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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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Point of No Return - Part Eleven

A/N: Sorry!! The holiday weekend made me late even though I did a boatload of nothing. We are coming down to the wire with this story and I know I have been saying that for like three weeks now but every word that brings me closer makes me more nervous and excited in equal measure. As of right now, there are only two parts left and they are...doozies. Anyway I should stop yammering and get to posting.

Warning: discussion of past trauma, difficult family relationships, loss, violence, murder, language

Summary: Cee asked Clara to talk, and now that its time to, she doesn’t know where to start. Luckily, Clara knows how to help. Ezra rests up after that long night cramped on the bench made him pay in aches and pains for the few hours of bliss. A glimpse at what home might mean for all of them now.

Word Count: 5.7k

If the blister is punctured it releases the carrom acid.

Cee paced the space in front of the kitchen counter while she waited for Clara to come back from the washroom, trailing her fingers along its smooth edge as she chewed absently at her bottom lip. Since leaving the Green almost two weeks before, she hadn’t given all of the details of what happened to her and Ezra to anyone, only telling the staff on board the freighter and at both Med Centers the basics: Ezra had been injured and she had tried to do what she could for him. But now that she had expressed a desire to share the whole truth with Clara, Damon’s last begrudgingly given lesson on prospecting echoed in her mind.

If it comes in contact with the gem the whole pull is compromised.

Drumming her fingers on the tiled surface that surrounded the sink, she tried to clear his permanently frustrated tone from her thoughts but she couldn’t, his words making her wonder if the same held true for conversations like the one she was about to have. If she didn’t pick the right angle to approach things from, would the whole thing collapse and corrode?

Suddenly she felt a nervous panic seize her chest as she realized that she had no idea where to begin. Not for the first time since meeting them in the pages of her favorite story, Cee found herself wishing that she could consult the characters that had stood in as her only friends. As much as she dreamed about seeing the Ephrate with her own eyes, visiting the places explored by Jhi, Alyce, Clo and Reevie, as much as she craved their confidence and freedom, it was the scenes in which the group of friends confided secrets and fears to one another that she longed for most. Her favorite thing about the way that their friendship was written, and her favorite theme to expand on in the additional pieces that she had written, was how none of them ever went through anything alone. If they were real, if they were here right now, she could ask them for advice on what to tell Clara. She could count on them to be there for her once the conversation was over, no matter how it went.

They aren’t real. Don’t be stupid.

She closed her eyes and released a controlled breath through her nose in an attempt to slow her racing heart and still her dizzy mind. Swallowing, she filled her lungs again and repeated the practice, this time bringing her shaky hands up to the sides of her head. She combed her fingernails through her pulled-back hair to tidy up any strays that may have sprung loose from her ponytail. The light scratch against her scalp was a self-soothing technique she’d developed at a young age when her father’s work hours and extracurricular activities kept him out late into the night.

A part of her wanted to believe that it was something that her mother had done to calm her as a small child. She imagined the smiling young woman from the photo cradling her close as she cried, her voice soft and warm as she eased her daughter’s worries away with her gentle touch and a sweetly hummed lullaby. But just like with her fictional friends, Cee realized that her mother was a character in her story that she would never truly know. She had died before Cee’s memory could begin to record, and as a result the girl couldn’t even recall what her mother sounded like, if she laughed freely, whether or not she sang or danced. The woman existed only in the small, creased rectangular photo that she kept tucked inside her notebook. All of her imaginary friends in one place, and none of them helpful to her now.

How do I…

She opened her eyes and let out another slow breath, hands falling down to grip the rim of the sink as she looked out the round window above it, watching the tall pink grass swaying in the lazy breeze.

How do I tell Clara that it’s my fault? The reason Ezra got so sick, the reason he almost-

The door to the washroom off the den opened then, the sound of its groaning hinges breaking her from her thoughts before they could grow big enough to change her mind and chase her back into silence. She turned, leaning against the edge of the counter as Clara walked into the room. Though it was clear that she’d rinsed her hair, water dripping from the strands to darken the collar of her slightly oversized green tee, Cee still noted streaks of rosy Thulian running throughout the messily piled bun at the back of her head. She wore cuffed denim shorts and a pair of canvas slides without socks, and though she knew that the woman was likely tired from work and exhausted from all the things that had changed recently, she seemed more relaxed than Cee had seen her since arriving at the farm.

It's because he’s getting stronger, it must be. She must’ve been so sc-

“That’s better,” she said, hands going to her own shoulders as she rolled her neck out. Clara gave Cee a small, sideways grin. “Feel like a human again.”

Cee’s lips seemed stuck together at that moment, unsure of which words they should attempt to be forming. She simply nodded, eyes darting to the cabinets as Clara headed towards the refrigerator, pulling the door open. She took a clear cylindrical carafe from the shelf on the door, the container full of the same purple tea that Cee had tried brewed hot, what looked like small cluster-shaped berries in varying shades of red bobbing in the amethyst liquid. She let the door close, bumping it with her hip to ensure that the seal pressurized, then turned back to Cee, pointing with her free hand at the upper cabinets behind where the girl stood.

“Can you pull down two of the tall glasses from that- yup, that one.” She smiled as Cee rose on her toes to locate the glasses that Clara had asked for. “Perfect, thank you.” Cee set them down and she walked over, opening the carafe as she did. She poured the iced tea into the waiting glassware, maneuvering the strainer on the pour spout so that a few of the oddly shaped fruits plopped into each one. “I think it's better cold,” she told Cee as she crossed the kitchen again to put the tea back in its place. “But that could just be because it's Harvest time and it's hot out.”

Cee wrapped her hand around the cool glass and peered down into it. Though it didn’t look, smell or taste anything like the viscous, gelatinous Juice that she and Ezra had been served at the Sater camp on the Green, it was what flashed behind her eyes momentarily.

Drink it, it's good for you, cleanses the Dust.

Ezra had tried his best then to hide from her how weak and sick he was, how dangerously close he had toed the line with death, nodding and giving her a smirking grin before downing the contents of his cup in one gulp. But now, in her memory, she heard the cracks in his tone, recalled the shake in his hand as he lowered the empty mug, realized that the amount of sweat beading on his forehead and soaking his hair was far more than what would be normal after removing his suit’s globed helmet.

He knew. Knew he was...knew how bad it was and he was just trying to…

She blinked as Clara spoke again. “Adding the berries makes it sweeter, it's refreshing on a day like this.” Without thinking, like she had in that dug out hut in the Sater camp, she took a large mouthful of the drink she’d been offered. This time, however, she didn’t have to suppress a gag or conceal a wince at the flavor. To her complete surprise, she actually felt her lips twitch at the pleasant taste of the tea. That’s...really good.

Clara took a long swig from her own glass, wiping her lips with the heel of her thumb. “Good, right?” Cee nodded, that twitch spreading a little higher despite the uneasiness still swimming in her stomach over the pending talk. As though she could read her mind, or at least her expression, Clara tapped her finger twice against the side of her glass and tilted her head. “So,” she took a breath and let it out, her shoulders rising and falling casually as she did. “You said you wanted to talk, right? About everything that happened?”

Cee felt the furrows cutting into her forehead as she nodded around another sip of the berry infused tea, using the drink as an excuse to stay quiet for as long as possible. This was your idea, why are you clamming up now? She frowned as she swallowed, feeling the palm of her empty hand dampen with nervous sweat. But when she lowered the glass, she saw that Clara’s eyes were still on her, the woman waiting patiently for her to break her silence.

When Cee left the quiet uncracked, Clara took care of it for her. “Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” she was glad for a question that she could easily answer to get things started, and she set her glass down more forcefully than she meant to at the relief that it brought her. Oops. She swallowed hard, but the glass wasn’t damaged and Clara hadn’t seemed bothered by the clumsy handling of her breakables, so she cleared her throat and didn’t address it. “Yeah, let me just go grab my shoes and… I’ll be right back.”

Clara smiled and nodded once. “Okay, Cee. I’ll be on the porch.” She cocked her head towards the screen door, and then grabbed the handle to yank it open and she was gone, footsteps creaking on the wooden floorboards outside.

Alone in the kitchen, aside from Abe who had curled himself up on the narrow ledge under the window by the table, Cee ran her fingers through her hair once more, letting out a long, slow breath.

We come as a pair, you and me.

That was what Ezra had told her, and she had only applied it to the conversation that they had been having at the time he’d said it- regarding what would happen and where she would live if he didn’t stay on the farm.

But… I think he meant more than that.

As she walked through the short hall that connected the kitchen to the den, she passed the stairway and glanced up to where she knew he was resting. He had been awake only briefly enough to pick at the turnover that she brought him, wincing in discomfort as he adjusted his position to eat. At first it had worried her to see him seemingly in worse shape than he’d ended the day before, but he had assured her that he was just sore and tired from the long day and the hours spent cramped on the bench.

“The involuntary excitement of getting out of this bed for the first time made me push it just a tick beyond my current capabilities, Birdie,” he’d told her through slow but steady breaths. “And now” he gestured with a flippant turn of his wrist and a fatigued smile gave way to a tired laugh. “I am paying the price. But it is one that I am more than willing to cover for what I have gained.”

He’d fallen back into a heavy sleep shortly after that but not before he clarified exactly what it was that he had felt so fairly compensated for his pain with; Home.

It was possible, maybe, that he had meant more when he had told her that they were a package deal; that maybe, what he meant was that if Clara could find it in her heart to welcome him home after everything that happened between them, that the welcome would extend to her in more ways than a spare mattress and some tea. She bent down to pull her shoes- the sneakers given to her at the Med Center on Central- from under the pullout couch, and as she sat on the edge of the bed to put them on, she let herself hope, just for a second, that she was right.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Clara crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the porch post nearest the stairs with a sigh. To anyone watching it would look like she was appraising her fields, taking stock of which portions were completely harvested and which were still left untouched. It might look like she was observing her farm hands, ensuring that they were working safely and efficiently, or even as though she were simply enjoying the stunning scene laid out in front of her- the warm peach light of the fully risen Harvest Star passing through the cloudy clusters of Thulian pollen, the layered color effect of the taller stalks, still weighted with bright pink tufts in contrast to the muted shade of the shorter, already shorn stalks in front of them, the way that the breeze made all of the feathery stalks sway like a quartz ocean. Despite seeing the same view day in and day out for the last thirty some odd years, the pure beauty of it was never lost on her.

But none of those things crossed her mind as she waited for Cee to come outside. Instead, she shuffled through thoughts and memories that she had carefully stowed away years ago, preparing to share some of them with the girl. Clara knew that if it had taken her this long, five days there at the farm and roughly a week’s worth of cycles between docking on the freighter and getting to the Med Center on Kamrea before that, then there was likely a reason beyond shyness. Though it was true that she’d been quiet since she and Ezra arrived, Clara didn’t think shy was the right word to describe Cee. In fact, when the three of them had sat out on the porch during dinner the previous evening, the girl bubbled excitedly when the topic turned to her favorite book and the fact that Ezra had read her version of it. She had feverishly torn through the sequel and told Clara that she was already re-reading it, a bashful grin curving her worry-chewed lips as her freckled cheeks flushed the same color as the fields.

She talks up a storm when it’s something she wants to talk about. Clara smiled at that, thinking back to her own teen years and how easy it was to get her to go off on a tangent about her favorite singer, or why she wanted to travel to the Bowsum Conservatory so badly. She wants what every kid wants… she wants to feel like she matters, wants to be heard.

She let out another breath as she reached up to pull the elastic out of her still damp hair, the loose bun she’d had it in coming undone as another breeze came through. Shaking the waves out she combed it back into a tighter bun this time, using her fingernails to tuck any strays in place. She knew that while it was easy to get Cee to open up about her interests, the conversation that they were about to have would be less simple, even if it had been Cee who had prompted it. In just the time it took for her to take a quick shower and change out of her stained work clothes, Cee had gone from barrelling down the stairs to ask Clara if they could talk to withdrawing so much she barely opened her mouth to drink her tea. Clara knew that she would have to help guide the girl through it, and she knew that the best, most trustworthy way to do that was to open up herself, show the cards that she normally played close to the vest and let the girl see that it was possible to forgive and to move forward even when it feels unimaginable.

Like losing her parents, her brother, and then the man that she loved with every grain of her soul.

She knew better than many what it required to stand again after being bowled over by the things that she always thought she would never be able to recover from until she was forced to. The difference between the cut and the scar were so vast when blood still flowed from the wound that they didn’t seem related. But she was able to stand on scarred legs even after they’d been cut out from under her, and she had had to learn how to do most of it on her own. She wouldn’t let Cee suffer that alone. She had promised her on the girl’s first day at the farm that she would help her carry the weight of the things she was going through.

Whether or not Cee saw it as a promise didn’t matter, because Clara intended to keep it regardless.

The screen door opened behind her and she turned in time to see the girl gingerly close it so that it wouldn’t swing and slam against the jamb. Despite the fact that she could sense how tense and unsure Cee was, the fact that she was already adapting to things like the old hinges on the porch door and what Abe’s different howls and meows meant warmed her heart. It was proof that she was already adapting to a life that she had likely never imagined.

Cee crossed the porch to where Clara stood, her unsure steps telegraphing the awkwardness that she was struggling to hide. Instead of letting her flounder, Clara smiled. “Ready?” A bob of the blond ponytail preceded a few more shuffled footsteps. “Alright, c’mon.” With that, she headed quickly down the steps, waiting again for the girl at the bottom.

Her mouth quirked down and to the left and she took a breath before placing her hand on the bannister, taking the steps slower than Clara had, but descending all the same. “Where are we going?”

“Well,” Clara tipped her chin up at the house as Cee stepped off the last platform and onto the hard packed dirt walkway, the girl looking over her shoulder as she did. “You’ve been here almost a week and you haven’t left the porch, so I thought I’d show you around.” She swallowed, the places that she planned to show her flashing through her mind- the swing by the stream, the stone by the fields, the hilltop that overlooked Briggs’ old farm.

Ezra, the morning he snuck out of bed to hang the swing he had spent weeks building from the giant crater-oak. The way his beard tickled her cheek as he kissed her awake to drag her outside, wanting to show off his handiwork, the way he beamed with pride when the thing didn’t fall apart when they sat in it for the first time. The way it felt when he put his arm around her, thumb swiping over the cap sleeve of her shirt covering his favorite of her freckles.

Ezra, laughing with Seth at something genuinely funny that her father had said in a moment of clarity before his transfer to the memory care facility. The way that neither he nor her brother had ever let her in on the secret joke. The way that knowing that he wanted to keep that memory for himself because her family had become his made her love him even more.

Ezra, the day they said goodbye to Seth, adding his name to the memorial stone that bore the names of her parents. The way he never unwound his fingers from hers while they stood there, the way that she knew he was breaking just as badly as she was, the way that he was trying to give her what little strength he had by not separating his palm from hers.

Ezra, begrudgingly helping Briggs’ daughters and the few farmhands they were still able to pay dig out their fields after the man’s grief-fueled bender caused him to squander the last few weeks of the harvest, his fields beginning to fester as the rains came. The way that he kept Clara close to him at all times while they helped, the memory of the night he received the scar on his cheek not far enough removed for his liking. The way that Clara knew he had to fight to put aside his hatred for the man who could have killed her, but how he did it gladly knowing that their actions would help Briggs’ family.

They flashed out of order and mixed with dozens of other moments like them in the few seconds it took for Cee to fall into step with her. Ezra was everywhere all over this farm, Seth and her parents, too. And not all of the memories hurt. She needed Cee to understand that there was life after the things that tried to derail it.

The soft soles of the girl’s tennis shoes barely made a sound as she walked alongside Clara, and neither did she for a few paces as they made their way down the path towards the fields. Instead of continuing straight down the wider dirt road that split the two front fields and led to the barn, Clara turned left towards the treeline.

Cee was quick to pick up the change in direction, and as she made the turn she finally broke her silence. “I used to live here. On Kamrea, when my parents were… when my mom was alive.”

Good, let her start wherever she wants. Clara raised one eyebrow and looked over at her. “Oh yeah? I didn’t know that. Where about?”

She wrinkled her forehead and gave a slight shake of her head, squinting into space. “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t remember anything about it. I didn’t even know that Thulian was farmed here or,” she sighed, “or anything. I just know what my-” her tongue flicked out to wet her lips as she considered what to say next. “What Damon told me. And it wasn’t much.” She added the last few words under her breath.

There were two ways to go with Cee’s answer; follow the flow of information, or provide sympathy for what she had just shared. Of course Clara’s heart went out to the girl, and she expected that the feeling would only continue to grow larger the more she shared. But she doesn’t want or need that right now, she needs to talk, get it all out. “Where was the last place that you lived, then?”

The path they were on was getting closer to the place where the soft grass met the shady trees, almost close enough to hear the stream. In a few weeks it would be full enough to hear from the porch, but for now it was still a secret to anyone who didn’t already know about it.

“The Pug.” She brought her quick, sharp eyes up to follow the trunk of one of the taller crater-oaks. “Puggart Bench,” she went on to explain, and even though Clara knew about The Pug from what Ezra had told her, she didn’t stop the girl. “Damon and I had an apartment in one of the spires for a while, but we didn’t stay long, we were always on jobs.” She drew her lips together in thought for a moment, then turned to face Clara. “I think... someone else might have rented our place when we weren’t there now that I’m…” She trailed off as they finally got close enough to hear the soft gurgle of water over rocks, blinking at the sound. “Is that...water?”

Clara felt a twinge at the easy way the girl’s attention shifted from her rootless childhood to her current surroundings. She swallowed so the girl wouldn’t notice. “Yup,” she pointed through the narrow opening in the trees that her father had created ages ago by felling two crater-oaks when he needed wood to build the porch. “Right through that gap there’s a stream. It’s not very full right now, but it will be in a few weeks.”

“Ezra told me there was a stream…” She mumbled it to herself as she shook her head. “I forgot he...Can we...are we going to-” She sucked in a breath. “I was born on Lao, but I’ve never… seen water that I can... “ They had stopped walking at the entrance to the woods, Cee’s expression turned to one of wonder. “There’s water on the Green, but I couldn’t take my suit off to feel it.”

“Yeah, of course, we can…” she nodded through the tightness that came from being able to give her something as simple as fresh water running over her fingers.

Cee walked straight to the bank without hesitation, kneeling down to dip her hand into the cool, pristine creek. Clara followed, taking a seat on the swing that the girl hadn’t acknowledged yet. A small laugh slipped out as she wiggled her fingertips. “It’s...cold.” She bunched her fist up under the surface then sprang her fingers apart to make a small splash, humming in amusement. “Feels good.”

“When it gets deeper you can swim in it. Its shallow enough to stand, but… you’ll see. Give it a few weeks.” Clara crossed one leg over the other and waited for her words to sink in. She wasn’t sure how much Ezra had told her about what they two of them had discussed the night before; that he would be staying. And that means you are, too…

Cee stood slowly then, wiping her wet hand on her pants as she turned. Her eyes were wide and round when they fell on Clara. “W-well, I...if-”

“Cee, Ezra is staying here. We-” The girl blinked, those soft doe eyes getting impossibly bigger, her mouth falling open as her breathing increased. Oh...what did… It wasn’t the reaction she was expecting, but she tried not to let it show, patting the slats of the swing to indicate that the girl could come take a seat. She watched as Cee took her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, then released it as she nervously sat. “You know, he made this swing. Built it himself as a birthday gift for me one year.” She looked up at the branch that held them, one cheek climbing her face as she smirked. “Took him… so long to build it because he’d never built anything before but he…” she sighed and looked back down at the girl. “This is his home, Cee. It always has been, and it always will be. And it… if you want it to be, it can be yours, too. It… I would like that, very much, and I know Ezra would, too.”

“Clara, I’m scared.” It came out rushed but whispered, but before Clara could ask her what she was scared of, she went on. “I’m… you still don’t know what I… what I did, and I’m scared that when I tell you, you won’t-”

“No.” She was immediately reminded of what Ezra had said to her the first time he and Seth came back from the Green, and the rage that swept through her made her voice shake slightly. That Kevva damned Moon tries to crush everyone and I… She let out a slow breath to calm down as the girl closed her gaping mouth. “Cee, you can tell me what happened if you want, and you said you wanted to talk, so I think that you do want to tell me.” The girl sniffed and gave a small nod, staring at her shoes. “But I need you to know that I don’t blame you… or Ezra… for anything that you had to do up there. Okay? Nothing that-”

“I shot him.” The words came out so small that they almost drowned beneath the gentle sound of the stream, but Clara heard them as clear as if they’d been in her own head. It caused her to take a breath and hold it, her heart jolting as the girl quietly began speaking again. “It’s my fault that he’s so sick. That he lost his arm, that he almost d-” she winced, squeezing her eyes closed as she drew her knees up, feet resting on the edge of the swing. When they opened again, tears swam in the corners and she didn’t try to stop them from falling. “He almost died, and it’s my fault. He almost… he would have never seen you again, and it would be my-.” she buried her face in her knees and sobbed.

Clara wasn’t sure when the tears had started forming in her own eyes, or when she had placed her palm between Cee’s shoulders, the blades of them small and fragile beneath her fingers. “You brought him back to me, Cee.” It was news to her that the man’s injuries had come at the hands of the girl who had, from what she understood from what Ezra had told her, had saved the man’s life. But it’s...its what that fucking moon does to people. It forces them to… “I’m not just talking about physically getting him to Kamrea, either, she clarified, fingers still moving soothingly over Cee’s back. “I mean… you found that part of him that was still in there, all this time, and somehow, you brought that back to life. He was…” Cee finally picked her head up to look at the woman, both of them tear streaked. “Oh, Cee, he was so lost the last time I saw him. When he… the last time that he left.”

Something seemed to dawn on her then, and she gasped in the midst of her tears. “He went for revenge… didn’t he? He said… he went after them, didn’t he? The people who-” Cee swallowed, sitting up. Clara let her hand fall away as the girl turned on the seat to face her. “After your brother was… k- after Seth died?” She flinched at her own words and started rapidly trying to backtrack. “Ezra, he told me that he was with him when he… when it happened, and I saw the picture of the three of you and I-”

Clara closed her eyes. “Yes,” she answered. A sharp stabbing pain twisted in the old wounds in her heart, but she knew that this conversation would eventually take this turn. It has to, it’s part of the point. She needs to see that forgiveness is…

Without thinking, the same way that she had placed her hand on her small shoulders, Clara lifted her fingers to rake back a stray hair out of Cee’s face, using her nails to gently secure it and the girl released a breath that twisted the pain in the opposite direction- it was the sound made when someone was being truly comforted for the first time, and before she could blink, she felt thin arms wrapping around her, the girl leaning into her as she cried into her already wet hair.

Oh, Cee…

She returned the hug, knowing instinctively that it was what she needed, the two of them sitting there in silence for several beats, Clara comforting yet another lost soul returned from the toxic forest of Bahkroma Green, being comforted by that same newfound soul. They stayed on the swing, Cee resting her head against the woman’s shoulder as her tears slowed and her breathing became less unsteady, until she felt like she could hold herself up again. When her eyes had dried, Clara asked Cee if she wanted to keep going, that there was more she wanted to show her, that they could keep talking but if she’d had enough for now that was okay, too.

She nodded, standing and rolling her shoulders back. “No, let’s… can we keep going?”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

By the time Ezra woke up again the light in the room was already starting to change.

Damn, slept the whole- he sucked in a breath that he wasn’t expecting to hurt.

He leit it out slowly as he opened his eyes, the ache in his chest not as sharp as it was after sleeping on the hard porch bench the night before but still present. Slowly, he adjusted himself to a seated position. He inhaled another cautious breath, a short cough coming out with it to make his ribs and lungs throb dully, the combination of the acute and bone-deep sensations making him slightly dizzy, but he blinked a few more times and it faded.

Shit, that was-

Again his thoughts were interrupted, though this time by something that made him forget about his discomfort entirely. The window had been cracked open just enough to let some fresh air in, and on it came the sound of Clara’s clear laughter, and on its heels, a lilting secondary laugh that he knew belonged to Cee even though he’d never heard it before. The way that they fell into a natural harmony made him swing his legs over the side of the bed, rising to shuffle slowly to the window. Leaning carefully with one knee up on the cushioned seat and his hand gripping the window frame, he looked outside and what he saw made his heart leap.

The two of them were walking together up the dirt path and back towards the house, and he was unprepared for how happy it made him. Oh, Huckleberry, you are an amazing woman. Clara lifted her eyes up to the window, smiling in surprise at finding him looking out. The way that her face lit up made the whole sky seem brighter even though the Harvest Star was on its way down for the night. The smile that climbed his cheeks as Clara and Cee climbed the stairs was perhaps one of the most genuine that he had ever worn.

So genuine, that it completely masked the pain he’d woken up in, making it seem to vanish with the sound of the swinging screen door.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my series/characters, please feel free to let me know! :)

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#ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra (prospect) x oc #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #cee (prospect)#cee prospect #oc: clara #prospect (film)#ezra prospect fanfiction #once again clara is an angel #once again cee is a nervous mess #and once again ezra is ... in pain

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fuckyeahtx · 3 years

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Letters From An American

August 3, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

First, let’s get the obvious out of the way: former president Trump has raised $102 million since he left office, but aside from a recent donation of $100,000 to his chosen candidate in a Texas race which is not yet in the public disclosures (she lost), has spent none of it on anything or anyone but himself. Since January, he has convinced donors to fund his challenge to Biden’s election and to fund Trump-like candidates in the midterm elections. But election filings and a release of donors to the Arizona “audit” show he has not put any money toward either. So far, about $8 million has gone to the former president’s legal fees, while funds have also gone to aides.

The second piece of news that is surprising and yet not surprising is an ABC story revealing that on December 28, 2020, the then-acting pro-Trump head of the civil division of the Department of Justice, Jeffrey Clark, tried to get then–acting attorney general Jeffrey Rosen and acting deputy attorney general Richard Donoghue to sign a letter saying: “The Department of Justice is investigating various irregularities in the 2020 election for President of the United States. The Department will update you as we are able on investigatory progress, but at this time we have identified significant concerns that may have impacted the outcome of the election in multiple States, including the State of Georgia.”

It went on to say, “While the Department of Justice believe[s] the Governor of Georgia should immediately call a special session to consider this important and urgent matter, if he declines to do so, we share with you our view that the Georgia General Assembly has implied authority under the Constitution of the United States to call itself into special session for [t]he limited purpose of considering issues pertaining to the appointment of Presidential Electors.”

The letter then made the point clearer, saying the Georgia legislature could ignore the popular vote and appoint its own presidential electors.

This is classic Trump: try to salt the media with the idea of an “investigation,” and then wait for the following frenzy to convince voters that the election was fraudulent. Such a scheme was at the heart of Trump’s demand that Ukraine president Volodymyr Zelensky announce an investigation into Hunter Biden, and the discrediting of 2016 Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton over an investigation into her use of a private email server.

In this case, Donoghue and Rosen wanted no part of this antidemocratic scheme. Donoghue told Clark that there was no evidence of fraud that would have changed the outcome of the election and wrote: “There is no chance that I would sign this letter or anything remotely like this.” Rosen agreed, saying “I am not prepared to sign such a letter.”

The less obvious story today is the more interesting one.

Trump and his loyalists feed off Americans who have been dispossessed economically since the Reagan revolution that began in 1981 started the massive redistribution of wealth upward. Those disaffected people, slipping away from the secure middle-class life their parents lived, are the natural supporters of authoritarians who assure them their problems come not from the systems leaders have put in place, but rather from Black people, people of color, and feminist women.

President Joe Biden appears to be trying to combat this dangerous dynamic not by trying to peel disaffected Americans away from Trump and his party by arguing against the former president, but by reducing the pressure on those who support him.

A study from the Niskanen Center think tank shows that the expanded Child Tax Credit, which last month began to put up to $300 per child per month into the bank accounts of most U.S. households with children, will primarily benefit rural Americans and will give a disproportionately large relative boost to their local economies. According to the Washington Post’s Greg Sargent, “the...nine states that will gain the most per capita from the expanded child allowance are all red states.”

The White House noted today that the bipartisan infrastructure deal it has pushed so hard not only will bring high-speed internet to every household in the U.S., but also has within it $3.5 billion to reduce energy costs for more than 700,000 low-income households.

Also today, after pressure from progressive Democrats, especially Representative Cori Bush (D-MO), who led a sit-in at the Capitol to call for eviction relief, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced that in counties experiencing high levels of community transmission of Covid-19, it is extending until October 3 the federal moratorium on evictions that ended this weekend. It is doing so as a public health measure, but it is also an economic one. It should help about 90% of renters—11 million adults—until the government helps to clear the backlog of payments missed during the pandemic by disbursing more of the $46 billion Congress allocated for that purpose.

Today, the president called out Republican governors who have taken a stand against mask wearing and vaccine mandates even as Covid-19 is burning across the country again. Currently, Florida and Texas account for one third of all new Covid cases in the entire country, and yet their Republican governors, Ron DeSantis and Greg Abbott, are signing legislation to keep Floridians and Texans unmasked and to prevent vaccine mandates. Biden said that he asks “these governors, ‘Please, help.’ But if you aren’t going to help, at least get out of the way of the people who are trying to do the right thing. Use your power to save lives.”

At a Democratic National Committee fundraiser last night, Biden told attendees that Democrats “have to keep making our case,” while Republicans offer “nothing but fear, lies, and broken promises.” “We have to keep cutting through the Republican fog,” he said, “that the government isn't the problem and show that we the people are always the solution.” He continued, “We've got to demonstrate that democracies can work and protect.”

#fuck teh gqp #fuck abbott #call your reps

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richincolor · 3 years

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New Releases

A whole slew of books coming out this week, many we've been looking forward to for a while. I can't wait to add some of these to my TBR pile.

Perfectly Parvin (Perfectly Parvin #1) by Olivia Abtahi G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers

Parvin has just had her heart broken when she meets the cutest boy at her new high school, Matty Fumero–with an emphasis on fumero, because he might be the smoking hot cure to all of her boy troubles. If Parvin can get Matty to ask her to homecoming, she’s positive it will erase all the awful and embarrassing feelings He Who Will Not Be Named left her with after the summer. The only problem is Matty is definitely too cool for bassoon-playing, frizzy-haired, Cheeto-eating Parvin. Since being herself has not worked for her in the past (see aforementioned relationship), she decides that to be the girl who finally gets the guy, she should start acting like the women in her favorite rom-coms. Those girls aren’t loud, they certainly don’t cackle when they laugh, and they smile much more than they talk. Easy enough, right?

But as Parvin struggles through her parent-mandated Farsi lessons on the weekends, a budding friendship with a boy she can’t help but be her unfiltered self with, and dealing with the ramifications of the Muslim Ban on her family in Iran, she realizes that being herself might just be the perfect thing after all.

The Marvelous Mirza Girls by Sheba Karim Quill Tree Books

To cure her post–senior year slump, made worse by the loss of her aunt Sonia, Noreen is ready to follow her mom on a gap year trip to New Delhi, hoping India can lessen her grief and bring her voice back.

In the world’s most polluted city, Noreen soon meets kind, handsome Kabir, who introduces her to the wonders of this magical, complicated place. With Kabir’s help—plus Bollywood celebrities, fourteenth-century ruins, karaoke parties, and Sufi saints—Noreen begins to rediscover her joyful voice.

But when a family scandal erupts, Noreen and Kabir must face complicated questions in their own relationship: What does it mean to truly stand by someone—and what are the boundaries of love?

Check out Crystal's Review: The Marvelous Mirza Girls

Made in Korea by Sarah Suk Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

There’s nothing Valerie Kwon loves more than making a good sale. Together with her cousin Charlie, they run V&C K-BEAUTY, their school’s most successful student-run enterprise. With each sale, Valerie gets closer to taking her beloved and adventurous halmeoni to her dream city, Paris.

Enter the new kid in class, Wes Jung, who is determined to pursue music after graduation despite his parents’ major disapproval. When his classmates clamor to buy the K-pop branded beauty products his mom gave him to “make new friends,” he sees an opportunity—one that may be the key to help him pay for the music school tuition he knows his parents won’t cover…

What he doesn’t realize, though, is that he is now V&C K-BEAUTY’s biggest competitor.

Stakes are high as Valerie and Wes try to outsell each other, make the most money, and take the throne for the best business in school—all while trying to resist the undeniable spark that’s crackling between them. From hiring spies to all-or-nothing bets, the competition is much more than either of them bargained for.

But one thing is clear: only one Korean business can come out on top.

Tokyo Ever After by Emiko Jean Flatiron Books

Izumi Tanaka has never really felt like she fit in—it isn’t easy being Japanese American in her small, mostly white, northern California town. Raised by a single mother, it’s always been Izumi—or Izzy, because “It’s easier this way”—and her mom against the world. But then Izzy discovers a clue to her previously unknown father’s identity…and he’s none other than the Crown Prince of Japan. Which means outspoken, irreverent Izzy is literally a princess.

In a whirlwind, Izzy travels to Japan to meet the father she never knew and discover the country she always dreamed of. But being a princess isn’t all ball gowns and tiaras. There are conniving cousins, a hungry press, a scowling but handsome bodyguard who just might be her soulmate, and thousands of years of tradition and customs to learn practically overnight.

Izzy soon finds herself caught between worlds, and between versions of herself—back home, she was never “American” enough, and in Japan, she must prove she’s “Japanese” enough. Will Izumi crumble under the weight of the crown, or will she live out her fairytale, happily ever after?

On the Hook by Francisco X. Stork Scholastic Press

Hector has always minded his own business, working hard to make his way to a better life someday. He’s the chess team champion, helps the family with his job at the grocery, and teaches his little sister to shoot hoops overhand.

Until Joey singles him out. Joey, whose older brother, Chavo, is head of the Discípulos gang, tells Hector that he’s going to kill him: maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. And Hector, frozen with fear, does nothing. From that day forward, Hector’s death is hanging over his head every time he leaves the house. He tries to fade into the shadows – to drop off Joey’s radar – to become no one.

But when a fight between Chavo and Hector’s brother Fili escalates, Hector is left with no choice but to take a stand.

The violent confrontation will take Hector places he never expected, including a reform school where he has to live side-by-side with his enemy, Joey. It’s up to Hector to choose whether he’s going to lose himself to revenge or get back to the hard work of living.

Enduring Freedom by Jawad Arash & Trent Reedy Algonquin Young Readers

On September 11, 2001, the lives of two boys on opposite sides of the world are changed in an instant.

Baheer, a studious Afghan teen, sees his family’s life turned upside down when they lose their livelihood as war rocks the country.

A world away, Joe, a young American army private, has to put aside his dreams of becoming a journalist when he’s shipped out to Afghanistan.

When Joe’s unit arrives in Baheer’s town, Baheer is wary of the Americans, but sees an opportunity: Not only can he practice his English with the soldiers, his family can make money delivering their supplies. At first, Joe doesn’t trust Baheer, or any of the locals, but Baheer keeps showing up. As Joe and Baheer get to know each other, to see each other as individuals, they realize they have a lot more in common than they ever could have realized. But can they get past the deep differences in their lives and beliefs to become true friends and allies?

Off the Record by Camryn Garrett Knopf Books for Young Readers

Ever since seventeen-year-old Josie Wright can remember, writing has been her identity, the thing that grounds her when everything else is a garbage fire. So when she wins a contest to write a celebrity profile for Deep Focus magazine, she’s equal parts excited and scared, but also ready. She’s got this.

Soon Josie is jetting off on a multi-city tour, rubbing elbows with sparkly celebrities, frenetic handlers, stone-faced producers, and eccentric stylists. She even finds herself catching feelings for the subject of her profile, dazzling young newcomer Marius Canet. Josie’s world is expanding so rapidly, she doesn’t know whether she’s flying or falling. But when a young actress lets her in on a terrible secret, the answer is clear: she’s in over her head.

One woman’s account leads to another and another. Josie wants to expose the man responsible, but she’s reluctant to speak up, unsure if this is her story to tell. What if she lets down the women who have entrusted her with their stories? What if this ends her writing career before it even begins? There are so many reasons not to go ahead, but if Josie doesn’t step up, who will?

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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California Summer - B.H. Smut [one]

Synopsis: Kings Cove California is Billy Hargrove’s hometown. It’s also a popular summer vacation destination for rich couples and their spoiled kids. (Y/N) is one of those rich girls. Proper, sweet, innocent. Only that all bores her to death and Billy is just the adventure she’s been looking for. It’s all fun and games. A summer fling. Not strings attached. Right?

Inspired by the songs “dreaming of you” and “Kiss it off me” by Cigarettes After Sex.

A/N: This is smut, babes. Filthy. I will sit in the shame cube after I post it. Please if that is not fore you, don’t read it. Also do not interact if you’re under 18, that’s just not cool. Kay, thanks ♥

Might fuck around and make this a series.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

There’s something about California summers, Billy thinks, thank makes them special. They’re hot and sticky and messy but they’re also exciting and exhilarating. The world seems to be dusted in a perpetual golden glow and days seem endless and full of possibility.

Maybe that sentiment is what brings all the tourists to the little coastal town of Kings Cove, California. A town caught between the undeniable charm of an old sleepy coastal town and the ever-expanding demand for tourist-friendly beach houses in gated communities where rich people can relish in the charm the town brings and then piss off once their vacation days are over.

Billy was born here, raised here until he was 17 and shipped off to forge his path in shitville Indiana. He was miserable then, but a shadow of himself. Angry and sad and overwhelmed by emotions he never learned to properly deal with. Singers and artists always seem to find something poetic about being young and angry and lost. Truth is: there’s nothing poetic about it, nothing romantic or desirable. It’s hard and it kills you slowly. Starting with your heart and then taking over every part of you, slowly but surely.

Soon as he turned 18 and was handed his High School diploma, Billy packed all his belongings into the Camaro and was off. The drive back to California, back home, it felt cleansing. Like a rebirth. A return to life at his own terms.

He got out. He survived. This, Billy is sure, he would always pride himself with no matter how trivial it may seem to anyone else. He got out. Not completely whole. Severely bruised. He got out with a heart so scared he’s sceptical it will ever fully heal. But he got out.

Though coming home didn’t come without its hardships and obstacles. There was nothing waiting for him here but a bunch of questions and an uncertain future. Finding a job, a place to stay, a point from which to start — it was hard. It still is hard. But he’s trying his best.

Kings Cove has a handful of restaurants, some convenience stores, a gym, a few bars, a drive-in, a normal cinema and a bowling alley. It’s really nothing spectacular and yet it seems there’s more and more tourist making it their temporary home in the months between May and September. It started about 5 years ago, that the town started changing with the increase in tourism. They bulldozed the playground Billy always played at, the one closest to the beach and built a bunch of fancy-ass houses and condos and a fucking Starbucks. It pains him to see it. To watch the town he loves so much, the one that holds so much charm, turn into a sandbox for rich people to shape and turn and make it something it isn’t. Something empty and lifeless.

The good thing about those tourists though, is that they are really really rich. Absolutely filthy rich. The kind of rich where they don’t know what to do with their money so you can charge them insane prices for ordinary things.

And that’s what the locals have started doing. A scoop of ice cream used to be 30ct, now it’s a dollar. You gotta bend with the world. You gotta adapt. Surviving means changing even if it sucks ass.

When he first arrived back, Billy had no idea how to navigate this place with all its changes. He felt so god damn out of place in his own home. That’s until he reconnected with Johnny, an old friend from middle school. A kid who grew up in a home filled with anger and sadness just as Billy did. Someone who understood. Someone who understands.

Johnny had it all figured out, adapted and changed. Got Billy a job at the maintenance business he works at. Fixing rain gutters and mowing lawns and cleaning driftwood off the sections of private beach belonging to the beach houses. It’s not the greatest job in the world but it’s alright and it pays good money and sometimes Billy even gets to hang out at the houses when the rich people are out taking surf lessons or doing a wine tasting a town over or try their luck on a god damn banana boat.

Kings Cove is small and the locals know each other. They’re a community tightly bonded through their shared disdain for the change their beloved town went through and the knowledge that though they can’t change anything, they can at least make the vacationers pay big money for everything.

It’s his second summer now and most of the families whose houses he tends to he’s already familiar with. You don’t forget the people who tip you 50 bucks each time. On Mondays, Billy cares for the Millers’ backyard. On Wednesday he makes sure the Callaghans’ pool is clean and still stinks of way too much chlorine. On Thursdays, it’s the Franklins’ estate that needs tending to. And weekends? Those are off.

Weekends mean he gets to enjoy the California summer himself. He goes out to the beach just after sunrise, to catch a few waves or just hang out in the ocean and let it wash away the stress resting on his shoulders from a whole week of hard work. Later, much later, when the sun is about to set, the real fun begins. There’s a bonfire almost every week. No one is ever quite sure who starts it and no official invitations are ever spoken though everyone knows and sure enough, every Saturday a crowd of young people gather by the driftwood pile and hang out and drink and dance as the bonfire crackles on.

It’s not just locals either. There’s always a few stray tourists there. Billy isn’t really all that interested in getting to know them. This is just a blip on their radar. A temporary adventure. But to him this place is home and he’s so fucking tired of these rich kids coming around and acting like they own the place. He’s the first to admit though, that the girls are quite hot and he doesn’t mind a little fling here and there without the fear of having them want anything permanent, knowing their time together comes with an expiry date. They can be quite fun and they’re so willing to let themselves fall into an intimate adventure with a local.

There’s no chase, no effort from him. The only annoying thing is they usually don’t grasp the idea of a summer fling and get clingy to the point where it becomes frustrating.

It’s a bonfire like any other, when his eyes drift across the beach, filled with people mingling all clutching a bottle or a cup. Nothing feels different or spectacular or special. But maybe that’s the thing about special moments — we don’t realise they’re special until we look at them in retrospect. And then they mean everything.

His eyes meet hers across the way. There are no fireworks. His heart beats at a normal rate. Whatever the movies and the songs try to sell you, that’s not how it really happens. Your world won’t shift and there will be no hummingbirds going wild in your stomach. It’s just a glance, a flicker. A moment that seems to hold no significance at all.

Billy can tell she’s not from here. Her outfit says it all. She’s wearing a long flowy skirt and a white tank top and some denim jacket over it that looks like it probably belongs to some boy with a trust fund and a name like Kyle or Charles. In her hair, there’s a clip with a fake flower on it. She looks expensive and fancy and like a piece of work that he’s not willing to put any effort in. He bets the guy beside her, the one that keeps playing with her hair. The one in the polo shirt. That’s probably her boy. His dad owns a boat for sure and probably fucks his secretary.

And even though he pulls his eyes away, he can feel his thoughts drift back towards her. As if some magnetic force tries to keep his mind there, with her. On the way she smiles, or how the wind blows through her hair and makes them looks messy and disorderly and — hot. On how he wants to be the one making a mess of her. He wonders what she feels like, tastes like, sounds like. Even Billy can’t deny he wants her. She’s just his type though something tells him she’s different from his other flings. There’s something deeper in her eyes. A secret he wants to unravel. It’s hidden there and it’s screaming out to him and only him.

As he turns back towards her, he sees her looks straight back at him. With those eyes full of secrets and that smirk on her lips.

Maybe his heart does beat a little faster then. Though he’ll never admit it.

That night he goes to bed and dreams of her and the beach and California.

California summers come with heat but they also come with thunderous storms. Mighty and unforgiving and rough.

Billy makes his way down the roads of Kings Cove, windshield wipers just about dealing with the heavy rainfall as it drums down onto his car window.

“ It’s the wrath of all women scorned and mistreated “ his mother used to say when he was younger and a storm washed over them. He always thought that was silly. Women aren’t thunderstorms, they’re April showers. They’re sunshine on your skin. They’re dewdrops on the lawn.

It’s so dull and gloomy he almost doesn’t see her. Only the peach coloured baseball cap makes her stand out against the grey. She’s slowly walking along the side of the road, unbothered by the downpour. Casual and relaxed as if she’s not getting soaked right this moment. There’s a Slurpee in her hand, blue raspberry.

He wants to drive past and no let himself be bothered with it. This, she, it’s not a mess he needs to get involved in. This can only end in a disaster. Rich boys don’t like you picking up their girlfriends. Rich boys also don’t like you lusting after their girlfriends. And rich boys who see you as a threat can get your ass fired real fucking quick.

And yet he pulls up to the curb and rolls down the window. “ Do you need a ride? “.

She smiles at him, the same way she did that night at the beach in the glow of the bonfire. Her lips are cherry red and for a second he wonders what they taste like. It’s like a primal desire, to taste her. To have her. God, he’s such a guy.

“ Need? No. I’d like one though.”

It’s the first time he hears her voice. It sounds so proper, so innocent. And yet there’s an edge to it. She’s all riddles and mysteries and things he wants to unpack and unravel. Something tells him all the red and the ribbons are only the outermost layer of who she really is. And wouldn’t he like to see more of her?!

“ Get in then,” he instructs with the nudge of his head. A gust of wind follows her as she opens the door and slides into the car. She smells of sunscreen and salt and artificial raspberry flavour. She smells like summer.

“ I’m Billy. “

“ I know. “

That catches him off guard. Sure he knows the locals and some of the kids whose parents he works for but that’s about it. He’s not nearly as prolific as he used to be in Hawkins. He’s a bit more mellow now if he can say so himself.

“ And you are?”

“ (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You tend to our beach house on Tuesdays. I saw you clean our pool the other day”.

That’s news to him. The fact that the (Y/L/N)s have a daughter. He thought it was only her parents alone in that big house in some attempt to rekindle the fire of their marriage. Last year it was only them two, he could swear.

“ Is that so? I could’ve sworn it was just your parents in that house. “

“ Was just them last year, I was in New York City last summer. This time they decided to bring me. Let me enjoy the California sun. “

“ So you enjoying it? “

“ Verdict is still out but I quite like the view yeah. “

The teasing edge in her voice does not get lost on him. If Billy Hargrove is good at one thing, it’s realising when a girl is flirting with him.

“ You watching me then? What does your little boyfriend think about that, huh?”

“ Boyfriend? “ she sounds almost offended at those words, spits it with a certain malice that takes Billy by surprise. “ You mean Dawson? “

Dawson. Of course, that’s his name. Fucking Dawson. Dawson with the swoopy hair and the polo shirt. Dawson with the trust fund. Dawson with the DUI and the state attorney dad. Dawson with the scholarship.

“ Dunno his name.”

“ He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend that’s a boy that thinks if he waves around his money I’ll spread my legs for him. As if I don’t have my own money. It’s so unsexy it makes my pussy dry as the Serengeti.”

Billy has to stop himself from pushing the brakes too hard. It’s not something he has expected her to say. Not this outright at least. Something about her brashness and her honesty is truly charming though. It’s endearing for sure.

“ Wearing his jacket though, poor guy thinks he’ll score soon enough.”

“ Eh. Maybe I’ll let him. I’m getting a bit bored. If nothing better comes along— “ she says it casually and shrugs her shoulders but Billy swears there’s an open end to that sentence. Almost like an invitation.

“ Hope pretty boy does it for you then. So — where to? “

She faces him, peach baseball cap on her head and cherry smile on her lips. “ See, the thing is that my parents aren’t home right now and I don’t have a key so … “

“ So...? “

“ Just wanna hang somewhere until they get home tonight. Maybe somewhere dry? “

Everything in him screams at him not to do it. Not to get tangled up in this. He knows, god he knows, this is a bad idea and yet he says it anyway.

“ Do you wanna chill at my place? “

She bites her lips then takes another sip from her Slurpee. “ Yeah, sounds good to me.”

God Billy, you are such a dumbass.

Billy’s apartment is small but he feels more at home here than he ever did in any house he shared with his father.

There’s an open kitchen/living room area, a bathroom and his bedroom. It’s not much but it’s his and that makes all the difference.

“ Well uh — this is my place. “

He almost expects to see some kind of disdain on her face, disappointment too maybe. She’s used to big fancy houses with white shutters and stucco ceilings. Though when he turns to look at her there’s none of it. Just curiosity. No judgment. Not even a tiny spark. Not even at all.

“ It’s nice. Do you uh — I’m soaked. Do you have a shirt or something you could give me?”

It’s now, that he lets his eyes travel down her body, and notices her shirt clinging to her body. She’s not wearing a bra and it’s painfully obvious and he swears he dies in that moment. There’s only so much a guy’s heart can take.

“ Uh. I — mmh.”

As if his body works on autopilot, Billy hurries towards his bedroom and rummages through his closet until he finds a shirt that’s even baggy on him and will surely work for her. God, seeing her in his clothes is gonna give him another little heart attack.

“ Here you g — “ she’s naked. Not completely but her shirt and jeans are gone and all she’s in is a pair of red underwear and no bra and some socks and that damn peach baseball hat.

“ Huh? you never seen a pair of tits before? “

“ No, I have. “

“ Good. “

“ Yeah. Here “

She smirks as Billy hands her the shirt, doesn’t break eye contact. Not even once and she slips if over her head and almost drowns in the fabric. It reaches down to mid-thigh and she looks glorious. Wet hair clinging to her skin, shirt covering everything but just barely. Bily is usually suave and charming and smooth. Why not now? Why not with her? What is it about this girl that she plays his games better than he does it himself.

“ You want something to eat? “

What the fuck, Billy. There’s a half-naked girl in your kitchen and you’re asking her if she wants food? What is going on?!

“ Sure, what’ve you got? “

“ Lemme see — “ Billy says and turns towards the kitchen cabinets and (Y/N) slides up and sits down on the island. Her ass must be flush on the counter and Billy has to stop himself from following that thought any further because that would result in a serious hard-on right now.

“ So I got some Nachos aaand — “ he says and squats down to open a lower cabinet, “ I think there’s guacamole somewh— “

A soft thump interrupts him and, as he realises what’s caused the sound, his heart drops straight down into his pants and his whole body goes hot. Like his entire system is going haywire.

His hand reaches out to take the flimsy red fabric into his hand. Her underwear. This has crossed flirting long ago. This is an obvious invitation and if this was any other girl or any other situation he’d already be balls deep inside her so why not now?

As Billy turns to look at her, the teasing smirk is back, her eyebrow is raised in a way that tells him she’s challenging his next move, and the secrets are back sparkling in her eyes.

“ Oops “ she says though he can tell she’s all but sorry.

“ What are you doing? You have a boyfriend. “

“ Uuuugh ” (Y/N) moans in annoyance, “ I told you, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a boy who doesn’t get it. I have a lot of boys in a lot of cities who all do not get it. They think because they’re rich and their parents have influence, everyone has to do as they wish. They’re not used to not getting what they want and I like to see ‘em get pissy once they realise they can’t have me. Billy those guys — they are so boring. So dull and if I have to listen to one more lecture about politics or their scholarship or how their daddy helped finance the university’s library I am going to off myself. “

“ So what role do I play in this game? You’re just a rich girl who’s bored with her suitors then, huh? What am I ? “

“ Exciting. You are different. You are you, no ifs or buts. You are your own person not a clone of your wealthy father and his even wealthier father. You are exciting and so. fucking. hot. “

Billy doesn’t notice it happening but suddenly he’s so close he can feel her breath on his skin. She’ so close. So close. All he has to do is reach out and grab her. Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

“ Fuck me.”

“ You sure? “ he murmurs, voice low and deep and soothing. “That’s all this is gonna be. Sex and fun and nothing serious. “

“ Just fun. No strings. I’ll leave at the end of the summer anyway. Until then we can — explore. “

“ Explore? “

“ Mmh. There’s so much we can do.“

“ Sounds good to me. “

Billy doesn’t give her time to reply before his lips descend on hers. She doesn’t taste like cherries or chapstick or sugar. She tastes cold and like fake raspberry slushy. Billy thinks it’s his favourite flavour now.

His hands wander up and down her sides and hers get tangled in his curls, combing through his hair and tugging slightly. She’s breathing deep, quick breaths as his lips make their way across her neck and down towards her boobs. He bunches the shirt up and pulls it over her head leaving her naked on his kitchen counter. She’s absolutely fucking breathtaking and his jeans are getting awfully tight around the front.

“ You’re so hot “ he murmurs against her skin as he buries his head in the crook of her neck. Her skin is flushed and there’s a cute red tint to her cheeks. Maybe he was wrong about it on all accounts. Maybe she’s not as innocent as he has first thought.

Her fingers slip down his body and straight into the front of his jeans, grabbing his dick and squeezing his hard on softly. Yeah, she’s definitely not as innocent as he had first thought.

It’s a clash of teeth and a tongues and a lot of saliva. This is messy and raw and rough and he feels like he’s died and gone straight to heaven. With every second, his lips wander a little further down her hot skin, placing kisses one every inch he can reach until he’s kneeling in front of her. Her eyes lock on his as she spreads her legs further letting him see just what he’s been lusting after since the first moment he’s laid eyes on her. He feels like a man starving being presented with an all you can eat buffet.

Their eyes lock as his lips kiss the spot where her abdomen meet her thighs. It’s not where she wants him but it’s enough to make her go fuzzy in the head.

“ I’ll make you forget about all those rich fuckboys, baby.”

And he does. God, he does. As soon as he licks at her clit she can’t recall a single name of any other boy she’s ever met. He devours her like he was born to do nothing but eat a girl out. There’s kisses followed by kitten licks followed by more kisses. It’s driving her crazy, the way he flicks his tongue.

(Y/N) lifts her leg to rest on his shoulder as her hand reaches down burying herself in his hair. The way she tugs, the slight pangs of pain, it’s delicious. Billy can’t get enough of it. He adds a finger, then two, slowly in and out, the faster, then even faster. He knows she’s close by the way she throws her head back, bites her lips. Her lipstick is everywhere, her hair clings to her skin now from sweat instead of rain. She’s a mess and he’s so proud of getting her to this point. He further spreads her lips, lapping up the wetness, sucking at her clit, making her come undone right there on his kitchen counter.

The moans that fall off of her lips are almost pornographic, he wonders if her parents know the kind of activities she gets up to when they’re away. He bets they don’t. She’s a princess at home. Nice and proper. A princess who spends her free time getting fucked by their poolboy.

Billy pulls away at the last minute which (Y/N) really doesn’t enjoy. She pouts at him, gives him a sound of pure dismay. “ Why did you stop? “ she questions, voice breathy, almost incoherent.

“ Cause I wanna feel you cum when I fuck you. “

He’s not usually this bold and brash. Girls like lovely words. They like soft voices and hushed whispers and for boys to say nice things during sex. Not her. She wants the dirt and the mess and the honesty.

(Y/N)’s hand finds its way back to his crotch, pulling down the zipper of his jeans and freeing his solid boner.

“ No boxers? “ there’s a glimmer of mischief playing in her eyes.

“ You complaining? “

“ Fuck no. I’d suck you off but I want you inside me — like right now. “

Billy only nods, before fumbling a condom from his wallet and pulling it down his cock. He shares her sentiment. All he wants to be right now, is inside her.

Rough hands grab her hips and turn her around before pushing her down. Her boobs as flush against the counter, ass on full display. She’s a sight for sore eyes. A masterpiece.

Billy can’t keep his hands off her ass. He has to grab a handful, squeeze it, caress it. There’s boob guys and butt guys and then there are guys like Billy who know that both those features are mutually phenomenal and to limit yourself by choosing one or the other is a move only a fool would make and he ain’t no fool.

Billy lines himself up at her slit. He can’t wait to feel her around him, wet and warm and throbbing and —

“ What are you waiting for? “ she grunts, impatience clear in her voice and she tries to wiggle her ass closer to him.

“ Patience, baby.” Billy instructs as he grabs onto her hips and pulls her even closer. Her skin is so soft, so perfect. There’s a primal desire in leaving his marks of passion there so he leans over and places little love bites on her shoulder. They’ll be easy for her to cover up with a shirt but he’ll know they are there and that’s all that matters to him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he trails his erection up and down her entrance, coating it in her arousal. He’s really not looking forward to clean this mess later on but right now it’s damn worth it by the way she’s trembling and wiggling underneath him, desperate for some stimulation.

“ Patience is not a word I know, sorry “ she’s so god damn desperate it almost makes him cum before he even gets a fuck in.

“ Yeah me neither. “

With those words he sinks into her and it feels heavenly. Engulfed by her warmth, her wetness, her passion. Quite frankly, he’s convinced, there’s no better place to be in the entire world, than buried in the pussy of a pretty girl.

Billy moves his hips slowly, deliberately, set a rhythm and a pace. He watches his cock disappear inside of her then slide back out in a delicious cadency as he dings his fingers into her hips, surely leaving bruises.

The moans tumbling from her lips are almost pornographic though he can tell they’re real and honest. There’s no reason for her to fake anything. He’s pretty sure she’d set him straight if he was doing something wrong.

“ more. “ she gasps, breath hitching as she pushes back against him, taking him even deeper. This girl is a dream if he’s ever seen one.

Billy speeds up his movements, slamming into her at a faster pace, pounding her against the counter. The air is hot and both of them are so sweaty and the room smells of sex and salty ocean air. God, he loves California summers and pretty girls.

There’s a fire lit in his lower abdomen as she whimpers and arches her back off of the counter. Billy lifts one hand off of her hips and grabs onto her front, caressing her soft tits and pulling her upright so her back is flush against his chest. The sheen of sweat covering them makes it hard to figure out where one of them ends and the other begins. Right then, they are one. Her peach colored baseball cap falls off of her head and onto the floor, where the rest of their clothes lie discarded.

His hand desperately moves across her chest, squeezing and teasing and trailing fingers around her nipples, hard from arousal.

“ Oh fuck yes. “

The confirmation that he’s doing something right, that he’s making her feel good, makes Billy’s ego grow 3 sizes. He’s such a sucker for validation.

He snaps his hips faster, harder, tries to go deeper. His hand grabs onto her thigh and lifts it up so her knee is resting on the counter letting him fuck her at a whole new angle.

At the way she cries out in ecstasy he knows he’S doing something extremely right. “God, right there. “ she almost sobs. Billy’s sure she’s biting her lip so hard it must be close to drawing blood.

Billy buries his head in her messy hair, softly traces kisses and love bites up and down her neck, tugs on her earlobe with his teeth. “ Yeah? Your pussy is a dream, baby. A fucking dream.” he grunts, voice laced with lust.

“ I’m gonna cum, Billy. “

He can tell, by the way she trembles, clenches around him. By the way her breathing hitches. And he’s right there with her.

There’s a fire pulsing through him, shockwaves rippling. It bubbles in his abdomen then boils over. With every snap of his hips the movements get more arrhythmic, messy, uncoordinated, desperate

A bunch of expletives fall from her lips but Billy can hardly make them out as his own orgasm washes over him. It feels like time slows and every sound disappeared into a white static. Nothing matters then but to chase that high and catch it and get some sweet release.

Billy feels her cum around him, squeezing him tightly in the process. The way she moans his name, as if it’s both a secret and a confession to himself and the world, that’s what does it for him.

Grabbing her hips with both hands, he holds her in place, before pounding into her with a few last uncoordinated hard thrusts. And then his vision goes black for a moment and his brain stops functioning as he cums into the condom.

For a moment there’s no sound but them trying to catch their breath as they slump down against the counter, spent from the activities. Sweaty, filthy, messy. But oh so satisfied and content.

Billy pulls out of her and for a second he misses her warm and tight around him. Like he was meant to stay there forever. Fuck, he’s such a guy.

Another heartbeat passes and (Y/N) lets out a melodic but breathless giggle. “ I could go for some Nachos and Guac right now. “

This girl is really something else.

They devour the snacks while lazing on his couch. Naked as they came to this earth, unbothered. Maybe this is what makes him go so absolutely feral about her, the fact that she’s so uncomplicated. Yeah she comes with all kinds of warning signs and bad news for him but being with her like this it’s so easy. Like they’ve been some kinds of friends for a long time.

Their bodies are always touching in one way or another. As if they can’t get enough. Billy’s sitting on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table while her legs are places on his lap, cigarette dangling from her fingers. The air is sticky and humid and even the late afternoon breeze doesn’t bring any cooling-off.

As his eyes fall onto the clock on the wall, Billy lets out a frustrated grunt. “ Fuck.”

“ What’s the matter?”

“ I’m supposed to meet my friend Johnny at the gym in about 10 minutes. Totally forgot about it. “

“ Do you have to go? “

“ I really should. “

“ You’ve had quite the workout today though. “

Billy scoffs a laugh at her words before plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a drag. He lets the smoke sit in his chest for a moment, hoping to capture even a bit of the warmth he felt when buried balls deep inside her cunt.

It doesn’t work.

“ He’s waiting for me. “

“ Aw, that’s too bad. “ she says grabs the cigarette back and, after one last drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray resting on the coffee table. “ I was just about to ask for a round two. Guess I’ll have to do it by myself then. That’s fine. “

Her fingers trail down her body, teasing her nipples before descending towards her slit. She slowly circles her clit. Billy is honesty sure she’ll be the death of him. This girl is so sweet yet so dirty and he’s not sure he’s ever met someone like her.

“ You gonna sit there and finger yourself on my couch ? “

“ You gonna sit there and watch and not join in? Come on Billy, I can give you quite the workout. No gym necessary. Do I have to beg? “

Yes. God he wants to hear her beg but that makes him feel a bit — uneasy. He doesn’t want her to think he doesn’t want this just as much as she does. Maybe they can leave the begging for another day.

“ You’re insatiable, huh? “ he asks as he settles himself on top of her, lips colliding with hers ina fiery kiss.

(Y/N) just nods, a satisfied moan slipping from her lips as his fingers nudge her hand away and replace them softly trailing up and down her slit, slipping inside every once in a while.

“ What can I say? It’s a bad habit I just can’t seem to quit.”

Maybe this is a really bad idea. Maybe he’s getting himself into more trouble than he needs right now. But the way she feels and sounds and taste make it worth it.

As the sun sets upon the horizon and the summer storm has long passed on to another coastal town, Billy thinks that it’s so worth it if only he can feel like this for the rest of the summer.

There’s really nothing quite like a California summer and a pretty girl with a dirty mind.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fanfics #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things smut

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

Link

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 3, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

The letter then made the point clearer, saying the Georgia legislature could ignore the popular vote and appoint its own presidential electors.

The less obvious story today is the more interesting one.

—-

Notes:

https://www.politico.com/news/2021/08/03/trump-spending-millions-gop-candidates-502233

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/trump-backed-candidate-ballot-us-house-runoff-texas-2021-07-27/

https://abcnews.go.com/US/doj-officials-rejected-colleagues-request-intervene-georgias-election/story

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/08/02/gop-scamming-rural-trump-voters-continues-new-study-shows-latest/

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2021/08/03/fact-sheet-top-10-programs-in-the-bipartisan-infrastructure-investment-and-jobs-act-that-you-may-not-have-heard-about/

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2021/08/03/remarks-by-president-biden-on-fighting-the-covid-19-pandemic/

https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2021/s0803-cdc-eviction-order.html

https://www.cnbc.com/2021/08/03/cdc-will-extend-the-federal-eviction-moratorium-through-oct-3.html

https://news.yahoo.com/dnc-fundraiser-biden-accuses-gop-123000070.html

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2021/08/02/remarks-by-president-biden-at-a-virtual-fundraising-reception-for-the-democratic-national-committee/

https://www.politico.com/news/2021/08/03/cori-bush-eviction-crisis-502313

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #conservative narrative #COVID-19 #delta variant

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reading-writing-revolution · 3 years

Text

August 3, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 4