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sciatu · 5 years

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Il quadro di Donna Franca Florio nella versione definitiva di Boldini : Boldini con alle spalle la seconda versione del quadro esposto a Venezia (nota quanto è bassa la spallina rispetto alla scollatura); La prima versione del quadro; Il vestito con cui venne ritratta; L’abito di perle e diamanti da dama di compagnia della regina Elena alla corte Piemontese; Ritratto fotografico colorato di Donna Flora, Un altro abito di Donna Franca; Ritratto di Donna Florio come Dama di Compagnia della Regina Elena, Il ritratto di Donna Franca ai Quattro Pizzi, la sua ultima dimora a Palermo; Particolare del volto di Donna Franca nel quadro di Boldini.

The painting by Donna Franca Florio in the final version by Boldini: Boldini with the second version of the painting displayed in Venice behind it (note how low the shoulder pad is compared to the neckline); The first version of the picture; The dress with which she was portrayed; Donna Franca’s pearl and diamond dress as queen of honor for Queen Elena at the Piedmont court; Colorful photographic portrait of Donna Flora, Another dress by Donna Franca; Detail of the face of Donna Franca in the painting by Boldini.

L’aiutante di campo imperiale, un giovane Junker alto, biondo con due baffi perfettamente allineati all’in su e una cicatrice sulla guancia sinistra che lo rivelava appartenere alla nobiltà militare prussiana, si presentò alla nobildonna dicendo che sua altezza imperiale l’attendeva a palazzo ed lo aveva mandato a prenderla con la sua macchina di rappresentanza. La nobildonna l’osservò con noncuranza e disse che si sarebbe preparata e di aspettare muovendosi con sensuale lentezza. L’aiutante di campo, fissando un punto lontano su muro per evitare di essere aggredito dalla femminilità della donna, aggiunse che sua altezza imperiale le aveva mandato in dono una tromba per automobile, una di quelle con un soffietto alla base che una volta schiacciato faceva emettere alla tromba un suono nasale. La nobildonna mosse un sopracciglio verso l’alto. Sua altezza imperiale il Kaiser Guglielmo che lei chiamava Willy, aveva un umorismo particolare. L’aiutante di campo, fissando il solito punto lontano le chiarì che con quella tromba sarebbero arrivati velocemente da sua altezza imperiale: al suo suono, chiunque fosse sulla strada doveva spostarsi di lato e lasciarli passare. La nobildonna scopri che era proprio cosi! Appena una carrozza o un carrettino sentiva la tromba, il cocchiere si spostava di lato fermandosi. Le strade affollate della caotica Berlino, al sentire il suono della tromba diventavano silenziose ed immobili. Le carrozze e le prime macchine attendevano di lato di essere superate, i borghesi sul marciapiede si fermavano e levatosi il cappello inchinavano il capo, le commesse uscivano dai negozi per vedere chi stava passando, i gendarmi sulla strada correvano agli incroci a fermare il traffico per far passare l’auto imperiale e si irrigidivano in un perfetto saluto militare. La nobildonna capì che il regalo del suo amico Willi consisteva nell’averla resa la donna più importante di Berlino. Sorrise divertita, in fondo lei era già la donna più importante d’Italia e sicuramente della Sicilia, perché lei era Franca Jacona della Motta dei Baroni di San Giuliano e quindi Donna Franca Florio, o, come il poeta D’Annunzio l’aveva chiamata, lei era “l’Unica”!

I Florio a quel tempo stavano lottando per salvare il loro (troppo) vasto impero economico. Avevano comunque ancora un prestigio enorme ed il sogno di rendere Palermo una città degna e paragonabile alle capitali nord Europee. Di questo sogno che suo cognato Vincenzo e suo marito Ignazio Florio perseguivano, lei, Donna Florio era la protagonista. Per questo motivo, nel rispetto del suo ruolo, come molte altre nobildonne italiane e straniere, Ignazio Florio decise che anche Donna Florio doveva essere ritratta dal famoso pittore Boldini e lo fece partire da Parigi per Palermo. Per questo motivo Donna Franca si presentò di fronte al famoso pittore con un vestito scuro, elegante, che la copriva fino al collo. Bodini l’osservò attentamente, incominciò a schizzare un bozzetto e poi incominciò a dipingere. Ora, un pittore dipinge quello che osserva, un grande pittore dipinge quello che vede, e Boldini era un grande pittore per cui, contrariamente alle altre nobildonne riccamente coperte da lussuosi vestiti, Bodini la spogliò.

Dicono che a vedere il quadro il marito Ignazio diede in escandescenze. Sua moglie non solo a spalle nude, ma con anche una spallina che le scendeva a metà del braccio ad evocare peccaminosi e lussuriosi atteggiamenti. Non che lui fosse un santo. La grande collezione di gioielli di Donna Franca nasceva dal fatto che ad ogni suo tradimento lui le regalava una spilla di smeraldi o una collana con 365 perle. Ma il vedere sua moglie nella sua solare, nobile e intensa sensualità sotto gli occhi di tutti lo aveva imbestialito. Pretese che il dipinto venisse modificato. Boldini, giocoforza, visto l’alto lignaggio dei committenti, modificò il quadro, cambiando alcune parti del vestito in modo da renderlo più moderno. Il quadro mostrato alla biennale di Venezia aumentò le ire di Ignazio: la spallina era ancora bassa e sua moglie sembrava quasi che stava per perdere il vestito. Alla fine il povero Boldini rivide una terza volta il quadro, rimuovendo i guanti scopri le braccia della nobildonna e rese ancor più moderno il vestito rendendola da dama del tardo 1800 a precorritrice della bella époque. Le spalline del vestito si alzarono a coprire le peccaminosamente spalle nude. Malgrado questo ritocco nulla poteva nascondere la bellezza e l’eleganza di una donna che fu musa, esempio di eleganza e bellezza nonché il simbolo della “Palermo Felice” di inizio secolo.

Theaide-de-camp, a tall young Junker, blond with two mustaches perfectly aligned upwards and a scar on his left cheek that revealed him to belong to the Prussian military nobility, presented himself to the noblewoman saying that his imperial height was awaiting her at palace and sent him to take her with his representative car. The noblewoman observed it carelessly and said that she would be prepared and wait moving with sensual slowness. The adjutant, setting a distant point on the wall to avoid being attacked by the woman’s femininity, added that his imperial highness had sent her a car trumpet as a gift, one of those with a bellows at the base that once crushed was trumpet a nasal sound. The noblewoman raised an eyebrow upwards. His imperial highness the Kaiser Wilhelm. that she called Willy, had a particular humor. The aide-de-camp, fixing the usual far point made it clear to her that with that trumpet they would arrive quickly from his imperial height: at his sound, whoever was on the road had to move sideways and let them pass. The noblewoman discovered that it was really so! As soon as a carriage or cart felt the trumpet, the coachman moved sideways, stopping. The crowded streets of chaotic Berlin, as they heard the sound of the trumpet, became silent and still. The carriages and the first cars waited on the side to be overcome, the bourgeois on the pavement stopped and raised their hat they bowed their heads, the salesgirls came out of the shops to see who was passing, the gendarmes on the road ran to the intersections to stop the traffic for let the imperial car pass and stiffen in perfect military salute. The noblewoman realized that her friend Willi’s gift was to have made her the most important woman in Berlin. She smiled amused, after all she was already the most important woman in Italy and certainly in Sicily, because she was Franca Jacona of the Motta dei Baroni of San Giuliano and then Donna Franca Florio, or, as the poet D'Annunzio had called her , she was “the Only One”! The Florio at that time were struggling to save their (too much) vast economic empire. However, they still had enormous prestige and the dream of making Palermo a city worthy of and comparable to the North European capitals. Donna Florio was the protagonist of this dream that her brother-in-law Vincenzo and her husband Ignazio Florio pursued. For this reason, respecting his role, like many other Italian and foreign noblewomen, Ignazio Florio decided that Donna Florio also had to be portrayed by the famous painter Boldini and had him leave Paris for Palermo. For this reason, Donna Franca presented herself in front of the famous painter with a dark, elegant dress that covered her up to her neck. Bodini observed it carefully, began to sketch a sketch and then began to paint. Now, a painter paints what he observes, a great painter paints what he sees, and Boldini was a great painter so, contrary to other noblewomen richly covered by luxurious clothes, Bodini undressed her. They say that to see the picture her husband Ignazio gave an outburst. His wife not only with bare shoulders, but also with a shoulder strap that came down in the middle of her arm to evoke sinful and lustful attitudes. Not that he was a saint. Donna Franca’s great jewelry collection was born from the fact that with every betrayal he asked for forgiveness by giving themgave her an emerald brooch or a necklace with 365 pearls. But seeing his wife in his sunny, noble and intense sensuality before everyone’s eyes had infuriated him. He claimed that the painting was modified. Boldini, of course, given the high lineage of the patrons, modified the picture, changing some parts of the dress to make it more modern. The picture shown at the Venice Biennale increased Ignazio’s anger: the shoulder strap was still low and his wife looked as if he was about to lose his dress. In the end the poor Boldini saw the picture a third time, removing the gloves he covered the arms of the noblewoman and made the dress even more modern by making it the lady of the late 1800’s as a forerunner of the belle époque. The shoulder pads of the dress rose to cover the sinfully bare shoulders. Despite this retouching nothing could hide the beauty and elegance of a woman who was a muse, an example of elegance and beauty as well as the symbol of the “Happy Palermo” of the beginning of the century.

#Sicilia #Sicily #Palermo #Florio

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mirandske101 · 4 years

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The Church of Davao

Sto.Rosario Church

When i go to sto. Rosario church i feel comfortable and also it look’s amazing inside the church its very peaceful place, and also this church is the most old church of toril poblacion church

According to this church history

Taong 1930, nagtayo ng maliit na kapilya ang mga Caballeros Catolicas na grupo ng mga kalalakihan at Damas Catolicas, grupo ng mga kababaihan sa Toril. Ito ay bilang pagpakita ng kanilang pagkakaisa at pananampalataya sa Panginoon.

“Sto. Rosario” ang napiling patron bilang pagpupugay kay Santa Maria. Ang kapilyang ito ay sakop ng San Pedro Parish (San Pedro Cathedral na ngayon) na kabilang sa Diocese of Zamboanga. Ang kapistahan ay Oktobre 17.

Taong 1948, dumating ang Foreign Mission Society of Quebec (PME Priests) na nagtayo ng paaralan sa lugar. Dahil sa kanilang presensya naging madalas ang misa tuwing Linggo at nilipat ang araw ng kapistahan sa Oktobre 7 base sa liturgical calendar.

Taong 1951, naging parokya ang Sto. Rosario pagkatapos ng pormal na paglagda sa canonical erection. Ito ay naging isa sa 13 parokya na bahagi ng prelature ng Davao na pinamunuan ni Msgr. Clovis Thibault, unang arsobispo ng Davao.

Naging kauna-unahang parish priest nito si Fr. Conrad Lafortune, PME. Itinayo ang simbahan at ang convent sa lupain na ibinigay ni Don Cayetano Bangoy, Sr.

Taong 1955, nakipag-ugnayan si Rev. Fr. Joseph Dupuis, PME sa pamilyang Dela Cruz upang magkaroon ng malaking lote na pagtatayuan ng malaking konkretong simbahan at ito ay natapos limang taon makalipas ang pagtatayo. Dito nakatayo ang Sto. Rosario Parish ngayon. Ang lokasyon ng dating simbahan ay ang GKK Sagrada Corazon de Maria sa Daliao ngayon.

Naging aktibo ang mga parokyano sa mga gawain sa simbahan na siyang nagpaunlad sa kanilang paniniwalang Katoliko.

Pinamumunuan sila sa mga naging kura paroko na sila Msgr. Edgar Rodriguez, Fr. Atenodoro Sarona, Fr. Perry Malacaman, Fr. Pete Lamata, Msgr. Boni Burlaza, at Msgr. Max Sarno.

Taong 2003, pinasimulan ni Rev. Fr. Max Bahinting, DCD ang pagpapatayo ng malaking simbahan sa layuning di na ligtas ang dati dahil sa kalumaan nito.

Taong 2005, naging parish priest si Rev. Fr. Dionisio Tabiliran, DCD at ipinagpatuloy nito ang pagpatayo sa 3,600 sq. meters na simbahan, kasama ang sanctuary, 2 chapels para sa binyag at adorasyon, sacristy at Convention Hall. Natapos ito noong 2011.

Sa kasalukuyan, si Rev. Fr. Roy Mejias, DCD, ang kura paruko na sumunod kay Fr. Tabiliran ay nagpatayo ng 25.5M na pastoral Building na may tatlong palapag. Layunin nitong matulungan ang mga mahihirap na di nakapag-aral. Ang livelihood trainings na TESDA-accredited ang ipinatupad. Dito rin idinaos ang mga malalaking asembleya at mga pagtitipon ng mga opisyales at kasapi ng GKK, gayundin ang iba’t ibang organisasyon ng simbahan.

Sa pagdiriwang sa ika-68 na kapistahan ng Sto. Rosario, ipinapakita na sa pagkakaisa ng mga parokyano ang biyaya ng Panginoon at ng Mahal na Birhen Maria ay makakamtan. (Juneva P. Ardepolla | SRP SocCom Coordinator)

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Sta. Ana Church.

when i enter inside the church its look amazing and comfortable, because it has a air conditioner and also you can stay in side and you can focus as well in your prayer this place is located in back of holy cross of dava at the Bajada street

According of this church history

The plan to put up another parish in Davao City was conceived due to the increasing population of Catholics which San Pedro Parish could not alone contain. The territory limited on the south by a line beginning at the sea through Juan Luna Street, thence thru Emilio Jacinto Street until the Davao River; on the west by the Davao River until the barrio Callawa; on the north by the line of the City limits; on the east by the sea. Thus, on August 18, 1948 the Foreign Missions Society of Quebec in the Philippines acquired a property covered with coconut trees and tropical growth of 33,551 square meters for seven thousand pesos only. This property which was bought from Bustamante and Kong Kang Long families, now stands the San Pedro Hospital, San Pedro College, PME Regional House, Holy Cross of Davao College, CYO gym, and the Santa Ana church.

The amount used to purchase the land was donated by the prominent people of Davao City and from the Foreign Missions Society of Quebec Council. On January 6, 1949 (Feast of Three Kings), the cornerstone of Santa Ana Parish was laid by Fr. Clovis Thibault (Superior of the Missions), accompanied by Fr. Paquia (of Society of Jesus), Vicar General of Zamboanga Diocese, PME Fr. Conrad Cote, (first parish priest of Santa Ana), Davao City Mayor Bernardo Teves, Congressman A. Cabigon, and the sponsors and donors of the parish. For three months after the blessing of the cornerstone, rigorous work for the construction of the church building continued. Some wealthy families donated five hundred pesos (for each family) to hasten the construction of the church about 120 feet long by 40 feet wide and 40 feet high. On April 16, 1949, the church (semi-Gothic style) was consecrated by His Excellency Bishop Luis del Rosario (Zamboanga Diocese) even though it was not completely finished. The walls were of cement blocks. The windows (also Gothic style) were made of tiny pieces of glass, the colors of which mixed together harmoniously. The altar, in terazza, was a little jewel. The Last Supper Scene sculpted “in relief” constituted the main beauty of the altar. The statue of St. Anne was placed above the main altar.

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San Pedro Church of Davao

This church is located in the San pedro street toril davao city at the night before i i enter the church the church its very old and and also it amazing because the top of the church its look like a boat

and according the history of this church

An earlier church was built in the same area of the current cathedral in 1847. Said to have been built in Neo-Gothic style, the earlier church was built on the spot. In the 1960s, due to its small size, the Diocese of Davao solicited funds to enlarge the church. Architect Manuel Chiew was responsible for the design of the new church. the design of the new church was that of an ark hence the pointed front where the cross stands. A separate Bell tower was also constructed.. The cathedral has been a witness to two bombing incidents. The first incident in 1981 which killed 17 people, and in 1993 with 7 deaths.

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St. Jude Shrine Parish

This place is located in the General Malvar St, Poblacion District, Davao City, Davao del Sur this church is very nice to go and also to feel the church inside when i enter the church there’s a lot of people enter to pray... and also

Acording of this church history

The St. Jude Shrine Parish Church is located along General Miguel Malvar Street, Davao City. The parish used to be part of San Pedro Cathedral Parish with approximately 20,000 parishioners. In October 24, 1968, it became a canonically established parish with the Reverend Father Paul Gravel, a PME missionary as the first parish priest. Fr. Gravel administered the parish with its different organizations and apostolates. The parish started too small as a chapel beside the bowling lanes established by the Knights of Columbus. The makeshift chapel served the parishioners of the parish until the need for a bigger and more stable church building was imperative.

Why is it that St. Jude was chosen as its patron? Story has it that in 1964, then Bishop of Davao, Most Reverend Clovis Thibault, PME, DD, the first bishop of Davao, asked Fr. Gravel to open a chapel along General Malvar Street. Since there was no patron yet for the chapel, the story has it that Bishop Thibault suggested to Fr. Gravel to have St. Jude as it Patron in memory of his father and to honor his deep devotion to St. Jude. In 1975, the new church building was constructed to accommodate the substantial number of faithful participating in the Eucharistic celebrations and other sacraments. Since then, the parish has grown with twenty-seven (27) Gagmay’ng Kristohanong Katilingban (GKK) (Basic Ecclesial Communities) spread all over the Bankerohan area, Magallanes along the bank of Davao River, Malvar Street and San Rafael area near Davao River.

The parish is also host to many devotee-students preparing for academic examinations, young professionals who are about to take bar examinations, teachers’ board, licensure examinations and others. There are also parents with their children, the sick and differently-abled persons who believe that St. Jude will intercede for them to Almighty God to care for them and their urgent needs. In October 27, 2017, the Most Reverend Romulo G. Valles, D.D., Archbishop of Davao, declared St Jude Parish as an Archdiocesan Shrine. It’s now know as St. Jude Shrine Parish.

The following is a list of parish priests who served St. Jude Shrine Parish from the year 1968 to 2018:

Fr. Paul Gravel, PME

Fr. Ricardo Banzon

Fr. Cecilio Acasio

Fr. Rogelio Antalan

Fr. Benjamin Lazo

Fr. Eliseo Cañon

Fr. Paul Cunanan

Fr. Pericles Malacaman

Fr. Benjamin Benedicto

Fr. Bonifacio Burlaza

Fr. Pablo Dagangon

Fr. Edgar Rodriguez

Fr. Leonardo Vicente

Fr. Emmanuel Cifra

Fr. Ronelo Anung

Fr. Voltaire Dimol

Fr. Vicente Candia, Jr.

Fr. Pedro Lamata

After fifty (50) years, the parish is now a vibrant community of faith, hope and love pursuing the vision of becoming a “community of the missionary disciples of Jesus.”

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Virgin delos remedios church

This church every sunday i go this church together with my family and also this church is very amazing as of now the church is under of construct but this church is the most favorite place that ever since because since�� when i was 7 yrs old until now i’m still attend the mass in that church

According to the history of this church

Niadtong tuig 1948, ang magtiayon nga si Mr. and Mrs. Joaquin ug Tomasa Betonio, midala sa imahen sa Mahal nga Birhen Maria nga mao ang Virgen delos Remedios gikan sa Buntok Hindang Leyte sa Crossing Bayabas,Toril, isip usa ka family devotion.

Niadtong Pebrero 2, 1949 natukod kini nga usa lamang ka Gagmay’ng Kristohanong Katilingban (GKK).

Pinanguluhan sa unang mga PSK niini sulod 2009-2011 nga sila Faustino Morales, dayon nila Daniel Evangelio, Eduardo Cerdenia, Sabas Sayon, Luis Yuson, Regino Paclar, Bolivar Adlawan, Leonardo Quilos Sr., Dolores Manubay, Salvacion Adlawan, Bonifacio Danio, Elene Mabano, ug Mrs. Modesta Danio, ang GKK sa Virgen delos Remedios nahimo na gayud nga parokya.

Rason niini mao nga aron maatiman ang katawhan ilabina sa pagdawat sa mga sakramento ug sa uban pang buluhaton nga ang pari ra gayu’y makahimo. Gipamatud-an kini sa ilang mga pirma (signature campaign) mao nga nahitabo gayud ang pagtukod sa parokya sa Virgen delos Remedios. Ang instalasyon nahitabo niadtong Marso 14, 2011.

Nahimo kining parokya atol sa Santos nga Misa sa atong Arsobispo Emeritus sa Dabaw nga si Arsobispo Fernando R. Capalla, D.D.

Ang unang kura paroko niini hangtud karon mao si Reberendo Padre Johnny A. Autida. Karong umaabot nga Marso 14, 2017 pagasaulogon ang ikaunom ka tuig isip pagkahimo niining nga parokya (foundation).

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Holy Spirit adoration convent

This place is very silent and also there’s a lot of pink sister when i observe inside the pink sister is very serious to pray to god and also when i seated the place is amazing this is my first time that i enter the church and also to observe the pink sister while the mass is started

According of the history of this church

Saint Arnold Janssen was a German diocesan priest, who did not plan to be a founder. At first, he only felt called to work for missionary animation in his country. In the course of his work, he saw more and more the great need for Germany to have a society for missionaries. With great faith, he responded to this need by founding such a society himself, the Society of the Divine Word.

Seeing the need not only for missionary priests and brothers but also for missionary women, Saint Arnold founded the Mission Congregation of the Servants of the Holy Spirit. He further saw the need for a third missionary Congregation, to support through prayer and sacrifice the work of his first two foundations. For this, he envisioned a strictly cloistered contemplative community with perpetual adoration and founded the Sister-Servants of the Holy Spirit of Perpetual Adoration, more commonly known as the Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters. He chose the first members of this foundation from among the members of the active missionary Congregation of the Servants of the Holy Spirit who had volunteered for this branch.

With God’s blessing, the Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters took root and began to flourish. It started modestly in 1896 in a separate wing of the missionary Sister’s Sacred Heart Convent, then in 1904 also in a separate wing in their newly built Motherhouse. By 1914, through the efforts of Mother Mary Michael, the cloistered Sisters could have a separate Motherhouse of their own, Holy Spirit Convent, which still exists today in its original structure.

By 1915, Mother Mary Michael was able to found our first convent after the Motherhouse, the Convent of Divine Love in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This foundation came about through an invitation from Archbishop Edmund Francis Prendergast, who desired to have an adoration convent in his archdiocese. A wealthy Catholic layman, Cornelius A. Lane, had bequeathed a generous sum to the archdiocese for the establishment of an adoration convent. Thus the archbishop was in a position to make a generous offer. He would purchase a suitable piece of property, build and furnish a chapel and convent for the Sisters, and could promise to contribute to their support. It was a very favorable offer, which the Congregation could gratefully accept.

In 1915, nine Sisters were sent from Steyl for the first community. Some American women soon applied and were admitted. This necessitated the establishment of a novitiate in the new convent. Several years ago, the novitiate was moved to our convent in St. Louis (Mount Grace Convent), where candidates from all parts of the United States are admitted and trained. Since its earliest years, the Sisters have kept adoration day and night before the Blessed Sacrament, and the people of Philadelphia have very frequently made visits to the chapel, joining the Sisters in prayerful vigil.

In the course of time, more and more adoration convents would be founded by Mother Mary Michael, and after her death by her successors. At present our international religious congregation has 22 Houses in 12 countries and about 420 members in all.

You can find our Houses in Argentina, Brazil, Germany, India, Indonesia, the Netherlands, the Philippines, Poland, Slovakia, Togo, Chile, and the United States of America.

#laag-laag somewhere the church

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breanime · 6 years

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What I’m Looking For (Part Two)

Here’s Part Two of my second series, “What I’m Looking For”. So now we’ve moved past the flashbacks and are going into the present in this part. Let me know what you think! I’m not quite sure how long this series is going to be, but I know I write a lot more and a lot quicker when you guys comment and reblog. Thanks for reading!

Part One: http://breanime.tumblr.com/search/What+I%27m+Looking+For

You were a young woman now, a junior at University, and living in a small apartment with your best friend from high school. You’d been adopted by a family when you were 16, a year after Billy had left, and was now Y/N Freeman, of the New York Freemans. Your adopted parents were great; they had three adopted kids who they loved dearly. They weren’t wealthy, but they were well off enough that they could afford to send you to school and pay for your freshman year of college. Now that you were in your third year, however, you had to work to pay your bills. So you worked at a local café as a barista. You liked it there; your boss was chill, your coworkers funny, and the customers were nice. You had to wear a basic uniform; a white shirt, black pants, and a brown apron that wasn’t too bad. Your boss, a kind older man named Jesse, allowed you to study and do homework on the job, and his wife Lacey let you take home extra supplies and pastries when she closed up. It was midday and business was slow, so you leaned against the front counter and took out one of your textbooks. You made sure to check on the few scattered customers every few minutes, but it was clearly going to be an easy day. You put your blue pen in your mouth as you reached for a highlighter, memorizing the words on the page.

“Hey Y/N,” a regular called out to you, raising his empty coffee cup.

“Coming right up, Mr. Danes,” you said brightly, putting your book down and turning to grab the fresh kettle of coffee. You chatted with him and another customer, an older Asian lady who came in every few days for tea, laughing good-naturedly. You didn’t notice the man staring at you through the window.

Billy put his shades back on as he turned from the café. His heart was pounding and he needed to get out of there. He’d checked up on you before, but only on paper. He’d known when he was overseas that you’d been adopted. Billy had even bribed one of the tech guys in Iraq to look up the couple who adopted you. They seemed like good people. But this, seeing you in person, was different. He had expected to see his friend, skinny and grinning, but saw a woman instead. Billy had swallowed air when he’d first laid eyes on you—it hadn’t been hard to track you down; you worked at one of the billion coffee shops in New York—but even though he’d gone out that day with the plan of seeing you, but he was still shocked. He watched you behind the counter, your hair long and pulled back in a low ponytail. His eyes roamed over your figure—her womanly figure—when you walked around the café. Billy put his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with the hammering in his chest and the sight of the very attractive woman before him.

He hadn’t planned to tell Frank and Maria about his visit, but Maria’s warmth made him feel secure. “I saw one of my old friends today,” he blurted out, “from the Group Home.”

“Y/N?” Frank immediately asked. They’d talked about you before, particularly one long night in Afghanistan when they had both thought they were going to die.

Billy nodded. “Yeah. She’s working at a café in the city.”

“What did you say to her?” Maria asked, leaning across the table in interest.

“I didn’t say anything,” he admitted, suddenly feeling stupid for his lack of action, “I didn’t even go in.”

“That’s some good recon, Bill,” Frank smirked, “But maybe next time you should say something to her.”

“I’m going back tomorrow,” Billy said, promising himself as he declared it to the Castles.

“This is so exciting,” Maria exclaimed, “I’ve never seen you like this before, Billy. Have you, Frank?”

Billy looked down at his hands, which were clasped together over his bouncing knees. He sat back and scowled. Frank chuckled. He’d seen Billy in various emotional states, but this was new to him too. “No baby, I haven’t,” he replied to his wife, “Look at that—Billy the Beaut nervous to talk to a woman!” Billy rolled his eyes and let himself be subjected to some gentle razzing from his friends for the next hour. He didn’t care, and after all, it was kind of funny. It had been nearly 11 years since he’d spoken to you, and your last conversation probably hadn’t endeared him to you, but here he was—nervously bouncing his leg at just the thought of approaching you. It was ridiculous.

You were bored. Your coursework for the week was finished, the café was well stocked and recently cleaned, and the few customers who had come in had ordered their drinks to go. There was nothing to do, so you sat behind the counter and played on your phone, sighing every time you glanced at the clock and saw how much time was left on your shift. You put your phone in your apron pocket as the bell on the front door chimed, announcing a customer. A little old Hispanic lady and three kids walked in. You took their orders and prepared their drinks. You shifted into some Spanish that made the old lady smile. You’d taken four years in high school and was near fluent—a talent to have when living in New York. You had your back to the front of the café as you put the family’s croissant sandwiches in the toaster oven.

You heard the bell ring again. “Be with you in a second,” you called over your shoulder.

“No rush,” the new customer said. The tilt of his voice, just adjacent to familiar, made you turn to appraise him. Your breath caught in your throat.

Billy Russo stood in the café behind the old woman. He was tall and slim, dressed in a nice coat, dark jeans, and expensive looking shoes. He was smiling at you in a way that made you guess that he knew exactly who you were. “Take your time,” he added, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously.

You nodded, quietly irritated at yourself for leaving your hair loose that day. You pushed a few locks behind your ears as you turned, smile a little strained, and attended to the old lady.

“Gracias,” the old lady said, handing the sandwiches to her grandkids.

“De nada,” you said back, “Que tengas un bien dia, dama.” You kept smiling until the door shut behind them before turning to Billy. The shock was clear on your face. “Billy?” You said, even though you—of course—knew exactly who the hell he was.

He nodded. He was ridiculously attractive and you tried not to stare too hard—but you were losing the battle. “Hey Y/N,” he said easily, “How’ve you been?”

“Um, good. I—I’m good, been good,” you stammered, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh,” his dark eyes went up to look at the menu, “I should buy something.” His eyes went back down to you, “What’s good here?”

“The coffee’s good,” you answered, “and all the pastries, but… You’re not really a pastry person.” You paused. “Or at least you weren’t.”

“That’s still true,” he replied, “I’ll have one large coffee please.”

“How do you take it?” You asked, busying yourself with preparing his order.

“Black, just a little sugar,” Billy said back. He looked around the empty coffee shop as you worked, eyes taking it all in quietly. “How do you like it here?”

“I like it,” you could answer that question very easily, “It’s pretty low-key.” You poured his coffee and handed it to him. “I’m in school,” you told him, “So this is all temporary.” He hadn’t asked, but it was important to you that he knew that for some reason.

He nodded. “How’s school? What are you studying?” He asked.

“Medical law,” you said proudly.

Billy let out a low whistle. “Nice.”

“What about you? You still in the army?”

“The Marines, actually,” he said, a little pride edging into his voice as well, “You’re looking at Lieutenant Russo.”

Your eyes widened, and your smile made Billy’s heart start pounding again. “Lieutenant Russo,” you repeated, “That’s so cool! It’s what you always wanted.” Your smile turned soft and your voice warm. “I’m so happy for you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it and turned when he heard the bell ring. Three older men and one older woman walked in and took a seat.

“Morning, Y/N!” “Hey, Y/N.” “How’s it been today?” They all greeted you in some way.

“Hey guys! It’s been slow.” You replied brightly. “I’ll get the usual started for you guys.”

“And remember,” the woman started.

“No milk for Carl,” you giggled, “I know.” You turned to Billy and shrugged at his curious face. “Regulars,” you whispered, “They come like clockwork.”

“I gotta say,” he smirked, “coffee’s not that good. They must be here for something else.”

You rolled your eyes, and for a minute, you looked like your younger self. “Trust me,” you said, “it’s definitely the coffee. They’re here for the coffee, just like everyone else.”

“I’m not here for the coffee,” Billy said back. He took a drink and maintained eye contact over the rim of the cup. He watched your face and saw the wheels turning in your head. “You have to work,” he said, pulling the receipt you’d given him out of his pocket. He placed it on the counter and scribbled his number on it. “I’d like to see you and talk for real,” he said, handing you the receipt, “I’ve got a few weeks until my next deployment so… give me a call, if you want.”

“Okay, yeah,” you said a little dazed.

He moved towards the door, but stopped and turned around to face you once more. “Hey Y/N,” he asked, your name familiar on his tongue, “have you seen The Great Comet?”

You smiled at him and he felt his own face break out in a grin as well. “Not yet, but I’ve heard all the songs. You’ve seen it?”

Billy nodded. “I did,” he put his hand on the door and pushed, “and I thought of you the whole time.”

He didn’t see the way your grin widened at his comment, but he imagined it as he walked away.

You called him the next day. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t kept his phone on him, hoping you’d call. You’d agreed to meet at a bar close to the café. He gave it a quick once-over as he walked in; the music was low and the lights were dim. The floors were concrete but the bar was pristine, constructed out of glass. Billy sat at the bar and ordered a drink. He’d offered to pick you up but you said you’d just meet him there. He had consulted Maria—not Frank, definitely not Frank—on his outfit and they had decided on a pair of nice jeans and a maroon sweater that cost way too much. Billy had his back to the door, but he knew when you walked in. His body sat up and he turned slightly and smiled as you approached him.

Your hair was loose and wavy, and you wore a long peach-colored shirt, black leggings, and black boots. Billy stood up as you got closer.

“Would it be weird if I hugged you?” He asked.

“Only if you ask that question and I say no,” you grinned. “Yeah, man. You can hug me.”

Billy pulled you to him and swallowed in your scent; you smelt sweet, but not overpoweringly so. Your body was warm and fit into his almost perfectly. His gaze was like fire on you when you pulled a part. “Wanna get a table?”

You talked for hours, drinking and sharing two baskets of fries. Billy told you about his time in the Marines, Frank and Curtis, his spacious apartment, how gratifying it was to get his business degree on the government’s dime, and a few things about his deployments—basic things like the hassle of traveling and the shenanigans he and Frank got into overseas. You told him about your roommate, classes, your parents and siblings, and how much you loved the couple who owned the café. At some point, you both took out your phones and showed each other pictures; Billy of some of the buildings and amazing sunsets in Afghanistan and you of your family. You had gotten a little drunk, sobered up, and started drinking again during the span of your talk.

“So,” Billy finally asked, leaning back in his chair, “I couldn’t help but noticed you haven’t mentioned a boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and you haven’t mentioned a girlfriend.”

“Haven’t got one,” Billy said coolly, “I don’t think I’m the monogamous type.”

“Yeah, that’s what all the hot rich assholes say,” you deadpanned.

“I’m not rich, not yet,” he paused, a grin blooming on his face, “I’m sorry, did you say ‘hot’?”

You put your hands on your face. “Oh my God,” you groaned, laughing, “I also called you an asshole.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the adjective that interests me.” He gave you a charming smile. “So you think I’m hot?”

“You know you’re hot,” you shot back, determined not to let him embarrass you, “which is why you can be an asshole and still make Lieutenant.”

He grinned at that—you had mentioned him being Lieutenant earlier in the night, and every time you said it, it made him beam with pride. There was something about you in particular acknowledging his achievements that made them seem bigger in his own head. “Flattery won’t distract me,” he raised an eyebrow, “So you’re single, right?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “I’m single. I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you put a finger up, “but I’m going to anyway. Dating while I’m in school hasn’t worked, so… I just don’t.”

Billy nodded. “Makes sense,” he said back. He leaned forward so his elbows were on the table. “So,” he said, “you’re single and I’m single.”

You inclined your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “No,” you corrected him, “I’m single and you’re a hoe.”

He laughed at that. “C’mon now,” he said between laughs, “is that anyway to talk to the man you love?” He watched, quite pleased with himself, as you choked on your drink at his words. You wiped her mouth and glared at him.

“You ass,” you said, your lips twitching upwards, “I knew you were gonna throw that in my face.”

“How could I not? That was the best love confession I ever got,” he joked, “And I’ve had a lot.”

“Okay, if we’re gonna be friends, can we just forget that ever happened?” You pleaded.

“But it’s one of my fondest memories,” he gave a fake pout.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. Can we at least agree only to talk about it when we’re both inebriated from now on?”

He held his hand out to you over the table and you shook it. “It’s a deal.”

***************************************************************************************

Let me know what you guys think! Again, I’m still writing Bloody Secrets, but I’m going to try to regularly update both stories.

TAGLIST: @its-all-o-kay @pwizzles-01 @songtoyou @ilkaeliseb @no-name-is-uncreative @keyeluh @sunaeroglu @farrokh-and-roll @ivegotillegalsinmybottom @lightsidecalling @georgeharriscone @tazdspn @latenightsftmarvel @2cool1002 @sadlittlenerdking @fearandlotion @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @bitchprongs @mamibear00 @yesixoxo @elizabethbiersack165 @queenofthe-nerds @tiredofthisgeneration @liburnapworld @doxielove32711 @jadee215 @the-notes-between @ghostssss @im-hurric4ne @realduckvader @write-the-love-story @ofheroesandvillains @fav-fan-fic @sugardaddyrafee @widerangeoftastes @where-are-you-everywhere @nocomhbhron @move-in-mysterious-ways @sunnycolors @sidvishass @sameshitdiffernetday @expatiatethefeeling

#billy russo #Billy Russo x reader #Billy Russo imagine #The Punisher #what i'm looking for

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okimargarvez · 5 years

Text

NUMBER 13

Original title: Numero 13.

Prompt: Luke and Penelope going to a speed dating event.

Warning: O.C.

Genre: funny, comedy, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, various females and males O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 45 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🎵.

Song mentioned: Rosso relativo, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

NUMBER 13

Las ganas palpitaban, tronaban... cantaban... chillaban... en plena noche en el pecho de... Paola... oh... Paola...

She is sitting at the last table of the room. From there she has a good view of the whole space, decorated in a rather cheap way, certainly not according to her tastes. It's the first time she experiences something like this. She passes her fingers through the thick red hair. Contact lenses have already started to bother her. Why was she dressed like this? Why not show up in one of her usual low-cut dresses? She sighs as the man walks towards her and sits down in front of her. It's nice enough, tall, not too muscular, black hair and brown eyes. On the card it is written Nathan.

-Hey.- she must resist the temptation to stand up. She limits herself to an embarrassed smile.

-Hey.- he says. -Are you nervous?- he asks her then, but with a sympathetic tone.

-Enough.- she shrugs. Pretending to look at her name, he also gave a good look at everything else. She struggles not to wonder what he has thought at first sight about her.

-First time, right?- she nods, then chuckles, her cheeks more and more the same shade of hair. -I've been there, it's get better, trust me .- he winks. -So... Penelope, right?- another up and down. -I see we have only a few minutes... talk to me a bit 'of you. What do you do?-

El tedio aquella noche era enorme, llamaba, buscaba un príncipe ideal, en cambio ya era la dama del castillo.

He was about to back off, to cancel the reservation, but he finally decided to go there. He reaches the first free table and sits in front of a blonde woman. Blonde, but with short, very short hair. And as much as he strives, he can't avoid starting the comparison. Damn it, he has reduced to this just to not think of her, and it's enough a little thing to send everything to hell.

-Hey.- he sketch a shy smile. It is written on his face that this is his first time. She looks at him carefully, before greeting him with her hand.

-Hey, I'm Marissa.-

El tuyo es rojo relativo, no se mancha de amor y por eso canta muy dentro de ti, por tu gran soledad y porque...

When the bell finally rings, Penelope gives a sigh of relief a bit too accentuated. Poor Nathan, he had been very nice and fine, but when chemistry is missing, it can't be invented, and at the most they could become good friends. And it was clear that neither was looking for this.

-Can I sit?- a deep, baritone voice that reminds her about Walker, makes her jump. She raises her head suddenly and falls in two green eyes, a green rich in shades, which dazzles her for a few seconds. The man is not irritated by the precious wasted time, on the contrary, gives her a much warmer smile than the number 4.

Welcome, number 5. She hastens to regain possession of her mental and motor skills. -Yes, yes, sorry, I was... a little distracted.- the embarrassment hasn't passed at all, but it's only the second man she meets. The evening is still long.

-No problem. Nice to meet you, I'm Jared.- she holds out her hand but instead of squeezing it into his, he prefers to take it to his lips, posing an old-time kiss.

-Penelope.- looking at him she can't help but wonder why he is in a place like this. It's possible that he couldn't find someone decent in the real world?

-Yes, Penelope, I think I've already seen you somewhere. It's possible? Are you an actress or a model by chance?- he asks after a few moments. She can't help but burst out laughing.

-Me, a model, me?- he doesn't seem to understand her perplexity and this flatters her. Not everyone therefore appreciates only the skinny girls. -No, I work for the feds. I'm a computer technician.- she adds after a brief pause.

-FBI? Wow.- while he searches for words, Penelope understands what in this man had immediately attracted her and at the same time rejected: he looks very much like Battle, has his own look. She shudders, but decides to ignore those feelings and focuses on what he is saying.

Venga... ámate mucho esta noche y mañana vuelve a ser quien no se divierte porque buscas algo más fácil de hacer.

He didn't have time to sit down that the woman, Amber, number 9, started to stun him with words. Luke can't even say his name, and this allows him to continue with his own reflections, which certainly don't concern this unknown, as well as the previous one. Even Amber is definitely pretty, she has everything a man could want, as for the physical aspect, but her voice is petulant, annoying, certainly not as sweet as that of...

Damn it, Luke, you can't keep this up. You don't have to think about her. What did you answer to Phil when he asked if there was something between your colleague and you? No, what you think! And how did he repay you? He sent you here. As if I hadn't seen the way he looked at her, and I didn't understand that he wanted to make sure he had a free field...

-...and then there was this unpleasant shop assistant who told me...- the sound of the little bell forces her to block the monologue and at the same time wakes up Luke.

La timidez salía pero huía, escapaba de noche... se diluía. En los ojos de... Paola... oh... Paola.

A few meters away, that same noise is received with great regret. Jared lingers, already standing, stealing seconds from the next stranger. -I shouldn't say it, it's almost against the rules, but... I hope you will send positive feedback too.- he whispers slightly, gives her a wink and Penelope is still smiling, when a blond man, number 6, Carl, sits in front of her with a snort.

Jugaba al escondite, se escondía, y mostraba, buscaba sus cazadores, y en cambio ya era la presa de ese bosque.

-Hello, number 13. We have little time, so... talk to me about you.- Luke sighs, feeling almost (almost) the lack of Amber.

-What do you want to know?- he tries one of his best smiles, but it comes out badly.

-Everything.- answers the woman, who is called Silvia, according to her card, and that seems little interested in the names. -It's clear that you've never been in a place like that, and that you're not that type, so... I want to go right to the point. What is the rip-off in you? Problematic children? Are you a serial killer?- the question rips from him a sincere laugh, in spite of himself.

-No, but I work with them, you could say...- she is more and more confused, so he has to clarify. -I'm a profiler, I work for the FBI, department of behavioral analysis...- he explains, and the woman lights up, finally managing to understand.

-Ok, then I understood what is your problem. Timing shits.-

El tuyo es rojo relativo, no se mancha de amor y por eso canta muy dentro de ti, por tu gran soledad y porque...

Penelope realizes that about every fifteen seconds she looks at the clock, perhaps hoping to make the hands run faster, but the trick doesn't work, unfortunately. The number 7 is slightly late, and she doesn't mind. -Walter.- he says, in no uncertain terms. Even when he is seated, she understands that he is much shorter than she is, thin, and has red hair. This particular makes her want to laugh, and it is very difficult to keep everything inside.

-Penelope.- she answers, almost sobbing.

-Well, Penelope, are you busy at the end of this thing?- even the nuances of his voice are strange, there is something... disturbing, in the negative sense.

-What, excuse me?-she hopes she misunderstood. Now that she looks at him better, he has a lascivious look. She takes another look at the clock. She must hold on last another minute and a half...

Venga... ámate mucho esta noche y mañana vuelve a ser quien no se divierte porque buscas algo más fácil de hacer.

A few feet away, Luke is doing much better. The number 11 is much nicer, friendlier than the previous ones, she is neither chatty nor too taciturn. And it's even pretty, but... but it's not her, and it can't be. Michelle is blonde, and even wears glasses bigger than her. Her voice is pleasant, not too acute, nor low. She likes animals, and she was happy when they ended up talking about Roxy and her Merle.

That's why he almost feels sorry when the bell rings again. He has to meet many women and doesn't know how to get by. Phil will have to listen to him, it's sure.

Y no descansas ya, solos pantalla y tú (das tanta pena), teclado y alma…

And here, the number 8 is approaching. He is the fifth man she meets, and she almost starts to hope that Emily calls with a new case that forces her to drop the kit and caboodle, because this experience is not as if she thought. Jared aside, but even he is not enough to positively balance the evening.

-Hey, I'm Simon.- she shakes his hand and smiles, but now knowns that her face is responding automatically, without sincerity, and especially without involved the heart.

-Nice to meet you, I'm Penelope.- she is sure that after that sexual maniac, that hoped to conclude already at the end of the meeting, and that probably has done and will continue to make the same proposal to all women present... well, sure Simon- number 8 can't be worse.

-My pleasure, Penelope. It's a nice name, yours, and I'm not saying it just because it is assumed that I have to try to impress you at any cost...- it starts well, and like Jared, he winks at her with the right dose of malice, not too much. -But because I'm a professor of Greek literature.-

...qué demuestro así con esto... muchas formas hay de sexo.

-Hello, I'm... my name is Carol.- the mysterious woman sitting at table 13, i.e. the one that carries the same number of him, is tiny, with brown hair up to shoulder length, two big blue eyes and red cheeks for embarrassment .

-I'm Luke.- he smiles at her, because he feels immediately softened. -It's the first time for you, is not it?- she nods. -I don't know how you went for now, but with me there is not to be anxious. Do you like animals?-

Las ganas palpitaban, tronaban... cantaban... chillaban... en plena noche en el pecho de... Paola... oh... Paola...

Mister 9 has some clearly exotic features, but she can't locate him geographically. -Hey, Penelope.- the hair is dark, curly and slightly longer than... of the standard. The eyes of the color of the sky when it is cloudy, and he has amber skin. -My name is Maurice.- he says. -Sorry if I'm so outspoken but..- Penelope already worries, fearing to repeat the situation experienced with the number 7. -You already found someone interesting, tonight? - he asks only her. She sighs in relief and the man looks at her strangely. Probably now he thinks it's her, the crazy one.

-Yes, in fact...- she shrugs, while she sees those sea-green eyes. Oh oh, it seems like a principle of crush. She didn't believe it was possible. -Something like that.- the expression hopeful of him goes out like a private fire of the oxygen that is necessary to make it burn. -And you?- she asks, even though she already senses the response.

-No.- he answers. She wonders if Jared will have met some other interesting woman, that will struck him more than she... and she also feels a tiny pin of jealousy.

-Oh, I... I'm sorry.- she's forced not to look at her watch.

-It's not your fault.- he says, still in the same firm and decisive tone. Even though she is not a profiler like her coworkers, Penelope understands that he must be a straightforward man who saying anything directly. -What do you look at most in a man?- he asks after a few seconds of embarrassment.

The first thing she sees as she thinks about her answer is a memory, a short skit with a man who is not Jared-number 5 at all. -You might think I'm a liar, but... The sympathy, in short, if he makes me laugh, we are halfway there.- Jared also made her laugh, and a lot, in those very few minutes they had available. So why had she had to think about him? Why can't she drive off the harmonious sound of his laugh of her ears? Still, it went so well, until now. She managed to put him aside, she didn't even compare every male being with him... why give in now?

-A beautiful answer, really.- Maurice says, and she just nods, distracted.

El tedio aquella noche era enorme, llamaba, buscaba un príncipe ideal, en cambio ya era la dama del castillo.

As he walks between the tables 13 and 14, Luke glances at the rest of the room and his eyes end up attracted towards the back, one of the last places, where a red, curvy woman is sitting, whose face is however covered by a man. He doesn't almost have time to sit down, that the woman, brown hair with a few pink and blue strands, shoots him the first question. -Hey, when was the last time you did it?- it's not just a matter of ingenuity, he doesn't really get there.

-What?- indeed, he asks, without even frowning eyebrows.

-Sex, what else?- he is not in church, nor in catechism lession, but he feels the consequences of twelve years of Catholic school, and a speech so shameless on the mouth of a stranger upsets him. -If you're here...- the girl continues, another that seems to have clear ideas and above all total disregard for their names.

He tries to collect all the little calm that has remained in him. He will make Phil pay, yes. -Listen to me, Stephanie, right?- the woman doesn't nod. -I'm not here for this.- he explains. -If you really want to know, my best friend sent me here. It's a sort of bet.- he hopes in this way of getting rid of it.

-Hey, don't overheat.- it seems that she is the one upset. -It's not so embarrassing.- she adds, moving her hand on the table, directed towards the male one. Then she paints a beautiful, comprehensive expression on her face. -You're a virgin, are not you?-

El tuyo es rojo relativo, no se mancha de amor y por eso canta muy dentro de ti, por tu gran soledad y porque...

Howard, is written on the card. And indeed, he also resembles to one of the astrophysical protagonists of The Big Ban Theory. Penelope is tired, and the worst thing is that this is only to number 10, which means that there is still more than half men to meet. If she wasn't ashamed, she would stand up and give up everything. But they could remove her card, and she might miss the chance to see Jared again...

-Are you listening to me?- telling him the truth it wouldn't be nice, but at this point, she doesn't even have the strength to pretend.

-No, I'm sorry, but... Has anybody ever told you that you look like the actor of a TV series?- the man takes the statement as a compliment, the offense passes completely and he starts talking again, by allowing Penelope to think freely. She just has to nod occasionally for another minute and a half.

Venga... ámate mucho esta noche y mañana vuelve a ser quien no se divierte porque buscas algo más fácil de hacer.

-Deborah, right?- this time it's him, the one who just sat down and starts talking, even before introducing himself. Also because, after the first three times, saying "Hi, I'm Luke and I'm a federal agent" has become as painful as talking about weather conditions. -Sorry frankness, but I just had a conversation...- he sees the brunette woman frown. -... uncomfortable, so I prefer to be clear.- she is silent, letting him finish. -I don't know why you're here, but as far as I'm concerned, I don't expect to necessarily meet my soul mate, nor a possible one-night stand story.- he must have been a little too brusque, and he'd like to apologize, but in fact , it's not that he really cares about it. He needs time to meditate on his revenge against Phil.

Deborah, after a few moments, bursts out laughing. -Wow, it was really bad, that chat, it's not?-

El tuyo es rojo relativo, no se mancha de amor y por eso canta muy dentro de ti, por tu gran soledad y porque...

The number 11 is dark, short hair, slightly curls, dark eyes, tall, muscly but not too jock. I look slightly Latin. But it must be the fault of contact lenses. She doesn't know how she has endured them until now, because she feels them dry on the pupil, and everything is very out of focus. Still, he resembles him. -Hello, I'm Lucas.- the man begins, unaware. Fortunately, she hasn't yet used her coupon for an alcoholic drink, otherwise she would have spit it over the handsome amaranth shirt of the unfortunate poor guy.

-Wh... What?- she manages to chock with her saliva anyway. She tries to look at him better, but she doesn't change her mind. It looks like him, it's unequivocal. And the name... is almost identical. It must be a twist of the fate. She is tempted to get up and really let it all go to the hell. Too bad for Jared and for the beautiful blond children with green eyes that could arise from their union.

-Lucas.- reiterates the other, confused. -Why?- then, he seems to have an illumination. -Don't tell me that you have an ex that is called so.- the idea that he can be considered as one of her ex, boyfriend, husband, lover... makes her want to laugh.

-No, no- she is quick to deny, a bit too vehement. -And anyway... No, his name is Luke.- she has to say, to exorcise it, to prove to herself that it is only a harmless crush, that it is not true that she is thinking about him uninterruptedly, since he chose her for bring the dog to his friend Phil... he chose her instead of Matt, JJ or Tara, must mean something, right? She notices that he is staring at her. -But it's just a colleague, at most a friend.- she says, trying to sound convinced, but she's not very good.

-Are you sure?- Lucas asks her.

-Yes.-

Venga... ámate mucho esta noche y mañana vuelve a ser quien no se divierte porque buscas algo más fácil de hacer.

Patricia. With the number 16, it can be said that he is almost half the battle. The idea that he has to meet eleven women yet is inconceivable. Should not it be any man's dream? All those women, brunette, redheads, dark, blondes, all this variety ... and he wants nothing more than to lock himself in the house with the only girl in his life, Roxy, put on pajamas and... and dream her, the unattainable.

In every woman he found a piece of her, willy-nilly. Some were blond, some wore glasses, or the voice was very similar, full of sweet nuances, or even the love for animals... but none was like her. Not even Michelle, the nicest, the prettiest and the most normal, the one he almost displeased to greet. Even while he was talking to her, he doesn't stopped thinking about his obsession.

El tuyo es rojo relativo...

In the American world, the number assigned to him, the 13th, is considered to be the bearer of bad luck. He was never a superstitious type, too rational to fall into such a thing, and not even the Catholic influence had an impact to his opinion about the existence of bad luck. But he knows, by pure chance, because he must have read it somewhere, that in Europe, the number of bad luck is another. The 17th. And at the table 17 is the redhead who caught his attention a few minutes ago. The closer he gets, the more he feels to have already seen her...

-Penelope!- she doesn't wear glasses, is not blonde, is not wear a low-cut dress. But it is her. His soul had recognized her before his eyes, and this is very serious. -The red suits you.- but she ignores the compliment, if this was it, and her eyes get to pop up so much that he wonders how they haven't bounced on the table, as happens in cartoons.

-Luke!- a strangled cry comes out her mouth. So she blushes, clearly embarrassed that he, just him, has seen her like that, in such an environment. But the feeling is mutual.

-What are you doing here?- In fact, they end up saying the same thing, and this increases the embarrassment even more. -You talk first.- Luke finally says, as a real gentleman.

-I...- now that she has the floor, she doesn't know what she meant anymore, and above all she is aware of the fast flowing time, and she imagines it like grains of sand falling from one side of the hourglass to the other. -A friend of mine recommended it.- she says. And she is lucky, because man falls for it.

-Me too... Phil talked to me about this.- after the first few seconds of total displacement he seems to have recovered well. Penelope is like his island in the middle of the stormy sea, a safe oasis in the desert... even if it is a wild card and causes to him anxiety and worries, she is still a person who he has known for a while, which he trusts... actually, he would be willing to put his life in her hands. Fuck.

-Your friend Phil?- she asks him, starting to smile, amused. -Really?- but she doesn't wait for confirmation, bursts out laughing. Uh, how he missed this music. He is that bad? She's laughing at him, she's teasing him, she's enjoying the situation a lot, and he keeps thinking her so beautiful, so fantastic and ... and he doesn't care if she's dyed her hair or it's just a wig.

-What's so funny?- he tries to seem offended, but it doesn't last even three seconds. Her attempts to curb her laughter make him want to smile, join her, kidnap her in a kiss, and not necessarily in this order.

-Nothing.- she takes a deep breath, taking possession of herself again. -So, what should we do?- she asks, fiddling with a lock of hair and often looking away. -We pretend not to know each other? Let's talk about the weather?- Luke shakes his head, extremely determined, even if unaware of it.

-No.- he also says, the tone deep and safe. -Once you said you don't believe in destiny or even coincidences.- he points out, leaning a little with the bust towards her, and unlike her, never taking his eyes from her. He was never good at not staring her. Let alone them in this place, where he is authorized. Where he is encouraged to flirt with her. -But according to you, it's just a coincidence that we met here tonight?- Penelope seems to think seriously about his question.

But she ends up doing one of her jokes. -Unless you didn't follow me...- Luke doesn't want to laugh. He sighs, and pierces her with another look.

-You're joking, are not you?- she shrugs and looks toward the clock.

-Well, you still have... Two minutes, Mister Number 13.- the fact that she calls him that way gives him another shake, the definitive one. The numbers 13 and 17 continue to bounce before his eyes. The thought that after him there may be other men, that there have already been 9 others before him, that even outside, in the real world, is full of people who can, have the right to hit on her, and all because he is a jerk who doesn't knows what to do...

-You intend to continue this... This thing?- he was about to call it farce, but he would insult himself, because he could say no too. He could refuse. Phil didn't point a gun at his head. And she? Why she goes to a place like that? Does she really need a speed date to find a decent man? What happened to the Canadian boyfriend, the one who taught her the fingering techniques for the clarinet? He has too many questions to ask, and too little time.

-Why not?- she answers with another question. -How do I know, if I don't try? - the voice cracks, becomes extremely serious, and for the first time she keeps her eyes fixed in his. -The number 14 could be the love of my life.- and he can't contradict her, can't be sure that she is not right, but he can't even lose her for a speed date. As much as he tries not to have preconceptions, he keeps thinking that this whole thing is really ridiculous.

-Or maybe it could be the person in front of you right now.- it escapes him. But he doesn't regret it. Penelope, for her part, decides to believe it is a joke. She takes the easy road.

She looks to the right, then left, behind him and even under the table. -Mmm, I don't see anyone...- Luke, however, has completely exhausted everything: patience, cowardice, self-control. He stands up, quite abruptly, quickly he comes around the table and takes her by the hand, dragging her away just in the moment when that sound, which he will probably hear tonight again and again (if he will not be too busy in other activities), begins to trill, making them understand that their time has expired.

-Luke, are you crazy?!- Penelope doesn't shout, but only because she doesn't want to draw attention to them, or at least doesn't make the situation worse. -Leave me!- they pass in front of the number 14, which, poor devil, will remain high and dry. -What the hell do you want to do?- she tries to free herself from his grip, but there's no way. He leaves her only when they are out, in the cool (and cold) air of the evening.

-Speak, as normal people.- he replies, perfectly serious, as if he hadn't just recently made an act against the regulation, and it was really embarrassing.

The humidity is such that she can't own it anymore. -But what? - she asks, while digging in the bag looking for the box where she throws the contact lenses, promising to herself that she will not wear them anymore, returning to her trusted glasses. This change should make Luke a little faint, especially when she puts her hands in her hair and rips them off... and then he realizes that it wasn't true that he didn't care, he adores her blonde hair, even if, before meeting her, it wasn't his kind of ideal woman.

-Did you know anyone interesting?- he asks her, hoping the answer was a no, and feeling like shit for having hoped for something so selfish.

-You are not the first that ask me this, tonight. And the answer, even if it doesn't concern you, is yes.- she sees him clench his hands into fists. -The number 5 was very nice, kind and smart. He told me he would like to see me again and... I think I will accept his invitation.- he doesn't know if she said it to shake him, to make him jealous or because she really thinks it. But she doesn't have much time to think about it, because he takes her by the wrist and pushes her against his body, while with the other hand he holds her by the neck and... kisses her. Not a chaste kiss, sweet, tender, but ravenous, greedy. After a few seconds, in fact, their tongues start to struggle. While remaining displaced, she kisses him back, because it is all too overwhelming and even seems unreal.

-Why the hell did you do it?- she asks, thinking of playing angry, indignant, upset, but it just seems... deeply scared. He hasn't moved away his right hand from her neck and continues to keep her close. This alone would be enough to confuse her definitively.

-Because it was easier than trying to convince you with thousand words.- he simply answers, moving just a thumb up and down, between the skin and the hairline.

It is clear that Penelope is struggling to find a possible alternative, but it is not there. -To convince me of? - the voice still trembles, and she hates it. Even the legs are not put better, and if he would let her go, she would probably end up on her knees or with her ass on the ground. The head, then, doesn't stop turning.

-I don't believe you didn't understand it.- the other hand ends up on her neck and then climbs onto the cheek, where he lays a caress. -I'm in love with you, that's why I came here, not to spend another evening alone on the couch thinking of you.- he confesses, with a sweet tone that makes her vibrate inside. Maybe it's those blessed stomach butterflies that she's never tried before. -Phil understood it, he saw you only once and understood it.- he continue to explain them. -He asked if there was anything between us, and since I'm stupid, I said no, but he understood and sent me here hoping to have free field with you.- wait a minute, this means that she Phil also likes, she deduces. -Why did you come here?- she doesn't feel as brave as he is, but she takes a few breaths, inhaling the icy air, which enters directly into her lungs.

-For the same reason.- she shrugs. -I wanted to distract myself a little and understand... Understand how messed up I was.- she adds, and there's no need for explanations. This seems to be enough for him, in terms of words. He bends his head and this time she opens her eyes and gets up on the tips to make it easier. The second kiss is much deeper, intense than the first. She then leans on his chest as he surrounds her with his arms.

-Does that mean you will not call the number 5?- he provokes her one last time as they walk, swinging toward his car.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #speed dating #tiziano ferro #rosso relativo

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cathalbravecog · 4 months

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if all the cog managers were darkners. what object would they be based on?

gonna get to answering asks today as my inbox has looooooaaaads of them piled up (to me) - starting off with something easy and Very Autistic

honestly, i sometimes forget that darkners are objects in the lightner world in canon. i don't forget *forget*, but i put it in the back of my mind, since in DPAU this idea is changed, and doesn't work exactly as it does in canon.

but, still, it's an interesting idea!

for a lot of managers, i think they even be their drops. but let's think of possible items that could represent them! i'll be going over ONLY the 1.3 managers to save myself some time. if you're curious about anyone else, just ask!!

--------

let's start off with street managers, in order! also, these are color coded just so i personally see them a bit better.

duck shuffler: toy slot machine or just slot machine in general? i'd say duck SOMETHING but he does have a slot machine for his eyes.

deep diver: while she doesn't have one, i think he could be an diving air tank. or, if we go with a simpler approach - just a diving helmet!

gatekeeper: with a simpler approach:tm:, a knight helmet! or a knight toy. (mostly just going with the fact that as far as we currently know, darkners tend to be represented by smaller items that can be picked up easily.)

bellringer: this one's simple - a bell! maybe even a themed one of some sort? i know someone who collects bells from various places, mostly tourist stops. they sometimes come decorated in themes related to the area they were bought in. maybe he's a london based one, since, Big Ben and all. miniature big ben toy, maybe, lol

mouthpiece: an old crank wall phone or a cradle phone! (the type of phone she is! i had to research phones when designing phone-in, her grandkid. i'm no by means an expert and my names could be wrong - but from my old reference pieces here's what those look like because i spent hours on these STILL UNFINISHED reference gathers and i need to show something from them off)

as a bonus, phone-in, aka collin dama, my oc: he'd be a brick phone or a radiophone.

BONUS BONUS, tony trapezoid dama, another oc: they'd be a touch-tone-telephone. (I THINK ITS TIME FOR YOU TO KNOW THE AWFUL TRUTH , THE TRUTH ME AND THE TRUTH ABO - *gets hit in the face with a pie and gets dragged off-stage*)

firestarter: so, growing up in a firefighter family i could probably name some other objects he could maybe be but let's be honest he'd just probably be his firefighter helmet or a firefighter mask but also i fogor anything else because i ams very smarts. or they could be a box of matches.

treekiller: this one's simple as well - he'd be an axe! thought about toy vehicles that destroy trees - but it'd make less sense for him especially seeing as he does have a literal axe on his head. do you guys think spruce would be a trucker type guy in his free time

featherbedder: i think they'd be either a pillow (with an owl print?), or a soft owl plushie! something cuddly you'd keep on your bed and just snzzzznznz....

and now the kudos managers!

prethinker: even out of character i will be frostbite-type mean to brian because it's funny so he'd be one of those fuckass display brains in a jar :sob:. ok in all seriousness either something like that or maybe the smart cap he drops!

bonus, bright spark, another oc of mine's: since she's his sister she gets a mention. she'd just be a lightbulb since she literally is one

rainmaker: little tricky since you can't just have a Cloud - but a plushie one (i own a cloud shaped pillow irl) could work! maybe an umbrella...? trying to give alternative options since "plushie of:" is really easy to do. (works best for animals tho)

witch hunter: he's the mgr i know the least about(im sorry prester fans) so this one's a bit hard for me. a toy cauldron since his mouth is supposed to be one? maybe a stake or a pitchfork? or an unlit torch. or a lit one if you're fancy some arson!

multislacker: the cathal! quite easy - a crt television !! even with my url i cannot think of anything else. he is a crt tv and that's that. they have other design elements i could gush about but sadly, i have no other ideas. i just remembered my old crt that i didnt even use is like in the basement . i am so sorry cathal we'll get you outta there one day

major player: ohh, this is another one i think of when i say they could just be their drops (dave's rose) - but he could also be a cymbal like his hat or just a keyboard. i'd say a piano but pianos are fucking massive. maybe a vinyl disc of rick astley's never gonna give you up

plutocrat: hmm, from just what he wears , a monocle or a cigar. maybe a model of pluto (the dwarf planet). a laundered stash of cash, i dunno! cosmo's a fun character but i cannot think of anything else he would be.

chainsaw consultant: well, he's a chainsaw isn't he? his hat could also work!

pacesetter: oh graham would absolutely be his shredder guitar. no questions asked. maybe his shades? perhaps some other sports equipment - but it doesn't scream "him" as much as the other things. i can't make deeper gram pacer test jokes do i look like i'm american to you all i know r the memes

extra bonus for the crawler, aka crowley cents, another oc: he's based on the centipede family scolopendridae - giant centipedes that people call nightmarous monsters but i love very dearly they are cutie pies thanks for coming to my ted talk!! he'd be a model of one. can't pin point a specific one, he's based on several ones very loosely + has inspo from centiscorch.

...aaaand that's it! i'd go into some others but this is long enough now :p

#[answered]#mgrs

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missjennifercole · 6 years

Text

Here’s Episode 2 for ya guys! We love you all and love how much you guys enjoy our story.

EPISODE 2

Nevada walked into the back room of the restaurant, his eyes taking in the new decor. He hadn’t been inside since the day it had gone up in flames, not even when it reopened. OJ was running it now, but Nevada still couldn’t help but feel as though Oscar would come out from the kitchen any minute. The older man had always preferred overseeing the kitchen during the day and there were times that Nevada wondered whether Oscar would’ve been a chef if he’d never gotten into the life.

“Oye, we still haven’t found her,” OJ said, coming out of the office to greet him.

“I figured not, pero, we should talk about long-term plans,” Nevada answered, eyes still on the door that led to the kitchen. Sighing, he looked at OJ. “Omar here yet?”

“Yeah, he's in the kitchen. I'll grab him.” OJ moved past the swinging doors to the back, returning with his brother.

“We got eyes and ears to the ground, underground, nobody’s seen her yet,” Omar said. “She’s gotta surface at some point.”

“Alright,” Nevada said. “We gotta talk about what we’re gonna do about BX9.”

“We could slit some throats, things have been getting slow lately. I can't remember the last time I got in on a good blood fest,” OJ said.

“We could, pero we got Heeley to worry about too--”

“Esparate, Heeley is back in town?” OJ asked.

“Not really. He’s been fucking with Rafael, I told Dama we’d try to take care of it,” Nevada answered.

“Oye, maybe this makes me a dick--tell me if it does--pero why does that have anything to do with us? No offense to Rafael, I like him, he’s a good guy, pero Heeley messing with him doesn’t mean dick for us,” OJ said.

“Okay, you’re a dick,” Nevada replied with a smirk.

“I get what he means,” Omar said with a shrug. “What does this have to do with the family?”

“He’s my brother-in-law,” Nevada replied. “He’s got a kid on the way, he’s probably gonna lose his job over this scum-fuck’s daughter. She set him up--”

“--But it’s got nothing to do with us,” OJ said again.

“We take care of our own, right?” Nevada replied.

“But he’s not one of us, bro,” Omar said softly. “He’s the law.”

“Maybe he’s not one of us, pero, he’s my wife’s brother and I told her we’d try. So we’re gonna try,” Nevada said. “You got a problem with that?”

OJ shook his head. “No.”

“There’s something else, too. Reyes came to see me. Apparently, there’s a new sheriff in town, wants to swing his cock around, coming in all gung-ho about cleaning up the Heights.”

“Except for us, right?” Omar replied.

“Especially us. We gotta be smart, be on our toes,” Nevada answered.

“Coño, there’s always gotta be one cowboy,” OJ said as he rolled his eyes.

“BX9 are scraps, we can always leave them for later,” Nevada mused.

Omar nodded. “What about Blackwood? Can he keep the flies away from the shit long enough for us to do what we need to do?”

“Probably, they’re all basically on his side of the island anyway,” Nevada replied. “I’ll give him a call. Meantime, you guys are still on finding that little bitch, Reina. I’ll get Chibby and Sawyer on trying to find Heeley. OJ, you should go talk to Muñoz again, lean on him. He might know where that little come mierda is hiding.”

“She's not that smart, man, if she's hiding this well, it's because she's somewhere that she's not in charge of. Her stupid ass would have paraded around after that shooting. We both know it.”

“Maybe not, I doubt they knew the kids were there,” Omar mused. “But I agree, she’s got help. She has to have help, she’s not that smart, but she ain’t that stupid. She knows you won’t stop till you find her.”

“So smoke her ass out,” Nevada replied.

“How do we go about that?”

Nevada was about to answer when the front door of the restaurant opened, prompting the bells above the door frame. Turning in the direction of the sound, his eyes met those of a tall, broad-shouldered, bald man, dressed in a suit that looked rather expensive, the jacket of which was left unbuttoned to reveal a shiny badge. He wasn’t someone Nevada immediately recognized and assumed that meant he was staring at the new Captain of the Homicide department of the 33rd precinct. He looked far more intimidating than any other captain that had been through that station, and Nevada turned towards him, squaring his shoulders and puffing his chest out.

“Surprised you’re not busier this time a day,” the man said in a baritone voice that matched his stature.

“Well, you know, weekdays,” Nevada replied with a smirk as one shoulder bobbed casually.

The other man nodded thoughtfully. “I’m assuming you’re the famous Nevada Ramirez,” he said as he took several steps forward, his eyes glancing around the dining room.

Nevada held him out at his sides. “In the flesh. I guess that would make you the new captain over at the three-three.”

The man met Nevada’s eyes once again, smirking as he nodded. “You would be correct. Captain Williams. Guess word gets around pretty quick around here, huh?”

"You could say that. People in the Heights like to talk, especially when someone new comes into the neighborhood.”

Captain Williams snorted an audible laugh and nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m just going around the nearby businesses, introducing myself…” He pinned Nevada with a stare that was neither threatening nor oblivious, in fact, it was perfectly stoic. “...letting them know that I’m doing everything in my power to finally rid these streets of the vermin that’s made the Heights a dangerous place.”

“Good,” Nevada replied, nodding his head. “I’m glad to hear it. You know, there was a shooting at one of the parks a few weeks ago.”

Williams nodded. “The way I hear it, one of your daughters got hurt during the shooting. Lily, right? Hope she’s doing better. No child should have to experience something like that, especially in a park.”

For a brief moment, Nevada’s confidence faltered at the revelation that not only did the new captain know who he was, he knew his family too, but he quickly reigned it back in and offered the captain a smile.

“Yeah, she is better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear it.”

For a moment, the four men stood in a silence that grew heavy, like a thick fog on a fall morning, as they sized each other up carefully. The only sound was the faint Spanish chattering and salsa music playing in the kitchen and the clinking of pots and pans, though without any customers in the restaurant to order food, one was left wondering what exactly was going on back there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of nothing but stares and white background noise, Captain Williams smiled. “Well, I just wanted to come in and meet you, and let you know my plans for the great neighborhood.”

“I’m glad you came by,” Nevada replied, earning a nod from Williams. “Stop by again anytime.”

“I’m sure I will, Mr. Ramirez,” Williams replied, nodding to both Omar and OJ before he walked out the same way he came in.

“Damn,” Omar mused once the captain was long gone. “He is swinging his cock.”

“For real, bro. A big, black cock,” OJ replied.

“Yeah, well my cock’s just as big. Like I said, we just gotta keep on our toes,” Nevada replied. “Alright, I’m gonna get back to the club, I’ll see you there?” he asked Omar, who nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Okay,” Nevada said, patting his shoulder and leaving the restaurant.

Omar looked over at his brother. “I got a bad feeling about this, bro.”

--------

The day had been almost like a dream; You felt like you were on autopilot, teaching your classes but simply going through the motions of doing so. Everything you knew to be true was up in the air as far as you were concerned. Were you really giving your kids the best life possible? Was keeping them in this neighborhood really the best situation for them to grow into healthy, capable adults? Or were you being selfish?

You loved your husband, that much you knew, but was that a good enough excuse to keep your children in a situation you knew was dangerous and wouldn't have a happy ending? Was it possible that you and Nevada would beat the odds? That you would be the ones to have that happily ever after or was it just what you said to pacify yourself until the next inevitable tragedy? What kind of mother were you to knowingly keep your children in a life you knew was dangerous?

All these questions filled your head, new ones popping up to take up residence in any hope you held on to. Why couldn’t your lives just be simpler? What was so wrong with having a normal, quiet life where your biggest fear was whether you would wake up with wrinkles or whether one of your children would catch the flu right before a family vacation? What was so bad about excitement being a trip to the Bronx zoo that Nevada wouldn’t leave the life? Weren’t you and the kids enough adventure and excitement for him?

Lunch couldn’t come quickly enough and when it did, you found yourself sitting at your desk, unwrapping the Cuban sandwich you’d picked up from down the street. There was a knock on your door and you looked up to find your brother standing there.

“Hi,” he said softly, offering a smile. “I thought maybe we could have lunch together.”

You grinned. “Hey!” You stood, closed the space between you and hugged him tight, smiling. “How have you been?”

“Uh...okay, I guess. How about you?” he asked.

“Fine, still worried about you,” you said.

“I’m fine,” he answered, “Still suspended as far as I know, but SVU was able to disprove Abby’s claims so...hopefully it’s just a matter of time.” He sighed heavily. “Did you wanna eat here or go out?”

“I've been eating here lately. One of my students, Nathaniel, sometimes eats in here so I try to leave the room open if the kids need me now.”

“Oh...okay, then I guess you can eat and I’ll...watch,” he replied with a shrug as he followed you to your desk and pulled up a chair.

“What? Don't be ridiculous, take half,” you said as you slid half of your Cuban sandwich over to him, along with a water bottle.

“Saw Lily yesterday. She seems glad to be home.”

“She told me you visited, it was the highlight of her week,” you said with a smile.

He smiled, nodding as he looked down at the half sandwich. “Where’d you get this from? I know you didn’t make it, you don’t have a plancha.”

“That place down the street from my place,” you answered before frowning. “How did Lily seem to you? I'm worried about her.”

“Okay, I guess. I didn’t talk to her that long, she was pretty tired,” he replied. “But I suppose as good as can be expected, considering everything.”

You nodded slowly. “I worry so much. She's just a baby and--” you cut yourself off, wiping a few tears at the frustration that this had even happened before taking a bite of your sandwich.

“She’s not a baby anymore,” he replied, shaking his head. “She’s getting older and she’s...probably gonna start piecing things together about her father. I’d imagine she might have questions that I’m not sure you’ll know how to answer.”

“What do I do?” you whispered.

He shrugged. “You’re asking me? I don’t know. Get out while you can, but I know you won’t do that.”

“He's my husband, for better or for worse. I promised...I made a promise in front of God. Others may not take that seriously but I know you understand.”

His brows bounced in response as he bit into his half of your sandwich but he didn’t say another word about it. Nothing he could say would make a difference anyway. “How’s work going?”

“I love teaching,” you said softly. “I finally feel back at home, but...it’s just hard, you know?” He nodded once. “The other female teachers are a bit...mean, but the students are what matter.”

“What’s the deal with the female teachers?” he asked.

“Girls, ya know? I bet you anything Roxie faces the same things. Speak of the British devil, how is your beautiful wife?”

“As far as I know, all her female employees respect and admire her...and she’s not a devil, but she’s fine. Getting bigger and more demanding every day...hormones,” he answered.

“That sounds delightful,” you said sarcastically.

He bobbed his shoulders. “We get to find out the gender soon...I’ve been thinking about asking her if she wants to wait until the baby’s born though. What do you think about that?”

“I don't think I could ever do it, but you should if you want. You aren't curious?”

“Of course I’m curious, but...I don’t know, I kinda like the idea of it being a surprise, you know?” he answered.

You nodded in understanding. “Alright, then you should definitely pitch the idea to her.”

“Thanks for your approval,” he quipped.

You smirked and took another bite if your own sandwich. “You free this week? I won tickets to a Broadway show in a PTA raffle. You and Roxie can have them if you want.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m free every week...I can see if Roxie has time though. She’s been pretty preoccupied with her career so...I’ll let you know,” he replied. “I’m surprised you’re not going. Afraid of dragging Nevada to the theater? Worried he might embarrass you?” he teased with a smirk.

You snorted a laugh. “It's like church, if he sets foot inside I think he might catch fire.”

“He doesn’t strike me as much of a theater guy anyway,” Rafael replied.

You shrugged. “If Roxie can't come, take me, I would love to see some culture.”

“What show is it?” he asked.

“Phantom of The Opera. I honestly have never seen it, but I'd like to.”

He bobbed his shoulders. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah? Will it suck?” You quirked a brow and smile.

“No, it’s a beautiful show. I’ve seen it twice, it was that good,” he answered.

You smiled. “Good, so you’ll be my date to the opera?”

He tried to suppress a smile. “It’s not an opera, it’s a musical.”

“But it's called Phantom of the Opera,” you said with a pointed look.

“Still not an opera. It’s inspired by an opera house and has elements of an opera, but it is still not considered an opera. Sorry,” he replied. “Just because the performers sing with their head voice and not their chest voice doesn’t automatically make it an opera by default.”

“What?” You laughed. “That is exactly what an opera is! Head voice!”

“Y/N, opera is an art that takes years and years to create and perfect. The Phantom of the Opera is not an opera. It’s a musical inspired by opera. At best it might be considered classical crossover but opera isn’t just about the singing. It’s composed of many different elements, okay? Direction, language, poetry, set design, dancing, the list goes on. Take ‘Ave Maria’ for example, written by a classical composer and has been sung by any number of opera singers, usually sung in head voice, but that doesn’t make it an opera. It’s still a classical piece.”

You rolled your head back to make loud snoring noises.

Rafael rolled his eyes. “If you find it boring, don’t make an argument for something you know very little about.”

“All I'm saying is there is opera right in the title.”

He smirked. “Speed The Plow has plow in the title, and yet if you see the show...not a plow to be found,” he argued. A Man For All Seasons has seasons in the title and not one is mentioned at all throughout the entire play. Shall I go on? Phantom uses pop instruments, has spoken dialogue and allows for contemporary musical theater technique. In other words, not an opera.”

You groaned and laughed all at once. “Such a fucking know-it-all.”

“I don’t claim to be a know-it-all, but I do happen to know a lot about both opera and musical theater. I’ve attended often enough,” he replied.

“Well if you want to know anything about the breakout family comedy Hotel Transylvania, my son has made me an expert.”

“I’ll take a pass, but I appreciate the offer. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of chances to familiarize myself with kids movies,” he answered in a chuckle.

You smiled and took his hand. “You're gonna be a dad.”

“That’s what I hear,” he replied with a smile. “I still can't believe it. To be honest, I’m almost w--” He stopped his sentence short. Maybe if he refrained from actually saying it aloud, nothing else bad would happen.

“Almost?” you asked, waiting for an explanation.

“Nothing,” he replied, waving you off. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“It's okay to be afraid,” you said gently.

He pursed his lips and picked at the corner of what was left of his sandwich. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Bad things are going to happen in life, but you get through them. Roxie and this baby are gonna have the best medical care, the best father-slash-husband, and the best family in the world. Things will be alright,” you whispered.

“I think you’ve merely grown to accept and expect the bad things in life. Bad things happen, but that should never be the norm. It should be isolated instances. Life, for the most part, is meant to be good,” he answered.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Did I just try to comfort you and you shit talked me?”

“No...I’m just making an observation, that’s all. It seems the only things that ever happen in our family are either bad or worse. I don’t want that for my baby. I don’t want it for my wife.”

“Well good thing the baby is half Roxie then,” you mumbled.

He nodded gently. “Yeah, that is good.”

You heard a knock at the door and you smiled. “Come in.”

A young boy opened the door and looked at you hopefully. “Can I eat in here Mrs. Ramirez?”

You nodded. “Of course you can, Nathaniel.”

“I should probably get going,” Rafael said as he took his bottle of water and stood. “Thanks for the half a sandwich. I’ll see you next week?”

You nodded eagerly, smiling at him and then standing to give him a tight hug.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, hugging you back and exiting the room.

“Was that your husband?” Nathaniel asked as he chomped on a chicken nugget and stared at you.

“Ew no,” you said with a grimace. “That's my big brother.”

“Oh...okay,” Nathaniel replied, turning his attention back to his lunch tray.

--------

Amber moved another spoonful of peas to the baby's mouth. Fallon opened and ate them, making a disgusted face each time she swallowed.

Amber laughed. “Come on, it's good, monster! What are you doing, silly baby?”

“Maybe it bothers her to swallow,” Sebastian suggested. “You know, like when Felicity was a kid, her tonsils were huge.”

Amber thought for a moment. “Maybe, but she doesn't do that with other foods. Just the healthy ones.”

Fallon looked at Sebastian with a big smile and signed a request for water.

“She wants water, I'll get it.” Amber stood up and grabbed her daughter's sippy cup from the kitchen before coming back. “So why are you here?” Amber said with a slight frown. “I know why you're here, but why is she here?”

Her brother shrugged. “I think she just wanted to meet her granddaughter. She heard I was planning on coming down and asked if she could come. I couldn’t just say no.”

“You definitely could have said no. Or just warded her away with...does garlic work on witches too or just vampires?”

“Mama,” Fallon whimpered, wanting the attention back on her.

Amber smirked as she set the sippy cup down on the highchair tray. “Yes, monster?” She watched Fallon as she continued to speak to her brother. “She hasn't told you what she wants?”

“No, just that she wanted to spend time with you and Fallon,” he answered.

Amber shot him a skeptical look but sighed as she fed Fallon another bite of peas. Fallon grimaced again.

“Fine, say she does want to spend time with Fallon. Why isn't she here?”

“She said she wanted to grocery shop so she could cook while she’s here,” he replied with another shrug.

“She cooks? Since when?”

“I guess. She has been taking classes lately.”

She quirked a brow. “Alright, I'll keep an open mind for my daughter's sake.”

“Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen, you know? She nags you about the neighborhood you live in and you guys still don’t get along by the time we leave?” he replied with a chuckle.

Amber sighed as Fallon reached out towards Sebastian. “Up.”

“You heard her. Up.”

“She done eating?” he asked.

“I guess,” Amber answered with a shrug as Sebastian picked up the toddler.

“Hey there chunky,” he said with a smile.

“Ch-” she mimicked the sound and laid her head in the crook of his neck.

“She’s not much of a talker, is she?” he asked.

“She's 13 months, should she have a hamlet monologue prepared? She uses sign language, understands both English and Spanish and speaks words from both,” Amber defended.

“Okay, chill out. I’m just saying, she hasn’t said more than two words since we’ve been here. Usually, for thirteen months it’s three or four. Retract your claws,” he replied, arching a brow.

Amber looked at Fallon with furrowed brows. “Mi amor, esta bien?”

Fallon nodded, staring back at her.

“I don't trust our mother,” Amber mumbled after a long moment.

“She’s not so bad,” Sebastian replied.

“She doesn't blame you for the death of her daughter. Of course, she's not so bad to you.”

“She doesn’t blame you either, Amber,” he said. “Nobody does.”

“That's not what she's said time and time again.” Amber sighed. “She's not wrong. I know I didn't kill my sister but...I knew the risks of her working at that club. I just didn't care. As long as she was working...I figured that's all that really mattered.”

“She might’ve blamed you at first, but she was just grieving. I don’t think she feels that way anymore,” Sebastian replied. “I mean it’s not like you call ever. You wouldn't know how she feels.”

Amber nodded again. “Yeah.”

“I think at the end of the day she realized that there wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” he answered.

Amber smiled and took Fallon back in her own arms. “You would have liked your aunt Felicity, monster. She was a little messed up but she was good people.”

“She was okay. She could be pretty selfish and self-absorbed, let's be honest,” Sebastian mumbled.

“Yeah, but she wasn't a bad person.”

“Mm, I beg to differ,” Sebastian arched a brow in the form of a shrug as the door opened and Cecile walked in, smiling at her children.

“I brought truffles!” she chimed with a smile, setting two bags down on the counter.

Amber smiled, setting Fallon down on the floor and moved to the kitchen to help her mother unpack. “Thanks, mom.”

“Of course, honey, I have to be sure you have better food to feed the baby. Not that generic, store brand,” Cecile replied with a grimace as she eyed the half-empty jar of baby food on the counter.

“Thanks, mom,” Amber said with a sigh. “Fallon just ate. How about we all play in her room? I bet she'd love to read you a book.”

“She reads?” Cecile asked. “She barely speaks. You know, you really ought to think about getting her some speech therapy.”

“She doesn't read mother, she's going at her own pace. But she'll point to the pictures when you ask her where things are. She loves it.”

“Maybe you should actually read to her instead of asking her to point things out,” Cecile mumbled under her breath.

“Fine, don't do it then,” Amber rolled her eyes and looked at Fallon. “You can read to me, baby.”

“Oh, Amber, do you have to be so dramatic?” Cecile replied, rolling her eyes.

“Do you want to read or not, mother? She wants a book and I'm sure she'd like to read it with her grandmother once.” She bounced the baby. “Do you wanna read with grandma?” she asked the baby.

Fallon thought for a moment before nodding.

“Don’t books usually come before bedtime?” Cecile asked as she took it upon herself to throw away some of the food Amber had in the fridge to make room for the things she’d just bought. “It’s only five o’clock, Amber. You’ll make a mess of her sleep habits if you put her to bed too early.”

“She just likes books throughout the day, not just at night.”

“She should be interacting more with children her own age. Spending all her time with adults isn’t good for her either,” Cecile replied.

“She visits Barbie’s kids constantly.”

“She should be as far away from those little animals as you can manage. I’ve seen her Facebook posts. The girl twin will be in prison by the time she’s twenty-three, mark my words,” Cecile said.

“Enough. They are like family to me, watch it.”

“People only get defensive when they’re confronted with the truth,” Cecile said to Sebastian, who rolled his eyes the moment his mother’s back was turned. “And you, young lady, that’s no way to speak to your mother. I should’ve taken a lesson from Lupe and given you kids a spanking when you mouthed off as children. Maybe it would’ve taught you some respect.”

“God forbid you teach us love and compassion,” Amber mumbled as Fallon pointed to her grandmother.

“Moo.”

Sebastian's eyes went wide, immediately shuffling back out of the room.

“There she goes again,” Cecile groaned. “Such a drama queen, Amber, you always have been. You sure do love that victim card. You know, most children don’t have the privilege you grew up with. Just look at Y/N’s children.”

Amber closed her eyes taking a deep breath in and out. “Oh god, here we go.”

“You wanted for nothing, went to the best schools, God knows you did every extracurricular you could get your hands on and then quit as soon as it got difficult. You had a wonderful life.”

“I don't deny I wanted for nothing,” Amber said.

“Well, if that’s true, then tone down the ‘poor me’ spiel. It’s beginning to get tiresome. Now, what should we have for dinner? Roasted lamb or veal?”

“Not hungry, Fallon wants a book. Now I'm gonna read it to her,” Amber growled as she carried her daughter into the nursery.

“Well, starving yourself is no way to lose the baby weight, Amber. Just ask your aunt Laura,” Cecile called after her while looking at the two proteins she was trying to decide between. “I’m thinking the lamb.”

--------

Nevada got home that night and tossed his jacket on the couch as he walked to the kitchen. Looking at you as he opened the fridge, he grabbed a beer and twisted the cap off. “Hey, what’s for dinner?”

“Work ran late so you all get pizza,” you said with a gesture to the table. “Fiona, NJ, bring me your plates when you're done.”

“Kay, mama,” NJ said as he grabbed another slice of pizza.

“Pizza again?” Nevada asked with an arched brow. “Oye, I don’t know about this working late when there’s no dinner on the table when I get home.”

“I work a full time job, I take care of our three children. If I say you're eating pizza, you're eating pizza. Right Fiona? What did we learn today?”

“Girl power,” she mumbled.

“Damn right.”

“Girl power, my ass. If you’re working a full time job, then you’re not taking care of my kids, somebody else is,” he replied, taking a swig from his beer and setting it down on the counter. “I’m not eating pizza, fuck that. I’ll go over to your mom and Gladys’ place and see if they got anything I can eat.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Will someone go tell Lily it's time to eat? Por favor.”

NJ ran upstairs to get his sister as Nevada closed the front door after him. As your son reached the top of the stairs, he made his way into Lily’s room and jumped on her bed.

“Lily, dinner,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Is papi downstairs?” she asked.

“Papi buela’s house,” NJ replied as he shook his head.

Lily paused for a moment and sighed. “Okay. I’m coming.”

Slowly, she got up from her bed and NJ held out his hand to hold her good one as they walked downstairs together. Walking into the kitchen, the eyed the thin, brown boxes on the table as you stood and walked over to her.

“I ordered pizza,” you said with a smile, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. You placed a plate down in front of an empty seat and set a sluce on it.

“We had pizza last night,” she complained in a groan, sitting at the table and frowning at the pizza, then sounding entirely too much like her father when she added, “Make me some dinner!”

“Watch your tone,” you scolded and rolled your eyes. “I am working late at school this week and I need something fast and ready. Tomorrow I'll get something else. Be patient with mami, okay, I'm trying my best.”

Lily crossed her good arm over her chest defiantly after pushing her plate away and tucked her chin to her chest.

“Mami, Lily not eating!” Fiona chimed.

“Rat,” Lily hissed, glaring at her younger sister.

“Then don't eat,” you challenged as you sat down and grabbed yourself a slice.

Without another word, Lily shoved herself back with one hand against the table, not caring that in doing so, the table had jerked to one side as well. Getting up, she stomped back up to her room and slammed her door shut.

“Lily mad,” NJ said, taking another bite of his pizza.

“Her and her father often are,” you answered as you ran your fingers through his hair. “We'll let her cool off for a while?”

“Why?” Fiona asked.

“Because sometimes, something isn't worth a fight, it's better to just let it go.”

“You let papi go?” NJ asked.

“I let a fight with papi go,” you said gently.

“Papi want dinner,” NJ replied, biting his lip. “Like Lily, but I eat pizza again.”

“My sweet boy, I promise I'll make dinner tomorrow, okay?” You cupped his face and kissed his nose, then Fiona's.

Fiona scrunched her nose, leaning back away from you. She wasn’t much for gestures of affection. “Pizza cold.” Despite her protests, she bit into her slice again and chewed.

The door opened a moment later and Nevada came in with a tupperware filled with food. “Oye, your mom sent this over for the kids so you don't have to cook tomorrow.”

You took the tupperware and moved it to the fridge. “Mami, the pizza is cold because you let it sit. Here, I'll reheat it for you,” you said as you went to grab her pizza.

She snatched the plate away from you, guarding it with one little arm. “No.”

“That food was hot, just give her some of that,” Nevada replied.

“You want some other food, mi amor?” you asked your daughter who shook her head.

“No. Pizza.”

“Bueno, take some of this new food up to Lily,” you said to Nevada.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking the tupperware out of the fridge and putting some on a plate. He set the tupperware on the counter and gestured to it as he left. “Don’t put that back in the fridge till it cools down, that’s how bacteria and shit forms.”

“Thanks, Susie Homemaker,” you mumbled as you moved to sit back down with the kids.

Nevada climbed the steps and knocked on Lily’s door. “Princesa, I brought food from abuelas. It’s your favorite, vaca frita y congri!”

“Okay.”

Lily pursed her lips and waited for him to enter before she grabbed the food without looking at Nevada.

“Y que, what are you watching?” he asked as he got on the bed beside her and put his feet up, looking at the TV screen.

She scooted herself away. “I don't know.”

“You don’t know? Want me to find something better?” he asked, reaching for the remote.

“No,” she said flatly.

He dropped the remote and got more comfortable. “Okay. How you feeling okay?”

“I wanna be alone,” she mumbled crankily.

“You okay?” he asked, looking over at her with concern.

“I just wanna be alone,” she whispered softly, looking at him with sad eyes. “I don't wanna talk to anyone.”

“Okay, mi amor. I’ll come back later to get your plate,” he said, peppering kisses on her forehead. “I love you.”

She said nothing just moving to eat her food silently.

“You’re not gonna say it back?” he asked softly, running his hand over her curls.

“Go away please,” she said with a frown.

“Hey,” he said, furrowing his brows. “What’s the matter? Why are you being like this with me?”

She looked away still. “I just want to be alone.”

“Princesa--” His phone rang and he looked down to sew Chibby’s name. He sighed and answered the phone. “Oye Chibby, I gotta call you back...okay, bye.” He hung up and looked back at Lily, leaning over to kiss her head again before he got up and walked out of her room.

You were just getting the twins in bed when you made eye contact with your husband as he walked in.

“Good night, guys,” he said to the twins, kissing each of their heads.

“Night, papi,” Fiona said.

NJ held his arms out to be hugged and Nevada picked him up, hugging him tightly as he carried him to bed.

“Alright, good night, mijo.”

“Night, papi,” NJ replied.

Nevada went into your bedroom and sat down on the bed, waiting for you to finish tucking the kids in.

When you made your way out and closed their door, you pointed to the kitchen. “I'll be doing dishes and laundry if you need me,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, we gotta talk,” he replied, not moving from his spot on the bed.

You quirked a brow, listening and coming to stand in the doorway.

“What’s going on with Lily?” he asked, staring up at you. “Did you say something to her?”

“What are you talking about? What's happening with Lily now?” Your brows furrowed with genuine concern.

“I don’t know, you tell me. She was all over me yesterday and then today, it’s like she doesn’t want me around. I said ‘I love you,’ she wouldn’t say it back, she barely even noticed I was there.”

“Well I didn't say anything to her, I'm not sure,” you said.

“You didn’t say anything to her after I left? Cause you told NJ to go get her for pizza,” he replied.

“You think I'd seriously say something to turn her against you? Nevada, believe it or not we're on the same team.”

“I didn’t say you did it on purpose, but you were treating me like one of the kids before I left. You only do that when you’re feeling salty or cocky,” he replied. “I just asked if you said something cause you were mad that they might’ve overheard.”

“Because you get on my case for questioning you in front of the kids and then you make a big show of disrespecting me about the meal tonight. I just have nothing to say to you about that. But no, I haven't said a word to Lily other than to offer dinner.”

“I didn’t get on your case ni un carajo, all I asked was what was for dinner? And then I told you I don’t like that my kids gotta eat pizza two nights in a row because you’re working late. You know our oldest just got shot, right? Then you come at me with, ‘If I say you’re eating pizza, you’re eating pizza,’ like you’re my mother. You’re not my fucking mother,” he said. “So instead of fighting with you in front of the kids, I left and when I get back, I get the silent treatment.”

“You came at me saying you weren't eating the fucking pizza and went to my mother instead. Not to mention you belittling everything I do. ‘If you work all day then you're not watching my kids’ you act like you're the only person with a job. Nevada, I'm exhausted when I get home, and yet almost every day of the month, except these last two, I cook, I clean the house, I do the laundry and I try my best to make sure you and the kids have a presentable house to come home to. But I'm working so hard right now, you gotta cut me some slack once in a while.” You sighed. “Sometimes I feel like you don't appreciate a damn thing I do. I know you work hard, Nevada, but so do I.”

“You’re pissed because I didn’t want to eat pizza?” he asked with an arched brow. “I don’t belittle everything you do, why are you being dramatic?”

You just shook your head looking genuinely sad and worn down. “I'm gonna finish the dishes.”

He threw his hands up, letting them drop in his lap with a slapping sound. “Why do you always wanna walk away when I’m trying to talk to you?”

“What else do you have to say Nevada? Call me dramatic again? I'm so tired of trying to explain my feelings and you dismiss them,” you said with a frown. “It makes me feel ridiculous. I'm tired of it. I won't walk away, fine, but can you honestly not see how hard I work? How much I try to make sure you come home to a near perfect household after you work all day? I just want to feel appreciated.” you said.

“Bro, you barely look at me when I get home lately, I haven’t gotten any in God knows how long, my kids don’t have their mom at home anymore and then when you do talk to me, it’s to scold me like I’m a five year old. How am I supposed to feel? The house is clean. Great. You’re super-teacher. Peaches. But fuck both of those if you and I are fucking roommates now.”

“You don't think I want to have sex? Jesus, god knows it's been forever since I've gotten any either. I don't see you trying any more than I am and I am so sorry that sex after my daughter getting shot isn't my top priority. But it takes two Nevada, I don't see you making any advances either. I love you. You think a day goes by that I don't want you? It doesn't!”

“Y/N, how the hell am I supposed to make anything if you’re working all time? I know what time I get home every night, do you?” he replied. “Don’t try to make me the bad guy. All you do is work, what do you want me to do?”

“You aren't the bad guy,” you said, slightly calmer. “Neither of us are making the effort, that's on us both.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Okay, Y/N,” he said as he got up and walked past you.

“Look who's walking away now. Do you want to work on this, on us or not?”

“What the hell do you think we’re doing right now?! Catching fucking butterflies?!” he exclaimed, turning to look at you.

“Well what you're doing seemed to be walking away. You're right, I shouldn't do that either.” You rub a frustrated hand through your hair. “I don't want it to be like this Nevada, I love you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered, rubbing his brows with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m walking away cause we’re not getting anywhere. Don’t you hear us talking in fucking circles?” he asked, circling his finger around.

“Then let's stop talking in circles. I'll work less,” you offered.

“Fine,” he replied in a sigh, looking over at you.

“That's usually the part where you offer a compromise too,” you said as you rubbed your temples.

“What do you want me to say? I’ll make sure to fuck you more?” he asked with a hint of a smirk as he arched a brow.

“I want a date night once in a while, and I want a thank you here and there as well. That won't kill you.”

“A thank you for what? Doing your job?” he asked with furrowed brows. He wouldn’t even acknowledge the date night request; you weren’t home enough for him to plan a date night. “You were the one that wanted all these kids, what’d you think they were gonna take care of themselves?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “You're right, we're going in circles.”

“You never thank me for anything, I don’t expect you to. I do what I gotta do, I don’t need a fucking cookie for it,” he replied.

“There's a difference between a cookie and wanting to feel appreciated Nevada,” you said with a sigh. “I'm not you. I want to feel appreciated once in a while.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re a lot of work, woman,” he sighed as he turned and started going down the stairs.

You watched him go, closing your eyes and letting out another sigh. For your own sanity, you had to be done, but you were having trouble figuring out when the two of you had become...this.

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