#Lulu is the only one remotely prepared

[naytile]

Iceburg and his ominous meeting questions

It’s easy to forget that Iceburg is a CEO on top of an engineer and a mayor, so he’s bound to suddenly ask dreadfully high-pressure questions during meetings.

Since Iceburg strives to be a genuinely good person, he sees these questions as a forum for Paulie, Lulu, and Tilestone to speak their minds. … And yet, he knows his best shipwrights so well that he can predict their reactions. LOL.

#One Piece #Iceburg #Galley-La #fancomic #One Piece fanfiction #during timeskip #OP Crazytrain #page 2 is coming #it's a preview #his face is killing me here #Lulu is the only one remotely prepared #naytile art #i'm probably the only one in the world who finds this funny

[jjaybank]

Salt || JJ Maybank

 Chapter Four: Calm

In which John B. is both a good friend and a shit one.

Masterlist 

Pairing:JJ Maybank x Reader  (mentions of John B. x Reader)

Summary:  You are a backpacker who has wound up staying in the Outer Banks for a while and being taken in by the Pogues. Starved of love, JJ struggles with the realisation that he’s falling for his friend. Hard.

A/N:In my head The Pogues are like in their early twenties in this okay, so humour me.  

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst???? Like one curse word 

Tag List:  @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @teamnick @x-lulu @pancakefancake @plantsarenice-love @mybnkjj @1believe-in-your-self1 @thistreasurehunter  message me if you wanna be on the tag list x (strike means it won’t let me tag u :()

When you wake the next morning, JJ has already left John B’s house. You find it bizarre that he left without saying goodbye to anyone, and your heart feels heavy with a mixture of disappointment and doubt.  Was he regretting the way he opened up to you last night? You cast a sad look over the bundle of blankets where he had slept but try not to let it bother you too much – you had a busy day ahead of you.

The sky was almost black with cloud.   You spend much of the morning storm-proofing The Chateau with Pope, Kiara, and John B.  You move everything inside; the hammocks, the barbecue, a dozen footballs that JJ has found and hoarded over time.  The preparations take hours, but once you finish helping Pope mend a window frame with a ridiculous amount of duct tape, you all go down to the HMS Pogue and make your way through the marsh.  The other islanders are also out, boarding up their businesses and pulling boats inshore. John B drops Kiara off first, and then Pope. You say your goodbyes and wish them luck. The rain is starting to drive into the island in sheets. You have one more stop to go before you can get back to the questionable safety of The Chateau. ~ Your beach shack had taken a right battering recently.  You grimace at the state of the building as John B ties the Pogue off to the little dock. ‘One more gust of wind and it’s over for her’ you say, sticking your bottom lip out at John B.  He chuckles softly, gathering the ropes and tools you had brought from The Chateau.  He pats a reassuring hand on your back as he passes and makes a start at lashing down the shack. You had decided it was definitely safer for you to stay with John B until the storm passed.  You really didn’t fancy waking up in the night with your bed floating on the marsh.   You head into the shack to collect a few essentials.  You spend most of your time at John B’s or Kiara’s anyway so there isn’t much to grab. Just a few photographs of your family, some extra clothes, and your beloved stuffed bear make it into your backpack.  It’s such a small space, and even though you didn’t spend an awful lot of time you had some of the most beautiful memories.  You look around sadly before picking your thoughts up and making your way back outside. The wind has picked up and John B is struggling with a tarpaulin.  You rush over to give him a hand and wrestle it against the wind. ‘God, I wish JJ was here’ you blurt out before you’ve even thought about it. John B looks over at you and you try to avoid his eye but he’s persistent you’ll give him that.   ‘What’s happened between you and JJ, ‘Y/N’ he asks, when you finally look up at him.   ‘Nothing really’ you lie, chewing you bottom lip between your teeth.  You’re both soaked to the bone and your skin is starting to turn to goose flesh.  You really don’t want to have this conversation here.  And especially not with John B, it feels like deceit. ‘Well, he’s pissed about something, but you already know that’ he says, raising his voice as the wind battles against the tarp, flapping it against the shack sharply and nearly slipping from his fingers. You and John B were close friends and you know you couldn’t lie to him for long. ‘He’s upset with us’  you shout, the rain is hammering down on your tin roof now and you know you need to get going. ‘Us?’ John B asks disbelievingly, ‘what have I done?’ ‘He thinks we’re sleeping together!’ you shout, but at that moment the rope of the tarp snaps and you both jump at the noise and scramble to reattach it.  You abandon your conversation as you work against the elements to protect your tiny house. ~ ‘What did you say before?’ John B asks, as you gather up all the tools and head back to the Pogue.   It’s quieter by the water and you can talk properly now. ‘JJ thinks-‘ you sigh and struggle to say the words again ‘he thinks we’re still sleeping together.’ You roll your eyes, trying to play it off as if you didn’t care that much.  As if it wasn’t breaking you that JJ believed that whatever the complex myriad of emotions you felt for him were, they were placed elsewhere. That he was upset with you over something that he had fabricated.  But the fabrication, oh god, did it pain you both.  You’re looking out over the marsh – the rain is falling like steels rods, making it almost impossible to see anything on the horizon.  You can’t feel the rain on your skin anymore, completely numb to it. When you glance back at John B., he looks horrified.   ‘Why would he think that?’ he asked, helping you aboard the Pogue before starting up the engine. You shrug and settle into the bow of the boat, casting a forlorn look over your little shack, all wrapped up for the night in tarpaulins.   ‘We’ll work it out, Y/N’ he shouts over the engine and you try to give him a reassuring smile, but it come out as a grimace. ~ When you arrive back at The Chateau the first thing you notice is JJ’s dirk bike leaning against the porch.  You help John B moor the boat and carry the tools you used on your shack to the garage.  You approach the porch nervously, your mind running through the events of the previous night.  You had been so honest with each other, so tender.  John B notices how tentative you look and gives you a supportive nod.   JJ is sat at the kitchen table surrounded by a mountain of food.  You don’t even want to know where he got it from, you’re just glad to see him looking reasonably happy.  When questioned about the food he smiles in that pained way of his, ‘Gotta keep my family fed’ he laughs, but you feel a dark undercurrent in his words. But then, he stands up and pats you on the back, and greets you like any other day.  As if the previous night hadn’t happened at all.  It takes you by surprise and you are more hurt than you expected to be.  Maybe he didn’t remember? Maybe he had been completely out of it? It didn’t feel that way when he held you to him, when he kissed your cheek in the gentlest of gestures.   JJ helps John B. bring the HMS Pogue in-land and you watch the storm roll in over the island.  The clouds are thick and angry, swirling overhead and curdling with thunder.  You settle in for the night surrounded by blankets and the sound of JJ cooking up something disastrous in the kitchen.   You had been flicking through tv channels for an age, but your mind wasn’t really on the screen. John B. sits beside you, snatching the remote from you distracted self.

‘I’ll talk to him’ John B. starts, and that is enough to break you out of your daze. ‘Absolutely not, you snap, ‘that will only make this worse John B., it will make him think there is some truth to it if I get you involved!’ You feel a deep sense of regret and dread at opening your mouth to John B.   ‘I don’t even understand why he would think this though, and I don’t like the idea of him spreading rumours’ John B states, reading the description of a tv show distractedly. ‘That’s not what’s happened,’ you plead, ‘I promise it’s not like that!’ Your voice is a whisper, but it feels like you’re screaming. Your face is contorted in panic, but John B looks set on it.   ‘Please,’ you beg him, ‘please don’t hurt him.’ You drop your head into your hands and hold back a choked sob.  You feel John B. stand up and can hear him moving into the kitchen. You can’t hurt JJ- whatever it is that you’re feeling.  This confusion of sudden heightened emotions and the rush of your stolen moments of affection. You can’t lose that.  It feels like the calm before the storm is well and truly over.

~~ Leave me feedback pls i’m a slut for feedback x

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank series #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank outer banks #john b. routledge #john b x y/n

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass -Chapter 24

          Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help and encouragement

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Twenty-Four (NSFW)

“Oh! Dear God!” Claire landed at Jamie's side hearing him struggle to catch his breath. “Its official, this cannot be undone, the genie is out of the bottle.”

Jamie pulled her close to him and tried to make sense out of what she said. Yesterday she said she was ruined for life, today the genie is out of the bottle. He tread carefully, feeling this was big information delivered in some kind of code.

“What exactly do ye mean, mo chridhe?”

Claire opened her eyes and blushed crimson before changing the subject. “You have a few more days to rest so promise me you won’t disobey doctor’s orders not to use your arm?”

“Sassenach, remember the deal we made with Rupert and Angus? They leave for Scotland tomorrow, for two weeks. You goin back to work and me of limited use that leaves Jason to manage it all. He canna do it alone.”

Jamie started to get up when Claire reached to stop him. “What if I know someone that can jump into the job and needs no training? Do you remember Steve? He has experience with horses, and he’s bored until school starts. If you agree, I’ll call him.

That was only a small part of Claire’s anxiety at the moment. Poor planning on her part had not prepared her for the numerous calls that came in from her email about returning to her practice. Her days were filling up with appointments that she could not handle alone. Molly was no longer available at any time with her blooming romance and there wasn’t time to hire someone and train them. The butterflies of anxiety had become sharks that were consuming her stomach.

Claire stood at the sink in her scrubs and wet hair chewing toast and washing it down with juice. Her heart hurt when she looked at Jamie’s face, so sad.

“I’ve grown attached to yer company Sassenach and now I must miss ye every day.”

She kissed him so sweetly and realized that without her driving anxiety, she would feel the same sadness.

“I can’t wait to hug you tonight. I will have much to report and I will miss you every second.”

Claire gripped the steering wheel as she negotiated the merge into freeway traffic. White clammy hands and a racing heart just compounded her misery. It only took twenty minutes to get hopelessly lost forcing her off the freeway to check her obviously broken navigation system. She sat on the side of the road and saw the turn she missed five miles back. She felt defeated and just wanted to go home. She had never done her job solo and suddenly questioned if she could. How was she going to find these remote places and do a day’s work without help? It was impossible. The blinker clicked as she waited to pull onto the road.

Claire looked down at the phone in her hand and tried to calculate the improbability of her next move. When he answered she felt her eyes sting at the sound of his voice.

“Nice surprise doctor B, oh wait, doctor F, hmm, it will take some time getting used to..”

“You might have to get used to calling me Claire. Go ahead, it won’t cause permanent damage.”

“Alright, Claire, what’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering, well, hoping, actually praying that you might have some free time to help me now and then …some days of the week...not very many, maybe.”

Dustin laughed, “I happen to be unemployed now, so yes. We stayed for the first summer session so Hope could take a class she missed. Now we’re home, no one is hiring. I’m excited just thinking about it!”

Claire’s hand was cramping from holding her phone so tight and her eyes popped open. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes! I can come with you today if you want.”

“What? Really? Oh Dustin, you are a lifesaver. I am lost on the side of the rode and thirty minutes late for my first appointment. Can you guide me to where you are?”

“Let’s start with where you are, can you see a street sign?”

Fifteen minutes later, Hope pulled behind Claire’s truck and Dustin got out. Claire was in the passenger seat already, so he jumped behind the wheel as Claire waved to Hope.

They were pulling up to Claireborn Farm ten minutes later and Dustin used his excellent driving skills to back up to the large rolling doors giving them quick access to the equipment they would need. Claire’s first day back after six months and Dustin’s first day back in a year made for a timid start as they got accustomed to working together again.

Claire was a stone-celebrity at each stop and there were many of the same questions asked over and over again. Dustin would set up the treatments and the moment Claire could break away from the fanning owner she would nearly collide with the first horse. The awkwardness between Claire and Dusty could not flourish under their practiced timing and it fell away as they powered through the day.

“Jamie, could you send Rupert to pick me up please? Dustin is going to work with me for the next two months and I don’t like to drive. Thank you, sweetheart, see you soon.”

“Married life agrees with you Claire.”

“I could say the same for you young man, you look healthy and happy.”

Dustin looked straight ahead out the windshield, “Hope is great.”

Claire dug into her files and Dustin dictated the treatments done today, appointments for a recheck, what tests were being done, and special billing requirements. She heaved them off her lap and smiled at Dustin when Jamie was driving up.

“Thank you Dusty.”

He shook hands with Jamie and grimaced at his bandaged elbow before heading for home. When Hope saw the big truck still dripping from the car wash, she ran outside to embrace her husband. Claire’s energy had clung to him all the way home but when he looked into Hope’s sweet face, he was free again.

Claire was quiet on the way home, bowled over by the contrast between her old life of living alone in her little mountain cabin, spending her days with Dusty, and her current reality of world-famous jockey and wife of Jamie Fraser. The degree of change in one year was astounding and she was deep in her head about it.

Jamie looked at his wife and felt lonely for her. He steered the truck with his knee and ran his hand down her arm to get her attention.

“I'm concerned about the seat belt around ye lass. Ye see, it gets most of the wear and tear compared to the middle one. See, this one is practically new. For yer own safety, come sit here, love.”

Claire smiled and moved closer to Jamie feeling the cascade of love emotions when her thigh pressed against his.

“Claire, can I act like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush for a minute?”

“Let it rip fourteen-year-old Jamie,” was her giggled response.

“Were ye romantically involved with Dusty?”

“No, never. I worked shoulder to shoulder with him for two years and never really knew him. Molly and I drove him home the last day before he left for school. We pulled up to a house and I didn’t know if his parents lived there if they were alive, any brothers or sisters, nothing. I am very skilled at not letting people in, ever. But you changed all that, like an avalanche my life filled with people like Molly, Lulu, Michael, Jason, Rupert and Angus, and now Steve and his father. Christ my life has changed so much I can hardly believe it, and it’s all your fault.”

Jamie was listening intently. Claire didn’t talk much about who she was inside and how she got that way and he wanted to hear more.

“Why?”

“After my parents died, I didn’t seem to belong to anybody. People fed me and gave me a bed, but I didn’t belong to them. I would lay in their strange bed at night and cry for hours, watching the door for my own father to come in and rescue me. Every night I watched the door and waited for him. I felt like that little girl again when the FBI terrorized me for hours, locked me in a fifty-degree room with no chair or couch, and only the cold concrete floor to lie on. When I felt your arms slide under me and carry me out of that torturous building, it finally happened, someone came for me.”

Jamie’s heart nearly broke thinking of that tiny girl alone in the world. He leaned toward her ear, “it was two years before I saw ye again, Sassenach.”

“Well, ha, Isobel walked in on me getting out of your shower and morphed into pure evil. So I dodged your requests for a while but when you called about Runner I couldn’t stay away. It was pure luck that I checked the dam’s wing when I did and found the dead mare. As it was, we raced to beat the seconds he had left before he expired inside his mother. Since I was responsible for him being on this earth, I wanted to help him if I could.”

“Did ye know I slept with ye half the night after gettin ye from the FBI? Ye wouldn’t warm-up, it was the only way I knew.”

“I remember every conscious minute to this day, including your hand pressing into my stomach and running down my leg before you jerked awake and ran back to your room.” Claire was laughing.

“Ah, ye felt that, did ye? Sorry Sassenach.”

“Don’t be sorry, I loved it! You were my hero for what you did, and I tucked the memory in a special place in my head so I could keep it forever.”

Jaime lifted her chin to look in her eyes, “ye fascinate me, love.” He kissed her deeply before she jumped out to let him get back to work. She felt different inside. Happier, closer to Jamie and the feeling stayed with her through a hot shower and her walk to the barn. When she saw Jamie, the look in his eyes said he felt it too. Remarkable, she thought, she dropped her past like an old novel, but Jamie was hungry to hear about it. And what a lovely outcome.

Jamie handed her a lead as they approached the pasture fence and watched Runner and Porcelain gallop toward them from the other side. A safe distance from the fence Porcelain dropped to a trot and so did Runner who accepted the lead and walked like a gentleman back to his stall.

As they were leaving, Porcelain decided to make her unhappiness known by kicking at the corral gate of her stall with a lonely whiny. No consoling would help her calm down. She was done being alone.

“There you go Romeo, yer girlfriend is right beside ye now. Mind yer manners, aye?”

Jamie put his good arm around Claire and smiled to himself. “I’ve made some decisions about the rest of the day. You are to pick something on Netflix while I go pick up a large pizza and a dozen wings. Ye can eat in yer wee robe and fall asleep in my arms if ye want. How does that sound?”

Claire ran to Jamie’s truck and jumped into the passenger seat, staring at him like, hurry up!

Slow summer days stretched ahead of them. Two or three days per week Claire would tie hanging apples to the tree branches out in the pasture and leave sugar cubes on the fence in different places to keep Runner looking for treats. Steve and Jason built the breeding shed with pointers from Steve’s father now and then. A dedicated mares wing was outfitted to house the broodmares who would stay there for breeding and one stall was converted into a lab for medical equipment and on-site testing. The enormity of this undertaking was becoming clear, but time was on their side.

Jamie made improvements to the house and on one occasion demonstrated how he mounted a sixty-inch television in a newly built recess in the wall and covered it with a huge picture on side swing hinges. Claire clapped and kissed, very impressed with his ingenuity. She looked around the large room that had always felt cold and sterile to her.

“Jamie, what do you think about this furniture? Did you and Isobel pick it out together?”

Jamie chuckled, “I hate it and had no hand in choosin it. Isobel hired some decorator, and this is what they came up with. When I built the chess table, Isobel moved it to the garage. That was the first time I told her to find her own place to live. After that she allowed it in the house but always hated it.”

It became Claire’s project to order and collect all the decorating and architecture magazines they could look through for ideas. She would spread them out on the bed, and they would both make a gallant effort only to hear them crackle under the weight of two athletic bodies chasing their passion or lay sound asleep on top of them.

By mid-July, there was a new trainer in residence bringing seven two-year-olds and seven handlers with him. Boot camp for the yearling races was in full swing by August. It brought the energy of horse racing and the Road to the Kentucky Derby back to the compound, infecting the whole crew.

“I don’t think I need to eat anymore, love. I can exist on the energy and excitement alone.”

“I miss your bur and contractions sweetheart,” said as she hugged him. “Why do you try so hard to lose them?”

“That is a long and boring story for another time. I’ve come for ye to talk sense into Runner before I have to. He’s watchin the yearlings race each other and pressin his chest against the pasture fence. I have to replace a whole section, so c’mon and fix him.”

Claire laughed as Jamie pulled her outside to his truck. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and spending some time with Runner was an excellent idea.

Claire loved these low- key summer days but when August came to a close, she hugged Dustin and cried before doing the same to Hope. She drove herself home that day and when out of sight she pulled over and cried in earnest.

The breeding room was finished, and Steve was leaving for the academy. Jason got moody because he would be shipped back to New York until February and he didn’t want to leave Lulu. When Claire asked if he would like to stay and assist her it seemed like a reprieve to him and he was very grateful.

As with Molly, Claire bit her tongue for the first month until Jason knew the routine. He would never be as good as Dustin, no one would be that good, ever, and she wondered why. She compared Jason’s actions with Dustin’s and realized that she was Dustin’s priority, not the treatment, or the horse. It would require someone loving her to the bone to be as good as Dusty was, and she would not wish that on anyone.

The onset of fall, with cooler weather and colorful foliage was the delight of Kentucky residents and tourists alike. Dogwoods and Sumacs turned red and purple, Sugar Maples were orange and red, Poplars and Hickories added yellow and gold. The dense forests of hardwood trees and the numerous lakes provided a romantic canvas for long walks, deep talks, and Jamie’s inspiration for a different future at Highland Brothers.

“We are blessed with a miracle horse. If he is fertile it will guarantee unspeakable wealth for the two of us. I have never been comfortable with that level of wealth especially when our crew will never see such comforts. My memory fades from the early days in Ireland working at a stud farm. It’s a huge operation and we will need all of them to pull this off.” He stopped and pulled her into a hug. “Runner can change two lives or six lives. What say ye to that?”

Claire’s smile was beaming when she jumped up and wrapped her legs around Jamie’s waist, punching the air above her head yelling yes! Her generous heart was just fed a super-size of glee and she hopped along the trail until her feet became obedient again. Jamie laughed at her sparkling happiness until she pulled him to her with a very serious face.

“Jamie, I know we have much to do but I have one request. Will you dance for me tonight?”

He ran his finger over her jawline, “I will.”

For the next four weeks, they worked on the business plan almost every night. Jamie met with stud farm owners that were very generous with their time and education. He showed humility and an eagerness to learn and kept a diligent log of each meeting. Claire met with fertility vets and was treated to a cart blanch atmosphere from her peers. They shared protocols that had worked for them and Claire let her gratitude show. The first Saturday in December they hosted a workshop.

There was a full breakfast spread before starting and hot coffee that was refreshed throughout the day. Jamie started with a quick explanation of the business plan, and an overview of each person's role.

“Lulu, yer the first contact and qualifier for serious inquiries. Through phone or by mail, yer the one to decide which mares make it to my desk. Don’t be scared,” said chuckling at her white face, “we’re gonna teach ye. There will be a mountain of information arriving on each mare, Sire and Dam lines, registration copies, genetic profiles, test results, vet checks, fertile histories, racing history and foal statistics. That is yer domain and it’s essential.”

Lulu’s eyes were tearing, and she shook her head side to side, “I can’t be responsible for all that, what if I mess everything up?”

Jamie’s face softened at her fear. “I have never met a grid brain more suited to this task. What was Tacitus’s last race, how did he do?

“Aqueduct, second place.”

“How did Code of Honor do and where I wonder?”

“Breeder’s Cup, seventh place.”

“What are Tacitus’s earnings so far?”

“Six hundred thousand.”

“Who told ye to memorize those stats?”

Lulu blushed crimson and looked around defensively, “no one.”

“If ye don’t see it in yerself, lass, trust me, yer the best for this job.”

“Rupert, Angus, ye do transport, bed and breakfast ID checks, turn-outs, follow special feed instructions, and handlers in the breedin room…”

Jamie stopped while they joked about having such a hard job. “Seems easy ye say. There will be five to seven mares with us rotatin in and out for four months, some look identical, if ye return a mare to the wrong owner we sell Runner and close this operation down. Can’t recover from a mistake like that. The mares are your responsibility gentlemen if ye turn out six hormonal mares and they have a throw down out there with no one to stop it?” Jamie paused while the ramifications sunk into their brains. “I trust ye with my life, now I’m trustin ye with theirs.”

“Jason is the manager at stud so questions and concerns go to him and he will make any changes needed.”

Rupert and Angus were wondering if they could eat more, Lulu was bursting with pride over her boyfriend, and Jason’s self-esteem swelled knowing he would head up this huge endeavor.

Claire went next and gave a biology lesson in equine conception, what it meant to cover a mare, how they would use technology and medicine to bring on the mare's estrus, confirm ovulation, and then verify fertilization.

“Adding to the tasks Jamie mentioned, Rupert and Angus, you will be in the breeding room for every cover. One holds the mare, the other collects the semen that leaks out when he jumps down. I will teach you both how to do this properly.” Claire couldn’t help laughing at their green faces.

“Runner is unproven, so we take it easy this first year. The mares that are chosen to breed will arrive spaced out through March until late May. When they arrive, we run tests for health and fertile readiness. I will bring them into estrus with hormones and hope to get ovulation so they can breed. After that, we watch for fertilization using ultrasound, or breed again. The mares return to their own farms pregnant and then we get paid, not a cent before.”

When they stopped for lunch Claire ran for the doorbell. She stared at Michael who held up a hardback book with her and Runner on the cover crossing the finish line. The title read, Midnight Runner A Champion for the Ages. The tears came in sobs as she hugged him to her, and Jamie extended his hand when she finally let go. He handed the book to Claire and was led into the kitchen where the whole crew was there to greet him. He was stunned and very happy to see everyone.

Claire sat with the book on her lap while Jamie wrapped up the meeting answering questions. He could see Claire was in another world wanting to read the book more than she wanted to breathe.

“I want to wrap this up with the best part and thank ye for accepting the extra chores and responsibilities we gave ye without question. Yer good people, loyal and hard workin. This operation will flourish if ye work together as a team, help each other when needed, give support and encouragement, and do yer individual jobs like it was yer own company, yer own money on the line. Because it is. If Runner is infertile or has a poor breedin outcome, then I alone suffer the initial investment and ye get yer regular pay. I don’t think that will happen, so I’ve set my attorney to write up a profit-sharing plan. Your hard work and integrity will pay off. If the profit is there, and it will be, you get a piece of it.”

“How much of a bonus Jamie?” Rupert smiled and waited.

“As we said, the first year will be very low key while we prove Runner’s ability and we all learn the business. A conservative number…” he held up a piece of paper with $50,000.00 on it.

Angus chuckled, “not bad to start, ten grand extra each year will be nice.”

Jamie held up his hand until he had their attention. “Each. The second-year and those that follow…” he wrote numbers on another piece of paper and held it up. $200,000.00 to $300,000.00. “Each.”

There was a stunned silence as four sets of eyes stared at the paper. Each of them knew Jamie to be an honest man of integrity. Never boastful, never wrong. They filed out of the house trying to say something intelligible as they continued to process the numbers Jamie showed them.

When the meeting ended, Michael stayed and chatted while the food was put away and the house put back in order.

“What are yer plans Michael?” Jamie noticed Claire was peeking at the pages while he and Michael talked.

“I have a book signing tour for the next four months because the publisher believes it will be a best-seller. If it’s not, the tour will surely end early,” said laughing. “I would love to assess Runner tomorrow if you don’t mind. I know he is still here because I talk to the receptionist every month or so.”

“I feel great pride in ye laddie.”

“So does my father, a blessing I never expected when I started all this.”

Jamie drove Michael back to his hotel later in the day and Claire was finally alone to start reading Michael’s book. She turned the first page almost shaking with excitement.

‘Dedicated to the bravest woman I have ever known, risking life and limb through every race so Midnight Runner could be the champion he was born to be. Midnight Runner will never be forgotten, and neither will you, Claire Beauchamp.’

The book landed on the bed as Claire ran to the bathroom for tissues. She cried so hard and wrapped her arms around her middle like she would die from the emotion. Every terrified day came rushing back in her memory. The day she prepared her speech for Jamie, telling him she was done and would not race Runner. The gate crash in their first race that almost toppled Runner, to her certain death. The crippling fear being loaded into the gate at the next race, so sure she would die this time. Runner telling her she would be a winner on him, telling her when to tuck, gloating after the race, seeing no other horse in front of them when they crossed the finish line. Her deafness, hearing only Runner breathing as she stretched her arms forward with every stride.

She processed the memory of every race and realized that Runner knew he would win, always. His only weakness was the race in the rain when she took over the race and he put his faith in her to guide him. Runner knew he was a champion and he proved it at Belmont with a thirty-one- length win for the Triple Crown. All he needed was a rider to make his claim in history and he chose her.

It was the first time since winning at Belmont that she considered all the private moments, the struggle against her fear, the elation of winning, and her emergence as a jockey with a single-minded determination to win it all, even if she lost Jamie in the process.

She picked the book up again, almost fearing the emotion it would invoke and turned to chapter one. Michael wrote from his point of view, so she was reading a different story than her own. She was fascinated.

She read how Michael tried to hide his excitement in that first meeting at Aqueduct after they fired their trainer. His effort to overcome his introverted personality and accept the offer to come to Kentucky. When Claire read the details about Rupert disclosing her gift after almost strangling Michael in the middle of the night and his desperate attempt to escape what he perceived to be lunatics on a remote farm, she lost it. The book hit the floor first followed by Claire, on her hands and knees laughing until she cried and struggled to breathe.

Jamie stood in the doorway to their bedroom and watched his wife laugh until she dropped her butt on the ground and leaned back against the bed, wiping her tears.

“This is hysterical Jamie! Reading about Michael’s midnight walk to the barn in the dark, Rupert accosting him from behind, telling him I discuss the odds with Runner. He thought we were all crazy and looked for a way to escape!”

“What chapter are ye on?”

“Page two actually.”

Jamie had secretly dreaded what Michael would write. Hoping he would be kind to Claire and not write a tell-all gossip book full of half-truths.

“I have been worried he might write something unsuitable.”

“Well, I will be sure and let you know if I read anything unsuitable.”

She pulled Jamie toward the shower pulling her own clothes off so she could join him under the suds. When she covered him in soap her arousal jumped into the one-alarm fire zone which could be ignored since Jamie had some work to do before bed tonight. She put on her robe and jumped on the bed to keep reading. In ten minutes she was daydreaming and put the book away. She stretched languidly watching images of Jamie between her legs driving her crazy. It was now a two-alarm fire and her heart was racing.

Jamie was recording expenses in his ledger by the light of a single lamp on his desk. He felt it. A low-level electric current that made the hair on his arms and neck stand up. He felt her arm across his shoulders and looked up into steamy whisky colored eyes that he was powerless to disobey. She nudged his chair so he would slide it back and she pushed his work to the side sitting directly in front of him. Jamie stood up and pulled her mouth to his by his grip on her hair, tasting blood in his mouth when she bit his lip. He continued to assault her mouth letting his fingers touch her thighs and stomach lightly until she moaned in complaint. It was a blazing three-alarm fire burning her core and stealing her breath.

Jamie stopped suddenly and stood above her, watching her breasts bounce while she panted, eyes just slits looking up at him. She looked like a wild cat sizing up her pray and the electric current he felt started to buzz in his balls and up his spine. She reached for his mouth to kiss him, but he put a hand on her chest easing her down to lay across his desk. He could see the whole lower floor twenty feet below them and wrapped her hands around the wrought iron safety barrier. He pulled her knees up and pushed them apart before sitting down in his chair where he would take his time tasting and teasing her. Claire moaned with her first orgasm and, he let her slippery pulsing pull him in. He did not move until the pulsing stopped and her eyes opened.

“Turn your head to the side and look down Sassenach. You mustn’t let go.”

Claire felt her stomach do flip flops when she looked over the edge into the floor below. As Jamie’s arousal increased, his thrusting pushed her ever closer to the edge. She lost focus of the perilous drop-off and gave in to her lust, moaning loudly and watching this brute take her roughly. Jamie stepped away from her and carried her to the bed where he lit a candle. He poured a whisky for each of them and watched her.

She’s a purring wild cat now until I remind her of my power, he thought and dropped his head to her core to lick her once. Her face looked a bit shocked. He sipped his whisky and without warning dropped to her bud and sucked it into his mouth for a few seconds and then sipped his drink raking his eyes over her perfect curves. There was a third lick and a fourth, and the purring stopped. Jamie’s heart was ramming in his chest at the way she looked at him like she would sink her teeth into his neck if he didn’t ease her pain. When he did, it was forceful and commanding, followed by brutal thrusting that nearly cost him control.

He stretched his body over hers and looked at her with such love it almost stopped her heart. The wild cat gave way to an open-hearted woman who wrapped her love around his soul and kissed him softly. When he moved in her again it was softly as he told her of the most profound love and devotion and then he kissed the rolling tears from her face.

Claire snuggled into Jamie’s arms with a deep sigh. He figured she would read all night, but the book laid on her side table forgotten. He kissed her forehead and smiled in the dark.

[hybridfanfiction]

Heart Hunter - One

Pairing: Peregrine Falcon hybrid Minseok x  Deer Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1,469

Summary: The government has officially outlawed prey hybrids, leaving your herd with no choice but to escape into the depths of the forest. Since none of you have been outside of the city before, you soon find yourselves struggling - until you start finding food waiting on your porch every morning. But where is it coming from? 

❧

The newscaster is explaining in great detail what the newest proposal from the President means without a shred of shock or sympathy painting his stoic expression. All breeding of prey hybrids were to cease immediately. The government had been pushing more and more against hybrids, using claims of massive overpopulation and crime rates to scare the human community. After years of debating over what to do, they’d apparently settled on announcing that prey hybrids were considered unnecessary.  

You suppose it makes a twisted sort of sense. Wolves, bears, and big cats make up the bulk of the military and police forces. Even the domestic dog and cat breeds would be safe, as most of the people in power had one as a companion. Rabbits would most likely continue to be bred for black markets, considering that they were used for exactly what you would think they were,��poor bunnies. However, deer and rodents, most birds and even more like them would die out. 

You shut the massive tv off and throw the remote across the elaborately decorated room, shivering in both anger and fear because unfortunately for you and your family, you were prey.

Deer hybrids were bred for their gentle grace and beauty, making them ideal as dancers and other various forms of entertainment roles such as modeling or acting. Your own family had been with your owner’s for several generations, bred and trained exclusively for ballet. Hybrids were never allowed to become principals - due to the damage that would have on the human ego - but Madame’s family had still produced the finest soloists in history. You were soon to follow in your parent’s footsteps, as Madame had been hinting that your days as one of the coryphées were nearly over. 

You knew that you had it better than many hybrids. Your owner and your mother had grown up side by side and Madame spoiled her, even going so far as to buy your father from his owner once the two had fallen in love. Such generosity was unheard of for their kind, as does were usually mated with bucks of good breeding for staggering amounts of money regardless of feelings. Lucky for your mother she had fallen for someone that came from decent enough stock for the elite snobs to overlook, and he was an exceptional dancer. The two were as madly in love as ever and were the best of parents to you and your brother. You were always grateful that you knew when the time came Madame would do no less for you. However, it didn’t matter now, as you were apparently doomed to remain unmated and childless under the new law. Madame’s legacy of producing the finest dancers in the country would be no more. 

You sigh morosely and walk to the kitchen to finish preparing your simple meal. Your parents and Madame were still at the studio and you had told the cook that you would be fine on your own. You weren’t sure where your brother was, but Luhan had been disappearing quite a lot recently, so you weren’t too concerned. Since it was only you eating you were only going to make something small. You weren’t that hungry anyway, considering how upset you were, so you settled on a tray of fruits and veggies. You couldn’t cook, but you could handle taking things from containers and placing them on a tray, at least. 

As you nibbled on some veggie sticks you contemplated your new fate. Your mother had always told you that you had a romantic soul, and you’d never bothered to argue because you knew it was true. You had grown up surrounded by dancing and music that were tales of grand love and had your own parent's still strong relationship to back it all up. You had always planned on having a loving family just like them and had wondered what your future mate would be like. No doubt they would be a deer hybrid like you, perhaps even another dancer. Then you could dance together in the living room like Mama and Papa did all the time. 

Except all of your daydreams of love and happiness were floating away like wisps in the wind. No mate. No fawns of your own. Just a bleak future of dancing until your body fails you and you become worthless. Worthless to Madame and worthless to the world. 

You had been so lost in your melancholy thoughts that you hadn’t heard anyone come home until suddenly you heard Madame screaming for you, your parent's voices soon doing the same. You get up and follow the sounds into the living room where the three of them are frantically grabbing suitcases from the hall closet. All of them look harried and wild-eyed, your father’s face stony while both Mama and Madame were crying. 

Mama saw you first, crying out as she rushed to you and held you in a crushing grip. “Oh, my baby! You’re okay.” 

“What’s going on?” You ask as you awkwardly pat Mama’s back. 

Papa was nearly growling, a strange sound that you’d never heard him make before. “It’s your brother. They took him. They took my damn boy.” 

“I’ll do everything to get him back, I promise you.” Madame sniffled, bringing a lacy handkerchief to her eyes before she gazed at you with heartbreak in her eyes. 

“They aren’t just banning breeding of prey hybrids, they are eliminating them. I’ve been hearing rumors for weeks about hybrids going missing, but I never would have suspected this.” Tears continue to fall down Madame’s face as she pulls your sobbing mother into her arms. 

“Hybrids are being taken to a military facility where they are either killed outright or used in whatever sick way they want to. A peacock hybrid came to me a little while ago. He and Luhan were picked up earlier today. Luhan helped him escape but wasn’t able to get away himself. He told the peacock to come straight here and warn us that they know about the rest of you and are coming for you next. We need to get you away.” 

“Away? We can’t just leave Luhan!” You push away the shock and disgust over what's happening in favor of concern for your brother. 

“There’s nothing you can do. I, however, still have plenty of connections and money. I will abuse them all to get my sweet Lulu out of there. Meanwhile, I still have Pépère’s cabin that I never use. I don’t even think it’s listed anywhere, so there should be no way for anyone to find you. It’s a bit rustic, but I have faith in you, my dears. I will do all I can and come for you when it’s safe,” Madame pushes Mama and Papa towards the stairs as you follow behind. 

“Go and pack, ma bichette. Only one suitcase, so take your most treasured and essential items. We must leave as quickly as possible.” She pushes you up the stairs as well, patting your cheek lightly before heading towards the kitchen. “I will put together some food. Goodness, I don’t even know what sort of things we have in the pantry.” 

Disbelief and horror have you shaking as you walk to your room and find a single suitcase waiting for you on your bed. You take in the elaborately decorated room, realizing that it might be the last time you ever saw it. Madame had been so thrilled when they’d learned your mother was having a girl and it showed in the room that was fit for a princess. Or a ballerina, of course. 

Your canopied bed was massive and covered in ruffled pink and gold silk. The color scheme continued throughout the entire room - from the pink and gold vanity covered in products to the lush carpets on the marble floor. One of your walls even had a full mirror and barre so you could practice in privacy. There were trophies and ribbons from your various competitions, signed posters from shows you’ve seen, and pictures of friends and family everywhere. You’ve been in this room since the day you were born and now you had to fit a lifetime of memories into a single suitcase. 

Tears fell as you slowly pack your suitcase. You wept for your family. For your poor brother who hopefully wasn’t suffering too much. For Mama and Papa. For Madame. For the little girl that had grown up in this room whose dreams and hopes for her future were dead.

❧

AN: I had planned on this just being a one-shot, but it got really long and complicated, so now it’s becoming a series! I’ve already got most of it written and now I’m just working on breaking them up in appropriate chapters and adding bits here and there. PLEASE let me know what you think, what theories you have, or any ideas for future fics! I love to hear from you guys and I really really hope you like this one! 

#exo #exo fanfic #hybrid!exo #hybrid!minseok #kim minseok #minseok #hybrid #hybrid au #hybrids #hybrid fanfiction #kpop #au #hybrid minseok #hybrid exo

[whosxafraid]

Married Life: Luka/Beth

Meme: Married Life Meme Status: OPEN

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

He’ll pick them up in a minute, he tells himself. Says they’re better off where they are because the floor isn’t as hard to get mud off of as the furniture. Because if anyone (besides the man also stripped down to his skivvies, next to him) knows the size of the fuss she’ll make about dirt in the weaving—it’s him.

So he’ll pick them up in a minute. The only problem is a minute became two became ten became an hour, became two. One bag of ice for his jaw, another for the nether bits. Because the asshole next to him fights dirty, though Luka had left himself wide open. 

But that’s not the point. The point  is….

Keys turning in a lock and there’s a second where his mind punches him twice for not having picked up the dirty clothes yet. But it’s all too late now, isn’t it? And all he can do is manage to tilt his head. Look back, squinting one eye shut so there isn’t three of her warbling on the very awkward horizon afforded him given the angle.

          “He star’ed i’!”

A glare that Riley had, had the same idea. To blame him, verses taking it. The reality is it’s both their faults but damn him if he’s going to take that sitting down. Well he is but—that’s not the point.

          “Oi’ dinna ye sh–tool. Ye be d’one d’at be drawn bloo’ firs’!”

forgets to run the dish washer

They prepare you for war. They prepare you for chaos. They prepare you for a lot of things that would make the average man curl up and cry. But what they don’t prepare you for? What they don’t prepare you for is the surprise. What they don’t prepare you for are the tears and the hugs that could last a week if you let them.  What they don’t prepare you for is coming home.

Coming home to a cat that can’t ever decide if it hates you or loves you. Coming home to cinnamon and half a dozen other floral scents you’re too damn tired to name. Coming home to water running, that’s only drowned out by the crash of a plate in the sink and running feet. That’s forgotten in the wake of a hundred pounds wet vaulting at you without doubt you’ll catch her. Coming home to her because home isn’t home without her there.

And the first thing you fucking say isn’t I love you. Isn’t I missed you. It’s your brother’s on the next flight. Because relief is a hell of a gift, and for a woman that’s loaning out more than most to the United States Armed Forces–she deserves it. 

And maybe your arms tighten a little more around her in the silence. And maybe you bury your face in her hair that hangs over her shoulder like some silk scarf. And you could fall asleep on your feet right then and there. To the scent of coconuts and cinnamon and what’s so easy to trick your mind into thinking is rain pouring out on a tin roof.

pumps gas for the car

        “Praghsanna peitril. Chomh hard is atá sé fuar. Tá mé sa gh—-”

Thunk.

Snow. Wet freezing slush. Cutting down his back like so many tiny rivers, that have a thousand little needles in place of droplets. That makes his spine want to jump right out of him and go slithering into the gas tank because it’s warmer in there. But nothing of the sort happens does it? No he holds it all in. Shoves the shudder in his shoulders down into his feet. Continues watching the price tag of living rising higher and higher and higher until finally…

Thud.

The pump cuts off. The trigger released. A little shake to knock off the access, and don’t get him started on where that makes his brain go. How the differences between a gas pump and a dick weren’t all that many. And back on its perch it goes. Screwing in the gas seal, swinging the latch shut. Refusing the receipt because nine out of ten times they don’t print anyway and–he’s already stepping around the car. 

Already paced himself. Made it look like he hadn’t a care in the world. Even with the sunshine smile on his face. Because she thinks she’s crafty does she? Going to be a wee shite just because she can. Well she’s not getting away with it this time. Because she’s her and he’s him, and every now and then he needs a tick mark or two put on his side of the score board.

So it’s all fluid, she sees it coming, has too if she knows him at all. But stands there unmoving like a deer in the head lights. And up she goes. Plucked from the ground like a princess at the end of any proper fairy tale. Carried a handful of steps (for him anyway) away from car and…deposited into the small snow bank. And the laughter follows after her.

Because her face. The sheer playfulness of it all. The happier times it reminds him of. Reminds him he can still feel that. And that it feels even better because it’s her. And maybe he doubles over a little, feet not quite so sure of themselves, stumbling marginally. At least until he hits a patch of unseen ice, and as the saying goes the bigger they are the harder they fall. But he hardly feels it at all. Flat on his back in the gas station parking lot, laughing clouds of breath into the air.

drives when they’re going somewhere

He knows what it looks like. Knows what they’re all thinking. And if he were perhaps a better man he might just admonish the lot of them. But he’s not is he? So he plays along, plays it up. All the while, keeping the wee woman that’s become the pulsing super nova center of his universe, wrapped safe and tight in his arms. Never mind the weird gate it’s causing him to undertake. Never mind it’s just as awkward for her. Because let them think what they like, just as long as it’s got nothing to do with thinking they’ve got a chance of taking her away.

And there’s slips and slides and laughter that still hasn’t died. Red noses and tinged ears. Flushed cheeks and skin that’s complaining about the cold air finding a way to make contact due to dishevaled clothes. And by the time he’s gotten her back in the car. Run round the car and started it up. They’re both trying to sniffle away the aftermath. Both reaching for the heater at once to jack it up to ridiculous; as he pulls them back out onto the highway.

It isn’t very long though before they realize they forgot the coffee. And Beth’s already fighting with her phone’s gps to find the next closest coffee spot to get their fix. Three attempts and getting him to try it later, she’s simply typing it in. Because google wasn’t built to understand accents. At least not ones as thick as both of theirs. 

            Wha'ya say Creek’s wahine stay f’ hana?

      “Manager fer some richie’s horse ranch. Gives her run a d’place when he no be d’ere which is about forty ou’ o’d’fifty-ta weeks ye get in o’year.”

            Horse ranch?

       “Aye, love.  Ashy already be pickin’ ou’ d’bes’ trails ta take ye on.”

He doesn’t need to look away from the road to know she’s beaming brighter than the sun.

rearranges the furniture

He has no idea when it started, or even that it had until he’s half done, hauling the headboard up five flights of stairs because it wouldn’t fit in the fucking elevator. And by then as the saying goes don’t stop now. So he doesn’t. His pride and his face are at stake at this point. And he’ll be damned if he loses either to that hawked nosed little—

             Lulu, where stay box'a hooks f’ pot rack?

         “One o’d boxes lef’ o’d’stove, love.”

At least he thinks so. He’d packed all this away in storage two years ago, so to be honest as little of it as there was, he can’t be quoted on where anything really is. As far as what box was packed with what anyway. But that’s neither here nor there as he moves to once again head back down the steps. A phone call that sounds a lot like Banks’ Texas, booming out of the speaker of House’s tortured phone.

Another hour if not longer, and eventually—they meet in the middle. The last item sitting stoically in the back of the truck. And he can almost feel it glaring at him. Daring him to even so much as make her twitch in her sleep and–oh no wait that’s Batman glaring at him. A silent truce in minimal gestures and stances. They’ll carry it in together.

The only problem? They both go for the same end. And there’s fifteen minutes of arguing over the best way to carry it with her on it. How best to keep it level. And why it made much more mathematical and logistical sense for Riley to go in backwards. Because you always put the bigger dude at the bottom. In case the top one slips. So you’ve got some kind of chance at both of you and the couch not turning the stairs into a slip n’ slide.

And by the time common sense weighs out there’s a hiss spoken into the air as he leans down to pick up his designated end.

          “Ja’sus, how she be livin’ wi’d ye an’ no gone mad, be o’miracle.”

falls asleep with the TV on

Go big or go home. He likes to do both. Always tries to make it a little special. Flowers from the shop in the airport. Or a plush from a port he can’t ever tell her where was. Simply shows up on her door mat, when she thinks he’s still months out. Always puts her first before even his pillow. Why? Because she’s important. She’s beautiful. And he’s spent every second missing her since he left.

But it…..always goes exactly the same way. They don’t go out. They stay in. Order take out through Uber. And spend the entire night swimming through the best noodles and burgers NYC has to offer, while binge watching everything he missed. Though he never makes it too long after dinner does he? Never quite finishes that last season because a full stomach, six months of jet-lag, and that little piece of heaven snuggled up next to him is the perfect recipe. 

The perfect recipe for making eye lids droop and his head heavy. Until eventually he doesn’t wake up when his skull meets the back of the couch. Doesn’t snap back to awareness, trying to shake off the exhaustion for another few seconds. Eventually that arm around her slackens and doesn’t move again. Eventually the remote tilts of his hand, and that one foot relaxes near parallel agianst the coffee table.

Tomorrow he’ll wake up with half a dozen kinks in his neck but it’ll be worth it. Tomorrow he’ll make it up to her with a late breakfast, and dinner that isn’t soaked in grease. Tomorrow….tomorrow is a lot of things. One of which right now is far away. So for now he enjoys the little things that have become large ones.

Things like sleeping on his girlfriends couch.Things like having her tucked up against him.Things like being at home, where he can switch off and just be him.

gets to use the bathroom first

She thinks she’s quiet. Sneaky as a mouse. And maybe she is, but he’s just wired to wake up with even slight changes. Even if he’s drifting off and back again after she’s moved beyond his awareness.

He could get up. Help with the coffee. But he doesn’t. Could throw on clothes and go scrounge up breakfast so neither of them have to cook. But he doesn’t. Selfishly he rolls over. Shifts her pillow closer and plants his face in it. Pulls the covers up over his head, and breathes it all in. 

Thinks about taking finally taking her on a proper vacation. They both need it, and she deserves it. And that…that leads to other things. Things that are small and square and hidden for safe keeping in a loose slat he’d found in the flooring under the bed. Which makes the cogs start turning because it’s a big deal. And it’s got to be just right.

And somewhere beneath multi-colored cotton there’s a sleepy smile pressed into her pillow, before he’s gone again. Lost to the quiet blankness of non-existent dreams. And honestly? He doesn’t stir a muscle when she slips out of the bedroom and down the hall.

But it’s okay. Because later? The bathroom will still smell like her. At least until that bottle of man is cracked open.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

Seventy-five. Loses her shoes.

Eighty. Gets him a sweater landing on his head.

Eighty-three. Socks get eaten by the couch.

Eighty-six. A shirt becomes a wadded up pillow.

Ninety. There goes the skirt in a puddle on the floor.

Ninety-five…that curved back end is getting followed to the bed room. Because leather sticks and cotton breathes.

sets up holiday decorations

Things you miss.

Fighting with fake cobwebs, to make them just right. Spending an egregious amount of green on candy that will mostly go uneaten by the tricksters and treaters that come to call.

Staring at the turkey in the oven. Still trying to work out why this is a Thanksgiving food and not a Christmas one. Because where you’re from Thanksgiving hadn’t been a thing. Appreciating the stuffing though because okay yes, they did manage to upgrade that.

Rockefeller center squeezed into one little loft apartment. He can almost feel the warmth of it all in the photo. Smell the Christmas biscuits, hear the records playing in the background. Taste the snow that still lingers on the edges of you for hours after coming inside.

The horrendously stereotypical scene makes him laugh. But there’s something not at all mocking about it. Because it’s his two favorite people in the world caught inside one small five by eleven. The radiance that Beth always is, and the little boy that really wasn’t so little anymore.

Each one is stuck to the underside of House’s bed. Each one cherished and looked after. And when it’s time to go home. Where the pictures become people, they’ll be tucked away in that box he keeps under his nightstand. Where every other moment he’s missed lies ready to remind him–why he does what he does. Why he leaves. Why he pays the price of not being in their lives more.

Because soldiers don’t fight because they hate what’s in front of them, they fight because they love what’s behind him. And all the missed moments too.

leaves the lights on

Night lights. They never were a thing in his house. Save the light over the sink that was always on. Because his mother had said the fair folk wouldn’t come. That if you left the lights on, they would think you awake. So the O’Rian children had grown up with no fear of the dark. No sense of it being evil. Because darkness meant the fair folk would come. And how could that be a bad thing?

But he’s too old to believe in that sort of thing anymore. Growing up, knowledge, being a SEAL; they’d all bled the fantastical out him. Or at least he’d thought so until he’d met her. When she’d either knowingly or unknowingly rekindled that little light in him. Reminding him the magic was still there, he’d just chose to stop seeing it.

So he goes to Home Depot. But they’re just not–so the bench outside the store it is. Asking the almighty google for help. And when that doesn’t work? He makes a long distance phone call. Even if it’s past reasonable calling hours there. Because the receiver isn’t going to care. And like clock work she picks up on the second and a half ring.

Twenty minutes later, he back inside the store. Buying battery powered light clusters, and spray adhesive. Then it’s off to the dollar store for jars and glitter and a can of spray paint. Back to his place. Digging up yesterdays newspaper and three hours later…

A jar of lit glitter is standing vigil in every room. And Luka? He’s still picking silver and gold out of his hair and beard and out from under his nails for weeks afterward.

uses the bathroom with the door open

Privacy. He’d never had it growing up, so there was little to no adjustment required when he hit basic. Let alone everything else that followed after it. So he really…the first time it’d happened, had been after. And she’d already seen it all anyway. No harm no foul. Especially considering her vocation. She knew how it all worked to begin with.

But there’s the little reasons too. The way she likes to pretend it’s not happening. The way the conversation between them doesn’t have to ebb or pause because body functions are a thing. And honestly it’s not like it takes ages to piss. Ten seconds give or take a little, shake, flush, wash, done. It’s just easier with not having to worry with the door.

           “Ye bro’der an’ ta wee lad, be comin’ fer dinner, aye? We just be bringin’ i’ up d’en. S’jus’ o’weeken’, love. D’ink he’ll live.”

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

It’s four am. He should have been asleep seven hours ago. First bells in an hour. But he’s gone longer without sleep. He’ll be fine. By four thirty he’s hung up with the plumber. They’ll be there in three hours. He sends her a text to let her know, before he shifts gears entirely. Puts the SEAL back on and cuts into his reserves.

But even the seven mile run down the beach doesn’t push the worry away.  Doesn’t stop the cogs from turning about what can be done to change things. To put her in a better position. A better place where things aren’t going to break down on her every third week of the month. And if something does break, all she has to do is make a phone call. They’ll fix it. No hassle. 

But it’s not as simple as moving a few bits of furniture. Trading one key for another one. No it’s way more complicated. Because she has a thinks himself a knight for a brother, and one of God Almighty’s literal mouth pieces for a best friend. So the simple question of asking your girlfriend to move in with you, becomes very much not simple. And round and round and round it goes in his head.

Until somewhere between mess and his head hitting the pillow a word of advice comes from the most—unexpected of places.

Jus’ ask ‘er ta marry ya already, dumbass. Peej’ll have a stroke sure but at least ya won’t have the lord’s m’shepard, up ya ass for ya livin’ together.

And maybe he lays there staring a bit dumbfounded at Creek for a long minute. Because it’s honestly the last piece of advice Luka would have ever thought Mister-I-Don’t-Believe-In-Marriage would suggest. Still it’s a thought. A real viable one. And that box under the floorboards beneath his bed back home, is getting pretty full. Maybe he’s got just enough to pull it off. Luck with him of course that she says yes.

#brooklynislandgirl #[four scores seven years and 100 miles later] #[here it is] #beagáinín || beth riley #He Doesnt Know How Heaven Could Be Better Than Her || Beth and Luka #traveling soldier || military au [ closed ] #return to sender || answered asks #[long post]

[wokeuptired]

night 2 of natasha’s 8 nights of chanukah | read the other nights here

between body and word

As executive assistant to the president of the LA Philharmonic, Calder Schwartz overhears a lot of things that she probably shouldn't.

She knows that Maria Reynoso, first violin, hates Georgia Copper, second violin, and is only pretending to be her friend.

She knows that the president's wife just ramped her flirtationship with the (female) second oboe into high gear.

And she knows that Harry Styles, the orchestra's new wunderkind cellist, is a total fraud.

Good thing she also knows how to keep her mouth shut.

Niall's on the couch again.

Calder nearly wakes him up when she comes in, tripping over the umbrella that's lying in the doorway and barely managing to catch herself before she lands flat on her face. She's muttering curses at the umbrella when she notices him, huddled under blankets on the couch with only the tips of his hair peeking out.

"Fuck," Calder whispers, not because of Niall but because she's pretty sure she forgot to lock her car. She turns around, sticks her arm out the doorway, and presses the button on her key remote several times until she's pretty sure she can hear her car beep somewhere down the road. Her regular spot was taken when she arrived, which wasn't really any surprise, but it did mean that she had to park in front of the Farmers' condo instead of her own. Their dog will probably urinate on her bumper in the morning to get revenge.

Calder drops her keys in the bowl on the table and eases the door shut behind her, turning the lock slowly so that it won't make any noise. She contemplates kicking her heels off right here and carrying them down the hall, but they have straps and she's worried she might tip over if she tries to undo them. And that'd certainly be louder than the click of her steps on the laminate.

"Calder?"

Shit. Calder turns around and bows her head in apology at Niall, who's sitting up on his elbows and blinking at her. There's a bit of light streaming in through the front window, and it's just enough to illuminate the bags under his eyes.

"Hey," she says, keeping her voice low so that she doesn't wake up May. "You guys have a fight again?"

Niall shrugs sheepishly. "Think we might've really ruined it this time, buttercup."

"No way," Calder says, shaking her head. She'd love to stay here and hash this out for hours the way they usually do, but her eyes are burning.  "You'll fix it. You always do."

"Mmph." Niall burrows deeper into the couch and closes his eyes.

"You do," Calder says anyway. "But she really should be the one sleeping on the couch. You lived here first, remember?"

"I'm a perfect gentleman, remember?"

"Sure you are," she says. "I'm going to bed. You okay for the night?"

"Sure am, buttercup."

In her room, Calder drapes her dress over the armchair she stole from her parents and pulls one of Liam's old t-shirts over her head. She may've rid every bit of him from her life, but that doesn't mean she had to get rid of his t-shirts. She's had them so long they don't smell like anybody but her anymore, anyway.

And then she scrubs all traces on tonight's makeup from her face before crawling into bed, regretting her cold sheets. If it hadn't been for Harry Styles, she would've been home hours ago.

Tonight was the first fundraiser of the season, and it was Calder's job to make sure that Andrew's glass always had fresh ice, and to make sure that Harry Styles was sober for his speech.

It wasn't so much a speech as it was a greeting—he was meant to stand beside Andrew and Lulu as they made a toast to the new season—but it was important that he wasn't teetering on his long legs all the same. So Calder kept one eye on him all night, and the other on her boss, whose hand kept flitting toward his chest pocket, where she'd stowed his note cards, the ones listing all the guests and their children and their most worthy attributes, before the event began. She was prepared to grab for them if he attempted to pull them out: nothing would be worse for him than admitting he'd forgotten the name of somebody's grandson who'd just started at Harvard.

And out of the corner of her eye, she watched Harry.

She'd heard too much about Harry Styles before she met him. She'd heard so much about him that she thought she knew everything about him before he walked into his first rehearsal.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

She was assuming he would be jovial, though maybe a bit precocious due to all his success. He is, after all, the youngest member of the orchestra in decades.

But he is, it turns out, not jovial at all. He's barely polite. He's standoffish, cold shouldered, and prone to looking over your head while he speaks to you, as if to reinforce into your consciousness the fact that he is infinitely taller than you. He's infinitely taller than almost everyone, taller even than the conductor. Calder thought that he'd have to hunch over in order to play his cello, but she was wrong about that too. When he plays, he looks like his cello was built for his body.

Which it very well might have been—he certainly has enough clout for that.

Tonight, he wasn’t using any of that clout to his advantage. He was hiding in corners, prowling about, looking like he either wanted to rob the place or burn it down. Calder watched Andrew flitting his eyes anxiously at Harry enough times that eventually she went over to grab his arm and haul him back to his job.

Which he’d resisted, of course.

It seemed that all Harry Styles ever did was resist, especially when it came to Calder. They’d been at each other’s throats since the day he arrived and she was informed that it was now part of her job description to “make sure he’s settling in,” which is code for, “don’t give him room to fuck up.”

“Let go of me,” Harry had snapped at her, trying to release his arm from her grasp. But if there was one thing working for Calder tonight, it was her acrylic nails, which she kept digging into his forearm. “And give me back my drink.”

Calder ignored him and dropped his half-drunk martini on the tray of a passing waiter.

“Listen, love.” Harry changed tactics, moving closer to her as she pulled him across the party toward Andrew and Lulu. “It’s so very boring here, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you rather—”

“You don’t know my name yet?” Calder knew she surprised him by speaking when he stumbled. She tightened her grip on his arm but didn’t slow her pace as he tripped over his own feet. “You don’t even remember yelling at me for bringing you the wrong kind of tea yesterday, do you?”

“Of course I do,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was lying.

Harry Styles is very good at lying.

#8nights

[climbing-the-redwood]

Another Year

[Izzy! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞] : Psst

[Izzy! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞] : Pssssssst

[Izzy! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞] : Lulu~ Answer meeee~

[Lulucifer] : What is it? I’m getting yelled at again, make it quick.

[Izzy! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞] : Fiiine, I’ll ask later. Just escape to the tree!

[Izzy! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞] : I have something for you~

[Lulucifer] : Coming.

The interruption only added time to the lecture Luci was barely listening to. So what if he left someone behind? It wasn’t his fault they wanted to play with their drone and couldn’t handle the consequences. Maybe they should have kept their hand on a flash instead of a remote. Even so, he feigned remorse, if only to get him out of a worse punishment. He was already on thin ice just by his associations; the more he acted out, the more he confirmed himself as a Hunter’s whelp. A few faces already sneered at him. Too many more and he’d find himself in the woods without a roof over his head.

Not that he minded much.

After another ten minutes of false empathy, Lucius snuck past the twins guarding the door and dashed into the trees, a light smile crossing his face. None of them seemed to understand it: the whispers of the wind, the bite of wood under your palms, the adrenaline of a good chase. They never would.

Time seemed to whisk by as he ran, leaving behind his prison for a much more comfortable view. Stars glittered above the dry branches overlooking Dream Therapy’s outer entrance. Grass crunched quietly beneath his feet. The wind fluttered his hair just out of his face. A pleasant night.

Izzy sat in the crook of the dying tree, hair tied into a tight bun and a doodled-on backpack hanging behind her. She’d ditched her usual skirt for some worn jeans and a tank top, and actually had small studs in her ears for once. She hummed a jaunty tune to herself, only stopping when her brother came into view. With a grin, she jumped down from the tree, rolling out from the fall and jumping to her feet in one fluid motion. Luci rolled his eyes.

Show off.

“Is that all you wanted to show me?” He smirked, crossing his arms. Izzy blinked blankly at him.

“Do... you really not know what day it is?”

“Of course I do. It’s Sunday.”

“Nooooo---” Isadora laughed quietly and took his arm cautiously, walking him to the other side of the tree, toward the ledge. “You’re not wrong, but there’s something else!” Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, leaving her brother even more confused.

Luci squinted into the distance. It wasn’t Michael’s birthday. It wasn’t the Hunt anniversary. It wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t the cultist’s wedding anniversary. He scanned her over quickly. She was too her to be suppressed. It wasn’t a holiday... He squinted harder.

A concerned, but sympathetic expression melted over Izzy’s face.

“Happy birthday, Lucius.” She let go of his arm and pulled her backpack in front of her, pulling out an unfamiliar candy bar, a box wrapped in old newspaper, and a bag of M&M cookies.

Again, Luci stared down at the gifts, taking a moment to process what was happening. Gifts? For him? Even after the Hunt, he never really got used to actually getting gifts every birthday. Why did he need it every birthday? Wouldn’t he just get overloaded with stuff? What would he even do with all of that? Still, he sighed, a soft smile crossing his face.

“You know I don’t have anywhere to put things now, right?” Izzy sat and patted the ground next to her. Luci followed suit.

“I know!” Isadora giggled. “That’s why I brought mostly food. I think you’ll like the chocolate.” She held out the bar again for Lucius to take. Lindt Chili Dark Chocolate. He raised an eyebrow as he took it.

“Chili?”

“You still like not tasting things ever again, right?” Izzy grinned, earning her another eye roll.

“It’s called capsaicin, and it actually makes food taste.” He held a glare for about two seconds before they both broke out laughing. God, it was nice to just laugh. It’d been a while since he last gave a genuine one.

Once he caught his breath, Luci leaned back on the tree and opened the wrapper. His eyes widened a bit in excitement. He could actually see the pepper pieces in it. Impatience taking hold of him, Lucius took a haphazard bite, not caring about the pre-sectioned pieces at all. It wasn’t the spiciest thing he’d ever tasted --it didn’t even make his eyes water-- but it was enough to make his mouth tingle at least.

“Damn, I hyped myself up too much. Town doesn’t even have decent chocolate!” He thrust the candy into the air, then took another bite anyway, smiling at the stars.

“Hey!” Izzy nudged him. “Don’t get so numb you can’t taste the cookies! I made these.” She picked up the bag and shook them in front of him.

“Don’t tell me what to do--”

“They’re not gonna be warm much longer!~” Luci paused, then begrudgingly wrapped the foil back around the chocolate. Warm cookies were a rarity he was not about to pass up. Izzy smiled knowingly as she opened the bag.

The scent of fresh-baked cookies wafted up from the bag, making both of their mouths water. There were about half a dozen perfectly browned cookies with only a few bits crumbled at the bottom. The birthday boy’s eyes went wide.  Luci darted his hand in first, just as quickly taking a huge bite.

It practically melted in his mouth. The candies were just soft, but just crunchy enough to be satisfying to bite into. The cookie itself was soft, but not so crumbly that it would make a mess. Luci felt a warmth pulse through his body. Was this “normal?” It was definitely boring enough to be. And yet, it was a nice change of pace from the constant scowls and running. Luci scratched at his shoulder and laid down over his sister’s lap.

“And when did you learn how to bake?”

“Mum taught me, I just haven’t done it in a while. It takes a lot of blood you know.” Izzy nodded. “What, are you jealous?”

“No!” Luci glared, “I just can’t rely on you to make everything.”

“Oh,” Izzy’s eyes glimmered mischievously, “So you don’t want the rest of these?”

“That’s not what I said!” His arm darted for the cookie bag, just for it to be pulled out of reach. Luci narrowed his eyes. “I’ll steal them.”

“I know.” Izzy dropped the bag on his chest and took another cookie. “That’s why I left another one in the house. I figured you’d want some crimes.” Lucius chuckled through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Fuck yeah I do.” He shoved the last few cookies in his mouth, preparing to dart up from his position. Izzy sighed. Of course that’d get him moving. She put a hand on his shoulder, earning a flinch and as much of a glare as her brother could muster.

“You’re not very intimidating with a mouth full of cookies, Lulu.” Izzy said with a matter-of-fact tone before releasing his shoulder. “There’s one more thing before you can commit crimes.”

“What?”

“The box!”

“... Oh right.” He’d almost forgotten in his cookie-fueled haze. Luci sat back up, halved cookies falling from his mouth. His eyes went wide as he tried to catch them, making quite a few distressed noises while he was at it. Izzy couldn’t help but giggle. She wondered if he could ever get used to this.

Luci frantically finished his cookies and sat back up, brushing crumbs off the glow of his shirt. He was almost like a kitten, sitting at attention after seeing a bug flying through the air. For a moment, he almost looked... normal. As if none of this had ever happened. As if the scars were fake. Izzy let a wistful smile cross her lips as she put the present back in front of her brother.

As if it would be stolen from in front of him. Luci ripped open the paper ferociously, using his nails to slice open the tape. It pained him a bit to ignore the stories printed on the “wrapping paper,” but if it was so important that he got this... he could make an exception. He opened the flaps and stared inside... It didn’t take him long to realize what it was.

A small stuffed Cerberus stared back up at him with felt eyes and soft fur. It was obviously handmade, as some of the stitches weren’t quite as invisible as they could have been, and it looked as if three separate dog toys were sewn together, but that didn’t take anything away from the finished product. There was even a little felt collar around each neck.

Lucius stared at it for a bit, mesmerized by the softness and the obvious effort that went into the toy. This... was his? She made this? For him? Why? What did she want? What was this supposed to make him do? The thoughts swam behind his eyes. It was too good to not be a bribe, right?

Izzy sighed. “I don’t want anything from you.” She shook her head, putting her hands over his. “I just wanted to make it for you. Hades needs his Cerberus, does he not?”

Waves of scrutiny emanated from Lucius. That... couldn’t be right. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. There was always a--

He caught himself. This was his sister. This was the one who’d helped him with his knife grips just so they’d be on equal ground. The one who’d pulled him back to his feet after a long sparring match and patched his wounds so they’d heal faster.

The one who watched the stars with him in the open air, nothing but fascination in both their eyes. Competition or not, she always wanted to be on equal ground. Maybe... she wasn’t lying.

Cautiously, the walls came down again, putting a smile on Luci’s face.

“And where am I supposed to hide this?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Izzy tapped her forehead against his, voice quiet and full of hope. Luci tensed from the sudden contact, but slowly dropped his guard again, closing his eyes and hugging the toy close to his chest. Tears bubbled up in his chest. She really knew just what to do, didn’t she?

... He missed their mom.

The two kids sat in the cool of night for a few minutes, letting the breeze curl around them and the stars blink lazily overhead. A single tear dripped down Luci’s cheek, whisked away into brown fur. Izzy lifted her head and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Happy birthday, Lulu.”

“... Thanks Izzy.”

#drabble

[traveleeee]

Best thing to do in khasab, Musandam

Gulf region has a unique charm and attraction for the tourist. After the modification and remarkable developments in Gulf countries, lovers of tour and travel must want to have a trip there and explore the Arab world.

And yes, if you are also planning to move towards Oman, you will never miss the chance to go Khasab city to make your tour more enjoyable and pleasant.  Before we guide you about the things to do in Khasab, just have some intro to the beautiful city.

Khasab is a small town of Oman; its temperature usually remains hot. It has supermarkets, tour companies, grocery stores, restaurants and one of big LULU supermarket.  Because of sea and beautiful beaches, people from UAE frequently visited Khasab by road and stay here for Khasab Beach Camping. Here are the things to do in Khasab:

Khasab Beach Camping

If you are planning to do camping near the beach, then no option is better than Khasab beach camping.  The best spot between the mountains:

near the sea. It is better to ask Travel Company to arrange at safe side camp.

Many travel agencies offer the services to arrange camping facilities to visitors.

The package usually includes fields, foods, And bar b cue, etc.

It is the breathtaking and pleasant scene between the mountains, near the sea.

There are many spots for Khasab beach camping, one of the best musandam camping sites book with khourshemtours

You will safely park your car as there are small parking areas along the coastal road.  After reaching there, you will have to ask local boat owner to take you to a remote beach where you get your camps along with sleep bags, table chair, and wood for the fire at night, fresh water bags for bath, free wi-Fi and music, etc.  Barb cue dinner would be prepared for you at the beach. People would like to enjoy during Khasab beach camping as they are having fun by playing different games near the beach.

It is fantastic sunset view from the camp, birds flying nearby the sea looks beautiful, and the services provided by the companies makes your trip more delightful.

It is your choice to hire a cruise to go to the sea or only to stay at the camp. Most of the people must go with dhow cruise as it gives more pleasure and excitement.

Khasab Dhow Cruise:

Khasab dhow cruise is a “must go” enjoyment.  Your picnic will be incomplete without having fun on the dhow cruise.

Visitors have to book a cruise to spend their day in the Arabian Sea. You can reserve your dhow by email. Usually, it takes 24 hours before your visit to confirm your booking so be careful when you plan to go for dhow cruise.

After getting confirmation, you have to go to the beach.When you reach the port, you will be welcomed by the boat crew. The boats are spotless and immaculate where you will also entertain by foods including tea and cold drinks.

You can reserve your boat only for you and may also share with other tourists. The choice is yours; only you have to pay extra charges for personal reservation. During having fun on Khasab dhow cruise, the crew will guide you and give information to the main interesting points in the sea.

One of the amazing things on the dhow cruise is to see dolphin very near to you. There are many dolphins’ swims around the dhow, which makes your trip more pleasant, even sometimes dolphins do the race with dhow cruise, and that is becoming fun.

You will see the dolphin playing with water.  Visitors also have an opportunity to swim under the guidance of crew expert. The Khasab Dhow Cruise trip usually includes a visit to Telegraph and Seebi Islands where you can swim and snorkel with thousands of small fishes around you in beautiful clear water.

You can take a bath as there are washrooms on the islands. Lunch and snacks will offer to you. You will be asked to back to camp before the sun set. It is an absolute must on a visit to Khasab city.

[traveleeee]

Best thing to do in khasab, Musandam

Gulf region has a unique charm and attraction for the tourist. After the modification and remarkable developments in Gulf countries, lovers of tour and travel must want to have a trip there and explore the Arab world.

And yes, if you are also planning to move towards Oman, you will never miss the chance to go Khasab city to make your tour more enjoyable and pleasant.  Before we guide you about the things to do in Khasab, just have some intro to the beautiful city.

Khasab is a small town of Oman; its temperature usually remains hot. It has supermarkets, tour companies, grocery stores, restaurants and one of big LULU supermarket.  Because of sea and beautiful beaches, people from UAE frequently visited Khasab by road and stay here for Khasab Beach Camping. Here are the things to do in Khasab:

Khasab Beach Camping

If you are planning to do camping near the beach, then no option is better than Khasab beach camping.  The best spot between the mountains:

near the sea. It is better to ask Travel Company to arrange at safe side camp.

Many travel agencies offer the services to arrange camping facilities to visitors.

The package usually includes fields, foods, And bar b cue, etc.

It is the breathtaking and pleasant scene between the mountains, near the sea.

There are many spots for Khasab beach camping, one of the best musandam camping sites book with khourshemtours

You will safely park your car as there are small parking areas along the coastal road.  After reaching there, you will have to ask local boat owner to take you to a remote beach where you get your camps along with sleep bags, table chair, and wood for the fire at night, fresh water bags for bath, free wi-Fi and music, etc.  Barb cue dinner would be prepared for you at the beach. People would like to enjoy during Khasab beach camping as they are having fun by playing different games near the beach.

It is fantastic sunset view from the camp, birds flying nearby the sea looks beautiful, and the services provided by the companies makes your trip more delightful.

It is your choice to hire a cruise to go to the sea or only to stay at the camp. Most of the people must go with dhow cruise as it gives more pleasure and excitement.

Khasab Dhow Cruise:

Khasab dhow cruise is a “must go” enjoyment.  Your picnic will be incomplete without having fun on the dhow cruise.

Visitors have to book a cruise to spend their day in the Arabian Sea. You can reserve your dhow by email. Usually, it takes 24 hours before your visit to confirm your booking so be careful when you plan to go for dhow cruise.

After getting confirmation, you have to go to the beach.When you reach the port, you will be welcomed by the boat crew. The boats are spotless and immaculate where you will also entertain by foods including tea and cold drinks.

You can reserve your boat only for you and may also share with other tourists. The choice is yours; only you have to pay extra charges for personal reservation. During having fun on Khasab dhow cruise, the crew will guide you and give information to the main interesting points in the sea.

One of the amazing things on the dhow cruise is to see dolphin very near to you. There are many dolphins’ swims around the dhow, which makes your trip more pleasant, even sometimes dolphins do the race with dhow cruise, and that is becoming fun.

You will see the dolphin playing with water.  Visitors also have an opportunity to swim under the guidance of crew expert. The Khasab Dhow Cruise trip usually includes a visit to Telegraph and Seebi Islands where you can swim and snorkel with thousands of small fishes around you in beautiful clear water.

You can take a bath as there are washrooms on the islands. Lunch and snacks will offer to you. You will be asked to back to camp before the sun set. It is an absolute must on a visit to Khasab city.