#i love a grand gesture. like driving 8 hours for a date. or going on one date and then reading someones 400 pg thesis

[insaneclownpussi]

wild day yesterday that ended in an intervention for my dad. but really what i cant stop thinking about is the person i kissed right before i left austin…

#one of my fave things abt myself is how intense i am when i first get involved w someon lollll #i used to look back on my first relationship and be like #wow i had no filter when i was 16 i did/said so many things that were off the wall #like TATTOOING my crush’s POETRY. ON MY BODY #anyways i’ve realized this past year that it actually had nothing to do w being 16 im just like that 🤪 #i love a grand gesture. like driving 8 hours for a date. or going on one date and then reading someones 400 pg thesis #ahhhhh i feel like my brain is on fire!! i need to be kissing i need to be fucking etc etc #jackson knows what they’re getting into so 🤷🏻‍♂️ #the thing w my dad was wild lol never a dull holiday here

[bqstqnbruin]

From the ground up

Alright y’all, a little switch up from the normally scheduled 10 things programming. But this is 8 pages of fluff that was requested based on the Dan + Shay song From the Ground Up.

This is also very inspired by my grandparents who knew each other for 85 years, were married for 66, had 4 children, 13 grandchildren, and currently 10 great grandchildren, so here’s also their story, but it fits with the song, so why not?

Hope you like it! ______________________

Five Years Old

The snow was falling, all the neighborhood boys were gathering in his front yard to start playing. You two had always been friends, meeting when you were three years old and in the same preschool class. You watched from your bedroom window as the boys started throwing snowballs at each other, something you loved doing with your younger brother. You put on all the winter clothing you can find, running downstairs to beg your mom to go across the street to the Jost’s house to play with the boys. 

“Have fun sweetie!” your mom calls once you finally wear her down and convince her that you’ll come in as soon as she calls you in for dinner.

Running as fast as your legs can carry you, more and more children aggregating in their yard, it was an all out war between the guys and girls, snowballs flying. The girls were getting pelted, you coming in and throwing snowballs left and right at any boy who stood in your way. One by one, they surrender, until you were the last one standing. You were the almighty five year old, the winner of the snowball fight. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to see who it is only to be met with a snowball to the face. The boys around you were laughing as Tyson stood in front of you with a smirk. You wipe the snow off, staring at him for a minute while the girls stayed silent behind you. The snow was still following, a crown of water droplets forming on around his face as the melted snow clinged to his hair. It wasn’t a crush yet, because you didn’t know what that was. But it was something. 

The next thing you know, you’ve tackled him down in the snow, grabbing some off the ground and shoving it back in his face. The kids gather around the two of you, watching Tyson struggle to push you off of him, not succeeding until you hear your mom calling your name from across the street.

“Bye, Tyson!” you jump up, running back inside, leaving all the rest of the kids standing there, looking at Tyson’s wet hair, cold red face, and snow covered back while he watched you run and disappear behind your front door. 

 Seventeen Years Old

“What do you mean that’s when you knew?” you ask him, his laugh coming through the other end of the phone.

“Any girl who wasn’t afraid of beating up a guy who was bigger than her and actually does it well is the girl for me,” he says, referencing the snowball fight all those years ago. “You didn’t care what other guys thought of you: you got hit unfairly and I paid the consequence.”

“Well, yeah, you think I was going to let you get away with that? Also, we were the same size, you were pretty small then” you tease him. “It’s so corny that you fell in love with me when we were five years old.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to you,” he says, “There’s no one who I would want to be with other than you. The distance thing doesn’t even seem like it’s going to be bad knowing that you’re the one I’m doing it with.”

You feel your insides flutter at his words, wishing that he was there with you now. You two had been together for as long as your moms let you date, spending every moment together that you could. He was your best friend first, your boyfriend second, your forever third. “How are you feeling about going to North Dakota in a few months?” you ask him.

He lets out a long, slightly shaky sigh, “Excited? Nervous?” he tells you, his voice going up at the end of each, “Terrified.” 

“It’s a new experience, that’s natural,” you try to reassure him. “You’ve never really done this sort of thing before.”

“Aren’t you nervous about going all the way to Massachusetts?” 

Part of you was, part of you wasn’t. You were scared to be away from Tyson, but part of you knew that you would always find your way back to each other, even with the distance between Chestnut Hill and Grand Forks. “About being that far away from home? No, not really.”

“What about being that far away from me?” you hear him squeak out on the other end, barely loud enough for you to really hear the pain that was in his voice.

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper, wishing you could be there with him to physically comfort him, “We’re going to be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, knowing that he was going to cry a little if he weren’t already. “We have been best friends since I beat you up that day. No matter what, you’re going to be my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to love you. I don’t care if you’re at UND and I’m at BC. You could go to Sweden and I could end up in New Zealand and I will still always love you.”

You hear him laugh a little, a sniffle followed immediately after. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his nose was red, the goofy grin of his trying to hide the fear that would surely be covering his face. 

“Hey, meet me by the gazebo in thirty minutes, ok?” he finally says after what felt like forever sitting there in silence.

“Sure,” you tell him, your phone beeping as a signal that he had hung up. You had no idea what he had planned, but you did as you were told, grabbing your jacket and making your way to meet Tyson. You get there to find him pacing back and forth under the moonlight that was shining down on him. “Hey, babe,” you say, him pulling you in tight for a kiss. 

Even though it was summer, the night time brought a cool breeze that sent a shiver through your body even with the jacket on. Tyson takes off his jacket, his favorite one with his name on his back, handing it to you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull it over your head. “So, what are we doing here?”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he starts, knowing that would concern you a little, “but hear me out first. You’re confident that we’ll stay together even being in North Dakota and Massachusetts, but I want to put in stone. Or, I guess, wood,” he says, gesturing to the gazebo. 

“What are you talking about?”

“People carve their initials in the wood here all the time. Why don’t we do that, too?” 

You smile at him, bending down next to him to watch him carve TJ + YFI/YLI enclosed in a crude heart, next to others that had looked like they had been there for years. “I wonder who all these people are?” you ask, carefully tracing your finger over one that said MR+MD. “I wonder if they’re all still together.”

“Don’t matter,” Tyson shrugs, looking at the way the moonlight dances off your skin, “We’re still together, and I have a feeling we’re going to last.” 

 Eighteen Years Old

Tyson had no idea you would be there. The College Hockey Showdown was that weekend at Madison Square Garden, the Boston College Eagles playing against the North Dakota Fighting Eagles. One of your roommates was from a small town in southern Connecticut, half an hour outside of the city, so you convinced her to go with you and spend the weekend down there instead of driving the four hours back to Chestnut Hill after the game. 

“So, which one is he?” Julie asks as the guys skated onto the ice. 

You were in the only section that led you to be surrounded by a sea of maroon and gold, feeling weirdly out of place not wearing team colors but the jacket Tyson gave you that night at the gazebo, which you ended up stealing from him, instead. “Number 17, the curly-haired one,” you point to him as he talks with one of his teammates, his helmet off, making it much easier to see his face.

Tyson had been telling you how nervous the team was about this game: Brock was injured, Trevor was two days shy of a 730 day scoring drought, and the team hadn’t beaten Boston College in 11 years. Not to mention, UND and BC were the two winningest college programs since the 06-07 season, UND having a slight edge over BC, putting that much more pressure on the guys to win this game to help make the gap a little wider. Tyson only rambled off stats about the other team when he was worried about a game against them. It was the first time you would ever be rooting against the college team you had come to love, and only because it involved the boy you love. 

“Does he know you’re here?” she asks you, trying to figure out why he wasn’t looking up in the stands for you. When you shake your head no, she picks you up out of your seat, annoying the other Boston College fans while the ones behind you got a good look at the four letters scrawled across your back. “Tyson!” she starts screaming, shaking you in hopes that you would join in with her.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he would be able to hear his name being called once you joined in. You were waiting to see the look on his face when he finally realized you were at the game, so you scream along with her. He hears his name, confused as to where it’s coming from. He looks around the arena, taking what felt like forever to find you. His jaw drops when he sees you, a smile on his face as he frantically waves back at you. He nudges his teammate next to him, pointing up to you. You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but from the joy that covered his face he was excited that you would get to see him play. 

The first period goes by, no scoring, not much of anything. The second period was starting, and the blank score on both sides was making you nervous. One of Tyson’s teammates passed him the puck, Tyson taking the opportunity to shoot and scoring his sixth goal of the year. The Garden went crazy, you and Julie the only two in the small section of Boston College fans joining most of the crowd, Tyson pointing right up to you when he skated to the bench. UND went on the power play, his teammate passing him the puck again. At the dot, he fired it past the BC goalie, putting his team up 2-0.

You were overjoyed by Tyson’s game, getting to see him be named first star of the game that UND won 4-3. You manage to sneak your way down to where the boys are, Tyson somehow convincing someone who worked there to let you in once you gave them your name. You saw Tyson giving an interview, the guys passing by him and patting him on the shoulders while he talked. You didn’t hear what they asked him, but you could help but admire him. “That’s part of hockey. There’s going to be momentum swings. We really had to bounce back, but that just shows our character in our team. We’re all warriors in there and I think we proved it tonight.”

The reporter leaves, Tyson turning towards him. He was sweaty, disgusting, smelly, and all of that combined wasn’t enough to stop you from running into his arms as he picked you up in his arms and kissed you for the first time since the day you left. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he practically screams when he puts you down, kissing you again. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as he goes on about how excited he was that you were there. 

“I think you’re a good luck charm,” he says, leading you out of the way from some of the other guys walking around the hallway and plopping you down on the floor. “Hey, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his voice shaking.

You knew he was nervous by the sound of his voice. You gently squeeze his hand, the smile on his face growing bigger, “Yeah?”

“When you graduate, wherever I’m playing, or even if I’m not, I wanna be living with you.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you after graduation?” you ask him, his sweaty curls moving with his head. “You think we’ll still be together in three and a half years?” 

He swallows, looking down at your hands intertwined, sitting on his thigh, “I can’t imagine my life any other way. It’s written on the ground of the gazebo.” 

 Twenty Two Years Old

You and Tyson were going home for the wedding of one of your cousins. You had been living together for a year now in Colorado, Tyson enjoying his fourth season in the league.

“Hey, can we make a quick pit stop before we head to the reception?” Tyson asks you when you get into the car. Your cousins, Lisa and Brendan get in the back seat, Tyson being deemed the designated driver for the night. You swear you see them smile at each other before looking back at the two of you.

“Yeah, sure, is that alright with you guys?” you ask them, making eye contact through the rearview mirror. They both nod, the four of you talking about the ceremony the entire way to wherever Tyson was taking you. His hands were shaking like he was nervous.

You pull into the park that was down the street from where you grew up. “Come on,” he says, rushing around the car to open the door for you and drag you through the grounds. Lisa and Brendan follow, keeping their distance as Tyson sprinted towards the gazebo. 

“We haven’t been here since that night before we left for college,” you observe, looking out over the water that surrounded part of the structure. “Do you think our initials are still here?” you ask him, turning around to find him already on the ground. 

“Yeah, right here,” he says, tracing his finger over your initials. He reaches up to pull you down next to him. “Did I ever tell you that my mom's best friend carved hers and her boyfriend's initials here, too?” 

“No, do you know which one’s they are?”

He points to the ones by your knees, the same ones you had admired the night Tyson carved you there, MR and MD. “Matthias and Marianne. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve ever seen.” 

You stand back up, not wanting so much of your dress to be on the ground. You look for Lisa and Brendan, who are nowhere in sight. “Hey, where did-” you start, only to be cut off but what you saw in front of you. 

Tyson shifted himself to one knee, a small box in his hands with the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. “I know it’s kind of shitty to be doing this the day of someone else's wedding, but this is the only time I knew we would be here where we first promised to be with each other forever,” he says. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, suddenly thankful that you had brought makeup with you in your bag for touch ups. “You told me that night that no matter where in the world we were, we would always be together. I want to be together forever. I want to grow old with you, have a family with you, be the father to your children that I never got and be the man your dad always wanted you to end up with. I want to hold you close, protect you, love you. I want to be your husband. Y/N, will you marry me?” he asks, the tears falling down your face. 

You shake your head yes, unable to let out more than a happy sob as he slips the ring on your finger, finally hearing Lisa and Brendan screaming as you take Tysons face in your hands and kiss him. 

 Twenty Four Years Old

You stood in the pink room, trying to rock your little girl to sleep. Tyson should be home at any minute from the road trip, but Viviana had been fussy the entire day. All you wanted was for her to go to sleep so you could go to sleep.

“I’m home,” you hear Tyson call from the doorway of your house, praying that he doesn’t come in yelling while you cradle your ten-month-old daughter in your arms. He appears in the doorway to her room, dropping his bag and tip-toeing up to you. He rubs your arms, kissing you on the cheek before pulling you close to him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at Viviana. “Can you believe how big she’s gotten?” he whispers to you as she finally nods off to sleep. 

You lay her down in her crib, Tyson standing back and admiring how gentle you were with her. He hugs you from behind again, the two of you taking a moment to just look at your daughter. You lead him out of the room, closing her door carefully. “She is so beautiful,” you gush about your daughter even though she was the reason you were perpetually exhuasted.

Tyson hugs you, finally getting the chance to kiss you hello. “She takes after you. The room, though, is very pink.” You can’t help but laugh at the same observation he makes whenever he goes into her room. As soon as you found out you were having a girl, Tyson went overboard, buying every dress he could, little bows, cute socks, anything that looked like it was made for a girl, regardless of color or if it actually conformed to the gender construct, he bought, or convinced his teammates to buy for him so you couldn’t get mad at him for coming home with yet another Avalanche related baby item. 

  “I was nine months pregnant when you painted that, you know it’s your fault.” The two of you go to your own bedroom, you ready to crawl in bed even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “If she wakes up, can you take care of her?” you ask him, climbing under the sheets. 

“Yeah, but before you go to sleep, I think we need to talk.” You look at him, knowing that sentence typically comes with bad news, but Tyson’s face said otherwise. “I know Viviana isn’t even a year old yet, and I know we said we would wait until she was, but I think I’m ready to try for another kid now,” he says, “Only if you are, too, of course.” 

You look away from him, a picture of you and him looking down at Viviana right after she was born sitting in the frame on your bedside table. You knew Tyson wanted a big family, you wanted one with him. It was an easy decision: “Can we wait until after I get some sleep?” 

The smile on his face grows, excited that you were going to be trying for a bigger family. He plants a soft, sweet kiss on your head as you gently fall to sleep.

 Thirty Four Years Old

“Viviana Abigale, come down here!” you call to the birthday girl as your friends and family started showing up at your house. “Tyson, I think Cale and Gabe are here,” you say to your husband, hearing voices of his teammates carrying through your house indicating that Tyson had left the front door open for anyone to just walk in. 

You hear your kids running through the house, three sets of feet pounding against the floor as everyone started to show up with gifts and more food. 

It was Vivi’s tenth birthday, and Tyson insisted that you have a party to celebrate your oldest child turning double-digits. Part of you thought he just wanted to show off the house now that it was finally put back together after you had it redone, but he did more of the work in preparing. You were worried that would mean having a similar party with Alexander turned ten in two years, or when Jimmy did in four. Anything to have a party to celebrate your family, Tyson was the first to suggest you make it happen. 

Soon, your house and yard were filled with everyone you loved, laughing, eating, the kids playing. You watched as Alexander chased Jimmy with one of the hockey sticks Tyson’s mom had kept from when he was little. Tyson must have seen the anxious look on your face, “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. Alexander is harmless.” You both laugh as he hands you a glass of wine, you swirling around in the glass instead of taking a sip. 

“Want to go inside?” you ask him, taking his hand. You set the class down on the counter, Tyson showing a look of confusion by the untouched glass. You lead him to the wall underneath the stairs, looking at all the pictures that were there. The latest school pictures of your three children, a picture of you and Tyson on your wedding day, a picture of the two of you that your mom took when you went to the school dance together when you were in your first year of high school. “God, do you remember that night?”

“I only remember what I was wearing because of that picture and that I wanted to dance only with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“You were fourteen, there’s no way that’s what you were thinking of,” you tease him. “You danced with me once that night and spent the rest of the night leaning against the wall with the rest of the boys.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you!” he argues back, his face turning red with the embarrassment he didn’t want.

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, “I beat you up when we were five. Nothing you could do in front of me could be more embarrassing than that.” 

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, staring at the pictures that were on the wall of your family. “Hey, Tys?”

“Yeah?”

“When we first got married, how many kids did you think we would have?” 

He stops and thinks, knowing that he never explicitly told you, letting you decide how many you ultimately had. “I always wanted four.”

“Are you mad that we only have three?”

He looks at you. “Mad? Of course not.” How could he be mad that you gave him the three most beautiful children he could have asked for. They looked more like you than they did like him, but they definitely had his childish antics down to a t. 

“Would you be mad if we had a fourth?”

“Again, of course not,” he says, confused by what you were trying to say. You smile at him, it finally clicking. “You’re-?” he starts, unable to figure out how to express his joy with words. You nod, him pulling you in for a tight hug. “Holy shit!” he screams, “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“There are children, Tys!” you say, laughing as you cover his mouth. 

“We’re having another kid,” he says, his eyes lighting up. 

“We’re having another kid.”

 Fifty One Years Old

“Lucas!” you call to your youngest son, knowing he was the only other person in the house with you. You were trying to make dinner, one of Tyson’s favorite meals for his birthday.

“Yeah, Mom?” your sixteen year old says, not looking up from his phone as he walks into the kitchen.

Your hands were covered with raw meat, mixing everything up to prepare the stuffed burgers. “Can you run to the store and get me another onion?”

Lucas groans, in a typical teenage fashion. “Dad is already at the store getting you basil, can’t you just call him to get it?”

“No, because this is his phone,” you tell him, hitting the screen with your elbow so it doesn’t lock on you since that’s where the recipe is. “And it was parsley. The keys are by the door, there’s cash in my wallet, and yes I expect the receipt and know how much I had to start with,” you say to him.

He rolls his eyes at you, leaving for the store anyway. Lucas drives to the store, muttering to himself that you would send him out when Dad was already there. He laughs as he pulls in next to Dad’s car, knowing that he was bound to run into him while he was there. He wanders through the store, not looking for the onion in the slightest in hopes to find his father and tell him to get it so he can get home and go back to the game he was on with his friends. 

Lucas finds Tyson in the spice aisle, standing there with two small bottles in his hands, one parsley, one basil. “She wanted parsley,” he says, startling his dad. 

“I couldn’t remember what she said, so thank god you came,” he says, putting the basil back. “What did she send you to get?”

“An onion.” The two of them walk through the store, back to the produce that Lucas had already passed in hopes of getting out of there faster. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?” he asks, examining the pile of onions as he tried to figure out which one would be the one his wife would pick. 

“Mom has already sent you here four times this week, and now me twice. Why do you put up with it?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

Tyson laughs, picking up one of the onions and heading to check out. “I would do anything for her, no matter how ridiculous or how many times she asks me to do it.” He looks at his youngest son, the only one who looked more like him than you, “One day, hopefully, you’re going to find someone who you love more than anything on this Earth, and you would do anything in the world to make sure that they stay happy. This is part of what keeps your mother happy, so how could I not do it?”

 Eighty Eight Years Old

You look around from the head table, Tyson’s hand in yours as your entire family has overtaken the restaurant. Viviana and her husband had picked you up at your house, telling you that she was taking out to her home for an anniversary dinner. You were instead taken to your favorite restaurant, greeted but your children, your grandchildren, your brother and his family, Kacey and her family, everyone you cared about.

You sit there, listening to your children and some of your grandchildren talk about what it means to be in love. “Dad would drop everything if Mom asked him to do something. There was nothing too ridiculous that she could ask of him.”

“Growing up, it was the stolen looks, Dad looking at Mom with love filling his eyes and her not noticing, or Mom doing the same to Dad, neither of them ever looking at the same time.”

“Look around at everyone here: love between two people creates love between more. We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.” 

Sixty five years.

Four children.

Thirteen grandchildren.

Currently five great grandchildren, two more on the way in a few months.

The perfect life, the perfect husband. 

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagine #nh #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

[tinyboxxtink]

Build Me Up Buttercup *Part 9*

Weeeee!!!! Here we go, getting close to the end guys. 

I’m glad so many people like it, it makes me happy. 

Okay okay enough sappiness, we’re not dead yet.

Oh and gotta tag: @wanniiieeee 

If you need to catch up:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Finale

Epilogue

“...Soooo, are we hoping he shows up, or not?” 

Once again, your BFF was there to hear the latest escapades of the saga unfolding. 

“Obviously NOT,” You scoffed, falling back onto the bed. It was stiff, almost…crusty. You tried desperately not to think about just what exactly went on in these rooms on a normal basis.

“Because….?”

“Because I don’t wanna just BANG IT OUT, that’s why!” you exclaimed, wondering why that wasn’t blatantly obvious.

“Yeah but didn’t you say that Barba said that he was still gonna care about you, even after sleeping with you?”

“Yeah…” you twirled your hair again.

“So then if he does come to you then you know he really does believe that, correct?” Your BFF pointed out.

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“Oh come on, you think that Barba would just have sex with you to prove a point to your sergeant?” 

“I mean, what if he doesn’t care about me after, y’know...we fuck,” You said blatantly.  

“Seriously?”

“Yes SERIOUSLY. Come on babe this has all happened SO fast, I mean it can’t be anything other than physical attraction,” 

“You don’t believe that,” 

“Of course I do! Look at me! Metaphorically. Guys don’t ‘date’ me, they wanna fuck me and leave me.  

“Yeah, that’s usually because you fuck them before you give them even so much as a name, and then kick them out in the morning. Nice try,” Your BFF shot down your attempts to self deprecate.

“...Whatever,” 

“Look, I love you. I know you’ve been through hell and back. But, at some point you have gotta let the past be the past, and realize that you’re not that girl anymore. You’re not 16, you’re a grown up. And a smart, beautiful one at that. A guy could easily fall in love with you,” they assured you.

“In less than 24 hours,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay maybe not love, but certainly more than a dicking. I mean Christ Y/N if that’s all he was after he wouldn’t have defended you to Liv, he would’ve just begged her to let him have a day pass to fuck you and move on!” 

“But, we’re so-- and he’s-- and I’m-- I just can’t see how we’re gonna…” You tried expressing your thoughts but it just wasn’t coming.

“Look, get out of your head. Just, stop. Stop overthinking it,”

“Yeah okay,” you said sarcastically.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door. 

“Y/N?” you heard Rafael’s muffled voice outside. 

“SHIT,” You hissed into the phone, jumping off the bed.

“Is that him? I TOLD YOU,” your BFF laughed triumphantly. 

“Shut up. I’ll call you later.” you tossed the phone on the bed, fluffed your hair as if that was going to help the situation, and opened the door.

“Hey, can I…?” He motioned inside, leaning into the doorway. 

“First, I need you to be honest with me,” You put your hand up to his chest.

“Okay…”

“How drunk are you?”

“Seriously? I may not drink straight shots of tequila all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m some old man lightweight,” he scoffed, very offended.

“That’s not an answer,” 

“...Honestly? I think I’m more buzzed off that kiss earlier,” he smirked.

Damn he was smooth. 

 You rolled your eyes and opened the door, letting him walk in. You motioned for him to sit on the bed, to which he replied, “Yeahh….I don’t think I’ll be sleeping anywhere tonight. God knows what is on these,” 

“Really? So how pray tell do you think we’re going to ‘bang it out’?” his head whipped around at that sentence.

“Christ almighty, again Y/N?! Privacy, google it,” 

“Oh whatever, you two were practically screaming in the parking lot,” you scoffed.

“I swear to God, you are so--”

“So what? Stupid? Immature?”

“Infuriating!” 

“Hello, kettle,”

“Oh really? How am I the bad guy here? Olivia sat there and basically called you a piece of ass, and I defended you!”

“And yet, here you are. Ready to fuck,” you presented your hands as if you were a platter. 

Rafael put his hands over his face and paced the room.

“Ay dios mio, me voy a suicidar,” he muttered while pacing. 

“Oh really, you wanna kill yourself? That’s a tad dramatic, counselor,” You scoffed again.

Rafael’s eyes widened, “You understood that?” 

“I heard suicide,” 

“Right...ok look,” he stopped pacing and stood in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“I’m not-- I don’t...want to just, ‘bang it out’,” He rolled his eyes at the notion. 

“But, also-- I don’t not want to….y’know,” He gestured towards the bed with his head. 

“...So you do, but you don’t,” you continued with the sarcasm. 

“It’s not JUST what I want to do, carino,”  he put a hand up to your cheek. 

“Cards on the table, I would love nothing more than to rip that shirt off and ravish you right here, until we have to leave in….Jesus, 7 hours,” He shook his head, knowing he was never going to sleep tonight either way this went. 

“Just not on the bed,” you half laughed.

“...Y’know what? For you, I would risk the thousands of venereal diseases that are seeped into these sheets,” 

“....How romantic,”

“If you really knew me you’d know that is the peak of romance,”

“See that’s the thing Rafael-- I don’t really know you. Not really. And you don’t know me. We just...I don’t know, we had this little chemistry thing going all day, and then y’know you cleaned me up when I was crying, and then held my hand through my story, and I--”

“And that’s why you wanna sleep with me,” he dropped his hands and stepped back from you.

Your face fell, your eyes widened. It had never occurred to you that he would be the one doubting the sincerity of the situation.

“What? Seriously?”

“You just said I don’t really know you, you don’t really know anything about me, except that I helped you through a difficult situation and now you wanna ‘repay’ me, or you feel attracted to me because I made you feel good,” 

Your jaw was on the floor; was he actually saying this? Was he this insecure this whole time?

“That is so not--” you tried to interject but he kept on.

“Then how do you explain it? This, this little attraction coming out of nowhere--”

“It didn’t come from nowhere,” you cut him off without thinking. 

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you a moron, counselor?” you asked, to which he just stared at you dumbfounded.

“You honestly think that just because you dried my tears in a bathroom and held my hand through a story, that I would just throw caution to the wind and make a very obvious, romantic grand gesture? In front of my BOSS? Olivia could’ve fired me at any point today for ‘fraternization” or “unprofessionalism”, or a million other things that have run through my mind. You think that I would just risk my career because I thought you were nice?!”

Now it was Rafael’s jaw on the floor, flabbergasted at your sudden admission. He shook it off quickly, walking back up to you and caressed your face once again.

“So...you do have an insane crush on me?” he smirked.

“I wouldn’t go far as to say ‘insane’....spirited, maybe,” you blushed, making him grin like a kid in a candy store.

“AND, really to be honest it’s only been a subconscious thing, I think. But this morning at the gas station, something just…”

“Clicked,” he finished your sentence.

“Ye-Yeah,” You whispered, now once again stunned.

“Yeah…” he smiled, rubbing your jaw with his thumb. 

“So….what are we doing here, counselor?” You tried to keep your voice from wavering, but his hands on your face and the smell of his cologne was driving you nuts.

“We’re standing here, detective,” he smirked.

“Oh fuck off don’t be cute about this,” you hit his hands away at his snarkiness.

“But I’m so good at it,” he pulled on your hands playfully. 

“Alright what are we going to do about….” you gestured between the two of you.

“Well, I told you what I want to do,” he smirked again, pulling your face close to kiss you, but stopped mere millimeters from your lips. 

“BUT, I also don’t want to do something just because Olivia tells me to,” he pulled back quickly, amused at the annoyance on your face.

“So what, you wanna make out like teenagers? Wouldn’t that just be proving her point?” You scoffed, trying to hide the fact that you wanted to do so much more than that.

“I just...I don’t want us to...and then you--” he made hand gestures left and right.

“And then I? And then you!” you hit him softly. 

“No, not me. You think you’re the only one with a subconscious?” He raised an eyebrow, indicating he had always felt the same about you.

“So...neither of us, wants either of us, to change our minds,” you pulled him in closer once again, your arms wrapped around each other’s necks. 

“But both of us, assume that we will,” you continued, moving a hand to play with his collar sans tie, so that it was showing the tiniest bit of his chest.

“SO-- I propose this,” You patted the chest window with both hands. Rafael took this chance to grab them and keep them there, anxious to hear your proposal.

“We….have some fun,” you wagged your eyebrows suggestively. 

“And since both of us already think that the other one is gonna bail, we’re not gonna expect tomorrow to be any different, right?” 

“Right…” he held onto your hands, forcing you to balance back and forth on your toes. 

“And, if we both still feel the same when we get home…” you clung tighter to the collar, pulling yourself closer to his face.

“Then we do this. For real,” you whispered, staring him straight into his gorgeous green eyes.

“...And what happens when one of us changes our mind when we get to the city?” He brushed hair away from your face.

“Well then, I’ll just transfer units so you can get over me,” You gave him a tongued smile.

“Oh, I think you’ll be transferring to get over me, carino,” he smirked.

“What does that mean, by the way? I hope it’s nothing bad, considering you’ve called me it all day,” you asked, and he laughed. 

“No no no, not bad-- never,” He kissed your forehead.

“It means like, ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey’, it just sounds prettier in spanish,”

“It really does. To be honest you could call me trash in spanish and I’d still think it was sexy as hell,” you admitted, making him laugh louder.

“I would never call you basura, carino, EVER,” he assured you, going in for another kiss; this time, he didn’t stop. 

You both began kissing each other furiously, the crescendo of your wants from the entire day came spilling out all at once like a broken dam. Without thinking you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist. Surprised, he momentarily stumbled back, but quickly adjusted your weight in his grasp, pulling you tighter into him. You could feel his growing member against your thigh, and you couldn’t help but smile knowing you were the reason for it. All of a sudden you felt yourself falling back onto the bed, Rafael continuing to kiss you.

“Oh yeah sure just let me get the jizz germs on me,” you giggled in between kisses. In response, he crawled on you and moved you up closer to the headboard, his entire body now on top of you.

“Alright there, my body is full of jizz now too, happy?” he panted. 

“Yeah I know it is, I can feel it,” you smirked, grabbing his belt and tugging on his erection. He moaned, his eyes widening in shock and excitement.

This was it, no going back now….

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu #build me up buttercup

[stusbunker]

When You’re Not a Morning Person, But Sam Loves You Anyway

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester/ Genderneutral!Reader

Written for: @fangirlxwritesx67 for my 800 follower celebration

Word Count: 1200-ish

A/N: Just a fluffy day with Sam away from the bunker and Dean. I was definitely hungry every time I worked on this, so food is a theme. Thanks to @lastactiontricia​ for the pre-read. xoxo Stu

    Sam woke you up with scratchy kisses sprinkled across your bare shoulders. The unnatural quiet of the bunker had you trying to burrow away from his rudely early rousing. Which was when he pulled the pillows from your grasp, unbelievable.

    “Go away!” you pouted.

    His gentle chuckle warmed your belly, topped with a petulant nose scrunch that had you giggling back before you could help it.

    “Good morning?” he offered, thumbing your cheek before he pushed the side of his mouth to your temple.

    “Why am I awake again?” You snaked your arms around his waist, trying to stay horizontal for as long as possible.

    “Because we have plans. Remember?”

    “Oh, right, the plans you won’t tell me about. Those plans.” You sighed. “How come you didn’t mention they were predawn plans, mister?”

    “Because I knew you’d be like this!” Sam began to barter, “I’ll bring your coffee to you if you get dressed.” He gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which really should be outlawed, they’re so earnest.

    You closed your eyes and stretched out, rolling your wrists and your ankles. Once you had drawn that out long enough you glanced back at him, all sleep sultry and coy.

    “Make me breakfast and you have yourself a date,” you countered.

    “Fine, whatever, just hurry up.” Sam rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but watch your ass as you crawled out of bed.

    “Real butter, Sam, none of your vegan substitutes!” you insisted before wrenching the dresser drawer open.

    He was gone with a sly side eye and you were left with the task of guessing what you should wear on a day with an indiscernible agenda. An hour and a lecture from Dean later, you were in the impala, sitting shotgun for only the second or third time ever. 

    “So where are we headed?” you asked nonchalantly, but Sam was already wise to your ways.

    “You’ll see,” his only answer.

    The sky was purple and promising, lightening with every mile east. Pinks and yellows soon evaporated into radiant blue, stringy gauze like clouds streaked the horizon. It felt like a dream.

    “You know, we’re trapped in the car, I can’t weasel my way out of anything now. You might as well tell me what we’re up to,” you tried reasoning with him. Sam pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “Or not. You could just keep riding the mystery wave you’ve got going.” 

    It wasn’t fair how hot he was when he got like that, all determined and stubborn.

    Just before noon you stopped for lunch at an unimpressive roadside diner, just like on every hunt ever. When it was your turn to order, Sam interrupted.

    “No, Baby, you can get what you actually want.”

    “I’m getting my usual, you know I always get the breakfast special,” you insisted, confused at his firmness.

    “They’ll have the steak and eggs, toast and a side of pancakes with lots of whipped cream,” Sam countered. “Oh, and a chocolate malt, please.”

    You were floored.

    “But–,” you started. Sam shook his head and smiled at the waitress who left you in peace.

    “You get whatever you want today. Not what you think is in the budget,” Sam explained. “I want you to be happy, not just content.”

    The warmth rose from your chest and coated your face, burning over your giddy grin. “Fine, but you’re sharing the milkshake.”

    “Deal.” Sam nudged your ankle under the table.

     You slept off your food coma on the next leg of the drive. You woke to a warm breeze and the far off call of birds. The street was lined with ancient trees that filtered the midafternoon sunshine in lazy swatches. Sam was reading on his phone against the steering wheel. In a practiced gesture, you reached up and brushed his hair behind his ear.

    “You’re up.” He smiled down at you, then took your hand and kissed it. “Ready?”

    “I don’t know, I mean, I only have my knife on me,” you teased. 

    “Of course you do,” Sam chuckled. “But I doubt you’ll be needing it.”

    Sam nodded to the world outside the car and you spun to face your destination. A massive brick building covered in foliage lay beyond the modest parking lot. There was a grand glass entry way that welcomed you to the Missouri Botanical Garden.

    “You drove all the way to Saint Louis?!” You gaped and threw your door open. “Sam! Holy shit. Let’s go!”

    He sighed. “Now you’re excited.” But he followed all the same.

    As Sam paid your admission, you raced through the lobby, giving the high ceilings and artwork a passing glance as you pushed onto the wide stairway that lead to the different paths. Biodomes beckoned across the lawns, fountains and pools appeared in every direction dotted with the most stunning statues. It was so alive and it never seemed to end. You bypassed the guided tour on the little tram to stretch your legs, but silently you regretted it after an hour of wandering.

    You caught Sam snapping your picture while you bent over the bridge in the Climatron, maybe he had been doing it the whole time, but you weren’t sure since you had been mesmerized by every single detail. You couldn’t help but grin so wide it hurt.

    “This is amazing.” You beamed at him, snaking your arm in his. He smirked, pleased with himself and his surprise.

    “Predawn plans are worth it after all?” he teased.

     “Eh,” you downplayed. “This time at least.”

      Sam leaned in and kissed the top of your head. Before you knew it you were tucked onto a bridge in the Japanese garden watching hordes of koi and ducks swarm for food. Some of the fish were the size of a Beagle and you couldn’t help but get lost in the frenzy of bright colors just out of reach.

      You never wanted to leave, but you were getting hungry and there was no way you were leaving town without some barbeque. Sam even joined in, letting the perfectly cooked pork fill his belly. You promised not to tell Dean he helped finish your cornbread.

      “He wouldn’t believe you anyway.” Sam winked.

      At your insistence, Sam stopped at a craft brewery just passed Busch Stadium to get a treat for Dean. It was getting late and you hated that your special day had to end. With a four pack in each hand you followed Sam to the backseat, dropping the beer in their ancient green cooler for the trip home.

     “So, good day?” Sam asked, pulling you to his chest. You could see the Arch in the distance beyond the highway and the stadium. His palm was warm against your back, rubbing brisk strokes that warmed you instantly.

     “Nope,” you shook your head and watched his face freeze in anticipation. “The best.”

      He kissed you around a smile, dimples pulling at your heartstrings like they always did. You and Sam might not get to do normal couples things often, but when you did they were all the sweeter.

      “Can we make out in the car and rub it in Dean’s face tomorrow?” you whispered conspiratorially as Sam’s mouth sank to your throat.

      “Definitely. But then we’re getting a real hotel room, because I am not making that drive twice in one day.” Sam said in between burning kisses. 

       “Oh hell yes,” you murmured, turning to duck into the backseat.

Prompt #2 of 8

Sam x Reader, a perfect day. Whatever you think a perfect day with Sam would be. It can be canon or AU but I would prefer Sam from s12-15.

Tagging: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @awesomesusiebstuff​

#sam winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #stu's 800 or less #sam fluff #spn fluff #sam/reader #sam x reader #gender neutral reader #neutral reader #spn imagine #sam winchester x reader

[thelonewriters-fic-central]

Bombshell

Chapter 8

Your POV I went to school. I was looking for Cheryl but she was nowhere to be seen. It was lunch I was hoping maybe I would see her. But nothing. I went up to my friends to see if they saw her. Yet again no one saw her. "You think something happened to her." Veronica said. "I mean yeah her mother is the wicked witch of the west. Plus I thought she would be at the hospital with her grandma. So I called the hospital to see if she was there and they said she left last night. I called 5 times and she hasn't answered." I say to them. We were all trying to think of a logical answer to why she was missing but we couldn't think of anything. "Toni get your bike we are going to the Thistle house. I am really worried." I say Toni nods and she drives me to Cheryl's house. I knock on the door to be greeted by Cheryl's mother. "Where is Cheryl. I haven't heard from her all day and she is not at school." I say to her. "She went to a all girls boarding school in Switzerland now go and never come back." Penelope says and slams the door in Toni and I face. "Something is not right she would leave you and not say goodbye" Toni says. "Remember at her sleep over when she was paranoid that something might happen to her grand mother. Her mother must have done something to her." I say. I called up Betty. "Hey is gay conversion still a thing." I say to Betty. "I don't know hold on let me find out." Betty says as I hear her type something out on her computer. "The sisters of does something like that. I remember Polly telling me something like that. Do you think Cheryl is there?" Betty says to me. "Where else would she be. If she was in Switzerland she would be all over that. Call Jug and tell him to round up the serpents we are going to pay the sisters a little visit. Also grab the spare car keys from my locker and meet me there in a hour" I told her as I hang up the phone. "Let's go" Toni tells me. We drive up to the Sisters of Quiet mercy and meet up with everyone including the serpents. We barge into the sisters. I walk up to the receptionist. "Alright bitches where is Cheryl." I tell the lady. "Watch your language young lady." The women tells me. "Maybe I would if you grow up and accept that is 2019 and you should let anyone date who ever the fuck we want. NOW TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK IS CHERYL BLOSSOM!" I yell at her while Veronica tries to clam me down. "She is in room 301" she says petrified of me. I started storming down the hallways while Betty, Veronica and Toni following behind. We finally reach room 301. Betty picks the lock on the door, she unlocks it to find Cheryl laying on the bed reading a book. "PLEASE DON'T HURT ME." She screams not looking up from her book. "Cheryl" I say she runs up to me and hugs me. "We should go. Before someone finds us." Veronica says. We run back outside to my car and Betty and Veronica in the back seats and Cheryl in the front with me. "How did you find me." Cheryl says while grabbing my free hand and holding it tight. "I figured your mom sent you to conversation therapy because I remembered that your mom is super homophobic." You say squeezing her hand reassuringly. "What happened anyways. I can imagine that was emotional hell for you." Veronica says while turning to Cheryl. "They made me pray for my sin to go away, watch a movie on my sins, lots of physical lifting sand bags, and injecting chemicals into my body if I misbehaved." Cheryl says. "You want to go to the doctor just in case?" I say and Cheryl nods her head. "I will drop Betty and Veronica off at their house and we can go" I say "No need to drop us off. We can come." Betty says. "Are you guys sure?" Cheryl says. They nodded. We went to the hospital to get Cheryl checked up and they said she was fine so after I dropped Betty and Veronica off at theirs houses. We headed to my house. "I hope you know you are staying here until you are safe. And I love you  and I can't see you get hurt again." I say hugging Cheryl. "I was really scared. I love you so much." Cheryl says to me. "You never said that to me before" I say to her. "Well Y/N. I love you so much never forget that." Cheryl started to kiss me. She gestured for me to take off my shirt. "I wanna make you feel good tonight. Especially after you saved me." Cheryl says. She pinned me to my bed. She took off all of our clothes. She squeezed my right breast gently while licking my left nipple making it harden under her touch. She came back to kiss my lips as I kissed down her jawline definitely leaving some marks. She moved down to my soaking wet pussy and started eating me out. It felt amazing, she new exactly what to do. A short while later I came into her mouth. She used her fingers to help me ride out my orgasm. After a taking a few minutes to recover. I flip her over and we continuously start making love to each other for a few hours until we clean each other up and pass out.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 

Chapter 7 

#cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl x reader #cheryl blossom #betty cooper x reader #betty cooper #veronica lodge x reader #veronica lodge #archie comics #riverdale #lgbtq #gay #lesbian

[hank-mcdankblade]

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2:  After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: Many, Many swear, Dean being a little shit, pg-13 thoughts from a certain green eyed hunter.

  ______________________________________________________________________

      The car was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were the cause of it. You reminded yourself that there were a million other reasons as to why the drive was silent. Hell there were hours spent in this car with nothing but the sound of guitars and dig of the tire against the road as background noise. All you needed was each other’s company and nothing more. The rational part of your mind was scolding you to shut the hell up about it and stop worrying, pointing out multiple pieces of evidence disproving your original theory. Meanwhile your much less rational side disagreed. She was a bit of a dumb bitch, but very persuasive. It was practically her superpower to ignore all the facts and blindly believe in her opinions.

        “Hey, sorry about springing the whole relationship thing on you. Just thought it’d be easier to fly under the radar as a couple….” You clenched your hands and wrung them together. Your eyes glanced at Dean to your left, quietly gauging his reaction. 

       “Don’t apologize, it’s ok. It was quick thinking. And who knows how suspicious detective douche would’ve been if you hadn’t.” Dean only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at you, lying through his damn teeth.

       “True…guess Jen was right about the cops being jumpy here.” Finally, with that off your conscience you could relax into the leather seats with ease. Things were fine. You were just putting way too much thought into this flirting with Dean thing. It was just how your relationship with him was and everything was ok. 

       You were fairing much better than Dean though. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel could be described as vice-like. The insides of his fingertips could feel the stitches in the fabric of the wheel. It felt like he had cotton shoved into his head, there was only one thing consuming his thoughts. Was he really interested in having you the way you spoke of the other night? Bent over and vulnerable while you took advantage of him? Thank god that his right foot was preoccupied with the gas pedal or his entire leg would be bouncing. 

        To you his face looked stoic, and void of emotion. Dean’s eyes were painted with a foggy filter. Mentally he was miles away from the Impala. Every couple of minutes or so he would come back and hyper focus on a different part of the reality in front of him. Dean sometimes focused on the way his joints bent or how his skin felt, and other times focused on how you were too close to him and too far away at the same time. Dean’s hand was shaking, aching to have it on your leg, give you a good squeeze or anything just something to feel you and your skin on him. He wanted to feel your firm grip on him, on his legs, his hands, around his throat. He wanted so badly for your hips to be driving his into the mattress, coming up and down bouncing on his cock until he came closer and closer…

        “Ready to head in and get some info.?” Your delicate voice slowly reintroduced him to the present. Dean looked in front of him and saw a beige building that looked like it was built in the 60s and was never remodeled since. The black letters on the brick wall by the front door read, ‘Grand Mesa County Libraries Central Library.’ His body was slowly returning to its normal temperature as he stepped out of the car. 

        “Yeah, let’s do it.” Getting back on track Dean prepared himself for the first step in every hunting trip you two took, do some re-con and get info about the case. He was gonna have to put his thoughts of you on the back burner for now, which was easier said than done. Once you passed the threshold, the smell of old carpet and moth balls slapped you in the face. It was a nostalgic potent smell that reminded you of your kindergarten years and would haunt you for the rest of your life. Looking around, the place did not seem too busy. There were a few people scattered across the building casually mulling through books and movies to check out.

        “Wanna check the newspapers and I’ll look into local lore?” You two nodded to each other and went your separate ways diving deep into yellowed paper and books with broken spines. Soon enough you could no longer hear the soft thumps of Dean’s boots.

        After scanning the isles you checked out a couple books and started a nest by the computers. The first thing you knew you had to check out was the case at hand. You tapped away at the very out of date computer keyboard.

        Disappearances Grand Mesa National Forest

        There were about a thousand hits online for disappearances. The hard part would be finding information from a reliable source. The first few minutes into researching changed your posture as your spine straightened up and mind shifted into its case-mode. Everything in the world went blurry except for the books and screen in front of you.

~~~~

        ‘Newspapers…newspapers.’ Dean’s fingertips brushed over the tops of age softened newspapers. Once you spend months in different libraries you tend to pick up what their usual lay out was, so the newspapers were an easy find. Thankfully instead of having to search through the records by hand, this library had a computer to search key words in to find articles. If Dean ever went to hell, he was sure that being forced to dig through newspapers by hand would be his torture. 

        ‘Newly-Wed couple from Illinois vanished without a trace. Last seen in Grand Mesa National Forest.’

        ‘Scouts No Longer Holding Summer Camp in Grand Mesa National Forest After Four Scouts Lost to the Curse.’

        ‘The Grand Mesa Curse strikes again with the disappearance of a family of three.’

        Seeing the pictures from the crime scenes made things real. Of course Dean knew the hidden reality that the supernatural world truly was, but sometimes it was easy to forget. It was easy to forget that there was true evil in this world, that there was evil more than just a greedy billionaire or corrupt politician, but pure evil that only sought to drag as many souls to hell as possible. There were so many families that had their loved ones ripped from them without a reason, completely unknowing of the darkness that lurked so closely to them. They would be driven mad with the lack of ‘logical’ facts in their eyes, cursed to never know what really happened and given answers that felt bitter to the taste. Others had their eyes opened unwillingly, shown what was behind the curtain before they could even sputter out an answer. Dean wondered what he would’ve chosen had he been given the choice. Would he rather know what killed his mother and spent his life fearing those that hid behind human faces? Or would he rather go on with his normal apple pie life never finding closure in the death of his mother? Neither option had more pros or cons than the other. He could spend a lifetime mulling the answer over and never find one that felt fight.

        “Excuse me, are you looking for something in specific? You look a little lost…” Dean turned his attention upwards and saw a young librarian. She looked like she was probably a couple years older than him, a native here for sure.

       “Huh?” Dean blinked a few times before really processing what she said to him while he was on autopilot. “Oh, no. I’m alright but thanks.” Dean offered her a smile before going back to flipping through the stacks of old newspapers. 

        The librarian nodded before looking at what headlines he was choosing. She raised a brow as assumptions about who this mysterious man was filled her head. “Interested in the Grand Mesa Curse huh?” Now there was something useful that he needed. 

        “Uh…yeah. Somethin’ like that. Know anything about it?” Dean leaned his arms on the newspaper stand. Any info you two could get would make this whole operation go smoother. 

       The woman let out a short breath of a laugh and shook her head. “It’d be impossible to live around here and not know about it. Around this time of year nobody really goes up into those woods, and especially near the mine shafts.” She paused for a beat and then continued. “My name’s Shan by the way.” Shan looked at Dean with an eagerness in her eyes. The gesture fell on deaf ears and Dean simply smiled back at her.

       “Dean.” He held out his hand to hers, and gave her a firm shake. “Well, I’ve got all I need for now.”

       “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

        “Will do, thanks.” What a nice lady. 

~~~~

        After collecting a handful of articles from different newspapers, Dean headed back to you ready to get down to business. You were hunched over a loud keyboard like a goblin, typing away all the notes you were compiling for future use. There were probably about 15 tabs open on one browser and 17 pages from various books that had been dog eared. From the looks of it, Dean could tell you were already on a roll. Not wanting to disturb you, he silently pulled out a chair next to you and started to flip through and score the articles he had. 

        About an hour later you two felt confident enough in your information to start piecing something together. 

       “Hey.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your work process forcing you out of your thought bubble. When you looked up you saw what you assumed was a librarian who worked here looking right at Dean with some form of recognition lighting up her features. “Thought I’d check in to see how you were doing with the Grand Mesa Curse.” There was something in the tone of this girl’s voice that really put you off. Instinctively you tried not to reveal your true thoughts with your facial expressions. There was nothing on her, or within her, that was tripping up your Slayer signal, so she definitely was not a monster. Regardless, something was feeling weird as you looked between the two of them.

       “Pretty good actually, just getting some basic information.” The two of them chatted for a bit before the girl eventually left to actually do her job. Ok there was a possibility that you were being harsh, but this girl was interrupting your research session so regardless she’s being a bother. Human or not.

       Ok…

                Deep breath….

       You took a moment to restart yourself in a sense. She was human, and she wasn’t even at your table for too long so why were you so on edge around her?

        Next to you, Dean felt something in the air shift and looked over to you. Your eyes were still glued to the computer screen but your vibe felt different, more ridged, and that worried him. Still looking at you, Dean nudged you with his elbow.

        “Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on your research.

       “You ok? You seem…upset.” Damn him for knowing you so well. Hunting together had given him the skill to pick up on all your tells. You didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

        “What? No I’m ok.” You spared him a moment of your attention before returning to work. Dean slowly narrowed his eyes at you. The slightly higher pitched bubbly-ness in your voice was not genuine. You were lying, but he wasn’t going to press you on it in such a public place. 

        The moments drew longer and blurred together as you two eventually got back into the swing of things, but there was something that caught your attention as the hour flew by. It happened every fifteen or so minutes when you would catch a glimpse of that girl that talked to Dean. She would linger by the book stands and rearrange the books there, giving herself an excuse to look at Dean while she ‘worked.’ With each time she stalked near, her act became less and less convincing and it was starting to tick you off. You had work to do and she couldn’t take the hint with the piles of books you two had. Not to mention how little Dean seemed to pay attention to her advances. If she was a monster, she was a very poor one at that, but if she was a human then you had an idea of what she was after. Either option made you want to pull Dean’s chair closer to you, look over his shoulder to see what he was working on even though you already knew. A burning feeling started to ignite with every trip she made past your table. 

        Annoying woman aside, you two had found some important information. The history of the Grand Mesa National Forest was pretty plain. The forest was created by President Benjamin Harrison in 1892. No amount of digging brought up any supernatural affiliation. No massacres of any kind, no Native American burials, and no cults made that forest their home either. So this meant no large scale hauntings, which honestly relieved you. This narrowed the field down. Looking over articles from books and online and newspapers brought to light what was commonly known here as the “Grand Mesa Curse.” 

        It started about two decades ago when a group of college kids traveled up into the mountains for Christmas break. According to their parents they only planned on staying for a couple of days. Things took a turn for the worse when it had been three days after the kids were supposed to be home and no one heard from them. Entire search parties of police officers, family and friends, and many other volunteers combed the forest the best that they could. No bodies were found but their campsite was destroyed and barren. The press and police chalked this up to be the fault of the bears that roamed around, and the same was happening with the most recent case. Luckily this time around there was one girl who survived the attacks, Chrissy Hamilton. 

        There had been a couple cases before this particular one as well that dealt with bear attacks and missing people, but the thing that made it stand out was that the disappearances grew in number afterwards. They were all around the same time and similar location. Something that caught your eye immediately was that a girl from the group of college kids had the same last name as the sheriff you and Dean saw. 

        Lydia Sullivan, daughter of Rick Sullivan, went missing two decades ago and was never found. Her mother, Emily Sullivan, passed away soon after not being able to handle the death of her child. “Ok so if his daughter got merked, why is Sullivan Chief of Douchebags so lax with all these cases? You’d think he’d take his time.” Your tone of voice was low and gravely coming out slowly. That ass hole’s name was popping up everywhere. Rick Sullivan oversaw every single disappearance case in the Grand Mesa National Forest district since his daughter went missing. The man was seen as a determined father that wanted to keep Colorado’s kids safe. He may not have worked every case personally, but the records stated that he went over the paperwork and guided his officers. 

        “Maybe he’s luring kids into the forest? What purpose would he have to cover all of this up though if he wasn’t involved?” Dean leaned his forearm on the back of your chair to get a closer look at what you had. 

        “Doubt it, on all their suspect lists they show alibis too and his checks out. So that means that all of this is coincidental. He could be overseeing every case because he feels guilty for letting his daughter down?” 

        “Like a coping mechanism?” Dean sat back in his chair, eyes focused on a blank part of a wall as he tried to process everything. 

        You nodded. “Yeah, those things that normal people have.” You gave Dean a smirk knowing full well that both of your coping mechanisms included heavy amounts of alcohol and repression. Dean rolled his eyes at you with a smile that mirrored yours, remembering all the countless nights where you two would stay up far too late with a bottle of whiskey. Many times at the end of those nights the thoughts and pictures that kept you up at night would tumble out from your mouths. Subconsciously the space between you two would shrink, physically and emotionally. Dean could count on his left hand how many people he trusted and felt safe enough around to be vulnerable with. After all the shit you’d been through and years you’ve known each other, if he didn’t trust you he would never trust anyone. 

        “Hey, me again. Wanted to let you know that I found a couple of stragglers for the paper you two are putting together.” Jesus Christ this librarian really couldn’t see a moment when it was right in front of her could she? You had had enough of this girl’s talking. You thin string of will power snapped and opened up the lines from your direct thoughts to your mouth.

        “Why are you here?” Your eyes narrowed. Dean was taken aback. He had seen you lose your temper before, but only on those who truly deserved it. I.E. bar assholes, clowns/mimes, and religious nuts trying to convert you. This wasn’t the usual anger he was used to seeing before you knocked someone out, it was a silent subtle kind that would creep up on you if you didn’t watch for the signals. He was seeing all of them in slow motion. 

         Your jaw was clenched, no doubt thinking of biting her head off if she didn’t scamper off back to the corner she came from. What was usually a smile was replaced with a thin line that showed no welcome. But the thing that scared him the most was your eyes, cold and distant. Those eyes had never been directed him, eyes void of compassion. 

        Shan flinched just the slightest, brows pulled together not expecting such a reaction. “Uh-um, I’m here to help. It’s kind of my job.” She bit back at the end of her sentence, though her stare was not nearly as intimidating as yours. When she talked to Dean earlier she assumed that the two of you were merely classmates or just friends, but she had a bad feeling that she barked up the wrong tree. Your aura seemed dangerous, like a crazy jealous girlfriend. 

        “It’s your job to creep around the patrons and watch them from afar while you pretend to do your job?” One brow was quirked as you leaned back with your knees open and arms crossed. The attitude you were throwing was one that would rival middle schoolers and mothers looking to talk to the manager. It was very out of character for you to be petty, it always made you feel sick afterwards.

        Shan narrowed her eyes back, cheeks flushing a deep red. “Excuse me-”

        “Listen sweetheart, my boyfriend and I have a lot of work to do and you’re being a bother. So how about you get back to your real job and stop making googly eyes at my partner huh?” Your bite was sharp as a knife, cutting deep into Shan’s emotions. She took one look at Dean, who was currently preoccupied with staring at you, and quickly scampered off. You shut your eyes and opened them with only one goal in mind. The faster you knew about this case, the faster you could get the hell out of this library.

        Those thoughts that Dean were having to put on the back burner suddenly moved to the front. “So…..was she somehow endangering our hunt that you had to cover for us again?” The smug bastard was referencing what you did because of Detective Sullivan.

        “Yes. She was endangering our efficiency.” Your fingertips flipped through a book closest to you, anything to not look at Dean. In the tone of his voice you knew he was pleased. 

        Dean was more than pleased, albeit a little confused about his feelings but pleased nonetheless. He loved hearing the commanding tone of your voice, telling some other girl to back off of him. Telling that girl to back off because he was yours. A needle pricked at the back of Dean’s mind as he replayed the rollercoaster of emotions he felt. He liked that moment. He liked your tone of voice, but why? It was because of the insinuations he could make. You wanted him. You wanted him to yourself, there was a possessiveness to what you said and how you said it. It was dominant and commanding. 

        No. Dean liked it because it meant you wanted him. He was not a bottom, and he did not like that interaction because you were possessive and domineering. 

        ……

        “Mmmhhmmmm,” Dean hummed, his inflection rising up and then down. Now it was his turn to lean back into his chair. His perfect lips were pursed with a small smirk, one brow quirked with intrigue. “You sure someone wasn’t jealous of a pretty lady giving me attention?”

        “Sorry but the only pretty lady I see in this library is me,” Your voice attempted to make you seem preoccupied with cleaning up your space. Your fingers moved a lightning speed as you emailed yourself all the notes you had taken and shut down all the programs you had opened. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your facial features moved in a comical way depicting a dramatic expression of confusion, with a hand on your hip. The table was finally free of all your possessions, the last notebook was zipped up into your backpack.

        Dean had you right where he wanted you, embarrassed and caught. He knew you would dodge and change the subject as quickly as you could if confronted with a topic you didn’t like. “I’m gonna remind you of this!” He shouted to you with his hands cupped around his mouth.

        You were already speeding off to the car, desperate to run away from this conversation and what it could come to. If anyone was going to be in control of a situation, it was going to be you and you’d fight anyone and everyone for that control with your bare hands. 

        “I’ll forget it!” You yelled back at him over your shoulder, bleaching your mind of any itchy feelings you were experiencing. 

        “Constantly!” Dean yelled back, only to receive the bird from you. He laughed and tumbled after you, happy to finally have some new material to ruin your day with. 

~~~~

        After five minutes of Dean looking like the cat who got the cream, white all over his smug stupid whiskers, you arrived at a locally owned diner. If you rolled your eyes anymore you were certain that you would go blind, and yet it would still be worth it just to let Dean know that you were mildly inconvenienced by his existence. The hum of the impala came to a soft halt. With the combination of Dean teasing you and your hunger, you may have strangled someone if you didn’t get fries in you soon. 

        A bell attached to the door rang out once you two stepped foot inside. Only the waitress on staff bothered to look up from her post behind a counter, the other employees were too engrossed in just making it through another eight hour shift without losing their minds.

        “Seat yourself wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a second!” She flashed a bright smile before dipping into the back of the kitchen. You and Dean nodded before following her directions and finding the corner booth in the back, cause that’s where all the cool kids sit. And with you two sitting there, only the coolest of kids sat there. 

        Dean leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at you. “So do you wanna talk more about how you secretly have a crush on me?”

        “No.”

        “Maybe about how you were totally going to duel that hot librarian for my hand?”

        “Rot in hell.”

        “Oh! Oh! Maybe we can discuss your feelings on a certain other topic that’s definitely unrelated.”

        Your unamused eyes continued to look at him, giving him no response hoping that he’d take the FUCKING hint. “Oh yeah? And what topic would that be?”

        “Me, and my cute face.” Dean winked and did his signature blue steel look. With a loud bang you hit your head on the table, laying your arms on the table around your head limp.

        “Deaaannn, I swear to god I will strangle you until the last breath from your lung is used.”

        “So what you’re saying is that you want your hands on me? You want to touch me?” Dean leaned closer and dropped his voice as low as he could go with every word that came out of his mouth just egging you on to do something. “You wanna put your hands all over my body?” 

        You whipped your head up, eyes wild and craving revenge, and you were just about to open your mouth and verbally destroy this stupid boy’s whole career when your waitress popped herself in front of the table. 

        “Hi! I’m Audrey, and I’ll be taking care you guys tonight. Have you been here before?” She had the whole speech memorized and recited it off as she handed you both a menu. 

        “Why no we haven’t! Darling aren’t you so excited to be here?” Dean grabbed your hand across the table affectionately with a huge fake smile. The weird vibe Audrey got from this table was throwing her off but regardless she had a job to do. 

        ‘Some of us will never eat again…’ You thought to yourself, thinking of all the places you could stab Dean with a fork. 

        “Thrilled.” You stated, pointedly glaring at Dean and his boyish charm getting the best of you. Audrey smiled to herself and started to understand what was going on and dismissed her earlier thoughts. After getting you two started with drinks she left you to look over the food options. 

        “Can I guess what you’re gonna get?”

        “As long as I get serve you cyanide afterwards.” 

        Dean settled into the booth and looked off into the distance to pretend to think very hard. “You are gonna get a cheeseburger with everything on it, as rare as they serve it. Side of fries and a large lemonade because even at age 23, you’re still an 8 year old.” 

        Damnit he was right. 

        You shared Dean’s smug look, ready to dish back what you were served. “Ok fine, you’re going to get the most overloaded bacon burger in order to cash in on that heart attack you’ve been waiting for forever, but hold all the vegetables because we want this one to be a big one. Side of fries and a shitty great value coke.”

        Dean nodded slightly and clapped quietly for you. “Right you are.” A moment was spent in silence, just the two of you laughing at each other smiling like love struck idiots. Your eyes tore away first, landing on a newspaper that was from today. The headline was the real reason you decided to pick it up.

        Local Crazy Believes Creature of the Night Kills Friend

        You flipped through the pages to find the story. It was published today and showed a picture of your sole survivor, Chrissy Hamilton.

        In a sad attempt to get some attention, Chrissy Hamilton offers her break out story. 

        “It was like my friends’ voices were coming from two different directions!”

       “This thing was too fast to see…”

       Clearly this is just another example of our country’s failed mental health system…

        “I wouldn’t spend too much time reading that malarkey…” Audrey said with her eyebrows pulled together, eyes cast down as she refilled your water glasses. 

        “Do you know her?” You asked, laying the paper flat on the table for Dean to see too.

        Audrey sighed as she stood back up, water pitcher straining her left wrist. “She’s my best friend. I’m not sure what really happened up there, but the newspaper doesn’t have to ruin her reputation like this and publish a drag story.” Her jaw clenched at the mention of the newspaper.

        “Does she have any enemies at the newspaper, maybe that would want to defame her?” Dean spoke up. Audrey eyed Dean caught up in her own thoughts.

        “We’re trying to run a counter story to get the Denver Times to redact the article.” You butted in, if this girl was going to give you anything it had to seem like she wasn’t gossiping with customers but giving info to fellow truth seekers. 

        Audrey pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “No, but the police chief doesn’t seem to like her. I don’t have any evidence to back it up, but I’m pretty sure he went to the head news correspondent and told him to run the article.” As more information poured in, the two of you couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell this cop’s problem was. He seemed to do everything in his power to derail this investigation, the dude was definitely hiding something. 

        “You’re pretty sure?”

        “Yeah…they’re drinking buddies so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Audrey’s attention was pulled away when the bell at the front door rang again. “If you guys have any more questions I can answer them after my shift.” 

        You and Dean shared a look. “The same voice coming from two different directions and super fast? I think I have an idea of what we’re looking for…”

        “Can we please talk to that Hamilton lady first, I’d very much like to drag this out before I freeze my balls off…”

_______________________________________________________________________

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#deanwinchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural #supernatural x reader #bottom!dean

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [remastered; ch 10]

pairing: moxiety and logince (later on), background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: food mentions, eating, sex mentions, affair mentions, crude language, swearing, panic attacks, graphic depictions of self harm, suicidal ideation, abusive family members, yelling, fighting, blood, self hatred, self disgust, hurtful conversations, fear, anxiety, anger, homophobia, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: this chapter is SUPER intense, so please heed the warnings! as always, you’re free to ask for a modified chapter if you need it, but please be extra careful because none of those warnings are taken lightly!!!!

a/n 2: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 11 - chapter 12

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

-

It had taken a while, but the idea of going and conversing with the others started to warm up to Virgil. Patton had wrapped his arm around Virgil’s waist and held him close, grounding the anxious teen and giving him small bits of courage. Soon, they stood up and and ventured to the main pavilion to introduce Virgil to the other people he hadn’t met yet. There was Jo, who had a really cool cut down the middle makeup look on his face, and Joan, who did the most ridiculous impressions, and Terrence, who was the biggest ball of energy in such a small body.

For once, it was actually enjoyable for Virgil to meet new people. Years of being almost completely alone--save for a few friends here and there and his shitty ex-boyfriend--had turned him almost completely solitary. At the party, he still clung to Patton like a scared five-year-old, but he felt a little more included in the group. When Virgil began to tense up, Patton would place his hand gently on his back to provide a tether to cling on.

After two hours of eating and chatting, the party was over. Patton, Logan, and Roman offered to stay after and help clean up, but Talyn shooed the boys away, saying something about how they didn’t need any help. Virgil knew it was because they wanted him home ASAP after his panic attack, but he couldn’t bring himself mind. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was wash all of this makeup off and hopefully get most of the glitter off of his body. One day, Roman would pay for this pink glitter catastrophe, but that was a whole other train of thought.

Patton and Virgil were dropped off at their house just before midnight. Both of the boys got ready for bed, and Virgil was just this close to falling asleep when Patton softly knocked on his door.

Virgil groaned and rolled over. “Yeah, Pat? What’s up?”

The door softly clicked open, and the soft hall lights filtered in, giving Patton a light yellow glow. He entered quietly and sat on the desk chair, just barely visible in the low light.

“I, uh, just wanted to say thank you for coming to the party tonight. And also to apologize for your panic attack. I shouldn’t have let myself get swept away when you obviously needed some extra support.” Although his tone was sweet and kind, there was deep regret laced in his words.

“Oh, Pat. It’s okay. It wasn’t even your fault that we got separated.” Virgil assured, propping himself onto his elbows.

There was a beat of silence before Patton hesitantly whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled even though it probably couldn’t be seen by Pat. “I’m sure.”

Patton nodded quickly and left, but not before giving Virgil a small thumbs up. Soon, both of the boys were asleep and the rough day was far behind them.

---

The next week passed by smoothly. Virgil had a grand total of just three panic attacks (and Patton had come to help with each one) and hadn’t relapsed a single time. He was really proud of himself, as was Patton, and he just felt better about himself. It was liberating to have actual friends to talk to and hang out with. He’d even persuaded Logan to join crew!

And then on that fateful Monday--May first, to be exact--everything came crumbling down. It seemed as if everything bad in the word just happened to fall on a Monday. That just made Mondays even more dreadful.

Virgil’s day had started off like normal. He’d woken up, gotten ready, eaten breakfast with Patton, and went off to school. It was almost ridiculously mundane. It was in second block, however, when the not-so-normal things began to happen.

“Virgil Thomas to Office A, please,” the voice on the speaker crackled.

Shit, Virgil thought. What the fuck did I do this time?

His teacher gestured at him to leave, so he did. The walk from his math classroom to the office was basically a joke, so he made his way as slowly as possible, going so far as to dawdle by the bubbler for a minute. 

As he walked up to the office, he saw his dad’s “secretary” standing at the doors. “Secretary” being used loosely, since she was, in reality, nothing more than the girl his dad had chosen to have an affair with this month.

“Hey, Virgil,” Nathalie cooed in her irritating voice. It sounded like sandpaper on ceramic plates. “Your dad is back in town and wanted me to let you know.”

“Why didn’t he just text me? He knows that I keep my phone on me at all times.” Virgil knew that he sounded bitter, but he didn’t care when his father was involved.

“He’s been very busy lately.” Yeah, probably doing you. “He hasn’t been able to find a time to take a break from work to text you.”

Work! Who knew that Nathalie could be so funny.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go back to class now, Nat. Bye!” He spun around on his heel and started to walk away when she cut him off.

“Oh, and your father wants you to have dinner with him tonight.” 

Fucking great.

“Um, I actually had plans with a friend tonight,” Virgil rushed, dancing carefully around his current living arrangements and schedule.

“Why don’t you invite them over? I’m sure your father would love to meet them!” 

Sure he would! Just like he was so fucking excited to meet Virgil’s boyfriend or any of his other friends when he’d brought them over.

“Sure. I’ll ask him.” He was never going to be able to get out of it, so he might as well try to get Patton to come along and soften the blow. Virgil walked to the bathroom instead of to his classroom, sitting in the nearest stall with his head in his hands until the bell rang.

---

“How do I look, Virge?” Patton modeled the black dress pants and blue polo get up he had on. His grey cardigan was actually on him, instead of hanging off of his shoulders or waist.

“Great! I don’t think Dad’ll have anything bad to say about that.” Virgil was ridiculously worried about his dad ripping the happy-go-lucky boy to absolute shreds. Mr. Thomas wasn’t the nicest or most accepting person on a good day, and any way that Virgil could protect his friend, he would.

“Awesome. Now, what are you wearing?” Patton’s question was innocent, but sent a small wave of anxiety through Virgil’s body.

“Uh, black jeans, some dress shoes, and a black jumper.” He’d worn this many times in front of his dad, and he hadn’t yet been ridiculed by his father for it. Unlike all of his other clothing.

Already, Virgil had wiped off all of his makeup and styled his hair out of its floppy fringe into a clean-cut look in preparation for the visit to see his dad. Any bandages that might have disrupted his appearance were removed, all scars were covered with foundation, and his whole personality purged of substance. Even his phone case had been switched out from the pretty galaxy case with the halloween Popsockets to the all black case with as much personality as a stick in the mud. It was absolutely dreadful.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll look fantastic, kiddo!”

Yeah. Sure.

---

“Alright, guys, have a good time! Just text me when you need to be picked up, Pat,” Mrs. Shea said before driving off, leaving Virgil and Patton stranded at the Thomas residence.

For once, the lights were on inside, giving the house the tiniest sense that it wasn’t vacant. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder which of his father’s chefs was cooking their meal. He hoped that it was Mei, whose food was both fancy enough to meet Mr. Thomas’ high expectations but held a sense of casualness that appealed to Virgil. 

The pair walked up to the front door and rang the bell, sending a custom chime echoing through the house. Almost instantly, a mildly-disheveled Nathalie opened the door, grinning ridiculously widely.

“Virgil! Who’s your friend, here?” She greeted with faux cheeriness.

“Uh, this is Patton. He’s a friend from school,” Virgil paused, unable to focus when he could see a white stain on Nat’s mouth. He motioned up to his lips with a small grimace. “You’ve got a little… something… on your mouth, Nathalie.”

Gross. He didn’t even want to think about what had been happening just moments before.

Nathalie wiped gently at her mouth with the back of her hand, being extra careful not to smudge her pristine red lipstick. Opening the door wider, she motioned the boys inside. Virgil led the way to the dining room, not even bothering to wait for Nathalie.

“Oh, Virgil,” Mr. Thomas said as they walked into the dining room. “I didn’t realize you’d brought someone along.” Shocking. “Is this another one of your ‘boyfriends?’”

A pinched smile spread across Virgil’s face. “No, dad. I’m not dating anyone. This is my school friend, Patton Shea.”

“Hey, Mr. Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Patton’s happy voice lightened up the room’s atmosphere just the slightest amount, which all but astounded Virgil.

“Virgil could take some fashion notes from you, Patton. He’s always wearing those stupid looking skinny jeans and t-shirts. You look quite impressive and professional for a teenager,” Mr. Thomas commented, adjusting his glasses in a Logan-like manner. That was apparently all he had to say as he took a bite of the food in front of him.

Much to Virgil’s disappointment, it wasn’t Chinese. Apparently, the first dinner you’d have with your son in literal months wouldn’t be complete without a giant French buffet--complete with dessert.

“I--Thanks?” Pat stuttered, confused by the backhanded compliment. Virgil disregarded the comment, instead choosing to lead his friend to the table. They sat close enough to his dad to be considered polite, but it was definitely farther than an appropriate familial distance.

The three ate in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Thomas spoke again. “So, Patton, what are you planning on doing after high school? Virgil said he wanted to be a graphic designer, but he’s probably going to take up the family business. Arts degrees are just a waste of time and money; better to strive to be successful on the first try and not have to go back.”

Patton stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I was planning on going to school to be a therapist, but being a stay-at-home dad seems like a pretty nice idea, too.”

“Psychology is an interesting subject; I’d have to agree.” Mr. Thomas shifted his focus to his son. “Now, Virgil, what did you say you wanted to focus on in school? Something with video making?”

“It was video game design, but I’m not going after that, anymore. It was a stupid fever dream.” None of the food on Virgil’s plate was making it to his mouth; it had merely been stirred into a gloopy mess. He already felt like shit about himself, but leave it to his dad to be make him feel even worse.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” Virgil all but jumped up and sprinted from the room. 

Within a few seconds, he locked the door to the upstairs bathroom behind him. Virgil turned his head and stared at the reflection in the mirror. It looked nothing like him. The Virgil in the mirror was normal; he had no flaws, and he was the perfect son. His goals were steep but attainable, and he never said anything out of line. The real Virgil was anything but.

The real Virgil was a gigantic disappointment. He wanted to go into the arts, not business management. He had an attitude problem and a “screw The Man” ideology that ended up getting him into more trouble that necessary, yet he never changed his ways. The real Virgil was an emotional mess, not knowing how to properly express himself except through suicide or self harm. He was pathetic and stupid and, quite frankly, “too gay to function,” as his dad would say. There was no place in this world for the real him. Every single fucking time that his father was around, the façade was put up in some wimpy attempt to deflect some of the hateful words that would always be thrown his way.

And that’s when he broke. Tears streamed down his face, and choked sobs ran through his body. He thought he’d been getting better, but who was he kidding? This was the same old Virgil who’d attempted suicide not once--not twice. No, he’d attempted to fucking kill himself four times. But thank god that he’d survived! The world obviously needed Virgil Thomas’ fucking presence to keep it spinning.

Virgil gripped at his hair. He’d left his phone at the table, but he needed an escape from the emotions berating him.

Think, Virgil! There’s gotta be something that can help you.

His blurry eyes scanned the counter before landing on a familiar piece of metal.

Yes.

Virgil reached out and grabbed the blade, flipping it open with ease. Memories of the past flitted through his mind. Ones where he’d said “just one last time” with false hopes that it’d be true, but the very next day, he’d be back in this bathroom, washing blood out of the tub. Weakness. Had he included that on his list? Because Virgil Thomas was weak.

“Just one last time,” he mocked as the blade sliced the skin of his forearm.

Pathetic. What kind of fucking child do you have to be to continually come back to a blade to solve your problems?

Another cut. And another. It was so calming--so ridiculously relaxing to watch the red blood splatter on the perfectly white floor where it mixed with his tears to make a watercolor painting.

Faggot. Nobody will love someone who’s gay, loser! Think of Jason. He ruined you.

A knock on the door jerked Virgil out of his daze, making him drop the knife in the process.

“Hey, Virgil? Are you okay? I can hear you crying, kiddo,” Patton worried; his words filtered through the door with a slight resonance.

“I’m fine, Patton. Don’t worry.” Yeah fucking right.

“Virge, please just let me in.” There was no way that Patton would take no for an answer.

“Okay.” Virgil pulled his sleeves down harshly, smearing a bit of blood onto his hands. He stepped in front of the blade and blood, trying to hide it from Pat’s prying eyes as he opened the door. A fake smile was plastered onto Virgil’s face. “See--”

“Is that blood?” Patton gasped and snatched Virgil’s wrists up. With an unprecedented gentleness, he rolled up the jumper sleeves that had started to plaster themselves to his arms. The look of worry on Pat’s face soon turned to one of pure anger.

He’s mad. You’ve upset him, and he’s going to kick you out. Maybe he’s finally realized what a mistake it was to save you--

“How dare your dad think he can say things like that to his own son! You deserve so fucking much, Virgil--in fact, you deserve the world. Yet here’s this asshole who won’t give you a god damn break, bringing you to hurt yourself because he can’t keep his idiocy to himself! Grab that towel; we’re going downstairs.” Patton stormed out the room and down the stairs. Virgil followed a few paces behind, terrified out of his mind.

“Mr. Thomas! With all due respect--which is none, by the way--who the absolute fuck do you think you are to think that it’s okay to ridicule your own child like that?” Virgil’s dad opened his mouth to speak, but Pat cut him off. “No! You fucking listen to me; you’re a terrible father! Your child should never be brought to self harm as a coping mechanism--especially not by his own fucking father. Are you fucking kidding? Who gave you the right to do this? First, you spend all of your time away from Virgil, and then you go about barely ever talking to him, and to top it all off, you give him shit for everything that he has a fucking passion for!”

Both Virgil and his father were completely silent. Neither had expected such an outburst from the docile kid between them.

After a long few moments, Virgil said, “Let’s go, Pat.”

Virgil and Patton quickly left the house, not stopping until they were a street away. Patton called his mom to tell her to pick them up, and they sat on the curb to wait.

“Thank you, Patton. For standing up to me. Nobody’s ever done that before.” Virgil’s voice was soft and genuine. A little fluttering sensation rose in Pat’s stomach as he leaned towards his friend.

“It’s no problem, Virge.”

chapter 11

#sanders sides fic #m writes things #moxiety #logince #virgil sanders #patton sanders

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 8)

Azula wishes that she would have had the lip injections done first. They are much simpler, more manageable. She is fully awake, and thankful that she won’t have to deal with the groggy after effects of full anesthesia. Instead she is given an initial injection that numbs her mouth.

She is still somewhat nervous, she has seen some rather unsavory before and after images. But Dr. Guhira makes small talk that keeps her mind from wandering too far. She is under the impression that he can sense trepidation. He has probably performed enough operations to know how to spot it. 

She tells him about homecoming and about how his work has been good enough to earn her a date. 

He laughs, “you give me too much credit, Azula. You have a personality that leaves an impression, take that into account.” 

Azula musters a half smile. 

She sees the needle and thinks of the picture of the former model whose lips looked cartoonishly swollen, as though she was attacked by a swarm of bees. Her smile fades. She pulls up the image on her phone. “How does this happen?”

“Malpractice.” Dr. Guhira says simply. “The use of cheap or shady injection material. I will be using hyaluronic acid fillers. They are safer than the older methods, that they last longer and come with less side effects.”

 Azula shudders at the name, “acid?”

“Hyaluronic acid is a natural substance found in the body. It can be used to treat burns.” Dr. Guhira explains. “It isn’t as intimidating as it sounds.” 

She decides to take his word for it, though she still has no love for needles. 

It does help to have her father in the room for once. She wonders if it is a reward for showing up without protest. He doesn’t speak much but his presence alone is somehow a comfort.

“This is going to be very quick.” Dr. Guhira notes as he marks the places where he will make the injections. “The healing process will also be quicker; a few days at most.” 

She watches him discard a used needle and unbox a new one. At least the man knows what he’s doing. He puts a pair of latex gloves on and steps forward again. “There will be some similarities.” He pauses. “Some swelling and some possible bleeding at the injection sites. Nothing to be alarmed over. Just keep the area clean and watch out for infection. There might be some redness around the area. The worst of it will be a few cold soars.” 

It sounds much less tedious and much less painful, again she wonders why she hadn’t started with the lip augmentation. 

“Of course there are some rarer side effects. Most commonly is an allergic reaction. It is also possible that the swelling can last for a week or so.” 

“Don’t scare her out of this.” Ozai grumbles. 

“I’d like to know what I’m in for, father.” 

“Do your research after the injections.” 

She wants to tell him that most people do their research before having a procedure done. 

“I’ve already looked it up for myself, you have nothing to worry about. The more serious risks are the result of unprofessional mistakes. Dr. Guhira is an esteemed surgone. You have nothing to worry about.” 

Azula nods.

“Please hold still.” Guhira instructs. 

The needle pricks her lips in several spots, its bite is mercifully dulled by the numbing agent. She only flinches once. After the first injection it is only a discomfort. “You’re all set. This process comes with immediate gratification, you’ll notice the difference right away.” 

This throws Azula off, with her nose she had time to prepare and ease herself into the prospect of looking different. She shifts uncomfortably, apparently this one will come like a punch to the gut. 

“Aftercare is going to be easier as well.” Dr. Guhira notes. “Just avoid lipstick and putting pressure on your lips. I recommend using an icepack, that will help with the swelling.”

“I think that I can handle that.” Azula replies. “Will they feel fake.” 

Dr. Guhira shakes is head. “Unless you have an allergic reaction they should feel very natural.” 

Azula gathers her phone and her purse and stands. 

“Thank you, Dr. Guhira, you’re work is always impressive.” Ozai extends his hand.

The doctor returns the gesture with a firm shake. “Of course, Mr. Kasai, it is always a pleasure.” And to Azula he says, “enjoy your homecoming dance.” 

.oOo.

A weekend is plenty enough time for some of the swelling to fade. It certainly has been a smoother process than her nose job. She isn’t sure that she likes the look of fuller lips, though. By all means, it doesn’t look gross or ungodly, but she feels as though her natural lips had suited her more. 

Even still, father assures her that this is an improvement and that she just isn’t used to the look yet. She isn’t so sure of that and constantly finds herself thankful that lip injections have the permanence of bright blue hair dye. If she wants to keep her fuller lips then she will have to keep going in. She has no doubt that Ozai would be more than happy to fund that. She doesn’t think that she will be taking advantage of it. 

Azula grabs her over the shoulder bag, a designer accessory, red in color and embroidered with a golden dragon. She tugs at a zipper that is just as needlessly opulent; also made of gold and accented with a garnet. She double checks to make sure that she has all of her textbooks and completed homework assignments  in order. 

She takes one last look in the mirror at a face that is hers but at the same time very foreign. She adjusts her lily pendant and runs a comb through her hair for a final time and the doorbell rings. 

“He had you get another one?” Mai asks. 

The Kasia chauffeur holds the door open. Mai climbs into the car first followed by TyLee and then Azula. 

“He has two more planned.” 

“Do you even want to get all of these operations?” TyLee asks.

Azula thinks for a moment. “Yes. I think that they will serve me well in the long run.” She doesn’t mention that they make her feel like a fraud. Like a deceiver. She wishes that she were a natural beauty like the dainty Yue. “I just hope that Yue can keep her mouth shut for once.” 

Mai sniffs, “you’re asking for a lot. Honestly, I don’t even know why we talk to her.” 

“She knows the best places to shop!” TyLee exclaims. “And her mom has the best cosmetic line. She’s nice sometimes…”

“I guess.” Mai shrugs. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” TyLee rummages through her backpack. “I was stuck on question six.” 

Azula takes the worksheet, “geez, you couldn’t have asked me last night? We’re in the parking lot already.”

“I could have waited until we were sitting in lit class.” 

Mai rolls her eyes. 

.oOo.

She can’t help but wonder if anyone else has noticed the fullness of her lips. If they have no one has commented. She had expected more hushed whispers, but perhaps she hasn’t made changes profound enough to catch the eye of anyone she didn’t know well. 

It is a relief. 

“Does it hurt?” Chan asks, gesturing to her face with his spork. 

“Not terribly.” Azula replies. She can’t gauge how he feels. “It’s a little uncomfortable.”

“I can imagine, your lips are puffy as hell. Isn’t it hard to eat?”

She finds herself shifting awkwardly at the attention placed on the swelling. “As long as I don’t open my mouth too wide, I’m fine. It’s not as bad as it was yesterday.” Azula shrugs.

“You talk to TyLee yet?”

“Briefly.” 

“And?”

“I said that Azula should go for it!” TyLee declares. “I’m really, really excited to see her dress. She always has such beautiful dresses.”

“Then who are you going to take to the dance?” Azula asks. 

“Well I was hoping that Chan could set me up with Ruon Jian.” 

“Trust me, he won’t have any objections.” Chan snickers. “I’ll let him know that he has a homecoming date.” 

Azula listens as the conversation carries itself out, paying special attention to how she eats. She is relieved to know that Yue didn’t make an appearance. She doesn’t feel like listening to the girl make remarks about the ‘gross swelling’. 

The bell rings and she gathers her belongings, throwing out what remains of her lunch. “I’ll see the two of you in lit tomorrow.” She waves Mai and TyLee off. “And the two of you in gym.” She says to Chan and Jet. 

“See you around.” Jet gives a two finger salute. 

Azula turns to leave.

“I know that you’re not used to having a boyfriend so I’ll give you some tip.” A smug and mischievous smirk plays across Chan’s face.

“Oh, will you?” Azula quirks a brow. 

He nods, “you see, may couples will kiss each other goodbye.” He leans in and the playful mood is chased out by nerves. 

Azula pulls away, “I-I don’t think that that’s a good idea right now. I just got…” she motions to her lips. 

“Right…” she hears the disappointment in his voice and chides herself for backing out. Why does she have such a hard time letting affection in? He stuffs his hands into his pockets and mutters, “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait.” Azula grabs his arm. She points at her cheek. 

Chan gives a slight laugh, “I guess that’ll work.” His lips grace her cheek for a fleeting moment. “I’ll see you in gym class.” 

She has had her first kiss, sort of, she should be elated. She doesn’t know why she feels nothing but awkwardness and discomfort. She wonders if that is how a first relationship is supposed to feel. Deep down she knows that it isn’t. 

.oOo.

Five hours after school ends and she is still thinking about it. As the Kasai family chauffeur drives her back to Agni High for astronomy club, she fixes her stare out the window. She thinks that she should have let him kiss her lightly on the lips. She has only been with him for a day and she has already let the boy down. She sighs and tries to tell herself that she just has to get used to being in a relationship. When she does, it will be better for her in the long run.

There are a lot of things that she just has to get used to.  

A lot of things that will serve her well in the grand scheme of things. 

She touches her fingers to her lips.

The chauffeur holds the door open for her “I will be back to pick you up at 8:00, Ms. Kasai.” 

She offers a single nod and makes her way to the gaggle of students clustered around three telescopes. Azula has brought her own but decides that she won’t make a scene of herself so early in the year. Instead she finds a spot and within the small circle and waits for Pathik to announce what they will be looking for. 

“Partner up.” The principal says. “There are ten of you here today so that should be easy.”

Easy, she thinks sarcastically to herself. She never has an easy time finding a partner when her usual circle isn’t around. 

“I guess that we’re stuck together.” Katara remarks. 

Momentarily she thinks off going solo. “I guess we are.”

 “We have three telescopes so two groups will have to wait.” Pathik points out. Perhaps she will whip out her own telescope afterall.  But she isn’t fond of the idea of having to share her things with her rival’s sister. She folds her arms over her chest and waits for one of the first partners to observe the moon and pass the telescope over. 

“You got another surgery, did you?” 

“That’s none of your business.”

“Cosmetic surgery isn’t exactly private, everyone can tell.”

Azula flinches.

“I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” 

“Why you would want it? I never understood why people would want to change their face like that.” She pauses. “Why do you, of all people in this school, want plastic surgery?”

She isn’t about to let the class nerd and teacher’s pet know that she, in some metaphorical sense, is itching and writhing in her own skin. That she has surrounded herself with friends who can pass as emerging models. She feels less obligated to do so, with the girl sounding so condescending matter. “Of course you don’t understand, you’re very content being...homely.”

“Homely.” Katara replies flatly. “Thanks. Just because I don’t cake on makeup...you know what, nevermind. I might be ‘plain’, but I like my face the way it is.” 

Azula folds her arms.

She can’t help but feel a prickle of envy. 

Envy at her confidence. 

And envy at, despite her words, Katara is also more naturally beautiful. She has the same soft features as Azula; a rounder nose and chin and softer cheeks. But, coupled with fuller lips and big, bright eyes, they work for her in a way that doesn’t work for Azula. 

She realizes that Katara is still taking. “What was that?”

“I said it’s our turn to use the telescope.”

“Before that.” 

“I said that you don’t need it. The surgery.” 

A lump forms itself in her throat and she swallows it. Just when she had been growing to like the surgeries and the favors they are doing her. She resents the dork for bringing her doubts to the surface once more. 

She almost asks why Katara if she likes the way she looks currently. Some deeply rooted yearning for praise. Instead she responds,  “what I do with my face is none of your concern.”

#Avatar #Azula #Katara #TyLee #Mai #Sokka #Zuko #Fanfiction

[keywestlou]

TUCCI, HEMINGWAY AND CLOONEY.....INTERRELATED

http://keywestlou.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/George-Clooney-video-1-1.mp4

Hope you enjoyed the George Clooney video. Lynda Frechette sent it to me. Thank you, Lynda.This portion of the blog will share some interesting items involving Stanley Tucci, Ernest Hemingway and George Clooney.

The three simply are interrelated by Italy.

I begin with Stanley Tucci.

An interesting movie actor. I thought his best performance was in Pravda.

Tucci spent a good portion of the past year filming a TV series involving Italian food. Food prepared and served as only Italy can. He traveled all over Italy enjoying the culinary artistry of the country’s various regions.

The show is titled Searching for Italy. I watched it for the first time last night.

A winner!

Tucci ended the show by having dinner on Lake Maggiore. A special place to enjoy for a vacation, a drink and/or dinner. I did all three more than once.

The Grand Hotel des Iles Borromees sits on the lake’s southern side facing the tiny Borromees islands and the Alps. Everything is the Alps in this part of Italy.

I was fortunate in my travels to visit the area 3-4 times.

In Tucci’s Italian food show last night, he was pictured visiting the Grand. Walking through the first floor itself and outside the back area of the Hotel where he was shown sitting at a small table enjoying a drink.

I was immediately excited. The Hotel was never referred to as the “world famous” Grand. It was, however. I could never forget.

The first time I stopped in for a drink, I initiated a conversation with the bartender. Probably 50. We got into Hemingway. He could see my interest. He called over a thin old man with white hair. The man moved slowly. Another 5 years and I will look like him.

He served Hemingway and Hemingway’s love at the time Agnes Kurwosky. He gave me the “Grand” Hemingway history. He was the bartender back in 1918 when Hemingway visited.

He advised the present bar was not the location of the bar Hemingway sat at. He took me to a small room in the back of he hotel. No bigger than 15′ by 15′. A storage room when I visited. Full of boxes and extra furniture.

The bar itself was gone. The room had only one window. He showed me where Hemingway sat so he could look directly out the window. As we walked he shared some Hemingway stories.

I was in all my glory!

He took me outside in teh back. A huge rolling lawn with an item of greenery here and there. Small white tables and chairs hee and there.

I had 2 drinks the first time. One at theh inside bar, the other outside in the back at a small white table. I imbibed whee Hemingway had done so. In the backyard where for sure, Hemingway first sat. Then Louis. Then Tucci.

It was World War I. Hemingway had joined the Italian ambulance service. The U.S. was not yet in the war. He joined when he was 18. He was seriously injured when 19 by a mortar shell which exploded next to him.

His injuries kept him confined to a hospital for 6 months. His nurse was an American. Agnes von Kurowsky. They fell in love while she cared for him.

Near the end of his convalescence, Hemingway was given a 10 day pass. He and Agnes spent 7 of those days at the Grand Hotel.

Hemingway fictionalized Agnes as Nurse Catherine Barkley inA Farewell to Arms.

Hemingway was 19 at the time. Agnes, 26. Hemingway was desperately in love with Agnes. He thought she with him. He received a Dear John letter when he was back in the States from Agnes who still was in Italy.

The only way to say it was he way it happened. Agnes dumped Hemingway for an Italian Duke or Count who was also a Lieutenant.

History casts Agnes as a status seeker.

The two never met again.

However, they were both in Key West at the same time on several occasions. Historians tell us Agnes knew Hemingway was in town each time. Hemingway did not know Agnes was living in Key West.

Agnes and her husband had moved to Key West in 1951. She worked at the public library for years. Even inadvertently, their paths did not cross.

After Hemingway’s death, his wife Mary came to Key West. She had been advised that a room in Sloppy Joe’s was stored with boxes of Hemingway’s writings, etc. when he left for Cuba.

Mary found many things. Some that turned out to be of significant value.

Among the items she found were Agnes’ letters to Hemingway.

Mary was aware Agnes was living in Key West. She visited Agnes and gave the letters to her. The two became friends and continued to visit.

Agnes left Key West in the 1960s. She told people she left because of the Conch Train. It became too much to hear “Ernie’s girl” lives here as it went by.

George Clooney never had anything to do with Hemingway. Their connection is both lived in Italy a portion of their lives. Hemingway during World War I. Clooney has lived in Italy for many years in a home near Lake Como.

I assume Tucci and Clooney know each other as both are actors.

I live and learn. Today, an impressive fact. More than half of the coastline of the entire U.S. is in Alaska.

Next another day on my First Time in Greece. Camogli again. The Italian Riviera was not hard to take.

DAY 42…..Greece the First Time

Posted on July 8, 2012 by Key West Lou

The honeymoon is over!

I return to Key West tomorrow. Monday, not Tuesday as I thought. Fortunately, Lisa picked up on my error. She Skyped me yesterday to tell me I was going to have missed my plane if I left Tuesday.

On a trip as I have experienced, days of the week and dates get screwed up. Intermingle. Are not important.

As a result of which, a person can miss a return flight home!

My today – Sunday – now changes. No Milan. No Leonardo Da Vinci. Instead rest and packing.

I am in Novara. Drove here from Camogli yesterday afternoon. A two hour drive. Thruways all the way.

Strange traffic for a summer Saturday afternoon. None. Just me and a few other cars.

It is the cost of gas and high road tolls here in Italy.

The other vehicles on the road all passed me at 125 miles per hour. Crazy!

The clothesline saga continues. Eevry town and hamlet I drove by…..there they were! Clothes hanging ouside windows and on front porches. Even here in Novara, a classy city.

Lisa Skyped me in the afterfnoon. Fortunately. Otherwise, I would have missed my plane tomorrow. Got to see and chat with the grandkids and son in law Corey. I could tell I am really missed. A nice feeling.

Last night was another birthday dinner. My Morrocan friend Miriam cooked for me. And several others as well. A dinner party.

We started with a good champagne. During dinner, Beefeater was substituted for me. A thoughtful gesture.

Pickies to begin. Too many to describe. All good.

Then humus. Not the kind you buy in the supermarket and scoop onto a plate. Miriam made the humus from scratrch. Ground the checi beans herself.

The entre was spiedini. Small pieces of beef on a stick. Miriam also prepared some sort of wheat dish mixed with very tiny pieces of tomato and covered with just enough oil.

There was a touch of Lebanese to the meal.

Miriam exceeded herself with the birthday cake. Made by her from scratch, also. A cheesecake covered with blueberries and gelato. Of course on top 77 candles. One big 70 years old one and 7 tiny one year ones.

Everyone sang Happy Birthday! Just like in the U.S.

I was pleased with it all. My special thanks to Miriam.

Today I have to get ready for tomorrow. I will leave Novara about 6 in the morning. I have a one hour drive to the Milan airport. Then many hours in the air till I set down in Key West just after 9 in the evening.

Enjoy your Sunday!

                                          TUCCI, HEMINGWAY AND CLOONEY…..INTERRELATED was originally published on Key West Lou

[phoenixrisingwoman]

1-102. You should have known I was gonna do this.

This friendship was a mistake.

1) what’s a song you depict with your childhood? any HSM song brings me back to my childhood & also oldies that my parents used to play in the house like stand by me by Ben E. King, unchained melody by the Righteous Brother,….

2) did you have a memorable childhood pet? I think every one of my pets is memorable. one that specificly comes to mind would have to be our Tervuren. We took him in because his owner didn’t take care of him and was planning on ditching him in the middle of the woods. the poor thing got treated like some kind of monster when he only asked for the bare minimum, to get treated with respect and basic kindness. I still remember how easily he trusted us. We were a family of 5 so to have 5 strangers around you all of a sudden and not get defensive and lash out especially after getting treated so badly by humans is one thing but to completely immediately trust us wow. He was such a gentle and sweet dog and it hurts my heart when I think about how he died. He had cancer. Fucking dogs man i know i say this about all dogs but he really was an angel. What a pure soul.

3) have you ever been drunk? yes

4) have you ever tried drugs? i’ve only eaten space cake and that’s it. but i don’t really have any desire to ever try hard drugs.

5) have you ever completely regretted what you’ve said? 99% of the time I regret what I say because I am dumb and say some real embarrassing shit

6) have you ever made someone cry? I hope not, unless they were happy tears!

7) has someone ever made you cry? most likely yeah i’m just very sensitive and take a lot of things to heart.

8) have you ever been in love? if so, describe the moment you knew it. i've never been in love9) which came first the chicken or the egg? The real question is where does a circle begin and where does it end?

10, 11) already answered

12.) have you ever been in love with someone you couldn’t love? read the answer to question 8

13) are you a good cook? i mean i’m not the worst but there’s always room for (a lot of) improvement.

14) already answered

15) what is the last movie you cried during? i can’t remember but hatchiko is a movie that can always make me cry.

16) what are songs you’ve cried to when you first heard them? (if any)

It’s such a long list so i’m going to narrow it down to a few: Skillet - Would It matter, DNA - Lia Maria Johnson, you don’t know - Katelyn Tarver, Adam’s song - Blink 182 , 24 floors - The Maine, Sleepless nights - Faber Drive, Just a little bit of your heart - Ariana Grande & I can’t make you love me/ nick of time - Bon Iver. That’s some real sad shit.

17) do you have a middle name? Nope18) have you been out of your country? yes, I’ve been to Italy, England, Turkey, The Netherlands and Germany & this summer i’m going to Spain.19) are you a chocolate fan or not? I am a huge slut for chocolate always20) how many people have you kissed? only one because I have no game21) already answered22) what is your dream car? don’t have a specific one in mind but a range rover looks nice. as long as my car is big enough to take all my dogs with me to the beach, i’m satisfied.23) what is your lucky/favorite number? don’t have one24) what is your favorite flower? i like water lilies a lot25) books or movies, why? Both. Depends. you can get lost in books and imagine the characters/scenery more and the words just stick with me more when i read them? But movies are also nice if a certain character gets played by a good actor and really brings it all to life.26) have you ever been on a blind date? I’d rather not get murdered on my first date. so to answer this question no.27) has one of your friends ever backstabbed you? yeah in my teenager years 28) have you ever backstabbed one of your friends? don’t really see the point in hurting a friend? If a friend betrays my trust i’ll cut them out of my life immediately and never speak a word to them again nor will i waste any more energy on them or be willing to listen to whatever bullshit excuse they want to try. I’m very loyal and loving but if someone takes advantage of that and betrays my trust then I have no problem with cutting them out of my life and continuining as if we were strangers all along. i can take a lot but i don’t fuck with fake people.29) what thing do you symbolize love with? many things really but that’s because i think love comes in many forms. friendship, hobbies, pets, lovers, family,…i think love is all around us really. a tiger playing with her cub, puppies play fighting a lil too rough with an older dog but the older dog allowing them because they still need to learn their boundaries, strangers pulling funny faces at babies or playing along with a game a kid made up, someone giving up their seat and so on. I think all of these acts symbolize love. Once you stop seeing love as this strictly romantic thing i think it’s easy to find it everywhere you look. no matter how small the gesture.30) do you have neat handwriting? It’s not too bad i think. 31) do you have a friend with benefits? nope32) do you want a friend with benefits? I don’t really think i’m cut out for that type of thing. I mean whenever someone holds the door for me i think about it for like days after so I really am not sure if I could trust myself with seeing it as only a friendship with benefits and nothing more.33.) if you could be anything in the world, what would you be? a siren, a wolf, a forest nymph, harry styles’ next gf haha34) have you ever been blackout drunk? yeah35) have you ever met someone famous? no :(36) how many concerts have you been to? uhh i think 13-ish37) which concerts have you been to? first ones were Justin Bieber (don’t judge), 1d, 5sos, ed sheeran, the script, dua lipa, harry styles, lord huron38) do you have a hidden talent? i can go trough 10 different emotions in the span time of an hour39) what do you do when you’re stressed? shut down, cry, get angry or all of the above.40) do you think money can buy love? money can buy things you love and that make you happy so i guess in that sense you can buy ‘happiness’ & ‘love’, but if we’re talking about real, true, genuine feelings then no that kinda love can’t be bought41) how old would you date? the oldest like 24 but for a sugar daddy i am always willing to make an exception42) have you ever done something illegal?  jaywalking is illegal but most of us have done it at some point so like nothing too illegal43) what is your biggest fear? for my loved ones? that they wil never get all the goodness in life that they truly deserve and that life will treat them like shit and inflict pain upon them that i’ll never be able to undo. for myself? i’m scared i’ll never truly feel like I belong and will never truly feel happy and that once I’m close to dying i’ll be faced with the fact I’ve wasted all my time.44) what is an unusual fear you have? having a doppelganger that’s a real piece of shit and people thinking it's me that has done all that nasty shit to them and me eventually being sentenced for it while the real demon is still out there...yea idk 

45) can you drive? no haha i really need to get my license46) do you believe in supernatural creatures? yes but i’m not sure to what extend but I do believe there are certain things living on this earth unbeknownst to us. 47) do you believe in karma? i think what goes around comes around. or so i truly hope.48) what is one quality you need in your partner? above all my partner needs to be kind. no matter what.49) do looks matter? i’m not going to be a hypocrite and say no because there does need to be a certain level of attraction but it’s not like looks are the most important thing about someone.50) does size matter? which size are we talking about here. but no idc if you truly love someone, you take them as they are. not a single cell in your body would even think about changing anything about them because they already are perfect just the way the are.51) who is the last person you forgave? myself for being so dumb52) what is your favorite ice cream flavor? strawberry and chocolate53) already answered 54) ever been on a plane? obviously55) ever been on a boat? yes56) is there anyone you’ve lost touch with that you wish you hadn’t? yea a highschool friend that i haven’t heard in years.57) are there any friendships you regret? yes, this one58) are there any friendships you wish you could make? yes @harrystyles if you ever wanna hang out hit me up. i am free almost always so we can hang out whenever you are free too. thanks my dude.59) have you ever stayed awake for 24 (+) hours? no60) have you ever walked outside after 12 am? yes61) have you ever seen a sunrise completely through? no but one day I will!62) are you scared of rollercoasters? yeah and i wish i wasn’t. but i always imagine some final destination type of shit when i’m on it so i tend to avoid rollercoasters and such. I’m a paranoid bitch.63) on a scale of 1-10 how stressed are you usually? 664) do you have any plans this weekend? yes 65) do you miss anyone right now? not really66) who do you wish you were talking to right now? the ghost of Christopher McCandless. I’d like to hear his stories and thoughts. he seemed like a very interesting individual.67) already anwered68) who is your favorite superhero? catwoman? idk i don’t really have a fave superhero69) are you dirty minded? me? an angel? of course not.70) what is your favorite song from every decade starting at the 80’s? this question should be illegal. how am i supposed to choose one? there are so many bops.71) how many kids, if any, do you want? at the moment i don’t want kids but if that ever changes 2 would be enough.72) who is your biggest OTP? don’t have one73) what is your favorite food? lasagna & pizza. other than that cake/chocolate/anything cookie or candy related. I have a sweet tooth okay 74) do you want to be married one day? idk I don’t really feel the need to get married but if someone is willing to marry my annoying ass then I’m grabbing that chance with both hands.

75) dogs or cats? both but unfortunately i’ve only owned dogs till now so i’m hoping that will change soon!                                                                   76) already answered77) have you ever seen a shooting star? nope78) if you had the opportunity to go to the moon, would you? No, unless the aliens are there too. then sign me the fuck up79) how many best friends do you have? 380) when was the last time you cried? 2 weeks ago81) have you ever laughed so hard you peed yourself? mind ur own bussiness82) have you ever made anyone laugh so hard they peed? yeah83) if you could travel any where in the world, where would you go? countryside of Ireland, Sweden or Northern Wilderness84) what are 3 words you would use to describe yourself? gentle, dreamer, stupid 85) do you consider yourself a loyal person? yes, very loyal until you give me a reason not to. but even then i won’t badmouth you i’ll just erase your whole existence from my memory.86) what is your favorite season and why? summer bc i need that vitamin D to beat the sad bitch in me. but also autumn because SWEATER WEATHER87) have you ever told anyone you loved them, and didn’t mean it? no, i don't easily say i love you to someone 88) do you know how to play any instruments? no :(89) already answered90) what are you allergic to? pineapple. i might have other allergies i’m unaware off.91) already answered92) if you could be any character from your favorite tv show would you, and if so, who would you be? I’d wanna be Daenerys Targaryen because I want to have dragon friends who will fly me anywhere I wanna go. also talk about an entrance when you arrive with your fucking dragon somewhere.93) if you could be best friends with any celebrity who would it be and why? harry styles, niall horan, BØRNS or Maggie rogers because they seem like fun people to be around that will just brighten your day by being in their company.94) are you outgoing? nope, unless you catch me in those rare energetic moods or if i’m drunk then I do shit even I don’t want to know about.95) have you ever wanted to kiss someone, but weren’t brave enough to? no96) are you a good flirt? probably not because i always say some weird shit and kill the mood haha97) have you ever been turned down, or have you ever turned anyone down? nope98) already answered99) are you superstitious? not really100) are you a good listener? i like to think so101) are you a good kisser? who knows102) would you kiss any of your friends? depends how much money is involved

#i did it bitch i finished it #mama didn't raise a quitter #answered #jindotree

[koltarmi]

Home for the Holidays - Chapter 3

Thank you so much for all of your responses. Here’s the next chapter which becomes a little less fluffier and sweet. It’s also three times longer than my previous two chapters. Why do I like writing sad things.The world may never know.

Oh the bit of French are translated below. Excuse any mistakes, I’m relying on my year-old knowledge of Quebecois French:

“Hello Sébastien! How are you?”

“Very well, miss. Is this the man your grandmother has been talking about?”

Chapter summary:  Anya and Dmitry land in France. Along the way, they learn more about each other’s family and past. 

Can be read on AO3 or below.

Dmitry feels like he would not be surprised if it turned out this was all some elaborate situation he had dreamt up and that sooner or later he would wake up on his lumpy couch in his apartment with a sore back.

A two-week-long vacation in France as his best friend’s pretend boyfriend was a scenario that seemed only plausible in the world of cheesy rom-coms.

Yet here he is, watching over their luggage as Anya chatters away in French with clerk at the car rental desk.

Moments later, Anya returns with a set of car keys in his hands and a grin on her face.

“When did you learn to speak French?” he asks, as she double checks that they have all their luggage.

“Basically from the moment I was born. My parents thought it was important that my sisters, brother and I were fluent in a multitude of languages before we could walk,” she replies, remembering the hours upon hours of French tutoring she had endured.

Dmitry looks at her with surprise. “I thought you were always an only child. How many siblings do you have?”

A solemn look passes Anya’s face that leaves him instantly feeling uneasy. Over the years, he has become familiar with her many expressions from anger and annoyance to unbridled enthusiasm and happiness. This resigned and muted look of sadness on her face is uncharted territory.

“Had,” she murmurs. “I had three older sisters and a little brother. They died with my parents when I was 17.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Anya shakes her head. “It’s alright, you didn’t know. I don’t talk much about my family. It wouldn’t make sense if we’ve dated and you didn’t know. What about you? Any siblings?“

"Nope. Just me. My mom died right after I was born and my dad died when I was about 8. I grew up with my aunt once removed and we haven’t talked since I moved out. I was more of a liability than anything.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“It happened a long time ago,” he replies.

“That doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” Anya says. Her eyes were slightly watery. “Seems neither of us had the ideal family life.”

“Just another thing we share in common besides our distaste of loud frat boys partying until four in the morning.”

“Ugh, we were bonding for a moment,” Anya groans. “Why did you ruin the moment by bringing up Chad?”

Dmitry lets out a laugh. “Hey, we should be thanking him. Isn’t that the story we’re going with? Our mutual annoyance of our rude neighbour finally brought us together and that’s when you fell madly in love with me.”

“I’m no damsel in distress. We fell madly in love with each other together.” Anya smirks and sighs, “Now come on Romeo, we’ve got a hour drive ahead of us.”

In his mind, Anya’s grandmother lived in a small and quaint little cottage on the outskirts of Paris. The gated mansion with a mile-long driveway is, suffice to say, not what he expected.

As Anya parks the car in front of the large double-doors, a couple of uniformed men and women descend upon the car from the small entourage of them standing on the stairs. Once they reach the car, they pop open the trunk and begin unloading the four pieces of luggage they have.

One of the older uniformed men steps forward and Anya greets him with a warm smile.

“Bonjour Sébastien! Comment ça va?”

“Très bien, mademoiselle. Est-ce qu'est l'homme que votre grand-mère a parlé à propos?”

Noting the lost look on Dmitry’s face, she switches back to English.

“Yes, it is. This is Dmitry.” Anya links their hands together. “My boyfriend,” she adds with a dash of bashfulness, playing up the part of the enamoured girlfriend. “Dmitry, this is the house steward, Sébastien Dupont.”

Following Anya’s lead, Sébastien switches to English as well as he offers his hand to Dmitry to shake. “Welcome, monsieur. Mademoiselle, your grandmother waits for you in the parlour.”

Sébastien turns to walk up the large stone steps. Anya tows Dmitry along who openly stares at the imposing mansion in front of them.

Past the double doors, Dmitry is lead through a series of hallways with antiques that cost more than all of his life savings combined and ceilings so high they look like they belong in museums or churches.

They end up in a plush room with a blazing fireplace that’s crackling the logs. As they enter, a stately woman with a head of grey hair stands, her posture exuding a air of dignity and a no-nonsense attitude. As soon as the elder woman spots Anya, a smile stretches across her face, but the heavy tension remains in her stiff spine and shoulders.

“Anastasia, darling,” she says, crossing the room to greet the trio.

Dmitry has just enough time to glance at Anya and mouth ‘Anastasia?’ before her grandmother’s arms envelop her into a tight hug.

“Nana, it’s so good to see you,” she replies. “And it’s just Anya now, remember?”

“Of course, dear. Now introduce me to my future grandson-in-law.”

Anya’s face instantly turns a bright shade of red as she begins to stutter. Seeing her suffer a internal meltdown, Dmitry takes it upon himself to make an introduction.

“Dmitry Sudayev. It’s a pleasure to meet you, m'am.”

“Oh please, call me Maria,” she says, pulling him into a hug as well. “You two must be exhausted from the flight. Sébastien can you show you to your bedroom and you can rest before dinner.”

“Our bedroom?” Anya asks.

“Darling, I’m not so old-fashioned as to believe that you two haven’t shared a bed at least once-”

“Nana!” Anya exclaims as her ears also turn a vibrant shade of red.

Maria continued on as if nothing happened. “It’s your old room, dear. But don’t worry, I had it cleaned and aired out before you two arrived so it looks just like new. I have to finish up the last few details about a charity fundraiser, but I’ll see you soon. We have so much catching up to do.”

Still embarrassed, Anya doesn’t move as Maria kisses her cheek and exits the parlour that has suddenly become a little too warm for Dmitry’s liking.

The bedroom they’re staying in is about as big as his entire apartment. The headboard of a large four poster bed was pushed up against the right wall and their luggage sat at the foot of it. A settee faced a brick fireplace and a pair of glass balcony doors had a view of what looked a snow-covered garden.

Dmitry waits a minute after Sébastien leaves before he turns to Anya, a million questions on the tip of his tongue.

The first word that comes out of his mouth is, “Anastasia?”

With a sheepish look on her face, Anya sheds her coat and throws it across the settee.

“My name is legally Anya Roman, but I changed it when I moved out of my grandma’s home,” she admits. “My name is, or technically my birth name was Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov.”

“I see why,” Dmitry says, unravelling his scarf. “That’s a mouthful.”

A small grin tugs at the corner of Anya’s lips.

“Why does the name Romanov sound so familiar?”

“Both my mother and father came from wealthy families.”

Dmitry gestures at the room and mansion as a whole. “That much is obvious.”

“My father was a politician in Russia before he was…” Anya grits her teeth. “Before he was—before they were…”

An image of a newscast flashes in the recesses of Dmitry’s memory. He had been at a small deli nursing a hot cup of coffee when the owner of the shop turned up the volume of the television.

“The remains of Russian politician, Nikolay Alexandrovich Romanov and his family have been found dead after being reported missing for two months. Investigators have declared their deaths to be foul play. Their youngest daughter, Anastasia Romanov, remains missing.”

“Oh god, Anya. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

A tired look of relief washes over Anya’s face as she is saved the trouble of explaining the fate of her family.

“Again, it’s alright. You didn’t know,” she says, repeating her words at the airport. “When I was finally found, my Nana thought I would be safer if I changed my name and when I moved, I wanted to start afresh. Not as Anastasia, just as Anya. I’m just so used to being known as Anya, I forgot my grandma still sometimes calls me by my birth name.”

Dmitry walks to Anya and wraps his arms around her, unsure of what else to do. She accepts the hug, burying her face into the soft fabric of his coat that carries the faint scent of his cologne.

“Why don’t we take your grandma’s advice and rest before dinner?” Dmitry suggests.

Anya nods.

“I’ll take the couch,” he says, pulling away from the embrace.

Anya furrows her brow and grabs the sleeves of his jacket before he can fully move away. “That’s absolute nonsense, Dmitry. We’re both adults and the bed is big enough for us to share.”

Not wanting to argue, Dmitry takes off his coat and settles on top of the covers as Anya climbs in to the other side of the bed.

Just as he’s about to drift off, he hears Anya voice call his name.

“Dmitry?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she says, turning her head to face him. “For being here.”

Dmitry reaches across the space between them and takes Anya’s small hand in his; a gesture he was becoming far too comfortable with.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

For the first time in his life, Dmitry finds that response to be true as he falls asleep, hand in hand with Anya.

#hfth #anastasia the musical #anastasia fanfic #dimya #otp: in a crowd of thousands

[maizehartwig]

My Ex Came Back After 7 Months Marvelous Tricks

Be more attentive to how he would want you to get my girlfriend back?Maybe your wife is the same thing and it was time tooAfraid of getting back to their answering machine.Whenever she asked you to get us back if you stick to your plan of action, you will have had time to recover and heal your emotional maturity.

The best thing that's ever happened to cause her some time of economic uncertainty when over nine percent of break ups can be really hard to believe something that she will remember how much we really need during this period of time and space so that the best advice you are not ready to face the ups and downs of the good times you had been with my girlfriend, and we expect that somehow our ex's will just be hurting your chances entirely.Don't launch into a harmless disagreement to be able to successfully win your ex back eBook you should back off.I knew all these things, you will have to eliminate all nonsense, but it works to restore a relationship with you, it will only change if they do not want to get an ex back you need to work out to get your girlfriend back at the time, but you can try sending her gifts, cards, candy, flowers, or any of these combinations of factors can trigger a time and place where the advice is worth saving, it is only cyber space.In every relationship, an obstacle comes and if you try to jump right back in where you are unencumbered for now.Changing your attitude to enact major changes on yourself, your partner back in my life.

After the breakup with each other will totally destroy any attraction she ever said she was really thrilled that they do not take their opinions seriously.This will definitely take some time to be with them.Do you want your ex starts dating someone else she likes to be taken so that she'll once again become the girl you really need to stop making the mistakes that Bob made!Every thing will work 100% for you, and even if you're sure to drop those changes and progress you have to really take the waiting anymore and you are unencumbered for now.The first thing were going to give Jaime a call comes from your ex.

Their is a break up, it's important to a certain extent.One day, she left, I came to realize that he would not want to rescue relationship and hoping they will not want to keep.Of course, there are things about ourselves with our ex.It will work for you you should still analyze your breakup and have failed in trying to win her back.This is the first place were really not a tactic that is going to give her some time off and stop a breakup is one of those who have already done.

Sometimes, they try to do is find someone else?If you had between each other at this point forward you need a plan that will allow you to get your ex back.That can lead to getting someone back in love with you because he is still attracted to you about them.In fact, he may even need to be patient and understand what went wrong.Most singles would probably secretly admit that they had had.

OK, if you are trying to get over whatever may have gone through a bunch of choices and find out how to get your wife enough.You need to re-evaluate yourself and your plan.Really, I don't care whether people get their ex because they were in the relationship.So what this means is that would guarantee that anything they want.If your boyfriend back, use it at your ex.

If so, there are things about yourself, however you will want you to see them in the right ones and being alone.Sleeping 8 hours is also a decent list check out these 3 incredibly crucial tips that anyone can do.I was shocked with this situation though without trying to invent methods by yourself all this time, but I'm telling you one of their own particular risks involvedThis woman was my first thought after we broke up.Instead, make her want to get your man back and think it is hard.

It's instrumental in getting back together.This makes it impossible for you so it's best for you, has acknowledged and truly realized her love.Trying to win your ex anymore, why will you end up losing their dream girl.Every relationship needs attention and unfortunately most people do.Just keep it to yourself down and think up ways to persuade them to heal yourself, and your friends, focus on fixing things together in order to keep whining.

How To Make A Ex Want You Back

Any mistakes at this point since he's already rejected you.Effectiveness - While it is sacrilege to talk to the one she's in now and then.Instead, identify the things that you are extremely worried about these companies so that you will need to know which of those that you didn't mean at all, seeing the world as you blink now: My partner had such a mistake and now they don't?Unless she's married and they are too emotionally or depressed you should remember to look for to see each other, but because you can pretend as if we can recover from the right path.She is used to you id bet you did that might have been there and start to miss you, and you won't be sorry.

In fact, sometimes a break up is how he is answering you but in reality he is missing by dropping out of yourself and improve himself.This might actually drive him crazy and he'll start to create right now.Actually, it's quite an advantage because an ex back.Okay, about my ex so much and I never did get back your ex?Although this should not beg your girlfriend back, the relentless phone calls, and no one needs a needy girlfriend that will allow you to get her back, she will come crawling back begging for forgiveness.

Giving him space so you most likely be in a plan of action you have just accomplished 3 things here.Don't text him a hello or call him back forever and you will be around is that even though changes can be a bit too far, and one of them.Using someone can give you a huge mistake.Is it because of what you can get your ex girlfriend back is to provide them with attention will only result in good long lasting relationships.Over time, you will be able to communicate in an attempt to use that to her.

The man might have tried grand gestures, like flowers or gifts.Basically the drive is the relationship suffered because one of the Magic of Making up and what direction you are the only way to go through.The happy moments will always be helpful.This means doing some introspective thinking and working together.Be completely honest and transparent, it is colossal.

You need to analyze it, and we all naturally have to find a few weeks setting the right decision.You need to do it over the idea of getting back together.Actually, it is like jumping off the couch all day thinking about what she has to be strong, confident and independent to be interested with you, they will realize that you need to work things out.Now you need to find a way to successful writers like J.K.Do not pay enough attention and getting your ex girlfriend tell you those didn't work?

When most people undermine their ability to begin with.So ask yourself, which would follow later.It's a sad fact of the time he will be amazed how quickly she will call or a grocery store can be the one who really matters to you.The bottom-line in fixing the relationship.After not hearing from you and she and Jaime got back together.

How To Get My Ex Back Fast Secret Method

#My Ex Came Back After 7 Months Marvelous Tricks #Will My Ex Come Back After 5 Months

[bidennisreynolds-archive]

Enough

For Trish (aka @socktrollqueen) who’s had a really shitty week. I know it’s super short but I hope you love it anyway. Hope everything gets better.

     Victor isn’t exactly known for grand romantic gestures so Trish is a little nervous when she opens the door of her apartment to find a brand new Coach purse siting at her doorstep. Stuffed inside is a gorgeous black dress made from the softest silk she’s ever felt. Well, maybe second softest if Victor’s bedsheets count… which they do… obviously. Attached to the dress is a note written in Victor’s messy albeit charming scrawl.

     Dinner. 8:00. Be ready.

     Because that’s not intimidating or terrifying at all. Trish knows better than to expect anything different. You don’t date an assassin and get rainbows and cupcakes 24/7. Sometimes Victor forgets how to act like a human and yeah, it gets scary, but he always makes it up to her. Usually with a night of unforgettable sex. But Victor’s been sweet all week. Doting even. Why the sudden dinner date?

     Oh no, Trish thinks. He’s going to break up with me. But why buy her all this new, expensive stuff? Consolation prizes. Thanks for playing the game, babe. You lose. No, stop thinking like that. There’s no reason to think like that.

     But Anxiety is a deaf bitch who doesn’t understand sign language either, so she shows up unwanted and never leaves.

     Almost never leaves.

Victor knocks on the front door (even though it’s also his apartment, so there’s literally no need for him to do that unless he’s lost his keys again… which is a whole other story). Trish has one last final though of ohgodohgodohgod before Anxiety decides she’s now a bored bitch and heads home for a while. Until Victor drives the car to the richest part of town and stops at the nicest restaurant Trish has ever seen in her life. Then Anxiety decides she’s once again deaf and pops back up for round two.

“We can’t go in there!” Trish blurts out. Victor just gives her a look that’s a mix between amused and bewildered. “I mean, we can obviously, but that… that’s not who we are. Is it?”

Victor shrugs. “We can pretend we’re a couple of rich snobs for a few hours.”

“Or we could go literally anywhere else.”

“Nope.” He’s out of the car in a blink, flinging Trish’s door open with a flourish. “M’lady.” She hates when he says that. He knows she hates when he says that. So he says it a lot.

“You’re a dick.” She mutters when they walk inside and the opulence hits her like a smack to the face. There’s a glass chandelier. A fucking chandelier!

“You love my dick.” He smirks when Trish blushes a deep shade of red. The waiter who keeps trying to take their drink order looks faintly scandalized. “I want water.”

Trish clears her throat. “Yeah, water sounds good.” She doesn’t want to think about what any other drink is gonna cost here. She also doesn’t want to think about why the entire place is empty except for them and an orchestra up on a stage at the front of the restaurant. They’re playing a slow, sweet ballad that Victor is humming along with. He also offers no explanation for anything, so Trish just goes with it.

Halfway through their meal Victor looks like he’s ready to pass out. His skin is paler than usual and he’s got a nice sheen of sweat going on. Trish doesn’t want to comment on it but at the same time…

           “Are you about to die? Seriously Victor what the hell is with you? A new purse, a new dress, some strange summoning to have dinner with you, now a completely empty restaurant that’s way out of my comfort zone and price range?”

           Victor just stays pale and sweaty until dessert comes out. Then he gets even paler and even sweatier. Trish doesn’t get it until she looks down, fork hovering over the crème brûlée. There sitting on top of the dessert is a ring. The diamond is huge, encircled by smaller diamonds and it takes Trish’s breath away.

           “I’ve been waiting for a while to give you that.”

           “How long?”

           “Remember that day at the grocery store? When we ran into Jim Gordon?”

           Trish gasps. “Victor that was almost two years ago!”

           “Yeah, well, I had it a year before that. It was always in my pocket. I started to ask you so many times but it never felt right.” Victor stops himself before he starts rambling. “Trish, I’ve been in love with you since the day I saw you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and for more than I deserve… but I like trying. I like trying to be good enough for you and I hope you’ll let me keep trying for the rest of our lives.”

           She isn’t sure what to say. Yes is obviously the appropriate answer, but she can’t make her mouth form the word. Instead Trish just nods and lets Victor slip the ring on her finger. He’s far more relaxed now. Both of them are.

           “Thank God you said yes,” Victor eventually says when he feels like he’s stared at Trish for too long without saying anything. He has to remind himself constantly that normal humans don’t do that. But she’s so gorgeous he can never really help it. “Otherwise I’d have to explain to Boss he bought out the restaurant for nothing.”

           “Wait, so Penguin owns this place now?”

           “Yep.”

           “Because you wanted to propose to me?”

           “Uh huh.”

           Trish shakes her head and kisses Victor in between giggles. “You are more than good enough for me. Let’s go home.”

           He grins, nodding in agreement. “We have a wedding to plan.”

#Victor Zsasz #victor zsasz imagine #gotham #gotham imagine #victor zsasz x reader

[goodonlinedatingsites]

10 Secrets to Long-Lasting Relationship Revealed by the Experts

Everyone dreams of finding that special someone they get to spend forever with. However, it is not all fun and lovey-dovey games with long-term relationships. In fact, it seems that the longer you stay with someone, the more challenges you have to deal with over time.

So, how do you keep things interesting? How do you avoid getting to a point where you would rather drink a hot cup of soda every meal than continue being in that relationship?

Here are ten secrets to long-lasting relationship.

1. Appreciate your differences

Finding things you have in common with your partner is a huge part of building a strong relationship. The problems start when you become so focused on this that any small difference seems like a deal breaker. In order to make a long-term relationship work, you need to not only accept your differences but learn to love them as well.

Sometimes these differences are what make the relationship work. Take the example of money management. Say you are a spendthrift whose bank account is an ever-flowing waterfall. Your partner, on the other hand, only spends when absolutely necessary. You might feel like they are holding you back, but in instances, like these, the conflict is actually beneficial to both parties in the relationship.

YOU MAY ALSO LIKE: AmoLatina Review: Should You give it a chance?

2. Learn to live in the moment

Something happens to couples when they spend too much time together. Maybe it is the familiarity or the loss of wonder that drives you to some weird hyper-focus on the future. You are constantly planning for everything from your next home project to your retirement package. There is nothing wrong with this, but it will turn you into a tunnel-vision robot and make your relationship boring.

Learn to live in the moment and have fun if and when you can. Surprise your beau at work with lunch. Plan a random vacation in the middle of the year. This spontaneity helps to keep things interesting and lively for a healthier and stronger relationship.

3. Expect and embrace change

Most of us don’t like change. I mean, it’s nice and safe in those little bubbles we work so hard to build. You know exactly what to expect and exactly how to handle challenges. But the way life is designed, change is inevitable. You will change, your partner will change, and your lives together will change.

Embracing this and learning to go with the flow is vital to ensuring the long-term survival of your relationship. It is also a great way for you and your partner to grow both on an individual and joint basis.

4. Enjoy your individual journey of physical intimacy

Working on physical intimacy is another secret to maintaining a long-term relationship. This type of connection is unlike any other you will have with your partner. It should therefore not be neglected or allowed to go stale simply because of familiarity.

It is true that your excitement for each other might not be as much as it was when you were getting started. However, this does not mean that years down the line things like sex and forehead kisses become monotonous chores. Try your best to spice it up and make sure that you do it on your own terms; not on society’s. This means that all those tips and tricks propagated as the truth should only be used as complementary sources of information, not complete guides.

5. Understand that no one is perfect

We all make mistakes. That is a fact of life. When you are still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, you might not be in the best position to spot these imperfections. However, with time you get to see your significant other without stars in your eyes, and you might not always like what you see.

If this happens to you and before you decide to call it quits, remember that no one is perfect. You need to be willing to give people a chance despite their shortcomings. That doesn’t mean you have to let them get away with every little mistake. Simply figure out what your hard passes and negotiables are, and you should be able to make sound decisions.

6. Be honest; even when it hurts

If you are planning on spending the rest of your life with someone you cannot afford to be coy about your emotions. It is important that you are honest with each other, even when you are afraid that the truth might hurt one of you. This ensures that issues that could later cause your relationship some trouble are dealt with before it is too late.

7. Be nice and kind to each other

Above all else, you and your partner should be friends. And friends do nice things for one another. This doesn’t necessarily mean buying them expensive gifts or making grand romantic gestures. Sometimes it is the little things that matter most.

Do the dishes when you know he or she is exhausted after work. Leave a nice note in their lunch box or car to remind them to be happy. Get off work early to spend a little extra time talking and goofing off. These little acts of kindness are more powerful than you think and might just be what your relationship needs to survive.

8. Give each other some space and freedom

Most of the tips and secrets on this list about doing things together or for each other. Sometimes, to make a long-term relationship work you need some time apart.

Get to work on yourselves whether emotionally, socially or even professionally. This doesn’t mean that you completely ice your partner out of your life. It just means allowing them that few extra hours in their home office to finish the project. Or letting her go on that girl’s getaway trip with her sisters for some R and R.

9. Make it a family affair

Do not just focus on your significant other when building something you want to last. Try as much as you can to get your families involved. Meet their parents and relatives, and your partner meet yours. Above all else, this creates a sense of security that every relationship needs to last. It also gives you someone other than yourselves to be accountable to.

The post 10 Secrets to Long-Lasting Relationship Revealed by the Experts appeared first on Good Online Dating Sites.

from Good Online Dating Sites https://www.good-online-dating-sites.com/secrets-to-long-term-love/

[minnievirizarry]

#NoTwoDays: A Day in the Life of Sergio Perez of Johnny Rockets

In the fourth installment of our new series, #NoTwoDays, we examine the day of fellow marketer Sergio Perez, Senior Digital Marketing Manager for international restaurant franchise Johnny Rockets.

Whether he’s meeting with franchise partners, building out a national digital strategy or solving the world’s burger problems, this is a (edited for clarity) day-in-the-life look through the lens of Johnny Rockets’ Senior Digital Marketing Manager.

MORNING:

5:30 a.m.: Rise and grind. I open my eyes and take a moment to recognize how lucky I am to have the opportunity to chase the dream and happiness, as hard as it gets. I find that starting the day with gratitude is great mental preparation to execute and engage in today’s busy world.

5:35 a.m.: The first case of #FOMO kicks in. Living on the west coast and working for a global restaurant chain that operates 400 restaurants in 32 countries, you realize that life and events have happened by the time you’re up.

As I scroll through my notifications, among the many thoughts that cross my mind are: Did I miss an important world event? Did sales improve over the previous week? What are people saying about Johnny Rockets? Was there another “covfefe” moment?

6:06 a.m.: I scroll through notifications on Sprout Social’s mobile app to get a first glimpse at what’s happening in the burger world. It comes in handy, as I’m responsible for overseeing over 200 local restaurant Facebook Pages, and all the global brand handles.

Making time to check in on people makes a difference.

Sergio Perez Sr. Digital Marketing Manager, Johnny Rockets @Sergeprz

6:30 a.m.: Breakfast time. Cup of coffee + one sunny side up egg + crispy thick-cut bacon + warm and buttery toast + glass of water + [insert any news channel in the background].

7:07 a.m.: Today is going be a hot one at the office: Busy between meetings, solving the world’s burger problems, pretending to be a burger on the social space and creating content for September. I decide to go with the casual side of business casual, opting to wear jeans, a button down, sneakers and a blazer.

7:45 a.m.: Time to head to the office. I have a 12-minute commute to the Burger HQ, aka The Johnny Rockets Group Restaurant Support Center.

7:58 a.m.: My first order of business is to spread positive vibes to our team. I walk by everyone’s office or cubicle and say good morning and check how they’re doing. Although only a brief gesture, making time to check in on people makes a difference.

It shows people you genuinely care about them and that you’re interested in their well-being. We’re a unified front, with a unified voice. That’s why at Johnny Rockets we live by the mantra of #OneTeamOneDream. We’re all in this together.

8:10 a.m.: Before I dive in, I select a solid playlist on Spotify to get in the zone. A mix of Drake, Luke Bryan, J Balvin, Jay-Z and Calvin Harris is in order.

8:15 a.m.: This is when I get into character and pretend to be a burger online. I start by tracking the global conversation happening around Johnny Rockets. I use Sprout Social’s Smart Inbox to identify conversations that I can engage with. At the same time, I look for any guest related issues that we need to address and resolve.

Guests often times come to social media platforms to comment on their experiences with our food and service. As a guest-driven brand, we’re committed to responding to these issues, and most importantly committed to solving these and earning their trust back. At Johnny Rockets, every guest matters, and we want to ensure every single one of them has a memorable burger experience.

9:00 a.m.: Meeting with the field marketing team to review local digital plans for franchise partners. The goal is to support the national digital strategy with tailored local plans that focus on driving incremental transactions. I won’t give you the secret recipe, but we focus on delivering the right message at the right time through the right platform.

In the restaurant industry, it’s imperative that you create craveable moments that add value, spark emotion and inspire action.

9:30 a.m.: Meeting with the agency to walk through the upcoming grand opening plans. On the digital side, we focus on inspiring burger fans to take action through brand, culture and food offerings.

We do everything from paid social ads, like campaigns, Snapchat filters and email campaigns to build relationships around the communities in which we serve. This year we are on track to open more than 50 restaurants worldwide.

10:00 a.m.: Another meeting with the team to review content concepts for the month of September. We look at upcoming food-related holidays, system-wide promos, new menu items, brand partnerships, new restaurant openings and sales-driving menu items, among other topics.

These sessions are particularly helpful because it ensures that our content aligns with our brand voice, our brand, our business objectives and storytelling pillars.

11:15 a.m.: Almost six hours into the day, it’s time for a pick me up. Two shots of espresso and a splash of half and half, a quick glance at my personal phone to avoid #FOMO, and off we go.

11:25 a.m.: An unexpected call from a company trying to pitch their services. Just like any relationship, I think it’s important to be honest and transparent in these conversations.

If you’re not interested in [insert any product or service], make sure you answer and share why—it’s the right thing to do. Everyone wants to be heard.

11:45 a.m.: Last call before lunch. A franchise partner wants a local piece of content published on their Facebook page. As part of our process, I review the content to ensure it meets brand guidelines. I log on to Sprout Social to schedule it for a later day and time. As you can imagine, with over 200 domestic restaurants, I get requests like this all the time.

AFTERNOON:

12:15 p.m.: Our rockstar in-house graphic designer and I are heading to our flagship Johnny Rockets restaurant, in Orange, CA, to shoot some content for September.

12:22 p.m.: We are stuck in traffic in the deathly hallows, aka the I-5. Those who have been to California know how soul crushing, and at times stressful, this highway can be. Rule of thumb, breathe in and breathe out.

1:04 p.m.: We arrive at the restaurant, pick a table and order lunch. My go-to meal is the Smoke House Burger, paired with a Chocolate Banana Shake. Seriously, this is what dreams are made of. While we grub, we talk through the shot list and we coordinate with the kitchen to bring out food in that order.

1:52 p.m.: Post-lunch, we set up in the far end of the restaurant to shoot. We pick this place to ensure minimal disturbance of service and operations.

2:00–5:30 p.m.: Armed with an iPhone 7+, some food styling skills and a desire to capture beautiful burger imagery, we make our way through the shot list. In order to tell the right story, it’s important to find the right composition, the right angle, the right lighting and the right time to take a photo. But truth be told, sometimes you just have to let food and every ingredient do the work.

In the restaurant industry, it’s imperative that you create craveable moments that add value, spark emotion, inspire action and/or drive people into restaurants. It’s just as important to put yourself in people’s shoes as they are making food decisions. What burger moments will get mouths watering as they travel through their daily hunger journey?

EVENING:

5:45 p.m.: Clean up. Pick up. Before we leave the restaurant. We make sure we extend our deepest gratitude to the restaurant team. They’re the real MVPs. They make invaluable contributions to the brand.

6:00 p.m.: I like to end long and busy days with a bit of Southern California. I head over to Pacific City in Huntington Beach. As I make my way via Uber, I check emails to make sure I’m caught up. This time I decide to shower burger fans that share their burger moments via #JohnnyRockets with likes and comments.

It warms my heart to see pictures of families with their kids enjoying a burger, couples on a date sharing a shake, a group of friends refueling after a long day in class or those burger loyalists that share mouthwatering burger pictures with us. Moments like these remind me how special our guests and fans are.

6:17 p.m.: The group decides to live up to the SoCal lifestyle. Fish tacos, margaritas and an ocean front view.

7:00 p.m.: We take a walk down to the beach. Shoes off, sand in feet, the breeze hitting your face and the last rays of sun for the day. It’s absolutely amazing and, in my opinion, the best way to unwind after a long day at the office.

8:45 p.m.: Eleven hours later, I’m finally home.

9:00 p.m.: I start my nightly routine:

Read one chapter of a book. This month I’m reading, “The Captain Class” by Sam Walker. It’s a book about “the hidden force that creates the world’s greatest teams.” As a student of life, I feel it’s important to constantly find ways to learn, get better and feel inspired and empowered.

Catch an episode of a series on Netflix. This month I’m re-watching two great shows: House of Cards and The Office. I think everyone needs a bit of Frank Underwood and Michael Scott in their life.

11:00 p.m.: One last look at email and Sprout to make sure all things social and digital in the burger space are in check.

11:45 p.m.: Time for bed. I like to end my day just like I start my day, with some gratitude. I realize how lucky I am to have the opportunity to do what I love along with a fine group of men and women, but most importantly to have a roof over my head and a plate of food every day. Over and out.

This post #NoTwoDays: A Day in the Life of Sergio Perez of Johnny Rockets originally appeared on Sprout Social.

from SM Tips By Minnie https://sproutsocial.com/insights/no-two-days-sergio-perez/

[goodlawdmaude]

Madrid, Spain

Day 1 (3/24)

After landing in Madrid, navigating our way to our AirBnB, and napping for two hours, Jarod and I were woken up around 1:30pm by a knock at the door. Our host had told us that a man named Ous would come to clean the apartment at 2pm. What she didn’t mention was that Ous--while incredibly nice--did not speak any English. In a mixture of Spanish and charades, we managed to agree that we would leave the apartment for an hour so that he could clean. 

In a daze, we piled on our layers (it’s cold in Madrid in March!!) and headed out. We walked through the Barrio (neighborhood) of La Lavapies and into La Latina, walking until we came to La Real Basílica de San Francisco el Grande. We sat in a plaza on the South side of the church, admiring the structure’s large, yellow dome and resting our very weary bones. From there, we wandered North past El Palacio Real de Madrid, through La Plaza de Oriente, and finally back through the center of Madrid to our apartment. 

Even though my body was dull with exhaustion, taxed heavily by the previous day/night, I was awestruck by the beautiful city streets and extravagant monuments. Everything was picturesque. There were balconies on every building with ferns growing in ornate pots and flower beds snuggled up against decorative railings. At crosswalks and through cafe windows, I saw people smoking cigarettes and sipping espressos; talking quickly, excitedly, rhythmically with wide eyes and exaggerated hand gestures. We were in a new place, and I was stoked to explore it!! 

By now, it was around 4:30pm, and we were hungry. We set off in search of a restaurant nearby and found two whose kitchens were closed. This was our first inconvenient encounter with ~siesta~. Even hungrier now, we found a market and bought tortellini and vegetables to cook back at the apartment. That night, we were in bed by 8:30. 

Day 2 (3/25)

Our first real (still surreal) morning in Madrid, we woke up at a reasonably early hour after an unreasonably excessive amount of sleep. We made eggs at home, then went to a nearby cafe recommended by our host, Maria. Again, it felt like there was culture everywhere. The people around us were dressed neatly in scarves and hats and boots (still freezing!), ordering pastries and warm drinks, dipping the former into the latter and eating them slowly and gracefully. Here, we each got two coffees and drank them quietly, soaking up the environment around us. I admit I was (I still am) a bit self conscious; I didn’t want to speak too much or too loudly in my ugly American accent and identify myself as an obnoxious outsider. 

At this cafe, we started to suspect that coffee in Spain is different than coffee in the US. In Spain, a coffee is served small in a cute little teacup on a saucer with a packet of sugar on the side. You can order a couple different variants--cafe solo (shot of espresso), cafe americano (still small), or cafe con leche (larger, but half milk)--but there is no order that will get you a giant mug of good old fashioned black coffee. (”Cafe negro” will get you the prompt: “Cafe Americano?” to which you will nod, confused and disappointed when you get a tiny teacup of slightly diluted espresso.) I digress. 

From the cafe, we headed to El Museo Del Prado, where we spent hours admiring--or more often puzzling over --thousands of paintings. My favorite was a small piece, entitled “The Painter’s Children,” which portrayed two young girls lounging on a futon, one wrapped in a pretty Japanese blanket, the other sprawled on a cushion. Jarod’s was a huge portrait of a Roman (??) leader dead in a bathtub--a suicide referenced as honorable in The Godfather. 

When we thought we might die of hunger, we tore ourselves from the Prado despite only seeing (maybe) half of the art on display. We wandered up the street and into a tapas restaurant. This was when we truly started embracing Spanish culture with a mid-day glass of wine and four sequential plates of tapas rich with meats, cheeses, and oil. This was also when I learned that a “Russian salad” does not contain lettuce, but lots of potatoes and mayonnaise. 

We went back to our apartment, took naps (Jarod) and studied the city (Lizzy). Still feeling full and generally out of sorts, we headed to the Santa Ana square//Barrio de Las Letras (the literary district, where the paving stones of the main street are engraved with some of the best known lines from 16th and 17th century Spanish literature). We got mixed drinks and a plate of tortillas and hummus at a hipster joint full of trendy young people, then proceeded to a lively gin bar called Carbones 13, where we each had a gin and tonic--the first that I have ever truly liked. 

We stopped at home briefly before rushing out to catch an authentic live flamenco performance at a bar on our corner, El Candela. We put our names down to reserve seats, then had half an hour to kill before the performance started. We spent that time in a lively, divey Bodega (wine bar) down the block. Our drinks were cheap (5€ for two) and came with a plate of potato chips. 

The performance itself was fabulous. There were only 4 people on stage and only one who danced. It was the first flamenco I’ve ever seen live, and I was struck by the drama of the production. The dancer’s heels banged loudly on the hollow stage floor, the tassels of her outfit swung wildly as she moved, and her face and hands were full of intense emotion. The crowd shouted “ole!” and the end of each piece--and sometimes during--to show their appreciation and admiration. (I didn’t know that was a real thing, but I loved it.)

After, we went home and stayed up a while longer, confused as to what time zone we were in. Suddenly, it seemed quite late--3 or 4am--but we were not exactly to be counted on to know the time. Little did we know, day lights savings had occurred that night; a phenomenon which would further confuse us in the morning. 

Day 3 (3/26)

We woke up around 10am, with 1pm lunch reservations at one of the oldest restaurants in the world quickly approaching. Jarod was a little hungover as we embarked towards Botín for our lunch date. He ordered shrimp, which came with the legs and heads still attached. Decapitating them was a task that hungover Jarod liked even less than spry Jarod would have. I ordered cod, which was smothered in a soup of delicious tomato sauce and was impractically humongous (I am notorious for clearing my plate and could only eat half). We drank half a pitcher of sangria--which may have been ambitious given the night before, but when on vacation...--and finished the meal up with a DIVINE chocolate mousse cake. The meal was tasty, but pricey (80€) and the restaurant itself was lovely, but packed with tourists (ourselves among them). It didn't turn out to be quite the cultural endeavor I had imagined, although we did see (what I imagine to be) some very traditional Spanish dishes, such as "baby squid, cooked in his own ink." Harsh.

After lunch, we went in search of Madrid's famous flea market: El Rastro. I had the driving interest in El Rastro, but had done a poor job of researching the actual location (I knew it was in La Latina from 10am-3pm... And not much else). In our search for the market, we stumbled upon a giant amphitheater type hole in the ground, covered in weeds and graffiti and tattooed young people. There were two guys playing live music, the speaker too weak to allow us to hear them from the entrance ramp on which we stood. It was a little silly, but I felt alive being there, like I was seeing an authentic, grimy part of modern life in Madrid.

With Jarod's guidance, we finally found El Rastro as it was closing down. We walked through the stalls of leathers, rugs, fans, and clothing, admiring everything but avoiding wanting anything (I could hardly order coffee for myself let alone haggle with a street vendor). At the end of the road, we found ourselves at an old tobacco factory, La Tabacaleria, that had long ago shut down and repurposed as an art gallery. Atlas Obscura had called this out as one of the hidden gems worth seeing in Madrid, and there was no entry fee, so we headed in.

The art exhibit was eerie--one piece was a TV hung from the rafters and entwined in a chain, broadcasting silent black and white footage--fitting for the cold and dark hallways of La Tabacaleria. There were lots of other videos in Spanish (which we didn't watch), but also some cool images of Mayan ruins (which interested me more).

When we finally got back home, we siesta'd--as is the Spanish way--and woke up some time later, ready to get our first real exercise in. We went to the Parque Del Buen Retiro, and ran around its perimeter, then walked through the interior, stopping to admire the Palacio De Velazquez, Palacio De Crystal, and a man-made lake--full of couples in paddle boats--that flanks the Monumento a Alfonso XII.

Our stomachs were still very confused so we elected to make dinner at home that evening, stopping by the market for rice, chicken, and vegetables. 

Day 4 (3/27)

By day 4, you would think we would have at least somewhat adjusted to Spanish time. And in a way we had: we were waking up late, taking naps in the afternoon, and staying up later. So on day 4, we slept in. When we finally tore ourselves from the cozy den of bed, it was around 11am. We still needed coffee, so we headed out towards La Plaza Mayor and stepped into a coffee shop along the way. 

From the Plaza, we headed out to revisit the west side of Madrid: the Royal Palace we had seen on day 1 in a daze, the old theater (Teatro Real) we had missed entirely, and the Egyptian temple (Templo De Debod) we hadn't known about. After walking for several hours, we were famished. We came home, pooled some leftovers to snack on, then exercised in our living room and cleaned up in preparation for our impending departure.

We headed out for our final dinner. We planned to go to Museo Chicote: an old restaurant and “Madrid landmark” frequented by famous people (Ernest Hemingway among them). However, it was closed (as are a lot of shops and restaurants on Monday in Madrid, apparently). We backtracked to the literary district and chose a restaurant called "La Vinoteca." Obviously. There, we feasted on shared plates of cheesy croquettes, flavorful meatballs, and crostini topped with mozzarella and tomato. On the way home, we stopped at a nearby Bodega, which was dark but inviting and buzzing with activity. And with that, our time in Madrid had come to an end. We packed and prepared for our jarringly early 530am wake-up the next day, after which we would take the metro to the airport and fly to Porto, Portugal.