#oh to be megan west

[eddiediaaz]

favorite 9-1-1 moment ↳ 9 / ? ✦ buck and taylor in 5.01 - panic

#911 #evan buckley #taylor kelly #911edit #tvedit #fav911 #*gifs #listen this is a favorite moment because it's buck making out #idc if it was with taylor lol it was hot #bucktaylor #tusersonny #usernelly #jddryder #userdorksinlove #fox i'm begging i want to see beefy s6 oliver's shoulders and back #oh to be megan west

[heliojip]

so much happens on my tomodachi life island you dont even KNOW . cooper and harry from twin peaks are married and have a kid named Snoopy, ryan and min from infinity train WERE married but got DIVORCED 🧎 and i tried to get francesca and meg toegther but fran had a crush on richie tozier from IT chapter 2... absolute chaos ... heres a pic of mabel pines and herbert west chilling and danbert bonding time (dan wanted a unique hat)

#oh boy #heliojabs #tomodachi life #herbert west #reanimator #re-animator #danbert #dan cain #re animator #bride of reanimator #megan halsey #meg halsey #francesca danelli #twin peaks #dale cooper #harry truman #whats their ship name???? #mabel pines #gravity falls #infinity train #ryan akagi #min-gi park #infinity train book 4 #richie tozier #it chapter 2 #TRUCOOP #ITS TRUCOOP #heliogames

[cowboylikesel]

we don’t need to talk about what followed but s4 partners-in-crime bucktaylor were SO fun and cute together! just annoying everyone left and right and looking hot while doing it

#oh what could’ve been the bestiesm was top tier #megan west i miss you i’m sorry they did that to you #911 #evan buckley #taylor kelly #bucktaylor #selina talks

[rantceratops]

Artemis “So, Wally, when did you first realize your honest affinity for sorcery?“

Wally “Well, I, I don’t like to brag but, before I became Kid Flash, I seriously considered becoming a wizard myself.”

~~~~

Artemis “So, what do you think? Adaptive microopto-electronics combined with phase shifting?”

Wally “Absolutely!”

Science boner.

Wally Translation “That’s exactly what I think and it’s hot that you said it.

#he's like oh hell yes #but oh hell no i have to put on a front for Megan #lmao #ranty gifs #artemis crock #wally west #kid flash #wally/artemis #spitfire #otp: when we're alone #denial #young justice

[lordsukunas]

songs made by black artists that i think would suit jjk characters. oh my god this took forever to format n link songs. anyway, happy black history month yall!!!! i hope yall like this bc im sick of seeing taylor swift pop up in the list of artists gojo would listen to <33

gojo – starboy the weeknd, daft punk + ghost town kanye west, partynextdoor

for starboy it just gave im that nigga vibes, and for ghost town it's just the entire ‘i alone am the honored one’ scene. but mayb it could also be applicable to current gojo? idk.

geto – like a tattoo sade

fun fact: this is actually the inspo for my user!! the whole ‘broken by the burden of his youth’ and ‘hungry for life, thirsty for the distant river’ reminds me of his whole reason for defecting. he's hungry for life (wanting sorcerers to not have to risk their life to protect non-sorcerers & actually live a long, fulfilling life) and thirsty for the distant river (remember when they kept with the race/hallway analogy? yeah, and geto's goal was always going to be unattainable for him simply bc he didn't have the strength)

yuuji – adorn miguel + crooked smile j. cole, tlc

UGGHHH he's just so lovely. the most supportive boy ever i love my son sm, and that is my only justification for my song choices.

megumi – alone willow + nineteen pinkpanthress + answer tyler, the creator

tbh… idk bros been goin thru it this entire series, but esp recently. for answer, i rlly liked the first couple of verses (idk what to actually call it, but it's before the first chorus) bc it aligns well w papaguro n megumi. ig the stepdad could be gojo…?

nobara – no scrubs tlc + conceited flo milli + apeshit the carters + on my mama victoria monét

she takes nobody's bs n i love that for her!!! i feel like she'd absolutely love flo milli + megan thee stallion.

nanami – lotus flower bomb wale, miguel + i love you more than you know black party, childish gambino

sorry i rlly like him y'all... there's no angsty reason for these songs! n for i luv u more than yk, it's just nanami if/when he goes to malaysia :3

choso – do you like me? daniel caesar

i actually dk for this one... i just thought it suited him! yk since he wants to live as a human n when he loves he loves hard (shown by how determined he is to be the best older brother to his lil siblings)

toji – she will lil wayne, drake + foe tha love of $ bone thugs-n-harmony, eazy-e + crack rock frank ocean

i am a firm believer toji would like 90s + early 2000s rap. it just makes sense idk, also i once saw a post that said he died just a bit b4 no hands by waka flocka came out and... hey! for crack rock, it's just post-mamaguro him n instead of crack, it's his gambling addiction

sukuna – hater's anthem infinity song + hit ‘em up 2pac, outlawz + king’s dead jay rock, kendrick lamar, future, james blake + unbothered ski mask the slump god

he's a hater just for my son. bum ass nigga... and for hit em up: ‘don't one of u niggas got sickle cell or sumn? u fuck around n have a seizure or a heart attack’

maki & toji – worst behavior drake

self explanatory! them n their rebellion against the zenin clan <3

gojo & geto – oui jeremih

cause if weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! sorry but this is fueled by geto saying ‘we are the strongest’... thats it :p

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk nanami #jjk yuji #jjk megumi #jjk nobara #jjk maki #jjk choso #jjk toji #jjk sukuna #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #geto headcanons #toji headcanons #sukuna headcanons

[foxymoxynoona]

Over the Falls Ch. 4

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

“It was a shitshow, is what it was,” Megan insisted, arms out as she picked her way through the tangled overgrowth of the front yard. In heels, mind you, with tight jeans that made it difficult to bend her legs so that she kind of waddled and teetered as she trailed after Grace around the wild beds and weed-devoured gravel path.  

“You’re exaggerating.”

“The toilets overfloweth,” Megan insisted, hands gesturing to demonstrate just how badly the bathroom had been destroyed. “Of course no one wants to admit it was them but someone brought the chicken casserole–”

“And you’re sure it was the chicken casserole?”

“Using my excellent detective skills–”

“That’s true, why would I doubt you?” Grace laughed. She stopped on the gray stone porch –cracked, chipped, and laced with mildew– and surveyed the yard. 

“It was everyone who ate the chicken casserole crapping their brains out,” Megan said, pulling herself up the steps. “But who made the casserole? No one in that set of people makes casseroles. I’m telling you, someone used rancid chicken.”

“You think it was on purpose?”

“I mean, it didn’t make Nancy look good to have a dozen people head to the ER with bubble-guts,” Megan said, eyebrows raised and lips twisted to the side like she knew what her opinion of it was. Who has it out for Nancy? The answer for any of them was most likely depends on the day. “But I suppose it could have been someone stupid. Decided to cook instead of letting their chef handle it and doesn’t want to admit it now.”

“I can’t believe Nancy did a potluck,” Grace admitted. 

“Oh she’s living in deep shame right now. Trish and Eugenia goaded her into her after someone… maybe me… suggested potlucks are trendy now.”

“You didn’t,” Grace laughed. Megan cackled shamelessly. 

“Well they can stop talking shit about me or I’m going to set them up like that! I said they’re all the rage now and we’re getting laughed at for being so outdated on the West Coast.”

“Why would Nancy care?”

“Oh some stuffy asshole from Georgia was going to be there, I don’t even remember his name, so I may have positioned myself as an expert on Georgia…”

“You’re from Georgia.”

“Sure, but not Georgia money,” Megan reminded her. “I’m from Georgia upper middle class. And I’m stretching that upper. We did potlucks at church but never when we hosted. Who would do that? You run the risk of someone bringing a rancid chicken casserole.”

“You don’t think it was Nancy herself– no, she wouldn’t cook for her own dinner,” Grace quickly corrected.

“No, I think it was someone else trying to be on theme. Instead they inspired their own theme…”

“You didn’t get sick,” Grace guessed based on Megan’s laughter about the whole thing.

“Lord no, I didn’t touch that casserole. I knew it would only disappoint me. Kind of like this house.”

Grace gave her a bemused smile and led her through the front door with the set of keys she’d picked up from the owners earlier. Megan’s tale of the failed dinner party had woven through their examination around the exterior of the property: overgrown, cluttered with potted plants, a slimy green and frog-infested pool, a garage door that no no one could find the clicker to. The patio furniture had all turned green with mildew, the iron frames rusted. 

“Woah, it’s squat,” Megan said, ducking her head in the entry way as though the ceiling wasn’t a full ten feet.

“It just feels that way because they painted the ceilings dark,” Grace explained. The entryway had a closet dead ahead too, making the space feel small. Two doors crowded them on the left, too, and so many doors right when you entered made a house feel like a maze. If you ripped off the closet door and turned it into a proper entryway, it would feel better. Maybe one of the doors to the left too. Shockingly, when she opened one it had dark carpeted stairs to the second floor.

“Why’d they do that? That’s creepy to put a door there.”

“People do lots of things to their houses,” Grace shrugged. “I always think it’s interesting. Maybe they were trying to cut down on A/C costs?”

“You must see some weird things.”

“I do. And it’s my job to paint those over so that the next person can envision a blank canvas to make their own personal type of weird,” she mused. She made notes as they wandered through the living room to the right –one of two family spaces. Big picturesque windows facing that overgrown front yard made the living room feel hidden and secluded –not a corner lot in a lively neighborhood and only several blocks from the beach and businesses.

“There’s so much stuff…”

Grace nodded, recalling what she knew. The house was built in 1952 and bought by the most recent owners in the 80s, only two owners in all that time which was remarkable for California. The husband had just passed and now the children wanted the place cleared out and sold to support the mother, who was in her eighties and moving in with one of her grown children. Grace glanced at the portraits mounted on the wall –far too many, so the walls felt like they were ready to erupt– that showed forty years of life in this place. 

“It’s really not in terrible shape though,” Grace corrected the easy judgment someone like Megan would make at first glance. “It needs to be cleared out, it needs paint, but the structure is good. I’d rip the carpet out and replace it with wood or tile. Paint everything, of course. Replace the appliances, though we may be able to clean these up enough to sell,” she considered, looking at her notes about updates and replacements as they wandered through the kitchen.The wood cabinets were dated by their oak finish but in good shape, the hinges squeak-free and sturdy as she swung a few open. 

“Oh, that’s kinda nice,” Megan gasped, rushing forward to open the French doors. Four double-doorways fanned out from the breakfast room: one back to the rooms on the ground floor, one to a back staircase to the second floor, one to an open-air dining room and the third to the patio before the pool. It created a very open, airy space when all the doors were open, as if the yard was part of the house. Right now it was in bad shape but when cleaned up, that would be beautiful. Also the doors needed to go on half the doorways, it must have been an A/C issue which made her think the place must get really warm during the summer.

“The carpet on the stairs needs replacing,” Megan pointed out as she led Grace up, as if she was the one on the job here.

“Trying to take my job?” Grace laughed.

“I see why you like this, it’s kinda fun. Like if you painted all these walls white, this feels like a resort up here with all these windows and the view of the yard.” The master bedroom and its massive his-and-hers bathroom and walk-in closet dominated by the back of the house. A walk-out balcony had creaky doors clearly not used for some time and Grace recalled that she’d been told the couple couldn’t enjoy the yard for the past several years. The children didn’t seem to have realized how badly their health was until the father died. She only got glimpses into the lives of the people whose houses she sold, and it was often a mixture of curiosity and tragedy.

“A built-in desk and shelves in the bedroom? That’s strange,” Megan decided, inspecting the furniture that did indeed seem built into the wall.

“I think it’s kind of neat,” Grace admitted, passing to peek in the closet. Musty and smelling of dust and mothballs but huge. 

“Damn, how many bedrooms does this place have?” Megan asked as they toured through others, all significantly smaller than the master but with decent enough space. One was an office, one a dusty old sewing room with tubs of fabrics against the walls, one a guest room with a sagging mattress and dated bedding.

“Four bedrooms,” Grace read from her sheet. “Three full baths. 3,450 square feet.”

“How much do you think they’ll get for it?”

Grace was flattered for Megan to ask her that, like she was such a pro she could just name it after this initial walkthrough. She checked doorways and vents and windows as they wandered, noting damage, searching for crucial flaws but finding nothing but superficial needs. The couple seemed to have put their money into the important things over the years –the electrical and plumbing were all relatively new, the roof was brand new, the fireplace in the living room unnecessary for most people somewhere as warm as California but apparently they’d burned wood and kept it well tended until the end. 

“Hm… depends if they want to do some remodeling before they sell, or sell as is,” Grace said. She did her best to sound more confident than she necessarily was, a skill instilled in her young. Except she did know quite a bit about this! “Maybe four, four and a half if they do… I’d guess three and a half if they don’t. The beach is close, the school district is good.”

“Damn.”

“The issue is just who we target. The dated decor won’t appeal to young people, but older folks are less likely to buy this near the beach. It’s got both a den and a family room, two bedrooms downstairs, the master and the second upstairs… It’s a lot of space for an older couple, really more for a family.”

She wandered again, seeing in her mind’s eye the changes she would make here and there if it was hers. Different paint here. Wallpaper there. Replace the carpet in the bedrooms and upstairs hallway, trade with wood or stone downstairs. Foam’s tree would have a great view of the garden from that corner…

“The yard is a mess,” Megan rattled off, peeking through the windows again. “That pool looks like a swamp.”

“It does.”

“And all this stuff. How do you clean out a place like this?”

“Well, I’d recommend to the family that they go through and remove everything they want to keep, then we do an estate sale. You’d be surprised how quickly they can clear out a house. After that is when I would usually stage the house and take the listing photos.”

“After they’ve had time to fix everything up nice?”

Grace nodded absent-mindedly as she crouched to look up the fireplace. She was no expert, it would need to be checked, but the fact they had been burning through the winter was a good sign, hopefully it didn’t need more than a cleaning. There ought to be glass doors installed though so they weren’t losing their cool air in the summer. 

“It’s hard to see through all the stuff,” Megan insisted, but Grace didn’t agree at all. She could see the potential. The big windows and wide doorways created such a nice flow. They blocked it off with odd furniture choices and misplaced wall decorations –too much here, not enough there to guide the eye. It was just superficial, the stuff that needed to be done. 

Grace could do that.

Grace wanted to do that. 

She wanted someplace that was a good investment, worth the money, but that she could sink her teeth into and really make her own.

She wanted some place that didn’t look at all like the home she’d built before, the one Tim destroyed.

Megan was mid-sentence criticizing the dated light fixtures when Grace touched her arm and interrupted, “I think I’m going to buy this house.”

“Hm? You’re selling this house.”

“To myself. I mean, I’ll have to have another agent take over the selling because it would be a major conflict of interests but–”

“Wait you really want to buy this place?” Megan asked. She looked around with disbelief. “But… it’s kind of a wreck.”

“Only visually.”

“Yeah…”

“I mean superficially. It’s in good shape, it’s just ugly, but the potential…”

“Do you really want a project like this though?”

“I do,” Grace insisted, feeling more sure of her answer. It would be work, but work of her choosing. Work to create a home exactly the way she wanted. Looking around, she already felt a sense of ownership welling up. She liked seeing what the house looked like now, knowing its past before they started their new life together. A rebirth for them both.

“I just think you’ve dealt with enough problems this year. Do you even know how to do this kind of stuff? Painting, carpeting, those ugly lights– I mean, the pool is a bog. I saw actual frogs. Are we sure it’s not actually a koi pond gone feral?”

“I know a guy,” Grace said without much thought behind it. She meant it as a joke, that any professional could handle any of the specific issues that felt beyond her limited skill set. She hadn’t meant JK specifically –though he could handle frogs and probably get that pool looking nice. The last thing she wanted was to remind Megan of the suggestion she’d made immediately after Grace confessed about the divorce… 

Quickly Grace added, “I’ll hire the help I need for the big stuff. Everything else will be fun.”

“If you say so…” Megan said. She sounded critical but also amused. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve already surprised me, maybe you’ll surprise me again.”

“What surprised you?” Grace asked, head tilting curiously.

“You left that saggy ballsack husband! Maybe you’ll surprise me with your speckling skills too.”

“Speckling?”

“Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“What what’s called?”

“You know, hm… that house repair thing.. Look I don’t know what I’m talking about, I just have house shows on in the background sometimes.”

“Spackling?” Grace guessed and Megan just shrugged. “That’s fixing holes in walls.”

“Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Grace said with gusto, despite having never done it in her life. It couldn’t be harder than getting a divorce from Tim, so hell yeah!

“Well congratulations then. Why don’t you have me over once it’s all cleared out and I’ll act surprised. I’ll forget I saw its unsavory past,” Megan laughed as they headed for the door. Grace couldn’t have felt more different: she wouldn’t forget the house’s past. Years from now, assuming it all went through, once she got the house the way she wanted it, she and this house could look back on how far they’d come.

“Ok, it’s a date,” Grace agreed. “Let’s head out, I’ve got to let the family know they need a new agent.”

“You’re just going to dump them? Damn girl, you’re really cleaning house–”

“No! I’ll just explain I’m interested and that they need new representation. I’ll even recommend someone I know will be good for them.”

“You know a guy, huh?”

“I do, yes.”

“You know a lot of guys,” Megan prodded as Grace locked up the house. 

“What do you mean by that?” Grace asked. Even though she knew.

“Just pointing it out. Don’t want you getting any clutter or cobwebs you need to clean out if you go too long–”

“Megan Eldridge!”

“I’m just saying! As your friend!”

“Is that all you’ve got on your mind?” Grace teased. “Adam’s away again, hm?”

“No, but I swear, these hormones are making me batty,” Megan sighed, hand reflexively resting against her leg, as if to protect it from even a verbal mention. She’d shown Grace the bruises the fertility shots left, physical proof of how dedicated Megan was for a child after she and her husband had put it off for years. “Now or never,” Megan had said, tapping her wrist as if her forty-three years were recorded on her watch. 

That’s sort of how Grace felt about starting her life over. She felt late. She hadn’t been on her own since she was barely an adult and now had to figure everything out all on her own. She could recognize she was putting unfair pressure on herself to “catch up” after her whole life got upended, and yet she was eager to settle into her new normal. Foam and her were a close, happy little family already, but the apartment still felt so temporary. It felt like she still lived in the shadow of Tim, in the wreckage of their marriage. She was ready to emerge, no more dragging her feet. Maybe it wasn’t now or never, but it was time.

“How long do you think it’ll take you to get this place fixed up?” Megan asked. She didn’t check behind her very long before backing out of the driveway and Grace resisted the urge to point it out. 

“I don’t know. A year? I have to actually buy it first.”

“That’s too long before you can host again.”

“I’m not in a rush to host anything.”

“You should be. I can’t wait to watch you make this place beautiful and rub it in everyone’s faces,” Megan grinned. Her quick reversal from criticism of the house to blind support for Grace’s ability to make this something beautiful was noted and appreciated.

“Let’s plan on a baby shower instead,” Grace suggested. “I think that’s nicer than petty revenge for gossip.”

Megan sighed loudly, “You’ve really got to work on your mean-streak. It’s painfully under-developed.”

Jungkook floated on the board, letting the waves scoop him like a tired child getting carried to bed. Max made him think of that. How badly he had envied Max at Mo’s memorial service when the little boy fell asleep stretched out in the corner despite the stifled sobs and loud music ushering from the best speakers Jungkook owned. Mo had been an incredible musician, far more talented at guitar than Jungkook could ever hope to be. His voice was a lie, sounding so alive as it wrapped around the room, and for the length of an album the guy behind the voice was alive and Jungkook was hearing the album for the first time and simultaneously understanding what he wanted to do with his life and what he could never hope to compete with.

Then the album ended, the memorial ended, Yoojin scooped up sleeping Max to carry him home, and the world was a little cold again. Cold for April, at least. 

At the beach, Jungkook could draw the warmth back into his skin, even early in the morning. He hadn’t slept well after all that, even once Jimin pounded on the wall for him to stop strumming his unplugged guitar, so it hadn’t been hard to drag his ass to the beach this morning. The sky was overcast though. Fitting, all things considered.

Bobbing on the water wasn’t a good idea. It gave Jungkook too much time to think things he didn’t want to think. It was hard enough to float through the memorial, he couldn’t hold on longer than that. It would drag him down. There was too much anguish there for everyone, and none of them knew what to do about it even years later. He sure didn’t know how to fix it for anyone though he was doing his damned best, trying, failing. 

If the roles were reversed, Mo would probably have known what to do.

Jungkook dashed at the salt crusting on his eyelashes and leapt up at the next wave. Manhattan Beach was starting to crowd up, and it annoyed him to have to navigate so many other surfers as he paddled back out once the dumped him unceremoniously on the sand. He watched Seokjin get a good one going only to have to bail as a fucking jake cut across his path. 

Jungkook shouted angrily on Seokjin’s behalf until his head broke the surface and he could shout himself, but the asshat had already flown off down the beach. Not someone Jungkook recognized, maybe a barney.

Jungkook shook his head. His frustration on Seokjin’s behalf made him reckless. He took the next wave but it was a poor shot, he realized too late. The wave broke too soon and he failed to pull off the aerial that could have landed him gracefully back on the surface. Instead the board clipped and shot him forward, then jetted narrowly over his head through the water as the surf tumbled him down down down. That had been the hardest part about learning to surf, at least Jungkook thought so. Learning not to panic as the water pushed you down, knowing it would pass in a moment. Hopefully. 

Well, sometimes it didn’t pass. Some people never could get out. 

Jungkook kicked off the bottom and paddled to the top, breaking through an easy smooth surface. The wave had passed. He lifted his feet to grab hold of the board tether and decided to call it a day. He wasn’t having fun, his head was a mess, and he didn’t want to disrespect the ocean by not being present when he rode it. He began to paddle to shore–

“JUNG–!!” was all he heard before something sharp and hard slammed into his shoulder. The shocking pain of it had him swallowing a mouthful of water as the force knocked him from his board. For a moment he just hung in the balance, scooped by the water, mind a dark void around the sharp pain. 

Burning lungs made his body move on its own, struggling to the surface –or maybe it was the relentless tug of his board’s cord. He drew in a chest full of air just as Seokjin grabbed his arm.

“Fuck!”

“FUCKER!” Seokjin shouted and finally Jungkook could process that a surfer had hit him. He dragged himself half across his board and let Seokjin push him closer to shore. “You ok? Where’d it get you– ah, shit, I see the blood.”

Jungkook craned his neck to look. All things considered, it could have been worse. Nothing broken, not even a massive gash, though the salt water burned the broken skin on his shoulder like shit. His neck hurt from the whiplash but that was better than the other thing. A direct hit there or on his head could have paralyzed him. Killed him.

“I’m ok,” Jungkook said, willing it to be true. “Just knocked me over.”

He stumbled as they got to the shallower water, the churn around his ankles trying to drag him back out, until he could sit heavily on the sand.

Embarrassingly, the lifeguard sprinted full speed over like this was a fucking Baywatch rerun. He sent sand spraying everywhere, nervous as though he’d never seen a collision before.

“You didn’t have to haul him out?” he demanded of Seokjin. He set the first aid bag down and leaned close to Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook waved him away and groused, “I’m fine. Just stupid… I should have been watching better…”

“These assholes are all over the place this morning,” Seokjin complained. “I saw the whole thing. The tourist wasn’t watching and turned toward you too fast.”

Jungkook endured the poking and prodding as Seokjin and the lifeguard looked him over. He stretched and squeezed higher up and further down his arm, checking for anything that felt dangerous. Now that he was free of the water though, he realized it really had gone as well as it could; other than the bruise and cut, it didn’t seem any major damage was done. He promised to think about swinging by Urgent Care, just in case. 

“Don’t think you’re going to be drumming for a few days,” Seokjin admitted as Jungkook successfully chased the lifeguard off to go harass the reckless surfers instead.

“Yeah but I gotta work,” Jungkook sighed. He glanced at his shoulder again. Seokjin was right. He should get some ice and take it easy, and maybe he’d only be out of commission for a few days. At least it was his left hand but damn, of all mornings. “It’s fine though. I’m fine.” He said it again, willing his insides to stop churning. Surf accidents were scary, and the fear always lingered. He was definitely done for the day now. Probably a few days.

“Here, I’ll get your board– need me to call Tae or Jimin?” Seokjin offered. His straight-forward concern told Jungkook just how scary it must have looked from the shore. His own knees knocked as he stood but after wiggling and stretching to get a sense of his body, he felt more confident it was just the post-accident adrenaline rush. His shoulder was going to look gnarly with that bruise, but today had not been his last day.

Fuck, that would have been terrible timing.

“Nah, I’m good to drive.”

“You’re sure?” Seokjin pressed. By now some of the other locals Jungkook knew were trying to crowd around too. Someone grabbed his stuff, someone else hauled his board for him. It was mortifying, and Jungkook was red-faced by the time he’d been escorted the block away to his car. Seokjin was most reluctant of all to let him drive off but in the end Jungkook seemed outwardly chill and made the right jokes to convince him everything was fine.

He made it home before the shocked tears escaped. It was just the adrenaline leaving, that was it. He blamed it all on that as he showered the salt and sweat from his skin, and inspected his throbbing shoulder in the mirror, and did his best to bandage it. No one else was home, and the last thing he wanted to do was freak his family out asking for help. 

At times like this it was hard not to long for the kind of companionship he pretended not to care about. Not sex, not a drinking buddy, not someone to go places with, but a person to rely on, to reach for, to help. Someone who he could lean against for the brief moments where his cool guy image slipped and he felt too fucking much. Someone who could tap his hand to get him to drop the bandage and do it for him because contorting to try and get it on hurt his ribs and stomach. There wasn’t damage there, not that he could feel anyway, just a shock to his body from the rough hit. 

He’d be really, really fucking lucky. Maybe Mo keeping an eye on him this moment. Mo, who’d finally relented and let Jungkook tag along when he’d started to surf first.

It wasn’t helped when he left his room to find Jimin and Hoseok making out in the kitchen, half undressed already.

“Fuck, sorry!” Jimin laughed, looking only a little embarrassed. Hoseok’s face turned red and he hid it in Jimin’s shoulder.

“I thought no one was home. You’re lucky I didn’t walk out naked.”

“Are we lucky?” Hoseok joked, then waved his hands at Jimin’s glare. “It’s a joke.”

“We just got home. I bought my boyfriend coffee like a good boyfriend but…”

That kind of thing. Companionship. Jungkook decided not to give them shit about getting frisky –they weren’t actually violating the no-fucking-in-common-spaces rule. Yet. 

“Isn’t it too early for that kind of thing?” Jungkook joked. His heart wasn’t in the joke but they teased him about just waking up –even though he’d been up for hours– and he waved it off and left without an explanation of where he was going. The answer wasn’t exciting: work. Time to get back to it after his thrilling day off yesterday.

His phone chirped just before he pulled away from the curb, Yoongi asking about band practice tonight. Taro responded immediately, suggesting six and reminding them that they had another show at Flowerfest in a few weeks and needed to figure out a set list and replace the amp that blew out at their last show. As if they were all just swimming in money to replace an amp. Jungkook was hoping Yoongi could filch one from somewhere. He hoped moisture hadn’t caused the short somehow; he’d left the garage door open when it rained the other day but he didn’t think anything had gotten wet…

More things he’d fucked up. He wasn’t even looking forward to Flowerfest, though it was usually a fun show, the afterparty made better last year by their band coming in third. Taro had killed a cover of Garbage’s “Only Happy When It Rains.”

He didn’t feel like making music right now. At least not bickering about a setlist. He didn’t want peppy happy feel good music, he wanted something angry. Drumming his brains out sounded good but he had to fucking work. Bob wanted him to go check out some new rich shithole place –not how Bob had explained it, but apparently the pool needed a complete clean and reset and Bob said it sounded like it would need “his best pool guy.” Which he’d clearly said because he felt bad for Jungkook, like he could sense he was going through something. But Jungkook hadn’t been going through anything yet. Monday was fine! He just hadn’t gotten laid in a while, that was all.

Fuck, was he turning into a shriveled dick?! He didn’t want to be that kind of guy everyone took pity on because he seemed on the cusp of a breakdown. Or, you know, such a cranky fucker that no one wanted to be around him. Yoongi could strike the balance between anti-social and charming, but he couldn’t and he didn’t want to come off that way. He was Jay-kaaaay, just cool and chill. He just wanted to have a good time and this week was just not a good time.

Time to rage. Rage it out of his system. He took the CD binder from the passenger’s seat floorboard with him when he traded to a company truck at the pool shop, digging through until he came across an album that seemed like the right energy to get this all out of his system by the time he got to the job site. It was a light day for him anyway –inspection at this new client house, then inventory at the shop. Bob was probably going to ask him to stock the trucks, that was fine. If he had to deal with any obnoxious clients today he’d probably lose his fucking mind and do something he regretted.

The first track of Rise Against’s 2008 album Appeal to Reason had him drumming on the steering wheel, banging his head at a red light until it hurt his neck and he dialed that back. Damn, it was hard to keep his body still actually. It was impossible to hear the drum track of “Collapse” and not need to recreate it with hands and feet at his own set. Soyoon would kill the bass part. Yoongi would get the guitar lick so good and make it his own. Why couldn’t they do shit like this at the Flowerfest? 

He pulled to a stop in front of the house just as his favorite song of the album came on, track 11. The music hadn’t exactly healed him, but he felt held together in a hot, angry way that felt good. Fired up. So he stayed in his truck, singing at the top of his lungs.

“It kills me not to know this But I’ve all but just forgottenWhat the color of her eyes wereAnd her scars or how she got them”

He drummed through to the end, eyes closed, feeling the emotions of the week ride out of his body. The song ended and he opened his eyes to see an old white lady walking her dog, staring at him with some blend of horror and curiosity. 

“Yeah, whatever, lady,” he mumbled to himself as he slammed the truck door and headed towards the gate. It was so overgrown he paused to check the number and then wondered if this was really where he was supposed to go in, but he didn’t actually see a driveway. Around the corner probably. Annoying. People with properties that were big. His driveway was right there by the front door. Convenient.

There was a buzzer so he pushed that and waited. Then pushed it again. Then jumped when a woman’s voice came through grating and loud just as he’d pushed it a third time,

“Oh, that works? Hello? Hello?”

“Yeah, uh, hi.”

“Who is it?”

“I’m the pool guy. Here to see your uh, pool?”

“Oh, you’re at the front. Why don’t you come around the back instead? The front is a mess. The driveway is around the corner.”

He made an annoyed growl low in his throat. He didn’t feel like moving the truck. There was something insulting about forcing a contractor to take the back entrance even though he almost always did at a job. He was already here, couldn’t she let him in through the front? 

In a short-sighted stubborn fit, he decided to walk the length of the property instead of moving the truck. A green fence rang the length of the yard but didn’t completely hide the very large house rising up from what seemed like an unusual number of trees. Even in the rich neighborhoods, lots around here tended to have pretty sparse greenery but this place was practically lush. On the side, a higher privacy fence eventually transitioned to concrete columns on either side of a security gate; clearly the owners of the house trusted the front street a little more than this side street. 

Here was another box, but before he could push the buzzer, the gate slid open. He realized now how stupid he looked without his truck, like he’d just walked here or something. Had the owner watched him walk around? Probably had cameras everywhere.

The gravel driveway was odd to walk on and he wondered why rich people did that sort of shit. Just have a normal concrete slab like everyone else. You couldn’t play basketball or anything on this kind of thing. The rocks got into his flipflops and pissed him off.

But damn, the yard was pretty cool, he had to admit. The house was fancy as shit. Huge. Getting some work done, clearly, judging by the pile of lumber next to the open garage door. He could hear a wood saw muted drifting out of the open windows. There were a lot of windows. 

Instead of waiting for the owner, he wandered over to the patio area, and from there saw the pool anyway. Some furniture was shoved against the far side with brand new cushions, all of it yet untouched by sun or rain. A fountain was built against one wall of the patio –a big patio, clearly meant for hosting rich people BBQs or whatever– and he peeked in but not only was it not running, the thing was green and slimy and totally gunked.

New owners. He couldn’t remember if Bob had said that, he hadn’t been listening. Probably they’d got this place at a steal for millions of dollars, instead of doubles of millions of dollars, because it needed some work. Which they would spend more millions of dollars on. 

He squinted up at a balcony on the second floor. The sun was finally peeking through the clouds, like maybe it would break them apart. A breeze somehow made it through the yard. Somehow, despite being in a neighborhood and close to other things, it all managed to feel so private. Rich people. Jungkook’s bedroom window looked into his neighbor’s bathroom –and the asshole hadn’t bothered getting a curtain until Jungkook had marched over there to gift him one.

The pool was tucked away to the side, surrounded by more plants, mostly in pots, some broken and spilling dirt across the beautiful stone pool coping. A waterfall against a higher wall was all gunked up. Frogs soaked in the section above the waterfall. Green slime coated everything and he couldn’t see through the murky water to the bottom. It was a nice big pool though, it would be fucking awesome once cleaned, especially half sun half shade like this. He looked up to see how much sun it would get in the height of summer and only then noticed the hot tub in a gazebo not far away. Though covered, it was probably even more fucked; weeds grew directly on the cracked tarp cover.

“Hello? Are you back here?” 

“By the pool!” Jungkook called back. Oops, maybe he should have waited, but there was just something alluring about seeing such a rich house in such a state of disrepair. Humbled for a moment in time. Approachable. Touchable, like he wouldn’t transfer some dark smudge onto every smooth white marble surface with his working-class hands. He couldn’t do anything to the pool to make it worse. Time and neglect had fucked it five ways already.

“Oh good, yes. So you see, it’s… in need of some work.”

It only dawned on Jungkook as he turned that the voice was a familiar one. 

Mrs. Birch strode close to him, crossing her arms around her stomach as she surveyed the pool, as if confirming it was still as bad as she recalled. He forgot all about the pool, as surprised to see her as he’d been getting thrashed by a surfboard that morning. Maybe she had expected his surprise, maybe it was obvious on his face. When her gaze shifted to meet his, she gave him a little smile, like she’d predicted this.

“Hi again, JK.”

“Um… uh… yeah, it is. Looks like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Not you, the pool!”

“I know not me,” she laughed, her whole face lighting up. “Well…” She gave a little self-conscious grin and tossed her head, lifting her hands which were covered with something powdery white. The same substance coated her dark red overalls –they looked fancy and designer and yet they were clearly her physical-work clothes, dotted with bleach and paint and dirt stains. Her blouse was rolled up past her elbows. It was a very amusing blend of designer and working girl and Jungkook thought she looked… 

“You look great,” he said without thinking. Then quickly lifted his hand to brush self-consciously at his hair and rushed on, “You, uh… selling this place? I thought you were gone.”

“Actually, the opposite. I bought this place.”

He was shocked. He grimaced. Then he joked to cover whatever was happening on his face, “This place? Damn, the agent who sold it to you must have been really good…”

“Hey, it’s a good place! It just needs a facelift. Happens to the best of us old girls. But a fresh coat of paint and a trim and we’re good as new.”

He swallowed hard, wrenching his first thought back from escaping his mouth. Trim where?! Haircut, she must mean; it was up in a messy ponytail but it looked shorter than the last time he’d seen her maybe? Haircut.

“Are you old?” was what came out instead.

She laughed and confirmed only, “Older than you. So, what do you think about it?”

“The haircut?”

“The pool?”

“Oh. It looks like shit.” He grinned, hoping it would make her laugh again. It did. 

“I know. But I figured you could fix it up.” A business tone came into her voice as she walked briskly around the pool, making him think she wanted him to follow, so she did. “I’m hoping you can make it nice, whatever that takes, and not that I have to rip it out or anything.”

“Rip out… what? The pool?”

“And put a new one in?”

“Ah, Mrs. Birch, that’s not really how you deal with pools,” he snickered. “It looks concrete, so it’s probably fine under all that shit. If there are cracks in the concrete it might need some repairs but it’s just a residential pool and it’s still full of water, I don’t think it’ll have that problem.”

“But if the concrete stays green, or…?”

He tried not to puff up too much as he assured her, “It won’t be green when I’m done with it. I’ll clean it and paint it. Bob was right, it’s going to be a big job though.” 

Speaking of Bob, Jungkook suddenly wondered if Bob had set him up for this. Had Mrs. Birch requested him, or had Bob just sent him because Jungkook was his best guy? Or was Bob taking on a meddlesome streak and had decided to throw Jungkook into this for other reasons? Surely he wasn’t trying to get more calls of complaint from Tinydick Tim. Surely he hadn’t read too much into Jungkook asking about a Cornelia… no, he must have just forgotten it all, otherwise he would have remembered that Jungkook didn’t want to clean for the Birches anymore and he always respected that kind of thing.

Jungkook looked around, waiting for that piece of shit to come strolling out. The shock of seeing Mrs. Birch began to slide into prepared annoyance. Was he really going to have to go through this whole thing again, watching her noodle-dick husband get away with everything? Jungkook had no interest in making this pool nice for that chode.

Mrs. Birch nodded, “I thought so too.” It Jungkook  a moment to remember what they were even talking about. The job.i

“I’ll give Bob my take and he’ll write an estimate for you. You can get quotes from other places but it’ll be expensive no matter–”

“I don’t need to shop around,” she interrupted. “The estimate will be fine. I trust you. Your work.”

Jungkook didn’t look at her, not wanting to reveal his internal debate. He’d missed seeing her. She looked good. She was nice to work for. But her husband sucked and he just didn’t think he could do this again. He’d tell Bob to send someone else.

So he nodded and just confirmed, “I’ll tell Bob and he’ll write an estimate for you. Thanks for thinking of us to take care of your pool at your new place.”

“Of course.” She sounded guarded now, her expression narrowed like she could pick up on his shift in mood. Actually he could have given her an estimate right there, he had a good idea in mind about it, but he worried it would make it seem like he was doing the work himself, or that she wouldn’t believe the quote, or that Tim would jump out of a bush and pick a fight. Instead he took it upon himself to leave the pool area, heading back towards the gate. He wished he could jump into his truck and peel out, get away from that friendly smile of hers. Damn it was weird to see her again. 

“That’s all you needed to see?” she asked him at the gate.

“Yep.”

“Ok, well… great, then. I’d like the work to begin as soon as possible.”

“Bob will send you the estimate, Mrs. Birch–”

“It’s Arison. It’s not Birch anymore.” 

He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at this bit of information, not trusting himself to say anything. Even an “oh?” would sound a little too much right now. Also he was pretty sure it would have come out a weird squeak.

“But you can just call me Grace, you know.”

“I’m just trying to be respectful…” he mumbled, stupefied. Divorced. That’s what it meant, right? She was divorced. Not a Birch anymore… Timothy was tossed out with the trash where he belonged! And now she was telling him to call her Grace. His confusion made him stupid anyway and he clarified, “Not Cornelia?”

“I hope not,” she laughed. “Only my dentist and my grandparents call me that. You know I go by Grace.” He did not know this. “Is Cornelia what it says on my account?”

“I’ll fix it,” he lied. “You like ‘Grace’ better?” 

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I thought it… suited you.”

“Ouch. Why does that sound like an insult?” He had never seen her laugh this much before. Divorce looked good on her!

“It’s not! It’s just…”

“An old white woman name? It’s fine. I’m self aware. But no, Grace is fine although it’s not much younger, and–”

“You bought this whole place by yourself?” he blurted out. He still couldn’t comprehend that she was divorced, that Mrs Birch was no longer Mrs Birch but a single woman named Grace. Unless she’d found someone new already. That seemed likely, giving her looks and his luck. Surely a single woman didn’t buy a house like this just for herself. She must be getting married again already.

“I did,” she agreed, then added, “Well, I have a cat now,” then grimaced, “The house is quite a project but I wanted something new to sink my teeth into. It’s a fresh start.”

“A trim.”

“Yes,” she grinned. He hadn’t meant to say that quite, but appreciated her pity laugh. Sink my teeth into. Really, she’d just said that? She had nice teeth. Rich people teeth. He wondered if she’d had braces as a kid –probably– but it was too humanizing, too normal person to associate with her. She might not be Mrs. Birch but she was still a rich white lady and he was a pool boy being hired to fix her pool. Not fuck her on the new patio lounger–

“K, I’ll get started on Monday,” he said without any actual thought about what his Monday schedule was like, or if she and Bob could actually sign a contract by then. He just needed to get out of here and let his brain settle down and that was the first day of the week he thought of. Maybe he had a concussion. Maybe the surfboard actually had him in the head.

“Great. I appreciate it, JK. I’ll see you Monday. Oh, and the code is 1-2-0-1, just let yourself in, in case I’m elbow deep in something and can’t get to the gate.”

Balls deep in–

“Yep, great, that’s not a very secure code though.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Doesn’t make it a good code,” he snorted. He didn’t know if her sigh was amused or annoyed. Oops. “See ya Monday.”

“Where’s your truck? Oh, you can just park back here next time–”

“Got it, bye!”

He high-tailed it out of there, walking quick until he realized that looked stupid, and then trying to walk slow. He realized now she may not have let him through the front because of all the work being done. She’d given him the code to her gate to just come and go as he pleased. She was single.

Not that that was why she’d given him the code. Of course.

He’d have to ask Bob if he’d been set up on purpose. But he also couldn’t ask Bob, in case he hadn’t been and Bob would then realize that maybe it wasn’t the best idea for Jungkook to work for her. For Grace Arison. You probably shouldn’t work for a woman you’d wanked to… but he thought she was gone! 

Besides, if Bob had set him up, Jungkook didn’t want to give that fucking scheming old man the gratification. He wouldn't do that kind of thing though. Why would he? It wasn’t like he knew what went on in Jungkook’s head anyway.

Thank fuck she didn’t know what was in his head. He could control it though. It was just the shock and maybe a concussion. He was a fucking professional. He’d clean her pool so good. He’d make sure she had the cleanest fucking pool. Clean enough to fuck in– shit, he meant clean enough to eat in– eat food in, to be clear. Well, not that you would want to eat food in the pool… Other things could be nice to eat in a pool, perched on the ledge, legs spread, white bikini tugged to the side, or maybe a red one this time…

He must be concussed, his brain felt completely broken.

Shit.

“Shit for brains, shit for brains, shit for brains,” Grace chanted to herself because she couldn’t find any better words to vent her fury at the man she had stupidly loved for so many years. How? How?! Every interaction with him this past half a year as they dragged themselves towards official divorce had made her question her own intelligence in a way nothing ever had in life. How had she not known how awful he was? How had she fallen for his charm? What charm?! He was vile and she couldn’t believe she’d admired him. Now just seeing his name at the end of an email made her want to vomit.

He wasn’t making things easy for the divorce. They could be almost done but he continued to throw out obstacle after another, arguing with everything their lawyers tried to settle on, even when it didn’t serve him! She’d always thought Tim was a principled man, after all, and it turned out his core principle was to make Grace as miserable as he could. Of course he’d tried to raise a fuss about her buying the house but her attorney had been one step ahead. Now it was unclear whether Tim’s pride or greed would win out in the case of spousal support –a move her attorney seemed to be hoping for so she could rip it apart with the pre-nup. If anything, Tim might owe Grace spousal support, but she didn’t fucking want it. She just wanted to be free!

The phone rang as she drove, a call from her mother she knew she couldn’t answer right now at risk of running off the road or lacing her speech with too many profanities. She’d need to calm down first. Instead she fumed at being stuck in traffic, and then fumed at an Amazon truck pulled across the road, and then fumed at a lady walking her dog too slowly at the crosswalk. She just wanted to be home!

Not that home felt like home yet. The first few days in the house after closing had felt like magic as she floated through rooms on the wings of possibility. But she’d started so many projects so quickly that within days she felt like she was living in a construction site. Which she could handle for a while, but managing so many contractors was a full time job so it felt like she never got to check out. Half didn’t show up when they said they would, getting quotes had been like pulling teeth because no one wanted to put things in writing, and she’d already had two things broken as people worked. 

She could hear poor Foam yowling all the way from downstairs as she put away her keys and purse. She couldn’t let the kitty wander during the day because so many contractors in and out kept leaving doors open and she worried she’d never get him back if he escaped. He didn’t seem to mind being confined upstairs so long as he could keep eyes on Grace, and because he seemed pretty freaked out by boxes, but it just wasn’t possible as she did her own jobs around the house, one right after the other, all in an effort to get this place comfortable for the two of them. As contractors sanded and polished floors, re-tiled bathrooms, and painted just about every square inch of walls and ceilings, Grace followed in their wake hanging curtains, pictures, shelves, building furniture, and cleaning, always cleaning. She’d even replaced two light fixtures on her own, and all the light switch covers, and ripped old wallpaper out of an upstairs bathroom –which had been miserable and led to more contractors hired.

Maybe she ought to be doing more herself, but she didn’t know how and the contractors were supposed to do a good job. Maybe she ought to be doing less, but she wanted to get her hands dirty on this place. Her grandfather had built a cabin all by himself decades ago, learned how to do the wiring and everything, and even though it was secretly a family joke that the place was one surge away from burning down, she’d always admired his skill and determination.

Not to mention, she couldn’t really unpack with so much going on. She hated the feeling of living out of a suitcase. She knew not being able to unpack made this place feel even less settled, but after a whole rack of her clothing wound up covered in white flecks by the first idiot painter she’d hired who sprayed the bedroom without closing the closet door, she’d realized it was better to wait than risk ruining anything. 

But Foam didn’t like it either and let her know with a series of clicks and angry huffs as she sat on the ground and let him crawl all over her. He turned his head away and twitched his tail in anger, then changed his mind and ducked his head beneath her hand for affection. Foam might not be able to hear the voices of the contractors in and out every day, but he could no doubt feel the vibrations of all the work they did and spent most of his time lately hiding behind boxes shoved into the bedrooms that had already been painted, or ripping up Grace’s mattress from the bottom up. That had been a distressing discovery. She wasn’t going to replace it until time to unpack though, in case Foam repeated this form of protest until all the strangers were out of the house. No one could see it anyway, she’d only noticed when fishing some of his toys out from beneath the bed.

“Maybe I fucked up,” Grace admitted to Foam, who would never agree. “I took on too much,” she sighed. Her phone chirped, a message from the lawn guy she’d hired that he would be by to start weeding that afternoon. She was worried he was going to rip up things she didn’t want ripped up. She kept thinking she and the contractors had clear understandings about what was being done, only for them to then do something completely wrong…

The thing was, Tim had always handled this stuff before. Any time there was work that needed to be done on the house, even if she found a company to do it, Tim was the one who talked through it with them, negotiated the payment, made sure they did it, pitched a fit if they didn’t until it got done right. She’d thought his micromanaging was insulting, but he’d insisted it was the only way to make sure things got done right. She didn’t want to believe he may have been right… 

Foam butted his head against the bottom of her chin, surprising her and making her bite her lip. She scratched his head and rubbed her lip, then grumbled as her phone buzzed again, probably another contractor calling that they’d be late. Maybe the furniture place calling to cancel her order again –she was never going to get a fucking couch at this rate. The thought of her mother’s reaction if she bought something from a box store was almost enough to make her laugh.

[Stephanie]: drinks tomorrow night? There’s an art gala you can be my date

Grace didn’t respond. Stephanie, bless her heart, had been trying to drag her out for two months now, ever since Grace had stopped avoiding basically all of her friends. Well, she hadn’t quite stopped, but she’d admitted what was going on. It was embarrassing, admitting the failure of your marriage, admitting that you had been a fool, wondering if they had known it all along. Stephanie had gleefully launched into a tirade about what an asshole Tim was and all Grace could think was have you just watched me and thought how stupid I am for years? And you didn’t say anything?

 Grace felt tired. Bone-deep tired. The house was supposed to be fun but right now she just felt stupid, again. It was all going to be worth it, but it didn’t feel like it right now. She should have just bought a nice new place –maybe it would be impersonal, but she wouldn’t have to work so fucking hard…

She gave Foam some treats which he took to tossing around the bedroom and then dragged her ass downstairs to vent her frustration through manual labor. It looked like the kitchen was going to be the first room in the house to be finished –the new appliances were in, the tile was regrouted, and a new chandelier (not hung by her because she couldn’t even lift the thing) swung overhead. Nothing left to do but paint the cabinets and unpack –she couldn’t stand the shiny oak stain. At least the weather was nice today; she opened all the doors and windows to air out the lingering smell of paint inside.

She’d just finished prying all the doors off to set outside on newspaper when she heard an engine pause behind the back gate. A moment later the gate beeped open, and then the pool guy’s truck crunched across the gravel.

Shit, she’d forgotten he was coming over today! Out of habit, she touched her hair to make sure it wasn’t doing anything crazy. When she’d seen herself in the mirror after his initial inspection, she’d been horrified. It wasn’t like she’d known JK was the guy Bob would send out to do the estimates. She’d been too embarrassed to request him, and then annoyed with herself for not requesting him since she knew he did good work, and then shocked by nerves all over again to find him standing by her bog of a pool. 

The very same JK who’d shouted at her to leave her husband months ago after delivering her a DVD of her husband’s infidelity stepped from the truck now and gave her a short wave. The same relief and shame washed over her as it had the other day. She’d spent his whole visit last time desperate to let him know she was divorced now and also mortified to actually admit it –that he’d been right, that her marriage failed, that she wanted him to know. Only because he’d been tangentially involved in its demise and she wanted him to know that she knew she was stupid to have married Tim in the first place. He knew, she knew, everyone knew now.

Still, maybe it would have been better to never see him again. Maybe she should have called another pool company. And yet she hadn’t thought twice about calling, even knowing there was a chance JK would be sent out. She hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to Bob’s quote for the project –which, she learned, he had expected JK to give her on sight, as he considered JK more than qualified to do so. She had thought twice but still asked if JK would be the one doing the work, and then agreed that was fine when Bob asked if there was an issue. 

JK grabbed two nets on poles from the truck and hauled them across the patio to the pool. Unlike her last house, there was no real poolhouse, just a shed that she’d had completely emptied out of rusted old cob-webbed supplies. 

“Hey!” she called, crossing to intercept him. “I don’t have anything stored for poolcare. Could you make me a list of the things I should have here? That shed is big enough to store anything I need, right? Or do I need a bigger one?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grinned and she flushed at the insinuation she had been rude. She hadn’t meant to be. Just… 

“Yes, good morning,” she agreed even though it hadn’t been and also it was after eleven. She wondered if he’d gone surfing this morning or if his hair always just looked wind-swept like that.

“Sure, I can make you a list but for now I’ll just bring everything I need. It’s going to take me a while to get this thing cleaned up.���

“Yes, I know. Ok, that’s fine.”

“Today I’m just going to get anything big out and start draining it. I’ve got a buddy who will come by later and we’ll trade off watching the pump.”

“Oh… ok…” She didn’t really know what any of this meant except he looked eager to get started and like she might be bothering him. Things had seemed companionable the other day so she’d thought they could both be professional and friendly despite him knowing that embarrassing part of her failed marriage, but now she didn’t appreciate that he made her feel like a pest in her own house.

“Well I’m going to be working out here too today, hopefully I won’t be a distraction.”

“Uh… depends what you’re doing I guess…” he said, suddenly going very still so that she almost crashed into him. 

“Painting cabinets, why?”

“Oh. Nah, that’s fine.”

“Well… good,” she said with a nod. “I’ll hm, leave you to your work then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Got any Cheetos?” he asked with a crooked grin, then clarified, “I’m kidding, I brought a lunch for later.”

“I’ll see what I can find…” She felt bad now because she did not have Cheetos, or anything else to offer him. She was living off take out and a fruit basket the real estate agent had left for her. Most of the fruit was going bad by now. She didn’t even have sodas or beers, in an effort to force herself to drink more water. It was backfiring because instead she just drank more coffee…

“No, don’t worry about it, I was joking. I brought my own Cheetos. I can share if you’re really that upset about it…”

“Hm? I’m not upset,” she said, brow furrowed in confusion. He looked at her, his brow furrowed with concern too, like she’d said or done something alarming. She didn’t think she had. For a moment they just looked at each other and she wasn’t sure why it was such a heavy feeling moment. What had just happened?! 

“Oh, ok. Well uh…”

“Ok well… let me know if you need anything else.”

She fled, embarrassed to have hovered too long. She didn’t want to be like Tim! 

It took her a while to get all the cabinets spread out and her supplies ready between the patio and driveway, face mask and coveralls ready. She could just barely see the pool area. JK had a big barrel with a bag and had begun fishing around in the pool, scooping up slime and leaves and sticks and who knew what else. It looked pretty awful but he didn’t seem bothered by it, just like it was a normal day for him. Every so often he’d stop to push the hair from his face until he finally pulled a bandana out of his pocket and tied it across his head.

Grace turned her attention from JK, grabbed the finish stripper, slid her facemask and goggles in place and set to work.

**

It was miserable work. Grace discovered quickly that stripping the cabinets was far more onerous of a task than the internet had made it sound. An hour or so later and she’d only managed to strip two of the doors and there were a lot to go. 

In stepping back to survey her paltry work, she realized JK was watching her from the tailgate of his truck where he’d unfurled his lunch.

“You’re really doing it yourself, huh?” he called over.

In an effort to not show that she was exhausted and frustrated, she retorted, “Yes, I like to get dirty.” His look of surprise made her realize her own words, and she quickly added, “My hands dirty. I like to work hard for… things.” With a shake of her head, she turned away under the guise of taking the unflattering safety gear off. She avoided counting the cabinets. Sweat dripped down her back beneath the coveralls, which she decided were not worth it. It was too hot. She might as well just ruin her t shirt and leggings and let that be that.

JK was still watching her, and she didn’t want him to realize she didn’t exactly know what she was doing. She felt like that had been painfully obvious to enough contractors already. She thought of herself as so intelligent and capable and confident and yet when discussing work estimates with contractors to fix things she didn’t understand in the first place, she worried she was just letting herself be taken advantage of over and over again. That’s why she’d gotten divorced, to put an end to that!

“I didn’t know you knew how to do this kind of thing,” he said between sips of a Sprite. “It’s impressive.”

The praise was too much when in fact it was a lie; she felt compelled to correct, “Honestly, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”  She appreciated that he looked surprised, whether it was true or not. “But I’m figuring it out.”

“Still… I mean, most ri– er, people would just pay to have it all done, yeah? That looks like hard work.”

“Many rich people would, yes,” she mused, amused by his self-correction. “My grandfather likes doing this kind of thing. He built his own cabin all by himself. I always thought that was really admirable, to learn how to do things yourself. Maybe the things I do myself in the house won’t be perfect but I’ll see them and know I figured it out. That I did things I didn’t know I could do.”

“That’s really cool,” he grinned. “When I see the things I fix around my place, I just think what a shithead my landlord is.”

“Ah.” She didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t seem insulted that she’d claimed as a hobby something that was a necessity for him, but the comparison made her feel bad. “Well I’m sure you’re much better at this than I am. My arms are already aching and I’ve got a lot to go.”

“You’re scraping them down?”

“Getting the stain off, then I’ll sand, then paint. I’ll have to do this for all the installed parts inside too.”

“Damn,” he snickered. “I’d just hire someone if I were you…”

Grace didn’t know what to say. It was tempting right now, but being witnessed also made her more determined. Even if it was hard, she wanted to look at her cabinets and see perseverance, not capitulation. 

He wadded up the remains of his lunch and tossed them into his truck. By the time he headed back to the pool, the carpet guys had arrived, and Grace took the opportunity of ushering them up to also scrounge up food for herself. Her arms were shaky from the effort so the break was welcome, though eating in the kitchen so ripped apart felt like a regretful step backwards. It was going to take her all week to do these cabinets, probably. 

Her aunt called while she ate and she answered even though her mom was going to give her hell about it, exaggerating the progress on her house since her aunt would never see it anyway. She promised to send pictures and mindlessly mm-hmed through her aunt’s family gossip. JK was done digging detritus from the pool it seemed and was running a very long hose all the way across her yard. It made her nervous, as she realized he might be about to dump all the water onto her property. She hadn’t thought about where the water from draining the pool would go, but already envisioned her flooded, ruined lawn.

“Hey!” she called, striding across the patio as soon as she’d said a hasty farewell to her aunt. “JK!”

“Yeah?” He squatted beside some sort of contraption he was hooking the hose up to.

“Um… what are you doing?”

“I’m going to drain the pool now.”

“But… where?”

“For now I’m going to put it into your front yard.”

“Won’t it flood my yard?” she asked nervously. “The lawn guys are coming to start work this afternoon…” She looked around because actually they ought to already be here.

“If I just let it go forever maybe. I’m hoping that because your yard has a bit of slant, most of the water will go down under the streets out front and away from your place. I’ll keep an eye on it though, if it starts to pool, I’ll move it and we’ll dump a few other places in the yard. I want to keep it away from this area though because…” He looked at her, as if assessing whether she actually cared. She did. She wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to ruin her property but also it was clear he had a rationale for his choices, and that was interesting. He was good at what he did. 

“Because why?”

“Well I’m pulling all the water out of this pool, right? So now there isn’t water holding the pool walls in place. The dirt outside the pool is going to be pressing on the walls without anything pressing back, and if I dump a bunch of water in the dirt around it, there will be even more pressure. If your pool was fiberglass or acrylic, it could pop out of the ground. That rarely happens with concrete ones but it still could, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Oh.”

“When I got the permit Friday I was hoping I could just–”

“You got a permit?” she interrupted.

“Uh… yeah. This is like 30,000 gallons of water, you can’t just dump it,” he pointed out. She hadn’t thought about that at all. “You’ve got to dechlorinate, debrominate, and dump in an approved place and manner. I already tested it though and the water is so old all the chemicals already broke down, saves me some time.”

“There’s a lot more to it than I realized…”

“Well that’s why you hired me, huh?” he beamed. “So I can be the one to think about it. So for now I’ll dump around your property –it won’t hurt the plants, I checked the levels of everything.”

“And it won’t flood anything?”

“Nah, I’ll watch it. If it did start to pool, I can get another permit that lets me dump into the sewer system, but I have to prove it’s not possible to dump on the property. I think it’ll be fine.”

Grace didn’t have any real reason to argue. He seemed confident and like he had a lot of experience with this. She had none.

“Ok then, sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”

He assured her, “I promise I’m not going to kill your jungle.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to your work then. I’ve got stripping to do.”

“Cabinets,” he said, cluing her into what she’d just said. 

She clapped a hand to her face and mumbled. “Yes, cabinets…” and walked quickly away. Why did she have to sound like such an idiot in front of contractors? She glanced back and saw him shaking his head and she wanted to shrivel up. 

 She really put her back into the stripping, determination restored. She was glad that’s how the carpet contractors found her when they came down to ask some questions. The day was nice to be out working in, sunny but not yet too hot. She put music on to have something to work towards and made a mental note to upgrade the sound system soon. She only owned a single CD and so had to roll through the radio stations instead of just listening to what she wanted, but it was all commercials so she went back to her music.

JK passed by to his truck again, and this time returned with his own goggles and mask. He looked hot with them propped on his forehead over the bandana, arms and neck all sweaty from his hard work so far. 

“Here to help with the stripping,” he announced, then gave her a cheeky grin and added, “Cabinets.” Grace failed to hold back the roll of her eyes –while flattered he was comfortable teasing her, she didn’t appreciate the evidence that the pool guy was probably another man in her life who had charmed her blind, and probably every other woman he came across. At least she got good pool work out of him, unlike her unhappy painful marriage with Tim.

He picked up the stain stripper can and looked it over, at which point she realized he really did mean to help.

“Wait, why– you aren’t here to do this.”

“I know, but I just need to monitor the pump for the next…” he looked at his wrist that didn’t have a watch, “Fourteen hours or so.”

“What?!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll sleep out here.”

“Wait, but–”

“I’m joking. My buddy will by this afternoon to watch it until dinner. Then we’ll let the ground settle and finish it tomorrow. I’ve got nothing to do now except check on it though so I’ll help you with this.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “This is hard work. You could just read a book or something.”

“Oh yeah let me just dig through all the books I have in my work truck… nah, I’ll help. You’ve got a lot of cabinets here.”

“You really don’t have to. I feel bad. I mean, I can pay you for your help, just tell me how much–”

“You got something else to play?” he asked, pointing to the sky –by which he meant the music, she realized. Her only CD, Celine Dion’s greatest hits. She’d stolen it from her sister over a decade ago and it had somewhere traveled with her this far.

“No, the system only uses CDs.”

“Ok let’s deal with that first, let me show you what I’ve got with me.”

Grace felt like this day was getting very out of hand and yet led him to the system’s command console once he’d hauled a big CD binder from his truck. He let her flip through the book and she found herself captivated by this glimpse into his music taste. Lots of rock, ranging from Metallica to Red Hot Chili Peppers to Green Day to–

“Olivia Rodrigo?” she said with surprise.

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked. “It’s a good album.”

“So you still buy CDs. I thought you were young…”

“I get tired of YouTube ads. Besides, owned media is an investment.” She couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her or not.

“Well I don’t know anything about her but she’s the new pop girl, huh? I’ve heard her name a lot lately.”

“She’s rock-pop,” he countered. “You don’t like rock music?”

“I do, I guess. I don’t know that I pay much attention to what’s popular.”

“You like Celine Dion and what else?”

“I listen to a lot of classical,” she admitted. “And… dance? Or whatever is on the radio…” She was embarrassed now to admit that while she liked music, she didn’t have any very strong preferences. A lot of oldies played on her Pandora station because it was familiar and reminded her of what her parents had listened to growing up. Classical soothed her. Dance and dance-pop reminded her of her younger days going out with friends. Tim had liked jazz and classic rock; she doubted she’d ever be able to listen to any of it again without shivering.

“You don’t know much about music?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“Damn. Let’s start with Olivia’s album then and work our way back from,” he said, popping the CD in. She didn’t really understand what that meant but felt like letting him pick the music while he helped her was only fair.

JK was a workhorse when it came to stripping the cabinets. She was stunned by how much more quickly the work went with the two of them, largely because his brute strength got the stain off much faster than she could. Granted, she found it distracting watching him mouth along to Olivia Rodrigo’s lyrics I’m a perfect all-American bitch with perfect all-American lips and perfect all-American hips.

Occasionally he’d go to check the pump. Occasionally she got called away by the carpet contractors, or the lawn guys showing up and needing guidance. The Olivia album ended and JK put on the next one.

“Who’s this?” she asked, trying not to notice the way the muscles of his bare arms glistened and flexed as he scraped at the cabinet door.

“Arctic Monkeys. Seemed like a good next step. Everyone likes the Arctic Monkeys.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Damn,” he laughed again. She didn’t know what he thought that said about her but decided it wasn’t anything good. She felt embarrassed not to know this music that “everyone” liked. 

“Are they really that famous?”

“They’re doing all right,” he shrugged. “This album is from 2007 though.” Grace tried to recall what she had been doing in 2007. She’d just graduated high school and was headed to college… “I mean, I was only in like fifth grade but my older brother liked them and I liked anything he liked, you know?”

Grace choked. She turned to the side and coughed. Well that was a timely reminder that this hot guy was very, very young.

“You ok? You didn’t eat any of it, did you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him, and focused on the scraping and forced her eyes back to the straight and narrow.

He didn’t make it easy though. Only a song later, he sang along quietly with the lyrics, a steady stream of words that flowed without break for breath:

“Running off over next door's garden Before the hour is done It's more a question of feeling Than it is a question of fun The confidence is the balaclava I'm sure you'll baffle 'em good Will the ending reek of salty cheeks And runny makeup alone?”

“You have a nice voice,” she couldn’t help but remark.

He beamed and seemed to look away as he mumbled, “Ah, thanks… I’m in a band.”

“What? Really?”

He laughed at something she didn’t understand and admitted, “Yeah…”

“I didn’t know that. You never said.”

“It’s not that big a deal, just a hobby thing.”

“You’re the singer?”

“No no, I’m the drummer.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah it’s just a little thing with my friends but we play in bars and stuff– we’ve placed in competitions sometimes.” There was a grunt underlying his words as he scrapped and turned, scraped and turned. “You should check us out.”

“Hm, maybe I will,” she said, quickly and without conviction. She thought the last thing she should do was go somewhere specifically to watch this much younger guy who was working on her house drum in a band. 

Once upon a time she’d been college-age and gone to concerts with her girl friends and fantasized about meeting up with the band afterwards. And now she was a grown woman with no need to confuse those things, especially with the guy fixing her pool. Especially, she realized, since she technically could now. She wasn’t married. She was allowed the fantasy, allowed to meet someone, allowed to fuck around with someone in a band like her younger self had wanted to. 

It was too much, a rush of reality she wasn’t prepared for. Her divorce wasn’t even finished yet, she definitely wasn’t ready to wander down any paths of fantasy –and most certainly not ones that in any way would make her uncomfortable around a contractor who’d be at her house a lot for the next week at least and then every other week for the future beyond that.

This poor guy just wanted to brag about his band and here she was having a mental crisis because it had dawned on her that soon she’d be free to fuck around. Would she want to? How did people even do that?! Was she a fuck-around sort of woman or a lifer type? She had been relatively restrained in college and married Tim so young… she couldn’t picture herself suddenly turning into the sort of woman a rock star would invite backstage. Honestly, she didn’t even know how the opposite sex would react if she did start trying to date. What type would she be into? What type would be into her? And, most importantly, how did she make sure she didn’t get fooled into another Tim?

“You ok?” JK asked, setting his finished cabinet door aside and stretching forward to grab another. He reached and the sleeve of his tank moved to reveal the nastiest bruise she’d ever seen, a whorl of purple and black and brown that made her skin crawl.

“Oh my god, what happened to your shoulder?!”

“Oh, surfing accident.”

“Are you ok?!”

“I asked you first,” he teased.

“I’m fine, just momentarily overwhelmed by reality but your shoulder…”

“I’m fine, just got momentarily overwhelmed by a surfboard that didn’t see me.”

“That sounds dangerous!”

“It was but I’m fine. Just a little stiff.” He set the fresh cabinet door down in front of him and cleared his throat. “I’m working it out though. It’s fine. Ah… reality you want to talk about or something…?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

She felt like she’d said something wrong based on his sudden silence but couldn’t figure out what. He shook his head.

“Are you sure this isn’t hurting your shoulder?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m going to check on the pump.” He jumped up quickly and disappeared, which gave her a welcome moment to brush away the concern that had made her want to reach for his shoulder. It looked so bad! Holy shit! Leave it to a guy like that to shrug off such an injury. She’d be laid up in bed for a week and here he was not only working, but doing extra work to help her. 

She heard a truck at the gate and the buzzer. Assuming it was reinforcements for either the carpet-guys upstairs or the lawn guys tromping around her front yard, she left her things for a moment and went straight to open the gate herself.

The man at the gate hopped out of his truck and held his hand out in greeting, forward in a way that immediately put her on guard.

“Hi there, ma’am, the name’s Jon, your husband reached out about solar panels?”

“Hm? You must have the wrong place,” Grace said, not yet taking his hand.

“501? I don’t think so– ah, sir!” he called and brushed right past her to approach JK. “I believe you had some questions about solar panels? I’m happy to talk to you about our program and–”

“Who are you?” JK asked, then quickly amended, “I didn’t talk to anyone about anything.”

“That’s all right, since I’m in the neighborhood and I understand you recently bought the property, I’d be happy to talk to you about–”

“Ah, no. That lady you just blew off owns this place. I’m just here to pump and strip.”

Grace choked again, and coughed into her hand to hide her laugh. She didn’t know what was funnier, JK’s easy deferment to her in the face of such bold sexism, his repetition of her egregious verbal slip earlier, his addition to make it worse, or the fact he did not seem to have done it on purpose. He looked immediately regretful and reached up to scratch the back of his head, his grimace with a shade of apology.

“I’m just the pool guy,” he clarified, as this Jon turned to her with his own shades of regret.

“Sorry, I believe even if I need solar, it won’t be with–” She leaned to read the company name off his truck. “You can leave now, goodbye.”

Jon tried to stammer his way through an apology but Grace was over men’s shitty apologies. After her sharper, “Leave my property now,” he fled. 

“A day in the life of a woman calling the shots,” she murmured as she headed back to the cabinets.

“Hey I’m just flattered he thought anything about me looks like a potential owner of this place,” JK laughed.

“What does that mean?”

“I think it means he’s more sexist than racist?”

Grace didn’t suppress the laugh this time. It was a smart observation. It hadn’t occurred to her that JK would look any less an owner of this place than she did right now other than the fact he looked so young, since both were in a similar state of sweaty filth.

“Guess he thought I’m the mother-in-law?”

“Come on, you aren’t that old. I mean–”

“Not that old!” she repeated with a laugh. “Thanks, JK. You’re so charming.”

“I just meant… I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbled. “I don’t even know how old you are… I don’t think you’re that old…”

She decided not to tell him, whether he was asking or not. It didn’t seem like something he needed to know. Information not relevant to pumping and stripping. 

“Ready for a new CD?” he asked suddenly, overly loud. “We’ll go back further in time– not because you’re old! But just because… uh… let me see what I’ve got, have you heard of Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

“Oh come, JK, I’m not a total idiot. Everyone’s heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.”

“Ok ok, I didn’t mean to insult you. This is a safe space for your musical education. What about… Linkin Park? Kings of Leon? Avenged Sevenfold? Rise Against? I was listening to that on the other day… ah, maybe that’s a little too…”

“A little too what?” she glowered, crossing her arms and following him to the console and his open CD book beside it. “If you say too young–”

“Too angry,” he clarified. 

“Hm…” She didn’t really know what he meant, but suspected it might mean the music was loud and hard and shouty. She probably wouldn’t like it. But her curiosity was piqued that he’d been listening to it on the way over –because he was angry too, or just because he liked it? She wanted to know what he’d been listening to. It was interesting learning about the music he liked. Young people. Being married to Tim had made her old, and she wanted to reclaim some of her youth. She wasn’t that old! “Let’s give it a try.”

“Ok, if you don’t like it, I can change it.”

“I’m going through a rather unpleasant divorce right now. Angry might be just my flavor.”

“Ah, sorry to hear that. I mean that it’s unpleasant, not that you’re getting divorced.”

She realized she shouldn’t have said that. And he probably shouldn’t have said that either, and now looked as uncomfortable as she’d felt. The line felt weird right now, because he knew this about her, and they’d known each other a while, but he was young and hired help and just being friendly –but Grace wasn’t sure a man and woman so many years apart could actually be friends, so there had to be some line of professionalism in there somewhere. The thought of accidentally crossing the line and making this nice guy uncomfortable actually sickened her. She didn’t want to be some gross older predatory woman. She wasn’t actually a cougar!

“Whatever you want to listen to is fine,” she insisted, and scurried back to the cabinets. He joined again a moment later as intense electric guitar roared around the patio. It was definitely a different vibe. She looked up just in time to see one of the carpet guys stick his head out the window and make a rock symbol with his hand. JK returned the gesture while Grace laughed. 

Well, as long as the men working on her house were all happy. And hey, the beat was really good, and there was a melody that was actually really nice to listen to even if she couldn’t quite catch all the words. The drums were fast. She wondered if JK could play that kind of thing, and what he looked like–

Nope. She only meant it as an innocent curiosity, but she wouldn’t indulge even that. He was being incredibly kind helping her with the cabinets now, and that would be that. Not to mention a small part of her still worried he was going to flood her house away. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about and she’d never had an issue with his work before, but could he really know so much while he was so young? It was very impressive to be that knowledgeable at his age…

“Oh wait, I’ve heard this,” she realized with surprise. “A long time ago, I think…”

“See? You know more than you think you do.” 

“I sure hope so. We’ll see if you still think that when I start sanding these cabinet doors. And before you ask: yes, I’ve done it before… a long time ago.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he insisted. “I would never underestimate you.”

“Thanks, JK. That’s really kind of you to say.”

He nodded but the words from his mouth next were song lyrics, as strong and steady and pleasant to listen to as the professional voice on the CD. He seemed really good at it, singing. That was crazy to her that he wasn’t even the band’s singer. He must just be really gifted at music. She was very, very much not. He seemed to have such talent, she wondered if he only sang this hard, fast style or if he could do slower too.

Singing! She was thinking about singing! She hadn’t had any issue with these kinds of thoughts a single day of her divorce so far. Was it a good sign something inside her was healing, or waking up, or whatever? Well she was certainly not going to put poor young JK in the middle of whatever divorcee sexual rebirth was stirring inside of her! Maybe it was just hormonal; she was ovulating or something. Awkward. 

“Miss, you want to see…?” Jacob the lawn guy motioned to her from across the driveway, like he didn’t want to interrupt. He wanted to ask her preference on something. He was kind too, like JK, even if he wasn’t great at being on time. But she believed he was going to do good work. She thought the carpets were going to look good upstairs. She was doing ok, finding the people to do a good job of the things she couldn’t or didn’t want to, doing a good job of the things she wanted to try. And sometimes help came in surprising places, like a pool guy who helped her strip cabinet doors while he pumped her pool.

Literally. A literal pool being pumped dry.

Good lord.

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

#jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #over the falls #jeon jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook au #poolboy jk #jungkook domestic fluff

[wileys-russo]

Give us your favourite player from each of the wsl teams?

Oh geez uhh idk if I’d call some of these my faves more so just who I know lmao

Arsenal - Leah Williamson

Chelsea - Niamh Charles

Spurs - Grace Clinton

United - Mary Earps

Villa - Anna Pattern

Liverpool - Tegan Micah

City - Alanna Kennedy

Leicester - Remy Siemsen

West Ham - Macca Arnold

Brighton Hove - Charlize Rule

Everton - Kathrine Khül

Bristol - Megan Connolly

#woso #woso community #answered asks

[harrowharkwife]

🚨🚨🚨 uh oh clown alert!

listen. listen to me. buck is going to win the lottery in the 6b finale "pay it forward" and then give all of it to his friends and family. possibly via anonymous "angel donation?"

and i can prove it too - spec under the cut!

these are all from 6a&6b episode transcripts. opening and closing a season with "let the games begin" and "pay it forward" can't be a coincidence! and we know hen filled out lottery tickets for everyone in the firehouse, so there's a ticket with buck's name on it that's already been played.

maddie's joked with buck twice now this season about buying lottery tickets- the second time, she told him he should play the lottery because he "got so lucky," referring to him surviving the lightning strike.

pre-lightning, we had buck telling hen in cursed that he was "having a run of bad luck" but that it would "turn around tomorrow," in reference to a non-anonymous DONATION (!!!) not going as planned.

what if the lightning, cleansing fire that it off symbolizes, basically "burned through" the rest of his bad luck, clearing the way for one helluva lucky streak?

we got the buckley diaz family joking that he might "gain more powers" as he "gets stronger." sure, math helps with poker i guess, but you know what else would help? luck.

the symbolism of buck, someone conceived for the express purpose of making a bone marrow donation he had zero say in, someone who only recently donated sperm (partially) because he felt, in his own words, like he "couldn't say no," receiving an unexpected windfall of cash, and having the freedom and the privacy to make financial donations on his own terms, of his own free will, with zero outside pressure, as opposed to making organ/tissue donations out of obligation? SO poetic.

he's not the guy who tries to fix things, anymore- he knows his own worth, and he knows he's loved, and he no longer values himself solely on what he can do for others. he doesn't think he has to earn people's love, anymore- he knows his family loves him anyway. but he'll always be buck. he'll always want to help. and there's a massive difference between helping someone just because you want to, and trying to fix everything for someone because you've convinced yourself it's what you have to do in order for them to love you back.

so: buck wins the lottery. he regifts all of it to the people in his life, quite literally paying it forward, echoing athena and hen's conversation in 911 what's your fantasy about winning the lottery and giving it all away "to people" in your community, rather than to charities. maybe some of it's anonymous, maybe some of it isn't- realistically, if everyone in the 118 suddenly gets anonymous checks in the mail, they're going to figure out it's buck eventually. but it's the spirit of the thing.

they were filming at a cruise ship dock for the finale- buck gifts bobby and athena tickets to a cruise, to replace the honeymoon cruise they missed. he probably makes a donation to bobby's AA chapter.

we know madney get in trouble with the IRS in 6x15 death and taxes, so maybe he helps them out of that jam. pays off their mortgage, helps with the renovation costs, maybe chips in towards a wedding celebration.

maybe he pays off hen's med school loans, or makes a donation to help karen's coworkers injured in the explosion, maybe a recurring monthly stipend they can use to buy fun toys for any new foster kids, something like that.

maybe he's moving in with eddie anyway, so he buys out the rest of his lease from his landlord and transfers the apartment to taylor, on the SOLE condition that she CANNOT run a news story that he's the guy who won the lottery. (i despise taylor just as much as the next girl, believe me, but megan west was on the fox lot for a hot minute, so if it ends up being for 911 and not some other show, then, well, here we are.) he did admittedly put her in a real shit situation, re: her lease and all the move-in drama. this might be a nice way of clearing the air. fucking with someone's living situation is a tremendously shitty thing to do, and i think he knows that. plus, it would make for a good parallel to abby leaving buck to housesit her place indefinitely with zero closure, and also, i just hate the loft and want it gone forever, sorry!

college fund and surfing lessons for chris, obvs.

vegas couples' trip for him and eddie.

which brings me to the connor and kameron of it all- i remember seeing a (very blurry, zero context) behind the scenes picture that looked like it MIGHT have *MAYBE*, *POSSIBLY* been buck talking to a pregnant woman in his loft. and connor's been acting real shady. and 6x13 mixed feelings had entirely too many lines about "blaming someone else for lies YOU told" re: fathers and sons. soooo... i think there's a fair chance connor could flake on kameron and leave her last-minute. he thought he wanted to be a dad, but he wasn't actually ready. or maybe he thought he'd be okay with using a sperm donor, but turns out he's not. or maybe he just liked the idea of being able to give kameron what she wanted, but he realizes it's not actually what he wants for himself. something like that. (side note: this would be SUCH a good opportunity to contrast him with buck and highlight all buck's character growth!) and he skips town- in the end, he's the one who winds up "being a father and walking away."

but buck has a chance to draw a real boundary, here! he's not this baby's dad, and he knows that. maybe kameron's ready and willing to take on being a single mom. buck already has his own family, with eddie and chris. he's not this baby's dad, because he's a dad already. but he *is* "responsible for the creation of new life," as he put it, and we heard an awful lot of talk from oliver about buck "owning his choices" and taking responsibility for them re: this plotline. so, boundaries: he's not the dad, just a friend who wants to help- he knows firsthand from eddie how hard single parenting can be, and connor taking off was a real asshole move, and kameron is a grown woman perfectly capable of raising this kid on her own, and she really wants to be a mom, but she DID get left in the lurch through no fault of her own, and that's not fair to her. so buck offers to set up a standing payment from his lottery winnings to help her cover childcare expenses and whatnot, at least while she finds her footing and tries to work some kind of formal divorce agreement out with connor, if not in perpetuity. (hell, maybe she's who he gives the loft to, not taylor!) but he helps her in some way- a sperm donation he was always sorta on the fence about, paired with a financial donation that he's certain is the right choice, and one he wants to make. standing by his past choices, honoring them, and helping nurture them.

(besides, he's saving on rent anyway, now that he's moving into the diaz house.)

maybe kameron, as a token of gratitude towards buck for helping her fulfill her dream of having a child, as a gesture of reciprocity for his assisted-reproduction donation, offers a parting quip of "well, buck, if you and your boyfriend are ever looking for a surrogate or an egg donor, you know who to call. i'd love to return the favor!" as her own way of paying it forward.

anyway, the point is this: in a season about games and money and paper trails and gambling and luck and winning and lottery tickets, i'd bet good money that we're gonna see buck win the lottery this season. how he'll actually wind up spending the money is just a guess on my part, but the actual lottery bit itself? that much i'm sure of!

#mark my words this will be my coma buck truther dodgeball of apollo moment ok I KNOW IM RIGHT #911 #evan buckley #buddie #911 spec #911 meta #if you saw me post this an hour ago with horrible formatting and then immediately delete it no you didn't ❤️ #im on mobile and fighting for my fuckin life trying to post this lol hopefully it works this time! #mutuals rb this i worked soooooo hard on it 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 #forgot to even add the gross 'you're a miracle baby buck might as well share it' from marge #but this would be an actually good and non-shitty way of him 'sharing his miracle' to highlight the importance of free will!

[bb-bare-bones]

Transformations in Re-Animator: Body Horror at its Finest

By Tabby Knight (Instagram - tabby.knight6)

Artwork by Dy Dawson, @xgardensinspace

I love Re-Animator. I’m in love with it. Seriously, disgustingly, violently in love with it. If I could marry a film, it’d be Re-Animator (and I’d be sure to court it first—flowers, chocolates, disembodied hearts floating in jars, the works). If I could marry a character in a film, it’d be Herbert West, which probably indicates—not that I needed an indication—that there’s something really very wrong with me as a human being.

But the heart wants what it wants, and ever since I watched Stuart Gordon’s 1985 splatter-fest as a bloodthirsty undergrad, streaming the film in low quality on my cracked, ageing iPhone, my heart has wanted Re-Animator. I love everything about the film, from its lead characters to its buckets of blood to its ridiculous, oh-so-quotable moments of barefaced comedy (“You’ll never get credit for my discovery. Who’s going to believe a talking head? Get a job in a sideshow.”) and I know just about everything about it, too. I’ve seen its sequels (Bride’s a messy triumph, we don’t speak about Beyond) watched interviews, deleted scenes, actor and director commentaries, the works. I’ve also tracked down just about every other horror film featuring the dynamic duo of Jeffrey Combs and Barbara Crampton, seeking something of the same calibre to scratch that gory itch. A few films have come close, but none so far have surpassed it. As a lifelong viewer of 80’s corn-syrup gore, I can assure you that Re-Animator is unmatched. It stands alone.

There’s a lot of talk about Re-Animator as a cult classic, and rightly so. There’s also talk about it as a comedy (true) a splatter film (also true) and a landmark of Lovecraftian canon (absolutely). But what I don’t see talked about as much, is that it’s a pretty impressive piece of transformation horror—verging on body horror, really—in the same vein as Jekyll and Hyde, The Fly, or American Werewolf in London.

At its core, Re-Animator is a film about uncontrollable, transforming bodies, both the obvious and the subtle. From its opening sequence (Doctor Gruber’s freaky, bulging eyes that explode right out of his head) to its final, blood-soaked showdown, the body is a constant site of change.

There is, first and foremost, the transformations brought about by Herbert West’s re-agent: the re-animation of the tranquil dead to aggressive, violent zombies. By that same token, the re-agent also transitions Dean Halsey from a rational human being into a creature who mindlessly kidnaps, restrains and strips his own daughter, and aids Doctor Hill’s transition from a creepy, unethical professor to an all-out, murderous sexual predator (albeit a decapitated one).

But there are also the subtle changes. Dan’s patients are always in motion, crossing over from life to death (it’s funny to think that in a film set primarily in a hospital, none of the patients on display actually make it out alive) and the bodies in the morgue are always shown in transitional states of rot and decay. Almost every shot of a body (or its parts) displays these changing states in full detail, a constant reminder of human fragility—our own lack of control over our own bodies, and the inevitable breakdown of the flesh.

But my favourite transformation—and perhaps the most criminally overlooked—doesn’t actually occur in the body at all. Or at least, not at first glance. It’s the transformation we see in All-American good guy Dan Cain: our squeaky-clean med student protagonist, and eventual accomplice to Herbert’s maniacal experiments. At the start of the film, Dan appears to have it all. Good career prospects, a super cute girlfriend (Megan Halsey, I’m in love with you) and what appears to be a fairly concrete spot on the Dean’s List: Dean Halsey even goes so far as to describe him as one of Miskatonic’s most promising students—no mean feat, considering he’s regularly bedding the ultra-conservative Dean’s only daughter. The only identifiable flaw in his apple pie life would appear to be his inner struggle with mortality. Not his own, you understand, but that of his patients. He refuses to accept that dead is emphatically, irrevocably dead. And of course, it’s this struggle that sets up the rest of the film.

Throughout Re-Animator’s speedy 90-minute runtime, we see Dan transition almost seamlessly from an upstanding member of society to a man who willingly injects a volatile substance into the corpse of his dead girlfriend, despite knowing full well what the consequences will be. In essence, he transforms from a regular guy into an all-out monster. Granted, he’s a monster with a conscience (we see that very clearly in Bride of Re-Animator) but arguably, so are your American Werewolves and Brundleflies.

In fact, you could argue Dan’s a little bit worse than most transformative monsters: Dan’s conscience, such as it is, always seems to disappear when faced with the prospect of his own self-interest. Despite all his prior reservations, his reluctance to revive Dean Halsey (until it suits him) his fury at Herbert’s murder and resurrection of Doctor Hill, all of it seems to dissipate in the face of Meg’s death. Then, suddenly, there’s no hesitation, no ethics. He barely hesitates in retrieving the reagent, measuring up the dose, or injecting Meg in the brain stem. His transformation—man to monster—is complete. And he didn’t even have to shed his skin to do it.

This is, in part, what I think is missing from the 1989 sequel, Bride of Re-Animator (aside from Stuart Gordon in the director’s chair). Bride’s a good movie, and I like it a lot, even if it does lag a little somewhere around the middle. But what really lets it down is the absence of that underlying transformative arc – we as an audience aren’t particularly unnerved by Dan’s second descent into medical madness, because it’s not exactly shocking or new. We’ve already seen the very worst he could do first time around, and anything Bride tries to offer us naturally falls short. A better direction for the sequel might have been a role reversal—maybe Herbert gains something of a conscience while Dan continues to lose his? But then of course, there’s the risk that Herbert might also lose some of the callous edge that makes him such an iconic anti-hero (and makes me love him so, so much). It’d be a fine line to walk, and interestingly some fanworks do a great job of it, but it’s never quite transferred to the realm of sequel film.

For me, it’ll always come back to that final shot—the plunge of the Re-agent filled syringe before Barbara Crampton’s iconic scream and the dramatic cut to black. There’s only one ending that comes close to scratching the same depraved itch in my strange little brain, and that’s the closing line in Stephen King’s Pet Semetary:

“…Darling.”

#80s horror #horror #horror movies #horror writing #spooky #bbqueue #reanimator #bare bones articles

[endofbeginning]

oh my god why does everyone in reanimator fandom have herbert call him daniel do i live in a different reality did i watch a different film. iirc and according to a shitty transcript of the movie that i just found to double check. herbert never ONCE says the word daniel. in fact nobody calls him daniel except faculty (the dean & dr hill)... otherwise it is always DAN!!! herbert says DAN(!!!) about a THOUSAND TIMES in the most MEMORABLE and ANNOYING gay little voice what the fuck. everyone please wake tf up... kill the reductive "cold scientist" archetype that lives in your head and tells you herbert west would sooner cooly full-name him than call him DANNY - which he actually DOES do at least once, in that one extended/deleted scene btwn the two of them and megan (because he's mimicking megan) (while gay). please. im begging you

#re-animator #IVE HAD IT!!!!!!!! #literally have not engaged in any reanimator fandom/fanworks stuff in so long bc i find it often sooo out of character 😭 #dont get me started on the touch/affection-averse ification of herbert as if hes not crawling over dan every possible second...

[modernghostfare]

heres what im thinjing. this is their favorite rappers

alex: 50 cent, outkast

valeria: snoop dogg, tupac

mace: ice cube

syd: lil wayne, megan obvi. but she'd also have the most variety bc she'd listen to early 2000s shit and the most recent stuff and in a million languages bc she thinks it's all fun

ghost: nicki minaj (the only music artist he gaf about)

alice: Ludacris.

griggs: ummm himself obviously 🤨 no actually idk. it wouldn't be a big name. or wu tang (one of the biggest names)

raines: kanye west but hed be embarrassed by that now. you ask him and hes like ONLY HIS OLDER STUFF. kendrick if he didn't want to get into it

nikto: tupac

. idk who else. idk about gaz i really think he just likes numetal and emo boy music. like he likes rap but he doesn't have like a favorite artist unless you let him count rage against the machine. or he'd say ice-t while thinking of body count but he's not a trickster like that he'd tell you he's thinking of body count

oh my god talon: Drake, Travis Scott

#um.. i don't listen to enough biggie obviously

[astro-kitty-launch]

Chances Not Taken [Wally West x Reader x Dick Grayson]

Prologue: A Leap of Faith

Summary: “Her last sight was Darkseid's massive hands wrapped around Nightwing’s throat as he attempted to choke the life out of her best friend. The God of Evil laughed menacingly, saying that if his father was no match, then he’d be nothing.” "All she could think about is the fact, she broke her promise to Wally West." What if she got a second chance? A chance to relive some of the most pivotal years of her life. To take all the chances that she failed to take the first time. To live the same life but take a different path. To see a whole new side of events that she thought she knew well. Well, she had been given that second chance alright, but not without a cost and a few minor setbacks.

Chapter Summary: The Golden Trashcan of Order decides it’s high time she learns that faith is vital to the order of the universe.

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

A loud clap resounded, followed by a bright flash of magic as Sianna slammed into the ground. As a strangled breath escaped her trembling lips, her head pounded vigorously. Pressing her shaky hands onto the ground, she managed to push herself up. One hand was braced to the ground to stabilize her teetering body while the other hand clutched her head.

Cringing at another bout of pain, Sianna clenched her eyes shut tight. Images flashed one right after the other. Her last sight was Darkseid's massive hands wrapped around Nightwing’s throat as he attempted to choke the life out of her best friend.

The God of Evil laughed menacingly, saying that if his father was no match, then he’d be nothing. All she could remember was his cry of determination even in the end Dick resolve had remained. All she could think about is the fact, she broke her promise to Wally West.

Where had it all gone so wrong?

It had happened so easily, far too easily, that it was utterly laughable. He had made it appear like child’s play by the way he had plucked them off one by one. She was all alone. They were gone. Dick was gone. Her throat was tight, so tight air wasn’t passing through. It was like her esophagus walls were glued shut.

“It can’t be…I..I…Noooo.” Sianna whispered thickly as her eyes burned.

“This has to be a nightmare.” Folding in on herself, Sianna began rocking back and forth.

“God, please. Please. Please I’ve never asked you for anything but this. Please.” She repeated over and over until a cold hand pressed on her shoulder.

“Their sacrifices weren’t in vain. Gather your faith.” A eerily familiar voice echoed as monotone as ever. Sianna’s head shot up. There stood Doctor Fate, behind him layed the rumble of where the once glorious Tower of Fate stood.

“Oh, not in vain, you say! Clearly, you and I had a very different experience, Nabu! Cause that was in vain! We accomplished nothing! What are we even doing here!? You say gather my faith well it’s all dead!” Sianna screamed as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks, a strangled sob escaped her lips.

Sianna should have taken more chances cause maybe then things would be different.She should have done more. She should have fought harder. To save Kaldur, Dick, Artemis, Zatanna, Kyle, Megan, and Connor.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to lose them all.

Why was she still here?

“Because it has bought us some time. Fate requires you to help take one last stand.” Nabu exhaled deeply, causing a part of her to wonder if that was Zatara peeking out. Sianna adverted her gaze burying her head back into her arms.

“Make a last stand, of course, for what? It’s clear, we don’t stand a fucking chance. You still wanna prattle on about faith and destiny after that! They’re all dead!” She lashed out as her fist clenched and unclenched around a fist full of her raven hair.

“Faith isn’t just a feeling. Sometimes it requires us to let go of thinking. To let ourselves go when we can believe no more. You must choose to trust even if there isn’t a reason to. To take a chance so there may be no regrets. That is what a soul truly mourns the chances that we fail to take.” Doctor faith spoke solemnly though each word sounded odd coming out of his mouth.

It reminded her of one of her former mentor’s sermons when she would cover for Zatanna when she’d sneak out of the house even though he had figured out she had lied. Despite the outer layer of seriousness, there was always deep care for those under his wing. There was no way, someone so far removed from the human side of emotions could think of that. Nabu has been detached from this world for a long time.

Sianna snorted numbly, “Ha, I bet Zatara fed you that 'cause there's no way someone like you would…”

“You are wrong; it is Kent Nelson’s words.” Nabu calmly deflected, not sounding the least bit deterred by her derisive words.

“Oh Gramps,…” She paused momentarily as a stab of guilt lanced through her chest, “he always knew how to weave his words to impact others.” Sianna's lips quirked momentarily as she staggered to her feet the image of the former Doctor Fate flashed through her eyes. She honestly wasn’t shocked that his words had touched someone as stiff as Nabu. It sounded exactly like something he’d say when she was consumed by grief.

Breathing in deeply, Sianna didn’t trust Nabu, not in the least bit, but she trusted Kent Nelson’s words. Raising her head up, to meet the gaze of the floating Lord of Order, she inquired, “I…what do we have to do now?”

“Close your eyes. Sianna Leta Nelson, you must go and know change is needed. Remember should you be uncertain have faith.” Closing her eyes for a moment, she pretended that it was Kent Nelson speaking to her and not Doctor Fate. Not quite understanding why she needed to close her eyes.

Before she could open her mouth with further inquiries at what the hell Nabu had meant by that. The hairs on her arm bristled as her body felt a familiar tingle of magic. Feeling the energy lift and rise up, the air hummed with energy as well. Then it exploded, and the world went white.

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

This Cross posted on my AO3

Link: Chances Not Taken - Chapter 1 - AstRokiTtYLaunch - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 1 >>>>>

#wally west #richard grayson #dr fate #kid flash #dc robin #Robin #superheroes #dc comcis #dc batman #young justice #wally west x reader #wally west x you #wally west x y/n #wally west x dick grayson #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #justice league #dc flash #dick grayson x wally west #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x y/n #dc x reader #kid flash x reader #dc comics x reader #dc fanfic #young justice fanfiction #dick grayson fanfiction #robin x you #robin x reader #the flash x reader

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

The mood at the Sankofa Cultural Arts and Business Center on Chicago’s west side was celebratory on June 25, 2019, as hundreds gathered to watch Illinois make history.

With the stroke of a pen, Gov. J.B. Pritzker made it legal for adults in Illinois to possess up to 30 grams of marijuana without fear of arrest. When sales began in 2020, legalization was expected to be a financial boon for the state, but the promise went deeper for some supporters.

“Today, we're hitting the reset button on the war on drugs,” the bill’s sponsor, Rep. Kelly Cassidy, D-Chicago, said to applause. “Today, we begin the process of undoing the harm of the war on drugs.”

People who had been arrested for, but not charged with, low-level cannabis offenses would have those records erased automatically. Pritzker pardoned thousands more who were convicted of possession of less than 30 grams. Anyone who had been prosecuted for possession of up to 500 grams – a little more than a pound – would be able to petition the court to have those records expunged.

“Today we're giving hundreds of thousands of people the chance at a better life, jobs, housing and real opportunity,” Pritzker said.

Around a third of Americans have some kind of criminal record by the time they are 25, said Daniel Kuehnert, a staff attorney in the western office of Land of Lincoln Legal Aid, a nonprofit serving a swath of Illinois from the Metro East to the Quad Cities. While it may just be an arrest record, “those records are consulted by basically all sorts of entities for important life decisions,” he said.

“And particularly with employment, we see employers who have better jobs doing the heavier criminal background checks,” said Megan Kinney, the managing attorney at Land of Lincoln Legal Aid’s central office, which serves clients in six counties in southwest Illinois. “So it really is not only a barrier to employment, but it's a barrier to good, well-paying, stable jobs with benefits.”

Land of Lincoln Legal Aid was one of 18 nonprofits that joined a coalition called New Leaf Illinois. The state funded the initiative, which provided free legal representation to people who wanted cannabis convictions off their record.

Christopher Bradford was among thousands helped by New Leaf. He was in his mid-20s when he was convicted of felony possession in 2003, giving him a criminal record that potential employers would not overlook.

“And I just felt like, that wasn’t right,” he said in a video posted to New Leaf’s website. “I felt like I was being singled out from others because I had a felony conviction.”

New Leaf helped Bradford clear his record, which allowed him to get a job as a kitchen manager at a restaurant in Springfield, Illinois.

“I’m working, I’m providing for my family, so you know, I’m happy,” he said.

PITFALLS IN THE PROCESS

The law wasn’t perfect.

The word “automatic” was a misnomer, said Kinney. An individual with a criminal record for marijuana had to take an active role in the court system to make that record go away, and every single court in the state is its own entity.

"You have to file a petition in every single county in which there was a charge and arrest or conviction,” Kinney said. “There's not just some magic button that someone can press and all these records just go poof, and they go away.”

The law also failed to address local restrictions on marijuana, said Kuehnert. While some counties were willing to expunge those ordinance violations, “we’ve been encountering some counties where the Judge is like, ‘Oh, hey, wait a minute, this law doesn't say anything about ordinance violations.’”

Despite those complications, Kuehnert said, Illinois generally gets high marks nationwide for how its law is structured.

“It’s been pretty good at helping people get their records cleared, helping folks move forward in their lives and helping heal some of the damage to both individuals and our communities from the war on drugs,” he said.

EXPUNGEMENT IN MISSOURI

When advocates for recreational marijuana in Missouri drafted their ballot measure, they made sure to include expungement provisions as well.

All nonviolent marijuana offenses, except for operating under the influence or sales to a minor, were to be automatically removed by the court, said John Payne, the campaign manager for Legal Missouri 2022.

While there was no formal organization like New Leaf Illinois in Missouri’s initiative, the campaign coordinated with groups like the ACLU and Empower Missouri, Payne said.

“A government program is never 100% accurate the first time,” he said. “We've talked to attorneys from some of these organizations and other attorneys who are just not necessarily affiliated with them but who have said, we'd be happy to help assist.”

Misdemeanors were supposed to be expunged by June 8, while the deadline to remove felony records is Dec. 6. But experts told KCUR those dates did not take into account how time-consuming and complicated it can be to expunge even a misdemeanor case. And while the courts asked for additional money from the state, lawmakers have not provided the assistance.

“I do know that they're making a hell of an effort because I know that the clerk's offices have hired extra people to come in and help,” Stephen Sokoloff, senior counsel for the Missouri Association of Prosecuting Attorneys, told KCUR. “In some places, I think retirees have been asked to come back and help.”

The law does not outline a penalty for missing the expungement deadlines.

#us politics #news #stlpr #npr #2023 #Missouri #Illinois #expunge records for non violent offenders #Gov. J.B. Pritzker #legalize marijuana #marijuana #legalize cannabis #recreational cannabis #decriminalize cannabis #medical marijuanna #Kelly Cassidy #Land of Lincoln Legal Aid #New Leaf Illinois #Empower Missouri #american civil liberties union #Missouri Association of Prosecuting Attorneys #kcur

[mutasmutosarchive]

bonds of ichor and viscera

summary: no matter how long time kept them apart, the bond of twins always prevails (or your twin sibling shows up to bully you for playing god)

word count: 3k+

tags: @eternally-smitten , @felixrichtershubby , @sugar-and-pearls , @blairyl (lmk if you want to be tagged)

The dull rattle of the wooden door under Mavis fist as she knocked echoed in the night air. She gave a small yawn as she rubbed her eyes. The dark haired woman looked at the paper in her hand. A messily scribbled address on it and a name. She was hoping this was the right place and she wasn't accidentally disturbing some poor sod if the person she was looking for wasn't there.

She could hear the heavy patter of footsteps on the other side of the door as they neared the door before the sound of locks sliding before the door was pulled open. Dark haired man who looked like he could use some sleep opened it and Mavis gave him a bright smile.

“Uh hello, is this the residence of uhm..”

She looked down at the piece of paper to squint behind her glasses as she tried her best to read the messy handwriting.

“Daniel Cain! Sorry kinda of forgot the name.” Mavis chirped.

Daniel rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he looked at his cheery girl who stood on his doorstep in the late hours or the night. There was something oddly familiar about her that he couldn't place exactly and it was a bit uncanny to say the least.

“Yes and you are?” He asked as he leaned against the door.

“Oh sorry, my name is Mavis West. I'm looking for Herbert West.” Mavis waved off before she made a small nonverbal motion for her to come in.

Daniel obliged and let the wavy haired girl bounce on in as she took in the space of his in. He was kind of glad that Megan wasn't there at the moment, it would have been too much chaos after what happened with Rufus.

“Are you two…” He asked.

His question had Mavis letting out a bark of laughter before she frantically shook her head at the man.

“No, No, I'm his twin. I'm surprised he probably never mentioned it but then again it is Herbert so I'm also not really surprised. Is he here?” Mavis asked between her light giggles.

She had swiveled on her old beat up converse all stars as she looked at Dan. She could see the mild skeptical look in his eyes. It was something she was used to when it came to dropping that on people. Not everyone believes the two were of the same womb but in fact they very much were.

Daniel took a moment before he nodded his head and brushed a hand through his hair. He made a idly motion to the basement door, something he wasn't too keen on going towards at this hour of the night. He was still processing everything.

“Yeah, he's downstairs. Whoa you are just gonna go down there?” Daniel asked as he watched her quickly take the motion to be where her twin was.

She was definitely brave, he'd give her that. He wasn't sure if she even knew. Daniel was sure she didn't with the way her strides carried her like there was nothing wrong.

“Uh, yeah. He's my brother, I spent nine months in confinement with that weirdo. Whatever little lab experiments he's up to I can handle.” The young woman waved off to him.

Mavis carried herself in pride as she strode to the basement door before she felt a strong hand on her bicep slightly pulling her back. Her hazel eyes met Daniel's dark ones as they stared at each other. She could see how Daniel was trying to figure something to say to her.

“Wait wait, you should probably know something before you go down there…” Daniel cautiously said.

Mavis didn't get a chance to respond before the sound of the basement door opening and the sound of footsteps followed. Both Daniel and Mavis' heads snapped towards the direction to see Herbert emerging from the basement.

The siblings stared each other down for a moment before a gentle smile came to Mavis lips as she heard her brother speak.

“Mavis?”

“Well speak of the devil, hello dearest brother of mine.” Mavis joker lightly as Daniel let go of her arm.

“I see you've met Dan.” Herbert said as she looked between them.

Herbert’s lips pursed for a minute as he looked between the two. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about how close Dan was to his sister and in the darkness his eyes squinted a bit in protectiveness.

“That I have. A sweet guy, better not corrupt him. Sorry to cut it short, it is nice to meet you Dan but I do have to talk to my brother alone.” Mavis snorted.

She knew her brother well and knew how he was acting within the shadows. He may not have outwardly shown much emotion most of their life but she knew the little quirks of when he did. Ever so protective of her just like when they were kids.

“Now?” He asked.

“Yes now.”

Herbert had been quick to wave at Daniel, letting the tired med student go back to get some sleep as he and his twin made their way down the stairs. He could just feel there was something she wanted to say to him but didn't get a chance too when he heard her footsteps stop and turned around to look at her.

“So when were you going to tell me you got back from Germany or was that never going to happen.” Mavis asked him as she folded her arms and looked at him.

“I was going to eventually.” Herbert swallowed.

He knew that look in her eyes. It was the same one their mother had when the two of them often snuck off in their teens. A look of worry but also frustration. He felt some remorse, he probably should have told her soon. They were the only family they had left but he had drowned himself into his work.

“It's been six months since you've been back. I sent you a letter and I got one back saying you had left after an accident.” Mavis countered as she let out a huff.

There was hurt in her eyes that he couldn't continuously look at before he went to continue his way down the stairs. Mavis wasn't going to have that, he couldn't worm his way out of this from her.

“Herbert look at me,” Mavis said as she snatched him quickly by his arm, turning him to face her.

“Hey!” He protested but he was quickly cut off.

“What did you do? They said something about being involved with a doctor's murder.” Mavis' voice was low as she looked at him.

There wasn't aggression in her eyes but disappointed muddied by worries in him. But she still looked at him like he was her brother. They were of the same flesh, they were still family even if he had killed someone.

“It wasn't murder, I was giving him life.” Herbert said quietly.

Mavis looked confused but her tight grip on her brother's bicep loosened. She looked at him with a morbid curiosity that brought that strange smile to his face. He knew he had her enraptured by a single sentence.

“What are you on about?” Mavis asked him in a similar hushed tone.

“It's better I show you, Mavs.” Herbert replied.

He pried his arm from her grasp and motioned for her to follow deeper into the heart of the basement.

As their footsteps hit the cement floors Mavis recoiled from the stench of death. She knew it well with her job and it was the sign of decay. She moved around her brother to get a look of the basement. It was small but not super small, it probably only looked as such with the clutter. There were beakers and tubes all around, syringes with remains of a bioluminescent green liquid staining them.

Mavis’ eyes followed around as she pulled a white sheet away from a part of the table before her hazel eyes flickered down and she recoiled a bit. The dead body of a black cat was still on the table, its guts sprawled against matted fur and a soiled sheet beneath it. She instinctively brought her arm up to her face as she dropped the sheet and looked at Herbert.

“What the fuck? Do I even want to ask why you have body parts strewn about?” Mavis' voice was muffled by her arm.

She watched as her brother moved around, the two already falling into a comfortable routine as he stepped to a fridge. She heard the seal of her break as he pulled out a bottle of bright green liquid and what seemed to be animal corpse but she wasn't super sure. Herbert turned around to look at her before the bottle was shoved into her hand.

“Hush, it's important what I need to show you. Hold this.” Herbert told her.

He knew that he could trust her with it, he had always been able to trust her with his research and her vice versa.

“What is it?” Mavis asked.

She looked at the bottle, feeling the cold plastic against her palm as she stared at that flowing liquid that he had shoved into her hands.

“You ask too many questions. But my reanimating reagent.”

The question seemingly confused Mavis to no end, her mind wrapping around it as Herbert had set the corpse of roadkill onto the table. He pulled the adjustable light into place as it shone down onto the creature wrapped in fabric.

“You're what now?” Mavis questioned as she looked at him.

“You heard me. Now fill up the syringe, I would assume your mortician duties have prepared you enough for that.” Herbert snapped back as he met his sister's eyes with that smirk of his before handing her a clean syringe.

Mavis let out a huff and took the syringe from him and looked at the bottle. She shook her head softly before she was taking the top off of the bottle and slipping the tip of the syringe in to draw out the liquid.

“Oh shut up.” She snorted.

She filled the syringe to a certain line before Herbert was stopping her and stood up a bit more straight to talk to her. The way he stood reminded her of a lecture, she almost felt like she was back in a classroom.

“Okay, so this raccoon was killed…” Herbert explained as she peeled the cloth back from the raccoon’s body.

Mavis looked at the raccoon and then back at Herbert before she let out a small laugh.

“That raccoon is a pancake.” Mavis pointed out.

“You are going to keep jabbering or let me explain?” Herbert countered. His hands were placed at his hips like he was reprimanding a talkative student.

Mavis puffed out her cheeks and rolled her eyes making a motion for him to continue his little lecture with some impatience.

“Sorry Herbie Werbie, continue.” She added.

Herbert rolled his eyes at the nickname but didn't make any comment to correct it. It was endearing to him even if he didn't admit it to her.

“You are annoying. But as I was saying, I was killed a couple hours ago. My reagent in layman terms brings the dead back to life.” He explained to her.

Herbert watched her thoughts swirl behind her eyes as she took in what he said to her. He could see the gears working and the small look of disbelief. He saw it in Daniel's eyes the first time too, it just took a simple demonstration and that look of disbelief would change.

“Bullshit.” Mavis whispered.

Herbert could see she was already leaning to believe. They didn't lie to each other, the other would know somehow. He never understood it but he guessed in this case their strange twin sense was working in their favor. Herbert rolled up his sleeves and held out his hand to her.

“Hand me the syringe.”

Mavis handed the syringe over to him after some hesitancy and followed him quickly like his shadow. Her eyes followed in an unbridled curiosity. She watched as her brother's hands combed through the greasy fur of the raccoon as he traced down its spine to the base of its neck.

She watched as Herbert handled it with great care and precision as he slowly pushed the needle into the spine and drained that reagent into the corpse of the raccoon. She watched as the needle left the critter’s neck and her brother set it down. Her eyes watched the syringe as the reagent left residue behind. Her mind twisted and paced with thoughts before she looked back at the raccoon.

Herbert had backed up a bit, Mavis scuffling back with him as the twins watched the corpse of the roadkill. The room felt deadly silent besides their anticipating breathing as they watched. Herbert made a quick look of his watch, pushing his glasses up his nose before ear piercing screech of agony ripped from the raccoon.

Mavis cringed at the sound and she felt her heart ache as she heard that sound from the animal. It sounded like it was in so much pain but then again the beginning of life was painful too.

“Oh my god. How?” Mavis said over the screeching of the roadkill as it writhed on the table.

“A lot of time and effort but I have found a cure for death.” Herbert said with that almost manic grin as he looked at her.

Mavis was dumbfounded. Her head was running so quickly she couldn't stop herself from the next comment that left her lips.

“You're playing god.” She told him.

“I am not! I'm a scientist and I have found a cure for death.” Herbert snapped. He watched as Mavis flinched a little bit before he took in a deep breath as he knew she need some time to figure out what she was seeing.

“Herbert look at that fucking thing. It's writhing in agony!” Mavis pointed out to him in a frantic tone.

Herbert knew his sister well enough; the whole death fascinated her; she also cared about the living. He was not one to torture his own sister even if he was ever forced too. Herbert let out a huff and walked over to the table of the writhing reanimated raccoon. His hands wrapped around the base of the neck before a loud crack echoed in the room and the creature fell silent. All he heard was the shaky breath of his sister as he covered the body up again.

“It's not perfect, Mavis. I'm still working on it. Figure out the limits but I have conquered death.” Hebert told her.

The silence that had settled between them after as she sat down in a stool next to him was enough for him to speak to her. He had been watching all her little ticks and movements as she worked through her thoughts.

“I know that curiosity in your eyes, sister. You couldn't hide it if you tried.” Herbert added with an easy tone.

Mavis looked up at him and gave a small nod. He wasn't wrong, that was for sure.

“I mean, yeah, fuck I guess I am. I'm fascinated by this.” She told him.

Mavis just looked at her brother as she admitted to him. She wasn't so sure how to feel about the fact this on it's own had so many moral implications but the fact she also wanted to see it work on a broader scale and Herbert could feel that, he just knew.

“I knew you'd be. We've shared the same fascination for years.” He said with a small laugh. A silence filled the basement space again before Mavis spoke up this time.

“Have you started human trials?” She asked him.

“No, I would like to.”

His answer was what she expected. She figured that he hadn't started human trials just yet, it still meant she could help.

“I want to help.” Mavis told him with a hopeful look.

The look threw Herbert off a little bit. He had wrapped Daniel up into this with manipulation but here his own sister was willing to help. It was always nice to have the reminder they were somewhat similar in terms.

“You don't think I'm insane?” Herbert asked.

Mavis looked at him with a pointed look when those words left his mouth before she replied.

“You want my honest answer on that one?”

“Actually, nevermind.”

“It's what I thought.”

After the demonstration and helping clean up the small space, the twins found themselves outside on the porch sitting next to each other. The night was cool with a breeze and Herbert had to admit some fresh air was better than constantly smelling rot and decay down in that basement.

“I want you to know I'm going to be around more.” Mavis spoke.

Herbert looked at his sister as she looked at him. He was a bit taken off guard by those words. He knew she had made a life for herself back up in the Pacific Northwest and couldn't have seen her giving that up to help him with this.

“Huh?” He said in a confused tone.

“I transferred. I'm gonna finish the rest of my schooling out here then out in Washington.” Mavis clarified to him with a smile on her face. She could see that he was thinking about what she had said.

“Why? You've got your own life up there.”

Mavis waved him off and pulled him into a side hug before ruffling his hair as she spoke to him.

“You're my brother, Herbert. Someone's gonna make sure you don't go all Victor Frankenstein on us.” She joked to him.

Herbert rolled his eyes from both the gesture and the comparison as she tried to squirm out of his sister's grasp who just tightened it to put him in a playful headlock with a laugh.

“Oh don't start.” He groaned.

“Oh I'm going to, Dr. Frankenstein.” Mavis teased as she messed up his hair before letting him go. As she let him go her shoulder gently knocked into his in a form of affection.

“I hate you.” Herbert said as he returned the gesture with a smile on his face.

“I love you too.”

#╎ok2rb. #╎mavis writing. #╎herbert w.

[waltermis]

Diner

MASTERLIST ↠ SPITFIRE MASTERLIST

"You have a WHAT?!" Dick screamed over the phone. He was currently trying to persuade his best friend, Wally West, to go out to play laser tag with him, before he found out that Wally had a girlfriend.

"I said, I have a girlfriend." Wally said.

"Since when?" Dick pressed on.

"Uh.... we've been dating for 3 years."

"3 YEARS!!!!!" Dick yelled. "Okay, that's it! I'm bringing the rest of the gang to hear this. Hang on," Wally stayed quiet as he heard the rest of his friends enter the phone call.

"Um... why are we here, Dick? And what's the emergency?" Zatanna asked, sounding like she had just woken up.

"Zee, were you still sleeping?!" Wally asked.

"Yeah, why?" Zatanna asked, yawning.

"It's 3:30!" Dick cried out.

"Yes, I am aware of that dumbass."

"Hey! This dumbass is your boyfriend! Also it's 3:30 IN THE AFTERNOON!!!!"

"What is this emergency, my friend?" Kaldur questioned, growing slightly impatient.

"Oh right," Dick said. "Wally has been dating a girl for 3 years and he didn't even tell us!"

"He's been what?!" Megan cried out, astonished.

"I don't buy it, there's no way he has been dating someone for 3 years and none of us know about this." Zatanna said, stubbornly "Okay, we need to talk about this in person!"

"OBVIOUSLY!" Dick yelled.

"Okay, we'll talk about this, meet me in front of Young Justice Diner in ten minutes." Wally said, hanging up before his friends could protest

↠↠↠

"Hi welcome to Young Justice diner, my name is Rhea. Blah blah blah, how many?" A raven haired girl asked bored.

"Uh, hey Rhea. Can we have my regular booth?" Wally asked.

"Oh, heeeeeeeeeeeeey Wally. You know, you look reeeeally hot today." The raven haired girl, Rhea, giggled as she looked at him. Wally suddenly felt uncomfortable at Rhea words.

"Uh thanks Rhea,"

"We should get together! Wouldn't we just make the cutest couple? Our couple name could be, Walhea or Rhally. Oh those both sound so cute!" Rhea said, her voice never loosing it's flirtatious tone.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Dick asked in a quiet voice so Rhea wouldn't hear.

"Listen Rhea, how many times do I have to tell you? I have a girlfriend!" Wally said, angry because whenever he came here Rhea would always flirt with him.

"Ugh, you should just ditch that looser. I bet she isn't as pretty as me." Rhea said, flipping her hair as she the word 'pretty'. Wally ignored her and just walked over to his regular booth sitting down at the left corner of the booth.

Rhea handed them each a menu (top picture, if u look at it closely then u can see some iconic thing they've said) and swiftly left. "So, I'm guessing that flirty girl isn't your girlfriend." Dick said amused, looking through the menu.

"Wow, what tipped you off? The part where I said that I had a girlfriend or the point where I had to walk away to get her to stop flirting with me?" came Wally's sarcastic response.

"Hey, just pointing this out to everyone." Dick said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"So, this place is called Young Justice Diner?" Zatanna asked intrigued.

"Yep! It's based on the comics and the TV show Young Justice." Wally replied, going back to his happy self.

"Wow, look at all the options! They all look so good!" Megan cheered, looking through the menu.

"How did you find this place, my friend?" Kaldur questioned, skimming through the menu.

"My girlfriend told me about it."

"So she knows that you have a bottomless stomach?" Raquel asked, with a smirk on her face. Wally gave Raquel a look that said a lot 'I have a fast metabolism!'.

"Speaking of girlfriends, tell us about yours!" Dick said, slamming his menu onto the table, catching some looks from other people.

"Why do you want to know about her?"

"Well, as your best friend I have to know who it is!" came Dick's snappy reply.

"You want to look her up don't you?"

"Maybe,"

"Well, I'm not telling you anything so might as well give up." Wally said, taking a sip of his water.

Suddenly a deep voice rang through the small diner. "Rhea! Get back to work! Have you taken any orders yet?"

"That's Cyrus. He's the owner of this place, he's really nice and friendly but he can be freakishly scary at some points." Wally whispered, pointing to the middle aged man.

"That's it! I've had enough of your bossiness! I quit!!" Rhea's shrill voice screamed as she slammed her apron onto the bar. She stomped over to a handsome business man that had just walked through the door and she started to flirt with him as well. The gang heard Cyrus sigh as he ran a hand over his hair.

"Hey Cyrus! You okay?" Wally asked, concerned for the man.

"Oh hey Wally! How's my favorite customer doing? And yeah, I'm fine but I need someone to help at the diner since Rhea just quit." Cyrus smiled at him.

"Where's everyone else?" Wally asked.

"Well, Erica went camping with her boyfriend Ben, Zoe's out at a concert with Mike so they can't come. Chip's out attending his cousin's wedding and Jawa's going to his sister's graduation."

"What about Artemis? What's she doing?"

"I think she said that she was babysitting Lian, but I can give her a call and see if she can come help." Cyrus said, giving Wally a slight smirk. Cyrus picked up the diner's phone and dialed Artemis' number. "Hey Artemis! Can you come help with the diner?" There was a slight pause as the person on the other end said something. "She just quit... You'll come? Yeah sure that's totally okay if you bring her! Alright see you in a few. Bye" Cyrus said, with a big smile on his face. "She said that she'll be in a few."

"That's great!" Wally cried out happy. In a matter of minutes a gray Toyota pulled up and out came a beautiful blonde with olive tan skin and stormy gray eyes. The blonde went to the back of the car and picked up a small brown haired girl who looked to only be about 3 years old. They both walked into the diner, the blonde placed small girl on a chair and handed her some crayons and paper before leaving the child to play.

"Hey Cyrus!" The blonde haired girl said, giving the man a smile.

"Artemis! You have no idea how much I need your help right now! I don't think Rhea's even taken any orders... can you do that?"

"Sure! Just watch Lian for me will ya? Jade will kill me if I lost her baby girl." Artemis said, grabbing her own apron and walked over to a couple. "Hi Barry! Hey Iris! How are you guys prepping for Don and Dawn?"

"We're doing good but still slightly nervous, I mean I'm going to be delivering twins!" Iris said, handing over the menu's

"Well, don't worry. I'm sure you'll do great and seeing since you just handed me your menus you already know what you want? Hmmm, let me guess, Barry will have a 'Mount Justice' and you'll have an 'Aqualad'?"

"Yes please," Barry said.

"Okay, you're food will be here soon." Artemis reassured and left to take another table's orders. In less than 5 minutes the entire diner has had time to order their food, well everyone but Wally's table.

"Hey everyone. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting but I just have to deliver Mrs. Patterson her food and then I'll come over and take your orders." Artemis said, walking over to where an old lady sat. "Alright now that, that's taken care of. What can I get you guys?" Artemis asked taking out her pen and paper.

"Uh, I'll have a-" Dick started, but suddenly he was rudely interrupted him.

"Hey! Miss! I need a refill on my iced coffee over here! Chop chop lady! I don't got all day here!" A savvy business man yelled from across the room.

"Just give me a minute here sir, I'll be right with you once I take this table's order." Artemis said, over her shoulder.

"What?! But there's seven of them and one of me! Just take my order first and then take theirs." The man said rudely.

"Excuse me Cam-er-on!" She said, looking at the man's ridiculous nametag "But you've only been here for ten minutes meanwhile these guys have been waiting patiently for me to take their order for over 20 minutes now! Can't you just give me 5 minutes?!" Artemis' snapped, giving Cameron a murderous glare.

"Well, time is money and 5 minutes costs you half your salary! I bet don't know that I am the newest owner to Icicle toy emporium, so you better treat me right! In half an hour I will be my welcome party so I expect my iced coffee now! As they always say, THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!!" Cameron demanded, catching the attention of everyone in the diner.

"Oh my god! You are sooooooooooooooooooooo hot, I've never met a business man as hot as you are," Rhea flirted touching Cameron's bicep through his white button up shirt.

"Yeah, you're right, he customer is always right. I'll go get your iced coffee right now, s-sir." Artemis said, under her gritted teeth. Everyone was watching as the blonde went to go grab a coffee pot filled with iced coffee. Artemis made eye contact with Cyrus and the middle aged man nodded his head giving his approval.

"Guys, take out your phones. You'll want to record this!" Wally said in a hushed voice as Artemis' hand grabbed the handle of the coffee pot. The gang quickly pulled out their phones, as did everyone else in the diner. They all watched as Artemis approached the white haired man.

"Here's your iced coffee sir, but I know you're in a hurry so I'll just give it to you to go." Artemis smiled politely.

"Where's the cup?" Cameron demanded.

"Oh, since you said that you're in such a hurry. I figured that you didn't need a cup. Now, open wide." Artemis sang as she poured the entire coffee pot's contents over Cameron's head. "Oh, silly me. I forgot the ice!" Artemis grabbed a bucket of ice that Cyrus was holding next to her and dumped it on his head. "There! I hope you enjoy your iced coffee, sir!" Artemis spat.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! HOW DARE YOU POUR COFFEE OVER MY NEW OUTFIT?! I JUST BOUGHT THIS TODAY FOR MY SPECIAL OCCASSION!!!" Cameron turned towards Cyrus. "AND AS FOR YOU! YOU SHOULD FIRE THIS HORRIBLE, INCOMPETENT MOST IMPORTANTLY RUDE WAITRESS! DID YOU SEE HOW SHE TREATED ME TODAY?! YOU'RE LUCKY I DON'T SUE THIS DINER RIGHT THIS SECOND!"

"Listen here, Cameron owner of Icicle toy emporium, there are two rules here! Rule number one, never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever EVER be rude to ANY of my employees! And rule number two, if your rude they're rude! You got me?" Cyrus asked menacingly. "And as for YOU!" Cyrus said, turning towards a cowering Rhea. "Clean your boyfriend's mess up and then I don't ever want to see any of you in my diner again? Capeesh?!"

"Y-y-yes s-sir," Rhea stuttered, before grabbing a mop to clean the mess up.

Wally spared a glance at his friends and saw that their mouths were slightly open. Thinking of another way of setting them off, Wally stood up and walked over to Artemis. "Nice work babe, you totally melted his cold attitude!" He said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Out of the corner of his eye, Wally saw that his friends' jaw were now practically touching the floor. He smirked and kissed her, they broke apart 20 seconds later and Wally turned towards his friends and said, "And you didn't believe me when I said that I had a girlfriend."

↠↠↠

2077 words

Rewritten Version : Iced Coffee AU

#wally west #artemis crock #young justice #dc #yj #artemis crock x wally west #wally west x artemis crock #wally #west #artemis #crock #wally x artemis #artemis x wally #kaldur'ahm #conner kent #m'gann m'orzz #zatanna zatara #dick grayson #raquel ervin #spitifre #wally and artemis #artemis and wally

[honourablejester]

Top 5 Rogues in Fiction

Oh, okay. Watch me forget every character I’ve known. But off the top of my head:

Eugenides from the Queen’s Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner. THE BEST. THE WORST. Everyone around him wants to worship him and/or wring his neck, often simultaneously. Regularly steals kingdoms from people. My all-time favourite thief.

Corvo Attano from Dishonored. Everyone loves the mute traumatised rat assassin falling off buildings and (depending on chaos) saving souls.

Lando Calrissian from Star Wars. Baby me fell so hard for this space pirate prince with his cloud city and his cape and his gambling and his heart-wrenching decision between his city and his friend.

Ezra Standish from The Magnificent Seven (1998). I am a complete sucker for a fancy-pants gambler with a heart (and tooth) of gold and more ten-dollar words than actual dollars. Between him and Lando, gamblers are a bit of a thing for me.

If we’re talking archetypes, Hermes from Greek Mythology informed a lot for me. Also Lugh from Irish mythology, and several other mythological tricksters. But Hermes was my first, when my granddad gave me a big book of Greek Mythology. Hermes is why I love to mingle tricksters and psychopomps together, thieves and the grave.

(Occasionally) Honourable mentions: Rin Setsua from Thunderbolt Fantasy (amazing trickster asshole), Jonathan Carnahan from The Mummy (“And did I panic? I think not!”), Arsene Lupin (original flavour), Arsene Lupin from Lupin III, Selina Kyle from Batman, Hardison & Parker from Leverage, Althalus from The Redemption of Althalus (I realised David Eddings is iffy, but this was one of my childhood books), Slanter from The Wishsong of Shannara (arguably a ranger, but he was my introduction to surly, sneaky, morally ambiguous, competent, enemies-to-allies), Willow from Willow (even when facing an evil sorceress, bog-standard sleight of hand can and will win the day), Robin Hood from Disney’s Robin Hood (childhood), Hawkins & Jean from The Court Jester, Artemus Gordon from the (original) Wild Wild West, an uncountable number of spies …

Actually, you know what? I’ll shut up now. But I enjoy a good rogue, I really, really do.

#ask games #rogues #thieves #gamblers #tricksters #i have a type #several types