#jake's really like ''my wife is so hot anything she does is a turn on'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterbruiser · 1 year

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I am way, way early for sleepover day butttt this popped into my head and I’m curious to see what you can do with “This is my wife, Dr. Bradshaw. She’s been accused of stirring the pot before.”

(I, an aspiring PhD, am FERAL for being called doctor. I’m also curious what Dr. Bradshaw did. If it doesn’t spark inspo, are you studying anything? What was your favorite subject in school?)

standing at the bar, a smile tugging on your lips as the suns sinks into the ocean just outside, you sigh a happy sigh. you're off work for the next several days--which rarely happens--and that means you can spend every waking moment with your hunk of a husband.

he's currently losing a game of pool to Phoenix, who's tickled pink that you're here so Bradley won't pout all night, and stealing glances at you whenever he can chance it.

God, does he look good, too--that dumb Hawaiian shirt that really must have some sort of magic in it, a tight white t-shirt, blue jeans. he's tan and happy and warm and everything in the world that you love. and you're fairly certain that isn't just the Long Island iced teas talking. being married for the past three years hasn't really changed much at all for the two of you--you still daydream about him like a ditzy teenager. and he still gets flustered when you catch his gaze and wink--it's one of the things you love most about him; how easy you can make him blush.

"isn't he handsome?" you ask out loud to no one in particular--and you're fairly certain that it is because of the Long Island iced teas.

Jake Seresin happens to be standing beside you, waiting for Penny to finish up with another customer so he can get his first whiskey sour of the night, and he glances at you when he hears the dreamy lilt in your tone.

shit--you're hot. he doesn't know how he didn't notice you here before. for a quick minute, he racks his brain, trying to place you. he knows you're familiar--maybe a past fling or a match on tinder--but nothing's calling out to him.

he gives you a once-over, a sly one, and notices a few things: the way your breasts strain against the fabric of your tee shirt, the gloss over your eyes, the way those jeans hug your hips, and a wedding ring.

he follows your gaze to Bradley, who's gaping as Phoenix absolutely demolishes him in pool without so much as breaking a sweat, and frowns.

"eh," Jake answers, shrugging. he turns and catches your gaze, his brows slightly knit. "he's married, anyway."

oh. you recognize this guy from all of Bradley's stories--this is Jake. Hangman. you two seem to always just miss each other: you're out of town when he comes over for a football game, you're working at the hospital when he's on base, you're at the grocery store when he FaceTimes Bradley.

for a moment, you maintain his gaze, waiting for him to place you. but he's just staring at you blankly.

"married, huh?" you ask softly, leaning in closer to Jake. you make a show of looking all around Bradley and Jake's brows knit even further--you're brash for a married woman looking at a married man. "I don't see a wife?"

Jake scoffs softly, an incredulous smile tugging on his lips. surely you're joking. but then he keeps watching you eye fuck Bradley, teeth sunken into your lower lip, and he automatically straightens his spine.

"you're married too," Jake points out, nodding to your ring finger. he crosses his arms over his chest. "how'd your husband feel knowing you're eyeing a Navyman?"

"ooh," you sing-song, batting your lashes. "he's a man in uniform, too, huh?"

Christ. you're less shameless than him.

"and married," Jake repeats, frowning a bit now. "you know, like you. married. holy matrimony and all that. union. like, legally bound."

stifling a laugh, you give a very blasé shrug of your shoulders and bite your lip.

"all the good ones are taken," you say, wrinkling your nose. "don't you think I deserve a little fun?"

Jake fully scoffs now, aghast at your behavior. it takes everything in your body not to break character and introduce yourself. but you wanna see how far you can take this: you've heard stories about Jake. a shameless, over-confident creature who'll turn taken women into single women with a bat of his long lashes. and you've got him gaping at you like you're some sort of wild animal.

but before he can say anything else, Bradley finally wanders up behind you, pressing a few kisses to your cheek as he wraps his arms around your waist.

and that is about all Jake can take.

"listen, man, I don't know your wife but I'm sure she wouldn't be too happy about you kissing up on another married woman!" Jake says, hands on his hips. he's never been more disappointed in Bradley before. he feels like he's in the fucking Twilight Zone. Bradley "I Never Shut Up About My Hot Wife" Bradshaw shacking up with some stranger at the bar while his wife probably busts her ass at the hospital? no fucking way. "and I ain't gonna hold my tongue about it--I'll tell you that now."

when Bradley laughs, Jake just blinks at him. but then you're laughing, too, patting Bradley's chest.

"we almost had him!" you tell Bradley, shoving him playfully. "that vein in his forehead was starting to throb!"

instinctively, Jake slides a finger across his forehead. huh. maybe it was. how the fuck would you know about that vein, though?

"Jake," Bradley says with a grin. "this is my wife--Dr. Bradshaw. she's known to occasionally stir the pot."

beaming at a still-flustered Jake, you extend your left hand.

"pleasure's all mine."

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

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About boys trip, im thinking all of them😂 Ransom, Steve, Jake, Bucky, Sam, Ari, Curtis, and Frank, Beck, James, Carter, Blade, Chris, Owin, Beau, Joshu, like alll offf theeem. Ransom and his Qs to Curtis hut also him and his bestie Steve. Ransom bickering with Jake, frank opening up a littlel, beau and carter talking about tani man Ad Burd-dee, owin recalling to beck that he will always protect Aster and does not care beck is her moonman, joshua giving guys psychological speech, and Ari and Chris just being them😂 you know the famous Drysdale craziness

Oh this is going to be a HOT mess! So there will probably divergents of all these conversation or groups. So we have got Ransom, Beck, James, Blade, Carter, Chris, Steve, Joshua, Bucky, Sam, Jake, Ari, Curtis, Owin, Beau, Frank...this is going to be a BIG ass Air BnB they're staying in....

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Beebs and Butts

Summary: no good can come of this

Pairings: a lot

Rating: 😂

Warnings: language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.5K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

The Boys Are Back in Town Masterlist

“Whose idea was this?” Ransom asks as soon as he walks through the door. The caravan of the younger men hadn’t quite made it to the cabin, and Ransom is just confused. “No good can come of this. They will know.”

“Know what?” Steve asks looking around the large house. “What is there to know?”

“Gee, I don’t know Steven,” Ransom answers sarcastically. “Maybe that you and Bucky have shared his wife. Maybe that we have had a foursome with our wives. Do you remember how that shit got started?”

“You took some edibles and was drinking, you got horny and you mentioned how I was tied up and watched you and Kitten. And you wanted to see Steve’s face when he got to see her?” Jake pipes up, speaking rapidly.

While Bucky and Sam laugh Owin runs down the hallway with his dads. “You did WHAT with Mrs. D?”

“Make it stop. I haven’t had edibles or alcohol,” Ransom’s voice groans while Ari just nods his head at him.

“Nice. Thankfully Frank, Beau, and your son aren’t here,” Curtis responds. “I’m glad you,” counts on his fingers the amount of people involved in Ransom’s shenanigans. “Six? Yeah, the six of you worked things out. It’s good for you.”

“Nothing good can come of this. I’ve got four son-in-laws coming, all of which have children with my daughters. I know how men get when they’re drunk. I am that man.”

“Mr. D, at least they won’t be cumming…eh?” Owin tries to make a joke elbowing at Ransom’s arm.

“You realize that your sister’s husbands will be here, too?” Owin’s face falls flat. “And Beck, and Joshua.”

“What does my son have anything to do with anything?”

“Bucky,” Steve taps him on the shoulder. “Your son…Aster…” he gestures his hands around. “Like, he’s my son-in-law but how do you think he became an expert in couples and sex.”

“That is my daughter!”

“Well…they were friends. She wanted Owin and Joshua to be her Man of Honors,” he turns to glare at Owin who holds his hands up.

“Hey, uh uh, me and Az kissed. She vomited and said my pee pee would be too big and hurt her. And she didn’t want to see it. She has, but she had no desire to see it sexually. It’s different.”

“I’m going to bed. Wake me up when this is over.”

“Ransom Drysdale, you will enjoy yourself.”

“This is going to be hilarious.”

“This is going to be chaos. I agree with the man.”

“Tell me about yours and my wife’s relationship!”

“No!” “Ugh!” “Why does he always ask that?” “Curtis you need to just tell the man.” “Why does it matter?”

____________________________________________

“Why are you and Beau so close?” Joshua asks Beau. A few had went outside to sit around the bonfire. And he had spent a ton of time watching Beau and Blade. “Aren’t you and Harry like ride or dies?”

“Harry has two wives. He’s a busy man.”

“I am. I really am,” he gives Joshua a big smile, but he only cocks up an eyebrow.

“You didn’t answer the first question.”

“We’re not in a session,” Beau starts to speak but Blade just holds his hand in front of him, halting him immediately.

“Interesting,” Joshua’s hand rubs over his chin and he gives them a devious smile. “Do you always follow orders Beau?”

“What?” Harry starts laughing and leans forward. “What is this? Did Blade find a way to be married and still be a whore?”

“Blade would you consider yourself to be a whore?”

“Would you, Joshie? You know, I did model my college years after you.”

“How so?”

Blade normally would never dare speak any of this. Blade normally is sober, and most people leave his bedroom life alone. “Well, I had a few best friends.”

“Don’t talk about my wives.”

“Two of them gave me a sexual awakening. Told me not to be pining after some girl who cheated on me. Taught me how to treat women in times of intense sex.”

“You’re talking about my wives!”

“Another, she couldn’t stay away. The only one beside my own wife to see my penthouse bedroom. Now this sweet little girl if I recall wanted to know everything about different types of sex. She had a crush on a psychiatrist that specialized in sex therapy, and she worried she wouldn’t be good enough for him.”

“You’ve moved on to his wife,” Harry groans, but he can’t believe the show. His eyes darting between him and Joshua, and even a few looks to Beau who just snickers.

“We taught each other so much. I respect the woman. She loves sex, and she wanted to show me. Taught her how to give the best blow jobs. How to ride dick.”

“Ehh,” Joshua shrugs. “Her blow job wasn’t great. I had to help her out a bit,” Blade’s face only falls. “I get it, you were young. I’m still lost on modeling the college years like me.”

“You had that one friend that you had the best sex ever, until you met your wife.”

“Man…Az, she needed me. She liked douche bags, and look what she got. The perfect moon man for her neurotic self.”

“Man,” Blade slaps his leg. “I can’t even try to be mad at you. You’re like Joshua fucking Barnes. I mean, you’re no James Rogers but girls fled to you! They wanted whatever you were dishing out. I wanted to impress James. I wanted to be you.”

“Yep, that’s creepy. Come by for a session, I can teach you some things about pleasuring your wife,” he goes to stand up, extending a hand to Blade, and his head flicks towards Beau, “His, too. Have a nice evening gentleman.”

“How the fuck did he know that?”

“You couldn’t keep a straight face,” Blade looks back at Joshua and then to Beau, “He just insulted me twice. I pleasure both our wives.”

“And I just lay there like a dead fish. Thanks.”

“Wow…this is amazing,” Harry nods his head. “I have…”

“Shut your mouth! I don’t want to hear anything about my sisters.”

“I’m waiting on Iris.”

“You’re never getting my wife!” James cackles from the porch. “That is property of James Carter Rogers.”

“It’s weird that him and Carter have the same name and they’re best friends,” Harry goes to lean back, nursing his beer more. “What’s up with that.”

“His egg donor is a narcissist, and her maiden name was Carter.”

“Oh…okay, that makes more sense.”

____________________________________________

Frank throws a horse shoe at the post, and reaches over to grab his beer. Jake can’t help but stand there and watch him. “Quit staring.”

“How come…I mean…I don’t even know.”

“I don’t like the crowds. I tend to keep to myself.”

“That’s not…you’re a good dad,” Frank turns and looks at him odd. “You love Iris still. Great with her kids. You created a life with a new woman, and you’re son has never got into trouble. How come you didn’t have more?” Frank only shrugs. “I didn’t enjoy splitting my time. One was enough. Plus Ye…she’s crazy. She needs my time.”

“Uh…Beau…and then I had Mary, and Iris came about every other weekend, and uh…yeah. But thanks…I think.”

“Frank! You and the puppy, let’s play some poker. Ransom and Steve had some edibles!” Ari looks outside to see his baby brother. Ari never tells him enough how proud he is of him. “Come on, this’ll be funny.”

_____________________________________________

“Don’t do it.”

“You don’t do it. Take your hand off that phone.”

“You first.”

“But I really want to,” Carter pouts at his best friend. The two had already got a good buzz, and his finger hovers over his wife’s name in his phone. “I always FaceTime her when I’m out of town.”

“How do you do it?” James looks at his phone, tapping on it to see a family photo of them.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Carter goes to stand but James pulls him down and both men start hysterically laughing.

“Where were you going?”

“The bathroom,” Carter starts giggling uncontrollably, “I gotta go.”

“Why?” James screams out. His hands pleading for an answer.

“I wanna see her titties.”

“That escalated.”

“You asked how I did it. Phone sex.”

“Ransom!” Chris screams. “Carter is trying to have phone sex with your baby.”

“Oh like you’re innocent. You’ve got pictures of Lucy’s genitals in your shop,” Carter and James high five each other and Chris is now the one laughing.

“That is pictures of my art.”

“Story’s pussy is my rose petals,” he smirks and pounds his head on the table. It takes a moment too long for James to catch it, and then he starts screaming laughing.

“That picture behind your desk! I thought it looked…”

“Familiar?”

“I’ve never seen her pussy. Her tits yes, but a kid is always sucking on it. She’s like my sister. But…that picture of the rose is Story’s pussy?” Carter nods, throwing his head back and laughing. “Behind your desk? Who painted it?”

Carter points at his chest and tries to calm down to tell him more but he struggles. “There’s one in the vault that has her fingers in it.”

“You win. I’ve got a tattoo shop. You’ve got a…her spread pussy you turned into a rose and just popped it behind your desk. Wow. Genius. Amazing. Beck! How do you deal?”

Beck just shrugs. “You mean you didn’t do anything on the space ship?”

“I had pictures.”

“I gotta go.”

“If you go, then I gotta go. And, no go,” James shakes his head at Carter, “We’re stronger than this.”

“You may be, but I’m not. I’ve never gone to sleep without her. I gotta go.”

“Pussy whipped!” James screams after him.

“Every last one of us are pussy whipped,” Joshua walks past slapping his hand on the table. “Alla us. Not one of us better. But I ain’t even mad. Your father-in-law is laid out on the pool table tripping. He’s talking to Curtis.”

“Yeah, I’m good. I gotta call Ris.”

____________________________________________

“Why won’t you tell me?” Ransom whines staring up at the ceiling. He twists his head over to look at Curtis who lays beside him on the pool table and the rest of the men just are dying laughing in the room. “I’m too old for this shit. The room is spinning. If I sit up I’m gonna vomit.”

“You throw up on me, I hit you.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“You changed it.”

“Were. You. Her. Dom?”

Curtis’ eyes clench closed and he starts laughing. “Why. Does. It. Matter?”

“Just blink if you were,” Ransom slings his head over with a groan, “I knew it! What did she call you?”

“You’ve been married for over forty years. Why do you need to know this?”

“Morbid curiosity. You were there for her when I couldn’t be, man. And that’s my woman. I’m her baby. And she pets me. I like her titties,” Curtis is now the one turning to look at Ransom with his eyes wide. “We have a good, safe, sexy as hell, sex life. Still jumping on the bed. Still making her cream herself. I’ve had her stuffed…”

“Ransom!” Steve yells. “Shut your mouth. That mouth gets you in trouble, and I don’t have a Kitten titty to put in it.”

“I do love her tits. Were you her Dom?”

“Oh. My. God!” Frank screams walking down the stairs. “I was going to bed, now there’s a bonding of Ransom and Curtis. Yes. He was her Dom. Geeze. Gotta listen to this shit for decades. Just fucking tell him.”

“I was her Dom. Ari help me up.”

“Wait…wait a damn minute,” Ransom sits up on the pool table and looks at the two men. His eyes blinking slowly, “Your husband is here. Ain’t none of us with our…Steven! TJ and Sammy are here together. Ari and Curtis get separated and so does TJ and Sammy if I have to be without Kitten everyone else is gonna be without their person. Carter and James just…poof.”

“They’re going to take a ragging from the rest of the young pack,” Steve sighs. “They’ve been FaceTiming their wives.”

“Curtis! Let’s go to bed buddy, I claim you, so we can talk,” Curtis groans, and pulls Ari in for a kiss. “That Little Princess will get pissed. Cut it out. Imma tell her you two wouldn’t quit touching.”

“No!” Both men shout. “She’ll cut our balls off.”

“Good.”

_______________________________________________

“Where the fuck is Harry?” Blade asks sitting up on the couch. He looks at the counter of all the alcohol and sighs. “Who gave him Hennessy? Dammit. I’ve gotta find his sorry ass. He can’t hold it. I know that’s what happened.”

“I need someone to snuggle with. Any takers? Someone who gets nice and cold?” Owin looks around the room and not one person volunteers. “Fuck you all. Sammy boy! Let’s go.”

“I didn’t volunteer.”

“Didn’t ask. Your mine tonight. You are not allowed with TJ. Maybe he should go with Carter and James,” TJ groans. “What?”

“Carter is making a special call to Story. As many times as I’ve seen her tits, I have no desire anymore.”

“I thought you were gay.”

“Yeah. So? Made out with her a few times. Showered with her. Pretended to be her boyfriend. You know gay bestie shit. So no need to see her perfect tits.”

“They are nice,” everyone turns and looks at Joshua. “What? Emy said if she gets implants she wants them to look like Story’s, she agrees. Damn, anyone can see she’s got great tits.”

“Has your dad said something about her tits?” TJ beams at Joshua. Settling down to look at him.

“I guess. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Ree is gonna love this! Other than Carter, your dad…her crush.”

“Yeah,” Owin settles down beside Joshua, “nobody has better lips than Emy.”

“If you like big big tits…Lo. Geeze, I can see what attracted Blade to her.”

“Az has great legs.”

“And Iris’s ass. Man…there’s some hot women in this group. Eva’s arms. I’d let that bicep choke me.”

“Christopher! That is my sister.”

“Lucy’s talked about her need for that too. I just grab harder to her hips. And pound into her.”

“Lucy’s hips,” Sammy straightens up when Chris scowls at him “Bisexual. I’ve always…well you know.”

“You dreamed about fucking my wife? And you never did?

“She’s just a kid.”

“Pft…I’m older. I’m surprised that chihuahua didn’t catch on to that.”

“I touched her boobs though. She caught me staring. I just want to lay on them.”

“They are nice beebs.”

“Shut up!” Blade huffs walking back in with a passed out Harry. “Everyone to bed. No more beeb and butt talk. None.”

Masterlist

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Learn to Fly

CW: Self-loathing, some internalized victim-blaming, references to parental death and grief, VERY vague reference to past noncon once or twice

Note: I made a decision to switch a little of the timeline around, so Laken and Chris’s breakup at this point happens after the original conversations about the Speak Out Arc start happening but before the Olympics themselves. I’m folding this bit into the larger Speak Out Arc.

Follows Time Apart and It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped

He curls up on the couch in the coffeeshop, sipping something warm he barely tastes. It might have coffee in it - he feels a little drowsy, and that usually happens when there’s just a little caffeine.

Maybe that’s just because he hasn’t slept since Jake was hurt, not really. And he’s slept even less since... since he and Laken broke up.

Outside, there's unseasonable heavy rain. The clouds are low and heavy, a deep gunmetal gray that blocks out the light and has the streetlights on at 9:30 in the morning. The raindrops seem less to fall than to slam into the ground with terrible violence.

The baristas talk in low voices about how grateful they are for the rain, burying the wildfires outside the city in a deluge the heat can’t overcome. Chris likes the rain, too, if only because it reflects the inside of him, suggests that the world can tell he is a storm within himself and reflects it to him.

He takes another sip.

He hasn’t showered in three days. His hair is dulled with it, like a penny left too long in the dirt. He’s dressed himself like he used to, back before when he was still learning he was a person and not a pet - in one of Jake’s hooded sweatshirts over his compression shirt, so oversized on him it’s nearly a tunic, and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. His knees still look knobby, he thinks.

He can see the ghosts of the bruises there that used to never quite heal before his Sir sent him to his knees and made new ones to lay over them. He can see a couple of scars, some from training when the baton would crack into the backs of his legs and send him dropping like a stone, some from gymnastics, some from just being a kid.

Chris’s eyes lower, to look at his own hands holding his coffee cup. He put star stickers on his nails last night, and a few of them have already peeled off. Those that remain glitter, just a little.

Something about the sight of it - the memory of when he put star stickers on Laken’s cheekbones at a concert until they sparkled under the starlight, laughing, a blur of bright eyes and dark hair - makes his throat nearly close, sends a new rush of tears to burn hot behind his eyes.

He has to close them to hold them back.

“You’ve had a hard time of late, have you, then?”

The voice is a rumble, cracked with decades of cigarettes and too much liquor, but Chris remembers it, anyway. At least, he remembers it now.

He turns to look up at the old man, in his shirt and slacks, a bit bent with age. There’s a merry twinkle in his slightly rheumy eyes, though, that shows that a young man is still there, under an old man’s experiences. There’s a slight smile on his face, warm and welcoming.

Chris swallows, struggling to find the words. They flit away from him, he has to chase them down, but eventually he manages to clear his throat and says, “I, I, um. I know you. You, you, you knew my dad.”

“I did, at that. Worked with him for years.” The old man settles onto the other end of the couch, giving Chris plenty of space, a nice wide berth for safety. “What’s got you looking like a television commercial for depression, hm, Tristan?”

No one calls him that.

Chris feels his heart twist, a little.

By the time they saw the meteor, Tris, it was already too late for anything but a blink or two. When it touched down into land, it was so big the end of it was still in space. Can you imagine anything so big? Can you?

No, Dad.

The earthquakes alone would have been immense thousands of miles away. Imagine, you’re eating leaves, living your life, and you see a shadow - and then in an instant, the world is shaking and you’re breathing glass. How does life go on after that?

I, I, I don’t know, um, um... how how does it?

It just does. That’s what’s amazing, Tris. It just goes on.

“Nothing. I, I, I broke up with my, my partner is all.”

“Hm, that nice young person who comes with you to the shops?” The old man nods, slowly. He’s got his own cup of coffee, plain black, steaming gently into the air-conditioning. Outside, the rain creates a curtain that walls them off from everything else. Chris can’t even see all the way across the street. He can barely see a woman with an umbrella racing from her car into the nail salon place off to the side.

“Yeah, them. I’m, um. It wasn’t anything they they they did.”

It’s something I did.

It’s something I am.

It’s something I’ll never stop being.

“Well, breakups do happen now and again. Usually the one who does the leaving isn’t the one who does the moping about and staring at rain, though.”

“I didn’t want to.” Chris sits back, keeping his coffee cup in one hand. The other drops to his stomach, to tap, soothing his nerves at being so close to a man he knows and doesn’t-know. His memories are there, fuzzy and hazy from being overwritten by fear and pain, but they’re there. He knows this man, Mr. Malley, who would watch him sometimes when his parents went out, or when his father needed to stop by work.

The memories are there, but they still hurt.

His head starts to throb, a pulsing pain behind his temples.

“I didn’t-... I, I love them, I d-didn’t want to.”

“Well, now, that’s a conundrum, isn’t it? Are you moving, then, Tristan?”

It hurts to hear his name, but it hurts in a way that feels good. He was that person, too, before he was Chris. He hums, low under his breath. “No. I, I, I just… you know, um, I’m just. I’m… hard. Difficult. To, to, to, to be with, to, um, to-... there’s a bunch wrong with-... with me.”

“You sound like your dad.” Mr. Malley laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles more in his chest than out of his throat. “You know that? You sound just like him.”

Chris ignores the pain in his head and he turns, now, to look fully at Mr. Malley, blinking rapidly. “My, my, my dad?”

“Yep. Paul was a good man, and a good dad, but before he was that he was a scared boy with a baby on the way and a plan that might not work.” Mr. Malley sighs. “A scared boy who’d always had it a little rough, trying to make the world work for him when it did nothing but work against him. You were always his spitting image. He’d probably be tickled to see you still are.”

There is a sense, in Chris’s mind, of a blurry man with short red hair, sitting near him but not quite touching him, speaking with animation about how there are dinosaurs that lived closer to human beings than they did to other dinosaurs.

He remembers a man whose eyes sparkled with animated focus when he talked about the world millions of years ago, who loved him by sharing the information he held within his own mind.

He and his dad had understood each other, in ways that no one else did but his mother, and Chris was beginning to see that it had been her determination to know him that had fueled his mother’s actions, her endless support. The same way Jake and Nat were determined, and stubborn, and kept trying even when they got it wrong.

Everyone gets it wrong sometimes, but that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean they aren’t trying.

Maybe he got it wrong.

“He never broke up with your mom, but oh, he thought about it. You know, when he came to work with us, he had a plan. But plans… they have a way of going off the road and into a ditch. He worried he couldn’t make it work, he worried that it would be too hard for Ronnie to be with him and have a child, too.”

Ronnie.

Chris’s throat closes up, and he closes his eyes.

All right, Tris, I got you these so the noise won’t bother you so much. We’re going to have a good day at the parade, okay?

“Her family never liked him, for one. That’s a rough spot to be in, I think.” Mr. Malley is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee and watching the rain fall. “Ronnie didn’t see it that way, of course. That woman was a freight train and God help anyone who got in the way. My late wife, God rest her soul, helped Ronnie with some things when her own family wouldn’t. She’d come over big as a house, eyes sparkling. You were a kicker, she used to say, kept her up all hours of the night. Just a girl, still, your mom, but she had a steel spine and she wasn’t going to live any life but the one she wanted. But your dad… he worried, that it would be too hard on her.”

“Having, um, having me would?”

“No. Having him. Paul was a smart man, you know. He knew his job would be trouble. He gave her chance after chance to go, if she wanted. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? She didn’t.”

Chris looks at his phone, lying on the little table in front of the couch. There’s some text messages he hasn’t looked at. Couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to.

“Maybe he, he, he didn’t want to keep hurting her,” Chris whispers.

“Hurt’s a part of living, lad, take it from someone who’s given out his fair share of it and more.” Mr. Malley hums. Outside, a car pulls up, almost bumping the curb. “Perhaps you’re meant to separate from your young partner, Tristan, perhaps not. It’s like I told your dad, way back in the Stone Age. You choose if you love someone, to be sure, but they choose if they love you back. You can’t decide that for them.”

“But, but I’m-... but, but I’ve been… what I am, it’s-”

“I know what you’ve been made to do,” Mr. Malley says gently. “You don’t have to explain, lad. We knew.”

Chris’s lips tremble. He doesn’t want his coffee any longer. He sets it down next to his phone, on the little table. The baristas talk quietly about a date that one went on the night before, there’s a low sound of machinery. It all filters into Chris’s mind, a cacophony of sound he picks apart or doesn’t. Right now it’s hard for him to think around all the sound, but he tries. “Then, then, then why… if you knew, um, why… didn’t you-”

He can’t finish the question.

Why didn’t you save me from it?

“We couldn’t. It’s shite, is what it is, but we couldn’t. And by the time we could, you were with that nice young man who you live with now. I’m sorry for the time you lost, Tristan, and sorrier still I can’t give it back to you somehow. You’re your dad’s child through and through, but you’ve got your mother in you, too. You know what Ronnie did when there was something she couldn’t get through?”

Chris turns to look at this man, who knew his mother and father in ways he never could have. He swallows. “What?”

“She went over it. Or around it. Or blew it to smithereens and went through the wreckage. Whatever it took. They tried to kick you out of school when you were a wean, she fought them ‘til they realized they’d never win against her. They tried to tell her you wouldn’t read, she told them to go, well, to go sit on a thing or two and not to tell her what her boy could or couldn’t do.”

Chris thinks of Nat sitting next to him on the floor, patiently encouraging him to keep trying to turn the letters into words, despite his headaches, his tears, his certainty he’d never get reading back.

You will, Chris. I know you will. Just keep fighting for it. They won’t take anything from you forever, I won’t let them and you won’t let them either.

Don’t let them keep you from yourself.

“They told her she’d never have a happy life, having a wee one so young, but she built that happy life anyway with her own two hands and dared anyone to try and knock it down.”

“Someone… some, someone did, though.” The gunshots, his mother’s eyes going dull and blank, her whispered I love you so much, Tris…

“Sure. Yes.” Mr. Malley’s expression goes serious, and sad. “But it took breaking into her house at midnight and bullets to stop her. You’ve got plenty of your mom in you, lad. Plenty of your dad, too, he was always a stubborn git himself. Do you love this person you’ve broken up with? Hm?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation, even though his voice shakes and his heart races. “I, I, I do. That’s, that’s why I don’t want to-to keep hurting them by, by, by by being messed up from what, um, from what happened to me, I don’t… I don’t want to keep h-hurting them-”

“Let them decide how they feel about that,” Mr. Malley says, voice gentle and low. “Plenty of people are hurt and find their way forward together after.”

Jake and Kauri, laughing in the kitchen as Jake spins Kauri around in a circle, dips him backwards, presses a kiss to his nose that has him giggling.

Antoni at the stove, sighing but with a smile on his face, watching them. Being pulled into the hug not quite against his will, all three of them laughing then. Kauri bright and sparkling, Jake a deeper harmony, Antoni soft and genuine.

“Maybe it won’t last, maybe it will - but don’t let a hard past keep you from the people who love you. I’ve seen many ruined by believing you may only be loved if you’ve no pain inside you. We’ve all got pain, lad. Carrying it together’s a sight easier than trying to go it alone.”

From the car parked right outside, an elderly man unfolds himself, opening an umbrella to shield from the driving rain. Mr. Malley looks up and smiles. “Ah, right on time, must be ten sharp. That’ll be Cilly. D’you remember Cilly, lad?”

Chris looks as the man shuffles his way inside, pushing open the door. The little bell over the top jingles and the baristas cut off their conversation, standing up straight to call out a familiar greeting to a regular customer.

He squints.

“Not… not very well,” He confesses, a little ashamed.

“Ah, well, that’s not a problem. He and I’ve known each other a long time. I was an angry man for a while after my wife died, you know. Seemed a crime that I should outlive her, when Christa deserved to live to a hundred and six if she so wished. Cilly helped me carry that anger when I needed to be angry, and he helped me put it down later on.”

He gives a wave to the man - to Cilly - who looks at Chris and then back to Mr. Malley with clear surprise, then heads towards the counter to make his own order.

“Be angry, Tristan,” Mr. Malley says, a little heavily, leaning over to him on the leg as he pushes himself, with a grunt of effort to his feet. “You may need your anger, in the days ahead. But if you’ve a love to help you carry it, who wants to help you carry it and who will be angry right there with you, and you love them back… well… don’t let the wickedness of others keep you from the happiness you could have. You’ll be a poorer person for it.”

Mr. Malley walks away without another word, leaving Chris by himself again on the couch, tapping at his stomach, thinking. He keeps looking at his phone, thinking about all the texts he hasn’t read, the way he’s refused to call them back when Laken kept trying to reach him.

He leans over to reach out.

He stops, hand hovering just above the plastic with its colorful case, the sensory sticker on the back of it that Laken had bought him.

What happened after all the dinosaurs died, Tristan?

I, I, I don’t know, Dad.

Trick question, buddy. They didn’t. Paul’s eyes, bright and vibrant, gesturing to a bird in a tree nearby. Nothing stays the same and lives forever except alligators and sharks.

Right because, because they’re perfect.

Exactly. Dinosaurs died, sure, but they didn’t die, too. They just changed to suit the world after the one they knew how to live in was gone. Imagine, Tris.

Imagine what?

Imagine the world destroyed and in darkness, buried in ash. Everything you know is gone, ruined, wrecked beyond repair. And imagine… imagine that you learn to eat seeds and little mice instead of big animals and leaves. Imagine you become smaller and smaller. Imagine that your arms turn to wings, that your bones hollow out to carry you higher above the piles of ash that turn to grass and to life again.

What? I, I, I don’t, um, I don’t understand-... Dad, um, I don’t, I don’t... know what you mean.

Right, sorry. Just... imagine you’re a dinosaur.

He’d laughed. Okay.

Now imagine your dinosaur family is gone, and you have to become something else. What do you become? Being a dinosaur means dying, right?

Um. Right.

So imagine that you look at death and say, no thanks. No, you’re not going to be over. This isn’t it for you. Even a meteor the size of the entire sky can’t end you. Instead of dying out, no, you look at history, at geological time, and you say…

Paul had trailed off.

Say what? What, what do I say?

Don’t tell your mom but-... you look at the end of the world and you say... fuck this, I’m going to learn to fly.

Chris picks up his phone, finds Laken’s name and photo in his contacts. It’s a photo of the two of them together, Chris and Laken smiling and laughing as he smears whipped cream on their nose and they smear a cross of fluffy white into his forehead.

He dials.

They pick up on the third ring.

“Chris? Oh my God, Chris, are you okay? Are you-... are you okay, baby?” Their voice shakes, and he closes his eyes.

This time, he lets the tears slip out and run down his face. “H-Hey, Laken, um, I, I, I-... I’m… I wondered if you, um, if you could, uh… are you busy?”

“Am I-... Chris, where are you?”

“The, um, the coffeeshop-”

“I’m on my way. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

At their usual table, at their usual time, Cilly and Sean Malley start to talk amicably about the week ahead. But he keeps an eye on Paul’s boy, where he speaks a few sentences and then hangs up the phone, looking out the window at the rain.

It’s twenty minutes before a new car pulls up outside, and umbrella-less, the partner Sean has seen with Tristan before comes racing inside, a blur of black clothes and black hair and brown skin. Paul’s boy stands, and his partner throws themself at him so hard the two of them fall backwards onto the couch.

They start laughing, and shortly after to cry.

Their hands come up to either side of Tristan’s face, and they lean forward to kiss the scar on his forehead. He can’t hear what they say to each other, but he doesn’t need to.

Ronnie, he thinks, would like this spitfire person that Paul’s boy is so in love with.

That’s one wrong put right, at least for the moment.

One more to go.

Sean smiles and sips his cooling coffee.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Just Go On from Kimmy Schmidt

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

Hot and bothered Amy in just a Sarong

(oh why hello there, non-kiddo story, mhm 😏)

-*-

Needless to say, the second, Holt-free week of their honeymoon is spent far more the way they'd expected. Sure, they also caught up on all the romantic activities that their captain interrupted, but the places they've seen the most, in upranking order, were the pool, the beach, and their bedroom. Not that either of them is going to complain about it - Jake has actually managed a decent tan, helped by his wife (his wife!!! he keeps thinking) and her rigorous regiment of sunlotion re-application so he doesn't burn like he normally does. Amy's skin, of course, radiates beauty like the sun itself, and he's made sure to tell her that at least once every day. It usually gets him at least a good, intense kiss.

That said, Amy's regiment does mean they have to re-stock sun lotion every two days, and he's told her he'd be out for a quick trip to the little shop of their resort about... thirty minutes ago.

The shop was closed for a reason (it probably said somewhere on the paper taped to the door, but that's not really information he'll retain and they both know it), so he ventured out of the resort, following google maps to a local pharmacy. He was still figuring out how to say 'Hello I need the strongest protection against the sun you have' in Spanish without the usual help of his wife (his wife!!! again), when he realised the street he was on was filled with little shops and boutiques Amy would love. He spent some time snapping pictures of storefronts and interesting items while making his way to the pharmacy and, surprisingly, getting some lotion without any troubles (seems like Mexican pharmacists know what to expect when the whitest guy in their country steps in with a broken Hola!).

Anyways. Back to the important point - he's been gone thirty minutes instead of the promised five, and he doesn't even realise it as he turns the keys to their room.

"Ames, you gotta see this- there's some amazing shops around the corner-"

"You said five minutes." Her voice comes back from the bathroom, and it doesn't sound disappointed, but there's definitely a tinge of it.

"I'm sorry." He says as quickly as he can, because a disappointed wife (wife!!!) on their honeymoon is really not something he wants. "The shop was closed, and I ended up downtown, and like I said there's these boutiques-"

"I've been waiting half an hour for you." And there's not any disappointment anymore in her sultry voice as she walks through the bathroom door and slightly leans against it. At least, Jake doesn't think he hears any of it anymore, but then again his senses are definitely not focusing on that. Or on anything, really, except for his wife's appearance (his wife!!!).

She's wearing a Sarong he remembers her buying from some beach stall a few days ago, bright orange and red colours shining against her even darker tanned skin. It's wrapped and tied in that convoluted way the vendor had tried to explain, that she probably looked up on Pinterest later to get it right. It looks beautiful and radiant and unbelievably sexy.

It's also very, very - sheer, Jake thinks is the right word, not quite see-through because of the colours, but more than enough for his brain to short-circuit, because she's definitely wearing that Sarong - and nothing else. He can see her curves where it clings, especially the way she leans on the door, her perfectly shaped breasts and her hips, one of her thighs slipping through the open slit of it. He can see her already stiff nipples tent the fabric, and if he looks closely enough, he can even see a hint of the curly hair he loves so much, and what hides directly underneath it.

His swallow is clearly audible in the otherwise quiet room.

She pushes off of the doorframe and slowly walks towards him, and he feels frozen to the spot.

"I was getting ready for the beach", she pouts, "but then my husband simply disappeared for thirty minutes."

You were going to the public beach in that?, he wants to tease her, but even in his shocked state his brain is smart enough to keep him from saying anything that stupid.

"Won't happen again." He manages instead, and it seems to be a good thing to say, because she's smiling - but he notes the mischievous glint in her eyes as well.

"Oh, I'll make sure of that." She tries to circle around him, but he's regained enough of his willpower to grab her instead, pull her close by her waist and slide one hand under the wonderfully sheer fabric to palm her perfect butt.

"How?" He asks before leaning down for a kiss, but she pushes him back with a finger to his lips. He pinches her bum in response, but even that doesn't make her break.

"Gonna tie you to the bed so you can't just run off again." She whispers instead. "With my Sarong."

"You'll have to take it off for that." His hand travels further up, towards the small of her back to hold her closer, pushing the thin cloth up with it. She grins and bites her lip.

"Oh, that's definitely your job." She whispers before he finally gets his kiss, and he's sure that if he doesn't figure out what knots she's tied the damn thing with in less than a minute, he's going to rip it off her instead.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #almost nsfw? I dunno? nsft because of female-presenting tatas?#ficlet #my writing

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letsperaltiago · 3 years

Text

a merry little christmas

Welcome to (once again belated) door four of four!

Behind my Christmas calendar’s fourth door is a... baby’s first christmas, pure fluff oneshot ♥️

Summary: It's Baby's First Christmas and Jake and Amy are taking it all in - both presents and tiny surprises from their son. Pure domestic fluff for days.

Rating: G

Words: 2.2k

Read on AO3 here

Right then and there keeping a straight face, or just anything that looks somewhat close to it, is beyond impossible.

It’s Christmas morning, six AM to be more precise, and the still rather new, little family of three is slowly making their way through the presents waiting for them under this years’ Christmas tree. As a matter of fact, it’s rather Jake opening gifts meanwhile Amy is on the couch with their two-month-old son eating his second breakfast - that is if his previous meal at three AM can be considered breakfast. Jake likes to call those meals Midnight Mac Snacks.

“They really need to communicate more,” Amy chuckles, which causes her chest to jolt just the tiniest bit, alas apparently enough that it earns her a grumpy little cry from Mac to which she immediately reacts by stroking and repositioning the tiny infant’s head. “No need to complain, Mr. Mac. Mommy and daddy are just having some fun.”

“He’s bitter because all he got for Christmas is ‘Baby’s first Christmas’-ornaments.” Jake hasn’t stopped laughing since he opened the third ornament, from auntie Roro, which came after uncle Charles’ ornament. Upon unpacking this second ornament, from Charles, matching the first ornament from Holt, it didn’t cause much worry. The new parents simply saw it as a matching coincidence and they’d just keep both. Although upon unpacking a third one, they should’ve known: it was a perfect, hilarious 99th precinct-disaster.

Fast forward to present time, Jake is sat on the living room floor with not three but six ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornaments for his son. Sure, they’re all different styles and designs but Jake can’t help but laugh. In retrospect, he and Amy had told the squad that baby Mac didn’t need anything grand for Christmas as he was still so small and had everything he needed so far. They told their friends to save the money and spoil Mac for next Christmas, a Christmas he’d understand much better than the current. Turns out great minds think alike and everyone’s creative take on Mac’s gift had been the same.

“It’s kind of cute that they all had the same idea.” Mac has gone back to quietly suckling on Amy’s breast, allowing her time to chime in on perhaps this Christmas’ funniest moment yet. It’s too soon to declare it the funniest as they’re headed to a huge Santiago Christmas-dinner in the evening and anything can happen there.

For Christmas morning though they very early on, already before Amy gave birth, decided to stay home as they knew it’s what they’d prefer with their very new son. Sitting there, in the moment, looking at gifts from their incredible friends and Mac quietly eating in the lights coming from the Christmas tree, they’re both thankful to have made that choice. Sure, Santiago-Christmas morning was an event that you didn’t want to miss out on but this year, with very few hours of sleep behind them and vomit on both clothes and hair, it’s nice to be able to soak in the sweet surrender of their little trinity.

“We do have the best friends.” He picks up the ornaments, hanging them on his fingers to put on display for his wife. “What do we do with these?” A sheepish smile replaces the goofy grin from before.

“I don’t know…”

The doubt on Amy’s face, biting her lip, thinking hard, is clear as day which is understandable since Jake himself doesn’t hold the answer for their little dilemma. Giving them back to their respective giver is not an option - what would Holt do with a ‘Baby’s First Christmas Ornament’? - and getting a refund also seems too cold. Fact is that each of their friends has had the same idea: they wanted to mark and somehow be a part of Mac’s first Christmas. Jake and Amy can’t, nor want to, take that away from their son nor their friends. All in all, there seems to be no good solution but one: keep all six ornaments.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake cocks an eyebrow, implicitly suggesting what his wife is already thinking.

“If you’re thinking that we should keep them all and put them on the tree, then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking.”

At just the right time, almost as if he’s agreeing, Mac lets go of his mom’s nipple before letting out a small, hazy gurgling sound. A sound he’s never made before. Both parents freeze on the spot, forgetting all and everything about the ornament-issue.

“Did you hear that?” Amy asks, making it sound as if she doesn’t believe her ears and a second opinion is needed. Having studied all and everything for her first child’s arrival, everything this could possibly imply, Amy shouldn’t be surprised that her two-month-old is finally introducing his first small noises. The fact resides very clearly on the Milestones to Expect-index, page 2, in her ‘Two month’-binder. Yet here she is, Jake right there with her, surprised by this new accomplishment of her newborn - one of many accomplishments that she both loves and, even two months in, still is a bit nervous about discovering as she just rather know her baby fully by heart already. On those occasions where Mac’s changing, something she swears happens daily, makes her feel uneasy as if she doesn’t know him at all, she holds onto Jake’s reasoning: Some tests can’t be studied for.

And no matter how much she hates that fact, Amy knows her husband is right and she does love him for reminding her whenever she happens to fall down a spiral of doubt and frantically tries to grasp for the control that lies within facts, books, and lists.

Jake jumps from his spot on the floor as if it were lava and falls into place beside her on the couch where he can hover over his incredible son.

“I did but I didn’t fully realize where it came from right away, but oh my gosh, Ames! Our son is a genius!”

“Perhaps… Or simply in accordance with average-”

“No, Amy - a genius! Like his parents.”

Her husband looking as if he could burst any second, a firecracker of sorts and there’s no stopping the explosion, Amy hurries to put down her before lifted shirt and places Mac against her shoulder. Here she hopes he can both burp and, hopefully, make another glorious sound for them to be proud of. Jake leans in as though he and Mac are to exchange secrets behind Amy’s back and the milk-drunk infant, unable to control a whole lot, waves around his arm and just so happens to grab Jake’s index finger. During these first two months of Mac’s life, this has happened a few times already, the first time being at the hospital which caused Jake to cry happy tears Still, every single time, Jake feels reaffirmed by the fact that creating this tiny human being is one of his best decisions ever - that and telling Amy Santiago that he wished something could happen between them - romantic stylez.

“C’mon, mister. Show daddy how you talk.” Jake coos even though the little man of the moment seems far from interested in or bothered by his parents’ admiration and swooning over his new talent. His mommy patting his back does feel good though, especially when it helps a burp escape and Jake, of course, has to laugh because Mac is truly and fiercely his son. “Now that’s talking!”

“Not what I had in mind but nice to know he’s burped.” Amy chimes in and replaces the soft patting with small loving strokes, hoping to soothe her boy to sleep as the next step in his ‘eat, burp, sleep’-routine - even if Amy wishes Mac would make another sound. Just to confirm that she wasn’t hallucinating before.

“Make a sound for mommy, baby. Just a tiny one.” Amy takes her turn cooing a plea but it happens to be very much in vain.

“Aaand he’s dozed off,” Jake chuckles quietly whilst using his thumb to caress the tiny fist still wrapped around his index fingers, a fist that doesn’t let go even though the owner is already fast asleep with a mix of drool and milk caught in the corner of the gaping mouth.

“That was fast.”

“I don’t blame him. Life is exhausting.” Jake is carefully pecking his son’s head covered by thing, soft, black hair and even though Mac on her shoulder blocks the view, Amy smiles and wonders how she got to lucky with these two boys.

“Bedtime?” Amy asks, expectant of confirmation of whether or not Mac is far enough gone to be moved without waking up and throwing a tantrum that’ll mean they’ll have to spend another half hour or so lulling him back to sleep.

“I sure wouldn’t mind. I did prepare breakfast though.” It comes out mid-yawn, proving Jake’s point further, as he nods his head in the direction of the pancakes, courtesy of Jake, and hot cocoa, courtesy of the local bakery that has blessed their lives by opening at five AM, waiting for them in the kitchen.

“Not you, silly. McClane. You and I are definitely having that delicious cocoa. The smell of it has been tempting me since I sat down to feed.”

They mostly call him Mac. Mac or a thousand other things like Mr. Mac, Magic Mac, baby, monkey - one time, macadamia nut - and the options are limitless and renewed every day. Jake doesn’t know for sure but this might be the reason why the full name McClane being said, the context being that it’s his son’s name, makes him feel butterflies in his belly. Either that or because he still can’t believe they named their son that. Perhaps it’s a bit of both reasons.

“Still can’t believe you agreed to that name.”

“Must’ve been a moment of weakness for me. I was pregnant and delusional.”

Amy teases and proceeds to carefully remove sleeping Mac from his spot on her shoulder, relocating him to the safety of her cradling arms.

“Delusional from the incredible round of sexy timez we had just prior to picking his name.”

“Jake,” she scolds as if the sleeping baby, which doesn’t even grasp the concept of speaking yet, were to be scarred by their explicit flirting.

“What?”

Amy’s already up on her feet, heads down the hall and into their bedroom with Jake close on her heels. “I remember it so vividly.” Jake points to their bed. “We were right here, post incredible sex, and we got talking about baby names because a new suggestion had stroked your mind right before I came in and wooed you with my good, amazingly hot looks.” Amy’s head whips around from where’s she’s just focused on placing Mac in his cradle, double-checking that he’s still asleep, now displaying a cocked brow and overall expression that challenges his recollections of that conclusive night. Defeat hits him and his shoulders drop with a sigh.

“Okay, you were seven months pregnant and going through a particularly horny phase - which I, by the way, loved - and I, being a dutiful husband, couldn’t decline your explicit requests. But I do still stand by the fact that I boinked my way to the name McClane.”

“Oh my god,” Amy groans, partly in reaction to her husband, partly in reaction to her sore back making an appearance when she straightens up from tugging in the baby. “Stop besmearing our child’s name. I can still change my mind.”

“I’m right though.” In the meantime, Jake has approached his wife and wraps his arms around her. Pulling her closer, back to chest, and she instantly relaxes under the pecks he places on her neck. “And it’s an amazing name for an amazing little human.”

They smile in unison as they admire the life they created, carelessly and contently sleeping Christmas morning away, before them. Wrapped up in her husband’s arms and their perfect little son to look at, a fuzzy feeling that is way beyond and greater than happiness flows through Amy’s veins. The pecks to her sweaty and tired-feeling skin pick back up where they left off, systematically and how he knows she likes it, going around her neck and shoulder-area.

“I really wanna give in to how inappropriately horny you’ve suddenly made me, but…” she trails off with a sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about the hot cocoa.” He finishes her sentence and the pecks are replaced by a muffled chuckle that tickles her skin. “It’s okay, Ames. I’m right there with you.”

“Thank God,” she groans.

“Hot cocoa and a Christmas movie we can fall back asleep to?”

This suggestion of Jake’s that will allow Amy to give into her tiredness is what she’s wanted to hear all morning.

“Sounds perfect. Grab the baby monitor?” She turns around to follow him back to their kitchen only to see him already holding the gadget with a tired, knowing smile plastered across his face and to Amy, even with his messy curls and shirt clad with stains of baby-vomit, her husband looks absolutely perfect.

Baby’s First Christmas might just be her favorite Christmas so far.

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endlessly-searching-for-you · 3 years

Text

Happier Times

During my Christmas break, I binge read Endless Summer. Just as I expected, I fell in love with my two favorite characters all over again. And since I probably had too many marshmallows last night (hey, it’s been 2020, we all deserve a treat, right?), I came up with this fic idea. It’s sickly sweet and fluffy and cheesy and everything in between. Also, probability? Never heard of her.

Be warned and enjoy :-)

Here’s to happier times: stay healthy and safe! May 2021 be everything 2020 wasn’t.

Book: Endless Summer

Pairing: Jake x MC

Warnings: none, just sweetness and fluff (get some toothpaste ready)

Word count: ~2600 (10 minutes reading time)

The house was haunted.

Well, it was either that, or Taylor was losing her mind.

Between the two, she would rather have a ghost.

It all started innocently, with a missing laundry basket. At first, Taylor thought she left it in the garden, but it wasn’t there. She searched the house from top to bottom, but it wasn’t there either. “It couldn’t just get up and walk away! Have you taken it?” She asked her husband, but Jake shrugged and turned away, murmuring something she’d rather not hear.

It was a long shot, anyway. Jake never did laundry, not unless he really had to. He’d rather scrub the floors or wash windows. If she had to guess, it was because you didn’t have to do it as often, but she chose not to complain. She wasn’t a big fan of the household chores, either.

Next was her favorite coffee cup.

Taylor bought a set of six identical cups when they moved in, but this one was special. A little chipped and faded from years of washing, and still her favorite. Every afternoon, she would sit in her spot by the window and have a coffee in it. It was her “me time,” as sacred as it was short.

Gritting her teeth, she opened the fridge to grab a snack, but to her surprise, the food was also gone. Well, most of it. It was easier to explain——she didn’t know what it was with men and food, but she already got used to the sight of empty shelves. She only hoped he had the decency to restock it.

“Do you need anything? I’m going to the store.” Jake peeked through the door as if reading her mind, and she gestured hopelessly at the fridge. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He shot her a dazzling smile and left before she had a chance to say anything.

“Wait! Have you seen...” She uttered finally, but the loud click of the front door told her it was too late. With a sigh, she plopped in her chair. Coffeeless. It certainly didn’t help brighten her mood.

“At least the weather is great,” she whispered to herself. That much was true. The rains finally stopped, leaving fresh, crisp air behind. The sun was already hanging low, but she could still see stray rays fighting their way through lush greenery, and the blue sky matched the color of her husband’s eyes.

She smiled at her thoughts. So many things have changed throughout the years, but the way Jake looked at her didn’t. The warmth she felt inside when she thought of him didn’t, either.

And if she had a say in the matter, it wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

Speaking of going anywhere, though—they could take a break and go to the beach. Sand would probably be still damp, and ocean waters cold, but it wouldn’t matter. They had a soft spot for the beaches from the very beginning. It was time to add another happy memory to their collection. Tomorrow, she decided, checking the weather forecast.

When she climbed to the top shelf, she wasn’t even surprised her bag and blanket were no longer among the other beach items. It was just her luck today. Cursing under her breath, she slammed the door a little too hard, summoning a cloud of ancient dust sleeping on the wardrobe.

This day just kept getting better and better.

Huffing and sneezing, Taylor reached the bathroom and stared in disbelief. The laundry basket she looked for the entire morning was back where it’s always been. Adding insult to injury, it looked like it was laughing at her anguish, mocking her with hundreds of its tiny eye-shaped holes. She ignored the insolent box and turned on her heel, trying to ignore the trembling hands.

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “Nothing’s happening. I’m just tired. I need to go to bed earlier. Or maybe have a drink. Yes, that’s a good start.” Mumbling under her breath, she went back to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. Then closed it and opened it again. And again. And again.

The more she looked inside, the more the wine bottle wasn’t there.

It was the last straw.

A sudden cry startled Jake. What on Earth happened? It didn’t sound entirely human. Without hesitation, he ran to the kitchen only to see his wife, as human as she ever was, waving an angry (and a little... dusty?) fist at the furniture. He tried to retreat silently, but she turned and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You! Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Huh?” He looked her up and down. “You mean, more than usual?” He tried to joke, but under her death glare, the words got stuck in his throat.

“I keep losing things,” Taylor sniffled. “First the laundry basket, then my favorite cup—”

He wrapped his hands around her and whispered so low she couldn’t hear him, “Good riddance.”

“—and now even the wine is gone!”

“I’m sure we’ll find it,” he tried to cheer her up. “Just maybe not right now?”

“Why not?”

“You deserve a break.” He stroked her back. “And, uh, a shower. What were you doing, anyway?”

“Don’t ask. I think the universe hates me. At least today.”

“Well, I know exactly how to cheer you up.” Jake beamed. “I’m taking you on a date. I already asked our neighbors, they don’t mind having more kids tonight, so we’re free. You know, just you and me, like in ancient times?”

“Come on, we’re definitely not ancient!” She laughed in protest. “But you’re right, it’s been a while. Give me five minutes. Where are we going?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Taylor felt the car coming to a stop. She still had no idea where they were going—just before they left, Jake asked her to close her eyes and stop peeking, and to her own surprise, she obliged. Now that he held her hand and helped her out, she didn’t even need to open them to know. There was only one place with that smell and salty breeze.

“Just in time to watch the sunset, eh?” She turned to Jake with a smile that quickly turned into a scowl when she noticed the bag he was holding. And all the missing items sticking out of it, her favorite mug and wine bottle included. “Don’t tell me it was you.”

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad.”

She shook her head. “You could have told me.”

“That would spoil the surprise,” he murmured apologetically.

“But why my mug?”

“It was on the front. My bad.”

“And the laundry basket?”

“I forgot where you put this thing,” he swung the bag.

Taylor looked at her husband, trying to keep her dignity, but the laugh she kept inside finally broke free. It started small, with shaking shoulders, but before she knew it, she lost control entirely and doubled over, grabbing on to Jake for support.

“That was... something else,” she wheezed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Sorry. Thank you. It definitely was a surprise.”

“Mm-hmm.” He grinned and nodded at the blazing sky. “What do you think?”

“Ten out of ten. Just look at the colors,” Taylor sighed in admiration, draping the blanket over their shoulders and snuggling to his side. “Also, great company. And food” —she curiously eyed a flattened sandwich before taking a small bite— “probably not poisonous. Overall, would recommend.”

Jake looked at her with his signature half-smile, and she felt the familiar warmth spreading throughout her body. She raised her hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, then pulled him in for a kiss and nestled her head on his shoulder with a happy little sigh.

Just as she was drifting off into sleep, she heard his low voice.

“I got a letter today.”

“Oh?”

“From the court.”

“Oh.” She gasped, any remnants of drowsiness gone in an instant. A while ago—a really, really, really long while ago—they decided to try and free Jake from his charges. Their friends helped—actually, they did most of the work, from Aleister hiring lawyers to Zahra unearthing real evidence—but they never got any response.

Not until now.

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to read it.” Jake admitted, smiling bleakly at the thick letter he fished out of his pocket. “I’m feeling like the Schrödinger’s cat right now. Both guilty and innocent until we open it. It’s funny how I couldn’t wait for it, and now I’m not even sure if I want to know.”

“Are-are you—” She stuttered, trailing a finger over the envelope. “Are you afraid you won’t be able to come home?”

“No,” he sighed. “It’s not that. The truth is, it’s not my home. Not anymore. My home is here. With you. No matter what they say, I am home.”

“Oh, Jake,” She wrapped her hands around his waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Princess.” He ran his fingers along her cheek and tipped her chin up for a kiss.

Taylor hesitantly pulled out of the embrace. “Well then, if you don’t read it, I will. Worst case scenario, everything stays as it is, right?”

She tore the envelope and unfolded the letter. Despite her apparent bravado, Jake could see her hands were trembling. She turned page after page, and when she finally raised her head, he couldn’t read her face. It was completely blank. Nothing, nil, nada.

“Well?” He blurted out. Deep inside, he felt his heart drop. It wasn’t right. His wife wasn’t good at hiding her emotions. She would smile, her starry eyes would twinkle with joy, she would never stare at him like that if the letter brought good news. His shoulders slumped, and he stared into the distance, blinking away tears. He could feel Taylor’s arms wrapped around him, her shaking shoulders and hot tears soaking through his shirt, but he dared not look.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know it was a possibility. Only now, when his luck took a turn for the better, he wasn’t seriously considering it.

He would get over it. He had mastered “getting over it.”

Just not now.

“Jake? Do you hear me?”

He looked at his wife, dumbfounded. Her whole face lit up. It didn’t make any sense, but she was beaming.

“You’re free,” she whispered. “You’re free.”

“What?!” He grabbed the papers from her hand and scanned line after line, not understanding half of the jargon. Still, the crucial sentence, written in bold, was not open to interpretations. All charges were dropped.

He was no longer a wanted man.

He wanted to shout, sing, dance, everything at once—but all he could do was stare at the letter.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “I thought—You looked so—”

“I was shocked,” Taylor smiled apologetically. “I couldn’t believe it either. I shouldn’t be surprised, I knew you didn’t do anything, but—oh, you have no idea how happy for you I am right now!”

She jumped into Jake’s arms, throwing him off balance, and they both tumbled into the sand, giggling like a pair of teenagers.

“I just... can’t... believe... it,” he muttered, stopping to place a kiss on her lips after each word. “I was sure we lost.”

“But we won.”

“Yeah.” He helper her rise to her feet. “We should head back home, then. Pack our bags. I’ll get the plane ready, so we can start tomorrow morning.”

“So much for ‘my home is wherever you are,’” she let out an exaggerated sigh followed by a giggle.

“I mean, I don’t want to go back there forever. For a few days, a week.”

“For as long as you need.”

They stared into each others’ eyes for what felt like an eternity, even if only a few seconds passed.

“Can you pack my suit?” Jake finally broke the silence. “And a nice dress, and... you know, fancy things?” He waved his hand hopelessly, and Taylor only raised her brows in response. He whispered something into her ear, and her eyes grew wide.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But I swear, Jacob Lucas McKenzie, if you keep anything, and I mean literally anything, from me ever again...!”

***

Jake fixed his tie for the millionth time. There was no point in denying it—he was nervous. And it wasn’t even his wedding.

It’s just been too long, and—

“Ah, to hell with it,” he muttered and raised his hand to knock, only the door swung open before he had a chance to do it.

“There you are!” A tall brunette in a frilly bridesmaid gown pulled him inside, clearly relieved. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, stealing a look at the bride, who unsuccessfully tried to tame a stray lock.

She’s all grown up now, he realized with surprise. He half-expected to see a scrawny redheaded teenager, always at odds with the world. That’s how he still remembered and imagined her—except it was well over a decade ago. The young woman he saw right now looked happy and self-assured, and, well, beautiful. He couldn’t not admit otherwise without taking a dig at his own looks, and he was rather proud of it.

“What took you so long?” The bride finally gave up on her hair and extended her arm without as much as looking at him.

“Er, it’s a long story. I don’t think we have time for that.”

Rebecca turned with a gasp of surprise. She expected her cousin, and not her prodigal older brother. Nobody expected him to show up at her wedding, not after he disappeared without a word all those years ago. To be honest, most people probably even forgot she had a brother, the black sheep of the family.

She didn't.

Jake could see all the conflicting emotions on her face. He was glad when she finally settled on a smile and flung her hands around his neck, hugging him really tight like she tried to make up for the lost years.

“This was for everything,” she said with a smile, pulling back. “And this” —Jake staggered back when she slapped him across the face—“is for everything else.”

“I guess I deserved it,” he agreed, massaging his jaw. “Don’t worry, that’s how we show love in our family. You may go!” He shooed away the flock of bridesmaids.

“It’s been a while, Becks.” He smiled softly at his sister, and she snorted in return.

“You tell me!”

“I’m sorry. Really sorry.” He squeezed her hand and stared into her face, not unlike his own. “I never meant for any of this to happen. But it did, and I’m sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

“I already did. But tell me one thing. Is it safe for you to come here?” Rebecca beamed at his nod and looped her arm through his. “We have to talk. But please, not now. I don’t want them to think I changed my mind.”

“If you want to run, just give me a word. I have some experience, you know.”

“God, no.” She laughed. “No running today, I promise.”

As they walked down the aisle, he kept glancing at his sister and ignoring the guests’ gasps and murmurs. Her gaze was fixed on her fiancee, who in turn was grinning sheepishly at the altar. Funny, how he never took her for the marrying kind. But then nobody took him, either, and there he was.

Maybe you just needed the right person. At the right time.

Because he was sure you didn’t need the gossiping aunts, no matter what customs said.

“Thank you,” she said when they stopped. “I’m happy you’re back.”

Jake smiled at his sister and her fiancee.

“So am I. Good luck, you two.”

He resisted the urge to wave to the crowd and instead darted to where he noticed his own right person. And as he held her warm hand, for the first time ever, he finally felt all the puzzle pieces were in place.

He was, after all, a lucky man.

***

@choicesficwriterscreations :)

#endless summer #choices endless summer #jake x mc #jake x f!mc #Jake McKenzie #fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices es #long post #fluff #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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seagreen-meets-grey · 3 years

Text

The Last Slide: Ch. 4

here we go, @feeisamarshmallow, with the final part. come talk to me about it if you like! :)

Read on ao3

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Chapters: 1 2 3 4

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Jake’s head is spinning from all these revelations.

He’s still at the old apartment.

He’s tied to a chair that isn’t theirs.

The door opening earlier must have been Mr. Davies coming back to lock up the place.

If it was Amy, he doesn’t dare to think his captor got to her.

His captor.

The smell of fresh paint tickles the inside of his nose.

He hopes he won’t have to sneeze because that would hurt. A lot.

His ribs ache with every breath he takes, the pain in his stomach makes cold sweat break out over his neck and back.

He was alone in the apartment, speed-reliving his favorite memories one last time, when… The large bump on the back of his head clues him in on the rest.

“I know you know what happened,” Darius hisses through clenched teeth. “How did he do it? What’s his fucking plan?”

Jake has so many questions himself. For a moment, he was shocked to see Erickson, the pool attendant, loom over him dangerously. But then it began to make sense, in this weird way. His detective gut felt it – along with another bolt of pain. What he misses now is the rest of the puzzle. But it seems like Darius is searching for it as well.

“Dude,” Jake starts, which is probably a mistake, but he can’t stop himself and continues. “Let’s calm down and review some facts. I don’t know what you know. And in order to tell you what I know, I have to know what it is exactly that you want to know. You know?”

Darius looks as if he’s unsure if Jake’s making fun of him. The shadows cast on his face by the lamp make his features appear eerie, his skin pale, eyes hard and almost black.

“So,” Jake continues, “I guess you want to know something about the case. Right?”

“Did I not make myself clear?!” Darius’ eyes glisten angrily in the light.

Jake bites his lip. Obviously, the communication here isn’t flowing. He’s talking to a wall.

“How. Did. Kirkwell. Do. It.” The other man spits with every word.

“Ah, see, now we’re getting somewhere. You want to know how your boss did… Did what, exactly?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, cop!”

Jake is almost surprised not to be called the animal version of the term. Kudos to the criminal? “Okay, Kirkwell did something.” If this madman isn’t helping him, he’ll have to live-solve the case, then. “Kirkwell did something… And it has something to do with the Pearson murder.”

Darius narrows his eyes. “Yes, Kirkwell did it.”

Eyeing the knife in Darius’ hands, Jake raises an eyebrow. “You seem to know more than I do. Do you want to talk about it–”

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Jake winces when Darius swings his knife and rams it into the chair, only inches from his hand. His heart does a loop. “Careful, now…”

The other man isn’t listening. He starts pacing through the empty former bedroom, hands clenched into fists. He kicks at the wall and hisses a pained scream.

The windows are dark. Some kind of foil has been carefully draped from corner to corner. No light from under the door, either. Jake can hear the traffic outside. If he screams loud enough, maybe…

He startles when the knife is pulled out of the chair and he instinctively flinches his fingers away.

Darius cackles. “You afraid, huh?”

Something about that laugh deeply worries Jake. He’s dealing with an unstable person. He doesn’t know if he’s Pearson’s killer or about to become his own.

“You know who killed Lars Pearson,” he reviews, carefully watching the man’s reaction.

The cackling dies down. “Yes.”

“And you say it was your boss, Sam Kirkwell.”

“That’s what I just told you!” Darius roars, and suddenly he’s right in front of Jake, pointing at his face with the tip of his knife. Jake goes cross-eyed watching it shake in Darius’ hand. He gulps. “I told you this afternoon that it wasn’t me! But you didn’t listen!”

“I’m listening,” Jake gets out, still eyeing the knife nervously, “I’m listening right now. Please tell me everything.” If only he had a recording device on hand…

“Ohohooo, no.” The knife wanders to his cheek, then down his face, underneath his chin, settling on his throat. The flat side of the blade sits cool and sharp against his skin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you filthy little pig.” (Ah, there it is.)

An endless minute passes before the knife retreats when Darius stands upright. Jake releases the breath he’d been holding.

“You don’t believe me. You want me to tell you how I killed the motherfucker that stole my wife from me. Oh no, I have to disappoint you here. Because I didn’t do it. He just wants you to think I did.”

“He?” Jake asks. “Kirkwell?”

“Are you deaf and stupid?!” Darius snarls. “He messed up, though. He thinks he’s so smart. But he messed up.” He lets out a sudden loud laugh. “He messed up!”

“How so?”

Darius spreads his arms and yells, “I wasn’t there!” His arms sink. “I wasn’t there…”

“Yes, we know,” Jake says in an attempt to convince him he’s on his side. “We checked with your brother and the parking lot’s security footage. You have an alibi.”

“Exactly!” Darius leans forward again, so close to Jake’s face that he could count the bags under Darius’ eyes if he had the concentration for it. “Exactly, exactly! Which is why he’ll think of another way to pin it on me! And in order to figure out what, I need to know how he killed him. And you,” he jabs his finger into Jake’s aching chest, “have the information I need.”

“Um… If I tell you, what will you do then?”

Again, Darius looks at him as if he’s particularly slow-brained. “Figure out how he’s gonna frame me.”

“Yeah, I clearly understood that. I meant what you plan on doing after that.”

The man opens his mouth, closes it, huffs. “And why would I tell you that?”

“Because I want to make sure you don’t do anything you’ll regret. Murder means more years in prison than kidnapping and physical assault–”

Jake completely forgot about the knife, or the fists. One lands a hard punch in his middle and he gasps for air, hunched forward.

A loud knock prevents the second punch from flying. Simultaneously, Jake and his captor look up, one moving quite a bit more slowly than the other. Before he can open his mouth, the knife is back at his throat, but this time it’s not the flat side of the blade. He doesn’t dare move one inch.

“Not. A. Word.”

Another knock, more insistent than the first. Then, a voice. Jake’s heart leaps when it reaches his ears. “Hello? Anyone still here?” A pause. “Jake?” Another pause. Jake wants to scream, wants to dip his chair so he’ll fall over, wants to make any noise possible. But he can’t. “Mr. Davies?”

Darius’ breath is on his face. It’s hot and moist and uncomfortable and he makes a face.

It takes a few more minutes of silence until the knife and bad breath disappear.

Jake’s heart falls. She’s gone. Amy’s gone and she has no idea he’s here.

“Now talk.” The knife lightly taps his knuckles, leaving tiny scratches on his skin. “I looked you up, Detective Jake Peralta. I know who just knocked on the door. I know about your career, your knack for solving difficult cases. I also know about Amy Santiago’s talents. There’s no way either of you hasn’t already solved this one.”

“Well, you haven’t told me about your plans yet, so I won’t–”

“I know about little Mac, too.”

Jake’s fingers dig into the arms of the chair. Any shred of sympathy he might have had for this person evaporates. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenches, and every ounce of good nature inside him turns inside out, flashing spikes and canons and the readiness to kill.

“Ah, I see, now I have your attention.”

Jake wants to get out of this chair and wipe that disgusting sneer from Darius’ face. And more.

“You have one hour. If you don’t talk then, we’ll invite our little friend Mac over. He’ll convince you.”

Darius turns and opens the door, ready to leave, taking the only light source with him. It shakes Jake out of his stunned silence.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” He waggles the chair, the zip ties digging into his skin as he tries to rip himself free. “Come back here! I’ll tell you everything you want to know! Don’t bring my son into this, you fucking monster!” His voice breaks as he screams, but Darius ignores him, closing the door behind him, leaving Jake in total darkness once again.

He’s panting heavily, tears gathering in his eyes. He can’t think clearly, which is bad, very bad… Mac… Not Mac!

It takes the better part of the next hour for him to calm down, because every time his breathing returns to normal, he becomes aware of the darkness again, of his impossible situation, of the danger his family is in, regardless of whether Darius is bluffing or not.

He screams for help until his throat hurts. The neighbors usually like to complain so much, why is nobody coming over now?!

The fear is all-encompassing. He loses all sense of time.

Eventually, he manages to regain his ability to think by using his old trick – repressing the hell out of bad thoughts and feelings.

He knows Darius wants information from him so he probably won’t kill him before he gets them. But the man is unpredictable in his state of unstable anger. Jake’s afraid he really will go after Mac or Amy if Jake doesn’t play along. Regardless of whether or not he tells Darius what he wants to know, he’s going to die tonight. He’d rather not. He’d really, really rather not.

The tears running down his face have long dried when Darius comes back. Jake’s eyes hurt in the glaring light of his headlamp.

“Time’s up, Peralta.” Darius stands in front of him, flicking his pocketknife open. “Talk.”

The fire inside Jake hasn’t gone out yet. As long as he lives, it will keep flickering. He will not let it extinguish after everything he’s ever gone through in his life, the good and the bad.

“A dart arrow in the neck, poisoned,” he starts, talking slowly, quietly. Any way to stall this without babbling too much that he risks a knife to the windpipe.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, I know, I know!” Darius gesticulates impatiently while talking louder and faster with every word, the expression in his eyes bordering on the edge of truly insane. “He was shot with it in that awful slide with the funnel, dead within seconds, I’ve heard this already! I WAS THERE AFTER IT HAPPENED!”

Jake flinches at the drops of saliva landing on his face. Taking a deep breath, then another one, he continues. “The question was, of course, who hit him. But to get closer to that information without any evidence on camera, we needed to know how he was killed.”

“But you already knew–”

“Where would you have done it?” Jake interrupts the incoming yelling.

“What?”

“If you were the killer – which I know you’re not! Just making that clear – where would you have hit Pearson with the dart?”

Darius blinks a few times. “Inside the funnel.”

“But cameras didn’t show anyone there and there was no blind spot. And no one tinkered with the footage.”

He’s met with confused silence, but it doesn’t last long. As if he’s watching in slow-motion, Jake sees the confusion melt into a blank stare, then the anger returns, deepens the lines on the scrunched-up face, creases the brows; muscles clench, eyes flash up dangerously.

Darius’ hand moves, Jake flinches, and the horrible sting of a fresh cut spreads on his left arm. In his ire, Darius managed to slice through the hoodie and the underlying shirt (though Jake has to admit, these particular pieces haven’t been very expensive), plus several layers of skin, judging by the stinging sensation burning through his nerves. Blood seeps into the material.

“This isn’t some kind of guessing game!” Darius leans on the arms of the chair again, right in his personal space. Jake hates it when he does that. “Tell me how he did it. Or Mac and Amy will pay.”

“The vents,” it shoots out of Jake immediately. “The killer was sitting in the vents above the slide. When Pearson came out, the killer hit him. We didn’t find the murder weapon yet. Tomorrow, we’re going to inspect the vents and interview everyone who has access to them.”

A slimy smile spreads on the face in front of him. “Was that so hard?” Then something seems to catch up to Darius and wipes the smile away. “Oh, that cunt-licking…” He spins away, tugging at the bit of hair he still has on his head, growling in frustration.

Jake brings oxygen back into his lungs. He misses fresh air, even though NYC air doesn’t particularly qualify to be called fresh. But he’d take anything over the stuffed air in this dark prison of his.

“He knows I’m friends with Wesley from maintenance,” Darius mumbles to himself while pacing through the room. He doesn’t seem to be aware that Jake can hear him, or that he’s talking out loud in the first place. “He can claim I have access to the vents. And he had me volunteer to stay late last night, he can say I went up there and…” His head turns quickly, eyes boring into Jake. “Now you tell me where that motherfucker’s hiding so we can finish this up.”

Jake gulps. “How would I know where your boss is right now?” The pain in his arm flares up at the look he receives. “And if I may ask – why would your boss frame you for murder in the first place?”

Darius lets out a heavy sigh. “Because he wants to bone my wife.”

“He does?”

“He’s been leering at her for years and now that we’re split up, all he needs to do is get rid of me and her new lover!” He spits on the ground. “That fucking prick.”

Literally, Jake thinks. He also has an idea of where Kirkwell might be right now, if what Darius says is true and his boss really is after his ex-wife. Why that hasn’t occurred to Darius yet, he doesn’t know. It probably has to do with the whole coming undone that is happening inside that man’s mind. And Jake doesn’t want to be the one pointing it out for him.

A loud crashing sound alerts both men and Jake immediately recognizes it as the sound of a door breaking down.

It is followed by steps on the floor and a voice carrying through the apartment.

“NYPD! Come out with your hands up!” Jake’s heart stops. It’s her.

Darius curses and fumbles something out of his pocket – a piece of cloth that he gags Jake with before he can call out to Amy.

While Darius waits tensely in his hiding place, the handle of his knife clutched in his fist, Jake tries to scream around the gag. He’s too quiet, he has to scream louder–

The handle turns and the door swings open, and there she is, clad in her bulletproof vest, gun at the ready. When she spots him, her eyes widen. “Jake! Oh god…” She takes a step into the room, but he shakes his head violently, his pupils flitting back and forth between her and the door.

She gets the message too late. Darius jumps out, grabs her from behind and holds the knife to her throat.

“Drop the gun.”

Stiff in his iron grip, a million options scurry through her mind, Jake knows – the gun falls to the floor. Darius eyes it, but he knows he can’t pick it up without letting go of his hostage. Jake eyes it too, but there’s no way he can get to it, least of all use it.

“Drop the weapon and step back,” orders a harsh voice. Darius flings himself and Amy around and faces Rosa, her gun pointed right at him.

“Oh no, I won’t.” Darius’ voice quivers. His back is turned to Jake but even from behind, the tightening of muscles in the man’s arm is visible. He’s pressing the knife against Amy’s throat. The choked noise she makes breaks Jake’s heart. “Lieutenant Santiago and I are going to leave this apartment. Then we will say our goodbyes. I still have somewhere to be.”

With slow but deliberate steps, he shuffles past Rosa, Amy in his clutches. Rosa can’t do anything but further order him to drop the knife, to let her go, to give up. Jake telepathically tries to remind her of Palm Springs, Florida. Of how Amy shot the hostage’s leg and the hostage taker had to let go. His shin prickles at the memory.

Jake watches through the open door as Darius and Amy near the front door that’s lying there on the floor, broken out of its hinges.

Amy stumbles as they step around it.

Darius violently pulls her upright.

Then he stops.

A gun pokes into his back from behind. Someone is standing in the doorway to the apartment.

“You heard Detective Diaz,” Captain Holt says. “I would advise you to do as she says.”

Darius is surrounded.

His eyes frantically search for an escape.

There is none.

The knife clatters to the floor.

He pushes Amy away from him, turns and tries to do the same with Holt, but he has no chance.

As soon as he’s caught, Amy runs over to Jake. She removes the gag and the ties and crouches before him as he sags into himself in relief and exhaustion and pain. Her fingers card through his messy hair.

“God, Jake… Are you okay?”

He nods. Everything hurts and he’s starting to shake, but he’s okay. He’s safe. She’s safe. And Mac. (And Kirkwell.)

While Holt’s taking Darius away and Rosa calls an ambulance, Jake tells Amy what happened.

“We should interrogate Kirkwell,” he finishes. “And maybe ask our neighbors if they’re missing a chair, because I don’t know whose chair I’m sitting on right now.

“It’s the one from the hallway corner. Jake, it’s been there for years!”

“Oh, that one! You’re right.” He’s walked past it so many times, it became part of the environment for him. Why it was even there, he doesn’t know, either. “Sorry, I’m a little bit woozy.”

She takes out a handkerchief and dabs at the cut on his arm, but stops when he winces and hisses.

“Ames, how did you know I’m here?”

Amy tells him about Kirkwell in the bathrobe, about finding his car at the water park and driving back to talk to the guy.

“While I was trying to get something useful out of him, Terry called and said that a Richard Erickson had just come to the precinct to tell us about his brother’s intentions. They worked together to get revenge on Kirkwell. While Darius was here with you, Richard left your car and personal things at the water park and waited for his brother to call him. They wanted to find Kirkwell and, well…”

“Finish things up,” Jake concludes and she nods. “What about Kirkwell?”

“Charles picked him up. He says Rebecca Erickson followed them and told them everything before anyone could start interrogating Kirkwell. Apparently, he’d proudly confessed everything to her in the throws of passion not long before I came back.”

Jake softly shakes his head with a smile. “Idiots, these murderers. They never learn.”

“I know, right?” She grins back and he is once again struck by the beauty of her, not just her smile, but her, her everything. And he gets to spend his life with her. It’s so crazy.

“By the way,” he pulls himself out of his own musings, “I think I found a title for the case.”

“You want to name the case?”

“It’s our last case together, Ames! Of course it’s gonna have a name.”

She rolls her eyes but he can see her lips twitch.

“This fact, plus the circumstances of the victim’s death, made me come up with the perfect title.”

She looks at him expectantly and he grins.

“The Last Ride.”

#b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #b99 #the last ride #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #sleuth sisters #jake peralta #amy santiago #rosa diaz #ray holt #maja writes

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Note

prompt: jake being the sweet and caring husband he is when amy gets her period, sometime during trying/before ding dong

The first thing Jake notices is the empty tampon packaging in the trash can in their bathroom, the blue cardboard sticking out amongst the tissues as he discards the last of his contact solution.

It’s presence doesn’t surprise him - it’s the same brand that Amy’s been using for years. Cross referenced with the other brands with her typical Type-A regularity for value, availability and reliability; she will often conclude her findings with a satisfied grin, pleased with the knowledge that she is in fact still using the best available option on the market. It’s packaging is a sight that’s as normal as all the rest, and having grown up with his mother and occasionally getting to the stage of regular stay-overs with various girlfriends over the years, Jake is no stranger to finding such things in the trash.

He’s been expecting it for days actually, which probably sounds odd but he’s known Amy for so long that he knows how to read the signs. Breast tenderness was one - and she’d pulled away slightly from the hug he’d given her a couple of days ago, eyebrows knitting in silent discomfort as she’d readjusted her position in his arms before tucking her face into his neck, and it made him realise that a few weeks had (somehow) already passed.

(It had been a hug of commiseration, the latest negative test in what felt like an endless tally of negatives still clutched in her left hand as she wound her arms around his waist, and he knew that she’d been hoping that all the signs her body had been sending her way would be related to a brand new life growing inside her, instead of an indicator for the opposite.)

Another sign (and admittedly, the more obvious one) was the tiny red dot that Amy marks on their calendar each month - in the same location as the ones she marks on her planner - and in true Santiago style, it was right on time. So the empty carton comes as no surprise - but if he was to be completely honest, there was still a tiny part of him that had held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, after they’d given up the rigid scheduling and just started trying to try, that maybe this time the test would be wrong, and they’d have finally gotten it right.

But they hadn’t, and now her body has the receipts.

He knows that Amy thinks it’s her that is failing them, and even though he makes the joke, he wishes that she’d acknowledge the likelihood of it being his. After all, you only need to compare the difference between their genes to know which one of their bodies is way more likely to turn up for their duty on time and ready to go, and which is likely to be a few minutes (too) late. Whether she can’t see it or simply doesn’t want to, Jake isn’t sure. But he’d give anything to be able to make it easier.

Amy’s already in the process of swallowing two Advil at their kitchen sink when he walks in, and as she stretches forward to wash out her glass Jake wraps his left arm around her middle, pressing his chest against her back as he squeezes. Letting out a soft hey, she leans into his touch, and even though Jake can feel the smile on her face when he presses a kiss to her cheek, he can hear the resignation in her voice. He lowers his head to leave another kiss along the side of her neck, wrapping both arms around her middle and resting his forehead against her shoulder when her hands move to cover his. She sighs, and slowly he nods.

“You smell good,” she whispers to break the silence, and eventually Jake shifts his hands from her middle to their kitchen counter, giving her room to turn in place. He catches her gaze when they’re finally face to face, finding all of the sadness that she’s trying so valiantly to mask, mirroring her response when she shrugs in a total loss for words. Her hand moves to rest against his cheek, a touch that is so familiar but still feels so perfect every time she does it, and when he leans in for proper kiss all he can think is how he’d give her the world, if he only knew how.

“I’m just about to call my mom,” Amy mumbles, resting her hands on Jake’s waist and letting them linger as he begins to step back. “I’ve been putting it off for days.” It was something that used to be a lot more regular - until the conversation began to turn towards ovulation schedules and conception suggestions - and as the months went by it just became too difficult for Amy to hear how easy it was for others to do the one thing she was struggling so hard to get right.

Jake nods, deciding in the interim to do a run to the nearest corner store and grab a few necessities. (This phone call, he knew, was going to need space - and he rather give it to Amy before she needed to ask.)

He can hear the hey, mom from their bedroom as he peels the list from it’s magnetic pad on the fridge, and blowing Amy a kiss even though he knows she’ll never see it from the kitchen he heads out, closing the door just loudly enough for her to know that he’s definitely gone.

The Sampson’s Grocers is a relatively new addition to their neighbourhood, a family owned business that sits five and half blocks away from their apartment but always has the best produce. The aisles are familiar to Jake, the layout remaining unchanged each time he comes here with Amy, and he grabs a basket from the door and begins filling it up as he moves through the store.

Because it was written by his wife, the list in his hand has been itemised according to aisle, and it takes him no time at all to gather all of the items, deciding to do a second lap just in case there’s something they’ve both forgotten to put down (and perhaps also to buy Amy and Camila just a little more time).

Because he loves his wife, he stops past the sanitary products in aisle seven, grabbing a twin pack of each level of absorbency and making a mental note to collect the chocolate she likes on the way back to the register.

Because he believes in their future, he gathers another three packets of Amy’s favoured pregnancy test - the ones with the 99.9% certified accuracy - and places them in the basket next to the tampons.

(And because they’re on sale, he grabs an extra packet of sour gummy worms that may or may not end up making it all the way home.)

Normally, for the first few days of her period Amy would be seeking all of her favourites - warm blankets, hot chocolate, takeout and a marathon run of old Jeopardy episodes, all in no particular order. Long since mastering the art of filing up water bottles with one hand while ordering takeout online with the other, Jake hesitates outside their favourite Thai restaurant before deciding to forgo.

(These past few months have been different, and he has the strongest instinct that today is going to be the same.)

She’s on the couch with a blanket covering her feet by the time he walks in the door, eco-friendly bags hanging in his left hand as he closes the door with his right, and gives him a soft smile as he heads towards the kitchen to put everything away. Her positioning leads Jake to think that the pain relief has kicked in but he still moves quickly, eager to return to Amy (it is their day off together, after all), and as he’s finishing up he calls out if she needs anything.

“No. Just you.” Comes her reply, and maybe there’s still a couple of items left on the counter, but clearly out of the two options (out of ANY two options, really), Amy is going to be his priority, and he makes a beeline straight to the living room, capturing her smile and storing it away in his heart with all of the others when he gets there. Grabbing his left hand, Amy pulls it towards her and leaves a kiss against his palm, and when Jake shuffles along the couch to move closer she snuggles into his side, resting her head against his shoulder like that is it’s second home (which, to be fair, it kind of is).

Amy’s hand slides around his waist, toying with the belt loops of his jeans, and after a pause she glances up. “My mom suggested a hormonal assistance program I could start taking that .. actually sounds kinda promising. I’m going to call my doctor tomorrow and see what she thinks.”

He nods, running his right hand along her forearm. “That sounds like a great idea, babe.” She nods into his hoodie, and when the silence stretches out he continues. “Do you want me to get you a hot water bottle or anything?”

Her grip around his waist tightens, as though Jake’s sentence alone was enough of a threat for her, and shakes her head before tucking her nose into his neck. “No. Just you.”

He nods again, resting his head against hers as she takes in a deep breath. This has been the change in recent months, now that the beginning of her period doesn’t just mean persistent aches from all the cramping and no chance of sex for five to seven days. Now, it told her that even though they’d tried their hardest - and then for a little while, didn’t officially ‘try’ at all - that despite her best efforts, nothing had worked, and they (she) had failed again. Now, the pain wasn’t just from the contracting muscles in her uterine walls (he’s read a lot about conception and biology in the last six months); now, the pain is compounded by the confirmation that once again, there would be no mini Peralta-Santiago arriving in nine months time.

She asks him if he thinks everything is going to work out; her voice so soft you almost wouldn’t hear it (but he hears her, even when she thinks he doesn’t), and he nods, shifting to press a kiss to her forehead to seal the promise. There’s no way for him to know for sure - and he’s well aware that as time presses on things will only get harder - but he believes in them with every fibre of his being, and if there was anybody that could come out of this battle a winner, it is Amy Santiago.

So he tells her yes, tells her that he loves her and that everything will be okay, and because she loves him her body relaxes against his, knees curling up until they’re resting just along the outside of his thigh.

“You know, I could actually kinda go for some chocolate,” she mumbles, twisting her neck until her cheek is resting against his chest, and Jake smiles in victory because he knew this was coming.

“Ask and you shall receive, my darling wife.” His left hand disappears from her thigh, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie and grinning brightly as he reveals a family sized block of her favourite - thankfully unmelted due to the slightly cooler weather outside - and her eyes light up in glee. She gives him a chocolate flavoured kiss a few minutes later, telling her she loves him with her actions just as much as her words, and honestly, all of world’s problems could probably be solved by a little chocolate.

It will only be a few more weeks before there will be no need for the recently purchased packets of tampons, and they will get stashed away to the back of the cupboard for their eventual need in nine or ten months time, but for now the day passes with the two of them stretched out on the couch.

There is so much proof of their love within these four walls, and the greatest proof of all is yet to come, but for now all they need is a couple of Advil, a block of chocolate, and the arms of the one you love.

#we stan one supportive husband #anon prompt #thank you for this!#I don't know if this is what you were looking for #but this is where my mind went so ...#catch me getting distracted from my other fic by writing this #if you’ve sent me a promot pls know that i’m working on it!#b99 prompts #b99fanfic #b99fic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fic #my writing

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years

Text

I just want us to be safe – Chapter 1 (Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader)

Next Chapter / I just want us to be safe-Masterlist

Summary: You were the 20-year-old daughter of Andy Barber. Nine months after a one-night-stand, your biological mother decided to give the responsibility to him. Yet, you were happy with your small family. One day, though, a scary event occured & somehow you involuntarily started being a part of this.

Words: 2,089

Warnings: none just yet, maybe a bit of swearing bc that`s me, angst if you squint

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were (Y/N) Barber. Daughter of the assistent attorney, Andy Barber. You were 20 years old & used to attend Newton high school, like your younger brother Jacob did. Now, your background is a bit more complicated. Technically, Jacob was not your biological brother. Neither was Laurie, Jacob’s mother & Andy’s wife, your biological mother. Some time ago, when your dad had not been dating Laurie yet, he had a one-night-stand with some girl he had met at a bar. Just one night, he had not seen her after that encounter. What he did not know though: the girl got pregnant & nine months later, Andy found a small basket at his doorstep. There you were, wrapped in a blanket. There was a letter, too. Your biological mother had not been ready for a child but she knew Andy would handle you just fine. And, being the guy Andy was, he obviously took you in. You were his daughter to say the last. He made sure to take a paternity test & yep, you were his daughter.

Now, do not get me wrong, you grew up with Laurie being your mother & yet, you had never, not even once, called her “mom“. You simply did not feel ready to do so & neither your dad nor Laurie pushed you into something you were not comfortable with. When you were 6 years old, Jacob was born & ever since then, you had made sure to protect him at all costs. Your dad loved seeing you with Jacob & he loved the bond you two shared. Laurie was sure that you would be more open about her being your mother after that but nope. Your guess was that you still felt neglected by your biological mother & did not want to let another “mother figure“ get close to you. Your dad never lied to you about anything. He tried to explain to you from the very beginning how your biological mother “abandoned“ you & that Laurie was & will always be your mom. While Andy did not lie to you, the two of you had kept a secret from Jacob & Laurie. Your dad said that they did not need to know & he did not want them to see him in a different light. It was not his fault that his dad had been a criminal though. It was not his fault your grandfather killed, stabbed to be exact, a girl. He had been suffering for his actions in jail, for a very long time. You had agreed on keeping it for you, never doubting your dad. You knew he only had good intentions.

After graduating from Newton High, you got into law school near your home. You wanted to follow your dad’s footsteps. He did not force you to approach the same career & let you choose a path yourself. He would lie if he said that he was not proud of you for wanting to do the same as him though. Law school was absolutely amazing, you loved going there every day, loved coming home to tell the new things you learned at your dinner table. People say sometimes you know when a decision is right, you have a gut feeling about it. You were sure: this was YOUR way. Even though your family was quite wealthy, never having a problem about money whatsoever, you still wanted to have a part-time job during college. Earning your own money simply felt amazing. Your dad & Laurie were so proud of you for being so independent.

Here you were, a nice family, a house, the best future ahead. But life does not always roll that way, does it? Every time when Jacob had a problem in school or with homework, studying for an upcoming exam, he would knock on your door, waiting for you to yell “Come in! I told you there’s no need to knock, Jay.“ Jay. You always called him that. He was your little brother & while others called him “Jake“ or simply “Jacob“, you wanted to have something for yourself. Jay it was. Anyway, after coming into your room, asking if you were busy, the two of you always ended up doing school stuff together. It was more fun to have company & Jacob was always thankful for you helping him out. Of course you would, you never had a problem in high school, always bringing home good grades. You liked helping him wherever you could.

Your alarm woke you up at 6 am. Time to get up, get ready & head to college. Usually, dad would take you with him in the mornings since his work is close to your school. Today, though, you had to take your own car to drive to school, you had to work at your local diner afterwards. Yes, you did purchase that car on your own. After saving enough money, you decided on a small black car, not really caring too much about the brand. All that mattered was that it was not too pricey & that it worked. Of course your parents offered you to buy you that car but you wanted to do this on your own. And would you look at that, you managed to buy it without being broke. As you finished showering, putting makeup on & deciding on an outfit, you made your way downstairs where dad & Jacob were already seated. Laurie was most likely out on her daily morning run. You did not understand how someone could go jogging voluntarily. It kept you healthy but at what cost?

“G’morning male beings of this household.“ you greeted them & earned a chuckle from dad. You were not a morning person but that was not your family’s fault so you would brush off your grogginess in order not to say something you might regret later. Jacob was busy writing away on his phone. Gosh, this boy & his damned phone.

“Good morning, angel. How did you sleep?” your dad shot you a grin. He had been calling you “angel“ ever since you were little & you absolutely loved this nickname.

“Like a princess, as always.“ you answered. Some might say you were a sarcastic piece of shit & you know what, maybe they were right. You were a lot like your dad & you liked yourself & your goofiness. You could be serious when it was needed though, your personality was perfectly balanced.

“Hello? Earth to Jay?“ you waved your hand in front of his face to gain his attention but his eyes were glued on his screen still.

“Morning.“ was the only word you got out of him.

“Okay, what girl are you texting? Do I know her? Does she have an older sister? Brother, maybe? Is she hot?“ you teased him & Jacob sent you a glare which made you giggle.

“I’m just texting Derek.“ Jacob stated.

“Wow…And I thought I was the one who hated mornings.“ you stated, mostly to yourself but your dad heard you & started laughing. Even Jacob let out a low giggle.

While the three of you held a conversation, Laurie got back home, greeting you & asking you about your plans for today.

“Do I need to take any of you to school?“ dad asked.

“Um, actually, I’ll be driving myself today. I’ll be back home a bit later, gotta earn that bread, y’know?“ you smirked at both, your dad & Laurie to wait for their reactions. Seeing them laugh was one of your favorite things in this world, especially when you were the reason.

“Sure thing, just text me when you know how late it’ll be.“ dad waited for you to nod, looked at Jacob & asked “What about you, buddy?“

“I’ll be walking today.“

“You sure, you know it’s no probl-” but before dad could finish, Jacob cut him off.

“I’m fine with walking.“

“Okay, just be safe.“

Checking the time, you saw that you should keep going so you went over to dad & Laurie, gave each of them a kiss on the cheek, went over to Jacob, messed up his hair a bit which earned you a groan & finally made your way outside to your car. You hopped in, turned on the engine & started driving off. Every time you would drive yourself, you always stopped at Starbucks for a quick breakfast. Your breakfast mostly consisted of a nice coffee. No offense, but the coffee you got at home just was not it. And let’s be honest: Nobody survives college without having coffee.

Finishing all of you classes for the day, you & a few of your colleagues exited the building. Usually, when you were at college, you did not look at your phone at all, finding it too distracting when you had to focus on something else. But as soon as you unlocked your phone, you knew something was off. You had two calls from Jacob, which was weird since he barely ever called you, & 5 missed calls from dad. Fuck, something was not right. You excused yourself from your friend group, teling them you had to go to work earlier, while in reality, you moved to your car, opened it & got inside. As soon as you closed your door, you called Jacob first. He picked up almost immeadiately.

“(Y/N)? Thank god, I’ve tried calling you.“ he sounded a bit shaken up? That was off.

“Yeah, I know, sorry `bout that, Jay. You know how I ignore my phone during classes but anyway…What’s up? Are you okay?” you started growing concerned now.

“Newton High is locked down. Apparently they found a 14-year-old stabbed in the woods. I am fine though.“ his voice was quiet, almost like he did not want anyone else to hear. Your heart stopped a beat. There was a killer running around town. Who the hell would stab a teenager? Who the hell would stab anyone to begin with?

“Have you talked to dad yet?“ you really did not know what else to say. You were just glad your little brother was alright. That was all that mattered right now.

“Yes, he’s on it. He said he wanted to call you. Have YOU talked to him?“

“Not yet, I’ll call him now, just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me if something’s wrong or if you`re scared, okay?“ your heart was literally racing. Yeah, your brother was fine but the victim was his age & Jacob usually took the way through the woods to get to school. The mere thought of your brother being the one who had been murdered scared you like crazy.

“Will do. Thanks, (Y/N). Bye.“

“Bye, Jay.“ you ended the call & let yourself breathe for a moment. Not even once in your life did you think something like this could happen in your neighborhood. You lived in one oft he safest areas in the country & yet this brutal event had happened so close to home. The world was a scary place. A few minutes later, after calming down as good as it was possible, you dialed dad’s number. He would most likely knew more. To be honest, you were not sure if you really wanted to know more about this case but on the other hand,you were curious. Of course you were, you wanted to do this as your future job. His phone rang twice before he picked up.

“(Y/N)? Angel?“ he did not sound scared, just relieved to hear your voice.

“Yeah, it’s me, dad. I’m fine, talked to Jay. He told me what happened. Well, as much as he knew, of course. What the hell is going on?“ you were rambling. You always were when you grew nervous or anxious.

“Breathe, angel. Look, there’s a lot going on. Could you come home, like, right now? I called your boss, she said it was fine if you took the evening off.“ he knew you would say you needed to go to work so he had called the diner you worked at to explain the situation.

“I’ll be home in ten.“

“Drive safe.“ your dad always made sure you were okay, trying to protect you as much as he could. He would do everything for his family to be safe.

“Always.“ & with that, you ended the call. Everthing inside you screamed to go over the speed limit but your dad’s words popped into your mind again. He would not want this. You would survive another ten minutes before coming home.

~to be continued~

Published 04/30/2020 by Cathy

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sambergscott · 4 years

Text

your son is going to love you

Summary: Peralta dads are cursed, destined to have terrible relationships with their sons. When Jake finds out *he's* going to have a son, he spirals. Amy helps.

goes without saying that if you haven’t watched 7x10 yet maybe don’t read this

She wakes up at 2am needing to pee.

She’s been waking up needing to pee a lot lately.

It’s like their baby has no respect for her sleeping pattern, perfectly honed over the years to maximise productivity, while still fitting in the full 8 hours of sleep needed a day. Their baby doesn’t care about the 8 hour recommendation, he laughs in the face of scientists. With the bad back and heart burn and constant kick, kick, kicking of her bladder, she’s averaging 4.7. She thought babies didn’t start keeping you up all night until they were born but, oh, how wrong she was.

She pats her husband to wake him up and come keep her company. If she’s awake because of their baby, then damn it, he’s going to be awake, too. But he’s not there, leaving her hand awkwardly patting a bare mattress.

“Jake?” She murmurs groggily, sitting up and switching on her bedside lamp. She’s half-expecting him to be sitting in the armchair playing Mario Party on his Switch (he has become a little bit addicted in the last few months and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s found him trying to beat Wario in the early hours of the morning) or have left a note beside her bed that he had a lead on a case and needed to go in with a scribbled ‘love you’ underneath and a lopsided heart. The armchair is empty, but there’s a light on down the hall and since there’s no way she forgot to turn it off before bed (she triple checks), she figures that it must be Jake.

Forgetting the whole reason why she woke up in the first place, she grabs Jake’s hoodie from the floor for warmth and pads into their living-kitchen-dining area. It’s the open plan-ness that made her fall in love with the apartment upon first visit and submit all her paperwork as soon as she was out the door. It’s the open plan-ness that would make the Property Brothers proud and the dumb people who go on that show foam at the mouth with jealousy. It’s the open plan-ness that allows her to see her husband straight away, snacking on the unfinished party food.

(Apparently people don’t feel like eating after a man cuts his thumb off and spurts blood everywhere. Who’d have thought?)

There’s a weird, pensive look on his face that draws her towards him.

“You OK, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he responds. He pops a tomato from the salad bowl in his mouth, then another, then another.

She narrows her eyes. He never eats tomatoes unless they’re in ketchup or on top of a famous Sal’s pizza. Something is wrong.

She thinks back on their day, mentally rewinding the events from waking up to the morning briefing to their private sex reveal in the break room and finding out they’re having a boy (the empty cake box and blue frosting around Scully’s mouth was very surprising indeed). They were both floating on Cloud 9 all afternoon, came home and Zoomed the entire family, falling asleep on the couch around 9.30pm because pregnancy is exhausting.

Nothing particularly awful stands out.

Unless...

“Are you thinking about your Grandpa?”

He’d been so excited to see him again, so excited to reunite Walter Peralta with Roger, The Admiral with the Captain. To be honest, Amy was less than impressed. He’d been nice enough to her, asked her about her job, about the baby, small talked about the weather. But he never asked her about Jake, probed about the 20 odd years of his grandson’s life that he’d missed out on. Which is frustrating because she has a lot of embarrassing stories ready to tell and a whole photo album of Jake on her phone. He couldn’t care less about Roger or Jake, storming out of the sex reveal party after calling his son a screw up and turning off his phone so they couldn’t get in contact with him. He’s a selfish dick and her husband deserves better. Still, he won’t be thinking about what a monster Walter turned out to be, he’ll be finding ways to blame himself that yet another father walked out of his life again.

He nods silently and she leads him to the couch.

“Talk to me, Jake.”

He releases a shaky breath. “The Peralta’s are cursed.”

“With devastatingly handsome good looks?” She half-jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Because, hello, her husband is hot; she constantly overhears other women in the precinct talking about his glow up and it would be impossible to ignore the female attention he gets in bars and even just walking down the street before he scratches his face to show off his wedding band and wraps one arm proudly around his wife’s shoulders. She’s seen the pictures of a young Roger Peralta, too, and with that charm smile... she gets it.

“Thank you,” he smiles briefly, “but no. Peralta dads are cursed with terrible relationships with their sons.”

“That’s not going to be you,” she says without hesitation, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?” He launches into a scathing personal indictment that leaves his cheeks stinging with tears. “I’m immature, obsessed with my work, messy, always late. My dad was never around when I was a kid. I don’t even know what dads do with their sons! And what if it’s in my genes? To be a crappy dad, abandon my kid like a dozen Peralta fathers before me. Your parents still don’t think I’m good enough. You didn’t even like me at first. It only makes sense that our baby would hate me, too.”

“Woah, babe. Slow down. Let’s unpack that one at a time.” She wipes away his tears with his hoodie sleeve and squeezes his hand. “First of all, you are way more mature now than you used to be. We bought a family friendly Sedan. You read parenting books. You were eating fruit, like, two minutes ago.”

“Tomatoes are fruits?”

“What? Yes, how do you not - not the point.” She shakes her head. “And so what, you enjoy your job. That’s a good thing, Jake! Do you understand how rare that is? You’re doing the thing you love while providing a decent income for our family. And besides, I’m way more obsessed than you. I have FOMOW, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love our kid more than anything. And as for the messy, late thing, if I can look past it because of how much I love you, so will our son.”

“Love you, too,” he mumbles.

“Now onto your point about not knowing what dads do, that is a straight up lie and we both know it, Peralta. You’re always hanging out with Charles and Nikolaj and Lord Knows Terry doesn’t shut up about all the activities he does with his girls.”

“I know what they do when I’m around, but what do you do when it’s 5am and they won’t go back to sleep?” He frets. “At what age do you introduce them to Die Hard? In Cry Hard With A Vengeance,” he quotes the parenting book she originally bought him as a joke but has kind of become his Torah, “Bruce Willis says right away, but what if he’s not ready to understand the complex plots? What if he prefers Timothy Olyphant to William Atherton? Oh my God, what if our son doesn’t think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

He’s spiralling and it’s a good job he’s with the only person who can truly calm him down.

“I think Bruce Willis is just trying to promote his franchise and that we’ll be watching more Paw Patrol than Die Hard for the next few years, babe, but I’m sure when he is old enough, he will love the movies as much as you.”

“Right,” he agrees, “you’re totally right. Action thrillers aren’t very baby friendly. I’ll just watch it on mute with subtitles.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She loves him so much. Which segways them nicely onto his final two points.

“My parents do love you. Sure, they’re critical, but that’s just the way they are. They’re the same way to all of us. My mom complains to everyone she meets about how I can’t cook, how Tony hasn’t settled down and made her any beautiful grandbabies yet, even Perfect David faces her wrath when he goes a week without phoning her. If the worst thing my mom has to say about you is that you’re below average in height, you’re doing OK. And as for me apparently not liking you at first, I did like you.”

He furrows his brow. “But you said you found me annoying and difficult to be around.”

“Yet I didn’t ask to switch desks, continued working cases with you and went to Shaw’s whenever I was invited.” She stares at him pointedly. “If I really found you difficult to be around, I wouldn’t have stayed. I thought you were cute and funny and good at your job and yeah, you were annoying too, but,” she shrugs, “it never put me off.”

“So what you’re saying is that you had a crush on me first,” he grins.

“No. You obviously had a crush on me back then, too. What I’m saying is that I love you, our son loves you and you’re going to be a great dad.”

He blushes, ducking his head. “My dad said the same thing. About our son loving me.”

“He’s right,” she replies. “I feel him kick every time you get home from work, every time you sing to Taylor Swift in the car, every time I mention your name. Why didn’t you believe him?”

“I don’t know, still nervous about the curse, I guess.” He twists his wedding band on his finger.

Amy bites her lip. “Are you not excited about us having a boy?”

She has to ask. His excitement looked genuine in the break room, but it’s no secret that he was hoping for a girl. A mini-Amy, he said. While she’s always been more accustomed to boys considering the Santiago’s have, like, a million of them, Jake couldn’t get over the image of a little girl in dresses and doing ballet and with long, dark hair that he eventually learns to braid.

“Of course I am,” he’s quick to assure her. “Stupid excited. Never been more excited for anything. Not even the Ninja Turtles reboot. But still... nervous.” He rubs his hand over his face, muffling his voice. “Everyone is assuming what kind of dad I’m going to be. Whether I’m going to be good at it or not. To be fair, the only person who doubted me is that murderer I arrested last week, obviously not my biggest fan. Everyone else is convinced I can do it. What if I can’t? What if I’m genetically wired to be a bad dad? What if I disappoint you and our baby and Charles who has been dreaming about this forever?”

“Jake,” she softens her voice, pulling his hand away from his face, “the fact you are so worried about being a bad dad proves that you will not be one. Nor could you ever disappoint us.”

“But you’re my wife. You have to say that.”

“I would never have married you and become your wife if I thought you were the kind of person who could abandon your kid,” she promises him. “You have been perfect so far, dealing with all the vitamins and over-scheduled sex and washing my clothes when I sweat through them and holding my hair back when I’m being sick. You’ve been to every doctor’s appointment, read every binder, bought me every weird food craving. You hang out with the bump every night, talking and singing to it. I know you’re going to be a great dad, Jake, because you already are one.”

She kisses him and it’s soft and tender and filled with love, only interrupted by the kick, kick, kicking of their son.

“Hey,” Jake says in his best authoritative dad voice/John McClane dealing with German terrorists voice (he’s been practising in front of the mirror following Bruce’s advice), pointing a warning finger at the bump. “I’m going to kiss your mom as much as I want, Peralta. I loved her first.”

Amy giggles, stroking her fingers through Jake’s unruly curls. His bedhead is always wild and it’s maybe her favourite thing in the entire world. She silently sends a message of her own to their son to inherit his dad’s hair. And eyes. And handsome smile.

He kicks again as if to say ‘OK, mom’.

And then she really needs to pee.

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #let me know what you think!!!!#love love LOVED writing it

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mlepclaynos99 · 3 years

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💛 Family (Christmas Morning) 💛

The last chapter to the 12 Days of Peraltiago I’ve been writing!

Summary: It's Christmas morning at the Peralta-Santiago household!

Read on AO3

Amy had the best memories of Christmas morning; waking up to the smell of her mother’s cooking, the excitement to open up presents that would have her up earlier than ever, rushing to wish her parents a Merry Christmas before trying to sneak a present, betting with her brothers on who could finish breakfast the fastest, and then the opening of presents that every kid looked forward to. She would remember Christmases where she would sit in her dad’s lap waiting for him to figure out how to assemble the elaborate dollhouse she had gotten as a gift and the other times she spent running around the house to stop her brothers from taking her presents to tease her, only do the same to them. But what she remembered the most was among the chaos of 8 children running around on Christmas morning, her parents always made sure that as the morning mayhem was over, they would pack themselves in their living room, and everyone would sit around, keeping their new toys aside for some time, playing games and singing together.

Jake on the other hand, had no holiday memories; his only excitement during the season was for winter break from school which meant no homework, he could stay up all late watching all his favourite movies and TV shows, and eating ice cream or anything else he whenever he wanted. The first few years he had tried to remember what his parents would do for the holidays only for nothing to come up in mind, perhaps because his parents were constantly arguing and if there were any happy moments, he had shoved them so far back in his mind with the horrible ones. All he remembered about the holidays was his mom leaving super early and telling him to wake up only for him to never listen to her, and the same amount of money she would always leave for him to order his favourite pizza for dinner. Christmas morning was like any other morning for him; just him all alone at home letting the time pass until he fell asleep on the couch. The one faint memory that made him smile was the brief moment he would wake up in the middle of the night to feel a blanket being put over him and his mom’s whispered good night before she kissed his forehead.

Now they had had their own family and their own Christmas mornings.

The Peralta-Santiago Christmas morning always started off with Jake being the first one up as he let Amy sleep in just long enough for him to brew her the cup of coffee she needed every morning. Jake was never an early riser, but having kids changes how you sleep, in that now he and Amy got to sleep when the kids slept. But Christmas morning was the exception he always made for his wife and kids.

He always heard Amy’s reminiscent stories about how she loved waking up the smells of cinnamon and sugar, that made her want to run to the kitchen, and he knew it wasn’t the smells of Cinnamon Toast Crunch he would eat on Christmas morning that she was talking about. Jake knew he wasn’t a great cook, but he also knew he wished his kids would one day grow up and tell happy stories about Christmas – that when they thought of dad on Christmas, it would bring a smile to their face, not a sadness.

So dutifully, he would plug in the fancy earbuds Amy had bought him as a gift two years ago (even after they promised no big gifts in preparing for their daughter’s arrival) and began making breakfast for his family. Jamming out to Taylor Swift, he rolled up the sleeves of his reindeer pajama tops to make the pancakes his wife and kids loved. Diligently working in the kitchen, he didn’t notice when Amy had walked into the kitchen.

She had woken up to an empty bedside and today was the only time she didn’t mind, knowing there was a steaming hot cup of coffee waiting for her in the kitchen along with her husband (who she would describe just like that coffee). Arms wrapped around herself to keep from the cold as she watched Jake busy at work, using the same focus he used when he was at work to place cinnamon rolls made by his best friend into the oven, which she knew was because she had made a passing comment about loving them. Walking up to him as he turned back to his pancakes, he looked around their kitchen and understanding exactly what he was looking for – which being married for 7 year does – she picked up the cookie cutters off the dish rack. Wrapping her arms around him, stopping him in his search with a smile, she held the two metal objects in front of him.

“Snowman for Bella and gingerbread man for Mac.”

Turning to face after taking the cookie cutters, Jake found himself engulfed in his sleepy wife’s arms and he wished he could have stayed there for the entire day as she leaned in to kiss him.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” He mumbled into the top of her while she rested her head on his chest, their fronts meeting so he could put his arms around her.

“Merry Christmas babe.” She placed her lips against his neck, holding him tight knowing this was moment of peace before their kids woke up and there chaotic Christmas cheer in their home.

Finally parting back from him when a yawned escaped her, Amy leaned against the counter, watching Jake chuckling in his own amusement as he poured chocolate chip pancake batter filling the outlines of the cookie cutter on the pan, making breakfast in festive shapes for his kids. He really was one of those dads and it took everything in her power to not pull his cheeks, realizing he was above and beyond what either of their dads every did. Seeing him yawn, she forwarded her mug towards him, which he absentmindedly sipped from too busy with his pan. Amy wasn’t lying when she later told their kids it looked like he would once again being fed the gross jellybean flavours from their BeanBoozled game. Quickly apologizing as she bit her tongue to hold back her laugh, she fixed him his type of coffee as he started making pancakes for her sans chocolate chips.

As he set up their breakfast table, Amy knew she had to double check she had put all the presents under the tree and all the stockings were completely stuffed. Doing her part in the living room, she picked up the cookies and milk the kids had left out for Santa and moved the coffee table aside knowing they needed the space for the kids to open their presents. Bringing out the Christmas themed throws and placing them on their couch, she looked around the house satisfied as Jake pulled out the cinnamon rolls, letting the fragrance of the spice fill their home. Only able to kiss his cheek as a thank you for bringing a piece of childhood into her Christmas morning, she felt his arm linking into hers as he proudly smiled on.

Walking into their son’s room, they found it empty and look at each other with worried looks before they heard giggles from the room next door belonging to their daughter. Shaking their heads, they walked into Bella’s room finding their two-year-old and five-year-old talking amongst themselves as if hiding a big secret. Clearing his throat, the two kids looked at them like they had been caught hiding cookies Bella’s dresser again but relaxed as Jake brought out his deep Santa voice.

“Merry Christmas children!”

Separating themselves as the kids squeals jumping off the bed, Jake immediately kneeled down and had his arms opened for them to fill. Almost knocking the wind out of him as the two kids jumped to give him hugs, yelling Merry Christmas, Amy kneeled down in laughter as the kids turned to her.

“Merry Christmas Macaroon!” She kissed the top of Mac’s head as he yelled Merry Christmas, clearly this being his favourite day after his birthday.

“Merry Christmas Bella!” She repeated the same with their daughter who had not inherited the same energy levels as Jake, rather was more like her mother and softly kissed Amy’s cheek before she wished her with an equally soft voice.

“Mewry Chwistmas mommy!”

“What about dad?” Jake sat cross legged on the floor with now empty arms and a pout on his face that made Amy remember she had three kids at times.

“You already got hugs!” And sometimes, she joined in the childish behaviour, especially when it came to getting their children’s attention.

Bella rushed back to Jake’s arms, casually sitting on his lap and putting her arms around his neck as he grinned proudly at Amy.

“I’m her favourite!”

“Mom’s my favourite!” Mac spoke up before Amy had the chance to say anything and Jake looked on offended as it was Amy’s turned to proudly smile while squeezing their son in a tight hug.

As the children laughed about their parents being silly again, Amy suddenly remembered how they all ended up in the same room and turned to the kids, knowing very well they were up to something.

“So what were you munchkins doing?”

As if it was a cue that set them off, Mac and Bella ran back to her bed. Getting off the floor slower than their kids, Jake and Amy shared a look wondering what was going on, a knowingly look that they were about experience the joys of being a parent or the not so fun side of parenting.

For the first time, they watched both their children shyly shuffling their feet and keeping their eyes lowered as they forwarded a folded paper to them, Mac nudging his baby sister to say “Merry Christmas�� with him. Accepting what they realized was a card, they sat down on the tiny toddler bed, Bella once again climbing onto Jake’s lap. Amy opened the card revealing Mac’s kindergarten writing spelling out happy holidays and stick figure drawings of the four of them. He definitely had Jake’s writing and artistic abilities, but what made the parents smile prouder than they had been earlier was the scribbled “from Mac and Bela”, their daughter’s misspelled name written in a pen Mac had clearly picked up earlier this morning. They both knew this was probably a school craft Mac had made before the holidays, but his thoughtful gesture of helping his sister scribble her name onto it made it all the more special.

“This might be the best present we’ve ever gotten, don’t you think?” Amy looked at Jake while the brother and sister hi-fived at their success.

“Definitely! It’s best present from the best children.” Sandwiching their kids into a hug, Jake looked up at Amy both wanting to tell the other about amazing their kids were. Carefully closing the card, Amy knew it was going to go up on the fridge and in a special box in her closet after the new year.

“Now pancakes are getting cold! No one want breakfast today?” Jake picked Bella up as she clapped her hands in excitement, watching Mac run out of the room knowing exactly what was waiting on the breakfast table.

Less than an hour later, the kitchen was full of empty dishes and fireplace held into empty stockings. Amy had taken up cleaning the kitchen while Jake made sure the kids would be bathed and ready for opening their big presents. They must have really worked out their timing in the last two years as Amy had just taken a seat on the couch when she heard her three favourite people running out of the rooms ready for presents.

Before they knew it, there was wrapping paper all over the place, the kids had been laughing as they uncovered all the gifts they had gotten. Mac was jumping in front of Amy, asking her to show him how his remote-controlled robot toy worked while Bella was once again seated Jake’s lap, patiently watching him assemble her new activity table asking questions about every part he was adding on and then removing when he misread the instructions.

Looking eyes from across the room, Jake and Amy shared a serene smile. It was perfect & the day had just begun.

A short while later

As candy canes lay on the coffee table, a display of tiny gingerbread houses along their kitchen island, Jake & Amy heard their children singing along to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The bright lights reflected the ribbons, bows, and wrapping paper all over the living room carpet, which they walked past to stand under the mistletoe placed in the corner by their framed holiday cards to sneak a moment away from the kids busy with their toys.

Soon changed from their matching PJs to their matching sweaters and Santa hats, they sat down on the couch with their children in their laps. As snow gently further covered the city outside, the family of four was sipping on Jake’s signature hot chocolate watching Christmas movies.

In the middle of watching Elf, when Bella was almost asleep against Jake’s chest and Mac was busy in the movie resting on Amy’s arm, Jake glanced over at Amy. Sharing a soft smile with the woman who had every part of his life better, he looked down at their children momentarily before he finally said the words she had never heard in all the years of being with him.

“I love the holidays.”

Reaching past their kids, Amy grabbed his hand before they turned back to their movie. She blinked back a tear knowing he had always loved the holidays, but never had a family to make him realize the same. Snuggling in closer to their kids, she ran her free hand over Mac’s hair, feeling lucky enough to be the one to build a family with him. And the gratefulness for their perfect little family just grow more with every Christmas morning.

#peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #mac peralta #baby girl peralta #brook #christmas fic

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wrestlingisfake · 3 years

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Hard to Kill preview

Kenny Omega & Doc Gallows & Karl Anderson vs. Rich Swann & Chris Sabin & Moose - When Kenny Omega won the AEW men’s world title on December 2, he completed a long-simmering heel turn by forming an alliance with Impact Wrestling executive Don Callis. Omega and Callis began showing up on both Impact and AEW programming acting like Omega is “the real world champion,” which irritated Impact world champion Rich Swann. Omega also reunited with Impact’s men’s tag team champions, Gallows and Anderson, who had already been having issues with former champs Chris Sabin and Alex Shelley.

This match was originally booked as Omega/Gallows/Anderson vs. Swann/Sabin/Shelley, but the day before the show Impact announced that “unavoidable circumstances” prevented Shelley from traveling to the show in Nashville. Shelley’s last-minute replacement is Moose, who has recently been feuding with Swann. For over eight months, Moose has been calling himself the “TNA world champion,” presumably to set up a “who’s the real champion?” match with the Impact world champion. But that seems kind of silly now that Omega and Swann are kind of doing the same thing, but with more credibility. So I was hoping they’d get Swann vs. Moose wrapped up before Swann vs. Omega got going. I certainly wasn’t expecting Moose to be involved in this match.

Because of Omega and the AEW interpromotional angle, this may well be the biggest show Impact has run in years. So Impact is motivated to deliver the best they can for whatever new audience this match will attract. The big question is whether AEW is invested enough to send a few of their guys to appear on this show for a hot angle. Any unadvertised AEW wrestler causing any kind of ruckus on this show will get people talking. But AEW and Impact seem to be taking their time with this storyline, and they may not think now is the time to drop the next bombshell plot point.

To me, the likeliest finishes are a) Omega’s team dominates and wins to get more heat, or b) Swann scores the winning fall to set up an Omega vs. Swann singles match. The best setup for that match would be Swann pinning Omega, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. But if they sell it like Omega’s team are the heavy favorites, and that Omega’s ego is bruised by an upset even if he didn’t lose the fall, then that can still work. But then again, that was my gut feeling before Moose was added to the match. Now it feels far more likely that Moose will turn on his partners or walk out on them, which could change the entire complexion of the match. That uncertainty has me pretty interested in how things unfold.

Eddie Edwards vs. Sami Callihan - This is billed as a “barbed wire massacre” match, so the ring ropes will be replaced with barbed wire, and objects wrapped in barbed wire will be provided at ringside to use as weapons. Obviously, in this sort of match nobody is going to be disqualified or counted out.

I can’t say I understand the storyline leading up to this. Edwards and Callihan had a vicous feud following a 2018 incident where Callihan botched a spot and hit Edwards in the face with a baseball bat. Then they seemed to go down separate paths, and then recently Sami and Ken Shamrock started picking on Edwards and his wife for some reason. The idea now appears to be that these two will never be able to settle it, except that they both clearly put it all aside for the better part of a year. In any case, they’ve run out of hardcore stips to use in their matches, so here we are.

I believe this is the fourth “barbed wire massacre” match Impact has booked. The first two were on pay-per-view in 2005 and 2008. The third was taped for television in 2018, but was only streamed on Twitch because it was “too violent for TV.” I remember watching the first one (Abyss vs. Sabu) in 2005 and being too squeamish to enjoy the performance. In matches like this you have to hope the wrestlers know what they’re doing and don’t go too far just to create a “moment.” But with Callihan and Edwards, that doesn’t apply, so I just have to hope the match was taped in advance, so that if one of them was gravely injured we’d have seen reports about it by now.

Both of these guys are pushed as top acts in Impact, but Callihan always seems to come up short in big matches like this. I can’t see either guy accepting defeat and letting the feud end. But if this is really the final chapter, then I think Edwards needs the last laugh more than Sami does.

Deonna Purrazzo vs. Taya Valkyrie - Purrazzo is defending the Impact women’s championship. Valkyrie held the title from January 2019 to January 2020--the longest single reign in the title’s history--but after losing the belt she spent 2020 preoccupied in comedy stuff with Rosemary and John E. Bravo. So Taya’s doing the whole “you’ve only done so well as champion because I haven’t gotten around to facing you” bit.

I haven’t been able to get into Impact’s women’s division. I suppose it’s because so many of the characters seem superficial and unserious. Like, Purrazzo is presented as a solid in-ring performer, but outside the ring she’s the kind of self-absorbed chicken heel who plots with her sidekick to devise ways to duck upcoming challengers. Impact is full of characters like that, but the women’s division in particular has almost nothing else. Hell, Taya was playing that role when she was the heel champion. So I can’t say I’m very motivated to see these two fight. I also don’t really believe we’re going to get a title change at this point.

Manik vs. Chris Bey vs. Rohit Raju - This is a three-way match for the X division championship, so whoever scores the first fall over any opponent will win Manik’s title. This story started with Bey as champion and Raju as his crony, but Raju was the one henchman in wrestling history who managed to manipulate his boss to his advantage, so Raju won the title from Bey in a three-way with TJP. Raju was so worried about losing his belt to TJP that he arranged a stipulation where TJP could no longer challenge him. Then Raju issued an open challenge answered by Manik...the masked man character originally played by TJP. So now Manik is the champion and definitely not TJP, but Raju and Bey aren’t buying it.

I don’t really care who wins this. Every time they do a multi-man match for the X title, they demonstrate that multi-man matches don’t settle anything, because there’s always somebody who’s like “Well I wasn’t pinned, so I should get another match!” So if, for example, Bey pins Raju, you know it’s just going to lead to Bey vs. TJP and/or Manik later. Except Raju is going to weasel his way into the situation, for another three-way. (Unless Crazzy Steve is free that weekend, and it’ll be a four-way.) There’s no direction here. The best thing that could happen to the X title (aside from retiring it as an obsolete relic) is if some AEW guys came in to fight for it. And I don’t expect that to happen soon.

Havok & Neveah vs. Tasha Steelz & Kiera Hogan - This match is the tournament final to decide which team will be awarded the Impact women’s tag team championship. The title was originally introduced in 2009, but a lack of interest in booking it properly led to ODB teaming with Eric Young to win the belts in March 2012. The last title defense I can find was in May 2012, although it took over a year for Impact to officially abandon the championship.

I can see why Impact was motivated to bring the title back, since throughout 2020 most of their women’s roster was paired off in various alliances: Taya Valkyrie & Rosemary, Deonna Purrazzo & Kimber Lee, Kylie Rae & Susie, etc. But just because most of the women on the roster have a natural partner doesn’t mean there are enough women to fill out a tag team division. I suspect these two teams are going to end up rematching a lot for the tag belts, while the teams they eliminated in the tournament go back to focusing on singles action. If just having women’s tag titles automatically meant expanding the women’s roster and pushing more women, then that would be great. But we’ve seen that it doesn’t work that way, not only in WWE, but also the last time Impact tried it.

My gut feeling is that Steelz and Hogan have more future potential, so I’d probably prefer to put the title on them. But Havok and Neveah have the edge in size and meanness, and I could easily see Impact wanting them to dominate as the champions a la the Road Warriors.

Eric Young & Cody Deaner & Joe Doering vs. Cousin Jake & Rhino & Tommy Dreamer - This is being called an “old school rules” match, which is Impact’s way of saying “ex-ECW guys are in this so we want to say ‘extreme rules’ but WWE trademarked that.” Basically there are no count-outs or disqualifications. Cody and Jake were a tag team until Deaner became obsessed with proving himself against Young; when he failed, he turned on Jake and joined Young’s group. Rhino tried to help Jake out, but it wasn’t until Tommy Dreamer got involved that they were able to even the odds. I’m pretty sure Young’s faction is just getting started and they are going to destroy the babyfaces here.

Ethan Page vs. The Karate Man - Page is one half of The North, which spent most of 2019-2020 dominating the men’s tag team division. Karate Man is the alter ego of...Ethan Page. So he’s fighting himself. That’s always fun.

The backstory here is that the North struggled to recover from losing the tag title earlier this year, and Page grew increasingly desperate to convince Josh Alexander that they could regroup. The tipping point was when Alexander was wrestling Brian Myers and Karate Man interfered, causing Josh to get disqualified. Page did a skit where he tried to get therapy from Karate Man, before they decided to fight instead.

The bigger story behind all this is that Page’s contract with Impact Wrestling reportedly expired at the end of 2020, so he’s technically not even with the promotion anymore. Reportedly, this “match” was taped weeks ago. Just because Page is a free agent doesn’t mean he won’t simply re-sign with Impact at any moment. But this looks to be his swan song before he moves on...or the pivotal angle that sets up how he’s staying.

Obviously this is going to have to be pre-taped with Patty Duke Show special effects. I’m not sure if that means it’ll be a ~*~cinematic match~*~ though. They could do a weird brawl in a weird location like the Boneyard Match or Stadium Stampede, or they could just do it on the normal set in a normal ring and not do anything weird except the split screen effects. I honestly don’t know what to expect.

Rosemary & Crazzy Steve vs. Tenille Dashwood & Kaleb with a K - Rosemary and Steve used to be in The Decay together years ago, and occasionally Impact remembers that and has them interact. Tenille is formerly Emma from WWE, playing a stuck-up Instagram influencer gimmick with Kaleb as her personal assistant. Rosemary already beat Dashwood in the setup to this match, and I don’t think Kaleb is going to last long against Steve, so I guess the weirdo babyfaces will triumph.

Josh Alexander vs. Brian Myers - This is scheduled for the pre-show. As noted above, Alexander and Ethan Page had some issues that came to a head when Page caused Alexander to lose a match to Myers. So Josh wants to avenge that loss. It’s kinda funny to me that the serious match about wins and losses and professionalism is on the pre-show while the “Ethan Page beats himself up” comedy is on the main show. But anyway, it seems like Alexander is headed for a singles push, so he might as well get that started with a win.

#impact wrestling #aew #hard to kill #kenny omega #luke gallows #karl anderson #rich swann #moose #chris sabin

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altarflame · 4 years

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Let me give you this real country music breakdown.

Keeping in mind that 2019 involved lots of gut wrenching transition, including divorce and selling my home of 11 years (the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere). Moving away from the tropics, to a place where the ocean is usually too far and my plants can’t live outside through the winter. I had a kid move out and away, for the first time. My oldest friend also died last August, after a scant 3 month long battle with cancer. It was a real plague upon my proverbial dog, wife, and pickup truck. And, of course, I’m living through a pandemic, and a long overdue but very emotional racial justice uprising, with the rest of you, now. Anyway. OTHER than those things, my 2020 has been like...My sister’s gradually, gut wrenchingly cut off all contact with me over the past couple of years, culminating in the last couple of months, whenst we no longer speaketh at all. I’ve fought hard for this to be different and it’s still very sharp. I don’t think I’ll ever give up hope, or stop making a fool of myself about it. A new friend I was starting to really care about hung herself in April. I’ve tried to be there for her husband and 5 year old daughter when and how I can, which is honestly not much. I’ve taken several people who were scared to go alone, to her grave. I felt forced to break up with the person I thought was my soul mate, these past 3 years, and wanted to be with forever, and I have grieved it hard over the last couple of months. I’m still processing this. I’m gonna be processing this for awhile. My threshold for being anywhere near him without overwhelming sobbing is apparently approximately 45 seconds. In the beginning we were scrambled together, mixed in a celestial bowl and hand fluffed with a feather. And the tears of bliss were not amiss - it was a good day. But the story nears the present time Of restlessness and wake up calls Wake up! Years have flown fast but then who's counting The wars have been won but there's few left standing between us And the shadows of Christmas past... Critically acclaimed but sadly underrated - Fortune definitely favored us, but no one celebrated. Our wits were splitting at their ends... We gazed upon the city lights We each laughed aloud one final time and agreed: This is one thing we'll miss... On his way out, he sabotaged my part time foster child’s mom’s tenuous, fragile relationship with me, so I no longer have the ability to connect with or help that child who he brought into my life. Who I love and wonder about and periodically hear horror stories about via mutual friends. I bent over backwards, I burned calories straining for that trust between the mom and myself.

It’s so terrible sometimes. It hurts so bad. Jean-Paul. LAURA. *MILLS* . Coralye. FUCK. This post brought to you with plenty of hard crying, and no shortage of echoing painful music. I’m physically sick about this shit semi often. I don’t normally let go of anybody, guys. But certainly not my fucking nearest and dearest. I have a lot. I have SO MUCH. I know this. I feel good a lot of the time. I have all 5 of my kids under this roof while the pandemic rages on, and they’re all healthy and beautiful and they all love me and talk with me. It’s mostly all cake these days with them, Elise telling me where she is in her own solitary reading for pleasure, Ananda cracking me up, Jake biking to the grocery store for treats to share, Aaron showing me something amazing in the yard, Isaac washing dishes and giving me weirdly helpful and totally unanticipated advice. They’re almost no work now, it’s all return on investment and I have tons of privacy and I use the fuck out of it. I’m deeply in love with somebody these past 7 months. Being deeply in new love AND devastated-heartbroken about lost love at the same time is honestly dizzying, I spent a first destitute day thinking maybe I can’t do polyamory anymore, period. Maybe this is too fucking much and I’m gonna be alone and focus on my career and my goddamned plants. (<--not fucking really, obv I am not gonna let the pain win and go full hermit. Brief compelling temptation, though.) My career and my plants are great, btw, thanks for asking. I’ve got basically my dream job, it’s flexible and lackadaisical AND meaningful and challenging, it’s salaried with bonuses and hella benefits and amazing job security. It’s the whole thing, the culmination of 6 years in school and unpaid internships and volunteering. I even have a spare PRN position elsewhere that I mostly hang on to because it’s fun when they want me to come make $200 for a shift, to mix it up a little. And I have solo projects, writing and web and mental health, all in the works, and they’re good. I have seedlings sprouting. I have a yard that is pure magic, revealing new secrets each day. I’ve got some of my oldest people, like Jess. I’ve got some exciting new people, like Jill. The love, did I mention it? Holy shit. I’ve got Sterling, and that is a whole other story. That it’s been this good while things are this bad is pretty astounding. His own drama quotient has been off the charts, too. I almost can’t imagine how wonderful it would be if we weren’t constantly adrift in a sea of bullshit, though I also strongly suspect we both need a certain staggering minimum quota of bullshit. It’s no accident that we met mutually chasing along after the wake of the same madman’s chaos. We’re nursing some deep wounds in each other, waking up some old old hurts and soothing them back down smaller and smaller. Anytime we’re touching it’s either syrupy soma sweet, blazing inferno hot, or a staggering blend of the two - and then we pull apart to try to actually speak with whole brains, and inevitably take turns being baffled, just hilariously relieved, at how easy it is to communicate. We alternate coming at each other on tiptoe, braced, and then feeling confused and just.... amused? Skeptical? that the other is totally able to empathize with what was just said and is accepting it gently. We don’t have a ton of objective stuff in common, on paper. We’re both very wordy and linguistic, we’re analyzers, we draw unusual people who will feel safe telling us insane things. We’re both hypersexual perverts, chronic pickers, we both wear too much black. It doesn’t go a lot further than that at a glance. We both have PTSD and ironclad outward facing coping skills, nostalgia for the Florida Keys, scientific skepticism mixed with some faith in magic.... we were both brilliant children who felt pretty isolated. But I haven’t ever really felt like anyone is loving me the way I love people, before. I’ve never even felt like anyone else received my love, the same way I intended it, or at least not all of it. It’s like the intensity of what I’m conveying and meaning when I kiss somebody’s cheek, I dunno man, he experiences it. The goofy flowing sense I have, of holding hands, he comments on it all the time. I’m not just like.... alone, in my overwhelm with being touched, or my enthusiasm for sensations, and that is honestly pretty new to me. Sterling is not tolerating my affection for my sake, and I’m still gradually adapting to that with periodic backsliding into hesitance, and unneeded apologies. It’s like we’re totally fluent in the precise same love language, so nothing gets lost, and the feedback loop is instantaneous. He’s dark inside, but dark like Nine Inch Nail’s A Warm Place. Dark like the womb. So as I was saying. I have so much. Including a candle that’s about Mills, and is burning behind me, giving me this slipping sense that I need to blow it out, I need to reserve it, it’s gonna be gone soon. This one spans so many feelings, it’s been positive, some new candle would be what, voodoo? Meddling? I don’t know. This one’s been in a drawer, with our ring buried in it (my dragon). What will I do with that ring? What will I do with all this love? How can I contain so much, anyway? Why can’t anything ever replace anything else? It’s like infinite space, and the empty places just keep throbbing, and it’s like I sprout new spots for new fullness and the cavities pulse on. I’m deeply grateful for a certain self-completeness I’ve come to understand that I have, and that not everyone does. I am resiliant A-motherfucking-F (<--meta vulgar!). AND YET. OW OW OW. I’m sitting here trying to exposure therapy my way through my Mills playlist, as I write this, so Spotify can’t surprise me into sads anymore. I’ve gotten already to a place where sometimes i remember positive things purely positively, and laugh and tell a story and it’s ok. I’m bitter as all hell that I can’t even talk to my sister about this breakup, after she had so many stupid goddamned feelings about the relationship itself, about polyamory in general, about ever knowing him (which might have allowed her to help me grieve at all). Sigh. I love the internet, maybe feel free to send me a message if you’re still reading, whoever the fuck you are <3

#personal #long text posts #polyamory #Mills #loss #Sterling #motherhood #MSW

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good.

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it.

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered.

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong.

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been.

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you?

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend.

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree.

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe...

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another.

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction.

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then.

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them.

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away.

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now.

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-”

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him.

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift.

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge.

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid.

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone.

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile.

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

#whump #speak out arc #chris the strawberry blond romantic #emotional whump #grief tw #referenced parental death #referenced past whump of a minor #referenced murder #memory loss #memory recovery #recovering whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #hi made myself cry during chris's part towards the end wheeeee

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raccoon-wizard · 4 years

Text

Two and Half Assholes

An entire one person (shout out to @jumpfiend) expressed their wish for me to write an angry essay about the long dead show Two and Half Men (2003-2015) and all the problems it has. Allow me to start by saying that I am by no means a professional critic and I have never really written an in-depth review of anything. But I have a lot of feelings that I need to get out about this shitshow, otherwise my head is gonna explode next time my father insists on watching it.

Just a warning, this is a very long post.

What is Two and Half Men about?

If I tried to write my own summary here, I would probably end up tearing it to shreds already. Instead, I’m going to borrow the annotation from IMDB.com: “A hedonistic jingle writer's free-wheeling life comes to an abrupt halt when his brother and 10-year-old nephew move into his beachfront house.”

That doesn’t really say much, does it now. Luckily, the same site also provides us with a wide range of plot (hahahah “plot”) summaries written by users. This one tells us a little more: “The Harper brothers Charlie and Alan are almost opposites but form a great team. They have little in common except their dislike for their mundane, maternally cold and domineering mother, Evelyn. Alan, a compulsively neat chiropractor and control-freak, is thrown out by his manipulative wife Judith who nevertheless gets him to pay for everything and do most jobs in the house. Charlie is a freelance jingle composer and irresistible Casanova who lives in a luxurious beach-house and rarely gets up before noon. Charlie "temporarily" allows Alan and his son Jake, a food-obsessed, lazy kid who shuttles between his parents, to move in with them after Alan's separation/divorce. The sitcom revolves around their conflicting lifestyles, raising Jake (who has the efficient, caring dad while having a ball with his fun-loving sugar uncle who teaches him boyish things), and bantering with Evelyn and various other friends and family. Other fairly regular characters include Charlie's cleaning lady Berta and his rich, self-confessed stalker neighbor Rose who often sneaks in to spy on Charlie.”

Now that’s much better. It gives us quite a decent picture of the show’s ensemble. At least for the starter episodes, this is pretty much what it is. But as the show progresses, we see that the characters have a little bit more depth to them. But not that much.

Let’s start with Charlie Harper, the “freelance jingle composer and irresistible Casanova who lives in a luxurious beach-house and rarely gets up before noon” portrayed by Charlie Sheen. (Is that man still a thing?) I think we can get a lot by taking apart this brief description of him. Freelance jingle composer pretty much means that he has a grand piano in his house and we can occasionally see him playing it while trying to put together words for a commercial for some random product. And that’s it. He has a few other musician friends who are just as big of assholes as he is, but we’ll get to that later. Other than that, we don’t really see him working at all. I think there is one episode about him writing kids’ songs because his girlfriend’s kid likes them. And one about him getting an award?? I don’t know man. The second part of that statement is a much more prominent “personality” trait of Charlie’s. In nearly every episode, we see him “dating” (meaning shagging and then dumping) another woman. I have mentioned in my initial post that this show is misogynistic. Don’t worry, I will also get into that later. For now I’m going to say that Charlie treats all these women absolutely disgustingly and we’re supposed to laugh at that. On the rare occasions we see him in a long term relationship (which happens twice I think? I’m not sure now), we get the stereotypical ball and chain bullshit. The woman takes all his freedom and tries to make him better. While I hate that trope with burning passion, I have to admit that in this case, she does have a solid point. Charlie is a pathetic excuse of a man who has to count on his good looks (questionable) and his riches. By the way, where did he even get them? Does composing jingles really make that much money? Is he that good of a gambler? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen another episode addressing the fact that the answer to both of these questions is no. Where the hell did this luxurious beach-house come from??? So many questions about a show that deserves so little.

Surprisingly, Charlie is the better one out of the two brothers. At the start, we really do feel sorry for Alan. His wife (who is a HORRIBLE person by the way) kicks him out and manipulates him into still paying for everything and doing many things for her around the house. Who wouldn’t feel bad for someone like this? He moves in with Charlie “for the time being”. Soon, we realise that he is not leaving the house anytime soon. He becomes a disgusting leech, a truly pathetic excuse of a man. And he doesn’t even bother hiding it. I’m not sure if we’re supposed to feel sorry for him or laugh at him, but either case doesn’t really work if you spend at least ten seconds thinking about it. How are we supposed to sympathise with a man that lives off of others and barely lifts a finger to change it? The worst part is, the show presents it as something completely normal. We don’t really see Alan’s actions turning against him, do we? Most of the time, whatever shit he does, works just fine for him.

Another prominent character is Alan’s son, Jake, who grows up throughout the series. A fat little boy, not exactly bright. A spoiled brat (if it’s the fault of Alan or Judith is questionable) that has everything handed to him, as Charlie points out in one episode. It’s another bad personality trait that we’re supposed to find funny. And at first, we kind of do. But once again, as the show progresses, it gets worse. Jake becomes the oldest kid in his class because he fails so many times. He only gets to start middle school because “he’s too big for the desks in his class now”. A bit of a watered down Dudley Dursley now that I think about it. It feels that the older Jake gets, the dumber he is. He eventually joins the military because he is too daft to realise. (If I remember correctly, that was done only so Jake’s actor could leave the show because he pretty much realised how bad it was.)

The main reason why I hate this show so much, however, is its way of handling female characters. There’s a few prominent ones - the aforementioned Judith, Alan’s ex wife, a cold hearted manipulative bitch, that also follows the trope of “I’m breaking up with you because I’m a lesbian” for a while, but then it’s never addressed again, not even once. Then we have Alan and Charlie’s mother, Evelyn, also a cold hearted bitch lacking any motherly instincts whatsoever that the men blame for how they turned out. Honestly, I can kind of see it. There’s Rose, Charlie’s neighbour whom he had slept with once and who’s been obsessed with him ever since, following him pretty much wherever he goes and inappropriately visiting him, usually in order to chase any woman that gets close to him away. We have Berta, Charlie’s housekeeper that I would like to believe is there to show the differences between different classes, as she has a large family to take care of, fending of her daughters’ admirers and dealing with drug and alcohol issues. But at this point we all know she’s only there so we can laugh at her struggles and the witty remarks she likes to make.

A special category of women in this show are the lovers and girlfriends. All of them end up either leaving the men for someone better (good for them tbh), or getting left by them. But remember, we’re supposed to always be siding with the men. The women are there for us to laugh at and hate. Rose the stalker? The only reason Charlie never gets rid of her is so we can laugh as she appears unexpected on his balcony over and over again. Are her apparent mental health issues ever addressed? Maybe once, but as a joke. You know, the classic ha ha ha ha look an insane person that’s hilarious. Judith the ex wife and her flock of weird friends (that Charlie converts)? Look, evil wives hating men, ha ha ha ha. Better run away from there, men, or they’ll eat you alive! Ha ha ha ha. Judith wanting support from friends and claiming she deserves to be happy is played off as something we scoff at. Chelsea, Charlie’s girlfriend and fiancée? The ball and chain thing, similarly to Judith, but not nearly as manipulative - this one we can see really means well and wants to help Charlie, but he’s a Man™ and cannot handle that, despite claiming to love her very dearly. Lindsay, Alan’s on again, off again girlfriend? Oof. Where to even start with that one. As most of the characters (save for maybe Judith), she starts off decent, despite her inexplicable desire for Alan. (Seriously though what in the world is up with that.) Also, now that I mentioned Alan’s weird sex appeal (not to me but to the female characters of the show, ew), what the hell was up with Judith wanting to suddenly fuck him again and HIM ENDING UP BEING THE FATHER OF HER DAUGHTER???? Was that the point when the writers just said “you know what, fuck this” or?

Some additional things the men on the show did to women:

Infidelity. Aka “ha ha ha many women want man what a lucky bastard he gets to fuck many women ha ha ha oh no he’s been caught ha ha ha funny”.

Infidelity with their friends/family members. I’m pretty sure this happened multiple times. One of the male protagonists gets a girlfriend. Girlfriend has an attractive daughter. Man sleeps with daughter. Girlfriend is mad. Man claims that it is actually a compliment to her because the daughter is just a younger version of her. Man gets upset when girlfriend disagrees. Poor man, girlfriend mean :(((

Another thing I would like to point out is the show’s dumbass approach to sexuality and gender. It’s the age old, straight men bullshit that lesbians = hot, gay men = ew. We see that throughout the whole thing a bunch of times. Alan ends up marrying Walden (whom I will talk about as well) so they can scam an adoption agency. That’s just wrong, man. That’s awful. And regarding gender, the way this shitshow handles trans people is disgusting. I can currently only think of one instance of this, but I have a feeling it happened multiple times, but with Charlie and Alan. They meet a woman, flirt, sleep together, all fun and games. But for some god forsaken reason, after all is done, the woman decides to be like “yeah by the way I used to be a dude” and?? Why?? First of, why would any trans person want to tell anyone their deadname and other things after successfully transitioning? I’m a cis woman, but this really makes no sense to me. Please correct me if I’m wrong on this one, but if you’ve spent years trying to pass as whatever gender you identify with, transitioned, you wouldn’t exactly go around sleeping with people and afterwards telling them about it, would you? And second of all, the entire reason why these characters appear are so we can be like “eww he slept with someone who used to have a penis eww” and laugh as they have a small crisis because of it. Just. Why?? I am aware that this is a thing other shows do/have done as well, but it really bothers me. And even when the guy decides to roll with it, all we get are those jokes that the woman is “more manly” than him. I remember vividly Alan hooking up with a trans lady and briefly dating her, only so we can see her pick a fight with a man, pay for their food and shit and Alan being flustered because he feels like less of a man. Again, please correct me if I’m wrong since my knowledge of gender is limited, but I’m about 97 % sure this is not how it works.

One would have thought that most of this would end after Charlie’s death. His place is taken by Walden Schmidt, portrayed by the angel that is Ashton Kutcher, a “billionaire internet entrepreneur who has recently been divorced and is now suicidal” (wiki). Before I dig in to how it actually got worse, let’s talk about Walden for a while. He really is a nice change. Walden is a genuinely good character, we see him working super hard and treating women well and just being great. I actually like him. The problem the show has when it comes to him is treating his suicidal-ness as just another little joke. Ha ha ha man wants to die man weak. Funny. But as we get over this part (rather quickly tbh), things involving Walden get actually good (besides the part where he sleeps with Alan’s mother). We do see some annoyingly familiar divorce related things, but in contrast to Alan, we see Walden actually get back on his own two feet.

Alan will forever be my biggest issue with this show. I don’t know if he gets worse or if it’s just the contrast with Walden that makes it seem that way, but he becomes a bigger and bigger parasite, exploiting Walden’s kindness, becoming a lover to his, at that point, former girlfriend Lindsay and somehow exploiting her current boyfriend? He just goes haywire is what I’m trying to say.

I’m not saying that people like that don’t exist. We see it every day, the rich playboys, the pathetic incels. They are everywhere and we totally should talk about them. But not like this. We shouldn’t feel like we should sympathise with them, we shouldn’t hate those that try to criticise them, or those who want to get rid of them. We shouldn’t laugh when they hurt people around them. Men shouldn’t want to relate to them. Characters like this should be presented as something we should avoid becoming.

“What’s your problem? It’s just something I watch to unwind,” my father scoffs at me as I complain about yet another evening we all have to spend listening to the nonsense Two and Half Men brings us. Yea, maybe for you. Maybe you know better than to treat people around you, especially women, like they’re just something you can play around with and then throw into the sewers. Maybe you give everyone equal respect. (No he doesn’t, by the way.) But you know, with the way this TV channel plays this show over and over and over and over again (five episodes a day, every day, and the second they get to the end, they just start over), there’s probably a number of young people who don’t realise how wrong it is and take what’s said there as something to live by. Maybe they’ll think that it’s okay to use people to their advantage. Maybe they’ll think like a rich entitled middle aged straight white man. That’s my problem. Even though the show ended five years ago, it still lives on our televisions and it still gives us wrong examples on how to live our lives. That’s why I hate the show. Not just the awful writing and “plot” holes. It’s the way it treats people and presents it as something that’s totally fine.

#tv #television #tv shows #comedy #sitcom #two and half men #jon cryer #ashton kutcher #charlie sheen #sexism #misogyny

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brooding-daydreaminggay · 4 years

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Answer all the numbers 👀

1, 6 songs I listen to most: Jackson Wang- On the Rocks, Got7-Poison, Stray Kids-God’s Menu, Jake Miller- Blame it on You, Jessie J-Do it like a Dude, Thriving Ivory- Angels on the moon

2. If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?: Jackson Wang or Harry Styles.(celeb wise) Or my crush!

3. Grab book, turn to page 23, line 17: I figure there’s hope for my father, no matter how bad he may have gotten.

4. What do you think about most? My future.

5. What does your lastest text message from someone else say? That is personal but You know what it says..about my mom convo.

6. Do you sleep with or without clothes on? It all depends on my mood.

7. What’s your strangest talent? LMAO hmmm it could be this thing I do with my tongue and lips or it could be the way my fingers bend.

8. Girls...(finish the sentence) Boys...(finish the sentence): Girls are more powerful. Boys are just dumb.

9. Ever had a poem or song written about you? -Not that I know of.

10. When is the last time you played the air guitar? -Just last night actually.

11. Do you have any strange phobias? -I don’t think so. I don’t really like being touched.

12. Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? -Unfortunately, yes.

13. What is your religion? -I believe in all things.

14. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? -Taking the dog out.

15. Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front? -Behind

16. Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? -The Fray

17. What was the last lie you told? -I’m fine.

18. Do you believe in karma? -FUCK YES

19. What does your URL mean? -That i am gay!

20. WHat is your greatest weakness: your greatest strength? -Being loyal

21. Who is your celeb crush? -Not really sure anymore. I don’t get into that stuff much.

22. Have you ever gone skinny dipping? No

23. How do you vent your anger? -I punch stuff or I take it out on myself.

24. Do you have a collection of anything? Yes

25. Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Video chatting

26. Are you happy with person you’ve become? Kind of

27. Sound I hate, sound I love? Sound I hate probably ringing noises. Sound I love, my mom’s voice.

28. What’s your biggest ‘what if”? WHAT IF WE SUDDENLY GO INTO A BLACK HOLE!

29. Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yes and yes.

30. Stick your right arm out, what do you touch first? Same with left. Right: power cord. Left: book

31. Smell the air. WHat do you smell? Lavender

32. What’s the worst place you have ever been to? My aunt’s house for christmas

33. East or West coast? East for right now

34. Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? FUUUUCK Jackson or Harry

35. To you, what is the meaning of life? Meaning of life is to slow down and smell the flowers, be kind to yourself and others, be aware, speak up for those who need help, and making sure the people you love are took care of.

36. Define Art? Art is how you see beyond what is there.

37. Do you believe in luck? Yes

38. What’s the weather like right now? HOT and HUMID

39. What time is it? 2:55pm

40. Do you Drive? No and I use to but I didn’t crash

41. What was the last book you read? After We Fell

42. Do you like the smell of gasoline? No gives me a headache

43. Do you have any nicknames? cina

44. What was the last film you saw? 365 DNI

45. What is the worst injury you’ve ever had? Grease burn

46. Have you ever caught a butterfly? They usually catch me

47. Do you have any obsessions right now? My crush

48. What is your sexual orientation? Gay

49. Ever had a rumor spread about you? Yes

50. Do you believe in magic? Yes

51. Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? I use to.

52. What is your astrological sign? Leo.....I get this shit mixed up sometimes

53. Do you save money or spend it? I usually save until I really need it

54. What’s the last thing you purchased? A song

55. Love or lust? LOVE

56. IN a relationship? Trying to be

57. HOw many relationships have you had? 4

58. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? No

59. Where were you yesterday? Home

60. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? MY hair

61: Are you wearing socks right now? No

62: What’s your favourite animal? Elephant

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? I flirt a lot

64: Where is your best friend? Nashville

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. @pearlchu and I don’t have others really

66: What is your heritage? German Mexican

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? Talking to my crush

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? Morningstar

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? YES

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? I hope so

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? Save the dog

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? A: I tell people B: I fucking live it up C: Kind of

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. Trust

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? Right now God’s Menu

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? 2150

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Communication and being goofy together

77: How can I win your heart? Just by being yourself

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? Yes

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? Stop drinking alcohol

80: What size shoes do you wear? 10

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? Here lies Jescina, daughter, friend, mother, wife; who gave love to so many.

82: What is your favourite word? FUck

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. Attack

84: What is a saying you say a lot? Fuck a duck

85: What’s the last song you listened to? Something by fall out boy...What a catch donnie

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? Black, purple, gray, blue

87: What is your current desktop picture? Harry styles

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? Uhhhhh....I plead the fifth

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? None

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? First I would be mad being woke up and then I would probably get up and get them the fuck out of my room

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? Telaport or however you fucking spell it

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? Ooo tough..probably spending time with my uncle

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? That is personal but if you text me, I will tell you. But on here I will say seeing my dead uncle

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? Oof...I am not sure.

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Korea!!!

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? Not that I know of..anymore

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? Yes

98: Ever been on a plane? No

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? Life is too short to hate. To be afraid. You have to go out and live your life and not care what anyone else thinks. You have to treat those around you with love and care. Don’t be scared of what you don’t have an understanding of. Learn and be patient. Learn about the things that make you afraid. Only then will you stop being afraid. We only have this one life. You can either spend it being afraid and miserable. Or you can spend it being loved and love those around you; making every day a day you want to wake up to.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk! lol :)

#lesbian #gay girl #wlw #gwlg #gay girls #tumblr #girls who like girls #girlswholikegirls #girls looking for girls #sapphic #answers #questions #thank you for the ask!

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