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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

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Jet Lag

So, in honour of my 22nd Birthday which was on April 30th. I decided to gift myself some cute Ben Hardy x Reader fluff. This was originally going to be Roger Taylor x Reader, but I was craving some Ben (I mean, who isn’t?)

@not-the-cleavers (Because girl, we all need a little bit of Ben in our lives right now)

Story is based off of the song, Jet Lag by Simple Plan.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader (Female) with friend Joe Mazzello Warnings: Pretty much just pure fluff and cuteness, there is a bit of angst though but nothing major! Word count: 5953

Jet Lag

You collapse on your bed, sinking into the plush blankets, and massive pile of decorative pillows, it had been a long, and lonely week. It felt as if the standard five-day work week you had just endured, had been going on for at least a month. Though according to the red crosses on your calendar, it really was Friday the 1st, and not in fact Friday the 29th like it felt. The lonely part stemmed from the lack of company in your apartment over this past week, your boyfriend/ partner in crime, Ben Hardy was currently on a press tour with his castmates from 6 Underground, somewhere in Australia. While he had been away, your old school friend had come to stay while you had the house to yourself, but she had left for a business trip on Monday leaving you once again alone. You settle yourself more comfortably against your pillows, tilting your head back and to the side, keeping your eyes on your phone on your bedside table, just waiting for it to ring. Any minute now, you knew it would ring, and the anticipation of who would be calling had your heart racing.

The cool metal of Ben’s watch lay in your palm, and you clasped your fingers around the gold, circular face, rubbing your thumb gently against the glass. He hadn’t intentionally left his watch behind, but by the time either of you had realised that it was still in London, Ben was somewhere in Japan. Just as you go to glance down at the time, your phone buzzes to life, before vibrating along to your ringtone. It was a stupid song choice for a ringtone, though Ben had changed it for you just before he left, and you didn’t have the heart to change it. The song in question was that ridiculous, Doug Dimmadome – owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome remix that had been going around lately. Every time your phone rang, it nearly gave you a heart attack, as after each conversation on it, you attempted to erase the memory of your ringtone.

You dart your arm out quickly, grabbing your phone and swiping your finger along the screen to answer, a wide grin spreading over your lips, showing off all your teeth. “Hello…” You ask softly with a bated breath.

“Y/N? Hi luv.” Ben’s smooth voice sends chills down your spine, goose bumps appearing over your arms.

“What time is it where you are?”

“I’m in Sydney currently, and it is 9:15am. How about you?”

“6:15pm here, I just got home from work.”

“God, trying to figure out these time zones is making me crazy.”

“Hey, at least we’re doing better than at the beginning of the week. You were saying good morning, when it was midnight!”

“I just hate the thought of you alone. Five more days then I’ll be home.”

As if on cue, a floppy eared beagle pup leaps onto the bed with as much grace as if she were a hippo. Sniffing around your toes, before galloping up the mattress, and butting her nose against your knuckles, then phone. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alone. Frankie just joined me, I think she misses you too.”

You can hear Ben’s smile through the phone, and you grin softly yourself, scratching the fingers of your free hand against her head. “So tell me about Sydney, what’s it like there?”

Ben sighs deeply, likely a combination of still waking up, the desire for a smoke and coffee, and the desire to hold you. “It’s alright. It’s really warm here, and the people are all nice. But it’s the same thing every day, we’re all a bit tired of it.” He pauses, and you can hear his bedsheets rustling as he gets into a more comfortable position. “Fuck, I don’t even wanna be in this town.” He grumbles.

“Sydney is a City…”

You know for a fact that he’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the world, you had known each other long enough to guess the other’s reactions without ever seeing them. “Oh yeah, thanks, go on and correct the guy running off five hours sleep!” He’s trying to sound stern, but there’s laughter peeking through his tired voice.

“Hey now, if I don’t correct you, then no one will!”

“I’m sure there’s at least one other person in the world who is game enough to pull me up on my mistakes.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk covering your lips as you watch Frankie toddle to Ben’s side of the bed. Circling three times, before curling into a ball. “Ben, you don’t exactly take constructive criticism well…”

Ben groans, and you’re half expecting him to argue, but it never comes. “Yeah, you’re right. Knowing my luck, I’d probably call Sydney a town in the interview, and never be invited back.”

“Nah, I’m sure they’d invite you back. It’d just be to make fun of you is all.” You shrug, grinning to yourself.

“Oi, be nice! You’re supposed to be supportive and caring.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. You know I love you.”

“Debatable.” Ben shuffles around again, and you can hear him stifle a yawn against his palm. “So what’s been going on in the world of you then?”

“Work, sleep, work. Nothing exciting really…. Actually, the most exciting thing to happen was on Monday last week.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“I was making dinner for me and Sophie while she was still here. I had just drained the spaghetti I had cooked, it was in the colander on the counter, and I turned around to finish the sauce. The next thing I know, there’s a massive thunk echoing through the apartment, I turned around, and Frankie has knocked down all the pasta, and is running off with spaghetti hanging out of her mouth!” You can barely contain your laughter, the memory of Frankie looking both guilty, yet extraordinarily proud of what she had just done seared into your brain. “She looked like one of those Ood’s from Doctor Who!”

Ben is howling on the other end of the line, the deep baritone of his laughter only causing you to laugh harder. “Yes! Good girl! Good Frankie! Dada loves you!” Frankie lifts her head, having heard her name being called from somewhere. You reach over and scratch her head again, making kissy faces at the cheeky beagle.

“You’re not supposed to encourage this sort of behaviour! You’re the reason why she still does this kind of thing. She thinks she can get away with it!”

“Of course she can get away with it! She deserves people food just as much as you do.”

“Ben! We had no more pasta! She took it all, and there was no more in the pantry to cook.” You whine, though you both know it’s all in jest. You could never truly be mad at Frankie. Despite the occasional theft of food, or shoes, she genuinely was a well-behaved pup.

“Aw come on, you know you’re not really mad at her.” You know for a fact that if Ben were here with you now, he would be pinning you with his best set of puppy dog eyes.

Your shoulders slump in defeat, there was no use in pretending to be mad, Ben would see through your lies instantly. “Okay fine, I’m not mad. But we did end up having to buy takeout for dinner, and that was not the plan!”

“Oh boohoo, you had to get tasty food delivered, what a tragedy.”

“Hold up! How come I have to be caring towards you, yet I don’t receive the same treatment?!”

“You raise a valid point. One which I do not care to argue.”

“Whimp.”

“That’s me! - Hold on a sec, I’m just putting you on speaker. I’ve gotta start getting ready sorry.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position, pressing your back into your pillows. “How long before you have to leave?”

Ben pauses for a few moments, likely to check his schedule for the day. “Um, first interview starts at half eight, last one is around seven-ish.”

“Shit, sounds like a long day, eh?”

Ben sighs, the soft sound causing your heart to ache. All you want is to wrap your arms around him, to make him feel comfortable, and at ease, but you can’t, not from the opposite side of the world. “Yeah, but it’s been like this the whole time. So I suppose I’m kind of used to it by now.”

“Should I let you go now? To go and get ready and all that? I don’t want to make you late.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.”

“I know, neither do I. But- but you’ll be home soon! And you’ll be home for at least a couple of months, so we won’t have to say goodbye at all for that whole time!” You’re trying to reassure Ben just as much yourself. The beginnings of these phone calls were always amazing; however the endings were almost impossible.

“Next time I go on a press tour, you should just come with me. That way we get to experience the world together, and never have to say goodbye.”

This time, it’s your turn to sigh. A deep, prolonged sound which conveys just how tired of this particular conversation you are. “Ben, you know I can’t do that. I have a job, I can’t just up and leave. They need me.”

“You don’t need a job! I’ll always look after you! You know that right?”

You rub your hand against your forehead, smoothing the lines which had formed there as you frown. “Ben, I know you’d do everything you can to look after me. But remember, you haven’t always been in my life. I grew up needing to work to look after myself. And, I don’t actually have an issue with that way of life. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you make more in one month than I do in six. But you have to look at this from my perspective, what if one day, we aren’t together anymore? What if that happens, and I’ve quit my job so I could travel with you for tours and for work. I’d be fucked….”

“A-are you saying you don’t think we’re going to last?”

You blink in surprise, eyes growing wide as you take in Ben’s words. “How is that what you’ve taken away from what I just said?”

“Well that’s what it sounded like to me!”

You can’t help but groan, this certainly wasn’t going the way you had planned. You were both too tired to be having this conversation, that much was obvious. “Look, let’s talk about this when you get home, okay? I’m not suggesting we end our relationship, far from it. I promise. Besides, having two incomes is probably a good thing for the time being.”

Ben’s silence is deafening, and for a moment or two, you almost think he may have hung up on you. “Okay, I’m happy to talk later. Do you, um, have any plans for the rest of the night?” He’s trying to sound normal, though you know his mind has jumped to the worst-case scenarios imaginable.

“Yeah actually, Joe said he was going to drop round for a bit. He’s been in town the last couple of days catching up with friends, then he’s heading off to see Gwil for a little while. But he said he’d swing by tonight. He claims it’s because he wants to make sure I’m doing alright without you, but I’m positive he is actually just looking for an excuse to see Frankie again!”

This earns you a laugh from Ben, a genuine laugh. You knew it would, but just hearing it allowed you to relax somewhat. Maybe he would forget about what you had said, and you would be able to start this conversation fresh, when both of you were more awake. “Maybe we should get him a carboard Frankie to go with Ben-Cardy?”

“No! That is probably the worst idea you have ever had!”

“What? No way! I think it’s brilliant!”

“Benjamin, Joe has only just stopped posting videos of Ben-Cardy. Do you really want all of that to start up again?”

“Hey, it was funny! Especially that one where I got to be in it too!”

“No, that was the weirdest one!”

“You’re only saying that because you walked in on us filming it.”

“Well obviously! Put yourself in my shoes. You’ve just finished a long day at work, you come home to hear giggling in your bedroom, and your first thought is, fuck my boyfriend is cheating on me! But oh no, instead when you storm into the bedroom, you see said boyfriend in bed with his best friend, and a cardboard cut-out of himself!”

Yet another pause follows your outburst, before Ben begins chuckling. “Okay, yeah, I see what you mean. That probably would’ve been a little odd.”

A rattling of keys in the apartment door grabs your attention, and you peer down the corridor, keeping an eye out for who was coming in. You knew who it should be, but you could never be too sure. The door creaks open, and Joe pops his head in, grinning at you broadly. You had told him where the spare key was kept, so he could let himself in when he arrived, though you had assumed he may still knock to announce his arrival. “Hey babe, I should probably get going. Joe’ll be here soon, and you need to get ready. Like properly get ready, and actually eat something for breakfast. I know you’re back on the smokes…”

“How’d you know that?”

Joe walks further into the apartment, leaning against the bedroom door frame, a fond smile on his lips. “Ben, I know everything. I see all.”

There’s a smirk in his voice now, as if he’s challenging you. “Alright then Miss all seeing. What colour are the boxers I’m wearing right now?”

You bite your bottom lip gently, completely forgetting Joe’s presence for the time being. “You’re not wearing any.” Your voice is low and sultry, and you can hear Ben hiss out a sharp breath. “Have a good day babe, I’ll talk to you later.”

You swipe your thumb against the screen, ending the call before Ben has the chance to respond. “You’re early.” You smile, turning your attention to Joe now, who was intensely pretending to have not heard the ending to your conversation.

“Did you tell him?”

“And hello to you too Joseph.”

“Y/N, did you tell him?”

You sigh, pulling your legs up so you could sit cross-legged on the bed, facing your entire body towards your friend now. “I tried to, but it didn’t exactly go according to plan.”

“So did you or did you not tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him.” Your shoulders slump, and your chin drops as you scowl at the floor.

Joe steps further into the room, coming over to your side where he rests his palm over your shoulder. “You have to tell him, he needs to know.”

“I know that Joe. Don’t you think I know that?” You grumble, flopping your head back so you could look up at him. “It’s just, every time I try to allude to it in one of our chats, it always gets twisted, and it becomes this big misunderstanding. I think telling him face to face would be best.”

“What do you mean, when you allude to it? Are you actually coming out with the words, or are you trying to skirt around the truth?”

“I mean, I’ll get there eventually. One way or another he’ll find out, I’m just having trouble saying it is all.”

“Y/N. If you don’t tell him, then I will.”

<<<--->>>

Just as Ben had promised, five days later you were waiting at the airport for him to arrive home. The plan had always been for you to be there when he arrived home, however Joe had also decided he wanted to wait for Ben too, as he still had another day before meeting up with Gwil. The two of you stood in the arrivals terminal, you with an A4 sheet of paper with ‘Hardy’ written in pink sharpie, and Joe beside you, with an A3 piece of paper which read ‘Ben Hard-On’.

“Could you stand over there somewhere? Like, as far away from me as possible please? I don’t want people to know that I associate with you.” You grumble, though you’re having an exceedingly difficult time not laughing at his stupidity.

“Hey, it was your idea to make signs!”

“Sign! One sign, as in singular!” You sigh, casting a glare at the grinning American.

Joe simply shrugs, knocking his elbow against your arm playfully. “Well think of it this way, he won’t be able to miss us. Not with a sign like this.” He grins, gesturing down to his crude sign with his chin.

“If anything, he may intentionally miss us after seeing that.”

Before Joe has the chance to reply, you let out a loud squeal, before darting off and leaving him far behind. You sprint forwards, pushing past the couple of people who had decided to stand directly in front of you, blocking your sign off from Ben’s view. “Ben!” You call, throwing yourself at him with as much force as possible.

Ben drops the black rucksack he had been clutching in his hand, allowing it to clunk to the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers digging gently into your sides as he pulls you ever closer to him. “Fuck I’ve missed you.” He whispers against your ear, before nestling his nose against the crook of your neck, pressing tiny kisses to the exposed flesh there.

There are tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and you feel as if you’re about to sneeze as you hold the tears back. “I missed you too. So, so much.” You whimper, clutching your arms tighter around his torso. People moved around the two of you, pretending not to see the blatant display of affection, or just too tired to truly care. The flight Ben had just departed had flown from Singapore into London, and everyone who exited looked like zombies, your boyfriend included.

“Well shit, I hope you’ve got enough to go round.” Joe pipes up, standing just behind you and to the left, this way, when Ben looked up to see him, he was greeted with the charming sign he had made.

“I thought airports had rules as to who was allowed inside?” Ben smirked, slowly lowering his arms around you, so one arm now rested around your waist.

Joe simply shrugged, grinning like an idiot. “British airports are a lot more lenient with letting in riffraff like me.”

Shaking his head, Ben stepped forward just as Joe did, both wrapping each other in a one armed hug. “It’s good to see you mate.”

“You too Benny Boo.” Joe chuckled, earning an eye roll from the blonde, and a deep sigh from you.

Ben heads back to you, bending down to scoop up his bag, before swinging it over his broad shoulder. “Here, I have a beanie and sunnies for you.” You offer with a grin, holding the items out to him. The beanie was black, and hand knitted by the old woman who used to live in the apartment next to yours. While the sunglasses were the spare pair he always kept in your car. “Just in case you’re trying to keep a low profile.” You shrug lightly, shoving your hands into the front pockets of your jeans.

“Hey, actually Y/N raises an excellent point. You’re a big movie star now. Where are all the photographers?” Joe demands, his eyes scanning across the crowds of people in the arrivals terminal. Lo and behold, there was a serious lack of paparazzi. In fact, the closest thing which came to paparazzi, was the small huddle of teenaged girls who were gossiping amongst themselves, whilst attempting to take sneaky photos of Ben. One even went as far as holding her phone directly in front of her face, pretending to be taking a selfie, and it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her flash going off.

Ben smirks, lifting his brows at the girls as the three of you walk past them and towards the baggage carousel. “Well there’s two reasons actually.”

“Oh, and what would those be?” You enquire, keeping an eye out for the bags you know Ben had taken with him. Although you were positive there would likely be one or two extra, filled to the brim with gifts and souvenirs from each country.

“Well reason one, is that aside from you guys, no one else knew the actual date I would be arriving home. In the last interview I did in Sydney, I said I would be flying out in a week. So there’s probably a heap of photographers around the lobby of my hotel asking where I am right this very moment.”

Joe turns and looks at Ben over his shoulder, brows creasing into a gentle frown. “You’re a cruel man Hardy.”

“I know, I try my best.”

You roll your eyes, nudging your arm against Ben’s lightly. “Alright, so what’s reason two then?”

At this, Ben’s face breaks out into a wide grin, as he looks between you and Joe. “I use a different name when travelling. One that’s less likely to have people catch on to it being me.”

Your eyebrows rise at this, this was the first time you’d heard of Ben going under a different alias when travelling. You had always assumed he used his own name… “What name do you use?”

“Probably something stupid, like Dinkleburg Flapjack.” Joe butts in, grinning childishly at his made-up name.

The carousel you were waiting at whirls to life, slowly chugging around as bags begin to appear along its tracks. One of Ben’s bags is one of the first to be spat out, and he walks backwards towards it, so he could answer your question. “I like to go by a name literally no one will ever now. Joe Mazzello is one of my favourites to use. Shockingly, no one’s ever heard of him?” And with that, Ben turns on his heel and darts over to grab his bag, as Joe stands stock still, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water. As for you? Well, you’re struggling to contain your laughter, and doing a terrible job at it!

<<<--->>>

The three of you sat in comfortable silence as you drove out of the airport, you had requested everyone -namely Joe- be quiet while you attempted to find the exit to get you back on the freeway. You always hated driving around the airport, all of the exits looked the same to you, but you found it slightly easier when you had no other distractions at least. Both Ben and Joe had offered to drive, which although kind, you had declined. One, because Ben was dead tired, and you worried that he would fall asleep behind the wheel; and two, Joe had a habit of forgetting he wasn’t in the USA, and kept trying to drive on the wrong side of the road. All in all, you were the safest option when it came to driving, at least in this scenario.

Ben had his head resting against the passenger seat window, his eyes drifting closed periodically before he would snap them wide open again, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t in fact about to fall asleep. “Are we dropping you off somewhere Joe, or did you want to come back to our place?” You glance up at the review mirror, catching Joe’s eye in the reflection.

You watch his reaction for a moment, before returning your attention to the road ahead. You knew what his answer would be, even before you had asked the question. He want’s you to talk to Ben, and he has no intention of actually being there when you do so. He just wants it to happen. “If you wouldn’t mind making a pit stop at that little café you showed me the other day, that would be great.”

You nod gently, flicking the indicator on as you make a left turn towards town. “Yeah sure. That’s no worries.”

“Shoot us through a message later on, and we’ll meet you up somewhere to grab dinner, yeah?” Ben grins, turning around and looking at Joe in the backseat.

“Of course, that sounds great!” Joe smiles, shooting Ben a cheesy thumbs up in order to prove his agreement with the idea.

<<<--->>>

After dropping Joe off, you make the short drive back to your apartment, still with Ben dozing off occasionally beside you. “Hey, what’s that?” He pipes up, squinting his eyes at the dashboard, his view obstructed by your hands on the steering wheel.

You cast your gaze down, searching for what had piqued Ben’s curiosity. “Oh, this?” You laugh softly, reaching one hand forward, and grabbing out the folded picture which had been jammed between the plastic dash covering. “I keep your picture in my car. I figure, if I can’t wake up next to you, then this is the next best thing.” You shrug lightly, embarrassment tinting your words.

Ben reaches forwards, taking the folded photo from you, rubbing his thumb over it gently before peeling it open so he could see both sides. From what you had visible; it was just an image of a bordering on tipsy Ben, his blonde curls tousled and unruly, and his ocean eyes shining brightly behind thick lashes. What had been hidden from view, was how on the other half of the photo, he had his arm wrapped around your waist, while your head was resting against his shoulder, an equal look of joy etched permanently upon your face. “Why’s it only me?”

You tilt your head slightly, looking down at the now flattened photo. “Because it’s a great picture of you, but not of me. Besides, I wake up to myself every day. It’s you who I’ve been missing.” You shrug, pressing the button on the garage key, waiting of the automatic roller door to curl up, before driving into the underground carpark attached to your apartment complex.

“Well I for one, think that this is a beautiful photo. Of both of us.” Ben sighs, rubbing his index finger and thumb along the crease which had formed down the centre.

You pull the key from the ignition then unfasted your seatbelt, swivelling on your seat so you could face Ben properly now. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyes unblinking, and focused solely on you now. “Something’s up, isn’t it?” He sighs, a brief flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes.

You want to lie, to tell him that everything is fine, and that nothing had changed while he was away. Tell him that your lives weren’t about to head down a path neither of you had ever discussed. “Yes, but not in a bad way perse. Let’s get upstairs? You need to catch up on some sleep, and while you do that I’ll start getting you unpacked. We’ll talk when you’re feeling a bit more human, yeah?” You smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes like usual.

You push open the car door, sliding out and stepping into the cool garage, the perpetually damp air clinging to your skin like a second layer. “Why are you avoiding having this conversation?” Ben groans, following you around to the back of the car, where you both begin to pull his bags out.

“And what conversation is that exactly Ben?”

You swing his rucksack over your shoulder, pulling a large rolling suitcase behind you. “I don’t know. Whatever conversation it is that we apparently need to have!” He’s exasperated, and honestly, so are you. The fact that he’s tired, and likely has no idea what time it actually right now either, doesn’t exactly help the situation.

“Look, yes there’s a couple of things I need to tell you, but it doesn’t have to be right this instant! It’s not some big dramatic thing, okay?”

Ben frowns, folding his arms across his chest, watching you with a stern gaze. “Well for something that isn’t dramatic, you’ve certainly been putting it off. We could’ve had this, chat, last week. But you decided you didn’t want to!”

“Ben, I am not going to fight with you. Not here, not now, not ever. I am happy to talk with you when you’ve calmed down a bit. But as for right now, I’m going to our apartment, and I’m going to make a pot of tea. I can make it for one or two people, the decision is yours.” You don’t await a reply, grabbing the handle of the suitcase, and wheeling it behind you towards the stairs that lead out of the garage.

For a few moments, you almost think Ben is going to stay and fume by the car, but soon enough you hear his heavy footsteps following you up the stairs, lugging his two other suitcases behind him. “Green or black?” His voice flows from behind you, he sounds nervous, almost as if he thinks he won’t be welcome into his own apartment.

“Black, if that’s alright? I just got a new tin of Russian caravan.” You smile over your shoulder, catching his eye and sending a wink his way.

A blush creeps up his cheeks, one which you watch melt over his pale skin for the few moments it takes before you arrive at your apartment. You rustle around in your handbag for a few moments, before triumphantly retrieving your keys, shoving one into the main lock, and pushing the heavy wooden door open. Immediately, Frankie is bounding towards the door, barking happily at the sight of Ben. “Hey girl. Hey!” He grins, kneeling in the doorway, where Frankie stands on her hind legs, resting her front paws on Ben’s chest. “Oh I missed you so much! Did you look after Mama Y/N? Did you?” He’s speaking in his baby voice to the excitable beagle, and it’s honestly the gosh darned sweetest thing you have ever heard.

“Of course she did, she was an angel like always.” You call from the kitchen, smiling to yourself. It was the truth, aside from the odd hiccup or two -namely the spaghetti incident- Frankie had been on her best behaviour the entire time Ben was away.

“That’s my girl….” Ben’s voice is lower now, and you’re almost positive he’s bestowing belly rubs upon the spoiled pup.

Humming quietly, you busy yourself with brewing a pot of tea, taking far longer than strictly necessary to select which teapot to use. Reaching up to the top shelf in your pantry, you pull down the spherical BB-8 pot, blowing off the small amount of dust which had accumulated on its lid. As you pour the hot water over the loose tea, Ben heads into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his chin over your shoulder. “Hey – I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with you before. I know it seems like it though.”

You replace the lid on the teapot, allowing the tea to steep for the necessary 3-5 minutes. “I didn’t mean to bite back. I think we’re both a bit on edge right now. It’s always like this when you’ve just come home, maybe next time we just need to try and remember that?” You half laugh, bringing one hand up, to stroke your fingers against Ben’s jaw. “If you’re ready now, we can talk?”

Ben lifts his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder before standing up straight, using his hand on your waist to turn you to face him. “I’m ready when you are.” He whispers, crystalline eyes boring into yours.

A deep sigh slips from your lips, a frown creasing between your brows as you attempt to form your next words. “Remember on the phone the other night, and I said that me leaving my job wasn’t such a great idea?”

You know that he remembers, how could he not? But this time you genuinely were stalling. “There’s a reason for that. No, not just because the pessimist inside of me is warning that one day I may not have your income to rely on. But because, having two incomes could be a really good thing right now. In fact, it might be for the best.”

Ben has one hand still resting against your hip, while the other is dragging his fingers through his overgrown locks. “What do you mean? I- I don’t get it?”

“What if, it wasn’t just the two of us here Ben?”

“There’s three of us. You, me, and Frankie!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, a soft smirk on your lips now. “Right, of course. Well what about four then? What if there were four of us?”

“Do you mean Joe? Is that why he came to the airport today? Is he living with us now? Because if he is, he can bloody well help with the rent!”

“Whoa! No, not that! Not at all!” Your lower lip presses between your teeth, as you shuffle your feet along the tiled floor. “Ben, I mean a baby. I- I’m pregnant. And I figure, babies can be hella expensive, so maybe the two of us working will make things a little bit easier?” You’re rambling now, you know that. And poor Ben seems to still be trying to compute the news you’ve just dumped on him.

“Y/N, can we just rewind for a second?”

Your mouth slams shut, eyes wide as you nod at Ben. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you another way. Ben, I’m pregnant. I found out I think maybe, three days after you left.”

“Holy fuck. I mean, holy shit! No, I can’t swear in front of the baby. Oh my god? Is that okay? Or am I not allowed to blaspheme around the baby either?”

At this, you can’t help but laugh, stepping forwards and throwing your arms around Ben’s neck. “I’m only six weeks along. I don’t think you have to worry about thing’s like swearing yet.”

Ben freezes, locking eyes with you as he holds both hands around your waist, pulling you closer against him. “So you’re telling me. You’re pregnant, and the number one take away you have from that, is whether you should keep working or not?” There’s humour in his voice, and his eyes are sparkling with joy.

“Yep. I guess so.” You shrug, allowing your laughter to flow freely now, uncaring if anyone else heard you.

Ben shakes his head, grinning like a mad man. “Fuck, I love you.” He whispers, leaning in towards you. Your lips lock together, melding into one like the perfect match they are. Teeth knock against teeth for a few moments as you work to find a comfortable pace and position, though your lips never part once. His hands cling to your waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh, as if he were your anchor to reality, while your hands tangle in his hair, fingers curling and tugging at his blonde curls. Slowly, Ben pulls away, his eyes opening just barely so he could look down at you. “I’ll need to stop smoking. I promise I will.” He whispers.

You smile softly, tilting your head up so your nose bumps against his. “Now that, we can agree on.”

If you enjoy my writing, feel free to check out my MASTERLIST. I write for a somewhat varied number of fandoms. My askbox is ALWAYS open, and I love taking requests! It just may take me some time to write up your request, but I will always get to it!

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fic #ben hardy #ben hardy one shot #joe mazzello #friend joe mazzello #frankie #frankie hardy #frankie the beagle #frankie the dog #fluff #one shot #fluffy #cute

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choices-love-affair · 4 years

Text

I wanna marry you part 2

This was an impromptu sequel as a result of request, hope it lives up to expectations, I really struggled with transferring concept onto paper so praying it doesn’t show, eek!

Part 1

The bright Boston sun had already begun its ascent high into the blue, cloudless sky long before Lorelei had even started to stir awake. She could feel the harshness of the light seeping in through the sheer curtains that covered the floor to ceiling windows which formed the entire external wall of Ethan’s bedroom, the view looking out onto the busy Boston Streets, already bustling with full coffee houses and cafes. She could feel her head already begin to swim and pound, the room turning underneath her. She refused to open her eyes, knowing that once she did and therefore acknowledge the pain and raging hangover that would ravage her body, the floodgates to hell would crumble and hit her with the force of a thousand suns. She laid there, trying to remain as still as possible to avoid the contents of her stomach from exiting, as she felt the warm presence of Ethan next to her, reading what she assumed was a newspaper, judging by the amplified crinkling sounds of each turned paged, assaulting her ears and head in a cruel manner.

“Too loud. Too bright. Too everything” she whined as she felt the weight in the bed shift and Ethan’s breath against her cheek

“You’re alive” he whispered; voice filled with humour

“Mmmm… just” she replied, voice still groggy

“How are you feeling?”

“I imagine death would be kinder” she mumbled back, still refusing to open her eyes “what time is it?”

“It’s just gone 9am, I didn’t want to wake you… although I was tempted to as I watched you dribble on my pillow… simply irresistible” he chuckled as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck and peppered kisses at her ear and along her jawline

“Please… please don’t make any sudden movements unless you want vomit to join that list” she remarked, shoving him away from her, Ethan let out a low chuckle as he sat back on the other side of the bed

“you know” he remarked as he flicked the paper back open and pushed his glasses back up on his nose “drunk Lorelei suffers with quite the case of verbal diarrhoea – that’s a medical diagnosis by the way –“ he quipped cheekily, glancing over and down his nose at her “I learnt many a thing last night” he continued, clearly amused with himself, humour laced his voice

“Oh godddd” she groaned as her hands came up to cover her face in embarrassment “what did I do?!” she said, voice muffled by her hands covering her face

“What didn’t you do?! Let’s start with how my kitchen now looks like a tornado had it’s way in there after you pounded on my door at 3am. By the way, I thought you were Mr Jones on the floor below” he informed her matter-of-factly, half-heartedly reading the paper “so you were a welcomed surprise”.

“That it?” she enquired; however, she was concerned the worst was still coming

“I learnt you like mustard, swiss cheese and tuna together, in a sandwich” he retorted, utterly disgusted as he scrunched his face up to reflect those feelings “the abomination still exists on the bedstand, however I wouldn’t recommend eating it now… or ever again” he exclaimed as Lorelei turned her head slightly and peeked through her fingers. She could see the sandwich in question, next to a large glass of water and two tablets and she internally smiled at his kind gesture “you almost took out my wall with a classic Mike Tyson sidestep” he continued “Oh! you’re also Australian apparently” he remarked in surprise, closing the paper and turning to his side to look at her “simply fascinating news, tell me more about my girlfriend that I supposedly know as well as the next stranger!” he joked, rubbing her arm lovingly

“I was born in Australia, Ethan. I’ve lived in America since I was six, I’m as American as they come” she retorted, clearly unimpressed with his accusations

Ethan ignored her as he continued “There was something else as well… something about a Cecelia Robinson if I recall correctly” he pondered to himself “apparently, she is… was… will be, very jealous of you. Although you didn’t say why exactly, but I’m assuming it’s somehow related to the crush you, and potentially her, had on me in high school” he added, a huge infectious smile erupted over his face “had some competition, did we?” he mused

“Oh. My. GODDDD!” Lorelei groaned louder as she pulled the pillow out from behind her head and smothered her face with it, kicking her legs in the same way a child would when having a tantrum “please tell me it ends there?” she begged, voice muffled through the pillow

“No, no it gets better” he chuckled “apparently when I stopped you from leaving, I was supposedly trying to get you into bed, you even threatened to tell my girlfriend” he cocked his eyebrow humorously at her covered form in the bed, Lorelei could hear how much he was enjoying this by the tone of his voice and she wanted nothing more than for the ground to open and swallow her whole. Ethan was clearly entertained with her antics from the night before, enjoying seeing her squirm “you told me numerous times how I’m such a wonderful boyfriend, how much you love me and…” he trailed off.

“…AND…?!” Lorelei urged, pillow still over her face

“You told me you, and I quote, ‘reckon you wanna marry me one day’” he finished off, watching as her body stilled.

Lorelei quietly screamed in protest into the pillow at what she was hearing before rolling onto her stomach and burying her face into the mattress, bringing the duvet up and over her head where she remained for a long moment, still and quiet.

“Lorelei?”

“yeah” she answered with embarrassment before slowly extracting herself from her blanketed cocoon “I’m sorry” she offered timidly, looking up at him, her hair a frazzled mess that fell over her face and eyes, eliciting a chuckle from Ethan as he attempted to sweep the hair from her face once more

“Why are you apologising?” he asked, continuing to run his hands over her head, smoothening and taming the tangled mess

“For showing up at 3am and making an absolute goose of myself, I don’t even know why you like me so much, honestly! And then I go and drop ridiculous statements like that on you - UGH” she groaned again, burying her face once more under the duvet “I know marriage isn’t something we’ve even thought about let alone discussed, forget everything I said, all of it!” she offered

“Shame, Cecelia sounded fun” he chuckled as he lent down and kissed the back of her head, before resting his mouth against her hair. Lorelei slowly pulled the duvet away from her face

“you can remember that part, she would actually be so jealous” she giggled, their faces close as he returned her smile “she would just die!” her boisterous laugh cut through the room before she winced and held her head, eyes shut tightly “owww” she whimpered

“Take the tablets” Ethan gestured, as Lorelei rolled over and sat up against the headboard, taking his advice. Ethan joined her sitting up, where they both continued to sit in silence for a long while, Lorelei wanting nothing more than for the sweet release of death to relieve her from the all-consuming pity of her self-induced pain.

“Please don’t leave me” she glanced at him sideways, awkwardness laced her features, Ethan let out a hearty laugh. “Last night would be enough to send you running for the hills, not my greatest moment, I’ll admit. The talk of marriage would have been the icing on the cake. Everybody knows how you feel about marriage” she mentioned as she took another sip of water, mindful of her pounding head

“Do they now, interesting. And how does everybody assume I feel about marriage?” he asked, settling into the bed comfortably as he watched her intently, arms crossed over his chest

“That you enjoy the endless gaggle of admirers too much to ever want to settle down with just one of them” she started giggling as she watched his expression fall into one of genuine shock

“I despise that godforsaken hospital and it’s never ending production of baseless rumours” he shook his head in disbelief “I’ll have you know that I have never been, nor will I ever be, opposed to the idea of marriage. I had just never found the right person” he assured her

Lorelei was halfway placing her glass of water back on the nightstand when she stilled, and slowly turned her head back to Ethan, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she appraised him and processed what he was trying to say “and you say I surprise you!”

He glanced down at their hands brushing against one another on the mattress, tentatively taking her petite one into his large, strong one and brushing her knuckles absently with his thumb, all too familiar with the softness of her skin, as it felt with everything else regarding the both of them, two parts of a whole.

“for the right woman I would give my forever to” he glanced up and met her eyes, the mood suddenly very serious and sincere, shifting his body so he was now facing her “Lorelei, I’ll admit, those rumours are quite justified, but only because I’ve never committed to anything other than medicine my entire life, it’s the only thing I’ve known to ever truly love. I have never surrendered myself to love with another person before, I’ve never allowed myself to ever get close enough or paid much attention mind if I’m being honest. But with you…” he sighs loudly, as if a weight is lifting from his chest “with you it’s just… different. Since you, it all makes sense why it never worked with anybody else. And the whole marriage, children, for as long as we both shall live sentiment, I see that for us. So, while drunken Lorelei is a goose!” a small smirk plays at his lip before disappearing into meaningful emotion “I pray she speaks a sober Lorelei’s mind”

Lorelei’s face pales as she processes the depth of his words and the meaning behind them “You…you’d want to marry… me?!” she asked, absolutely perplexed “why?!” her face contorts into one of genuine disdain

“Lorelei, you are my home. Never doubt how much I love you, ever. And should the time arise that we want to take that step together, I’ll be ready, in a heartbeat. It’s not like I’m proposing now, just saying that I have thought about it, and I potentially might follow through in the future. I just thought you should know that” he spoke so tenderly, squeezing her hand before lifting it and placing it over his heart against his bare chest, his confident demeanour now to shifting to one of uncertainty and apprehension as he waited with bated breath for her to say something, anything.

She instantly sobered, neither of them breaking eye contact, as though an unspoken conversation was currently occurring between them “Ethan …-“ she cut herself off, closing her mouth her lips pressed into a thin line before assessing him intently. Ethan lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a tender kiss across her knuckles “you know how I much I love you, right?” she desperately queried him “I mean fuck, I worship the ground you walk on!” staring back at him with newfound admiration

“I know” he offered her a sincere smile that reached his eyes, a glint now there that never existed before.

“…Breakfast? There’s a great café next block over that has a huge array of vegetarian options perfect for you” he winked, the tender moment suddenly shifting to one of lightness and potential “lord knows you need it” as he climbed off the bed and sauntered over to his ensuite, dropping his sweatpants down to the ground and off of his feet suggestively before walking through the door and turning the shower on. Lorelei sat for a moment more, the conversation swirling through her head before a content smile spread over her face. She followed the man who just confessed he had considered spending forever with her, into the shower, last night’s hangover long forgotten, her mind only filled now with thoughts of their tomorrow, forevermore.

Taglist: @ethandaddyramsey @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @mvalentine @noboundariesplease @kaavyaethanramsey @newcolonies

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #playchoices #open heart

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

Come from Australia, clutching at hope

First Second Third Fourth Fifth(previous) Chapter Six (for @ihni)

Billy melted into Harrington’s hands, his head starting to feel like it was floating high over his body.

Harrington laughed when he mumbled that observation, and leaned in for a wet kiss, before rubbing soap into his mustache. Billy smacked his hands away. Harrington whooped with laughter as Billy hacked and spat, glowering. The water splashed the vomiting swan faucets as Harrington staggered back, cackling with laughter, and Billy watched him, forgetting about the soap in the man’s giddy joy.

“We should do this every day,” Harrington said breathlessly, and Billy flapped a hand out to draw him close enough to kiss. Harrington hummed against his mouth. “After hunting. The Fair Folk are just like anyone, you know, some of them are criminals, and we get more of them here—the villagers—they depend on—” he mumbled excitedly into Billy’s kisses. “You could—you could ride with us. I’ll carry your throne around at the Hunt Ball.”

The hot water lapped at Billy’s chin, and he swallowed, his cheeks burning as his head spun. He let his eyes close as Harrington held his face. “You’re one of them, aren’t you,” Billy whispered. “The Fair Folk. Offering me bribes. What do you want, Harrington?”

“I want you to stay,” Harrington kissed his mouth, then his cheeks, then his eyelids, and Billy burned hotter, leaning forward to rest his head against Harrington’s.

“And if I eat of your food, I can never leave?” Billy asked, grinning, and kissing him.

“Is that all it takes?” Harrington laughed, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck, hot and wet from the bath. His breath was warm against Billy’s ear. “I’ll make you a sandwich, and you’re mine forever?”

“I ate Robin’s scone, earlier,” Billy admitted, smiling helplessly, and Harrington jerked back.

“I’ll have to challenge her. Win you back, fair youth.”

Billy started giggling at the idea of Harrington forever challenging anyone who invited him to dinner, and Harrington pulled him close again, snickering, and running careful hands through his hair. His wet fingers snagged against Billy's tangles, and so Harrington nudged him sideways, supporting his neck and head as he dunked him just far enough into the water that Billy could still see, and breathe, and feel Harrington’s other hand combing through his curls under the water. He groaned. “...’twill take more than tea and cakes to seduce me from your side.”

“Good,” he thought Harrington said, though it was hard to hear him with water lapping in his ears. He was rubbing some sort of lather into Billy’s hair, and Billy was losing track of the conversation. “I could carry scones around, in case.”

“Please don’t,” Billy snorted, mumbling, “—don’t stuff me like a goose every time I smile at someone else—”

“I will,” Harrington promised. “I’ll keep a screw of peppermints in my saddlebag. I’ll be ready to push one against your lips, and kiss you until the flavor is gone.”

“...that’s fine,” Billy said faintly, even hotter, mostly under the water, secure in Harrington’s hands. He drifted as Harrington carefully rinsed his hair around his face and ears, and came to himself, a little, as the hand under his head lifted him back out of the water.

Harrington scooped his other arm under Billy’s legs, and carried him up the tiled stairs out of the bath. Billy leaned into the soft buffeting of cloth against his head, and let his face fall against Harrington’s neck again as he was hoisted up and hefted into the hallway. They paused before Harrington’s bedroom door, and Billy blinked back to alertness, sniggering as he realized Harrington couldn’t reach the knob.

“Set me down,” he laughed, shivering in the cool air.

“You’re dizzy from the hot water,” Harrington huffed, squeezing him tighter, and Billy laughed against his shoulder, and wondered whether to admit it wasn’t the water, or the heat. Harrington turned his back to the door, bending his knees to try and push the knob with his elbow, and Billy cackled, sliding his arms around the man’s neck.

The latch clicked.

“Told you,” Harrington muttered, and Billy couldn’t stop laughing, wiping his eyes.

“My mighty king,” he wheezed, and Harrington tossed him across the bed, grinning, and crawled up beside him.

Billy let his legs fall apart, as predictable as clockwork. He wrapped them around Harrington’s waist, pulling him closer, when Harrington went still, laid a warm hand on Billy’s chest, his thumb stroking through the hair there, and then pushed away to walk to the door.

Billy sat up, his heart pounding in a less delighted way than before, and pulled a pillow over his rigid cock. “...I should find my trousers,” he muttered, as Harrington cracked the door open, then stuck his head out.

“They’ve left food,” Harrington whispered over his shoulder, smile wide. He returned with a massive silver tray, heaped with sliced meat, cheese , butter and jam, seedy bread, and oranges . “Sorry,” he said, lowering it on the bed between them, and leaning in for a kiss. “I’m starving.”

Billy resisted the urge to plant his knee in the middle of the tray on the way to landing full-bodied across Harrington. He reached out and took a grape, rolling it between his fingers, and trying not to look at the trickles of water running down Harrington’s shoulders from his hair.

“I have to feed you to keep you, after all,” Harrington told him, leaning in for a kiss, and Billy relented, turning to sit facing the tray. “Want to feed me some meat?” Harrington offered, rolling a slice and leaning to prod it against Billy’s lips.

Billy couldn’t help but snicker, and opened his mouth to run his tongue along the slice of beef, before making an indignant noise as Harrington shoved it in. The grape fell, cold against his naked leg, and he gave a muffled yelp, glowering over as he tried to chew through the wad of dead cow in his mouth.

“Sorry,” Harrington said, peeling an orange, but he was grinning at it, and Billy threw the grape at his head.

Billy finally managed to tear off the chunk of flesh Harrington had wedged in his craw, feeling like a sabertoothed lion taxidermy in a Wonders of the World exhibit, stuffed.

“Maybe meat isn’t safe in your mouth,” Harrington said to the orange, and Billy growled. “Maybe I ought to—”

“Try me,” Billy hissed, patting around for the grape, and throwing it at Harrington again.

“With this orange, I beg your forgiveness,” Harrington said, leaning in to push the sweet fruit in against Billy’s mutter. It was tart, and fresh, and Billy swallowed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand so he wouldn’t drool.

“Maybe after a few more,” Billy huffed, accepting another slice, and licking at Harrington’s fingers. “I didn’t know the food of the Highlands was available in colors,” he told Harrington, eyeing the bread, meat, and cheese, and Harrington snorted a laugh.

“There is fruit here, in summer,” he said, and Billy hummed doubtfully. “Berries, apples…” he leaned to pop another orange piece in Billy’s mouth, thinking. “Plums, uh, pears—I can buy you oranges. I’ll buy you oranges,” he promised, frowning from the tray to the orange in his hand.

“Harrington,” Billy said, laughing and reaching over to grab his hand and the next orange slice, “—I can live on your dirt-colored food. You don’t need to bribe me with oranges.”

“I could buy—”

“Harrington,” Billy interrupted, leaning in to take the orange slice, and sliding Harrington’s fingers into his mouth. He pulled back with a pop. “I would stay and eat dirt. I would stay with you, and eat dirt.”

Harrington opened his mouth, then closed it, ducking his head. “I’d rather buy you oranges—” he said, smiling up, and Billy leaned to swirl his tongue around the man’s fingers again.

“I could also live on cock,” he whispered, and Harrington snorted, hooking his fingers around Billy’s lower teeth, and pulling him close enough to kiss his cheek. Billy thought they’d finally shove the tray aside, and he’d get his mouth on Harrington’s whole body again, when the man shoved him back.

“My necklace,” Harrington muttered, unhooking the clasp, and tossing it over to his endtable.

“...I told you, it’s most likely my mind,” Billy glanced at the dark iron coil, then back to Harrington’s face. “Mad fancies. She was—”

“You said iron hurts, right?” Harrington frowned at him, reaching out with another orange segment.

“It leaves no mark,” Billy said, laughing, and licked Harrington’s fingers as he accepted the orange. “You see where I touched it last night—”

“You went still,” Harrington muttered, taking his hand to look.

“I’m probably loony,” Billy repeated, no longer worried about phrasing it gently. “I’ll start talking to people who aren’t there.” He bit his lips, taking a piece of cheese, and breaking it up into crumbs. “I could hurt someone.”

“No,” Harrington said, and Billy looked up, opening his mouth to point out that telling his mind not to run completely mad wasn’t likely to work, but Harrington cut him off by shoving another piece of orange between his lips. “No, that’s—that won’t happen. She was confused. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“...even if that’s true, I would have died,” Billy pointed out, swallowing.

“You will be fine,” Harrington rolled his eyes. “If—if you try to drown anyone, I’ll stop you.”

“...my…” Billy trailed off, and Harrington tossed another orange segment in his open mouth. “Mmf. You’re too good to be true, Harrington. You’ll get bored, and...you’re going to wall me up somewhere, aren’t you? The haunted room.”

Harrington snorted. “I absolutely am. Chain you to the bed.” Billy burst into snickers, falling to his side on the bed, and Harrington grinned down at the tray. “I can...I’ll keep you safe. I—I wouldn’t really wall you up—”

“I know you wouldn’t put me in the dungeon of your castle, Harrington,” Billy told him, pattting around for the grape again, and flicking it at Harrington’s face.

It hit his knee, and he grabbed it, and reached out to drop it on Billy’s ear. “It’s not a castle. And if, ah, if your mother was from around here, we can ask around. Someone will know.”

They finished off the tray between them, while Billy was lost in thought, until he noticed Harrington was shivering, his hair still dripping down his shoulders. When the last bite of cheese had been downed, Billy got up and moved the tray aside, then grabbed both Harrington’s hands, and drew him over to the rug in front of the fire.

“Now for the feast I want,” Billy whispered, pushing Harrington down onto the rug. Harrington laughed, trying to pull him down, but Billy grabbed both of his hands. The fire lit them both orangey, and Billy chased a droplet of water down Harrington’s chest with his tongue, and kissed his belly. Harrington cackled, and squirmed, curling away, and Billy pinned him, ignoring the sting in his skinned forearm and knees.

“Mercy!” Harrington yelled, and Billy grinned, kissing lower on his trembling sides. Harrington batted weakly at his face, writhing and kicking, and Billy gave the man’s side one last rub with his whole face—Harrington yelped, flailing a foot—and then took mercy as asked, and slid his lips over Harrington’s prick. The fluffy rug stuck to his forearm and elbows, so he slid his hands along Harrington’s hips, feeling him relax.

Harrington was still laughing, hands over his face. “Now you know I’m ticklish, I’ll have no peace.”

Billy lifted his head from the man’s cock. “Truly. I’ll tickle you all hours of the day and night, as you fear.”

Harrington propped himself up on his elbow, reaching down to run his fingers through Billy’s hair. “You think that’s what I fear?”

Billy avoided answering by sliding his mouth back over the hot, wet skin of Harrington’s cock, and humming inquisitively. Harrington bucked up into his mouth, and apologized profusely, stroking his hair. Billy yanked his elbow off the rug again, wincing, to steady Harrington, and Harrington’s fingers in his hair tightened.

“Hargrove, stop.”

Billy stilled, unresisting as Harrington pushed his head up and off Harrington’s cock.

“You’re bleeding,” Harrington whispered, running his fingers down his own side, and rubbing them together to show blood where Billy’s scabs had soaked away in the bath, and he’d crawled around.

“My apologies,” he whispered back. “I scraped them when I fell—”

“Get off of me,” Harrington pushed him away, stood up, and wandered around the bed, and Billy sat back, wondering darkly whether he was really less interesting than the status of a rug. “Come over here, idiot,” Harrington called over. Billy used the footboard of the enormous carved bed to pull himself up, his muscles shaking after the lack of sleep, and length of the day. Harrington pushed him to sit on the featherbed, and began unwrapping bandages, and Billy laughed. “Stop laughing,” Harrington muttered, brushing a kiss across Billy’s mouth, “—this is difficult enough without you raising my flagpole higher—”

“I beg your pardon,” Billy laughed, reaching out to thumb over Harrington’s prick. It jerked in his hand, dripping.

Harrington smacked his hand away with a growl. “I mean it,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Billy’s temple. “Let me finish. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I skinned my knees,” Billy laughed, letting himself be pushed back onto the bed. “Like a child. I am sorry for your rug, but—”

“Sssh,” Harrington told him, dabbing at a pot of ointment. “Hush. Let me finish.”

Billy waited through Harrington bandaging both of his knees, and his forearm, and then his eyes started to flutter as Harrington rubbed warm hands over the raw skin of his back where he’d slid down the stones, and up into his scars.

He woke curled on his side, covered in down comforter, with Harrington’s calloused hand stroking his chest, and Harrington’s hard cock nestled against his ass cheeks. Harrington was laughing, kissing his neck.

“Did you fall asleep?” he whispered, lifting his hand away—with a groan of protest from Billy—to return it covered with something slippery, ointment or oil, that he rubbed into the scarred, puckered skin across Billy’s shoulderblades.

“...no,” Billy lied, knowing he should sit up, and properly seduce Harrington, and entirely too contented to try.

“You did,” Harrington breathed against his ear, and Billy’s prick twitched, still semi-hard. He couldn’t bear to move, though—warm, sleepy, and carefully bandaged, with Harrington rubbing strong fingers against the tight muscles in his back. Billy waited for Harrington’s fingers to dip lower—he didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but surely Harrington had to be getting impatient. When Harrington reached away again for slippery stuff, and again didn’t let his hand stray low enough to so much as fist himself, Billy leaned back into him, blinking until Harrington’s smiling brown eyes came into focus.

“You can fuck me,” he said, squirming so he pressed back against Harrington’s lap. Harrington stilled, taking a shaky breath that turned into a laugh. “You’re three-quarters asleep, are you—”

Billy hummed, letting his eyes close, and mumbled, “Can you imagine...better way to wake up?”

After a period of stillness, Harrington leaned back again, waving his arm away, before sliding his hand down Billy’s back, and down between his upper thighs. “...do you want me inside you?” he whispered, kissing Billy’s neck, “—or should I just slide against you, here?”

Billy shuddered, his prick more awake than any other part of him. “Mmnn,” he said, into the pillow.

Harrington laughed, kissed behind Billy’s ear, and ran his hand down between Billy’s thighs.

Billy rocked back against him, crossing his ankles to tighten the space between his legs, and threw his arm back to pull Harrington against him when the man hesitated again. “Not somebody have to be gentle with,” he muttered nonsensically, and Harrington stopped entirely, but Billy flapped his hand around getting Harrington’s prick properly between his slick thighs, and bucked his hips.

Harrington grunted in his ear, squeezing his side hard enough to leave bruises. “Hargrove—”

He whispered, and Billy shut his eyes tighter, the easy comfort starting to melt away as he realized he was handling things incorrectly, and Harrington was pulling back.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded into the pillow, and Harrington sighed into his hair. Billy propped himself up on his elbow, frowning back over his shoulder. “D’you want my mouth? Want me in your lap again? Tell me plainly, Harrington, or I’ll keep putting my feet wrong—”

“No,” Harrington slumped back against the pillows, tugging the hand free that had been under Billy’s head, and covering his face.

Billy swallowed what felt like a weight. “...do you want me to leave?”

“...no,” Harrington groaned. “Damn it. What do you want?”

“Anything,” Billy answered honestly, laughing. “Give me anything, I’m content. Tell me what you—”

He cut off, muffled as Harrington rolled to throw a leg over him, pinning him into the pillows and licking into his mouth. Billy winced at the weight on his skinned elbow, but hummed into the kiss, and Harrington pushed himself up to shove Billy back onto his uninjured side. “What if I fist your cock,” he murmured against Billy’s lips, and Billy jerked against him, then laughed.

“Please,” he whispered back, and Harrington kissed him again, slowly, pressing him into the downy pillows. Billy squirmed, feeling his cock leak. He was panting when Harrington finally settled behind him, pulling him close, and kissing open-mouthed down the back of his neck.

“Nothing hurts?” Harrington asked, biting gently at Billy’s ear.

“Nothing,” Billy confirmed, arching his back as he tried not to just yank himself to completion and end the bewildering wait. The silken blankets were too warm, suddenly, and he kicked them back, and heard the rattle of the tray hitting the floor. Harrington’s laughter and kisses were hot and moist against his neck.

When Harrington’s hand finally settled around his cock, Billy groaned, his fingers clenching on the man’s arm.

Billy’s eyes fluttered shut again, this time at the sensations of Harrington’s prick between his thighs, stroking in and out, and Harrington’s calloused thumb rubbing across the tip of his cock.

He lasted only a very short time.

He came to himself wrapped securely in Harrington’s arms, pleasantly warm, and a little sweaty. “I’ve found where I want to live,” he mumbled, and Harrington squeezed him.

“Have you?” he whispered back, a little breathlessly, into Billy’s curls.

Billy was brash with contentment. “Here,” he murmured back. “You’ll have to stay in this bed forever.”

“I can come to grips with that,” Harrington returned, and then started to giggle, and Billy groaned. Harrington kissed his hair again, and squirmed away, clambering out of bed—with a muttered oath from Billy—to climb back in, and slide a warm wet cloth down Billy’s belly, and around his thighs. He tossed it on the floor and settled back in, pulling Billy against him.

Why does he have to be Harrington, Billy wondered, and took a deep breath. “...shall we go look?”

“No,” Harrington muttered into his neck. “Stay here. We can look in the morning.”

“...I’d love to, it’s only that—”

“I thought you wanted to stay here forever?” Harrington asked him, crisply, his fingernails clenching into Billy’s ribs. “Was that all you wanted? Now you have to hurry off and help your slaver father?”

“No,” Billy shook his head, forcing himself to relax back against Harrington again. “You’re right.”

“...sorry,” Harrington whispered, squeezing Billy’s shoulders, and breathing unevenly against his neck. “Sorry, I—that was unacceptable, I’m—sorry. I should—I should trust you, right? You saved my life. I can trust you.”

Billy swallowed, his eyes fixed on the toy dragon ship Harrington had played with as a child, before his father’s betrayal—or his hero’s betrayal, or both, depending on how horrible a day little Harrington was having, probably. He wondered what Harrington would do, presented with his father’s business endeavors—and how serious the rule had been, against setting fires. “I am in no hurry to leave your bed,” he said, finally, though the chance to finally know the truth of himself gleamed enticingly in his imagination, just down the hall.

Billy waited until Harrington was asleep, snoring gently against his hair, and slid out of his arms, crawling down the bed to pull on his ragged trousers. His shirt was ripped as well, where he’d slid down the broken tombstones, and landed in the rubble, so he stuffed it in his bag and shrugged on his jacket. The cantrip on the door was already broken, and he slid inside, unhooking his pendant and swinging it around seeking things of importance. That was better, immediately, than the vague what my father wants he had sought that afternoon, and he found three hidden drawers in the huge desk—one contained pound notes with blood on them, and he quickly tucked them away—and was prying at a loose floorboard when the floor creaked behind him.

“A thief in the night,” came Thomas Hall’s voice, and Billy scrambled to his feet, cursing himself for forgetting it might not be Harrington who found him.

“I’ve Harrington’s leave to search,” Billy said, raising his open hands, and realizing how unlikely it sounded at Thomas’ widening grin. The clock read a quarter after three in the morning.

“He’s an idiot,” Thomas said, circling him to sit against the desk. “He’d believe anything you told him, after the spectacle you made on the mountain. Are you the missing heir to his fortune? No? Did you save his father’s life at sea?”

Billy shook his head, feeling an unpleasant sympathy with anyone protecting Harrington. “Nothing like that, I don’t want—”

“It doesn’t matter. Your little ginger firebrand will find her way out in no time—”

“What did you do to Max—” Billy yelled, turning on his heel towards the door, and Thomas kicked the rolling desk chair out so Billy stumbled over it, falling sideways to crack his head against the wall.

“Not much, yet,” Thomas crouched next to him, watching him try to shake his head clear. “Shut her in the larder. Listen. I have money as well. Not as much as the Harringtons,” he said, snorting, “—but I’ll give you a fine purse to disappear now, tonight, before he wakes—”

“He gave me leave to search,” Billy repeated, bracing himself on all fours, and shaking his head. He could see flashing lights with his eyes closed.

“And that would be why you’re prying up boards in his father’s room, hours before dawn,” Thomas crouched, hissing in his ear. “Harrington may have nothing between his ears, but I don’t. Get out. Never speak to him again, or I’ll see you hung as the thief you are, and your snide little sister with you.”

Billy punched him in the stomach.

Thomas swore, crashing sideways into the desk chair, and smacking his elbow on the side of the desk. The chair rolled into the side of the bed, and letters flew like a kicked pile of leaves. Billy grabbed Thomas’ foot to drag him out of the mess, and Thomas kicked back at him, trying to roll onto his arms and knees. He drug half the carpet and the chair with him into the front of the room, trying to scramble away from Billy’s booted feet, then got an arm around Billy’s knees and yanked him down.

The floorboards thudded like a drum under them, a cloud of dust and hair flapping up from yanking the carpet around. Thomas clambered to pin him, got a fist in his hair to slam his head against the ground, and Billy swore, grabbing at the arm clenched in his hair and rolling his hips and legs until he could tip Tommy far enough to smack his back into the wooden edge of the bedframe. Somebody started pounding at the door, Max’s voice demanding Billy open up, and Thomas grabbed him by the hair and smashed his head into the floor.

The door thudded and creaked as someone slammed against it, and Billy’s hands loosened as his head clonked into the floor a few more times. Thomas stood, stomped the heel of his boot into Billy’s ribs and shoulder, and Billy grabbed at him, trying to pull himself up.

The onslaught against the door was loud in their soft noises of thuds and pained grunts—something was bashing against it, now.

Thomas staggered as Billy grabbed his jacket and yanked downward, but he grabbed the desk chair for balance, and shoved Billy back down with his foot. He grabbed the oak, iron-wheeled desk chair, slamming the base into Billy’s head, and the sharp pain made him let go of Tommy’s clothes, trying to catch it.

Tommy used both hands to swing it again, and the world whirled away in nausea and darkness.

#harringrove #harringrove bang #Keg-king #platypan #platypan fic #Edwardian romance #Dark fairytale #Swords and smooches #I wrote fight scenes #It was hard #Help

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parkerspicedlatte · 6 years

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Sweet Pea X Hippie!Reader Blurb

Random Sweet Pea X !Hippie/Free Spirited Reader blurb that has been sitting in my drafts box for far too long.

Inspired by the album FREE Cody Simpson

Word Count: 1.2K

As the sunlight strained to reach into the small apartment placed above the bowling alley behind the White Worm, a sleepy eyed Sweet Pea stirred awake upon realizing that he was no longer under the covers of the soft feather duvet. While he sat up in bed to stretch the sleep away, he couldn't help but to let his eyes wander over to your side of the bed. There you lied peacefully wrapped up in the entire duvet, your calico kitten sleeping in the crook of your neck, slightly covered by your hair which was sprawled out like a beautiful disaster across the pillow case. Even after months of living together, it still brought a warm smile to the boy's face when he realizes where he's woken up and of course, with who.

He takes a moment to look around the room surrounding him. Technically he was in "the bedroom" but all that really was is a small room off the living room/kitchenette, which had previously been a filling room. The living room itself actually used to be an office as was the rest of the apartment. The only thing that separated the bedroom from the living room was antique wooden room divider, that had been found at a garage sale in Greendale, and a few mandala tapestries that hung loosely from the ceiling. Those had been a gift from Toni.

Eventually he let his eyes wander back down to your sleeping frame. You were facing away from him, and if he really tried, he could barely make out your soft snores. He lay back down on his side with his head propped up on his pillow as is fingers danced along your bare back, tracing the 'tattoos' you'd let him draw on you every once in a while (in sharpie mind you). Even in your sleep, he could still see the goose bumps that he gave you as the frigid temperature of his fingertips clashed with the warmth radiating off your back.

"Morning." He whispered as you begin to stir awake, slowly stretching your back before turning to him giving him a sleepy grin. The same grin that makes his stomach erupt with butterflies. He mirrored your smile, almost by reflex, though everything you did could make him smile.

"Morning Sweets" you answer whilst cuddling back into his chest, trying to block out the light steeping into your eyes.

"Careful babe, Basia's behind you."

"Damn cat"

"Uh if I remember correctly, it was your idea to let her live here."

"Uh I if I remember correctly, you didn't try to stop me" you mumbled into his chest making your statement barely audible

"Touché"

"Plus I don't mind taking in a stray every now and then, it's why you're here isn't it"

"Oh come on babe, don't be mean" he teases "plus I'm pretty sure that we took you in first"

"Touché" you yawned

You sat up slowly, scrunching your eyes shut, still adjusting to the early morning sun. Sweet Pea groaned beside you as Basia padded over to his side of the bed before settling on his chest, attempting to lick his chin.

"Damn cat" he chuckles with a lazy smile

"Basia" you cooed, picking her up and rubbing your thumb across the bridge of her nose, causing her to purr in contentment. You placed her on the floor before slipping out of bed yourself. Sweet pea watches as you stretch your arms above your head, lightly sighing and then reach into an open drawer to find a long burnt orange coloured t-shirt you gently pulled over your torso.

He rolled his eyes slightly as his mind wandered to your habits. Burnt orange. That was your colour. Anyone could see this by just stepping into their apartment. The wall space that could be seen was a greyish blue that made the orange accents pop. So really her colours were orange and blue, with an eruption of deep green. The green came from the infinite amount of plants in the room. They were everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling, sitting on window sills, in large pots dotting the room and propagating in containers on the kitchen counter. It really was a jungle that varied from small succulents to the four foot tall fig tree. Every container you could get your hands on became a flower pot of sorts (mason jars, tin coffee cans, small wooden bowls, old chipped mugs, etc). Not that he would ever complain. It made you happy which made him happy.

Though as much as you loved it, Basia had far more adventures in the small jungle that enveloped the living room. The both of you would get a good laugh at watching her creep underneath and between the couch and plants, looking like a child pretending they were on a safari. She would chase moths and the occasionally butterfly that would sneak in from the windows while you sat on the couch skimming old National Geographic's, looking for your next picture add to your travel wall. That wall was smothered in photographs of your current travel wish. Right now it was Australia.

You interrupt Sweet Pea's train of thought by sitting next to him on the bed and placing a plate of breakfast in his lap.

"Where'd you go Sweet's?" you ask curiously as you watch the boy slip back down to earth.

"Still here." he thanks you by placing a chaste kiss to your lips before taking a bite of his breakfast

Truth be told, he would stay here forever as long as you were with him, dancing around the room in whatever weird overalls and t-shirt combination you'd picked out. Though his favourite combination was overalls and no shirt. He loved watching you go about your day, humming a Beetles songs as you water the plants, climbing onto the counters to make sure you could reach them all. That would be his queue. He'd walk over and take the cup of water out of your straining reach and finish up the plants that were hard for you to reach. Then he'd put his hands on your hips, lifting you off the counter, giving you a kiss before setting down.

It was a funny slight really, the bad boy and the hippie. The most unusual combination that any of their friends had seen yet. He didn't care though. He loved being around you, you had a calming effect on him and boy did he need it. When ever he would get himself worked up about something, you'd just hold one finger to your lips, indicating that he needed to stop talking. Then you'd take his hand and pull him over to the living room and have him lay on the floor with you while some old album played in the background. Once you could tell he'd calmed a bit, you would ask him about what was bothering him. Those conversations usually led to other conversations, often landing on plans for the future. The two of you would lie head to head, starring up at the ceiling, smiling contently at the thoughts of spending forever with the other.

That's what he truly wanted. Those moments with you that made time stop momentarily, moments with his happy little hippie.

#sweet pea #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea imagines #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea xhippie!reader #free spirited #riverdale #riverdale imagines #riverdale serpents #riverdale headcanons #riverdale headcanon #hippie #hippie!reader #I just saw a tag that said hippie!lucifer #hippie biker #another-hopeless-daydreamer #reetz's headcanons

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veesko · 6 years

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Australia’s First Bubble Tent

Tucked away in the Australian outback, 200 km away from Sydney, the nation’s first pop-up bubble tent makes an ideal spot for glamping under the stars.

Equipped with plush goose down pillows & blanket, telescope, and personal iPad, the chic, transparent structure ensures maximum comfort, not to mention spectacular stargazing.

With a stay here you’ll have fabulous views of Capertee Valley (world’s second-largest canyon) and access to outstanding trekking. Plus, you’ll be right in the heart of one of the planet’s most important bird sanctuaries.

#outdoors #glamping #luxury travel #australia #cool stuff #tents #spaces

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hotelhomelove · 4 years

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Shop the best king size feather pillows through hotelathome.com.au. Enjoy Free Shipping on most stuff, even big stuff. Buy king size feather pillows made in Australia from 100% goose feathers and down. Order online now!

#king size feather pillow #king down pillow #king size down feather pillows

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theseaeaglelives · 4 years

Text

Round 12

THE SEA EAGLE

MAKING RUGBY LEAGUE GREAT AGAIN!!!

Taking a mid-season holiday for the past month, the Sea Eagle did his utmost to self-isolate, and avoid anyone with a Victorian number plate and/or persons who had come within a bull’s roar of the Crossroads Hotel, the suburbs of Casula, Liverpool, Warwick Farm or South Western Sydney in general, and of course the Holy Duck restaurant and Thai Rock at Wetherill Park. That said, it’s fair to say that even in the pre-COVID era (or any other era for that matter), the Sea Eagle would in all likelihood have avoided most of these destinations on the basis of pure common sense.

A bit like the happenings in Victoria the past month has not been kind to Manly with two wins since the demise of Tommy Turbo and a brief summary of those games follows:

Round 7

Manly Sea Eagles 22

Defeated By

Cronulla Sharks 40

Following on from the stirring victory against the Raiders, Manly was expected to make easy meat of their perennial whipping boys (i.e. The Sharks). Unfortunately, neither team read the script and the Manly defence also decided to take a mid-season holiday allowing the Sharks to run roughshod in this game.

The Sharks ran in 7 tries and only a late flourish (3 tries in the last 15 minutes) saved Manly from even further embarrassment.

As far as the Sea Eagle is concerned there was nothing good to come out of this game, apart from the fact that he did not have to watch it, so the less said the better.

Round 8

Manly Sea Eagles 12

Defeated by

Newcastle Knights 14

Another game that the Sea Eagle was unable to watch, however the score would indicate a much better effort by Manly. That said, Rugby League 101 is a difficult concept to overcome and despite the closeness of the result, the outcome still sees Manly failing to get the chocolates and the all-important 2 competition points.

It has been reported (a bit like in Round 4) that Manly did not get the rub of the green in terms of refereeing decisions in this game culminating in the last minute send off, of Manly firebrand Adin Fonua-Blake for allegedly calling the referee “a f#$king retard” following a contentious and controversial decision.

Fonua-Blake was duly (and rightfully) suspended for 2 weeks, plus a $20k fine (suspended) for this outburst and forced to make an apology to all and sundry, including the toothless tiger also known as the Australian Human Rights Commission for his derogatory attitude and use of the term “retard”.

No doubt this was because the term “retard” is seen as offending those members of society with impaired intellect. Strangely, the fact this outburst was directed at a referee and questioned said referees ability/integrity was barely an issue.

Without condoning the actions of Mr Fonua-Blake, who is quickly building up the CV of an A grade goose, and is an individual who himself may possibly be of quite an impaired intellect, the Sea Eagle is somewhat bemused that Manly did not contest the charges and the suspension.

On the face of it, the use of the word “retard” could well be construed as being derogatory to those members of society of less fortunate and impaired intellect. Having said that, the Oxford Dictionary defines “retard” to mean “to make the development or progress of something slower”. Could it be that young Adin was merely pointing out to the referee his displeasure at the ref’s failure to stamp down on slow play and/or delaying tactics by the Knights??

The suspension of Fonua-Blake for his outburst has prompted the Sea Eagle to ponder on what is now deemed to be an acceptable way to dish out criticism of referees and/or to avoid offence to the usual suspects.

To start with, it would appear that the use of the pro-noun “f#@king” is acceptable given that there was little or no offence taken by this word in this instance.

Obviously as has been proven here, the word “retard” is not acceptable, as is anything that is sexist (e.g. woman, girlie, pussy etc), racist (e.g. black, coon, gook etc.) or that could cause offence to the LBGTQ community (e.g. faggot, poofter, pillow biter, poo puncher, traveller of the chocolate superhighway, carpet muncher etc.). As it should be. There is no place or need to denounce, denigrate, humiliate, slur, or belittle anyone. Even if it is true and even if, on any reading of the objective facts, the said comment could only be taken as a correct statement of the bleeding obvious. Readings of the Sea Eagle over many years will stand testimony to that .

In AFL circles the use of the word “maggot” has been universally adopted, so “f#@king maggot” may be a goer. As would be “f#@king tool”, “f#@king knob” and perhaps also “f#@king f@#kwit”. The use of the word “f(8kng c87nt” should however be avoided. The list of acceptable options is endless and players (and fans) now just need to be more creative than has been the case in bygone eras.

Round 9

Manly Sea Eagles 4

Defeated by

St-George Dragons 34

The Manly defence mid-season holiday continued in this game and without Tommy Turbo/Dylan Walker there was also nothing to offer in attack. The Dragons, who were going legless at the time ran roughshod over Manly and as a result Manly’s season was then appearing to be in a free-fall, not dissimilar to the Victorian government’s handling of the COVID debacle.

As was the case in Round 7, as far as the Sea Eagle is concerned there was nothing good to come out of this game, apart from the fact that he did not have to watch it, so the less said the better.

Round 10

Manly Sea Eagles 22

Defeated

Parramatta Eels 18

Based on the past 3 weeks, Manly were expected to be lapped by the high-flying and competition leading Eels.

Sent out at the juicy odds of $4.50, Manly was back at fortress Brookvale, and dished out an old-fashioned ambush on their bitter rivals and in the blink of an eye ran out to a 16-0 lead in as many minutes.

Cherry Baby (who had a shocker the previous week) was back to his best and was front and centre, leading from the front and instrumental in Manly’s improved performance.

Despite a late comeback by the Eels, Manly ran out deserved winners to get their season back on track and keep them within striking distance from the top 8. That said, without Tommy Turbo (and to a lesser extent Dylan Walker), Manly do appear to continue to struggle and it is only their pride and tradition, and a great coach in Des Hasler, who seems to work miracles with very little, that will keep them in contention until the great man Tommy Turbo (and Dylan Walker) return from injury.

Round 11

Manly Sea Eagles 24

Defeated

North Queensland Cowboys 12

Let’s face it, a trip to Townville even at the best of times is never a pleasant experience. Commonly referred to as Shitsville in the popular Shit Towns of Australia Facebook Page, Townsville is a regular chart topper in the rankings of Australia’s crappiest places to visit. A trip to Townsville is made even worse when confronted by an equally desperate North QLD Cowboys outfit and played at a traditional graveyard for many previous Manly campaigns.

Thankfully however, Manly carried some of their good form from the previous week’s outing against the Eels and started this game where they left off.

After dominating the early skirmishes, Manly opened the scoring after 7 minutes via a barnstorming and bullocking effort from Curtis “the Carnivore” Sironen (more on that later).

After having to withstand some pressure of their own with some at times desperate defence, Manly were able to extend their lead 10 minutes of the break when new hooker Danny Levi barged over from dummy half. Levi has been a shrewd acquisition for Manly and has done a fine job filling in for the mandatorily stood down, Manase Fainu, who in the Sea Eagle’s opinion will be lucky to avoid incarceration for his alleged off-season stabbing incident.

Unfortunately, Manly was unable to maintain their dominance with the Cowboys hitting back on the stroke of half time when winger Kyle Felt lept high to take a bomb over the permanently grounded Horhay Taufua. Defusing the high ball has never been one of young Horhay’s hallmarks and again he was found wanting in this instance. Manly 12-6.

After withstanding some early second half pressure, tries to Cherry Baby and Cade Cust sealed the win for Manly. The Sea Eagle (as did Des Hasler post-match) would like to single out Cade Cust for special mention. Young Cust is improving each week and looks a likely prospect reminding the Sea Eagle of a young Keiran Foran. Let’s hope for young Cade’s sake that he does not follow the example set by Foran (i.e. leaving the nest, chasing greener pastures elsewhere and ending up on the rugby league scrap heap at one time allegedly residing in a less than ideal housing arrangement).

When Dylan Walker returns it will be interesting to see whether he finds himself back out in the centre position , putting a bit of pressure on Brad Parker to retain his spot. That said, young Parker might be quite a useful bench player given his robust frame and liking for the heavy stuff, which could easily see him cover forward and/or backline replacements as required.

EAT RED MEAT

It has been reported (SMH 25/7/20) that since going on to what has been called a Carnivore (i.e. meat only) diet this year, young Curtis Sironen has been able to transform himself from an average journeyman to an established and worthy first grader. Based on his recent performances it’s hard to argue, however the Sea Eagle must attribute some of his improvement to the fact that he is now being mentored by master Coach Des Hasler as opposed to the procession of mediocre Coaches he has had to endure in the past.

It also goes to prove, yet again, some things the Sea Eagle has found quite repellent . And that is the latest trend of so called veganism. We need to get one thing straight here . Carnivores are A grade predators and top the food chain. And for good reason . If you play Rugby League or think like a Rugby League person then you better eat red meat and follow the Curtis Sironen example. It is your choice whether you prefer to eat it raw, rare or medium rare . If you want to follow netball , soccer (men or women's ) or AFL (men or womens) then by all means become a vegetable only eating Nancy Boy.

The Sea Eagle, based on the findings of Mr Sironen, suggests red meat become a predominant part of the diet (and if religious reasons preclude eating beef, ensure that lamb , Goat , kangaroo , snake or crocodile, or venison is the appropriate substitution). If you are capable of engaging in the Bear Grills type lost art of catch and kill your own in this space, all the better.

The Demise of the Dogs (and the return of Trent Barrett)

It is not with any pleasure that the Sea Eagle accounts the demise of this once proud club. The past decade has been nothing short of shambolic, from sex scandals (e.g. Coffs Harbour, Port Macquarie etc), mad Monday debacles, horrendous recruiting (e.g. Foran, Hoppoate, Hasler etc), to now finding itself odds-on to get the spoon in 2020 and having recently sacked club stalwart and legend Dean Pay.

Can it get worse for the Dogs and their long-suffering fans? In short YES.

It has widely been reported in many media outlets that none other than Trent Barrett has been signed to a 3-year deal to take on the head job relacing Dean Pay.

What is there left to say about Trent Barrett, that has not already been said. His time at Manly was nothing short of a debacle, with the only good thing to be said about this DFI infected, ex-Dragon/Shark, non-premiership winner, was that he kept the gym clean and has a good supply of his own gym/office furniture.

https://t.co/2A3P9koeuD?ssr=true

The decision by the Dogs to give Barrett the head job beggars belief. Those in charge of this decision at the very least should have sought explanation and clarification of the following questions and issues, during the interview and appointment process. Namely; “Trent:

Have you won a premiership as a player?

Have you won a premiership as a coach?

Have you ever been coached at club level by a premiership winner?

As a player were you ever coached by DFI patient zero, Brian Smith?

Is it possible that as a consequence of question 3, that you are infected with DFI which is still transmittable to players that you coach?

As a player, were you ever publicly slapped by your coach (who was also a DFI infected, ex-Dragon, non-premiership winner?)

Were you sacked from your previous head coaching role?

Has any team since your sacking, under a new coach improved?

Do you hate Manly and all they represent (ie success and a failure to tolerate mediocrity)?

Do you agree that on the whole, when someone leaves Manly they rarely if ever, go any better and sometimes end up on the slide to oblivion?”

Finally, do you still have any decent office/gym furniture?

The Sea Eagle takes little joy or pleasure from this apparent demise of the Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs . Whilst it is fair to say the Sea Eagle has never loved this club , the Sea Eagle has generally speaking had nothing but the most respect for how about they went about the business of Rugby League. Let's face it, there was a time when if you played the Bulldogs, you knew you were in for a hard afternoon/evening’s work . Until now . The appointment of Trent Barret as coach, who is so un-Bulldog, will and should end in tears.

COVID 19 MELBOURNE

With the recent debacle that is the Victorian government handling of Covid 19 quarantine matters, one might have hoped the effective isolation of Victoria from the rest of Australia via mandatory border closures, would have seen the Melbourne Storm and their filthy wrestling techniques also marooned in that COVID-19 ridden hellhole. Regrettably, the Storm managed to escape to sunny Queensland and are now functioning as though nothing had happened. More is the pity.

Frankly, the Sea Eagle cannot understand how this occured given Queensland has quite correctly banned anyone who comes from the Liverpool and general South Western Sydney post codes from entering their State (and seem to be able to ban residents from nominated NSW postcodes virtually at will and on a daily basis).

When they went to Albury earlier in the year, that town rightly wanted them out pronto.

Surely banning the Storm would have been an easy and straightforward/ common sense decision to make given where they came from (ie Melbourne). This must now be seen for what it is, a missed opportunity to remove the Storm from the Rugby League landscape once and for all. All fair minded followers of Rugby League can place the blame for this one squarely at the feet of the Queensland government.

THE SEA EAGLE

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

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Strong as Stone --Part Fifty-Four.

Hello hello!

Last time, we saw M’Baku and Okoye work on unpacking their new apartment --and saw how Okoye’s dealing with the stress of not being present on missions.

This time, we get to see the baby shower for M’Baku’s and Okoye’s baby!

This update is rated PG for: language. I can’t help myself.

Pairings: M’Baku x Okoye.

Taglist: @the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

Sometimes, when you think everything has settled, the river will shift course and knock you completely off balance.

When it does, get back on your feet and do your best to take everything in stride.

***

Two weeks later

“You look amazing!” Aneka said, a sunny smile on her face, as she embraced Okoye from the side. “I love your dress!”

“Thank you,” Okoye said with an equally sunny smile. “Most of my pants don’t fit anymore.”

She was just starting her last trimester, and even though the doctor had forewarned her that she’d still get bigger before giving birth, she still felt huge. She’d had to invest in tunics and dresses –and several of M’Baku’s shirts—because her old clothes didn’t fit anymore. Her back and chest ached, her feet hurt, and she was hungry most of the time.

But all of that didn’t seem to matter in the face of being surrounded by the people she loved most. She was in the Jabari lands with her friends and a few of M’Baku’s friends, M’Baku, Dewani, and Shuri –some of her biological family would come later—and they were finally celebrating her pregnancy privately.

Granted, the celebration paled to the baby shower that had been thrown for Nakia, but Okoye didn’t care. With the move, the slew of missions, and dealing with being pregnant, Okoye hadn’t wanted anything too over the top.

And, fortunately for her, M’Baku was happy to give her whatever she wanted.

“You look like you stuffed a watermelon under your skirt,” Ayo teased, corner of her mouth turning up as she hugged her friend.

“I feel like I have a watermelon attached to my body,” Okoye shot back. “My back is killing me.”

“Let’s get you sat down, then,” Djabi said, ushering Okoye towards the Lodge’s library. “No reason to make you overwork yourself.”

***

“They recite prayers while burning incense and sage,” Okoye explained with a shrug; she’d had to receive another ritual blessing from the priestesses at the temple of Hanuman, and her friends were more than… a little curious about the whole process.

“And the spiritual leaders at the temple in Birnin Zana were okay with this?” Ayo asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not especially,” Okoye said. “My child is going to be the future Jabari chieftain, so some of the blessings and protection prayers are necessary to uphold the traditions and laws of the tribes. Besides, M’Baku and decided that we’d raise whatever children we wound up having with both our tribes’ beliefs long before I got pregnant.”

“It’s good that you can agree on everything,” Aneka said. “That kind of stuff is too important to just not discuss.”

“How’s the new apartment?” Djabi asked as she sipped at her tea.

“It’s good. We’re almost completely settled in; we just need to set up the nursery.”

Aneka grinned. “Well, hopefully we’ll all be able to help you with amassing some supplies tonight.”

“I’m sure you will.” Okoye let out a jaw-cracking yawn and sighed tiredly. “I missed coffee. I might go insane before the last two months are over.”

“You’ll make it,” Aneka said as she patted her friend’s hand. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then you can have all the coffee you want.”

“I want coffee now.”

“Look, call the Brazil mission a disaster all you want, but I had some of the best coffee there—”

Okoye threw a pillow at Djabi as her friend’s sentence broke off into peals of delighted laughter. “Shut the fuck up.”

…

Okoye pressed her fist against her mouth. “That’s not good.”

Ayo grimaced as she stared into the fire crackling in the fireplace. “No. It’s not.”

The two women were alone in the library; Djabi and Aneka had left to go rest before Okoye’s biological family arrived for the baby shower, leaving Ayo to deliver some less than pleasant news to her General.

Apparently, during the whole process of securing the weapons cache and shipments in Brazil, they’d lost track of the HYDRA cell operating in Austria. The old base had been destroyed, according to Tony’s satellite recordings, with no traces as to where the villains had gone.

“It only reinforces the ‘goose chase’ idea,” Ayo pointed out.

“Maybe,” Okoye countered. “But they’ve lost a serious number of assets in the past few months. The data cache in South Korea, the weapons in Brazil and Australia… we’ve seriously impeded their reach and power.”

“Unless they have different assets they’re trying to protect,” Ayo suggested. “The Russian base is still active, apparently.”

“You think they have something there?”

“There’s no proof that the agents killed by Baron Zemo in Siberia were the last Winter Soldier sleeper cells. Or there aren’t more Black Widow operatives, active or dormant.” She paused for a moment. “Or it could just be nuclear warheads.”

Okoye’s mouth curled into a grim smirk. “That would be very appropriate for Russia.” She sighed. “I have to hope that we’re just running them down, and that they’re just trying to stay ahead of us.”

“One can only hope.” Ayo glanced over at her. “How is reconnecting with your biological family going?”

“Really good. My mother… apparently, she was a Dora Milaje, too.”

Ayo’s eyebrows went up. “Really? That’s incredible!”

Okoye nodded and smiled. “Maybe I’m just being silly, but I feel more connected to her now than I did before.”

“It’s not silly,” Ayo said with a shake of her head. “You’re following in her footsteps. What does M’Baku think of all of it?”

“He’s been supportive of me reconnecting with my family and learning more about my parents. He’s the one that encouraged me to reply to my aunt in the first place.”

“He’s wise.”

Okoye nodded. “He is. Speaking of family—” she grinned at her best friend “—M’Baku and I want to ask you, Aneka, and O’Chenga to be the godparents of our baby.”

Ayo’s eyes widened, and her mouth curved into a smile. “Aneka and O’Chenga would love that.”

“And you?”

She grinned. “I’d love that, too.”

***

Okoye’s biological family arrived in the early evening –along with Shuri and Dewani, who had been spending time with Ramonda in the capitol—and the party officially kicked off.

Which mostly amounted to eating food, enjoying each other’s company, and exchanging various amusing anecdotes about raising children –most of which came from Okoye’s family (though M’Baku did share the joke he’d told about feeding Agent Ross to his “children,” which amused the Chief to no end).

In short, it was perfect.

“So, your entire tribe is composed of obligate vegetarians?” Baako asked over dinner.

M’Baku nodded. “There are a few exceptions for those with dietary needs or restrictions, but yes. It was one of the teachings of Hanuman, and we follow it to honor him.”

“Fascinating. How do you compensate for the shorter growing season and lack of arable land?”

“We have farming pods that sit between the gorges and crevasses formed by the mountain ranges,” Dewani explained. “They’re equipped to simulate a normal growing season during the end of winter and preserve the crops towards the end of the harvest season. That, and we put a lot of work and capital into agricultural engineering.”

Nyarai frowned. “How… how do you get the pods up there –and keep them up?”

“We’ll show you before you leave,” M’Baku promised. “It’s easier to explain when you can see what we’re talking about.”

Once they were done eating, they moved back into the library –and then the presents came out.

Most of it was supplies –baby clothes, diapers, bottles, toys, whatever they might need on their impending journey as new parents.

There were a few… stand outs, though.

Case in point, Dewani was all too delighted when Okoye opened her gift to reveal a set of state of the art, sound cancelling headphones.

“I’m sure I’ll be using these regularly,” Okoye said between chuckles. “Oh, wait, there’s something else…” She frowned. “What…”

“It’s a nose plug,” Dewani supplied eagerly. “For when M’Baku’s snoring keeps you up.”

Okoye smirked as the rest of the room broke out into laughter –and as M’Baku shot his sister a playful glare. “Oh, I’ll use this now.” She set the headphones and nose plug aside, then reached for Ayo’s gift. “Alright, last one.”

“Bear in mind that it isn’t for now,” Ayo said as Okoye tore open the wrapping paper. “It’s for after the baby is born.”

Okoye sighed as she withdrew a bag of dark roast Brazilian coffee. “No, definitely not for now.”

“You can have a cup as soon as the baby’s born.” Ayo smiled. “I thought you’d like to have a bag of the good stuff on hand.”

“I do. Thank you, Ayo.” Okoye set the bag down, then sat back against the couch. “Well, thank you, everyone—”

Before she could say anything else, she was cut off by loud chirping from her kimoyo beads.

Across from her, Ayo’s and Aneka’s beads started chirping as well.

Okoye fought the urge to grimace as a rush of dread coursed through her, settling in a tight knot in her chest. Bast… please…

It was an alert from Natasha –about a terror attack in Austria that had been facilitated by HYDRA.

Okoye’s face creased into a scowl. “Shit.”

***

“The Avengers are on the ground already, doing damage control and tracking down the cell’s location. We’ll be flying in with Adesina to finish taking them out.”

The party had quickly drawn to a close after the alert from Natasha. M’Baku, Dewani, and Shuri had taken Okoye’s family out to see the growing pod so that Okoye, Ayo, Djabi, and Aneka could confer on the situation before Ayo and Aneka headed out.

Okoye sighed and nodded. “Good. There’s already a lot of press coverage on the situation, so be careful. We don’t want to look like we’re infringing on another nation’s sovereignty.”

Ayo nodded. “Yes, General.”

“We need to leave now,” Djabi said, expression somber. “The Avengers are waiting for our help.”

“I contacted the palace,” Aneka added. “Adesina’s ready and waiting.”

“Alright.”

Okoye clasped Ayo’s shoulder when her second-in-command hesitated. “Go. It’s okay.”

Ayo grimaced, then hugged Okoye briefly. “I’ll keep you updated on how everything goes.”

“Good. Thank you.” She exchanged hugs with Djabi and Aneka, then crossed her arms over her chest and sighed as she watched her friends walk out of the Great Lodge. Just when things seem to settle down…

#sass writes #black panther fanfiction #okoye x m'baku #baby shower time!#just nice and wholesome #except for my love of the f bomb #oops #wakanda forever

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luxebedding · 4 years

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bigbedding · 3 years

Link

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theshadowytastemakerstuden-blog1 · 5 years

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Down and Feather Market is Set to Experience Revolutionary Growth by 2025

Down and Feather Market – Overview

This report on the global down and feather market provides analysis for the period 2018–2026, wherein 2017 is the base year and 2018 to 2026 is the forecast period. Data of 2017 has been in cluded as historical information. The report covers market dynamics including drivers, restraints, and opportunities expected to influence the global down and feather market growth during the forecasted period. Global and regional trends that play a major role in driving the global down and feather market have also been covered in the study. The study provides a comprehensive analysis on market growth throughout the above forecast period in terms of revenue estimates (in US$ Mn) and volume estimates (in thousands tons), across different geographies.

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The down and feather market has been segmented in terms of origin, product type, distribution channel, and geography. Based on origin type, the market has been classified into duck and goose. The global down and feather market based on product type is classified as bedding, comforters, pillows, and apparel. Based on distribution channel, the market is segmented into online distribution channel and offline distribution channel. Further, the offline distribution channel is sub-segmented into specialty stores, hypermarkets, and supermarkets. Geographically, the report classifies the global down and feather market into North America, Europe, Asia Pacific (APAC), Middle East & Africa (MEA), and South America. The regions are analyzed in terms of revenue and volume generation. Furthermore, region wise prominent countries covered in the report include the U.S, Canada, U.K., Germany, Italy, France, China, Japan, India, Australia, GCC countries, South Africa, and Brazil.

The report also includes industrial evolution in the down and feather market. We have provided Porter’s Five Forces analysis which identifies bargaining power of suppliers and buyers, threat from new entrants, threat from substitutes, and threat from competition in the down and feather market. Value chain analysis which identifies the key stakeholders in the down and feather market is also covered in the report. Furthermore, policies and regulations aiding the market are also covered.

The report covers market attractiveness analysis and market positioning of key players for all regions covered in the scope of the study. Market attractiveness analysis identifies and compares attractiveness of different segments in the market on the basis of CAGR and market share index across North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Middle East & Africa (MEA), and South America.

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The report also includes competition landscape which includes competition matrix and market share analysis of major players in the global down and feather market based on their 2017 revenues. Competition matrix benchmarks leading players on the basis of their capabilities and potential to grow. Factors like market positioning, product offerings, and R&D focus are attributed to a company’s capabilities. Factors including top line growth, market share, segment growth, infrastructure facilities, and future outlook are attributed to a company’s potential to grow.

Company profiling includes company overview, major business strategies adopted, and market revenues for the years 2015 to 2017. The leading players operating in the market, manufacturing a wide range of down and feather products include Allied Feather & Down, Bettfedern Handelsgesellschaft mbH & Co. KG (Rohdex), United Feather & Down, Inc, Norfolk Feather Company, Down-Lite International, Inc., Hans Kruchen, Heinrich Häussling GmbH & Co., Feather Industries, KL Down, and Maya Tekstil.

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imaginaryculturepress-blog · 6 years

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TFTP: Rise Against in Perth, WA

In which we photograph Rise Against and have the best shuttle and replacement bus experiences ever. *Mexican wave.*

Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and oH MY FUCKING LORD YES I PHOTOGRAPHED RISE AGAINST. I honestly cannot believe it either, but here we are. I guess I make up for that with my really shitty lenses and positioning though, so I'm back to being a pathetic idiot. For real though, I was using your standard 18-55mm f3.5-5.6 kit lens and it made me want to die.

We're only one paragraph down and I've managed to include an abundance of self-hatred and suicide references... how fun.

Before we begin, I'd like to take a moment to thank the lovely lads at HBF Stadium and VenuesWest for their assistance in gaining a photo pass, even if it wasn't a "proper", "entry-to-the-pit" one; this experience was actually extremely educational, teaching me to try out new angles, avoid photographing the same people (for social images) twice, that I really need to pay more attention to my camera modes, and that I should just get new freaken lenses. Furthermore, it's only necessary to thank the amazing Bare Bones for hooking us up with a reviewer pass. The guys are some of the kindest and talented people I've had the pleasure of meeting, and seeing them live was incredible. So thank y'all kindly.

Anywho, let's get to it:

T'was a lovely Wednesday 7th February when I found myself doing some last-minute transport calculations and failing to print a ticket. After dragging my lazy ass out of math class I headed home, only to realise that I hadn't worked out a proper schedule for our train-to-train-to-Grill'd-to-bus-to-HBF Stadium trip. It was at this same point that I realised that the Freo line wasn't operating that evening from 7pm till Thursday morning; you know, so it'd be closed

after the concert ended and busses stopped.

Furthermore, I had a pathetic excuse for a digital ticket that refused to transfer or print itself, thus I was in a complete panic.

So I did what any good concert photographer would do: I decided to wing it. The trains, the busses, heck, even the mushroom burgers and tickets. Just go with the flow. What ever will be, will be. Et cetera.

I was of course to regret this when I found myself sprinting to the Freo train and not regaining my breath until we reached Claremont Station, but it's fine. It's all fine. Just go with the flow. I had to become Boxer from Animal Farm; "I will work harder". "Napoleon is always right". I will plan better. Grill'd burgers make everything alright. Something like that.

Soon enough, we found ourselves at Grill'd, ordering mushroom burgers; you know, those vegan ones we get every single goddamn time because Grill'd only has two (though very amazing) vegan options... besides the chips. But nobody counts that. Regardless, t'was an incredible lunch/dinner/linner and I might've become addicted to it.

We soon headed for HBF Stadium, where after an hour of hectic "I've never photographed here before", I was assisted by a wonderful VenuesWest employee. (I don't want to mention names as I don't know if they'd be all right with that.) The place was crawling with eager concert-goers, and there's nothing I love more than listening to their conversations. It's weird and creepy, I know, but they're usually highly opinionated and I love to answer or debate them in my mind.

After a little while longer of waiting, the show was about to start.

First up were Bare Bones, some of the best lads in the whole of Australia. I first met them last year through an interview for Hysteria Magazine, in which I was wrongly credited by the publication. I also reviewed their album Bad Habits (2017) and was a fan of their music, giving them a 5/5. Anyone gonna comment on how that's a plain numeral and not "play this at my funeral/5"? No? Well regardless, I've matured since my days at Hysteria and now use fancy ratings, not those basic af number things. (I'm still salty at Hysteria. That will never change. They're in my book of Most Disliked, alongside Gina Rinehart and Supposed Manager.)

Though I'd only had a five-minute phone call with the band back in May, they appeared to be very humble and down to earth. This was confirmed that night, with Bare Bones playing one hell of a set before Rise Against. I was proud to say the least; I realise it's not my place to care, but I've been attentive to these guys' music for a little under a year, and had seen them grow as musicians. Sure, I had no clue as to what was occurring behind the scenes, but from a fan's perspective, they were progressing in the right direction.

Their performance was phenomenal. A slightly tough crowd, considering the majority of people were too busy waiting in lines for booze, but those present seemed to love the set. The lads did a fantastic job, and I had a bit of a fangirl moment when they played "Thick as Thieves"... stop judging me...

They were the perfect way to start the evening, even with the red lighting.

Intermission.

The lights dimmed, the crowd screamed, the blogger wrote the same "a band is about to go onstage" line that everyone uses, and lo and behold, Rise Against appeared before us. I had a bit of a restrictive photo pass, and could only shoot from the crowd (the photo pass part of it allowed me to bring in professional equipment, which the general admission was prohibited from doing). It was quite the spectacle, really. The guys were super energetic and immersed the entire audience, which is always fun.

We had a three song shooting restriction, which nobody but myself actually followed. I wanted to enjoy the show from a fan's perspective, so after the third song, "The Violence", I set down my DSLR and realised just how incapable I was at audience-ing. But before we get to that, let's focus on this last shooting song:

I was granted permission to run around the venue like a headless goose, so long as I got some decent imagery out of it. So for this song, I ran to the nosebleeds to capture some crowd shots. I received quite a few concerned expressions from staff and security, mostly due to my weird singing whilst shooting; apparently normal people don't do that. But as I was at the top of the crowd, looking down at each and every attendee, I felt at peace. There was something rich and raw within that moment, something that united the entire stadium as one. It was that same emotion that grasped me during SOTA Fest last year, and I loved it. So I took it in. A moment of admiring the scene.

I was soon back in the crowd, and as I said before, I didn't know how to audience properly. I mean, I stood there... just... standing. I sang along to some songs, but felt awkward without a camera and was unsure of where to keep my hands. I was going to run into the pit and join the moshers who were throwing shoes at each other, but then a really sweaty muscular dude almost knocked me over as he headed for the pit, and I realised that if I can't survive the sidelines, there's no way I'd walk out of that pit alive.

So I went back to figuring out where to place my hands.

Rise Against were absolutely incredible. They're such modest people and are wholeheartedly dedicated to entertaining their fans, and anyone with the chance to see them live should do so. There's nothing I love more than (vegetarian and vegan) musicians showing a love for their fans and being the sweetest people ever whilst jamming the fuck out and hosting one of the craziest mosh pits ever. (SOMEONE GET THEM A GRILL'D MUSHROOM BURGER, THEY DESERVE IT!)

Inter- fuck, it was over. But don't fret; this post isn't. We've still got a Drunk Dudes on a BusTM story to tell. Actually, there's over an hour of bus tales to tell, so I think we're gonna summarise it as follows:

- We got to the shuttle and were greeted by a seemingly chillaxed bus driver.- Soon the bus was packed full of drunken weirdos and I loved the atmosphere.- Everything was about to intensify when the driver began, well, driving.- He actually drove like a maniac and was going way over the speed limit; everyone loved it! (Dead serious, no sarcasm. It was amazing.)- Some random dude with a thick Aussie accent screamed "SICKIIIIIIIES FOR EVERYONE TOMORROW!"- Everyone replied with "hear, hear!"- The driver should star in the next Fast and Furious film.- He was driving super recklessly so the drunk guys up the back decided it was only necessary to do the Mexican wave.- When they finally perfected the wave - sorry, we all perfected the wave, because everyone was engaged and loving the moment - someone shouted "GO TEAM" really loudly. - They were being the hilarious drunks and I wished I had some of the beer they were having. Well, I did; it was spilled on me at least three times during the show. Nevertheless, I hadn't drunk any and I regretted that.- The driver ran a red light.- It was kinda like that bus in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and my geek self was thriving.- Unfortunately we reached Claremont Station and had to get off the bus ://- The trains weren't operating so the Drunk GangTM (I'm included okAY I WANT TO BE A PART OF THIS) trekked to the bus stop. - The replacement busses were running late so we had to stand there for over half an hour. I loved it.- The Drunks were trying to hitchhike and scared a lot of passing traffic.- They started terrorising passing Grill'd employees and screaming "ONE OF US! ONE OF US!" until we were all chanting.- There was one couple who seemed to be normal backpackers but they were having some weird-ass conversations regarding red suitcases and pillows. - We were getting pretty reckless so somebody called the railway security Transperth people whose profession titles I've momentarily forgotten.- It took a fair few patrol cars to keep us at bay. It's not like we were harming anyone, though; just screaming at passing cars. - I wish I took a group photo of everyone but that would've required crossing the street and it was midnight and I had no energy left to avoid getting run over by a truck. Or the shuttle bus. In all honesty, I was mainly concerned the bus would arrive the moment I got to the other side of the road and would leave without me.- The replacement bus finally came and barely anyone paid for their tickets.- It was one of those large ones that had a caterpillar in the middle (what? I can't explain things) so we were fortunate enough all fit in and travel together.- I had a lovely chat about the comfort levels of the bus' seats with some obviously intoxicated lad.- One dude boarded at a random stop out of nowhere and was like, "Hold up, y'all are coming from Rise Against? I WAS THERE TOO! FAAAAAAM!!!" - Someone got kicked off unfairly at the side of the road and we still miss him dearly.- After he was kicked off, everyone went dead silent for a couple dozen seconds before someone at the back started singing loudly, "The wheels on the bus go round and round..." and then everyone joined in and Broadway was shook. - We went the really long way and it was like 1am when we reached the Perth bus station.- I LOVE MY BUS FAM AND I WISH WE COULD HAVE A REUNION SOMETIME SO PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU WERE THERE AND WE CAN AT LEAST ACKNOWLEDGE OUR BUS PRESENCE OR SOMETHING. PLEASE. I'M SLIGHTLY DESPERATE, I DON'T CARE HOW WEIRD OR CREEPY THIS SOUNDS.

So... that was that. I still love my Bus Family just leave me to cry.

Next up: I don't freaken know, but I'm not writing about Hyperfest because I don't have nearly as many adjectives as I'd need for that. (But Midland Grill'd make the best vegan mushroom burgers and I love them for it.)

MUSICAL SUMMARY:

Bare Bones: mY PRECIOUS FAVES I'M SO PROUD *wipes tear*/5

Rise Against: YOU FUCKEN LEGENDS I LOVE YOU/5

Drunk Dudes on Bus: Y'all should get a musical.ly account and start touring and I'll be your photographer and wE CAN ALL LIVE ON A BUS TOGETHER/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY:

Lenses: Failed me/5

Camera: The love of my life/5

Lighting: Pretty. Good. Pretty good. -Mike Wheeler in Stranger Things/5

Editing: I had to crop some images I'm sorry please don't hate me/5

My sanity: I JUST WANT MY BUS FAMILY BACK IS THAT SERIOUSLY TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR/5

Live long and headbang, xx-Skyler Slate

#tftp

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