lounging in his chosen seat.

"Would you rather have a beer or some water?" Scott asked as he bent over the mini fridge.

"I think I could go for a tall glass of water," Isaac said. Scott paused, Isaac's smile was perfectly innocent, but there was definitely some heat behind it. So Scott shifted on his feet as he grabbed a couple of water bottles, intentionally shifting his hips. And as he turned, he noticed Isaac's eyes linger on his ass. That made him grin.

To hell with opening his shop back up. For as long as Isaac was willing to stay, Scott was going to stay right there with him. And when that decision lead to ordering take out and eventually into the bed? Well, sometimes that's just how things are meant to happen.

Next Chapter>>

#The first encounter #Scott Gardner #Isaac Wolfe #chapter

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luckyspike · 5 years

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Adventures in America, Ch. 6 - In which Adam learns about the formation of shelf clouds (literally, this is not a metaphor)

and this chapter took so long because in order for adam to learn about the formation of shelf clouds i had to learn about the formation of shelf clouds

thank you to wikipedia, and the 5 hours of meteorology youtube videos i watched, as well as the many, many hours of storm chasers i watched

reminder that this fic is not on AO3 yet bc tbh i want to finish it first but here’s the link to the other chapters

or follow this link to my fanfiction tag

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

Four-thirty in the morning, and it was still dark. Generally, Adam wasn’t a fan of getting up before the sun, but generally, Adam was not hunting tornadoes. He rolled out of bed the minute the alarm went off, silenced it, and moved to turn on the light. Lucky beat him to it.

“You ready?” the other boy asked, dark eyes bright and eager. “You ready to go?”

“Absolutely.”

They threw on clothes - whatever they could find - and stuffed the few things they’d actually unpacked back into their bags. Adam paused only to send a text to his friends - ‘Day 1, here we go!’ - before he and the other student walked quickly into the parking lot, their excitement poorly-disguised. They arrived at the truck and stopped. It was dark. Rachael and Noel were absent. Lucky frowned, and looked at his phone.

“Oh. We’re early.” He dropped his bag to the ground, and sat on the asphalt next to it. “Oh well, better early than late.”

“Sure,” Adam agreed, leaning back against the truck and wondering if maybe the extra 15 minutes of sleep might have been worth it. He sighed and looked around. In Tadfield, the streets would have been empty at this hour. But in Austin, by the airport, cars came and went. At a lower volume, certainly, than they might in a few hours, but still, the road was not deserted by any stretch of the imagination. He wondered, distantly, where all those people might be going.

“Hey, Adam.” Lucky held up his phone. “You wanna do a snap?”

“Oh, selfie? Yeah, sure.” He crouched down next to the other boy, Lucky beaming through his beard and Adam holding up a peace sign while his blonde hair spilled over his face and shoulders. It probably would have been a good picture, had it not been so dark that the only discernible thing was two dark shadows crouched in front of a slightly reddish shadow that may have, with better lighting, looked like a truck. Undeterred, Lucky nodded approvingly and captioned it ‘day 1 fuckers!’ before sending it off, presumably to a group of friends.

“I should probably take another one for my parents and stuff, too.” This was done as a selfie only, Adam standing back up to look to the east instead, watching the sky turn purple with dawn. Although Adam didn’t like to look over anybody’s shoulder, he did note that the caption on the second photo was a tamer ‘Bright and early for storm chasing day 1!’. He smiled.

“Your parents are cool with this, huh?”

“Eh.” Lucky shrugged. “My dad is. He’s like super stereotypical masculine dude - his only concern was that I didn’t plan on taking a gun with me.” He rolled his eyes, while Adam tried not to look too shocked. Well, that was America for you. “My mom was kind of worried, but like, we always watched those storm chaser shows when I was a kid, so I think she’s excited too. She told me to send a ton of pictures.” He looked up, over his shoulder, to Adam. “Yours?”

Adam shrugged a shoulder. “They felt like it was a good opportunity, they just felt it was maybe more dangerous than needed but … eh.” He laughed. “I was more worried about my godfathers trying to stop me, but they just let me go.” He frowned. “Which is kind of weird, actually, ‘cause they seemed really worried at first, but I did tell them it was really not that dangerous, so I guess they believed me.”

Lucky was watching him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t have any godparents. Well, I mean, not that I’ve stayed in touch with. I think my parents picked some of their friends or something. But you know yours?” He thought about it. “Was your family really religious or something?” And then he winced. “Yikes, actually, that’s really personal. Sorry, don’t feel obligated.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I mean … kind of.” He snorted. “It’s weird, but I guess we’re kind of religious in a way. They taught me a lot about religion, anyway, but like, I dunno.” He shook his head. “I was heading for trouble when I was younger, and that’s sort of when they started hanging around more, I think at first to help me? But now they’re just kind of cool weird uncles.”

Lucky nodded appreciatively. “Nice.” He picked up a stone from the parking lot and chucked it, idle and bored. “I learned most of my religion from, uh, well, we had a nanny and a gardner until I was like, eight, and it was mostly them.” He laughed. “So weird, honestly - the gardner was like, a monk, I swear to God, and my nanny was actually like, a literal Satanist, like pentagrams and the whole thing, but they ended up getting married after they retired together.” Adam frowned. That was … odd. “Nanny used to like, tell me to destroy all lesser humans and stuff, and then she’d hand me off to the gardner for a few hours and he’d be like all into love of all living things or whatever.” Oh, she. Adam relaxed. A little.

Very strange.

“Up and at ‘em, eh, boys?” Noel’s voice rang across the parking lot, loud and clear even over the steadily-increasing airport traffic. “Excited for the first day?”

Adam nodded and Lucky said, “Yeah!” Rachael, tagging behind, laden with camera bags and an oversize travel mug, offered up a weak and drowsy smile. “Lots of driving on the agenda today, guys. Hopefully will get us into position to see some stuff this afternoon. But first -” she wagged the mug in the air, “we need to find a Dunkin.”

Lucky made a face. “You’re a Dunkin devotee?”

“What’s your brand?” She was packing her things into the bed of the truck, and Adam and Lucky followed suit. “Please don’t say Starbucks.”

“... Well.”

She sighed and laid her hand on his shoulder. “So I have to teach you more than just storm chasing this trip, I guess. It will be my cross to bear.” The truck started up, and Rachael brandished her mug like a sleepy knight charging into battle. “To Dunkin.” She trod around to the front passenger seat, and Lucky laughed, shutting the bed cover and heading to his seat.

Adam waited until they were in the truck and on the road before he asked, “What’s Dunkin?” He thought it over, trying to remember where he’d seen the name before. Online, certainly, but in relation to … what?

“Oh.” Rachael was watching him in the rearview mirror. “Oh, Adam. Oh, you sweet, summer child.” She turned around, slinging her arm across Noel’s shoulders. “Do you drink coffee? Or tea?”

“Both.” He considered it. “Coffee’s nice in the morning.”

“Dunkin Donuts has the best coffee in the world. Hands down, best.”

“Sometimes they burn it,” Noel said, already flinching away from the playful slap she aimed at his shoulder. “I said sometimes! Not every time!”

“Never. They never do.” She looked to her phone, where a GPS was chirping out directions to the nearest Dunkin. “I will convince you boys by the end of this session that Dunkin coffee is superior to any other coffee, and not to be unappreciated.” She sighed. “It is better than Starbucks, mark my words.” Lucky hummed, uncertain. “What’s your preferred brand, Adam?”

He thought about it. “Uh, well. I dunno. Costa is what we have in town, and that’s pretty good, but I don’t think there’s any of them over here. Starbucks is okay, I guess, in a pinch, but my godfather makes the best coffee.” He shrugged. “He’s super into it.”

Rachael nodded. “Oh, well, obviously home-brew rigs are going to beat out chain places every time.”

“She does make an amazing cup of coffee,” Noel agreed.

“But no, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Costa.” Rachael looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to try it some day. I’ve always wanted to visit the UK, so I’ll put it on my list of things to do for that trip!”

Adam laughed. “There are definitely better things to do in England than go to Costa. If you’re serious about going, I can give you a list of stuff if you’d like.”

Noel turned into a parking lot, and Rachael yawned. “Ah, sorry. Yes, I’m definitely going to take you up on that. But first, coffee. You alright taking the first leg driving, Noel?”

“As always!” He hopped out and waited for the rest of the party to join. “The donuts are also fairly good here, so if you guys want breakfast this will probably be our stop. They have sandwiches an’ all that, too.”

“I do like their hashbrowns,” Lucky added, half a step behind Adam, hands in his pockets. “You have to have a donut though, Adam. Just to try one. It’s like … I mean, America runs on Dunkin.” He laughed. “Or at least that’s what their commercials say.”

Ultimately, Adam selected a donut for breakfast, as well as a cup of coffee. He debated getting the hashbrowns as well, but on reflection it seemed likely that this would not be his only opportunity to eat at Dunkin, and he decided to save it for another day. Rachael paid for him - “The first hit is free,” she said solemnly - and they took their leave.

The coffee was pretty good, Adam thought, sipping at it on the way back to the truck. Maybe a little too sweet. But good. Wouldn’t be the worst thing to drink for the next six weeks, anyway. He assured Rachael he thought it was delicious, and they loaded back into the truck.

Rachael spent the first portion of the drive north looking at her computer, studying the weather maps, and drinking her coffee. She and Noel talked in low voices about where to go - maybe a bit more east? Or stay westward? - and the truck rolled on. Adam, a stranger in America, watched the desert of Texas go by, pink and gold in the dawn and then bright and brown in the harsh light of day. Lucky, in spite of drinking his coffee faster than anybody probably should, was asleep within the first hour, leaned against the window with a string of drool running from the corner of his mouth. Adam considered taking a photo of him on Lucky’s own phone - it was laid on the seat between them, idle - but decided against it, instead pulling out a book about supercell formation and other weather patterns, and starting to read.

Rachael and Noel switched drivers after a few hours, stirring Lucky from his nap. With the students more awake, and no driving duties at hand, Noel took the opportunity to talk Lucky and Adam through the weather tracking software on the laptop, and discussed what they were looking for. “You want to see a big, cool system meeting with some warm air where there’s a lot of moisture,” he explained. “So here’s the barometric pressures as they stand now, and the current radar. Either of you have an idea of where we should go for ideal storm tracking?” Adam and Lucky, each with their own notebooks, did their level best to calculate the possible and likely movements of the systems. Adam considered his work and, eventually, penciled in a careful ‘x’ over a part of the map where it appeared two states met on the north side of the Oklahoma panhandle. Lucky had already finished his own calculations, and they passed their notebooks forward.

“Alright, let’s see here.” Noel turned around, one notebook in each hand and laptop open in front of him, comparing each of their calculations to his own model. Adam shifted nervously. He was pretty sure with the jet stream so far south, they wouldn’t need to go as north as Lucky had calculated, but then again he hadn’t been confident about the low-pressure area … “Both good maps,” Noel concluded at last. “But I think today we’re going to end up closer to Adam’s.” He turned back to them, smiling, and passed the notebooks back. “Partially because we won’t be able to get that far into Kansas without losing daylight, sorry Lucky, but I don’t know … we’ll have to see. Time will tell.”

“Part of storm chasing,” Rachael added in, “is guesswork. Doesn’t matter how good your models are, doesn’t matter how correct your math’s been, the weather always seems to end up surprising us. It’s part of what makes it fun! And scary, sometimes.”

“Oh, which reminds me: safety briefing.” Noel turned around, suddenly serious as the grave. Adam nodded attentively, shutting his notebook and folding his hands on top of it. “We’ll go through some of Rachael’s lightning equipment afterwards, because eventually you two are going to be doing a lot of work with that, but we need to talk safety.” He sighed and rubbed his neck. “It’s not all fun and photos out here. Let’s talk the anatomy of a storm. Lucky, you first, go over what you know about inflow and outflow, and why that’s important.”

The safety “briefing” actually lasted an entire 3 hours which, honestly, Adam appreciated. They discussed the anatomy of a supercell, the places where you were more likely to get caught off-guard by a rain-wrapped tornado, the places where lighting is more likely to be active, where and how hail forms, and how to best stay safe while studying storms. Noel showed and taught them about the ‘bear’s cage’, and made it very clear that for the most part they would be avoiding that portion of the storm, as neither Noel nor Rachael had a death wish. At the conclusion of his briefing, they stopped for lunch - fast food, which Adam viewed as a particular treat, not having much selection in Tadfield - and switched drivers again.

As they entered the Great Plains region, Adam was taken aback by just how flat everything was. Miles and miles stretched out on either side, level and grassy in the places where it wasn’t level and covered with farmland. Cows - so many cows - grazed and stood and slept and stared at the highway, sometimes, and although Rachael’s instruction on lightning and atmospheric electrical activity was truly interesting, Adam found his mind wandering.

“Adam?” he was startled from his reverie and study of the plains of the Texas panhandle by Lucky. He turned to find both the other student and Rachael smiling at him.

He blushed. “Oh, sorry.”

Rachael shrugged. “Don’t worry. It’s a lot of information. We’re probably a few hours out yet, too - are you tired? We can take a break and you can have a nap. We have you both at our mercy for the next six weeks anyway, right?”

Adam laughed. “Yeah. I might nap. Uh, if that’s okay, I mean.” Rachael waved a hand, the universal gesture of ‘go ahead’. Lucky nodded too, slouching back against the seat and stuffing a bundled-up sweatshirt between his head and the window. He was asleep in minutes, eyelids fluttering as he dreamed. Adam leaned up against the window, too, wishing he’d had the foresight to pull a sweatshirt or something out of his own luggage as a makeshift pillow. Still, even without, he found a comfortable position between the headrest and the side of the cab, and drifted off to the sound of the road beneath the truck.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he didn’t dream, and when he woke up, it was because Lucky was nudging his shoulder. “Hey, dude. We’re getting there: look!”

“Whazz?” Adam blinked, bleary, and then remembered what he was doing. He focused his eyes, rubbed a bit of sleep from them, and looked to Rachael, or at least her shoulder. Her laptop was open on her lap, Baron running. Although he could only see her face in profile, she didn’t look happy.

“Check out the clouds,” Lucky said, pointing across the back seat and out of Adam’s window. “Look. Cumulonimbus.”

Noel glanced out of the window at the clouds. “Yep, for sure. Capped, though. How’s the radar looking, Rachael?”

“Not great,” she replied, glumly. “Honestly it looks like … I hate to say it, but it looks like it might fall apart.” She ran a hand over her hair, pulling a few dark strands loose from her already-messy ponytail. “It just isn’t hanging together like we want it to be.” Turning in her seat, she set the laptop on the center console, the better to show the students in the back seat what she was looking at. “You see this line of storms here? Ideally, I would have liked to see them consolidate more, but they’re spreading out into a squall line.” She pointed to one of the still-consolidated blobs on the radar. “That’s going to be a low-precipitation system, but it might be a good one to see for your first day.” She scowled as she zoomed out. “Look at that - the storms to the east look much better.”

Noel shook his head. “That’s the business, unfortunately. And things might change - you get hooks in squall lines, sometimes.”

“Well, I didn’t want to start these guys out on a bust day.” She studied the radar again after pulling the laptop back onto her knees. “I guess this looks somewhat favorable here, up by Sturgis. No hook, though.” She sighed. “Still might get some lightning and hail, though. You guys want to practice a little with the lightning equipment?”

Adam nodded eagerly. He was disappointed, a little, that the storm was falling apart, but still, a big storm and some lightning would be exciting. Maybe hail. The biggest hail he’d ever seen wasn’t even pea-sized, but he’d seen videos and photos of much larger and he figured it might be cool to see that in person. Providing the windscreen didn’t shatter. He’d seen videos of that, too. He also, he considered, might not want to be out in the hail, setting up monitoring equipment, especially if it was very large.

“Alright. Onwards to Sturgis, then.”

They arrived in Sturgis in the mid-afternoon, moving from blue skies and fluffy cumulonimbus clouds into a giant wall of white and gray. “Shelf clouds,” Rachael said, tracing across the front of the cloud formation. “Adam - what’s the difference between shelf and wall clouds? They look similar, but they’re not the same thing, yes?”

“Right.” He answered slowly, deliberately, making sure he responded as accurately as possible. “Shelf clouds typically form at the front of a storm line, where wall clouds are usually at the back. The shelf cloud is usually because the uh … The downdraft -” Rachael nodded encouragingly, “- Right, the downdraft at the leading edge of the storm cuts under the warm, moist air and forces it up which makes it have the wall shape.”

“Right! Good start for description of a shelf cloud. So a wall cloud - ?”

“Is … is due to uh, en, uh …” He flapped a hand, as if grasping for the word. “En-something, um …”

“Entrainment.” Rachael nodded. “Yeah, that’s right, good start, keep going.”

“Okay so entrainment is when the warm, moist air gets drawn up and like, starts to push out the colder air. And then the warm air continues to gather moisture and condenses into a cloud. It usually happens really quick, and in supercells wall clouds usually rotate due to the mesocyclone.” He was on firmer footing there - he hadn’t done all that reading on supercells that morning for nothing. “Usually they’re under the rain-free base of the storm, not on the leading edge.”

“Right!” She turned back to the windscreen and gestured to the clouds ahead of them. “So these are shelf clouds. They’re still in the distance a little, but what should we expect as we get closer, Lucky?”

“Gusty winds,” the other student answered quickly. “As the cold downdraft shoots forward over the warm air.”

“Right. And what will the clouds look like?”

That was tougher. “If it’s very strong winds,” he said slowly, after a break for thought, “then uh, like the clouds will be kind of messy at the leading edge, and there might be scud along the ground, right?”

“Yep. In really strong storms you can get straight-line winds, vortices along the ground, and gustnados. Which are not tornadoes, right?” She grinned as the boys in the back seat each fixed her with looks of varying puzzlement. “Yes? Either of you know the difference between a gustnado and a tornado?” Neither did, and Rachael was more than happy to explain. Adam diligently took a few notes - outflow, not inflow, and straight line winds versus cyclonic activity - and let Lucky read them over his shoulder.

“I’m not sure I really understand straight-line winds,” Adam said, when she’d finished her explanation. “I’ve read about them, but can you explain more what -”

“Yeah, for sure!” She continued on, going through the details of a straight-line wind, and how that might be more likely in a squall line than a supercell. Noel would chip in on occasion as well, although for the most part he drove deliberately, watching the clouds, taking measures of the surrounding roads and towns, and following the highways to some nebulous destination. Rachael would add a direction to him mid-lecture sometimes, after consulting Baron, and then would return to the rapt students with more information.

“This is a lot of information,” she added at the end of her lecture. “I’m glad you’re taking notes, but I don’t think many people could remember all of this after one day. We’ll go through it a few times over the weeks, alright?”

“Perfect,” Lucky said, a little glassy-eyed. “Adam, do you mind if I copy your notes? I left my notebook in my bag.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Noel pulled over on the main highway, as if arriving in some predetermined destination that only he knew, and put the truck into park. “Seems as good a place as any to wait for it to roll in, huh?”

“Not a soul around.” Rachael kicked her door open and jumped to the dusty ground outside. “Great place to practice with the lightning instruments. And we can hang out in the car and watch the storm, as long as it’s safe, yeah?”

Adam and Lucky were already hopping out of the car and headed toward the back gate. Under Rachael and Noel’s tutelage, they set up two of Rachael’s field instruments - a high-speed camera station and a small portable weather monitoring station - and fixed them into the ground with spikes. “Not any good if you can’t find your data-gathering instruments,” Rachael laughed. “Learned that one the hard way early on.”

“Before she met me,” Noel added, and she rolled her eyes. “First chase with me and I asked her ‘so you just let the tornadoes take your high-speed cameras every time?’ and she stared at me like I had three eyeballs all of a sudden.”

“I only ever lost one to a direct hit,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and then, suddenly, wrapping them around herself more tightly. A cold breeze, no, a cold gust blew toward them, kicking up the dust and tossing it into their eyes. “Yep, there’s the gust. In the car, guys, unless you want to experience hail first-hand.”

Two minutes later, and Adam found himself wincing in solidarity with the truck as marble-sized hail hammered the roof and the windscreen. “We use special glass,” Noel shouted to them, over the noise. “It still breaks sometimes, but I have a guy that puts it in for us when we need it.” Lightning forked across the sky, and a blink later a crack of thunder split the air. Lucky jumped, right hand clenched on the door handle and left wrapped tight around his phone, forgotten. “You get that?”

“I don’t think it was a clear shot.” Rachael had her window rolled down as far as she could without letting in undue amounts of hailstones, her camera pointed out toward what had thus far been the most active part of the storm. “Working on it.”

“She can sell these shots,” Noel shouted. “Honestly, taking students and stuff is a good steady source of income, but sometimes the lightning shots are what makes a season for us.”

“No pressure or anything.” Rachael leaned back as the hail pinged off the side of the truck and into her neck. “I dunno, I think there’s too much hail and rain here.”

“You wanna move? We could run east and see if we could get ahead of it.”

She shook her head in response. “Nah, not today. Let’s wait for the worst to pass and then we’ll grab the instruments. The remote might’ve got something.” She didn’t look away from the storm, but she called, “How you two doing? You’re awfully quiet.”

“This is wicked,” Adam said loudly, over the hail, wide-eyed and watching the storm surge around the truck. It almost looked like snow on the road, the hail was falling so heavy and fast. Lucky, still glancing at the lightning shooting through the sky above, had recovered from the shock of the thunder enough to bring his phone up and start taking video. Adam, prompted by that, pulled his own phone out and started recording. “Marble-sized hail,” he explained to the video. “Just outside of Sturgis, Oklahoma.” He’d have to send it to the group when he got back on wi-fi, he resolved, before he stopped the recording and tucked his phone back into his pocket. Definitely the whole extended family of The Them - the core four and the rest of the Nahpocalypse crew - and his sister. He would decide whether or not his parents should see it later.

When the message dinged onto Crowley’s phone late that night, he and Aziraphale studiously watched Adam’s video of the hail and the storm. “Well, he doesn’t sound afraid,” Aziraphale said. “That’s good.”

“What’s he got to be afraid of?” Crowley reclined his seat and took his phone with him, swapping from the video to some game or another. “Hail wasn’t even that big. We’ve been through bigger storms than that.”

“Not while avoiding miracles,” Aziraphale replied, testily. He had not enjoyed the storm. Crowley hadn’t either, but only because the demon had spent the majority of the time threatening the 4-Runner that if it dared allow the windshield to crack, there would be absolutely horrific repercussions. Aziraphale had had to cut him off when he’d started getting into really descriptive methods of car torture.

Crowley made a noise of vague disagreement. “There were loads of humans out in it. Weren’t even scared.”

“Because they don’t know better.”

“Or because there wasn’t anything to be worried about.”

Aziraphale relented, slightly. He sat back in his seat, watching the motel across the street with disinterest. The red truck in the parking lot shone in the light. “And you didn’t sense anything evil about it?”

“Not in the slightest.” The music from the game paused. “Why? You get anything?”

Aziraphale frowned, and shook his head. “Not … exactly. But I’m uneasy about this whole thing, Crowley. Not just the weather, bad as that is, but … something feels wrong.” He crossed his legs. “I can’t put a name to it, exactly, but there’s just a strange feeling about all of this.”

“Yeah, two kids you like a lot are in a truck chasing tornadoes. Gives me a weird feeling too, angel.” He propped a foot on the steering wheel and crossed his other ankle over it. “S’called anxiety, not sure you’re familiar with it.”

“I’ve known you for 6000 years, of course I’m familiar with anxiety.”

“That was unfair.” Crowley sniffed, only theatrically offended, and the game resumed. “I have a condition.”

“Which I am familiar with, my dear demon. You’ve made my point.” He waved a hand. “Either way, that’s not the feeling I’m talking about. It’s … Well, it’s almost like we’re being watched. But I don’t sense any goodwill, and you said you’re not sensing any hatred or anger, so?” He made a vague gesture, and then settled his elbow on the windowsill, chin in his hand. “It’s a bit hard to describe.”

Crowley looked to him over the rims of his glasses. “You know, now that you brought it up, I’ve noticed it too. Just thought it was being out of England, though. Or a demon thing.” He shifted in his seat. “We’ll have to pay attention tomorrow.”

“Yes. Yes, quite.” He glanced sidelong at Crowley. “You don’t notice it now, though?”

“There’s a cow about 600 yards that way staring at the road,” Crowley said, pointing to the west. “Only thing watching us around.” Aziraphale hummed a noise of agreement, and settled back. “Do you ever get bored of your games?” he asked, at length, gingerly sliding the seat back and propping his feet on the dashboard. The 4-Runner’s engine purred and the fuel gauge needle, which had been on ‘E’ since early that morning, fluttered. Crowley glared at the radio. “Don’t you start that. Bad enough the Bentley loves him.”

“Jealous?”

“Possibly slightly.” Crowley tapped the phone screen a few times, and then groaned. “‘Course I get bored of this stuff. But, you know.” He let his head fall back. “Can’t read, didn’t pick an audiobook yet, and I’m not interested in the thing you’re reading right now, sorry.” He unpaused the game. “I’ve got a few podcasts but, eh, you probably wouldn’t like them. Suppose I could get out some headphones,” he considered, after a moment.

“What’s a podcast?” Aziraphale asked, hands folded on his stomach.

Crowley looked at him, eyebrows raised, although he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Aziraphale had yet to even get a mobile, and his technological comfort zone didn’t go much past 1945. “Like a … ah, like a radio show? Can be about anything. Educational, entertaining, unsolved mysteries, ah … interviews …”

The angel looked intrigued. “Like a radio play, you said?”

“Some of ‘em, yeah.”

“Let’s try it.”

The game paused again. “Really, Aziraphale? Go on, I know you’d rather read your … what’s it called? Mainlander? The one with the time travel lady, right?”

“Outlander, yes.”

“Right. You can read your book, I’ll put headphones on if I feel like listening -”

Aziraphale pouted. “But I’d like to listen to one.”

The demon looked dubious of this assertion. “Really? You’re serious?”

“You like them, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then pick one you’d think I’ll like and we’ll listen together.” Crowley looked shocked. Aziraphale sighed, and reached across the center console, hand outstretched. Comfortably, Crowley slid his into it. “You listened to me read an entire Outlander book, even though you hated it -”

“I didn’t hate -”

“Let’s try a podcast, Crowley.” He squeezed the demon’s hand. “You like the funny ones, I’m sure.”

Crowley watched him for a minute, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then cautiously, closed his game and flipped to a different app. “If you’re sure.” He chewed his lip. “And, uh, yeah. I prefer the funny ones.” He considered the options, squinting at the enlarged print on the screen over the tops of his glasses. “Right. What’re you in the mood for? Murder, dungeons and dragons, advice, ah … no, that’s technology, you wouldn’t like that one, ah, oh, and history.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows had gone up when Crowley had started listing the options. “I thought you said you preferred the funny ones.”

“I did do, yeah.”

“Murder?”

“It’s a comedy murder podcast.” Crowley caught a glimpse of his expression, and snorted. “It works but we can skip that.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Hm. What kind of history?”

“American, mostly.”

“Do that one.”

“Right.” He tapped something on the screen, and then handed the phone to Aziraphale. “Pick a title that looks interesting. Just tap on it when you want it, and then tap the little triangle in the bottom left.” There were a few quiet minutes while the angel browsed, and then he grinned. “Do you have any idea what ‘whalesplosion’ might be about?”

“At a guess,” Crowley sighed, “an exploding whale?”

“I suppose we’ll find out. I wonder how it relates to American history.”

“Never paid as much attention to America,” Crowley agreed, adjusting himself in the seat to hold Aziraphale’s hand more comfortably, while the other laboriously hit ‘play’ on the podcast. The 4-Runner, which had never linked its bluetooth capabilities with Crowley’s phone, and indeed hadn’t really wanted to, nevertheless did so, projecting ‘You’re listening to the Dollop on -’ over the top-of-the-line speakers* with beautiful crystal clarity.

[*Which it hadn’t had, until Crowley had sat in it.]

Twenty minutes later, and Aziraphale and Crowley both were laughing, exchanging incredulous looks, and wordlessly agreeing that they really should be paying more attention to America. And that they would certainly be choosing a second episode at the conclusion of the first one.

Now with Chapter 7!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #adam young #warlock dowling #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the one where they go to america

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madelinecoffee · 5 years

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Is This Seat Taken? Ch. 13

Summary: Rucas Senior Year AU. Riley’s a loner who doesn’t really have any friends, besides her twin brother Josh but she keeps to herself in school. Something happened the year before where she missed the 2nd half of the year but she’s back for senior year and Lucas’ heart is ready. He’s had a crush on her since he moved to Philly in 3rd grade and he’s convinced this is the year they’ll move up from the class-friends label and into something more. This is not a completely fluffy fic, I’m going to be diving into some deep shit so if that’s not your cup of tea please leave *this does include some serious depression if it goes beyond that I will trigger warn it*

A/N: Being an adult has taken over my life, but I'm still here trying to write this story if it kills me. Words: 1024 Previous: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch.4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch.11 Ch. 12

Well Riley’s new stuffed animal definitely helped her mood improve slightly; she still didn’t seem to be herself. She was trying her hardest to share and be more upbeat but she was still just sad. Her friends tried to cheer her up, trying to do things they knew she liked and tried to make her smile and she did. But she was quiet, always snuggling Rosie or Lucas. Most people at school thought it was adorable that Lucas had gotten her a rabbit, and many couples had gotten on their partners about stepping up their game. But Charlie Gardner was not amused; on more than one occasion Lucas caught Charlie glaring at the stuffed bunny. He thought about saying something, but instead he just gave Charlie a smirk when he caught his eye. That seemed to enrage Charlie more.

“Hey Riles” Lucas asked her one day at lunch rubbing her arm softly as she leaned on him, she hummed in response slightly sleepy, “Have you noticed Charlie glaring at Rosie or is just me?”

Before Riley could respond Maya was speaking up, “Oh my gosh yes! It’s like he’s trying to destroy it with the laser eyes he doesn’t have.”

Riley rolled her eyes, “Yeah I’ve seen it, I just try to ignore it. I know he’s mad were a couple because he likes me but I’ve made it abundantly clear that I do not like him. And besides I love you so it doesn’t even matter”

Lucas beamed the way he always did when she said stuff like that and kissed her head while she continued, “And Missy glares at Rosie too, like it’s somehow going to break us up if she gets rib of my rabbit.”

Lucas scoffed, “Well I already chose you so she can back of” Riley smiled and snuggled into Lucas more and yawned, “Did you sleep at all last night Ri?”

Riley shrugged, which Lucas knew, meant no, he shared a look with his friends around the table and they all sighed. It was obvious at this point that Riley wasn’t getting better even though she was trying. Lucas had talked to Josh to see if medication was an option, but Josh wasn’t sure and told him that it was something he’d have to take it up with Riley. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

Riley was snuggled in Lucas’ lap after diner, she had eaten over at his house tonight and planning on spending the night as was Josh later. Their parents were in the city for a business diner and they were staying at a hotel, it didn’t bother Josh to stay in the house without his parents but it made Riley even more anxious than normal. So they both opted to stay at the Friar-Hart household for the night. Lucas was stroking Riley’s hair giving her a worried look, she hadn’t been eating much again even when he asked and tried to feed her. He sighed, “Hey Ri? When you were in treatment did they talk about medication?”

Riley gave him a bit of a side eye, but then huffed a little “They did, but when I refused to take it or talk about it they stopped trying to push it.”

Lucas nodded thoughtful, still stroking her hair “And what about now?”

Riley gave him a confused look, “What do you mean what about now?”

“I mean, have you thought about going on medication now? I know it helps many people, and you’re doing everything you should be to be feeling better. I know yoga’s helped too. But it just seems like you should be in a better place”

Riley started to fidget in his lap and he kissed her head, “I haven’t really thought about it” Riley took a deep breath, “Okay that’s not true I have. Because you’re right I’m doing everything right and I sill feel like shit. I’m having more bad days than good days and it just feels like I’m in a funk that I can’t get out of.”

Lucas nodded, “Have you talked to your therapist about it?”

Riley shrugged, “I mentioned the idea of it but then we mostly talked about why I was so resilient to it when I was in treatment, not about how I might want to try it again”

“And why did you not want to do it in treatment?”

Riley leaned her head back looking at the ceiling ceasing Lucas’ stroking of her hair “I already felt crazy and messed up, taking medication for it just made me feel like it was solidifying my crazy. And I still feel like that sometimes, like I’m just a messed up person and medication might not even help.”

Lucas nodded, “I get that, but I think at this point you’ve tried your best without it and you’re still not better. Why not just give it a try?”

Riley leaned forward and kissed him, “Thank you”

Lucas was a little dazed by the kiss but he managed to get his thoughts together, “For what?”

“For talking about it with me, and stroking my hair because you know how much I love that.” Lucas smiled and kissed her again, “Is there anything else you want to talk about tonight before we go to bed and I use you as a pillow?”

Lucas chuckled, “Well there’s this dance coming up, and I was wondering if you’d want to be my date?”

Riley chuckled, “Lucas we’re dating, of course I’ll be your date. I wouldn’t say yes to anyone else.”

Lucas beamed kissing her again, and Riley allowed herself to be lost in Lucas until they heard a thought clearing both turned to find Josh giving them a look.

“Really guys? Can’t you do that in Lucas’ bedroom or something?” He laughed and dodged the pillow Riley threw at him before grabbing Lucas’ hand and pulling him up.

“Come on Lucas, let’s go to bed where we can finish this.” She winked and Lucas tried to ignore the red rushing to his face and the look Josh was giving him as he followed Riley upstairs.

#is this seat taken?#rucas fic #my writing #girl meets world

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dcmultiverse · 2 years

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#dcedit #dcauedit #animationedit #yjedit #youngjusticeedit #young justice outsiders #a: young justice #ch: guy gardner #ch: clark kent #mine #animated #gif #by jus

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astrognossienne · 6 years

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couple analysis: frank sinatra + ava gardner - the wild ride

“He may weigh only 119 pounds, but 19 pounds of it is cock.” - Ava Gardner

“When you’re at war with a woman, you don’t have any chance. The best you can hope for is an occasional truce.” - Frank Sinatra

Like many showbiz pairs, they looked too good together to be true. Raven-haired, drop dead gorgeous, glamorouous, sexy and fiery-eyed, Ava Gardner epitomized 1950s glamour; Frank Sinatra, was the king of crooners who sent female hearts soaring. It’s hard to imagine the swing-a-ding-dinging Chairman of the Board kowtowing to any dame, but Ava had Frank wrapped around her finger like a string. Ava was tough, ambitious, aggressive and sexy, and Frank could not resist her. The pair had started a torrid affair that would lead to a tempestuous short-lived marriage characterized by feuds and faithlessness. Eventually, as both stars grew older, their passion would develop into a tender, if eccentric, love and friendship that would last a lifetime. But there was a lot of sex and fighting to be done first.

Love life of Ava Gardner: When Gardner arrived on the studio lot in 1941, she had become the immediate target of one Mickey Rooney, who, at all of 21, had been Hollywood’s biggest box office draw for three years running.Rooney met Gardner and asked her out on a date, but she deferred because of Southern manners and the fact that he only came up to her chin. But Rooney was persistent: He was hot shit, and he would have his hot date. Gardner eventually gave in, but refused to marry Rooney until she was 19. When she did agree, the wedding had to be approved by the MGM brass and chaperoned in full. But Rooney was also a bit of a dick and the marriage to Gardner lasted but a year. Mickey reportedly bragged about their sex life, and Ava is famously quoted as saying,

“He may have enjoyed the sex, but goodness knows I didn’t.”

Gardner then started hanging out with the wealthy aviator Howard Hughes and engaged in a longer relationship with him. They were very ‘off-and-on’ and Ava described him in her autobiography as “painfully shy, completely enigmatic and more eccentric…than anyone [she] had ever met.” Hughes promised her the world but the spark wasn’t there, and she refused his repeated marriage proposals. Instead of Hughes, Gardner decided to marry band leader and clarinetist Artie Shaw, who had already gone through four wives, including Lana Turner. Gardner liked that Shaw was a smarty-pants who stayed up late to discuss world affairs, philosophy, and “long hair music” with his friends. But Shaw was pretty much the worst sort of autodidact, shaming Gardner for all that she didn’t know. According to Gardner, “If I remained silent when we were with friends he would say, ‘Why don’t you talk? Have you nothing to contribute?’ But when I tired to say something he would shout, ‘Shut up!’” In 1946, she had just stepped out of an unhappy marriage to Shaw, who belittled her intellect and physically abused her. It was a marriage made in hell that drove Ava to seek out psychoanalysis to reassure her she wasn’t as dumb as Artie continually suggested. She also started enjoying daily martinis with her friend, Shaw’s ex-wife and actress Lana Turner. After her divorce from Shaw, she indulged in numerous affairs; Ava was a homewrecker at heart and couldn’t keep her hands off of married men. She also didn’t want to be alone. Before she dated Frank Sinara, she had a lusty affair in 1946 with her co-star, Fred MacMurray in the film, Singapore. Seduced by his strong, muscular physique, Ava fell into a discreet affair with the married actor until she found out about his sick wife, Lillian Lamont, at home and called it quits. She didn’t object to secret adultery, but when a guy was two-timing a sick wife, she objected to that – strongly. Searching for stability and security that had evaded her in her many short-lived and clandestine love affairs, it was now Sinatra’s turn at home plate.

Love life of Frank Sinatra: Ever since moving to Hollywood, Frank had cheated on his wife repeatedly and flagrantly, but their Catholicism had prevented a divorce. Ava Gardner was just one of the women Frank Sinatra had an affair with while he was married. They fell in love on their first drunken date. Sinatra’s mother Dolly never much cared for Nancy, the sweet, Italian girl-next-door Frank married — at Dolly’s insistence, it must be said — at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City when he was just 23. But film and sex goddess Ava Gardner, for whom he left Nancy after 11 years of marriage and three children, was a different matter. Ava drank and cussed like a sailor, and Dolly Sinatra, to her delight, could keep right up with her. At the same time, Ava was stupefyingly beautiful. In her business life, Dolly had run across plenty of dirty girls with dirty mouths, yet with the pretty ones, butter mostly wouldn’t melt. But this one wore her gorgeousness so lightly, smoked her cigarettes so off-handedly, swore so fluently, and laughed so raucously that Dolly was as instantly smitten as her son. After meeting Ava, Dolly pinched Frank’s skinny cheek and congratulated him on the great broad he’d landed — and, as so often before in his life, he must have been grateful for her approval. Sinatra was still married with three children when the relationship with Ava caught on fire in 1949.

Their love life together: Ava Gardner was Hollywood’s reigning screen goddess when she first met Frank Sinatra in 1943, Ava was married to her first husband Mickey Rooney and would go through a second marriage with bandleader Artie Shaw before finally re-connecting with the blue-eyed crooner six years later. Between 1948 and 1952, Gardner appeared in 13 films, but between hits she became embroiled in a scandalous, tumultuous, roller-coaster of a relationship with Frank Sinatra, and began when Sinatra’s career was at a low and his marriage to Nancy Sinatra, the mother of his three children, was in shambles. At some point in the late ’40s, however, Sinatra began having heavy late dates with Gardner while his wife stayed home and cared for their newborn child. Frank and Nancy separated on Valentine’s Day 1950 and were divorced in 1951, allowing Sinatra and Gardner to marry 10 days later and making Gardner a certified home-wrecker. She asked for proof that he was leaving his wife of 10 years, so he walked up to his house, rang the buzzer and asked his estranged wife to confirm he had left her. Obviously this was a bit of an asshole move on both of their parts. But oh shit was it good gossip, fueled by rumors of apparent suicide attempts (during one fight over the phone, Sinatra got so angry that he fired a gun — apparently into a mattress — to scare Gardner into thinking that he had shot himself). She said of Sinatra,

“With him it’s impossible…it’s like being with a woman. He’s so gentle. It’s as though he thinks I’ll break, as though I’m a piece of Dresden china and he’s gonna hurt me.”

She and Sinatra fought on an entirely different level, in part because Gardner’s career was soaring while Sinatra’s was hanging around in the toilet. Frank received loads of abuse from the press and fans for leaving his wife for a noted femme fatale, and the downward spiral of his career wasn’t reversed until his Oscar winning role in From Here to Eternity (1953). She got fucking sick of his whining, pulled some strings to get him a job, and flew to Europe. But she didn’t just get him any job. She got him a choice role in Burt Lancaster’s From Here to Eternity. Sinatra won an Academy Award for his performance, effectively putting his career back on track. But the rejuvenation had come at a price, and when Gardner left to shoot The Barefoot Contessa in Spain, it was clear that the marriage was beginning to unravel. Each was accusing the other of cheating, the fan magazines were fueling rumours of each other cheating, each was indeed actually cheating. Confidential Magazine did its best to fuel the scandalous fire, using photos of Gardner with Sammy Davis Jr., taken during a break from a photo shoot for Ebony, to insinuate a romance between the two, despite the fact that Sinatra himself had been present at the shoot. As unfounded as (most) of the rumours were, they drove Sinatra crazy. Gardner became pregnant twice with Frank, but she aborted both the fetuses. The two fought more and more, cheated more and more, and the marriage eventually ended in divorce in 1957. And here’s where Gardner’s life takes a sweet turn. She divorces Sinatra and moves permanently to Spain, which she had fallen in love with during the filming of Contessa. Having at this point appeared in no less than three Hemingway adaptations (The Killers, Kilimanjaro, and as Lady Brett in The Sun Also Rises) she becomes BFF with Hemingway himself. Hemingway introduces her to all sorts of bullfighters, the hottest of whom she seduces full-on. According to lore, she accompanied Hemingway to his villa in Cuba, and after skinny-dipping in the pool, Hemingway ordered his staff

“The water is never to be emptied.”

Gardner continued to appear in films through the ’60s, most notably The Night of the Iguana, where she hung out with Dick and Liz and 5,000 paparazzi, and The Bible, where she drove co-star George C. Scott so mad with desire that he had to be locked inside his trailer. Like the other sirens of the classic era, she slowly faded into obscurity, eventually resorting to appearances on the soap-opera “Knot’s Landing” and obscure low-budget films in order to pay the bills. Gardner never married again, and spent her twilight years having heavy late dates with whomever she pleased, keeping an apartment in London, and hanging out with her small dogs before dying at the age of 64 from emphysema. Frank Sinatra wept like a small child when he heard the news of her death, and that water is totally still in Hemingway’s pool. Not too shabby for a hotcha from North Carolina. Frank and Ava were both deeply flawed, highly ambitious icons on a big stage in a business that, as the songwriters like to say, eats them up and spits them out. As Hollywood endings go, theirs was tinged with sadness and pain. But in their later years they arrived at a deep friendship, like the special compassion of two people who, once, long ago, had been in a bad accident together and had survived.

Frank Sinatra

birthdate: December 12, 1915

major planets:

Sun: Sagittarius

Moon: Pisces

Rising: Libra

Mercury: Sagittarius

Venus: Capricorn

Mars: Leo

Midheaven: Leo

Jupiter: Pisces

Saturn: Cancer (Rx)

Uranus: Aquarius

Neptune: Leo (Rx)

Pluto: Cancer (Rx)

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Aquarius

Lilith: Gemini

Vertex: Gemini

Fortune: Leo

East Point: Scorpio

elemental dominance:

fire

water

modality dominance:

fixed

house dominants:

10th

2nd

4th

planet dominants:

Neptune

Venus

Uranus

sign dominants:

Leo

Sagittarius

Pisces

Ava Gardner

Stats

birthdate: December 24, 1922

major planets:

Sun: Capricorn

Moon: Pisces

Rising: Leo

Mercury: Capricorn

Venus: Scorpio

Mars: Pisces

Midheaven: Aries

Jupiter: Scorpio

Saturn: Libra

Uranus: Pisces

Neptune: Leo (Rx)

Pluto: Cancer (Rx)

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Virgo

Lilith: Aries

Vertex: Sagittarius

Fortune:Taurus

East Point: Cancer

elemental dominance:

water

fire

modality dominance:

cardinal

house dominants:

6th

4th

8th

planet dominants:

Saturn

Sun

Mars

sign dominants:

Pisces

Capricorn

Leo

Read more about their astrological synastry under the cut:

Relationship Overview:

Sun-sun synastry: They were a glamorous pair with an iconic allure that both impressed and intimidated anyone outside their social set. Still, the focus was inward and their home was a cozy cocoon. In bed, though, it was down and very dirty. Capricorn surely is the wise-woman of the world, and so was Ava Gardner. Caps are also natural born nannies, nurturers of those she considers favored sons. She doesn’t give literal monetary or even moral support to mere mortals; Cap bestows a certain godlike status upon a man she deems thus worthy. As a Sag, Frank was predisposed to fit that bill. He is the inheritor, a man’s man and accepted scion, smiled upon by patriarchies as a maverick-cum-master of whatever he surveys. This is a would-be power bond, with Ava the Cap in the role of big mama. Capricorn rules Sagittarius’ 2nd cosmic house of substance and sustenance. As this is also the house of feeling, Sinatra was on her tit for emotional support a bit more than Gardner was used to a guy being. Without having to do any major cheerleading, she will discreetly root him on precisely because he does shoot so high in life; while, being the cardinal-earth sign, the symbol of which is a mountain, Cap represents those heights to which Sag, especially, might aspire in love. This archetypal dynamic of the adoration between grandmother and grandson is inherent in the Cap-Sag bond. There is nothing Frank thought, felt, or experienced, in his signature exuberance, that Ava hadn’t done so first. He can thus relate to her on nearly every level of discovery, looking to her for grounding and substantive wisdom, as she takes great care to digest existence upon which he wildly munches.

As Sagittarius in turn governs Capricorn’s 12th house of all things nonmaterial, it is his energy, that unseen but outsized element of his being, which brought great joy, enthusiasm, and excitement to her life, as difficult as she might find him to pin down. Sinatra, in contrast, is like one shot out of a cannon, the archer in him projecting his ideas and plans so far, he often gets ahead of himself, leaping before looking in most areas of his life. A would-be romance with Gardner was no exception, as he may come on so strong, even with the best heartfelt intentions, that she, as a Capricorn, felt his outré advances were disingenuous and strictly aimed at getting her in bed as lickety-split as possible. Even dating him smacked of child-minding a kid who suffered from hyperactivity. And as prototypically disposed as she was to relate to this guy, she still required the all-important element of time. Ava was that mountain, and thus required slow, steady negotiation before even a grand adventurer like Frank the Sag gets to plant his flag. Thus many a Capricorn woman never lets herself get far into a relationship with the Centaur, unaware as she is of the rosy long-range forecast for its success. It’s mainly up to him to make necessary adjustments, in and out of the bedroom, consciously cultivating his own inner calm when in her presence, tuckering himself out on his own time, physically burning off energy and employing family, friends, and colleagues to bandy about his myriad brainstorms. He must foster more formality, if not plain old manners, in relating with her, accustomed as he is to rough-and-tumble lovers he can clap on the back in conversation and on the ass in bed.

Moon-moon synastry: With their shared Moon in Pisces, Gardner and Sinatra’s attraction was strong but some adjustments should have been made to ensure long-term compatibility. The water element induces emotionality within an already emotional essence, with the result that two things can occur: there may be great empathy between them or they might completely drown in their own watery mystery, causing each other to over-react to the smallest transgressions. They idealized each other, no matter how unsuitable or wrong they may be for their life. Sometimes Neptune causes them as Pisces Moon lovers to refuse to see faults in each other when they are right before them. In many ways, they cannot stand by and watch even a toxic relationship end, it may cause too heavy an emotional overload in them. But they were stronger than they thought and had the inner resolve to weather the most unmanageable storms that life sent their way. When Sinatra and Gardner joined hearts in the game of love and romance, and if they are both functioning under the powerful influence of Neptune, then it was extremely important that one of them take over the responsibility of steering this relationship towards safer waters. They often became confused, forgot their way and lost touch with each other’s real personalities. They had great compassion for each other, but the lines were blurred between reality and fantasy since neither was mature enough to begin with. They were both emotionally vibrant and too much of that caused stagnation to occur. If they could have brought out each other’s light-hearted side more often, it could have helped to balance and solidify the connection. These two shared rare karmic soul mate energy, and should have always trusted each other above all other friends and family members.

Venus-venus synastry: With his Venus in Capricorn and hers in Scorpio, they both took the relationship very seriously and were prepared to put in the effort to work any problems out. When they pulled together they accomplished great tasks. He found her emotional highs and lows hard to fathom, but his stability and dependability could help to alleviate her moodiness. Ava’s Venus fell into Sinatra’s 4th house, meaning that he attracted a greater love for home and family from Gardner than he was normally going to feel. The aesthetic beauty of a beautiful and harmonious home and a nurturing environment provided a comfortable base for day to day living. Frank’s Venus falling into her 3rd house meant that they argued with each other much less than they normally did. She was intellectually attracted to him and appreciated sharing her thoughts with him.

Mars-mars synastry: With his Mars in Leo and hers in Pisces, this combination usually worked well sexually because he told her what to do, and she willingly obliged. Sinatra and Gardner also shared a vibrant fantasy life and a very creative approach to making love. She was turned on by his brash confidence in bed (it made him feel secure), while he was in awe of her complete abandonment to the lovemaking process. Ava’s Mars in Pisces fell into Frank’s 8th house, which meant that jealousy, loyalty, passion, anger and desire were interwoven into an intimate obsession, raising power and security issues between them. His Mars fell in her 11th, which meant that his aggressive attitude may stimulate her to impatience and anger if things didn’t go his way socially (as was evidenced with her supporting him financially when his singing career hit a thud and getting him his first acting break). Their ability to become effective partners and team members or likely to become adversarial competitors depended on their ability to create intellectual harmony between themselves.

Planet dominance compatibility: There was no commonality between them planet-wise, which made things a bit difficult as far as any shared outlooks on life and their relationship were concerned. Sinatra was Neptune, Venus and Uranus dominant, so he was interested in love, companionship, yet followed his inspirations and was gonna remain independent, for better or worse. Gardner was Saturn, Sun, and Mars dominant, all of which were at odds with his more dreamier, softer predominantly outer planets. She was more interested in restriction, sex, assertion, and maintaining her identity; the immediacy of it all and the realities of the world appealed to her more than it did Sinatra, who went for a more nebulous romantic approach. This might well have been a source of their discord.

Elemental dominance compatibility: Their mutual water and fire dominance dictated that they had high sensitivity and elevation through feelings. Their hearts and emotions were her driving forces, and they couldn’t do anything on earth if they didn’t feel a strong effective charge. They needed to love in order to understand, and to feel in order to take action, which caused a certain vulnerability which worked well for their relationship. Also, they were dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. They generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. They were exciting to be around, because they were genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, this could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, they chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, they were fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because they were bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—they were bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at their best, their confidence and vision inspired each other to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.

House dominance compatibility: They were both ruled by their 4th houses, meaning that the domestic arena and the home were emphasized in their lives. By extension, the influence of the family they were born into, and the parents that raised them, in particular Sinatra’s mother and the absence of Gardner’s father, as well as their personal and private life was of paramount importance to them both. His 10th and 2nd house dominance provided a certain need for sensuality as well as a need for a formidable public image—this relationship was good for his career; her 6th and 8th house dominance provided an emphasis on her workplace becoming an issue in their lives as well as the inclination to be of service to Sinatra. Also, her sexuality and obsessive passionate nature was brought to the forefront in this relationship.

Sign dominance compatibility: They were both Leo and Pisces dominant (Sinatra: Leo [his first most dominant sign, her third most dominant sign], Gardner: Pisces [her first most dominant sign, his third most dominant]), which dictated that the found themselves attracted to each other, precisely because they were so different. Gardner is fascinated by Sinatra’s dramatic persona, and he was intrigued by her mystical aura. Still, before long, flamboyant Frank began to grate on Ava’s nerves, and Ava’s moodiness gave Frank cause to bolt for the exit. Their 2nd most dominant signs (Sinatra: Sagittarius, Gardner: Capricorn) dictated that this was a difficult, but not totally impossible combination that worked best if both Frank and Ava were willing to accept the other without trying to change each other. Sexually, he was warm-blooded, passionate, and desirous, and she, while not overly demonstrative, was highly sexed, ardent, and responsive. Their 3rd most dominant signs (Sinatra: Pisces, Gardner: Leo) dictated that there was no hidden agenda— what you saw was what you got. However, their initial attraction to each other may have been nipped in the bud if he insisted on analyzing her actions and decisions. Or if she tried to dominate, since no one can tell Gable, a fiercely independent Aquarian dominant, what to do.

Venus-Vertex: This was a prime indicator of a fated, romantic link that changed his life forever. The feelings of love and romance were incredibly strong. He found her beautiful, charming, and the “woman of his dreams.” The love is so strong that separating from one another was incredibly difficult.

Lilith: His Lilith in Gemini fell into her 8th house, which meant that there was a thin line between love and hate; they indulged in intense intellectual and sexual intercourse. Mind games were common between them. He was hopelessly attracted to Gardner. He at turns, hated her and craved her more than all others. Her Lilith in Aries was conjunct Sinatra’s Pluto in Cancer, making them magnetically attracted to each other and engulfed in power plays, and they couldn’t get each other out of their minds. The dichotomy of her aggressive and untameable sexuality clashed with his inherent generational need to transform in order to be safe and secure, so there was some distrust there. Nonetheless, there was an amazing amount of sexual chemistry and an obsessive attraction.

Notable Aspects:

***orbs of 0 degrees (”tight orbs”) indicate that a relationship gets the full strength of that particular aspect’s energies. The higher the orb’s degrees are, the more diluted that aspect’s energies are to the relationship.***

mercury trine neptune (orb: 0°) - Sinatra’s thoughts were influenced by Gardner’s ideas and way of creative thinking in ways which stimulated his imaginative powers and spiritual interest. jupiter conjunction moon (orb: 0°) - Sinatra felt more intuitive, lucky, secure in his relationship, more optimistic and emotionally adventurous in Gardner’s company. His receptiveness allowed her to expose him to new ideas which expanded his concept about relationships and his philosophy of life. pluto opposition sun (orb: 0°) - This aspect could feel that it was always meant to be, triggered by emotions that are beyond the measure of intensity than any feelings or sensations in Sinatra’s previous experience with romantic partners. Fate and an ancient power struggle seemed to be working overtime in their relationship. Sinatra felt a bond between them that was not easily broken. sun square moon (orb: 0°) - This aspect created emotional difficulties by challenging how Sinatra chose to work with Gardner when perceptions and insight caused them to see different approaches to the relationship he desired. moon conjunction moon (orb: 0°) - Sinatra will have had intuitive insight and understanding of the emotional needs of Gardner. She was also in tune with his moods. They were highly compatible emotionally and this compatibility flowed through all aspects of their relationship heightening creativity as they reflected off one another. uranus square jupiter (orb: 0°) - Opportunities for abundance came to them as a couple through adventurous attitudes and innovation. Their romantic partnership was something to get excited about. They stimulated each other to explore unconventional alternatives. sun trine mc (orb: 0°) - Sinatra’s personality complemented Gardner’s goals and ambitions. They had a well-adjusted attitude towards social position/prestige and their ambitions. Gardner helped him realize his own limitations and live within them. Sinatra had both leadership ability and the ability to relate well to those in positions of authority. They almost assuredly attained prominence in their chosen careers. Their professional success increased their happiness at home by eliminating some stress and tension. uranus sextile chiron (orb: 0°) - They were very unconventional in their beliefs about healing and spiritual opening. They instinctively knew how to use imagination and subtle energy to effect healing, and often found find keys on their own journey of self-healing that could be shared with others. mars septile saturn (orb: 0°) - Sinatra was inspired by the idea of doggedly pursuing that path which destiny has laid down for them both; believing that Gardner’s wilder instincts should be restrained and expressed this message through his actions and his art. mars septile north node (orb: 0°) - There was a dynamic and forceful response to events; they both were emotionally affected by whatever was active, forceful, dynamic; He had a tendency to have dramatic and impulsive gestures, she was an exhibitionist and sometimes had an exaggerated sexuality. venus octile venus (orb: 0°) - They both struggled to unite the female sides of each one’s nature; struggle to provide companionship for each other; they struggled to cooperate with each other. pluto octile neptune (orb: 0°) - Sinatra and Gardner strove to resolve a dilemma between connectedness and dedication (i.e. the fear that sympathy for others may deflect them from their path, or that their single-mindedness may cut them off from other people). uranus novile sun (orb: 0°) - They both reveled in their individuality and their difference from other people and they went their own way together, regardless of the views of others. jupiter semi-sextile mc (orb: 0°) - This was another one of those incredible aspects that indicates outstanding professional success and a happy domestic life. If you’ve got this aspect, consider yourself blessed. uranus semi-sextile mercury (orb: 0°) - Sinatra’s thinking was well beyond the scope of the present, but she was somehow able to bring his advanced ideas into the here and now and communicate them. north node semi-sextile uranus (orb: 0°) - By following a path of humanitarian ideals and progressive thought, they would have evolved spiritually. venus conjunction mercury (orb: 1°) - Gardner was very attracted to Sinatra’s intellectual abilities, his ideas, and his romantic creativity. neptune conjunction ascendant (orb: 1°) - Sinatra had a definite intuitive or psychic quality and a subtle magnetism to Gardner that have gave them an air of fascination. They often appear to live in another world and may even live in a world of fantasy with no basis in reality. Their actions were difficult for others to fathom since they’re based on unconscious promptings and intuitive perceptions. venus opposition pluto (orb: 1°) - Passion and volatility resounded within these two. Extremes of emotion surfaced as they felt compelled to squeeze out every drop of sensation, explore every avenue of sexual approach and emotional conquest. mars square venus (orb: 1°) - Mars square venus signifies a relationship where your feminine and masculine symbols match and complement one another. Gardner’s venus, ruler of the sensual, emotional self, met Sinatra’s mars, the ruler of vitality and passion. This symbolizes a relationship that is passionately driven and likely highly sexual in nature. The mingling of romance and passion gave them a sense of heightened sensibilities when they were around each other. sun sextile saturn (orb: 1°) - There was emphasis on the idea of being in their relationship for the long term. They could count on each other for loyalty, reliability, and was able to work well toward common goals together. mercury sextile saturn (orb: 1°) - Sinatra had a good mind for strategies, practical applications of workable ideas in this relationship, and was capable of organization and prudent actions based upon sound decisions. venus sextile jupiter (orb: 1°) - Opportunity knocked, offering the benefits of good luck, good fellowship, and a romantically and materially successful relationship. Sinatra respected and enjoyed Gardner’s company and she sparked his interest in inquiring into new things and expanding his social horizons. venus sextile uranus (orb: 1°) - Sinatra felt more open to opportunities for experimentation, especially when expressing himself sexually. Fun, pleasure and enjoyment kept their romantic and relationship fresh and stimulating. sun trine neptune (orb: 2°) - A Sun trine Neptune aspect will cause them to see each other in light of their relationship potentials and give them the kind of understanding which will allow each other to live up to the couple they could become. saturn trine jupiter (orb: 2°) - Gardner brought optimism and exuberance, Sinatra added practicality and wisdom. They could see their way to achieving abundance through a series of small steps. Together they had the best of instincts and could take whatever energies life sent their way and turn them into realistic plans for their future. They were very secure in each other and in their abilities to achieve abundance by defining their boundaries and seeing their plans through to completion. saturn opposition mercury (orb: 2°) - Sinatra needed to overcome Gardner’s rather rigid viewpoints and make her understand that just because his ideas were very different from hers didn’t mean that she shouldn’t listen to his point of view. mercury square moon (orb: 2°) - Sinatra tended to not feel receptive to Gardner’s thoughts, statements and attempts to communicate. Whatever is being communicated was being hindered by his mood. This represents an emotional challenge to her ability to converse with him. venus sextile mars (orb: 2°) - Sinatra identified with Gardner’s desires to an extent that he could give freely without feeling used or depleted. A healthy fulfilling sexual harmony existed between them. Their relationship gave him energy, sparking his vitality and creativity on many levels. ascendant square ascendant (orb: 3°) - This combination tends to create a certain amount of friction. This is because the two of them tended to have contrary likes and dislikes and react differently to the same stimuli, but tend to favor the same issues. This combination showed that each of them could learn a great deal from the other if both of them were willing to compromise a little. First impressions might tend to be slightly unfavorable, with Gardner proclaiming Sinatra rather arrogant upon first meeting him. moon conjunction mars (orb: 4°) - Sinatra found strong sexual attraction and he may have enjoyed being both the aggressive and receptive partner in their romantic relationship. Both of them will experience an increase in creativity, impulsiveness and spontaneity.

#synastry #frank sinatra #ava gardner #hollywood couples #astrology #long ass post #star analyses #compatibility of notable people #mine

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riga789 · 6 years

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Won’t you dance with me — Chapter 5

Summary: Asking Maya to the school dance should not be this difficult.

(Set in the same timeline as, and a sequel to, my earlier fic Sanctuary)

Read on ao3 | ff.net

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4

After dinner, Maya escapes to her room. As soon as she disappears, Shawn heads out, after making vague excuses to Katy. He’s thankful he doesn’t have to do the same with his sharp-as-a-whip daughter as well, his wife looks suspicious enough.

He tells himself he isn’t being an interfering parent, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s worried Maya might see it as exactly that. He’s still relatively new to this parenting thing, but he knows there are limits to the amount of meddling the father of a teenage child — a teenage daughter — should do. (Look at what Cory’s near-constant interference has done to poor Riley.)

When he and Cory were growing up, Mr. Matthews had bailed them out of many a crisis, but he’d usually left them to fumble their way through the ones that were merely a result of their own stupidity. Shawn is aware that Maya’s current predicament definitely doesn’t fall in the crisis category. But just remembering her sad little face at dinner compels him to do something.

Because if his years of shenanigans with Cory have taught him anything, it’s how to spot a fishy situation from miles away — and this feels exactly like one. From what he’s seen of Friar’s behaviour around Maya, there’s no way that country boy likes his daughter only as a friend. And he’s pretty sure Maya reciprocates his not-just-friendly feelings; he’s seen the looks they give each other when they think no one’s watching.

Shawn doesn’t know why Friar risked upsetting Maya by not asking her to the dance (and no, of course he’s not going to force the boy to go with her now!). But he intends to find out (and that’s all he’s going to do). Unintentional though it might have been, Maya suffered badly from her friends’ actions in freshman year, and he’s not going to let that happen again. He needs to get to the bottom of this precisely because the more he thinks about it, the fishier the situation appears.

On the way, he calls Zay Babineaux to Topanga’s. The boy doesn’t keep him waiting, arriving at the cafe only a couple of minutes after he does.

“What’s up, Mr. Hunter?”

Shawn gets straight to the point. “Why is Maya not going to the school dance?

“Oh man,” Zay sighs through his teeth. “I thought she’d pull something like that.”

“Why?”

“Every time someone brings up the subject of the dance, she changes it two seconds later — and avoids looking at anyone, but especially Lucas.”

Damn cowboy. “Who’s Friar going with?”

“Actually, I don’t know,” Zay squints as if he’s just realizing it. “Every time someone brings up the dance, he looks miserable and changes the subject too — except he’s all anguished, longing gazes at Maya.”

“I knew it! I knew that boy liked her.” Shawn’s pleasure at being right about something regarding Maya is cancelled out by the fact that he now knows for sure that Friar’s thoughts about Maya are not just friendly like he pretends.

“Like her?” Zay laughs. “Lucas has been half in love with her practically since he first met her. He was just too stupid to realize it.”

“If he likes her so much, why didn’t he ask her to the dance?”

“Ah.” That brings up Zay short. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask him.”

“You didn’t ask your best friend who he’s taking to the school dance?”

“Nah. I’m not really interested in going myself.”

Shawn sighs in exasperation. “Why not? I thought school dances were a big deal? I know they were back when I was in high school.”

“Well, you see, the girl I like is going with someone else,” Zay explains. “And the girl I was going to ask instead is going with someone else too. So, not interested.”

Shawn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Anyway,” he says, holding on to his patience. “Call Friar here.”

“Why me?”

“Because if I call him here, he’ll be suspicious, and he might tell Maya.”

“How do you know I won’t tell Maya?”

“Will you?”

“Nah man, I wanna see the fun first!”

*******

It takes Friar barely ten minutes to arrive. It’s lucky they all live so close by. The Farkle kid arrives with him.

“What are you doing here, spawn of Minkus?”

“Zay said to come.”

Shawn looks at Zay, who grins back unrepentantly. “I didn’t want him to miss out on the fun either!” he whispers behind his hand.

Lucas eyes Shawn and Zay suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me, Friar,” Shawn shoots back. “Why was Maya upset when I brought up the school dance?”

To his surprise, Friar’s eyes turn hard. “She was? I swear, if he’s said or done anything to make her upset—”

“Who?”

“Charlie Gardner. He asked Maya to the dance last week,” Lucas says shortly.

This, as Shawn knows, is not true, because Maya isn’t going to the dance. If someone had asked Maya to go with them, and she’d said yes, she would be going. She wouldn’t abandon them. Maya isn’t like that.

But before Shawn can interrogate him any further, the door to Topanga’s slams open and another boy storms in. He looks as mad as Lucas.

“Well, speak of the devil!” Zay exclaims in the hearty 1950s accent Maya uses whenever Charlie is around.

The boy Shawn infers is Charlie Gardner strides up to them. “What the hell is your problem, Friar?” he growls, almost getting in his face.

Lucas doesn’t generally use his size and strength to intimidate, but he isn’t feeling particularly charitable towards Charlie right now. So he — with deliberate, contemptuous calmness — nudges Charlie back. “What’s your problem, Gardner?”

They confront each other, practically nose to nose, looking for all the world like two boxers squaring off, though Charlie is a good half a head shorter and significantly less muscular than Lucas.

Shawn, Zay and Farkle all roll their eyes.

“Do you have to go after every girl I like?”

Friar looks confused at the other boy’s words, but still angry. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how every time I like a girl, you butt your big nose in!”

“Since when have you liked Maya before I did?” Lucas demands. “I’ve liked her since middle school! I liked her before you even knew her!”

He misses the wide grin that appears on Zay’s face, or the way Farkle’s jaw falls open in surprise.

Shawn raises an eyebrow. If Lucas really has liked Maya since middle school, and still managed to cause the mess that was the triangle between himself, Maya and Riley, then he really is a bonehead.

“Maya? I’m not talking about Maya, I’m talking about Brenda!” Charlie yells (too dramatically, Shawn thinks). “I was going to ask Brenda to the dance! You just had to go and ask her first, didn’t you?”

“You were the one who asked Maya to the dance first!”

“What are you talking about? I never asked her.”

Shawn mentally groans. This is what he gets for trying to look out for his daughter: having to deal with a bunch of teenagers with questionable intelligence.

Lucas and Charlie have simmered down, both looking more bewildered than angry.

“Friday, last week,” Lucas reminds Charlie. “When you were standing by Maya’s locker before first period.”

“I was asking her advice on how to ask Brenda out!” Charlie explodes. “And when I finally asked Brenda today, she said she’s going with you!”

“You asked Brenda?” Zay chimes in, pointing at Lucas.

“Yeah, after I overheard Charlie ask Maya—”

“I didn’t ask Maya!” Charlie interrupts, nearly apoplectic now.

“—Brenda’s in my physics class, and she said no one had asked her to go the dance either.” Lucas finishes. “Why?”

“I asked Brenda a couple of days ago,” Zay says, “And she told me she was going with someone else. I didn’t think it was you.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Lucas asks his best friend, a bit worried. “I know you liked her, but I thought you were over her, man. Besides, I thought you like Sma—”

Zay jumps up and covers Lucas’s mouth before he blabs anything more, nearly taking him down to the floor. “Never mind him,” he says to the others, clinging to Lucas’s back, “He never makes sense anyway.”

“Even if you liked Brenda before, why would you ask her out now instead of asking Smackle?” Charlie asks.

Since he’s still trying to restrain his best friend, Zay can only mentally facepalm. If it’s not one person, it’s another. What is it with people blabbing out other people’s feelings?

“Hehehehe!” He hopes his laughter isn’t too forced. “Why would I ask Smackle? I have no reason to ask Smackle.”

Charlie snorts. “Come on! You like her, you spend all of biology staring at her with that stupid smile on your face while she practically takes over the class.”

“No, I don’t,” Zay says nervously.

Lucas takes advantage of his distraction to push aside his hand and shrug him off his back. “Looks like everyone knows you like her, man.”

“No, I don’t!” Zay insists. “Besides, she’s going with Farkle.”

“No she’s not.” Farkle pipes up. “I’m going with Missy.”

Lucas, Zay, and Charlie all raise their eyebrows at him.

Looking back and forth between the four boys, feeling like he’s watching a doubles tennis match, Shawn infers that this turn of events is completely outside the realm of belief to the two Texans and the boy he now remembers Maya referring to as a cheese soufflé (he has no idea why).

“Missy Bradford?” Lucas asks, disbelievingly.

“Yeah, she asked me last week. She thinks I’m cute.” Farkle gives them the cheeky Minkus genius smile. “She says she thought I was cute back in middle school, and wants to go with me to the dance. Smackle doesn’t mind. We broke up months ago, guys. She and I were only going to go together as friends if we didn’t have someone else to go with. When Missy asked me, I said yes, and pushed Smackle to ask you, Zay. I’m pretty sure she likes you back.”

“What??”

Shawn closes his eyes and massages his temples. He can feel the headache brewing in his skull. What is it with these teenagers and their convoluted dating lives? More than that, all this meddling in each other’s lives. If Shawn was worried before that his investigating this situation would have seemed like interference, he’s definitely not worried now. Not with these guys making such a mess of things themselves.

“I thought Smackle spoke to you about it.” Now Farkle looks unsure.

“She didn’t! All she did was ask me a couple of days ago in the cafeteria what my plans for the dance were.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her it was just a stupid school dance and that I wasn’t going, and then I left! I haven’t really seen much of her since.”

There’s a pause as the four boys just look at each other in confusion, clearly aware that something’s wrong but unable to figure out exactly what that is.

Shawn raises his eyes to the heavens, praying for patience, reminding himself that teenage boys are dumb and that he was once one himself. “That might have been Smackle angling to ask you to go with her,” he says, and the boys turn to him. “And your reaction may have given her the impression that you’d rather not go to the dance at all than go with her.”

Zay makes a strangled noise as his mouth opens and shuts like a goldfish.

Lucas pats his shoulder in comfort, then freezes, eyes wide as he remembers something that’s far more important to him. Realization has dawned. He turns to Charlie. “So you didn’t ask Maya out?”

Charlie nearly rips his hair out in exasperation (And Shawn sympathises with him). “For the last time, Friar, NO! I wanted to ask Brenda, and I was asking Maya for help!”

“Then why did you wait this long to ask Brenda?”

“Because I wanted to make it really special for her.” A beatific, daydreamy smile appears on Charlie’s face. “My cousin helped me set up a romantic dinner date tonight, and I gave Brenda flowers and balloons. I even made her a banner, with petals to make the words asking her to go to the dance with me.” He sighs, then his smile disappears. “And she said no, Friar! You know why? Because you butted in and asked her first!”

The irony of the situation is not lost on Lucas, and he almost laughs — this whole mess seems to have started because he himself delayed asking Maya to the dance because he wanted to make it special for her. But he doesn’t think Charlie would find it very funny. Besides, he has more important things to deal with first. Such as—

“So, Maya’s not going with anyone to the dance?” He asks, a mix of horror and hope on his face.

Finally!, Shawn thinks, they’ve gotten to the point of this entire exercise. “Maya’s not going to the dance at all,” he announces.

Lucas looks appalled, and Farkle and Charlie join Shawn in glaring at him. Only Zay isn’t paying him any attention, still grappling with the terrifying revelation that he now has to ask Smackle to go with him (because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t).

Just then, a young brown-haired girl walks in, looking around curiously.

“Brenda!” Charlie exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

“Farkle messaged and asked if I could come...” she trails off undecidedly.

“What?” Farkle shrugs when everyone turns to stare at him. “She needed to be here. Someone has to clean up this mess you three dum-dums created.” He points to Lucas, Zay, and Charlie, who scowl back at him indignantly.

“What’s going on, Charlie?” Brenda asks, eyeing the boys and Shawn warily, no doubt wondering why she’s been invited to this circus.

Charlie hesitates.

“Ask her!” Lucas, Zay, Farkle and Shawn simultaneously yell.

“Okay, okay! Brenda, will you go to the school dance with me?”

“I already told you, Charlie, I’ve agreed to go with Lucas.”

“It’s okay Brenda,” Lucas interrupts. “You can go with him if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Brenda looks relieved. “Okay, Charlie, then I’ll go with you.”

Charlie grins hugely. Shawn thinks he looks a bit like a moron, but well, there are three other young morons in here, so Charlie’s in good company. Everyone watches as the reunited couple walk out.

“Ah, young love,” Zay pretends to wipe a tear from his eye.

Shawn clears his throat. “Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?”

“I have to go.” Lucas scrambles hurriedly out of the cafe.

“Yeah, me too.” Zay follows on his heels.

Both of them leave, forgetting Shawn and Farkle, who grins conspiratorially at him.

“Off you go, Minkus’s robotic offspring.”

“I’m a real boy!” Farkle protests.

“Scram!”

“Scramming!”

Ch.6 | Ch.7

This was a really hard chapter to write, mainly because it's dialogue-heavy (and dialogue is where I struggle the most), and the mixed PoVs. What did you think of it? How did I do? Let me know!

#lucaya #lucaya fanfiction #girl meets world #girl meets world fanfiction #gmw #gmw fanfiction #maya hart #lucas friar #my writing #my posts

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whitelvntern · 6 years

Photo

Guy Gardner/Warrior and Kyle Rayner/ Green Lantern

Green Lantern Vol 3 #60

art by Darryl Banks

(please don’t tag as ship the age difference makes me uncomfortable thank you!)

#ch: guy gardner #ch: kyle rayner #greenlanternedit #dailydcheroes #comicedit #r: guy & kyle #mine #p: edit #c: green lantern vol 3 #flat chest -#ask to tag

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ifyouvegotthemoneyhoney · 4 years

Text

Sunset Love ch. 1: Roomies

"Fuck! This stuff weighs a fucking ton," grunted Duff, shoving the bass drum into place at the back of the room. Steven twisted the screws on the hi-hat and gave it a little roll with his fingers. A pleased grin crossed his face.

"That's me all set up," he said, throwing himself onto his stool and spinning his sticks in the air. Izzy scowled as he bent to plug in his Marshall amp.

"At least this place has fucking electricity," he grumbled. He threw his guitar strap over his head and banged out a few chords. He grimaced and crouched down at the amp. "Yeah, the sound in here blows."

Duff was picking out rumbling notes on his bass, his head to one side. "Hey, this place is costing us four Benjamins a month," he replied. "Let's appreciate it, yeah?" He looked across the room as someone came in. "Speaking of which, you gonna get me your share of that, Axl, yeah?"

Axl had his head down, hands in pockets, sheets of red hair shielding his face as he kicked a lump of concrete on the floor.

"Yeah, sure, man," he replied absent-mindedly after a moment. He looked up, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes. He surveyed the room and pursed his lips. "It sure ain't the Sunset Hyatt," he said moodily.

Duff rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms. "What's with you guys, pissin' and fussin'?" he demanded. "We had to twist the guy's arm to even let us have it. Quit bitchin' and let's do what we're here to do."

The others mumbled assent and continued setting up. Electric twangs, beats and thumps filled the space, disappearing into the bare-brick walls.

"Where's Slash?" asked someone.

"He's here," said Slash, who had just dashed in the metal door. He stomped across to the other side of the room from Izzy and set down his guitar case and amp. "What'd I miss?"

He looked around at the other four. "Hey, Axl, you still got no PA?"

Axl was mooching in a corner, hands still in his pockets, whistling scraps of tunes. "Fuck you," he shot back, "You know I don't."

"Right, so, how we gonna hear you?"

"Guess you'll have to stand right up next to me if you wanna hear me," said Axl in his smooth, deep voice, tilting his chin at Slash. The others watched warily. Axl may have been small and skinny, but they knew his temper, and his fists.

Slash said nothing. Guitar on, he strummed out the opening chords of the new song they were working on. Like the others, he grimaced at the awful acoustics in the room, then grinned.

He was playing it cool, as always, but Slash was psyched that they finally had a place of their own to rehearse, day and night, whenever they wanted. This was going to take the band to the next level, he thought. The level where they could get a whole set down and really start pushing to play the clubs on Sunset, and beyond. He already had an idea in his head for their band logo. Two guns, their handles intertwined with two thorny roses.

"We ready?" came Axl's voice, cutting through his thoughts. Duff gave the nod to Steven, who clapped his sticks together, and they were off.

***

They played until they were too hungry and tired to go on.

"I'm outta here," called Duff, swinging off his guitar. "I promised Mandy I'd take her to the Rainbow tonight. Who's coming?"

Steven was already up from his drum kit and at Duff's side. Izzy mumbled about having to go see someone and was gone. Duff looked from Axl to Slash, then laughed.

"Right. You guys live here." He was grinning madly. "So this is like, your first night in your new home? Like a house-warming?"

"Fuck off," muttered Slash through a cloud of smoke and turned towards his amp. Axl said nothing, just lit his own cigarette and blew out a long lungful, staring at the wall. For a moment Duff thought he caught something of what Axl was thinking. Duff knew he sometimes slept rough around West Hollywood: stairwells, doorways. This place was a roof over his head.

"Just fuckin' with ya," said Duff easily. "See you guys tomorrow sometime."

He and Steven stepped out into the alley and left into Gardner Street, the thrill of their new rehearsal space putting a spring in their step as they headed towards Sunset Boulevard.

There was silence in the room for a while as Slash and Axl smoked, perching on amps, looking around at the place that was newly theirs: four bare cinder block walls and a sheet metal roof. It was storage space, advertised as such; they hadn't exactly made it clear to the owner that they were a rock band intending to rehearse. The guy had made a big deal out of the fact that there were electricity sockets and a shared toilet in the lot.

The floor was bare concrete. The drum kit and guitars looked odd, standing around unused. It was 10 P.M. on an August evening, the sun had gone down and the day's heat was seeping out of the walls. The reality of their situation was beginning to dawn.

"Guess we shoulda got ... mattresses or something," said Axl, looking around.

Slash chuckled, nodding. "Yeahhh," he drawled. He reached over to a paper bag by the wall and pulled out a familiar brown bottle.

"'Least we got our friend Jack to keep us company."

Axl looked up at Slash and smiled slowly.

Slash busied himself popping the lid, taking a swig and handing it over. He felt suddenly weird - was he embarrassed, shy? It was true that he and Axl hadn't spent a lot of time together since Axl moved out of Slash's mom's house a while back. But that smile of Axl's - it looked like it had been more than just a casual facial expression. Or was he imagining things?

Slash knocked back more of the Jack, passing it back and forth to Axl. It did its magic, as usual - with every swig, the awkwardness he felt faded. He knew that many people drank to feel different, to feel less like themselves. He did it to feel less awkward, more sociable - more like himself.

Fortunately, Axl was a good talker. It never took much to set him off on one of his long, rambling musings about life, music, art, whatever he was digging at the moment. Slash provided nods and comments here and there as that voice filled the small space.

What a voice, he thought. Many singers he knew had speaking voices that didn't resemble their singing at all. Axl was different. When he spoke, the tones were just as smooth and deep as when he sang. Thoughts of thick caramel and warm, melting chocolate came into Slash's mind. He found himself trying not to stare too long at Axl's face, especially his lips as they moved. He noted their feminine curves and their natural pout.

Suddenly Slash realised what he was thinking and was annoyed with himself. What was he, a fucking fag? He took another gulp. It must be the whisky. He shivered.

"Yeah, it's getting fucking cold, man," said Axl. He cast around the room and squinted into a corner where Duff had propped his bass. "Hey - what we got here," said Axl, jumping to his feet and picking something up from the floor. He held it up. It was Duff's voluminous red and black leather trench coat. He had brought it from Seattle and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Axl spread the coat down on the floor by the wall and lay down. He closed his eyes and appeared to be going to sleep.

Slash seized up with awkwardness again. He drained the last drop from the bottle.

"Sure as hell beats the fucking Tower Video stairwell," said Axl with closed eyes.

Slash said nothing.

"You going to sleep or what?" said Axl.

Slash got up and flicked off the light. He moved warily in the dark towards where Axl lay. He crouched down and clumsily stretched himself out on the leather coat, leaving as much space as possible between himself and Axl.

"Night, fucker," came Axl's voice, sounding half-asleep already.

"Fuck you," fired back Slash, turning onto his side, away from the other man.

It might have been better than a stairwell but it was still fucking uncomfortable. Slash dozed fitfully, turning to one side then the other against the concrete, his drunken mind filled with disturbing half-dreams. At one point, God knows what time, he jerked awake as he felt something heavy on his chest. He gradually realised it was Axl's arm.

The other man appeared to be sleeping deeply, his steady breathing coming through his nose.

Slash froze. He clenched his teeth in anger. We fucking agreed this wouldn't happen again, he thought.

#slaxl #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfiction #guns n roses fanfic #axlrose #axl rose #slash #slash gnr

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thatesqcrush · 5 years

Text

Long Way Home, Ch. 7

AN: Welp, there was a delay. Work life has been intense and home life has been just as busy lots of sick going around. Add writer’s block and it’s never a good combination. But here! We! Are!

Rafael x Reader. SVU x Good Wife AU. References: GoodWife S.3, E.21 & S.5, E.12

ETA: tag list - @madpanda75 @melissagarner @sass-and-suspenders @dreila03 @bowieisawizard @garturbo @themanwithsass @obsessionprofessional @dreila03 - anyone else just ask; sorry if I forgot anyone.

***

Judge Cuesta was eventually found holed up in a secret chateau off 57th and Central Park West. He maintained his innocence of Bullock’s murder, asserting that he wouldn’t hurt his friend to maintain his reputation. “I had to hide; someone is out for revenge!” he barked angrily at Rafael, now back down at One Hogan Place.

“Your attitude, your honor, it will do more to condemn you than the evidence. You’re on this side of the bench now,” Barba snapped.

Your brows rose but you remained silent, rapping your fingers on a half empty can of ginger ale. You willed your nausea to abate. It did, and you cleared your throat before speaking. “We have solid alibi for Mr. Rooney. Despite your need to secure the conviction, he surprisingly holds no ill will to either one of you. You should be so humble,” you replied sternly.

Cuesta slumped forward, defeated. “I know. We shouldn’t have done it. We were greedy and righteous. I let that cloud my judgment. What now?”

“That’s for the court of inquiry to determine. You will likely be removed from the bench altogether,” Rafael replied.

Your phone buzzed and you reached into your pocket. “Y/L/N here,” you answered holding up a finger to excuse yourself. Rafael nodded and you took the call outside Rafael’s office. You half smiled at Carmen who returned the smile before continuing her typing.

After briefly talking with Liv, you returned to Rafael’s office. You motioned to Rafael and he came over. You whispered what Liv told you and his green eyes darkened. He nodded and turned to face Cuesta, clearing his throat. “We’ve got Bullock’s killer in custody.”

****

A partial print on the pen lead to the Rooney’s son, Patrick Jr. who was so angry about his father’s wrongful conviction, that he was hell bent on revenge. Patrick Sr. was devastated and any forgiveness he may have had at Cuesta and the newly deceased Bullock, was long gone.

“My wife is gone, and now, the only family I had left, is now behind bars. I may be a free man to others, but I forever live imprisoned thanks to selfish pigs like Judge Cuesta and Judge Bullock,” Patrick Sr. sobbed on the news.

Carisi reached for the remote and turned off the television. “Well, he ain’t wrong,” he sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and looked over at you. You were signing off on paperwork effectively closing out the case on Bullock’s murder. “Whatcha got going on this weekend?”

“Laying low,” you replied knowing full well you had a visit with an ob/gyn. “You?”

“It’s my anniversary with my girlfriend. Pulling out all the stops - home cooked dinner - making my ma’s lasagna from scratch, taking her for drinks and jazz,” Carisi replied excitedly.

“That sounds so lovely. I hope you guys have the best time,” you replied smiling. “How long have you two been together?”

“Two years; she’s really great. I am so lucky. This line of work... it can be hard to find someone,” Carisi stated. “I am sure you understand, with lawyers and long hours.”

“I do,” you acknowledged. “Keep that in mind yourself Fordham law,” you subsequently teased. “Happy anniversary,” you added after a beat. You furrowed your brows. Carisi noticed the crestfallen look on your face that quickly appeared and disappeared just as quickly.

“Hey, you okay? I’m sorry if that brought up any memories,” he began to apologize.

“No, no,” you reassured him. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?” Carisi asked. You noted the concern in his voice. You shook your head, grabbing your bag. “It’s fine; we can talk about it later.”

Carisi opened his mouth to protest but you held up your hand. “I’ll be fine. Go - go enjoy your anniversary before another crime happens and you have to get called back in.” You waved Carisi off. Carisi nodded, and squeezed your shoulder. “Y/N, you can always count on me for a shoulder.”

You smiled. “Thanks Sonny. I appreciate that.” With a final wave, Carisi left.

You gave the paperwork in front of you a final look through. Satisfied, you dropped off the paperwork on Liv’s desk before heading out of the precinct and to your apartment.

As you walked down the street, your phone buzzed. Looking at your phone, you frowned. You recognized the 312 number.

It was Lockhart Gardner. You debated answering or letting it go to voicemail. After two more rings, you answered it, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Hello?” You questioned.

“Y/F/N? It’s Diane,” the voice on the other side answered.

“Diane! It’s nice to hear from you. How... how did you get my number?”

You could almost see Diane’s smile, even an hour away. “Kalinda.”

“Of course Kalinda,” you sighed. Lockhart Gardner’s own in-house investigator and a dear friend of Will’s, had her own ways - sometimes not so legal ways - of tracking people down. “Whats going on Diane? Is everything okay?”

The blonde name partner explained that Will had some remaining equity in the firm that they needed to absolve and as his next of kin, you were the one they needed to buy-out.

“Can’t you just email me the paperwork and I will Fed-ex overnight?” You asked wearily as you approached your apartment.

“No, unfortunately it needs to be done in person,” Diane explained. “With all the remaining partners present.”

You groaned. “Okay, I will see what flights are available. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Don’t worry about the flight dear. I’ll take care of it,” Diane replied.

Just as you were about to thank her, a thought occurred to you. “Diane, is Will’s name coming off the door?”

Diane sighed. “There was some talk about it. Particularly from David. But we voted to leave Will’s name. He and I did start the firm after all.”

You thanked Diane before ending the call. Finally, you reached your apartment. Your phone buzzed again. You groaned. ‘What now could Diane want?’ you wondered.

[Rafael, 6:47 PM]: You free?

You debated your response. You watched three dots appear on your phone. They stopped and then appeared again.

[Rafael, 6:48 PM]: If so, want to grab dinner?

[Y/N, 6:49 PM]: I am wiped. Not feeling too hot. Rain check?

[Rafael, 6:51 PM]: Of course.

You felt bad but you really were exhausted. You also very anxious about your appointment. You decided to play your cards to your chest. Once you had your appointment, you could make whatever moves needed to be made. Further, you now how to get ready for a day trip to Chicago.

You plopped on the couch and turned on the television. Before you could help it, you dozed off.

#my fics #my writing #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba fanfic #barba and reader #svu x the good wife #will gardner x reader #svu goodwife crossover #the good wife au #svu au

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luckyspike · 5 years

Text

Adventures in America, Ch. 7 - The Mix-Up Kid

In which the storm chasers enjoy the delights of a Waffle House

Adam learns Warlock’s birthday

And a storm brews ahead

Yes, figuratively, but also literally. This is a tornado-chasing fanfiction, honestly. Did you think I wouldn’t actually put a tornado in the damn thing?

Start from the beginning: ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6

or follow this link to my fanfiction tag

Adam could have whooped when Noel informed him and Lucky that they wouldn’t be meeting in the lobby until eight the next morning. “There’s gonna be storms, probably to the northeast, but it’ll be afternoon by the looks of it. Get some sleep tonight, boys, an’ we can meet up for a late breakfast and decide where we’re headed.”

They didn’t unpack much - pajamas, toothbrushes, and that was about it. Adam took a hot shower, quick as he could, and when he got out, he found Lucky laying on top of his covers, earbuds in, face-timing with a friend. Adam gave him a thumbs-up - his turn for the shower if he wanted it - and settled onto his own bed, pulling his phone out and making sure he was connected to the wifi before he texted his parents to see if they were awake - they hadn’t been, but they were so eager to hear from him that they took his call, voices thick with sleep but happy nonetheless. He could hear Dog snoring on their bed in the background.

They were happy to talk to him. They were glad to hear he was having fun, and reminded him to be careful and stay safe. He told them about Lucky, and Noel and Rachael, and everything he’d learned so far. “It sounds like a good experience,” Arthur Young said. “Just ah … you do know when the tornadoes are coming, don’t you?”

“I mean, largely. They can be unpredictable.” He heard his mother make a worried noise. “No, mum, but like, they have this program called Baron, it’s running all the time, and it shows radar and gives warnings, and Rachael and Noel have been doing this for ages, so they’re really good at it too. And careful.” He considered telling them about the safety precautions Noel had reviewed earlier, but considered that the things he had warned them against might actually be more alarming than the safety instructions that followed, and he decided to leave it out. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry, promise. How’s things at home?”

“All well and good,” his mother replied. “We miss you of course, and Dog misses you - he was sniffing around in your room the day you left - but Anathema said she’d have a word with him and he’s settled down since then.” He heard the dog’s collar jingle as his mother, or father maybe, presumably gave him a scritch behind the ears. “He’s a very good boy.”

Adam grinned at the unmistakable sound of a small dog’s tail wagging so hard it was beating against the bed cover. “Aw, yeah. Give him a hug for me, yeah?”

“Of course, love. Arthur, hug Dog, would you? He’s closer to you.” Adam’s mother yawned, drowning out some of the grumbles in the background and the sounds of more happy tail-wagging. “Have you spoken to your friends? Oh, and Anathema and Newt asked about you this afternoon.”

“Not yet, figured it’s kind of late. I’ll send an email.” He yawned as well, prompted by his mother. “Maybe in the morning. You can tell them I’m good though, if you see anybody.” He yawned again. “Sorry, I’m kind of beat.”

“Jet lag,” his father answered sagely. “You ought to get some rest then, Adam.”

“You guys too,” the boy added earnestly. “Sorry to call so early - I’m all messed up with the time zones -”

“No, Adam, we’ve been waiting to hear from you.” He smiled, and the slight ache of homesickness that had settled in his chest as soon as he’d boarded the plane lifted a little at the warmth in her voice. “Text anytime, love, and we’ll talk if we can.” She blew a kiss into the phone. “But get some rest for now, alright? Sleep well, and let us know how tomorrow goes!”

“Will do, Mum, Dad. Talk to you guys later. Lots of love.” He ended the call, and sat back against the pillows, continuing to tap on his phone, sending the video of the hail storm off to the group and his sister. To his surprise, Pep texted back almost immediately, sending a message of ‘Dude what!’. He paused. Then he called.

“Hey storm rider!” she answered. “What’s up, Adam? Cool video!”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Hah. What are you doing up?”

“Driving in to London with the girls later today, and I couldn’t sleep. Hopefully Addie is willing to drive because I’m going to be napping.” She yawned. “So how’s America?”

“Crazy.” He laughed. “I went to Dunkin Donuts this morning.”

“Mm. America runs on Dunkin, I’m told. You meet anyone cool?”

“Well, the people I’m with are really cool.” She made a curious little noise. “So there’s Noel and Rachael, the guides - I told you about them. They’re super nice. And I think between the two of them they might know everything about weather. We drove for like, 11 hours today, and you know we only went through two entire states?”

“Wow.”

“And I napped for part of it but a lot of it they were teaching us stuff … Man, Pep, there’s so much.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I know you guys always made fun of me for how much I talk about weather sometimes, but honestly I don’t know like … anything.”

“Well, maybe not compared to the experts,” she teased. “But compared to me and Brian and Wensley you know way more than any of us.” She coughed. “So who’s ‘us’ on your trip? There’s another student?”

“Oh! Yeah. He’s cool.” Adam heard the shower shut off, and wondered how much he should really say. “He’s American, but he lived in London for a while, he said. You know, I think his dad might have even worked at the air base?”

“No,” Pepper laughed. “No way. Only you, Adam, would find the one American in the entire world who even knows about Tadfield and grew up in London. And of course he’s obsessed with weather. You should find out if he lived in Tadfield at any point, like when he was a baby or something.”

Adam considered it. “Nah,” he said at length.”What’re the odds?” He yawned, as Lucky stepped out of the bathroom, dressed only in boxers, scrubbing his hair dry with a towel. “I’m sure we’ll talk about it at some point.”

“You’d better. Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, me too.” He heard the sound of sheets and pillows being pushed around. “Might try to get a couple hours before I have to go.”

“‘M gonna go to sleep too.” He let his eyes drift closed. “Jet lag’s brutal.”

“I bet. And all that time in the car probably didn’t help.” She yawned again. “Can you send us more videos tomorrow?”

“If I see anything, yeah.”

“You think you might?”

“Dunno. Everything’s supposed to happen in the afternoon, so we’re gonna wait to see what the morning looks like.”

“Well. Send us stuff even if you don’t see anything. Send us videos of weird Americans.”

“Yeah, okay. Talk to you later, Pep.” He hung up the phone, laughing while he did so.

Lucky flopped into his own bed, yanking the covers up over himself. “Friends?”

“Yeah, back home. Pepper.”

“Isn’t England like … six hours ahead of us?”

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged. “I dunno, she said she was up. Figured I’d give her a call.” He grinned at his phone, before locking the screen and plugging it in to charge. “I sent the gang a video of the hail. Most of them prob’ly never seen hail that big before.”

“Yeah, that was wild.” He folded his hands behind his head. “Hope we get a tornado tomorrow.”

“That’d be cool.” He sighed. “Pep told me to send more videos. Said if there wasn’t anything interesting in the weather I could send her videos of crazy Americans.”

Lucky laughed. “I’ll act extra crazy tomorrow if we don’t get any weather. You can send her a video.”

“I’m not sure she’d count you since you grew up in London.”

“Nah, only until I was eleven, and even then other than the like … the housekeepers and the gardner, everyone was American. Well, except Nanny. But she was Scottish.” He shrugged. “Then my dad got reassigned back to the States and I’ve lived stateside ever since. So I’m pretty American.”

“Eleven?” Adam asked, pointedly not opening his eyes. “Huh.”

“Yeah it was weird.” Lucky yawned. “There was this whole thing in the middle east and then boom, back to America, no more England. Honestly, I think my mom was just sick of random diplomatic trips. I’ll tell you about it some time, that whole trip to the middle east was so weird.”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, faintly, feigning fatigue. “Yeah, gotta remember to tell me about it. Never been to the middle east.”

“You’re not missing anything. Avocado farms and weird professors and that’s about it, far as I remember.” He shut the light off, and rolled over, away from Adam. “G’night, dude.”

“Night,” said Adam, on autopilot. Minutes later, he heard quiet snoring, and all the better, because his mind was racing.

Most eighteen-year-old boys are, by nature, not particularly introspective. They may be bright, the may be clever, they may be well-educated and top of their class and very high-achieving, but it’s the rare boy who is capable of reflecting on all of the information presented to him, reconciling it with what he already knows, and then reaching accurate, logical conclusions that may be distressing to him. Often, denial worms its way in early, and until the correct answer knocks the boy in question directly on the head, the powerful lure of denial will always draw him away, convince him that another conclusion is more likely, or more desirable.

Adam Young, though, was not most eighteen-year-old boys. To start, he was the Antichrist, even if he’d turned his back on that years ago and preferred not to think of himself in those terms. Further, he was quietly introspective, a trait he’d developed due to, well, being the Antichrist, and always, in spite of himself, watching his own thoughts for hints of Not Being Adam. Messing About. Antichristly things, essentially.

That could be to his advantage even now, though. And right now, his mind was cranking into overdrive, combing through what he knew. Warlock Dowling - father might have worked in Tadfield, was working in England when Warlock - Lucky - was born, Lucky was raised in England. Satanist nanny and monk gardner. Random trip to the middle east when he was eleven, followed by a sudden departure from London, never to return to the UK again. Or the middle east, come to think of it.

Adam wondered if he had stayed in touch with anybody from London. Particularly, the nanny and the gardner.

It all sounded very suspicious.

“We would have been with you from the beginning, you know, but there was a mix-up,” Aziraphale had told him once, years ago. Adam remembered that he’d gone to Aziraphale crying - it happened sometimes, more then but still these days, blessedly rarely - about what he’d done in the few brief hours when he really was the Antichrist. The things he might have brought about. The fate he and the world had so narrowly avoided. “We would have loved to be with you.” Adam remembered how the angel had hugged him, stroked his hair, dried his tears. “It was an unfair burden to lay at your feet, Adam, and Crowley and I always wanted to help but … there was a mistake. Best laid plans, and all that. It doesn’t undo what was done, and I am frightfully sorry about the lead-up, the way we treated - or didn’t treat - you, but know that had we known, we would have been there. But Adam, even then, you were brilliant. You are brilliant.”

There was a mix-up.

Warlock Dowling snored gently.

The next morning dawned hot and humid. Lucky and Adam woke with the alarm around nine, and lazily set about getting ready for the day. Adam checked his phone to find messages from his friends about the hail storm (“don’t let those brain you,” from his sister and, “dude what if it hits you,” from Brian), replied when he felt it was indicated, and pulled on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. Lucky was ready to go shortly after, and they stepped out of the motel room and into the air. Lucky made a noise of disgust.

“Talk about humid.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Adam agreed, trying to ignore how his t-shirt was already sticking to his skin, even though he’d only just come outside. “Good storm weather though, yeah?”

“Should be. I’m sure we’ll get a look at the radar over breakfast.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get us a tornado today, huh?”

“Or some serious hail,” Adam agreed. A part of him - a large part of him - wanted to say sod it to the weather and have a serious talk with Lucky about his upbringing, his birth, his life to that point. How old was Lucky? They were roughly the same age, Adam knew that, but they could easily be a year or so apart, and all of the stuff that sounded suspiciously occult might have just been a coincidence. After all, it was all relatively easy to explain, in the harsh light and oppressive humidity of the Oklahoma day: American diplomat posted at a British airbase, family moved to the nearest metropolitan area, lived there for years, made a brief foray to the middle east - and America was so involved there around that time, Adam remembered, that that was hardly unusual - and then returned to America. Unusual, certainly, but not … occult. And having a diplomat for a father wasn’t exactly commonplace, so even then a bit of unusual-ness could be forgiven.

The Scottish Satanist nanny, though, reared her presence in his mind. The monk gardner. Good and evil.

Adam shook his head, when he realized that Lucky was speaking to him. They’d walked to the truck together while Adam thought and, on autopilot, he had set his stuff in the bed of the truck and closed the gate. Noel and Rachael were nowhere to be seen, not yet, but Adam thought he heard them talking on the other side of the motel. “Huh?” he said, looking to Lucky.

“Nothing,” the other boy shrugged. “Just talking about the radar. All this moisture and warmth - if we have any cold air from the northwest at all, we run a really good chance of catching a storm today.”

“Yup.” Adam leaned back against the truck and looked around the parking lot idly, arms crossed over his chest in spite of the heat. He met eyes with a stranger - a businessman, by the looks of him, dressed all in brown, with neatly-combed salt-and-pepper hair - that was sitting on the trunk of his rental car, reading a book. The two exchanged taut smiles, and the stranger returned to his book. “Hopefully out in the middle of nowhere, where we can get a good luck without too much people an’ stuff being around.”

“Yeah, that’d be ideal.” Lucky waved to Noel and Rachael as they approached. “Hey guys!”

Rachael raised her thermos in greeting. “Morning morning! You guys ready to hit it? The radar looks pretty good.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep.” Adam opened the back gate of the truck for her, and she tossed her bag in. “You hungry? I’m starving. Hop in, we’re gonna hit the Waffle House and go over the game plan.”

“No Dunkin?” Lucky looked surprised.

“Gonna mix it up today, get exciting.” Noel snickered. “And also she has her own bag that she used to brew a pot in the room earlier this morning, so she’s already fueled-up.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “She’s an addict, guys, I’m telling you.”

The boys laughed, while Rachael pointed out, “There’s worse things. Alright, load up, we have a storm to talk about, and I want some waffles!”

The Waffle House was such a uniquely American experience that Adam started taking video almost as soon as they entered. From the way the entire restaurant greeted them as they walked in, to the waiter’s accent, to the menu itself, he sent all of the snaps to his friends. There was no reply, not when it was so early in England, but he looked forward to the messages that would probably come through later, after everyone was up.

He tucked into a truly massive waffle and two eggs for breakfast, topped with a few strips of crispy bacon. It tasted exactly like he’d imagined it would, and he devoured it with gusto, finishing before Rachael even got through her second cup of coffee. Noel, still working at his omelet, pulled his laptop out of his bag and handed it over the table to Adam. “Check out the radar, Adam, and see what you think. There’s some really interesting stuff shaping up; let me know where you think it might be.”

Adam cracked the computer open. Next to him, Lucky studied the screen intently with dark eyes while Adam poked the cursor around the radar screen, randomly at first, and then slowly in a more organized fashion, tracing fronts and pressure systems, gradually hovering more consistently over a spot in mid-Kansas. Lucky nodded, never speaking, when he agreed, pointing at times. Across the table, Noel and Rachael shared companionable silence, Rachael with her coffee cradled in her hands and Noel slowly working at his omelet.

“Ready to show your work?” Rachael gestured to Adam to turn the laptop around, after he and Lucky had exchanged a few words and seemed to settle on a location. “Let’s see it.”

“I think,” Adam said slowly, pointing to the screen, “the best shot of anything happening is going to be right around here.”

“Hey!” Rachael grinned broadly. “Nice job, guys!”

“Yeah?” They exchanged a high-five. “Yeah!”

“Maybe a little more east,” Noel added, after he’d swallowed his last bite of omelet. “But really good for day two! What made you settle on that area?”

Adam and Warlock traded off explanation duties as Rachael settled up with the waiter, she and Noel adding information and correcting them as needed. In the truck, they settled in, Rachael in the driver’s seat for the first leg, and set course for Kansas. There wouldn’t be as much lecturing today, Noel assured them, and although Adam was eager to learn, he was truthfully a little grateful for the break. As they drove across the plains, he and Lucky put their headphones in, Adam listening to his downloaded playlist of tried-and-true favorites while he took video of the blue skies and white clouds, saving them to send later, when he could get to wi-fi. Around nine, he did get a text from Aziraphale - Crowley’s phone, of course, but the grammar and punctuation gave the angel away - bidding him to stay safe and out of trouble. He smiled, faintly, and settled back in the seat to watch the landscape drift by.

Lunch was sandwiches from a little deli they passed on their way through a town for gas. Adam savored the turkey and cheese in the back of the truck, Noel informing them that the time would be tight for the afternoon storms and they couldn’t afford a proper stop. He must have drifted off after he ate, because the next time he woke it was because Rachael had nudged his knee. She pointed to the screen of her laptop, excited. Adam leaned in. “Look at this,” she said, excited. Adam nudged Lucky, who had likewise drifted asleep with his headphones in, and ignored the muzzy noises the other boy made as he woke. “See the body of it there? It’s been holding steady for the last hour.”

Adam squinted. “Is that a hook echo?” He pointed to a part of the screen. Rachael, thoughtful, turned the screen to look. “Ah, no! But it might be an elephant trunk-type signature …” She studied it for a few seconds. “We’ll keep an eye on it. You awake, Lucky?”

“Mm yeah.” Still blinking the sleep from his eyes, Lucky unbuckled his belt, the better to lean forward and study the computer.

“Check out the base velocity data.” She changed views, and both boys blinked. “Do you know what you’re looking at?”

“Not … really.” Adam cocked his head. “Something about the wind speed in relation to the radar site?”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” Lucky chimed in. “Is it … wait. Green away and red toward? Or red away? Or is it speed …”

Rachael shook her head. “Not quite, but you guys are already ahead of the game - a lot of chasers your age don’t know anything about base velocity until after their first chase. So Lucky, it’s red away, and green toward.” She pointed to the screen. “Doesn’t really have anything to do with the speed of the winds, just how they’re moving in relation to the weather station. So when we’re looking for rotation, obviously, we want to see red and green really close to each other, right?”

“Makes sense,” Lucky agreed.

“So look here.” She pointed. “Now this stuff up here -” she twitched her hand to gesture vaguely at a scattering of red amongst green, “- I think is just artefact but this, this looks concentrated. See that?”

Adam and Lucky exchanged a look. “Like, it’s the dot, right?” Adam guessed.

“More or less.” Rachael flipped back to the regular radar view. “But you see how it correlates to a high-precipitation area? Means there’s probably a mesocyclone in there.” She clenched and unclenched her fingers, excited. “We might get a tornado today, guys. Definitely a lot of lightning, if the precipitation holds together.”

“How far out are we?” Lucky asked, shifting anxiously in his seat.

Noel answered this time. “Probably an hour or two. We should start seeing some more interesting clouds soon. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Adam and Lucky settled back, each looking out of their own window, while Rachael and Noel talked about something else - photography, something with Rachael’s lightning set-up - in the front seat.

“Have you ever seen a tornado?” Adam asked Lucky, as he craned his neck to see more to the front of the truck.

“Oh, yeah! Not up close, but one time in Virginia there was a little one and I could see it from the back yard. It didn’t last very long, but it was really cool. You?”

Adam thought about the tornado in Tadfield, when he was eleven. “Nah,” he said, stuffing the memory away. “Been in a few bigger storms, but you know … England.”

“Yeah, really severe weather isn’t really a big thing over there, huh? They get tornados though sometimes. I think.”

“Really little ones usually, yeah,” Adam agreed. “They don’t last long, normally, or do much damage.”

“I know another chaser from England,” Noel chimed in as he drove. “He comes over for the season every year. We were talking about it one time, he said that England has the second-most tornadoes per land area in the world.”

“Seriously?” Adam blinked.

“Yeah, but it’s a small area.” Lucky frowned. “And they’re not big?”

“No,” Noel agreed. “Not usually. He lives right in what he calls England’s tornado alley.” He laughed. “A little southwest from London I think he said? I can’t remember the name of the town. Most of the twisters there are around 95MPH wind speed, so they’re not really that powerful, but he told me he chases over there sometimes, if he’s home when they’re around. He showed me a few photos.”

“It was pretty cool - you don’t really think about tornadoes in England,” Rachael chipped in, absently. “Where in England is Tadfield, Adam?”

“Northwest of London,” he answered, using the city as a reference point. “About, oh, two hour drive I think, usually.” He did not add that most of the recent times he traveled to and from London by car, the car was being driven by a demon, and travel time was therefore significantly reduced. “It’s not a big village at all. Biggest thing there is the air base, and even that’s pretty small now. Population-wise, anyway. It’s mostly computers.”

“I think that’s why my dad got reassigned to London,” Lucky said thoughtfully. “Plus, you know, diplomat. London made more sense I guess.”

“Yeah it would do.” Adam looked sidelong at the other boy. Lucky didn’t notice, staring out of the window. “So you were born in London?”

“No, actually. It’s kind of a crazy story - my parents were supposed to fly in to the air base together, but my mom ended up having to go alone for a few days because there was something with the president? I dunno, Dad never actually said what it was. But anyway Mom flew in and then like, went into labor while she was staying at the air base waiting for him, so I ended up being born there.” He shook his head.

“Oh.” Born at the air base. Adam could have laughed with the relief of it. Another thought occurred to him. “Aren’t pregnant women not supposed to fly, though?”

“I dunno, probably.” He shrugged. “I guess when the president says go, you go.” He snorted. “And then, so like, she’s at the air base, but then she said they didn’t have a doctor that knew how to deliver babies? So she had to go to this weird hospital with nuns to have me. Worked out in the end, Dad got there after I was born and we went to the place in London like they’d planned.”

Weird hospital with nuns. The words echoed in Adam’s ears, in between the pounding rush of his own heartbeat. Weird nuns. Satanic nuns, maybe? How do you ask if someone was born in a hospital full of Satanic nuns?

“Wild story,” said Rachael from the front seat, but as far as Adam was concerned, she might have been a thousand miles away. “See the clouds up ahead?”

“Supercell!” he heard Lucky say, distantly, and the other boy - the other boy who was born in a weird hospital with nuns, to a politically-connected family, and then raised by a satanic nanny and had a monk for a gardener, and then went to the middle east when he was eleven - leaned forward to start chattering on with Rachael and Noel. About storms.

Adam loved weather, but at the moment, nothing could be further from his mind.

“When’s your birthday?” he blurted out, stopping the other three mid-conversation. And then he blinked, realizing what he’d done, as Rachael and Lucky looked to him, puzzled. “Sorry, never mind, wasn’t paying attention.” He forced a weak smile.

“August 23. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam lied, immediately turning to look out the window. “Wow, check out that cell!”

“... Yeah. It’s big.” Lucky looked over to Rachael, who had raised her eyebrows questioningly. Even Noel was glancing curiously between the two students in the rearview mirror. Lucky shrugged at Rachael, the universal ‘I have no idea’ gesture. “You alright, Adam? Really?”

“Fine.” We have the same birthday, born in a weird hospital with nuns, we’re probably the same age, they thought I was him, they thought he was it, it was him, it was this guy …

“Nerves are totally normal,” Noel said a little more quietly, not taking his eyes off the road, or the storm cell ahead. “Don’t worry - we’re gonna get plenty of videos if anything happens, but we’ll keep our distance. It’s early still - by the time we’re five weeks in you’re gonna wanna drive the truck yourself.”

It was him, he was the mix-up, it was - And then Adam stopped himself, because some part of him realized that this wasn’t productive, he wouldn’t change or alter anything with this line of thinking, and furthermore, he was in the back of a truck which was headed straight for what looked, on radar, to be a supercell with significant tornadic potential. “No, it’s fine,” he insisted, with a shake of his head. “No, I’m sorry. Sorry, really, I think I’m just still a little messed up from the time change, but I’m fine. Seriously,” he added, when Rachael and Lucky looked to him, radiating concern and curiosity. “Let’s do it - I’m so ready.”

Rachael watched his face for another minute and then made a decision, apparently, because she nodded ever-so-slightly, and turned back to her laptop, maneuvering it so the two in the back seat could have a better view of the screen. “Good, because you see that on radar?”

“Hook artefact,” Lucky breathed, as Adam watched the picture twist on the screen, the red blob at the center of the storm leaving a trail to the southwest that was just so slightly starting to curve north-easterly.

“I think so. Let’s take a look at the base velocity.” As she switched views she grinned, and Adam saw what she was moving to point toward right away. “See it?”

“Mesocyclone?” Adam asked, eyes wide, insisting his brain focus on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time to really process the fact that he was sitting with the other Antichrist - the not-Antichrist, the mix-up kid - and hunting tornadoes with him later.

“I think so.” Rachael looked up, out of the windshield, and the students followed her gaze. Ahead, the clouds towered, gray and ominous and piled on top of one another, all the way up to the stratosphere. “Looks good for a tornado, guys.” A bolt of lightning shot through the clouds, illuminating pockets and curves. “Let’s get it.”

Now with Chapter 8!

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #adam young #warlock dowling #aziraphale #crowley #the one where they go to america #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the love song to storm chasing via fanfic that no one ever asked for

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