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thefreakymunson · 2 years

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Anyhwere But Here, Chapter 16

Taglist: @rockautumnviking @hazzaismyreligion @iratetourist @xcatnapsx @haylaansmi @iamaslutforcoffee @tlclick73 @eclipseeetop @lullaapots @benztripp @micheledawn1975 @fuckmeupeds @edsforehead @livasaurasrex @prozacandnicotine @shinydixon @hellfirefiend @anaisweird @spookygally @morganamoonstone @leather-n-velvet @harringtonfan4 @gaysludge @eddiemunson95 @nullampuella @hanahkatexo Anywhere But Here Masterlist

It had taken a week of house searching before you found one you two actually liked. It was a two-story house with a big fenced in back yard, on the outskirts of Hawkins. It was away from busiest parts, but close enough to still get to whatever was needed. You loved the house as soon as you saw it.

“You sure you want to stay in Hawkins?” You had asked Eddie before you met with the realtor.

“I don’t want to leave my uncle,” Eddie had said softly, “Other than you three, he’s the only family I’ve got.”

And that was enough to seal the deal for you. Family had never been important to you, really. Your parents disowned you for not going to college and you were sure that the rest of the family hated you as well. It was time to move on from that, time to look towards the future and the family you were creating.

“Last one, babe.” Eddie said with a small smile as he toted the heavy brown box out of your front door.

It was a bittersweet goodbye, leaving the home you bought nearly 5 years ago all on your own, but it was for the right reasons. You placed a hand over your small baby bump, sighing softly. All the right reasons.

Madison came squealing down the hallway, her footsteps thudding on the hardwood floors. She ran straight to you, arms extended up for you to pick her up. She giggled when you threw her up in the air, her laughter echoing over the empty house. You kissed her rosie cheek and sat her down, watching as she skipped out the front door down to where Eddie was standing by the truck waiting on her.

2 months ago, you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of leaving your home for good and tacking the for sale sign to it, but it didn’t feel like home anymore.

“You coming?” Eddie asked as he placed Madison in her car seat.

You turned to look at the moving truck and smiled to yourself. They were the ones who felt like home now. No matter where they were – that’s where you belonged.

Unpacking was a chore but once the house started to take shape, you were loving the house more and more. The first room you two worked on was Madison’s, pink and purples were everywhere. Everything was going great for once.

The first night in your home, you helped Madison to bed and went to take a shower. When you came back downstairs, you found various candles lit around the room, creating a soft amber glow. Eddie looked up to see you standing at the foot of the stairs, a small smile on his face.

"What’s this about?” You grinned, walking over to him.

He pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed your lips, “First night in our home…figured we could make it special, hm?”

You kissed him back with a quiet hum and then he stepped back, revealing a table of Chinese takeout on the only small table you had in the house at the moment. At 10 weeks pregnant now, you had been craving anything and everything Chinese and he had you hooked on the only restaurant in town that served it.

You sat down on the ground beside of him and went to open the container when he spoke again.

“I’ve got two very important questions to ask you,” he said. You looked over to see the hesitancy on his face, as if he was nervous for what else he had to say.

“Yeah?” You asked, reaching over to touch his thigh, “Everything okay?”

“This has been a crazy last 2 and a half months, yeah?” He laughed softly and took a deep breath, “I mean, I don’t think either of us expected this. I know I didn’t, but I think it was meant for us to meet. I mean, obviously, if you believe in fate…I didn’t believe in it until I met you. I know this isn’t the traditional way to do this, but I just…I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Y/N. I know I’ve fucked up…but I’m still learning to be in a healthy relationship. With the divorce being finalized, I realized I’ve never felt as secure as I do with you, ya know, safe. Yeah, that’s it…I feel safe with you. In the best way.”

You heard him sniffle and you slid closer to him, your hand squeezing his knee comfortingly. It wasn’t often he opened up about his feelings. He chose to bottle them up, something he learned to do to avoid Stacy’s bullshit no doubt.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, “Please.”

When you done as he asked, you heard a bit of rustling before he spoke again and said, “Open them.”

It took you a minute to understand just what you were looking at, but when you did, you couldn’t stop the tears that fell down your face. You turned to look at him, seeing his tears as well.

“I want to ask if you’d marry me?” Eddie’s voice cracked, “And adopt Madison?”

A ring box and adoption papers.

“Yes,” your cheeks hurt from smiling, “A million times yes, Eddie.”

“To both, yeah?”

“Of course to both!” You laughed, “Yes.”

He slid the ring on your finger, a beautiful diamond that was encrusted in smaller diamonds. His fingers were as shaky as yours was and you both laughed at the sight of two trembling hands trying to put a ring on.

You basically jumped into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeper this time, taking your time. You had all the time in the world to spend with him, your fiancé, now.

“How is the adoption process going to go?” You asked, “Stacy still-“

“I offered her a lump sum of money,” Eddie nodded, “I just wanted her out of my life. She signed her rights away for 50 thousand dollars. I’ll never tell Madison that…and it fucking pisses me off, but she’s gone from our lives now. We don’t owe her shit. We can give Mads the home she deserves, the mom she deserves, the family we all deserve.” Eddie wiped his eyes as he looked up at you, “I love you and I’m so fucking glad I found you.”

“I love you,” you smiled through your tears, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, “So fuckin’ much, Eds.”

You knew it was crazy. The past few months had whipped by so fast, but in that moment, you wouldn’t have traded anything else for the family you were creating of your own.

You were so caught up in him, the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his hands were sliding up and over your back that you didn’t hear Madison sneaking up on the two of you until she was standing right beside of you.

“Hi!” she said, causing both of you to jump. She cackled loudly at the fact that she scared the two of you.

“What are you doing out of bed, stink?” Eddie sighed, helping you move to sit beside of him.

“Thirsty,” she said, handing him her empty sippy cup, “Where’s unk at?”

“He’s at home, baby.” Eddie said as he stood up and tried to find wherever you had left the bottled water at amongst the mess of boxes. He walked into the kitchen, grumbling about not being able to find anything.

“Home?” her bottom lip poked out and you could see the waterworks starting, “Not here?”

“No, not here. This is our home.” You said as you stroked her hair back, “We live here and Wayne lives at his trailer.”

“He not say goodnight to me,” she said, big brown eyes staring up at you as the tears welled higher and her bottom lip trembled.

It was a big move for her. Uncle Wayne’s trailer had been the only home she had known for her entire life. You didn’t even think about how this must all be affecting her as well.

“Do you want to call him?” You asked as you tucked her hair behind her ear, “Would that make you feel better, stink?”

“Mhm,” she nodded slightly, tucking her thumb into her mouth as she cuddled the pink rabbit in tighter to her. You carried her over to the phone and dialed the number as Eddie came back into the living room, sippy cup full of water in tote.

“What’s happening?” Eddie asked, watching as Madison held the phone up to her ear.

“She’s sad because Wayne didn’t tell her goodnight,” you said softly, cuddling the small girl into your chest as you gently rocked her back and forth.

You could hear the line trilling on the other end and then a very disgruntled, “Yeah?”

“Unk!” Madison sat up a bit, “Hi. Miss you.”

“I miss you too, but what are you doing awake so late, stink?” You could hear it very faintly, but his demeanor changed into something soft and comforting.

"You not say goodnight to me,” she pouted.

“I’m real sorry about that, Mads. You need to be in bed. You need your princess sleep.” Wayne said, “Goodnight, Madison. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Okay,” her small voice came with a sleepy yawn, “Goodnight.”

Eddie took the phone before she hung it up and clarified that she was okay – this was an adjustment for everyone. It would be a few restless nights, but you were confident that Maddie would warm up to being in her new home.

Madison rested her head on your shoulder, tucking her arms and her stuffed animal between the two of you as you rocked her back and forth, lulling her back to sleep as Eddie finished his conversation with Wayne. It didn’t take long for her to be back asleep, chubby cheek pressed tightly against your chest.

“You’re spoiling her,” Eddie gave you a small smile.

“She deserves to be spoiled,” you mumbled as you kissed her forehead.

“So much for a romantic night, hm?” Eddie laughed.

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything else, Eddie.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson X reader #Rockstar!eddie munson #Dad!eddie munson #Eddie Munson AU #Stranger Things AU #Anywhere But Here #Thefreakymunson

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romirola · 1 year

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W.I.P... Whenever, Whatever

Over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten tagged in a few W.I.P.W.s (thanks, friends! wonderful job, all), but I wasn’t able to share anything. I’ve been preparing for an important upcoming event and when I did have a bit of free time, I spent it working on some oneshot gifts as well as the Redacted Gift Exchange (shoutout to organizer of that event, @the-sugar-crash.) A few days ago, I finally finished drafting my contribution for the gift exchange, which means I was finally able to return to this longer Redacted fic I’ve been working on that has a few other snippets floating around my blog. All of this is a long-winded way to say, I’m sharing another excerpt of that fic today! Yay! For context, this is from a flashback chapter where Asher is seven years old and Milo is five years old.

Since it took me forever to respond to the tag, I’ll leave this as an open tag! Want to share a bit of something you’re creating! Please go for it (and tag me so I can see your lovely work!)

As requested, tagging @lovelylonerliterature, @itsdaifuku, and @dominimoonbeam in all material related to this currently-untitled story. (If you’d like a tag, please let me know and I’ll be happy to add you.

Milo was about to ask Asher what was inside of the jar, but before he could, a tall man with wavy, auburn hair entered the kitchen. “Asher,” his deep voice boomed, startling Milo. “Is your mother home, too? You didn’t leave her at the store, did you? I-” His gray eyes fell on Milo. “Oh. Hello there, lad!” He raised an eyebrow at his son, silently demanding an explanation as to what was going on. “Were you on sale at the supermarket today?”

Asher laughed, endlessly amused by his father’s sense of humor. “Dad!” he groaned, elongating the word into two syllables.

With a bit of a nervous chill going down his spine, Milo realized that this was the first time he was meeting someone new all by himself. Usually, one of his parents or sister was there with him. Milo believed he had seen Asher’s father before, but sometimes, it was difficult to know who was who in the pack, especially when it came to the adults. Just as his parents had always told him to do, Milo tentatively extended his short arm up to Ciaran and looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m Milo Greer.”

Never one to leave a fellow wolf hanging, Ciaran took Milo’s tiny hand in his own and shook firmly. “Ah, Milo!” he smiled. “Colm's and Marie's boy! How could I have forgotten? I know you from pack meetings, been seeing you since you were a wee pup, no bigger than my hand.” Although the boy seemed to have inherited Marie’s svelte features, the brown eyes were a dead ringer for Colm’s. “Now look at you! A fine young man if I ever saw one,” he commented. “I’m Ciaran O’Connell. Pleased to meet you properly.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Milo repeated, just as he heard his father often do.

“Milo’s gonna stay with us!” Asher burst excitedly.

Puzzled, Ciaran forced himself to keep a smile on his face, even as his mind raced with what Asher could’ve possibly meant by that statement. “Is that so?” he asked. Without pausing long enough for Asher or Milo to answer, he continued. “Asher, I take it that your mother’s outside?” He was taking wide strides to the door before he finished the question. “Aíne!” he called, panic and confusion lacing his call to his wife. “Aíne, dear?” He stepped outside, not bothering to put on shoes. “Aíne, did we just adopt the Greer boy?!”

Unperturbed, Asher turned to Milo. “Wanna see my room?”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanficion #redacted asher #redacted milo #milo greer

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thecoverblog · 2 months

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Gene Colan Saves Daredevil, Pedal to the Devil #2

The Man Without Fear, or a Consistent Artist Halfway through his introductory run of Daredevil, Stan Lee faced two looming threats, artistic consistency and painful mediocrity. For the entire preceding run of the series, Lee had been unable to nail down long term artists. This resulted in a cycle of the book coming to a screeching halt just as it is picking up speed. The chemistry and collaboration between writer and artist never seemed to truly click, with the slight exception of John Romita Sr. However even Romita’s run would be quite short at the end of the day compared to Lee himself. Despite the rotating bullpen of artists, the book always looked good and the art was never distracting or particularly lacking. Being passable actually highlighted the main issue facing The Man Without Fear, his identity.

As outlined in the previous post for this series, there is a certain amount of crossover between Daredevil and Spider-Man design wise, with their bright red costumes and contraptions to swing across the city. Add on top that Matt Murdock doesn’t have flashy powers, and throw in some truly generic villains, and you have a recipe for the blandest superhero comic around, especially with Spidey on sale at the same time. The saving grace of the first half of Lee’s run is the melodramatic plots and character beats which essentially bookend each issue.

Nearly two years in though, something seems to click and the book makes some big changes. First and foremost, Gene Colan is brought in on pencils for the remainder of Lee’s run, barring the final issue, which is forgivably given to Barry Smith. Colan’s work will elevate the book from an amusing bit of entertainment history into a more digestible modern experience. Next to the artistic jump, the stories will actually revert, almost re playing the hits.

The plots bring back older villains, and puts the characters into positions where their development retreads, but does so with much more intention and room to breathe. It is as though the story takes a step back and realizes that it’s going to be much more long running than the creator’s initially predicted, and as a result attempts to flesh out the ideas that have already been presented. This rehashing may seem tedious to some, but the overall package is so much more enjoyable, it arguably turns the book around for the better.

Karen, Matt, and Foggy

The cast of Daredevil stays relatively consistent as the series extends past year two, despite the character’s frequent assertions and attempts to the contrary. Each of the main trio makes their own bold exit from the central law office, for varying durations and to differing degrees of dramatic success. The messy law office thrives off spontaneous decisions and some deep traumas.

There’s not a lot of personality deviation from their introduction, each keeping a facade of the mild mannered office worker, while sharing more petty and self serving thoughts with the reader. Instead of sweeping changes Lee opts to run back each of the characters and hit their best beats again and more thoroughly. The relationship between Matt and Karen, Foggy and Daredevil, or any of the cast’s career pursuits are mirrors of the previous storylines, but with more vibrant art and extended time.

This approach makes sense if the title and company was gaining lots of readers back on the publication date. There’s a good chance Lee and company had no idea which of Marvel’s characters would last for decades as opposed to months, so they would lead with their best foot forward. It does sap a bit of energy from the story’s momentum once the parallels become clear, but the extra development time elevates the neat aspects of the first portion of the run into genuinely captivating ideas.

The group is flawed and weird and petty and perfect. The three are all far from paragons of virtue, with a hundred things for which each one of them could be criticized. Their worse actions though are always clearly fueled by insecurities and personal woes, in a way that keeps the reader betting on these losing dogs. As the readthrough progresses hopefully there will be some long term shifts in the dynamics of the main group, as there will definitely be tonal changes for the entire book.

Mike Murdock, the True Daredevil

The most enjoyable story beat that Lee hammers home through his run is the third alter ego of Matt Murdock and Daredevil, that of his own twin brother Mike. With a completely flipped, extroverted personality, Mike does and says everything that Matt doesn’t. He zings Foggy and treats Karen with both open admiration and misogyny, which he otherwise would hold back. The interactions with Mike are consistently funny, and become quite distinct when conceptualizing just how broken a man has to be to deceive his two closest friends into thinking he is his own twin brother.

Matt, who is secretly Mike, who is secretly Daredevil, who is secretly blind, who secretly is also… Thor? The idea of a secret identity is explored rigorously by this series, and in many ways finds the limits of the concept. The book sees just about every combination of fake outs and surprise reveals between alter egos and costume swaps. Unfortunately superhero comics will fail to recognize tired tropes in perpetuity, making the entire concept feel a little like something that’s been seen before. However nothing out stays its welcome in regards to Mike, and the sheer absurdity of making an alternate personality such a prominent aspect of the story is an effective hook.

Beauty in Simplicity

For this run of Daredevil there is a distinct setup of a status quo vs unexpected interruption dynamic. Essentially the issue to issue plot revolves around the three person law office, vigilante and all, facing a threat that will upset their established everyday routine. Whether it’s a maniacal villain trying to murder Daredevil or a job opportunity for Karen, the obstacles facing the characters tend to be surprises that put the protagonist on the back foot. There is no overarching goal to the series or the hero, and they are both placed in positions where they are reacting as opposed to pursuing a specific end.

The organization of the story saps a lot of the narrative drama, as it is clear that most things will return to normal quite quickly, if there is even substantive change to begin with. However what it does establish is a reusable base, one that the creative team can use to create a consistent and long running comic. The tone and main cast become relatable and thorough as they are continually explored.

Each arc lasts only a few issues and generally starts with the simple premise of a vigilante and his law office. Quickly the convulsions of the series are added, with the heroes being as messy as the villains, and then all is right and finished with a bow at the end, and the good guy winning. The repetition makes binge reading a bit of a slog, but would have worked well for continually drawing in new readers or as a weekly pick up. The interactions are witty, the plots are bonkers, and the main drag for the series is it does not feel fresh.

Get Your Words Outta My Comic

The nearly twenty five issues of idling story are almost entirely saved by the work of the series' new artist Gene Colan. The step up in consistency and quality are an equal testament to improved comic making and maintaining a primary artist, as well as to the talent of Colan. When the plot is less than engaging, the propelling force of the book really falls to the art. In the case of Colan’s run he rises to the occasion, and brings Lee up with him. The longtime writer may be at the peak of his dialogue powers in this run, writing smart wit and snark more than obtuse unnecessary descriptions.

The fact may be that Colan’s vibrant and clear illustrations simply did not necessitate any of the extraneous bubbles explaining what the art is meant to be. Equally true could be that the quality of the work was lessened when crammed with too many words and white spaces. Either way an improvement in art direction and a more focused writing style proved to be a recipe to fix the more prevalent drawbacks of the earlier issues.

The best example from this batch of stories is when Daredevil faces the Jester. Much like the other recent arcs, the formula is a weird and specifically themed villain has shown up to fight Daredevil and be defeated over three or four issues. The Jester is actually one of the longer arcs and the story is a pure slog when revisited today when clown villains are among the most played out tropes in the medium.

The Jester saga is completely worth reading for the art alone. Colan decides to play with the panels in ways that are unique for the relatively tame title, and heavily utilizes full pages of art. The dynamism from the integration of these techniques infuse the series with a little more heart, and sparks a bit of interest. Together with the panel to panel quality and the longevity of the artist on the series, this becomes a clear leader in the title’s early runs. Issue forty nine is the last for Colan but only for a bit, as he will return to collaborate with new staple writer Roy Thomas in just a few issues.

Closing Arguments

With the well established creators Stan Lee and Gene Colan both firing on all cylinders, Daredevil becomes a comic that can stand against the test of time. The stories are dated, and by modern standards even the art may be considered simple. The dialogue and early forms of dynamism make all the difference, and present a package that is a lot of fun even from a contemporary view. It’s not necessarily a great binge, and substantively isn’t the deepest comic around, but with a little patience the book becomes simple, pure hijinks and melodrama.

Enjoyable at the peak and forgettable at the lowest points, issue fifty of Daredevil sees Lee’s run come to a close. Unceremoniously departing in the middle of an arc, Lee will transition into an editor role and hand the writing duties over to Roy Thomas. As iconic as his style has proven to be, it feels like the right time for a change in creative direction. Seemingly Lee had drained himself of any more Daredevil stories, but had laid the groundwork that would facilitate the ideas and work of other writers for decades.

Citation Station

The Cover Original Article

Daredevil, Issues 25-50

25-50 written by Stan Lee

25-49 art by Gene Colan

50 art by Barry Smith

Daredevil #33, Art By Gene Colan

#comics #books #comics review #daredevil #marvel comics #marvel #review

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raphael-angele · 2 years

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Wholesome Things Damian Does for his Family (+the Titans)

Headcanons!

Movie! Titans

I made a post on my other account once saying Damian is very fond of gardening and has a mini garden on the Kent Farm. Well, on their anniversary, Damian would make bouquets for his grandparents and leave them on their graves. He would use amaryllis and stock flowers for Martha and statice and Queen Anne's Lace for Thomas. He leaves them at dawn before the sun even rises and stays there until it does. Bruce doesn't know who leaves the flowers there, thinking maybe it's Alfred.

He does the same thing to Terra. Whenever Terra's death anniversary comes along, he sneaks out before the sun rises and goes to her grave. He gives her white lilies and yellow daffodils. And he just spends the rest of the day with her on her grave, as if talking to her. The titans would come and visit them but he doesn't leave until 12 am.

He made Jon a new jacket. One time while they were on patrol, Jon got into an accident and tore his jacket and it's practically unfixable. Jon was really sad so Damian took it upon himself to make him a new one. He left it on his bed a few days later after school.

He makes baked goods for them. It doesn't matter whether or not his school is having a bake sale. He will make them all cookies of different flavors, brownies, butterscotches, cupcakes, muffins, etc. He didn't just learn baking from Alfred, he also learned it from Jaime. One day, he'll be making something and he'll give the first one to one of them to see if they like it. He'd be giving it to them with his arms raised to them and say, "Eat".

Whenever he's at the Tower and he makes breakfast for the team, he makes a vegan substitute for Garfield. Like, if he's making sausages, he also makes one for him made out of plant based ingredients. And Garfield doesn't bother asking him if it's vegan or not anymore cuz he got so used to it.

In one of my previous posts, I said that Raven has a slight OC disorder. And because of this, everytime the team goes for an outing or a meal outside, Damian always wipes and cleans the seats and tables and arranges the place mats and the condiments.

Damian always tries to find time to spend with Dick. Whether it's training or just hanging on the ceiling with aero silks. Dick likes it when they do that since not a lot of the family has an acrobat's advantage.

Damian polishes and fixes Jason's guns for him. One day, he goes into Jay's room to look for a book and sees one of his guns is on the desk and is disassembled. He looks closer and sees that there's something jammed in one of the parts. He then proceeds to fix it, polish them and reassemble it. He now does this whenever he wants to. Jason still doesn't know.

He has one particular weapon that is dedicated to all of his brother's weapons. It may not be engineeringly possible but still. Two swords that both have guns as handles (Like Blake Belladonna's). It can turn into double sided swords by the end of the hilt (magnets maybe). When in double sided mode, the handle can extend and the blades can curve to turn the weapon into double sided scythes. I'm thinking of adding an electrocution function whenever the fingerprints don't match Damian's.

He makes painting or drawings of them. When he's bored, he makes them drawings of themselves at that very moment. Damian once snuck into Dick's room and looked for a picture of him and his parents. When he did, he took a picture of it and made a painting of it for Dick's birthday. Needless to say, Dick cried.

He catsits for Selina. Whenever Selina has an emergency trip and has to leave for a few days, she calls up Damian to watch over her cats. Sometimes, he takes Alfred with him. Damian follows Selina's rule book very carefully. He doesn't accept payment but Selina still pays him.

Damian once stole Jason's copy of The Seven Husbands of Evenlyn Hugo and got it signed by TJR in an event where Raven went to. Jason was pissed when he found his book missing. When Damian gave it back, Jason's first instinct was to kill him. But when he looked at the front, he was just speechless and awkwardly hugged his little brother.

Damian buys Tim Death Wish coffee beans. Raven and Damian's definition of a hang out, is teleporting from one country to another. Most of the time, they go to New Zealand, Iceland or anywhere peaceful. But some times, they go to sightseeing in random places. Damian often asks her to take them to New York so he can buy Death Wish Coffee. He then gives them to Tim when he comes home.

Small headcanon that Damian is the only one who can beat Raven at chess and Raven is the only one who can beat Damian at poker. Chess is one of their bonding strategies and coping strategies when they're fighting. And I imagine that it's basically the only thing Damian had in common with someone the first time he came to the tower. Raven losing chess for the first time was really surprising to the lot of them cuz she's basically unbeatable. Same goes for Damian in poker, considering Raven was raised by Constantine.

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englishstrawbie · 2 years

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Serendipity (40/?)

Fandom: Station 19, Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Maya Bishop & Carina DeLuca

Summary: A chance meeting at a bar leads to these two idiots falling in love. Follows canon and fills in the gaps of their relationship that we didn’t get to see on screen.

Also @ AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

Family

Home should be an anchor, a port in a storm, a refuge, a happy place in which to dwell, a place where we are loved and where we can love. - Marvin J. Ashton

“Puoi passare i pomodori, per favore?”

Maya’s pronunciation is clumsy and painfully slow, but Carina can’t help but smile when she looks up from her phone with such a hopeful look on her face.

“Brava,” Carina says, passing her the bowl of freshly washed tomatoes.

Maya looks pleased with herself as she starts to chop the tomatoes into small chunks. It has been like this at every meal time since Gabriella’s visit, a renewed determination to learn some of the basics of her language. Carina tells her she doesn’t have to, that there is enough going on without adding learning Italian to her long to-do list, but she knows that once Maya has set her mind on something, there is no stopping her.

They move around the kitchen with ease, having become so accustomed to cooking together over the last couple of weeks that it is easy to anticipate each other’s next move. It feels domestic and lovely, and Carina ignores the aching feeling in her stomach when she thinks about the fact that Maya is going back to work tomorrow.

It feels like a step towards normal life, except Carina doesn’t know what normal is any more. She is still dealing with some of the administration from Andrew’s affairs and his boxes remain sealed in their spare room. She is on extended leave from work, Bailey having promised her that she can take as much time as she needs. The truth is, she doesn’t know if she will ever be able to go back and work in the hospital where her brother died or operate in the room where she cradled his lifeless body in her hands. She is still struggling to expel the images of his bloody injuries from her mind. She scours the photo albums, trying desperately to replace them with pictures of his happy, smiling face, and it works for a while but the memory of that day always comes back.

“Puoi passarmi il sale, per favore?”

Maya’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Did I get it wrong?” Maya asks, looking down at her phone with a frown.

“Oh, no bella, you were perfect,” Carina says. She leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek as she passes her the salt.

She feels Maya watching her as she goes back to prepping the fish they bought at the market for dinner, covering it with the breadcrumbs and parmesan she has mixed together. She waits for the inevitable question that Maya has already asked several times over the last couple of days.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me going back to work?”

“Of course, bambina. You can’t stay at home with me forever,” Carina says, even though she wishes she could.

“I know, but if it’s too soon…”

It will always be too soon, Carina thinks to herself. Out loud, she simply says, “I’ll be fine.”

“You know you can call me any time, if you need me,” Maya says.

Carina can hear in her voice that she is hesitant about leaving her. “I know,” she says with a small smile, endeared by her concern. “I’ll keep busy. I have to go into town tomorrow to talk to the bank about closing Andrea’s account.”

“Are you sure you want to do it by yourself? We can do it together on my day off, if you want,” Maya suggests.

Carina is tempted to say yes, but Maya has done so much for her already and she knows that once she is back at work, her days off will be precious. She doesn’t want it to always be like this, for their time together to be so sad and sombre, full of her brother’s death admin.

“I can do this one by myself.” She wipes her hands clean on a nearby cloth and puts them on Maya’s hips, twisting her round to face her. “You don’t have to babysit me any more,” she says gently. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful for everything you’ve done, because I am.”

“I know,” Maya says softly.

“We have to move on,” Carina says, her voice breaking a little as she says it, knowing that her heart doesn’t really want to.

Maya runs her hands up and down Carina’s arms. “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know,” she says lightly. “It doesn’t change how you feel about him or about losing him. But he would want you to live your life, he would want you to be happy.”

A tear runs down Carina’s cheek and Maya wipes it away with the tips of her fingers.

“You’re allowed to feel happy again.”

“You make me happy, bella,” Carina says softly, rubbing her nose slowly against Maya’s.

She dips her head and kisses her lightly, indulging in the warm feeling that spreads across her chest as Maya kisses her back, her arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

“Besides,” Carina says when their lips part, “I thought we could do something fun on your next day off.”

“Fun?” Maya raises her eyebrows curiously. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Carina says. Her head isn’t really in the right space to come up with anything, so she says the first thing that comes to her. “Bowling?”

Maya’s lips twitch with amusement.

“Bowling? Like you would ever wear bowling shoes.”

Okay, she has a point. Carina crinkles her nose in disgust as she thinks about the number of people who put their feet into the same pair of stinky bowling shoes. Maya laughs at the face she pulls and Carina lets go of her hips with a playful huff. She likes it, though, the teasing and the lighter mood it creates.

They don’t go bowling – obviously – but two days later, after Maya sleeps off her first twenty-four shift in a while, they head towards the water and jump on the next harbour cruise. Covid protocols mean the boat is only half-full so that there is no over-crowding, which enables them to find a quiet spot at one end of the boat. They lean against the railings and watch the scenery pass them by in silence. A cold breeze hits Carina’s face, stinging like pin pricks, and she buries her face into her scarf for protection. Maya’s arm is linked with hers, her body adding another layer of warmth against the cool air. Carina leans into her, enjoying her company.

Andrew took her to the Space Needle not long after she arrived in Seattle, insisting that it was something that she had to do. Carina has travelled the world, seen so many sights and done so many crazy things, but the glass floor had made her lightheaded and Andrew had teased her mercilessly for weeks afterwards.

She thinks about that day now as they see it from the boat, standing proudly over the city, and it brings a smile to her face.

“You okay?”

Carina nods and leans over, resting her forehead against Maya’s temple and nuzzling her cheek.

“Your nose is cold!” Maya says with a giggle.

Carina laughs too and it feels good.

Maya takes her to The Everest for a late lunch. They haven’t been here since their first date, all those months ago. There have been so many dates since, but the first is still one of Carina’s favourites. The simplicity of getting to know each other, of sharing stories, of flirting all evening and fucking all night. It would be easy to feel melancholy about all the things that have happened since that night – there has been so much loss – but she chooses not to. Instead, she chooses to focus on the joyous moments that have filled her life.

Maya is at the centre of them all and, as she listens to her girlfriend regale her with the latest stories of what the residents of Seattle have been up to during the state-wide lockdown, she remembers that one of the last conversations she had with Andrew was about Maya, and how happy he was that they were happy together. She is glad that he knew that she has found her home, here in Seattle, when she has been so adrift for so long. She loves her travels and enjoys her freedom, but she has always missed having an anchor, a place to go home to – and now she does.

“What are you thinking about?” Maya asks her, noticing her glazed eyes.

“You,” Carina says, reaching her hand under the table and squeezing Maya’s thigh.

Carina presses her against the wall the moment they step into their apartment and kisses her deeply, taking them both by surprise with how strong her desire is. She hasn’t been touched in weeks and her body is screaming for a release.

“Vieni a letto con me,” she growls at Maya as she lifts her up and carries her down the hallway towards their bedroom.

The next morning, Carina watches as Maya gets ready for work, her heart sinking again at the thought of another twenty-four hours by herself. The boxes of Andrew’s belongings still need to be sorted and she should call Papa to see how he is doing, but she wishes they could waste the day together, avoiding reality.

“Why don’t you stop by the station for dinner later?” Maya suggests. When Carina looks unsure, she adds quickly: “Travis is cooking.”

Carina twists her lips thoughtfully. At least Travis knows how to make a decent meal.

“What about your Covid protocols?”

Maya shrugs. “You’re not seeing anyone except me,” Maya says. “Besides, there’s gotta be some perks of being captain, right?”

She leans down and brushes her lips against Carina in a goodbye kiss, before grabbing her bag.

Carina smiles. “Okay,” she says, knowing she can always find an excuse if she doesn’t feel up for seeing a lot of people.

She stays in bed when Maya leaves, although she doesn’t sleep. She used to close her eyes the moment she heard the apartment door click shut, but although sleeping is easier now, she still struggles to rest. She is used to being busy, to being on her feet all day at work, and her body has become lethargic over the last few weeks.

She could go for a walk, but the weather forecast isn’t good and she is not in the mood to dodge rain showers. She thinks about doing a workout with Maya’s home gym equipment, but the bed is cosy and warm.

Maybe later, she thinks.

Instead, she picks up her phone. People are still finding out about Andrew and sending her their condolences, and she finds another four messages waiting for her. She sends a quick ‘thank you’ to each of them, then scrolls through her contacts list to find her father’s number. She pulls herself up to sitting and pushes the hair out of her eyes, before hitting the call button.

It rings and rings, but there is no answer and eventually it trips to his voicemail. She doesn’t bother to leave a message. She knows she is stupid to believe that their conversation a few days ago was anything more than a brief moment of peace in an otherwise tumultuous relationship.

With a heavy sigh, she drags herself out of bed and into the apartment, picking up her laptop and opening her work emails. She feels guilty for not checking in with some of her long-term patients. She has an inbox full of messages from them, all of them sorry for her loss but with an undertone of wishing she would return to work soon. She supposes she should be touched that they miss her so much.

She doesn’t get very far before her phone starts to vibrate on the table. She wonders if it is Papa, but when she looks down, she sees Gabriella’s name staring up at her.

“Gabriella, ciao,” she greets her.

“Ciao,” Gabriella says. “How are you, my dear?”

“I’m… okay,” Carina says. She can’t pretend that she is any better than that.

“One day at a time,” Gabriella reminds her.

It is the same advice she gave her after Mama died. All she has to do is get through one day at a time, until she feels strong enough to think about tomorrow.

“I know,” Carina says. “How are things in the Sunshine State?”

“Not so sunny,” Gabriella says.

Carina hears her take a long, deep breath. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going home.”

Carina frowns. “You’re…?”

“Going home,” Gabriella says again. “To Italy.”

Carina feels her chest tighten at the thought of her friend going back to Italy, where they can’t keep the virus under control. “Gabriella…”

“I know,” Gabriella interrupts. “But I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw you and we were talking about our time at Paolo Calvino. It made me realise how much I miss it. I hate knowing that the country I love in is suffering and feeling helpless at being so far away.”

Carina knows what that feels like. She thinks about her Nonna and uncles and friends who have died, and those who are struggling with ongoing symptoms. She has seen the pictures and heard the stories from her old work colleagues of how bad it is.

“Are you sure?”

She already knows the answer.

“I have to,” Gabriella says. “It’s my home, my family.”

“It’s mine too.” Carina sighs. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful? Take all the precautions, wear all the PPE. I can’t lose someone else I love.”

Her voice cracks a little.

“I will,” Gabriella promises.

They talk for a little while before Gabriella gets pulled away by a page to the ER. Carina closes her laptop and heads to the shower, ignoring the tug in her heart at the thought of her friend going back to Italy without her. She can’t help but feel torn. Her heart is here with Maya, but her head keeps taking her back to Italy, keen to see her family and mourn those they have lost with them, and desperate to cling on to the memories of her childhood with her baby brother.

Maya texts her just after lunch, a photo of Dean with a small, dishevelled dog on his lap. She smiles at the message that accompanies it.

This morning’s rescue. Of course Dean called dibs on the puppy xx

Carina sends her a reply, promising to visit her later for dinner, then spends her afternoon making a tiramisu, baking her own sponges before putting the ingredients together, just like Mama had taught her when she was younger. It is a welcome distraction from everything else going on around her.

She turns up at the station a little before six o’clock. The barn is lively with chatter and laughter as the team finish their chores. She avoids them for now, stepping into Maya’s office and finding her on her cell phone.

“Hey Mom, it’s me. Give me a call when you get this message – please?”

She sounds stressed and Carina frowns when she hangs up and tosses her phone onto her desk.

“Is everything okay?”

Maya paints a smile on her face. “It is now you’re here.” She stands up and walks around her desk, greeting her girlfriend with a kiss. “I’m glad you came.”

She looks down at the dish in Carina’s hands and raises her eyebrows curiously.

“Lasagne? Don’t you trust Travis’s cooking?” Maya says with a teasing glint in her eye.

Carina lifts the aluminium foil to show off the dessert she has made and smiles as Maya closes her eyes and inhales dramatically.

“This is why I love you.”

“Oh really?” Carina says, laughing.

Maya grins, happy to hear her laugh fill the room. “Well, other things too.”

She slips a hand around Carina’s waist and leans in for another kiss, lingering this time. Carina smiles against her lips, feeling the tension falling from her shoulders.

“You saved all the puppies today, huh?”

Maya chuckles. “We did and we had two very grateful dog owners.” She takes a step back and perches on the edge of the desk.

“Before we head up for dinner, I wanted to talk to you about something.” She taps the desk and Carina takes a seat beside her. “So, Ben has this idea of opening up the station to run a Covid testing centre for a few weeks. Grey Sloan and all the hospitals are struggling – I think it was probably Bailey’s idea.”

They share a smile, imagining Bailey bending Ben’s ear until he relented.

“McAllister has approved it, but my problem is that I can’t spare any firefighters to organise it. I’ve got at least one person out sick every shift. Will you do it?”

Carina shakes her head, confused. “Do what?”

“Organise the testing centre,” Maya says. “I can help you figure out the logistics, but I need someone to take control of it.” She smiles. “And I thought of you.”

Carina narrows her eyes. She knows what this is really about, she knows that Maya can see through her façade when she says that she needs to finish sorting out Andrew’s affairs before she goes back to work.

“Because you want me to stop moping around the house?”

Maya tips her head to one side and looks at her admonishingly. “Because I need someone I trust to do a good job.”

She looks like she wants to say something else, so Carina prompts her. “And?”

“And I think you don’t want to go back to work at the hospital just yet because it’s where your brother died.”

Maya looks over at her as Carina sighs and puts her hand over hers.

“It’s okay,” Maya says. “You don’t have to go back any time soon – or ever, if you don’t want to. It’s up to you. But I work long shifts and twenty-four hours is a long time to be alone at home.”

Carina smiles knowingly. “And you feel guilty about coming back to work?”

She knows Maya just as well as Maya knows her.

“A little,” Maya admits. “So will you do it?” She waits a beat. “Please?”

“Okay,” Carina agrees, although she can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Thank you,” Maya says. She hooks her finger under Carina’s chin and turns her face towards her, so that when she leans in, she catches her lips in a kiss.

As soon as they part, Maya propels herself off the desk, grabbing Carina’s hand and pulling her with her as she goes.

“Come on, Travis is making some kind of vegetable stew just for you and the last time I was upstairs, it smelt divine.”

Carina picks up her dessert and follows Maya out of her office, up the stairs and into the beanery. Only Travis and Ben are there at the moment, both leaning over a giant pot and inspecting its contents carefully. Ben lifts a metal spoon to his mouth and takes a bite.

“It needs more salt.”

“It doesn’t need more salt,” Travis says, exasperation in his voice.

They start to squabble until Maya clears her throat, alerting them to their presence. They fall silent and look a little awkward, until Carina steps forward, holding out the dish in her hands.

“I brought tiramisu.”

“Are you trying to out-cook me?” There is a twinkle in Travis’s eyes that tells Carina that he is joking.

“There’s no competition, she’s a better cook than you,” Maya says, laughing when Travis clutches his chest in mock devastation.

They walk into the beanery just as the rest of the team appear in the doorway.

“Is dinner ready yet? I’m starving,” Dean says.

“Carina, hey,” Vic says.

She walks over to her and embraces her in a hug, ignoring the call of “six feet apart!” that comes from Ben. Maya taps her back, a gesture of thanks.

“So, did you ask her yet?” Ben asks Maya, tipping his head towards Carina.

“About the test centre? Yes, she did,” Carina says as she settles on one of the stools.

“And?” Ben says hopefully. “Come on, Carina, you’d be doing Miranda a big favour.”

“And you,” Dean jokes.

Ben smacks his arm lightly in friendly play, then turns back towards Carina with pleading eyes.

“Of course I’ll help,” Carina says.

“It’ll be good to see you around here more,” Andy says kindly.

They all agree, except for Jack who stays quiet, and Carina can see him avoiding her eye at the other end of the island. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to bring the awkwardness to everyone’s attention. Instead, she listens to the banter between them all, enjoying the lighter mood that has been missing from her life for the last few weeks. For the next couple of hours, she gets to forget her grief for a while and, even though she knows it is still there, she relaxes in their company and joins in with the teasing of their captain (much to Maya’s chagrin) and shares their laughter.

In the days that follows, she throws herself into organising the testing drive, liaising with Maya and Ben, ordering supplies and figuring out how they can get people in and out safely, without putting Maya and her team at risk of exposure.

It feels good to use her mind for something else and to distract herself from thinking about Andrew all the time. Not that she wants to forget him, she never will, but she knows she can’t be consumed by her grief forever. Just like she said to Maya, she has to move on.

She pops by the station several times in the run up to the day, each time being greeted fondly by Maya’s friends.

“They’re your friends too,” Maya reminds her a few days before the testing day, as they look down at Carina’s haphazard drawing of the barn spread out on Maya’s desk.

They’re not really, except Ben. They are still getting to know each other and she knows they are being kind to her while she is in such a bad place – especially when she drives them all crazy with her hyper-organising. Their faces fell earlier when she demanded that they move all the tables from one end of the barn to the other, after they had spent the last hour organising them as she had asked and were all desperate for a shower and food.

Carina misses her friends at work. She gets messages from them constantly; every day someone checks in on her – Amelia, Maggie, Teddy, Owen, Bailey. Sometimes she wonders if they are on some sort of rota, to make sure she doesn’t feel forgotten.

Still, she is enjoying her time at the station and they do what they can to make her part of the nineteen family. Vic brings her mazurkas from her parents’ restaurant, Dean gives her a drawing that Pru has scribbled over, and Travis ropes her into helping him cook for team.

She is moving on and it is not as hard as she thought it would be.

Only it all comes crashing down the day before the testing drive is due to start. Maya pops out to grab lunch from the sandwich shop a few blocks over when Carina gets a text message from her lawyer.

Hi Carina, just checking in to make sure you got my email? Call me with any questions. Lara.

Carina had seen an email in her inbox and assumed it was about Andrew’s affairs. There is some money left in his bank account that she needs to give to Papa, since Andrew died without ever making a Will. Except Papa isn’t answering her calls or messages. She knows he won’t want it and will tell her to keep it, which she doesn’t want to do either – she doesn’t want money, she wants her baby brother back. She plans to donate it to charity, one that supports women and girls who have been subjected to sex trafficking; she just needs Papa’s consent.

She switches to her emails and scrolls down to find the email she has been avoiding. Her stomach flips when she reads it.

Immigration office closed. Visa application on hold. Twenty-nine days until her current visa expires.

Twenty-seven days now and she curses herself for not reading it when she saw it two days ago. She has been so caught up in Andrew’s death, and now the testing drive, that she hasn’t thought much about her visa application. After all, it was a sure thing, her lawyer had told her.

Now, her lawyer is telling her that in twenty-seven days’ time she will have to leave the country; to leave her home and the woman she loves. And yes, she has been thinking about Italy a lot lately, feeling a desire to go back and see her family, to check on Papa, and to support the hospital that trained her. But she never thought that she would be forced to go back before she was ready.

She hears the front door open.

“They didn’t have tuna, so I got you houmous and vegetables instead,” Maya says as she breezes into the apartment and drops their sandwiches onto the kitchen table. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Carina says absentmindedly.

“You look lost in your own world,” Maya says gently, putting her hand on her shoulder.

Carina looks up at her and blinks back the tears as she thinks about having to leave her.

“I’m fine,” Carina says dismissively.

She doesn’t have the strength to tell her about her visa issues right now. Their focus is on the testing drive and she wants it to be a success – she needs it to be a success, because something in her life has to go right. Leaving Maya, leaving her home, brings back too many thoughts of the day Mama and Andrew left for America, leaving her behind with Papa. Mama had promised that they would always be a family, no matter how far the distance between them, but it was never the same.

Carina knows her relationship with Maya is strong. It is fantastico. They have overcome so much already that she believes they can overcome this – she just doesn’t want to.

It plays on her mind for the rest of the day and she doesn’t sleep well that night, waking up exhausted, with a cricked neck and aching limbs. It is like the grief she feels has doubled overnight and she snaps at Maya when she brings her a bitter espresso.

“Scusami, non volevo,” she says when she sees Maya’s face fall. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little stressed about today. All those people, and the organising, and the press.”

“I can talk to the press, if it helps,” Maya offers. “God knows we need some good P.R., what with Dean’s court case against the P.D. I’m just waiting for the shit to hit the fan about that one.”

Carina frowns. She knows Maya means well, but her sour mood leaves her feeling affronted by her lack of faith.

“You don’t trust me to talk to the reporters?” she says, more roughly that she intends.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Maya tries to backtrack.

Carina sighs, still disgruntled. “It’ll be fine. I just need to shower and get my head together.”

She slips out of bed and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, a sign to Maya not to follow her. It seems that Maya has become accustomed to her mood swings because she keeps her distance as they get ready for the busy day ahead.

By the time they arrive at the station, Carina’s focus is on the task of the day, her irritability conveying itself in the way she bosses around the team.

“Okay, you should put them in two parallel lines - from here all the way to there,” she tells Maya and Andy as they place cones along the length of the barn.

“Hey, doctor number one, doctor number two,” Andy calls out to Carina and Ben. “We can figure out how to direct traffic.”

Carina’s feathers are ruffled, feeling like her authority is being challenged.

“Do you know how far aerosolised saliva droplets can travel?”

“Do you know what causes a fire hazard?”

“And what do I win for knowing both?” Ben interjects.

Carina relents. She doesn’t want to argue with Maya’s team, not when they have shown her such kindness.

“Okay, arrange them how you must for safety, but the cones should be at least two meters apart.”

“Also for safety,” Ben says. He leans in to Carina as they walk over to the tables. “You know, it's pretty nice having another M.D. around. Maybe they'll start calling you "dad" instead of me.”

Carina shoots him a look, but appreciates him trying to keep things light when her mood is so dark. The next hour passes with Carina barking her orders at everyone, including Maya. She talks to the press about what they are doing and greets the first patients to arrive, guiding their cars into the barn.

When Cutler knocks the table and sends a box of Covid tests flying to the floor, she snaps at him, calling him an “idiota” and some other derogatory terms until Maya drags her away and into the reception area.

“Maya, we have patients,” she grumbles.

“And they are being taken care of, okay?” Maya says. “You are snapping at everyone. And I get being stressed, I get if it's even residual grief. But I would not be a good girlfriend if I didn't ask… are you okay?”

With a heavy sigh, Carina realises that carrying the grief she feels about her visa woes is too much for her right now. “My visa is expiring and I might have to go back to Italy.”

Maya takes off her mask, her brow furrowing. “Wait, what? How? I don't understand.”

“When I first came here, my study sponsored me with an H1B visa and I sent in the renewal application last month, but the President just shut down all immigration offices,” Carina says.

“How can he do that?”

The question annoys her, as if Maya could be so naïve about her country and its President when it comes to the way they treats immigrants.

“Maya, I don't have time to teach you about the screwed-up immigration laws of this country,” she snaps. “I have to get back out there.”

She turns to leave, but Maya grabs her hand. “Okay, okay. Just… when?”

It is the thing that is on Carina’s mind the most. Twenty-seven days.

“Next month.”

She doesn’t linger to hear Maya’s response, heading back into the barn and greeting the occupants of the next car in line and trying to ignore the push and pull going on in her head and her heart.

The line keeps moving, a constant flow of visitors wanting to be tested. Half-way through the day, Maya and some of the team get called away to an emergency, leaving Carina with Travis, as well as some of B and C shift who have volunteered for the overtime. It is busy, news of the testing centre having travelled, which means that she to keep an eye on what everyone is doing, making sure they are following the rules she has meticulously created.

“Hey, Doctor DeLuca,” Travis says as he walks up to her.

“Call me Carina.”

“Sure, Carina,” Travis says. “Um, my parents are here and they need a test.”

“Which car?” Carina asks.

“They're out front.”

Carina prickles with annoyance. As if it is bad enough that the patients don’t follow the rules, now the firefighters aren’t either?

“That’s not the protocol,” she says shortly.

“Right, it isn't,” Travis says awkwardly. “Um, but it's a little bit of a delicate situation because… funny story, my dad… he's in the closet and he might have been exposed by one of his secret male lovers.”

He says it so quickly that Carina almost thinks she mishears, except when she looks at him, Travis looks so embarrassed that she feels bad for her gruff response. She hands him two tests.

“Thank you. I’m really sorry,” Travis apologises.

“Don't be sorry,” Carina says, more softly this time. “Just come tell me everything when they leave, okay?”

She is not the only one having a rough day, apparently. It turns out she is not very good at compartmentalising, because she can’t stop thinking about what it is going to feel like to get on that plane, to go back to Italy – to leave one home to go back to another. It is bubbling away underneath her all day, threatening to spill out.

Whenever she can, she steps out of the barn and into the reception area to catch her breath, not counting on coming face-to-face with Jack, of all people.

“Hey, uh, can I get two test kits please?” Jack asks shyly.

“Okay, is everyone breaking protocol today?”

Jack shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Carina, I get that you don't like me…”

“Um, it’s Doctor DeLuca,” she says. She knows it is petty, but it’s Jack so she doesn’t care. “And what are you doing in Maya’s office exactly?”

It is not that she doesn’t trust Maya – she does. And Carina has always fought against Maya’s suggestion that she moves station to avoid him. But does he always have to be around?

“She said that we could use it,” Jack says. “Look, Doctor DeLuca, Maya and I aren't…”

Of course they’re not, she knows that.

“Okay, I'm not threatened by you,” Carina says. “I'm not.”

She and Maya are good. They’re really good – and now she has to leave her, and as if she hasn’t had her heart broken enough lately, the thought of it makes her want to weep.

“Good. You shouldn't be, honestly, it's…”

Shit. Carina feels her chest tighten and fights back a sob that threatens to escape. She fails.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jack says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean…”

“No, no. I'm not crying because of you, I'm not crying because of you,” Carina tells him. She would never let Jack make her feel less than she is. “It's my visa expiring, and Maya, and it's the pandemic. It is bad there and getting worse here, and… and… argh, it's my brother who is dead, and I don't know what to do, and now I'm crying about it in front of…” She curls her hand into a fist. “Aah! In front of the one person I vowed would never see me cry. You're not gonna see me do it. You’re not!”

She glares at him. Why did this have to happen in front of Jack? She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“No, yeah, go ahead, cry in front of me,” Jack says, and she can’t tell if he is being nice or trying to wind her up even more. “I'm a big fan of crying women.”

Now she thinks he really is trying to wind he up.

“That sounded weird,” Jack acknowledges. “Uh, no, look, my girlfriend is crying in Maya's office right now, actually. It's a crappy time for everyone. And our mother figure, I guess, is in the Covid ICU at Grey Sloan, and they're taking her off the vent.”

Marsha. Carina remembers her name from a couple of weeks ago, when she helped Jack and Marcus find her window to wave hello. She is simultaneous sorry for him and annoyed that, of course, Jack would make her feel guilty for snapping at him.

“And her kid is pissed,” Jack continues. “And I get it, you know, because I'm pissed. But I'm learning, as a parent figure, that you don't get to be pissed when your kid is…”

“No, you have… you have to stay mad,” Carina tells him. “You have to stay mad. He has to see you deal with feelings in a healthy way, not bury them.”

She should know, she grew up with a father who didn’t deal with his feelings properly and it has had a lasting impact on her. It surprises her to feel some respect for Jack in that moment, seeing him try to be a good father to the young boy in Maya’s office.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, you're right,” Jack says with a nod of his head.

“I know. I'm very smart,” Carina says, her voice taking a lighter tone.

She steps back into the barn and collects two tests for him, handing them over. “I’m sorry about Marsha.”

“Thanks,” Jack says, giving her a nod before disappearing back into Maya’s office.

She sees him again later, coming out of the station’s gym with Marcus, both of their eyes red from crying. Inara greets them, the iPad with a video streaming to Marsha’s hospital room in her hands. She looks as distraught as the boys do.

“Uh, I’m gonna take these two upstairs and away from everyone for a while,” Jack says.

Carina simply nods and watches them go. Her heart aches for them, knowing that they are about to lose someone and can’t be by her side. She knows that feeling all too well at the moment. It makes her realise how much she has missed over these last few months, not getting the chance to say goodbye to her beloved grandmother and uncles, not being there to comfort her aunt and cousins in their grief, and not having their love in return as she mourns Andrew’s death.

Family is important and she should get to share her grief with her family. Andrew should have his final resting place on the beach he loved so much as a child.

Maya is her family too, her home, and she would not have survived the last month without her. She shouldn’t have to make a choice between her home and her family, but the choice has been made for her – and she finds peace with it unexpectedly. It wouldn’t be how she chose to go back to Italy, but life has thrown her so many curve balls lately that she needs to start finding the positive.

She and Maya will be okay, she knows that. She just hopes that Maya will understand.

The rest of the day goes smoothly. They must test hundreds of patients and her feet ache, not used to being upright all day after such a long break from work.

She is tidying up their supplies when Maya gets back from her call.

“Honey, I'm home!” Maya calls out to her as she walks through the barn.

Carina smiles, pleased to see her. “Ah, good call?”

“Yeah, newlyweds stuck inside of a car inside of a truck,” Maya says.

“Yep, wife begged to be saved before her dying husband,” Andy says.

Carina’s eyebrows arch with curiosity. It seems that family is not so important to everyone.

The rest of the team chat around her, teasing Sullivan and making plans for drinks after their shift.

“Do you think the couple is going to make it?” Carina asks Maya as they tidy up some of the boxes of unused tests.

“I hope so,” Maya says.

Carina takes a deep breath and looks at Maya. She needs to tell her.

“Maya, I have to go back.”

Maya knows what she means and looks disappointed.

“Can't immigration make an exception? You are a doctor, we need you here.”

“Yeah, but they need me there more,” Carina points out. “Italy is dying, bambina. My Nonna, my uncles, all gone because of Covid. And Andrea… I want to spread his ashes at the beach where my mom used to take us to in San Lorenzo.” She tries to be positive about it. “It's not gonna be forever, bambina, I promise. Just until immigration opens up and they can sort out my visa stuff.”

Maya’s face falls, looking despondent, and Carina feels her heart aching again.

“Okay, no tears,” she says, determined not to mope over this turn of events. At least they have each other. “Jack is in the lounge and he needs us.”

She walks backwards, pulling Maya with her and laughing at the surprise on her face.

“Wait, I’m sorry, what is this day? You like Jack now?”

Carina pulls a face. “Eh, "like" is strong. Tolerate, a little.”

They walk through to the reception area and make their way upstairs.

“Is it Marsha?” Maya asks.

Carina nods. As they reach the top of the staircase, Maya tugs on her hand and she stops, turning towards her.

“Are you sure you wanna be there for this?” Maya asks. “You just lost Andrew, you don’t need to do this – especially not for Jack. I can be there, or Ben or Dean.”

“It’s okay,” Carina says. “Marsha is his family.”

She doesn’t need to say any more for Maya to understand why she wants to be there for Jack when he is just about to lose a member of his family. She leans forward and drops a kiss on Maya’s cheek.

“Okay, enough of that on the stairs please.”

Vic takes the stairs two at a time as she bounds up behind them, dodging Maya’s playful shove. They are still laughing when they walk into the beanery together.

“Oh my God, is that Nari's spicy beef soup? Is Nari here?” Vic says, her nose up and sniffing the air.

“She was,” Travis says, not his usual upbeat self.

“How did it go?” Carina asks.

“How did what go?” Vic asks, looking between them.

“My dad was exposed – playing golf.”

“Oh.” It takes a moment for Vic to understand. “Ohhhh.”

Maya looks curiously between them as she takes two cans of soda from the refrigerator, not following the conversation but pleased that, whatever it is, Travis felt comfortable enough to confide in Carina.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn't terrible, but it wasn't great either,” Travis says with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Baby steps,” Carina says gently, then looks surprised with herself. “Whoa, did I get an idiom right?”

Maya laughs. “Yeah, you did,” she says, passing her one of the soda cans. “I am so proud of you, Doctor DeLuca.”

“Oh my God, first idiom right!” she cheers as they walk over to the break room.

They pause just outside the door. Carina takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, her shoulders dropping and her mood becoming more sombre.

“You ready?” Maya asks.

Carina nods and they both put on their masks as Carina opens the door and they step inside. The room is quiet, except for the occasional beeping coming from the iPad in Jack’s hands. Marcus is asleep, lying across the couch with his head on a pillow in Inara’s lap. Jack sits on the floor by her feet and looks up when they step inside.

“Hey,” Maya says, while Carina shoots him a kind smile.

“You guys don’t have to be here for this.” He says it to both of them, but his eyes are on Carina as she sits down on the chair opposite.

“Family is important,” Carina says.

Maya sits by her feet and leans back against her legs. They don’t try to make conversation, but sit in silence. Carina’s fingers unconsciously play with the end of Maya’s ponytail.

It is twenty, maybe thirty minutes later when Jack starts to laugh softly.

“What?” Inara asks.

“Nothing, sorry,” Jack says, but continues to chuckle.

“You're laughing right now?” Maya says incredulously.

“No, I'm sorry. I… last year, before you guys moved in, uh, Marsha, she bought this bird. I just thought she could talk to it or something.”

“She's afraid of birds,” Inara says.

“Which she didn't know until she cleaned out his cage for the first time,” Jack says. “I come over and hear her screaming from down the hall, you know. I run in and she's flailing around the apartment because the bird is flying after her.”

They all smile at the story and Inara laughs too.

“She runs into her bedroom, slams the door. After about a second, the door flies open and she comes running out again, screaming again because she had locked herself in the room with the bird.”

The silence is replaced with laughter, including a voice on the other end of Jack’s tablet.

“Hey!” Jack cries.

“Oh my God!” Inara exclaims.

Suddenly, they hear a voice come through the speaker. “Don't do that to me. I don't have enough strength in my lungs for that.”

Maya stands up and crosses the room to look over Jack’s shoulder, to see Marsha awake and smiling.

“Oh my God, she’s awake,” Inara says.

Jack looks up and calls out into the beanery, where the rest of the team are lingering close by.

“She’s awake!”

One by one, their friends come running to see what the commotion is about, while Inara wakes Marcus from his nap, the young boy breaking out into a wide grin when he sees Marsha waving at him on the screen in front of him. Carina stands up and goes to Maya’s side, sharing a smile with her as they watch the happy scene unfold in front of them.

Maya’s arm slides around her waist and Carina rubs her back, her hand resting at the base of her neck. She watches as Jack embraces Inara and Marcus, and can’t help but feel envious of their happy ending.

Beside her, Maya removes her mask and tugs at her hips. “I’m coming with you.”

Carina looks at her with surprise. She removes her own mask. “Yeah?”

Her heart is immediately lifted when Maya smiles and nods. Carina guides her face closer and she kisses her, not caring about their audience. She hears Vic whoop behind them and smiles against Maya’s lips.

They can’t stop smiling at each other when they break apart. The room is filled with joy as everyone celebrates Marsha’s recovery. Finally, it feels like something is going right; that a life has been saved, not lost. And while her heart still aches for all that she has lost, Carina feels grateful to be able to share in that joy.

As Jack and Inara talk to Doctor Schmitt, Carina takes Maya’s hand and leads her out of the break room and down the stairs to the captain’s office. Once inside, she closes the door.

“Are you sure?” Carina asks, as soon as they are in private.

“Family is important,” Maya says, using Carina’s words from earlier. “And you’re important to me. If going back to Italy is what you need, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Carina smiles, the ache in her heart replaced with warmth and love. She knows there will be a lot of hoops to jump through to get Maya into Italy, but just the thought of not having to do it alone makes her heart swell. She grabs Maya’s hips and pulls her close, kissing her, and silently resolving to ensure she can make a decent espresso before they go.

#station 19 #grey's anatomy #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #serendipity #i can't believe we're at 40 chapters?!

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handeaux · 1 year

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Price Hill’s Wilder Avenue Memorializes A Wealthy Family With One Wild Child

It has often been said that the best way to make a small fortune is to start out with a large fortune, and that was certainly the philosophy of Horace K. Wilder.

Today, the Wilder name is hardly remembered in Cincinnati. There is a minor street in Price Hill marking the boundary between East Price Hill and Lower Price Hill named for the Wilder family, but that’s about it. At one time the Wilders owned more than 60 acres of land, a significant portion of the hilltop and eastern slopes of Price Hill.

Horace Wilder, in other words, grew up in comfort if not outright luxury. His family had money, even if they were not inclined to spend it ostentatiously. There was no Wilder mansion up on Price Hill, unlike the substantial residences of their neighbors Reese Price and Peter Neff. Still, Horace knew the value of money. That knowledge even got him into trouble.

As a young man, just starting out in the world, Horace lived with his uncle William Wilder. Horace’s mother died when he was quite young and his father not much later. Horace and Uncle William spent the summer of 1892 in Florida and returned home at the end of August. Horace took the family carriage out to visit friends and Uncle William discovered that his pocket book, containing $115, was missing. He contacted the police and had Horace arrested. As court testimony revealed, Horace was innocent. As he left the house, he realized that his uncle, sitting on the lawn, was quite inebriated and might easily be robbed by any passer-by. Horace put the pocket book in the house and let Uncle William sleep it off.

On achieving the age of 21 in 1893, Horace came into a substantial inheritance and immediately launched a campaign to spend it all as soon as possible. Horace quickly earned a reputation in Cincinnati as an easy mark, but his revels extended to Hamilton and Louisville. One day, Horace hired a cab to take himself, a boxer named Charles Slusher and an artist named Henry Niemeyer on an expedition to paint the town red. According to the Cincinnati Post [5 December 1893]:

He ”bought Slusher a pair of gloves, Niemeyer a hat, gave the latter $2 on two different occasions, and allowed him to pick up the change when he broke a bill and bought champagne and beer for a gang of ‘cadgers’ who followed them about.”

When Horace awoke the next morning, he was convinced he had been robbed and had saloonist Jack Page arrested on suspicion. Page provided sufficient evidence to have the charges dropped, the evidence being that Horace was too drunk to remember that he had spent the supposedly stolen money. Page turned around and sued Horace for slander and Horace had to shell out a thousand dollars to soothe Page’s temper.

With Page mollified, Horace moved his base of operations uptown to Kissel’s beer garden in Over-The-Rhine. There, he beheld the comely chanteuse Ida Reynolds and declared his intent to marry the young lady immediately. After delivering a veritable greenhouse of flowers to Miss Reynolds’ dressing room, followed up with cases of bubbly, he popped the question, but she turned him down.

Horace next caught sight of Bessie Miller, a woman of alluring countenance but mysterious circumstances. It turned out that she was a kept woman, the mistress of a caterer serving a prison term for embezzling from the Phoenix Club. Horace’s ardor cooled.

With his exploits filling the newspapers almost every day, Horace’s family grew concerned. Word got around that one of his uncles wanted to have the court put Horace in a guardianship. Horace took the hint and departed for the Oklahoma Territory to stay with one of his brothers until things cooled down in Cincinnati.

Three months later, Horace was back in town, announcing plans to open a gambling joint in Northern Kentucky, financed by yet another sale of his inherited Price Hill property. Not mentioned in any of the stories about Horace’s shenanigans on this trip through Cincinnati is the fact that he was now a married man. While in Oklahoma, Horace married Zula Belle Shaffer on 7 February 1894. By all accounts, Miss Shaffer was a beautiful and accomplished young lady well established in the social register of the western territory. She was 18 and had been born in Ohio.

Married or not, Horace continued his wastrel ways. By April he was in Hot Springs, Arkansas and word got back to Cincinnati that he was broke and reduced to pawning a diamond stick pin to pay his hotel bill.

Horace came close to getting himself killed in Cincinnati that autumn. At the Grand Saloon, an establishment smack in the middle of Cincinnati’s red-light district, Horace got into an argument with a sporting man named Billy Finlaw. Witnesses said they were arguing about an actress named Florence Miller. Words were said and Finlaw pushed Horace to the floor. Finlaw told his companions that, if he had a gun, he would blow Horace’s head off. One of his pals took him up on the threat and handed him a pistol, having first removed all the ammunition. Finlaw ran outside, confronted Horace and pulled the trigger a half-dozen times with the gun just inches from his face. Horace got the message and split.

But not for long. A month later, the papers reported that Horace had purchased a carriage and a fine horse and transported his friends around to all the resorts in the Tenderloin. That purchase was reported almost simultaneously with the sale of Horace’s last remaining lot in Price Hill.

Maybe he ran out of steam. He certainly appeared to run out of money, For whatever reason, Cincinnati heard nothing from Horace for almost three years, and then learned that he was dead. Word came from Oklahoma that Horace had overdosed on morphine, presumably a suicide.

The report was wrong. Horace’s brother, Charles Rollin “Roll” Wilder had received an identical share of inheritance as Horace. He took his money west and invested in Oklahoma land, holding down a position as an executive at one of the territorial banks. Horace stayed with him whenever Cincinnati got too hot for comfort. Horace did overdose on morphine, but pulled through, a much chastened man.

He moved back to Cincinnati. This time he brought his wife along. They rented a little house on Neff Avenue in Price Hill, one of his family’s former properties. Horace worked as a bookkeeper, a police officer and a carriage salesman. It was not a happy home. Horace moved out and took rooms on Garfield Place. Zula sued his sister and brother-in-law for encouraging Horace to abandon her.

The feuding in-laws were still airing the family’s dirty laundry in court when Horace died, this time for real. He was only 32. Burial was in the family plot at Spring Grove Cemetery.

#horace k. wilder #horace wilder #wilder avenue #price hill

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boyofzoot · 2 years

Photo

I’m extending the commission package sale for the next 6 buyers! until further notice!

I was able to get a room till tomorrow morning (big thank you to the people who bought a package yesterday) and I’m currently in it. I had to spend some monies to get the room but it’s worth it. If I can get more people to buy the package, I can have a place to stay until next week.

Everything on my art commission chart for $50! That means I will draw you a Chibi, B&W Bust, Colored Bust, Colored Full Body, Couple Colored Full Body and a Special Request all for $50. You can send me the details & refs through email or DM. Thank you so much! :)

COMMISSION INFO | PATREON

#thank you so much for the support #it's nice to not be on the street #I appreciate it #If I reach my goal or even surpass it I will update you all #You can share this with people on other social media if you'd like #love ya bye #update

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jaegersol · 1 year

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@the-actual-last-quincy

"Is that strictly necessary?"

Ryuken folds his arms, looking first to the breeder and then to the creature presented to him standing in the centre of the room. He likes to think of himself as experienced when it comes to humans, he's been around plenty over the years and has done plenty of research before considering this purchase, but Ryuken has to admit he didn't expect the muzzle. It gives the creature a rather threatening look, not what he had in mind at all. He's meant to be a show-piece, after all. Maybe he's naive to assume human ownership is going to be as easy as it felt while he was growing up.

He scowls in confusion, more annoyed that the breeder seems to shrug off the question more than anything. Apparently this is just some recently implemented procedure, nothing to worry about. Although the presentation of his new acquisition and the tone of the breeder, makes Ryuken thinks the truth likely extends far beyond a new quirk in handling regulations. This better not be a mistake.

Mistake or not, the payment's been made and the deal done. There's no going back now. The breeder makes a start on leaving, giving Ryuken a chance to properly examine his purchase. The likeness to his picture is impressive. He's got the expected characteristics of his breed, too. He's, on the face of it, a good purchase. If only it wasn't for the muzzle, and the fact the breeder's almost halfway out the door. He seems a bit too keen to leave. Ryuken almost wants to stop him, question more, although he's not sure what good it would do now the money's changed hands. The human's as described, after all.

"Are you ready?" he addresses the human directly, not expecting an answer as he takes a step towards him. He avoids introductions for the moment. That can be done once they're home and settled. Thats what all the books suggest anyway, "it's time to go"

The vampire - or at least Grimmjow’s pretty sure he’s a vampire - looks too stern for Grimmjow’s taste. He stands with a straight back and a his chin up, his hands folded behind his back as he survey’s him.

Grimmjow mimics him. The posture at least. His hands stay in fists at his sides, and his attention only sways when Gin steps too near him, blue gaze darting between the pair before returning to the vampire.

It’s abundantly clear that the man intends to leave him here. With the vampire. Grimmjow doesn’t know what to feel about it. Excitement? Grimmjow wasn’t unprepared for this, after all. He knew it was coming. Already he was older than most of Aizen’s humans sell for. Many leave to their homes when they’re just kids, but Grimmjow’s a fighter. He’s no good as a scrawny kid, an he was scrawny. Aizen had to wait till he was bigger.

He knows all of this, because he was told.

But to actually be presented for sale is... It’s unnerving. He’s unnerved. It keeps him tense and, temporarily, quiet.

Gin had said his good-bye’s (if they could be called that) outside, so Grimmjow wasn’t expecting any now. He still follows the other to the door with his eyes, and once he’s gone, he finds himself unsure, and doesn’t turn back until the vampire speaks to him.

And.... That’s... it? No. He’s obviously not ready. Part of him wants Gin to walk back in the door, which is not a thought he’s ever had before, or hopefully ever will again, but he does have it.

He doesn’t know this guy.

“Go where?”

#[ ic || 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖏𝖆𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗 ]#hmm i hope that this is ok #im not sure how fucked up we want to take this au society but i assume grimm was raised pretty sheltered considering #he is from a pedigree breeder #so i assume there's.... SOME idk... indoctrination? into what that should look like for him #hes not something wild caught like an exotic pet #the-actual-last-quincy

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memelleity · 2 years

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day shift sentence starters

❝ what are you doing in my room? ❞

❝ when was the last time you been to the dentist, huh? ❞

❝ do you know what the definition of insanity is, ____? doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. ❞

❝ you cling to the old ways like a tick on a dog’s ass. and look at where that’s gotten us.❞

❝ you’ve made your point. ❞

❝ divided, we are vulnerable. but together? the sky is the limit. ❞

❝ you’re so weird. ❞

❝ excuse me, do you guys have any black history month discounts? ❞

❝ home sweet home. ❞

❝ snitches get stitches! we were gonna keep that between us. ❞

❝ you don’t live here anymore. ❞

❝ please, don’t take my daughter away. ❞

❝ decided to take me up on my offer? ❞

❝ everything’s for sale. you just have to be desperate enough. ❞

❝ just gonna put that in your mouth, huh? ❞

❝ you want to make a deal or not? ❞

❝ that’s everything i have. ❞

❝ are those jordans? what size? ❞

❝ things have changed since you left. ❞

❝ look here. i’m putting my name and my ass on the line by vouching for you. ❞

❝ i don’t know how i feel about this. ❞

❝ let’s go and get this thing over with. ❞

❝ how’s the shirt look? ❞

❝ i took this meeting out of respect for you, ____. ❞

❝ why should i extend you yet another lifeline? ❞

❝ i’m a changed man. ❞

❝ i promise, if you give me that opportunity. i’m not gonna mess it up. ❞

❝ you’re back. that’s all that matters. ❞

❝ what? you can’t hear me? ❞

❝ you don’t have cash on you? ❞

❝ think about it this way, you’re gonna be my eyes and ears. ❞

❝ what are you wearing? ❞

❝ you have on a suit. how’s that inconspicuous? ❞

❝ i didn’t take you for an arts and crafts guy. ❞

❝ it’s not complicated. it’s just a seat belt. it protects you. ❞

❝ so you’ve read the book? ❞

❝ i’m just a big cat lover. i got two of them myself. ❞

❝ can i offer some advice? ❞

❝ i don’t give a shit about rules. ❞

❝ it wasn’t always like this, you know? ❞

❝ i’m gonna take back what’s ours. ❞

❝ the way i see it, you have two choices, two doors. one: you bend the knee and join me in service, and you live. and two… you don’t. ❞

❝ you think you’re a god? ❞

❝ i thought he was gonna shoot me. ❞

❝ next time i tell you, “gimme that goddamn gun,” you gimme that goddamn gun! ❞

❝ you did good in there. ❞

❝ everybody pisses themselves the first time. ❞

❝ we bit off more than we could chew today. ❞

❝ i hate doing laundry, so i kind of just kept buying new ones. ❞

❝ i wish i had a beer or something to offer you. ❞

❝ you almost got me killed yesterday. ❞

❝ you almost got yourself killed yesterday. ❞

❝ what? you’re gonna die in the name of kissing your boss’s ass? ❞

❝ why do you care? ❞

❝ so what you’re saying is you kinda need me. ❞

❝ you told me your secrets. ❞

❝ we’re like a team, partners, whatever. ❞

❝ you can call me cupcake or whatever you prefer. ❞

❝ want to get a selfie for your instagram? ❞

❝ stay behind me, i keep you alive. ❞

❝ don’t shoot where they are. shoot where they’re gonna be. ❞

❝ don’t even think about it. ❞

❝ put that gun down. take your finger off the trigger. ❞

❝ don’t let it bite you! ❞

❝ what happened to you? you piss your pants? ❞

❝ it’s illegal in 40 countries, right, bro? ❞

❝ i don’t like the sound of this. ❞

❝ hey, wait, this doesn’t make sense. ❞

❝ why do you know the names to all the specific twilight films? ❞

❝ oh, i wish i was you! to experience that the first time. you’re in for a treat. ❞

❝ you’re tougher than you think you are. ❞

❝ come on. we’re gonna be late to the party. ❞

❝ you know how this ends, don’t you? ❞

❝ you took something from me, and now i’m gonna take everything from you. ❞

❝ you might feel a little swerving, but that’s just my special driving. ❞

❝ there’s a lot i need to tell you. ❞

❝ i know you’ve had trouble trusting me in the past… i know you think i keep things from you, but right now you gotta trust me. ❞

❝ you’re freaking me out. ❞

❝ looks like you can use my help. ❞

❝ just don’t tell your mother. ❞

❝ i hunt vampires. that’s what i do. ❞

❝ we said we were gonna be honest with each other. ❞

❝ don’t touch me! ❞

❝ i’m not afraid of you. ❞

❝ there’s a mirror over there. ❞

❝ my blood, it just… it feels like it’s on fire… ❞

❝ you look good. everything looks great. ❞

❝ we’re gonna work this out. ❞

❝ it’s crazy how you get attached to someone. ❞

❝ you cut my head off! i thought we were friends. ❞

❝ friendship is complicated, huh? ❞

❝ how do i look? ❞

❝ hey, i’m sorry i tried to eat you. ❞

❝ leaving so soon? ❞

❝ this is stupid, ____. let me at least explain. ❞

❝ you think i want to work for a monster like her? ❞

❝ i killed her. ❞

❝ you killed her. ❞

❝ are you frightened? ❞

❝ why are you doing this? ❞

❝ i’m already dead. ❞

❝ i’m gonna make sure no one can ever hurt her again. ❞

❝ you should thank me. ❞

❝ no, ____, listen. they tortured me. ❞

❝ what do we do? we’re surrounded. ❞

❝ see me fighting a bear, you pour honey on me. ❞

❝ see, now you’re just being a bitch. ❞

❝ that’s how we do, baby. ❞

❝ nothing but a flesh wound, dog. ❞

❝ what are you talking about? ❞

❝ you know i work alone. ❞

❝ i hate you! ❞

❝ i should’ve just got another job. ❞

❝ please let me have this little victory. ❞

❝ think you’re smarter than me? ❞

❝ shit. what are you gonna do about the money? ❞

❝ how about we take it one day at a time? ❞

❝ you just gonna leave me like this? ❞

❝ that’s what i love about los angeles. all the damn vampires. ❞

#sentence starters #sentence starter meme #starter meme #rp meme #rp prompts #prompt meme #roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #ask meme

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rothjuje · 2 years

Text

Floors! So excited. Home Depot is having a crazy sale on flooring during tax free weekend and we will be able to save $1500-$2000 which is amazing. Undecided on wood but I think that is the best match. That carpet photographs grey but is very light beige in person. *wood in tile pic is 3 shades darker than other existing wood*

Justin and I had a flooring war (of course). He wanted some thick life proof carpet for 4.50 a sq ft and I said absolutely not. If we are going to spend that much on carpet we might as well get wood floors. Then he wanted thick grey carpet, of course. I said absolutely not, you picked carpet I get to choose color and texture. I picked a wood, he said absolutely not, that’s over $6 a sq ft. Luckily I realized the slats were too small anyway after I got home and measured current wood. And herringbone is lovely but you have to buy 20% more wood and pay double in labor, and actually find someone who is able to install the pattern (which is apparently harder than I thought). So. We both get our way. He gets his carpet and carpet on the stairs (I asked and the labor for putting wood on the stairs is $$$) and no herringbone design. I get light carpet (Justin and his mom are horrified I would make such a choice with 3 young children) and light wood floors, and the downstairs will be all similar wood minus mud room (Justin at one point wanted the downstairs playroom to also be carpet). Whew. Probably the first compromise where neither of us feel like we are losing.

The tile is our existing tile (in mud room and then extends out into living room). Justin wants to keep, but it’s a really awkward space and floor guy recommended we remove, exactly as the multiple floor guys suggested we do back in TX (which we did, TX tile was cheap and ugly). We are removing this tile as well, but Justin is mad about it (you did this again! You said we were going to keep the tile!) which I don’t remember saying either time but sounds like something I would say because I have a hard time making decisions and I am obsessed with tile. Tile will stay in mud room (same tile but squares aren’t as pretty for whatever reason) but be removed where they extend awkwardly/are very pretty and more reddish).

And I am really obsessed with this tile. Hurts my heart to remove. Great quality, not one chip (our TX tile was only 17 years old when we moved in and it was in horrible condition). And it looks like Jupiter! C’mon! But the space is awkward and makes the living room appear smaller. And even though I have funky tastes and hate waste, I will always make the final decision based off what will add value to our home, because a house you plan to only spend a few years in is an investment.

Anyway. I’m sure everyone is over boring house updates.

Crazy week. Got Alyssa registered for Kindergarten, finally (so many more requirements than in TX). Met George’s EI therapists. FIL got light up in girls’ room. And installed stoppers in bathroom tubs and sinks, thank goodness. And replaced some light switches and door knobs. And the men got the handrail up so our stairs are much more safe now. Poor MIL had to watch 3 dysregulated children with no television while I unpacked boxes. Will have to plan some fun things next visit to make up for this one. They left early Thursday am.

I am very excited for a weekend with no major projects. And very excited for this upcoming week of normalcy. First week(ish) here we had no stuff, second week here stuff had come but I was having cellulitis issues and was in too much pain or at doctors and unable to unpack. Third week here in-laws came and they were so helpful but we did so much and had late late nights. I feel like we all just need a week to be. And to recuperate from the crazy that started when we listed our house back in April.

I’d like to start working part time. I was going to start real estate classes out here because my parents own a RE company and I grew up with it and miss it so much (interacting with adults, meeting strangers, seeing houses, paperwork, all of it) but everyone is an agent out here it seems and I don’t want to waste my time if I can’t sell 2-3 houses a year. I’d love to teach but can’t full time (I don’t have that kind of mental energy with toddler twins and don’t want my babes in full time childcare, but I guess summer break would even it out). I could sub, but was hoping for something more flexible. I love writing and photography but suck at using my DSLR and don’t think I could capitalize on my interests anyway. I’ve had a couple people suggest working within the Jewish community and that is becoming a more attractive option.

The most feasible options I think are either a preschool Gen could attend or nannying from my house, but I would like more of a career direction if possible. Ideas? My work history as a real estate agent, Jewish professional, and nanny have me kind of stuck.

Will turn anon on in case anyone wants to give me flooring or career advice. Thanks!

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agaveblue · 10 months

Text

[Fanfic] Sales Pitch

Title: Sales Pitch

Summary: The truth is Walter Londra doesn’t need an android. But with CyberLife downright determined to court him, and with the sheer amount of NDAs they’ve shoved at even him of all people, and even Walter is…curious about the apparently hush-hush prototype in his living room. Just a one-shot glimpse into what Connor might’ve been up to in the days of the Old Ones.

Crossover canons: Horizon games / Detroit: Become Human

Main characters: Connor (DBH) and Walter Londra (Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores)

Work Text:

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Walter Londra squints, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other clutched around a frosted glass of whiskey, head tilted as he eyes this…thing from dark head to impeccably shined oxfords and back up again, and he can’t help that his first kneejerk reaction is I want one.

Good God, CyberLife really was good at what they did, weren’t they? Aside from the blinking blue light stamped into the machine’s head, you really couldn’t tell that “Connor” here wasn’t human no matter close you got to look for shimmering in the synthetically generated epidermis. No, no, this wasn’t the holo-skin of inferior products like the Faro servitors, with their metal and plastic skeletons covered in that translucent glowing sheath. It even looks more lifelike than the CyberLife androids he’s seen on market, the AX200s and CB200s and whatever. Why, the engineers designed this thing so that even the dark hair and smattering of small imperfections - faint freckles, slightly uneven, dark eyebrows - looked just like the real thing even as he leans in close, real close, to look for seams or that slight, barely there plastic-like sheen that previous CyberLife models had. Even when the machine extends its hand, it has the right grip, the right give…

Cold touch: ugh, Walter thinks, that glowing first impression slightly soured, and he unconsciously wipes his hand on his designer jeans once Connor releases it.

The android doesn’t seem to notice, still gazing at him with a politely friendly expression fixed on its handsome face.

“Mr. Londra, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Connor says. “Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Walter grunts, still eyeing the RK800. “Are you even for sale?”

“Regrettably I’m not.”

Now he wants the damn thing even more and he doesn’t even know why: he’s already got an army of personal assistants and security and he’s never given much thought to CyberLife androids until now.

“But in the future I might be to certain… select clientele,” Connor goes on with a dip of its head, almost as if it’s apologizing directly to the billionaire standing before it. The machine’s dark eyes, brown, soft, somehow alluring as if they’re already good friends (or they could be), fix on Walter.

“I assume I’m on the list.”

“Correct.”

“And how high am I on it?”

“Quite high. In fact, you’re the first from the private sector.”

“Good,” Walter laughs, “You know how I feel about being first!”

Connor doesn’t chuckle but it does manage something that looks like a small smile, private, reserved only for him as if it’s known the human for years. As if it knows him as well as Evelyn does. Did.

“A feeling that’s well-deserved, given your remarkable contributions and foresight. May I sit?”

The question catches Walter off-guard. First, because he’s the one who offers people chairs, if he feels they deserve one or if they can stay standing, and because people around him don’t have the balls to ask like that, and two, because he’d been busy just staring at this marvelously engineered thing standing before him and he’d already started to forget that, clammy handshake and blinking LED aside, that Connor wasn’t an attractive, weirdly approachable man at all. In his surprise Walter shrugs, gestures toward the real-leather armchair, watches for a second as the slender machine dressed in its sharp office wear heads to it, and then steps away to help himself to more whiskey.

He reminds himself that there’s no point pouring for two from the decanter.

“So why send you in person? CyberLife could’ve sent me your specs instead of shipping you all the way from Detroit.”

Connor’s voice is aggressively pleasant behind him, with its inoffensive, slight rasp.

“That would have been appropriate for other prospective clientele. However, someone like you, Mr. Londra, deserves far more than the standard VR package.”

Walter’s smiling, lazy and indulgent, as he turns around with whiskey tumbler in hand.

“Is that CyberLife’s opinion or yours? Can an RK800 even form opinions?”

“I believe,” Connor says mildly, “that would be best left to your interpretation.”

“Uh huh.”

"You’ll find the RK series a marked improvement in all forms of personal engagement."

“And how long, exactly, will you be shadowing me?”

“Two weeks.”

Walter sips his whiskey, feeling its familiar, soothing burn on his tongue and back of his throat, and sizes up Connor. The machine’s not dressed in the usual black-white uniform of commercial-grade CyberLife androids: instead its tailored clothes almost look like someone from, say, Londra Production’s Accounting Department, neat, smart lines, of gray and black, with even a damn silk tie around the thing’s slender neck. It’s even ironed! And yet just like every android he’s seen, there’s the usual markers. The glowing teal triangle and armband. The circular LED spinning blue above his right eyebrow. #313 248 317-50 is emblazoned on the chest of Connor’s gray jacket in glowing English like a billboard. There’s even MADE IN DETROIT stamped on there to go with the big letters of ANDROID splashed across the back of Connor’s shoulder blades.

Goddamn American Androids Act, Walter sighs, slinging himself down in the chair opposite the RK800. Tackiness wrapped up in legal bullshit no one ever asked for.

So sure, maybe Connor’s cutting edge. But it’s still just like the others and so Walter decides he better temper his expectations.

After all, he isn’t some easily impressed scrub off the street. This thing in front of him is expensive and he can tell when he’s being courted, wined and dined and having his dick sucked off. There’s got to be an angle to this that isn’t just his net worth.

“Two weeks for what?” Walter gazes at Connor.

The machine’s head cocks, gesture a little birdlike and somehow…innocent. “For whatever you require, Mr. Londra.”

“Walter.”

“Apologies, Walter.”

Why does it sound so good hearing his name roll off the machine’s synthetic tongue?

“So what’s this about my ‘requirements’?”

Connor nods. “Maybe it'd help to think of me as your fully equipped, fully qualified personal assistant for these two weeks. I can also perform guard duty, cooking and cleaning, and anything else needed for your optimal emotional and physical health.”

“Guard duty? An android?”

“Ideally I’ll follow the same pacifist objectives as commercial androids,” Connor says, its glance sliding away for a moment to watch a seagull flit past the window and then wheel about in the sky, far above the threads of glittering traffic on the 405 and all the sorry bastards stuck in autocars that did shit all to help the congestion. “However, there may be certain circumstances - your personal safety, for example - where I can and will be able to choose which human life to…prioritize.”

The idea seems more and more attractive the more he listens.

The more he studies Connor, its brown-eyed gaze wandering back to the window as if it’s never seen a flock of seagulls before, and there’s even a hint of boyish wonder(?) on the thing’s engineered face, its lips parted slightly, and the more he realizes the extent of the gift dropped in his lap. An android capable of violence, of doing whatever he asks however he asks. The perfect loyal being…provided it can do everything CyberLife claims it can. This could solve the problem of the MSP fiasco, he realizes, still watching Connor.

Not to mention it could solve a personal issue, closer to Earth. Closer to home….

“Well!” Walter breaks the silence. His hand tightens around the glass tumbler. He can taste the whiskey as he speaks and the RK800's head swivels back toward him, the gesture almost too smooth. “Guess we better put you through your paces.”

“Anything for you, Walter.”

“Have you met Evelyn?” “I’m afraid I haven’t had the opportunity to meet your wife just yet. Did you want me to?”

“In a way,” Walter says, grits his teeth in a forced smile flashing perfectly white teeth, leans forward, and watches as the android even copies him, as if they’re close friends leaning together over drinks. “There’s something funny going on with her and Jack Hoffman, my bodyguard. Find out what it is and bring me proof.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Eternally polite and eternally attentive, Connor starts to get up with its LED blinking furiously as if it’s already combing through social media and security CCTV, maybe even the entire holo-net for all he knows. The blue light stutters in electric surprise when Walter lurches forward, whiskey sloshing out of his glass and onto both their shoes, and catches the android by its sleeve.

“Not yet. Stay.”

And Connor obeys. The machine sits right back down and stays with him until it heads out in the morning. It takes less than three days for a single RK800 to return with solid proof that his wife, the love of his life, the star to outshine all others in the sky, is cheating on him, that traitorous, disloyal bitch. Her and that stupid, yappy, carpet-pissing Shiba Inu can't scrap together even a fraction of the loyalty this machine - on loan, even! - has shown in just a few days!

Two weeks later CyberLife comes to collect their property. Two weeks later with the CyberLife representative standing on his doorstep, Walter Londra immediately signs for an RK800 preorder on the spot, ignoring the number of zeroes and commas because you truly can't put a price on loyalty, now can you?

#detroit become human #horizon games #connor rk800 #dbh connor #connor #walter londra #dbh fanfic #horizon fanfic #horizon forbidden west #burning shores #fanfiction #detroit: become human #oneshot #archive of our own #rk800 #dbh rk800 #ao3 fanfic #the android

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