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garthnadermemestash · 11 months
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defund trump
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The US Justice Department is seeking 33 years in prison for Enrique Tarrio, the former Proud Boys leader convicted of seditious conspiracy in one of the most serious cases to emerge from the attack on the US Capitol, according to court documents.
The harsh sentence request came as it emerged that Christopher Worrell, another member of the extremist group, has disappeared, days before he was due to be sentenced on Friday.
The sentence for Tarrio, if imposed, would be by far the longest punishment that has been handed down in the massive prosecution of the riot on 6 January 2021. The Oath Keepers founder Stewart Rhodes, who was convicted of seditious conspiracy in a separate case, has received the longest sentence to date – 18 years.
Tarrio, who once served as national chairman of the far-right extremist group, and three lieutenants were convicted by a Washington jury in May of conspiring to block the transfer of presidential power in the hopes of keeping Donald Trump in the White House after the Republican President lost the 2020 election.
Tarrio, who was not at the Capitol riot itself, was a top target of what has become the largest Justice Department investigation in American history. He led the neo-fascist group – known for street fights with leftwing activists – when Trump infamously told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by” during his first election debate with Democrat Joe Biden.
During the months-long trial, prosecutors argued that the Proud Boys viewed themselves as foot soldiers fighting for Trump as the Republican spread lies that Democrats stole the election from him, and were prepared to go to war to keep their preferred leader in power.
“They unleashed a force on the Capitol that was calculated to exert their political will on elected officials by force and to undo the results of a democratic election,” prosecutors wrote in their filing on Thursday. “The foot soldiers of the right aimed to keep their leader in power. They failed. They are not heroes; they are criminals.”
Meanwhile on Friday it emerged that the authorities are looking for Worrell, of Naples, Florida, who was “unaccounted for” ahead of his sentencing. He was convicted of using pepper-spray gel on police officers as part of the mob storming the Capitol in 2021.
Worrell had been under house arrest in Florida since his release from jail in Washington in November 2021, less than a month after a judge substantiated his civil-rights complaints about his treatment in the jail.
Prosecutors had asked a judge to sentence Worrell to 14 years. Court records show the sentencing was canceled on Tuesday and a warrant issued for his arrest, initially under seal.
More than three dozen people charged in the Capitol siege have been identified by federal authorities as leaders, members or associates of the Proud Boys, whose members describe it as a politically incorrect men’s club for “western chauvinists.”
As well as the long sentence for Tarrio, prosecutors are also asking for a 33-year-sentence for one of Tarrio’s co-defendants, Joseph Biggs of Ormond Beach, Florida, a self-described Proud Boys organizer.
They are asking the judge to impose a 30-year prison term for Zachary Rehl, who was president of the Proud Boys chapter in Philadelphia; 27 years in prison for Ethan Nordean of Auburn, Washington, who was a Proud Boys chapter president; and 20 years for Dominic Pezzola, a Proud Boys member from Rochester, New York.
A total of about 1,000 people have been charged with federal crimes related to the January 6 riot. More than 600 of them have pleaded guilty or been convicted after trials decided by a jury or judge.
Defense attorneys argued there was no conspiracy and no plan to attack the Capitol.
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onenakedfarmer · 6 months
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emperornorton47 · 8 months
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lenbryant · 10 months
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Makes me wonder what kind of world we'd be living in now if their plans hatched on December 18, 2020 had succeeded.
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rabidhiss · 1 year
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docholligay · 2 years
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Are you out of your fucking mind? Now, I am not enough of a gun enthusiast to know when the long-range rifle of that particular ability came into being--my grandad would have known--but I know it wasn’t in common usage. quite a bit of the “could kill a soldier at 1000 yards and anyone behind him” was a myth. 1000 yards is such a long fucking shot, y’all. You cannot possibly understand if you don’t shoot.
A moment’s research tells me it wasn’t even in the Olympics until 1908 even though free rifle was already an event.
EVEN if they have like, a Mauser, which is a WWI “sniper rifle” so too early but it’s the only gun of that vintage and style I’m familiar with, let me tell you what,. accuracy at that distance isn’t just....done by the gun. There’s a whole level of skill behind it, and let me tell you some guy shooting from his high armpit AIN’T DOING IT.
also there’s a reason you don’t stand for this shit. This is a long-range setup
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At that distance, every TINY FUCKING TWITCH MATTERS. People who are skilled long-range shooters are extremely good at quieting their bodies, and even then they need a bench. There’s a whole breath-holding thing, etc, I will never be a long-range shooter like this and that’s fine, we all have our gifts.
“They must have one of them newfangled rifles” Oh fuck off not to sound like an NRA fuckl but the rifle doesn’t shoot itself, my dude, he could have the nicest gun under Chstendom and he’s not gonna be able to hit jack or shit like that.
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prismatic-bell · 13 days
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IMPORTANT REMINDER TO MY EUROPEAN FOLLOWERS AND OTHER TUMBLR DENIZENS FROM AN AMERICAN DESERT-DWELLER:
Climate change is a bitch and summer is coming. If you don’t already have an air conditioner and/or fans, NOW is the time to get them.
THINGS YOU SHOULD BE SHOPPING FOR NOW:
—clothes made of cotton or linen
—air conditioner
—fans
—frozen meals that can be cooked in the microwave
—potable bottled water; you want five days’ worth per person and pet in your household
—bottled fruit juices; it does not matter if these are sugar-added because you’ll want the electrolytes
—electrolyte drinks
—electrolyte pills (you can get these online, I get mine from Amazon)
—popsicle molds to use with fruit and juice
—ice cube trays
—nonperishable salty snacks like peanuts
—one charger brick per adult in case of rolling blackouts or power outages; charge these at the beginning of May, and drain them via use once a month if they’re not needed
YOUR TO-DO LIST:
—check your home’s HVAC system if you didn’t do it at the beginning of winter. Make sure all the filters are clean and replace them if needed
—check the seals on your sinks and bathtub in case you have to run water to handle shortages
—make and freeze meals you can cook in the microwave or simply defrost. Remember to select light summer fare, not hearty winter soups and gravies
—purchase and freeze lunch meats and cheeses you can defrost and use this summer for sandwiches when it’s hot
—assemble your check-in list: elderly, pregnant, disabled, and immunocompromised friends and relatives who may struggle to get things they need when the heat wave hits. Have this list posted and ready to go through daily once the heat gets high. DON’T JUST ASSUME YOU WILL REMEMBER. WRITE IT ALL DOWN.
—create a list of emergency contacts in case of fire, heat stroke, and other heat-related emergencies. This should include your local version of 911 (I think in most of Europe it’s 112, but don’t rely on me as an American, LOOK IT UP NOW before you need it), your doctor’s phone number, and two emergency contacts. Keep it in a place where it can be easily found if someone needs to make these calls on your behalf.
—ask your doctor for an additional prescription for any medications you take, and fill it now. Extreme heat can cause disruptions in the supply chain. Make sure you cycle these meds; that’s to say, always use your oldest bottle first so you don’t end up with expired meds in an emergency.
—stock your first-aid kit. If you don’t have one, now is a good time to make one.
—if you own a car, get your yearly maintenance done now. You don’t want to be dealing with an inoperable vehicle if you need to evacuate.
Staying safe this summer starts now. Get your prep done.
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darkredmage · 10 months
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fellas have any of you ever listened to the full earthbound ost while doing treasure charts and diving points in ao
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47-protons · 1 year
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i think the fun thing about the pesticide training. outside of the absolute fucking hours long droning lectures. is that so very very very much of it focuses on “what are alternatives to chemicals?” like hey, if there’s a way you can handle the issue without spraying, how do you try that first? or like. start with the lowest dilute rate effective per the label and then work your way up. they emphasize “hey don’t fucking go hog wild on the chemicals. cool your jets.” don’t over apply the product because that can leave residue and that’s how you can end up with resistant generations. it’s interesting.
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peachesofteal · 5 months
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Light on -single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt(s): fire alarm, reader backstory, reader cooks for Simon, requested by multiple.
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The chair at your kitchen table is small. 
It’s so small, he’s half afraid he might break it, the rickety wood creaking under his weight, and he shifts, leaning back to test its ability, hoping it won’t give way on him. The wood makes a louder groaning sound, and your voice carries from the hall, half of a jest in your tone. 
“Are you trying to break my furniture?” Shit. 
“No.” He shoots to his feet, patting the little wooden chair like he’s trying to comfort it, embarrassed that he’d been caught. “Jus’ trying to test it, make sure it’s not gonna collapse on me.” 
You have an eyebrow raised, returning from your bedroom with a pajama clad Emmaline, little red onesie dotted with deer, your hand patting her back firmly and bouncing her in your arms at the same time, her little brow furrowed like she’s irritated with you. 
“It’s fine. I’m just kidding.” You look down at her and sigh. “Are you going to let me put you down so I can finish dinner?” 
“I can take her.” He offers, and you flash him a relieved smile. 
“Hear that?” You hum in her ear, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Your favorite person wants to hang out with you.” His stomach clenches. 
“Come here baby girl. Let’s let mum have a break, yeah?” He reaches, and you bend down to place her in his arms, the smell of your skin, your hair, the scent of your laundry detergent flooding his senses. Emmaline is so small in his hands, but he’s growing more comfortable holding her, and when she settles against him easily, he can’t help the warmth that flares in his heart, overflowing through his body with pride, and… something else. Something strong. Something he thinks he knows the name of, but is too afraid to voice. Something that has him dreaming about giving you his last name, giving it to Emmaline too, tacking Riley onto the end of both you, as a stamp, a seal, a promise.
“She still needs to burp.” You tell him softly, pulling the cloth from your shoulder and arranging it onto his, fingers lingering when you smooth it out. “Do you know-“ 
“Yeah.” He assures, swiftly, and you smile again, hand brushing against his when you give her on last little pat on her back. 
“Okay. I’ll work on dinner then.” 
“You ah- don’t have to keep feeding me.” He tells you, even though the full plate of pot roast with stewed carrots, potatoes, and gravy makes his mouth water, massive portion settled in front of him like you’re trying to make sure he’s never hungry again. 
What a good girl, he muses indulgently. Good little mum. Good little wife. Emmaline coos in his arms, still awake, settled on his knee with her back to his stomach, one hand firm around her tummy. He bounces her, one hand with a fork stabbing into a carrot, the other holding her steady. Safely. 
“I can take her, if you want to-“ 
“No. You sit.” He inclines his head, and you blink, before automatically folding into the chair diagonal from him with your own plate. The room is quiet, fork chiming against china, until you speak again. 
“I don’t mind it.” You swallow, taking a long sip of water. “Cooking. For you.” You whisper it to your plate, like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, and he tamps down the urge to reach for you. “You do so much for us, you’ve- I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re mine now, sweetheart. You don’t have to repay me. It’s my job to take care of you. Take care of you both. It almost all comes out of his mouth, but instead he changes hands on the baby, putting his fork down and extending the one closest to you, palm open on the table, a gentle entreaty. 
“I don’t mind, helping. Someone’s gotta take care of you girls.” Your eyes go wide, lips parting, before you’re collecting yourself, looking down into your lap with a stunned little smile. “Sweetheart, I-“ 
The words are robbed from him, stolen by a screeching, blaring noise in the hallway, a high-pitched alarm that has him out of the chair, shoving the table with one hand and positioning himself between the door and you, curled over Emmaline who’s now crying, startled. 
“Fire alarm.” You wince, but when he doesn’t relax, your expression goes waxy, soothing, and your hand finds the inside of his elbow. “It’s just a fire alarm, Simon. People fuck with the pull station now and then. Probably nothing.” It takes a second, a second too long for his brain to catch up, and when it does, he blanches, looking you over for fear, repulsion, of him. Distaste of the secondhand reaction that he just cannot control. 
He doesn’t find it. Only blithe acceptance. Understanding. He clears his throat. “Let’s get outside then.” 
It’s cold outside. Winter is in full swing, and he’s happy he forced you into your winter jacket when did, amid your distraction, too pre-occupied with wrestling a screaming Emmaline into her coat and hat, swaddling her up in a fluffy blanket before you even stopped to think about yourself. 
“It won’t be long.” You tell him, alternating between trying to soothe the baby’s frantic tears, and looking around anxiously. “Station seventy-four is just a few blocks north.” Station seventy-four? “Look, see?” You point, cooing at Emma, red emergency lights flashing down the street. You stray closer to him, pressing into his side, and he puts his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. You’re… nervous, and he’s not sure why. The fire alarm didn’t seem to rattle you too much but now, you’re chewing on your lip, eyes scanning across the people milling about outside. 
“You alright?” He murmurs, and you nod. 
“Just cold.” You reply through clenched teeth. 
It doesn’t take long for the fire service to get the building sorted, and once they give the all clear, you break from his side, beelining towards the front of the building. He’s about to jog after you, surprised at the pace that you've managed to make, when he hears someone calling your name. Practically yelling it, and he pulls up short.
It's a firefighter. He approaches you with an open palm, like he's trying to corner a wounded animal, and your face pinches at the corners, hand cradling the back of Emmaline's head. Simon inches closer, getting within ear shot, using the dark and the people still scattered about to sink into shadow, becoming Ghost, silent, unnoticed, and lethal. Nearly unseen.
"-are you?" The firefighter asks, staring at the baby in your arms with wide eyes.
"I'm fine. We're fine." You reply stiffly, looking away with a grim, haunted expression.
"You never come down to the station... we'd- we'd love to see you both. Or if you ever needed anything, we're here for you. We-"
"Thanks." you cut him off, trying to turn away, but he steps after you, protesting.
"I know it doesn't-"
"Officer." An older man interrupts, sharply, and the younger firefighter straightens.
"Captain."
"You're needed for system reset." He instructs, and the officer takes one last look at you, something conflicted in his face, before nodding and stepping away. "He's not wrong." The Captain tells you gently, and you shake your head.
"We don't need anything from you."
"You need community. Support. The station is a family, we look after our own."
"I'm not your own." You snap. "He was! He was your own. And how well did you look after him, Captain?" The words are vicious, pointed like arrows, seeking to maim, to hurt, and the look on your face is so anguished, so tormented, that Simon can't stand to see it for one more second.
"Everything alright?" He steps between you and the Captain, positioning his body so that you're half hidden, and your shoulders immediately slump, tension draining from you when you look up into his face.
"Yeah, let's go inside. It's too cold out." You tell him, and he nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at the frowning man, letting his hand slide over your shoulder and down your spine, directing you inside and keeping you close.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again once you're in the hallway outside your door, and you turn into him, close enough that he can lean his nose down to skim through your hair.
"I'm okay." You whisper, fingers finding his at his hip. "We're okay."
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therealzoddvongotz · 1 year
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Gravy seal
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chuck-glisson · 2 years
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Hey,
Check out THE TRUMP ARMY
☆ Meal Team #6
☆ The Gravy Seals
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hellishjoel · 7 months
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skincare sunday
1.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader
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summary: you show Joel your skincare routine, he asks to join you.
warnings/information: Fluff, cozy!joel, fall!joel, implied established relationship, mentions of sex (but no actual sex), mentioned age difference, light swearing,fluffy fluff fluff because hot old man Joel Miller deserves it! work away those worry lines king!
A/N: enjoy xx these two make me cope with being single
Joel’s mixture of curiosity and boredom struck around eight o’clock at night. 
The two of you had finished dinner, chicken pot pie with a golden crust and warm gravy to celebrate the start of fall and to fill your bellies with a distinct coziness. To Joel, fall was nearly all year round, the way he wore his flannels like an autumn badge of honor. 
After offering to do the dishes, he settled on the couch with a beer and kicked up his feet to watch the Cowboys game. 
Sundays were the perfect reset day. Clean house, freshly made bed, and food prepped to have his lunches set up for the rest of the week. 
It was also nice to unwind and do your personal routine. You did your everything shower (and by everything, you meant everything). After feeling the fresh steam cleanse your pores, you start on your skincare regimen. This was when Joel’s mixture of curiosity and boredom struck. 
“Whatcha doin’?” Joel’s tall figure loomed in the doorway to the bathroom as you finished running a brush through your damp hair. 
You couldn’t help but smile. He never did like to stay away from you for long. “Just doing my skincare.” Joel was already invading his way into the small bathroom, picking up random bottles and rolling them around in his palm to read the label. 
You watch as he squints and cranes his neck to read the minuscule writing. 
“Th’hell is this?” 
You roll your eyes with a sweet smile and take it out of his hand, settling it back on the counter. “You’re just askin’ to ask. To bug me.” 
Joel lets out a playful scoff as he crosses his arm and leans his bicep against the frame once more. “Now that hurts my feelings, darlin’. I like to know what you do in here that takes you upwards of an hour.” 
You sneer a face at him, and he meets yours with a kiss. You affectionately cup his chin between your fingers and gently swipe your thumb across his stubble. 
“It’s just skincare, baby. Some people have really long routines, but everyone has different skin needs. I’m just trying to minimize my pores and keep my skin barrier hydrated.” 
Joel lets a hum of interest roll off his tongue. He’s sort of become engrossed the more he looks across the counter. It probably looked like the side tray a surgeon uses with all the different tools they might need during an operation. 
You had out your cotton swabs and small cotton rounds, a BHA liquid exfoliant, a niacinamide booster, a toner, and some moisturizer to seal it all in for the night. Joel looked somewhat intimidated, and this man didn’t fear much of anything. 
You’ve tried before; you can’t say you’ve never asked, but Joel has yet to agree to a simple skincare night. But tonight was different, he looked a little fascinated as he squinted between the products and the smile on your face. It would make you happy, he knows that. 
He takes a contemplative deep breath, hands on his hips before he decides with a slow nod. Fine, woman. 
“Oh, Joel,” you coo excitedly as you grab his hand and forcibly yank him into the bathroom with you. “Wait-” you pause and put up your hands, observing his outfit. 
Buttoned-up flannel, casual blue jeans with wear showing at the kneecaps, and his watch Sarah gave him a few years back. “No, this won’t do.”
He grumbles as you tug him into the bedroom, looking at you like you were out of your mind. “We’re doin’ skincare in the bedroom?”
You’re shuffling through his closet, having to pass by a large chunk of hangers that were just hanging flannels until you find him a comfy cotton shirt to wear. You moved to his dresser and rifled through the drawers, clutching a pair of dark grey sweatpants with a small Texas logo on the pocket. “You can’t just wear anything for skincare, you need to relax.” 
He sighs loudly in a way of disobedience. He was never really one for relaxation. But he also wasn’t one to fuss with the lady of the house. He switched out of his stiff clothes and melted into his comfy sweats.
“Hate to admit it, feels good to get out of my jeans.” Joel’s approval is shown in the way his hands glide down the front of his chest to his abdomen, admiring the comfy tee. 
“You know Joel, some people take off their day clothes as soon as they come home.” 
He tuts at your teasing tone, closing the distance between you two as he plants a quick kiss on your lips. 
“Now, back to the bathroom?”
“That’s right, cowboy. Skincare in the bathroom, we need to wash your face.” 
He takes in a deep breath through his nostrils before doing what he’s told, and you praise him with a few heavy pats on his back. 
You sit him on the closed toilet seat and wet a washcloth. You gently soak his face and begin to work a cleanser in with your fingers. Joel parts his legs and insists you stand in the open space he’s carved for you. His warm palms rest on the back of your upper thighs. 
You blink slowly in contentment as he gently coasts his hands up and down your skin, from your hips to the ticklish backside of your knee. 
“I love you.” You whisper, watching his face become one with the white foamy cleanser. 
“I love you too, sweetie pie.” 
You try to bite down on your smile and ignore the butterflies that spread through your stomach. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, Joel knows how to make you feel like a teenager again, in love for the first time. All those stupid country songs he sang in the truck felt true with Joel. Though you’d never tell him that. 
All that love stopped when you saw his pores. “Jesus, Joel,” you go to pick at a few blackheads, but he swats your hands away. 
“I agreed to the relaxing thing, not the pimple-popping thing.” His southern twang pings off the walls. 
You roll your eyes, but he’s right, and you retreat to letting him enjoy his skincare. You gently wipe away the suds with the soaked washcloth and start his different serums. Joel even lets you put on the fluffy headband to keep his wild, silver-black locks out of his eyes. 
“You look so cute.” 
“Mhm, I know that’s right.” His voice is low and saturated in bliss. 
He dips his eyes closed in relaxation. You take pleasure in helping him release a fraction of the tension he carries. Slowly he melts as your fingertips massage up his jawline and add gentle pressure as you circle his jawbone. His jaw goes slack at the sensation, admiring the way you work your fingers into the aching muscle. 
“Gotta stop clenching your teeth, baby.” He doesn’t say anything, he knows it's a bad habit of his.
You let the serum sit, and you gently take his hands, add a glob of lotion, and give him a hand massage. He peeks his curious eyes open at the feeling, working up his fingers and over his knuckles, then his wrist. 
“Fuck,” he finally mutters, eyelashes fluttering before his eyes give in and close again. He’s so sweet like this, uncaring of how he looked to others because it was just you. He could be himself with just you. He could breathe with just you. 
You pump a little bit of facial moisturizer onto your fingertips and focus on his forehead, nose, and under his eyes. You take a little extra lotion and massage the skin on his neck. He hasn’t said a word in five minutes. He’ll be damned if he makes fun of how long you take to do your skincare ever again. 
After tapping in the moisturizer, he looked like a whole new man. 
“All,” you pause to press a gentle kiss on his lips before you stand up straight, “done.” 
There’s a noticeable frown on his face when he realizes his time is up. “That’s it?”
You stifle a laugh and nod your head to the side, signaling for him to look in the mirror. 
He groans lowly as he plants his hands on his knees and pushes himself up, straightening out with a few pops to his back, and looking at himself in the mirror. He looks from side to side, admiring the way his skin glows and glistens. 
“Wow, it feels so,” He reaches his hands up to his face, and you quickly swat them away. 
“Hey- no! No touching your face after skincare, not with your dirty hands.”
“Oh,” he mutters and nods quickly in slight understanding. 
It was sweet to see Joel taken care of, and, more importantly, that you were the one aiding him. 
“Thirty years younger already?” He asks to make you laugh, a large smile on his lips as he watches you throw your head back and giggle. 
“I like the way you are now. Just a little maintenance is all.” 
He likes the way he looks and feels. “What now?”
You purse your lips and wiggle your eyebrows. “We could read our books before bed or finish the Cowboys game… or we could do other things.”
His eyebrow cocks, and the left side of his mouth twitches in a cocky little smirk. “I like other things.”
You two race off to the bedroom, and enjoy the last few hours of your Sunday reset. 
---
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rabidhiss · 1 year
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