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cicidarkarts · 1 year

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Blood Defied - 4: Thestrals

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Dear Credence,

It's good you're keeping up with your studies and making friends. I’m a little lonely back home, but I'm getting better every day. I hope you are, too. Sorry for the delayed response. I'm trying to be better, but everything that happened is weighing on my mind. I still love you, I just need time.

Love, Mom

Credence felt her sorrow seep out of her eyes, prickling the corners of her vision. Thank goodness Fran had left to meet up with friends so no one had to see or hear her. She put the letter back in its envelope and smacked it onto her desk. Rubbing her eyes clean, she headed out for the day.

The part of her that wanted to jog to Professor Howin’s assignment had been hampered by that letter. As the pep in her step had gone—leaving her in a mood just as cloudy and grey as the weather—she tried to enjoy her novel. The words jumbled up and her mind wandered again; she put her novel away in her enchanted satchel. Instead, she turned her eyes to the sights of the grand old castle.

She observed tapestries as she passed and counted the trees outside of the window, which quieted her mind a little. While heading for her destination, she drew closer to the melodic sound of a violin from the music classroom. She didn't realize there were any classes on Sundays.

The somber sound brought together her mood and the rain in a therapeutic calm. Each note took away a little more of her pain. The violin sent goosebumps along her arms as she listened to the musician's own pain made into art. Whoever played it, she thought, had to be a tormented but talented and insightful soul. As she passed the classroom, she peaked inside to catch a glimpse.

Ominis drew the bow across the strings. He had no music sheet. Instead, he felt the melody and released his emotion in every note. Credence had to keep watching. She felt unable to pull her gaze away as her mind begged to be part of this art, even as just an observer. Its melancholic tone invoked memories of her past, tugging her deeper into his own childhood. Though she knew very little of his past, she felt she knew everything she needed to in that moment.

His song came to an end in the otherwise empty classroom. Despite his back to her, he said,

"Hello, Credence." "Hi, um… Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." He turned toward her with a soft, enchanting smile. "You didn't. I don't mind an audience. Did you enjoy it?" "I loved it, Ominis. It was beautiful." His cheeks turned pink, highlighting the dark flecks of beauty marks across his face. "Thank you. I didn't really have a plan for that one. I'm pleased it turned out okay.” “Oh, it was more than okay. You’re very talented.” “I was going to have a break, but I could play more if you'd like."

A scene hit her imagination. Ominis stood dressed in regal and dark clothes, bathed in the light of a hundred candles as he played his gorgeous songs; her sitting near him, wearing a dress she could never afford, relaxing as he serenaded her. She had to shake that fantasy away before she got too lost in it.

"I would really love that," she said, "but we'll have to some other time. I have to do my assignment for Professor Howin." "Oh?" he asked, putting his violin back in its case. "What's the assignment?" "I'm helping her care for the thestrals. I volunteered for it—actually, I was the only one who did. The only other guy who can see them was too afraid. I don't understand that. Thestrals are incredible." "They are. And very misunderstood." "Can you see thestrals?" "Cree, I can't see anything." "Oh," she said, looking away and fiddling with a lock of hair. "Right. Sorry." "Don’t worry about it,” he said, chuckling. “Would you mind if I joined you?" "Not at all."

He walked beside her, his wand out as they went. She told him more about her assignment—the names of the thestrals, the new mother and the foal she helped deliver, and being the only one besides Howin who seemed to care.

Ominis listened, his head turning to her occasionally but overall he faced forward. When she looked at him, she held a whole new appreciation for his strong, confident profile and his gentle smile. She pretended like her previous fantasy had never existed, even as she counted the beauty marks that dotted his pale skin. Seven…

When she finished her counting, her face warmed and she looked away, all while trying to continue her thestral tales as normal. Luckily, the field of thestrals wasn’t too far, and they came upon it just past the beast classroom. The school thestrals rested in their stables and wandered the field, grazing and playing and stretching their wings.

One of them saw Credence, snorted and shook, then ran over while kicking the air.

“Hey, girl!” Credence patted her bony face. “This one is Cleo. Cleo, this is Ominis.”

Cleo observed Ominis briefly, but returned to nuzzling Credence. Other thestrals converged upon them, some trotting, others flying, and still a few acting like they didn’t care by meandering nearer and eating grass. Credence pointed them all out by name. One male, Knight, strode up to them and leaned over Ominis' shoulder. Ominis went to pet him.

"Knight," Credence scolded, "don't you dare. Careful with him, he's a nippy little thing." Ominis pulled his hand back. "Good to know."

Knight nipped Ominis' vest, to which Credence Accio'd a piece of Knight's favorite fruit from the trough and tossed it.

"Go on, get the peach, you menace." Ominis straightened out his vest. "Ornery, isn't he?" "Knight thinks he's a big shot," she said, watching Knight chase down the peach and swallow it whole. "He's our only troublemaker, luckily. Everyone else is really sweet. Speaking of, I should check on our newest thestral. Her and Mom are probably in the stables."

In the confines of the stables, where the sunlight barely penetrated, Mom and foal laid together rested in shade and serenity. The suckling noises of the foal nursing filled the room.

She whispered, "The Mom's Ellis, and the foal is Jane." “Sounds like we’re interrupting feeding time.”

Ellis lifted her head and watched Ominis. Her wings fluttered, the wind from which shook the air.

"Yeah, Ellis is mad,” she said to him, then, still calm and reassuring but a little louder, she spoke to Ellis. “You're all right, girl, we're going to leave. Just wanted to make sure Jane is okay."

She took Ominis out of the stable.

“Is Jane all right?” he asked. “You seem worried.” “She was born premature. She’s been weak for a while. I had to hand-feed her for the first few weeks. I’ve had a lot of hands-on time with Jane and Ellis. It’s why Ellis doesn’t mind me at all, but she was probably protecting Jane from you.” “That’s very sweet. She’s just being a good mother.”

Credence soon got to work on her various chores. She cleaned out the trough and watering buckets, Accio'd food from the beasts classroom, and almost dragged buckets of water by hand across the field.

"You can just use Wingardium Leviosa," Ominis said. "You can just use Shutupicus Maximus." "Really got me there."

Ominis helped by keeping nosy thestrals busy through pets and play with one of their beaten down quaffles. This gave Credence breathing room to go quietly into the stables and replace old hay without everyone rushing in and enraging Ellis.

By the time all was done and sweat dripped down her face, Credence plopped onto the ground and was promptly cuddled by Thorium, one of the biggest thestrals.

Ominis sat with them, glistening in a little sweat, hardly mussed at all. Only a few locks of hair fell out of place, giving him the most refined disheveled appearance she'd ever seen. She took note of another beauty mark, sitting high upon the apple of his right cheek. Biting her lip, she looked away, back at Thorium's content expression as he laid his head in her lap.

"That one seems to like you," Ominis said. "Thor loves women. Howin thinks he was abused by men. It took Thor a long time to get comfortable with them, and he doesn’t hate men, but he really loves women.” “That’s so wrong, how people mistreat others who can’t stand up for themselves.” “I agree. That’s why I chose to keep going with my beast studies— Knight!”

Knight came up behind her and nipped at her hair. She shoved his face away and he tried to nibble her hands. He trotted over to sniff Ominis—who recoiled—then walked away without nipping.

“Oh, I see,” Cree said. “You hate me.” “You’d think he’d hate me. I just got here.”

A well-fed Jane and her exhausted mother exited the stables. Jane galloped about as her mother ate and drank her fill, but the foal’s frail legs couldn’t carry her for too long. She wandered up to Ominis and sniffed at him.

“And this one is…” he hesitated, then patted her face. “Seems small. Jane?” “Yep. I think she likes you. Really, Jane? After all we’ve been through. Guess I’m the stable punching bag.”

Jane curled up against Ominis, her head in his lap. Seeing his face light up was worth the relegation to punching bag, but she teased anyway.

“What do you got that I ain’t?” “Better vocabulary,” he said. “No, no, I think it’s your posh accent. Very calming for the animals.” He scoffed. “This isn’t posh. I can show you posh.” “You play the violin, how much more posh can you get?” “I will not stand for this violin slander.”

They both laughed as he tenderly stroked the foal. Jane’s eyes fluttered closed as she relaxed to sleep. In the peace of the sun and nature, fresh fantasies of Ominis playing the violin for her crept into Credence’s mind. It proved difficult to be distracted from this topic while in the serenity of the green grove, infatuating her with the idea.

"How long have you been playing the violin?" she asked. "Ever since I was a child. Mum wanted me to play the piano, but it was difficult for me to get a grasp on all of the keys, so I picked up the violin instead. I've loved it ever since, but Mum is pretty cross about it." "She should be happy with your talent. Why would she be so hellbent on you playing the piano?" "The piano is very popular. She was hoping I'd be a blind prodigy and make a fortune off it, but I also think she’s just upset that I didn’t do exactly what she wanted of me. Thankfully, I don't give a niffler's arse what my mum thinks. I love the violin, but it's just a hobby; I don't have big dreams about playing in an orchestra or anything." "What do you want to do?" "Settle down in a small place and live simply. Get a local job and pretend that I'm not a Gaunt." "Nothing wrong with simple living. It sounds nice. Well, aside from the dysfunctional family part." "Dysfunctional is too kind a word, and not one I'd use. But what about you?" "I want to be a magivet. I'd love to work with beasts, especially ones like thestrals, snakes, wolves, bats—the misunderstood animals. I mean, I'd work on any animal, but I love misunderstood ones the most. I wish there was a specialty for that. Sinister magivet: come bring all your ominous animals to me and I can heal them, probably." "I think you’ll have to come up with a better tagline." "I'm not smart enough to come up with a better tagline." "Not smart enough? You're literally a Ravenclaw." "Yeah, but I'm the dumbest Ravenclaw."

Ominis burst out into a loud cackle, making Jane shoot up and gallop away. He laughed so hard that he wheezed.

"Holy shit," Credence squeaked, voice high-pitched from holding down her laughter. "I've never heard you laugh like that!" "I just wasn't expecting—!"

He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to calm down. His other hand wiped a tear from his eye.

"My God," he said, breathless, "that dumbest Ravenclaw comment caught me off guard. I haven't laughed that hard in years."

Their hyena cackling died down and they caught their breaths. She watched the patterns of his beauty marks change as his broad grin crinkled them. There was something enthralling about his laughter, though she frowned at his words. She guessed it made sense, given his tumultuous relationship with his family from what little she heard, and she wondered how deep the scars went.

"It's been a long time since I've laughed like that, too," she said. "Things are finally looking up, now that Mom and I moved here." "How is your mum?" "Standoffish at best. She's been through a lot." "So have you." "Yeah, I guess so,” she acquiesced, fiddling with a blade of grass. “But I'm trying to be understanding. She's a good mom. Nothing like yours from what I heard." "Thank God. I wouldn't wish my mother on my worst enemy." She giggled. "I wouldn't wish your mother on my worst enemy, either. No, my mom is kind, maybe a bit of a pushover. It's how we got into this situation to begin with. If she had put her foot down about my dad not uprooting our whole family to chase gold, maybe we'd all still be together." "I'm sorry, Cree. I didn't realize your father had…" "Oh, right. Yeah, my father and older brother both died in the wars. My mom and I almost did, too, until—"

She fiddled with a pebble and patted a passing thestral. It had been a few months since she last thought of that: the bright light, the adrenaline pulsing, the fear hardening her heart to conjure such terrible things in the heat of the moment. Yet, she reminded, without her actions, she and her mother would be dead.

"We've all got secrets," said Ominis. "I won't make you tell me if you don't want to." "Yeah… Maybe someday. Maybe a different secret. But not this one, and not right now."

He smiled at her, a sort of somber expression with upturned brows. He scooted closer to set his hand on her knee.

"When that day comes,” he said, voice soft, “I want to tell you some of mine, too." She caressed his hand. "I'd really like that."

Later that night, Credence headed into her dorm to study. She sat upon the second level, surrounded by pillows, books, quills, and parchment. The cozy atmosphere and pleasant thoughts of the day had her speed-reading and flipping pages with ease. She was interrupted by Fran, her frizzy-haired roommate who'd returned from Quidditch practice. Fran gazed around the brightly lit room, then caught sight of Credence and smiled.

"Hey there, stranger," she said, lumbering to her bed. "Hey, Fran." Fran flopped across the mattress and let out a tired sigh. "What do you look so happy about?" "I just had a really nice day, that's all." "Ooh, it's a boy, isn't it?" She sat up, waggling her brows. Noting Credence's heating face, Fran continued, "Did you maybe have a date with Sebastian Sallow? You guys had that assignment together and you always sit with him at meals. He's very handsome, you lucky gal." "It wasn't Sebastian. I spent time with Ominis." Fran's brow furrowed hard. "You went out with Ominis Gaunt?" "Um, yeah?" "Oh, you poor sweet girl. You really don't know anything about that, do you?" "About what?" "The Gaunt family. They're a scary bunch. They hate Muggles and Muggle-borns like yourself. I've heard they'll torture and kill them just for fun. Direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin—you know, one of the founders? Hated Muggle-borns, he did. Wanted to oust everyone that wasn't a pureblood."

Credence slammed her book shut. She glared at Fran, who still looked upon her with pursed lips that felt oddly condescending. Prepared to set the record straight, Credence proclaimed,

"Ominis isn't like that. He hates blood supremacy." "Is that what he told you? I dunno, Credence. Maybe it's true, but you don't know him. You don't know what he's capable of." "Yeah? Well, you don't know him, either. Ominis is sweet and gentle. You don't know what you're talking about." "You have no idea what the Gaunt family is like. They're a bunch of inbred psychopaths, even more than most pureblood families because they put so much stock in being Slytherin's descendants. I'm just nervous for you, is all. Anyone will tell you not to get close to someone from the Gaunt family, except maybe other pureblood supremacists like Melodria Malfoy or Regalian Black." "I'll figure it out for myself, Fran. Ominis has been nothing but kind to me. I'm not afraid of him." Fran shrugged. "Fine, whatever you say. I gotta head to bed. Gotta get up early tomorrow. Just… Stay safe, okay?"

Fran shut her curtains, leaving Credence to mull over the day's events. People really thought Ominis was like that? She frowned, tapping her open book. He was so quiet, tender, and understanding. The Gaunt family did chill her to her core, from what little she'd heard—even things straight from Ominis' mouth. But she'd seen the darkest parts of humanity, and she wasn't going to let it keep getting in her way.

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 2 years

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Snippet Sunday!

(Borrowing the idea of Sunday Snippet from @tkwritesdumbassassins)

So.

It's been a while since I shared anything written. And because I am feeling all sorts of feeling for my FFXII bebes I decided to share just a tiny fragment of the story I wrote, so many years ago. As you will see, the writing is not perfect in any way, because I was very young when I wrote this, but I am still so proud of it. So forgive the mistakes.

You could ask, "Why not edit before showing it?"

the reason is that I want to offer you all a sneak peek of what I used to do when I was younger, much like when I share those photos of my old artworks. I don't know if I will ever share the whole story. I don't want to run the risk of what happened with Dorothea also befalling my Nabyrie. I don't mind talking about her, but I don't know if I want to share the whole story. I don't know, I will see how I feel.

So, for the moment, I will share this small snippet.

For context, this takes place VERY AHEAD in the story, in Book 2: "The Blue Yonder", where Nabyrie is already Empress of the Archadian Empire and she went through a lot already.

So, here you have it.

I hope you will like this (Please, do read under the cut).

Tale of two Empires - Book 2: The Blue Yonder

Nabyrie was sitting underneath a tree, just a few yards away from the place where the Strahl was anchored. She was still wearing the thin dress she had in Archades, and was grateful to Fran for giving her a much warmer shawl to drape on her shoulders. The air was chilling on the Island of the Lost, and goosebumps were all over her arms. Absorbed in her thoughts, she was contemplating the blue of the sky above, so similar to the view she had from her room when she was a younger girl. She couldn’t help herself and thought about how much it differed from the sky in Archades. There was truly something prepossessing in the sky over the Purvama Regions, a sight like there wasn’t anywhere else in Ivalice.

When she was a child, she often found herself wondering if the intensity of the blue was somehow influenced by the magicite nestled inside the rock of the Floating Continents.

Suddenly, she heard steps approaching her, and turned her face toward whoever was coming. Balthier’s eyes met hers, and she couldn’t help but blush when looking at him. Now that the shock of seeing him again had worn off, she took the chance of examining his face more carefully: he was still the same handsome skypirate she knew, she noticed, but a few wrinkles formed around his eyes, giving him a perpetually tired expression. Those eyes, however, were warmer, kinder than she used to remember.

-So.. -he started -..how shall I address you, now? I presume “Lady Bug” is not suitable enough at present, seeing how high you have risen, Your Imperial Highness.

His voice was gentle, soft even. There was none of the pungency nor the anger she remembered and associated to him.

Feeling her cheeks burning, but trying to maintain an immovable face, she searched for a witty answer, but couldn’t find any. She rose from the fresh grass, standing as straight and dignified as she could.

-You know there is no need for such formalities, Balthier.

-Once, maybe, when you were just a little bee buzzing in my ears - he answered, not unkindly. -But those days are long lost, I’m afraid.

There was an edge of melancholy in his words, she couldn’t help but notice.

-Is that why you called me Lady Bug? -

-Yes. You were always chatting in my ears, as excited as a little bee around a blossoming flower. You were kind of an annoying young Lady, back then. -

Nabyrie bowed her head gracefully, in acknowledgment of his words, as if he meant them as a compliment, not letting them sink deeper than her skin. He was still unpleaseant with her, and that wounded her more than she liked.

-I think my Lord Husband can vouch for me now, and assure you that I am most silent nowadays. - she replied, cold but graciously, moving away from her tree and putting more distance between the two of them. -Might I ask what your intentions are, perchance? As you remember, kidnapping royalties is a serious offence, and kidnapping the Empress of the Archadian Empire even more so. As Fran was kind enough to inform me, it has already been two days since you seized me, and I doubt my Lord Husband hasn’t noticed my absence. -

Her tone was grave, her eyes void of emotions, with no hint of the playfulness she used to have when she was younger.

Balthier would not answer her immediately. His face was inscrutable, a pool of still water, and didn’t give hint of his feelings, but he was taken aback by how much she changed during the years. She had grown more graceful and poised, that was certain, comelier even, but there was an hollowness in her, where before there were laughters and joy.

-My intents are simple enough, Your Highness. - he said, putting an harsh emphasis on her title - It is my will to take the most precious treasure of the Archadian Empire, the dearest possession the Emperor owns, and conceal it from the rest of the world; it is my will to never return it to Archades, and I truly couldn’t care less if the world would fall in an large-scale war because of my actions.-

Nabyrie raised her eyebrows, surprised.

-If those were your purposes, to what end, pray, kidnapping me? Causing the Emperor’s ire would not make your task any easier nor more successful. The Judges will be on your trail soon enough, not counting my father’s army as well, and you will be most likely sentenced to death for daring such an affront toward the Empire. Even if I interceded with the Emperor himself, you would not go unpunished, and a life sentence to Nalbina Dungeons will soon befall on your head. -

Balthier looked her square in the eyes, moving a few steps toward her, his arms resting along his body, his fingers flexing, as if he couldn’t stop them to move.

-All you said is certainly true. If I ever take a step outside this place with you, I would be certainly sentenced and lose my life, or worse, my freedom. But what if the Emperor’s treasure wasn’t his to begin with? What if I’m just taking back something that once was meant to be mine? Something that I never claimed, but was I know, deep within, was supposed to be with at my side the whole time? -

Even more confused, Nabyrie couldn’t quite comprehend what he meant. She searched in her mind among all the riches her husband had, but couldn’t find any that might have once belonged to Balthier.

-How could it be? What could Larsa possess that once belonged to you? - asked, while he stopped right in front of her.

He kept gazing in her eyes, still as a statue.

-You. - He murmured, his voice serious yet full of resolve.

Her heart skipped one beat, her face whitened like curlded milk, the air went out of her chest as if someone had punched her right in the stomach. She couldn’t quite believe what she just heard.

-Me? - she asked, her voice chocking, shaking her head in disbelief - No. This cannot be possible. How? Since when? You always disliked me. You always treated me as if I was only an annoyance to you, and kept me at arm’s distance. I’ve never received anything but contempt from you.

His fingers twiched, and she noticed that his hands were trembling. He rose them, hesitant on what to do; they found their way on her cheeks, a touch as gentle as a butterfly’s wing.

Again, he was staring at her, his lovely hazel eyes so focused as if he wanted to held her next to him by sheer willpower.

-You were a nuisance to me, Lady Bug, there is no questioning it. You were the annoying Lady Nabyrie Alyja Ondore, only daughter to Halim Ondore IV and heir to the Stewardship of Bhujerba, and not Mira, the sweet, honest and spontaneous girl I first met in Rabanastre.

His hands, still trembling, traced the line of her nose, of her cheeks, touching every freckles that spotted her skin. Nabyrie felt her eyes swelling with tears, her mask of impassibility crumbling without her being able to recompose herself.

-When Princess Ashe revealed to us your true identity, you were not someone I could just open my heart to and be with anymore. - he kept murmuring, his heart beating faster than ever in his life.

-You had a place in a world where I didn’t belong and couldn’t fit even if I tried to. I saw how close you and I were growing to be, day after day; how your eyes would shine when trying to talk to me and how happy I was when you were next to me and returned one of my smiles. I had to stop it, to break it before what we felt for each other became too deep to turn back…but I’m afraid I wasn’t rapid enough. -

Abruptly, Nabyrie turned her face to her side and detached from his touch, her eyes wide open from disbelief. Speechless, she felt a chasm opening in her heart, and couldn’t stop her knees from trembling. Balthier was taken aback by her reaction, and put his arms back along his body.

-I wish I have known about this a long time ago. - She tightened her arms, embracing herself, feeling as if she could fall apart any moment. – I..I cannot bear this truth. Not after spending all this time convincing myself that you loathed me so much that there was no possibility for my sentiment to be reciprocated. -

Nabyrie glanced Balthier, unable to mask the torment on her face any longer.

-I...I need a moment. Do forgive me, Balthier. -

And without waiting for his leave, she turned away, walking toward the blue forest surrounding the clearing where the Strahl was anchored to the ground, looking for a secluded place, far away from the skypirate.

With his heart breaking at every beat, Balthier backed away inside his airship, now doubting his decisions, not knowing if, by opening his heart to her –The Empress of Archades, not the carefree girl he loved- he made the biggest mistake of his life.

--Nemo

#Nemo Writes #Final Fantasy XII #The Blue Yonder #Nabyrie Ondore #balthier

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jodilin65 · 32 years

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MONDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1992 I am far from tired, but I do want to stay on a day schedule for a while. So, I’ll allow myself to be woken up by the lawnmowers. I won’t turn on my clock radio when I crash. I hope nothing else wakes me up too early.

It sounds like Andy’s in his bathroom, but his ringer’s off again. I hope he’s not sick. He did mention that he still has diarrhea.

Believe it or not, I finally did some editing. I have lots and lots more to tackle, though.

I left 4 messages on Andy’s machine and you have up to 3 minutes on each message, but the fourth one only went halfway. So, all in all, I did about 10-11 minutes of editing. Of course, it took me about 20 minutes to do them since I have to set up everything and listen carefully to time everything. We have each other’s codes and I called his machine to play back and hear how it sounded. It’s much clearer hearing them played on my stereo, naturally.

He gave me some no-postage-necessary envelopes. Well, they were cards actually. For a magazine called Phoenix. I sent subscriptions to Mattie, Ana, Fran, Nervous, Bob, Kacey and Hank. I’ll have to look in the book to see if that liar April is in it or her parents at least, match up her “old” number and mail all kinds of shit to her. I can play games, too.

I wonder if Tammy has finally spoken to Sheila. At least I know my pictures are on their way. I’m gonna be turning around to send them right to Kim, of course, but she’ll get them back within a few weeks. The ones I’ve asked Nervous to return will go to Bob.

My nails look like shit. I wonder if the Theodur I take can cause those ridges? I know I had them somewhat as a kid and I know my parents have them somewhat and maybe it’s hereditary? The Theodur must enhance them. I’ve eaten poorly way before they got this bad which was when I began the Theodur.

I’m really pissed that I’m not tired, but I’ll go see if I can fall asleep anyway. I’ll write about my chat with Andy tomorrow or later if I can’t fall asleep.

Later…

I woke up at 5:30 AM, went to the bathroom, got a drink of water, ate a cupcake and smoked half a cigarette. At 9:00 the lawnmowers did wake me up, but I fell back asleep till 11:00.

I hope UPS will be here any second, but I did get a package from Kim. I got a really pretty candle in the shape of a pyramid with 3 colors. A soft blue-green color and pink and purple. I’ve lit the candle and it’s burning now. Inside the candle, there are supposed to be some crystals and possibly other stones, too, I guess.

I also got a porcelain cover to something (I don’t know what) that I’ll just use as a knickknack. It’s got tiny little flowers on it in different colors. The candle wrapper was like a bag tie, but it was purple foil with purple foil stars on it. I taped it up on the side of the cabinet by the sliding door.

I also got a little cosmetic bag with a Chinese design on it. I already have tons of cosmetic bags, so if Andy wants them he can have them. Current Location: Arizona

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1992 Andy came crashing in a couple of hours ago. He left me a message, but every time I call him I get his machine. Every time I don’t answer, he runs and shuts his ringer off. Well, I was in the Jacuzzi when he called. I was also in it earlier with Jeff, and the pool too. It’s still a little too cool for the pool and while it is heated, it’s not heated enough.

Now for some bad news. Jeff’s moving out next weekend. What a bummer. You never know who they’re gonna put in there next. I asked Paula who said she didn’t know, but of course, she knows. I’ll die if it’s a mom and a baby. I’m sick of having to listen to and deal with the kids around me. Andy’s lucky he doesn’t have weekends off. All he’d do is hear them scream all weekend long. I’d rather a pervert male move down there if I had to choose between the two cuz that’s a problem I could take care of. I also hope this person isn’t noise-intolerant themselves and that they don’t complain about me. Hopefully, they’re never home either. The perfect person to put down there would be a deaf woman, but that’s a dream for sure.

Jeff gave me tons of hangers which is a tremendous help with no dressers. I even hung my bathing suits to empty yet another duffel bag. Jeff also popped my popcorn in his microwave and is going to give me a plant.

One last hysterical funny thing Jeff gave me was an envelope saying: Herpes Test Results - personal and confidential. Guess who it’s going to? Not Nervous, nor Fran or Bob. It’s going to my parents. This oughta be hilarious. I took a piece of plain white typing paper and typed:

Dear Mr. & Mrs. O: We are sorry to have to tell you that both of your test results are +. Please take the time to follow these interactions to alleviate the problem.

3 X’s daily take an 8 oz. glass of water, mix in 4 teaspoons of salt and gargle. Refrain from kissing and all sexual activity. Instead of doing the above, send lots of money to family members. Receive psychological counseling once a week. Pay our bill in full of $3,820.57 by 1/1/65. Call us for a follow-up visit by 9/3/1998. *Helpful hints: If you reside by the ocean, chewing on seaweed may help.

I have mailed this and several other letters today.

Later…

Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll get my package. I’m psyched. Will my pictures be in it? I doubt it.

Dennis, Bea and I went to the store. I bought my 5-gallon container of water, TV dinners and a few munchies. I also got a book of stamps. I put 10 on the package to my parents which have those geeky, baggy grandma clothes she sent last summer to the other apartment I put 2 on the envelope to Tammy which I’ll mail my photo and drawing in. I also must mail my $31.41 phone bill soon. I dropped Ma’s package off at the office. Isn’t it nice that they give things that don’t fit into the little mailbox slot to Pete? In all the other places I lived, you’d have to take stuff like that to the post office.

Well, now I’m gonna go check out what’s on TV.

Later…

I'm watching I Witness Video now.

Andy called saying he was going to Fry’s and asked me if I wanted to go along. I told him I went earlier. He’s getting the paper, so I can have the TV-Time section and look at the cat ads.

Later…

Now I’m watching a movie. Andy gave me the TV-Time section a little while ago.

I’m gonna make a TV dinner now cuz I must take my meds on an empty stomach. I want to take my meds in an hour and a half, so by then, my stomach will be emptier.

Later…

Well, I’m still watching the movie. There’s a half-hour to go. After, I’ll clean up and finish Fran’s letter.

Today was a nice day and they say it’s going to warm up for the next few days.

During the next commercial, I’ll write about something I talked to Andi about (the girl next door).

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1992 Well, I did end up listening to music and I also did write tons of letters. I also finished coloring for Andy. I taped it up on his kitchen wall.

Now this fucking TV guide has bullshitted me twice. First, it said Hunter was going on now, but I’m not so sure. Charlie Brown was also said to be on earlier and it wasn’t. It was even advertised on the cover of the TV time section of Sunday’s paper.

Around 6 PM Andy got back from his trip. The poor guy was sick all the time and couldn’t even enjoy pigging out like he wanted to. He did tell me he saw tons of ugly butches while he got my b-day present.

Kara called from Brian’s trailer.

Rachel also came over last night around midnight with my pool key and a thank you card that said, “Thank you so much for letting me use your key. Have a great weekend.” Now ain’t that sweet? She also had a little present for me wrapped in tin foil. A picture that’s hard to describe of a girl standing on a cliff with a long flowing dress. I sent her card off to Nervous.

Speaking of Nervous, well, I’m not too sure, but it looks like I forgot to mention that I spoke to him. He was friendly as you know it’s back and forth, up and down, left and right with him. You never know what mood he’ll be in from one day to the next.

I’ve got two letters done for him. Almost two for Bob and Fran and I finished letters to Kim, my nieces, Tammy and Mom and Dad. All those weirdoes and wackos - Grace, Nancy, Rita, Bobbie, Jim, Nellie, Hank, Brenda and Ana and Julia should be getting their letters soon if they haven’t already. Of course, I don’t hate all of these people named above. For the most part, the purpose of their letters is just to freak them out and make them wonder who the hell in Phoenix could possibly be writing to them and what all the mumbo-jumbo could possibly mean.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1992 I hope UPS comes with my package today, but I doubt it. I’ll probably get it Mon.

Kara hasn’t called yet, but I guess she will any time now.

This building has been so quiet. Andy’s gone and it looks like the Andi next to me is gone, too. That noisy family of 4 next to Andy moved out two weeks ago.

I finished that drawing finally. I’m not too impressed with the way it turned out either. Some things were well-proportioned and realistic and others weren’t. Tammy, Bill and Becky didn’t look too cool. Especially their faces. I’d say Lisa came out the best. Next, I’ll finish coloring in those unicorns for Andy. That certainly is much easier. At the present moment, I have letters to do for Bob, Fran and Nervous. This weekend I’ll write to my parents, Tammy, Lisa and Becky. Then, the only other two things are editing and the story. There’s no hurry on the coloring so now I guess I’ll do some letters.

Judy in the office gave me an envelope large enough for the drawing and the 8 x 10 photo.

Later…

I got back from Kara’s almost an hour ago. Stacey and Justin and Alana were there. Then, Kara and I walked down El Camino and some other street where we met a friend of hers named Tammy she’d known for 17 years. Tammy also had her boyfriend and her baby Mystery. That is an awesome name.

Anyway, we had chocolate cake and ice cream and Kara walked me home.

Earlier I did some coloring and a little bit of typing.

No package today and I’m not sure if UPS delivers on Saturdays. My dad had said I’d probably get it Mon. anyway. Oh well, I’ll just have to be patient.

I’m really bummed out that that kitten turned out to be so obnoxious. I have to find a tamer, calmer, loving neutered cat somehow. I still want a cat and I spent $17 on supplies and that’s a lot of money to be spending and throwing away on nothing. It is for me, at least.

TV’s boring now, so, I think I’ll listen to music, finish my letters and possibly start all that editing.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1992 Today was a very nice day. I fell asleep around 2 AM last night. At 7:30 I woke up needing to take my meds. At 8:30 I woke up for good after having a series of really weird dreams. Then, Jeff put his music on. He was only there a while and he sure meant it when he said he was never home. He’s only been there 3 days in all the time I’ve lived here.

Later…

Now, I’ll finish with all I did today. First of all, I had a great time with Kara at her place. Her mom Alana, and Alana’s ex (Kara’s stepdad), Rick, were there. We all had good conversations with each other and some laughs, but Ashley was an obnoxious little twerp. The turkey, stuffing and fruit salad were great. Alana also made yams with marshmallows. I’ve never heard of that any more than I’ve heard of a fish sandwich with peanut butter. It was good, though. Stacey and her husband and her son Justin came over as I was on my way out. Justin’s sure grown quickly.

Kara came and walked me over there so I would learn the way. I walked back myself and it is very easy to find as Kara said it was.

Their apartment is beautiful. The 1 and 2-bedrooms there and the landscaping aren’t as nice as here, but it still blows what’s available back east away.

I spoke to both my parents. Mom sent a box out and said they were combining my b-day and Chanukah presents. I hate that and said, “Why couldn’t you have been busy around this time of year so I could’ve been born in the summer?”

Dad said, “We were busy, you just didn’t hatch.”

Ma said, “Very funny, Art.”

Ma said I could call her Tuesday. Then she said “No, not Tuesday. When’s your b-day?”

I asked, “You don’t even remember the day you made the biggest mistake of your life?”

So anyway, she told me to call them Friday between 8:00-9:00 my time. Dad jokingly said, “We’ll pay for the call and that will be your b-day present.”

I told them I got 3 offers for Turkey Day. I told them about Dennis, Kara and Rachel who offered to let me spend Turkey Day with her and Peter. Dad said something about eating 3 times, but I don’t think so.

So, tomorrow or Mon. I’ll get a box and in between my b-day and Chanukah.

I can’t wait to get that Bedazzeler thing I sent away for. It’s this thing that lets you put studs and jewels on clothes.

Later…

As I mentioned earlier, I spoke to Tammy. She can’t get around too well with her leg in a cast and they didn’t do much for Turkey Day. She said she was gonna send a card and some money to me and that I’d definitely get more letters since she’s held up in the cast.

I told her I sent two to each girl and mentioned the drawing. I also asked if she’d like the picture taken here. She said, “Yeah, that’s what I want.” That’s good as I wouldn’t know who else to send it to. She also copied some of those pictures and they’re on their way back to me and so are the negatives. Next, I’ll send the pictures to Kim and the negatives to Nervous. Meanwhile, I’ve sent Nervous about 7 he must send back and 3 for Fran to keep. When Nervous returns his, they’ll go to Bob.

Lastly, I spoke with Lisa for a few minutes. She sounds OK, I guess, then said she was in her room finishing up a letter to me.

I love getting letters for 3 reasons. One is to read them, naturally. Two is to copy them into my journals. Three is to send them off to Nervous, Fran, or whoever.

Guess I’ll go to bed now.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1992 The phone company called to let me know my stutter dial tone was fixed. When someone’s left you a message, you get a stutter dial tone. This way you don’t have to bother calling the voice message number and your code to hear it say you have no messages.

Dennis, Bea and I went to the grocery store. I only bought a few things. Mainly junk food, as usual.

I am making a tape for Kara who’s been over twice since I last wrote. I am taping songs she wants by the Judds, Gloria, and a few others. I will be at her place tomorrow and Fri. She’s gonna give me tons of hangers for doing the tape and giving her a pack of ciggies.

Dennis had told me I might be able to have Thanksgiving with him and Bea, but he wasn’t absolutely sure it was to be at his place. He found out a few days later that they were going someplace else.

Then Kara was over the next day and she invited me over to her place. That’s nice of her. If I’d had to spend Thanksgiving alone, then fine, but this is nice of her.

Her daughter Ashley will be 1 on Friday. I got her a cute card today and I’m gonna give her a stuffed animal of mine she always liked playing with.

When I was in line at the check-out I said something to the effect of hoping I had enough money. A lady in her 50s or so gave me $3. That was very nice of her.

Yesterday Kara heard the tape of Andy trying to sing in Spanish. She sure got a kick out of it. She also heard the tape of Andy and me with Laurie at the crisis center. I also put Andy singing in Spanish and some edits on her tape.

When I last spoke to Bob, he told me he sort of took in a 16-year-old girl named Christina who comes from a set of strict bitchy parents. Yes, I can see Bob taking in someone like this. He says he and she are taking a van of their stuff and they’re gonna leave. He swears he’ll be out here knocking on my door sometime in Feb. We’ll see.

I just mailed out tons of letters. I mailed each of my nieces two.

For Chanukah, I’m gonna send my parents just a card which they insist is all they want. For Tammy and all of them, I’m gonna send the drawing as well as the free 8x10 color picture that’s a gift to the Vista Ventana residents. This is what I began writing about when the phone rang. She took about 6-7 shots of me, but I can only pick out one cuz I can’t pay for any additional copies. On Dec. 5th we’re supposed to go pick them up.

I got my address labels in the mail last week. The same kind I had on Woodside Terr. They’re blue, green, pink and yellow.

Just for the hell of it, I’m curious to see if I’d get a response if I wrote a letter to A Current Affair. I told them I’ve always wanted to be a singer but have no money, transportation and don’t do drugs and refuse to sleep my way there. How do I get a clean, honest connection with no false promises who believes in my talent only? It was a short letter that cut right to the point.

Later…

I just finished doing Andy’s laundry.

Earlier I made myself a delicious steak on the grill. So nice not to have to worry about greasy, messy ovens. As I sat there by the grill I admired the beauty around me. Everything is so clean, classy and modern, the landscaping gorgeous. I felt 100% safe. No graffiti, ugly old rundown buildings, glass and dope dealers everywhere, trash, fires, and foul smells.

Well, Shadow is gone and I was never happier to toss him out. This thing never shut up. It was doing these ear-piercing screams nonstop. I couldn’t sleep and my clock radio wouldn’t drown him out. I think Mary has him and I left a message on her machine to call me. I hope she’ll want him and I feel so bad it didn’t work out. This cat was horribly shy and nervous. I’ve always had a way with animals, but this one was so scared. For a few minutes here and there I was able to play with him, then he’d go right back to screaming.

I want Moon Shadow! So calm, so loving, well behaved and neutered.

I’m pissed that I spent $17 for no reason. I should’ve searched harder for an adult, tame, neutered cat. There were several ads in last Saturday’s paper, but they were all gone. I’m sure I can get lucky with that sooner or later. This cat also clawed shit really badly.

I don’t know if I should try selling the litter box and liners I bought, or hang onto it for a cat like the original Shadow or Moon Shadow. I’ll wait till I speak to Mary.

I called Jane through the relay. We’re gonna get together after Saturday. Or Friday, I should say.

The night Randy and I walked to the grocery store I met two guys in a rock band. He (Bill) gave me a number to call a girl Kathy about country singers needed. He also may have other connections if I have no luck with Kathy. He’ll call me Mon., but I’m a total disbeliever until something proves otherwise. Meaning, it’s gonna take a lot to convince me with all the letdowns I’ve had. I’d have to be in a band for quite a while and see it stick before I believe and have confidence.

Sometime soon, Dennis is gonna fix my speakers and I’m gonna fix 3 of their kitchen chairs. They’re ripped and he’s gonna buy some material for me to sew it up with.

All I have left to write is about this girl Sandy I met at the pool almost two weeks ago.

Also, the conclusion of the radio story. About what happened after I called about a date with Kathy. After I called the radio station, I highly doubted I’d get a call. But every now and then you do something as a joke and someone else takes it seriously. Kathy called and basically, all she said was that she was straight but would keep my number. She says in the business she’s in she meets all kinds of people. She asked me to write down a little about myself and what I look for. I just laughed to myself and went along with it. She asked if I had any suggestions or comments. All I could think of was a radio dating service for both gays and straights. She liked the idea and was gonna take it to her boss.

Last subject now. I was headed to the pool when I met Sandy who was already there. Instantly I thought - butch. Well, she’s married but says she’s always fantasized about women even though she has yet to be with one. Her husband’s like most guys who encourage that, but would flip if she went with another guy. She’s on SS, so we hit it off. I could sense she liked me cuz I wasn’t one bit attracted to her and she’s masculine. Not the ugliest girl, but close enough. I’d give her a 3. Maybe a 4 as I never saw her dressed nicely with makeup and her hair dry.

I gave her my number as I was leaving the pool and I said to myself, “Due to the fact that I’m not attracted to her and she’s low income with medical problems and God knows what mentally, God will have her calling me.” Now don’t get me wrong. She’s not an Ellie or Fran at all and does seem honest and sincere. Sure enough, though, she did call.

She told me she’d had a one-nighter with a guy and got a bruise. He wasn’t violent, she said, but I guess they had wild sex. She wanted to know if it was OK to tell her husband she got the bruise with me. I said yes. Then she shyly said her husband encouraged us while she was as if to imply she agrees. I thought to myself, “Do you want to be celibate forever and wait for the impossible to happen or shouldn’t you try to settle?”

Well, she was due back in Minnesota the next day. That’s where she’s from. She was gonna call later in the evening as her sister and brother-in-law were gonna go out bowling. She never called and I’m really glad she didn’t. Again, I’ll stay celibate throughout my life. Thanks to these 200-pound butches. Or the skinny ones, for that matter. I just can’t bring myself to settle.

Her sister lives here and she also knows lots of butches. Her mom, who she describes as cool and open-minded lives in Minnesota. She’s not sure if she’ll ever move to Phoenix.

There’s only one thing she said that doesn’t jive. She says her husband works for Northwest Airlines and so she can hop a plane here for $10. OK, fine, but no one with that job is gonna marry someone on SS. Maybe he’s one of those men who likes his wife at home as a slave. Who knows, but I’m gonna go watch TV now.

Later…

I am watching Law & Order now.

Kara called twice. The first time she told me she’d call me tomorrow at noon. They’re eating between 1:00-2:00. That’s pretty early in the afternoon, but why not? The second time she wanted to know if I can bring two big bowls.

I crimped my hair which looks great now. It’s tomorrow when I wake up that I wonder how it’ll look. I also have a big fat zit on my cheek.

Mary hasn’t called. Maybe she’s gone somewhere for the holiday.

When the hell is my sister gonna close out my account? She goes to this bank all the time.

When will I ever receive the rest of my pictures? I wish my mother would just send me my pictures or admit that she dumped them knowing how much they mean to me. Also, cuz it’s something she’s not into and makes her think of something she can’t bear - me being a singer. And hey, what resembles my dream the most of all the stuff of mine that went to Florida? Gloria’s pictures. I wish dad sent all my pictures. He and Tammy can be trusted, but Ma’s a different story. I truly believe she dumped them, but won’t say so. Instead, she’ll say what she said before. There were no pictures. Bull.

She can be a real controlling, angry, jealous, negative little bitch. When will the little fuck ever grow up? At 61 I guess it’s too late.

Well, as usual, I still have a lot to do. Still have massive editing, a drawing to do and the unicorn I’m coloring for Andy. Also, letters to write and a story to begin typing.

Later…

Rachel just called. She wanted to borrow the pool key which also opens the laundry room door. She said she felt bad calling only when she wants something. I told her not to worry since I trust her. She said I could spend the holiday with her and Peter, but I told her I had plans. She looked beautiful and she really is sweet. I wish God would let me have a one-nighter with a girl like her, but I know he never will. Only straight girls are this beautiful and feminine, anyway.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1992 Well, I sure do have lots to write about. First of all, I got a new gray and white kitten today! One time I was over at Dennis’s talking with him and his mom when Brian came over. I asked if he knew anyone wanting to get rid of a cat or kittens. Sure enough, he knew these two guys who had several. At 8:45 we picked up the new Shadow who’s a male and also very nervous, meowing a lot. He’s sleeping now. He’s smaller than the first Shadow was when I first got him. He was 6 weeks and this Shadow must be 4 weeks making his b-day around the last week of October. This kitty’s very long and strong for a tiny kitten. Judging by that and his paws, I’d say he’s gonna be huge. He’s the same type of cat that Shadow was, only gray and white, rather than orange and white.

I’m gonna call Mary downstairs and see if she wants any kittens. The guy asked me to ask people. These guys had a horrible run-down, trashy, messy, smelly place and I think they may have abused Shadow. Brian’s gonna give Dennis these guys’ numbers and I’ll give it to Mary.

Let me take a cigarette break before I begin with the many more things I have to write about.

Later…

Andy flew out this morning and he was sick, so I hope he’s better.

He gave me a pitiful picture of me he took a few months ago. I’m sending it off to Bob.

We never sold my records cuz I was feeling totally shitty that day. My asthma was a nightmare and 3 nights ago I thought I was gonna end up in the ER. The records are in his trunk, so we’ll sell them when he gets back.

I was pissed at him this morning cuz last night I told him not to call me in the morning cuz I was gonna leave my ringer on for Dennis to call me when it was time to go get Shadow. Naturally, he forgot and now I wonder if he’ll remember to mail the letter I typed to Barb and Dave from San Francisco. If he’d stop smoking pot, he’d remember more things.

The other day I was over at Andy’s using his phone to call Jessie collect. She was glad to hear from me and I gave her my address and phone number. We couldn’t talk long cuz she can’t afford it, but she’ll call when she can and give me her address so I can write to her. I’ll only write if she writes. It’s sad she never got to see me in S. Deerfield or in CT. I’ll never see her again, but that’s just life. She’s got a kid which means she’s got no life.

As I was over there, I glanced down and saw my name written on some application form. I laughed, figuring he was sending me something free in a no-postage-necessary envelope. Then I noticed he wrote “27-year-old gay female seeks feminine woman. No commitments. Call anytime or middle of night.”

I’m just not sure about this. Bob called and he said not to worry as it’s free. I told him that’s like my saying, “Bob, I’m gonna play with your head, lie to you and lead you on. It should be OK with you, Bob, cuz it’s free. You don’t have to pay for me to do this.”

I told Andy when he got home from work that friends don’t let their friends get burned, and that, or nothing, is exactly what would happen. Gay women aren’t what I want and I’m not what they want. I’m too old to keep playing this game. Plus, I’ll mainly get calls from men or people looking for threesomes. He said if I get a call for a threesome, send them to a bogus address. That won’t work, as they no doubt never intended to see me anyway.

I’ve got to go check my mail, even though I’m sure I didn’t get anything.

Later…

I am watching a movie now and commercials are on now.

I spoke to Nervous earlier and he was nice. It’s back and forth with him. I told him I may send pictures he can have as well as pictures I want him to send back.

When Tammy sends back my pictures in 10 years, Kim said she’d like me to send them to her to copy, then she’ll send them back.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1992 Early in the morning, Tammy called. Everything’s fine with Dad, but she’s got some hip trouble. A ligament is damaged and so she’s going through treatment.

That time Rachel had the ambulance here was cuz she had a panic attack.

I had a close call myself with my asthma. I thought I was gonna end up in the ER, but Judy from the office came up and calmed me down.

I do believe I did scare Stacey off when I threatened her with court. She hasn’t fucked with me and she’s been friendlier.

Tammy didn’t call Stacey and she hasn’t heard from Sheila yet who’s supposed to return her call. Tammy reminded me not to worry as I have written permission to be here. I will never go back east.

Still no sign of Moon Shadow which is so depressing.

I recorded all my albums and 45s onto cassettes. It took me 12 hours to do it, but I believe it’s well worth it. Now I have more room and in 2-3 years when my stereo keels over and dies, it’ll be very hard to find a turntable.

I may get a letter from Tammy today or tomorrow.

I spoke to mom today who says in a week to 10 days she’ll send a package out. I guess this will be my other guitar, and perhaps I can take that and my little keyboard to the pawnshop to trade them in for a bigger keyboard. I’m gonna try selling my records to a used record store.

Next Tuesday, Andy will be gone to his sister’s in San Francisco till the following Saturday. So, I guess he’ll be gone for 5 days.

Later…

I just wrote letters to my nieces and Tammy. Tammy said she’d send journals, but it may be inconvenient. If it is, she’ll send me money. I’m gonna send her the portrait of me that the apartment complex is taking as a free Christmas gift to the residents.

Andy and I went out to the mall yesterday where I bought two journals. I now have 35 journals altogether.

I’m surprised I haven’t heard Andy get up for work. Did he oversleep? Who knows.

I am definitely going to lie out at the pool today. I want to have some color for the photoshoot this Sat.

I met this girl named Sandy there two days ago. She looks butchy. She’s married but tells me she always fantasizes about women. She’s on SS, so naturally, we hit it off really well. She’s got medical problems, too.

Maybe I can call Dennis and see if he wants to fix my speakers today. I haven’t seen too much of Randy and I hardly ever see Tara and Tonya. I hope Kara calls soon.

Yesterday Andy did what they call pulmonary cupping for 20 minutes. The last few weeks my asthma’s been worse. After Andy finished I felt better but only for a short while. It’s a little better today as I only smoked half of what I smoked yesterday.

Andy gave me a few pictures of him which were shot while he was at home. There were two of the same shots of him picking his nose. He wrote notes on the back of each one. One’s for Fran and the other will go to Nervous as well as other stuff like the letters from Kim and Bob.

I also got another poster to color with a black velvet background. This one is for Andy. I’m also gonna sew a button on a pair of shorts for him, too. Today I’ll do my laundry. I did his yesterday.

I’m also gonna steal a great idea from him. He hung one of his fancy shawls up over the vertical blinds that go across the sliding door. He hung up a silver/gray one. I’m gonna hang up my black one with fringes that he gave me before he came out here to Phoenix.

Very very soon I must tackle all the editing I have to do. I’ll also get on with that drawing. I want to send it off to Tammy. Of course, I have more letter-writing to do as always. That never ends any more than the journal writing does. I’m also gonna start typing up that story. I wrote letters to a few others to who I normally don’t write. I sent a letter off to Nancy H. She lived in Jai’s place the first time I lived on Woodside Terrace. These are all funny letters I sent. Some have moved, but I wrote to the addresses I last knew of knowing they’ll be forwarded. I sent letters to Brenda, Jimmy and Bobbie. They’ve gotten letters from me before. I also sent one to Grace D, the wacko who lived in Jimmy’s apartment the first time I was on Woodside. Also, Rita G. That wacko moved into my first-floor apartment on Locust St. after I moved out of it. Then she moved to Woodside on the first floor. I also wrote to Nelyda R the druggie thief on Oswego St. who ripped me off and several other people. Also Hank who lived below me on Oswego St. Lastly, I wrote to the two sisters, Ana and Julia who lived on the 2nd floor between Nellie and I on Oswego St.

I finished off the hair dad sent between all these people.

Later…

I may or may not have mentioned what I recently did to a local radio station here. I think I did mention calling Kathy and asking her out. She’s one of the DJs. Well, I heard this girl call in a little while ago and ask Ed, another DJ for a date. She got it. It kills me to see countless people (gay or straight) so easily go up and get what they want. Why can’t I do that? This girl doesn’t know what Ed looks like, but she sounds like she doesn’t care. If she were to meet him and see that he’s ugly, I bet she still wouldn’t care. I envy people like this. I give anything to go to bed with people I’m not attracted to and not give a shit. I have no choice.

So, anyway, I called the station and told the guy who answered that now that Ed got a date, I want a date with Kathy. He said something about her still dating all kinds of people and he took my number. I gave the name Lisa, though, and it’s not like she’s really gonna call so it doesn’t matter. It was nice just to call and say that anyway.

Later…

I am watching a talk show now.

Earlier I was out at the pool. I didn’t get all that much color, though. I was at the pool for almost an hour and Dennis and his mom were there.

I sewed the button on Andy’s shorts. He came in about an hour ago slamming the hell out of his door and stomping madly. Now I’m sure he’s watching the soaps he always tapes.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1992 I forgot to mention what Bob included in his letter. His hair, after he said he got two “hairy” letters from me.

I got a message from Tammy who says she’ll let me know about Dad. She also mentioned something about surgery on her hip and having a cast put on. She says she’ll get ahold of me in a few days.

Early yesterday morning, I finally contacted Kim. I guess I have a letter coming from her. She likes the tapes but hasn’t had time to hear them all yet. I believe that.

She likes her new apartment and has a crush on a doctor, but hasn’t dated him yet. She said Carol’s (the cop) son died of some tumor.

I’m gonna copy the letter Bob sent for her and send the original written by Bob himself to Nervous.

Randy and I walked to the grocery store and back two nights ago.

Still haven’t seen Moon Shadow. What a bummer. I really think someone stole him.

Still have more to write another time about Rachel, Judy, my records and other things.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1992 Friday the 13th always reminds me of my mom visiting in S. Deerfield. The last time I saw her was in Sept. of 1991, I think, but it seems like longer. It seems like it was two years ago.

Well, the 13th was bad luck for Rachel downstairs. The EMTs were here. Nancy was out walking her dog. I guess she’s got to go to work and she said her son met her and something about her being an epileptic. I don’t know, but I called down there. An EMT answered saying she was feeling a little lousy but would be OK.

My chest is tight and I’m wheezing. Gotta take my breathalyzer.

I met that deaf girl Jane earlier tonight. She’s very nice. She walked over cuz she only lives across the street in another complex. She’s 41 and is a teacher at the Phoenix Day School for the Deaf. She said I was very good and I didn’t ask her. She just told me that and says she’s met her fair share of shitty signers too, who only know a few signs and phrases. I wanted someone deaf who knew sign well. Her speech is not as good as Marlee Matlin’s, but you can understand some words. Basically, you must read her signs to understand all she says.

Speaking of Marlee, she says she met her at some meeting with deaf people. She was the speaker, I guess, and that was here in Phoenix.

I will call her and we’ll meet again soon.

Now for some disturbing news. Moon Shadow hasn’t been around all day and night. Where in the world could he be? I only have two theories, but first of all, I can surely say he’d never wander off on his own. This is where his love, attention and food are, so he’s held against his will somewhere. Who’d detain him, though? After I took him in, he’d go nowhere near anyone but Andy. He fought like hell to get out of Mary’s place, so if someone has him I’m sure he’d be trying desperately to get out. I would think they’d let him go like Mary did if he were putting up a stink and trying to get out. I doubt he wandered off and got lost or hit by a car. The most probable theory is that someone took him and they won’t let him go.

There’s another theory I doubt and I sure hope to hell isn’t true. That’s that the office and maintenance people took him. However, I’ve been told by people that maintenance won’t nark on those who aren’t supposed to have pets. They refuse to get involved or stick their noses in where it doesn’t belong. But after my beef with Stacey, who knows? They’ve always been nice to me and they’ve never given me any shit. Well, I never figured Stacey would either, but I think it’s more likely that some idiot somewhere has him.

I mean, what luck to have a cat who’s a carbon copy of Shadow and that’s neutered. I need this cat. God, please don’t take him now. Send him home to me, please.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1992 It took me forever to do two small loads of laundry for Andy. One load in the washer kept stopping cuz it was off balance due to his heavy bath rug. One load in the dryer had to go through a second time cuz his clothes were still wet. But after quite a while I got it done.

I also went and got some groceries with Dennis and his mother, to hold me over till I get my food stamps.

Tonya returned my clothes when I asked for them.

Last Sunday afternoon I gave Tara a birthday card with some of our funny lines. She laughed and really liked it, but today is her b-day. Later on this evening, I’ll call her. If I don’t get her I’ll leave her a message.

I also wrote letters to Steve and Cassandra. I have no idea where Steve is or even if he’s in MA. Still, I wrote to him at Woodside Terrace knowing that his letter will be forwarded to wherever he is. Cassandra will no doubt be happy to hear from me. She’s been curious, no doubt, as to where the hell I’ve been. We were supposed to get together over the summer. I explained in the letter to both of them what’s happened since I got to Norwich. I gave them my address and phone number.

I still haven’t heard from Tammy or my parents, but I’ve sent them letters. Still can’t reach Kim either, but Bob says he can’t either. That’s Kim for you, but I’ve sent her letters as well as Bob, Fran and Nervous. I can’t find Jessie’s address and I still must call her.

Dennis picked up some very strong glue and he’s gonna fix my speakers soon. He took my box spring and mattress off its frame. The clamps for the frame’s too big, so it’s out on the patio. It was nice to have the extra space to store shit under my bed, but I made room in my closet.

Moon Shadow’s asleep on the bed now. I kind of like it better this way so he can’t mess with stuff under the bed. He’s an angel and if there are a few things he doesn’t have in common with Shadow, that’s one of them. He’s very well-behaved, but if I were to leave him here alone or have him indoors all the time, who knows what he’d do? Not only is it nice not to deal with litter boxes, but he’d wake me up for sure. Another thing that’s the opposite of Shadow is that Moon Shadow likes Andy.

Later…

I just pulled the funniest prank, but it turned out to be a little weird. I called a radio station and asked for one of the DJs named Kathy. I asked if she was single. She said yes and that she’s given up, but her sister’s coming from Wisconsin and they plan to go out and have a blast. She said that either they meet someone, or they won’t.

I told her I only want to get together twice a month or so with no strings attached. She asked me if I could call back at 10:00 when she’s ready to leave the station. I don’t know how long I can keep awake as I’ve been up all night, but I gave her my number.

This girl’s either just going along with the game like April did, or she’s too stupid to realize I was hitting on her. Or, perhaps she thought I was speaking on behalf of some guy.

I forgot to write about Mother Tucker’s restaurant. Of course, we call it Mother Fucker’s. Andy had a coupon for a prime rib and crab leg dinner which we were gonna split. While we were waiting for an obnoxiously long time, we were noticing several people complain about the food being cold and uncooked. I wrote a crazy note to our definite fem waiter, then told him I was walking out. We waited forever just to have cold raw food. So many people walked out. As we were walking out the fem goes, “OK, let me gain my composure and I’ll talk to you.”

Andy said, “There’s nothing to say. It won’t be necessary. She just wants to go home.”

We were cracking up on our way home. Then we pranked them about 5 times and I hit on a gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous, hostess.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1992 Bob called today. I spoke to him and Andy and taped it. I’m listening to that tape now. Bob sent a letter to me in the mail yesterday. I hope I get it Wed. Bob was the usual as far as Kim’s concerned, going on and on about her. She abandons him more and more. I did manage to cheer him up, though. We laughed and told jokes and said our funny lines to each other.

Fran also called saying that someone kicked his door in and made mincemeat out of him, landing him in the hospital. First he told me the person who did it had a beef against someone he knew. Then, he said the person was looking to go after the person who previously lived in Fran’s apartment. Either way, I believe it did happen. Andy asked me, “Do you believe that?” Yes, very much so. Knowing how Fran can piss people off and easily make enemies, I definitely believe it.

Andy said that Moon Shadow’s not a girl. It’s a boy and he’s neutered. I got to thinking about that last night. I figured the odds of my finding a fixed cat were so slim. I never saw any balls so I figured it was a she. Then, I remembered all those saying she’s too big for a girl cat. I realized he looked like Shadow did after he was fixed last night when he was laying on his back. I also realized that if it was pregnant, it’d show for sure by now. If it was a non-fixed male, the place would stink like it did with Shadow before he was fixed. Andy said it does have balls, but they’re small. Is this another ironic coincidence, or what? Andy did say he’s a reincarnation of Shadow. A total carbon copy. God answered my prayers and had him be fixed as he knew I could never afford it. Kim paid to fix Shadow. This cat is Shadow in black and white rather than orange and white.

Now why won’t He answer my prayers to be a singer and have some lusty fun?

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1992 Well, as you can see my schedule’s screwed up again, but oh well. I can’t force myself to go to sleep whenever I want to.

I haven’t heard from that deaf girl, but since she did call me, I’ll call her. She gave me her number and I’ve got the relay number.

Tara called to say that she spoke to Tonya who is washing my clothes and will give them to me tomorrow. Tara’s not as undependable as Tonya, but she is a little. She told me she’d call me when she got in from a party. As I figured, she never called and I wanted to give her her b-day card.

Randy went to the store and dropped off some lotion for me which I needed very badly. I ran out and you know how the Theodur really dries out my skin. And my hair. That was nice of him to pick it up for me while he was shopping.

Tomorrow Andy’s taking me out to a nice restaurant. His treat. I’m looking forward to that. Prime rib and seafood. We’re also gonna stop at Fry’s, one of the grocery stores here.

I began a letter to Tammy, but I’ll finish it tomorrow. I finished reading back in journal 2 and now I’m on 3. What a horrible writer I was then. I was so vague and confused, naïve, vulnerable and so damn dumb! It is kind of funny to look back at it now and laugh. It’s pretty amusing. I think - how could I think, do or say certain things? I really would be embarrassed if anyone read my journals. Especially the first half of them. But then again, who cares? I’m sure people have written more stupid, shocking and amazing things than I have. Right? I’m sure, though, that Tammy read much more than I think or have any idea of. Especially while I was in Natchaug. She’s got to have. She’s my sister. There are some things about people you’re close to that you just never quite know. Other things, you do know.

If I live a full life and die after my parents, sister and Andy, I wonder what would become of these journals. Of all my stuff? If I dropped dead right now, I suppose Andy and Tammy may read them, but would my parents or anyone else? My parents especially would die at 95% of the shit in these journals.

I’m still not sure whether or not to do a story. I lost patience before and told myself to wait a while, then take another shot at it. Should I write it in a journal? A notebook? Type it? I think I should type it, then copy it into a journal. This is good for a few reasons. It’ll be like a rough draft and I can make any changes I want to make when I copy it in. I have tons of typing paper. This way I can see how long it goes. It’ll go faster if I type it with no paragraphs, and any mistakes in my typing won’t matter, and I won’t get a crampy hand. At least not as much as I write so much other stuff. Writing in journals and writing letters. Yes, this is exactly what I definitely will do. I will type it. I wonder how long the story will go. Naturally, it can go as long as I keep it going, so I guess what I mean is, how long it’s necessary to continue. There’ll be only so many parts and events to each story, so it depends on how far I expand on each part of the story. Or stories. I have stories in mind. There’s no real purpose in this. Just something to do. No one will read them, except maybe Andy. I can send the typed rough draft to Fran and Nervous.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1992 I can’t sleep and that pisses me off.

I fixed my bed frame a few nights ago. It was a simple adjustment.

I had to go to the office to put in a work order to fix the lock on my door which was getting harder to open. As I walked into the office I was bummed to see only Stacey there. She just said, “Jodi,” with a nod of her head as I walked in. I simply told her the problem and left.

I still haven’t heard from my sister, so I don’t know if she spoke to Stacey or Sheila yet. I really wish she’d hurry up and close my checking account in Norwich.

Stacey hasn’t harassed me, but if she does she’ll go to court with me. Maybe my threats of court were enough to scare her off. Or maybe she just realized she was way out of line and what she did was wrong. If she doesn’t drop it and if she contacts me about it, I’ll simply tell her that unless she has an apology for me, I have nothing to say.

I got a package from my parents. They sent towels which I have enough of. Some jellies which I never use, a pad of lined paper, typing paper, this pen I’m writing with, toilet paper, a purple-colored basket, 4 different neon-colored pencils, coupons, tape, scissors, a cigarette case and some of this stuff I gave to Andy.

She wrote two notes. One saying to please send her two of the monthly bulletins, cuz they’re interesting. The other note said she kept most of the pictures, my place looks great, I look happy and maybe they’ll come visit me next year. What’s next year mean? Jan. of ‘93 or Dec. of ‘93?

She sent back the pictures I figured she’d send back. All the ones of me in my bikini where you could see me from head to toe. Also one from karaoke. She kept one karaoke, though, and maybe a couple of other shots of me in my suit. She also sent a few back that came out too dark. I’m sending these to Nervous.

Still no letters from anyone, but what else is new? As I said, I finished one for Fran. Next, I’ll do one for Nerv and Tammy and Lisa. I’ll get these all out by Sat. By the end of next week, I’ll have letters for Tammy, Lisa and Becky and Mom and Dad. Kim and Bob, too. It’ll be another month before Fran and Nervous get letters.

Later…

I’m kind of bored and depressed right now. More so than I’ve been in a very long time. I do have plenty to do around here, but I’m having one of those why-can’t-I-be-a-singer and what’s-my-purpose-in-life spells. Well, then again I know why I can’t be a singer and that’s cuz I have no money and won’t sleep my way there. After I go through that in my mind as I have a million times, I ask the next question. What’s my purpose in life? I try telling myself that being at home is better than having to get up early every day, which I can’t do, and go to a job I hate and have to deal with people till I get fired even without doing anything to deserve it. But I still feel like a waste product.

I did some singing today, and later Andy will be calling. Randy may also call if he goes to the store.

I should do letter writing, editing and drawing, but I kind of want to get out of here. To go where I don’t know. I wish it were still summer and that Andy and I could go to Camelback Mountain to do our thing. However, it’s a work night for him and he’ll be crashing early.

I have a few other unpleasant things on my mind such as Tonya. I lent her two skirts, a shirt and a dress. I know she’d never rip me off, but she’s a typical airhead I’m used to dealing with. Plus, she is gorgeous, so that ought to tell you something. I called over there yesterday and Tara answered. She is also pissed at Tonya’s non-dependability. Tonya got 3 calls from Tara’s boss saying she need not come to work and Tonya never gave her the message. Tara said she’d speak to her and I left another message a while ago saying I want them by tomorrow.

Another bothersome question is, why hasn’t my sister called? What about my dad’s test results? Her talk with Sheila and Stacey?

When Andy calls, I’m gonna have him put through a collect call to Kim. I think the only way to reach her would be later at night.

I also continue to wonder if Stacey has any nasty tricks up her sleeve, but if she does I’ll deal with her.

I just had to get up to click the heat on. It’s amazing how fast and well it works. I only need to turn it on for a little while to take the chill out, then I can shut it off all night. The heat stays inside very well. I see what they mean when they say Arizona only has two seasons. It went from very hot to very chilly. For the last week or so I’ve really felt like I was in Massachusetts. But this is how it would be there around the beginning of September, not the beginning of November.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1992 Andy may be calling any minute. He called from his friend’s place and I told him to call when he gets in.

The electrical situation in this building and the other one sucks. The volume on my TV, tape recorder and stereo goes in and out.

Andy just got in. I heard his door.

Well, as far as the rest of my dreams, they’re crazy. Much crazier than the ones I already mentioned. I guess there was gonna be a nuclear war and people were freaking out. I was downtown somewhere, or in some busy place with lots of buildings and people. People were killing each other and themselves. Even little kids were jumping off the roofs of buildings. The next thing I knew, I was inside a building walking down a crowded hallway. Four people were carrying a dead body in a body bag. As I continued to walk, I realized the floor became slippery. I looked down to see that there was blood everywhere.

My last dream was the strangest. I was in a car with two women. The one driving had a gun. She wanted to take me to this ditch and shoot me into it. The girl in the passenger seat was trying to stop this woman and stop her from shooting me. I don’t know who these women were or why they wanted to shoot me, but I wasn’t as scared as a girl who may lose her life should be. They brought me to a parking lot of a restaurant and we all got out of the car. I remember telling myself to move cautiously and don’t bolt off running so fast so as not to cause the woman to shoot me. She came around and pointed the gun at me. I froze. I thought, well gee, I guess of all the times I’ve wished I was dead, this was it. But then she changed her mind and they both got in the car and drove off.

Now here’s the last strange hitch to this dream. This restaurant was owned by a tall, beautiful, long-haired girl. She had blond hair, wore a black shirt, and lots of nice necklaces. This gorgeous, feminine owner of this place was my girlfriend. Somehow I just knew that and I ran from the parking lot, into the restaurant and right into her arms.

Then I woke up.

Later…

Andy just called from Denny’s. He wanted to know if I want to split a burger.

Hell, yeah.

Downtown Phoenix is gorgeous. It’s so classy and blows downtown Springfield away. All the buildings are so modern. Some have awesome designs and shapes.

Andy said he’ll be here in 20 minutes, but I know he really means 40. Must’ve been someone else’s door I heard close.

Someone’s got to check my bed frame. It feels like it’s loosening. That’s all I need is to be sound asleep when I suddenly go crashing down. I guess the clamps don’t quite fit all that well.

Later…

I am in the midst of the most gorgeous scenery now. We are back on South Mountain. He has never been here during the day and, of course, neither have I. It’s breathtaking and I can see a million houses and roads. There are many huge mountains surrounding us. The mountains are mostly of rock, sand and cactuses. It sure does look like the desert.

Andy went off to explore and I’m sitting in the car. He’s probably doing an imaginary interview.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1992 I haven’t heard from my sister yet. I hope to soon. Hope I start getting some letters soon, too.

No one from the office has harassed me, so I hope they got the message.

Today is an extremely windy day. Very much with a feeling of fall. It sort of feels like at home during the beginning of September in MA and CT. They’ve got to be absolutely freezing. This is what I’ve heard. Cuz it’s so dry and breezy today, it is a little bit chilly. I’ve shut my windows.

Today they vote for president. I never vote as they’re all quacks anyway. I believe Bill Clinton will win and that’s OK with me cuz he seems to be the most liberal of them all.

Last night, after dinner Andy and I went to South Mountain. I’ve never ever witnessed any scenery so beautiful. Just when I thought you could see forever on Squaw Peak and Camelback Mountain. Well, you can see forever and ever on top of this one. It was gorgeous and breathtaking and I wish my family could see this. You could see thousands of lights throughout the valley. The Valley of the Sun, they call it. It took 15 minutes just to drive up this mountain and my ear would pop going up and coming down. It was extremely windy up there, yet he and I did our own things. He did an interview while I was with “Saundra.”

I met a butch yesterday as I was on my way into the laundry room. God, I wish I could settle and not give a damn about looks. She seemed friendly enough, but she sure did shock me and scare me by asking me where I work. They usually don’t bother asking this, but I said I did little odds and ends. She says she works in the records department at Baptist Hospital. Also, she’s from Maine and she’s 29 and has been in AZ for 18 years and at this complex for almost a year.

I only told her the state I’m from, my age, and how long I’ve been here.

She said she’s been to two gay bars I’ve been to, however, she doesn’t know I’m gay. She may sense it, though, as you can sense each other out at times. Low-income people, too. We sense each other out. The only other thing she asked was what kind of music I like.

This girl’s not the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but she’s between plain and ugly. She could’ve been thinking one of two things, but I don’t know for sure. One thing she could very well think is that I’m too feminine. The other is that maybe she did like me as the very few fems out there usually go for butches and butches prefer fems. There are also lots of butch couples cuz they have no choice when 98% of gay women are butches. The other reason she may have liked me is cuz God would have it that way and be sure to send me the ones I’m not attracted to. God forbid if I ever run into her again (and I hope not to make things easier), should I say no? Should I remain celibate forever or start settling? But settle for no men and certainly not ultra-fat or ugly women is what I would do if I did settle.

Later…

I am now watching the presidential campaign. Never before has it interested me. Usually two months after we get a new president, I’m like, “By the way, who’s the new president?” I’m for Clinton cuz he’s more liberal and for gay rights. Also for a woman’s right to choose whether or not to have an abortion. The reason why I’m pro-choice is cuz of rape, incest and the life of the mother. There are enough unwanted kids in this world with not enough loving people to adopt them. Also, why put the mother through the emotional and physical shit when she doesn’t want a kid? And this world is way too overpopulated. Like I said, they’re all quacks, but Republicans are too narrow-minded and want all people to follow a certain set of rules. Clinton’s gonna win by a landslide. Now I’m waiting to hear about local issues and propositions.

It is nice to finally be doing OK for a change. My electric bill’s gonna be dirt cheap and my phone bill will only be $30. I have a little over $200 after deducting my rent, so that leaves me enough cash. Then, there’ll be my mom’s $50.

Later…

Clinton won, luckily, and the government can’t step into the abortion issue. All abortions for any reason are legal.

Andy called a little while ago. He’s going to some friend’s house that he works with.

According to what he’s told me and what I’ve seen, that Stephanie is one major undependable airhead.

I still have many things I want to do.

I want to finish the drawing of Tammy, Bill and the girls. Perhaps this can be their Chanukah present since I can’t afford to send anything. I would like to send at least $10 to Tammy for all the collect calls I’ve made to her. It’s not much, but it’s something.

So anyway, here are all the little projects I want to do:

Finish the drawing. Eventually see about photocopying other drawings I’ve done to send to Tammy. Editing. Letter writing. Continue reading back through my journals. Write stories? I’m still not sure as far as stories go. If I do, should I type it? Or should I write it in a journal? I’ll just wait and see if I get any for my b-day. That’s what I want most as I have an electric typewriter now. All I really need is a full-length mirror and I only need one, whereas I can never have too many journals.

Later…

While I’m watching Hunter I’m gonna write about a series of wacko dreams I had last night. They sure were strange and I dreamt about bits and pieces of different things that made no sense. In one dream I remember seeing the younger Linda Ronstadt in person. I don’t believe we spoke, and I don’t know where this was and what the occasion was. It didn’t look too much like Linda, but somehow I just knew it was her. She was talking to someone else whose face I couldn’t see. I have no idea what about.

Then I dreamt I was in a big house belonging to a big family. The family wasn’t home, but I knew they were on their way home. Somehow I knew Rosemarie was gonna be on TV. Why? Who knows. I thought to myself how I wanted to quickly grab my scrapbook of pictures cuz I wanted them to see what she looks like. The family came home before I could do so.

Guess I’ll finish with the rest of the dreams after I watch TV. Or during commercials, I can do more writing. I just don’t feel like taping it.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1992 Tammy said there’s no way they can extradite me no matter if Arizona refuses me or not. They gave me written permission to be here.

She’s gonna have Sheila (from Greenfield) contact me about working a deal out. Maybe I can write to her. Sheila’s cool, so I’m sure she won’t give me any trouble.

She’s also gonna blast out Stacey and give her hell for the shit she’s pulled on me. Believe me, she can sound quite intimidating.

There’s a fucking cricket chirping in the vent above my bed. I know they’re harmless and better than these huge sewer roaches, but they’re obnoxious cuz they jump out at you and freak you out when you least expect it.

Little House on the Prairie comes on soon, but I should hit the sack.

The lawnmowers come tomorrow and now that it’s not so hot, they come around 9 AM. That’s about when I want to get up. If you want to sleep late, you really have to put on the radio. You’ll hear kids screaming their way off to school and the maintenance guys talking. Other people, too. Not always, but usually. The only other thing that sucks is the kids screaming outside after school and on weekends, but I do like it here so much better than in 163. This building’s quieter.

I hope Jane, that deaf girl, calls this week.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1992 I woke up at 8:30 needing to take my meds. I fell back asleep till 11:30.

I just spoke to Mary who said she let Moon Shadow out cuz she was climbing the door to get out.

Mary’s also going to a memorial service for a girlfriend of hers who was killed by her boyfriend in Glendale. She was saying how she wants a guy, but can’t trust them. And I was saying I want a real woman, but they’re all straight.

I am out on my patio now with Moon Shadow.

Later…

OK, now I’ll get through the story once and for all. Stacey accused me of several things I didn’t do as well as petty bullshit I did do. I already mentioned the shit with Ellie. I also played Stacey a message from Ellie which was no different than what she got from me.

Robert also went to Stacey, but that was only due to my complaining about him and turning his propositions down. Cuz I left him some funny messages before all this happened and he got a big kick out of it. Also, like with the calls I gave and got from Ellie, they weren’t pranks in a bad way. Just our usual weird stuff.

The rest of the stuff Stacey had to say was totally ludicrous, telling me something obvious and that’s that she’s got some kind of personal vendetta against me for sure. Everyone else I’ve spoken to agrees with me.

As I wrote before I moved, I came up here to see the place. The girl seemed very nice about it. All her shit was moved out and I wasn’t in her way and was only here two minutes. Apparently, she complained. Why couldn’t the bitch just tell me to leave or not bother to open her door?! What a vindictive little wimp. She didn’t have to show me the place.

The other thing she mentioned was vandalism which I know nothing about. She remained evasive, but Andy and I haven’t thrown eggs or anything. Andy did say, though, that one night he woke up to the sound of glass breaking and thought it was his car. He got up and checked his car which was fine and he didn’t see anything. I never heard any of this and was obviously asleep.

Stacey was also saying people don’t “understand” my friendship and that I’m always trying to get people’s phone numbers in the laundry room and at the pool which is bullshit. Any phone numbers I have were offered to me, and if someone doesn’t want to give me their number, that’s fine. She also mentioned my inviting people up here as if it’s millions of people. I’ve invited a few people up like Tonya, Tara, Dennis or Randy. A lot of people ask to come up and also invite me to their place and if someone doesn’t want to come up, I don’t pressure them. Why would she care who I invite to my own damn apartment anyway? Isn’t it my right to have company?

Ok, so I’ve had a few problems with some people here like Rosemarie, Donna and Fay. Fay moved and I haven’t seen the other two assholes for ages. I haven’t seen Mark or Robert either, and I won’t have anything to do with Ellie.

She also says the office won’t accept any packages under different names which is strictly out of spite. Why else would she care whose name it was in?

She then got even more out of line when she said she spoke to Ray M who referred her to Mike M. I do believe Ray called her, but that’s wrong of him, and dad and Tammy agree. It was never the office’s business to know about my probation and he had no right to contact them. She threatened to contact Mike, but he says he hasn’t heard from her. That was as of last Friday. I warned Stacey that if she calls Mike or continues harassing me, I’ll file charges. She has no right to talk to either one as this is confidential and privileged information.

She also was extremely contradictory. One minute she truthfully admits she doesn’t know me. The next, she’s judging me and pretending to know me quite well. Puts words in my mouth and gives me all these false ideas about what I’m all about as a person. Also, she’d go from telling me I need to meet more people, to telling me I should keep to myself as if she has the right to tell me what to do in the first place. This bitch would tell me I’m confused, yet I know myself better than anyone else ever will. Also that I’m lonely, and there’s a difference between lonely and alone. Well, the fact is that I’m alone and not at all lonely cuz of assholes like her and 80% of the population!

She told me I oughta get a part-time job or do volunteer work and asked why I couldn’t move to Florida where my parents are as if it’s any of her business.

She told me she knew where I was and what I was doing. She said if someone didn’t tell her, she’d find out anyway. I told Andy I asked her if she was spying on me. Andy said he asked the same thing. After all, comments like this makes one wonder!

Then she got further out of line by telling Andy to dump me and not spend so much time with me. But he doesn’t spend much time with me. He works full-time, and we’re usually on different schedules and we’re into our own space. He’s not overly sociable either, though he is more of a people person than I ever was. Nonetheless, he said she said that it’s unfortunate I’m directly behind him rather than two buildings down and implied to him that I’m just oh so much trouble and therefore, he should stay away from me. He gave her a piece of his mind and told her to back off and mind her own business.

Me and some of my friends went over all the possible reasons she could be doing this to me. We ruled out my being Jewish and gay cuz there are other Jews here and other gays here, though that still could be it. Kara suggested my looks, but I disagree. Stacey may not be beautiful, but she’s not ugly. I think it’s just a matter of my looking young and dumb and easy to step on. I think and I hope she’ll be backing off as I proved the opposite of what I appear. With threatening charges and family and friends on my side maybe she’ll back off. However, if she continues the harassment, things will get worse for her. She’ll end up wishing she never messed with me, and the sooner she realizes she’s picked on the wrong person, the better for her. I will go to court if I have to. I told her not to talk with Ray or Mike, no matter who calls who and to leave me and my friends alone.

That night 3 firecrackers were thrown up here. Was this bitch behind it? Or was it connected to Mark or Robert?

The next day after the big meeting with Stacey, I was fuming mad and scared about extradition. I gave up trying to figure out exactly what could be motivating her. I was so pissed at her nerve and people and life in general. I was sick of dealing with people fucking with me when I’ve done nothing to deserve it. I went out to try to walk off my steam. I was sick of seeing people do all kinds of shit worse than I’ve done and get away with it. I began wishing I could drop dead so I wouldn’t have to live a second-best life. No singing career, no sex and just one problem after another with people. Even when you’re good to people, they’ve still got to fuck you over.

I remembered the time Rosemarie and Rick came screaming at my door and figured if they can do that, so can’t I. I wasn’t gonna be intimidated by anyone and I just dared Stacey in my mind to do something about this. I was gonna give people a real reason to hate me and I lost my cool.

I went over and knocked on Ellie’s door. She could see I was fuming by the look in my eyes. She asked what the problem was and I told her she had a lot of nerve. She told me to write it in a letter and shut her door. For about two minutes I gave her a piece of my mind outside her door. Then, she had a table there with a glass, an ashtray, and a plant. I was so fed up with her shit that I flipped the table. I should’ve dumped her long ago, and I feel not one bit guilty about doing what I did to that table.

So, that evening two men and a woman from Terros came out to talk with me. They were very helpful in relaxing me. This was last Thursday night when they came out. While they were here, Ellie called. She was yelling so loud and talking so fast that the only words I could make out were, “clean up the mess.” I hung up on her and the next day she left some plant soil by my door. That was kind of amusing cuz it was so childish.

As cheap and as beautiful as these apartments and grounds are, sometimes I don’t feel like I’m in an apartment, but rather one big house with a Dureen-like tyrant called Stacey ruling it. Never did the landlords/managers back east butt into their tenant’s business like this, not that I miss it there. The Remby brothers did to a degree, but that was nothing compared to this! I felt like a child having to answer to a parent when confronted by Stacey and her shit.

Later…

I am out by the pool now. It’s such a gorgeous day. I was just chatting with Steve. He’s on his patio sawing wood to make a birdcage. That sound reminds me of being at the beach in April or May when everyone’s fixing up their cottages for the summer. I haven’t seen his girlfriend Sue for ages. I told him to say hi to her.

I just ran into Linda and I showed her my place. She asked me, mind you, and no, I’m not gonna call the office and bitch about it. I don’t stab people in the back like that. Besides, if I didn’t want to show her the place, I’d just say no. Anyway, she liked it but agreed I could use more closet space. Other than that, I don’t need more space cuz I have no furniture and this way there’s less to clean. On the other hand, it’d be nice to have more space to fit furniture in and have dressers to put my clothes in which are in suitcases and duffel bags all over my closet floor and under my bed.

A few days ago when all this shit with Stacey happened, Brad called about my cleaning his mother’s house. I said no cuz I’m so sick of house cleaning and may do exotic dancing this month with Tara who’s turning 19 soon. If Tara can’t do it cuz of how busy she is and cuz of her weight, then maybe I’ll go along with Tonya a couple of nights a week. Tonya’s only working a couple of nights a week anyway.

I’m grateful not to live where there are 10,000 kids surrounding my apartment like termites, but at times it’s obnoxious to hear the ones that live here and their nonstop screaming. I can barely hear them over my TV and I came here to the pool to hear less of them. Earlier while I was writing at my table I had to put on my edits. The little tape recorder Andy gave me was right on the table next to me and I could still hear the little twirpettes. I put on my headphones. Several others have said they’ve complained. Gordy even called the cops cuz of their vandalizing the grass, property and cars. Linda said they fucked up her car. They should have a specific area for these kids to play. Away from people and their cars. I’ve given up complaining and I think others have too. Nothing gets done about it.

I still have lots to write about, but I’d like to go finish the shows I taped.

Later…

Andy is here now and he’s grilling pork chops out on the grill. He just went to check them and the edits are playing while I write. I still have massive amounts of editing to do.

Gloria’s gonna be on Entertainment Tonight. I’m also gonna be taping a movie about the true story of a woman who murdered her husband. Last year they had part one of her story. I didn’t know there’d be a part two till I just saw it in the TV guide Randy left by my door.

Later…

The movie’s going on in 5 minutes.

Dinner was good and Mary called during dinner like everyone calls when you’re busy or eating. I didn’t answer, though, cuz my hands were all greasy. When I called her, she told me a very familiar story. Her toilet overflowed and she wanted a mop, but I don’t even have a broom yet. She called maintenance out with their water vac. She said this has happened to her 5 times.

Later…

As far as Terros is concerned, well, they’re gonna call Monday to see how I am. They may also have some referrals for me. Legal aid numbers in case I ever need them, but I sure hope not.

As for Dennis, I spoke to him about Stacey and probation and he agrees Stacey’s fucked up. Also, they can’t extradite me as they gave me written permission to come here.

Last Friday night Andy left me a message saying Ellie came to his door. She wanted to “apologize” to me, but wanted him to go with her cuz she was afraid of me. Afraid I might go off on her. He said he told her, “It’s your problem that’s got nothing to do with me.” I told him he did the right thing. I didn’t get his message till after Ellie came over. She stood halfway down the stairs after she knocked and I opened the door. I screamed at her saying, “You fucked me over and I fucked you over. We’re even now so don’t ever call or come to my door again!” I chased her down the stairs and she ran like hell. As a rule, I never hit anyone weaker than me, unless they tried to trash my stuff or something. I only meant to scare her like I did and I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Ellie’s like Fran and Nervous. If they can’t get positive attention, they’ll get negative attention.

Later…

Last Saturday, Randy and I spoke about the situation with Stacey and probation. The first time we spoke was the night all this happened. We met at the pool where I brought chocolate chip cookies and he brought milk.

He said he felt like giving Stacey a piece of his mind, but Andy told me yesterday that’s exactly what he plans to do on his day off. He also plans to teach Ellie a lesson. Randy and Andy insisted on doing this on their own as friends. Never did I suggest this to them.

Andy said Ellie said, “You’ve been a perfect gentleman through all of this.” Well, the “perfect gentleman” is gonna show Ellie how he feels when someone screws his friend over. He plans sometime soon to go over and seem very friendly, then flip on her.

Randy fixed the space bar, then he also had to fix something else with it. This was very dumb of me, but I shut the case on the cord. I left the typewriter in its case which is a lot heavier than it looks. It severed the cord and cuz electricity is so hot, it melted the rim of the case. Part of it, anyway. It could’ve easily started a fire and I didn’t know that. He spliced the cord, though, and says he’ll get some electrical tape.

I’ll also have to ask Dennis about the glue he’s getting to fix my speakers.

Later…

Tomorrow I must do my laundry. I have 3-4 loads to do. I want to wash my comforter, so there’s one whole load in itself. I also will continue reading back through my journals and timing each one. I’ll do some more letter-writing and finally get on with my editing. As for writing stories, who knows yet?

I hope this week I get letters from my family and Bob. I wish Kim would call to let me know how she likes her tapes. Can’t count on Fran ever writing, no matter what he says. As for Nervous, he’ll never write for sure and I wonder just what the hell has set him off? While Andy was back home, Nervous and I had a 2-3 hour damn good talk. So, how we went from that to his refusing to speak to me, I do not know. He claims to have finally gotten sex after 9 years. I doubt that cuz he’s just in too foul of a mood for a guy who’s supposedly gotten his first lay in 9 years.

A funny, shocking and totally amazing thing happened last week when Fran called. He called Nervous with the 3-way. At first I remained silent and Nervous spoke fairly kindly to Fran. They did chat for a while. That’s one surprise. The really big surprise was when Nervous hung up when I spoke. Totally unlike him. He’d always hate to talk to others associated with me and would always talk to me only. He has hung up on me in the past, but certainly never chose to speak to Fran over me. Oh well. I know he enjoys his letters anyway, no matter what.

As I mentioned earlier in this book, I wrote Bobbie a funny letter and included some hair and my address and phone number. I always liked her and she called me. We had a nice chat for about 15 minutes. She said she’d write, but I know how people are even if they mean well. She’ll never write. Fran also called her on the 3-way and she said I sounded like a sweetheart and very happy here.

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qvid-pro-qvo · 3 years

Text

family

it is a semi-tradition on this blog that the birthdays of the bau besties that come across my feed i must celebrate with a little fic. <3 happy birthday, derek morgan. we love you! derek morgan x gender neutral reader.

word count: 1189

rating: e for everyone. all fluff and adoration for the birthday boy!

when you get the text, your phone not even buzzing to keep it hidden, that's when you know it's time.

"i do have... one birthday surprise for you," you say to derek, hand tangling in his loose enough that your thumb can stroke his skin.

it had been a long and lazy day, or at least as lazy as you both could make it. you weren't ones to sit around all day, and mornings on weekends were dedicated to derek's restoration projects, but sundays were forbidden to the outside world unless absolutely necessary. that meant that no work calls were taken (only work texts if either of you were needed), and a journey to the dog park with clooney was met with just enough sun to make you sweat. no rushing around allowed.

but at the mention of surprise, derek lets out a little groan. "baby..."

you can't help your chuckle. "derek," you return, in the same tone, reaching to trace your free hand's fingers over his jaw. his eyes are closed from lightly dozing, and the lights from the kitchen make his lashes shine.

"we said no surprises," derek says, his voice a little sing-songy.

you groan a little, leaning against him. "i know, but it's not a big... material gift." your words are chosen carefully.

"but we said - "

"i know what we said," you whisper. you decide convincing has to go another route. you press a kiss to his cheek, another one against his jaw, making him smirk. you continue them lightly down his neck, until he has to squirm and sit up fully.

one eye opens.

"only one?" he asks. you're pressed against his side, so he doesn't have to turn his head to get a full and lingering look that makes your stomach erupt into butterflies.

"one, but it is big," you admit. a kiss against his hand seals the promise. "and i'd apologize, but i do think you'll enjoy it. so. trust?"

he does. you can tell because of the smile that lights up his face, close-lipped but warm as his hand squeezes more firmly around yours.

"okay. fine. what's the surprise?"

"you have to close your eyes."

"what?"

your hand pulls from his so you can cross your arms over his chest. "yes, close them, derek morgan, or i'll make you close them."

that makes him roll his eyes and he can't help his little laugh, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows with a smirk. one hand moves to settle behind his head, rubbing at his scalp. his other hand goes up in surrender. "okay. okay. you're lucky i love you."

but you're already stood, moving to the door. "the luckiest," you call out. "no peeking!"

the door opens as quietly as you can manage, but you see derek tense a little when he hears the hinges. you do your best to cover up the sound of multiple pairs of feet coming over to gather up by the couch.

"baby..." it's a little warning, but you manage to go back to him to squeeze his hand.

"derek," you warn. "no peeking."

he doesn't. but the longer it takes to settle the offered cake on the coffee table and close the door, the more he fidgets.

he says your name with a hint of frustration. "i can hear you moving around. who's coming in?"

"just five more seconds!" you beg, and then everyone is in place, lighter in your hand. "okay! open your eyes!"

when he does, it's only one, peeking out with more than a hint of trepidation. and then his whole face goes slack, mouth falling open and eyes wide as fran, desiree, and sarah morgan grinning back at him.

"no," he breathes. but his grin starts to stretch across his features, and his eyes narrow as he tries to determine the mystery of how his mother and sisters ended up in front of him in virginia.

"happy birthday to ya," they start singing, and you get to work on the candles with unstoppable laughter at the look on his face. they start flickering and shining as you work your way through all of them, and his family sings at him as he looks up in shock. "happy birthday to ya! happy birthday!"

"so this is why you haven't called me all day," derek shouts, accusing and pointing a finger at each of his sisters and mother in turn. "flying out from chicago, are you kidding me?"

"anything for our baby brother," desiree teases and flopping next to him on the couch, which earns her an indignant shout.

"i am older than you!"

sarah laughs and goes to flop on his other side. "don't blame us for this. this was mom's idea."

fran just offers a shrug, moving to stand next to you and hook her arm through yours. “well. mine and this one. someone was very kind of enough to pay for flights and offer us a very nice hotel.”

derek’s eyes move from scanning his family’s faces to you. there’s a moment where you feel self-conscious, lifting your fingers to rub at your own shoulder and neck.

"it was mainly your mom," you offer, and derek looks at you with something like... overwhelming adoration, something you know by now is love.

"all for my birthday," he whispers, and he knows it's true. it's a mere moment before he's lifting from the couch, sarah and desiree falling into each other with little laughs as he goes to take the hand with the cake knife in it. your fingers place the sharp object carefully down before he fully takes your hand again, tight and firm.

you can't really say anything. you're staring up into derek's eyes with a little smile, feeling the way he scans you again, just like he did before. like he needs to take in every part of you, wants to remember what this moment looks like on your face just as much as you want to memorize the soft shine in brown eyes that could start a fire with their warmth.

"of course for your birthday," you offer him, and when he kisses you it's perfect and deep and met with that same joyful swoop of your stomach. it goes on for a bit too long, if derek’s sisters’ identical groans sounding off tell you anything.

"can you two stop?" desiree shouts. "i want to eat my cake." you both pull apart with matching grins, and he refuses to lose his grip on you just as his mother's tightens on you as well.

fran's voice is firm. "desiree. go get some plates and treat your brother nice on his birthday."

"yeah, hear that? treat the baby boy nice on his birthday," derek shoots back, making sarah laugh again.

"right. like we'd ever do that."

but no matter the words that are laughed and shared, the smearing of frosting on cheeks and shirts and laughter for the day, he never lets go of you. the one who made this birthday, and every one after, ones with his family, and ones to remember for the rest of his life.

taglist: @duchesschameleon // @winterscaptain // @writefasttalkevenfaster // @hurricanejjareau // @hotchseyebrows // @ssaic-jareau // @1234-angelika // @wanniiieeee // @arianmock13-blog // @averyhotchner // @barbasbodaciousbeard // @xxlovingfandomsxx // @mad-girl-without-a-box // @itsgrishamagic // @joanofarkansass // @aayaissaa // @prettypyschoinpink // @andreasworlsboring101

#my fic #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #fran morgan #desiree morgan #sarah morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #happy birthday loml!!!

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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hii bri, how are you? 🥰

how do you think ian and mickey spent their weekend? ☀️

hello twisha my beloved 💞 i am well thank you ☺️

(thank you for the ask, this got kinda long oops)

ian started out saturday morning with a quick jog around the neighborhood. he easily could have spent the weekend morning sleeping in late and snuggling with mick, but they had plans for the day so ian wanted to start off the day with his normal routine.

he picked up smoothies on his way back from his run, a 'berry good' workout smoothie with added kale and protein for himself and a peanut butter banana chocolate smoothie for mickey.

mickey was already awake when ian got back. well 'awake' was a strong word, given that he was wearing his blanket like a cape while waiting for the coffee to brew with half closed eyes. he perked up a little bit as the door locked close behind ian. ian set the smoothies on the counter and gave mickey a lingering hug and forehead smooch because he's too irresistibly cute in the mornings.

they have a chill morning sitting out on their balcony until debbie comes over to drop off franny around noon. over the past few months, franny had gotten really interested in her uncle ian's gardening and he promised to take her somewhere real cool this weekend.

debbie and ian chatted by the doors while franny enthusiastically showed uncle mickey a super cool rock she found yesterday and mickey told her about how he knows this 'dinosaur guy' who has some super cool rocks that they keep in a museum. franny asks if the dinosaur guy wants her rock for the museum and he tells her he'll ask him next time he sees him.

they pack some snacks in a backpack and head off to garfield park conservatory. they were a little out of their element but they got their tickets for all the exhibits. ian's expression matched franny's in its awestruck wonder as they took in the sights. mickey and ian took turns taking pictures of each other and the flowers in a very 'tourist mom' fashion. franny insisted taking a picture of them together and directed them exactly where to stand. mickey stuck his tongue out in the photo and got reprimanded by franny who insisted they smile, almost a mirror image of her mother's attitude. mickey smiled in the next photo, but ian leaned over to kiss mickeys cheek. franny threw her arms up in frustration and they finally complied. ian lifted franny on his shoulders for the rest of their time at the conservatory.

franny fell asleep eating goldfish crackers on the drive back to their apartment. mickey gently picked her up and carried her inside, setting her on their bed to nap while he and ian started making dinner: french fries, chicken strips, and apple slices. they cracked jokes with each other and one of ian's belly laughs woke up franny who ran into the kitchen, crashing into his legs and hugging him. he told fran to pick out a movie to watch while they ate dinner.

franny is well equipped with using disney plus, so she put on 'luca.' they all settle into the couch and eventually settle into each other once they had finished eating, franny making her way onto uncle mickey's lap with ian's arm around mick as well. one of mickey's fingers traced ian's wrist before linking along with his fingers. ian spent half the time watching the movie and half the time staring at his enchanted husband.

after the movie finished, fran turned around to look at them and asks uncle mickey if he had been crying. he denied it but ian and franny shared a knowing look. ian affectionately squeezes his shoulder while franny gets herself some oreos from the kitchen while they wait for debbie to come pick her up.

ian and mickey spend the rest of their night drinking some new beer ian had picked up at the liquor store and watching sitcoms to relax and relieve the big emotions that came from the kid's movie.

sunday morning was spent in mickey's favorite way, sleeping in late with his husband. the soft warmness of each other and the blankets covering them being pure bliss.

mickey popped some frozen waffles in the toaster for breakfast while ian turned on the tv to catch some of the morning news. it's kind of a gloomy day outside, but that's okay because it's their cleaning and grocery shopping day anyways. ian had followed in fiona's footsteps by making sundays chore days... whenever he felt like it at least.

mickey swept the floors and did laundry while ian wiped down the countertops and made sure the dishwasher was loaded. mickey bitched about one of their neighbors from down the hall, but then revealed that said neighbor had invited them to their barbeque down by the pool next weekend. mick had said he would have to make sure ian didn't have any plans. even though he was content with the friends he had, ian was proud that mickey had become more amenable to the idea of hanging out with new people sometimes.

now that they regularly shop at a nicer grocery store, ian had been determined that they eat better. but somehow, every time they go shopping, they end up with half a cart of frozen meals and snack foods. there's not much complaining because that shit is good. it is what it is.

the other week, ian had picked up a guitar on sale from the music shop next to his yoga studio. both ian and mickey had been fucking around with it in their free time. this evening, mickey tried teaching ian what he knows about guitars, but it went a lot like how it went in friends when phoebe tried to teach joey guitar.

eventually, mickey ended up on the balcony for a smoke while he scrolled through instagram, seeing a new post of mandy in some fancy sunglasses and palm trees in the background. he double taps and comments some dumb shit knowing mandy is probably rolling her eyes at him from a thousand miles away.

ian was just getting off facetime with lip and freddie when mickey comes back inside. ian tells him about all the cute shit that freddie has been up to lately and lip's success at his new part time job where he mentors kids interested in robotics and coding. ian also mentions that carl is stopping by after his late shift so he can bring them takeout for dinner from their favorite asian restaurant on the south side.

they ate their stir fry, spring rolls, and crab rangoons with the house's specialty sauce as carl complained about his new partner and mickey muttered an 'acab' under his breath before ian kicked him in the shin.

after carl left, the boys headed to the bathroom for a rather spicy shower and then laid in bed watching tiktoks with ian's head resting on mickey's chest as they fell asleep. 🖤

#i just realized i kinda skipped lunch for both days but like imagine it's there lol #grumpymickmilk #ask #my posts #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #franny gallagher #carl gallagher #lip gallagher #freddie gallagher #ian x mickey #debbie gallagher

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angellesword · 3 years

Text

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (05)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

SERIES: CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 6

"Marry me."

When Jungkook said this, you honestly thought that he wanted to sing Jason Derulo's Marry Me.

It made sense. The two of you were inside a karaoke booth, singing obviously. It was Sunday, meaning both of you would be back to reality tomorrow: you had to go to work and Jungkook needed to talk to Soojin.

He couldn't date your sister because he was already dating you, though you told Jungkook not to broadcast your relationship with anyone.

Not yet. This wasn't the right time. You first needed to see how Soojin would react. You didn't want her to think that you stole Jungkook or something.

That wasn't the case. You liked Jungkook even before Soojin liked him. There was no point in denying your feelings.

Seventeen years of running was already enough. How could you escape when Jungkook already conquered your heart?

You were sure he liked you too, probably more than you liked him.

"Kook, you just sang Savage Love. Do you seriously want to blast another Jason Derulo's song?" You groaned, expecting him to argue, or to pout and beg you to play the song.

However he only stared at you, pursing his lips into a thin line before letting out a deep breath.

"No, Tiger," no matter how serious the topic was, Jungkook's voice would always be soft. "I'm asking you to marry me..."

It was your turn to stare at him, completely dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry," you blinked after a moment of silence. You thought he would suddenly laugh and tell you he was joking.

"D-Did you say you want to marry me?"

Apparently, he wasn't kidding. Jungkook found satisfaction when it comes to teasing you, but not to the point where it was making you uncomfortable.

This was making you uneasy, yet he continued, a silent confirmation that this was real.

He wanted to marry you.

"Kook," you went near him, touching his shoulders. "I know you said we had the best time last night, I did too. I'm glad I kissed you and finally admitted my feelings for you."

You tried to remember every detail of what happened last night. You two kissed, went to his apartment, and reminisced about your moments when you were younger.

Jungkook implied that he would do the worst just for you. You remembered laughing and saying that he actually brought the best in you.

And then you remembered telling him you liked him and wanted to take your relationship into another level. He agreed, more than happy to date you despite your condition of keeping the relationship a secret.

You made yourself perfectly clear with what you wanted, and it seemed like he understood. He kissed you before falling asleep last night. When he woke up, he called you his girlfriend and asked you to go on a date with him.

This day was supposed to be all about you and him. The plan was to cook lunch together, watch some tv series, cuddle, and go out in the evening to go to a karaoke booth.

You had a fun time until now.

Why was he making this complicated by suddenly proposing to you?

"I'm sorry," Jungkook apologized, caressing the back of your hand which was still placed on his shoulder.

"I was...excited and caught up in the moment—" He paused, like something struck him.

"Never mind, Tiger." He pinched your cheeks. "I'm just messing with you."

You tried to speak, but Jungkook already turned away from you, grabbing his mic.

"Ah, I'm going to sing Dancing Queen and you can't stop me!"

The worry lacing your system vanished as soon as you saw his bunny smile.

"I wanna sing too!" So you grabbed your mic too, joining him.

The night was perfect once again.

It was so perfect that your mind and heart refused to accept the things that would ruin your Sunday date with Jungkook.

"After years of building things, two great architects of today finally decided to build a life together: Head Architect Jeon Jungkook asked Corporate Heir Kim Soojin to marry him."

You turned off your phone, baffled. No. This couldn't be true. Why would the media report fake news?

You were just with Jungkook a short while ago. You were at his place the whole weekend. He even dropped you off at the office earlier today before driving to the construction site. He also told you he would pick you up later for dinner. He knew Mondays were stressful so he wanted you to relax a bit.

So what just happened?

What was happening?

Why were things changing?

"Oh my! I knew it!" Fran, your coworker, gasped. She turned to your table.

"Girl! Have you watched the news? Head architect Jeon and team leader Kim are getting married!" She squealed, getting the attention of your other colleagues.

They all started to check their phones to confirm the news, some of them even spread the 'gossip' to the other departments. Moments later, you were sure that everyone in this building already knew about the announcement.

They seemed happy for Jungkook and your sister. You knew you should be thrilled too, especially because this was what Soojin wanted from the very start.

Unfortunately you couldn't even smile. Your stomach was crunching and you felt like you were going to vomit.

You were beyond confused. Did the media make a mistake or was Jungkook playing with your feelings?

It was probably the latter, right? Everyone was confirming the news. Soojin also texted you. It was the final blow.

[3:34pm] Soojin: Cancel your plan this evening! We'll be having family dinner, 7pm at our mansion. See you!

You were in the middle of reading her message when she sent another one.

[3:35pm] Soojin: The dinner's a mini celebration for JK and I! We're engaged! I'm sorry I didn't tell you immediately! We're soooo busy right now.

And then there was another one.

[3:35pm] Soojin: I'm so happy, sis! Can't wait to tell you the deets! Don't be late, ok?

You were not hesitating anymore. You were positive that Jungkook only played with your feelings.

Soojin wouldn't appear this happy if she was lying. Or was she pretending?

You weren't sure what to believe. Maybe it would be best to just let things be for now. You had to concentrate on your work. The truth would come out later this day anyway.

You texted Soojin back.

[4:02pm] You: See you later.

The clock continued to tick while you were losing your mind. You couldn't focus on your work no matter how many times you scolded yourself. In the end, you accomplished nothing. It didn't matter. You only had less than an hour before your shift ended.

You left the office at exactly five pm. You were planning on taking the bus, but you were surprised when you saw Taehyung waiting for you in the lobby.

"Oppa?" You greeted, unsure. One of the security employees told you that your brother was meaning to see you. They just didn't let him on your floor because he didn't set an appointment with you.

"You wanted to see me?" You asked when he just nodded at you. He was expressionless.

"Yes. We're going home together. Family dinner, remember?" He reminded you as if you weren't looking forward to that.

"Okay..." You responded since you didn't know what else to say. It seemed like he also didn't have the time to explain anything to you. Perhaps he simply wanted to drive you home.

"Do you know what Soojin and Jungkook like? I want to buy them an engagement gift," your brother blurted out.

You two were at the parking lot, looking for his car.

You stopped walking.

Huh. So he picked you up because he wanted your help? Why were you even surprised?

"It's okay if you don't know." Taehyung looked back at you upon realizing that you were frozen in the middle of the parking lot.

"I'll just buy them champagne or whatever." He shrugged, finally finding the car. He opened the door of the passenger seat for you.

"Let's go."

You blinked, entering the car.

Taehyung had a nice vehicle. It was clean and it looked brand new. The whole ambiance of his car was comfortable, yet you were fidgeting.

The silence was killing you.

"Soojin likes Dom Pérignon..." So you opened a topic related to his gift to the engaged couple.

Taehyung glanced at you, speaking only when the traffic light turned red.

"What about Jungkook?"

You flinched at the mention of your best friend's name.

"Huh?" And then you swallowed thickly, trying to calm your crazy heart.

"You said Soojin likes Dom Pérignon champagne. That's nice, but what about what Jungkook likes?" He licked his bottom lip, stepping on the gas once again. The traffic light flashed green.

"The gift is for the both of them. Not just for Soojin..."

You didn't know why but you felt as though Taehyung was implying something.

"I-I guess he doesn't mind that brand too..."

"Hm," Taehyung's jaw ticked. "It's best to just ask him, don't you think? Better know the truth first before jumping into conclusion..."

"Some things are taken prima facie..."

Taehyung laughed because of what you said.

"Really?" The corner of his mouth turned up. "I saw you kissing Jungkook at the party last Saturday. You both entered the same car after that. You didn't even go home for two nights. If I took this in a prima facie way, the conclusion is that you're Jungkook's mistress, right?"

Your face turned pale because of his claim. Shit. He saw you?

"I thought you left with Y-Yoongi." You stammered, turning to look at him.

You couldn't see his expression. His attention was focused on the street before him.

"Oh I did. But he wanted to check on you first. He was feeling guilty, you know? Said he didn't want to leave you alone..." He smiled, like he found Yoongi endearing.

"He only stopped worrying when he saw you with Jungkook."

"Oh." You bit your lower lip. You hadn't talked to Yoongi yet. Why didn't he text you? Why didn't he warn you? How were you supposed to defend yourself now?

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Luckily you didn't have to explain yourself.

Taehyung understood.

"Not that I condone cheating. I just know Jungkook isn't in a relationship with Soojin so he's not really doing anything wrong. Man..." He shook his head. "I don't even know why they're suddenly getting married, it's so fucked up."

You remained silent.

"And speaking of relationships..." Taehyung cleared his throat when you kept your mouth shut. "Don't tell anyone about my thing with Yoongi."

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." You mimicked what he said a few breaths ago.

He smirked again.

"Good. If our family asks, I'll tell them we're together the whole weekend, unless of course you have a more believable lie..."

You didn't. You thought it wasn't necessary anymore. None of them asked where you were. You doubted that they knew you weren't home for two nights .

Usually Soojin bothers you. Sin-ae too. The latter would question you all the time, finding fault in your answers because she clearly enjoyed watching you get scolded by your father.

You wondered why they suddenly stopped bothering you. Were they too busy planning the engagement announcement? You saw Sin-ae's short interview. She confirmed to the public that her only daughter was indeed getting married.

"It's fine. But you told them where we went. I don't know what to say to them." You weren't close to Taehyung. It would be odd to know that you two were together the whole weekend.

"Don't worry, sister. I got it covered." Your brother winked at you, stopping the car.

You had arrived at the mansion.

Your heart skipped a beat as you muttered "Let's get this over with," under your breath.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #armywriterssupport #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #best friend jungkook #jungkook best friends to lovers

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sacredthefran · 6 months

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Just curious….would you guys like it if I brought back my Soft Sundays?

And ofc I want you guys to share your soft thoughts with me too! I love when we’re all in our Jakedown/Dannydown/Samdown/joshdown. It’s so cute 🤍

#I know it’s been a while #Darms would probably be happy if I just dedicated one day to my soft thoughts instead of terrorizing them daily #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #danny wagner #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #Fran’s Soft Sunday #this can also be about bad omens too

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

ok i have an inbox full of prompts, but i was making valentine’s day plans & all of a sudden felt very inspired to write some valentine’s day gallavich! featuring uncle mickey, homemade cards and a lot of domestic fluff- i’ll probs have a part two up sometime this week!<3

It was a lazy, slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the Gallagher house. Mickey had been lying on the couch passively watching trashy reality TV for god knows how long—and apparently at some point he’d fallen asleep, because now the TV volume was just a low hum, and he was being woken up to the startling crash of the kitchen back door slamming shut, and the rustling of shoes and coats being taken off and discarded by the front door.

“Alright Franny, let’s set this stuff up on the kitchen table.” Mickey heard Ian’s voice sail across the room, his eyes still closed to block out the cheery sunshine teeming in the living room.

Mickey tried to doze off again, attempting to block out the bright light infiltrating his eyelids, but it was no use— whatever Ian and Franny were doing, murmuring and clanging in the kitchen, there was no way for Mickey to escape the sound now and drift back into his sunwarmed sleep. He begrudgingly shoved the scratchy crocheted blanket off of his lap, stretching as he rose and stumbled into the kitchen.

He wasn’t expecting the carnage that he saw when he turned the corner; the kitchen table was covered in an explosion of sheets of multicolored construction paper, all reds and pinks and whites, with tiny multicolored stickers and tubes of glitter and shiny ribbons arranged and spread wide across the countertop, scattered with glue sticks and pairs of scissors and an exploded box of crayons. There was a small mountain of cut-out hearts piled high on the table, smattered with glitter-glue and blocky handwriting.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, taking in the scene. “What’re you two Picassos up to?” he asked drowsily.

Ian looked up, his eyes light. “Look who’s awake!” He gestured at the table emphatically, like it was Christmas morning. “Isn’t it great? Me and Franny grabbed all this stuff at the dollar store for less than ten bucks. The glue sticks definitely kind of suck, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

Mickeys eyes scanned to Franny, who was hard at work trying to cut a shape out of a piece of red construction paper, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ian kept chattering on as he unwrapped another sheath of the paper.

“Debbie left Franny with me since some rich lady called her with a weekend handywoman emergency that popped up at the last minute, so now I’m helping Franny make her valentines for school.”

Mickey scoffed. “Fucking valentines?”

Ian rolled his eyes as he contentedly started to glue together two pieces of paper. “Yes, Mickey, valentines. You know, those nice things that normal people give to each other on Valentine’s Day, along with a box of chocolates or some shit and a note about how much they love each other—”

“Yes, I know what they are, smartass. Don’t know why you didn’t just buy the little cardboard ones at the store though.”

Ian smirked, his eyes still focused on the paper beneath him that he was smudging glitter on. “Yeah, well. Franny wanted to make them, and I thought it’d be kind of fun.”

Just then Franny gasped triumphantly, raising a lopsided and crumpled paper heart up for Mickey to see. “Look, Uncle Mickey! I cut a heart! Uncle Ian showed me how!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, who had a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many hidden talents, Gallagher.”

Ian flashed a grin. “I used to be really into art class in elementary school, what can I say.”

Franny looked up at Mickey with wide eyes. “Do you want to make valentines with us? We have to make twenty-seven, because that’s the number of people in my class.”

Mickey faltered. Sitting here gluing fucking glitter to pieces of paper was not exactly what he’d had in mind as his plans for the weekend…

“Uh. That’s okay kiddo. I think you two’ve got it covered.”

Franny seemed to readily accept Mickey’s answer, instantly looking downward again and grabbing a fistful of crayons from the table to continue enhancing her masterpiece. Ian, on the other hand, tore his gaze from his own valentine.

“Oh c’mon Mick, you don’t wanna help?” Ian asked, his voice goading and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” He turned, walking over to open the fridge and grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“C’mon, just one valentine. Franny can show you how to cut out a heart shape, right Fran?”

Franny nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know how!”

Mickey took a swig of his beer and sighed. “Jesus, fine.” He pulled a chair between Ian and Franny, slowly scraping it on the linoleum, and then perched on the edge uncomfortably. “Alright Franny, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, so the first thing that you have to do is pick which color is your favorite. What’s your favorite color?”

Mickey had taken another sip of his beer, and now he sputtered slightly. “I don’t know Franny, you pick for me.”

Franny’s face melted into a pout. “But you have to pick, Uncle Mickey, it’s your favorite color!”

Ian bit back a laugh, his eyes still bright and cheerful. “Yeah, Mick, c’mon. What is your favorite color? We’ve never gotten this deep in our relationship before.”

Mickey gulped again from his beer can and flipped Ian off in the process. “I don’t fucking know. Never thought about it before.”

Franny held the stack of construction paper up to Mickey. “Look! There’s red, and yellow, and blue, and purple, and green—”

Mickey cut her off. “Uh, give me a green one.”

Ian smirked. “Green?”

“Fuck you, it was the first color I thought of.” Of course, that wasn’t really true—if Mickey needed to have a favorite fucking color, it was obviously going to be green, like the green eyes that met his gaze every morning and were the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night— even if he would never be caught dead admitting that sappy bullshit to Ian.

Ian looked like he was holding back a smile. “Right,” he mused. “Hey, Franny, pass me a blue paper? Cause y’know, that’s my favorite color.”

Mickey gently shoved Ian in the square of his chest. “You’re being fucking soft.”

Ian let a crooked smile burst onto his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Mickey leaned back in his chair, holding the piece of thick green paper in front of him appraisingly. “Okay Franny, what’s step two?”

Franny stretched her body across the table to reach for one of the strewn pairs of scissors. “Now, you fold the paper in half, and then you cut out the shape of half of a heart, like this.” She drew an example of the curved pattern on the backside of Mickey’s paper with the tip of her finger. “And then you unfold it and it’ll be a perfect shape!”

“Sounds easy enough.”

Mickey took the scissors from Franny’s grasp, and held them up to the paper. It was just a fucking half circle with a little indent at the top— this wasn’t going to be too difficult. Ian and Franny went back to being absorbed in crafting their valentines, while Mickey started to botch and slash at his piece of construction paper.

When he was finally satisfied he unfolded the shape, the outer shell of the paper falling away. It was… well, it was kind of a heart, with two slanted sides and a wonky top half. It looked more like a blob attached to an angle than anything else.

Ian looked up from where he was doodling on a glittery heart and snickered.

“That’s uh… that’s a good first try, Mick.”

Mickey slammed the piece of paper down onto the table. Fucking arts and crafts, he was never good at this shit even when he was little—he fingers were always too fumbling, too clumsy for him to make anything delicate and pristine. Ian’s hands should have been as ungainly as his, but instead they were quick and nimble, smoothly cutting perfectly-rounded circles and gluing neat lines of glitter.

Franny noticed that Mickey was done cutting his shape. “Good job Uncle Mickey! Now you just have to draw on it, and put on stickers and glitter.”

“Yeah Mickey, let’s see those artistic skills.”

Mickey aggressively flicked some flecks of glitter from the table in Ian’s direction, then picked up a crayon and gripped it with an iron fist. What the fuck was he supposed to draw? This was a valentine for kids at Franny’s school, the fuck did kids like anyways? He started to draw some sort of stick figure, but the arms were too long and the head was too small, so he tried to color over it and make some sort of tree or some shit…

As Mickey scratched at the paper, he looked over at noticed suddenly how content Ian looked—how blissed out and settled he was, just running a crayon over the colorful paper and shaking bits of glitter onto pools of glue. If Mickey was being honest, he hadn’t seen Ian this light and happy in a while; he’d had a hunch in his shoulders for months after the wedding and the pandemic and all the minimum-wage job bullshit, the shadows of expectation hanging over him and causing a deflated weariness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. But right now, Ian looked like he was having as much fun as Franny was, practically vibrating with satisfaction as he put the finishing touches on his drawing and reaching to place his completed valentine in the growing pile.

Mickey snatched the paper out of Ian’s hand, slightly crumpling it around the edges. “Wait a second. How the fuck did you do that?”

The valentine was immaculate, the heart symmetrical and traced in a thin outline of glitter. In the center of the paper there was a perfect little cartoon of a dog in a top hat, with an air bubble that read “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ian shrugged. “Watched a lot of cartoons when I was little. And I’ve always kind of liked to draw.”

Mickey shoved the valentine back in front of Ian. Goddamn perfect fucking husband who’s good at fucking everything. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, suddenly losing all motivation to play along.

Ian smirked, then reached to rest a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Giving up already?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian’s smile just widened. “Here, how about I cut the fucking shapes and you glue stuff onto them. That’d still help me and Franny a lot, right?”

Franny nodded. “It’s okay Uncle Mickey, I was bad at cutting the shapes too at first.”

Mickey huffed. Okay, so maybe he was horrible at this shit, but the least he could do was suck it up for Franny’s sake. “Fine,” he muttered, and grabbed a glue stick and a bottle of glitter.

A few minutes passed and they settled into a comfortable silence, enveloped in the sound of the scissors gliding and Franny scribbling on paper.

Suddenly, Franny looked up as Mickey reached across the table to grab a pad of stickers.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, what do you and Uncle Ian do for Valentine’s Day?”

Mickey didn’t really know how to answer that question— he darted a glance over at Ian, trying to signal as much. Could you ruin the spirit of Valentine’s Day for kids in the same way you could fuck up Christmas? “Uh, nothing really.”

Ian chimed in. “We used to like Valentine’s Day when we were little like you Franny, but now that we’re big we don’t really celebrate it. Right Mick?”

“Yup.”

Franny’s brows were furrowed again, this time in contemplation. “But. You love each other, right?”

“Sure, Franny. But we don’t need a special day for us to remember that,” Ian explained.

Franny seemed appeased enough by that answer to resume her drawing. “You don’t give each other valentines or candy or anything?”

Mickey almost laughed. Of course he and Ian had never celebrated fucking Valentine’s Day; if he was being honest, he didn’t remember even really thinking about Valentine’s Day before now, other than it being a day when Mandy came home crying in middle school because the boy she liked didn’t ask her out, or buying all the half-priced chocolates in red and pink wrappers at the drugstore a week later with his brothers. With all the shit in his life the past few years, frilly fucking holidays like Valentine’s Day were just… not on Mickey’s radar.

But maybe— maybe this year was different. This year, for maybe the first time in his life, Mickey felt secure and steady in a way that he never had before, like the ground was solid beneath him and wasn’t going to cave in at any minute. He had a fucking husband that he loved—why couldn’t they celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal goddamn couple? Ian didn’t seem to be too bothered that they both didn’t give a fuck about the holiday, which was all the more reason to catch him off guard. He kept pressing stickers down onto the construction paper, his mind starting to churn.

By the time they’d made the twenty-seven fucking valentines, Mickey had made up his mind; this year, he and Ian were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

part two here!

#my bbys definitely do not seem the type to celebrate valentines day #but i had to make them try lol #lmk if u are interested in a part two!#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding High

Ch9: I Must Be Doing Something Right

Chapter Summary: When you try to do the best thing, it never works out the way you plan does it?

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words, and a game of Cards Against Humanity, which is really fucking offensive so if you are easily offended, suggest you steer clear!

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Contains SPOILERS for the film!!!!! If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. This is a REALLY long chapter but there was SO much to cram in!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8

Seven days was all it took.

Frank met the Foster Family on Sunday after Cullen had tabled the suggestion and agreed to the proposal that evening, ignoring Fliss and Roberta’s pleas to think about it for a few days at least. He didn’t want time to think, he was NOT going to surrender Mary to Evelyn, and if that meant she had to live with this nice family, in a posh house in Tampa, with a pool and a piano, then so be it.

The details were thrashed out between all attorneys and the state departments on the Monday and Tuesday, being finalised on the Thursday. Both Frank and his mother were given weekly visiting rights and once a month Mary was to come stay with him for a weekend, with longer visits to be agreed and settled with her foster parents as convenient during the holidays. When Frank was offered his choice of date to surrender Mary into care he chose the following Monday. Greg gave a little start and asked him if he wanted more time, convinced he could get Frank at least a fortnight, but he refused. The longer this dragged out the worst it was gonna be, just like pulling of a band aid.

Better to rip it fast and suffer a short, period of pain.

His mother had been unable to resist one last shot as she left him on the steps of the court building and her words were rattling around in his head as he stood watching Mary with Fliss as she hugged the woman tightly.

“I've been thinking a lot about the word called ‘compromise’. On one hand, good challenging school…on the other foster people. They can watch sitcoms with her. Take her to Olive Garden. Teach her to say ‘irregardless’ The only saving grace is, I suppose, is that she is better off than she was.”

He was clinging onto that thought. That Mary would be better off with this family than with his mother. And probably him if he was honest and he hoped Mary would in time, understand that too. At the moment she was still in denial, insisting that Frank was going to change his mind. He had told her time and time again this was a court decision, not his. Greg had explained it to her, the foster parents had explained it to when she had met them during the week, hell, Fliss had even explained it to her but nope, she wasn’t having it. Even before when he told her to go and say ‘see you later’ to Roberta, not goodbye- because it wasn’t goodbye- Mary had laughed and told the woman this entire thing was stupid and that she would be back with Frank later that evening.

And she was doing the same to Fliss now.

“You’ll be back for a visit before you know it.” Fliss brushed Mary’s hair off her face, blinking back her tears as she knelt in front of the girl. “And Monty will be waiting for you.” Mary shook her head “Look, we all know this is ridiculous, Frank isn’t gonna leave me there. He promised I wasn’t going anywhere and he’s never broken a promise to me yet.” “And he still hasn’t.” Fliss shook her head. “This is a court order, not Frank’s. Now you promise me that when you get there you show all these new people you’re gonna meet what a wonderfully funny, smart and incredible person you are. And then, when you come back I want you to tell me all about it.”

Mary shrugged “I’ll see you at the weekend I expect.” With that she moved back and looked at Frank like he was an utter idiot before she headed for the car.

Fliss stood up and wiped her eyes.“You gonna be okay?”

“No.” he shook his head. “Nothing about this is okay. At all. When she finally realises this isn’t some huge big joke or that I’m not gonna change my mind, she’s gonna flip.”

She stepped forwards to give him a hug, but he kept it brief, knowing that if he stayed he’d break. And he couldn’t. Not yet.

Fliss watched them drive away, before she turned back to her office, shut the door and curled up on the chair, arms hugging her knees as the tears coursed down her face.

***** Frank could see the moment that it finally began to sink in with Mary that this was all, very real. And he watched her heart break as she stood there, in the hall of her new foster home, begging him not to leave her.

Frank sighed, bowing his head. “You're going to a brand new school. A better school.”

“I don't want to. I want my crummy school.” Mary sobbed.

“And you got Fred…” Frank carried on, fighting back his own tears.

“Please.”

“And once a month you can come back and stay with me and Fliss and Roberta…”

“I want you and Fliss and Roberta now!”

“And in a few years, if you want, you can come back. You can live with me.” he looked at her, smiling encouragingly.

“I wanna stay with you. Frank, you promised me.” Mary stomped her foot, angry tears pouring down her face.

“Come on. Don't do this.” Frank sighed softly, rubbing the tops of her arms and shoulders.

“You promised me.”

“I know.” he bowed his head blinking back tears. He had, and he’d broken that promise. And he felt like shit. “I know.” he repeated lamely, his left hand gently resting on the side of her face, brushing away her tears.

“Please, Frank. Why are you leaving me?” she sobbed as he took her face in both his hands and looked at her.

“Because the court said I have to. You know this. We've discussed this ad naus...” he stopped himself and looked down, swallowing thickly. “We've discussed this.” he looked at her, taking a deep breath.“Come on. Come on. Please.” he said, gently moving to sweep her into a hug but she shoved him hard.

“No!”

Frank could do nothing but kneel there as she hit him again in his chest, then once on the side of his face, screaming at him. At that point her foster mother stepped forward and Mary continued to lash out, screaming at Frank.

“Sweetheart, you know what?” The woman began to talk to Mary as her foster Father looked down at Frank sympathetically.

“There's no easy way to do this.” he said. At that Frank jumped up and walked to the door.

“It’s not gonna be as long as you think, honey.” her foster mother was soothing her, but Mary was having none of it.

“Frank!”

“You're gonna see.”

“Frank!” Frank opened the door and paused, looking back as Mary was fighting against her foster mother who was gently holding her arms, screaming at him “Don't leave me!”

And that was the moment his heart broke into a million pieces. He had to go, he had to get out of there. He quickly stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind him, heading quickly for his truck, trying to block her screams and yells out as they still hit his ear from inside the house.

“Don't go! I need you! Fred needs you! You promised me!”

Sniffing back his tears he climbed into the truck, started it up, and then sat, both hands on the steering wheel, head bowed for a moment whilst he composed himself, before he put the truck in gear and drove off, leaving Mary behind.

**** Fliss had half expected Frank to show up at the yard again later that day, but he didn’t. Instead he messaged her telling her he needed some head space so was heading down to the Marina to do some work. Which was where she found him later that evening, working on the same boat he had been on all week.

“Hey, down there.” she said gently as she climbed the ladders up the side of the boat “The Serenity” Frank looked up at her, gave her a faint smile, before he turned back to what he was doing as Fliss stepped onto the deck of the boat, watching him carefully.

“I don't know which mistake is worst. Designing a water pump that leaks or putting it somewhere no human being can reach” he ranted as he leaned further into the uncovered pump. As Fliss took a seat on one of the raised benches at the back of the boat he stood up, the offending part in his hand and sighed “How you design something you know is gonna fail? Gotta be devious or clueless, right?”

He dropped what he had been reaching for onto the table in front of him and glanced at Fliss who was sat watching him, her hands pressed between the knees of her denim-short clad legs as she shot him another small smile. He picked up a small wrench and returned to his previous position, crouching over the machinery of the boat.

“After the first few weeks, I knew I had to find a real family for her. I was in way over my head.” he reached for a bolt that was in the box he had resting on the side and continued his work. “And every day I'd say today's the day I'm taking her to child services and every day she'd do something just…” he paused, his hands still working as a soft, yet heartbreakingly sad smile flickered across his face. “…so unbelievably cool.” He swallowed, still not looking at Fliss. “Her little personality was exploding. She was funny and she was angry, and she was happy, and she was sad and was cute.” He reached for something else, his voice groaning slightly with the strain of stretching. “Just so damn entertaining. And so I kept her.” His voice started to rise in tone, revealing the anger he felt at himself. “Not that that's in her best interest. Not that I'm capable of raising a child.”

“Frank that’s not true.” Fliss spoke softly, butting in but he continued his rant.

“A child that might still have a mother if I'd taken the time to notice she needed me.”

“Ok, now stop it.” Fliss’ voice was a little sterner now “Frank, we’ve been through this.”

“And now,” he stood up, reaching for a towel to wipe the oil off his hands, “six and a half years later I finally got her to a foster family and you know what? It was great.” He said sarcastically. “She loved it.” He tossed the towel onto the side. “I thought it would be a nightmare of abandonment and betrayal.” He hopped up onto the level of the boat Fliss was sat on and threw his hands out to the side “And it turns out it was a huge success.” With that he bent back down to pick up the broken part he had retrieved from the pump, tossing it slightly in his hand. “I'm a fuckin’ hero.” He angrily launched the part out of the side of the boat where it hit something with a crash.

“Hey.” Fliss stood up and moved to gently run her hand down his arm. He was dirty, sweaty, covered in grease and he was conscious of this so went to pull away but she stopped him, her grip firm before she moved her hands to his face, her palms gently pressing against the scratch of his beard, sweat beading on his brow as he looked at her. “Listen to me.” Her eyes locked onto his “Mary will be ok. It’s gonna take time but-”

“You didn’t see her.” He said, stepping back out of her touch, his hand flying to his hair “She fucking hates me. She was screaming and I just left her.” He finished, somewhat lamely. “After I promised her, I promised her she could stay with me.”

With that he went the side of the boat, and hopped onto the ladder at the side.

“Frank.” Fliss moved to follow but he shook his head.

“No, Lissy,” he trailed off, holding his hand up. He sighed and took a deep breath. “I appreciate everything you've done. Just...” he shook his head again and continued own the steps.

Fliss watched him go where he headed back into the little workshop area, swallowing slightly. She looked up at the starry sky and took a deep breath, blinking back her tears. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally. He was hurting and needed time. She licked her lips before she climbed off the boat and turned in the opposite direction he’d gone, deciding to take the long route around to her car so as not to pass him again.

Frank walked into his workshop area and launched an angry kick at a box of engine propellers scattering them all over the floor. He stood up, both hands on his hips as he took a deep breath and turned half expecting Fliss to be behind him. But she wasn’t. With a sigh he made to go back outside and apologise but when he looked up she wasn’t on the boat anymore.

“Fuck.” He cursed, turning to look to his right where he saw her walking a hundred yards or so away down the side of the marina.

“Liss!” He called, and she stopped, turning towards him as he set off towards her in a jog. “Lissy, I’m sorry.” He stopped in front of her, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” she replied “I understand.”

“No there is. You came her to check on me and,” he took a deep breath, “believe me, if there’s one person in all of this that I have no right to be mad around it’s you. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I get it, honestly I do.” she smiled gently, stepping towards him and rubbing his arm. “Today must have been so hard, I can’t imagine how you felt.” He fell silent. “But I meant what I said Frank, none of this is your fault.”

“I should never have let her go to that school.” His azure blue eyes misted over again, and he looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “Shoulda, woulda coulda.” Fliss shrugged as he pulled his head back up to look at her. “You can’t keep beating yourself up about things you can’t change, trust me, I know.”

Frank sniffed slightly before she sighed and carried on

“It’s done, Mary is with a good family, she’s going to get a good education and, yeah, it might take a while but she’ll come round and soon realise that you did what you did, not because you didn’t want her, but because you wanted what was best for her.” “I hope you’re right.” His voice cracked as Fliss stepped forward and pulled him back into her arms “I love her Fliss, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do if she won’t forgive me.”

*****

Fliss was worried Frank was going to go off the rails, but he didn’t. He simply threw himself into his work, ever night and day he was at the boat yard. They talked daily and she invited him to dinner on Friday, in an attempt to keep him away from Ferg’s for fear of him getting himself absolutely trashed and doing something stupid like picking a fight. She hadn’t expected him to accept, however, so was pleasantly surprised when he took her up on her offer.

He was a little more subdued than normal, but they talked over the bolognese she had made and then Bill had popped his head in and invited them through to the house for a few drinks and a game of Cards Against Humanity.

Frank’s face twisted into a grin. “You know I’ve never played it before.”

“You’re kidding?” Bill looked at him.

“Oh Frankie, it’s great fun.” Fliss grinned. “You get to learn a lot about people, and how twisted and sick their minds actually are.”

“Verity is the worst.” Bill said, seriously “I been with her now for almost thirty-one years, married to her for…” “Twenty-Eight.” Fliss supplied.

“Twenty-Eight, thanks Titch, and I had no idea how warped she was until we played this a few years ago.”

Frank chuckled and Fliss looked at him and he shrugged, “Not like I got anything else to do so, sure, I’m in.”

Fliss nodded and together they made their way out of the annex and over to the main house. Frank had been in here once before and, despite the fact that it was ridiculous large and fancy, he felt at home. Verity greeted her with the usual warmth, wrapping him up in a motherly hug as she looked at him and scalded him for losing weight. He sighed, he knew he hadn’t been eating properly but he didn’t look that different.

“Leave the lad alone.” Bill looked at his wife, thrusting a chilled San Miguel into Frank’s hand. “He’s come here to relax not have you nagging on at him.”

Verity rolled her eyes and began to quibble with her husband whilst Fliss shook her head, grinning at Frank before she led him through to the dining room where the cards were placed in the middle of the table.

It didn’t take long for Frank to get the hang of the game, and it also didn’t take him long to realise Bill was right. Verity had an extremely warped sense of humour, that said, so did Fliss, and the more alcohol she consumed, the worse it got. He declined another beer from Bill, stating that he had to head home, but Fliss frowned at him.

“Take the spare room.” she offered, but he shook his head.

“I’m working tomorrow, got a few things to finish so…”

She didn’t push it, and that was another thing Frank loved about her. The fact that she would take no for an answer without questioning him.

“Ok…so…” Frank leaned over, taking the cards that were face down, shuffling them so he didn’t know whose were whose “Do not fuck with me I am literally what right now.” He turned the top card over and gave a snort. “Seeing things from Hitler’s perspective,” then he turned the next card and arched an eyebrow, “dying…oh god that’s bad…” and the final one, “pretending to care…it’s gotta be the Hitler one!”

“Yes!” Fliss grinned as she took the card from him. “Catching you up mum.” After a few more rounds which contained winning combinations such as “This is your Captain speaking. Fasten your seatbelts and prepare for- September 11th, 2001, “ and “”In the beginning there was- the mixing of the races- and then the Lord said ‘Let there be- Nazis,’” the cards were finished and they all counted. Bill was bottom, Fliss and Frank had tied, and Verity was the runaway winner. After a little more chat they called it a night and Frank walked back to the annex and his truck with Fliss.

“Thank you.” He turned to her “Not just for tonight, which was real fun but…”

Fliss smiled and gave him a hug. “Any time, Sailor.”

He dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Ya know, I’ll hold you to that.”

He gave her a cheeky grin as he got in his truck and Fliss watched him go, pleased to see that for the first time since Mary had left that Monday, he seemed to be getting some of that Frank spark back.

*****

Frank parked the truck and grabbed the wrapped box of lego, the ping pong balls for Fred and the next Harry Potter book in the series (the third one) from Fliss off the passenger seat and headed up the steps. He knocked politely on the door and smiled as Kevin looked through the glass window to the left

“Hey.” He smiled as Kevin opened the door

“Hi, Frank. We're errr…” Kevin stepped outside and closed the door “… having a little bit of a problem in there.”

“What?”

“Mary's fine but she's having a little bit of a meltdown.”

“Right.” Frank sighed, nodding “Let me talk to her.” He made to enter the house but Kevin stopped him

“No, hang on. That's not a good idea.” He said gently as Frank looked at him, a slight frown on his face “Your visit here is the reason for the meltdown.”

“What?” Frank’s brows furrowed together

“She don't wanna see you.” Kevin said, apologetically.

Frank felt like his chest was being crushed. He took a deep breath and visibly slumped. Kevin continued sympathetically. “I'm sorry, man. This is predictable. You know, she needs time.”

Frank fought to keep himself composed. This was his first visit, it had been agreed that the first one would be the Monday, a week after she had left, then moving to Saturday afternoons, and they’d done that for a reason, to give her a full week to settle in. He hadn’t expected it to be plain sailing but he had been hoping she would calm down. He needed to see her, whenever they argued, they always talked, always sorted things out. And this wasn’t any different.

“Just give me five minutes with her.” he looked at Kevin

“I let you inside and then we're gonna betray her trust and have an even bigger problem.” the man shook his head.

Frank got that, he did, but it didn’t make it any easier. He nodded, still keeping himself composed, before wordlessly he thrust the items he was holding into Kevin’s hand and turned and headed back to his truck.

He got drunk that night. And, as he lay on the sofa, with his tumbler of cheap scotch, he realised that the ache he was feeling was the same ache as when he lost Diane. He was grieving. Grieving for the loss of his wonderful, beautiful, annoying, smart-ass niece. Only she wasn’t dead, just gone. Gone from her home and gone from him.

The next morning he woke on the sofa, still clothed, with a mouth like sand paper and a banging headache. After a shower and litre of orange juice he went down to get his mail and found himself sitting on the bench near the mail boxes, simply staring into space. He was vaguely aware of someone sitting next to him, and when Roberta reached out and worked his right hand free from where it was joined tightly with his left, he let out a sigh as she simply squeezed his fingers.

Wednesday morning, after Fliss had stopped by with breakfast from the bakery not far down the road, he was sweeping up the kitchen, which didn’t seem to be half as messy anymore now there were no cat biscuits lying around seeing as Fred wasn’t there to deposit the ones he didn’t want under the table. He opened the broom closet and his eyes fell onto the basket full of shells that Mary had collected over the last god knows how long. He stared at it for a moment before he threw the broom in the closet, slamming the door.

Thursday morning he woke to a message from Fliss asking if he fancied meeting her for lunch. He accepted her invite and headed down to the Marina, his spirits lifted a little at the fact he’d get to see someone he actually cared about soon. He’d been there for a few hours, putting the water pump that he’d finally managed to strip out of that damned boat back together when his phone rang. He glanced at the number and frowned when he saw it was Bonnie. Sighing, he dropped it back to the desk next to him. She’d called a few times since Mary had left, Fliss had reasoned with him that he should answer as she probably just wanted to know how he was. But, seeing as he didn’t actually fucking know how to explain how he was, what on Earth was he going to tell her?

Instead, he let it ring out as usual and then a little while later it beeped, signalling he had a message. He ignored that too, he’d deal with it later.

*****

“Fliss?” Joanne called “There’s a call for you in the office.”

“Ok, hang on.” Fliss put down the bridle she had been piecing together in the tack room and headed through, taking the phone off Joanne. “Fliss Gallagher…” “Hi Fliss, it’s Bonnie, Bonnie Stevenson.” “Oh, er,,,hi…” She said, surprised to hear the woman on the other end of the phone.

“I’m sorry to call you it’s just, well Frank is ignoring my calls and my messages and I was just kind of worried about him.” “Oh…” Fliss took a deep breath, scratching at her head. “He’s been a bit up and down so don’t take it personally.”

“Look, don’t want to step on your toes because I know you two are kinda, well, anyway, I was just in the library at school today and well I saw a photo of Fred on the adoption board for the Pinellas County Animal Shelter and was a little-.”

“Hang on.” Fliss cut her off, not quite believing what she was hearing. “Fred is in the Animal Shelter?” “Yeah.” Bonnie sighed. “I just, well I know Mary loved that cat and I’m concerned Frank is making a mistake giving it away, Mary would-”

“Bonnie the cat went with her.” Fliss took a deep breath, her mind whirring

“What?” Bonnie whispered

“Mary took the cat with her to the foster home. Frank hasn’t turned him in. Fuck, he’ll be devastated when he finds out.” she bit her lip. “Leave it with me, I’ll call him.” “Ok, well, good luck.” Bonnie offered. “Thanks. And thank you for calling and telling us, I mean me, him…whatever” Bonnie gave a chuckle “I hope you get there in time.”

“In time?” Fliss frowned.

“Yeah, Fliss it’s a kill shelter. They only keep the animals for a week or so, depending on their hopes and chances of being adopted.”

Fliss felt her heart sink. Suddenly her thoughts went back to Frank and how he had told her Mary refused to see him on Monday as she was having a meltdown about him going. What if the melt down had been about Fred?

“Fuck.” she mumbled, “Bonnie, I’m sorry I gotta…” And at that she put the phone down. She grabbed her keys, purse and mobile and sprinted for her jeep, yelling to Joanne that she had an emergency. She dived in her car, sped off down the drive and called Frank as she went.

“Hey,” he picked up after two rings.

“Oh you’ll answer to me!” She said, turning left onto the freeway, keying in the location on her GPS.

“Of course.” he said, his tone a little puzzled “What’s…”

“Bonnies’ been trying to call you.”

“I know, I just…” “Shut up a minute.” Fliss cut him off “She was calling because she saw a poster, an adoption photo for the Pinellas County Animal Shelter. It was Fred.”

There was a pause before Frank breathed out “What?”

“They gave her cat away, Frank.”

There was a loud clatter at the other end and then she could tell Frank was running from the sounds and the way his voice wobbled with his momentum.

“I can’t, oh god Fliss, Mary’s gonna be devastated.” “I know. I’m on my way now. I’ll meet you there.”

“Ok.” he said, and with that he hung up. *******

Frank didn’t think he’d ever driven that fast before in his life. He literally dumped the truck on the car park, haphazardly parked in a disabled bay, and ran into the shelter, straight to the reception desk.

“Hi!” he said, resting his hands on the desk.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Do you have a one-eyed orange cat named Fred?”

At that he heard someone else crashing through the door and a second later there was a gentle touch his arm and he turned to see Fliss, dressed in her riding gear besides him.

“We have a one-eyed cat.” the receptionist nodded after a pause “But I don't know what his name is.”

“Where?” Fliss demanded impatiently.

The receptionist turned to the woman behind her who was digging in the drawers. She turned and pulled a sympathetic face “I don't know. Today was his last day.”

Fliss sighed and Frank hung his head, as a dog gave a loud bark from somewhere in the rear of the shelter. Suddenly there was a violent tug on his hand and he was being dragged down the side of the desk, the receptionist shouting objections as Fliss pulled him through the door at the end. They past the rows of dogs in kennels and then Frank spotted another room to their right.

“This way.” He said and this time he was pulling her along as they headed into the cattery area, but there was no sign of Fred. They continued through, and then headed into the veterinary area, trying each door one by one and the final one they entered was occupied.

“What are you doing back here?” The vet looked at him as Frank saw three needles on the table and let out a soft groan.

“I told him he couldn't.” He heard the receptionist trail off, as his attention was taken by Fliss

“Thank God!” She breathed out, moving to her left. Frank heard a familiar meow and he turned to see Fred in a cat cage on the side.

The relief that flooded his system was insurmountable. He joined Fliss who was now stroking Fred through the bars as the cat tilted his head and looked up at Frank, letting out a meow.

“Hey Fred.” Frank sighed, his hands falling to the top of the cage as he kissed Fliss’s temple in relief and thanks, and then the anger came back.

“Who brought this cat?” He turned round to look at the helpers who were stood in the room.

“Some guy.” The one from the reception shrugged. “He said it was an allergy issue.”

He let out an angry snort and looked at Fliss “Evelyn. She’s allergic to cats.”

Fliss face slid into an expression of understanding as she turned to look at him. “Seems like Mr Perfect Foster Father fed you a load of bullshit on Monday, Frank.”

It took them half an hour to iron out the paper work which allowed Frank to bring Fred home, and because the two other cats in there, Chili and Toby, were on death row they came too, well, with Fliss that is back to the stables.

They carried the cats out between them and Frank turned to Fliss as he passed her the cage containing the black and white one.

“I’m going to get Mary back. This is wrong, it’s fucking wrong. She needs to be with me. I mean, she’s a good kid, right?”

“I’ve told you before, she’s an amazing little girl.” Fliss looked at him as she shut the rear door to the car.

“Well then, I can’t be that bad a substitute parent can I?”

Fliss beamed at him before she asked. “So how we gonna play it?”

He noted her use of the word we, and smiled. “I’m gonna give my mother exactly what she wants”

Huh?” Fliss frowned “I’m not…”

“I’m going to give her another way to achieve her dream without using Mary.” He said, biting his lip as he turned to face her. “Once you’ve dropped those two off meet me at mine as fast as you can. I need to pick up some stuff, and Roberta.”

*****

Fliss did as she was told and less than twenty minutes later they were speeding along the freeway to Tampa, Fliss driving at a steady ten clicks over the limit. It felt like the journey took forever, but it wasn’t much over twenty minutes, and Frank jumped out of Fliss’ jeep before it had even stopped, running up the steps to the large house.

He pounded his fist on the doorway and it swung open.

“Frank?” Kevin greeted him

“Where's Evelyn?” He demanded.

“Evelyn? You mean your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Kevin,” they were joined by his wife, Emma who grabbed his arm as Kevin had opened his mouth to speak. ”Evelyn is in the guest house.”

Frank turned and headed back down the steps, jumping the last three.

“Yeah, listen. I'm sorry, man.” Kevin followed. “Frank, let me tell you. She was so helpful with the tutors. Mary was so distant and she-“

“Hey!” Roberta stepped out to block Kevin’s way. “Look, we know what you’re up against.”

Kevin sighed, nodding “She’s tenacious…”

“Do you want your life back? “ Fliss looked at him, her glare steady as Kevin watched Frank heading up the steps to the guest house “Go back inside.”

Frank reached the top of the stairs and wrenched open the door to see his mother sat at a desk with Mary, whilst there was a man stood pointing at a book, another sat in the corner on a computer. All four of them looked up and Frank took a deep breath, shaking his head at his mother.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprise evident on her face.

Frank ignored her as Fliss and Roberta stepped into the room, Fliss carrying the box he had brought with him.

“Come on, Mary. We're going home.” Frank heled his hand out as Fliss placed the box on the desk and folded her arms.

“No.” Mary replied gently, shaking her head, eyes locked on Frank.

“You're trespassing!” Evelyn started but Frank ignored her, flipping the lid off the box, pulling out a ring bound file “You need to look at this.” He tossed it on the desk and walked towards Mary. “Let's go, Mary. Let's move. Come on.” He beckoned with his hand.

“No!” she repeated, sliding off her chair. She pushed the man next to her out of the way and dodged round the desk. There was a cacophony of people moving and shouting her name but Frank gently stopped Fliss as she made to grab her.

“It's okay. I got her.” He said, flying out of the door after her.

Evelyn made to follow but Fliss stepped right in her path, blocking the way, her nose inches from Evelyn’s as she stared the woman down.

“Think again, lady.” Roberta spoke from behind her, her hand laying on Fliss’ shoulder, giving a squeeze of support.

Evelyn looked at the two of them for a second before she jerked her head to flick the piece of hair that had fallen forwards into her eyes before she tuned and picked up her phone. She looked at Fliss again, who arched an eyebrow, and then turned back to her phone before she stopped dead and her eyes fell on the ring bound file Frank had thrown onto the desk.

Fliss exchanged a look with Roberta, neither of them understanding what was in the file, but clearly Evelyn did. Fliss had a feeling it was something to do with the equation Frank had told her that Diane had been working on, maybe some research. Evelyn glanced over Fliss’ shoulder to the door, her breathing deep as she looked back to the file.

“This,” she said, looking at it,“it can’t…”

Then she snapped out of it, going for the door but Fliss once more stepped into her path.

“You’re not going out there, not until Frank has a chance to speak to Mary.”

“You have no right.”

“And neither do you.” Fliss said loudly

“I have visitation rights. I’m her grandmother!” “Oh please!” Fliss snorted “Up until a few months ago you had never seen her. And what kind of grandmother rips a little girl away from the person who has shown her nothing but love all her life, and cared for and provided for her for over six years?”

Evelyn raised her chin defiantly.

“And all for what? Some fucking dream about a stupid maths problem that no one bar a gang of stuck up Oxbridge middle aged tossers give a shit about!" "How dare you?" Evelyn glared at Fliss. "I'm not having some jumped up, dressage riding tart speak to me like this! I did this for Mary. To give her the life she deserves… " "No you did this for yourself." Fliss shot back. "And you know what? Maybe Frank doesn’t have the poshest house, or the most prestigious career in the world, but kids don't need money, or laptops or huge fucking homes with a pool and a summer house! They need love and care, to know they're safe and wanted, and she gets all of that with Frank, with us." She gestured to Roberta as she continued. "And if you stopped to listen and look at her as a person and not your ticket to fame for just one second you'd see what an amazing, wonderful little girl she is and that's down to your son." Fliss took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes as Evelyn looked away from her to Roberta almost as if she was expecting a verbal tirade from her too. Roberta simply shrugged "I got notin' to add, she said it all for me" "Frank is one of the kindest, most loving and gentle men I know." Fliss swallowed, her voice softer. "He has a heart of gold and everything he does is for that little girl. Maybe he doesn't always get it right but who does? He tries his best, and I'd love to congratulate you on bringing up such and amazing man, but I literally have no idea how he turned out the way he did with a cold hearted bitch like you as a mother."

****

“Mary!” Frank called, sprinting after her as she ran down the drive “Mary!”

He gently grabbed her arm and dropped to the floor as she spun round “No, let me go!” she yelled at him, lashing out again with her arms the same way she had done when he had left her. Frank turned his head holding his hands up to deflect the blows.

“Stop, Mary.Stop, stop!”

“No!”

“Come here.” he urged, his voice soft as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him as he stood up, holding her tight.

“You lied to me.” she shot at him accusingly

“I know.” He scrunched his eyes up, ducking his head as she continued to rain blows on him.

“No, no!”

“Stop, stop, stop!” he pleaded as her blows grew weaker until she collapsed against him, crying, her head buried into his shoulder. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her cheek. “I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I'm so sorry.”

“You promised me.”

“I know.” he agreed, taking a deep breath, looking upwards.

“You promised.” Mary’s voice was quiet as her small arms moved around his shoulders.

“I know. I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” his voice cracked as he gently walked them towards the house a little.

“You said you wouldn't leave me!” she broke her heart once more as his hand moved up to hold between her shoulder blades and he pressed his cheek to the side of her head.

“I made a mistake. I'm sorry.” He stressed, rubbing her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly and he closed his eyes, swaying her softly on the spot.

“I was so sad!” She sobbed as Frank simply stood, breathing heavily, eyes still closed as he desperately fought for composure. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He whispered into her hair as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, blinking back the tears that were filling his eyes. God he should never have agreed to this, ever.

“They took Fred.” Mary cried and Frank shook his head.

“No. It's okay.” He sniffed, bending down to place her on the floor so she could look at him. “We got him. He's home.”

“What?” She asked softly, her cries stopping as she looked at him, her eyes so like her mother’s bored into his.

“He's at the apartment right now. Me and Fliss went and we got him.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.” Frank assured her, his right hand reaching up to wipe away her tears as he cupped her cheek softly. “He's home kicking around his ping pong ball.”

“Why did you leave me here?” she asked, her sobs starting again. And that was the moment he broke. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and he too began to cry.

“Because I thought I was bad for you.” his voice cracked as he struggled to speak, a tear falling down his cheek. “And then it dawned on me. If Mary is this amazing, smart, sweet human being, then I must be doing something right.”

She looked at him, her face contorting as her cries grew shallower and she reached out with her small hands rubbing at his beard before her thumbs crept into the side of his mouth, and she curled his lips upwards and he swallowed again, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

Her hands fell to his shoulders and she looked at him. “You're smiling”

He nodded and bowed his head, his chest heaving with unshed sobs before Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He closed his eyes again, holding her close, his hand rubbing her back.

“I’m never gonna let anyone take you away from me again, Short Stack.” He promised as she pulled back, her hands fiddling with the collar of his grey T-shirt.

She paused for a moment before she looked at him. “Can we go home now?”

“You’re damned right.” He nodded, as he stood, picking her up in his arms. They made their way back up the steps to the guest house, pausing slightly to look at one another as Fliss’ angry yells hit their ears.

“Fliss is mad.” Mary’s eyes grew wide and she looked at Frank.

“Yeah, well she’s missed you too. So has Roberta.” Frank smiled as they carried on up the steps. They reached the door just in time to catch Fliss calling Evelyn a “cold hearted bitch” and as Frank opened the door, Roberta and Fliss turned to face them both.

“Roberta! Lissy!” Mary yelled as Frank set her down on the floor.

“Hey baby!” Roberta smiled, as she hugged the girl tightly before Mary released her and threw herself at Fliss.

“Oh kiddo.” Fliss sighed, dropping a kiss to Mary’s head. She looked up at Frank and he gave her a wink, before nodding gently to the door.

“Of all the stunts you could pull.” Evelyn looked at him and he glared straight back as besides him, he heard Fliss say something to Mary as her and Roberta ushered her out of the door.

“Where are they going?” Evelyn demanded

“Nowhere. Not yet.” Frank looked at her before he turned his attention to the two tutors in the room “You two, out!”

Once they left, Frank and his mother began to argue about the file he had given her, Evelyn refusing to believe it was real, that Diane had solved the Millennium Problem. Eventually, Frank had enough and shook his head.

“Evelyn, stop!” he said firmly. “I'm taking Mary and I'm raising her how I believe Diane would have wanted”

“We'll see about this.”

“I realize she's not normal.” He continued, his voice steady and definitive. “But if Einstein can ride a bike so can she.”

“Let’s just say Diane didn't tell me, which is nonsense. It's a Millennium Problem!” His mother blazed “She would have shared it with the world. That's where your charade falls apart.”

Frank sighed and looked down, one hand resting on the surface of the table between him and his mother, the other shoved into his pocket.

“If she had completed the proof, she would have published it!” Evelyn finished.

With a deep breath he looked back up at his mother before he looked down at the file and spoke a little softer this time “Diane instructed me very clearly,” he swallowed and looked down at his left hand, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, “that I was only to publish it post mortem.”

“She died six years ago.” Evelyn demanded and he looked back at her.

“It wasn't her death she was talking about.”

He watched as his mother’s mouth fell open slightly in understanding and shock before she looked down, swallowing. Despite everything, Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, he was taking no pleasure in any of this. His mother sank into a chair, her eyes closing as her head bowed slightly

“I tried to talk her out of it.” Frank explained gently. “But you know how Diane could be when she made her mind up about something.”

Evelyn didn’t say a word, she simply stared at a spot on the desk, her eyes darting from side to side and Frank could see she was suddenly coming to terms with the fact that, really, she hadn’t known his sister at all

“I called MIT.” He continued “Shankland's out of his mind about the possibility of publishing it with you.” At that Evelyn glanced up at him. “He's waiting for your call.” Frank nodded. “You're gonna spend the next few years of your life defending it. You won't have time for her.”

Evelyn swallowed again, before she floundered to speak, struggling slightly to form the first word. “What If I say no?” She eventually said, taking a breath and looking back up at Frank.

He looked to the side slightly. “Well,” his eyes flicked back to hers, the nerve in his jaw twitching slightly, “back to Plan A”

“Wait for me to die?” Evelyn’s voice took on an almost amused tone as she fixed Frank with a look.

“I know Diane was hard.” He said after a moment’s pause, his voice remaining calm. “I know she was angry. But something really good came out of this, Evelyn. She needs you now. You're the best woman for the job. Take it”

Evelyn looked down at the file again, her brows raising slightly. “It doesn't seem like Diane wanted me to have it.”

“Well, Diane didn't always think things through.” He smiled softly as Evelyn looked up at him, the fact she had spoken those exact words to Frank weeks before had clearly not passed her by. “I'll be outside. Let me know what you wanna do.”

With that he left the room but he hadn’t even gotten halfway down the stairs before Evelyn shot out after him. He turned and glanced back up at her, questioningly

“I’m not going to fight you anymore, Frank. I’ll take your offer. Diane deserves for her work to be published.”

He nodded and turned to go again but she stopped him a second time.

“Will you let me give you one piece of advice before you go?”

He looked at her expectantly.

“Fliss,” “What about her?”

“The way she was fighting your corner before, the things she was saying, well, it almost made me proud to be your mother.” Evelyn gave him a smile. “Don’t let that girl go.”

“I don’t intend to.” Frank shook his head, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly. “Goodbye Evelyn.”

***** Greg wasn’t overly impressed with Frank’s display of recklessness, his yell down the phone of “you dumb-ass mother fucker,” was loud enough for Fliss, Mary and Roberta to hear. With a grimace, Frank headed out of the apartment and explained what had happened and Greg listened, before promising to set the ball rolling right away. Two hours later he called back having spoken the woman from the Welfare Department who had been managing the fostering arrangements.

“She’s happy, given Evelyn’s seeming lack of contention, for Mary to stay in your care for the immediate future.”

“Immediate future?” Frank held his breath. “What does that mean?”

“It means that we’ll need to go back to court to obtain formal Guardian status. But, given your Mother’s U-Turn, and the Foster Parents being surprisingly supportive of you, there’s no way this is going anywhere but in your favour.” Greg’s voice was full of warmth and Frank let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll organise the paper work and we’ll file for a hearing as soon as possible but it could be after thanksgiving. I got another big custody case going on now so…” “So there’s no way she’s gonna be taken?” Frank pressed.

“I’d bet my house on it.” Greg informed, making Frank smile “The only potential bump in the road here now is if your mother requests formal access or visitation rights.” “Well if she does, I’m not opposed to her having a relationship with Mary, but it’s done on Mary’s terms, not hers.” Frank replied. “And being reasonable like that will go even more in your favour.” Greg chuckled “I’ll get the paper work sorted on Monday. So in the mean-time enjoy your weekend and do me a favour and take Fliss on a date will ya?”

With a laugh and assurances that he was going to try at least, Frank headed back inside to be hit with a barrage of noise as Journey “Don’t Stop Believing” was blaring out of the stereo. Mary was on the sofa, bouncing up and down as she sang whilst Fliss had hold of her hands, moving them back and forth as they danced. Frank leaned against the doorframe and simply watched them until Roberta moved over and dragged him into the middle of their group. Mary threw herself at him and he caught her with a loud huff which was followed by a laugh as she reached up and ruffled his hair.

A few hours and a Chinese takeout later, Mary was fast asleep and both Fliss and Roberta decided it was time to go. Gently lifting Mary from where she was led with her head in Fliss’ lap, Frank tucked her in bed fully clothed (like it mattered) and then headed outside. He said goodnight to Roberta, the woman hugging him and Fliss before he walked Fliss back down to the jeep.

“Thank you for today.” He looked at her as they walked. “I never knew you had such a fierce side.”

“Well, I spent so long being trampled and stepped on, sometimes I like it when my inner lioness makes an appearance.” she smirked at him.

“You certainly made an impression on my Mother.”

“Oh, yeah.” Fliss winced “I kinda..well not kinda, I…err…I shouted at her. Called her a cold hearted bitch.” “Yeah I heard that bit” Frank snorted and Fliss scoffed.

“In my defence, she started it, she called me a jumped up dressage tart.”

“Well that’s just rude.” Frank agreed “You show-jump.” Fliss stopped by her jeep and looked at him before she burst out laughing and Frank grinned. There was a pause before Frank looked down at the floor and then back at Fliss “You know, she gave me one final piece of advice as I left.” “Oh yeah? What was that? Buy a mosquito net? A Bug zapper? No, wait, she told you to get a string vest and a banjo didn’t she?”

Frank shook his head grinning. “She told me not to let you go.” He said, holding Fliss’ gaze before she looked down, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Although the banjo does sound fun.” “Piss off.” She said gently with a grin, shoving him in his chest. He caught her wrist softly and then moved his hand to tangle their fingers together, looking down at her small palm against his before he looked back at her.

“You know, if this was a movie I’d use some really shit cliché here like oh, you came into my world and turned my life inside upside down.” he shrugged, “but my life was already upside down and inside out, and you,” he let out a breath, “you just help put it back to where it should be. You make everything better Lissy and these last few months without you in my corner..." he trailed off as her eyes locked onto his, shining in the dim light, his thumb gently skating the back of her hand. "Look, I know you said I wasn’t in a position to know what I want but I do. I really do. And it’s for you to be part of this, albeit, royally fucked up life I have." As he looked at her he spotted the twinkle in her eye as she smiled at him, her hand squeezing his.

“I think it's about time you took me sailing don’t you?"

He gave a laugh and nodded “Yeah, yeah I do. Does tomorrow work?”

“Works just fine, Sailor.” she grinned, standing on her toes. She placed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and it took every inch of self-control Frank had not to grab her and kiss the life out of her, but he knew now wasn’t the moment.

Instead he smiled as she stepped back, and climbed into her car. He shut the door for her as she wound he window down, starting up the engine.

“My last lesson is at three so I can be ready for any time after five.” She smiled up at him as he leaned on the roof her her car with his hand.

“Okay, I’ll text you.”

“Looking forward to it.” She beamed, and with a final smile and a tap on the roof of her car he stepped back and watched her drive off up the road.

**** Chapter 10

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

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the only touchstone of truth - chapter 6/7

Chapter: 6/7 Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

It’s Sunday… probably. As if the events of the previous night weren’t incredible enough to erase most reasonable thoughts from her mind, there was a pair of wicked lips and misleadingly delicate hands currently doing some very distracting things to Fran’s body. She was lying on her side and Marla was pressing her body to hers from behind.

“Hm… no, it’s too early,” she distantly murmured, even if her body wasn’t exactly putting up a fight.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Marla whispered, amusement and deep hunger coating her tone, “I like to seize the day.” Then she became even more purposeful in her actions. Her lips went from kissing Fran’s neck to softly biting the tan skin. Her fingers that had been brushing the soft skin of her waist to get her to wake up, finally started moving south to their real destination.

Fran sighed. Her eyes were still closed but her legs were instinctively making room for Marla to work. The blonde barely had to tease her. It was as if no time at all had passed from their activities from the previous night, so Marla found the other woman ready and responsive to her touches.

In a matter of minutes Fran’s hips were twitching against Marla’s palm, she was unabashedly moaning, and blindly she reached out with a hand behind her to grasp Marla’s blonde messy hair and bring her closer. “Fuck, I love you body,” Marla whispered, and kept up a trail of compliments that grew increasingly suggestive until she had the woman in her arms whimpering her name as she reached her climax.

Fran tried to slow down her erratic breathing. There was a deep pleasurable warmth that she felt deep in her bones. Marla was tenderly kissing her temple. “Okay, now you can go back to sleep,” Marla said. That made Fran chuckle, but she wasn’t about to argue. She only turned around and wrapped an arm around Marla, until both of them drifted off to sleep once more.

“Don’t you ever rest?” Fran wondered, squinting her eyes to look up at the blonde sitting on the bed beside her.

“I’m unemployed, Fran,” Marla reminded her without looking away from her phone, and without stilling the fingers from her other hand that had been softly playing with the other woman’s hair, “Rest from what?”

The brunette chuckled and closed her eyes again, determined to get a few extra minutes of sleep. “You did burn a building last night,” she mumbled with amusement. Her reward was a proud laugh coming from Marla. “Make yourself at home,” Fran yawned, “just give me five more minutes.”

“Sure,” Marla put down her phone and then leaned down to leave a kiss on Fran’s lips, “I’ll go make coffee.”

The blonde slid off the bed and as she searched for something to wear, her mind wandered off. Staying for breakfast at a woman’s home wasn’t exactly part of her routine, but somehow it felt like the only obvious thing to do with Fran. Not only did she find herself wearing one of Fran’s t-shirts, but there was a strong and unfamiliar feeling that made her stop in the doorway of the bedroom and turn around to gaze at the sleeping woman in the bed. Red alarms went off in her mind for the way she already felt so attached to Fran, and perhaps even more alarming was how easily it was to ignore those warnings. Fran was a part of her life now, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Marla had one hand gripping the mess of white sheets of the bed, another hand lost in the mess of brown curls of Fran’s head, which was currently at work in between her thighs. A loud moan escaped her when her hips pushed forward to get closer to whatever magic tricks Fran was pulling out of her. She could practically feel her smirking against her. “Your coffee,” Marla sighed, impressed with how difficult Fran made it for her to even speak, “it’s going to get cold.”

This got Fran to pull her face away from Marla, who had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from making any sounds that would betray how disappointed she truly was. Fran could see it in her face though. “Let it get cold,” she said in a husky voice. Then she smiled, still making eye contact with the woman she crazy for, and slowly lowered her face once more. A moment later, Marla was throwing her head back against the pillows, overcome with pleasure.

“This is good,” Marla said, taking another bite of pancakes, part of the breakfast they were enjoying while still in bed.

“You sound surprised,” Fran retorted, her lips slightly tilting in amusement. She let Marla put on a defensive face for a second, then she shrugged. “Fine, I’m not a great cook. I can make three meals at most, but they’re all fantastic, okay?”

The blonde hummed warmly. “I believe you. Now I just need to try those other two meals to judge for myself.” She picked up one of the strawberries and offered it to Fran, who made a good show out of eating it off her fingers.

During a lull of the conversation, with Marla looking perfectly at home sipping coffee while leaning on the pillows of Fran’s bed, the brunette mindlessly scrolled through her phone until something caught her eye.

“Do you want to hear the news about your little stunt last night?”

“Little stunt? I thought I was the best you ever had,” Marla replied.

After she was done laughing, Fran raised an eyebrow at her, “I didn’t say such a thing.” She wouldn’t say it either, not for a long time, when they would both realize each of them were the best part of each other’s lives, in more ways than one.

Marla thought about it for a moment. “Are they good news?”

“Yeah,” Fran looked at her phone, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly as she read. “And there aren’t any old colleagues knocking on my door so it looks like you’re in the clear for now.”

This made Marla nod. The feeling of success warmed her body like almost nothing else. It was a job well done and she knew that. The satisfaction was enough. “Then I’ll read them later. We’ll talk business later,” she decided, and the brunette sent an intrigued look her way. “For now, let’s finish this.”

Fran’s only response was a smile, a beautiful and bright smile. They continued their breakfast, talking, stealing kisses, and enjoying each other’s company. The success of her plan of revenge wasn’t even the number one thing in Marla’s mind. The one thing she couldn’t shake off her head was how incredibly beautiful was Fran’s genuine and carefree smile.

“Fran, don’t you dare.”

There was just something captivating about the way Marla spoke. Mostly everything she said. But especially things like that little warning. Marla was dangerously good with words and even more powerful with their undertones. When she talked, she left you with no doubt there was some secret meaning to whatever she said. There just had to be something else, something that twisted your perception of whatever she meant in order to be beneficial to her and only her. And yet. It was different when she addressed Fran. There were tricks and hidden meanings, sure. But she just gave the feeling that Fran was in on her secrets or, at least, that she was invited to try and figure it out.

So, Fran didn’t hesitate when she walked behind Marla and wrapped her arms around her. The blonde was doing the dishes and she sighed happily when Fran started kissing her neck, so that must have been a sign that she didn’t misinterpret her words.

Still, “Do you want me to leave you alone?” Fran breathed next to her ear. She would respect Marla’s wishes, at this moment, and speaking about life in general too. She would leave, if that’s what Marla wanted.

“Don’t you dare.”

That was it. Repeating her own words, now Marla was being as sincere as she was capable of. There was a mutual feeling that this was about more than what was about to go down in Fran’s kitchen. But still, Marla leaned her head to one side, exposing more of her neck for Fran to work with, and encouraged her to go on with whatever she had planned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fran happily chuckled. Her hands started to work, caressing the top of Marla’s thighs, slowly inching upward and pushing up her old t-shirt, the only thing still on Marla’s body. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

The day was progressing slowly and pleasurably. The last thing Marla wanted was to walk away from Fran. She didn't want to overstay her welcome, but luckily for her, every time she so much as reluctantly mentioned the time, Fran was eager to prove how much she wanted her there. The problem was, Marla was still keenly aware that her life and business had crumbled over completely. She had nothing. Nothing but this idyllic fantasy with Fran. She only needed to make sure this could become a reality for them. And then…

“What are you thinking of?”

The question startled Marla. She had been standing by the window, holding a new cup of coffee and this time wearing a button-up shirt from the brunette’s closet. Speaking of which, the owner of the shirt was laying on the bed, studying her with sweet, passionate, and frighteningly clever brown eyes.

“Too much shit,” Marla shrugged.

“Care to share?”

“It might be a turn off,” Marla raised an eyebrow. She was deflecting, they both knew it. But Fran looked equally amused and patient. “Are you sure,” Marla asked with a huff, “you don’t want me to leave already?”

“Marla,” Fran looked at her, her eyes were sincere, but she knew how to treat Marla like a lioness, with respect not to scare her away, but with affection to earn her trust. So her next words were carefully playful. “I’ll kick you out whenever I want. But, if you have nowhere else to be, I still have plans that involve getting you on this bed.”

The two of them exchange a smile. There was no need to say more at the moment. As long as the two of them wanted to be together, there was no need to pretend. It was an unexpected but pleasant feeling of belonging at someone else’s side without any sort of pressure to be someone they weren’t.

“I need a job,” Marla blurted out. Well, it was difficult for Marla Grayson to simply blurt out something. There weren't any accidents in her vocabulary. As she continued to speak, it was clear the words had been growing into a calculated speech over time. “I hate jobs though. That’s why I started my own business.”

During the pause, Fran tilted her head. “Are you broke?” she asked.

“I’ve always been,” she scoffed. “Poor, technically. It’s not my thing though. So, I fight back. Whatever it takes. I just need to find… something new. A new business. New plan.”

Fran nodded. “If it’s any help,” she added, “let me remind you I quit my job.”

There was a totally unexpected mixture of pride and guilt inside Marla upon hearing that. Fran had been counting on the money from their win at court, and that had failed. Still, she’d quit that awful job.

“What about the private investigator, bounty hunter gig?” Marla wondered.

“What? Are you worried I’ll track you down if you left any traces last night?”

Marla shook her head fondly. She left her coffee cup on the dresser and walked over to the bed. Then she leaned in and kissed Fran. her hand landing on her jaw and holding her close. However, after a few more seconds of it, it was Fran who pulled back.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. She was able to tell the other woman was not into it as she’d been since the previous night.

“Yes, absolutely. Sorry,” Marla shook her head again and took a seat on the bed in front of Fran. “Just… ideas.”

Not problems. Ideas. That had to be one of the best things about Marla. Obstacles were opportunities to come out a winner. Problems were just ways to turn things around for her benefit. That was Marla Grayson. And, for Fran, that was something mesmerizing to watch first-hand. But, why not, also something she’d kill to be a part of.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Fran replied, leaning back and getting comfortable.

“What?” Marla frowned. It was an oddity to catch her off guard, and Fran already knew she should treasure the way the blonde looked when she was honestly confused.

“You said you had ideas, right? Let’s hear ‘em,” Fran said. She was confident, and even when she saw hesitation in Marla’s face she leaned closer and added. “Come on. I encouraged you to go big at court because I seriously believed you have what it takes. I saw you last night, Marla. You are brilliant and, well, a little awful, but I… I’m into it. I want to see more of that. You know I could help you. Don’t we make a great team?”

“That’s an understatement,” Marla smiled, and it was a surprisingly sweet smile. She reached out and grabbed Fran’s hand, ready to say what they’d both been holding back for so long. “But it’s got to be more than just work, isn’t it? I mean, it is for me, Fran.”

For Fran, who found herself similarly mesmerized by Marla’s impressively cunning character as well as her rare displays of vulnerability, this was a moment that changed something in her heart forever. Of course it was about so much more than work. “I’m all in,” Fran promised. Her other hand moved lovingly to Marla’s check. “You got me.”

Afterward, Marla seemed to breathe easier and speak more confidently, if possible. It was very significant to Fran that she apparently had as much of an effect on Marla as the blonde had on her.

“Well then,” Marla cleared her throat, “how comfortable are you with… toying with the law?”

Fran chuckled. “Marla, I was in the police. Which is… admittedly worse than even you and I are. But, one thing I learned during my time there, is how not to break the law… but how to bend it to your will. And you, baby, have the strongest will I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay,” Marla nodded, her piercing blue eyes darkening. “Next, I’ll need you to tell me how you locked your mom in a care home to steal this really nice place for yourself.”

“My mom?” Fran scrunched up her face in confusion.

“I’ll explain. Just… later,” Marla sighed happily, leaning in once again to kiss Fran, this time even more earnestly than ever before.

#someone (me) is desperate for attention and writing fanfiction to cope with life #i care a lot #marla x fran #marla grayson #fran #ical #i care a lot fanfiction #my fic

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ficsnroses · 4 years

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Morning Connection - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Word Count : 1.5k

Warnings : Cockwarming, kinda NSFW. Fluffy feels.

Summary : Keanu and reader wake up on an early morning, craving to feel each other closer than they already are.

A/N : I wanted to write cockwarming, although I wasn’t sure if anyone would want it. Regardless, here you go! I hope its alright. Also, I’ve decided I cannot write drabbles. I just can’t, okay? This was supposed to be only 500 words :(

The sun lustres through the paned window, glossing, radiating the room with ombres of pastel rose and auburn sunrise. Secured on your waist, the weight of your lover’s arm rests, a cocoon of nesty pillows and sheets pleat and gather around, huddling you two together, tucked away in a glory of your own, on this fine, creaking dawn Sunday morning.

Keanu had got home around midnight the night prior, on a brief break from shooting down in San Fran. It had been a tough few weeks being apart, you being home, as he was away. Apart from the routine dinners together, or binge worthy TV sessions after a long day composed, you’d also missed Valentines Day together this year, due to his schedule.

Perhaps it wasn’t your ideal rendition of Valentines evening to be on the other end of a video call with your boyfriend of 5 years, a glass of red propped in your hand, with the colossal bouquet of roses he’d had delivered home to you upheld on the kitchen counter.

But that was alright. Because he was more than a daydream, in his entirety.

You shift slightly in the bed, turning to face him at closer proximity. On his forehead, his hair, as the smokiest bark of an oak tree, sits still, complimenting his daze. The rise and fall of his chest, his light snores, the flicker of his eyes behind the lids, remind you he’s really here, nestled away beside you, where he belongs.

He came in later last night, leaving not much for you two to do together rather than retire to bed. You weren’t complaining, however. It had been a while, you’d found yourselves unable to keep your hands to yourself; it had been too long since you’d touched each other’s skin.

Silently, you smiled as a peachy blush sidles your cheeks, in remembrance of last nights past. The way he caressed your skin, the way your lips touched, for the first time in so long. The way he felt, the way he loved you. Everything was trancelike.

You had slipped on his shirt before falling asleep that you’d thrown to the floor, former to getting intimate. Keanu opted to go to bed in just his boxers, leaving his skin bare, flushed close to you as he slept. You loved seeing him this way; close and vulnerable.

As you bring your thumb to brush away the hair that falls on his face, you can’t help but to lean in, placing a delicate kiss to his temple, and an even lighter one to the apple of his cheek. Tenderly, your hand comes to rest on his cheek, softly stroking his beard. He’d recently got it cleaned up, much to your fondness.

Warm under the duvet, his steady breaths continue to lull you as you take him in. His features were much softer in his sleep, he looked remarkably peaceful, the calm, first beams of daylight come cast, kissing the highlights of his face.

It was enough to make you fall in love with him all over again.

Placing another press of your lips to his chin, you stir him awake on accident. Biting your lip, you grimace. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiles that heartwarming grin of his, pulling you closer by the hip. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Sleep well, handsome?” you giggle, relieved he didn’t mind the waking too much. Outside the window, birds can be heard singing songs in the treetops, whistling the chorus of dawn & a newly fresh, promising day.

Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he holds in closer, a gentle kiss is placed on the soft dip of your neck. “I did.”

You stroke his hair, comforting him. Sometimes, he needed a little humanizing. Between juggling complicated, complex schedules, exasperating paparazzi, and the compression of being a public figure, he relished in moments like these with you, where he wasn’t the Keanu Reeves. He was just a man, in love with his girlfriend, who loved him back just as much, for just who he is.

You trail small kisses in his hair as he continues to wake up, your bare legs tangle with his.

“Mhmmmm, I love you.” His sleep thick voice speaks, with a breathy exhale followed by a drowsy yawn.

Tittering, you nudge him gently, retracting your head away. “Ke, that tickles.” His arm stays secure, holding you. “Ke, I’m not going anywhere.”

As the light rays break through the window heavier, they strew a holy glow into his earthy eyes, as intoxicating as the brownest of whisky aged. Your grazes welcome each other, so pleasantly entwined. “I wanna feel you closer, sweetheart…” he hums, breath hot on your skin. His fingers callus, brushing the skin of your bare hip, trailing suggestively low.

You knew exactly what he had in mine.

With a smirk, you ultimately cast a warm smile his way. “Yeah?” As your fingers graze the front of his boxer clad bulge, you press a small peck to his lips. “I wanna feel you closer too…” you advocate, dipping your index into his boxers.

He smiles, shooting a warmth into your heart at the mere sight of him. Swift, he slides his hand into his boxers, pulling out his cock, which has already grown hard to the sheer thought of feeling you closer. Giving himself a couple of measly strokes, he taps your leg, urging you to drape it over his waist. As you do so, his spare hand rests on the small of your back, pulling you proximate. “Come closer, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck as you lay together, facing each other, Keanu guides his cock into you, leisurely, gently, in one drowned motion, stopping only once the entire sum of his generous length fits inside you. You wince at first, delicate from the night before, feeling him stretch you.

Subsequent, sighs of relief echo out your mouths, quiet in the early morning, as the sun continues its rise. He moans, intoxicated. “You feel so good, baby. We fit together perfectly.” He chuckles, his fingers kneading your bare hips in a sooth.

“Nice and snug.” You giggle. “Sometimes I wonder how you even fit.” You catch sight of him blushing at the comment. You know he’s proud of what he has to offer, and the way it makes you feel.

You tighten your walls, feeling his thick cock deep inside your body, knowing it adds to his pleasure. Sex was nice, but this felt closer, just having him inside you, savoring each second of having each other, warm and inviting, comfortable, no race to orgasm distracting.

With a shift, you move, the duvet falls off your bodies, as you straddle him, keeping him deep inside. He smiles at you, tapping his chest for a spot for you to lay on him. With a hold of your hand, he gentle pulls you down to lay your head on his chest, as his large hands plant on your back, smoothing up and down.

You close your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of him filling you, the pleasure, feeling of completely wholeness, so connected to your lover, in the haven of your bed, where nothing else mattered in the moment, besides you two.

He sighs in contentment, placing subtle kisses into your hair every now and then. “I missed you so much. This is nice.” His dense voice raspy and quiet. “You make me feel wonderful, baby.”

“I missed you too. Please don’t leave again.” You cuddle him closer, pressing your face against his chest tighter now.

He knows you’re only joking, although his heart does tingle at the thought of you being upset. He never wanted to leave you alone. Unfortunately, his craft calls for it. “You know I’ll be back before you know it, angel.” He hugs you tighter, appreciating the intimacy while you could have it, before he’d be gone again for weeks.

Mindlessly, you trace lines and circles along his chest, as he keeps himself buried deep in you. The room ignites with gold,

shimmering,

shining,

glistening.

The sun has almost finished its voyage into the open ocean sky, the birds celebrate outside with the melody of welcome, the city wakes up slowly, the tangerine mountains in the distance glow, with the sky channeling all the beautiful hues and tones you felt in this moment, with the man of your dreams.

Placing his sturdy hands on either side of your hips, you hear his gruff voice channel once again.

“But, before I leave again…” he suddenly raises himself up, gently flipping you over, so you’re placed under him. “Let me show my lady, just how much I love her.” he smiles, bringing his lips to yours for a searing kiss.

As his dark, coffee hued hair falls in his face again, you bring your arms around his neck,

as his hips begin to move,

passionately, finally,

with the sunlight sincere and warm on your skin,

as enthralling, as revitalizing,

as his touch.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves oneshot #keanu reeves #keanu reeves fluff #keanu reeves ff #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves x y/n #keanu reeves x ofc #keanu reeves story #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves series

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sewcara · 4 years

Text

im sorry, I'm bored

80smen

50 questions about the outsiders that no one ever asks you

send in some numbers 💘

1. when was the last time you sat down and legitimately watched the outsiders all the way through?

last Sunday

2. favorite ponyboy headcanon?

idk there was one where you meet in art class and it was cool but I can't remember who wrote it.

3. favorite part about the opening scene? (in the complete novel edition)

When Steve does that flip off the car and falls

4. favorite symbol from the outsiders?

the sunset or sunrise because, to me, it represents opportunity and new beginnings

5. favorite quote that isn’t from johnny’s letter/the sunrise scene/“stay gold”?

“We're all we've got left"

- Sodapop Curtis

6. if you could keep one article of clothing/shoes from any of the boys, what would you want?

SODAS FREAKIN DX SHIRT

7. name something (unusual) that always reminds you of the outsiders. Music? Breakfast? my friend? my art supplies? shall I go on?

8. do you wish there was more interaction between any characters? which ones?

Dallas and Two-Bit

9. you’re spending the day with the whole gang. where would you guys go?

San Fran because Im dying to go there.

10. one of the guys goes to your house late at night and wants to sneak out. which guy would it be and what would you do?

Sodapop and we would drink too much and afterward, when we are drunk, we would get food cause that'd be hilarious, and go to the lot and laugh at each other's drunk asses.

11. you’re playing truth or dare with the gang and it lands on johnny. he says dare. what would you make him do?

Kiss Dallas and Ponyboy.... thank you

12. who is your 4th favorite from the gang?

Ponyboy Curtis

13. what would you get steve for his birthday?

Chocolate ice cream for a change and hair grease

14. you and two-bit are planning to prank one of the guys. what prank would you pull and who would it be on?

idk, switch the sugar with salt and have Darry pour it in his coffee and spit it right out.

15. you need some relationship/friendship advice. which guy do you go to?

Ponyboy

16. the gang goes on a vegan diet. who breaks it first, and who is the last to keep up with it?

Dally would break it first

Darry would would be the last to keep up with it

17. would you wear (steal) johnny’s denim jacket or dally’s leather jacket?

Dallys leather jacket

18. you and darry are cooking a meal for the gang. what do you guys make?

.....bacon

19. steve and soda are getting matching tattoos. what do you think they would get?

a star on their wrists cause I'm so creative

20. what is sodapop’s favorite thing to do during the summer?

Ride around in shopping carts in an empty parking lot with Steve in the sunset while getting high on grape flavoured slushies.

21. when johnny is stressed, what do you think calms him down?

a hug, or reading to him

22. where does ponyboy go when he wants to be alone? (besides the lot/the park/his room)

the roof

23. what is a small thing that ponyboy and sodapop do for darry that always makes him smile?

not breathing the same air as him

pfft idk man.

24. what is something weird that dally is really really bad at?

saying thank you, it always comes out in a different tone and it drives him insane.

25. which of the guys would you trust with your deepest secret?

Johnny

26. which of the guys wakes up the latest and which of the guys wakes up the earliest?

Two Bit wakes up the latest

Darry wakes up the earliest

27. which of the guys is always early for things and which of the guys is always late for things?

Darry is early

Two Bit is late

28. name a phobia that two-bit has.

Arachnophobia (fear of spiders)

29. what is something that ponyboy would show sodapop but hide from darry? (besides a bad grade)

a crush

30. what is something that ponyboy would show darry but hide from sodapop?

if he ever because became said Sandy's bf, he would tell Darry but def not sodapop.

31. what is johnny’s guilty pleasure?

Lollipops.... lol

32. who is the most likely to constantly make vine references?

TWO BIT

33. who would love to go thrift shopping?

Ponyboy

34. which character from the outsiders would you go out on a date with and where would you take them?

Sodapop and I would take him to a diner (like those old fashioned ones)

35. what is a food that sodapop absolutely hates?

spinach???

36. what is something that steve has a soft spot for?

little kids????

37. which of the guys would you want to get drunk with?

Dallas or Sodapop

38. what is dally’s secret obsession?

Fries dipped in vanilla ice cream... oh well

39. who would be the best at mario kart?

Johnny

40. who gives the best hugs from the gang?

Johnny

41. which of the guys is the best at dancing?

...... idk Darry maybe I mean..... maybe

42. what is the gang’s favorite holiday to celebrate?

Christmas or maybe they make up some random holiday god knows

43. what is a strange hobby that darry has?

collecting pop cans sure

44. which of the guys has an unhealthy collection of memes on their phone?

Steve

45. which of the guys has way too many snapchat streaks?

Sodapop

46. what is dally’s favorite swear word?

Shit

47. which of the guys is the most ticklish?

Two Bit

48. what is something that makes johnny angry?

not having cigarettes

49. which of the guys is the most likely to take forever to get over a crush?

Ponyboy

50. out of the gang, whose makeup would you do and how do you think they would react?

Steve and he would probably knock me out

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #johnny cade #two bit mathews #dallas winston

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years

Text

Noir

this power duo is back on track, this time with some murder mystery with a healthy dish of sultry hinny on the side :) AO3 and FFnet versions available!

lots of love and please enjoy,

@gryffindormischief & @fightfortherightsofhouseelves

The post-Christmas season has always felt odd to Harry. It’s not the sudden lack of anything to anticipate, per se. His childhood had hardly been filled with late nights guessing what he had tucked underneath the tree. Unless he wanted to debate which old pair of Dudley’s socks he’d be receiving. All in all, he’d found his little spider mate more entertaining in the dimly lit closet-bedroom.

Once he got his Hogwarts letter and all the Weasleys that entailed, Christmas certainly became a more exciting affair with happier associations - save a few in the middle there, marred by some Voldemort tinged memories.

Regardless, Harry’s not really had the season built up in his mind to be something he should be nostalgic for. Particularly since his and Ginny’s real ‘holiday’ tends to start after everyone else’s. Sure, they both manage free days for the eve, day of, and boxing day, but wizards seem to love testing out dark magic in the dark winter months, and Ginny’s always got some promotion or other.

But January - January’s when he can lie about in his pants from dawn till dusk and no one says ‘boo.’ Ginny sometimes says some variation of ‘take off those shorts, Potter,’ but that’s either because he smells or she’s feeling randy. Either way, over the course of their still young marriage, Harry’s come to love January and everything that comes with it. Particularly the fact that they rarely plan much of anything, except maybe relocating their lazy eat-sleep-don’t sleep routine to a more tropical locale.

This year though, family gets in the way a bit. Not the red haired, magical, crazy type. In fact, it comes in a heavy weight paper, Muggle envelope addressed with an elegant hand to Mr and Mrs H.J. Potter. And since very few people know Harry and Ginny’s address and even fewer would actually use it to send mail, it’s not even necessary to read the embossed sticker on the back.

Huffing, Harry shakes his head. “Classic Big D. Coming in at the worst time.”

Which isn’t to say he hates getting contact from Dudley. Sure, it had been odd, building a semi-friendly relationship with his cousin and former bully. But time and maturity meant Harry had come to learn that apologies from contrite former enemies who’ve mended their ways should generally be accepted. If not for the whole cohesive brotherhood of man bit, at least to cut down on the things that give him heartburn. Besides, he’d seen a lot worse of humanity by the time he was eighteen than Dudley.

And whatever fear of a war he barely understood hadn’t squeezed out of Dudley, marriage and time spent away from Vernon Dursley managed to eradicate. So really, Harry didn’t much mind their occasional chats on Sunday afternoons, the sporadic lunch in Muggle London, or even a double date of dinner and a show.

But today, today he’s ready to toss the damn envelope and invitation in the fireplace. Because it’s the death knell for his staycation second honeymoon, and Ginny’s been taunting him with a tiny little package from that shop in Muggle London that sells even tinier, littler lacy bits.

Still, he doesn’t. And maybe it’s because the mailman gave him a bit of an odd vibe, in a hurry to leave, his jaw set and that rather conspicuous glint in the corner of his eye Harry’d noticed here and there throughout his career. Or maybe it’s that damn voice inside his head reminding him that Dudley’s really trying - in his Dudders-Diddikins way, granted, but still coming from Dudley the gesture’s more than decent.

A long suffering sigh and Harry flicks the envelope on the table next to Ginny, who gives him a cocked eyebrow, to which he responds with a shrug.

“Are we going, then?” She asks as her eyes scan Harry for any signs of hidden displeasure or negative feelings. Ginny’s always been protective of her husband when it came to his side of the family matters.

“Guess so, dunno,” Harry shrugs again, his slippered foot drawing traces on the carpet.

Ginny presses open palms to the table, balancing her way up and around the table to lean on it, her bottom now against the hard wood as her eyes tease and her grin speaks of mischief never quite managed. “Have I ever told you that I’d always imagined the two of us snuggled underneath a soft blanket in a cabin?”

“Uh - you - err, you didn’t?” Harry gulps as she bites her lower lip, that one delicious freckle close to her mouth taunting him as it always does.

“Huh,” Ginny pretends to frown, “It must’ve slipped my mind. Anyway, it’s the two of us, naked, content, snowflakes gathered over glazed windows as the fire burns strongly in the hearth,” she pauses, admiring the result of her work - which is to say a very hot and bothered Harry, smudges of red and pink crawling up his neck and up to the top of his ears.

“But if you don’t really feel like going…” Ginny sighs, adding the cherry on top of her masterpiece, then brushes past him on her way to their bedroom.

“What? I didn’t say that!” Harry panics, the beautifully crafted image of Ginny and him enjoying - well, everything - dissolving like a sad soap bubble in front of his eyes. So being the man of action he’d always been, Harry strides into their room, grabs their suitcases, and magics various articles of clothing inside with a huff and a frown.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asks rather amused.

“Packing. Can’t have old Diddy waiting, he gets an upset stomach when he’s anxious,” Harry shrugs, determined to finish the job he’d begun, and Ginny stiffles a giggle with the back of her palm.

“Right,” she smirks, caresses his arm as she move towards the wardrobe. “Then I’d better pack that little black thing you like so much.”

Harry groans.

Which is how Harry ends up in a rented car, trundling through the Scottish mountains, snow falling softly while Ginny does her best to convince him that he can refrain from murdering Piers for a weekend.

“He’s still a total arsehole,” Harry whines and flicks the windscreen wipers on. He’s not proud but this is seriously salt in a wound, being deprived of his Ginny-only holiday and being forced to associate with Piers the Prick for longer than an evening.

“Don’t be so close minded.”

“First, you asked if you could pants him at Dudley’s birthday party, and second, I am fully aware that people can change and grow,” Harry says, “I am also fully aware that somehow Piers got worse.”

Ginny fiddles with the radio - whoever programmed the shortcuts has terrible taste and loves listening to the most boring talk radio in existence - and sighs with mock easiness. “Well I suppose every time you start to feel your temper, I’ll just have to drag you off and have my way with you in a loo or a coat closet or a - ”

The blinker clicks as Harry turns onto a side road which allegedly leads to the little cabin Dudley’s rented for the weekend. “You’re a damn minx.”

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive is relatively short and soon enough they’re greeting Dudley in the cozy front room while the rest of the guests mill about in the den. “We’ve got a fire going already and some mulled wine. Piers and his wife are here, so’s my mate Pamela from uni and her partner.”

Ginny gives Dudley a short hug. “Are we the last to arrive?”

“Nah, we’re still waiting on Jamie and Kendra,” Dudley shrugs, leading them toward the guestrooms, dark wood stairs creaking beneath their feet, “Fran will be glad you’re here, Ginny.”

“How are things at her new station?”

Dudley grins, unable to disguise the pride he has in his wife. “She’s already made assistant producer.”

Harry’s in the middle of congratulating Dudley when the door to their room swings open and he sees it - some sort of white fur rug laid out in front of a roaring fireplace. He can practically taste - well he’s not alone at least, in his train of thought, if Ginny’s slightly dazed expression is an accurate indicator.

Luckily, Dudley seems unaware, pointing out their view and confiding that he’s given them the room with the best facilities. “It’s got a jacuzzi tub.”

Someone, likely Fran, calls for Dudley from downstairs and he excuses himself. “Take your time getting settled, it’s a holiday.”

Once the door clicks shut, Harry drops back on the bed while Ginny unzips her luggage. “I’m not unpacking for you, lazy bones.”

“I’ll unpack myself, if you get my meaning,” Harry says with an exaggerated wink and a slight wiggle of his pelvis.

“Ugh, such a boy .”

Harry hums, “You’re welcome.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes and Harry drifts off into a bit of a twilight sleep while Ginny putters around, claiming the middle drawers for herself (top ones have always been too high and lower ones would mean she’d always have to scoot down to find anything). He wakes when she shoves the last drawer closed and falls onto the bed just at his side to tug on a fresh pair of socks. “Harry, my dear, darling Harry.”

She gets a grunt in response, and is apparently dissatisfied. Though, Harry’s not at all bothered when her method of expressing said dissatisfaction involves throwing a leg over his hips and sitting astride his thighs like he’s her favorite broom. He can’t help but run his palms up over her knees, pressing at her back until she complies with his wordless request and tips forward.

At least, mostly. Because ideally, she’d have pitched forward until their lips met and Harry would currently be turning to mush at the mercy of his wife’s dexterous tongue. But she catches herself on her forearms instead, fiery waves cascading around their faces like sunkissed curtains. “You have got to behave yourself this weekend.”

“I thought you liked my mischievous streak.”

“There’s a drawer full of your mischievous streak in the caretaker’s office at Hogwarts,” Ginny teases. “What I mean is that little black thing you like so much? It’s a reward for good behavior.”

“So I’m just to let whatever happens this weekend happen?”

Rolling her eyes, Ginny lets her lips tease at his jaw, nipping along the scruffy skin with highly distracting skill. “You’re to lie back and let your gallant harpy of a wife fight all your battles,” she lingers at his ear, earning a half sigh half moan, “And we both know you love it when I take charge.”

In a flash, Harry reverses their positions, pressing Ginny onto her back while the bed creaks beneath them, and manages to pin her wrists to the down-filled duvet. “Ditto.”

Later, though sadly not enough later for Harry and Ginny to have tested the jacuzzi tub, the Potters wander downstairs and join the other guests, all now arrived. When Piers catches Harry’s eye and raises his glass in recognition, Harry leans close to Ginny, his lips brushing her hair. “You are a sneaky little thing.”

Her lips tick up at the corners. “A given. Why the sudden revelation?”

“Getting me all hot and bothered talking about shagging in the closets - ”

“What a dirty mouth you have,” Ginny teases, her whisper quiet as she twiddles her fingers in a cheeky wave. Piers looks worried and he should.

“And you thought having your way with me would leave me all relaxed and then you could have all the fun.”

There’s a pause when Dudley’s wife Fran greets them and hands off two freshly poured mugs of mulled wine, but as soon as she goes to mingle with the other guests, Ginny picks up the thread. “I was under the impression the fun was mutual.”

“We both know I mean a completely different kind of fun.”

“If this is how you interrogate suspects, I’m quite shocked at your success rate, Aur - Detective Potter.”

Jamie - Fran’s friend Kendra’s fiance - wanders over, eyes lit with excitement. “Did I hear detective? Kendra and I love procedurals. You’ve got stories, right? Grisly stuff?” he pauses, fiddling with the clasp on his watch, “Sorry, I get excitable after a few drinks. Kendra’s my impulse control,” Harry and Ginny can barely do more than blink in his direction when Jamie shouts across the den, “ Kendra?”

As the tall brunette makes her way across the room, Ginny murmurs so only Harry can hear, “Hope those interoffice dinners with the bobbies from Scotland Yard are doing their job.”

He muffles his snort as best as he can and puts on his polite face for their new friends.

Dudley had better get him a case of scotch for this.

It’s not long, though, before they’re all summoned to the dining room for a delicious three course dinner. It’s not until the little miniature fondue pots are laid out that Harry realizes just how much of an appetite he’s worked up. He’s dunking his fourth bit of crusty bread in the heavenly dish when Piers’ wife - June? - addresses Harry. “I think it’s just lovely that you boys have known eachother since primary school.”

Dudley’s skewer falls to the table with a clatter and Harry simply raises his brows at Piers before responding, a slightly stiff smile on his face, “Ah. Yes. Even from a young age Piers was always eager to make an impression.”

Ginny snorts and June looks slightly confused at Piers’ flush, but prattles on about where her grade school mates went off to. Dudley and Fran look relieved as the chef pushes in a rattling cart filled with china bowls and a tureen of creamy tomato.

Once they’ve finished off half a roast chicken, two bowls of mashed potatoes, and some sort of baked mixed veg dish, they move back into the den and settle on the couches. The chef - Harry really tried to learn his name but he muttered it in a low very heavy German accent and Pamela was telling some story involving a fog horn which requires some very detailed imitation - disperses after dinner coffees and cherry pie a la mode before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Ginny manages her way through the minefield that is being a professional Quidditch player in the company of curious Muggles while they devour the pie. Before Ron and Hermione’s wedding, the bride herself had gifted Ginny with one of those ‘for dummies’ type books on football. Under threat of whatever terrible punishment Hermione Granger-Weasley could cook up, Ginny studied the book like she was back in her seventh year prepping for NEWTs and consequently ended up with a highly useful knowledge of the sport. Not that Ginny was a particularly big fan of telling Hermione so - in fact she’d only admitted it to Harry after a few too many glasses of wine on last year’s post-Christmas holiday from the world.

In the interest of brining the chat to a close before Ginny runs out of professional opinions as a sports writer in the field, Harry waits for an opportune moment and transitions the conversation to the following day. It seems they’ve got full run of the slopes and more than enough equipment to share between the four couples. Harry and Ginny went skiing with a few of his mates from the Ministry the January after Ginny started with the Harpies, so a day on the slopes should be pretty enjoyable. Plus last time they collapsed in bed and took turns massaging eachother’s tired muscles so all around Harry’s excited. He would probably have more fun if he and Ginny were home in their flat instead of using up valuable...bonding time socializing with Dudley and his mates.

“Ginny will probably put us all to shame, sportswoman that she is,” Pamela says with a laugh, propping her socked feet on Kate’s legs. She wriggles her toes so it almost seems the jolly reindeer are dancing and Ginny laughs good naturedly.

“I do alright, Harry here’s the expert though with that fit little arse,” Ginny laughs and Harry flushes.

Piers sets his coffee down with a clumsy hand, brows furrowed. “See - I still don’t understand that.”

“I’m sure that is something you don’t say often,” Ginny drawls, low so only Harry is privy to her jab.

“Harry’s always been a scrawny, specky thing and somehow he managed to land a hot piece of - ”

Unintentionally, Harry lets out a low growl as his jaw tightens. He’s used to holding back his baser instincts in this type of situation given that Ginny prefers to handle on her own with a mix of witty barbs and head cracking, depending on the situation. At the moment, he’s torn on which he’d like to see most.

Ginny’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as she sets down her half-empty plate on the side table. Then she smiles, slightly too toothy to be genuine and Harry knows that look. It’s the same expression she gets before decimating the competition during a game, a shark smelling blood in the water. “Yes, Harry was a little thing. But he’s certainly grown up,” she pauses and squeezes his thigh meaningfully and sends him a flirtatious wink, “In all the most important ways.”

Jamie and Kendra share a look, both biting back laughter while Fran clears her throat, moving things along before Ginny decides to challenge Piers to a duel for Harry’s honor. She might hate an overly chivalrous mate, but hell if Ginny’s not a melodramatic Gryffindor when it comes to defending hers.

Everyone wanders off to their rooms, Dudley and Fran collecting the dishes and passing them through to the kitchen. Harry takes the stairs two at a time, tugging Ginny behind him.

Once they reach their room, Harry swings the door open and once they’re inside, presses Ginny up against the wood.

Ginny’s chest is rising and falling as she catches her breath, though she still manages a teasing, “Alright, Harry James?”

He’s already working his way down her neck, fingers dragging up the bottom of her jumper. “You have never been sexier.”

Sighing, she wriggles her hand between them and manages to press Harry away, just barely. “Wait ‘til you see what I packed to sleep in...or not sleep in.”

Harry wakes to a facefull of Ginny’s hair and a full bladder. She groans as he extricates himself from the bed, grasping at the sheets with her face scrunched against the morning light. “Why leave the glorious bed and your even more glorious wife for the cold, cruel world.”

“Unless you want me to wet the bed - ”

“Gross,” Ginny grumbles, flopping so she somehow takes up most of the bed, “Just get that clenched arse back here ASAP.”

“Ogling me?”

“You’re the one parading around starkers,” Ginny teases, twisting onto her back and basically wrapping herself up like a sultry little burrito.

Harry closes the door behind him, shouting back, “You’re a bloody minx.”

After some very enjoyable quality time as husband and wife, Harry and Ginny manage to pry themselves from the comfort of their bed and dress for polite company. Just as they’re about to reach the top of the stairs, Pamela and Kate emerge from their own room, looking well rested and chatting about the weather conditions.

Pamela waves, cheery, while Kate affords them a short nod in greeting. “Did you see the weather?”

Harry flushes, because they most definitely did not bother with much of anything but each other that morning, and Ginny pinches his side. “We had the curtains drawn, wanted to sleep in a bit.”

“Surprise snowstorm swept in last night,” Kate says, “We flicked on the wireless, the roads are all closed.”

Pamela leads the way and the couples continue downstairs. “At least Fran said we’ve got an excess of food laid up for the weekend. I wouldn’t mind staying in all cozied up in front of the fire and eating my weight in cheese.”

Ginny grins, “We’ll get along just fine, Pamela.”

Breakfast is as decadent as dinner the night before, Harry could swear they ate three dozen eggs between them, and the conversation is easy despite the niggling presence of Piers. Perhaps Ginny’s shag away the rage plan is viable.

Over a final pot of tea, the couples make plans to grab the sliders, sleds, and whatever else Dudley and Fran rented for the weekend and take advantage of the fresh snowfall.

Once everyone’s bundled, they troop out into the bright wintery morning and fall on the gear like excited children. Almost immediately, Ginny snatches up two sliders and tosses one toward Harry’s chest. “Let’s see how fast you are, old man.”

“Again, barely a year older,” Harry says, mock serious, and trots towards the slope.

He’s getting settled in, ready to push off when a red and grey blur flashes past him followed by the ever familiar sound of Ginny’s competitive cackle.

She’s a third of the way down the hill when Harry pushes off with a muttered swear. The icy wind bites at his exposed cheeks, his throat dry from laughing in the cold, eyes streaming. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, Ginny always manages to make him forget his cares and feel like a kid again. Maybe the kid he never really got to be, save a few precious memories.

When he reaches the bottom, Ginny’s already propped her slider in the snow next to her hip, eyes alight with teasing glee. “Welcome, you made it just in time for my birthday.”

Tossing his sled aside, Harry takes a few quick strides - slightly slowed by the drag of snow drifts - and tackles Ginny to the ground in an expert move, perfected in the training room with Ron. Hovering just above her, his hat lost in the fray, Harry accuses, “You are a cheat.”

“Opportunist,” Ginny corrects, gloved hands splayed to the sides so she’s positioned like some sort of gingerbread man. “We never set rules.”

“Because since the dawn of time, races assume opponents will begin at the same place and time.”

“Don’t go all high and mighty, you pulled that out of your arse.”

“How would you know?” Harry says, rolling off and tugging Ginny to her feet, “I have layers.”

“Hermione Granger-Weasley is the only human in existence who says that and actually knows she’s correct.”

Harry dips his head, allowing it, and they begin the trek back to the top as Kendra and Jamie speed down on a two person toboggan. He leans down to swipe up his lost cap and continues, “Next time, I’ll come prepared with documentation.”

“You’d better, I’m a hard arse who takes no shite,” Ginny replies, jutting her chin and pausing to pose dramatically.

“Don’t make me take you down again.”

“Like you could,” Ginny challenges.

“Is that a dare?” Harry asks, stepping closer as they reach the hilltop.

She eyes him speculatively so Harry’s body thrums with possibility, before shaking her head. “No. Not yet. I want to draw this out - make it all the better for waiting.”

Harry’s brows rise and before he can think, he’s got a snowball formed in his hand and flying right for his wife’s face.

Swiping the flakes from her cheeks, Ginny’s eyes narrow. “You’ll live to regret that move, Potter.”

And then it’s an all out war, a blur of snowy projectiles that somehow draws in the other couples.

They split into two groups sharing the same battlefield, their clothes wetter with each throw and snowball sneaking through the defense, it’s not long before time slides away from everyone’s minds. A growling belly (Ginny’s) announces it’s turned lunch time and heartily laughing the battered troops march arm in arm back into the cabin, completely and utterly ready for the chef’s finest.

However, in lieu of the fresh and delicious aromas of nicely cooked food there’s only a disappointing smell of...nothing? The wood in the fireplace has all but burned, the back door was left ajar, the cold winter air creeping inside, and there’s conspicuously no frenzied rumblings from the kitchen.

Still they shrug it off and hop the stairs two at a time to change into something dry before hypothermia kicks in and terminates their small weekend getaway, high key hoping that a steamy meal will be enthroned upon the table when they return.

“Something’s off,” Ginny comments as her first layer of clothing flies away into the continuously growing pile of wet clothes. “And I don’t just mean your right throw.”

“I’ll let you know I’m taking offence on that,” Harry scoffs, wrestling his thermalware off and over his ankles. His face turns serious once he’s gotten rid of the sodden cloth, “But yeah, I’ve the same feeling.”

“What’s on your mind, then?” Ginny looks at him, pensive and weary.

“If my gut is right, then our pleasant weekend ended with the cook’s conspicuous disappearance,” Harry scratches at his stubble and walks over to Ginny, puts his arms around her. “But let’s wait and see how it plays out.”

Ten minutes later they’re both tucked into woolen hand-knit sweaters, winter jackets cozily fitted around them. Harry’s boots scratch the surface of the dining room as he stops to take in the scene. Three couples, six people looking a little bit uneasy, a little bit grey-faced. Never a good omen, this feeling of uneasiness sweeping up an entire room and slowly sowing seeds of panic and despair.

“The food’s still not here,” Piers smartly observes and Harry would very much like to serve him a knuckle sandwich for his efforts. Still, he does have to admit there are other more pressing issues he must attend to first.

“Erm - Harry,” Dudley calls uncomfortably from one of the armchairs next to the windows. “Do you have any...tips?”

Harry’s mind is buzzing with not just tips, but theories. It’s always done things on its own, his mind, first creating a mental map of the scene, filling it with dots to connect them later, when the blur disappears and everything takes shape.

Behind smudgy round glasses, his eyes focus on a spot next to Dudley’s left ear and through the window, somewhere outside. Suddenly, he remembers the door being ajar and the chill that greeted them once they returned to the cabin.

In three quick strides, Harry’s at the door, his deft fingers prodding at the floor.

“Harry?” Ginny asks and he knows she’s caught up on his train of thought.

“Someone was here,” he states.

“What? How?” Three pairs of voices sound from all over the room.

“Someone was here and they’ve been very careful to mop their footprints before they left,” Harry explains as he makes his way towards the kitchen, Ginny and Dudley in tow. There are pots and pans everywhere, as though a hurricane had snuck in while they were outside and wreaked havoc. All three rush through the kitchen back door and -

“Shite,” Harry swears under his breath. Before him, a body rests peacefully in the snow. If not for the unusual stance of the arms, the loll of its head to one side, one would be tricked into thinking that the cook was taking a quick kip before supper.

“Oh no - oh, Harry, is he dead? He’s dead, right?” Dudley panics, his face paper white.

“Dudley, go lock all doors and tell everyone to not leave the sitting room under any circumstances,” Harry instructs and shakes his cousin twice when there’s no response. “Understood?”

Dudley lamely nods his blonde head and stumbles back inside the cabin.

“Ginny,” Harry focuses his attention on his wife, composed and ready three steps behind him. “Try and call the muggle police. Ring until someone picks up.”

She’s much faster than Dudley to comprehend and speeds through the door with a quick nod of acknowledgement.

As Harry squats down to examine and think, his mind begins its wild zigzag trajectory once more. Who could have done it? Why? What’s their MO? Why the cook and not somebody else?

“Bloody hell!” Ginny’s voice distinctly punctures through to him and then she’s back, blazing look on her face and breath uneven. “The phone lines’ve been knocked out by the blizzard.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, heavy boots stomping their way back inside. It seems like there’s never a day of rest for Auror Potter, not even this far from the Wizarding World.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harry’s growl startles Piers, his hand on the door handle and cap askew atop his head.

“Home. I want none of this -”

“You’re staying right here.”

Piers’ face turns from white to scarlett then back to white in under three seconds, probably a new world record, before he finds the courage to ask, “Says who?”

Sadly for Harry and his well prepared fists, it’s Dudley who gets to them first and provides a stuttered answer, “Piers, erm - I know I never told you before, but, yeah, Harry’s with...Scotland Yard.”

Everyone’s silent, the kind of silent that indicates fear, not comprehension of the general situation. Harry’s well acquainted with it, walking into rooms where the quiet feels as heavy as chains more often than not.

He’s photographed enough to hold as evidence, careful that each of his actions could pass as a muggle detective’s under any circumstance. For now, he knows the fall was definitely not a fall, but a deliberate push. He also reckons the possibility of another murder is fairly limited, but still keeps a close eye on everyone.

“Anyone fancy a cheese sandwich?” Ginny claps her knees as she gets up from one of the chairs, tone as cheery and natural as she can manage.

Immediately, Dudley’s wife, then Pamela jump to their feet, breaking the strange trance they’ve all fallen into since the body’s been found.

Harry takes it as cue to disappear for a few moments and alert the cavalry, so to say.

“I’ll be upstairs for a minute to send word to a friend,” he casually addresses Dudley, emerald green eyes clearly saying more than his mouth does: make sure nobody leaves.

He climbs the stairs two at a time and shuts the door behind him, casting Muffliato before anything else. Harry concentrates fast and hard on the day’s events, he imagines Ron receiving the news.

“Expecto Patronum!” The liquid silver shapes into a stag, hooves trotting on the wooden floor before it takes flight to Ron, Harry’s message safely guarded with it.

“Think, Harry, think,” he urges himself as he paces the room, five steps ahead and another five back. “You’ve arrived here by car, so have the others, and maybe...so has the chef? And the killer?”

Clinging on to that last thought, Harry runs to the parking lot, wand clenched tightly in his fist inside his windbreaker. He rushes past an infuriated Piers, past the clink of the cutlery on plates as the rest munch on Ginny’s patented cheese sandwiches and out the door, nearly flying over the landing.

A nasty curse and a stomp of the boot against the ice and snow, and Harry’s almost never been so displeased to notice that the instinct telling him the murderer must’ve taken the chef’s car and scattered was correct. And along with the car, most of what would have been his lead vanished as well.

Frustrated, he shakes the snow off from his clothes and shoes, then slumps on the couch next to Ginny with a sigh and a ruffle of his perpetually messy hair.

“You don’t look too chuffed, Potter,” Piers remarks with a scoff. “Should we take it that your little investigation has failed?” Harry is aware that he should exert some self control, but his childhood bully seems a bit too pleased with himself to let it slip.

“The only thing you’ll be taking if you don’t shut it is my foot up your -”

“Harry needs more time before he draws his conclusions,” Ginny squeezes her husband’s leg, then turns to him. “Perhaps I could assist, right, dear?”

And she’s right, he’s got to focus and ignore foul-mouthed idiots for the time being. A man’s been killed.

“Better check the cook’s room before we lose more evidence,” Harry agrees.

They leave the room perfectly aware of the many pairs of eyes following them, not fully trusting, yet not entirely certain they can’t trust them. It’s that gut feeling that tells Harry once again that the killer is not longer amongst them.

“That bad, huh?” Ginny asks from the corner of her mouth as they stop in front of the chef’s room, door closed and locked.

“Fairly,” Harry admits, looking around to be certain no one’s watching before he removes his wand from its pocket and taps the handle. “Car’s gone, as is the murderer.”

“Brilliant,” Ginny mutters as she pushes the door open with her shoulder and steps inside.

The room looks untouched - a wee bit too untouched and clean for Harry’s taste.

“Someone’s been pretty keen on leaving no trace, I reckon,” he states and, after memorising each detail of the scene, takes out the camera and snaps enough photos to add to the ever growing case file. All a far cry from the playful snowy snaps he’d imagined taking home this weekend.

A quick search through the wardrobe and desk drawers shows that the chef’s a long term employee of the cabin: there’s piles of clothes and stacks of paperwork, paychecks and logs in one agenda.

“He used to be here more often than not, wasn’t he?” Ginny asks, her voice trailing off at the end.

“Seems so...But then -”

“Yeah?”

“Then the killer must be a person who knew him well. Well enough to find him here, and his car, his room, his schedule,” Harry finishes running both hands through his disheveled hair.

“A peer?”

“Or a friend.”

“Dunno how many friends this one’s got, there’s no personal mail, no postcards, no notes around,” Harry points back towards the desk.

“Or just someone who knows things about other people,” Ginny shrugs, a frown disrupting entire constellations of freckles on her face.

There’s silence before Harry’s eyes widen as he remembers a short scene from the previous day, and he slaps his forehead, palm pressing hard and quick against the old scar.

“What?” Ginny asks, brown eyes locked with green.

“You’re brilliant, you are!” Harry grins toothily, brings her close and kisses her hard on the lips.

“I mean usually I’d say where’s the lie, but why am I brilliant right now?” She responds, slightly amused, slightly taken by surprise.

“Muggles put their mail on hold when they leave for longer periods of time.”

“Oh?”

“Therefore mailmen are informed about the recipient's departure so they know when to start delivering mail again,” Harry continues his explanation as he paces around the room, a habit he’s developed and honed over long work hours of thinking, thinking, thinking.

“You mean to say that -” Ginny gasps, eyes fixed intently on Harry.

“That the mailman must’ve been the killer, yeah.”

“Merlin’s sweet - why would they do it?”

“That I do not know yet,” Harry ceases his pacing, a smirk lingering on the corner of his lips. “Ron should be able to tell us once he’s done searching the chef’s house and secured the stolen car from wherever our suspect’s abandoned it.”

“How inappropriate is it that I believe you’ve never been hotter?” She grins, steps closer to him, one hand pushing her hair back as the other sneaks beneath his sweater.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Harry breathes against her lips, hands cupping her face before she presses him against the wall and kills him slowly with tender kisses.

Ginny pauses, pulling away, “Perhaps we continue this not in the murder victim’s bedroom?”

“Affirmative.”

Ron takes the lead back in London, getting together with actual detectives from Scotland Yard and somehow getting a combined magic and muggle task force approved for the case, despite it’s heavily muggle leaning. When Harry says as much, Ginny grins. “Ron’s the second most persuasive Weasley, so I’m not shocked.”

Harry chuckles as he tugs his trousers back on and flops back against the rumpled bedclothes. “And who takes first place?”

“Ravishing girl with amazing quidditch skills who just moments ago persuaded one Harry James Potter to - ”

Grabbing her hand as she passes the bedside, Harry pulls Ginny’s hand until she’s splayed diagonally across his chest. She doesn’t hesitate, simply propping herself on her arm and smirking down at him. “Do I embarrass you?

“You do a lot of things to me, Ginevra Molly Potter, but embarass is not one of them.”

Fingertips teasing along his cheekbones, Ginny smiles, soft. “I s’pose I should take the compliment for what it is and not bring up a certain ill-advised Valentine’s card?”

“Young me was surprised, adult me thinks ‘adorable,’”

“Quoting ourselves, are we?” Ginny teases, before pushing up from the bed and stepping into her trainers. “Now let’s head down there before the situation turns any more Agatha Christie than it already has.”

Sighing, Harry rocks himself into a sitting position and grabs for his dry boots. “Aye, if we don’t figure out the food situation soon, Piers will start eating people.”

“I have no doubt.”

Harry’s prediction is proven wrong - slightly - since it seems Piers’ motivation for food manifested itself, but not in a cannibalistic fashion.

When they reach the foot of the staircase, the first thing Harry notes, following Piers’ conspicuous absence, is the heady scent of something definitely beef-based. He says as much to Ginny and she chuckles. “What a detective you are.”

“Never said I was a food expert,” Harry laughs, catching Dudley’s eye. His cousin seems to be on high alert, perhaps waiting on pins and needles since the Potters disappeared upstairs. And perhaps he should feel sorry for keeping Dudley waiting while Ginny had her way with him, but the beauty that is Ginny after a Detective Harry episode coupled with about sixteen years of childhood bullying alleviate Harry’s guilt.

Before they can rejoin the group, Dudley strides towards Harry. “So - what’ve you found?”

Ideally, the whole group won’t need to be kept up to speed with every detail. Especially since once they get some actual leads, he really can’t keep the lines of information flowing. Ginny, as usual, seems to cotton on to his train of thought and excuses herself. “I’ll go give the others a little bit of info, see if they noticed anything.”

Dudley leads Harry toward a little study off the front of the cabin and presses the door closed with a click. “Sorry. Should’ve thought of this earlier.”

Harry props himself on the lip of the ornately carved desk and Dudley sighs into one of the tufted chairs. Once Dudley seems to have settled himself, Harry sets a few charms around the room and begins catching him up to speed. “I got in touch with Ron - you know him from the wedding - and he’s got with Scotland Yard so they’re working things from that end. Ginny and I secured the necessary areas as much as possible and I’ve done my best to take crime scene photos so the police will have something to work with once the snow clears.”

“I doubt they’ll find anything you’ve missed,” Dudley states, without a hint of hesitation.

Honestly, if you’d asked Harry ten years ago if Dudley would ever say something so complimentary so easily, he’d have laughed in your face.

Harry runs his palms over his trousers and purses his lips in thought. “The plan from here is to keep everyone safe - it seems this was a specific crime, not some slasher waiting in the wind to come pick us off. Still, I’d like everyone to stay in groups and most definitely indoors after dark.”

After a moment, Harry releases the charms around the room and guides Dudley to the door. As they’re about to join the group, Dudley pauses and chuckles wryly. “You know I really did think this would be a nice holiday for you.”

“Trouble finds me, Big D.”

Dinner is a surprisingly enjoyable affair where Harry discovers Piers became a chef, of all things. At work, he’s probably like the real life version of the angry chef on the telly. As Harry and Ginny claim a couple of seats, he leans in close to murmur, “Piers cooking - he’ll probably poison mine, or at least spit in it.”

Ginny snorts, “I’d hope for poison; have you seen his dental hygiene habits?”

Regardless, he managed to whip up a pretty delicious meal - butternut squash soup, steaks all around, garlic mashed potatoes, and some sort of mixed fruit pie. Everyone’s pretty quiet, light chatter about passing salt and compliments to the chef. Though using that particular phrasing generally earns a wince or two, given the state of their actual chef.

Once the tea’s been drunk to the dregs and sweet seconds have been had, it’s Kate who finally works up the nerve to ask Harry about the investigation.

“So Scotland Yard is investigating?”

Harry fiddles with his teacup, righting it in the saucer, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve forwarded all the information we have as of yet to my partner in London, yes.”

Jamie props his elbows on the table, leaning in closer. “What sort of information, then?”

It’s in this instance, Harry finds himself grateful for the bureaucratic nonsense that exists in his line of work. The day has been long, somewhat disturbing as murder is wont to be, and Harry really doesn’t trust his ability to keep his temper if he’s subjected to another interrogation courtesy of Piers. “I feel comfortable saying it appears we have a homicide on our hands and that our safety is best served by remaining in groups, preferably indoors.”

Piers harrumphs, likely chafing at the idea of Harry being in charge, and Ginny bites back on a laugh. Troublemaker.

Pushing his plate away, Harry continues, “I’ll do another sweep of the cabin, inside and outside, once everyone heads upstairs.”

Fran smiles. “Thanks for doing all this on your holiday, Harry.”

“Well we do pay his salary, after all. It’s his job,” Piers grumbles.

Harry, in a feat his younger self would have either found admirable or deeply disappointing, does not answer back with a witty rejoinder or the business end of his wand. Perhaps Ginny will make good on her ‘shag the frustration away’ promises. It’s worked so far - Piers is still alive after all.

Luckily, everyone’s similarly drained from their rather harrowing day and head off to bed without Harry ushering them upstairs like an overworked nanny. Though it does sound a bit like a sitcom - ‘Harry the Harried Nanny.’

Ginny insists on trailing him as ‘back up’ offering commentary on his techniques. Generally, it’s a mix of actual, helpful assistance and notes on which search practices are most effective in featuring his ‘cute arse.’

Overall, by the time they return to their bedroom, Harry’s satisfied the house is secure (courtesy of a few carefully placed charms) and highly unsatisfied in other areas. Though Ginny seems similarly inclined, if her seeking hands and very quick fingers are any indication. And if Harry was in any way confused by the signals, Ginny’s veritable pounce once he presses the door closed would have definitely provided some clarity.

Either way, Harry and Ginny enjoy a rather lovely evening on the cosy rug in front of the fireplace before drifting off to sleep.

Harry wakes to the disappointing sound of Ginny in the shower, alone. Though the tragedy is one easily remedied, if he acts quickly enough.

Quietly, while Ginny’s still warbling her way through some new pop ditty that played about four hundred times on the way to the cabin, Harry brushes his teeth in order to present his lovely, soaked, naked wife with a minty fresh mouth. She’s only just started her routine - he can smell as Ginny works her hair into a lather with the flowery shampoo she favors.

After rinsing, Harry pulls the shower door open with a pop and slips in behind Ginny. She barely startles, settling back against him as he winds his arms around her middle. “You didn’t wake me up, Mrs. Potter.”

“You worked quite hard last night.”

“You mean yesterday?” Harry asks, nipping at her jaw.

“I said what I meant,” Ginny drawls, twisting in his embrace and letting her palms slip over his arms, slippery from the spray.

And while things start fairly innocent - Ginny providing her excellent shampooing skills in a completely selfless manner - they end up with a mutually satisfying encore to last night’s performance. Twice.

Life can’t be all fun and games, sadly, and once they’re dressed and ready for the day, Harry sends another Patronus to check in with Ron.

Ron’s answer is short, “Got your fireplace hooked up to the network, jump on in a few.”

While Ginny secures the bedroom from prying eyes, Harry rifles through their luggages and finds his emergency pouch of floo powder.

After shouting into the flames, Harry finds the worn rug of his and Ron’s shared office swirling into focus. “Alright, Ronnie?”

“Why do you do that to me?”

“‘Cause I l o ve you,” Harry says with a grin.

Ginny saunters over and squats down next to Harry. “Making a move on my brother before my very eyes.”

“What can I say? Those gangly limbs and ocean blue eyes send me .”

“I am not - whatever. Back to business,” Ron grunts, “We followed your hunch and looked into the mail carriers who’ve had that route, or anybody involved with mail processing in the area. A few of them have some minor infractions on their records. Not too much on that front at the mo’.”

“Anything on the chef himself?” Harry asks.

“Ah,” Ron says, shuffling through the file he placed at his knee, “We found an odd series of deposits into his bank account. Not overly large sums but untraceable cash.”

“You think blackmail?” Ginny asks.

Harry hums his agreement in the question and Ron nods, “That’s our best guess, so far.”

“Keep us posted.”

“Ditto.”

Just before Harry disconnects the floo, Ron pauses, “Be safe you two, eh?”

Ginny salutes, “Right-o, Ronnie.”

He groans, “I hate you.”

The flames die down and Harry pushes to his feet, waiting for Ginny to follow suit. “We’ll head to breakfast?”

Laughing, Ginny pauses with her fingers on the handle, “Ready to be interrogated?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“This is ridiculous,” Piers bursts mid bite. “Are we expected to sit here in silence like well behaved children and ask no questions?”

“I don’t believe that’d be possible since you’ve never been well behaved,” Harry volleys right back around his sandwich.

“I should have beaten your skinny arse when I had the opportunity,” Piers throws his chair back, ready for battle. However, he quickly starts to look rather confused as to why he needed to get up, gently places his chair back at the table and, flashing an odd kind of smile, walks outside to build a snowman all by himself.

His wife sounds very uncomfortable at best as she delivers a hefty explanation before running after him, “Anxiety brings out the child in him. Excuse me.”

A quick look around the table helps Harry find the culprit in the form of a chuckling Ginny, even though, to her credit, she did try to hid it behind a paper napkin. He’ll remember to thank her properly later.

“Is there anything you’re able to tell us, Harry?” Kendra breaks the awkwardness, her eyes apologetic.

“Or if we’ll be able to leave today?” Jaime joins in, hopeful. “The storm’s cleared out, the roads should be alright now.”

Harry pats the corners of his mouth with a napkin before he calmly speaks, “I should be able to explain in about 30 minutes.” Somewhat of a flex, he knows, but he’s always worked flawlessly with Ron and their combined efforts in solving a case have never failed them.

“Meet me here at 10 sharp,” he addresses the befuddled audience in a true Hercule Poirot manner before he makes his way back upstairs, to his and Ginny’s room, where - if all went well - an owl should be waiting for him.

“Brilliant as always, mate,” Harry grins as he lays eyes on a snowy owl awaiting his arrival on the other side of the window.

Rapidly he lets her inside and scratches the feathers at the back of her head, then unties the scroll of parchment secured around her leg.

“Expected as much,” he grunts, takes out a pen from his pocket and scribbles a reply on the back of the paper.

As soon as the owl takes flight, Harry starts pacing the room, putting order to his thoughts and finishing the last of the puzzle. When he’s finally satisfied with the conclusions he’s drawn, Harry steps out into the hallway and back into the sitting room. The final moment’s arrived.

Seven pairs of eyes are upon him (albeit Piers’ is everywhere, still mildly confused) and Harry wastes no more time.

“There’s no mystery that the chef’s been murdered,” he starts in force. “Thus, the real question has been a natural one: who committed the murder? Followed by the why, the reason, the incentive to commit crime,” Harry confidently states, then pauses. “I am now able to tell you who and why.”

Startled gasps and concentration fill the room. Harry looks every one of the seven persons in the eye, offering enough space and time for any possible admissions, one of the first techniques he learned while training as an Auror. When no one speaks, he sighs and continues dutifully.

“Our chef’s been blackmailed,” Harry says all of a sudden. “He has been blackmailed for quite some time, up until the money was no longer enough and the truth was about to come out. In this sense, it is somewhat ironic that the murderer was not one of us -” relieved sighs echo all around - “but the mailman. The cook’s mailman, to be precise.” Harry finishes rather pleased and waits for a wave of questions to erupt, as it always happens.

Sure enough, everybody puts forward their own question which requires an answer and Harry allows enough time for the tension to disappear and the calm to return.

He raises one hand to signal that silence is once again needed, then continues, tone professional and frown between his dark eyebrows, “As most of us do, the chef had a habit of putting his mail on hold while he was away from home, therefore informing the mailman of the exact period of his absences. It appears that it is not unheard of that mailmen seize the opportunity to make a bit of profit from the information they are fed by the unsuspecting. And by profit I mean stealing from the person’s house while they are away.”

More gasps and whispers, followed by reactions of anger at the thought that an institution they’ve been taught to respect and trust could actually betray their trust.

“At one point, however, our chef had returned home earlier than planned, only to find the mailman inside his house, helping himself to something or other. And threatened to go to the police, hence spiralling into a nasty case of blackmail and death threats. Yesterday, our culprit became restless and decided to finish the affair, knowing full well that his victim would not be alone. How? He took it upon himself to deliver Dudley’s generous invitations - as he had been doing for awhile with any correspondence involving this venue, always at watch for the best opportunity to strike.”

At this, Dudley’s ears turn red, his palms fly to hide his face.

“So he takes a ride up here, waits until there is no one else inside and pushes the chef out the window to make it look like a fall. Unfortunately for him, when he stole the cook’s car, he did not take into account that the snow might block the roads,” Harry grins. “As I’ve just been informed, it’s how my colleagues found him, the car stuck in a pile of ice and snow on an empty road.”

“Blimey,” Dudley whistles, his eyebrows shooting so high up they almost blend in with his fringe.

“What - erm, what happens next?” A distressed Palma dares ask.

“A team from Scotland Yard is on its way. They’ll need to question everyone here, then you should be free to go enjoy the rest of the weekend,” Harry smiles good naturedly, understanding fully well everybody’s hurry to be out and far away from the cabin as possible. Murder and mystery don’t mix well with winter holidays - or with any other kind of holidays, really.

His eyes dart to Ginny, who’s smiling at him, all proud and loving. And he returns the feeling, every single bit of it.

“Harry Potter saves the day yet again,” Ginny teases on their way home, her fingertips caressing the skin on Harry’s arm as he drives.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, my dear Watson,” he winks.

“Sounds to me like you should thank this dear Watson,” she suggests, a cheeky glint in her eye.

“Oh, I plan on doing so.”

As the words roll off his tongue, his hands grab the wheel tighter and swerve right, off from the main road and up a forest path. As soon as the car disappears from view, heavily hidden by the thick patch of snow white trees, Harry turns the ignition off and maneuvers his seat to lean back.

A ginger eyebrow rises in question and Harry grins wide.

“I’m feeling rather rebellious after this weekend,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “You were right, it was good for me.”

“Aha,” Ginny smirks. “I see,” she bites her lower lip as she slips from her seat and climbs up her husband’s lap, straddling him as her fingers scratch at the back of his head. “Then I better show you that,” she stops, freckled fingers curling around the hem of her sweater, slowly taking it off, “I did save that little black thing especially for you.” Ginny winks and Harry turns to mush.

Before long, there are no clothes left to tear off. There’s just them, hidden away by the steamy windows of a rented car parked at the edge of a snowy forest.

At the end of the day, Harry does specialise in finding the silver lining, even on a weekend filled with murder and mayhem.

#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #auror!harry #sultry hinny #murder mystery #noir #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves #power duo back at it!#get hyped

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