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pocketramblr · 3 years

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Poll Results

Alright, that’s it, i’m tired of trying to sort the answers so yall just get the big list of all the free response answers to that quiz about ofa. be aware some are less safe for work than others.

memorable ones: OfA Snickerdoodle, I’d Give It To A Cat, So You Know Vore Right?, I’m in Love With Nana, Slicey Blood Oath, and Homoerotic Sword Fight

(My answer above is how I think it did happen, not how I want it to happen.) I personally think something along the lines of a Bruce Banner Jennifer Walker blood transfusion where the OFA holder doesn’t realize they’ve passed it on until later.

a tender kiss. perhaps loving. perhaps they're dying, and i already knew that they loved me, either platonically or otherwise, and we always knew that i'd be next. perhaps they tried so hard to make sure it never happened, and perhaps that tender kiss as an apology as much as it is a gift. sure sucks to be gay i guess

Peacefully? By doing the do and making it a wonderful moment of lovemaking and passing on the future.. If we're in the middle of battle you bet your freaking butt I want them to kiss me dramatically, tell me they love me, and then yeet me away as they turn back to the fight. Ow but relationship goals.

If we're not romantic because I am obsessed with the Duo Holders ship currently, blood works fine. Ingest it or have them pressing a bloody palm into a wound of mine *shrugs* Gotta pass it along somehow

Personally, I'd rather drink blood instead of hair. It feels less gross. But I'd pass it on as hair just to fuck with my successor

Hair or blood eating, but no touchy-touchy or whatever thx.

Probably a vial of blood so it’s easy and over quick

kiss 👉👈

i would like it to be blood from an already opened wound just cause it would probably less weird, ..........but knowing my luck and because irl my sister has attempted to feed me her baby teeth by shoving it to my lips and saying "eat", thats actually how i would get ofa. ( >:/ i have almost eaten at least two teeth this way because i thought she was being nice and giving me candy )

Consider: doing one of those blood oath things where you swear to be BFFs for eternity except now you also get a quirk out of it. But lbr kissing is way more romantic and you’ve made First/Second my new OTP, so I’ll stick with that for them. <3 But also, maybe to make the kiss option more romantic First thought something more along the lines of wishing he could give ~everything he has/all of himself~ to Second which counted as including his quirk, rather than specifically about giving him the power to defeat his brother?

This is going to sound gross but all ways of transferring DNA is. Just work up a sweat and have the other party drink it. It would probably be the best tasting option which is kinda a weird thing to think about. Nvm sweat doesn't contain DNA looked it up but I don't want to delete all of this so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe a scraping of skin cells

Honestly the hair is probably the way I'd want to go. That or blood. Like just swallowing it.

Look, i know realistically it was probably some desparate on-the-brink-of-death "please defeat my brother" thing and oo, magic he gets the quirk. But consider. First's last fight with afo. Second is holding his bleeding body, crying. First gently cups Second's cheek and pulls him into a bloody kiss before dying. Second pulls himself together just long enough to flip off afo, barely resisting the urge to absolutely slaughter him, knowing he would lose. He finds his successor and trains him to the best of his ability, determined to not lose another person he cared for

I mean like dead skin cells probably dont work right? Except hair works so thats not true. So like you totally could lick someone to get OFA. Like could you imagine the whole holding your hand over someones mouth to shut them up but they lick you and they somehow wind up with your quirk, like crazy. What must have been the trial and error with this stuff cause they must have kept passing it inbetween each other to figure out its dna right. How long did it take for them to realize. Like you’re eating breakfast and theres a hair in your food like ew and why am i stronger now. Overall, comedic timing for getting a quirk would be hilarious.

My apprentice lays broken and bloody beneath me as I cradle them in my arms, crying on to an open wound on their face praying the power will be enough to save them

little bit of skin like a hang nail just like put it in a sandwich and dont thing about it

Put it in my coffee.

If I received it from Nana then I would love to have received it via eating her out~ though for passing it on to others I think I would just either spit into their mouths or shove a bleeding finger down their throat until they swallow and then run and get myself killed by AfO while taunting him with "I DON'T HAVE YOUR BROTHER'S QUIRK ANYMORE! SUCK MY NON-EXISTENT DICK YOU LOSER!"

knock me out and just inject the blood. if i have to actively think abt ingesting someone elses dna im gonna yeet myself into the ocean. to pass it on i'll just spit in a cup (or in their mouth) bc im not gonna make someone eat my hair nor is anyone getting my blood

who in their right mind would trust me with a power like ofa 💀afo just looks at me funny the quirk is his. im not a mc for a reason

Sexy battle where I’m the villain, and randomly the hero thinks “I wish I could save you”. Boom I punch them with bloody knuckles and the quirk passes to me. Now the hero has to teach me how to be good again. Also we fall in love.

You know, I always assumed I would head canon it as something romantic until canon proved me wrong But these options are so varied - I had to choose the most Dramatic (tm) one As for my actual answer: a gentle kiss with full consent from both parties

I will bite a holder as a sign of affection. There's probably some dead skin cells in the arm I can swallow by accident. They are used to this and sometimes we switch the quirk around for funsies.

You know, I spent like 10 minutes trying to think of something original here, but knowing my shit luck some bastard would spit in my drink or something and cast upon me the Curse of Bone Breaking and/or.... y’know..... AFO...........

okay this is gonna sound weird but. consider this i marry a very lovely women. we are in much love. we get attacked by evil people because she is a good hero but plot twist. i am secretly her nemisis. the attackers are my minions. i wanted her to protect me because i am very smol but. my comrades were too mean. she is nearly dead. "take this" she says. she kisses me and i am one for all. fuck, i say internally, but i dont tell her. she dies in my arms. i run and become vigilante and take down my once comrades. all is not well. i die unsatisfied. i eventually pass it onto a cat in an alleyway because they are the only one who is with me when i get hit with a back alley sniper

Blood or just like. skin. You could use nail clippers to take a bit off from a really fleshy area, like just under the nail. It's that easy

Spit in my food like an underpaid fast food worker.

i have long hair so that would not be ideal, but blood seems kinda...unsanitary, but i guess it would be better if i was 100% positive i wouldn't pass on some sort of disease. so if that could be ascertained then like a few drops of blood in a glass of water or something and then down the hatch, bam ofa passed on. i know other folks are probably typing some nsfw stuff but just. no. keep it in your pants y'all.

Blood transfusion First, pick a hospital Second, steal all their blood Third, have the previous user donate their blood to that hospital Fourth, get into a major accident and need a blood transfusion near the hospital you robbed Fifth, hope either OfA will only pass onto you bc your the intended recipient, or that no one else needs a blood transfusion Sixth, get the transfusion Seventh, steal all of the previous users blood back Eigth, return all the other stolen blood Ninth, get new identities, this crime leaves DNA everywhere Tenth, die of a blood clot due to incompatible blood types (optional)

okay realistically bleeding into a cut or a drop of blood into water and drinking it would be easiest but like... what if somehow dna could be baked into like a muffin or cookie or something... like i know when cooking with wines and stuff the alcohol cooks away and evaporates out but is that process the same for like blood? like if you baked your blood into a cookie would traces of your dna still be there? basically i want an ofa cookie (snickerdoodle preferably)

no i like my bones

drink a drop of blood. it'd go down easier than hair

Something dramatic and desperate in the heat of battle like blood or something

First of all, I think First passed OfA as he was dying entirely on accident, because Second was badly (though not critically) injured and they'd been sort of dancing around each other's feelings and doubting their own worth, so First, knowing he was dying and that his brother was a petty bitch who would probably kill Second anyway because he knows that First cared about him, kisses Second with blood on his lips and his last thoughts before dying are about how he wants Second to have the strength to survive if his brother comes after him.

If I was given the option of getting OfA, I wouldn't take it. I'm a coward and being given something like that is a death sentence.

If it was forced, probably ingesting the previous users blood, because blood is a lot easier to choke down than hair.

If I already had it and had to pass it on, I would want it to be something suitably dramatic like collapsing on the doorstep of a trusted loved one and explaining with my dying breath who killed me and why and then raising my blood covered hand to their face like I was going to caress their cheek only for them to taste blood. They cry and try to get me take it back and when I finally die they swear vengeance over my slowly cooling corpse.

Pass it on in a non-life threatening scenario where I decide I actually don’t like the weird bone breaking power a random person gave me as they were dying and wish I could pass it to someone else and through a weird set of circumstances end up accidentally cooking some of my own hair into brownies I was making because I shed like a dog and passing it to my new neighbor I came to welcome to the neighborhood.

Either drinking a glass of milk with their saliva (no icky hair taste), or an epic sharing of blood while clasping hands like knights in a noble brotherhood!

not by eating all mights long ass hair thats for sure, why did he give midoriya one of the longest ones he had, he has shorter hair right there on the back of his head. not to mention the fact of like how i would prefer to recieve it or give it away which would be just, fucking sharing a pop or something and swaping it through the backwash??? less nasty than hair and not as weird as the other options for spit which is like straight up spitting in a drink or the other persons mouth outside of kissing. if someone told me i had to eat their hair i would straight up say no thanks, cheers for the fitness glow up tho homie

I want nana 2 kiss me, on.,, the m,,,.."#*(@÷out.h pretty lady.,

Q-tip to the inside of the cheek

Those blood pacts where you slice your hands open and do a little handshake thing. Not very creative, but idk it just appeals to me

Via consumption of blood, babey

I would want it to be with a maybe maybe not homoerotic sword fight in a Wendy's parking lot, preferably while we are both being impaled on each other's swords. The sweet pain of almost dying is a very intense moment to share isn't it?

Sweet love

Hair

If it's someone cute, a kiss. Otherwise I'd probably just swallow a hair with some water.

i'd just like. spit in their water bottle. if thats not enough dna i guess licking a paper cut it is. hair is bad idwa bc it doesn't digest and can get wrapped up in things. and like. im too aroace for kissing and such

Last option, cause first is sexy as hell

okay you know what vore is, right. and you know how blood and organ transfusions work? well...

Not at all, like?? I enjoy being alive and not having my body destroyed thank you. Literally everyone with OfA died young-ish or has suffered debilitating injuries bc of it. Like Midoriya's bones are powder, and we don't even need to go into All Might's medical history. Like thanks but no thanks no freaky dna ingestion 4 me

Had a open cut from a can lid and ofa holder had an open cut. While lamenting about fins a successor.

Blood

Assuming we can bypass the rules of canon, it would be funny as fuck is OFA was passed on by intentional physical contact. So yes, a smooch for First and Second (and Second and Third) but also. Bitchslap of destiny. Nana giving her protege one last hug. All Might ruffles Mido’s hair like a dad to pass it on. I’m sure you get it

Bleeding over an open wound

lil bit of spit in a milkshake.

I hold their hand Platonically but it's summer and we're both sweaty and they're a little loopy and having weird thoughts due to dehydration and heat lmao, literally hanging around anyone for any extended period of time guarantees you accidentally ingest SOME of their dna. Dead skin cells are floating through the air ~constantly~ and if you have a friend I promise you've inhaled their dead skin cells before. Have fun with that knowledge!!

ok so like deffo a kiss, but in canon people get weird biological urges for using their quirks, like bby Toga drinking bird blood. First has had a LOT of "spit in their drink" intrusive thoughts over the years. immediately post first-kiss he is mystified that his intrusive thoughts have disappeared entirely, but then BAM it seems that second has the stockpile now, and with it, a preoccupation with vampire lore

drink from the same water bottle?

“EAT THIS!”

Pass it on by making them lick my arm because that would make them rly uncomfortable, passed to me by spiting in my 20oz Red Bull and then chugging it

#aaaand done #this was going to be like. nicely organized in a couple different ways and i still might #but out of slots for that today so

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c-atm · 3 years

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Interrogation

CONNIE YASHA MAHESWARAN!!!

Heartberry (AKA Connie) heard her Mister (AKA Steven) roared from the upstairs, gulping down a giggle as his heavy steps reverberated as he ran downstairs, like rolling thunder. The sound of him hitting the floor of their home caused her to look up from her book on quantum physics and mechanics.

And bite her lips.

Two-hundred and seventy-five pounds of pure husky Universe glared annoyed temper steel from the entrance on their kitchen, in nothing but his baby blue sweats and her new favorite accessory in him.

His beard... His full black and pink-tipped beard. Two months delegation mission with no facial grooming would do that, she supposed...No, she knew.

It why she hid (got rid of ) his shaver, clippers, and cream. She wanted to enjoy this. This was the eye candy she was entitled to, damn it!

Bearded, topless, and irked. His fist balled, his nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed...She had to bite down the purr that wanted to come out, but she did re-cross her legs under her (his) nightgown/ turtleneck

"Sup Bisky." She began with a tease in her voice, not much regular than usual, " Nice first night home?"

"Where is it you, little minx?"

'Oooooh, that cool baritone.' Heartberry mentally swooned as it sent shivers down her spine.

"That's a fine hi and good morning." Connie pouted, crossing her arms and turning away, knowing he wouldn't buy it, "you wake up and accuse me of something that I have no idea what you could be you can be talking about. For shhh~aamee.."

Steven tried to bite back the smile the mischievous Maheswaran seems to place on his lips effortlessly.

"My shaving supplies, where are they, Heartberry?" He snarled her moniker in playful warning as he took a step forward.

"Oh~ho!" Connie stood up, pressing her left index, middle, and ring finger between her breasts and right wrist at her hip, a dynamic stance as she continued in a dramatically miscreant voice. "You're approaching me, Mister Bisky?"

"I can't interrogate you without getting closer." Steven played along with her, taking the hero role as he stalked forward.

"Please, then come as close as you wish." She smirked before taking a step back.

"Your movements don't match your words, Heartberry!"

Connie laughed as he gave chase around their kitchen table, going a few laps around before sizing each other up on either side of the. She kissed at him in a jab before having to run out of the kitchen as he took a step back and leaped over the table.

"Come back here, you villainous vixen!" He yelled as had chased her into the living room and around the couch.

"Now, why would I do that, huh?" Connie gave him a deep grin," the hero's supposed to catch the villain." She chuckled as she leaned forward, swaying her lower half teasingly, "you can't do that? Surely, you're not gonna let your little Minx win so easily." She finished with a slight pouty tone.

"You know, I know you're baiting me." He chuckled in slight annoyance, " but you're right."

"Ahhh~Hahaha!" Connie's excited laughter resounded around their home as Steven climbed over the couch, and she ran upstairs into their house 'room.'

Steven rosed up in time to see her run in and gave chase into the fantastical never-ending library, which was Connie's default room.

Hehehhe!

Connie's witch laugh resounded all around as Steven looked from aisle to aisle and shelf to shelf, with no luck.

"How the hell could she disappear in here?" He pondered.

"-Mmmmmm~!-"

Steven sucked up a breath as they felt her held nip right between the shoulder blades.

Chua!

Steven stood straight up as a bolt ran through his nerves upon her release. Turning around, he saw Connies smiling up at him impishly. Before he could grab her, she struck first.

By kissing his growl in a full-on lip-lock, running her tongue along the top of his gums and teeth evoking a growl motivated by passionate affection rather than heated and playful competition. All while rubbing his curly silky facial hair, getting another sound of appreciation and pleasure as her fingers played and teased with his beard. With a sweet and loving clipping pop. She broke the kiss, looking at his purring face as her hand fingers rant through his curls.

"You'll never catch me."

Steven broke out of his trance only to get kissed again, allowing Connie the precious moments to start her mad dash out of the room.

He gave chase a half-second later, giving chase to the laughing Maheswaran maniac as he ran through lanes of books, out of the room and into their bedroom, where he scooped her up off her feet upon just her entering by adding a bit of gem speed to close the gap.

Connie gasped as she found her world spinning and suddenly on her back upon their bed with Mister over her, knees at her hip length, hands at her shoulder.

"You cheated," she purred before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter as Steven fingers attacked her sides in a tickle under her sleepwear, making her kick and latch on to his wrist in a futile effort to cease his movement.

"Where my blades and cream woman, Tell me!"

"Neve~Aaaahhhahah~hhm!"

The feeling of Steven's mouth on her collarbone stopped her protest immediately, making her pull him down and press on her as she opened herself more to this interrogation.

"You gonna tell me?"

Connie breathed out her nose at his whisper in her ear. "I threw them away a week ago." She answered ina submissive sigh.

"Wha-!?"

"But..." she reluctantly pulled out a case from the small gap between her left side table and their bed.

It was leather, with his signature in pink. -click- she flips the latch and reveals a professional shaving kit of stainless steel. "It's a welcome home gift-ahahah."

She was once again interrupted, this time by His nipping along her neckline.

"Thank you, Nini -Chu!-."

Connie all but melted under him, kissing him back with the same adoration and wanting, nodding as they broke and rejoined multiple times.

"Don't thank me, yet." She nuzzled into his beard, kissing it, "You, Mister, will not be using this kit...I am." She told him, ruffling the facial hair.

"So your~rrrr gonna shave me?" Steven purred, leaning into her manipulation.

"Later tonight before bed, but for now, I'm gonna bask in my beardy bisky." She kissed him gently, still rubbing his hair." You just let me indulge myself."

Steven was too lost in her affection to care.

#steven universeau #fighting flirty #Mister #heartberry #one shot #connverse fanfic #older connie #older connverse #older characters #adult characters #steven universe connie #steven universe fanfiction #connverse #fighting flirty canon

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morganaofcamelot · 3 years

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If Wishes Came True (Chapter 2)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter II: Sense of Family

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

Important Note: English is not my first language, so I’d appreciate if you can point out any mistakes I make.

On AO3

Tumblr: Ch I

Two days have gone by, since the incident at the hanging. Sir Guy had returned empty handed from his search and the sheriff was livid with anger at first, shouting at his subordinate with such passion that frightened Valerie to her core; the knight stood there, head hung low, barely speaking. She thought she saw some emotion crossing his face, but she couldn’t place it, as Sir Guy’s face had always been unreadable to her.

Valerie felt the need to speak up in Sir Guy’s defense. “Lord Father,” she said, surprising herself as well as the two men with her gall to interrupt them. “Your men say that the fugitives had managed to escape into the forest. You know, in your infinite wisdom, that Sherwood is large and had never been properly mapped out. It is expected that they completely lost them inside that maze.”

Both of them looked at her with astonishment. Her words made sense, Vaisey found. “Yes, well, my daughter is right, Gisborne.” Her father said, with a smile. “Which is why I won’t hold a grudge for your failure.”

The knight perked up, his spirits finally restored. “I thank you for that, my lord,” He said and turned to her. “And I thank you, Valerie.” The small smile he gave her set loose butterflies in her stomach. She managed to return it.

“Which is why,” her father said, taking no notice of the interaction between them, “We will go to Locksley and seek Huntingdon out ourselves. He must be lurking somewhere in his demesne, and we will catch him.”

All too willingly, Sir Guy agreed. “Yes, my lord.” The reverence was back in his voice as he looked at the sheriff.

“Come on, my boy. Let’s waste no time. Gather thirty men, we’re heading to that stinky village, now.”

The knight needed to hear no more. In a few steps he was outside the door, all too eager to please the sheriff.

“Daughter mine,” her father said, sweetly. Alarm set her nerves on fire. Her father never spoke in such tones, so she feared some kind of retribution for speaking out of turn. “Oh, no, no, no, no. Don’t fret. You know I don’t particularly appreciate when you stick your nose in my business affairs, but I have to admit, you were right about Sherwood. It’s a vast forest.”

Valerie tension evaporated a little, only to double back with his next words.

“You should accompany us, today. You have to get a better view of the falsehoods and injustices that plague this land. Have someone prepare your horse, hmm? Good girl.”

Valerie liked horses, but didn’t enjoy riding them. The hour spent on horseback was an hour of discomfort. They had started an hour after the sheriff had declared his intention to pay Huntingdon a visit. Sir Guy had gathered the thirty men quickly enough, and all of them were armed and armored to the teeth. Her father, not so – he didn’t expect to take a part in a possible altercation then.

Sir Guy fell back a little, guiding his black stallion close to her brown palfrey. “Valerie,” he started, his voice dripping honey. “Thank you for your speech, earlier, in the hall.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Sir Guy,” she said, almost a whisper. “I’ve known you for more than five years now, do you think I would not help you? I sometimes think of you as my slightly older brother.” A laugh escaped her, and the knight grinned at her attempt at humor.

“Older? Am I not younger than you, then?”

His mirth made her heart flutter. Focus Valerie, she pleaded to herself. “Only one of us has seen the other with pigtails. Was that you sporting that style?”

Sir Guy straight up laughed at her joke. Her father glanced behind him, to see what has made Gisborne so jolly, but quickly lost interest and continued to frown at the muddy path before them. The sheriff could fight everything and everyone, but he could not fight the rain that poured the previous night.

“I thought so,” Valerie concluded, speaking more to herself.

“You were in the company of Lady Marian the other day. Are you friendly?” He asked, revealing the reason why he paid her special attention this day. Marian, if only I knew what her role in this sudden insurgence was. No ordinary woman carries daggers in her hair.

“Oh, we haven’t been exchanging secrets, if you have to fish for some. But I quite like her. So I hope to call her a friend soon.” Valerie replied, the lie easily finding melting with the truth.

Sir Guy’s gaze was fixed on the sheriff’s back. He’s trying to play it, as if he doesn’t really care. Oh, but he cares for her, a lot. “Would you fault me if I confessed a secret of mine to you? Would you keep it?”

The answer was easy. “Yes, of course, Sir Guy. I am your friend in all things.”

He half-smiled then. “I quite enjoy her company, Valerie. Lady Marian is a unique creature I wish to possess.”

Ever the virginal maiden, Valerie blushed for Marian’s benefit at such a profound statement. “I dare say, you will be met with luck in your endeavor.”

“You think so?” His voice was almost a murmur. He daren’t believe that his feelings were reciprocated.

Sadness overtook her. A woman who could have you, and your rare smiles, my lord of Gisborne and reject you is a foolish one. “I do. Truly.”

With her assurance, Sir Guy spurred his horse, falling in place next to the sheriff.

***

The village of Locksley soon came into view. Father barked orders and the soldiers spread around the village green, dismounted their horses and picked every peasant they could find, bringing them on their knees in front of her father, Sir Guy and her. The sheriff got off his horse and walked amongst them, calmly explaining what he wanted from them.

The peasants remained silent, stealing glances and exchanging confused looks with each other. When the sheriff asked for somebody with information on Huntingdon to come forth, Valerie saw some semblance of honest in their dirty faces. They really didn’t know where their liege was. Not even the generous amount of twenty pounds could convince them to speak.

Then Sir Guy, proving that he wasn’t the sheriff’s right-hand-man for no reason, shouted them that either they would talk, or they would have their tongues cut off. Valerie gulped. She knew that her father dealt harsh punishment on the disobedient peasantfolk, and she knew that Sir Guy was his enforcer.

The frightened look on the villagers’ face told Valerie everything she needed to know. Couldn’t her father read the truth in their eyes? She pondered on why she had never noticed it before.

The sheriff gave a curt nod on one of the soldiers, and he produced an iron scissor, menacingly snapping it on and off, to instill more fear. He grabbed the closest man and…

Valerie could not bear to watch. No, she wouldn’t watch. She turned her head away from the scene, not caring whether her father would disapprove of her cowardice. She just prayed that Huntingdon would show himself sooner, rather than later.

***

The hour passed, and still Huntingdon was nowhere to be found. Valerie thought him a coward by then; another man born and bred into nobility who let innocence people suffer in his stead.

The sheriff and she had been offered chairs to sit upon, and wine to drink while the waiting dragged on. Sir Guy stood, leaning on her father’s chair, yawning from boredom mixed with a splash of tiredness. Oh, but he looks splendid, she thought, taking in his form. The sheriff ordered another clipping, then. She averted her eyes once again.

The minutes trickled by. Neither Sir Guy’s offer of immunity, nor her father’s appeal for rational thought seemed to work.

And then it happened, something happened but the long hours beneath the sun and the foulness of her mood did not help her understand it. As another peasant was grabbed to suffer the punishment her lord father had commanded, an arrow shot through the soldier holding the clipper. The man fell down, face first.

“He is here,” her father declared. The guards rushed to the direction the arrow came from. So did Sir Guy. Minutes later, they returned with the renegade lord in their midst, as a prisoner.

Before she knew it, they were on the way back to Nottingham.

***

The moment they arrived at the castle, Valerie sought the comfort of her bed, as she was no longer required.

Her father ordered the guards to throw Huntingdon in the dungeon to await his fate.

By supper she had replenish her strength, and found her father eating rather heartily, in lieu of his victory.

“Ah, my girl!” He welcomed her in open arms. Valerie kissed on the cheek and took a seat beside him.

“What’s to be done with Huntingdon, lord father? Will he stand trial?”

“Oh, thank goodness no. As an outlaw he is to be hanged without a trial. Nice, isn’t it?” he replied. “And at long last, Gisborne can have his title and stop whinging for once.”

“So, Sir Guy is to have his title, after all?” Valerie said. “That’s wonderful news.”

Suddenly, a lot of noise came from the hallways of the castle. “What is going on?” Her father inquired. “Valerie, quickly, stand behind me!” She did as she was bid, and her father drew his sword. Screams echoed on the stone walls and hurried steps, loud bangs and the clashing of blade against blade was heard. Valerie looked around the hall, for a weapon she could use; she had never trained with one, but she would never let her father face his attacker alone.

The double doors were forcefully opened, and Huntingdon walked in, bow and arrow in hand, ready to shoot. Valerie spotted the bandage on his right arm, where the arrow had pierced his skin the other day. Maybe this could play in their favor.

“Yesterday in Locksley, you revealed your true colors. Today I reveal mine. You were right; I have lost my taste for bloodshed, but if you ever, so callously or needlessly hurt someone to get to me, I will kill you.”

Her father talked back in a calm manner. “I don’t believe you, former Lord of Locksley. And I will not change my ways, because you ask me to. If England demands it, I will stoop low, lower than you can possibly imagine, so kill me now!”

The lordling then made a move to fire the arrow and Valerie’s mind reeled. “No!” she screamed. She brought her own self forward to stand between him and Lord Robert. “You shall not harm my father, outlaw.” she spat as she uttered the last word. “Or you shall have to do it over my own corpse.” The eyes of their adversary flicked between her and the sheriff, calculating his chance of success. He didn’t have many arrows in his quiver, Valerie noted. “How noble it will be of you, to murder a defenseless woman!”

He blinked. At that moment she knew that Huntingdon had lost his conviction.

“Leave now, and spare your honor and your good name.” Valerie said, appealing to his sense. “Stay, and the guards will overtake you, as I see your forearm is bleeding and you won’t be able to fight ten men on your own, and you’ll kiss the noose earlier than you ever anticipated.”

With that, Huntingdon turned wordlessly, although no less frustrated, and ran. Valerie let out a sigh with a violent sob. “Oh, father,” she told him, tears threatening to overtake her.

“Silly girl,” he replied with generous affection. He sheathed his short sword and embraced her to soothe her. “You shouldn’t endanger yourself.” He kissed her brow, the battle outside forgotten for a split second. The sheriff let her go then, and walked to the window to see that some twenty men had showed up and orchestrated Huntingdon’s escape.

“Ah, if only Gisborne was here.” Her father muttered. “He would show them, my boy.”

#robin hood bbc #bbc robin hood #guy of gisborne #guy of gisborne x original female character #*mine

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bcbdrums · 4 years

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More Drakgo! Because the world needs more!!!

FFn link ---> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13578348/1/Choose-Your-Side

A/N: The flash-fic well is drying up, but I've still got Tumblr prompts to fill. This prompt actually comes from an AO3 user and a faithful reviewer, shrijver. '26. Jealous kiss' for you, m'dear! This also randomly became a semi-songfic. @theiconicgwen, here's your karaoke. Enjoy, everyone!

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

Having common sense kept them out of most trouble, except for that which came with their schemes. Of course, Shego would argue that total and complete recklessness wasn't part of the territory. Even so, for being villains, neither of them drank much alcohol.

Shego sipped at her Blinker and stared at Drakken's Pan American Clipper, half-empty on the table. Her shoulders were tense as she felt everyone's eyes on her more than usual in the karaoke bar. But it was to be expected—they had saved the world, after all.

She wished for what must have been the hundredth time that he hadn't chosen a table in the center of the restaurant, but he seemed oblivious to the fact that there were always eyes on the pair of oddly-colored villains. And that night it was worse, as people were constantly approaching them with questions or wanting autographs.

It was probably why they were each on their second cocktail.

Drakken had excused himself to use the restroom before his next turn on the mic. He had already sung his usual favorites that Shego now had memorized, to her dismay, as well as a few she had only occasionally heard either on the radio or at other times there at his favored karaoke bar. Usually he topped out at about five or six songs in a two-hour period, as plenty of other patrons were having turns at the mic. But that night they were on their third hour and he had shown no signs of slowing down.

He had tried for years to get her to sing a duet with him, but always she refused, sometimes with a threat if he was especially persistent. But that night he hadn't asked her once. In fact, his conversation had been oddly surface-level and conservative for his boisterous personality, usually cranked up to the maximum on karaoke night.

Shego sipped at her cocktail again and wondered at his behavior. Of course, she knew she wasn't herself either. Neither of them had been since the invasion.

It had been almost a month since that day that changed everything. Terror and sleeplessness and fighting blindly against a foe they knew could truly destroy them... And then mutated plants. And Kim Possible's side-kick. And then a shining gold medal hung around Drakken's neck at the United Nations, crowds cheering in thanks and praise.

Since that day, their lives were no longer their own. They had magazine interviews, TV spots, invitations to lectures and conferences and universities and museums... There was even talk of a documentary about Drakken's life.

And that was the thing—it was all about Drakken. She was never actually invited, she was just...automatically included. By him. He didn't seem to notice that she wasn't in the picture, as far as the public was concerned. Even the awkward moment at the UN when his vine had wrapped them together had blown over with the major media outlets inside of a week. And when patrons at the karaoke bar approached her, it was always with questions about him.

She was curious as to why she had been ignored...but that curiosity kept getting pushed aside in favor of a bigger question: just what were they?

Drakken was thrilled beyond description with his newfound hero-status. Finally, people wanted to hear him talk for hours about his scientific theories and inventions. And he reveled in it each day to the point of exhaustion.

And each day they returned home...to their villain's lair.

So what were they? Was the hero-thing temporary? Was it permanent? Was he even aware that he was dragging her all over the world only to sit in the back of a hall or stand in the wings while authorities and the public alike praised and revered him?

But whenever he wasn't engaged by others, he was always at her side... Asking her how he looked, telling her how amazing it was to have his ideas praised... But other than being his...his...sounding board, what was she?

And why did she keep going with him?

Why did she go with him to karaoke?

Karaoke was technically in her contract, but, she knew he wouldn't care if she just refused to go. And yet she had gone, for years. And now on their first night out of their own accord since the invasion, that was where he'd wanted to go, and she was with him again.

She glanced across the darkened room toward the hall that led to the restroom, and then her eyes glimpsed Drakken leaning against the end of the bar. Why hadn't he come back to...?

He grinned shyly. And then she noticed the two women standing far too close to him.

Shego could tell their type instantly. Too much makeup, too much skin showing, and very clearly drunk from their wobbly posture and their giggles. Drakken appeared unsure what to do with their attention.

Shego's eyes darkened as one of the women began running her fingers around Drakken's medal—which he wore everywhere, of course—and the other woman leaned into his side and began twirling her fingers through his hair. Drakken looked between the two even more uncomfortably and Shego started to rise from the table, but then Drakken slipped between the two women and hurried up the steps to the stage.

Shego hadn't even noticed the previous song ending. And apparently it was Drakken's turn again. She felt the familiar tension coming as she knew people would be staring again.

It wasn't that he was a bad singer. He had potential. It was that he over-sang everything and put so much camp and drama into the performances that they were laughable. Although usually he got cheers. And that night, due to his new status as world-hero, he had gotten more than ever. The crowd seemed larger too, and Shego wondered if word had gotten out that he was there.

Shego watched as uncharacteristically, Drakken pulled the stool up to the mic stand and sat down, adjusting the stand to his height. He always stood and moved around while singing.

He looked around nervously over the crowd, which was also unusual. But when his eyes found her at their usual table, his face relaxed into a soft smile. He turned toward the DJ and held up a hand to signal him to wait before starting the music. Drakken cleared his throat into the mic.

"I know some of you are here to see me," he said, "but this will be my last one tonight."

A chorus of sad responses sounded from the audience. Shego felt a slight relief, knowing they could leave soon. But she was still tense knowing that they were going to get more stares before that time came.

"My last bow," he said.

His eyes met Shego's with a strange thoughtfulness and determination. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Drakken looked back over the crowd. "On the surface it looks like the world has...been brought together by everything that happened. But it...it hasn't really."

Confused murmurings began in the crowd. Shego felt even more uneasy. What was he doing? He never made speeches. And he never, ever talked about anything other than himself.

"Maybe it can... This last song is called, 'Break Your Heart.'"

The DJ started the music and a soft alternative beat began with an instrumental that had clear jazz influences from the rhythm and melody to the instrumentation. Drakken scooted back on the stool a bit, away from the very front of the stage. He gripped the mic on the stand with one hand and bowed his head. His eyes remained open but his face was serious.

The instrumental introduction continued for a long time before Drakken took his first breath, but then he softly hummed and 'oohed' over the instruments. It was so contrary to every other performance he'd ever given that Shego began to forget about her insecurity of just being there.

When the song lyrics started, they moved so quickly at first that they almost ran together, but appropriate pauses showed up as well. Drakken sang so uncharacteristically quietly that she leaned forward in her chair to listen.

"People downcast, in despair, see the disillusion everywhere. Hoping their bad luck will change... Gets a little harder every day.

"People struggle, people fight for the simple pleasures in their lives, but trouble comes from everywhere... It’s a little more than you can bear."

Drakken had looked down the whole time, but suddenly he looked up with his face more earnest than she'd ever seen. He seemed to be trying to look into the eyes of every patron of the restaurant.

"I know that it will hurt, I know that it will break your heart, the way things are and the way they’ve been, and the way they’ve always been."

Shego sat up fully, watching the strange performance. She had completely forgotten her worries and questions about the strange existence they had been living since the invasion. Drakken's voice was soft and smooth, and every word was crystal clear.

"People shallow, self-absorbed, see the push and shove for their reward. I, me, my is on their minds... You can read about it in their eyes.

"People ruthless, people cruel, the damage that some people do. Full of hatred, full of pride... It’s enough to make you lose your mind.

"I know that it will hurt. I know that it will break your heart, the way things are and the way they’ve been. But don’t spread the discontent; don’t spread the lies. Don’t make the same mistakes with your own life. You never will let love survive."

The almost constant string of words was broken then by a solo from a jazz guitar. Drakken looked down briefly, but then he looked up above the heads of the crowd. His eyes were sad, almost longing.

Shego didn't understand. Clearly, the song meant something to him, or he wouldn't have chosen it. And why the strange introduction?

His eyes slowly moved down and found hers. She blinked, both in surprise and a bit of nervousness at being trapped in his serious gaze. Not only had he never looked like that before, but...he had definitely never looked at her like that before.

Some of the sadness seemed to leave his eyes.

"I know that it will hurt. I know that it will break your heart the way things are and the way they’ve been. Don’t spread the discontent; don’t spread the lies. Don’t make the same mistakes with your own life. Don’t disrespect yourself, don’t lose your pride and don’t think that everybody’s gonna choose your side."

The song continued with a soft trumpet solo, but it was clearly drawing to a close. When it was near enough, Drakken cleared his throat and blinked out of whatever had put him into such a strange mindset.

The crowd cheered. Drakken smiled shyly and took a deep bow. Then he left the stage and hurried back toward their table.

Shego stiffened as she suddenly felt nervous, but she didn't know why. She downed the rest of her drink in a single swallow, and then grimaced as it burned her throat.

When Drakken arrived he didn't look at her at first, but set his hands on the table and leaned over. His eyes, in contrast to the open way he had looked out at the crowd, now looked hollow as if he had seen some horror. But he quickly shook it off, cleared his throat, and straightened up. His eyes fell to his unfinished drink and he knocked it back just as Shego had hers.

With a grimace, he lifted his medal up and off from around his neck and set it on the table. Shego's brow rose and she looked at him in question. He looked down at her like he was about to say something, but he didn't get the chance.

The two women from the bar had suddenly appeared, one on either side of him. He jumped as the one whose hair had been bleached blonde too many times ran her hands up his chest and up his arm to his shoulder. The other who was somehow chewing bubblegum while drinking was pushing her cleavage out in a very obvious way as she tried to give him a flirty look.

"That was sooooooo sexy!" the blonde said with a giggle as she leaned against his side. Drakken chuckled and smiled nervously and leaned away, only to bump into the woman on his other side.

"I felt so...connected to you!" the brunette said, grinning in a way that reminded Shego of obsession.

"Ah, yes, ah...thank you," Drakken stammered. The blonde's hands were getting more friendly, and the brunette had picked up his medal from the table and looked to be contemplating wearing it.

"We have a place just around the corner," the blonde said. "Would you like to come over for a nightcap? I'd love to see what your vines can do."

"And maybe you can give us a private performance?" the brunette asked. She'd put the medal on and rested it right atop her ample cleavage. "You must have more songs."

Drakken's eyes were darting between the two women in confusion as he continued to smile nervously.

Shego was sitting so close she could have reached out and stolen from either woman's purse. But she had her jaw hung open in a mixture of awe and fury at the audacity of the two tramps, so much so that it froze her in place for several seconds as her anger built.

"Don't you want this back?" the brunette said teasingly, moving in a way that made the medal almost bounce on her chest.

Drakken's cheeks began to turn pink and his nervousness turned to discomfort.

The blonde stepped up on her tiptoes and brought her ninety-nine cent red lipstick-slathered mouth toward Drakken's.

Shego had had it. She stood up and fairly roared.

"What am I, wallpaper!?"

The two women, and Drakken, jumped with a start. And then Drakken took another step back as suddenly Shego's arms were around his neck.

"Sheg—"

It didn't occur to her until a few seconds later that her kissing him was probably just as unwelcome and offensive as one of the drunken whores kissing him. But she had done what she had done, and she couldn't take it back.

The fierce kiss she had laid on him had clearly startled him, as for the first several seconds his shoulders heaved and his lips were frozen in a thin line. But then he slightly relaxed in her embrace, and as she slowly pulled away she felt his sudden response as he tried to capture her lower lip between his.

She looked up at him with a mixture of anxiety and apology. He stared down at her in awe.

All around them, the crowd cheered.

The two women were huffing and complaining and hurling insults at Shego.

Drakken's eyes darted around, and for the first time since they'd been coming to that karaoke bar Shego saw in his eyes the anxiety that plagued her each and every time.

"Let's get out of here," Drakken whispered in a near-panic. Shego nodded her agreement.

Drakken tossed a handful of cash on the table and then grabbing her hand, began to run. Shego was only too eager to follow, but then she pulled on his hand to stop him.

"Wait, your medal!" she hissed at him.

He glanced over her shoulder toward the two tramps, and then with a grimace he shook his head.

"Leave it," he said, and turned to pull her away and out of the restaurant.

Outside in the dark, they ran around the corner and down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. When the karaoke bar and its sounds were far behind them, Drakken slowed to a stop and dropped her hand as he leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath.

Shego watched him curiously, her heart beating out of her chest.

She'd kissed him. Why had she kissed him? What was the point? She could have just as easily threatened the two women harassing him, or worse.

Drakken slowly straightened and looked at her, his cheek still leaning on the cool metal of the post.

The anxiety Shego felt covered her body suddenly, like a million crawling ants. Drakken looked about to speak, so she did first.

"You left your medal."

Whatever Drakken had been about to say died on his lips. His brow furrowed lightly and he shook his head.

"Wasn't worth it."

"But...it was everything to you!" she said quickly. She would say just about anything to avoid the subject of the kiss.

Drakken shook his head. "It was...it was nice," he said slowly.

"What was?" Shego said quickly. She took a step back as he straightened fully.

"The attention. People...finally praising me for my genius."

"You're talking like it's over."

Drakken took a deep breath. "It is. I'm done."

Shego felt her heart skip a beat. What did that mean? That he was...returning to villainy? He'd never said he wouldn't... Even so, another question burned in her mind and quickly found its way to her tongue.

"But why?"

Drakken blinked out of his inward-focus and looked her over. Shego took another step back and put more space between them.

"You kissed me."

Shego ran her hand back through her hair. "Uh...yeah. Sorry about that."

Drakken shook his head as his gaze darkened. "You did it on purpose."

Shego could feel the unspoken accusation as he stared at her. He wanted to know her motive. He wanted to know if it had been some form of mocking. She tried to think of an excuse... But either due to the alcohol or simply having no other answer, she blurted out the truth.

"Those women were all over you! As if I wasn't right there!"

Drakken considered her words. Slowly, a smile came to his face.

"You were jealous."

Shego's face flushed. "Psh, as if. I just wanted those tramps to take a hike."

Drakken's smile was soft as he looked at her. Shego didn't understand and it made her uncomfortable. She took another step back and hugged herself, even though the night was hot.

"It's okay. I'm jealous too."

Shego's brow furrowed. "Huh?"

Drakken took a step toward her. "The way everyone just ignores you...no matter where we go. And treats you like you're not there."

His expression had darkened, and Shego continued listening in confusion.

"You deserve as much of the glory for saving the world as I do."

Shego shook her head. "I didn't do anything really."

"I couldn't have done it without you."

Drakken had taken another step closer. Shego felt some of the tension from back in the bar return, and Drakken continued.

"If you hadn't been with me to help me get the super hypollinator, and distribute it at all of the attack sites...I couldn't have done anything."

"But you're the inventor. You're the brains behind it all. That's why everyone's interested in you. No one cares about the hired muscle."

Drakken took a slow breath as his expression became irritated.

"And so...I'm jealous."

Shego shook her head. "I think you've got the wrong emotion there, Doc."

"No. I'm jealous for your honor. For your glory. You've always had it in spades, and suddenly...we become heroes and everyone drops you like you never existed."

"Is that what we are now?" Shego asked quickly, finding herself even more tense. She angled her body slightly away from him. "Heroes?"

When Drakken didn't answer she glanced back at him. He looked thoughtful and a bit sad.

"I think...most of the world is really only treating me like those two women back there," he said.

Shego turned back to him in confusion. "What?"

He looked up. "We may have stopped an invasion and saved Earth from a horrible fate, but...it won't really change anything."

Shego considered for a moment and suddenly remembered the words of the song he had sung. He had sang of the injustices of the human existence, whether by chance or by selfish design, and the tendency of humankind to choose the negative over the positive.

"So you think as a hero the world is supposed to be some utopia? If we're villains we would just be making it even worse, you know."

Drakken grimaced and then an ironic smirk turned up one corner of his mouth. He didn't say anything, but turned to walk down the sidewalk. He paused and reached out his hand to her.

Shego felt a shiver even though the night was hot. He was looking directly into her again, like he had in the restaurant. Only even more-so. She noticed for the first time that his eyes were an almost impossibly deep blue.

She nervously placed her hand in his, and he gently tugged her to walk alongside him as they continued on slowly to the parking lot.

"So..." she began shakily, "whether we're good guys or bad guys, the world is gonna be a mess," she concluded.

Drakken hummed as he looked ahead thoughtfully with an almost melancholy in his eyes.

A few minutes passed. Shego felt that tension again and the night suddenly seemed to be too hot.

Or maybe it had something to do with the gentle way he held her hand.

"So...which mess do you want?"

They were a few feet from the hover-car, but Drakken stopped. He turned to her and reached for the medal on his chest out of habit, and looked down when he remembered it was gone. He pursed his lips.

"Neither."

Shego's brow rose, and she looked at him in question.

"All of this just showed me...it's not...as important to me as I thought it was."

Shego felt uneasy suddenly and carefully pulled her hand away from him, hugging herself again in the summer heat.

"No matter where we go, all I can think about is...that you deserve to be standing on every stage with me. And I can't wait until the speeches are over so I can get back to you. And how...even though there's no reason for you to come with me, you always do."

Shego shivered again as the thought she'd been pushing away was suddenly forced to the front of her mind by his words.

Why did she go with him?

She realized he'd fallen silent and she looked up. He was staring into her soul again, waiting for...something, from her.

She shrugged nervously, but couldn't think of any words to say. She looked away at nothing.

Drakken reached up to her arm and pulled her hand away. After a moment of resistance she let him.

He took her other hand and brought them together up in front of him as he stepped closer to her. Their hands nearly touched each other's chests for how little space he left between them. Shego's heart began racing. She looked up at him. Drakken's soul-searching expression softened.

"You don't have to be jealous," he said, a tiny smile taking over his features.

"Why not?" Shego asked. Why was her voice suddenly so thin? Why was she acknowledging what she'd felt back at the bar? Why was her heart pounding and her frame trembling?

"Because... There's no chance you'll ever lose me."

For what felt like an eternity they simply stared at one another in a mixture of awe and giddiness. And then the familiar pink flower led Drakken's vine down to their joined hands. Shego was startled when the vine wrapped around her wrists and lifted her her arms up and over Drakken's head, looping them around his neck. He placed his own hands comfortably on her waist and grinned. When Shego spoke, she was surprised at the tremor in her voice.

"D-didn't think you'd know what to do with a woman Doc, after that display back in the bar."

Drakken pursed his lips into a thoughtful smirk. "With the right woman," he finally said. The vine still on Shego's wrists tugged slightly and knocked her off-balance so she fell against Drakken's chest.

"So...so you don't want to be the world's hero...or dictator?" Shego said nervously, still trying to avoid what was becoming completely unavoidable.

Drakken shook his head slowly. "Either way...will just lead to heartbreak. No one is really, or would be, on our side."

Shego thought back to the words of the song he had sung that he had just echoed in the defining statement. And she thought also of the words he had spoken just moments before, declaring that she would never lose him.

She realized then that through it all, she had thought of them as a single unit. Even though the world had treated her differently, she hadn't been thinking of them as two separate lives that could diverge from one another at any moment. Her thoughts were always about what 'they' were.

Apparently, so were his.

"If it's not about the world anymore...then what are we?" she asked.

Drakken smirked and circled her waist with his arms, pulling her tightly against him. "You tell me."

He was giving her a knowing look. Shego was embarrassed by the flush that came to her cheeks. But he was right. She had started it with her impulsive kiss back inside the bar. And while she didn't yet understand the feelings surging through her and preventing her from maintaining any coherent thoughts, she did know...she liked the feel of his arms around her. She really liked it. And even though she was the one who started it...he was communicating with startling clarity how he wanted it to finish.

But he still left it up to her.

Her wrists had been released and the vine had vanished. She brought a hand down to lightly stroke his jaw as she smirked.

"I was jealous," she admitted. It was easier to say that, than any of the things his piercing eyes were communicating. "Maybe...of the world, too."

"Not necessary. I told you. You'll always have me."

She felt a fluttering of anticipation in her chest as she rose up on tiptoe and circled his neck with her arms. She thought of his song again.

"I'll always choose your side," she said.

The summer heat was overtaken by the warmth in her heart as they sealed the promise with a powerful kiss.

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A/N: The song he sings is "Break Your Heart" by Natalie Merchant.

#fanfiction #drakgo #dragko #drakken #shego #kim possible #drakken and shego #drakken x shego #shego x drakken #shegoxdrakken #drakkenxshego

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amazingmsme · 5 years

Text

Round and Round

AN: This is a little prequel to my other Spies Are Forever fic, where Curt mentions another time that Owen had “interrogated” him. It’s based before the show, so there’s no spoilers, just our spy guys goofing off and being teasy. Hope you enjoy!

Curt's eyes flew open, and he found himself in a small dark room. He reached up to rub his aching head, but found he couldn't move. His arms and legs were strapped to some sort of wheel on a wall. He tested his bonds to see if he could break free, but they held firm. He did notice a slight movement that made the wheel turn and inch to the left. He looked out over the room, taking in his surroundings. A single light hanging from the ceiling illuminated a long metal table in the middle of the room. Atop the table were various torture devices including but not limited to: a pair of pliers, hedge clippers, a chainsaw (he really hopes he can get out of this in one piece) and knives of varying sizes. He noticed a dark blob in a chair in the corner of the room and it began to shift once he looked at it.

The figure stood and slowly made their way to the table. The light cast long shadows, coating everything about them in mystery, even when they were directly underneath it. At least now Curt could tell it was a man standing before him. Something about him was familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. He wore a long black cape that swayed and billowed behind him with his every move and a top hat was tilted down to hide his features. He grabbed the edge of the cape and threw it behind him, making Curt roll his eyes at the overly dramatic entrance.

"Well if it isn't the famous Curt Mega. Glad to see you're awake. You were out for quite some time." The man spoke in an over the top loud voice, and Curt wished he could cover his ears.

"I'm right here you don't have to yell," he deadpanned, and he could see the corner's of the other man's mouth turn downward.

"It's not yelling, I'm projecting."

"Well could you do it quieter? 'Cause I find it quite annoying," he said with a smirk. The man took a step closer and said in an even louder voice, "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know you had such sensitive ears. But no need to worry, if you're lucky you won't have them by the time I'm done with you." He walked over to the table, picking up the large sheers, opening and closing them as he walked towards Curt. He could see a bright smile gleaming from underneath the hat. "Now, who're you working for?"

"Oh just a small agency called kiss my ass." He didn't even flinch when the sheers came for his head and clipped off a large chunk of hair right behind his ear. "Thanks, I've been meaning to get a haircut. Not too much off the top though." He reached up and violently yanked his head up by the hair, cutting off a fist full. It was then that Curt got a good look at his face. His eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones, and that crooked jaw was unmistakable. Owen was so gonna pay for ruining his hair.

"I'm sure you're wondering what you're strapped to. It's a fun little contraption I think you'll like. Allow me to give it a whirl." He reached up and grabbed the top of the wheel and heaved down. The wheel began spinning and only increased in speed the more Owen forced it.

He then walked away leaving him to spin. He stood behind the table, watching Curt go round and round until coming to a stop.

"That was a fun little ride, are you also gonna give me a lollipop?"

"I'm afraid lollipops are only for agents who cooperate. But don't worry, I have something special in store for you." Apparently, the wheel was also controlled by a remote that Owen pulled out from his pocket, and Curt found himself spinning once more.

"What're you gonna do magic man? Make me dizzy?"

"That's not my intention, but will no doubt be a side effect of your torture." Curt was ready to reply, a smart quip on the tip of his tongue, when Owen threw the scissors at him and they whizzed by his head, embedding in the wood near his head. "How about we play a game. I like to call it "answer my questions or else I throw knives at you.""

"Not very catchy-"

"What were you doing snooping around here?" Owen asked, and Curt could hear him struggling to keep his English accent concealed.

"I was on my lunch break and thought I'd grab a bite to eat. But now I'm starting to think this isn't McDonald's." He saw Owen's shoulders shake with laughter before he stopped abruptly and hurled a large knife at him. It landed in the tight space between his underarm and ribs, leaving only two inches between the blade and his body on either side. He picked up another knife off the table, slowly sauntering towards him. His eyes followed Curt as he turned upside down, and he waited for him to turn right side up. He placed the sharp edge of the knife on his cheek, the blade scraping over the skin and giving him a close shave. Curt would be lying if he said the sensation didn't send chills down his spine, and the intense look on Owen's face did nothing to help either.

"Tell me Mega, just what exactly were you hoping to find?"

"A hundred dollars wouldn't be too bad, eh buddy?"

Owen slammed the knife into one of the spaces between Curt's fingers, and this time he jumped. It was a little too close for comfort, and Owen was really pushing his luck. He walked back to the table and grabbed the remote, turning up the speed.

He was starting to feel dizzy, the constant motion grating on his brain and straining his eyes. It was getting hard to focus. Owen chuckled, "How're we holding up? You need a bucket yet?"

"No, if I need to I can just puke on you." His partner really didn't like the sound of that because this time the knife embedded itself between his legs, mere centimeters from his crotch. Okay Owen was seriously going to get it when he finally got out of this.

"I do wish you would cooperate, it would make things so much easier."

"Well I'll have you know I'm not easy. It takes at least five dates to get me in bed."

"I'm going to ask you one more time: who are you working for and what are your intentions?"

"Well I can assure you my intentions are nothing but pure," he said with a wink. Owen rolled his eyes, scraping the blade against the metal table, creating a horrendous screech to fill the air. Curt flinched and let out a yelp at the sound, unable to protect his ears.

"Stop stop stop! Fuck I can't take it!" He conceded, unable to handle such an awful noise. Owen smirked, ready to listen to his friend. "How the hell did you know that I can't possibly stand the sound of metal scraping?"

"Personal history does have its benefits Mega," he said. He ripped off the cape and threw the knife, making sure the blade landed right next to his head for the big finale. He tossed the hat to the side and paused the motion of the spinning wheel, walking up to free his friend. The trapped agent glared daggers at him.

"Oh Curt don't look so hurt, it was all in good fun."

"You throw another knife that close to my balls again, and I will make sure to chop yours off."

Owen laughed, reaching up to spin the wheel so that he was upside down. He unlatched his left leg first, then his right. "I have no doubt about it, which is why I didn't miss. Trust me, if I wanted, I could've had all your fingers by now." Being upside down with his legs free left Curt in an awkward position as he struggled to keep them upright. Owen took note of this and decided to take a step back and just observe him. His stomach was starting to hurt from holding the position and he grit his teeth together as he seethed, "Owen you ass, hurry up and get me down!"

"Why? Are you feeling the burn old chap?" He teased, reaching up to pat his stomach. Curt swiftly brought his right knee down on top of his head, hard. Owen recoiled with a cry of pain and glared down at his face while he rubbed his head.

Curt gave him a fake smile and shrugged his shoulders as much as he could, "Guess I couldn't hold my legs up that long." Owen scoffed and spun him upright, freeing his wrists. He rubbed where the bonds were, enjoying the feeling of being able to move.

"So I don't suppose you were the one who knocked me out?" he asked, using the metal table to stretch out his legs. Owen promptly shook his head, "Oh no, I would never. I did find the bloke though. I fixed him up with a nice chloroform rag and some duct tape, so he shouldn't be going anywhere but to headquarters. Be lucky I found him before you woke up, 'cause I don't think he has as good an aim. Quite the shaky hand," he said, raising his own and making it tremble.

"Oh yeah, remind me to thank you for literally shooting daggers at me."

"You're welcome. You got the test files?"

"Of course. All on this hard drive."

"Very good. Now not that I didn't have a blast, but I think we should call it a day, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, Cynthia's probably pissed that I'm not back by now. Although I have a good reason."

"Oh don't think I don't know that you enjoyed being my target; you were having just as much fun as me."

"I-" but his retort fell short on his tongue when Owen simply raised his eyebrow with a smirk. "Just you wait, I'll get you back."

"Of course you will love. That's the way this game works."

#spies are forever #spies are forever fic #saf #saf fic #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #curtwen #interrogation #fake interrogation #knives #wanted to tag it in case it's anyone's triggers

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mill3nniumforc3 · 5 years

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1. Who was the last person you held hands with?: Russell

2. Are you outgoing or shy?: I can be outgoing, but I’m usually pretty shy when I’m around strangers.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?: I get to see Russell tonight

4. Are you easy to get along with?: Definitely! I’m very easygoing.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?: He has already lol. I wasn’t vomiting, but I was very out of it and kept asking him to take me to Atlanta Beach (not Atlantic Beach. Atlanta Beach).

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?: Has a sense of humor, nice smile, lovely eyes, and has ambitions (all of which apply to my boyfriend).

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?: For sure!

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?: my boyfriend

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?: Not at all!

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?: my mom

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?: “Mozz sticks”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?: Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman, Sun is Shining by Axwell /\ Ingrosso, Head Above Water by Avril Lavigne, Lights by Journey, and broken by lovelytheband.

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?: YES!

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?: Yes and yes.

15. What good thing happened this summer?: I told Russell that I love him.

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?: HELL YEAH!

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?: It’s possible...

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?: I haven’t had a conversation with him in years, but I’m friends with him on Facebook and he has a kid (who looks just like him lol).

19. Do you like bubble baths?: Yeah, but I haven’t had a bubble bath in years.

20. Do you like your neighbors?: Sure.

21. What are you bad habits?: I like to rip my nails when they get too long instead of getting my clippers. I eat like a horse and don’t exercise. I stay up way too late.

22. Where would you like to travel?: EVERYWHERE. I want to visit a bunch of amusement parks and ride all the rollercoasters, and I want to tour Europe because I was supposed to go to Spain my senior year of high school but my funds fell through.

23. Do you have trust issues?: Yes, but I have worked through them.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?: Going to bed.

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?: My stomach.

26. What do you do when you wake up?: Play on my phone.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?: No. I love my skin color. My only wish is it didn’t break out so much.

28. Who are you most comfortable around?: Russell.

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?: No, but I’m trash, so why would they regret it?

30. Do you ever want to get married?: Someday, but not today.

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail?: Yes, thankfully.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?: Ew, none.

33. Spell your name with your chin.: vvvvvommkjfc

34. Do you play sports?: Yes! What sports?: I’m a dancer. Dance IS a sport. We stretch, practice, perform, and compete. I used to play softball though.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?: TV, because I have Netflix and need music for choreography.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?: Yep.

37. What do you say during awkward silences?: Soooo…

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?: My boyfriend is my dream guy.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?: Kohl’s, Target, Walmart, Spencers, Forever 21, and Starbucks.

40. What do you want to do after high school?: ....I graduated high school almost seven years ago....

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?: Depends on why they blew the first chance.

42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean?: I’m spaced out, depressed, or overwhelmed.

43. Do you smile at strangers?: Always

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?: Outer space please. I’m not going in the ocean. There’s fish.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?: My stomach growling, my bladder, or having to go to work.

46. What are you paranoid about?: I’m not really paranoid about anything.

47. Have you ever been high?: Yes!

48. Have you ever been drunk?: Yes!

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?: I’m technically not a v.

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?: Black.

51. Ever wished you were someone else?: No.

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?: My weight.

53. Favourite makeup brand?: CoverGirl.

54. Favourite store?: Target!

55. Favourite blog?: My blog.

56. Favourite colour?: Pink

57. Favourite food?: grilled cheese with pickle juice

58. Last thing you ate?: Fortune cookie

59. First thing you ate this morning?: Chip

60. Ever won a competition?: Yes! For what?: I recently won Team Trivia with my best friend, and I’ve won dance competitions.

61. Been suspended/expelled?: No! For what?: N/A

62. Been arrested? NO! For what?: N/A

63. Ever been in love?: Yes.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?: April 18, 2015 (yes, I’m a dork because I’m good with dates). It was after the second date with a guy I was seeing at the time. We went to my dorm room and I saw him leaning towards me. I thought it was a hug and smiled because I like hugs. Then I saw his eyes were closed and he was coming towards my face. My first thought was, “Oh shit! He’s going to kiss me!” I closed my eyes and followed my instinct. It lasted about a few seconds and then he embraced me. I admitted it was my first kiss and he said, “Oh! Here’s your second kiss!” and we kissed again.

65. Are you hungry right now?: I’m always hungry.

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?: I don’t even know who my friends are anymore tbh.

67. Facebook or Twitter?: Twitter, for sure.

68. Twitter or Tumblr?: Tumblr.

69. Are you watching tv right now?: Yes.

70. Names of your bestfriends?: Ashlyn, Mario, Katie, Asia, Michaela, Eric, and Clare.

71. Craving something?: Always What?: right now, pancakes.

72. What colour are your towels?: Red, blue, yellow, and purple.

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?: A lot

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?: Yes

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?: More than I can count

75. Favourite animal?: cat

76. What colour is your underwear?: white

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?: Both

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?: Mint chocolate chip

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?: Grey, with 90s Nicktoons and yellow and white letters that say Made In the ‘90s.

80. What colour pants?: Gray

81. Favourite tv show?: Grey’s Anatomy

82. Favourite movie?: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?: Mean Girls

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?: Mean Girls

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?: Glenn Cocco

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?: Dory

87. First person you talked to today?: Russell

88. Last person you talked to today?: Bridgid

89. Name a person you hate?: I don’t know if I hate anyone, but I can’t stand David.

90. Name a person you love?: Russell

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?: Yes

92. In a fight with someone?: I don’t think so.

93. How many sweatpants do you have?: A lot.

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?: Like 5

95. Last movie you watched?: Are We There Yet?

96. Favourite actress?: Kristen Bell

97. Favourite actor?: NPH

98. Do you tan a lot?: NO

99. Have any pets?: I have a doggie

100. How are you feeling?: Hungry

101. Do you type fast?: Yes. Very fast.

102. Do you regret anything from your past?: Nope!

103. Can you spell well?: I almost won a spelling bee, but choked on my final word. So, yeah, I’m a pretty good speller as long as I’m not under pressure.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?: Nope!! If the people from my past wanted to be part of my present, they’d still be here.

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?: Of course.

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?: Just my own.

107. Have you ever been on a horse?: Yep.

108. What should you be doing?: Applying for jobs

109. Is something irritating you right now?: All the rejections I’ve been getting

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?: Yes:)

111. Do you have trust issues?: Didn’t you already ask me this?

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?: My mom

113. What was your childhood nickname?: Cookie Face

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?: Multiple times, yes.

115. Do you play the Wii?: Yes.

116. Are you listening to music right now?: Of course. Now playing: Invisible Touch by Genesis.

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?: I’m a vegetarian.

118. Do you like Chinese food?: Meh, not really.

119. Favourite book?: Sing You Home by Jodi Picoult.

120. Are you afraid of the dark?: No.

121. Are you mean?: No!

122. Is cheating ever okay?: NEVER! If you’re not happy, just leave.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?: I suck at it, but I know tricks to keep them white.

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?: *love at first swipe

125. Do you believe in true love?: I do.

126. Are you currently bored?: Yeah.

127. What makes you happy?: Food, music, and Netflix.

128. Would you change your name?: I don’t think I’ll ever legally change my name unless I get married, but I like having a stage name that I use on social media.

129. What your zodiac sign?: Aries

130. Do you like subway?: Meh. After how awful my sandwich was the last time I went there, it’ll be a while before I like it again.

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?: "Very funny, Mario. You’re gay and you know I have a boyfriend.”

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?: Again, I’ve already been asked this.

133. Favourite lyrics right now?: “And you came my way on a winter’s day. Shout it loudly, ‘Come out and play.’ Can’t you tell I’ve got news for you? Sun is shining and so are you.” ~Axwell /\ Ingrosso

134. Can you count to one million?: If I had all the time in the world.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?: “I’m not hungry.”

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?: It’s winter, so my doors are open because my room gets cold.

137. How tall are you?: 5′5″

138. Curly or Straight hair? My hair is kind of wavy, actually

139. Brunette or Blonde?: Brunette

140. Summer or Winter?: Summer

141. Night or Day?: Night

142. Favourite month?: April. It’s my birthday month and it usually starts warming up that month.

143. Are you a vegetarian?: Yes! I have been for almost five years now.

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?: White chocolate. I always eat milk chocolate and I can tolerate dark, but white chocolate is special because I don’t eat it all the time.

145. Tea or Coffee?: Coffee. I hate tea!

146. Was today a good day?: Yeah. It hasn’t been a shabby day at all.

147. Mars or Snickers?: Snickers.

148. What’s your favourite quote?: “So do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with My righteous Right Hand.” ~Isaiah 41:10

149. Do you believe in ghosts?: Nah.

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?: ...there’s no words on the page hahaha.

#bored #personal

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listgarlic35 · 2 years

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The tale happens in the wintertime of 2010, in between two secondary school pupils named Xiao Huang as well as Xiao Zhang.<br>

Xiao Huang studies better than Xiao Zhang, looks a lot more handsome than Xiao Zhang, as well as has a much better temper than Xiao Zhang. Well, in Xiao Zhang's eyes, Xiao Huang is a light that radiates into life in his job as a scumbag. Nobody knows why two individuals with such severe appearances end up being excellent close friends. Xiao Zhang is even much more puzzled. Nevertheless, the leader is shorter and also the inch is longer. The political book at that time stated that "presence is sensible" addressed a whole lot concerning Xiao Zhang. Questions hereof. When the time for the model examination was revealed more than a month back, Xiao Zhang informed Xiao Huang that this would bring good luck to my bro. Xiao Zhang candidly stated that this is my 19th birthday celebration, as well as I would such as to have a hair clipper or electric clipper or electric clipper, a symbol of a male!! Does a hair clipper or an electrical clipper or an electrical clipper become a sign of a guy? Later On, Xiao Zhang failed to remember regarding it, or Xiao Zhang virtually neglected regarding his birthday celebration. Xiao Zhang's desk went to the next door of the classroom, while Xiao Huang remained in the initial classroom to examine. In the same early morning, Xiao Zhang got the publication from the workdesk drawer, took out an undetected bag, opened up the zipper, as well as packed a box inside. It was packed firmly. He took package out with excellent effort. Because period, new hair clippers, electric clippers or electric clippers, which Xiao Zhang claimed to be an icon of males, were right in front of him. I believed I also recognized that Xiao Huang provided it. Xiao Zhang's ideas more than, this guy is much more mindful than me. This way, Xiao Zhang has the initial "hair clipper or electrical clipper or electrical clipper" of his own in his life. At this moment in the story, the component regarding hair clippers or electrical clippers or electric clippers is over. later? The route is that these two secondary school trainees are drifting away like the majority of the classmates who different after the college entryway assessment every year. Well, I need to admit that this is just one of the most awful tales I have actually told, yet it is the most real of all my tales. As amusing as me, you may know that Xiao Zhang was speaking about me after checking out the second paragraph. As for Xiao Huang, you must just understand the keys that selected the wind that year. Later on, a hair clipper or electrical clipper or electrical clipper followed me to any kind of place where I lived for more than two days. One use is six years. The first-rate input master won the champion with a 3494 made by Cherry 20 years earlier when I believed of the mixed peripherals discussion forum. The press reporter was puzzled and asked why not make use of various other key-boards with far better efficiency and style over the last few years. The champion said, This keyboard is the same as when my dad showed me to type when I was young. My heart came to be hot, and I went into the initial mechanical red axis in my life. I can not appreciate the feeling brought by the key-board, I understand the feeling concerning the hair clipper or the electrical clipper or the electric clipper. "sensations". When I did not bring my hair clipper or electric clippers or electrical clippers home throughout the vacation, it was a specific year. I utilized my brother's hair clipper or electrical clippers or electrical clippers during a holiday. I do not understand what a restriction comb is., D8 cutter head, certainly his hair clipper or electrical clipper or electrical clipper is advanced than mine, however I still feel that my very own is one of the most comfy to make use of. Also though it is hard to make use of, even if there is something far better than it, I still don't wish to replace it. Years later on, just I might recognize that it was the first electrical hair clipper or electric clipper or electrical clipper in my life. https://www.2bus.com/products/Salon-Tools-Set.html was a close friend named Xiao Huang who spent at the very least a week when we didn't have much cash to survive on. I got it for living costs only since of a kidding desire that I casually said at the time. But at the end of the tale, we are still wandering away. When 2 individuals really did not understand why they were so great, this indescribable scenario is simply like. Well, existence is sensible. A few days ago, WeChat took part in a reminiscence project, which reminded me of Xiao Huang who was tidying up my hair clipper, electric clippers, or electrical clippers. It occurred to be my birthday celebration today, and it was also the six years that I accompanied me with a hair clipper, an electric clipper, or an electrical clipper. All kinds of emotions were overruning, as well as I simply hit and also assumed where I wrote, which created the above unpleasant words as well as sentences. It is to celebrate all the friends who have actually been excellent yet have actually gone far. hi there, "We made use of to be so excellent, I in fact remember it. Xiao Zhang bluntly claimed that this is my 19th birthday, and also I would certainly such as to have a hair clipper or electrical clipper or electric clipper, a symbol of a guy!! In that era, brand brand-new hair clippers, electric clippers or electric clippers, which Xiao Zhang claimed to be a symbol of men, were right in front of him. It was a certain year when I did not bring my hair clipper or electrical clippers or electrical clippers house throughout the holiday. Numerous years later, just I might understand that it was the very first electric hair clipper or electrical clipper or electric clipper in my life. A few days ago, WeChat involved in a reminiscence project, which advised me of Xiao Huang who was cleansing up my hair clipper, electric clippers, or electrical clippers.

#YHA®

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firetrucksandflowers-blog · 5 years

Photo

BDRP Wrimo Day 19: Flip The Script: Change one DRASTIC trait about your character and write a one-shot.

In which I’m predictable.

Or: The one where Reese is an extrovert.

It’s 3 o’clock on a Spring afternoon and Reese Burns is standing outside the fire station with a watering can. He’s bent over at the waist, the curve of his back making an arch as he reaches to make sure the nozzle is distributing the water directly at the roots.

“Hullo, Reese,” someone calls to him, raising their hand when he looks up to see who’d said his name.

“Afternoon, Ms. Kirby,” he replies brightly, waving to her with a nod. “Where’re you off to?”

“Just the market, Matthew’s in need of bread for another one of his recipes,” she says, making a show of rolling her eyes. Reese tilts his head back and laughs. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” he replies, slightly louder as she walks further away, smiling at him from over her shoulder. “And tell Matthew I don’t want to be getting a call about him later this evening!”

He can hear the ring of her laugh, and watches her wave at him again before returning back to what he was doing. Reese moves along to the rosemary that’s in need of a trim. He sets the watering can down beside him in favor of pulling his clippers from where one of the handles is hanging from his pocket. With one hand he cuts the more unruly stems and with the other he hangs onto the excess. When he decides he can’t hold anymore he sticks the clippers back into his pocket and picks up the watering can on his way back inside.

Using his forehead he knocks on the door when he sees Irving walking by. He chuckles to himself when he sees the other man look around for a moment, as if unsure as to where the noise had come from, before his eyes find Reese standing with his hands full on the other side of the glass door. Irving walks forwards and pushes it open, extending his arm to hold it while Reese side steps past him inside.

“Thank you,” he says, “what’d you think I was? The air conditioning?”

“I didn’t know what it was,” Irving says with a shrug. He points to the mass of green in Reese’s hand. “What’ve you got there?”

“Rosemary,” he replies. “Why, you want some?”

“Uh, no,” Irving says. “What are you gunna do with it?”

“Put it in the kitchen,” Reese tells him, already heading in that direction. “I’m sure Bobbo could use it for the meal tonight.”

Irving follows Reese through the door way into the Dining area onto the Kitchen where Bobbo is already getting the food prepped for tonight, turning this way and that as he bounces from doing one thing onto another. Matthew and Travis are sitting at the counter on the bar stools, tea mugs in front of them and paper work between them. Neither look up from what they’re reading when Reese and Irving walk in.

Bobbo stops and puts his hands on his hips, eyebrows raising at the pair. Or so Reese thought, but as they approach he sees that it’s only directed at Irving.

“Didn’t I just send you outta here to go help Michelle?” Bobbo asks. Irving points at Reese.

“He distracted me!”

Reese opens his mouth, then shuts it, the air he was going to use to speak filling his cheeks. He turns to look at Bobbo, who is now pinning him with a stare. “I...okay, technically that is true. But-! It was only to open the door.”

Bobbo looks back to Irving who gives a sheepish smile. Quickly he gestures to the plant in Reese’s hand. “Look! Reese brought in rosemary! Nice, yeah?”

Reese winces as Bobbo rolls his eyes. But he relents and waves Reese forwards. He pulls to stems from the bunch. “You can put the rest over there. Now, both of you can go help Michelle.”

“I’m already done,” Michelle tells them when they get in to apparatus bay.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Irving sighs, flopping down onto the floor in the shape of a star fish. The ground, while not entirely clean, has just been mopped that morning so Reese supposes it isn’t too bad. It’s probably been warmed by the sun as they’ve had all the garage doors opened all day to let the soft breeze flow in and out as it pleased.

Michelle and Reese look down on Irving, then share a glance with one another before smiling.

“What?” Irving asks, staining his neck to look up at them. “What’re you two laughing at because I know it can’t be me.”

“Oh, no of course not,” Reese says, shaking his head, waving his hand. “We’d never laugh at you, Irving.”

Irving smiles, letting his head back down. Michelle turns away, rolling her eyes at him in a way that eerily represents Bobbo’s motion earlier.

“No!” Irving shouts, a hand shooting up, “Don’t go back to the kitchen! Then we’ll have to go back to, and I just laid down!”

“Should have thought of that before, then,” Michelle says. Reese smiles at her over his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” someone says, getting all three firefighter’s attention.

“Hi,” Reese says, moving forwards before they can step further into the garage. People usually weren’t supposed to just walk into the apparatus bay, but it was a small town and the doors were open. It wasn’t unwelcome, exactly, they just didn’t want people wandering in and touching something they shouldn’t. “What can we do for you, Mr. Chandler?”

Of course Reese knew him, his sister was in the same year as his daughter so Mr. Chandler and his mum were friends by association. He came around to the house with his wife when Reese was younger, always commenting on how he’d out grown everyone even though Reese was the youngest.

“I was wondering if you lot had a first aid kit on hand,” he says, then turns to point towards the park. “Anna’s just gotten a splinter on a bench.”

“Yeah, of course,” Reese says, then takes a few steps backwards. “Just let me grab it and I’ll meet you back over there, alright?”

“Okay, thank you, Reese,” Mr. Chandler says.

“It’s no problem,” he replies, turning to job off to get the kit from the locker room.

As he’s jogging back through the bay Michelle is helping Irving to his feet and Reese tells them, “You can close the doors behind me, I’ll be right back.”

“Good luck,” Michelle calls after him. It barely takes the breath out of him to run across the street to the park.

“Where you off to?” someone yells at him, it’s Ms. Kirby, the loaf of bread peaking out of her brown paper bag she’s got an arm wrapped around.

“Emergency splinter!” he tells her, holding up the first aid kit as further evidence. He doesn’t say anything more, and turns his head back to face forwards to make sure he doesn’t knock into anyone.

He finds the Chandlers sitting on the bench, presumably the culprit of the splinter giving, not a second later. Reese comes to a halt in front of them, bending down on one knee to place the first aid kit down on the ground to pop it open. He looks around in it for a second before adorning a pair of plastic gloves, then tears open an alcohol pad.

“I heard you got a splinter?” he asks, turning to Mrs. Chandler. She sighs, and he can tell she’s embarrassed by the way she looks exasperatedly at her husband before turning her eyes to Reese. She smiles at him and holds out her hand, pointing to the base of her forefinger where he can see the stripe of wood sitting below the skin.

“Yes, dear, but you didn’t have to come all the way over here. I could have gotten it out myself at home.”

“It’s no trouble,” he tells her, glancing up at her to smile warmly as he cleans the skin with the alcohol wipe. Reese turns back to the kit when he’s done, placing the wipe to the side to get a new one, picking up the tweezers. He takes off the plastic covering around them and rubs the alcohol over the ends thoroughly.

Reese can see Mrs. Chandler holding her breath, bracing for the pain, sees her pull her hand back towards her slightly. He takes her hand back gently.

“How’s Macy?” he asks holding her eyes for a moment when they pop up to meet his. He watches the breath leave her as she grins, lighting up immediately.

“Oh, she’s wonderful, she’s already grown up so much,” she laughs, then turns to her husband, touching his chest with her free hand. “Show him the video Kim sent us yesterday. Oh, Reese,” she sighs, “she’s just precious. I never thought I’d want to be grandmother, but Macy is just so beautiful, I baby sat her for Kim and Thomas last Friday and she’s so smart, too, already reading and trying to write her name. I had to keep her from showing me using the wall instead of the whiteboard we got for her.”

He chuckles, concentrating on the task at hand but asks, “When’s she starting school?”

“Oh, next fall, I can’t even believe it,” Mrs. Chandler says with a shake of her head. “Seems like yesterday Kim was down here telling us she was pregnant. you remember that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he laughs full out, nodding deeply as he remembers, “yes I do. I had to go round to my mum’s after she’d called me about it. She was on the phone with Daneel and Olivia for three after she heard, crying about how we’d all grown up too fast.”

“Oh, how are your sisters? Are they coming in any time soon?”

“Not that I know of,” he shrugs. “But Olivia likes to surprise us when she does.”

“She always did like to make an entrance, that one.”

“Yes, she does,” Reese says, then pulls away from Mrs. Chandler’s hand holding up the splinter with the tweezers.

“Oh!” she gasps, blinking down to look at her palm. “Well look at you. Thank you!”

“Yes,” Mr. Chandler chimes in, “thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Reese replies, pulling out the antibiotic cream and dabbing it on the spot, then rubbing it in. “It wasn’t deep enough to make you bleed, but if you feel you need it I can get you a bandage.”

“Oh, no, this will fine,” Mrs. Chandler says. Reese picked up all the garbage, grasping it in his palm so that when he takes off his gloves the trash is trapped in when he turns them inside out. He tosses the bundle at the bin next to the bench, watching it disappear over the edge.

“Well okay, then,” he sighs, closing the kit and pushing himself to his feet. The Chandlers stand, too. “It was nice seeing you two. I’ll try to tell someone about getting this bench sanded down.”

“Thank you, Reese,” Mrs. Chandler says, “and tell you’re mum we said hello!”

“Of course, of course,” he nods then bends over when she motions for him to so she can hug him.

“Your mum was right, you kids have gotten far too old,” she says when she pulls away, squeezing his arms and then stepping away so Reese can shake Mr. Chandler’s hand. He claps Reese’s shoulder and winks at him before joining his wife as they walk away.

Reese returns back to the fire station, using the front door. He drops the first aid kit back off in the garage before walking into the dining room where everyone is playing cards at the table while Bobbo is still pacing around the kitchen.

He settles in next to Travis, glancing over at his cards before sitting back. Travis eyes him and Reese just smiles, making a zipping motion over his mouth and tosses away the key.

“Awh, come on man, he’s got the best poker face in here,” Irving whines, “you gotta give me something!”

“I’d rather live through the day, sorry,” Reese smiles.

After a few minutes the buzzing from the front door echos through the room, telling them that someone’s in the front entry. Reese stands with a sigh.

“I’ve got it,” he says since he isn’t playing, just observing, and Bobbo is busy making them all food. As he passes behind Travis he makes a face at Irving that Irving, smartly, doesn’t acknowledge, and leaves quickly to go greet whoever is at reception.

“Hello?” he says, leaning over the desk when he doesn’t see anyone standing there. He could have taken too long walking and they left. But in the lobby is a woman. When she turns to face him he recognizes her as one of the primary school teachers.

“Oh! Hi there,” she laughs, then walks over so he can fall back on his toes. Bailey is her name he remembers as she rifles through her purse. She’d been one of the chaperones when the classes had come through on a field trip. “I’m here to give you guys...oh, here they are!”

She pulls a large folder from her purse, smiling as she places it on the desk. “My class wrote you all thank you letters. I was just dropping them off for everyone.”

“Oh,” he says, blinking as he picks up the folder because the sudden sting of tears is familiar, surprised by how heavy it actually feels for it to be just papers. “Wow, thank you so much. We’ll be going through these as soon as I get back in there.”

“Good! They worked hard on them. Well, some more than others, but everyone was very excited to write you something.”

“Thank you,” he says again, smiling widely at her, blinking as his vision blurs a little.

“It’s no problem! I’m sure you don’t get enough thanks as it is!” she sighs, then takes a small step back. “I’ll let you get back to it! I’ve got to get going. Have a good day, Mr. Burns!”

“You, too!” he says, raising his hand. Reese holds up the folder a littler higher and gives it a shake, “And thank you again!”

Over dinner they’re all reading the letters, laughing and passing them around the table.

And Reese cries the whole time.

#bdrpwrimomary #this is unnecessary and BORING let me tell you

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chrysaliseuro2018 · 6 years

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In-Side

When my brother Dougal married Genevieve in 1982 who would have thought it would indirectly lead us to the Turkish beach city of Side (pronounced Sidday) on the Mediterranean 36 years later.

The link? Genevieve’s sister Barbara and her friend Penny when travelling in Turkey during the late ‘70’s met and went on to marry Turkish men. While Barbara and her husband Hasan spend time in both Tasmania and Side, Penny and Ali live permanently in Turkey.

As luck would have it Dougal and Gene’s house renovations, yes they are crazy enough to embark on two, are currently affected by the usual permit delays. So being opportunistic travellers they decided to squeeze in a month’s worth of travel while the local council bureaucrats twiddle their thumbs. As luck would have it their dates in Turkey coincided with ours so a rendezvous in Side was planned.

Doug and Gene stayed in Side a few years ago but for Chris and me it was a wonderful opportunity to share the experience. Side, while not exactly your quiet beach getaway, is a tale of two cities.

Firstly there is the new section cluttered with over development of the worst kind. Not unlike our charmless Surfers Paradise, it’s dominated by huge monolithic hotels. In a laughable attempt at authenticity some have been topped with faux Mosque-like domes. They are the palaces of package tours. Apparently Russians in particular subscribe to all-in resort packages which apparently suffered during recent years of unrest and the odd terrorist incident in Turkey. Now the tourists are returning and in our mind’s eye we could only imagine the morning bun fight for pool lounges.

Secondly there is the quaintly named ‘Antique Side’ which is where Penny and Ali run their little beach front hotel The Beach House. In contrast to the vast new developmental expansion of modern Side, Antique Side is perhaps realising what an unrealised gem it has right under its nose. It occupies an entire small peninsula which was clearly Roman given all the artefacts, pillars, foundations and mosaics to be found there. In recent years developments which were built on the ruins have either been compulsory removed and replaced with glass flooring over the ruins, or glass flooring has been installed in shop floors to expose the ruins. Further excavation is still underway and with some cooperation and planning the entire peninsula could be a major Roman site for visitors.

Apart from the hotel Penny and Ali also have traditional stone house and an apartment on the other side of the peninsular to the hotel. This is only a 5 minute walk through streets dense with shops selling t-shirts, soccer shirts of every variety, jewellery, bags, Turkish delight, nuts and all kinds of souvenir dross. First two nights were spent at the hotel followed by another 2 at the apartment. Originally we all planned to stay at the house but with a disco not 100 metres away pumping out door doof until the wee hours we all, even our resident disco king Chris, thought better of it.

The hotel offers a certain quaintness with a location right on the little beach. It has particular appeal to Poms of a certain age demographic - Chris had no trouble striking up conversation. Many have been returning for a number of years enjoying a relaxed and familiar environment. Penny and Ali were congenial and generous hosts who let Chris and me ride on the familial coattails of Doug and Gene offering us free accommodation. We were very fortunate indeed.

So how did we spend our 4 days at Side......

# The weather was hot so many an hour was spent on the hotel sun lounges or bobbing in the warm Mediterranean. We took to the beach umbrellas unlike the Poms who thought nothing of laying out all day in the blazing sun (judging by the brown leathery skin this has been their habit through the decades).

Generally in the morning the sea was flat but as the day went on the choppier it got. Making the most of the calm sea were several party boats in the guise of faux pirate ships complete with artificial rigging, a sliver of cloth purporting to be sails, a statue of a captain with eye glass at the bow and a plank to walk off at the stern. Amusingly on closer inspection one was a catamaran - a very modern take on a pirate ship indeed. Dougal thought they looked so unsturdy that it would only take one decent wave to capsize the whole contraption sending 100% pirates overboard. I confess to spending 4 days secretly wishing for that rogue wave.

# Gene, Barbara and I went to Manavgat the neighbouring town to do some shopping at the warehouses with Hasan as our driver. Unfortunately it was a Sunday meaning many were closed. Still we found a few open and got a few odds and ends. Highlight was a visit to a shop selling spices, grains, dried fruit, nuts, pastries and Turkish Delight of all colours and flavours. Generously they encouraged us to sample whatever we wanted and even some things we didn’t even know we wanted. If only weight and customs restrictions didn’t limit overseas purchases. But when a whole box of Turkish Delight (well over a kilo) costs 8.30 Turkish Lira, about A$2.50 which is less than the cost of one piece in Melbourne, it became a must-have even if i can’t get through it all.

Finally we paid a brief visit to Hasan’s 80+ year old mother. Mum sat quietly in the corner chatting to her sister and niece until Barb put her son Michael on FaceTime to speak to his grandmother. The transformation from quiet little old lady to excited and animated little old lady had to be seen to be believed.

# Penny’s husband Ali has a farm at Akseki just over one hour’s drive north east of Side. Fortunately Ali frequents the farm regularly so we all joined him for a day. Took 2 cars as Ali was staying overnight (we considered it but decided to make it a one day trip) so we had Dougal at the wheel. Turkish drivers have scant regard for road rules....step out on to a pedestrian crossings if you dare, stopping at red lights is optional and double white lines on the road are treated as decorations. Needless to say the drive was a little hairy at times.

First stop, the local market at Akseki. If one were looking to buy fresh market veggies, fruit, grains, nuts and pulses of all varieties, undies, clothes circa 1970, pots and pans, oversized wooden spoons, little sewing kits or even nail clippers this was the place to visit. A few nuts were purchase along with some strawberries which while tasty were a little over the hill and disappointing.

Next stop lunch. Nothing like a local to take you to a restaurant. Feasted on meat pides and like their Italian cousin the pizza, the serves looked enormous. But what you think at the outset you’ll never finish, somehow seems to go down a treat. Add to this a simple but delicious salad and a view over the valley....perfection.

Then onto Ali’s house in the town to admire his menagerie. A summary: 2 English setters, a cat, dozens of laying chooks, a couple of roosters, pheasants, bantams, hatching eggs, chicks, budgies, two quails and a partridge in a pear tree! Then the mini orchard of apricots, cherries and sour cherries. Not done with yet we then drove to their farm. Largely it has been planted out with walnut trees as a crop. Along with those was Ali’s veggie garden of onions, melons, beans, garlic and more fruit trees. It has to be said he is a man in touch and in love with nature.

Headed back towards Side but stopped at Sarihacilar a sleepy one horse town. The old if-you-blink-you-miss-it sort of place. It’s unlikely many tourists make their way to this town but Doug and Gene had recommended the museum. Totally overpriced in the scheme of things but actually worth every penny in a weird and wonderful way. Exhibits were largely routine; lots of butter churns, cooking pots, rusty old tins and a random collection of firearms, musical instruments, clocks and of all things, radios ranging through the decades. The two highlights were (1) the ‘curator/guide’, himself a rusty old relic, who escorted us around trying embellish the tour by bringing his artefacts to life with his several words of English. (2) the wooden baby’s cot complete with inbuilt potty. This worked by strapping on one of two funnels to baby, ingeniously designed to accommodate genitalia differences of males and females, so the pee was funnelled into the potty. Only design fault was baby had to always be asleep on its back. Otherwise genius and a big saving on sleep time Huggies.

Museum done, complementary chi enjoyed we were then given a tour by the proud owner of the renovated hotel. There are some walking trails around here one of which Doug and Gene had previously walked. (Mid 30 degree temperatures discouraged us.) In the heat and dryness the Nordic feel of the pine lined lodge-like hotel seemed totally incongruous. But apparently it gets bitterly cold in winter which would make this an ideal bolthole to bunker down in with a pack of cards and a few bottles of wine.

Having seen the ‘major’ sites and heading back to the car, the Mosque caught our eye. Well more accurately we caught the imam’s eye. With the help of his young son’s schoolboy English, of which the imam was glowingly proud, we did a little tour of the Mosque. It was unremarkable yet lovely. As always a beautiful chandelier, modest decorations but some lovely framed versus of the Q’uran. Chris formed the strongest connection with the imam who gifted him a copy of the Q’uran Abridged. (Conversation rate 0 to date). Just as we were leaving the call to prayer started so Chris and I whipped off out shoes, I re fitted the supplied headgear and we ducked back inside....was it the imam calling live or a recording? Happy to report it was the former.

All in all a wonderful day out.

# Hasan generously invited us all to the Turkish night at his cousin’s multi storeyed hotel (everyone seems to be everyone else’s cousin in Side). It was a glorious night on the open air rooftop and Hasan secured a table in the corner to take advantage of the view. Dinner was a buffet and advice was to get into it before the locals arrived at 8.10 starving after a day of Ramadan fasting. So we all ate well and lots, a particular highlight of the savoury spread was the smoked trout, while those with a sweet tooth, rated the Baklava highly.

After dark the belly dancer appeared shimmying and shaking her way though a routine to more contemporary music than we were used to hearing nightly when we lived at York Place. When it became time for audience participation I was grateful to be so blocked in as to be unavailable. Chris was the most likely candidate but Miss Nubile had enough willing participants before getting to our table. We all enjoyed watching the various efforts of tight shoulder and tight hipped conscripts however I suspect Chris was just an incy wincy bit disappointed he wasn’t up there strutting his stuff.

So after 4 days of hanging with the locals it was time to move on making sure not to overstay our welcome. We had been thoroughly spoilt and indulged. As we left for for our next adventure we couldn’t help but think sometimes you just get lucky!

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unkindnessofone · 6 years

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Easy Love

First in the proposal series. 1/4. Please enjoy.

It was his fault and he knew it, but that wasn't going to stop Luke from blaming everyone else. It his her mother and her from the throat Minnesota accent's fault since she wouldn't give them more than six minutes alone at a time. She had their entire visit scheduled with meeting extended family members, going to random steakhouses including an Outback, and going to Cagneys's nephews lessons which were so boring that now Luke was blaming them too. Her dad also had a stake in the situation, Luke thought. Brent Bloom in his head to toe denim made no secret how disappointed he was that his daughter had been dating a musician. Cagney had always told Luke to not take it personally as her dad had been upset when she first moved away to England at 18 and then was just as cross when she chose to give up her loyal clientele for working as a hairstylist for 5 Seconds of Summer despite the creative doors it opened for her. Luke barely heard her though. It was hard to not take things personally when even after he worked up the courage to ask Brent for his blessing to ask Cagney to marry him, he still brought up her only other boyfriend, some guy named Guy that had come out as gay around their high school graduation.

Luke sat fuming on a tattered plaid chesterfield backstage at the stadium in Pennsylvania they were in. He watched Cagney take to Michael's fried hair with both hands, but he couldn't stop picturing Minnesota and how things were supposed to have gone. He completely missed what the guitarist had said to him through the mirror because he was too busy hating Cagney's oldest brother in her mind. Griffin Bloom. Griffin Bloom and his chewing tobacco breath, his screaming baby and annoying five year old son, and his effortless penchant for taking shots at Luke's inability to do conventionally masculine tasks even though Cagney kept pointing out how dated that thinking was. He supposed her other siblings weren't that bad, twins Arden and Wagner. Arden was quiet and seemed as disinterested in Luke as she did her own family which he could respect. She looked like Cagney, but if Cagney looked perpetually bored. Wagner was nice enough as well, but he was barely around. Between having his son all weekend and working through his last year of law school, Wagner somehow managed to squeeze his way out of the Bloom's morning to midnight agenda. Luke realized that he didn't hate Wagner, he was just very jealous of the single dad.

The plan was going to be a hole in one. Cagney was always homesick for her mother's hugs and pot roast. She talked almost poetically about Edina, Minnesota and growing up there with her close knit family. Luke had carried the 3 karat princess cut ring designed and created by Simone Telford-Irwin everywhere they went, even to The Outback Steakhouse. He had every intention of asking her in front of her family, but there was never a moment good enough with their personalities gnawing on Luke's nerves. He ended up bringing the ring and Cagney back on tour after their short hiatus. He was sour now and not engaged like he told his brothers back home in Australia he would be. Luke had told himself before going to visit Cagneys's family that he could handle being related to them. It was worth it to be with the beautiful girl. Besides it wasn't like he had to see them very often. If they were to come visit in Sydney, California, London, or wherever he and Cagney chose to set up, Luke knew he would just put them all up in a hotel. The enormous bill would be worth the privacy and space.

Shaking himself out of his bitter and disappointed bubble, Luke watched as Grace entered the room with a Diet Pepsi in hand, drinking it through a straw. She waved to Luke before going over to hug Cagney and then sit right on Michael's lap. Cagney had learned how to cut and/or style Mike's hair with her view blocked whether it was because Michael and Grace were making out or in the middle of sparring. Luke wished he had Mike's situation though. He didn't have any in laws to deals with. Grace didn't speak to her mother as far as Luke knew and she didn't make it a secret that her Dad had fucked off around the time her little sister was born. Hell, Luke would have loved to switch places with Ashton. the Telford family adored him as their own. They were too busy to bother them constantly, they were loaded and connected so nothing about Ashton's life was worth teasing over to them. Luke didn't really know much about Skye's family life, but she was Canadian so he assumed her family was really nice and tapped maple trees every morning before breakfast.

"Yo, you're up." Michael smacked Luke on the shoulder from behind the couch, shaking him out of his mental tunnel. Luke had no idea it was the third time Mike had called for him. He swallowed the mindless sip of beer he had taken and nodded until he was up on his feet.

"Do whatever you want, G, but don't mess up his hair!" Cagney warned as she set aside her clippers for a sanitized pair. She trusted that Michael and Grace were going to be fondling one another until they were on stage, recently engaged themselves and constantly searching for corners to make out in. "She's totally going to mess up his hair." Cagney frowned at her boyfriend. She wanted a single show this tour to not have Michael wearing a ball cap, but she was learning that might be a pipe dream.

Luke kissed her quickly, just a peck, before settling into the chair that Michael had made warm. He ignored his view in the mirror and out his beer down between her brushes on the counter in front of them. The noise outside in the hallway drowned out the music playing in the dressing room, so Cagney cleared her throat and spoke above it all.

"I know the break wasn't what you had in mind." They hadn't had a chance to talk about it yet since they slept on their flight to Pennsylvania from Minnesota and Luke had been with friends or in sound check all morning. "Next time, I will visit on my own." She did appreciate that he had come and told him that over a dozen times.

"It's fine, Keg." They had already talked about it and it just only reminded Luke that her hadn't proposed because he had been in too miserable a mood while there. "I know you love it there and that's worth it for me." He wanted it to be true. She was still wearing her Minnesota Twins sweatshirt and that told Luke that he had done the right thing by visiting her home with her. She spent all her time in his schedule and tending to his dreams, four days with her family was the least he could do.

"They don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." Cagney felt confident that her parents intentions were benevolent. She just grew up so differently than Luke had and so had they. The idea of some Australian rock star splitting a Bloomin' Onion with them and their 90 something mothers was out of the realm of possibility before Cagney brought Luke home a couple years prior.

"Cagney, it's fine." Sighing, he tried to end the conversation. "We can't choose our families." Luke did feel like he really lucked out with his, but he knew Cagney felt she did as well. "Well, we can, but you know what I mean..."

Nodding silently, Cagney agreed and then ran her fingers through his hair to find where she wanted to trim. It wasn't an unusual motion for her. Both she and Luke always found themselves using their fingers like combs on one another. He was wearing his hair long, but Cagney still liked to keep the ends from splitting like poorly kept makeup brushes.

Through the mirror, Luke noticed Ashton making faces at him. He was mouthing something aggressively, but Luke could barely make it out. Through reflex, Luke whipped his head around to see Ashton properly causing Cagney to almost chop off a whole chunk of his hair that she had just sprayed with water.

"Whoa, careful." She warned and checked behind her at Ashton who stood still as soon as Cagney began to turn and see him.

"Sorry." Luke coughed out once he sat properly for her again.

"I thought I had broken you of your squirming." She shook her head around, perfectly blown out locks bouncing above her sweatshirt covered shoulders. They chuckled lightly in unison, recalling how eyes first met when Luke was in London recording and in desperate need of a haircut. He took his friends advice and made an appointment at the Sassoon salon on Mercer, requesting the American blond his buddy swore by. Luke was constantly moving around, but since a good portion of Cagney's clients were small children, she knew how to adjust his posture and keep him still enough that he still had even lines in the end. It wasn't until his fifth appointment with her that she told him out loud to stop moving around like he had ants in his skintight jeans.

"Old habits die hard." Luke winked at her through the mirror, spotting Ashton again miming a proposal. He had been married under a year himself and highly recommended the decision to anyone who would listen. Ashton had never departed cloud number nine since meeting Simone through Cagney. He wasted no time getting down on one knee. He knew as soon as she had him over for dinner that the British jewelry designer was for him. Luke squirmed again, making Cagney laugh with a playful eye roll, but Luke didn't stop. He sat up and walked away from her, over to the couch where his satin bomber jacket was discarded. She just assumed he wanted his phone, often teasing him that he was addicted to the device.

"You know that Jay told me you'd never go out with me?" Checking his pocket, Luke folded his jacket over his arm and informed her of their mutual friend, her former client. "He said you were too good for me."

It was news to the hairstylist, Cagney frowned at the info and scratched at her face with the pick side of her comb, "That's really rude. What does that even mean?"

"No. He's right. So is your oldest brother," Fucking Griffin. "You are too good for me," Up until she finally agreed to stay the night with him, Luke had assumed she was dressed by chirping bluebirds every morning. Simone always called Cagney 'The Last Unicorn', a heart so rooted in the right place that you couldn't come by them anymore, all others had been broken. Luke knew that rumors proceeded him and plenty of people warned her that he was a player, but she never let that influence the love she gave him and he was thankful for that. "But you love me anyway."

Shaking her head, Cagney disagreed. She put down the comb and locked her hands in the pouch of her fitted sweatshirt, "You're very easy to love." She assured him as she had many times since before they even officially began to date.

"You are patient with me and forgiving even when I don't deserve it." Luke laughed, thinking about how he had called her brother 'a fucking moron' when Cagney approached him hiding behind the bed of her Dad's Chevy pick up, sneaking a smoke during a self-appointed break from her family's midnight round of charades. "You are my favorite part of the day even when you tweeze my brows." Making her laugh he came closer and then pulled his jacket on before leaning in and kissing her hard enough to pull her closer by the bottom lip, his hand sliding around to her back. "I wanted to do this in front of your family, but then your mom made a jab about my hair - "

"She thought she was - " Cagney began to defend her chatty Cathy of a mom, but Luke getting down on his knee in front of her shut her right up. "Huh?"

"Cagney June Bloom, will you marry me?" Grinning up at her, exposing all his teeth, Luke was glad he worked up the hopefulness and nerve to ask her. It was better this way. It was the two of them, the way he preferred it. In the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the custom made ring and nearly blinded them both when it caught the glow of the vanity light she set up for her station.

Cagney just stared at Luke, tightening her neck. They both hadn't noticed Ashton right in the middle of the doorway watching with adoring eyes or the sound of the first Green Day album playing around them.

"Absolutely!" She bent down in front of him on both her knees and threw her arms around him. Her hands were shaking as she held out her left, Luke sliding it onto the designated finger as she paused from kissing him. He was lucky that Simone already knew Cagney's ring size and Luke didn't have to do any sneaky checking while Cagney was sleeping.

Both their smiles matched, stabbing through their cheeks while they laughed and kissed again. Luke was about to pull them up onto their feet when Ashton ran in and engulfed them both in a hug, his arms stretching out as wide as they could and keeping them down on the ground. It was ten minutes until they were supposed to be on stage, but none of the three cared. They didn't want to leave the dressing room and have to wait to celebrate how happy they felt.

Cagney watched the entire show from the side of the stage, clutching her heavier hand by the wrist and dancing. Usually, she went back to the hotel or hung out with crew backstage as she had seen the band perform on a daily basis, but this time she was watching her fiance. It was the first time and it felt brand new somehow. She didn't care what others thought, she knew that Luke was worth all the compromises, noise, and chaos. She knew what he wanted when the concerts were over and the music was turned off. She knew who he was outside of the designer jackets and alone in a hotel room in front of a stupid comedy movie. She was going to love both sides of him for the rest of her life because she was lucky.

#luke hemmings imagine #5sos au #cagney hemmings #luke hemmings one shot

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thebatgurrl · 4 years

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Two months ago I took a tour of the New Black Diamond Coal Mine (NBD) Industrial Complex site. Down next to the Maple Valley – Renton Highway it is scraped clean and there are no signs of where the offices, wash plant and tipple all stood. The only thing that remains is the concrete road that ran between the buildings. Really not much of a tour!

Just Concrete Drive left of New Black Diamond Coal Mine in 2020

But up in the woods behind this flat barren area is a bunch of remnants of the mine. My first adventure up there I found this flat open area and what is left of the trestle that carried the coal from the mine to the processing plant.

At the time I did not know much about the layout of this upper area nor was I dressed to plow through brush to get to the mine entrance location. Here is a link to that first article about the NBD aka Indian Coal Mine.

Indian Coal Mine – Big and Messy

Wow what two months can do for a researcher! I have since received so much more information from Renton History Museum, Black Diamond Museum and Palmer Coking Coal Company. Most of this came when I was looking for a photo of Ben Jones to see if he was in the picture below with Tom Jones.

Jones Brothers posing at their mine entrance at the 1925 Opening – Thanx Liz at Renton History Museum for sending better photo!

I have photos of both Tom & Ed but not Ben. So in that search folks would send me any info they had on the mine even if they could not answer the Ben vs Ed question. In the items that Bill K at Palmer sent me was a diagram explaining this back area of the mine complex. It mentioned that this plateau was for the coal car staging and repair. A car house was there towards the west side. Don’t think this is the small cement building that exists there today. It is too small and is on the east side.

Here is that map from the Mining Congress Journal of April 1929. Note the two red arrows. The left one is pointing to the Car House & the right one is pointing out the Mine Tunnel Entrance. All those rail lines from the Car House are where the upper area sits. Mystery solved on why that space was there.

New Black Diamond Coal Mine Complex on Maple Valley – Renton Hwy – ca. 1929 Mining Congress Journal

The stage is set now. Are you ready to travel with me to see what I found? Let’s GO!

Got to the plateau and stopped to get orientated by the old timbers from the end of the trestle to the processing plant.

Timbers rising in the woods mark the spot where the trestle stood decades ago.

Got my clippers out and started up to where I found the trail along the creek bed that had formed a small ravine.

There is a trail there! Just a bit overgrown and I have my trusty garden clippers.

I came across a plant I can’t clip due to it’s size. It is Devil’s Club & you do not want to touch or grab any part of this thing. It is all spines, thorns and even the leaves are pokey. I actually swept my hand against the leaf when I went by. YIKES, what this Coal Mine Hunter does to get to her pot of coal.

The Devil’s Club I had to dodge on the way to the NBD mine entrance

Want more on this Pacific Northwest Plant? Devils Club Batgurrl Post June 2017

Moving along I clipped my way thru the low bushes and came to a little area that looked down into the creek’s rocky gully. Above me was a steep hill that someone had made a trail down & came to where I stood.

I seriously contemplated my next move. It was going to be a bit of a climb to get into the creek washed out bed. I knew I could do that but would I be able to get out? This area is beyond the spot I stopped at the first time I was here. It was blocked by a big and I mean big log. Here is a photo of that moment months ago.

Large log blocked my progress in June and things looked really tough ahead

Then I decided it was now or never. That I would not come back and I was prepared no matter what happened. I would even climb over the damn log below if I had to get out that way instead of re-tracing my trail in.

This was the way forward – wish me luck

Up the creek bed I went breaking old snag branches, clipping salmonberry bushes and negotiating the rough rock rubble.

Along the way I found this metal trim piece. Kind of reminded me of the stuff I found on the face of the Jones Slope Hoist Foundation I found.

Metal in the rocks. Was this mine debris or something washed down from the hill above us?

Then I was there!! It was the end of the rock washed out ravine blocked by a pile of old logs and dirt. I was finding non-natural items too.

Before I reveal what it looks like and show you the video here are some of the things I found. (you can skip this & go straight to the video if you can’t wait)

Let us start with the concrete chunks. Before I got to this point I was only seeing river rock but here there was quite a bit of cement.

This piece was up next to the log pile

Another big chunk of cement with my trekking pole for size reference

Concrete & my trekking pole

Before I got to the end of the trail I saw this piece of rebar.

Rebar with my toe on the right for reference (plus my staff)

Next we have cut timber pieces and a piece of asphalt. I was suspicious of the asphalt being from the mine. I researched the history of asphalt figuring it was a recently developed for paving roads. I was wrong. It has been around a long time. Here is a little quote from NAPA – National Asphalt Pavement Association.

In 1870, a Belgian chemist named Edmund J. DeSmedt laid the first true asphalt pavement in this country, a sand mix in front of the City Hall in Newark, New Jersey. DeSmedt’s design was patterned after a natural asphalt pavement placed on a French highway in 1852.

Asphalt chunk and hunk of big cut timber

Like I have mentioned before the State of Washington made sure that the urban coal mines are all closed. And when I mean closed they are buried or blown closed with explosives. This one is no exception and protects all of us mine hunters from ourselves. I have found a group online that do go into these old mines. They have more balls than Batgirl!!

Here is what I found…..

This is the mine entrance or where it is behind dirt, rock and logs.

Here is a view looking back the way I had come up the creek bed.

With my back to the mine entrance this is what I had climbed up and through.

See the wood debris and other man made items? I saw this bag and blue cloth thinking homeless had camped here but a better explanation is it was washed down when the heavy rains hit this winter.

Items washed down the mountain by the rain storms of winter

Behind this is a clay/sand bluff that is one of the clues to this being it.

Bluff to the left of the log pile that covers the mine entrance

And a close up of the materials used to close this mine tunnel.

It is just a pile of big ass old logs that keep even the diggers out.

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Now that you have seen the photos and video I want you to look at the opening day photo. See how the hill rises steeply behind the entrance? I also note that the little buildings on either side photo below were probably on the banks of the creek washout ravine. Those banks were about 2-4 feet high. Water has done a number on the terrain along with the work done to close the mine.

1925 photo of New Black Diamond Coal Mine aka Indian Coal Mine.

This is the eighth article on the New Black Diamond Coal Mine. What a ride with so much information. I also want to thank those that helped me along the way -> Liz Stewart of Renton History Museum, Ken Jensen of Black Diamond Museum and Bill Kombol of Palmer Coking Coal Company.

I am going to move on to the next coal mine hunting adventure. It is not far from the NBD, just around a bend in the Cedar River and up on Cedar Mountain east of the Jones Slope Complex.

If you want to read more about my search for lost coal mines here is a link to my directory of articles.

Shoot me any questions or better yet any information you have to add. This is a never ending deep dig into 100 year old coal mine history.

Remember Times are a changing. Blink and all will be changed.

Locating Lost Old Coal Mines of King County

New Black Diamond Coal Mine – Mine Entrance Search Round Two Two months ago I took a tour of the New Black Diamond Coal Mine (NBD) Industrial Complex site.

#Coal Mine HIstory #Coal Mines #Indian Coal Mine #Jones Brothers #Jones Brothers Coal Mine #New Black Diamond Coal Mine

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theflashgrant-archive · 6 years

Text

Wet Celebration → Granielle

Tagged: Grant Gustin & Danielle Panabaker @hyfdanielle Location: Their Apartment In Vancouver Time Frame: Sunday Night, January 14th Notes: After Grant’s birthday dinner, Grant and Danielle celebrate in their own way.

Danielle had everything ready and set up for Grant's birthday dinner days prior to his celebration. Just because Matty was born just a few weeks prior didn't mean that his birthday had to go uncelebrated. In fact, it was going to be bigger than she had envisioned before. Usually for Grant's birthday they'd celebrate it alone in Los Angeles at a few traditional spots they ventured--usually ending with courtside tickets at a Clippers game she would get him--but this year with the baby called for something special. Dinner at Gotham had already been set up with something spectacular and now came time for the celebration before that night. Birthdays were met and done first with breakfast in bed, and with Alison's help, the brunette and their daughter had carried up a tray full of everything that the family of three would need for the day. Settling the tray now on her side of the bed for safety, Danielle picked up Alison and laid her right next to Grant, a soft smile on her face as she reached back around her side for the tray now. Matty would be asleep in the bassinet beside the bed all by himself, which was great now for the rest of the attention he'd have tonight. "Ready to sing happy birthday to daddy now", the brunette asked of her daughter and already Alison was trying to say 'birthday' all by herself; but with baby talk, it ended up being a slew of unheard syllables. "Birthday Daddy", she'd later speak out, louder in order to get Grant to wake up and Danielle merely scrunched her nose at the adorableness that was the sight in front of her.

Grant had a lazy night in with Danielle last night, glad that they were able to have some time together while the kids were asleep. Every little bit counted and he had been working lately and exhausted from doing all of it, so he didn't really get much time with his wife. Now it was his birthday and he planned on spending it with friends later for dinner. What he was really excited for was spending some time with Danielle and the kids during the day before they would all be going out to dinner. He could hear some mumbling, what he assumed to be his daughter and when he opened his eyes slowly, he saw Ali sitting next to him. "Hi sweetheart," he whispered, sitting up slightly and seeing the breakfast in bed that he knew his wife made for him. "Thank you," he said while grinning when Ali tried her best to say birthday and then daddy. He leaned in to kiss her cheek gently. "What's all this? I hope you both are hungry too," he teased.

Danielle leaned back down to press her lips to Grant's cheek. "Happy Birthday", she whispered out to greet him for the day, bringing her hands and the tray of food closer to the three of them. There was a ton that she had made--including the tried and true pancakes and bacon, as well as other healthy fares for herself and Alison should the little girl choose--and three sets of everything. Needless to say, there was a ton of food and hearing Grant tease her about the amount had her laughing as gently as she could without waking up the baby in the room. "We're having breakfast with you in bed", Danielle offered out to her husband, reaching forward and taking a glass of orange juice that she had placed for a small sip. "I wouldn't doubt that you'll be able to eat everything that's on here, but it's your birthday and we wanted to do something special for you first." Danielle gave her husband a small smirk then, picking up a piece of bacon now, only for it to be asked for by her daughter.

Grant smiled and closed his eyes briefly when Danielle kissed his cheek. "Thanks, honey," he said, staring down at all the food that was on the tray. It was definitely enough for three of them and Grant was excited that they'd be eating breakfast together in bed as a family. "One of my favorite things to do," he said, patting the spot next to her so that Danielle would join them. Laughing when Ali stole the bacon from Danielle, Grant started picking at a piece of pancake, putting it in his mouth. "Mm, good as always," he said as he continued to eat. "And Matty is sleeping peacefully. Giving me a nice birthday gift too," he teased, hoping his son wouldn't do much crying, especially tonight while they were out to eat. "I'm glad I get to spend the day with you guys before going out later."

Danielle turned her attention towards Matty in the bassinet when Grant mentioned him. It was as if he did grace them with this one little present for now and she hoped tonight would go as smoothly as her husband wished it to. Truth be told, it would be their first outing as a family of four and a testament to see if they would be able to do it. Once everyone started eating peacefully, Danielle having some toast and eggs while Alison still munched on bacon, her thoughts wandered to what they'd be doing up until dinner tonight with everyone. "Today is your day", the brunette stated, leaning back and watching her family beside her. "What do you want to do today after breakfast?"

Grant smiled and nodded when Danielle spoke, eating his breakfast peacefully and enjoying the company of his wife and daughter. The dogs must have been downstairs but right now Grant was content with laying in bed and being able to relax, not having to rush or anything. "I'm not sure, honestly. I just wanna have a chill day with you guys. Maybe watch some playoff football. Even if my team isn't in, it's still fun to watch," he said while shrugging. "Hopefully Matty will get some more rest before tonight so that he's well rested to meet most of our friends," he said happily, glad they would finally get to meet him. "And maybe this one should have a little n-a-p too," he said, tickling Ali's stomach gently. "I can't believe the dogs are ignoring me on my birthday," he teased.

Danielle nodded her head to show that she understood. A nice day in would be good for the lot of them, considering that they were going to be out and doing a bunch of things with a lot of people later that night. In the end, she ended up finishing her part of the meal and followed Grant's observation with the dogs with a soft giggle. "I think they're scared of the new baby", she offered out, licking her lips and nodding her head towards Matty in the bassinet. It wasn't as though the dogs were mostly afraid of the baby himself, but rather the cries that Matty let out were enough to deter them from coming near him. But Grant was right in that aspect. Naps were good for the lot of them, especially during tonight. "Well, when they're both down for the count, I'll get downstairs so we can start cleaning up the mess I made in the kitchen and we can watch the game that's going to be on tonight with no interruptions. Just a nice day relaxing for all of us before the dinner."

Grant chuckled when Danielle said that the dogs were probably hiding from Matty, being afraid of him. "Probably, the crying is definitely taking a toll on them too," he said while smirking. "At least the games are in the day time and then we'll be ready to go to dinner tonight," he told his wife. "You wanna watch football with us, sweetheart?" He said to Ali who held her arms out, wanting to be held. Once the breakfast was done, Grant picked Ali up and started making his way downstairs with her, grabbing the baby monitor so that they'd know when Matty was up and ready to eat again. Taking a seat on the couch, Grant turned the TV on and smiled when Ali snuggled into him, waiting for Danielle to join them. The three of them watched football, Danielle occasionally having to get up to feed Matty and try and calm him down, Grant trying to help with that but all in all, Grant was having a nice family day for his birthday and he was happy about that. Taking a little nap towards the late afternoon, Grant woke up to Matty's crying and looked at his watch, knowing he'd have to get up soon to get ready anyway.

Danielle all throughout the mid morning and afternoon cleaned and gave Grant enough time to relax on his special day. If she wasn't watching the game with her husband and daughter, she was tending to her son upstairs and getting him situated. The dogs were around downstairs and sometimes she could hear her daughter's giggle in the other rooms at the sight of the animals, but truthfully she was more relaxed in the chaos of every day life. While she was down and watching the game, Grant and Alison had fallen asleep, which gave her enough time to rest as well--but soon Matty's cries came through the monitor which meant it was time for another feeding or another diaper change. "Do you want to get him", Danielle whispered out to her husband. At this point, Alison had moved from leaning on Grant during the game to leaning on Danielle's frame, and the brunette didn't dare to wake up her daughter as of yet. She'd have to get them all ready for dinner, surely, but at least this gave her a little bit of time to gently wake up Alison to help her out as well. "Come on, it's almost time to get ready for dinner and the sooner we get them both ready, the faster we can do so ourselves."

Grant stirred from sleep, rubbing his eyes before nodding. "Yeah, I'll get him," he whispered, wanting some time with his son before they'd have to get ready. He smiled at Ali now sleeping in Danielle's lap, knowing it wouldn't be fun waking her up now. "Good luck with that," he teased, winking at his wife before getting up. He pet the dogs on his way up the stairs, going into the bedroom and taking Matty out of his bassinet. "What's the matter, buddy? Huh? You hungry?" He asked, holding Matty in his arms while waiting for Danielle to join them, knowing she'd have to be the one to feed him. "So what do you think I should wear tonight? You usually pick my outfits and since it's a special occasion, I think you should do it again."

Danielle stuck her tongue out at Grant when he started teasing her, knowing that waking up Ali would not be the ideal situation at the moment. Instead, she maneuvered enough to continue the position she had with their daughter while standing up. With the movement she was making, she'd hope that Ali would be able to wake up on her own--or at least sleep until she was done getting ready herself before she'd have a chance to do so with her. Placing Ali in her crib, the brunette peaked around the corner to the bedroom she shared with her husband and saw the father and son duo bonding. "You're cute", she spoke out, letting her presence be known until Grant's suggestion came to her. Placing one hand on her hips and the other having a finger on her lips, Danielle let out a soft hum. They definitely should dress up because it was his birthday--but not so much in a sense that he needed to wear a tie. Instead, she grabbed a pair of his suit pants (a sleek black) from the closet and a long-sleeved button up she often found herself wearing the next morning if he was wearing that the night before, and showed her husband the choice she pulled out. "How do you think this looks", she asked of him, staging the clothes and placing them on her frame as if she was going to wear that outfit instead.

Grant handed Matty over to Danielle so that she could breast feed him, sitting down on the bed while he waited to see what he was going to wear. Danielle started pulling out dress pants and a button down and Grant knew he couldn't argue that, especially since he was the birthday boy. "Okay, fine. But no tie," he said, glad she hadn't even taken one out. He made his way into the bathroom quickly so that he could wash up, not wanting to leave Danielle alone with two tired children for too long. Ali was still sleepy but he hoped she'd wake up soon and be her normal, happy self. Changing into the outfit that Danielle picked out for him, he stared in the mirror as he started doing the buttons one at a time, then focusing on his hair and putting some gel in it. "How do I look?" He asked while smirking. "What are you going to wear?"

Danielle hummed softly, feeding Matty on her beside while everyone else got ready for the dinner. The little one seemed more content today than usual, which was something she was most thankful for if not grateful for. Maybe Matty knew what today was and the gravity of the situation, or maybe he grew out of his crying phase, but she was deeply appreciative of her son for cooperating with them today. Once feeding and burping was done, she was able to get him ready as well. He'd be dressed almost the same was Grant--in an outfit that she had bought for him just a few days prior when she started planning the dinner--and smiled when her husband came into the room wearing what she picked out for him. "Delicious", she replied to Grant, licking her lips just once before finishing up the buttons on Matty's shirt. With Grant's question, she let out a heavy sigh. Of course with just having a baby, most of the dresses she had wouldn't be able to fit her, but this dinner was important and maybe she'd be lucky. "I don't know", she offered out to Grant now, picking Matty back up and placing him in his bassinet to keep him safe. "It's not like I had a chance to go to the gym, so most of my dresses won't fit me like they normally would", she continued out now, but still she walked towards the closet and started fingering a black dress that she looked forlornly at. It was meant to be form fitting, but she had no idea what it'd be like with her wearing it just a few weeks after giving birth. "Should I go with something flowy instead?"

Grant smirked when Danielle said he looked delicious, rolling his eyes playfully. "Don't tease me, baby," he said, nudging her playfully before sitting down on the bed. "Don't you look handsome," he grinned, noticing that Matty was practically matching with him which was sweet. He could see that Danielle was having a hard time on deciding what to wear, especially since she just had Matty recently and wasn't her usual size yet. "Just wear what you'll be most comfortable in. You'll look beautiful no matter what. Something flowy is a good idea, especially since we'll be eating a lot of good food," he said to his wife. "You try and figure it out and I'll get Ali ready," he suggested, Matty now in his bassinet and taken care of as well. Bringing Ali into her room, Grant took out a pink flowy dress for her to wear and started putting it on before beginning to fix her hair.

Danielle couldn't help but tease, but maybe that wouldn't be as great as it usually would be right now considering the circumstances they were in. Instead, as she looted through her closet, she took what Grant had said to heart. Whatever she'd be comfortable in would be the thing that she wore. So, she picked out two dress--one with a flowy skirt but still presentable enough to be worn at a party, and the black dress that she kept coming back to every single time she looked in the closet. Maybe it was her own mind wanting to see how she'd look with it on, but she did do so on a whim. Skipping the flowy dress, the brunette zipped herself up in the black dress that she caressed earlier and look at herself in the mirror. It was a tight fit, sure, but not tight enough that she couldn't breathe or sit down in. Her arms were around her frame now, self consciousness starting to roll in, but she decided to hell with it and finished up as quickly as she could in order to make it to their party on time. With shoes on and Matty now in a car seat, she made her way towards Alison's room to check on Grant and their daughter. "Daddy's good with hair now, isn't he", Danielle spoke out now after seeing Grant and Ali almost done. "And he's good with picking out dresses too. It's the same one I would have chosen for her."

Grant put a clip in Ali's hair and started brushing it gently, placing the brush down when he saw Danielle enter the room. She was wearing a black dress that showed off her curves and Grant smiled at the sight. "You look beautiful," he said, standing up and smiling. "I just felt like it was good for the occasion," he explained while shrugged. "I'm good with hair because I enjoy you playing with mine," he teased, knowing one had nothing to do with the other. "Looks like we're all ready to go so let's do it!" He said excitedly, happy to celebrate his birthday with friends. Once they got to the restaurant, Grant waited with his wife and kids while people started to arrive, most of them meeting Matty for the first time. It was fun to see their reactions and Matty was on his best behavior, something he was glad about since it wouldn't be fun if he was crying the whole time.

Danielle pressed her lips together in a thin smile and tilted her head at her husband. It was a soft expression, meaning to tell him thank you for the compliment, even though it was anything but him being as sweet as ever. "It's a tight squeeze, very different from what I was going for", she offered out to him but smiled as Ali started reaching up to touch the clip that was in her hair now out of fascination. Dinner seemed to go off without a hitch. People had mingled and everything about the menu at Gotham that she had chosen for the night was absolutely wonderful. Even the vegan dishes that were clearly off of the menu were as great tasting as the carnivorous fares that were laid out for them. All in order, it was a very chill night that had everyone gathered together to celebrate the man that she loved, and now they were on their way home for the night. Each kid was fully knocked out cold. Alison was asleep in Grant's arms as well as Matty in Danielle's, leading up all the way towards the front door of their apartment they had in Vancouver. "Do we call this birthday a success", she whispered out to Grant now, a devious glint in her eyes indicating that there was definitely something more that she had planned, but held off with the kids in their arms.

Grant was so happy how the night turned out, spending it with his wife, kids and closest friends. It was nice to see people he hadn't seen in a while and also catch up with others who had been busy working just like himself. Seeing their reactions to Matty was sweet and Ali was definitely taking up a lot of attention as well. When the dinner ended, Grant said his goodbyes to everyone and started making his way to the car with Danielle and the kids. He had Ali in his arms now, sleeping and resting her head on his shoulder which he always found endearing. He carefully made his way up the stairs to their apartment once they were home, not wanting to wake up his daughter. "Definitely a success. Thank you again for tonight, it was perfect. Just what I like," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek sweetly. He then made his way up the stairs so that he could put Ali in her crib in her room.

Danielle smiled to the kiss to her cheek, closing her eyes to the sweet token of affection. The party was great and she was glad that Grant had a good time getting to see people. Now, it did well for them to place both of their children back into bed and maybe get some alone time in their own right. As soon as they entered, the dogs started barking and Danielle let out a soft wince. Matty was still asleep in her arms but she had no idea how Grant was doing with Alison. Upon shushing their dogs for now, promising to give them a little bit of love later after being so excited, Danielle quickly undressed Matty from his party attire and got him into something more comfortable for him to sleep in. The bassinet would be tucked just a little bit in a corner now and the baby monitor would be safe in her hand while she bent down on the outside of the bedroom to greet the dogs once again. It was a bit uncomfortable in her dress, noting how tight it was after bending down and let out a low grunt as she stood up. Once she was able to meet up with Grant again, she let out a sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck in order to steady herself against him. "Now, properly", she breathed out and cupped his cheeks. "Happy Birthday, my darling husband."

Grant carefully tried to get Ali in her pajamas, the motions stirring her from sleep slightly but glad she didn't seem too bothered by it. Once she was comfortable, Grant kissed her goodnight and put her in her crib, putting the nightlight on and closing the door. He sighed in relief and smiled when he saw that Danielle was having similar luck with Matty who was now sound asleep in the bassinet. Danielle had the baby monitor with her and he watched as the dogs greeted them briefly before making their way back downstairs. "Well then. And then there were two," he teased, wrapping his arms around his wife's waist. "Thank you, wifey. You made it great," he whispered before leaning in to kiss her sweetly. "And now I have no idea where we should go because the rest of our family is taking up the apartment," he teased.

Danielle returned the kiss just as sweet, letting her lips linger on Grant's to savor the moment. It was like any spark of electricity created between them, strong and seducing, and it left a lingering buzz that swirled around her head. Every single time she was able to be intimate with Grant was like fire, and even though they couldn't be together in the sense because she just had their second child, that didn't mean she couldn't show him just how appreciative she had felt for him. With a soft hum, she tilted her head playfully and licked her lips, as if she was debating on where to go for a moment. "I'm going to head into the shower", she told her husband, brushing her nose against his before giving him just another soft kiss. This time, it was meant to be persuasive, enticing him to follow into that same notion that she had, and when she pulled away with an audible pop, her teeth grazed along his bottom lip. Danielle's hands moved further down and laid themselves on Grant's arms, hazel eyes opening to lock with his green. "Come join me."

Grant licked his lips as he stood there in the hallway with his wife. It was comical that if they wanted to spend time together just the two of them, they didn't really have anywhere to go. Unless Grant suggested his man cave, but that was something he was trying to avoid. When Danielle spoke up and said she was going to take a shower, Grant raised his eyebrows, not catching on right away. "Okay..." He trailed off before Danielle pressed her lips against his. Grant returned the kiss, reaching up to cup her cheek gently while they kissed. The kiss was getting more passionate and by the way his wife was moving, Grant was starting to realize what was happening here. "Oh. Okay. Yeah of course," he said, clearing his throat as he followed her into the bathroom. Grant started taking off his clothes while Danielle turned the water on and when he found the zipper on Danielle's dress, he started pulling it down at a slow pace.

Danielle hid the smirk that radiated from her now carefully, turning to slowly walk towards the bathroom. Her hand was laced with Grant's at this point to make sure that he was following her, but it was also as if she was guiding him towards it too. The bond that she wanted, the attraction and desire that she had, didn't want to be broken and it was anything but as they ended up in the room together. She was more focused on getting the water the right temperature before she found Grant's hands on her frame. The smirk that she heard earlier turned into a smile and she hummed when his fingers danced along the zipper of her dress to pull it down. "The water's not warm yet", she teased her husband, turning around now to find that he was fully undressed, and that awoke something within Danielle. Her fingers moved along Grant's chest, memorizing every defined muscle on his frame before she'd lean against him, pressing light kisses slowly, tantalizingly, and softly.

Grant chuckled and shrugged. "I'm getting a head start, then," he said, knowing that he took his clothes off in record time. "Nothing wrong with standing here naked, is there?" He teased, moving his own fingers to the top of Danielle's dress so that he could slide it down. He felt Danielle's hands on his bare chest and licked his lips while staring into her eyes. When she closed the gap between them and kissed him, Grant kissed her wholeheartedly, letting out a soft moan against her lips. Without breaking the kiss, Grant started backing them up towards the shower, leading them inside knowing that the water had to be at its right temperature by now. When he felt the water falling down his body, Grant pinned Danielle against the wall, beginning to kiss her neck intensely. "This is dangerous you know," he breathed out against her skin. "Doing this when I know we can't have sex..."

Danielle moved as swift as she could into the shower backing up and letting Grant lead her into it. The water was hitting the both of the, but mostly Grant at this point since her back was towards the wall. The kiss had been broken now and Danielle was more or less just breathing intensely because of the actions that her husband had done upon her. Anytime Grant's lips were upon her neck, she was absolutely putty. Her head titled to give him the room he needed to mark her should he choose, her bottom lip worried in between her teeth to stifle some of the moans that dared escape her lips at this point. "Not technically", she breathed out at his musings, knowing full well that it was the case, but that didn't stop her from giving into her own whims. It took all of her to push against the wall and change their positions at this rate, Danielle using her hands to push Grant against the wall gently. The water was hitting her now, her hair getting wetter and wetter, but she still ended up pressing her lips against his chest. Her teeth grazed and nipped, gently marking her husband as she slid down his frame to be on her knees in front of him, hazel eyes looking up at his green while her hands laid on his hips to keep him still against the wall. And maybe it was the dangerous per se, considering they couldn't connect for another few weeks; but that didn't stop her from letting the palm of her hand run from the base of his length to the tip of it just once to test for measure.

Grant raised his eyebrows when Danielle said technically they couldn't have sex. He knew that was true but now he was confused. She started pressing her mouth all over his chest, nipping at certain spots which made him groan. Grant leaned his head back and closed his eyes, sighing softly as Danielle continued marking up his body. When he felt a loss of contact, Grant opened his eyes to see that Danielle was getting on her knees in front of him. Now he realized what she had meant and it made him smirk. "Is this my birthday present?" He teased, leaning back against the wall slightly, placing one hand on it to brace himself, knowing he would need it. He squirmed slightly when he felt Danielle's hand brush his length, hitting his sensitive tip which caused him to let out a moan. "No teasing is allowed on birthdays, just for the record..."

Danielle 's hand continued to move about Grant's length, slowly pumping her hand against him and nodded. No teasing allowed on birthdays would be easy, but Grant's words about this being his birthday present was far more humorous. "I promise you there will be no teasing", she whispered out to him, the water from the shower hitting her now, but she was determined to be focused. Of course it truly wasn't, but she was more than apt to pleasing her husband because of it. The smirk that was on her face with his words disappeared when her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, working her way around it as slow as she could, and nodded her head to show him that she understood. Nodding ended up moving his length within her mouth, taking him further and further, and that was just enough to fuel her desire for more. Danielle's hands now laid on Grant's thigh, scratching her nails against his skin while she bobbed her head back and forth and sucked gently on his length.

Grant leaned back against the wall as Danielle said she wouldn't tease him, winking in response as he closed his eyes to enjoy what she was doing to him. She kept her tongue on his sensitive tip which made him let out another moan, bucking his hips into her due to the pleasure he was feeling. When she took more of him into her mouth, Grant's breathing picked up, letting out another moan when she started scratching at his inner thigh while keeping her mouth on him. "Fuck, baby. That feels so good," he breathed out, reaching down to run a hand through her hair, keeping it out of her face at the same time. He gripped tighter when she gave him more pleasure, bucking his hips again in anticipation. "Faster, please."

Danielle kept her attention on Grant when he started moving his hips, which ended up letting him go deeper into her mouth. She relaxed her throat as much as she could, but soft gagging noises could be heard from her with each movement. And still she continued to move with him, as fast as she could to suck at his length completely. Even when Grant was getting rough by tugging her hair, she fully focused her attention on him even though it was something that she so desperately craved. The whole of it was intoxicating. Being able to have her husband in such a position because of her doing was by far one of the most arousing things in the world to her and all she wanted to do was elicit more of it. So she scratched and ravaged more so, one hand holding the base of his length and kneading him gently as she continued to move her mouth on him.

Grant felt himself getting closer to a climax as Danielle kept up her pace, going faster when he asked her to. She was so good at this and even after all this time, Danielle was able to make Grant squirm and feel things like nothing he had ever felt before. His breathing started picking up as he felt the pit in his stomach growing deeper, leaning his head back against the wall, hitting it a little too hard because of all the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. "Fuck," he groaned through gritted teeth, trying to focus on his wife in between his legs and not the throbbing in his head now. As she continued scratching at his thigh and sucking his length, Grant reached down to grip her hair tightly as he felt his climax right at the tip. "I'm-," he moaned mid sentence as he came, bucking his hips and moaning Danielle's name over and over as the waves of pleasure coursed through his body. "Whoa," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.

Danielle continued her actions and lapped up everything that Grant had given her, her name flowing through her ears like a song that she couldn't get enough. Those little moans and actions were fuel for the woman and soon when he had calmed himself down as much as he could (and she already clean from the water trickling down upon her), she reached forward to press multiple kisses to her husband's torso and chest. Only when she reached his lips did she nod her head to agree with him, that it was an experience that she always treasured and branded to her memory. "I know. Happy Birthday", she whispered out as he did, chest heaving too before she pulled back. "We gotta finish our shower and get back to the kids."

#wc

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deepwaterwritingprompts · 7 years

Photo

Here it is! The full version of the story I teased in this post. Thank you once again for your interest in my writing! (Please note this is an adult work of fiction and that the full version below deals with the subject of sex work and includes a scene of attempted sexual violence that may be upsetting. Read at your own discretion.)

The Edge of The Sea

The beginning of a larger, unwritten story, based on the above prompt, and turned in as my final Fiction project. This is first and foremost a rough draft, into which more research and editing will go, should I decide to pursue it further.

I was smoking like death couldn’t come quickly enough when it happened. Boyfriend 6 had called that morning, while I was still half asleep, hunched over a cup of milky coffee. There were no hello’s or how are you’s, just his heavy words pushed through wooden lips. I knew from the moment I picked up that this was a goodbye. He wished me luck, and hung up. I got out my appointment book, and drew a thick black line through his name.

The restlessness hit me hard after that. It was the same every time I lost a client, despite a lack of genuine attachment. Boyfriend 6 had all the youth and spirit of a cracking leather sofa in the corner of a thrift store, but I still felt as if something had been stolen from me as I cracked a few out of date eggs into a frying pan. When we met, Boyfriend 6 had taken me to a sushi joint that sat squarely in the shadow of the Sears Tower. A surprising number of Boyfriends brought me to Japanese restaurants, despite the fact that my face was hidden in all of the photos on my website.

“It must have been my intuition,” Boyfriend 6 had said, raising his eyebrows at me over the rim of his wine glass.

“It must be fate,” I agreed. It took me exactly four Boyfriends, four sushi houses, and four of the exact same exchange to train myself to enjoy the sea urchin nigiri the server put down in front of me shortly thereafter.

The apartment was quiet as I washed the breakfast dishes, the running water mingling with echoes of smug Boyfriends pouring me hot sake. There were five bananas on top of the microwave, a crumpled receipt on the floor near the stove, and a stack of expired coupons gathering dust on the counter. Consistencies I took for granted. I thought about updating my website, decided it was a job for the evening, and got in the shower where I had a good sob. It was the awful kind of crying, and I was worried when it didn’t stop, even after I’d dried off and gotten dressed for work. I splashed some cold water on my face then sat in the bathroom and made a phone call.

“Hey, its me.”

“Who’s me?” I closed my eyes and leaned back on the toilet where I’d perched. Six years I had worked with Frank, and he still hadn’t figured out how to enter my contact details.

“It’s Sonny.”

“Sonny, if the next words out of your mouth are a request for a sick day, I will kick your ass. Employee rights and abuse charges be damned. I will personally kick your ass.”

I opened my eyes again. Frank only threatened ass kicking on special occasions.

“What happened? Did someone rob the place again?”

“Come in and see for yourself. One hour, and brace yourself,”

Intrigued, I felt the strange emptiness inside me ebb. I blew my nose and left the still steamy bathroom, closing the door behind me.

Smoking was good for my nerves. I had a good twenty minutes before I had to leave to meet Frank’s one-hour deadline, so I took a pack all the way up onto the roof of the building and stuck one between my teeth as I leaned over the freezing metal rail. From here I had a decent view of the city. It steamed in the morning cold, a factory shifting into full swing. I wasn’t strictly speaking allowed to be up here, but the lack of enforcement regarding this rule was evidenced by small colonies of empty beer cans grouped around the door. Smoke billowed into an empty grey sky. On days like this, I could almost understand why losing clients felt like losing baby teeth; could almost find the answer in the endless above. Milo said it was like losing any job.

“You’re fired right? That’s a failure. You’ve failed.” He was straight on like that. “So, you mope around for a few days. Then you get back to business.” He would pause here, put a hand on mine. “Feel better?”

“I’m fine.”

“Another always comes along.”

“I know.”

Thinking about it again, a new swell of strange anguish threatened to overwhelm me, but I swallowed it hard. I put away three more smokes, fast. An hour or so had passed since Boyfriend 6 ended things, which meant I had to go now if I wanted to get to work on time and avoid Frank’s mythical ass kicking. I left my last butt sitting on the guard rail, releasing one final, fragile string of smoke.

Back in the apartment, I tried to get my head on straight. I grabbed my purse off the kitchen chair, and a banana off the microwave for good measure. Work lunches usually consisted of whatever we had sitting in the heated rack that day; heart attack food, as Frank referred to it. I wrapped my good health attempt in a paper napkin and shoved it into my coat pocket. The smell of cigarettes was so thick on me I knew Frank would probably consider it a dress code violation. I had a headache from the crying and the smoking. I dropped my keys twice on the way out of the kitchen. I was halfway down the hall. The bathroom was missing.

I stopped walking. I was halfway down the hall that lead to the front door, keys in hand. The door to the kitchen was directly behind me. The door to the bedroom was behind me to my left. Where the door to the bathroom should have been, just to my right, there was a blank stretch of wall. I reached out and touched the place where, for the four years I’d lived in this apartment, there had been a bathroom. The wall was cool and smooth, but I drew my hand back like it had burned me. My phone rang from inside my purse, and I answered it, still staring at the place the bathroom used to be.

“Hello?”

“Sonny?”

“What do you want, Frank?”

“What do I want? If you’re not here soon, the sun is going to set on old Frank. They’re going to put me in the ground, but I won’t rest, no. My ghost is going to come back and kick your ass.”

“Jesus, I’m coming.”

—

I pulled into the gas station parking lot at four past eleven a.m. Frank was waiting for me just inside the Quik-Mart sliding doors. There was strain in every one of his muscles, so his too tight polo looked like it was about to burst right off his skinny body.

“What is the emergency Frank?”

“What’s the emergency? Didn’t you get my text message?” He pronounced every syllable in ‘text message’ like maybe I had never heard of one.

“No, I didn’t,”

“Well check now!”

I was sure I could break one of Frank’s toothpick arms just by squeezing it. Resisting this urge, I pulled out my phone and opened my inbox. One unread message from FRANK QUIK-M, time stamped a little after our first phone call. It read: ‘drunk at work. come fast.’ I looked up, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You’re drunk?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A drunk. A drunk. He stumbled in an hour ago. I think he was looking for more beer, but he never made it past the pork scratching’s. He’s passed out in the aisle now, and I can’t move him for the life of me. Guy weighs a ton.”

“Did you call the police?” I asked. Frank crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t like the police. Just help me drag him out back. He can sleep it off by the dumpsters, just not inside my store.”

Frank was an elderly man, irascible at the best of times, with very short white hair and tortoise shell glasses that he polished every few minutes. When he was ruffled, like now, he let out little hissing breaths between the small gap in his front teeth. I couldn’t for the life of me work out why he wouldn’t like the police.

“I’ll get his arms. Can you handle his feet?” Frank huffed.

“Maybe.”

Frank, it transpired, could not handle the drunkard’s feet. He was massive, his whole body shuddering with every shallow breath he took. Sweat was beading across his forehead, and he reeked of stale alcohol. The sweatshirt he was wearing was damp, and I tried not to gag as I hooked my arms under his. Frank got his left foot to nearly knee height before dropping it again, and the drunk grunted in his sleep. He was familiar somehow, with eyes like mine, thick black hair, and a beard that looked like he’d tried to shave it with hedge clippers. Whether I actually knew him from somewhere, or was just remembering every other useless drunk I had ever seen in this sorry bit of Chicago was anyone’s guess. Frank was panting.

“Hold on a minute, my back is just about to give out,” he said. I adjusted my footing for leverage.

“Go man the register Frank, I’ll handle it,” I said, leaning back and managing to scoot the all but lifeless body a few inches down the aisle.

I wouldn’t dare describe the process of hauling a heavyset Asian man through an empty convenience store. It was a drudgery only exacerbated by the faint sounds of European synth pop coming from the overhead speakers. I could imagine the look of sheer terror on Frank’s face as the front doors slid open, allowing this man to stagger onto his beloved white tiled floors. The upside of the task was that it prevented me from thinking about anything other than the next few feet. There were fifteen of them between us and the back door. There was something I had to think about, something I could not think about, sitting like a thorn in the back of my mind. There was Frank, tapping his foot from behind the register, popping his mid-morning aspirin. There was a drunk man in my arms, and I focused on him.

Cold air billowed into the store as I reached the back door and kicked it open.

“Get him outside quick!” Frank shouted. Using the last of my strength I dragged our new friend over the threshold, letting the door slam shut behind us. I felt bad leaving him on his back in this weather, and decided to prop him up against the wall, near enough to the dumpster that he was sheltered from the brunt of the wind. His head lolled to one side as I straightened up, bracing my hands against my aching back. Hands no longer occupied, the thorn in my brain was impossible to ignore any longer. It was just the two of us out here, and I spoke to the drunk between heavy breaths.

“My bathroom is missing,” I said. He gave another sleeping grunt. “I’m losing my mind.”

I considered the possibilities, out in the bitter wind with the drunkest man in Chicago as acting audience.

One: I was imagining things. I would return to my apartment after work to find my bathroom where it always was, my things in the medicine cabinet exactly where I had left them.

Two: I was dreaming. A good option, if not unlikely. The details of this world were too sharp, the air too dry, the smell of alcohol and sweat too strong in my nose.

Three: I needed to be committed. Something inside me had broken, as a part of me knew it eventually would. My kitchen would go next, the hallway now leading only to my bedroom, where I would huddle until that too disappeared. I would come home and find myself faced with nothing but blank walls, standing in a hallway that lead nowhere.

“Bathrooms don’t go missing.” I said.

“Nope,” the drunk breathed from below me, his lips barely moving. I stared at him. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing was easier. The cold must have shocked him back to consciousness.

“Are you ok?” I said.

“Yeah?” It came out like a question.

“Can I call you a cab?”

He let out a huge sigh. His eyes were still shut tight.

“Don’t bother. M’okay.”

Any other day, I might have insisted. I might have asked if he could stand, where his home was, or if he even had one. But not today. I went back inside.

The rest of the working day passed quickly. I juggled the three options as I did the mundane tasks Frank passed to me. I mopped the floors. Option One was the most desirable of the three. I could forget it, or at least pretend to forget it. I wiped down the front windows. Option Two remained unlikely. If this were a dream, how far back did it go? Had Boyfriend 6 really left me that morning? The emptiness that had filled me after his phone call was gone. When the slushy machine broke after lunch, I fixed it. Option Three was hard to consider. I remembered the way the wall had felt under my fingertips, alien in it’s smoothness. Could touch lie to me? I took a break to check on the drunk, make sure he wasn’t freezing to death, but he was gone when I poked my head outside. I informed Frank, who gave one solitary harrumph in acknowledgement. Too soon I was driving home, parking across the street from the apartment. The walk to the building and the ride up the elevator took no time at all, leaving me stranded in front of my own front door. I opened it, and was met with the same blank stretch of wall I had left that morning. It stared back at me as I kicked off my shoes. I approached it cautiously. It was hard to tell exactly where the door had been now that it was gone. I knocked, but this wall was just as solid as the others. I checked the kitchen, which hadn’t changed since I’d left it that morning. The crumpled receipt was still on the ground, the coupons were gathering dust on the counter, and there were four bananas on top of the microwave. I had a feeling I should know what had happened to the bathroom. Like I was missing some obvious trick, and someone smarter would come along any second to point it out. Time seemed to move very slowly. Details were popping out at me, the light from the street below filtering through the nearest window, the burn on the counter where I’d once rested a hot cast iron skillet, and I realized it was the absence of inconsistencies that made the situation disturbing. It’s one thing to realize you’re losing your mind. It’s a different battle to realize you are sane. Only then did a fourth option occur to me. The missing bathroom was not in my head. Somehow, it really had gone.

—

I checked my appointment book, and was relieved to find there were no bookings for this week. As an escort, cancelling is frowned upon. You lose not only a good amount of money, but also a good deal of the client’s trust. They are not paying you to stand them up. I knew for a fact that Boyfriend 6 was the least likely to take offense if I was late or had to reschedule. Boyfriends 1 through 5 were not nearly as old or rich as Boyfriend 6 had been, and the time they were paying for was not to be wasted. Thankfully, they were all working late at the office, or at home with the kids, or at a charity dinner; whatever they did when they were not buying me dinner and booking odd smelling one off hotels.

I glanced once more down the hall at the frustratingly blank stretch of wall. I felt that somewhere, the bathroom door was laughing at me, playing a particularly intense game of hide and seek.

“There used to be a bathroom here,” I said to the empty hallway, “I am not insane.” I was seventy-five percent sure I believed me. In any case, the situation presented a problem. Bathrooms, as I had told the drunk this morning, did not just disappear. I looked back at my appointment book. The next name had a thick black line through it, so I skipped a few pages until I found a booking for the following Tuesday. When I was starting out I took as many appointments as I could. Almost six years later I’d built up a clientele, and a decent reputation. More money. Fewer dates. With no appointments until next Tuesday, I set my mind to the issue at hand. There was a good inch of Cherry Garcia left in the freezer, and I brought it with me to the couch, popping the lid and pulling my laptop open. First, because it was bothering me, I updated my website. A few photo swaps, then I freed the days that were usually reserved for Boyfriend 6. Feeling sheepish, I googled: disappearing rooms. The first page of results were all for haunted houses or mystery shacks; tourist traps full of cheap tricks. The second through sixth pages were not much better; a few accounts of people disappearing mysteriously from locked rooms, and instructions on how to design a bookcase that doubled as a secret door.

I was sixty percent sure I was not insane. Closing the laptop, I reached for my phone instead. The ice cream sitting between my knees, I looked through my recent calls until I found Boyfriend 0. He had insisted I put him in like that. We’d argued about it, but he’d won.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

“Sort of. Is something wrong?” I debated whether or not I should try and explain.

“Sort of,” I echoed.

“I’m on my way.”

He hung up before I could get out a thanks. Straight on, like always. We’d met through work, which is to say, he was a regular at my convenience store. I told him about my second job on our third date. We went out for Chinese food. I had declined sushi.

“Do you sleep with them?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time.”

“Good money though?”

“It got me the apartment, yeah.”

“Wow, that’s great. Oh, I sell drugs some weekends. It’s low level, don’t worry.”

Milo never waffled. I wanted him to look at the blank wall.

He was at my door in twenty-five minutes, an astounding travel time. He’d sped, and run to and from the car from the look of it. His curly black hair was all over the place, falling down over his forehead in a comically triangular fashion. There was something clear splattered on his glasses.

“What is it?” he said, taking long strides down the hallway, walking right past the newly blank stretch of wall. He was nearly in the kitchen when he realized I hadn’t moved from the door. “What?”

“Milo, look around,” I said. He swiveled, eyes sweeping the hallway.

“What is it?” He said.

“Notice anything missing?”

He blinked at me.

“Did someone rob you?”

“Breathe and look around.”

He turned again, eyes roaming the walls floor and ceiling more slowly this time. For one terrible second, I thought he couldn’t find the problem because it didn’t exist, that the door was there and I just couldn’t see it, or had invented it years ago when I’d moved in. He stopped and squinted at me.

“Didn’t there used to be a door there?”

—

“Yeah, you’ve got a problem alright,” said Milo for the hundredth time. He’d been staring at the wall for an hour, but as per ideas and suggestions he had come up short. In fact, there had been relative silence between us since he’d asked if I’d called the super.

“Call the super?” I repeated. “And say what?”

“I don’t know. It’s a problem with the apartment isn’t it? That means its his mess to fix.”

“I’m not calling the super,” I said. We were having this conversation from opposite sides of the apartment. Milo in the hall, me on the couch, the empty Cherry Garcia container by my feet. I stared at the ceiling, letting Milo’s course of action play out in my brain. If I called the super, he would probably think it was an elaborate prank. If he believed me, what would happen? Would he call the papers? Would they call us crazy? I expected so.

“I’m not calling the super,” I repeated. Milo didn’t answer. Finally, I heard him stand, dusting off his over-tight jeans. He joined me in the sitting room, leaning against the door frame.

“Come live with me for a while,” he said. I sat up.

“What, downtown?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s up with this apartment, but I don’t think you should stay here. Besides, if your bathroom’s missing, you’re going to have a hard time living here anyway.”

“Jesus, yeah,” I said. Preoccupied with my own sanity, the logistics of missing a bathroom hadn’t even occurred to me.

“Are you sure? I’ll have to bring a lot of stuff. I have appointments next week, and Frank needs me to work a night shift this Saturday. Maybe next Saturday too.”

“That’s fine. I was thinking we should see each other more often anyway. And my place is closer to your work. Well, your day job anyway,” he added, as if that settled the whole matter. In Milo’s brain, your shower dematerializing along with the rest of your bathroom just meant you needed a new place to shower. He grinned at me, his slightly crooked teeth shining an unnatural white.

“Ok, I’m in,” I said. Milo came and hugged me like we’d just decided to move in together for any reason besides the real one. “Thanks,” I said, breathing in his usual smell of faint smoke and licorice chewing gum. He leaned back and nodded at me.

“I’ll help you pack.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it felt good to be doing something. Throwing underwear and satin dresses into one suitcase, Milo throwing pajama bottoms and socks into another was better than staring at the wall. As Milo wrestled my luggage over the threshold and I made to shut the door behind us, I felt as if I were running from the problem. When my dad was still alive, that was one of his ironclad rules. Don’t run from problems. If you run, they know you’re afraid, and that makes them stronger.

“I don’t want to know what’s in this appointments suitcase that’s making it so heavy,” Milo shouted, and I realized he was already halfway down the hall. I quieted the voice in my head. It wasn’t running from the problem if the problem was the lack of a functioning toilet.

We took my car. It was much older, but had more trunk space than Milo’s. Questions of how long I could reasonably stay and what I was going to do with a bathroom-less apartment bounced around inside my head, but I kept them to myself. I examined my hands as we cruised past a piece of moonlit Lake Michigan, icy and shimmering in the wind. They looked normal. I wasn’t dreaming. One step at a time.

—

For the next two days, I went to work as usual. The slushy machine broke again, and Frank threw a fit that lasted the whole of Wednesday, all because some poor girl had thrown up near the sliding doors in the night. I was glad I had missed the event itself, but I still had to hear about it in extreme detail as I ate my wholesome lunch of one jumbo hot dog with extra mustard. I had gone straight back to Milo’s place after work on Tuesday, but the day of Frank’s episode I found myself still wearing my uniform, still smelling of mustard, parked outside my own apartment. It wasn’t a long visit. There was a rubber plant in the bedroom that needed watering, and I had a feeling I had left the lamp in the living room on. When I’d righted these wrongs I stared at the blank wall for a little while, then returned to Milo’s, where he was making smoothies for dinner. It was in this way that I fell into the routine. I went to my day job Monday through Wednesday, sometimes Saturday night if Frank needed me. I went to appointments one or two nights a week. If I had free time, I would go shopping, or go to the bank, or try my hand at making dinner, something neither Milo or I were very good at. Every day I went out, which was most days, I made sure to drop by my apartment to check on the wall. It was blank every time I went back, but this didn’t stop me. After a week or so, I stopped feeling strange about the emptiness that now defined the hall. It became like watering the rubber plant, something I had to do at the end of each day. I did not mention the routine I had worked out to Milo, but would acknowledge it if it came up. It finally did, the Sunday before the Monday that would mark exactly three bathroom-less weeks.

My appointment had been late to begin with, and gone about ten minutes over. I didn’t usually book for Sundays, or go a minute over time, but Boyfriend 2 was one of my most loyal clients. I fostered an additional soft spot, owing to the fact that I found him vaguely interesting, if not at all attractive. Where most of my clients were similarly middle aged, married bankers or brokers or doctors, Boyfriend 2 had remained a bachelor. He dedicated his life instead to the study of East Asian cultures, living and working in Japan for twenty years before returning to the U.S. as a lecturer at the University of Chicago. On our first date, he’d taken me out for Thai food.

“I missed the mark,” he had said over a glass of wine.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re Korean. I chose a Thai place. Not that you’re limited to Korean food,” he said, going an unusual shade of purple, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. How did you know?” The words had slipped out. I never gave personal information to clients, never even used my real name. I was so used to hearing white men name the first Asian country they could think of; I couldn’t help but ask. He explained about his work, the first intriguing conversation of my career as an escort. So, when he needed a few extra minutes on Sunday, I obliged. Once I’d stopped by the apartment and battled the nightlife traffic that clogged downtown even on a Sunday, I found Milo waiting up.

“Good,” he said, once he saw it was me coming through the door.

Escorts have a few options in terms of how they operate. One is to work through an agency, who finds clients and arranges appointments for you. The agencies don’t often have everyone’s best interests at heart, and they always take a considerable cut. If you’re not with an agency, you work independently. This gives you the ability to set your own prices, and decide your own hours. Still, there is considerably more work involved, including setting up a website, getting pictures taken, and pulling in the first few clients. There is also the issue of vetting. Agencies are required to perform background checks on every client who requests an appointment. Independent escorts are left to their own devices in terms of making sure we know who we are meeting. At this point in my career, I mostly took new clients on recommendations from existing customers, or other escorts, but I would also accept an I.D., proof of work, and a verifiable phone number on which they could be reached. As an added precaution, I always made sure someone knew where I was and when I was due back from an appointment. The worry lines on Milo’s forehead were visible even from the dim entranceway, and I hurried to explain.

“The appointment ran a little late, and I stopped at the apartment before heading back. I should have called, I know.” I said, kicking off my heels and curling up beside him on the loveseat before closing my eyes. My thoughts were on a strange email I’d received from a prospective client that morning that needed answering.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said, “what did you need at the apartment?”

“I just go by there sometimes to check on the wall. I water the plant in the bedroom too.”

I opened my eyes. Milo was squinting down at me.

“To check on the wall?”

“Yeah, you know. Just to see how it’s doing.” I said. The look on Milo’s face was unreadable, almost like a grin.

“You think its coming back,” he said.

“Don’t you?” The words had slipped out, as my words often did.

“Honestly? No,” he said. The way he was grinning at me left me bitter. As if it were so strange to expect the disappearance of an entire room to be followed by something equally as strange, or the reappearance of the room itself. I said as much, but Milo only sighed.

“Stuff like this happens though doesn’t it?” he said. I sat up to face him properly.

“Are you kidding?”

“Well, it has to. If toast can come out burned in the shape of religious figures and people can spontaneously combust, it’s happened I saw a documentary about it,” he added quickly, “then a room can disappear forever. I think it’s a fluke.”

“You’re comparing my missing bathroom to Jesus toast?” I said. He frowned.

“I just don’t see where we can go from here. Are you trying to make sense of this?”

“No, I’m not.”

I remembered the argument I’d constructed when Milo suggested calling the super. Even if I tried to prove it, who would believe me? The trouble it would take to evidence its disappearance paled in comparison to the trouble it would cause if we succeeded. I wasn’t sure there was even an answer for something in this realm of impossibility. It was a perfectly Milo way to think about things. Still.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” I asked.

“Sonny, you know me right? You don’t think your bathroom’s been on my mind? That it’s not killing me that there’s no explanation for this?” The way Milo talked sometimes, it was easy to forget he was human. Being reminded was comforting. He grabbed my hand and squeezed as he continued. “If I think about it, I’ll go insane. I don’t see another way around this. Logically, I have to move on. I made an omelet earlier. I can heat it up if you’re hungry.” For a moment I didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then I realized he’d switched off. It was killing him to think about the problem, so he’d pulled the plug. For Milo, it was that easy.

—

On the way into work the next morning, I thought hard about what Milo had said. I thought about my life up to now. Six years ago, my dad died, and I had to drop out of college. I moved in with my aunt, and got the job at the convenience store to support myself before I started moonlighting as an escort and eventually made enough money to move out. The whole process took almost two years, and most of the time I felt like it had never happened at all. Or rather, that it had happened to me in another life, one that didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it was the same with bathrooms. Maybe they sometimes disappeared, and no one really talked about it, and eventually you moved on. Right then, it seemed likely enough that that’s how it was. With this thought fresh in my head, I entered the Quick Mart paying less attention than most mornings, missing the clear warning signs. Frank said good morning, and did not follow this up with an instruction concerning a mop or broom or squeegee. Then, not thirty minutes into my shift, he suggested I take a break. It wasn’t until Frank left the store at one and returned several hours later that I realized something was wrong. I was restocking the Juicy Fruit when he got back.

“Sonny, dear,” I heard him say. My head whipped around. Frank had never in our entire working relationship referred to me as anything but my name, or more often: you. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t take a double shift tonight. Allen called in sick this morning and Martinique is still stuck in Europe. You won’t have to come in tomorrow, I’ve already got someone to cover.” I took a moment to curse Allen, a gangly college student who studied sport medicine. Working two shifts in a row meant I was stuck here from eleven until three a.m. Still, I had no appointments that night or the next. Frank was already having to cover Martinique’s three to eleven shift, so if I declined, he would be facing a twenty-four-hour work day.

“Yeah, I can do it. But I want free snacks after midnight.”

“Deal.”

As the night arrived and proceeded to drag on, now without even Frank for conversation, I found ways to fill the lulls in customers. I called Milo and told him I’d be back late, then set about answering the work email I’d gotten yesterday. It was from a Dr. Darren Hancy, and it read like the world’s weirdest want ad. The first paragraph was all statistics. Height, weight, the amount he could bench press, all presented clinically. I wondered if he knew the point of my service was that he didn’t have to convince me to go out with him. The next paragraph went on in prose-like fervor about the quality of the meal we would share, and his excitement to get to know me through stimulating conversation. The final line of his email read: I hope you will indulge my wildest fantasies by allowing me to take you on the perfect “date.” I assumed this last bit was a reference to my information page, which stated that I was not selling sex, but would still do my best to indulge my client’s wildest fantasies. This was an obvious lie that nevertheless allowed me to avoid prostitution charges based on the website alone. Darren Hancy had no recommendation, but had attached all the documents I required otherwise in the original email. From his I.D. I could tell he could be my age, maybe even younger. I could not find a good reason to deny him a booking, and replied detailing my rules for up front payment, suggesting a tentative date and time a week from now. The message had just sent when someone cleared their throat in front of me. I looked up.

“How can I help you?”

It took a moment to recognize the man in front of me as the drunk who had collapsed in the chip aisle the day my bathroom had disappeared. His beard was gone. Upright, clean shaven and sober he looked much younger, college age for sure.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Holdin’ up,” he said, placing two packets of m&m’s and a diet coke on the counter.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah,” he said as I rung up his purchases, “actually, I came in to say thanks for dealing with me the other day. I was in a bad way, and I appreciate you not calling the cops.”

“Thank my boss,” I said, “I had my finger on 911.” I smiled before he could take me seriously. “Are you in trouble with the law? I think Chicago cops usually just bring you home and give you a warning for public intoxication.” Striking up conversation with strangers was a habit of escorting that I could not seem to kick. He chuckled.

“No, but I live with my grandma. She’s Chinese, real old fashioned. If she knew I’d been out all night drinking she’d kill me. How’s your bathroom, by the way?” I froze with his change in my hand.

“What?”

“Your bathroom. The missing one. You sounded serious about it. Is it still missing?” I couldn’t think of a reply, which clearly told him enough. “So it is still missing. That’s interesting. I know this is weird, but could I come take a look at it sometime? I’m real interested in this sort of weird stuff. The unexplained you know?” I stared at him, slowly putting up a thin smile.

“I think you had better not drink that much again, if you’re hallucinating conversations,” I said. His face fell, and I wondered if he believed me. As he met my eyes again, I knew he did not.

“I understand,” he said, looking put out but picking up his purchases. “Keep the change. And good luck with everything.” He left without another word, his black coat and matching hair fading ghost-like into the surrounding night.

Frank materialized a few hours later to relieve me, just after two a.m. The store didn’t want me to leave, its harsh fluorescent lighting pulling on my shirt as I crossed the threshold. The walk to my car felt as if every step I took was through wet cement. My mouth tasted like the Quick Mart smelled. I was craving a hot meal. I didn’t realize I was headed to my apartment until I was almost there. Routine. Elevator, front door, key, just like always. I flipped the lights inside, and immediately went for my phone, which took me a minute to find inside my purse. It was three weeks to the day the bathroom had disappeared.

“Hello?” his voice was stuck in his throat, still asleep.

“Milo, it’s back.”

—

It was daylight, and I was examining my toothbrush. It was in the cup by the sink where I’d left it, just like the rest of the things in my bathroom. I had been in and out all morning, opening the medicine cabinet, peering into the waste bin. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed at all, not even the hair stuck to the shower wall.

I retreated to the living room, leaving the bathroom door wide open behind me so I could just see the tip of the door from my spot on the couch. Outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds for the first time in weeks, sending warm gold streaks across the room. The apartment smelled slightly of must after three weeks of disuse, but I breathed it deep anyway. I’d paid for this apartment and everything in it by myself. It was nowhere near as clean as Milo’s place, but I was fond of a few scattered coffee cups, a pile of unread magazines leaning dangerously to the left on the coffee table. I had felt my absence from these walls somewhere near, if not inside my heart. With the bathroom missing, it had felt as if a piece of me too had gone. These feelings, so hard to place for the past few weeks, seemed obvious to me now.

Milo came over right after work, and examined the bathroom just as thoroughly as I had. In addition to his habit of selling an ounce or so of whatever he could get his hands on over weekends, he spent five days a week doing market research for a big foreign company called Sifang. It was a desk job that suited his straightforward method, if no other aspect of his personality. He worked strict hours, and often brought home piles of paperwork that he did while watching T.V. His apartment always smelled of fresh ink, and weed.

“And nothing’s missing?” he said, reappearing in the living room.

“No,” I paused, “but when I first went inside it had a smell.”

“What smell?”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to remember back. It had faded very quickly. “Almost like your apartment. Like fresh paper,” I looked at Milo, “things always smell different when you’ve been away from them for a while though,” I continued.

“Of course,” he said. Silence fell, until I remembered my manners.

“Hey, thanks for letting me stay for so long,” I said. There was a question on Milo’s face. I could see it rising, waited for him to ask. Then it went.

“It was no trouble,” he said, “yeah, this is good.” He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. “Jesus, I thought you were going to have to sell the place. Would have been a hard sell too, with no bathroom.” He laughed, and I felt lighter than I had in weeks. It felt like we were finally nearing the end of a long, looping tunnel. I sat up, matching his smile.

“Let’s go out to eat. To Giordano’s.”

“Oh, this is an occasion now is it?” said Milo.

“We should celebrate. It’s a Tuesday in the middle of February, I bet they’ll have a table for us.” He didn’t need much goading.

“You’re buying though.”

Clients never took me to Giordano’s, for what I assumed were a number of reasons. One: Deep dish pizza is not exactly date food. Two: it’s cliché, nice enough but mostly for tourists. Three: Still, if you’re going to run into someone you know in Chicago, it’s probably going to be at Giordano’s. High on the return of my bathroom, Milo and I embodied gluttony, with stuffed crust deep dish pizza and loaded potato fritters. When we’d finished, four servers brought around an enormous piece of chocolate cake, five lit sparklers where candles would normally go, making a spectacle of our table. They sung happy birthday, despite the fact that my birthday was in June, and Milo winked at me. We were halfway through the cake when he posed his question.

“So, what do we think?”

“The cake is amazing. Very dark, very moist.” I said.

“I meant about the bathroom,” Milo said, “do you think its going to disappear again?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I just thought you might want to stay at mine a little longer. Just for caution’s sake.”

“Do you think it’s going to go?” I asked.

“I’m of two minds. On the one hand, since it’s never happened before, there’s evidence to the fact that it might never happen again. One off. On the other hand, something like this happening in the first place makes me think there’s no reason we won’t see a repeat performance.”

I leaned back and gave him the look I usually reserved for clients who asked if it was really necessary to pay up front. Or Frank, when he referred to sections of the store as ‘Quadrant D’, and ‘Subsection F.’

“Milo, you’re the one who told me I should move on.” I said. He took an enormous forkful of cake and shrugged. His concession came out muffled.

“When you’re right you’re right.”

—

Now that the bathroom was back, it was much easier to do as Milo suggested and not dwell on the matter of its disappearance. I slipped back into life as if it were an old favorite t-shirt. It was easier to focus on clients at dinner, when my mind wasn’t stuck in my apartment. Even Frank may have noticed the swell in concentration, as he gave a nod of approval to the bathrooms I cleaned on Saturday night, rather than the usual purse of the lips and grunt. If my eyes lingered on the hall before I left for work, or I stopped closing the door to the bathroom entirely, these were habits I knew I would break with time.

The strangest thing about the week following the bathroom’s return was the client I had affectionately dubbed New Boyfriend 6. If he showed interest in becoming a regular, I would drop the ‘new’, and he could go about making the role his own. I wasn’t sure, however, that he had ever used an escort service before, or knew how one worked. When we settled on a date and the payment had gone through, he continued to operate in the strange manner of his first email. He sent three or four more detailing his excitement about our meeting, making specific references to ‘his fantasies’, and the fact that there would be no sex involved. It was a strange juxtaposition, and I wasn’t sure if he was erring on the side of extreme caution, or honestly believed my websites position. A few days before the appointment I called a friend.

Jade’s real name was Melissa Ernst, but I had known her as Jade for so long that it was hard to think of her as anything but her alias. She was the one who introduced me to the concept of selling ‘dates’ for money, helping put me on my own two feet as an independent. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, you busy?”

“Not a chance,” her voice was tinny over the phone, “what’s up?”

“Can you do a check for me?” I asked. Jade knew a lot of other escorts. If she asked around, she might find someone who had been on a date with this client. I gave her his details.

“Yeah, I’ll get back to you ASAP. When’s the appointment?”

“This coming Saturday.”

“I’ll put a rush on it then. But if you’re getting bad vibes, cancel. It’s one client, who cares.”

“I know. It’s just been a while since I booked someone without a rec. Thanks. How’s school?” I added. Jade was a dropout like me when she started escorting. Unlike me, she had used the money she saved to go back to college, where she was majoring in chemistry.

“Oh it’s fabulous. Totally Breaking Bad,” she joked. “At least midterms are over. I never want to see a flashcard again you know?”

“I know,” I lied. “Tell me about it.”

—

Jade got back to me on Saturday morning, with the news that no one in the business had anything on Darren Hancy, good or bad. I relaxed. He was a first timer, clearly taking the whole thing very seriously, acting out of nerves. At six p.m. I took a shower and got ready while Milo hung around. I picked out light makeup, and placed a silver ornament in loose hair. Since it was our first appointment, I chose a nicer dress: pale pink, thin straps and slinking satin. Milo looked up from the book he was reading as I appeared in the sitting room and twirled.

“What do you think? Good first date outfit?” He grinned and gave me the thumbs up.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he said. I gave Milo a lot of shit about his straightforward approach to life, but the truth was we wouldn’t be together without it. A lot of girls said you couldn’t work as an escort and be in a committed relationship. A lot of girls said you needed just the right person, that a soul mate might understand, be able to cope. I knew all you needed to pull it off was a Milo. After I told him what I did, I asked if it would bother him.

“No,” he’d said, clear and simple. He had a lovely voice, like a bell. I believed him. I still believed him.

Walking from the car to the restaurant where a date is waiting can fill you with a special sort of fear, the kind that makes your legs stop working. When you first start out, you’re sure everyone is watching you, knows exactly what you came for. It’s nerve, and panic, and maybe even shame. Six years later, the butterflies in my stomach were replaced by faint hunger pangs, and an ounce of pride. Milo was right; I looked very nice. Worth the price. Appropriate for the restaurant he had chosen, in any case. It was a swanky seafood restaurant not far from my apartment, it’s name French and its interior lit in soft yellow light. Once inside, I was told my date had already arrived. I spotted Darren Hancy at a table near the back, in a clean white shirt, looking almost bored. He didn’t look up as I approached him, still focused on something no one else could see, a slight crease in his brow. I cleared my throat as gently as possible, and his eyes moved to sweep over me.

“Kira,” he said, the crease in his brow vanishing. His eyes were a soft brown, a lot like Milo’s. I flashed him an artful smile.

“Hi. Can I sit down?” He smiled back, an act he had perfected, and stood with grace to pull my chair out.

“Of course. It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Should we start with a drink?” he asked once we were both seated, picking up and browsing the drinks menu, “White wine? It would complement your dress.”

“I’m afraid I don’t drink,” I said. It was unprofessional to drink on any job. Darren smiled.

“Still, something fun right? Look, this one comes with three different straws,” he showed me the menu, pointing towards a picture of a virgin daiquiri in a novelty glass. I couldn’t resist a daiquiri. I kept the smile serene on my face.

“If you insist.”

The nerves I had assumed from his emails had clearly not been invited to dinner. Darren Hancy was attractive and collected, his words confident and smooth as they reached me across the table. He asked very few personal questions, and apologized when I couldn’t answer. He listened carefully to my opinion on the oysters, and talked excitedly about his career as an orthopedist. It pleased me that he did not pare his medical vocabulary when explaining his work. Near the end of the meal, he asked for my recommendation for a good deli near Hyde Park.

“I moved here recently, so I thought I’d try my luck you know the area,” he admitted over the remains of his scampi.

“I can ask around for you. Are you looking for a place to sit and eat, or would you prefer a hole in the wall?”

“A hole in the wall, definitely,” he said, “I like a cheap lunch. Saves me money to spend on dinners like this. On you.”

“You’re too kind,” I said, putting a hand on my heart and pretending to blush. For the hundredth time, I wondered if he had really booked me for the sake of companionship. A doctor of his age and face shouldn’t have trouble finding someone to share the night with.

A server came by to take my empty glass, setting another daiquiri down in its place. I realized it was my third as Darren stopped the woman from leaving, the crease in his brow back.

“These are virgin correct?”

“Of course,” she replied. He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief as the server departed.

“I thought there might have been a mix up. You drove here right? I could have really screwed you. You’ve had what, three of those?”

I agreed. Three full strength daiquiris would have been a mistake I could not recover from. The only damage done here was an exceptionally full bladder, and I excused myself after a moment.

When I returned, another server had appeared with a dessert menu. I declined, while Darren ordered a single slice of New York cheesecake. I found this odd, but smiled and sipped my third daiquiri as he ate, driven by an intense curiosity to see where the night would end. There was only one half hour left in his booking, and he seemed intent on taking his time, pausing between bites to talk at length about this and that. As I reached the end of my daiquiri, I found it was harder and harder to concentrate on what he was saying. There was a buzzing in my ears, and my hands felt suddenly cold, even after I removed them from the chilled glass.

“What’s wrong?” Darren stretched a hand across the table to hold my own. “Are you ok?” I tried to focus on the image of our two hands, but the buzzing in my ears was getting louder and louder.

“I’m so sorry. I feel like I might be sick,” I said. It was unprofessional, but my stomach was suddenly churning.

“It must have been the oysters,” Darren said, hurrying to stand, “Wait right here.” I closed my eyes, losing track of the restaurant until I was nearly outside it. Darren was guiding me through the parking lot, my keys in his hand, following the sound of the alarm. “Is this your car? Come on, I’ll drive you home.” He opened the passenger door and arranged me on the seat. This was wrong. I wanted to explain why he shouldn’t go through my purse, shouldn’t read my driver’s license and repeat my address under his breath. I wanted to pull the keys from the ignition, but I couldn’t move. And then, I knew what had happened.

The light from passing street lamps illuminated Darren Hancy’s face as he drove the short distance to my apartment. Each thought running through my head slipped away as I latched on to the next. There was no reason to incapacitate an escort. No reason, unless you wanted it like this. I didn’t want it like this. Out of the car. Through the front doors and up the elevator, I was surprised my legs moved at all.

My empty apartment. I was being half dragged down the hall, into the kitchen. Pushed against the counter, Darren Hancy’s face was buried in my neck, his hands roaming. I didn’t want it like this. My own hands roamed, but over the counter behind me, searching. My left found an empty wine glass, and I grasped the neck. My arms were like lead. I brought the glass down on the edge of the sink, and it shattered. Darren Hancy pulled away. Darren Hancy asked me what the hell I thought I was doing. Darren Hancy caught me by the throat, and slammed my head into the refrigerator, pinning me. The broken wine glass was still clutched uselessly in my hand. His free hand slipped under my dress, and I thought of two large daiquiris, forcing me to leave the third unguarded. The third, which was now sitting heavy on my bladder. I released it.

Darren Hancy swore, his hand retreating. The hallway was a blur as he rushed me to the toilet and turned his back. I stumbled into the door, shutting it, clicking the lock into place. I was sure he would break it down. Before he did, there were things I needed to do. I stood, clutching the sink, head reeling. I was losing time. Darren Hancy’s voice was very far away. I was on the floor, leaning against the locked door. I was nowhere.

—

My left cheek was cold. For a while, my cold left cheek was the only thing in the universe. Then, little by little, the rest of my body came back into existence. When I finally had a head again, I wished I didn’t. Someone was hammering it to the ground with a long nail. I tried to open my eyes, but they were half stuck together with sleep and false eyelash glue. I was lying on the bathroom floor in a nice dress and heels. I smelled like urine. I had no memory of the night before.

A half hour passed before I found the strength to pull myself up. Once I was sitting, I undid my shoes and rubbed at the indents they had left, squinting around as I did so. Some shampoos that had been sitting on the side of the tub had been knocked over, and there was a broken wine glass on the floor. Once I’d peeled the falsies off, I checked my body over. No blood. The wine glass seemed to have shattered outside the bathroom. Once I was sure there was no broken glass on the floor, I stood and looked in the mirror. There was writing on it, so shaky it was almost unreadable, but unmistakably in lipstick. Man in apt. Drg. I looked past the words to focus on my reflection. My makeup was smeared, and there was a nasty bruise purpling near my temple. With these clues, I began to piece together what had happened. I had gone on an appointment, and been drugged. Why, how he’d followed me home, what kind of physical altercation there had been, and how I’d managed to lock myself in the bathroom were all mysteries, but I thought that must be the gist of things. Pain and humiliation boiled inside me. This was the risk escorts took, the thing I thought I could avoid if I was careful, if I worked on recommendations, if I was smart. I glanced back at my writing on the mirror, and fear joined the stew of emotions cooking inside me. There was no way to tell how long I’d been asleep, which meant my attacker might still be here. Could be waiting for me just outside. Rage overruled fear and sensibility. I steeled myself, picking up the broken glass and approaching the door.

I pushed it open, and stepped out into a hallway that was too bright, too wide, too beige. At first, I thought I’d been robbed. It didn’t make sense, but it was the only explanation for why everything suddenly looked different. Or maybe I was simply so afraid, it was impossible to see what was right in front of me at first. The moment passed. This was not my apartment. It was barely an apartment at all. The walls were unpainted, unfinished, and through the empty doorframe at the end of the hall I could see scraps of newspaper and shards of plaster littering the floor. There was a window in that room. I couldn’t see it from here, but the faintest daylight was streaming through, gathering in puddles across the floor.

Towards this light I stumbled. The floor was cold under my bare feet, and I felt none of the uncertainty I had experienced when first facing the blank wall in my hallway. The world around me was definite. I had been drugged. I had been beaten. I was not dreaming. The room with the window was big, a large sitting room or enormous kitchen yet to exist inside. The air here smelled like raw materials, sawdust, and plaster, like brand new paper. I reached the window. The city was not my own, so it was a miracle I recognized it. Two of the buildings were taller than the rest, the furthest right long and curved, the furthest left like a stunted space needle. It was a tiny, barely there memory from years ago, of Boyfriend 2 with his laptop between us in bed, clicking through pictures of his travels.

I tried to breathe slowly, to consider the facts. The bathroom had disappeared again, and this time it had taken me with it. When it first went missing, I spent the minutes before I fell asleep each night imagining where it could have gone. It was always somewhere with no name, the designated place for lost socks, motivations, and other vanished objects. I imagined it stretched forever, with no weather and no sky to hold it, a corner of the universe just outside of infinity. Now, I knew the bathroom was not simply disappearing. It was going to a real place, and that place was Shanghai, China.

#creative writing #writing #L writes #L writes Edge #thanks for your interest everyone!

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